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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

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The Devil Within ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 11.3K

GENRE: ANGST! ANGST! ANGST! For a little lightness...ANGST! This is an angst fic, filled with arsehole Yoongi acts

PAIRING: Arsehole Yoongi x Maid!Reader

A/N: Just as a warning this is an ANGST fic, I’ve spoken with the person that requested it and they wanted a ANGST ending which means no happy ending and no part 2’s

The longer you sat in the waiting room the longer you began to grow self-conscious of yourself, there were two beautiful blonde receptionists with their eyes trained on you as you nervously pulled at the skirt you were wearing. At first, you thought you were imagining things, they couldn't have been staring at you but it turned out they were. Looking you up and down in disgust as they mumbled to one another, you tried not to overthink it since you were wearing the same clothes as them only less polished. While their clothes were freshly washed, pressed and ironed yours were worn for the sixth time that week and it was only a Wednesday afternoon but you'd made sure they were clean before wearing it all. Instead of paying them attention, you tried to keep your mind on the interview. Going over everything in your head that you knew the lady you were meeting with was going to ask you. The number of interviews that you had been to you could have set up a business giving people interview techniques for a living but it wasn't a stable job like this one was. A small office job within a huge company like this was no big deal, or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of anyway. BigHit were one of the largest companies in Seoul and here you were applying for a job to work in their financial department something that you had never done before.

You'd gotten so lost in your own thought's you hadn't heard a squeaky door opening to reveal a man standing there in a grey suit, he glanced up from a folder and around the empty waiting room.

"Miss Y/l/n?" You glanced up when you heard a male voice calling out your name, you stared over at the balding man that was smiling at you he looked as though he was going to be nice but you were expecting someone else. It wasn't the woman you had arranged to meet with, or if it was she was in desperate need of updating her image on the website you applied on. As soon as he realised he had your full attention he pointed at the office behind him that he had just emerged from,

"Right this way," He told you as he walked back into what you were assuming was his office, you slowly raised from the chair and brushed your skirt off before beginning to walk. Tripping over your own feet and stