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fitrahgolden · 10 months ago

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Hold My Hand, I'll Walk With You: A Weary Memory Prequel

[NOTE: This is a short prequel to my previous story, Weary Memory. You don’t need to have read it (but you should know that in this AU the timeline of their parents’ deaths is very different from canon). This is simply a very fluffy “when Kate met Anthony” story.

Title is from “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, lyrics by Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir and Ragnar Þórhallsson.]

Kate knew she should get back to socialising. She’d been having a genuinely good time at her first house party since moving to Oxford a few weeks ago. She mingled. She danced. She got loads of unsolicited advice from older students.

She'd taken a break from the nonstop conversations and stationed herself next to the chocolate fountain because, well, she wasn't expecting a chocolate fountain at a university party, and now the delicious setup was too good to abandon.

She was deciding between pineapple, strawberry, and angel food cake when a voice beside her broke through the homogenised hum of the party.

“I’d go with the pineapple,” he said, his tone suggesting he thought he was really helping her out.

Kate looked up and observed the stranger through narrow eyes before plucking a strawberry from the tray. She made a show of holding the fruit underneath the flowing chocolate, then stepped aside and waved a hand towards the space in front of the buffet she’d just vacated.

“Be my guest,” she said with a supercilious smile before taking a bite. She hadn’t meant to be this bold, keeping eye contact with a handsome man while eating a chocolate covered strawberry. Perhaps she was pulling it off, if the way he looked back at her was any indication. At least she managed not to roll her eyes back and moan like a proper seductress.

He looked away from her to pay attention to the spread, and Kate took the opportunity to shake herself out of whatever had moved her to be so brazen. She sipped the dregs of her drink and avoided watching him eat, but looked back at him just in time to see him lick some chocolate off of his thumb. Oh, give me a break.

“Can I help you with anything? Get you another drink?”

Kate shook her head, placing her glass down. “No, I’m good for now.”

He nodded, apparently losing none of the confidence he seemed to have a bit too much of. “Are you here with anyone?”

“One of my housemates.” Kate looked beyond him to quickly survey the room. “Well, she's here somewhere. She knows someone who knows…um, whose ever flat this is.”

“Bert Fife and Caleb Cho,” the man provided helpfully.

“Ah. I take it that you actually know them?”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but yes. You, uh… You danced with Caleb earlier, actually.”

“Ha, did I really?”

“Yeah.” He pointed out the man in question across the room.

“Oh, him. Right. What a slag. I'll dance with anyone. Names are optional.”

“I wasn't–I mean…” He suddenly looked sheepish. “I just happened to notice you before. And now, I guess. You're very…noticeable.” The loss of some of his swagger was kind of adorable to witness.

“Am I?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Which makes me think this must be your first year. Or maybe you're a transfer, a Cambridge escapee? I haven't seen you around.”

Kate could not have stopped the laugh that bubbled out of her if she tried. “You haven't seen me around? That's hardly surprising in a sea of thousands of students, is it?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“No. No, I suppose it's not.” A hint of a wince pulled at his lips.

“Would you like to try a different line? Perhaps one better suited for the environment?” Kate asked encouragingly.

“Oh, think I'm trying to chat you up, do you?” His casual tone was betrayed by the blush creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.

Kate’s own confidence shook a bit. Could I really be misreading this? “Surely, you can understand why I'd think that.”

Anthony took an eager step towards her. “Oh, absolutely. Mostly because I am, but it doesn't seem to be going too well.”

“No, but not too poorly, either.” She touched his shoulder. He looked at her hand and back at her.

“Oh? Care to help me out at all?”

Kate dropped her hand, and picked up her empty glass for something to fiddle with. “You could just ask me my name. It's not terribly creative, but you’ll find I'm a fan of practicality over flair.”

“Ah. Very helpful, indeed.”

There were several beats where they said nothing, just looked at each other.

Kate bobbed her head in confusion. “Well?”

“I can't very well ask immediately after you tell me to, now can I?” His smile was sly.

With a roll of her eyes, Kate asked, “What's your name, then?”

“Wait– Are you chatting me up?”

“Possibly.” Kate shrugged, trying her damndest to remain breezy.

“I'm Anthony.”

“Anthony?” she asked, with a hard “th.”

He shook his head.

“Anthony,” he enunciated. “With a ‘ta.’“

The way Anthony exaggerated the consonant sound drew Kate's attention to his mouth and the way his tongue peeked out just a little from between his teeth. I wonder if that's a move. He has lines, so surely he also has moves. I bet that “with a ‘ta'” nonsense is the only reason he pronounces it that way.

Kate realised too late her gaze was lingering on his mouth, looking up only once Anthony started smirking. And I totally fell for it, damn him.

Anthony with a “ta” put a hand on the wall behind Kate, and his forearm brushed against her shoulder as he leaned forward. “Would you like me to demonstrate again? Up close this time?”

Kate rolled her eyes. Definitely a move. “No, thanks. I'm a quick study, Anthony.” She noted it must work both ways, judging by how Anthony's eyes darted down to her lips. “Sounds quite posh, pronounced the proper way. Suits you.”

“Why doesn't that sound like a compliment?”

Kate tilted her head to one side, and Anthony seemed to reflexively tilt his head the same way as his eyes stayed trained on hers. “Perhaps because it isn't.”

“Well, if your name isn't the epitome of humbleness, I'll be very disappointed.”

“Kate,” she said simply. “Unassuming enough for you?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were roaming her face. Once his gaze fell back to hers, he said, “I think it's beautiful. Suits you.”

Kate looked down at her feet, unsure how to respond to that.

“Did I just lose points?” The question was laced with genuine concern.

“No.” Kate shook her head and looked back up at Anthony. “No, that was…sweet. I'll reward you by telling you you were right.”

“I love hearing that.”

“I'm not even a little bit surprised.”

“What specifically am I right about, though?”

“I am a first year.”

“What are you going to study?”

“Fine art.”

Anthony lit up. “Oh, yeah? My brother’s in London at the Royal College of Art. He’s brilliant.”

“Oh, cool.” Please don’t try to set me up with you brother. “And what about you?”

“Creative writing.”

“Ooh, you’re a writer.”

“Eh, at this point calling myself a writer would be an insult to writers, I think. But, someday soon, I hope. My family owns a publishing company, so I’ll have a huge audience anticipating my failure.”

Kate furrowed her brows. “Not your family, surely.”

“No, no. My parents are…stiflingly supportive. I mean everyone else at the company. They’re certain I wouldn’t have a prayer without having my family to publish my work.”

Kate said nothing, but he must have read her face.

“You think they’re right,” he said, smiling.

Kate raised her hands, “Look, I don’t know you. You could be brilliant. But nepotism is alive and well, is all.”

Anthony nodded. “No, I understand. I can’t deny I’m in a very privileged position.”

“At least you’re aware. The bar is low, but that’s not nothing.”

Their conversation moved along easily, at a fast clip. Kate eventually felt comfortable enough to let Anthony get her another drink. About an hour later, they were still talking, side by side against a wall in the corner, their arms brushing.

“Hey,” Anthony whispered as he turned to look at Kate.

“Yes?”

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

A surprised laugh escaped her without her permission. Anthony seemed unfazed. He just continued to search her eyes with his, waiting.

“Yeah,” Kate whispered. The room might have been too loud for Anthony to even hear her. “That would be alright.”

She leaned toward him and he met her in the middle. It was soft and tentative. Certainly softer than Kate thought he would kiss her, because she had definitely been thinking about it for the better part of their conversation, and hoped he had been to.

After the first careful meeting, Anthony put a hand up to Kate's jaw, slaying his fingers over her cheek and throat, but applying no pressure, not until his thumb pressed down just beneath her bottom lip, and Kate opened her mouth in response. It was too loud to hear their sighs and moans, so they relied on the accompanying vibrations for feedback. Presumably feeling the need to breathe, Anthony started to back away. Kate let him go, but not before nipping his bottom lip.

“...Kit,” he groaned.

Kate tutted, and their noses brushed as she shook her head. “And things were going so well. Already calling me the wrong name?”

“Never.” Anthony looked dazed. “No one calls you that?”

“No,” she laughed, bemused. “Why would they?”

“I don't know. It just…” He looked down at her lips and made a lazy path back up to her eyes. “...feels right.”

“Because your last Kate was called Kit?” It was a joke, but it sounded a bit too mean to her ears when she heard it come out of her mouth. Anthony didn't seem offended, though. Maybe there was a last Kate. His gaze was piercing when he responded.

“As far as I'm concerned, no other Kate exists.”

Oh.

“I have to give it to you, being renamed after one kiss, that's a new one for me,” Kate said, trying to regain her footing.

“Me, too.” He absentmindedly twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, threatening to throw her right back off balance. “Can I keep calling you that?”

“I think…” Kate started, but cleared her throat when her voice sounded annoyingly breathless. “Whether I want you to keep calling me anything at all remains to be seen.”

“That's fair. I think you like it, though.” He was obviously quite pleased with himself.

“I…” Kate tried her best to muster a glare. “It remains to be seen,” she repeated weakly.

Anthony’s smile was warm. “May I take you somewhere?”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Um… Where were you thinking?”

“The White Rabbit, have you heard of it? It’s close.”

While Kate thought about it, Anthony quickly added, “Or I could just drop you off at yours, and we could talk more on the way.”

“Let me see your licence.” Kate held her hand out as Anthony dutifully dug for his wallet. She exaggeratedly scrutinised the card. “Alright, Anthony…Bridgerton. I’d love some real food. I'm just gonna take a picture of you to send to my housemates.”

Anthony backed up so Kate could take a picture, but he kept making faces, and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Stop posing!” Kate commanded. “Think of this as a passport photo.

“My passport photo is amazing, actually.”

“Ugh, shut up.” Kate sent the photo she deemed most appropriate to her housemates’ text thread.

>> Leaving the party with this bloke, Anthony Bridgerton. DO wait up.

Kate looked up from her phone to see Anthony looking at her, seemingly impressed.

“What?”

“I need to remember to tell my sisters to pick up the same habit.”

Kate nodded vigorously. “Please do. So, a brother and at least two sisters. How many siblings do you have?”

“Seven.”

“Fuck off.” Kate covered her mouth as Anthony barked out a laugh.“I mean, no disrespect to your parents, but…damn.”

—

Anthony was thankful that the pub wasn’t too busy. He led Kate to a booth and had to suppress a grin when Kate pulled him down to sit on her side. They didn’t move from their seats until it was closing time.

“Let me take you home,” he said after he closed out their tab and they started walking towards the door.

Kate hesitantly took his hand, squeezing when he did.

“OK.”

—

It seemed unbelievable that they had more to talk about on the drive to her house, but they did. Along the way, Anthony inched his hand onto Kate’s thigh, smiling smugly to himself when she squirmed a little and rested her hand on top of his. Again, the time passed too quickly, and before he knew it, she was pointing out her house and he was pulling up to the curb.

“Can I have your number?” Kate asked as the car came to a stop, surprising him.

He laughed as he ran a finger under his bottom lip. “Damn, Kit. You beat me to it.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He’d say yes to anything if she smiled at him like that. He was sure of it.

“Yes, please.”

When Kate passed Anthony her phone, he chuckled when he saw she filled in his name as “Anthony with a ‘ta.’” Once they’d shared numbers, they sat in silence, looking at each other like idiots. Finally, Kate sighed.

“I’m gonna go.” There was no conviction in her voice. In fact, it almost sounded like a question.

“OK.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for letting me take you.”

More silence. The mood in the car was odd, but not uncomfortably so. Anthony just didn’t want the night to end yet, so she was going to have to make the first move.

And she did, but it was not the move he was expecting.

She leaned across the centre console, threw her arms around him, and kissed him.

It was hard to keep up with everything as it happened. Anthony slid his seat backward, too slow for Kate who was already clambering into his lap. He could feel her undoing the buttons of his shirt while he was preoccupied with pulling out the elastic that was holding most of her hair back. Anthony threaded his fingers through her tresses until he reached the nape of her neck. He gripped it tightly as his tongue slid across her lips and into her mouth. Kate whined, grinding down on him as she sucked on his tongue. He slid his other hand along the outside of her thigh, her skirt having almost completely ridden up to her waist, then he pulled back to gasp in some air.

“Can I come inside?” he asked before bringing their lips back together.

She sighed back at him. “No.”

He kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

“Can I take you to mine instead? I don’t have housemates.”

“Good to know, but not tonight.”

The sound he made was somewhere between a chuckle and a groan as he matched her grinding with his own.

“Tell me what I can do, then, Kit. Please,” he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back. They were both panting as she seemed to think about it. “You can call me Kit.” Her eyes sparkled playfully as she bit into her swollen lip.

“Good.” Both of his hands found her arse, and he kneaded it through the soft cotton material that covered it. “Anything else?”

“Text me,” she almost moaned.

He smiled as their foreheads rested against each other. “OK, I can do that.”

Kate brought both hands to Anthony’s face and brushed a finger across his lips, concentrating, perhaps debating something. “I really am going to go.” She looked up from his lips to his eyes.

“OK.” Anthony pulled her in for a kiss goodbye. She put a hand against his chest, as if it was a necessary measure to stop herself from falling back into him. After one last kiss to her temple, he let his arms fall to his sides. “Goodnight, Kit.”

Kate climbed out of his lap with as much grace as someone of her stature could manage in such a cramped space. She took a few moments to sort her clothes out before turning towards him.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

With that, she was out of his chair and in a few steps, she was at her front door, keys in hand.

Anthony watched from his car. Turn around. Turn around.

Kate opened the door and disappeared. She hadn't turned around. He smiled to himself.

Next time.

—

“This isn't a text.”

Anthony clinched his jaw as he held the phone against his ear. Kate’s voice was heavy and warm. He imagined her still in bed despite the late hour, like he was, and found himself very interested in what her bedroom might look like. Jesus Christ. A couple of words from her, and my cock is already twitching.

“Want me to hang up?” he asked.

“You wouldn't,” she haughtily challenged.

“I'd certainly hate to. Good morning, Kit.” Kit. He had no idea where that name came from last night, when he’d put his lips on Kate’s for the first time, but it felt good to say it. He’d chanted it over and over again when he got home last night and promptly finished what they’d started in his car.

“Good morning, Anthony with a ‘ta.’”

He could hear her smiling. This woman would be the death of him. Of that, he was certain.

“How did you sleep?” Don’t leave out any details.

“Not great.”

Anthony frowned. “No?”

“It's not a big deal. I'm used to it.”

There was something there, he could tell. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks. Are you desperately trying to resist making a joke about helping me sleep?”

“It’s a bit early in the day for me to be desperate.” Tell that to your dick. “And Kit?”

“Yeah?”

“It wouldn't be a joke.” He was rewarded with a soft gasp. Anthony had gotten the impression that Kate was not often left speechless. “Let's go out tonight. Are you free?”

“You're serious?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“We just met yesterday.”

“Yes, I was there. And?”

“You really want to see me again so soon?”

What? He sighed, running his hand over his face in contemplation. “My gut tells me you aren't fishing for compliments–”

“I'm not!”

“Well, frankly,” he laughed, “that would be more believable than you actually being surprised that I want to go out with you. Last night was amazing. For me, anyway.”

“Me, too.”

Oh, thank fuck.

“Then I'll ask again. Can I see you tonight?”

“You can see me tonight.”

A knot in his stomach loosened. He'd never been this keen to go out with someone before. His brothers would have a field day with this.

—

Kate and Anthony settled on a walk through the botanical gardens then a film at the Ultimate Picture Palace. The theatre was relatively empty, and halfway through a movie they had both already seen, Anthony, who had been lightly running his fingers up and down Kate's neck, whispered into her ear.

“Would it be terribly cliché of me to kiss the fuck out of you right now?”

“Yes,” Kate hissed, trying not to laugh, a laugh that died as soon Anthony lightly grasped her chin and angled it towards him.

“Can I do it anyway?”

Kate swallowed and nodded.

“Stay quiet, OK, Kit?”

Somehow, she did. They both did.

—

“Where to next?” Kate asked as they settled back into Anthony’s car.

“Oh, um…” Anthony was surprised, as it had felt like the night was winding down. “Am I taking you home?”

“You could…” Kate shrugged, “but if I remember correctly, which may not be the case as you were pulling down the neckline of my shirt with your teeth at the time, you said live alone.”

“I do,” Anthony confirmed, his voice strained.

“Granted, it’s been about twenty-four hours, but are you still interested in taking me to yours?”

“Very.” He’d answered so quickly, he surprised himself.

“Good.”

—

“I knew your place would be posh,” Kate teased as she took off her shoes and Anthony closed the door behind them.

He turned her around and pulled her so they were chest to chest. “Would you like a tour?”

She felt his hands sliding down her back and over her hips. “Yeah, I’d love one,” she said, unable to stop her giggle.

Anthony kissed his way along her jaw up to her ear before gruffly saying, “Then I’ll give you one tomorrow.”

Then his lips and teeth and tongue were mingling with hers as he pushed her backwards, walking her further into his flat. It didn’t take long before Kate was pressed up against a door. Her hands drifted down to Anthony’s belt, but before she could undo it, he grasped her wrists.

“Not yet, Kit,” he said in a rough whisper before bringing her wrists to his lips and kissing each one. He flashed her a roguish smirk as he sank to his knees before her. His expression changed to something tender and reverent. “Can I?” he asked, running a hand slowly up the inside of her leg.

Kate released a shuddering breath and nodded. “Yes.”

Anthony’s motions were fluid as he pushed her dress up, pulled her knickers down, and lifted a leg of hers onto his shoulder.

Soon, Kate was scrambling to hold on to the wall, the doorjamb, something, anything for support. With the hand that wasn’t teasing her clit, Anthony found and held on to one of Kate’s, intertwining their fingers and eventually guiding her hand into his hair. Kate obediently curled her fingers and held on. The moan that came from Anthony vibrated through her, to great effect.

“Use both hands if you need to,” he said before closing his mouth over her again.

She nodded vigorously as she combed her other hand into his hair, pulling when a manoeuvre of his surprised her in the best way possible, and she choked out a sob. When her climax hit her, she leaned over, and Anthony slayed a hand across her chest to hold her up as he rode her orgasm out with her, keeping up his attentions until Kate had to push him away, suddenly too sensitive to handle it. Kate wasn't a virgin, and a couple of guys had gone down on her in the past. But it had never been anything like that. Perhaps this was a perk of Anthony being three years older than her. Maybe it was a more significant age gap than she initially thought.

Anthony stood back up slowly, kissing her torso over her clothes until he was completely upright. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

“Can you walk?”

Even though his tone was sweet, Kate wanted to roll her eyes. But frankly, no, she couldn’t walk. “Mm-mm.” She shook her head lazily. “I live against this door now.”

Anthony chuckled–the smug bastard– as he took a step back and placed his hands firmly on her hips.

“Jump.”

“What?”

“I’ll carry you. Jump.”

Feeling just a little bit silly, Kate jumped, and gasped when Anthony slid his hands under her bum and pulled her up so her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. Her arms went around his neck.

“Good girl.”

Anthony opened the door he had taken her up against, revealing his bedroom. Not that Kate was taking in much of her surroundings. She was still blissed out when he laid her down on his bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, sat beside her on the mattress, tracing his fingers across her collarbones.

“Yeah. Why are you still dressed?”

He laughed and stood up. He held her gaze as he undressed.

He’s beautiful.

Once he was naked, he crawled onto the bed and encouraged Kate to sit up so he could pull her dress over her head, leaving just her bra, which she quickly got rid of with an air of confidence that she didn’t quite feel.

At first, they just looked at each other, letting their eyes wander. Then Anthony leaned towards the nightstand beside Kate and grabbed a condom out of the drawer. He tossed it onto the bed before taking Kate’s face in his hands and kissing her soundly.

“Come here,” he whispered.

Anthony pulled Kate up to her knees and guided her until she was straddling him. He kissed her again before reaching for the condom. Kate lightly grabbed his wrist.

“Can I put it on?”

Anthony smiled at her as he tore the packet open and handed it to her. Kate reached below herself and started stroking him. They were panting in time with her hand and Anthony vigorously shook his head. “Fuck, you’ve got to stop, baby. I’m ready.”

Kate rolled the condom on and sunk down onto him. As soon as she was fully seated, Anthony started moving. She cradled his head in her arms, muttering in Tamil as occasional expletives fell from Anthony’s mouth. Suddenly, he pushed her onto her back. He slammed into her faster and harder as he pinned her arms above her head.

“Is this OK?” he gritted out between his teeth.

Kate nodded.

“Kit?”

“Yes, fuck!”

Holding her wrists in one hand, Anthony used the other between her legs, moving it relentlessly until she was crying out again, turning into putty beneath him. About a minute later, he followed suit, groaning, cursing, repeating her name–well, his name for her.

“Kit, Kit, Kit.”

—

Anthony was startled awake by the sound of clattering coming from his kitchen. A second clang was accompanied by a harsh, “Aiyoh!”

After donning some underwear and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, Anthony set off to find Kate. She was at his stove, wearing her bra and some gym shorts of his, cinched to within an inch of their life just above her hips. It was perhaps the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Whatever mess she had made of the pots and pans had been cleaned up, the kettle was on, and Kate was leaning over a frying pan.

“I feel like I should be making you breakfast the first time you stay at my flat.”

The first time. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want to scare her off. But if his phrasing bothered her, Kate was good at hiding it. She looked up and smiled at him.

“Well, consider yourself in my debt, then.”

“Gladly.” Anthony wrapped an arm around her waist and murmured into her ear. “How soon can I make it up to you?” Her hair was gathered at the top of her head, and he nuzzled her neck as his hands wandered until she took a step away from him.

“Don’t distract me, Bridgerton. The tea is already going to be shitty. I can't even approximate proper chai since all you have is peppercorns and stale cinnamon sticks.”

“Hey, how many twenty year olds do you know who have any whole spices at all?”

“Loads. I’m Indian.”

“Point taken. What are you making?”

“Hotcakes. I make amazing hotcakes. At least, I do when–”she smacked his hand away from her arse “–I don’t have a sex pest at my back.”

“Sorry,” Anthony laughed.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You’re right.”

“I usually am. You’ll learn.”

Anthony bit back a grin at the implication that he’d see her again. He grabbed one of the hotcakes off the plate and took a bite. Kate’s giant eyes got even bigger when she noticed.

“Wait, you need jam!”

Anthony took another bite to spite her. “No, I don’t. These are delicious, Kit.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I actually prefer them to meetha pooda.” She paused and shook her head with a click of her tongue. “Itu aciṅkam,” she grumbled. “My mother would be so disappointed to hear that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He kissed her temple.

“No need. She died seven years ago.” She immediately winced, as if she hadn’t meant to say that. Over the past two nights, Kate hadn’t given any details about her parents whenever they talked about their families.

“Oh, shit. Kit, I'm so sorry.” Anthony pulled her to him, and he felt her relax a bit in his arms. It didn’t last long, though. She quickly stepped away from him.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she turned her attention back to the stove, and rubbed her cheek in a huff.

Anthony couldn’t think of anything to say, and Kate didn’t seem to need him to say anything anyway, so he just leaned against the counter as she finished making breakfast, every offer to help being turned down.

Her mood had lightened by the time they sat down to eat. While Anthony was doing the washing up, Kate went back into his bedroom. She came out shortly after, dressed and ready to go.

Anthony usurped her before she could put her shoes on and pulled her towards the couch.

“I can’t stay,” she whined, but she straddled his lap all the same.

“Why not?” Anthony rubbed her back as her arms went around his neck.

“Because if I don’t want my first year to be my only year, I need to study.”

“I’ll help you study,” he lied. Unsurprisingly, Kate wasn’t buying it.

“Conflict of interest. I think you're heavily invested in me not being productive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked as he kissed her.

Kate sighed, leaning into him. “Anthony.”

“Fine.” He leaned back against the cushions, but kept a grip on her hips. “At least let me drive you back to your house.”

Kate shook her head. “I looked it up. It’s a long walk, but it's a nice morning for it.”

Anthony arched an eyebrow at her. “You know you’re too sore for a long walk.”

“Arrogant twat.”

“Please, Kit.” He squeezed her waist.

She tried to glare at him before breaking into a grin.

“OK.”

—

This time, when Anthony watched from his car as she walked to her front door, Kate turned around.

Damn. I'm in trouble.

He could not wait.

—

[NOTE: Please read Weary Memory if you’d like an actual story with this version of Kate and Anthony.]

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youarestellarverse · 2 years ago

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[image description: a purple banner that has the words “work in progress” on it. end of description]

Epistolary fic/fake reddit post, take 2 - Percy at r/relationshipadvice.

Notes: I process things through a layer of separation, which is part of how this was born— Jason seems to me to be a good candidate for the same kind of "overwhelmingly matches with AGAB....except" that I have. It took me until I was halfway through it that I realized I got carried away working on it is because Halloween is coming up, which means I dress in my Gender Euphoria coat, and apparently I have anticipatory event feelings I had to work out!

So yeah, this happened.

It can be read as a standalone, but it does take place in the greater stellarverse (if you remember with cream, firstly holy wow I'm so happy you're still here and secondly it's a little after that). No powers.

More notes and pinging at the end! This one got kinda long.

So I (26M) have been with my fiance (25NB, AMAB) since high school. He came out to me last year. (Usually he uses he/him. He describes his gender as 85% guy, 10% lady and 5% pop princess drag queen. Sorry, pronouns might get confusing.)

We got engaged a few weeks ago which I am still completely losing my mind over. The ring I got him is really nice. It has abalone and amethyst on it and it's made of tungsten. Except for the amethyst it matches mine (I have a pearl, which I am just now realizing is funny for reasons that will become clear). 85% of the time, he's deliriously happy showing it off to anyone who will look. The thing is, it's really masculine because when he's feeling masculine he feels really masculine.

He's still pretty new to the whole nonbinary thing and kinda anxious about everything, so we've been using codes to talk about it. It's a little easier to tell me "I'm in ten percent mode" than "I feel like a woman today". He came up with a nickname for her, too. We call her Pearl (not the real nickname but close, it's something you can wear as jewelry).

So anyway Pearl definitely likes the ring, but she's conflicted about it. She hasn't complained and she never will. But last night we went on a date to an opera, and she wore this absolutely stunning floor-length gown and silk gloves and a wig that went all the way down her back. I was so busy gaping like a horny fish I didn't even notice she was wearing the ring on a chain around her neck instead of her finger.

I didn't ask her about it. I'm pretty sure it would have embarrassed her and she would have put it on and sucked up the dysphoria because she thought I was unhappy. But it gave me an idea.

I want to take her out to a really nice restaurant and give her a ring that matches her name. Something feminine and pretty she can feel good in. I want her to feel like Juliet on her balcony. Like Taylor Swift in the music video for Love Story.

I just don't want to put her on the spot, you know? I don't want to draw attention to it if it'll make her feel crappy, but this is super new for both of us so I have no idea what I'm doing. He did drag shows for two years before Pearl perked her head up and let him know she was a part of him.

She has a hard time expressing herself because she grew up with a lot of very strict pressure to adhere to gender norms. She's one of those people who can easily see that it's bullshit, except for when she internalizes it. She makes herself the exception to her own acceptance.

It breaks my heart. Sometimes she cries about it, which is actually a huge improvement. Before Pearl, he couldn't cry except in literal life or death situations. He kinda still can't, but she can.

She likes the opportunities to have a few milestones, like coming downstairs in a beautiful dress while I'm waiting at the door in a tux with a bouquet of pink hyacinths. He went to prom with me, but she's never been to a dance. My housemate helped me buy her a (not-actually) pearl bracelet for her birthday, and she cried and laughed and told me she loved me and demanded I put it on her. (My hands were super sweaty so it took me a couple tries, lol. It looks great on her.)

I imagine myself taking her hand while we wait for dessert. Telling her how beautiful she is. How much I love her, that I can't wait to introduce her to people as my wife, that she's as knock-out drop-dead gorgeous as he is knock-out drop-dead handsome. Tell her how proud I am to be seen with her on my arm. How much her happiness means to me.

I imagine getting on one knee and taking her hand and asking "Antoinette Pearl Smith (not her real full name either), will you do me the honor of being my bride?"

I imagine her crying. That's where my imagination starts letting my insecurity interfere.

Sometimes I see her smiling and crying and laughing and asking me to put it on her. Sometimes I imagine her bursting into tears and having a panic attack because I reminded her. I feel like there's a pretty even chance that it's either exactly the validation she needs from me or it's the worst possible plan I could come up with.

She's incredibly elegant, classy and sophisticated, but she has a distinctly glam edge to her style. We get stares when we're out in public and it's a Pearl day. She's convinced it's because she doesn't pass (she can sing high bass parts and she's over 7 ft tall in her 8-inch dagger pumps and yes that turns me on), but I've seen the way people look at her. Most of them are staring for the same reason I do: because she's an Amazonian bombshell who leaves you breathless and makes your heart race, just by entering your field of vision.

When I say she's outrageously attractive, I mean the second word very literally. People are drawn to her. They can't help it. It's natural when a goddess walks among mortals, I guess. ;)

(And yeah, sometimes people are horrible and we've heard plenty of slurs, but we live near a liberal city steeped in queer culture and history, which helps. I've taken a few punches, but I've thrown them back too, and there's always somebody nearby who checks in with us and makes sure we're okay afterwards. All things considered, we could be in a much less trans-friendly situation.)

I guess I really want to make sure she knows I'm attracted to her and in love with her, and that I would be even if I'd never met him— honestly, if I'd met Pearl first, we probably would have started dating a lot sooner because I already knew I liked tall, blonde, brilliant, sophisticated women, and that's exactly what she is.

I want her to feel like I'm not just going along with it for her sake. When I picture our wedding, I get choked up whether I'm imagining him in a suit or her in a gown. I want her to know that there's no facet of her I'm not captivated by.

Am I overthinking this? Am I being ridiculous? (Yes.) Should I ask her girlfriends for advice? Should I ask my girlfriends for advice?? Should I go hang around at some gay bars and see if I can find any elders who can talk some sense into me???

Should I talk to her mom (actually her sister, long story)? My mom? Maybe my kid sister can lend me some of her childhood wisdom...she's very, very good at keeping surprises (never secrets).

I don't know. I'm rambling. I started writing this post because my BFF (27M) is teaching her to sew bc she's way too tall even for most plus size shops and she just finished her very first circle skirt. she's been spinning around all day like a toddler in a cinderella costume. It's so fucking cute. Please help. I may actually be dying.

I'm going to go dance with her now so she stops giving me the sad baby kitten eyes. Thanks in advance if you made it all the way through! Yikes, me.

MORE NOTES: The nickname thing is honestly mostly so I can keep my head on straight as a writer. Her actual nickname is Ruby, which I was not consciously clever enough to remember fits perfectly because ruby is July's birthstone!

Percy's BFF is Grover, and "Antoinette" is a reference to Jason's middle name, which in this 'verse is Anthony.

(Incredibly, this is less than half of what I have written. Whoops.)

Pinging @perseusjackson-jasongrace, my dear beta @elaborateruses and @starlightshadowsworld because you have all encouraged me to do this in the first place and it's been great. 💜💜

#i wrote this #nonbinary!jason grace #jercy #stellarverse #wip wednesday #squeaking in just barely under the wire!!

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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years ago

Text

ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ

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ғʀᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you and steve hooked up once and neither of you can forget that night

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+ minors dni plz, kinda rough? but of course major fluffy aftercare from soft boi stevie, bit of inexperienced reader and insecure reader

(accidentally written unprotected sex but this is fanfiction lmao plz be safe irl)

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: ive never participated in a challenge before and i think @honeysucklesteve is just the sweetest so hope you like it el! And congrats on 4k :T

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“And the interesting thing about that, mind I add…” the words of your professor falling short because you can’t shake the feeling of his eyes looking at you.

You kept your head low fighting the urge within you not to look back. A couple nights ago you landed yourself in the bed of the infamous frat president Steve Rogers and to make matters worse, you both major in American Studies meaning you share all of your classes.

You didn’t have much experience with guys in high school so it wasn’t surprising when you had the same experience in college. What was surprising was the fact you spent a night in the arms of one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Steve Rogers was a huge catch. Teachers loved him, girls chased him,and guys wanted to be him.

You remember that night so vividly.

The way his hands fit so perfectly on your hips. The way his lips felt so hot against your own burning skin; and moved perfectly against yours. The things he whispered in your ear. They way he held you close when you fell asleep in his arms. The way you hated yourself the next morning when you snuck out. The way your tummy flutters simply because he’s looking at you right now.

You breathed out shakily before turning your head to find his eyes with yours; he looked away the moment you did shyly, very unlike him. Fuck he was gonna be the death of you.

“And that should be the end of the lecture. I’m gonna go ahead let you guys go a little early. Have a good weekend everyone and make sure to check your emails,” the professor gathered his things and left.

You packed your things quickly trying your best to avoid his gaze that you knew was still on you. Steve packed quickly too before walking hot on your tail, just about to call your name until…

“Hey, Y/n,” Bucky called out.

“Oh, hey Buck.”

“It’s the weekend and as usual the guys and I want to party tonight. But the dean said one more noise complaint about our house and we get on academic probation so we’re asking a couple of people who might wanna come to the club with us.”

Behind Bucky you could see Steve walking towards you two and your stomach sank. Bucky and Steve were best friends and you don’t know if Steve told him that you guys slept together last weekend. What if something happens again tonight if you say yes. Why are you even thinking that something could happen again? Steve Rogers is way out of your league it was a miracle that you landed a chance to be his bed warmer in the first place.

“I’ll see you for lunch, man,” Steve said to Bucky patting his best friend's shoulders. His eyes lingering with yours until you had to pull away.

“I don’t think I should,” you told him, walking towards the door.

“Come on, Nat told me you're quite the party animal and you left early last week I didn’t get to see you in action,” Bucky chuckled, walking with you. You didn’t leave early…

“Buck,” you looked at him.

“Please?” he asked. You exhaled sharply rolling your eyes before walking away to your next class.

“Is that a yes?” he shouted, making you turn around with a cheeky grin. You got to your next class and noticed Steve sitting in a new seat today, particularly the one next to the seat you usually sit in. None of his housemates or regular friends took this specific lecture so he usually sat in the very back corner alone. But today here he is.

His head snapped up when you entered the room. You hesitantly sat down next to him still avoiding his eyes. You set up your laptop on the small table as did Steve; both your eyes glancing at each other quite awkwardly until Steve finally interrupts the silence.

“You coming tonight?” he whispered.

“What’s in it for me if I do?” you said playfully.

“A repeat of the best night you’ve ever had,” he said cheekily.

“Oh, really,” you chuckled sarcastically as he nodded with an overly proud smirk.

“Probably not,” you answer his question.

“Seriously? Why not? I can pick you up,” he said.

“Steve,” you warned.

“What? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“You’re so full of it,” you said, making you both laugh.

“You were full of my dick last week,” he whispered.

“Steve!” you punched his side making him laugh hard enough for other students to take notice of your ruckus.

“Welcome class, we’ll begin the lecture in one minute. I’m just gonna pull it up on the projector,” the professor said rushing in.

“Please come tonight,” he whispered.

“Why are you obsessed with me?” you joked.

“Fuck off,” he chuckled.

“If I say ok, will you shut up for the rest of the lecture?”

“Maybe,” he grinned.

“Then maybe I’ll come,” you smirked.

Throughout the lecture Steve paid absolutely no attention whatsoever. Steve had been thinking about that night just as much as you had. The way your neck craned to the side a bit, reminding him of when he littered marks and bruises all over last week. The way you subtly bit your lip in concentration but all that clouded his mind was lust remembering how you looked so pretty from above when he was settled between your legs.

He wanted you again so badly. He wasn't going to lie, it sort of hurt him when he woke up and you weren't there. He thought maybe there was something between you two, god knows the tension was overwhelming that night. You weren't the most frisky woman he'd been with but you were sweet; slight innocence with your intimacy. He craved you.

Steve leaned towards you, his fingers twiddling with yours. You tried your best to ignore his advances despite how much you equally craved him. He ran his nose along your cheek and jaw and your breathing quickened inhumanly.

"What are you doing?" you whispered.

"Nothing, just relax," he responded. As much as he wanted to drag you out of class and fuck you so good, he knew you'd rip him a new one if he did. No matter how he'd make you feel.

"No, we're in the middle of a lecture," you argued.

"I'm not doing anything," he said humorously, you were not humored though.

"Steve," you scolded when he pressed a faint kiss under your ear.

You knew a guy like Steve was horny practically twenty-four seven, but you didn't take him to be quite clingy. Especially with someone like you. His arm wrapped under yours. His other resting on your thigh. His head tucked in the crook of your neck. It wasn't particularly sexual, but it was intimate. Something normal to couples, and you two were not a couple.

"Please come tonight," he whispered, “If not I’ll come over.”

"Ugh fine," you grunted, your voice breaking into a giggle because you did somewhat enjoy this unfamiliar attention.

Steve continued to sit next to you during the rest of your classes for the day absent mindedly teasing you, playing with your fingers, twirling your hair between his fingers, leaning his head on your shoulder while he held your hand. Like geez, take a girl out already.

By the time you got back to your shared apartment with two of your closest friends you felt conflicted. Why the sudden shift in Steve? You two weren't exactly best friends before, just two people who shared classes and accidentally slept with each during a drunken night at a frat party.

"Hey, everything ok?" Wanda asked you noticing your inner battle.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda. No," you said defeatedly making the girls chuckle.

"What happened?" Nat asked.

"That guy, that I… you know."

"Fucked?"

"Nat!" you said embarrassed.

"Go on," Wanda encouraged.

"Well, I never told you guys but the guy was Steve," you said shyly.

"What!" the girls exclaimed simultaneously.

"You're lying," Nat laughed.

"You really went from zero to a hundred," Wanda giggled.

"Guys stop," you whined.

"All day today, he's been like super clingy. Holding my hand and pretending he's like my boyfriend."

"Wait, I thought you liked him?" Nat asked, confused.

"I mean I do, but it's sudden and I'm pretty sure it's only because he wants to get in my pants again, you know?" you rationed.

"Awe, I don't think that's true. I've known Steve for a bit and yeah he sleeps around sometimes but he's not a giant dick. Doing that would be way too shallow, especially for Steve," Nat said.

“Yeah but don’t you think it’s weird?” you asked.

“Look did Bucky ask you about tonight?” Nat asked.

“Yeah, he did- how do you know that?” you asked, confused.

“Oh- Uh,” Nat paused.

“She asked Buck to invite you,” Wanda snickered.

“Why?” you asked.

“Well, you never go out with us and the last time you did we thought you just went home but apparently you were getting laid,” Nat cackled.

“Oh my- shut up,” you huffed before storming off to your room.

“Wait! Can you at least come with us tonight?” Wanda followed you.

“No,” you giggled.

“Please!” both girls said at the same time. As you closed your door with a grin on your face not responding.

Hours later you laid on your bed lowly listening to the soft rumbling chaos from your comedic roommates. You stayed in your not so sexy undergarments and not so sexy sweatpants along with a hoodie you stole from your brother before you moved.

You ate the junk you’ve stocked up on the past few weeks feeling a bit glum. It’s not that you didn’t necessarily want to go, you would love to spend another night in that gorgeous man’s arms but there’s absolutely no way Steve is gonna want you the way you’d like him too. Not sober.

There was a subtle knock on your door and you called out knowing the girls were probably ready to leave.

"How do we look?" Nat asked, walking into your room with Wanda.

"Wow, you guys look hot," you said sitting up.

"You think Vis would like this or is it too much?" Wanda asked sheepishly, she's had a crush on the foreign exchange student Vis for the longest time and had yet to make a move.

"I think someone's gonna have a lucky night," you wiggled your brows suggestively, making her roll her eyes and blush.

"What about you, still chasing Bryce?" you turned to Nat looked extra sexy tonight.

"His name is Bruce," she rolled her eyes.

"And yes, I am," she chuckled.

"You're so weird," you giggled, Bruce didn't seem to particularly be Nat's type but hey, no judgement.

"I heard he's got like a monster cock," you said.

"Shut up," she pushed you playfully.

“It’s always the nerds,” Wanda giggled.

"Anyways, are you sure you don't want to come?" Wanda asked sincerely.

"I'm sure," you smiled.

"Steve's gonna miss you," Nat teased.

"Yeah, I doubt that."

"Well, stay safe, cutie," the girls waved heading to the Uber that waited outside for them.

"You too!"

You sighed before grabbing more snacks to stuff your face with. A couple hours went by of sitting around watching nonsense on TV for a bit. You ate dinner that was far from fine dining but it was available before slouching on your bed until the late hours of the night.

You were practically falling asleep, tired and dry eyes glued to the screen of your small TV when you got a knock at the front door. You check the clock by your bed wondering if maybe either of the girls left their keys, but it wasn’t even midnight yet.

You clutched your phone walking hastily to the front door as quietly as possible creeping up to the peehole to see who would be your unexpected guest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you swung the door open.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Steve retorted.

“My jamas,” you rolled eyes stepping to side to let him in.

“Seriously what are you doing here?”

“I told you earlier, you didn’t come tonight so I came to you,” he said, taking his jacket off.

“Seriously?” you tried not to smile, but the action gave you butterflies.

“You promised to come. I missed you,” he said walking up to you.

“You’re so full of shit,” you giggled, staring at his devilishly handsome grin.

“Come on, whatcha doing?” he said, grabbing your hand and taking you to the room. You three had a fairly small apartment and your light was obviously the only one on in the whole apartment making it easy for him.

“Well, before you rudely invaded my home, I was stuffing my face with all kinds of junk watching TV,” you said to him making him scowl playfully at you.

“Well, then let’s finish the rest of your junk food then,” he said laying on your bed. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the sudden shift in attention. Steve was a guy who could have anyone and he’s chasing you for some reason.

You weren’t a blonde bombshell with a perfect hourglass figure that made guys want you left and right. You had flaws that drew people away and you don’t think Steve remembers that night like you do. What if he hates your body? What if he thinks you're annoying and suddenly leaves?

“Everything alright?” Steve asked you.

“Uh, sorta,” you answered honestly.

“Come here, talk to me,” he said, opening his arms. You couldn't help your eyes narrowing at him.

“What?”

“Do you even remember anything from that night?” you whispered.

“Where’s this coming from?” he asked.

“Steve, come on,” you chuckled.

“What?”

“Do you just wanna fuck now? Make it quick so you can go back to the party-”

“Woah, who said anything about fucking?” he stood up towering over you making you suddenly feel really small and shy.

“I mean that’s why you’re here, right?”

“I came because I told you if you didn't go out with us that I was gonna hang with you. I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you. If you really want I can go home but I wanted to hang out with you,” he said sincerely.

“Oh, I- uh,” you stuttered; well now you feel like a dick.

“We can just sit and keep watching TV until you want to go to sleep and I can head out,” he said, sitting back down on your bed. You sat beside him carefully watching his movements. He kept his eyes trained on the TV for a bit before locking his eyes with yours. You turned away quickly hearing him chuckle before sudden movement escalated behind.

Steve grabbed you from behind gently and leaned back so you laid on his chest. You could feel the hard plains of muscles on your back. And the way his strong wrapped perfectly around your waist, it felt heavenly.

Steve’s jaw tightened from the hypnotizing scent of your shampoo. He remembered it from that night not long ago and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He wasn't going to lie, since that night all he could think about was how smooth your skin was under his fingertips. How pretty you sounded when he was settled between your legs. How good it felt when your fingers carded through his hair. He wanted you so bad.

He wanted to wake you up between your thighs again. Ravish you once more before breakfast, hell eat you for breakfast. But when you weren't there sleeping as peacefully beside him like the night before, his heart tugged. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something wrong? What if he hurt you?

He gave you space, clearly evident you hadn't wanted to talk to him but those few days went by and the same lingering stares and shy glances came back again and he craved you in his arms again.

When Nat asked him and Bucky to invite you again out to party, he really wanted to be with you that night even if you didn't end the night naked in each other's arms, just being around you was enough for him. Fortunately here he is with you, with arms wrapped around your waist and Steve couldn’t be happier.

You looked so fucking adorable to wearing sweats and a hoodie; he wishes it was one of his own. You had fluffy socks on too that had dog faces on them and he swears his heart melted. What you two were watching was making you laugh and each chuckle or giggle that came from you was like music to his ears.

He couldn’t help himself when his lips pressed against the top of your head. Your body momentarily froze before relaxing again in his arms. Your arms laid over his and tightened so you could cuddle into him even more. Your eyes felt heavy and the feeling of Steve’s lips slowly reaching your neck didn’t help you want to sleep.

When his cool lips grazed your burning skin, you could feel your skin burst into chills. You practically shuddered in his arms and your face grew hot when you did. It all becomes suddenly overwhelming and you jump off on his lap turning to him with a distressed expression.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?” Steve said worriedly.

“You did just want to sleep with me,” you mumbled tears forming in your eyes.

“What! No, that’s not it,” he panicked; using you was the last thing he wanted you to think he was doing, and wanted in general.

“Then what’s going with you? Ever since we fucked you’re suddenly attached to me, putting your hands all over me, pretending like you're my boyfriend! And I don’t understand why,” you said frustrated.

“I feel like your just using me or something-”

“That is the last thing I want,” he interrupted, his voice low.

“Then why are you doing this; Steve you could have anybody and for some fucking sick reason you keeping mocking me. Making me think I have a chance.”

“And you don’t think you do?” he asked, heart broken, making you scoff and turn away.

“Look, fine I’ll admit that maybe before that night I wouldn’t have made a move; but I’m gonna admit that I haven’t not felt something for you before,” he said, getting closer to you.

“What?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met. And that night didn’t do shit to help me get over you,” he chuckled.

You crawled to him carefully looking into his eyes for any sign that he was being untruthful; you cupped his face gently.

“Are you drunk?” you whispered.

“Not one bit.”

You pressed your lips to his feverishly and Steve nearly moaned at the feeling. His hands grasped your waist firmly pulling you to sit comfortably on his lap. His hands crept under your hoodie holding you close.

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders holding yourself up as slowly leaned back onto your pillows. Your cold hands cupped his face as you deepened the kiss and his hand went to rest on your bottom.

With this new found position, his chest pressed against yours, his hips grinded up allowing you to feel all of him. Every pushing second you grew needier and whiny, practically clawing at his shirt to feel his skin.

"So needy already. And I've hardly touched you," he chuckled lowly in your ear.

He sat up nonetheless and stripped his shirt revealing his gorgeous physique that kept you up at night and infiltrated your dirtiest dreams. You brushed your hands all over his chest with your bottom lip between your teeth; Steve smirking slightly proud of the effect he had on you simply by having his shirt off.

"Come on, pretty girl. I wanna see you too," he's whispered before kissing you softly.

"Wait, I don't…" you didn't particularly feel very sexy and instantly became insecure about your body compared to Steve's.

"It's ok, we can cuddle," he smiled.

"Well, if I'm being honest I do want you. It's just, I just ate all this junk food and I'm not wearing anything sexy. I didn't shave and-"

"Hey, I don't care. You don't need to impress me or wear anything special for me. I just want you to look pretty sitting on my face and make pretty sounds telling me how I'm gonna make you feel."

Your body trembled at his words, arousal instantly flooding from you. His nose brushed against your cheek dragging along to your jawline before pressing kisses gingerly to your jaw and neck. His hands slowly lifted your hoodie and you raised your hands letting him remove your hoodie.

Your shoulders caved in out of habit, being topless in front of handsome men wasn't normally on your schedule; but the look in Steve's eyes, the look on his face holding a hungry and adorning expression made you more comfortable, reaching out to cup his face kissing him deeply.

You sighed breathlessly into the kiss as Steve's hands rubbed your sides. You pulled away momentarily only to put your lips on Steve's neck. Steve felt himself growing harder and needier to see you, feel you, pleasure you.

"Pretty girl, I need you. Lemme taste you, please," he whined.

He picked you up and laid down on your back to pull your sweatpants down your legs. You lifted your hips for him and he smiled cheekily at you biting his lip. Steve lifted your leg kissing the inside of your calf staring at with those hungry eyes.

"I still wanna see you sitting on my face, pretty girl," Steve said, pulling to him.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna crush you or anything," you whispered, making Steve chuckle.

Steve laid down assuring you that he wanted this and grabbed your hand helping you straddle his face. When you did Steve kissed the inside of your thighs playfully nipping and marking the sensitive skin making you gasp.

Steve wrapped his hands around your thighs bringing your center impossibly close to him, finally licking a long and wet stripe up your slit. Your moans were soft at first but when Steve started circling his tongue around your clit, you could help getting louder and bucking your hips grinding on his face.

Steve’s eyes were close relishing in your sex. You combed your fingers through his hair and Steve moaned loudly against your pussy. He dipped his tongue past your folds and that along with the vibrations from his beautiful moans, you head threw back moaning in pure ecstasy, moaning so loud your neighbors were definitely going to file a complaint.

“Fuck, Steve. Your mouth feels so good; shit!” you whined.

His tongue circled your clit again quicker this time and you bucked your hips, tightening your stomach and squeezing your legs as you approached your high. Steve kneaded the soft flesh of your ass lapping up everything you gave him.

Steve crawled from under you as you held onto the headboard, still standing on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Steve came up behind you rubbing your hips softly, kissing the back of your neck softly. He quickly rid the remaining of his clothes he still wore, his painfully hard cock slapping against his stomach desperate for some sort of attention.

You breathe softly, hyper focused on the cum that slipped down your inner thighs. Your legs lightly trembled from just his mouth you couldn’t wait to feel what his cock would feel like, filling you up like it was only a week ago. Steve sat beside you looking at you with a soft smile on his face, his hand softly rubbing the back of your legs and your bottom too.

He reached around to grab your hip and slowly turned you around settling you between his legs; your back pressed against his chest as it was only moments before, more innocently than now. His lips sucked and kissed your neck as his hands cupped and kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts.

Your hands rested over his own and your hips squirmed a bit for eagerness. The low growl from Steve because your hips grinded against his cock was incredibly arousing.

“Such an eager little slut ain't cha’,” he grabbed your hair.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as he pushed you forward on your hands and knees.

“Want me to fuck you? Remind you how I felt buried so fucking deep inside you? God, I think about you every fucking night; how perfect you were wrapped around me, how beautiful you sounded underneath me,” he whispered huskily in your ear making you shudder.

“Stevie, please,” you whimpered.

His hands rubbed up and down your back as he chuckled darkly.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to take care of you again, pretty girl,” he kissed your back softly.

He wrapped his hand around his cock slowly and languidly pumping it. He couldn’t help but tease slightly circled his tip along your entrance pulling desperate whines from you. He finally reached his own breaking point, unable to stand not being able to feel you so he pushed his hips forward moaning loudly at how tight you felt around him.

“So good, pretty girl,” he moaned.

“Fuck, Stevie. Filling me up so good; you’re so big,” you sighed.

“Damn right, pretty girl. Taking my cock so well. Fucking made for me,” he grunted.

His snapped in and out increasingly quicker with each thrust; the vulgar sounds of his movements and skin slapping against each other echoed loudly in the room. Harmonizing with both your pleasurable moans.

Chasing both your releases, Steve’s hips jerked rougher and harder in and out of you making you practically shriek at the feeling. He leaned forward wrapping his hand around your throat before pulling you flush against his chest.

“Such pretty baby,” he bit your ear.

“Fuck! Stevie I need to come,” you whined.

“Yeah, you want to come all over my cock? Make a fucking mess?” he growled.

“Please!”

“Hold on, pretty girl. I’m almost there,” he sighed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in pleasure.

You whined and whimpered, tears brimming your eyes from that overwhelming feeling. You couldn’t help but clench hard around his cock desperately holding back for your release.

“Fuck, do that again, pretty girl,” Steve gasped.

“God, yes. I’m close, pretty girl. You ready to come?” he pulled your head back to look at your face.

Tears fell inelegantly down your cheeks, sweat lined your forehead, your chest moved rapidly up and down; to Steve, you looked ethereal.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Let go, pretty girl. I gotcha,” he whispered against your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as your body shook against Steve’s, releasing onto his dick profoundly. Steve swallowed your louds moans, roughly pressing his lips to yours, moaning himself. You clenched hard around Steve one last time feeling his throbbing cock shoot hot ribbons of cum, coating your walls.

When you eased your way slowly down from your high, Steve laid you down gently pulling out to see his cum mixed with yours spilling from you. You looked so fucked out breathing heavily, whimpering at the loss of Steve inside you. He wanted to, but held back from taking you again. But not wanting to hurt you, he treaded towards the bathroom and turned on the water to run you two a hot bath. He picked you up gently pressing kisses all over your face and neck before planting one delicious kiss on your lips; your hands reaching around his neck to deepen it if that was even possible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, coating your arms with soap to wash you. You laid against him with your eyes closed desperately trying not to fall asleep in his arms.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked softly.

“Mh-m,” you shook your head slightly with a blissful smile on your face.

“Good,” he wrapped his arms around you tightly, kissing you passionately.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, barely audibly.

“For coming to hang out with me tonight,” you chuckled. Your eyes felt too heavy, simply remembering the way he carried you carefully back to your bed and held for the rest of the night.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #frat boy!steve rogers #chris evans smut #honeybunswritingchallenge

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

Text

Bugs and Hisses ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Halloween with Draco <3 Friends into BOO’s (teehee)

Warnings: mild drinking nothing tooo crazy but not encouraging it !

Words: 5.2K

A/N: this is my first one shot in like a month and i ofc had to do something for halloween even tho im a tad late but its still a halloweekend KIND OF !!!!!!! </3 I HOPE ITS GOOOD

“No, it’s a stupid holiday.”

Draco crossed his arms in a stubborn child-like way, a scowl on his face as he stared forward towards the front of the class where Snape was giving a lecture on the small but vicious Erkling creatures.

“Come on, please,” you pleaded quietly. Your gaze kept flickering between your easily-irked professor and the pouting blond beside you, hoping that in a few short seconds you would get the answer you were hoping for that way you could get back into your notes instead of possibly getting a detention or losing house points.

In all the years you’ve been friends with the Prince of Slytherin, you learned that he loathed the holiday and any festivities that came with it. Every year, you beg him to go out to one of the many parties that are thrown ranging from small gatherings to full-on blowouts or just do something halloween related with you, but he always refuses. His reasoning, as he put it, was that he was simply ‘too mature to be dressing up as a foul creature.’

You knew he mostly spent the holiday either asleep in his dorm or walking around aimlessly with Crabbe and Goyle to target unsuspecting first-years after the big feast but this year, you finally had enough of his anti-halloween agenda. You wanted to spend the evening and hopefully night with him laughing by your side and showing him how fun everything could be, but most of all - you wanted to see him in a costume.

“Please, if you go I will never ask you for anything ever again,” you tried again once Snape had turned his back to the class.

Draco pursed his lips as though he was genuinely considering it, his eyes still locked on the back of the greasy-haired professor before he turned slightly to you with a deep sigh. “Fine, but don’t expect this to be an annual thing.”

You gave him a bright smile, holding yourself back from jumping around in your seat and completely pushing aside the desire to throw your arms around him in excitement.

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

He hid the small smile that grew on his face from seeing how happy his answer made you, turning his head down towards his parchment filled with notes that all of a sudden seemed interesting as he avoided your gaze. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was the smallest bit of excited at the thought of spending the holiday with you because he knew that wherever you went or whatever you did, he would be perfectly content with you by his side because for the first time in all your years as friends; he realized only a month ago that the weird fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach when he was around you or the weird overwhelming warmth that spread throughout his entire body like an ocean of water breaking through a dam - was a crush. He hated it at first, noticing and begrudgingly acknowledging it. He thought it was cliche that he somehow fell for one of his closest friends and mostly, he thought that he was going to ruin the friendship entirely. He wanted to wreck it himself, trying to distance himself from you and being extra mean - but he couldn’t.

He adored your company too much and everything that came with you. He adores your laugh, your smile, your hugs when you greet him and how you somehow give him one each time he needs it the most. He adores the study-buddy system you guys have almost every other week before a quiz or an exam. He adores your bad jokes and clumsy accidents even though those qualities annoy him with anyone else. He adores the way you want him to join you in everything fun you and he especially adores the times when he overhears you talking about him as if he’s your favorite person in the world.

Bottom line, he’s all about you.

So when this season of spookiness came, he was expecting your pleading for him to spend the day with you. Only this time, it only took you a couple times before he ultimately agreed to give in to you.

You were ready to explode with thrill at the thought of what the night held in store for you and you didn’t hide it one bit. When the big Hogwarts Hallowe’en feast was over and every one began spilling out from the Great Hall and into the main foyer, you were searching restlessly for a clean mop of silver hair that almost always stuck out in the mass of students. You weren’t sure if you were able to spot him anywhere in under a few seconds because he was unimaginably important to you, or because his hair was so uniquely bright, or maybe it was how boisterous and loud Crabbe and Goyle always were when they were by him, especially if he was with other Slytherins - but you found him, every single time with ease.

After standing on your tippy-toes several times to overlook the stampede of everyone, you finally spotted Draco leaning across a pillar with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face while he stood in a circle of his House friends that included his two goons and his quidditch teammates. You watched him thoughtfully as you approached, taking slow steps towards the group to admire him from afar and also because they were all slightly intimidating. He looked lost in the conversation, laughs escaping from his upturned lips as he listened to whatever was being said, large pale hands running through his hair every so often when the front pieces of his hair would flop down to his forehead.

He looked ridiculously good and effortlessly at that.

You weren’t sure if you should interrupt, hesitating a few feet away from them to where they couldn’t sense your presence but you were close enough to see and hear them clearly.

“We’ll see you later tonight then, Malfoy?” One of the boys nodded towards Draco.

“I’ll show up for a bit, I suppose,” he shrugs.

You see him look around the circle of boys, eyes landing on you momentarily and then back to his friends before doing a double-take towards you again in surprise. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach when his smile widens slightly into a short-lived toothy grin while he said a quick goodbye to his friends causing them all to disband and him to start approaching you.

“Are you ready for the halloween of a lifetime?” You ask as he neared.

He rolled his eyes, laughing faintly. “Where am I meeting you, darling?”

The nick name he used so rarely for you made your knees feel weak, a warm blush rushing up your neck and inching onto your cheeks that you knew was going to be very apparent on your face in a few seconds.

“I’ll meet you right here in an hour,” you say quickly.

You didn’t give him time to answer before you turned quickly in the direction of your common room and began rushing away before he could see the effect he had on you that was so clearly appearing on your face.

You didn’t know what the night held for you and Draco or where it would lead you. Unknowing to you, you were both hoping something more could come out of the evening between the two of you. But he wasn’t one to express himself in that department of feelings and you weren’t feeling bold enough to say anything about yours. It was a gray area of hoping that fate could somehow intervene and throw the two of you into what you both wanted without either of you really saying anything - but it was impossible. There was no outcome or situation you had in mind that could lead you into that, so you were stuck desperately hoping that one day things might end up differently.

It was beginning to feel ironic how in your world full of real tangible magic, there wasn’t a magical solution to your problem. You were trapped feeling like a muggle who had to figure things out by themselves, no magic included. The thought of giving him a love potion did cross your mind as a joke, but it wasn’t a genuine or fair option but little did you know, you don’t need a potion for him to feel the same way - because he already did.

Walking into your dorm felt like an exuberant disaster of everyone running around and sitting in front of mirrors with their makeup or dressing into their costumes. It was noisy and filled with chatter and you were in shock from how much clutter everyone was able to make in such a short period of time from when the feast ended to now. A simple spell would clean everything up so you and everybody else didn’t really pay it any mind.

You maneuvered around the mess of your housemates and towards your bed where your costume was kept in the trunk underneath it, plopping down onto the floor to pull it from the underskirt of your House colored bedding.

“Did he finally say yes?” Your closest roomie friend jumped onto your bed, propping herself up on her elbows and resting her chin on her hands as she watched you dig through your bottomless trunk.

“Surprisingly, yes,” you answered, hiding the smile on your face.

She drawled out a teasing ‘ooh,’ poking your arm lightly with her index finger as you shied away and leaned deeper into your trunk. She was the only one who you willingly admitted your crush to as she was the only person you really trusted to not blather it off to someone.

“Will I be seeing you two in the Slytherin common room?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “The boys are throwing a party and I luckily got an invite, you know how they are. So picky with who shows up.”

“You mean they’re pretentious?” You laugh. “But I don’t know if we’ll be going to it. I know Draco obviously got invited but I was thinking we could do other things.”

“Like what?” She questions as if she knew it was going to be something dirty. “I know a few secret spots around the castle-”

“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” you smack her arm lightly. “I honestly have no clue what to do. I didn’t think he’d actually agree because he never does.”

She runs her hands over her face, stifling her laughs of disbelief before she sighed loudly. “I still suggest some broom closets, hidden out of sight.”

You sit up, pushing her from where she was lying while she laughed amusingly at your false horrified reaction that you put on to hide the fact from her that what she was suggestion really was what you wanted.

“I’ll leave you alone so you can get your costume on,” she smiles, jumping up from your bed and tossing one of your pillows at you as she walked away. You let out a huff, tossing it back onto your duvet before setting your costume down on the spot your friend was lying in.

You stared at it hesitantly, all of a sudden feeling nauseous at the thought of going out later with Draco as if it was some sort of date even though you knew it wasn’t. It was just two friends, hanging out, doing some spooky and fun Halloween activities together and nothing more; so why were you feeling so nervous? You weren’t sure if it was your instincts warning you of something major that was approaching or the fear that what you didn’t have planned was going to bite you in the arse when you continuously told Draco he was going to enjoy himself when you didn’t even know if that was going to be true. You didn’t want to disappoint him and mess it up for you in the future when the holiday came again and you didn’t want this to be the first and last time you experienced it with him.

The pressure was raining down on you like thick, hard pieces of hail with no end in sight.

As you were getting dressed and doing your makeup for your costume as you liked, (i’m trying to be vague for your own imagination teehee) all you could think about was what in the hell you were going to do once you met up with the Prince of Slytherin. Your train of thought was then derailed into wondering what he was going to be dressed up as or if he was going to be dressed up at all considering the way he is. He was the type to make fun of people who dressed up, that you knew when you ran into him last year as you were walking back to your common room with your friend, both of you in costume and victims of his gentle bullying. He obviously went easier on the two of you since you were there, telling you he was just messing around afterwards and saying he liked yours but once you were out of his sight but still in ear-shot, you heard him and his two minions berating a small group of people that unfortunately passed by them.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor mirror, letting out a long shaky exhale with your hands clasped together before you started towards the way out of your dorm, through the common room, and ultimately towards the foyer outside the Great Hall where Draco was most likely waiting for you. An hour had gone by since you last saw him, an hour of stress and panic that hadn’t slowed down or stopped.

Your shoes dragged against the stone floors, hugging yourself tightly as you walked nearer towards the spot where you were supposed to meet and as you lifted your gaze - you saw him there, staring right at you with a small grin and just like you expected, no costume.

“Nice costume,” he compliments when you reach him.

“Where’s yours?” You frown.

“I’m not dressing up. That’s embarrassing,” he shakes his head.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re the only one not dressed up, that’s embarrassing.”

You don’t know why it was irritating to you that he wasn’t in costume, even if you knew he wasn’t. You figured it was because you were trying to overpower your nervousness with different more consuming feelings, and much to your and Draco’s dismay, it worked.

You weren’t nervous anymore, just irked.

“I’m staying like this, take it or leave it.”

You rolled your eyes, staring him down and hoping that he would change his mind but he wouldn’t. He was ridiculously stubborn.

In the heat of the moment of a fleeting thought, you decided that if he wasn’t going to be in costume, you would put him in one or at least a hint of one. You pulled your wand out, pointing it onto his striking white hair and with one easy spell, his hair was now a flaming vibrant red.

“Y/N!” He growled, running towards the closest thing that would show off his reflection where he let out a string of frantic curse words. “I look like a bloody Weasley.”

Your laughter caught him off guard, the sound ringing in his ears like music that spread warmth throughout him. You were clutching at your stomach with one hand and pointing at him with the other, giggling wildly at the sight of him with hair that did not suit him at all. He smiled to himself, your glee rubbing off on him abruptly that ate away quickly at his anger.

“You should’ve given me some ratty old hand-me-down robes and I’d look just like Ron,” he notes.

“That’s rude, Draco,” you say still laughing. He smirks, leaving the shiny statue of a knight in armor where he was checking his reflection and back over to you where you were still stuck in between doubling over in laughter and watching him.

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he muses. He begins digging into the pocket of his dress pants, taking your vulnerability as a chance for him to tap his wand to the top of your head and before you could react, your whole hair had turned a deep green.

Your laughter immediately ended as you ran towards the suit of armor, your grimacing reflection staring back at you with deep Slytherin green hair and a distorted Draco behind you doubling over just like you were moments ago.

“This looks,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the scowl on your face saying enough for you as you turned bitterly towards Draco.

“Great?” He suggested, his guffawing subsiding into airy chuckles as you stood in front of him. Yours picked up again as you stared up at him, his striking bright red hair looking terribly unfamiliar on him. He was looking down at you, his heart jumping at the sight of you holding back your laughter. “You really do look dashing by the way.”

You swallowed thickly, thankful for the darkness that had settled around the castle and easily hid the scarlet brush appearing on your face. “But my hair is green.”

“Green is my favorite color.”

You opened your mouth to speak, your stomach and heart dropping simultaneously as your mind went completely blank. You pretended to not notice how he took a step closer to you to where he was almost fully against you and he pretended not to notice the way your lips were parted and how your chest was rising and falling a little too heavily as if you were nervous. It was game over for you when his gaze flickered down towards your lips and then back to your eyes, his head leaning down just the slightest like if he were waiting for you to meet him halfway. You were about to get closer to him, about to let your eyes close and give in to what you believed was him wanting to kiss you - but the world had other plans.

“Malfoy! There you are!” Someone boomed, clambering up the steps from the direction of the dungeons. You both jumped away from each other, your attention diverted to the Slytherin boy that interrupted the moment. “Malfoy come on, the party! And you can bring her too.”

You frowned when the boy came up to the two of you, clearly tipsy, dressed as a stereotypical vampire, and over-excited with the fact that Draco was out and willing to participate in Halloween festivities. It seemed like it bothered the now red-head when he looked to you and then back to the Slytherin boy with an apprehensive expression.

The boy, sensing the pause in the air, grabbed onto both you and Draco’s arms and started dragging the two of you towards the Slytherin common room where although the stone walls were thick, the sound of people celebrating inside were easily slipping past the stone slabs. He spoke the password out quickly and as soon as the entrance was open, you were both shoved inside into what looked like the largest party you had ever witnessed in all your years at Hogwarts. It was packed and filled with what looked like half of the school, or at least a huge majority of fifth-years and up. It was loud with music booming from a brand new wizarding-world radio in the middle of the room currently playing a song from the Weird Sisters. It smelled like a mixture of everyone’s perfumes and colognes and like firewhisky. The boy that pushed you two inside quickly passed you two cups of the very potent firewhisky before downing the third one he had in his hand and disappeared into the crowd while screaming for you to enjoy yourselves.

You both stood awkwardly away from the big and rowdy crowd, your drink clenched tightly in your hand against your chest and Draco swishing his around while it was still in the cup.

He wanted to up and run, thinking that someone was going to make a comment about his hair or about him being there, but no one seemed to pay attention to him or that he was there and in a way, he felt relieved by it and less tense by the second.

“How in the bloody hell did we end up here?” You yelled over the music, putting a hand over his arm that was holding his drink up. You didn’t mean to, but you were glad you did because he glanced down at the contact with a small smile before looking back up to you.

“We got dragged here, remember!” He yelled back.

“What?”

“We got dragged here!”

“I can’t hear you!”

He rolled his eyes, bending down towards your ear to repeat himself one last time before you finally heard him over the mayhem around you.

“This is crazy!” You looked around the room, the sight of all the bodies and recklessness being too much as they were all more than likely drunk and oblivious to how stuffy and suffocating the room was becoming.

You looked down at the golden brown liquid sloshing around in your cup, wondering whether or not you should take it, but with the nervousness you felt coming back, it didn’t take you much longer to decide to down your cup and allow the liquid courage to seep into your veins. Draco watched you with amusement, chuckling to himself when you scrunched up your face in disgust from the burn he knew it caused as it went down your throat. He shook his head, deciding to drink his too and it was only minutes that passed before the drink was quickly becoming apparent in your systems. There was something about Firewhisky that always made its mark promptly and it really was courage in a bottle that you were glad was available to you in that moment because you were sure that in just a few minutes you were close to fainting.

You were beginning to sway faintly to the music, the rhythm sounding more loud but distant and more invigorating. You didn’t care anymore if anyone was watching or that Draco was observing you curiously just as he was beginning to lose all sense of holding himself back. He was inching closer to you, his head moving slightly to beat of the song and pure joy etched onto his features when your eyes met his.

“I keep forgetting I turned your hair red!” You yelled up to him, laughing loudly when he ran his hand through it. In your moment of confidence, you reached up and lightly ran your fingers over one of the front pieces hanging over his forehead. He didn’t stop you, his heart hammering against his chest from the drink and his overwhelming crush that was clouding all his senses. “Your hair is so soft!”

He wanted to pin you up against the wall right then and there. You were peering up at him, just as you were before you were dragged inside by one of his Housemates and as soon as he was about to kiss you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He knew to bend down this time for you to hear him to which you responded with a fervent nod. You took his hand in yours, pulling him towards the exit of the common room and he let you lead him into the coldness of the dungeons that bit at his cheeks. It was a stark difference from the warmth inside, the crisp October air being more chilled than what either of you were expecting. It felt nice against your flushed skin and easier to breathe, especially once after the common room closed again and you could hear was muffled talking and music.

Neither of you were drunk and were still aware of pretty much everything, mostly the feelings stirring inside you both that was begging either of you to make a move towards the other. You were just a tad tipsy, and so was he, but it was enough for you to still enjoy the night without the initial awkwardness that oddly settled in between you. It was weird, considering how open and talkative you usually were with each other but there was something about the evening that made it feel like if you didn’t know each other.

“What now?” He asked you with a raised brow, his hand slipping into his pocket.

You smiled, an idea coming to your head that you knew he would love and you didn’t mind doing in the name of Halloween. “Do you want to go mess with people?”

He stared at you with widened eyes, “bloody hell, I love you.”

There was nothing that could have prepared you for his response, your own eyes widening in shock as you stared at him. He felt his face get hot in embarrassment, Merlin, he felt so stupid. He was mentally smacking himself in the head, desperately wishing he could bury himself seven feet under the Earth and staying there until the end of time.

He was about to play off what he said in a joking way, but for the second time that night he was interrupted by a couple that stumbled out of the common room drunkenly snogging each other’s faces off and wholly oblivious to you and Draco standing there in lingering panic. You jumped back into his arms when the couple staggered past you, almost knocking you over in the process of their makeout session and it annoyed you beyond belief. It annoyed you that they were in your way, annoyed that they interrupted you, annoyed that it wasn’t you in their position with the one you wanted.

You dug your wand out of your pocket, flicking it their way as they rolled onto the wall, still in each other’s hold until the hex that flew from your wand hit the boy causing him to stagger back from the girl and holding his nose in pain. You heard Draco laugh from behind you when bats began to fly out from the boy’s nostrils while the girl screamed and ran away from one of the bats that swept down onto her head. The bats flew out of the dungeon and up the stairs with the boy struggling loudly the whole way up until his panicked screams were no longer heard.

“That was a perfect bat-bogey,” he looks at you proudly. “I feel bad for that poor bloke’s nose.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed jokingly.

When the sound of the door opened again, you both ran to hide behind a long drape against the wall that didn’t hide your shoes very well and pressed up against your bodies that’s shapes were no doubt visible from the opposite side.

You heard footsteps trail haphazardly down the corridor, their back seemingly facing you and as you both peeked your heads out from behind the drape, Draco nodded towards the boy and pointed his wand towards him.

“Slugulus Eructo,” you heard him whisper and a stream of green light from his wand hit the back of the boy’s head and as he turned around in surprise while doubling over in pain, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth as slugs began to slip past the spaces between his fingers. When he stood up to run away, you noticed it was the same boy from earlier that stopped you two from the almost kiss and dragged you to the party. You let out a string of giggles as he ran away just like your last victims.

“This is so mean,” you chortle, leaning into him from behind the drape in an attempt to get closer to him. You were feeling bolder when he beamed down at you, feeling happy knowing that although the night was still young, he was having fun. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, I know you don’t like Halloween.” You say quietly.

“You finally convinced me, it’s not that bad,” he grins.

“Why’d you hate it in the first place?”

The question seemed to strike a nerve but the Firewhisky still flowing freely in his veins tore away easily at his defenses so instead of avoiding your question entirely like he usually would, he frowned and let his guard down.

“I don’t hate it,” he answers apprehensively. “My father never let me celebrate it. He never let me dress up. He told me respectable wizards don’t partake in holidays like these.”

His pout made your gut twist in sympathy, your hand instinctively going into his as you squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s never too late to start celebrating. Besides, I don’t see him here stopping you.”

He smiled for what felt like the hundredth time that night, his stained-red hair falling over his eyes as he looked down to his shoes.

“You have a point, darling.”

The door of the common room opened again and what you suspected to be another snogging couple to stumble out from the sound of heavy breathing and multiple shoes scuffling about was something completely different.

“Glad Malfoy stayed with someone else today.” It was Crabbe.

“Yeah, he never lets us go to these parties,” Goyle responds. “Go ahead and thank Y/L/N for freeing us, he fancies her like a fool.”

“Reckon we should go look for them?”

You figured Goyle nodded to him like the blathering idiot he was because in a few short seconds they were running away up the same steps everyone else had.

You peered up slowly at Draco who was already gaping at you like a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The gears in your brain were spinning wildly with happiness, the gossip hopefully being proven true when he didn’t try to deny it. You didn’t realize how close his face was to yours, cheeks tinged with pink from both the firewhisky and sudden shyness and his warm cinnamon breath fanning your face as he looked down at you.

“I can explain,” he finally said.

He didn’t need to; you placed your hands gently on his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you and pressing your lips against his, catching him completely by surprise. His eyes were wide at first, his body rigid and his lips unmoving, but once it finally clicked that this was real and no longer a fantasy that played like a broken record in his head, his lips moved fervently against yours with the rest of his body following. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers squeezing at the hem of your bottoms and his body pushing even further into yours.

Your bottom lip caught lightly in between his teeth as you reluctantly pulled away from him, the both of you breathing raggedly as you searched each other’s eyes.

“I feel the same,” you said softly. “Happy Halloween.”

He smashes his lips hungrily against yours again, his ego growing with each gasp of a delight that escapes your mouth as your hands roamed and tangled themselves into his magically colored strands.

“Very...happy...halloween,” he mutters against your lips in between kisses, a dazy smile adorning your face while he tightened his arms around you.

You just couldn’t wait until next year.

1K notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years ago

Note

when is anakin going to get his revenge and kiss divorced obi-wan back

yes hello this got out of hand and the best moment would be in the hypothetical part two but here is a KUWSK directly post kiss from Anakin's pov. For context, this snippet and this snippet probablllyyyy should be read?

(2.8k, ffs @ kit)

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself after he drops the kids off at school and starts making the drive back home. His hands are tight on the wheel. He’s been trying to think about something else--anything else ever since it happened, but his mind refuses to let go of that moment.

He’s replayed it so many times in the last hour and a half that it doesn’t even feel like an actual memory anymore, just a combination of sensations.

The chill of the almost winter morning that made the hair on his arms stick up. The tacky feeling in his mouth because he had slept a bit later than he had wanted to and didn’t have time to brush his teeth if he wanted to make breakfast before the kids and Obi-Wan left.

The woodsy-spiced smell of Obi-Wan’s cologne, stronger than normal. They’d been standing closer together than normal too, but it had been so early and Obi-Wan’s mind had obviously been miles away.

Anakin had been saying something stupid, something that didn’t mean anything, and Obi-Wan had replied and then Obi-Wan had leaned in and kissed him, full on the mouth. His beard had felt so soft against Anakin’s skin, his lips even softer, if a bit chapped.

Had they been chapped? Now Anakin can’t remember, he’s turned this memory over in his head so often. It had been for less than a handful of seconds. A quick brush of lips, a taste of a life Anakin has dreamt about for well over a year now. And Obi-Wan had just turned and left, as if he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. As if he hadn’t just kissed Anakin on the porch for everyone to see.

Obi-Wan would never be that cruel on purpose. Perhaps to that one profesor who always tries to refute Obi-Wan’s papers, but not to Anakin.

Which means Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking. He had been perhaps caught up in the domesticity of it all, of having someone wish him luck and see him off. And maybe Anakin has been doing something like that for the last two years, but there’s a person who did that for Obi-Wan for much longer. A person they ran into at the park just two days ago.

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself as he gets out of the car and unlocks the house. He tries desperately to keep the despair and jealousy out of his voice, but at least no one’s around. It’s not that he hates the woman or anything. Really, he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand her, but that’s a given.

He’d never have Obi-Wan’s heart and soul and throw it away. He’d never get tired of fighting with Obi-Wan if he was fighting to stay with the man. He’d never be able to run into him at a park and then just leave again as if seeing him stirred up nothing inside of him.

Seeing Obi-Wan always stirs things up inside of Anakin. It makes no sense that Satine, who had had Obi-Wan’s love--knew all those things about the man that Anakin did not and could not know as just his housemate--had just been satisfied with saying hello and then just as quickly goodbye.

The same cold sinking feeling that Anakin’s been trying to shake off for the last two and a half days returns, and he has to lean against the countertop in the kitchen for a second to ground himself.

They’re going to get back together. They will.

At the park, they had seemed so in their own world, as if everything else had disappeared except for them. Anakin had had to send Luke over, couldn’t stand watching that reconnection happen without at least trying to remind Obi-Wan that he has a family now, that he’s not alone anymore, that there are people who love him.

Obi-Wan had glared at him for his meddling, which hadn’t admittedly done wonders to his confidence. And when Obi-Wan had deposited Luke--Luke--on the ground to chase after Satine, when he had hugged her, Anakin knew for sure.

They were going to lose him.

Anakin had had his set of chances and had taken none of them, and now Obi-Wan’s going to re-fall in love with his ex-wife and Anakin’s going to have to be the supportive best friend who has to figure out how to tell his children that due to unforeseen and tragic circumstances, their Obi is probably going to elope to Paris and maybe send a postcard once or twice a year addressed solely to the children and Anakin will grow old and die alone and the name Obi-Wan Kenobi will be banned from his small, shadowy apartment, and all Anakin will have is a few memories of the two most important and heart wrenching kisses he’s ever been a part of in his entire life.

“He was thinking about Satine,” he tells himself. “He kissed me but it wasn’t about me. It hasn’t ever been about me.”

There’s no denying that Obi-Wan loves Anakin’s children and also no denying that his children love Obi-Wan. Anakin thinks he wouldn’t love Obi-Wan half as much if he hadn’t absolutely been charmed by the kids and vice versa. But he had been. They had been. Those few weeks when Anakin had thought about leaving a year ago had been absolutely awful because he knew he would be breaking his twins’ hearts, not just his. He’d be hurting Obi-Wan too, he had known that.

But he had had to try. Because he knew that if he didn’t try to leave then he’d have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of Obi-Wan’s life when it came time for the man to grow tired of his presence.

It had been a last ditch attempt at saving his dignity. And it hadn’t taken much argument from everyone else to get him to abandon the idea completely.

Now he can’t help but to think he should have put his foot down, gotten some distance. Because now he’s entrenched in Obi-Wan’s world, the same way Obi-Wan is entrenched in his and the twins’ world. Leaving now will feel like ripping himself in two. He’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night five years from now and wonder about the academic response to Obi-Wan’s most recent publication.

He’ll probably have read it. He’ll probably still be fielding questions from his kids’ friends’ parents about whatever happened to that handsome man that used to come in to help during Show-And-Tell Day? Do you remember who I’m talking about, Anakin?

If he had left then, the idea of leaving now wouldn’t hurt so much. But there’s a ticking clock in his head.

Obi-Wan kissed him.

But he was thinking about Satine.

He calls Padme, because that’s sort of what he does when he doesn’t know what to do. She’s never turned him away--with the rejected marriage proposal being the one glaring exception, of course.

Thankfully, she doesn’t start now, though she does sound a little stressed when she picks up.

“Hey,” he says trying to sound normal and as if he isn’t a few minutes alone with his thoughts away from crying like a baby.

“Ani?”

“Are you--are you busy? Something sort of happened.”

“My flight is boarding,” Padme admits, but there’s a rustle on the other end of the line like she’s just sat down. “But it’s not like I’m not assigned a seat. They won’t leave without me. What happened?”

Anakin smiles in spite of himself. She’s really just such an angel of a person.

“Are the children alright?” she asks, sounding worried the longer it takes for Anakin to respond. “Ani?”

“No, yeah, the children are fine. I dropped them off at school this morning. But. Um.” He takes a deep breath. “Obi-Wankissedme.”

“I’m sorry?” Padme asks.

“Obi-Wan kissed me.”

The other end of the line is silent. “And we’re calling this a problem now?” she asks faintly. “Is he a bad kisser?”

“He’s a great kisser,” Anakin defends, shifting awkwardly on his feet, catching sight of the fridge door and quickly turning away.

“Then I don’t…?” Padme trails off uncertainly. Anakin can understand this confusion. Padme has only had to hear about how much Anakin wants Obi-Wan to kiss him for about two years now.

“I don’t think he realized he did it,” Anakin confesses. “He just did it as he was leaving. Because I said goodbye. It--I don’t think he realized who he was kissing.”

Now Padme sounds a distinct mix of skeptical and sympathetic, a tone Anakin’s only ever heard her use with him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because--because we went to the park the other day and he ran into his ex-wife and they were together for, for years so--so obviously he just--he wasn’t--it wasn’t me he was kissing. He was thinking about Satine.”

The words sound dull and practiced and lifeless.

“Oh, Anakin,” Padme says.

“And they’re probably gonna get back together, and we’re going to have to leave, and he’ll never know that I--” Anakin cuts himself off and thunks his head on the countertop with a groan.

Padme hums disbelievingly. “Anakin, I know you’ve never believed me when I say this, but that man is gone over you. And I think if he kissed you long enough for you to tell me for certain that he’s a good kisser, then he definitely knew he was kissing you.”

Anakin bites his lip and debates the pros and cons of being completely truthful. But he had called Padme for help, and she can’t provide the best advice if she doesn’t know the full story.

“That’s not the first time he’s kissed me,” Anakin finally admits, rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck.

“What?” Padme exclaims, probably much louder than appropriate for a public space. “Anakin Skywalker, explain yourself right now.”

He exhales forcefully. “Last New Year’s Eve party.”

“That was almost a year ago! And nothing else ever happened between you two? What? We always thought that once the first kiss was out of the way we’d need to beat you both with sticks to keep you off each other.”

“Well--wait, who’s we?”

Padme tsks. “Myself and Obi-Wan’s coworker.”

“You’ve been gossiping about me?” Anakin asks, torn between being flabbergasted and offended.

“That’s not important right now,” Padme says airily. “What’s important here is the fact that you apparently kissed Obi-Wan Kenobi and never told me?”

“He doesn’t remember, okay?” Anakin snaps. “He. We’d been drinking. A lot. It was after everyone left. And. I was in the kitchen and he was in the kitchen and he--”

--had pinned him to the front of the fridge and just looked at Anakin for a few seconds like he was the most precious, important thing in the entire world, and Anakin had opened his mouth to say something and Obi-Wan had--

“--kissed me,” Anakin says out loud. “And then he--”

He had pressed impossibly closer to Anakin, one hand wrapped around his hip, caressing the thin skin there while his other hand ghosted down Anakin’s hair and back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch, as his tongue mapped out Anakin’s mouth for what could have been seconds or minutes, and Anakin could have stayed there forever, but his own hands had grabbed too tightly onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, must have jerked him forward too roughly, because he had been pushed away and--

“--threw up in the kitchen sink,” he finishes.

There’s dead silence on the other end of the line before Padme bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay,” she says once she’s calmed down. “But how do you know for sure he forgot about that? Sounds like something he might just never want to talk about if it ended up with him vomiting in the kitchen.”

“I just know,” Anakin promises. And he does. Obi-Wan had no idea about that kiss. It was a secret Anakin thought about too often, but one he had kept to himself for nearly a year, too afraid to reveal it to Obi-Wan only for the man to say he hadn’t meant to, it hadn’t meant anything, he’d been much too drunk.

Even the idea of Obi-Wan apologizing for one of the hottest kisses Anakin’s ever experienced in his life has been enough to keep Anakin silent on the matter.

But now he’s been kissed again, this time by a sober Obi-Wan, and it still--it still doesn’t mean anything.

“It didn’t mean anything to him then, or he would have remembered,” Anakin tells Padme. “And this one doesn’t mean anything either. The timing is just...it can’t be a coincidence, Padme. He’s never once thought about kissing me, about...about coming home to me like that, and now, a few days after he runs into his ex-wife he’s suddenly planting one on me as he walks out the door? I know--I know you think he...he might...he might have liked me, or...or wanted me, but. There’s no way I can hold a candle to a decades long marriage. I just. I can’t compete with that. He doesn’t want me to.”

Padme’s Anakin is cut off on her end by what sounds like a flight attendant. “Yes, I’m coming,” Padme tells the person, and there’s shuffling and then the distinct sound of the harsh beep of the ticket scanner, before Padme’s heels are clicking on the flight tunnel. “Do not rush me,” Padme tells someone. “What are you going to do, close this thing while I’m in it?”

Anakin has to hide his only sort of watery smile in his hand as he listens quietly on his end.

“Anakin?” Padme asks, and she must be on the plane because there’s a buzz of other people’s noises around her. “Anakin, I know you won’t believe me, and maybe--maybe you’re right and they’ll get back together, maybe you’re going to lose him.” Anakin’s heart hurts quite painfully at these words. “But do you remember what you did the first time you proposed to me and I said no?”

Great, yeah. Just bring up all his biggest failures in love. Sure, why start with Padme? When Anakin had been five he had tried to kiss a boy and been shoved into the mud for his efforts. That’s a fine place to begin, really. Just drag up all the old hurts. He sighs. “I went and got you a bigger ring.”

“And do you remember what you did when I told you that I couldn’t raise the children, but my parents wanted to?”

“I threatened to take them to court if they didn’t let me have them,” Anakin says. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, of course, but Padme’s parents had never really liked him. They still don’t.

Someone’s trying to talk to Padme on the other end of the line. “Yes, fine,” she snaps. “Anakin. Anakin, what I’m trying to say is I’ve never seen you give up on anything without at least trying to fight for it. And I don’t know why this should be different. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you have to watch him get back together with his ex-wife and know you never even tried to tell him he had other options.”

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, speechless. “Then what--”

“So go,” Padme cuts him off. “Go tell him he has other options! For fuck’s sake, yes, alright I’m getting off the phone. Anakin, when I land I expect to have a very detailed account of events waiting for me on my email. Goodbye.”

She hangs up. Anakin stares at the phone in his hand for a handful of seconds, thinking over what she’s said. What she’s implied.

She’s right, of course. Anakin never gives in this easily. He doesn’t fully understand why he’s so ready to capitulate now. Maybe he knows full-well he can’t compete with whatever Obi-Wan had with his ex-wife. They have history. They grew up together, became adults together. Anakin’s just this weird twenty-eight year old man with a pair of kids too old for his age who crashed at Obi-Wan’s house during the lowest moment of his life. Of maybe both of their lives.

Love can’t bloom from that. Not really. Not...not the sort of love that turns into a lifelong marriage.

But. Padme’s right. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t try. If he doesn’t know for sure.

So either he could putter around the house all day waiting for Obi-Wan to text or call or come home, talking himself into and out of confessing every emotion he’s harbored for the man for the past two years, or….or he could drive to his campus and confront him in his office, put himself on the execution block and hand Obi-Wan the axe. At least it would be a quick death.

He glances at the digital clock on the oven. 9:38. The idea of waiting ten hours for a resolution makes his skin crawl.

And besides.

Obi-Wan hadn’t packed a lunch.

#this is unread through #because i have housework i have put off in order to type this #i think we all know where this is going though #anakins gonna Do Something Ill-Advised #asks #KUWSK #poor anakin :'(#i imagine obi-wan was probably very pensive for the rest of the day after the park #and anakins just panicking and thinking that he's thinking about his ex wife #and obi-wan kind of is but he's mostly thinking about his new family #and he's thinking a lot about anakin #if only they c o m m u n i c a t e d

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justzawe · 3 years ago

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‘Fresh Meat’ at 10: “We were basically dirty, smelly ‘Friends’”

A decade on from freshers, TV's top students remember their raucous heyday

By Beth Webb

23rd September 2021

“I’m choking up thinking about it. I suppose you never properly mark these things until you look back on them.” Charlotte Ritchie is eating toast and chatting over the phone about Fresh Meat, the milestone uni comedy from Peep Show creators Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, in which she co-starred for four and a half years. A decade ago this week, Channel 4 first introduced the world to Ritchie’s character Oregon (AKA Melissa), and her housemates Vod (Zawe Ashton), JP (Jack Whitehall), Josie (Kimberley Nixon), Howard (Greg McHugh) and Kingsley (Joe Thomas), a motley crew of students whose paths would have probably never crossed outside of their shambolic house share, but during the show’s four series became best of friends.

Speaking with the cast today, it quickly becomes apparent that their real-life relationships are as steadfast now as their characters’ were back then. During our afternoon Zoom session, Ashton shows NME their group WhatsApp photo: a collage of faces in which Nixon sits yearbook-style pretty, while Whitehall is pulling a comically wretched expression. “They’re always the first five people that I write down on any sort of events list,” she says fondly. “It remains one of the most joyful experiences of my life,” Whitehall concurs at the start of our phone call.

Fresh Meat was first conceived by Bain and Armstrong in the late ‘90s, a few years before they came up with Peep Show, inspired by their time together at Manchester uni. “We were drawn to writing the show because university is an intense time in your life,” Bain tells NME. “I felt like I was very young but in some ways quite mature, and learning about life. It could also be quite tough and lonely at times.”

The show began with the arrival of these six polar opposites at their shabby house share: punkish Vod, bohemian Oregon, toff JP, mother hen Josie, nerdy Howard and fedora-sporting Kingsley. However, the stereotypes quickly vanished, and Fresh Meat morphed into a painfully funny, emotionally rich ensemble show about the highs (young love, weekday benders) and rocky lows (debt, drug abuse) of student life.

The collective energy of the cast (“we were basically like dirty, smelly Friends,” quips Ashton) paired with Bain and Armstrong’s cripplingly self-aware, heartfelt writing garnered a multigenerational audience of millions and multiple accolades (including Best TV Show at the 2012 and 2013 NME Awards). “There’s a tenderness to the show as well as the comedy,” says Bain, who is audibly touched when he learns of Ashton and co’s lasting love of Fresh Meat. “It meant that these characters could do terrible, terrible things, and you’d still like them. That was a large part of why Fresh Meat works. I have nothing but fond memories thinking back about it today.”

The casting process began in the months leading up to the shoot, which, true to Bain and Armstrong’s uni experience, took place in Manchester. “I think I auditioned seven times,” says Nixon over the phone from the very house where she learned she got the part. “Six of them were for Oregon, which is bizarre because Oregon is obviously Charlotte.”

Ashton, who auditioned six times for Vod, already knew Nixon as they shared an agent, although their friendship, it turned out, would take a little work. “I found out years later that she thought I was a douchebag,” she laughs. “She would say, ‘I would see you at photoshoots with your yoga mat eating a croissant, and I just thought you were a douchebag.’” Ashton would later read a poem at Nixon’s wedding.

Ritchie, fresh out of uni, had her final audition at the readthrough. “They wanted to see how I fit into the overall group; I don’t think I’ve ever felt more sick,” she remembers. Meanwhile Thomas, Whitehall and McHugh boarded the show amid burgeoning comedy careers, although Thomas, who joined Fresh Meat just ahead of The Inbetweeners Movie dropping, had some initial reservations about playing someone “not a million miles away” from Simon Cooper on the classic high school sitcom. “That was my only qualm, that they were a bit too similar,” he says of Fresh Meat‘s Kingsley during a long and animated afternoon phone chat. “On the other hand, though, I just didn’t care because Sam and Jesse are such good writers. It would’ve been ridiculous to turn down.”

Once the core cast was set, their student transformations could begin. For some, stepping into character was a more drastic process than others. “I put a lot of work into Howard as a performance, with the way that he walked and moved,” says McHugh, who has the oddball geology undergraduate’s sheep jumper framed in his home. “I look back now and I’m really proud of it.”

Ashton, meanwhile, underwent the most significant change in appearance, from her freshly shaved, dyed head to the punked up outfits: leather jacket, dummy necklace and graffitied, acid wash jeans. She saved several items of clothing from Vod’s wardrobe, including the jacket, although it nearly landed her in some serious hot water afterwards. “I took it on holiday with me, and on the way to the security check area [in the airport], I was checking my pockets and found a massive hole in one that had seven bags of fake weed in it.”

Next came a five-month stint over the summer in Manchester, where the cast lived and worked in the same building for 12-hour days. They quickly became inseparable, even after the cameras stopped rolling. “We got a bit obsessed with each other,” Nixon says.

That summer would be a formative one for all involved. There were “wholesome” breakfasts and girls’ nights out (or in). Evenings were spent having dinner along Canal Street or going to gigs in the city’s Northern Quarter. On hangover days, Whitehall would sneak off to a quiet corner for a quick nap – even when he was meant to be filming.

For our interview, Ritchie has found the diary that she kept and reads aloud an entry: “Had my dinner with Kim and Zawe, Greg came in after a bit. I watched Joe in The Inbetweeners… weird. Last night Jack and Joe kept having their autographs asked for. We were wondering if that might happen to us. It would be really nice in some ways, but also I might cringe out. Also, my friends would rip the piss out of me.”

Perhaps the heaviest night of that summer fell on Ashton’s birthday when an honest attempt to go home to bed turned into an all-nighter at an early hours club called the Coconut Shy. “I have this brilliant memory of Joe drinking some colourful cocktail and us dancing in this basement to reggae music,” she says. The next day, the gang were shooting in a real hospital for an especially sombre sequence in which Vod is recovering from an accidental overdose. “We had a break where they were changing the camera setups, and an actually ill person asked if I was OK,” says Ashton gleefully. “It was hysterical.”

After the first series wrapped, everyone reluctantly parted ways, and angst about the series’ premiere began to set in. Now they felt that they owed the show being a success to themselves and each other. Then the first episode aired, and everything changed. Ashton recalls being in Cuba, a trip she went on to consciously distance herself from the show’s release. After the plane landed, she went to an internet cafe to check her emails and opened one to the whole group from Tony Gardner, who played Professor Shales in the show (and dad Brian on My Parents Are Aliens). It said: “This is so special. Be ready for your lives to change.”

An early example of this came in the first series, when JP, high on acid and processing the news that his father is dying, has an emotional conversation with Oregon’s ailing horse. “I loved that scene. It terrified me in an exciting way,” says Whitehall. The actor, then known primarily as a rising standup, had felt especially challenged by the idea of doing something more emotionally driven. He says the reception he received for that scene was unforgettable: “It made me realise that I could get just as much satisfaction from being able to move an audience as making them laugh.”

For Ashton, the reception for Vod – which included a celebrity admirer in Noel Fielding – felt especially significant. “It felt bigger than me,” she said. “I grew up without a huge amount of people who look like me on television, certainly not in comedies. It felt joyful to belong to that.”

Channel 4 commissioned a second series in October 2011, just weeks after the first debuted. Over four summers, Ashton, Nixon, Whitehall, McHugh, Thomas and Ritchie would return to Manchester and the ever-evolving journeys of their characters. Along the way, they would celebrate key life changes together as well. McHugh remembers being on set when he got the call to say that his wife was about to have their first son. “We were in the Fresh Meat kitchen filming a big ensemble scene when my phone went off, and my wife told me she’d gone into labour,” he says. “I put the phone down, and everyone cheered because they just knew what had happened. I’ll never forget it.”

Each cast member recalls standout moments for their characters over the show’s lifespan. Both Nixon and Thomas talk warmly about their onscreen relationship, which culminates in a bittersweet breakup. “I remember being really sad because I’d got to do all these wonderful things with Joe, but also really proud of Josie because she made a good, selfless decision,” Nixon says, who lovingly describes Josie as “a runaway train” that she “got her jacket caught in and was being pulled along by.”

Ashton and Ritchie reminisce about the show’s other great partnership: their own. “I distinctly remember Zawe taking me under her wing and showing me the ropes in a way that never felt patronising. It was just so warm,” she says. “[Charlotte] is one of the funniest performers to me,” says Ashton. “I call her and Kim my comedy goddesses.”

The show ends with the group sitting on a hilltop, gazing out across the city together, before bidding farewell. “I remember there were a lot of tears on that day,” says Whitehall, who has a photo of the scene in his office. “It was unusual because usually, you can’t wait to be done with a series, but this certainly wasn’t the case.”

Since Fresh Meat wrapped in 2016, members of the cast have catapulted to stardom. Whitehall broke Hollywood opposite The Rock and Emily Blunt in Jungle Cruise, while Ashton i set to make her MCU debut in The Marvels next year. Bain and Armstrong have gone on to tackle some of the most prolific shows in America, including Veep and Succession.

Yet their friendship endures. When asked if they would reprise their roles, even just for one last time, everyone, Bain included, said that they would. “Unless the others all said no, in which case I am totally unavailable,” Whitehall jokes. It may be that there is still a story left to tell for this unruly group of wayward graduates, but if not, they will always have the memories of those Manchester summers and a time in their lives like no other. (x)

#zawe ashton #fresh meat #vod nordstrom #interview #article #nme magazine

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years ago

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this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

#severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #fic #i didn't expect anyone to take me seriosuly but someone did and goddamn it i'll be damned if i don't give them something to read #anyways have fun #probably a bit ooc #but that's what makes aus fun amirite hehe #alright that's enough from me

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sopxhiea · 4 years ago

Text

Mischief

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie hears that his deceased friend’s sister is gone wild so he decides to pay her a visit after years of not seeing the young woman but he has no idea what he’s in for.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

The music loudly boomed through the long corridors of the house. It was a three story place with freshly painted window frames. The exterior wooden part that coated the glass inside was blue, something that clearly stood out in the crummy streets of Camden. It almost seemed like an intentional move to make this particular house stand out.

The color had been chosen by you.

Exactly two weeks ago, you found it hard to identify the very house you lived in. It might’ve been because you were slightly drunk every time you came home but either way, you needed something that would make the apartment easier to identify. So you had purchased some paint and did it on your own while the neighbouring residents were reminded of their distaste regarding the group of young women who happen to live right next door.

Although, the distaste mostly concerns you.

Your body moves inside the large room. It has canvases and your paints in it, things that you treasure that reminded you of the young girl you once were, when things were easier and you didn’t carry a lump on your throat.

The long street you live on knows you for mostly being up to no good. Sometimes with a young lad on your arm and other times, you on your own while you dance your way through the night with a bottle of whiskey on one hand. They certainly do not like you.

The music fills the concrete walls, the sound waves apparent on the mug you had placed on the floor while your feet tap against the hard surface. Your body moves, almost a little too seductively and particularly for no one. There is nobody else in the room, just you and your cherished albums while your body gently sways to the music.

You don’t hear him knock.

There’s a little part of you that manages to hold on to the past you so badly wish to forget, so you dance. You don’t want to remember the reassuring touches and the feeling of getting caught in the possibly of something happening with the one person your brother had warned you about.

He was six feet under, anyway.

Your housemates are out to have look at a new dress shop. You had no interest to stare at cheap dresses, only to come home empty handed so you’d stayed home where you knew there was endless comfort.

All he can hear is the sound of loud music filling the tall apartment and the soft thuds of your feet against the floor as you dance your way through the empty evening.

He knocks once more, almost breaking the metal door.

Your movements halt then, fully stopping once you hear someone’s rather loud shouts. The voice is vaguely familiar but it happens to be in a box you’d pushed to the very back of your mind. From a time where you knew no happiness.

The high bun you had now rests against the soft skin of your neck, a few pieces falling around your small face as they frame your curious eyes. Your face is flushed and it looks like you’d been making out with someone, not dancing around on your own. Your dress swishes around your knees as you walk, ready to show the soft skin of your upper thighs at any moment you wish.

You lick your lips before walking towards the door and opening it in one swift motion, the music track no longer plays.

A fraction taller than you’d last seen him, there Alfie stands.

His hair is in its usual place, little pieces sticking out after he’s taken his hat off. He’s still broad, seemingly a little more built than the last time you’d seen the bloke but his face is the same. His scruff is neater now, he doesn’t seem to have aged if you decide to ignore the little creases around his blue orbs.

A scoff leaves your lips.

Your dead brother’s best friend, the bloke he had gone to war with and the one that came back alone with his captain’s hat on his hand, apologising to you because your beloved brother had been shot one too many times stands on your doorstep.

Your heaving chest is not what he expects to see. You look like you were in the middle of a good fuck when you open the door, dress still in place although your eyes a little more wider than the last time he’d seen you. You were grown now and even prettier than the image of you in his mind, he thinks. You look like a proper young lady, except for the way you greet him.

With a scoff.

Your lips curve into a playful smirk and you let your body lean against the doorframe. Your eyes are challenging him to speak, to let you know why he’s there but he’s too focused on the way you look. He doesn’t remember you being this dreamy.

Three years.

Three years since your brother had died. Three years since the bloke before you had kissed you under the dim light of the vanilla scented candle. Three years since you’d moved from your old apartment and started a life on your own, where no one knew of you or your family. Three years since you’d promised yourself that things would be better.

And they had been, up until now.

Your definition of better didn’t match its commonly used meaning. Better meant safe, calm and the bearer of good things at the time but it was different now. You went out whenever you wanted, slept with whoever you wanted and made your own money, enough to spoil yourself with some goodies every now and then.

But apparently, that didn’t match the definition of a better life for most people.

He had checked up on you, sometimes by using his men and other times, it was him driving past your house in the middle of the night to make sure you’d returned. You received two bouquets from the bloke, one on your brother’s death anniversary and the other on your birthday.

You spoke before you could register your own thoughts, a habit you’d picked up from your time around the local bars. “Solomons.”

The taste of his name was sweet on your lips, he listened to the breathy sound of the woman he often saw in his dreams.

But your reputation had preceded you already.

You were known for the late nights you spent around the pubs in Camden. Most men liked the show, the way you danced with a trusted partner of your own who you’d met just a week ago. You had a fire within you, a fire most men were fascinated with but only a few got to play with. Only the ones you chose.

He had been the one you wanted to choose many moons ago but the time wasn’t right then.

“Y/N.” he said, waiting for you to let him in but you stood there as he towered above you. You were still considerably smaller than him.

“What the hell are you doing on my doorstep?” you asked, your foul mouth getting the best of you while you stared at him with curious eyes. He didn’t like to hear you swear, which was exactly why you had done it.

“Came to check on you, dove.” he speaks, the pet name he had given you when you were fourteen still stung.

“That sounds like a lie.” you speak, eyes stern while they do not shy away from him. He wants to speak, to reassure you of things he’s long forgotten about but you’re fast to cut him off. He had no business being there. “Why are you really here, captain?” you ask, knowing the nickname riles him up in the worst way possible.

Before your brother had died, you had been a dear friend to Alfie. He had seen you grow up as he sprouted into a beautiful young boy himself. He was so fond of the lovely little girl you used to be, before Harry had died in the war. He had played games with you and chased the little boy who had tried to kiss you after the school dance.

But something had changed then, when he’d returned with no Harry on his side.

The anger that you’d spent many years managing was now the only face you wore. It was why you drank, it was why you slept with strangers even though they had been perfectly fine with just dating for a while, it was the fuel that kept you going. The anger you felt for your brother’s absence.

“I heard things, right..” he spoke, catching your eyes once again while you stood right before him, head held up high. “..made me fuckin’ worried about ya’.” he spoke, he hated how easy it was for you to get the truth out of him.

All you had to was to stare up at him and he was already a goner.

You nodded, unimpressed while you walked inside the apartment and he followed you like a lost puppy. This was how things used to be, he thought. You lead him through the long corridor into the living room. It was decorated in a minimal manner, a flower vase here and a frame there.

He still remembered, he thought while looking at your familiar features.

How you’d come back with rosy cheeks and glistening orbs that one summer. You’d grown up then, became a young lady that had just about anyone’s heart if you were to flash your sickening smile. He remembered how shy you were then, finding it hard to act like kids around Alfie even though you were both young in age still.

“Say...” you spoke, almost a soft order while he tried to get the vivid images of you from his clouded mind. “What have you heard?” you smirked at your own words, he was already weak at heart.

“Just a couple kids, yeah, sayin’ something about you and a bloke from Sabini’s men..” he said, tugging at his beard while he watched you. You remembered the Italian, he had been quite pleasant.

“And?” you spoke, walking from the living room to the room you had been previously dancing in.

He was sure you had been fucking someone earlier and the air was dense inside the room due to the small ritual of dancing you had been doing. He wasted no time and asked what was in his mind. He didn’t beat around the bush.

“Do you have a fuckin’ lad in ‘ere?” he spoke, voice booming through all the stories of the apartment while you clicked your tongue, ears ringing with his loud voice.

“Why do you care?” you ask, eyes searching his while he tries his best to be subtle. A shrug is all he gets while you start speaking again. He had missed this, he thinks.

He cares, you see it in his eyes but a small nod is all you give him before you speak.

“What about the Italian bloke?” you ask, moving around the room to gather a few things in your hand while he watches you. You don’t bother covering up, your reputation as the girl who’ll open her legs is already out there anyway and you’re not the one to shy away from someone who’s known you since you were twelve.

“You can’t see him no more, dove.” he spoke, your eyebrows furrowing in an instant. He was giving you no rational reason.

So the game began.

You swayed your hips while walking towards him, using your natural charisma while he watched you. You were the predator walking to get ahold of its prey, although it was the opposite when it came to most people who dealt with Alfie. He was the predator but no, not with you.

He watched, almost hypnotised while your seductive voice filled his ears. Your soft fingers brushed through his beard, lips ghosting over his while his eyes fluttered slowly. He was lost in your voice, the addictive smell of your scent and the way you caressed his face to realise that you were just toying with him.

“Why, dear?” you spoke into his ear, hands still on his beard while he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open. “You want me all to yourself?” there was a hint of mockery in your tone but laced with layers of pure filth. He sensed it still.

Yes, he wanted to say.

He had wanted you to himself for a long time now. Long before the war and the damage it had done on the both of you. That summer was the first time he’d seen you look so beautiful, you had become the owner of his heart then, no longer his best mate’s sister.

He hadn’t done anything in the years that followed. He had a couple opportunities, here and there when he could’ve just kissed you and fuck the consequences but there was too much at risk. Harry was his best mate and even though he knew Harry would be more than willing to have his sister be with someone he trusted than a stranger, Alfie didn’t have the heart to do it.

He wished he had.

He growled quietly which manages to earn a light chuckle from your lips. You retreated from his embrace then, walking to the far end of the room while Alfie looked at you with dark eyes. It was the kind of eyes you were used to seeing in man you toyed around with, but not Alfie.

You had become reckless.

You were careless of what people called you, they called women whatever they wanted anyway so it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You were truly doing whatever it was that you wanted and living your own life with the rules you had set for yourself and if society was to shame you for it, that was just too bad but you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn.

“Is he dangerous, then?” you asked, like you weren’t just about to kiss Alfie a second ago. He took a minute to gather himself after you’d seduced him with one move but you were quick on your feet, too used to the game of push and pull.

“He might harm ya’. Can’t have that happening.” he spoke, clearly worried and for a second, he saw something shift between your orbs but it was too fast for anyone to catch on other than Alfie.

“Shame.” you spoke, still gathering a couple brushes here and there to clean them later and he watched. You had been painting since you were small and it made him feel somewhat comforted that you still stuck to it. “He was kind of annoying anyway.” you spoke with a light hearted chuckle while Alfie looked at you.

There was the little girl he knew, and the captor of his old heart.

He chuckled at your sudden lively state. He knew your anger was always kept at bay so he cherished your happy moments, the kind of moments where he’d see your smile reach your eyes. They were rare but he’d make do.

His voice was hoarse, thick even when he talked from the doorstep of the room. “Ya’ call every man that, dove.” he spoke, years of memories biting back while he looked at him with a devilish smirk, hands on your hips while you batted your eyelashes at him. Your voice was soft, totally the opposite of what he sounded like as you spoke.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

He chuckled at first but saw the hint of sorrow in your eyes long after your words stopped hanging around in the cold air around you. He gulped while you walked past him and made your way into the kitchen through the corridor and the worried bloke he was, he followed.

While you filled some cups with hot water and tried to find some tea bags for your beloved guest to drink, he saw the frantic side of you take over. Your movements were still calculated and you put up a good front but he knew you too well. He still didn’t say anything.

“Any sweet lady you’re seeing?” you asked, knowing damn well he wasn’t seeing anyone.

For one, he was too busy to seek someone out since he didn’t get out of his damn office. He was a charmer for sure and even though there had been many ladies in the past, he always ended up with them curled around his side while he wished they were you.

He shook his head and spoke, his voice was low.

“Nah.” he took the cup and a small sip from the tea not too long after. “Too fuckin’ busy.”

He was keen on asking you, he knew you sometimes saw more than one lad at a time and even though it was unusual, he wasn’t the one to judge you. But the word got around either way, he hated that it did.

He thought that you were trying every bloke in the city but it was a matter of you finding the right one, if that existed.

“You owe me a new bloke.” you spoke after taking a small sip from the cup, lips plump while he watched the pink flesh move with your words. “You took away the Italian.”

He chuckled then, smiled at your adorable state with a warm look thrown your way and you returned the gentle gesture. You let him put his hand on the small of your back while you walked him out. This was the usual interaction anyway, it didn’t get far from this.

He wanted to take you out, to show you a proper time and have you in his arm for as long as you wanted to be wrapped in his embrace. He had wanted that for a long time, since he had become a young man but he knew it came with too much baggage.

He wasn’t that reckless, but he needed to be.

“How ‘bout I take the pretty lil’ lass out?” he asked, in one swift breath while you watched lights flicker against his features. His words earned a chuckle from you.

You gulped once, not out of anxiety but anticipation. He watched you under the late night and all its wonders and saw the wheels in your head turn. He needed you to say yes.

And so you nodded. You smiled and nodded while he returned to his original position, where he was standing on your doorstep and towering above you. Your hand reached to grab the collar of his white shirt and toyed with it while you spoke, the seductive voice coming in handy again.

“Don’t toy with me, Solomons.” you spoke and this time, unlike all the previous times your sweet voice had reached his ears, you were dead serious.

It was a forbidden fruit situation.

It didn’t matter that your brother was dead, this had been the game that you were playing with the jewish bloke. He’d tease and you’d tease harder, your pushes were angry but needy, it was a thin line in which he was walking on right now.

“I ain’t love, it’s about time, innit?” he spoke , finally acknowledging years of built up tension.

You sized him up with your eyes then. You didn’t know if he’d be able to take the teasing you usually did with the other men you went out with, they couldn’t either and they’d be spent up by the end of the night but it was different when it was someone you knew, someone who deeply knew you as well.

“It seems as though you haven’t heard all the things they have been saying about me.” you spoke, voice low as you stared at his blue orbs. You knew all the emotions that swam in there.

He had heard all of it, he just pretended that he hadn’t.

Bitch, whore, careless, grieving little thing, poor kid......They called you many names and some of them were true. Alfie didn’t care. He was a killer, a figure of forced authority in most people’s eyes so he saw you as his equal if anything.

“I have, yeah, don’t make a fuckin’ difference to me, dove.” he said, head shaking at his own words while he watched your eyes shift.

Your shining orbs met his, then. Not as the careless young woman you’d become but as the little girl he once knew. There was still innocence in you but there was too much hurt that laced it so no one was able to reach it. But he saw it, the way your eyes shifted from guarded to light hearted.

“Fine.” you gulped, you’d close the door on him when you were done talking and he’s just stand there for a second.

“Give me a call.”

---------

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago

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YJ College au: Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

In which Bart has a cryptic-buddy, Tim is stressed because cute boy insists on being annoying, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Tagging @animemangasoul and @marudny-robot cause I know you guys like this au

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house.

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..-

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.”

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

53 notes · View notes

bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

Text

The Dare - DAY 5

Pairing: young!severus x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,570

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Severus and his housemates decide to go into the forbidden forest on a dare.

Warnings: none

A/N: Day five! Sick/fever from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D

Posted: 10/5/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

The moon shined over the tops of trees and illuminated the sparkling lawn of the grounds as Severus and his friends approached the dark boundary of the forbidden forest where the moon didn’t shine. Severus felt weak already at the very idea of entering the dangerous forest with nothing more than a wand and cloak.

He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow quickly, not wanting the other Slytherins to see he was already frightened. Avery couldn’t make it out – something about feeling ill but they were all sure he was just faking to get out of the dare – but Avery’s friends were well and willing to risk their lives to prove they were brave. How he ended up tagging along with them he couldn’t quite understand, but he was glad to be accepted into their group nonetheless.

They approached the forest and illuminated their wands as they stepped into the shadows just at the border of the trees. It was another sixth year like himself, three seventh years, and a fifth year. He knew the fifth year was the younger sister of the tallest seventh year. She was the only one with any sense among them, warning them not to do the dare because it was stupid and reckless and apparently someone had gone in there and never returned. Severus had only known her a week and a half but he believed her completely.

“Look, we just have to stay in there for two hours… Right? That’s all the dare is?” one of the seventh years said, the shortest of the three.

“But you have to be deep inside. The farther the better.” The fifth year put her hands on her hips and smiled. She turned to Severus. “Though don’t go in. Last warning.”

Whose side was she on? Severus rubbed his arms with his hands, feeling a chill travel down his spine slowly. “S-so just two hours? As deep as possible?”

The sixth year next to him laughed. “Scared already Severus?”

He would have glared at him if it weren’t for the tremble in the sixth year’s voice.

“On your marks?” The tallest seventh year stretched his legs out ready to run. “Go!”

Severus bolted into the forest with the rest of them – except for the girl who claimed to be the referee – and held on to his hood as he ran, staring at the ground for visible roots or stones that could trip him and leave him behind.

He heard the grunts and pounding footsteps of the others as he ran and followed their sounds as focused on not falling, occasionally getting smacked by branches and cut by low-hanging leaves. After a few minutes of running after the others, his cheeks burned with what felt like dozens of little papercuts and his throat tasted of iron from breathing through his mouth.

He stopped and leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath as his friends’ footsteps got farther and farther. Soon it was only his wand light illuminated in the dark and he realized he was alone. He pushed off the tree and started walking in the direction they were headed.

It was silent, except for the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs under his feet. There was a distant howl and he froze. It’s not a full moon, he told himself and kept walking. He could only see the trunks of two or three trees ahead of him as he walked. His eyes darted from dark corner to dark corner just beyond the light, as if he’d be able to spot something hidden soon enough to protect himself.

It was eerie all by himself, and he wondered how deep they rest had decided to go. What am I supposed to do for two hours? He heard a twig snap and spun around, squinting into the darkness. “Knox,” he whispered. The light went out and he was surrounded by darkness. He couldn’t see light in any direction but he did sense eyes on him. “Lumos.” There was a circle of light again and in the distance two small orbs looked at him from the darkness.

His heart leapt into his throat and he turned and ran faster and faster, hearing his shoes slap the ground and the very faint and distant breaking of twigs following him through the forest. He was feeling hotter, his cheeks were burning and his neck felt on fire. He was sweating through his clothes from the very fear of being caught up to by whatever beast was gaining on him. Please let it not be intelligent!

He heard a loud ruffle and then something was tackling him to the ground. Paws. He laid there panting, catching his breath as the thunderous purrs of a large wild cat rumbled through his ears. The cat sat on him making him wheeze and stepped off with a sneeze.

“You didn’t have to scare me,” Severus coughed, getting up. He rubbed his ribs and sat on his heels. “You’re supposed to be out there. What if one of them turns back and sees you’re gone?”

The pacing paws turned to feet and the fifth year laughed. “They’ll think I got eaten or something. My brother will be glad for it.” She took his elbow and helped him up, kissing his cheek as he rose.

Severus smiled and then frowned. “You didn’t think I’d make it all the way in.”

“You are all the way in, and I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to follow them in at all.”

Severus crossed his arms. “I’m not deep in, I meant. And I thought you liked brave guys.” She hugged him but her warmth didn’t reach. He felt the air stinging his exposed skin and shivered. Although he didn’t know how he got wrapped up into this dare with the other Slytherins, he did know he chose to go along with them partly because of her.

For a week now they’d been hanging out and talking and it was just a few days ago that she’d sprung a kiss on his lips near the fire, after everyone had gone to bed. Since then they’d been stealing kisses behind shelves, inside closets, in the shadows of the castle hidden from view of snooping eyes. But he couldn’t tell if she liked him as much as he liked her. She was always teasing and joking around, flirting, but never doing anything to cement any sort of relationship with him.

When several students had gotten dared to prove how brave they were, he’d stuck around because she was cheering people on, and then when Avery had pulled him into it he let him in hopes of impressing her. Severus was frightened of the forbidden forest but at least Avery was going to be with him… but then he got ‘sick’ and she started telling everyone they were insane for going along with it. His plan had clearly failed.

“Oh, I was only teasing about that.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing the assumption. “I mean I do… but I don’t think going into this forest on a dare is very brave is all.”

Severus’ shoulders slumped and he nodded. I don’t think it is either. “Did you follow just me? Did you know I’d fall behind?” He crossed his arms and slid down a trunk to the forest floor feeling defeated.

“Well I didn’t want you hurt…” she whispered.

He looked up into her eyes. She was being genuine, he could tell. She swung a leg over his and slid down onto his lap, seizing his lips. She kissed him gently at first, and then as her hands wound around locks of his hair her kisses grew rougher and more intense.

He liked her a lot. Every time she kissed him he felt all sorts of things; seen, accepted, happy, liked, needed. He slid his lips down her chin and trailed them down her neck, undoing as many buttons as the sweater over her dress shirt allowed. They were all still in their school uniforms in case they got caught or killed – they’d be easier to identify as students if that were the case.

He pressed his lips to the plump softness of her skin, pulling the sweater down to better expose her breasts to him. He kissed each on and left little red marks all over them as she hummed into his hair. “I really like you.”

“Do you? Well I’m glad.” She laughed, teasing him again.

He chuckled. “I’m serious. I really like you…”

She pulled away and kissed his lips, holding the sides of his jaw to angle him up to her. Her thumbs caressed his cheeks and she smiled when she finally released him. “Severus…” she whispered.

“Hmm?” He kept his eyes closed, hoping she’d keep making him hers. He opened his eyes finally. “Yes?”

“Did you really come in here because you thought I liked ‘brave guys’?”

His cheeks flushed and he nodded. “I wanted to impress you.”

She giggled and hugged him close. “But you impress me with your brains all the time. And your skills.”

He gave her a weak smile that faded fast. “Then why don’t you like me?”

“I do.”

“If I asked you out right now… Would you say yes?” He squeezed her to him and closed his eyes, pushing his nose into her freezing neck. He opened his eyes and frowned with worry. “Your skin is ice cold…”

She pulled back and put her hand to his forehead. “No, you’re just burning up.”

“What?” He thought of Avery sick in bed. “Oh… Maybe Avery really is ill.”

“If you hadn’t been all worried about going in here you’d’ve realized that sooner and been in bed resting.” She got off him and pulled him up. “I’ll run back… you make your way out and you’ll just be the first to lose.”

Severus nodded but he wanted to shake his head. Now not only had he failed in impressing her, he’d be humiliated when the others found out he was the first one out of the forest. He saw her turn into a panther and run out of his wand light’s boundary.

He brushed pine needles off his trousers and started walking back when he heard distant screams. He turned in the direction of them and realized the screams were coming from the same direction the others had run to. Severus cursed to himself and ran towards the screams.

He ducked under branches and leapt over larger and larger roots coming out of the ground. The trunks were getting larger and the trees denser. He was wheezing and his energy felt like it was evaporating off him with every passing second.

The screams were getting louder until finally he reached them. There were four Slytherins hanging upside down on a giant spider’s web, stuck on like flies. He looked around but didn’t see anything around that could have caused it. He came out into the clearing and the screams turned to cheers as Severus came into view.

“Hurry!”

“We were knocked out and then – ”

“Before they come back!”

Severus aimed his wand and cut them down. They fell and hurried to their feet, quickly grabbing hold of their wands again.

Severus looked around, fear seeping back into him as the initial wave of adrenaline wore off. “What did this?”

“Acromantulas! Must be!” the sixth year shouted.

They all shushed him. The tallest seventh year shook his head. “There can’t be any here. They don’t live in this part of the world…but let’s go. I don’t want to find out what actually did that.”

~ * ~ * ~

They all managed to run back out of the forest the way they came from. The firth year was pacing back and forth. Her eyes darted to him when they reached the clearing and glared furiously at each of them.

“What happened!” She flung her arms up. “What on earth could have – ”

“We were taken!” the sixth year yelled.

“Look, someone must have pulled a prank on us. The whole house knew we’d be entering the forest and someone took the chance to stick us on an enlarged spider’s web.” The tallest seventh year turned to Severus and crossed his arms. “How come you weren’t stuck up there with us? What happened? Got scared and stayed behind on purpose?”

Everyone looked at Severus down on the floor trying to catch his breath. He was sweating and shivering like crazy. “N-n-n-n-no. I-I,” he sighed.

The fifth year scoffed. “Severus didn’t get scared. He just wasn’t stupid enough to go that far in.”

The sixth year nodded. “And he’s the one who came looking for us after we started screaming. I’d’ve run away.”

Severus looked at fifth year and saw a sparkle in her eyes as his delayed exit was explained.

“Then its settled. Severus wins the dare,” she said.

~ * ~ * ~

After they all made it back to the common room unseen they said their goodbyes and parted, except she held him back. As the other boys walked into the dormitories, he stayed behind and sat with her by the fire.

“That was really brave of you. To help my brother and his stupid friends.” She moved onto his lap and held him close, playing with a strand of his hair around her finger.

He was cold and shivered under her touch but enjoyed her hands on his hair, and any other part of his body.

She pulled back. “Severus? Do you promise not to do anything stupid like that again?”

He looked into her eyes, full of concern for him, and nodded. “I promise.”

She smiled and kissed his nose. “You’re still burning… And… about that question. Yes.”

Severus pulled her back and held her arms so she would fall off his lap. He looked at every inch of her face and raised a brow. “‘Yes’? Yes to if I asked you out?”

She pulled on his sweater to get closer again and laughed. “Will you do it already?”

Severus pushed her onto the couch and got on both his knees. He’d never felt such intensity towards anyone else. All year long he’d felt foolish and acted too reckless for his normal self. Last year everything around him had shattered and it wasn’t until he’d met her and started speaking to her about everything that he’d started to feel like himself again.

He wasn’t hurting anymore. He shifted his weight on his knees and looked deep into her eyes, maintaining the seriousness he felt despite her giggles. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

She slid off the couch and got on her knees as well, slowly sliding her arms up his until she was hugging his neck. “Yes.” She pulled him into a kiss and quickly pushed him away. “I forgot! You’re sick!”

“Sorry!”

She helped him up and pushed him towards the dorms. “Get in bed! I’ll be there in the morning with some soup from the kitchens or something. Now that I’m your girlfriend I get to take care of you.”

“You sound too happy about this. Did you plan it?” He smiled at her laugh.

Tucked in bed he thought back to the giant spider web the others were hanging from and frowned. Though it did look like an acromantula web…

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 5 Prompt: Sick/fever + acromantula (eight-eyed giant black-haired spider capable of human speech; usually inhabits dense jungles)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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112 notes · View notes

gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

Text

Criminal Minds College AU

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily Prentiss, college sophomore, absolutely does not have a crush on the girl across the hall.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“Come in, it’s open!” Emily Prentiss yelled out over her music blasting out of the laptop on her desk. She was listening to her pregame playlist, which was chock full of throwbacks, middle-school jams and of course, The Killers to keep things interesting.

Derek Morgan pushed open her dorm room door and waltzed in. He had a pair of light blue jeans on, held up by a brown belt, with a white t-shirt on top. He jumped on top of Emily’s slightly-too-high bed, and bounced as he grinned at her. Derek was many things, shy was definitely not one of them.

“You look hot,” Emily said, with as much sarcasm as she could manage, looking him up and down. She could tell he dressed up.

“You know it, princess.”

Rifling through his backpack, he grinned as he pulled out two blue college-branded metal water bottles, filled with what was probably not water at all.

“I made us sangria!”

Emily laughed, then spun back around in her desk chair. She still needed to finish her makeup. She had her foundation and eyebrows done, but she needed to focus as she applied her eyeliner.

“Did you just mix some juice into the wine?” She asked, taking the bottle from him, having a sip of the fruity liquid.

“Yup! There’s going to be a keg there, but I wanted to give us options.”

Emily laughed before focusing on her mascara wand gliding across her lower eyelashes, trying to finish up so they could start preing for the party. She wasn’t quite dressed yet either, still wearing her class jeans and not her going out jeans (there was an important distinction between these that mostly involved whether or not she could wear them with a belt.) Morgan was about five minutes earlier than she expected. Moreover, the boy had only sprung the invitation to the party during their lab that afternoon.

As much as she hated to admit it, Derek was basically 90% of Emily’s non-academic social life, the second year boy already very well connected due to his football scholarship, letting him in on all of the good parties. Unfortunately that also meant for Emily that he would spring themed parties like anything but clothes, or no cups allowed on her with absolutely no heads up most weekends.

Emily will not wear a tote bag as a skirt again if she can help it.

Despite the excessive drinking and mixed bag of party attendees, Emily genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company. Anyways, he was the best beer-pong partner that she’s ever had.

“Can I hop on aux?” He asked, leaning over her computer before she could even protest.

“Sure,” she replied, knowing he was already on his own Spotify account and putting on his playlist titled ‘FOR THE BOYS and emily’ that he found hilarious. She knew she could get him to sing along to the Mamma Mia! (2008) soundtrack once he was a few shots in, but for now she resigned herself to wordless EDM.

He sat on her desk, bobbing his head along to the beat.

Emily reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a smallish bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, with their college’s crest etched into the glass. For a school that denounced drinking-culture, they had a shocking amount of merch for sale that encouraged it.

She filled each to the line, and slid one towards her friend.

“Bottoms up,” she said, as they cheersed the foul tasting liquid. Morgan grinned and winked at her before shooting it back with the confidence that only a nineteen year old could have.

Vodka still made her queasy, but being underage meant that the college students would take what they could get. Morgan’s senior friends would boot alcohol for them for an extra five bucks, but only every few weeks.

The one thing about the states that Emily still couldn’t wrap her head around was the backwards alcohol policy. Almost everywhere else on earth she would already be legally drinking. Hell, when she was 16 she was passed out in a ditch in rural England, drunk off her ass on legally acquired beer. Even now, if they drove north of the border, Emily could be off to the bars, no questions asked. America was absurd.

“How was the rest of your day?” Emily asked him as she stood up, digging through her dirty laundry to find her other pair of jeans. She tossed aside her fuzzy pjs, a bra and an assortment of band tees but her jeans must’ve been at the bottom. She needed to do laundry but was ripe out of quarters.

“Eh,” he made a face, “I had to finish up that quiz for psych, but honestly I just needed to catch up on some readings. I had like fifty pages of a badly scanned book from like a hundred years ago to annotate.”

“Reading? In this economy?” Emily snarked at him, still rooting through the bin. She knew her blue jeans were here somewhere.

“Well I know you can’t read,” he replied in a haughty tone, “doesn’t mean the rest of us have to remain unenlightened!”

“Ha-ha.”

There they were, right at the bottom of the bin. She changed right then, with Morgan politely averting his eyes, despite the fact that both have seen just about everything in the year or so that they’ve been acquainted.

No, they didn’t hook up or anything, it wasn’t like that.

It was the strange phenomenon that only could happen in college where you get really close really fast. Emily’s RA had explained it to their first-year floor, likening it to soldiers in the war (Emily wasn’t sure if the metaphor was kosher, but it was apt.). Young adults first starting out in the world, free from their family supervision and previous lives, cling on to those around them for stability. The RA explained this as in a cautionary tale, explaining that this can lead to high emotions, to fights, and… a bit more.

This talk led into their floor-cest talk, which was apparently required in every co-ed dorm at their school. Emily was the first to point out the heteronormativity in that policy. Floor-cest, for the uninitiated, was the concept of hooking up with someone on your floor in the dorm. It was formally discouraged by residence life staff. It was easy to have meaningless sex, harder when you have sex with someone you live down the hall from. Things could get messy.

Emily and Derek got this talk on move in day, both sitting cross-legged on the floor of their common room as their RA, a bubbly girl named Carol, explained the fundamentals of dorm life. Emily has been dropped off by her mother’s driver, who helped her unload her things.

Emily was still reeling from being surrounded by happy families, of crying parents and bitter that her mother was too busy to even send her own daughter off to school. Not that Emily wanted her there or anything, but the gesture would have been nice.

She remembered the startling moment when Derek walked straight into her room and offered his hand, introducing himself to his new neighbour.

They shared a wall, the co-ed bathroom down the hall, and most of their free time for their first year at college.

He had assumed that the driver, Paul who was one of Emily’s favourites out of her mother’s staff, was Emily’s father, which started things off on an awkward note. Soon she was swept up in a whirlwind of his family: his mom and sisters who insisted that Emily pose for photos of Derek and ‘his new dorm friend.’

A year later, Emily and Morgan were basically siblings. Emily didn’t actually have any siblings, but after going to Chicago for thanksgiving with the Morgan family, she was pretty sure she had officially been adopted.

Last year, they had a much nicer dorm, one of the newer ones with big windows and nice common spaces. This year they were both living in the oldest residence, a beautiful red brick building, covered with ivy, but the inside was all painted this gross beige, and the paint would chip off whenever Emily tried to hang her posters. There was also no air conditioning, the showers didn’t get too hot and the kitchen smelt like eggs. It was definitely a downgrade, but at least Morgan was on the same floor as her again.

Morgan had lucked out and gotten a corner room with tons of windows, and Emily was right next to the bathroom and could hear when anyone flushed.

After donning the jeans and a black tank top, Emily grabbed her leather jacket and they were ready to go.

“Another shot?” Derek asked, grinning at her mischievously.

“Of course,” Emily said. “Where are we even going anyways?”

“Well, you remember David, the TA from our psych lab? His housemates are throwing a party in their backyard. I heard there was going to be a DJ!”

“David Rossi?” Emily said incredulously, “How did you swing an invite to that?”

“I can’t reveal all of my secrets, you know that pretty lady.”

Emily scoffed. It was probably through their mutual friend Aaron Hotchner, who despite not being much of a partier, was very in the loop about the happenings on campus.

“Did you invite you know who?” Derek asked, a bit too casually as Emily locked her door.

Emily refused to bite.

“She definitely has better things to do than hang out with the likes of us.”

---

“I’m a criminology major,” Emily repeated, the exasperation in her voice palatable.

The boy, who was on the rugby team as she already learned, had asked her what her major was. He misheard her and began asking her how she likes studying biology.

The music was loud and the boy was clearly wasted off his ass. She was pretty sure she saw him do a keg stand in the kitchen earlier.

Emily took another sip of her drink, keeping it close to her chest. She looked around. They were only five minutes off campus at a decent-sized student house. The room was close to being at capacity, the old home creaking under the weight of dozens of students crammed into the living room. Music blared on a strangely impressive speaker system. The party was at its peak in the backyard, and was probably only an hour from being shut down by the cops if it got much louder.

Emily had carefully positioned herself next to the open window, enjoying the slight breeze as the body heat was making the old house steamy with humidity. This also happened to be the location of the bong, but she accepted the trade-off.

Derek was currently playing king’s cup, a game Emily refuses to play, since last time she got roped into it she lost miserably. She was forced to drink the king’s cup: a mixture of shitty beer, whiskey, cider wine and whole cream from the fridge, as she had been a bit too slow with bouncing the ball into the red solo cup. Derek held her hair back as she puked off the porch that night.

Never again.

Emily squinted as a few people she recognized walked into the room. It was only a month into classes, so she really hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know the new random assortment of people in her building, lectures and in her general orbit but she was pretty sure she was starting to recognize some faces.

Entering the party was the blonde from the end of the hallway who always complimented Emily on her outfits when she passed and had the most colourfully decorated dorm in the entire building. ‘Penelope G.’ read her name tag pinned to her door in their RA’s loopy handwriting.

Next to her was a younger boy that she had seen in the cafeteria with Penelope before, and while Emily wasn’t that good at identifying ages, he definitely looked a bit too young to be at college. He was tall, skinny and had a mop of unruly brown hair. He was also wearing a sweater to a house party, which was a major beginners mistake. He looked around nervously.

A few seconds later, the door closed, only dumping an assortment of other boys into the already packed house.

Emily let out a breath she didn’t know she held, as she found herself hoping that Garcia’s other friend might have been joining her that night.

Derek had teased her already about the girl across the hall. Jennifer Jareau. “My friends call me JJ,” she had said. Second year varsity soccer player and communications major. The girl Derek was convinced that Emily had a crush on.

JJ was the kind of girl who propped her door open during orientation week and always waved at Emily when she walked down the hall.

She did not have a crush. She barely knew anything about her besides that she was blonde, athletic and was always smiling. Both had been so busy since school had started, and seemed to have completely opposite schedules that they hadn’t really gotten to really connect.

Whenever Emily was coming back to their floor, JJ always seemed to be leaving. And vice versa. Somehow they were on exact opposite schedules. Probably since JJ was a varsity soccer player with early morning practise, and Emily was a bit of a night owl (that was a polite way of saying insomniac procrastinator perfectionist.)

She seemed to hang out with Garcia around residence, Emily having spotted the two getting coffee or studying in the library together occasionally, hence Emily’s hopes that Garcia may have JJ in tow that evening.

JJ was also definitely, one hundred percent, completely straight. Fairy lights and Polaroid pictures on her walls straight. She even had a high school sweetheart that might survive the turkey dumping season. Emily didn’t know his name but JJ said the key word early on in the year: boyfriend.

Emily turned back to the boy in front of her, who was describing, in detail, how the stock market worked, without realizing that Emily was not paying attention at all.

He was quite conventionally attractive, with mussed curly hair and broad shoulders. He obviously was interested in her—or rather interested in talking at her and potentially sleeping with her—that despite herself, Emily decided to slot him into her roster for that evening.

Emily considered herself a reluctant bisexual. Women could make her heart skip a beat just by looking in her direction, and men could get it when the situation was right and she didn’t have any other options. The second half of this pleased her mother to no end, as when young fourteen year old Emily Prentiss had decided to come out to her mother—at one of their rare dinners together—she watched her mother grit her teeth and tell her to keep that to herself. Her mother had eventually accepted this part of her daughter’s life, but only under the assumption that Emily would eventually end up with a man, and keep the rest to herself.

Emily looked around the room and wondered if she was going to have any other options that evening besides the very talkative boy.

Excusing herself from the company of…Matthew, she thinks was his name, she tries to find Derek, who had disappeared into the kitchen. Emily weaved through the crowd, steering past a couple making out in the corner.

She turned the corner and found Derek filling his cup with more beer from the keg. He grinned up at her and did the same for her.

“I hate beer,” Emily said to him, grimacing at the scratchy taste of the fermented barley in her red solo cup.

“Suck it up buttercup, you’re in college. You also complained about the juice from earlier.”

“Yeah well, watering down eleven percent wine is as bad as this five percent crap.”

“It did taste a lot better,” he agreed. “Who was that guy?”

Emily rolled her eyes.

“Matthew attempted to explain macroeconomics to me.”

“Oh god, is that what men are like out there?” He asked. “Guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“Lucky me.”

“Pong?” He asked, gesturing towards the row of tables set up in the backyard, through the open door and passed the crowd milling about near the speakers. The game seemed to be wrapping up, as the two teams shook hands and reset the cups to their original positions.

“Always.”

They found their spot at one of the tables across from their new opponents: Penelope and her very young looking friend.

“Penelope Garcia?” Derek grinned, recognizing the girl from their floor and walking up to her for a hug. Their rooms were facing each other, and they had apparently gotten the chance to get to know each other.

She grinned and hugged him, clearly a lot more sober than him having only arrived minutes earlier. There seemed to be a lot of hugging at house parties, Emily discovered when she moved to America, acquaintances became close friends once alcohol was involved.

She had bright pink glasses and a matching dress, with bright artfully done make-up highlighting her large smile. Emily knew that she was a CompSci major and had loaded her dorm room desk with monitors and the largest computer set-up that Emily had seen in her life.

“Derek, my love,” Penelope replied, gushing over Emily’s friend in an unexpected, but not unsurprising way. “Fancy meeting you here! And Emily! Have you two met my fine young friend here, Spencer?”

She gestured to the boy, who waved awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he said.

“He’s like a boy-genius or something. He already has a degree in mathematics and he’s currently working on his second degree in engineering. Isn’t that très cool? We met at the club fair last week.”

“I’m double majoring in philosophy,” he added.

“How old are you kid?” Morgan asked him, quick to the punch.

“Uh- sixteen?” Spencer seemed to ask, shrinking into himself a bit. “I skipped a couple of grades.”

He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, a brown sweater with a white shirt collar poking through and had tucked his brown hair behind his ears. He was still taller than Penelope, but the smattering of acne and wide eyes made it clear that he was very much a kid.

“More than a couple!” Morgan exclaimed.

He shrugged.

“Are you in intro to logic with Williams?” Emily asked, realizing that she had recognized him from somewhere.

“Yes, I am. Though I find his repeated chess metaphors a touch reductive.”

“You’re right about that. Like, we get it Willy, you play chess. Big whoop,” Emily said, then introduced herself.

He smiled at her, slightly less awkwardly this time but with a touch more confusion.

“And this is Derek Morgan,” Penelope piped in, “the most gorgeous football player I know.”

“Do you know any other football players?” Spencer asked.

“Now you hush!” She admonished him. “We have a game to play.”

“Do you two have something to drink?” Derek asked them, moving back towards their side of the long fold-up table, which was crudely painted in their schools colours.

Emily took a sip of her beer, wondering if the boy should be drinking.

Penelope babbled about how it was Spencer’s first college party, and how she was so excited that it was this one because look at the pretty string lights decorating the backyard and the fact that there was a keg, like in the movies.

Smiling at her new neighbour, Emily thought that this might also be Penelope's first college party.

Derek returned with a cup of water for Spencer, and some beer for Penelope. Spencer seemed relieved at the gesture, smiling as he took a sip. Emily marvelled at her friend's kindness, despite what anyone said about drinking culture on campuses either way, it was tough to attend a party and not drink, putting his drink in a matching red cup gave him the appearance of participation.

“Do we all know the rules?” Derek asked.

“The question you should ask,” Emily said, “Is if they’re willing to play by your rules.”

Emily had discovered that this game, depending on the people you were playing with, had radically different rules. While the premise of the game remained the same: there were six cups on each side of the table, into which you threw ping pong balls and whenever you got a ball in a cup, that cup was then taken out of the picture until there were no cups left. Depending on who you were playing with, the cups were filled with water or beer (Emily hated when they had beer in them, it make things sticky and it was very unsanitary), there were specific rules to what defined an airball, when one could get balls back, when you could call island and what was a permissible trick shot.

“Ha ha Prentiss,” Derek said to her, rolling the ping pong ball in his hands. “I wanted to know if they had played before.”

“Oh I’ve played before,” Penelope said, “and I am unbeatable.”

She waggled her fingers in a gesture that implied magic was involved.

“It’s simple physics,” Spencer added, “I’ve memorized the rules and common approaches. We’ll be more than fine. ”

“Ok pretty boy, let’s see what you’ve got. Eye to eye?”

Looking into each other’s eyes, rather than at their targets, the two boys aimed at the cups, with only Reid’s making it in.

“What the fuck Morgan,” Emily exclaimed as Penelope and Spencer whooped, “what even was that throw?”

With the other team having won the privilege of starting first, Emily was forced to toss her ball towards Penelope, who took it with a grin.

She threw first, missing the table entirely.

“Air ball!” Derek announced, leaping forward and waving his hands in front of the cups on their side, the rules granting him the ability to defend their territory.

Spencer frowned, apparently perturbed by this turn of events. He stuck out his tongue, aimed, and launched the ball, hitting Morgan right in the chest. The ball bounced off of it and fell straight down into the cup.

Derek’s draw dropped. Spencer and Penelope whooped in excitement.

“Derek, how did you lose us that cup?” Emily whined, pulling one of their cups to the side. One point to Spencer.

Derek, who had something to prove, lined up his shot. He gazed at his targets with the focus of a sniper, dunked the ball into one of their cups, dousing it with water, and rolled it in his hands, giving it a bit more weight. He aimed and fired off a quick shot into the centre-left cup. It spun around in the cup, floating above the water, but fell in. If the other team were crafty, they would have blown into the cup and Derek would have lost the point, but Emily sighed in relief when she realized that despite their first point, they didn’t know the rules well enough to beat the current reigning beer champs.

It was Emily’s turn. She took a gulp of her beer—she would always swear she was better when she was drunk because she didn’t think too hard about it—and threw. It neatly fell into the back right cup, scoring them two points for that round.

“Balls back!” Derek roared in delight.

Penelope tossed them, and the game continued.

They sunk one more shot on their turn. 3-1.

Penelope got another cup, Spencer missed. 3-2.

Derek’s ball bounced out, Emily sank hers. 4-2.

Only minutes later, after playing at breakneck speed, there were three cups left on the table and Derek and Emily were quite drunk, with Penelope not far behind. Reid, still very sober, was matching the duo with intense concentration.

It was his throw, with two cups left until his victory. He shots carefully, sinking it without a splash.

Derek and Emily had one cup to go. He went first, sending one barreling towards the cup. It hit the rim and instead of going in, it bounced towards Emily, who leaped forward and grabbed it before it fell off the table.

“Trick shot!” She yelled. Derek could try again, but only if he does it in an inventive way. At the frat house they spent a lot of time in first year, the only acceptable trick shot (under this house’s rules) was bouncing the ball off a poster of Obama. This time, Derek takes an empty cup, puts the ball in, and uses the cup to aim.

Somehow, it went in.

They leap into the air, yelling with delight. But they hadn’t won yet. The other team still had a redemption shot.

“How ya feeling kid?” Derek taunted, “Wanna give up now, save yourself the embarrassment?”

“Not a chance.”

He squinted at the table, lining up his shot with precision. With his left hand he licked his finger, sticking it up in the air like golfers do to measure the wind. Emily wasn't sure if this was a joke, something to psych Derek out, or something the boy was genuinely able to do. He frowned, seeming to ponder the information.

He aimed. He tossed it. He sunk the redemption shot.

They were in overtime.

“You can do it princess,” Derek told her, watching her with utmost intensity. Emily adjusted her stance, chugging back the last of that glass of beer, feeling the alcohol with greater focus than before.

She glanced around at the other team, but out of the corner of her eye she caught a familiar face looking at her: Jennifer Jareau from residence. Her not crush.

She was looking at her. Watching her play.

A swell of nervousness flooded up through her lungs, and she forced it out by huffing a breath.

She needed another drink. Moreover, she needed to focus.

Emily threw it. If it made it in, then they won. If she missed, Spencer and Garcia had another shot at redemption. They couldn’t lose this, not now, not in front of… uh, everyone. She was definitely not thinking about JJ in this situation. That would be something a frat boy thought about. She didn’t want to win beer pong to impress some girl, she wanted to win because she had pride.

The ball sailed through the air, Emily held her breath. It caught the lip of the cup, teetered. A splash announced that they had won.

Thank god.

With a whoop, realizing what they had done, Emily and Derek roared with joy, jumping into each other and hugging in their celebration. A few onlookers clapped, noticing how close the game had been.

They pulled apart and reached out their hands to their opponents.

“Great game,” Emily said, shaking Spencer's hand, “Really.”

He grinned despite his loss.

“Honestly I understand the principles, it’s simple parabolas and high-school level physics,” he frowned, “Unfortunately, I need to work on translating those parabolas into the real world.”

“We’ll work on it Spence,” Garcia grinned, shaking Emily’s hand while smiling at her younger friend.

Emily realized that in their celebration, Derek had spilled quite a bit of beer onto Emily’s sleeve and down the side of her shirt and it was currently dripping onto her boots. Emily sighed, handing her friend her cup.

“I’ve got beer all over me,” Emily sighed, “Get me a refill? I’m going to try to find a bathroom.”

Derek nodded and turned back to their new friends, chatting about how impressed he was with their game.

Emily felt a bit sticky, feeling the beer coat her bare arm. Walking back into the house, she glanced at the kitchen sink trying to see if there was any paper towel or something there, but no luck. The sink was full of dishes, the counters covered in assorted empties and cups, without a dishcloth in sight. Not wanting to rifle through their drawers, she made her way towards the staircase.

There was a couple making out on the staircase, which was not something Emily would do herself. It seemed a bit precarious since alcohol was involved, but, to each their own, she thought. Emily opened a couple of the doors upstairs before discovering one of the most disgusting washrooms she’d ever seen.

There was only one thing in the shower: dawn dish soap. The boys who lived here must use that for their bodies. Emily shuddered. On the sink were some toothbrushes, razors and some floss, but for some reason, no soap. Emily found a roll of toilet paper on the floor (ew), and wadded it up to try to reduce the wet spot on her side and hopefully from smelling like a brewery when she returned to residence.

For a moment, Emily found herself gazing at herself in the mirror, feeling hazy and a bit unsteady. She checked her make-up, noting that her dark red lipstick was holding up, but her mascara had smudged under her eyes giving her more of a goth vibe than the alt look she typically went for.

Emily sat down on the tub, patting the toilet paper against her wet clothing, feeling very drunk now that she was seated. Dammit Morgan, couldn’t he have spilled his beer on himself instead of her nice shirt?

The thud of the music was muffled, but there was a ringing in her ears that made everything feel very quiet. That was until there was a thundering of footsteps and the sound of a girl announcing: “I’m going to vom, right now.”

Emily sat, jaw dropped, as a red headed girl threw open the bathroom door, kneeled down on the floor next to the toilet, and relieved herself from the contents of her stomach without so much as a knock. The girl coughed into the bowl, yacking up what was probably way too much beer for the poor tiny girl.

“Oh my gosh,” said another voice, at the door, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t realize there was someone here! ”

Emily looked up, realizing the voice came from no other than Jennifer Jareau.

“JJ!” Emily said, not really knowing what else to do with the girl heaving at her feet.

“You ok?” JJ kneeled down next to her friend, carefully pulling her friend’s long hair back, tugging a hair tie off her own wrist and collecting it so that it didn’t get anything on it.

Emily felt stupid sitting on the tub, not helping anything. She tossed the rest of the toilet paper in the garbage, placing the half-empty roll on the edge of the tub.

“Can I get her some water?” Emily asked, “To rinse her mouth?”

JJ looked up at her and nodded. Emily felt herself blushing slightly as she turned away. Who let one girl’s eyes be so big, and so blue. It was rude.

She returned a minute later having had to rinse her own beer cup out in the gross kitchen sink to make sure that she wasn’t accidentally giving this girl some random person's sketchy cup.

Emily remembered that earlier Derek said that it was a varsity party, so it did make sense that JJ was also in attendance. The whole team probably was. The other girl looked like a soccer player, she had that vibe.

Emily handed the cup to JJ, who gave her a grateful smile. Emily felt their fingers touch for a moment, before JJ turned to attend to her friend.

She tried to get her to take a sip, and Emily took the moment to look JJ up and down, taking in her light blue skinny jeans, black tank and high heeled boots. She was basically wearing the uniform of a straight white girl at a houseparty. Not to say Emily wasn’t also basically wearing the same outfit, pairing the jeans with combat boots and attempting to set herself apart with her black nail polish and eyeliner that her mother once called ‘a lot.’

In contrast to Emily’s fairly undefined thin body, she took note of the strong looking shoulders that flexed as JJ kneeled down on the floor. She was definitely an athlete. Emily looked away, checking her phone, feeling suddenly embarrassed for looking at the girl.

‘Where u go bbg????’ Read a new message from Derek.

‘Girl puknigh up hre’ Emily typed, ‘Got her waterr’

Emily blinked at her typos, pressing the red underlined words, hoping her phone would correct them for her. She wasn’t that drunk.

The two girls were talking quietly, and Emily decided to take her leave, but before she could the red-head beat her to the punch deciding that she wanted to puke in peace.

“Leave me aloooooonnne Jennifer,” she wined. “Get out, I don’t want any more fucking water.”

JJ pulled back, making a face and holding her hands up in the ‘I surrender’ motion. Emily hurried out into the hall with JJ on her heels. The girl kicked the door shut angrily, and the sound of her retching ensued.

“There was a funnel,” JJ offered as an explanation. She leaned against the door. “How has your night been?”

Emily blinked. JJ was making conversation. She didn’t want Emily to leave just yet.

“So far so good,” Emily replied. “Doing better than your friend, at least.”

“That’s not hard to do. So I guess you didn’t chug from a funnel yet?” JJ quipped, smiling and revealing a perfect, white smile.

“Oh I have that scheduled for one-thirty, actually,” Emily said, pretending to check her watch and grinning.

“Let me know before you do, I’d like to watch that,” JJ said casually.

A wave of heat rushed to Emily’s face as she realized that drinking from a funnel would entail Emily on her knees, with JJ watching her… a thought that she needed to push out of her brain immediately.

“I’ll have you know,” Emily said in retort, “I can chug amongst the best. I am no stranger to these sorts of parties.”

JJ grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m a reigning beer pong champ, I’ll have you know.”

They laughed.

“I saw your last victory. Very impressive.”

JJ, in a controlled fall, slid down the door and sat down in the hall, resigning herself to waiting for her friend. Emily wondered if she should return to Morgan now, but unable to tear herself away from the opportunity for a conversation with JJ.

“I’m awful at pong,” the blonde admitted. “I miss every time.”

“You probably just need a good teacher.”

JJ raised her eyebrows, “oh yeah?”

“I mean,” Emily said, sitting down onto the top step of the staircase, facing her floormate, “it’s all about hand eye coordination. It’s basically a sport. You need a coach.”

They both laughed.

“Well if that’s the case, why don’t you teach me?”

Emily gulped.

The door opened, and JJ fell back slightly before catching herself.

“I’m going home,” JJ’s friend announced.

JJ looked up at her dishevelled friend and nodded, turning back to look at Emily apologetically.

“Another time?” Emily offered, smiling before walking down the stairs and rejoining the party.

Next chapter ->

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #criminal minds au #queerminal minds #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #jemily fanfiction #my post #my writing #this is going to be a LONG one #mostly fluff #i love college au #gravelyhumerus cm college au

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years ago

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I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 3: Three Sisters, Many Scars, and A Day Out

A/N: Warning! Long? Longer than usual? Chapter? I already split it into 2, mind you. Wasn’t able to hold back. Haha. Sorry bout that. Sorry if this took too long as well. Some of you may have seen my crazy activity in LWA recently. I also have college starting up again so… really, many apologies.

I like to think Claudine is very sweet and gentle with Diana, but very cheeky with Weiss. And Weiss is soft and awkward with Diana, and is almost always fondly annoyed with Claudine. And Diana just loves them both because her younger sisters are so pretty and nice to her and they make her breakfast, and they aren’t anything like the cold, abusive people her old family was like.

I don’t drink coffee so I had to google, “coffee maker parts” for this chapter, though I doubt I used that knowledge lmao.

Their house kind of has a kitchen connected to the living room. Kind of like… the Starlight dorm’s? Wait I don’t remember.

This also got delayed coz my dog died a while ago during the time I wrote this, and I felt like shit. So. Yep. But it’s alright now!

Also, I know I said love interests maybe at chapter 3, but this was getting too long so I had to move it to the next chapter which is already half done and will be up shortly after this one! Maybe by tomorrow or within next week, hopefully, because a storm is coming to our area. Might have no power. But for sure the three silly (in their own way) brunettes will be there. Definitely!

NOT BETA’D AS ALWAYS! :> I’m… I’m shy about asking for betas.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

School.

Right. That was a thing.

And it was going to start in about two to barely three weeks from now. It was enrollment season for many, and that did not exclude the university Claudine and Weiss were to attend soon. They had been discussing this in the kitchen as they prepared breakfast, Diana still deep in slumber. The girl seemed to sleep in often these days, but well… that was mostly the fault of the two younger sisters.

During one of their chats, they had learned that Diana had always been overworked as a child (just like a certain someone Claudine knew), and had rarely had the chance to rest. They took this opportunity of freedom to give her just that. Even if that freedom basically spelled out how little their father cared about them. So long as they were still alive, he’d have many cases lay off his back. Well, they didn’t care for him either, so it was more advantageous for them to have little to worry about with many things provided for them without strings attached. Being able to do what they wanted was a perk they were willing to make the most out of.

Still, it was nearing school time and they had realized that they were yet to hear of Diana’s plans in terms of studying. Weiss and Claudine had already been enrolled by their father in the aforementioned university which specialized in the arts; the man had done his research on Claudine, it seemed. But as for Diana, the pair had no clue of her status in terms of going to school again, nor could they recall her mentioning any course she was interested in- other than their limited knowledge of her relationship with medicine from articles they’d seen, and stories they’d heard from the girl herself. But was that still an option at this point? What did Diana want to do; she hadn’t mentioned any plans to continue pursuing it, had she?

Huh. That was odd. Considering all the talking they had done these past few days, attempts at getting to know each other better, it seems they had yet to know enough about their housemates.

As if summoned by their silent inquiries, Diana appeared on the threshold to the connected living room and kitchen, rubbing drowsiness away from her tired-looking eyes. On an odd sense of instinct, Claudine walked over to the sleep-addled woman still stuck by the doorway, blinking in confusion, as if wondering about where she was, what she was doing, and why there were two ladies cooking what looked to be breakfast for her.

“That’s because we are cooking breakfast for you. And for us too.” Claudine giggled softly at Diana speaking her thoughts out loud; taking the latter’s hand, she patted a few difficult strands of curly hair down with the other, and began righting Diana’s appearance- her shirt and cardigan slipping off her shoulder while her slippers were on the wrong feet- and the former heiress quite liked that, being pampered. She never really was despite having so many maids in her previous home. She also liked this person who was guiding her to take a seat at this nice wooden table, and this equally nice person had given her a cup of some very nice coffee. “I hope this will wake you up some. You truly are an odd child.”

Diana nodded her thanks, taking a sip from the mug that had her name on it (she really liked that) and a regal picture of a unicorn because Diana Cavendish was not that childish. It was a little sweet, and she liked that too. Very unlike all the bitterness she’d forced down her throat as she toiled nights away for the sake of her family. This was a nice change.

But who were these ladies?

“You know, you’ve asked us the same question almost every morning when you wake up.” Weiss sighed fondly, already accustomed to Diana’s odd habit of speaking her mind, as well as being so lost to the world in the mornings. The first time it had happened, Claudine and Weiss had thought that Diana was talking to them. Apparently, that was not the case. “At this point, we’ll have lived together for twenty or so years and you’d probably still ask.” The silver-haired girl made her way to the table, placing down some pancakes as Claudine followed suit with some eggs and bacon.

“Maybe there’s nothing quite memorable about you, then.” The golden-blonde teased, biting back a hiss as Weiss smacked her shoulder. “Brutal…”

“You’re brutal.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder, before taking one of Diana and Claudine’s hands in each of her own. “The other day-”

“That was one time! And that man was committing theft. Were we supposed to let him run away?” Claudine defended, slightly offended.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to be capable of smashing through concrete-“ Weiss was cut off by the soft, sleepy voice that was Diana, along with a grumbling stomach from the now-blushing girl.

“G-grace…” She reminded, and the two halted their bickering, smiling at Diana while rolling their eyes at one another playfully.

After saying grace for their meal, they dug in, the younger sisters secretly enjoying the many emotions that passed through Diana’s face every meal. It reminded them of when they had gotten burgers for the first time. Weiss admitted she was the same before Winter had snuck in some of the world’s greatest (and unhealthiest) fast-food delicacies, but did she really look like this at the time? Diana never having tasted cheap bacon was preposterous!

But they reminded themselves not to go overboard with junk food and cheap meats. They had health to consider after all, as pleasant as it was to spoil their older sister.

The meal went on as it always did in this household, a few chats here and there, some random inquiries, Diana booting up her awareness as the sleepiness slowly faded away, remembering that she now had two siblings to live her life with each day until who knows when. A wonderful affair as always.

Finishing her breakfast first, Diana stood up to take her plate to the sink for washing. Still feeling slightly out of it, she spotted the coffee maker still half-full with coffee and thought it would probably do her some good to have another cup.

Placing her dishes in the sink, she reached over to grab the carafe, overhearing her sisters’ chatter and turning around to watch them as she poured the liquid into her mug, she felt familiar tremors in her right hand, a warning siren going off in her head as the pain that immediately shot through it caused her to hiss and drop both her mug and the glass jug containing relatively hot coffee, both items crashing into pieces against the kitchen isle floor. Such a loud racket alerted her siblings who rushed to her side in a split second.

“DIANA?!”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Diana felt her whole body shake along with her hands, but mostly out of fear than anything else. She’d messed up again. She’d broken something that wasn’t hers, she’d made a mess on the floor, and she’d ruined the adorable pony slippers Claudine had been nice enough to secretly get her after she stared at them for nearly twenty minutes on a department store shelf. They were probably mad. Claudine and Weiss. They would no longer be kind to her after her mistake. And after a mistake… a punishment. That’s what was next. Always. Diana knew this in her very soul.

“S-s-sorry…” Stuttering out an apology, she bent down to pick up the broken shards, ready to clean up before she was beaten; maybe if she fixed her own messes and prostrate before them, she’d receive their mercy-

“DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU IDIOT!” She saw the hand come quick, her eyes bracing themselves shut, waiting for the hit to come…

…but it never did. Weiss held her hand up carefully, pulling her out of her slightly crouched position she had subconsciously gotten into.

“Claudine, could you like, take her to the sofa before she gets hurt even more? I’ll do the clearing.”

“Can a princess do something like that?” The youngest still teased, but worry was interlaced into her tone. Weiss scoffed at that.

“If you have time to entertain me with your jokes, make sure Diana is fine instead.” Weiss playfully kicked Claudine’s butt, getting her to move along, pushing Diana in front of her with careful guidance.

Once the trembling girl had been situated on their couch, Claudine began checking for any visible injuries on her elder sister’s hands and feet, sighing in relief when she had found none. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Burns? Cuts?” She asked for good measure. Seeing Diana shake her head no, Claudine gave a sigh of relief, turning around to tell Weiss that all was well, and that she’d be going to draw a bath for Diana and get her a change of clothes and wash the soiled garments and slippers.

Before she could leave, a hand caught the edge of her shirt, still quivering lightly. Her heart clenched at the quiet, broken voice, and equally broken question. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

It looked like Weiss had heard the question too considering the sounds of running tap water from the kitchen suddenly stopped.

A frown came over the actress’ features, and that seemed to have scared Diana even more. Claudine immediately noticed, switching to a softer but still worried question as she crouched down in front of the sad girl, hands rubbing gently over her knees before taking shaky hands in hers.

“Why would we?” She asked in a whisper. Weiss may not have been able to hear them, but she continued to watch the exchange, leaning back against the sink, arms crossed, brows furrowed. If anything were to happen or she was needed, she’d rush right over. For now, she’d let her younger sibling deal with it as she seemed to be better at these things.

“Because… I made a mistake… I broke things… and the slippers…” Tears welled up in Diana’s eyes, and two hearts clenched in painful sympathy.

“No, no, no. Sweetheart. That was an accident, that wasn’t your fault.” Claudine frantically wiped away the running tears, signaling to Weiss for some tissues. “Okay? Okay? You can keep crying if it makes you feel better, but we’d rather you calm down and take a bath now so that you can relax and not have to think about any bad things, okay?”

The younger girls did not know what the hell Diana’s family had put her through, but they’d wreak havoc and bring that hell right back to them if they had to. This was outright abuse! For such a lovely lady like Diana to be scarred this deeply, both physically and psychologically, it was just so wrong in many ways.

Keeping their fury reigned in, they gently coaxed Diana into taking the much-needed bath, closing the door with a reminder to call for either one of them should anything come up. With the assurance that Diana could take care of herself for a few minutes, they made their way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

“I swear, I’ll be put in prison for murder one of these days.” Weiss muttered, squeezing the sponge a bit too tightly, froth covering her hand.

“If you’re going to kill someone for Diana’s sake, at least don’t get caught.” Claudine shot back, though the nails digging into her palm spoke a lot about how much she agreed with Weiss’ sentiments.

With everything in place, and the accident laid to rest, the pair plopped on to the couch, sighing out their internal tension.

“I wonder… about what else happened with Diana… Now that I think about it, we never really got to know much about her.” Weiss mused, referring to the incident many nights ago, on their first day together, when Diana had that nightmare. “Cavendish…” Weiss recalled to the time when they had checked the woman’s identification after she’d fainted at their door. Really. All her first memories with Diana weren’t the greatest. Though she could probably say that it was the same for all of them towards one another.

“I did some research on that.” Claudine shared, pulling out her phone and showing it to the silver-haired woman. “Cavendish Medical. Diana did say that her family was of the elite type.” A short groan escaped before the woman continued. “But one of the largest medical chains internationally at that, somehow I can now see why Diana ended up like that. I also somehow get why her face isn’t so well-known despite this fact.”

Weiss moaned out her frustrated pain as well, understanding where this was getting at. “It’s that shitty old man, isn’t it? Because she’s an illegitimate child and all that jazz?” Slapping her knee, she stood up in irritation. “Couldn’t they have just, like, adopted her or something then? And she isn’t completely Unrelated to them. What the hell.”

“I can see that the two of you have certainly been through that. ‘Heiress’ stuff and all.” Claudine made a random circular motion in the air. “Schnee Digital Corporation.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Sure.”

“…”

“How rare of you not to continue your taunts.”

“I know how stressed one can get in the presence of an infuriating woman.”

Weiss laughed at that, not really getting it, but she felt like she would in the near future. It never hurt to ask anyway, though. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know how to shut up when I have to.” Claudine laughed along, shaking her thoughts clear of a certain regular intruder in her mind.

As the two slumped against their couch in comfortable silence, they heard the muffled sound of a voice from behind a door interrupting their hush. “I… I think my hair got s-stuck.” And that was enough reason for them to get up and walk over to the bathroom, only to see Diana struggling with the shower head, hair tangled about it while she sat in the tub. How that happened, they had no clue.

“Just what are you up to?” Weiss muttered under her breath, moving towards Diana anyway, gently detaching light-green curls from metal.

“I’m sorry…”

With an affectionate sigh, Claudine sat herself on a stool by the tub, taking the showerhead from Weiss. “Come on, let us help you finish. We don’t want any more mishaps.”

“I- I can… bathe myself.”

“We know you can. But we want to help.”

“B-but!” And they felt the girl in their hands tense, curling into herself just as she did many times before, as if to hide herself. And as their sight registered why, with clarity, their hearts bled.

They hadn’t noticed it as clearly before, but now there was nothing to cover the many scars that littered over the surface of ivory skin. There were a few bruises that were beginning to heal, and they couldn’t help but wonder if those were inflicted right before Diana escaped to the peace they now lived in. With clenched teeth, Weiss grabbed a bottle of conditioner, channeling her anger to her fingers as she squeezed the bottles contents into her hand and tenderly ran her fingers through curled locks.

Diana’s hair smelled of the scent of the shampoo they bought from a local mart, but her hair, as nice as it was, didn’t have that certain slippery-smooth feel. So Weiss believed this was the next step the girl was about to do.

Claudine reached for the shower setting knob, spraying her hand with water as she adjusted the temperature to the perfect degree of comfort before rinsing the soap off her older sister’s back. She grimaced at the sight of more scars. They were a vast variety. Long, short, wide, thin… it made her sick to know that people truly could lack the heart to be able to inflict so much pain on an individual.

They worked in careful silence, the younger sisters working their hands gently and efficiently. Diana would occasionally jolt, wince, or whimper, and the pair would have to force their frowns away as to not cause the eldest further anxiety.

As the last drop of water fell into the tub, they stood Diana up and helped her dry off, covering her body with a bathrobe as they moved to the girl’s bedroom to get her hair dried completely, and get her changed into comfortable wear.

Diana was grateful for their help. Really she was, but as she changed, she could feel the two worried gazes scanning nearly every patch of skin visible to their eyes as she slowly covered it up with her attire for the day. It unnerved her, it felt like she was back to being strictly monitored.

They must have realized her discomfort as they eased off, Weiss picking a brush up by the vanity, and Claudine sitting her down in front of it. “How about we fix you up? We have plans to go out for today, so maybe you could join us?” The latter proposed as both grinned, Weiss looking up hairstyles that would suit Diana’s choice of clothing for today.

“I- um... okay.” At first hesitant, but eventually relenting, the white-haired heiress got to work, trying her best to mimic the guide on her phone.

It was a silent affair, almost torturous for the eldest as she dared not look into the mirror lest she meet Claudine’s eyes, ever observant and watching over her. Soon enough, however, the ticking of the clock and the feel of the brush smoothing over her waves soothed Diana little-by-little, her breathing slowing as if she were being lulled to sleep.

And then that silence broke.

“Diana… “ It was soft, nearly a whisper, but not quite that. It was a shy call, something rare from the ever-confident Claudine that Diana had come to know. Then again, this was also the incredibly tender blonde she’s lived with the past few days. In that sense, she was very familiar.

“Y-yes?”

Kneeling down next to her vanity’s stool, Diana held a hand, still looking at Diana through the mirror. There was a secret twitch of nervousness on her hand, then a barely audible deep breath, as if the youngest was preparing her heart for a deep confession. Diana felt herself tense. “Diana... Could you tell us about your family? About you?” A shaky breath. “...a-about... your scars.”

She must’ve reacted in a worrisome way, as there was an immediate follow-up to that.

“Oh! You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to! If it hurts to talk about it then we can drop this.” Claudine frantically spat out, the touch of her skin feeling a bit warmer. “You don’t have to do it against your will. We were just worried and... those kinds of.. marks are definitely not normal- oh but we’d understand if they are too traumatizing that you’d rather not even recall them, much less speak of them-” She rambled on.

They were kind. So kind. Weiss hadn’t said anything yet, but Diana just knew she was the same. It was warm. Maybe she could trust them. If it were them... surely...

“Diana?”

Shaking her head to ease their anxieties, she flipped her hand over, palm meeting Claudine’s as she clasped her hand tighter than she planned.

“It’s... I... I want to. I want to tell you... because maybe... maybe you can... assist me.”

Two heads nodded, indicating that they were all ears. Feeling their sincerity, a smile grew on Diana’s face. With a deep intake of air, she began her story.

She had been borne healthy and full of potential, an intelligent baby, it seemed. However, potential or talent did not matter. Not to a family as traditional and tight-laced as the renown Cavendish House. A pregnancy out of wedlock was shame to the family, regardless of who the opposite party was, how rich, or how powerfully influential they were.

Why would such large figures care about money and frivolous social stances when they had their own more-than-fair share? Not to mention, Jacques Schnee was infamous despite all accolades. He was never a pleasing prospect to their great family.

And then one day, he pulled away, severing all ties to Diana and her mother. This had complicated their relationship to the main family even more, and hence they were sent to the branch house in Japan, living the rest of their days there. Until now.

“Do you... know how your parents met?” Weiss asked. Diana shook her head, no. She had never had the chance to really ask her mother as she had died when she was quite young, young enough to not have sense of the world yet; too young to comprehend her unfavorable situation.

Claudine couldn’t imagine how Diana felt. Though on the brink of losing her, she still had her mother, and had had the pleasure of being raised by the wonderful woman that she was; nurtured into what she was today. But Diana... Oh, Diana.

“After my mother passed, my aunt and cousins moved into the same house. My aunt claimed that she had been sent by the main family to... ‘rear’ me into the Cavendish I was expected to become.” A flash of fear passed blue irises, the speaker’s breath hastening noticeably. “Then the... scars. Their story. She...”

Unable to handle it any longer, Claudine lunged forward, wrapping the trembling girl in her arms, shushing her and soothing her, telling her it was enough. That she could stop if it hurt too much. Still, Diana wanted to carry on. She had finally found her voice to speak. She did not want to lose this chance. She wanted these people, ones she’d known less than her own similar-named kin, to understand. Because she knew that they would. That they would try. She wanted to try as well.

“When I turned fourteen, I had a grown slightly aware of my situation. I overheard maids gossip that my aunt, she had loathed my mother for years as the latter was more favored as the next matriarchal head. When the whole fiasco happened, she jumped at the chance to attain her most desired wish. Unfortunately for her, she still was not deemed good enough. And I... I was.”

A pause.

“...She took it all out on me. She defended that it was simply discipline. She claimed that she was refining me through the harshest challenges so I would be prepared for how the world truly worked. But all of that was clearly masked-”

“Abuse.” The pair responded, hearts heavy.

“Yes. But I was so deep in submission and mindless obedience that I could do nothing.” Then her eyes went steely cold. “One night, she had gotten herself intoxicated. She had apparently gone back to the main manor to ask for their reconsideration, but was vehemently rejected. I had taken an important mock exam that day, but had one single mistake... She said it wasn’t good enough. She went mad. She said... she’d teach me that perfection-it was the only way I’d ever attain what I wanted the most.”

Diana frowned.

“I now know that she actually meant, what she wanted the most. I’d rather have no part in it. But it was too late.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Diana saw the vivid flames of the fireplace, the dark room; she could smell the awful stench of cheap wine and burning papers. Worst of all, she could almost feel it again. “The metal whip she would constantly beat me with... on that night, she had heated it in the coals... she was deeply lost. Dreadfully so. She took my hand and said...

‘I hope this mark haunts you ‘til the day you die. That you’ll never be what you were destined to be.’”

Diana’s eyes fluttered open, cold as they were when they closed, face hardened and emotionless. She was now numb. There was no longer any pain to hold her back from divulging her deep darkness within.

“Father...” The word was so distasteful, they all cringed deep down. So unfamiliar and... wrong. “He knew about my... condition.” Two pairs of eyes saw that scarred hand go knuckles-white with their grip. “He said so in the letter, and he told me that... there wasn’t much use in re-enrolling me in a medical school if my own family threw me away after finding out.”

“Finding out?”

“As you saw earlier, my hands have the tendency to suddenly shake, and my right...” Diana stared into her open palm in depression, clenching it into a fist frustratedly. “-the doctors said that my aunt had destroyed nerves needed for the finer motor functions of my hand. The tremors are no good. My family wanted me to become a surgeon for whatever field. I... can’t do that.” She smiled through a grimace.

“Diana...”

“So he told me to do whatever I wanted. The money was... there and all.”

Weiss grit her teeth, fury stirring up within her at the man’s utter lack of delicacy and consideration. It was cruel, how he threw Diana’s pains right at her face, thinking it could be solved with money and she’d feel chipper about it right away. He was always like that.

It wasn’t because their father ever cared about Diana’s background or family affairs that he gave her the freedom of choice; so probably by hearing rumors about Diana and her hand, he couldn’t be bothered to even help her out, leaving her to decide in her lost, unknowing state. How could everyone leave her to choose for herself after controlling her every action, thought, and future? And all of a sudden, as she became useless to them, drop her like a rag doll to do what she wanted. She no longer even knew what she wanted, much less know how to desire something, most likely!

“That’s it.” Weiss bit. “That’s enough, Diana.” She placed the brush down with a light thud. The sound must have scared the poor girl as she apologized profusely right away.

“S-sorry! You must not have liked my story; it must have been burdensome to hear something as depressing as that. I won’t speak a word of it ever again!”

“Diana.” Claudine called, cradling scarred hands in her own. “I don’t believe Weiss meant that in any mean way towards you. She just can’t bear to hear how hurt you are anymore, not right now. But we promise, we will continue to listen to you if you want to open up.” She ran her thumbs gently over fading lines, studying them intensely, before looking up to meet Diana’s eyes. “But right now, we think you need a break. Some fresh air.”

Diana nodded, finally noticing the sweat trickling down her brow, how her breathing was a little labored, and how flushed she felt.

“You’re shaking. Diana.” Claudine said sadly, reaching up to brush stray strands of hair away from Diana’s forehead. “Let’s have a change of pace.” Claudine smiled. “Weiss?”

They heard an audible huff come from the girl, before she nodded. “Fifteen minutes, then we can go.”

Claudine nodded back in agreement, rising up and pulling Diana along with her, getting ready to lead her to the hall. “We’ll go get our shoes on.”

“Great, you do that while I call for a car.” Weiss responded with a wave of her hand, phone already to her ear.

“…”

“...car?”

//-//-//-//-//

Impressive. Weiss’ car was.

Diana wasn’t one to be interested in such things, but staring at the pristine silvery white with royal to dark blue accents, she would say it was beautiful. Did people call cars beautiful? Or was Diana just odd, as she always was?

She heard Claudine whistle appreciatively. Maybe it was normal.

“How did you even get this here?”

“Had a worker bring it over.”

“From where??? So fast?!”

“Look, I don’t know the details, but this is just another way our… dude… squanders his money. He wants his children to, at least, look the part of being supported publicly. Stupid, but I’m grateful I have a car. Not to him, but to the universe or whatever.”

Claudine chuckled. “You really hate him, don’t you.”

“Absolutely.”

“Same.”

They shared a grin, before the French guided the eldest into the back seat, closing the car door securely before riding shotgun next to a Weiss tinkering with the stereo. Just as she clicked the seatbelt lock in place, Weiss chose her song and the car revved to life.

“This one goes to that bastard old man!” She yelled out her window. “FUCK YOU!”

“Th-there was an existing song with a title such as that?” Diana muttered from the back.

“Is that an appropriate song in this context?” Claudine laughed harder, amused by how crazy a driver Weiss was.

“Who cares? I just wanna flip him off.”

“Totally understandable.”

And they were off.

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine and Weiss knew they were supposed to head off to school right away to finalize some enrollment details, and pick up a few things besides their uniforms, but with the topic floating around earlier, and with Diana not knowing what direction to take academic-wise, they decided they could spend a little bit of time at the mall to divert her attention from all the bad things, then maybe over lunch, attempt a more pleasant discussion regarding school plans.

Also, something had been bothering the pair after they’d gone through Diana’s closet earlier in search of her outfit for the day. While she certainly wasn’t lacking wardrobe, the variety of clothes she had left much to be desired.

They were mostly formal clothes- gowns and dresses, some sleeping wear, a few blouses and dress shirts that didn’t seem like they’d be very breathable on a regular day out, and a few slacks and pants. A few meaning… two pairs each.

It was almost as if Diana only ever got dressed to meet important people, and to attend lavish events. Probably not too far from the truth. Thus, she might not have needed anything akin to ‘party’ or ‘casual’, or even ‘sporty’ wear. They had found a few jogging pants in the far back, but they seemed worse for wear and only to be used for exercising and/or sleeping.

They were lucky enough to get her dressed in a loose-fitting pale blue button up, sleeves rolled up, because, “No Diana, you will not be buttoning up your cuffs and choking yourself with a damn thick tie, and you don’t need to wear a suit everywhere you go. You’re not going out for an interview.” , paired with one of her two pairs of jeans- a dark denim.

That would have to do. To top it- or bottom? Or round it all off, They had her wear some open-toed shoes, sandals with a little wedged heel at the back.

She was pretty. It worked. Even a sack of rice would have worked for someone as beautiful as Diana.

They would never make her try that though.

So after Weiss had dragged a completely bewildered Diana through all twelve of her favorite shops, they were now sat in a small cafe on the second floor, enjoying their slightly-late lunch.

Diana sipped on her tea like the little miss that she was, delicately placing the cup back down before cutting into her meal with all the grace and poise of some great medieval aristocrat that probably ate up all the etiquette books. Her back was ramrod straight, but somehow managing to look relaxed. She was this picture of elegance, and Claudine had already ran out of fingers to count how many people had stopped and done a double-take as they passed by their group’s table.

Weiss, as fiery and at times uncouth as she was with her language, and some mannerisms, proved to have some semblance of the same type of upbringing. And while Claudine grew up learning all these manners as well, the knowledge of them important for events at Seishou, she could not deny how stifling it all felt.

Should she have ordered something more… ‘graceful’ than her tuna panini?

“Um…” Immediately, she caught both girl’s attention, their eyes focused on her. “So…”

“So?” Weiss parroted, placing her fork down.

‘Huh? Wait a second, Claudine Saijou, what were you supposed to be doing, again?’ What had she wanted to say again? Or did she not really want to say anything, and simply wanted to escape this awkward atmosphere? Why were they in this situation? Why were they having lunch at the mall? Why were they outside? Why…

“Ah-”

“Ah.” Diana repeated this time. “Ah?”

School. They were supposed to be out today to attend to matters for school. School that was starting very soon.

“School.”

“School.” The pair mimicked.

“School!” Claudine raised her hands up, fork still in one of them and dropping a portion of her pastry on the table.

Weiss was about to scold her, before her eyes widened in realization. “SCHOOL!”

“School?” Diana was still confused, but seeing her sisters hurriedly finish their lunch pressured her to do the same, even if she didn’t have much to finish.

“Oh my god, I got too carried away. What time is it, Claudine?” Weiss mumbled, polishing off her plate, and still dabbing her face with a napkin like the true lady she was.

Claudine took a peek at her wristwatch. “Eh, uh.. umm, huh? Wait… it’s almost three?! Weiss! Office hours end soon! And we still have to get to the school!”

“We’ll get there!” Weiss replied, calling for the check, and rummaging through her bag for her wallet. Placing just enough bills to cover their expenses and leaving the change as a tip, the three girls rushed to the car-or well, two girls rushed to a car, dragging a third, clueless one behind them.

Weiss got her engine roaring to life and speeding down the highway (at an acceptable pace, because they were in a rush, not criminals), and managed to get to their school supposedly twenty minutes away, in under fifteen.

Claudine thought she would die with how Weiss drove in their mad run to make it to the university.

“We… we-” She wheezed, hand clutching at her chest. “We could have… I thought I died.” She knelt on the ground, as if praying. “Devil driver.”

“Shut it! You try chasing after time while in that kind of traffic.”

Claudine just waved her off with a hand, breathing still labored. “N-Never again. Never get distracted again.”

“Agreed.” Weiss huffed, locking the car with a click.

Diana stood there, hair slightly frazzled, but still looking the picture of dignity and grace. Weiss had a few wrinkles in her blouse, but otherwise was sparkling perfect. Claudine wondered how the hell they managed that after such a wild ride, at the same time hoping she didn’t look like the mess she felt she was in comparison to the two’s appearances. Really, what was it with heiresses and their impossible-to-ruin looks.

“Okay, children, chop-chop. It’s just about three-fifteen, and we can only guess what kind of terrible lines enrollment season summons. I do not want to find myself standing for an hour amongst seas of people.”

“Chil-” Claudine was about to protest, but decided against wasting more time, getting up and grabbing Diana by the hand and leading her behind Weiss.

This day wasn’t turning out quite as they had planned. Or didn’t plan.

//-//-//-//-//

So they had forgotten one little detail. Well, not little. More like… universal.

“Sorry, li’l ladies; but offices are closed for today. It’s Sunday, my dears.” The old gatekeeper chuckled at the surprised faces of girls who looked like they were just told that all their efforts of rushing had been in vain because… all their efforts of rushing had been in vain. “I wouldn’t blame you, however. Y’all look like you aren’t from around here, fancy-looking hair colors and all. I don’t know if it works different from where you come from, but over here, we don’t usually come to the office on a Sunday.”

Claudine just panted, making an incoherent sound of surprise. Was there really such a thing? She’d always walked into Seishou any day of the week, without rest- ah. Maybe she was just a crazy workaholic, then.

“Well, some schools prob’ly allow students to pick things up, but as for transactions and in-person meet-ups, I don’t think you little ladies have much luck. The headmaster of this school, at least, made sure that workers get Sundays with their families. Policy thing and all. It’s on somethin’ called a ‘webpage’? My granddaughter showed me yesterday, most bizarre thing I’ve seen.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Weiss, ever the spokeswoman of the group, nodded, taking note to look up said school’s webpage. They should have done so sooner.

“Sorry, girls.”

“O-oh, no, not at all. We don’t mind. We were… we actually- we were supposed to know this, yes.” Weiss stammered out. “We simply forgot is all.”

“Haha! Well, that’s all right, happens. You’re free to come back tomorrow, though. Although I advise you to come at a time waaay earlier than right now.” He winked.

“Thank you. We’ll remember that.” Weiss replied with a professional smile in place to end the conversation, just like she’d been taught in interaction. It may have seemed a little cold, but that was just something she was used to doing. She did enjoy the man’s quirky sweetness, though she’d never let it show.

The three made their slow walk back to car, no longer rushing for anything in particular. It was the low one experienced after the adrenaline rush. Well, it was time to head home anyway. They could afford to be a little relaxed.

“Weiss?” Claudine called as the car beeped unlock.

“Hmm?”

“Can you drive better this time?”

“…”

“Now listen here-”

//-//-//-//-//

Home.

They were finally home.

Right away, Weiss had sunk into the welcoming softness of their couch, subsequently switching on the television once she’d found the remote. Laying on her back, with legs hanging over one of the armrests, she listened to- more than watched- the steady drone of some random channel while hearing Claudine chopping away in the kitchen in the background.

Diana had gone straight to the bedroom to drop off her ‘spoils of war’, as Weiss had put it. For a rich girl, she was good at talking down prices to a bargain. It was truly a horrific war that reoccurred in each shop they visited, Diana’s feet sore and tired, and all she’d done was walk after Weiss.

For a few hours.

Returning to the common room, Diana spotted Claudine stirring what appeared to be a soup. It smelled amazing, and Diana felt her mouth water. She’d never really been excited for food back at her old home- er… houses, regardless of how extravagant every meal was. Here, however, the simplest grilled cheese had her taste buds squealing in delight, pleasured by the flavors and sensations of even the simplest dish.

Dishes made with tenderness, love, and care.

While waiting, Diana decided to take a seat on the sofa, joining Weiss in her... staring at the TV. They weren’t viewing anything in particular, not really paying attention. Weiss had begun to flip through the channels, Diana listening to the audible clicks of remote buttons. Boring shows, corny jokes, generated laughter were presented in entertainment and comedy channels. They both jolted in their spots as Weiss had jumped to an action channel that had just had some loud explosion go off, the volume up high enough to feel that sound blast through their entire body.

A few more button clicks, many more channels browsed; Weiss and Diana were growing more and more bored. Was Claudine done with dinner yet? Nothing interesting was showing anymore-

[“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”]

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“A-A-AAAAHHHH!”

Three ear-shattering screeches filled the room in succession, making Claudine drop her ladel, whipping her head to check if all was alright. “Diana?! Weiss?!” She called, walking around the isle towards the couch. Then she saw two figures glued to one another in tight embrace, crouching into each other. That did not look comfortable. Turning her eyes to the TV playing some generic horror music of violin murder to accompany the scene of a bloodied, toothless woman, and it all clicked.

And she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pfft-” She attempted to cover her mouth, but to no avail. “AHA-pfff- I- I know I shouldn’t laugh, but-ha...ha...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what are you two doing?!” Claudine wiped a tear from her eye, walking the last few steps to stand behind the couch, patting two shivering heads. “Got scared?” She grinned, voice teasing while waiting for that spiteful response from one Weiss Schnee.

“S-scared?! No! N-no, I’m not s-scared! Says who? Huh? Come fight me!”

She got exactly what she desired, giggling in amusement as she stared back in challenge, right into glaring icy blues that could cut. She was beginning to ask herself if this was how a certain partner of hers always felt when messing with her. It made a little more sense. Wasn’t any less infuriating, though.

They held their gazes for a time, before Weiss sighed, backing off as she felt the trembling bundle still in her arms. Claudine also turned her attention there, worried. She picked up the remote from its fallen spot on the floor, switching to a shopping channel with elevator music. Great. The most boring of all channels. Hopefully it would be calming and uneventful enough. They had had enough surprises for one night.

“I’ll get back to cooking. You got her?” Claudine asked softly. Weiss nodded in response, and the youngest went off to finish her task; hopefully dinner would shift their gears for the night.

While she did that, Weiss had settled her back against the couch, Diana still quivering in her hold. She opted to rub comforting circles onto the poor girl’s back, hoping she’d feel better soon.

“You okay?”

A nod.

“You sure?”

Another nod.

“Don’t deal well with horror?”

“...It’s not that.” Diana separated herself from Weiss, now leaning against the backrest as well, staring blankly at the glowing screen. Weiss took note of how Diana’s hand was tucked safely in hers, and felt her lips tip up in a smile. “There was just so much blood.”

“Hmm… but weren’t you going to be a surgeon?” Weiss regretted the reminder as she felt the hand in hers flinch, along with the next words that left Diana’s lips.

“The blood just… reminded me of my own…”

They could hear something metallic dropping on the floor from the kitchen, along with a soft mumbled apology.

Weiss didn’t want to dwell on this topic any longer, not wanting Diana to remember more hurtful memories, simply humming and ending that particular conversation right there. The pair ended up watching a salesman trying to convince them that brooms weren’t made for sweeping, only flying, and since no one could fly, brooms were irrelevant, thus one should buy a vacuum cleaner instead for the home.

“That logic is stupid!” Claudine yelled from the kitchen, revealing that she had been casually listening to all that was going on in the living room. It was her way of looking out for the two in case something happened. While she trusted them that they were no longer going to enter any screaming sessions, one could never be too careful.

Silence reigned over them once more as more products were revealed in the show. The occasional scoff would be heard from Weiss or Claudine about ridiculous prices, or fake specs, but other than those sounds there wasn’t much.

Eventually, Diana had taken control over the remote and flipped to a children’s cartoon; some low-budget show, maybe? ‘Shiny Chariot and The Mystical Bear’, the episode’s title flashed across the screen. Weiss was about to comment on how bad the show might turn out to be, but sealed her mouth shut as she noticed Diana’s eyes glued to the screen, almost sparkling. Did she like things like this?

Hmm…

Time ticked past bit by bit, the occasional flash from the television would throw splashes of the shows vibrant colors onto parts of the room, then fade. Each time, Diana would gasp, and her hands would move, almost as if she were about to clap. It was adorable, Weiss thought. But she was also thinking of something else. A thought that had never left her mind for even a single moment that day.

“Hey, Diana?”

“Yes?” The girl responded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“What about you?”

Diana stole her attention away from the blaring display, turning down the volume with the remote in her good hand, tilting her head to the side in confusion at the question. “What about me?”

“Well,” Weiss exchanged a glance with Claudine who was ever aware, and all-ears on this conversation. They had to ask eventually, right? Hopefully it wasn’t a bad time, nor a sensitive topic.

“Weiss?”

With a slow intake of air, Weiss met similar-colored eyes, trying to look as gentle as possible, voice equally soft. “School. Studies. What do you want to do about it?” Weiss asked. She didn’t know if it was something Diana wanted to be talking about, or if the topic would bring her hurt, trauma and all. Claudine and Weiss really wanted to be careful.

But they just wanted, needed to know. “We’re not pressuring or forcing you to attend school or anything, if you don’t want to.” Weiss clarified. “It’s just that… we don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own in the day, coming home at who knows what time at night. I think Claudine and I both agree that we’d feel a little more secure knowing that we can see you around during the daytime, and possibly be together when we can.”

It was almost as if they were talking about watching over a child, not that Diana was one in any way. There was just this sense of desire to protect her from any more agony than she’d already experienced. Everything the younger pair had learned about Diana so far was so sad and painful, it made them the slightest bit anxious that something may happen to add to that, and they wouldn’t be around to be able to help.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you or anything, by the way.” Claudine added, closing the lid on the pot, finally done with the soup. “We’re…” She looked to the side, searching for the right words to pull out of thin air, before meeting Diana’s eyes. “We’re just worried, is all.”

Weiss bit her lip in concern. Were they being too overbearing? Towards someone they’d only been housemates with for a few weeks, and not having known one another before then; were they too intrusive into Diana’s private life? There was a chance Diana would be scared off, but it felt... necessary. To be able to lay this out on the table. After all, weren’t they family now?

Contrary to Claudine and Weiss’s troubles, Diana had found herself speechlessly touched. She’d never really had anyone show her concern, not after her mother passed. Her own direct bloodline rejected her with so much disdain and contempt, she truly felt unworthy of any love for something she didn’t even do. But this... It made her feel all warm, and her heart light to know that such kind people were now a part of her family. A real one, this time around.

That brought a small smile to her lips, thinking of where they would go from now. Despite knowing them for as short a time as she did, Diana admired and cherished her two new sisters with all heart. She vowed she’d do anything to do better for them, to help them up as much as they did for her, and more.

Her mind continued treading happy thoughts, completely forgetting about the conversation they were having, and unknowingly increasing the anxiety of her waiting companions.

“D-Diana? Um…”

Right. Weiss and Claudine. They asked her something, and were still anticipating her reply. What had they been talking about? Ah, school.

School… huh.

Diana turned back to the TV, leaning against the couch. Enrolling. School. Studying. Diana had been prepared to study medicine all her life, but now that she couldn’t become the surgeon her mother’s family wanted her to be, she didn’t…. quite know what to do.

Of course, there were other options in the medical field, but she didn’t fancy said options at the moment because it only served to feed her now-recognized trauma. Medicine, it reminded her. Reminded her of so many things, both pleasant and… not. She still liked growing herbs and medicinal plants in their little garden that Claudine had helped her set up. It reminded her of her mother. That thought was both a joy, and sadness in and of itself. She had enough medical knowledge to possibly become a different kind of doctor, not necessarily a surgeon; but the history behind how she accumulated all of it was not the best experience.

She realized now that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to take a rest from it. What her whole life had been built to be.

Regardless, this didn’t make her thoughts any clearer, or give her a definite direction for a decision. She sighed, finally easing the growing tension that had settled in the air from all the silence and waiting, the only thing breaking the stillness first being the padding of Claudine’s feet as she made her way to the sitting area, taking her place at the other end of the couch, opposite Weiss.

“I never thought of this until now.” Diana confessed after long moments of ponder, finally speaking her mind.

Weiss and Claudine listened with all attentiveness.

“My life had been planned out for me; from beginning to end. What I would do, where I would go, when I would do this, how I’d do that. I’ve never…” She closed her eyes, picturing herself back then, a simple puppet, stringed along to the will of her handler. “-I haven’t really thought of wanting to do much else than obey and survive… and hopefully gain the love of my family.” She lifted her knees onto the couch, hugging them close to her chest. “A foolish wish on my part.”

“It’s not foolish.” Claudine interjected quickly. “Wanting to be loved isn’t foolish. It’s natural. Everyone wants to be cherished, and supported, and seen as they are. Understood. It’s not foolish.” She move closer to Diana’s side, taking a hand. “Never think that it is.” She squeezed. “Okay?”

Diana felt tears welling up in her eyes; not trusting in her verbal ability to reply, she opted to just nod. Claudine noticed the emotion leaking from her eyes, wiping them away ever gently, as gentle as she always was.

Weiss watched over the interaction fondly, before eventually sighing. Diana’s reply was welcome and all, but it didn’t answer much of their original question of what she planned to do now.

“Diana, do you still want to study medicine?” Weiss asked the important question directly, gaining the attention of the pair beside her. She received a shake of the head, no. “Well, um… do you have any other options? Or something else you wished you could’ve done before you were told that you had to be a doctor?”

Another shake of the head.

“Hmm…” This only drew more of a blank than anything. “Ah.” Suddenly she had a thought.

“Weiss? Did you come up with anything?”

“Sort of.” She shrugged. “Well, what are your thoughts on a change of pace?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Claudine and I go to the same school.” She pointed out, matter-of-factly. “If the worry was not being able to see Diana during the day, then wouldn’t it make sense to just… go to school together? All of us?” She directed the question more to Claudine.

“Weiss… we go to an arts school.” Claudine replied, confused. “That’s like… the furthest Diana could be from being a doctor.” As far as she knew her, Weiss wasn’t one for suggestions that were so left field, usually quite realistic, but maybe she was onto something.

“And? As someone who grew up in an environment quite like Diana’s, heiress things and all that,” She explained with a twirl of a finger through the air, “I can say that by experience, you’re made to learn all the most useless showy things.”

Claudine laughed at that. Well, maybe that was a valid point.

“I’ve known enough people to know that you have something like that up your sleeve.” She turned to Diana. “I’m sure you’ve had other interests besides studying medicine, right? Nothing like a job, or anything. A hobby?”

Diana thought long and hard. As she came into her last two years of high school, she had been made to focus completely on preparing to get into a good medicine-related program, and dropped anything unrelated to that goal. But before that, what had she been doing?

“Ah.”

“See? There is something.” Weiss smiled.

“Well… I remember my guardians signing me up to do painting and photography just as I entered my teen years. They even hired tutors and all.” Diana fished through her vague memories of the past, actually wondering if her camera from back then was alive and well. “It...was a hobby I actually grew to love. Possibly the first from all the other skills that had been pushed onto me.”

Diana continued to explain that as she was immersed deeper into the medium, the more she enjoyed. The Cavendish’s hadn’t minded it at the time as it brought some sort of prestige to their family. She also mentioned having played the piano since childhood to entertain guests in the event that she was invited by the main house to show off their genius charge, despite not finding use for her outside such functions.

“They had me stop eventually, however, as they weren’t the skills a doctor needed.”

Talk about tossing something away once it held no use or value anymore. It was really frustrating to know just how sad Diana’s background was before they’d met.

Weiss shook her head. This wasn’t the time for this. No more. They would be building a new present for Diana, and for themselves. Together. She wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable with the prospect of supporting one another with these people. Truly, it hadn’t been long since they’d met; and yet there was this sense of camaraderie and familiarity that they had possibly always wanted from a family that they’d found in each other. Maybe it was that.

Possibly the thought of starting with someone on a blank slate, with no preconceived expectations and assumptions despite knowing the terrors of their pasts. Or maybe it was because of that that they got along so well. Who knows.

What she did know was that she had the back of these people with her in this room, at this time, and she trusted that they’d have hers. They were family like that. Solving problems together. And speaking of problems, they just found out how to deal with their latest.

“Sounds like we can get you in.” Weiss nodded in assessment, taking in the latest information Diana had shared. This could work.

“Weiss,” Claudine turned to her, sighing. “Even so, this school is quite demanding. I’m not doubting our older sister’s abilities and-or experience, but…” As far as she knew, this was a special institute with students from all over the globe, coming to perfect years-worth of craft. Although their father had been the one to enroll them, Claudine knew from the letters and documents she’d received from him that her recommendations from high school played a huge roll in getting into a school that didn’t accept just anyone.

“Then we get a recommendation from her previous schools.” So Weiss could read minds now, apparently.

“That still isn’t a guarantee…” Claudine sighed again, but was slowly beginning to accept this inevitable plan of action. It seemed as though a motivated Weiss was an unstoppable Weiss. She should’ve taken the hint from the shopping and driving.

“Come on, Miss Actress. Where’s your thirst for flair? For adventure and beating the odds? Where’s the passion? On the stage? The world is your stage and all that jazz.” Weiss exclaimed dramatically, so unlike her. Almost as if she was playing a role.

Claudine rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. “This actress just got a reality check, thank you very much. And so many odds. I have enough to beat already.” She chuckled, thinking on everything that had occurred over the course of such a short time. Finding out who her true father was, hearing about her mother’s illness, discovering she shared the same blood in her veins as two equally unfortunate- or really, more unfortunate souls. “But I suppose, there’s always room for some excitement and a challenge.” She’d never let one bring her down. She always did love a good challenge.

“Perfect! So your on board.” Weiss cheered, turning to the most important piece of their plan. “And what about you Diana?” She asked, softer, kinder. “Do you want to maybe try this out? With us? We know we might not seem all that trustworthy, and you haven’t known us lo-”

“I trust you more than you know.” Diana cut her off with a smile. “Thank you. For all you’ve been doing for me. You truly have yet to understand the depth of my gratefulness towards you both. Thank you.”

Her sincerity pierced through their hearts, melting them as Diana always did. Weiss actually thought she’d cry. A time and place for everything, though.

“Well!” She exclaimed, getting up from the couch. With a shrug, she commented offhandedly, “If all else fails, guess old moneybags might just be good for something.”

“WEISS!” Claudine gasped. “Are you suggesting we bribe the school? This honorable institution?!” Despite her words, she was smiling, almost laughing. Whether Weiss was serious or joking, it was absurd… and incredibly plausible.

“I know they might not accept Cash, okay. Calm down.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s why I said, ‘if all else fails’.” She spoke with air quotes. “I’d rather not do it either, y’know? Dirty our hands like that old man. Though I would love to drag him through the mud with rumors since we will indeed use his oh-so-good name,” Diana actually giggled at that one. “I’d rather we not get the same backlash.”

Claudine folded her arms in front of her, processing it all. It sounded so unrealistic. School was going to begin in just about two weeks, need she remind them! Would they have enough time to get everything ready? But then, this was the same Weiss who had a luxury car delivered to their door in a mere fifteen minutes.

“Oh Claudine, Dear Claudine, why do you fret?” Weiss laughed, putting on an obnoxious facade in Claudine’s very honest opinion, like one of those irritating rich girls back in France. “Trust in me and the power of connections.”

“Thought you hated those connections.”

“They’re useful.” Weiss shrugged, confident in their plan. There was also Diana’s family name to consider. From what they’d known so far, they were quite famous and surely had a pull of power somehow. She was sure that it would be of value as well.

“Scary. You people are scary. Heiresses are scary.” Claudine muttered, resigning to this decision. “Whatever. I’ll help out with what I can.”

“Perfect!” Weiss clapped, hand already typing away on her phone.

“Guess this means we won’t be meeting that old man tomorrow, huh? Claudine mused, thinking back to the gatekeeper they’d met earlier in the day. After all, they needed to prepare for Diana’s enrollment. Their business was simple enough and could wait until the same day. “I wonder if he’ll actually remember us and wait for the three foolish little girls to come back earlier.” Claudine looked to her sisters for their thoughts.

Diana simply shrugged.

Weiss actually thought about it for a moment, pausing her actions, a finger tapping against her cheek.

“Nah.”

A/N: As always, I welcome any and all feedback! It really helps with the motivation and like… my personal growth. Thank you for reading and til next time!

~Shintori Khazumi

#rwby x lwa x starira #Little Witch Academia #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #rwby #saijou claudine #weiss schnee #diana cavendish #I Have Two Sisters?!#fanfic #crossover

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night-rook · 4 years ago

Text

Safe in My Arms | Draco Malfoy x Reader |

Word Count: 3,995

Reader Type: Female, Half-Blood, Slytherin

Story Type: Harry Potter , 6th year

Beware: Bullying

Key terms:

(Y/N) = Your name (Y/L/N) = Your Last Name (H/C) = Hair Color (S/C) = Skin color (E/C) = Eye Color

━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━ Reading her potions book, (Y/N) sat next to Hermione, however she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation the trio was saying. As they discussed what Harry overheard on the train, the slytherin placed a bookmark on where she left off. “Well, I’m sure (Y/N) knows more. He probably bragged about it with all of Slytherin!” Ron said as the trio looked at the female in question. The (S/C) student looked at the trio with a raised brow. She was confused as to what she had to do with the Slytherin Prince. Turning towards Hermione, she wordlessly asked what was happening because she had just tuned back to reality after reading about her book. The smart gryffindor shook her head before the gang got up to head back out of the dining hall. Unknownst to her, (Y\N) never noticed the pair of cloudy gray eyes directed towards her from across the dining hall. The slytherin waved the Trio off for the night before leaving for the dungeons. She hummed quietly while entering the house common room, reciting the ingredients of Calming Draught. Not bothering to stay in the Common Room, she headed straight to her dorm but was stopped by her tormentor. (Y/N) mentally cursing for not being quick enough and looked up at Pansy. “To what do I owe the pleasure this wonderful night, Parkinson? Do you wish I would drown in a pool of my tainted blood?” The (S/C) student sarcastically prompted while tilting her head to the side, her (E/C) burning with annoyance. The brunette smirked at the female and took a step forward to close the distance between them, “Oh that would be lovely to see, (Y/L/N). Seeing as you associate with those disgusting Gryffindors. Especially with that mudblood. So, being witness to your drowning would make my day.”

Raising a brow at the human pug, (Y/N) clenched her fists for the pug’s usage of that cursed slang word before forcing her head forward to crash against Pansy’s head. Her head bump made the pug curse out in pain and step back to stop the nose bleed. Glaring her, the (Y/H) female walked off and went to her dorm.

She tossed her bag onto her bed before leaning against the cold wooden bedpost. Her head pounding from resorting to crash that thick headed Parkinson, maybe she shouldn’t have done that.

“But the satisfaction of it was rewarding after six long years,” she smiled before looking over to the photo frame on her bed stand. “You would have approved, right, Dad?”

(Y/N) picked up the frame and sat down on the bed. Her eyes taking in the blissful image of her family. The memory of that photo meant the world to her before arriving at Hogwarts. She traced her finger over the smiling blond who stood next to her younger self as snow fell around them. Closing her eyes, she fell back and laid on the soft mattress. Remembering the day the photo was taken. ━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━

“C’mon! Mama made us hot choco!” a smiling (H/C) tugged the arm of the blond boy. They had spent the day playing in the snow, nearly shivering after making snow angels. The boy chuckled at his enthusiastic friend before leading them inside the warm manor. The pair rushed to the kitchen to see a woman pouring the streaming liquid into a few mugs. Hearing their footsteps, the woman smiled at them and handed them the mugs to warm their shivering little bodies. She took two more mugs with her and led the children to the living area, leaving a tray of hot chocolate to the house elves as they took a break from their duties. Handing her husband a mug, the woman sat down on her own seat while the children sat on the rug in front of the fire. Little (Y/N) chugged down the sweet drink as the boy calmly drank his. The family enjoyed the calming atmosphere with the cracking of the fire as background noise. “Do you think we will go to the same house, (Y/N)? It will be fun to have you with me in Slytherin.” the boy said while taking a sip of his hot chocolate. The young girl tilted her head as she thought about them being in Hogwarts together. She liked to be with him and to attend classes with him. Looking over to her parents, she noticed their eyes on her as if waiting for her to answer. She turned back to the boy and rested her head on his shoulder. “We’ll always be together, Dracy.” She whispered only to him, hiding her blush from the boy. ━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━ That was six years ago and a year before Hogwarts. Truth be told, they did get sorted into Slytherin together but they had drifted apart a few weeks after the sorting. (Y/N) had friended the Golden Trio, much to Draco’s disapproval. The pair got into a deadly screaming match before the boy called her a “blood traitor” due to her blood status. His words silenced her that night before she left and went to Hermione, allowing her to spend the night at Gryffindor. The years after that night had cut a wedge between the former best friends. They never uttered a word towards each other. (Y/N) rarely stayed in Slytherin Dungeon due to the blond always hanging around there with his friends. That was the beginning of her name “Slytherin Traitor” as she was always tormented by Pansy’s gang about her kindness with other students or simply hanging with the Trio. (Y/N) sighed and changed into her pajamas for the night. Falling sleeping rather quickly and dreaming of the blond boy who she once called her friend. ━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━ Winter had come quickly to Hogwarts. Students went to Hogsmeade to do some shopping and escape the school to enjoy the snowy day. (Y/N) and the trio were at the Three Broomsticks, having just ordered three butterbeers to warm them up. Ron frowned as he watched his sister on a date with a gryffindor boy. Hermione tried to justify Ginny’s action but became embarrassed as the couple started to snog at the counter booth. The slytherin chuckled then excused herself to the restroom, accidentally bumping into Slughorn. She apologetically smiled at the red head as the already drunken professor spilled his drink on her. She washed up and looked at her reflection. Dark bags under her eyes were well present due to the overwork of studying. This trip to Hogsmeade was needed to distract her from everything. Word was going out about her head bump with Pansy. Her action made her weeks long and dreadful from the bullying that had increased to a more violent stand point. Occasionally returning to her dorm with bruises and cuts on her body, (Y/N) was exhausted from it. She didn’t tell her friends due to Ron’s and Harry’s quick reaction to pick a fight. Exiting the restroom, the (H/C) student caught sight of a female and Draco. She didn’t stick around long after catching sight of the blond, turning away and heading back to the gang. Her heart cracking at the ghostly sight that happened at the restroom. Putting up a smile, She took her seat next to Hermione and laughed as the female had a cream mustache. (Y/N) helped her by wiping the cream away with her jumper sleeve after Ron pointed it out. ━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━ The group walked towards the school, (Y/N) digging her hands into her coat pocket in order to keep warm. She buried her face into her house scarf to fight off the chilling air. As she was about to speak, a scream caught everyone’s attention. Looking up, the group watched as a poor girl floated to the sky before being slammed down onto the cold snow. Hagrid told them to not touch the object that the student apparently grabbed as he picked her up. (Y/N) pulled out her wand and carefully placed the necklaced back into its case and wrapped it back up. The walk back to school carried a tension amongst them. The Slytherin felt her heart tighten at the thought earlier, mentally wishing she didn’t witness anything. As Mcgonagall and Snape question the Golden Trio, (Y/N) stayed quiet as her mind raced with thoughts of Draco causing this. She wished to defend him after Harry’s statement and Snape’s countering his bold claim. But, she had nothing to say. Only listening to the fast beating of her heart as thoughts of him race in her. Being dismissed, the slytherin parted ways with the trio and went on a search for the blond. She looked everywhere and came empty handed. She leaned back into a wall and slid down to the floor of the empty corridor. A few tears escaping her eyes due to suppressing her thoughts of her former friend harming an innocent student. Letting out quiet sobs, the girl closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand. “Draco... what have you done..” She weakly spoke. Her words floated into the empty hall as she let her tears fall. ━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━ The blond boy clenched his fists after failing to repair the cabinet once again. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a shaken breath. His thoughts clouded with anxiety as he started to fear the results of his mission. He looked down at the ink on his left arm and closed his eyes. Focusing on the memory of a (H/C) housemate, he let out a quiet whimper. He sat on the cold stone floor as he remembered their childhood together. How he missed the innocence of being with her and living in a fantasy with her. He regretted raising his voice at her that Halloween night. He dread the times Pansy taunted her and laid hands on her. Always watching from afar, the blond was angered that anyone dared to harm his childhood love. Having witnessed her cry countless times and desperately wanting to hold her. Yet he had to keep up the mask of being the Slytherin Prince.

Rubbing his face, he got up and left the Room of Requirement with Crabbe and Goyle. They went back to the dungeon and went to their dorm. As the two large boys went ahead of him, the pale blond took notice of a certain slytherin who peacefully read a book on the couch. He stared at the female and felt his heart yearn for her, wanting nothing more than to have her read to him like when they were children. He nearly took a step towards her but stopped himself due to recalling his cold words. Listening to the echo that ripped them apart. “Your blood isn’t even close to pure and yet here you are in Slytherin. If you want to be close to that mudblood, then you’re nothing but a filthy traitor, (Y/L/N)!” his gray eyes grew cold as the (E/C) eyed girl defended Hermione’s brilliance despite being a muggleborn. “To think we were ever friends. Father was right about the (Y/L/N)s. Nothing but disgusting bottom feeders.” He couldn’t show his face, not when he caused the distance between them. Without making a sound, Draco went to his dorm and laid on his bed. Drifting down the once happy memories he had with (Y/N).

━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━

The group sat together during lunch as Ron tried to figure out what happened between him and Lavender. Harry looked at (Y/N) as they shared an amusing smile before looking at Hermione, sharing a laugh at her blushful face. Her brown eyes darted around as she began to explain his relationship situation.

“Uh Well.. She came to visit you in the hospital and you talked..” Hermione tried to explain the ginger’s question as she faced him but avoided eye contact, “I don’t believe it was a particularly long conversation..”

The gang looked towards Lavender who sat behind them. She seemed to be glaring at Ron, but that was sort of hard to tell. Ron was rather relieved from finally having air to breath as was (Y/N) do to the girl constantly bothering them during study sessions. (Y/N) excused herself and headed to the library so to get some peace before classes.

The (H/C) Slytherin walked out the dining hall as the blond slytherin walked in. As Harry was questioning Katie, she grew silent at the sight of the blond boy. Draco stared at them in fear before turning around and walked out as quickly as he could through the crowd. Harry followed after him.

(Y/N) wasn’t far when she saw the rivals rush pass her. Without thinking, she chased after them as she feared the worst case. She followed straight to the boy’s restroom but came to a halt. Her mind screamed at her to enter the restroom as she listened to the sound of their duel. As she was about to enter, a set of rushing steps echoed through the hall. She looked up and caught sight of Professor Snape heading her way. She opened the door for him and gasped at the sight of the blond boy bleeding on the watery floor.

━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━

She looked at the wooden floor as the eevie green illuminated around the common room. Leaning forward, (Y/N) rubbed her face to help calm her nerves as she continued to wait. Her (E/C) were glazed with worry while she stared at the platter spread on the table in front of her, mumbling spells to contain the food’s warmth.

Rather than spend her time studying or hanging with her friends, the young student spent the day in the kitchens. She dug deep into her memories to pull out the recipes as she raided the kitchen cabinets and dashed around the place. Her entire being held the aroma of a bakery.

This scent didn’t go unnoticed by her housemates. Everyone was curious as to why the Slytherin Traitor had a feast display and why she had yet to touch anything. Pansy glared daggers towards her back while Crabbe and Goyle stood behind the puggy slytherin and staring hungrily at the honey coated croissants. Their eyes wander around the menu that the female had, drooling at the mere thought of Sticky Toffee Pudding touching their tongues as they glubbed down on freshly made hot chocolate.

Pansy, on the other hand, crossed her arms over her chest while glaring at the quiet female. That ugly wench was there when Draco had his duel. That filthy excuse of a Slytherin helped Snape take her prince to the hospital wing. Pansy was beyond angry as (Y/N) simply sat on the leather couch with the fireplace silently cracked around the Common Room. Clenching her fists, the female walked towards the mumbling student. She reached forward and grabbed a hold of her (H/L) (H/C) hair. Forcing her head back, Pansy dragged the Slytherin Traitor off the couch and onto the floor.

(Y/N) threw her hand up and wrapped them around her tormenter’s wrist, breaking her concentration as she tried to get away from Pansy. Her body was pulled off the couch and harshly hit the wooden floor. She stared up at the short haired female and dug her nails into her bony wrists. (Y/N) needed to maintain the freshness of the food! Her main focus from all the madness in her head after the horrid sight that evening. But, Pansy didn’t understand the importance of it all.

“Let go of me! Let go!” (Y/N) screamed, desperation clearly visible on her face as she tried to free herself. “Parkinson!”

“Cry all you want, you filthy rat.” Pansy smirked as she pulled out her wand and let go of the female. “Petrificus Totalus!”

(Y/N)’s entire body went stiff as she landed on the cold floor. Her eyes staring up at Pansy before darting around in worry. She tried to move her arms but they didn’t respond. Her eyes reddened as tears burned their way out. Slowly a single tear rolled down her (S/C) cheek while listening to Pansy laugh and others joining in soon after. Bearing their laughter, (Y/N) laid still on the floor with no means of breaking. Tears spilled more freely while listening to everyone laugh and Pansy mock her.

“You thought that stunt you pulled from the start of term was your ticket? No. You were horribly wrong. Your traitorous friends were the reason Draco is in the hospital wing! You had the audacity to stand there with Snape as he carried his body.” Pansy stood above her as she aimed her wand at her head. Enjoying the sight of her tears painting her face while laying helpless beneath. “You are nothing more than a bottom feeding excuse of wizarding blood. You don’t deserve to have magic in you. Perhaps… I should do you a favor.”

Her (E/C) snapped open. Fear quickly replaced the humiliation as Pansy grinned down at her. Crabbe and Goyle looked at one another while the crowd around sickly grinned and watched for the scene to unfold.

“Cru-”

“Expelliarmus!”

A voice cut through the crowd. Pansy’s wand flew out her hand as the interrupter pushed his way through the bodies that surrounded them. Upon reaching them, his gray eyes stormed in rage at the sight of (Y/N)’s body on the floor with Pansy standing above her head. The pug felt the tension radiate from his tall frame, but decided to put up an innocent act.

“Oh Draco! What a surprise! (Y/L/N) assaulted me and I had to-”

Draco wasn’t a fool. He had heard her entire rant towards his former friend. No one had noticed the entrance open as they were busy witnessing the cruel torture. He stepped forward and tightened his grip on his wand. His eyes clouded with pure anger at the female that continued to lie through her teeth.

Pansy took a step back as Draco closed in on her. Fearing for coldness that seeped through the storm. She backed away but slipped on her own feet, causing her to fall back. He nearly drew closer to the frightened Pansy but stopped. A hand weakly reached and tugged at the black fabric of his suit. He looked down at the person who stopped him. His empty exterior softened at the weak plea (Y/N) silently gave him. He stared down at her for a moment before turning back to Pansy and everyone present.

“Leave. If so much as a breath is heard, I will personally send you to death.” Everyone quickly left after hearing his words. Seeing that Malfoy was beyond reasoning.

━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━

Once the common room was empty, Draco had helped (Y/N) up and sat her on the couch. He took notice of the food that covered the table. Smiling to himself at the pastries, he wondered how long she had taken to do them. He sat a little away from her and let the silence hang above them.

“They should still be warm… They are all your favorites! I- oh dear.. I hope they still are.. I mean you didn’t look as though you have been resting or eating and I wanted to..” (Y/N) covered her face as she tried to explain herself and the food in front of them, causing Draco to quietly chuckle.

He looked at her and the array of food. Taking a biscuit, he took a bite and smiled at the soft texture. She was right. They were still warm, nearly as fresh as if they had just got out of the oven. Draco picked up a plate and held it out to her, a silent means of asking her to join.

The pair sat quietly and ate. Both waiting for a break in the silence. Draco rehearses what he has been debating for years, while (Y/N) tries to keep her words in check.

"I'm still surprised you aren't a Hufflepuff..." He chuckled softly, glancing over to her while setting his plate down. "You've always been the opposite but somehow it happened.."

To Draco, (Y/N) was too sweet for the cunning house of serpents. She worried over everything and tried to make things safe for everyone. He knew this. He knew she was an innocent princess. She helped the first years during their first week by baking them sweets and showing them the way around Hogwarts. He saw the times she would sit and listen to a Ravenclaw student complain about their issues. He has even overheard her yell at other slytherins for bullying a gryffindor muggleborn due to something muggle related.

He covered his face with his hands but she noticed the stray tear. Reaching for his hands, (Y/N) smiled down at their hands. Tracing a finger over his pale knuckles, she tried her best to ease him.

“I never fit in with the crowd, Draco,” she whispered softly and rubbed his pale knuckles, “But, I tried to because you were there.”

His eyes burned with tears as he stared at her soft expression. His emotions become visible to her after years of suppressing them from everyone. His hands held onto hers and rested his head on her shoulder, not wanting for her to see his tears. (Y/N) scooted closer to him as he hid his face from her, knowing that he was letting his guard down. She held him close to her and rested her head against his.

“I-I’m so sorry, (Y/N).. I’m so bloody sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry for letting Parkinson hurt you…” he coughed out as his voice became hoarse. Trying desperately to no breakdown when he felt her arms wrap around his trembling body. “He.. He's going to kill me.. I don’t have a choice.. He’ll kill me if I don’t fix them..”

(Y/N) listened to the broken boy. Not once interrupting him as he fumbled over his words from his scattered sentences. She knew what he meant and felt the immense weight that he was going through. He had to do an impossible task in order to protect his family, but the weight that came from it has been suffocating him. She knew he was drowning from the fear and anxiety of failing.

Silence grew around the pair as she held him. The room became cold around them as the fireplace grew dim. However, Draco didn’t feel the bitter air. He only felt warmth around his body. Draco only buried himself deeper into her body, wanting nothing more to hide from the cruel world. He felt adrift in the dark sea that he placed himself. He was scared. He was frightened by the path he was walking, but he couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t escape the dreadful mark on his arm.

The pair had managed to lay on the couch as Draco had curled into (Y/N)’s arms. Her heart gently beating and calming the boy from his emotional storm. Her hand rubbed the mid of his back while he listened to her heart. Neither breaking the silence around them. The sound of soft breathing caught (Y/N)’s attention as she stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes broke away from the ceiling and looked down at the sleeping boy that laid in her arms. Smiling to herself, she reached up and pushed back the silk locks of blond. She leaned ever so slightly and placed a light kiss on his forehead. (Y/N) couldn’t help but be reminded of the happy boy he once was as his slumbering form looked at peace.

“I swore.. We will always be together,” (Y/N) whispered.

━━━━━━ 💚━━━━━━

#draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter halfbloodprince #draco x reader #slytherin #draco x female reader

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noona-clock · 5 years ago

Text

Indefinitely - Part 4

Genre: Dystopia!AU

Pairing: Jaebum x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 3,258

One Month Later

The power went out almost three weeks ago, but the house still had running water. So, the three of you were still living here.

You had run out of food, however, and Jaebum had taken to raiding the other houses in the neighborhood. Even though they were all empty by now, it still made you a little anxious, so you avoided going with him at all costs. You didn’t hate it when he came back with an armful of canned goods, though.

Speaking of, your relationship with Jaebum had been getting gradually... better? Kind of? Since that first night when he’d joined you out on the bench and comforted you, things hadn’t been as tense and awkward as they usually were. Definitely not as tense and awkward as they had been in the car during that five-hour drive. But still, nothing resembling ‘friendly.’

You’d managed to learn to live together, though, and that was about all you could ask for right now.

Okay, not true.

You could also ask for a washer and dryer that worked, but with the power out, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So, you were stuck washing clothes and blankets and towels by hand.

By. Hand.

Like you were some sort of housewife living on the prairie in the 1800s or something.

I mean, it was only fair because Jaebum got all of your food and Youngjae chopped all the firewood, so you had to do something. You couldn’t just sit around doing absolutely nothing productive all day. Hence the reason you were on your knees on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, scrubbing your blanket in the tub.

This wasn’t even the hard part, though. The really hard part was carrying everything down while it was still wet so you could hang it up on the clothesline Jaebum had strung up on the back porch. You were pretty sure you’d gained about 3 pounds of pure muscle just in your arms in the last few weeks.

When you heard the door open downstairs, you paused your washing, tilting your head so you could hear better and discern who it was. Was Youngjae done chopping firewood or was Jaebum back with food?

The footsteps, after coming into the entryway, began to slowly ascend up the stairs.

It was Jaebum, no question.

And... was it weird you could tell the difference between your housemates solely by the sound of his footsteps?

Well, no, actually. It wasn’t! Youngjae was considerably more open and cheerful than Jaebum, and he almost always came up the stairs at a fairly quick pace. Jaebum’s footsteps were slower and more trudge-y and shuffling and intimidating.

When just the guy you knew it was appeared in the bathroom doorway, you had to stop yourself from smirking with pride because you’d been right.

“Hey,” you greeted with a smile, resting back on your heels and taking a break from the laundry. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah, I got more cereal and canned vegetables,” he told you before entering the room. And instead of asking if you wanted help, Jaebum simply got down on the floor next to you and dunked his hands in the water.

“Please tell me the cereal is one of the kinds that’s really delicious and really bad for you,” you pleaded. The last couple of houses he’d raided had only produced the boring kind of cereal that adults over the age of 50 eat, and you were tired of it. You needed some sugar in your system!

Jaebum let out a sigh, and before he even answered you with words, you knew you were going to be disappointed.

“No!” you cried dramatically, and Jaebum just shook his head.

You pouted a little as you turned back to the tub to help wash the blanket, but you only indulged yourself for a few moments. If you let yourself pout too long, it would get too real. There was too much about your current situation which could legitimately make you spiral into a deep depression, and you were not about to let a certain type of cereal become one of them. You were honestly lucky to even have cereal.

The two of you washed and rinsed out the blanket in silence which was not surprising since Jaebum was, apparently, never a talkative person. Like, ever. You assumed he was comfortable around you because the two of you had lived in the same house -- slept in the same room -- for a month now. How could you not be comfortable around each other? And he still barely spoke.

But you did notice he kept shaking his head and blowing his hair out of his face and flicking it away with his soapy fingers.

And it was then you realized his hair was getting long.

After probably the tenth flick, you glanced over at him and asked, “Do... you want me to give you a haircut?”

Jaebum paused, knitting his eyebrows together before shooting you a skeptical look. “Do you know how to cut hair?”

“Well, no,” you admitted. “But I could figure it out.”

You weren’t even sure why you’d asked because he was obviously going to say --

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured.

-- Wait, what?

Really?

And you would ask if he really meant it, but you were afraid he would change his mind, and for some really, really, really odd reason... you didn’t want him to change his mind.

You shook one of your hands a little, getting the extra water off of it before sliding a hair tie from around your other wrist. “Here,” you said, offering it to him. “For now.”

Jaebum quirked an eyebrow at the hair tie for a second or two before taking it from you. He set the blanket back in the tub, wiped his hands on his jeans, and began combing his hair back with his fingers. Once he’d gathered all of his hair at the crown of his head, he wrapped the hair tie around it a few times, only pulling the ponytail through halfway after the last twist.

...Oh, god.

Jaebum was now sporting a man bun.

And... he had never looked sexier?

Ahhh! Wait, what?!

Since when had you ever thought the word ‘sexy’ in relation to Jaebum?!

Besides just now, I mean!

Yes, the guy was handsome. Good-looking. Attractive, even. But sexy? And with a man bun?

Okay, obviously, you’d been stuck inside for too long. You needed to get out more, this much was very clear.

“I think this is done,” Jaebum murmured, interrupting your thoughts.

Your gaze snapped over to him, your eyes widened slightly and your brows raised. “Hmm?”

“I think this blanket is done,” he repeated. “Do you want me to carry it down to the line?”

Oh, thank god. A reason to kick him out of this small bathroom and be alone.

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, forcing a grin onto your lips. “I have a few more towels to do, but I’ll be down in just a bit.”

Jaebum simply gathered up the blanket, wringing it out as best as he could before heaving it over his shoulder and leaving the room.

You had to let out a soft sigh of relief; if he had stayed in here much longer, you probably would’ve started thinking thoughts even weirder than those you’d already thought.

Like... thoughts about... kissing him.

When you opened the back door about fifteen minutes later, carrying a few wet towels, you were extremely glad to see Jaebum had taken his hair down.

As you’d been washing the towels, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d combed his hair back with his fingers and put it into a bun. You didn’t know why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and it was kind of driving you insane.

Jaebum, who had been sitting on the bench the two of you had occupied the first night you’d spent here, stood as soon as he realized you had joined him. He strode over to you and took two of the towels so he could hang them up on the clothesline.

You stood beside him, gently sliding a towel over the line and clipping it on. “Thanks,” you murmured as you glanced over at him. “For helping with the laundry.”

“Sure,” he replied with a barely noticeable nod.

And when everything was hung up and ready to dry, you let out a soft sigh and said, “I’ll go find some scissors.”

Jaebum simply hummed in response, and you turned to go inside without another word.

It only took you a few minutes to locate a pair of scissors as well as grab a barstool from the kitchen counter, and when you took them both back out to the back porch, you found your heart had started to beat a little bit faster with anxiety.

You were probably just nervous because you’d never cut anyone’s hair before, and you didn’t want to mess it up.

Yeah. Definitely!

When Jaebum slid onto the barstool, his forehead wrinkled slightly, he murmured, “Are you really sure about this?”

Well, no, you were not. But you weren’t going to admit that to his face.

“I watched my mom cut my dad’s hair growing up. I’ll just trim it, and if it looks terrible, I’ll stop,” you assured him before reaching up and combing his hair with your fingers.

You moved around to the back, holding your breath as you held out a section of hair in-between your index and middle finger, just the way you’d always seen your mom and your hairdresser do it. And you continued to hold your breath as you took the scissors, opened them, and carefully trimmed off the hair sticking out through your fingers.

When the dark locks hit the ground, you let out your breath.

There. You’d done it.

Now... you just had to do it about fifty more times.

As you took another section of hair, you realized that -- in this situation -- you were glad that Jaebum was probably the least talkative person you knew. You found you had to concentrate so much on not making his hair look completely horrible that any conversation would have totally distracted you. Had Jaebum said a single word to you, he would’ve regretted it when he looked in the mirror.

You carefully combed out a section of hair down by his neck, and when your fingers brushed over his skin, something very concerning happened.

A chill ran down your spine.

But not like a creepy chill. A tingly chill.

You shook your head, blinking quickly to try and get a hold of yourself because clearly, you were not in your right mind at the moment. You took a controlled breath, focused your attention back on the scissors in your hand, and you continued.

You took your time trimming his hair, stepping back every so often to make sure it still looked okay. So far, it seemed like things were going pretty well (if you forgot about the whole ‘tingly chill down your spine’ thing), and you slowly made your way to the side of his head.

You combed and snipped -- carefully -- and made sure to avoid getting the scissors anywhere near his ear.

And then you moved to stand in front of him.

His gaze met yours briefly, but it was long enough to make you nervous. You weren’t sure why it made you nervous...

“Can --” you stammered, finding you had to clear your throat since you’d gone so long without talking. “Can you close your eyes? I don’t want to... get hair in them.”

Jaebum quickly shut his lids, and you let out a soft exhale.

There. Much better.

But even though his eyes were closed, you were still hyper-aware of his breathing and every little move he made as you trimmed the hair around his face. It was incredibly unexpected and incredibly awkward.

When you finally ended up where you’d begun about twenty minutes ago, you couldn’t help but be relieved.

“There,” you breathed as you stepped away from him. “I think I’m done.”

Jaebum slid off the stool, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he made his way over to one of the windows. He looked at himself in the reflection, turning his head this way and that.

And then he just said, “Thanks.”

So... I guess he didn’t hate it?

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a small, fairly awkward grin.

He walked by you as he headed to the door to go back inside... and he paused when he stepped in front of you. Just for a moment, but he definitely paused.

And he looked at you.

But he said nothing.

You looked back at him. But you said nothing.

And then he went inside.

You stood there for at least a minute after the door closed behind him, blinking in confusion with your brow furrowed deeply.

...What had just happened?

Youngjae, who had -- apparently -- finished chopping the firewood for the week, was lounging on his couch-bed when you eventually made your way back inside.

Thankfully, Jaebum was not in his armchair, and you didn’t even have to ask Youngjae where he was because he told you. “Jaebum went out to the front porch to read... What happened out there?”

...Youngjae could tell something had happened out there?

Oh, great.

“Uh... nothing?” you replied, though you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself. “I -- I just gave him a haircut. Why? Did it look that bad?”

“No,” Youngjae answered quickly. “He just... seemed weird. ...Er than normal.”

Over the past month, you and Youngjae had gotten pretty close. Every night, Jaebum spent about an hour in the front room listening to a crank radio he found in the basement, so you and Youngjae had gotten plenty of time to get to know each other and talk. Plus, he was one of only two people you ever saw anymore, and Jaebum still hardly ever really talked to you. You had to talk to someone!

“What do you mean weirder than normal?”

“I mean... weirder than normal. I don’t know. Did something happen?”

Well... to be quite honest... more than one something happened.

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a soft but frustrated sigh before plopping down on the couch next to Youngjae.

“Yeah, kind of,” you murmured. Even if Jaebum was out on the front porch, you didn’t want to risk him hearing you.

Youngjae’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he scooted closer. “What?”

“Well, first... When I was cutting the hair on the back of his neck, and I, like, touched him... it felt strange. But not like creepy strange. This, like... tingle ran down my spine.”

Youngjae simply looked at you in disbelief.

“And then when I was done and he was going inside, he just, like... stopped. In front of me. And we just looked at each other, and it definitely felt like a moment. I... have absolutely no idea.”

“So...” Youngjae began. “You like him?”

“What?!” you cried. “No, I don’t think so!”

But, wait. Did you?

...No. No, of course not.

Instead of looking relieved, though, Youngjae looked even more confused. “Wait, but... I thought you kind of already did?”

If you’d been eating something just now, you would have choked on it. If you’d been drinking something just now, you would have spit it out all over him.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s always so tense around you two!” he retorted. “But I thought it was, like, a... feelings kind of tense!”

You sputtered out some very flabbergasted noises before saying, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he kind of hates me.”

Youngjae let out a single laugh of amusement. A laugh! “Uh, no, he doesn’t. If anything, he hates me.”

“What?! How could anyone hate you?!”

You heard the front door open then, and both of you immediately pressed your lips together, the entire house now falling silent save for Jaebum’s soft footsteps.

When he passed by the living room doorway, his brow furrowed, and he paused.

“...Did I interrupt something?” he asked in a low voice.

“No!” you answered cheerfully. Probably a bit too cheerfully. “No, not at all!”

Jaebum simply lifted one eyebrow and said, “...Okay.”

He continued on to the sink then, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

Both you and Youngjae were utterly silent until Jaebum walked back through the kitchen, back down the hallway, and back out the front door.

Before Youngjae could say anything, you turned to him and pointed a finger in his face. “We are not discussing this further.”

Youngjae held up his hands in surrender before zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.

It was that time again. That time after the sun went down but before everyone went to sleep. That time when Jaebum locked himself in the front room to listen to the radio (for what, you weren’t even sure) and when you and Youngjae got to talk about whatever you wanted.

Tonight, you were talking about the Epidemic.

Big surprise.

But it was better than talking about Jaebum and feelings!

“But why do you think we didn’t catch it?” you asked as you laid on your stomach on your couch, your arms folded underneath your pillow as you rested your chin on top of it.

“I have no clue,” Youngjae answered from his own couch, his crossed ankles up on the armrest.

“I’ve been trying to figure it out --” (because you’d been forcing yourself to think of anything else but Jaebum for the whole evening) “-- and I just don’t know. We know it’s not contagious, but it’s also not genetic. You’d think it would be since all of our parents got it.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t know if my dad did or not,” Youngjae interrupted.

“True... It’s also not an age thing, though, because I remember from the news that the first few people who caught it were around our age or younger.”

“Yeah, I remember. And the old couple across the street from me got it even before my mom did. And the girl next door to me was seven... she was the first one in the whole neighborhood.”

A thought popped into your head then, and you raised your eyebrows, lifting your head from your pillow. “What about blood type? Maybe only certain blood types can get it.”

Youngjae tilted his head in thought before tilting it back to look at you. “That could be it.”

“What’s your blood type?” you asked hopefully.

“B.”

You pursed your lips at his answer and said, “Ah, well, I’m O.”

“What type is Jaebum?”

“Yeah, like I know,” you scoffed.

“I thought you guys have been neighbors for years.”

“We have,” you confirmed. “But I hardly know anything about him. I mean, not any details like his blood type.”

Youngjae opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the front room door opening prevented him from saying anything. You heard footsteps coming down the hall, but they weren’t Jaebum’s usual footsteps. And you knew exactly what his footsteps sounded like, remember?

No, these footsteps were hurried.

Which probably meant Jaebum was either worried or excited. Either something terrible or something wonderful had occurred.

When Jaebum appeared in the living room doorway, the expression on his face gave absolutely no indication which one it was. He was holding the crank radio, and the first words out of his mouth were:

“I heard something.”

Part 5

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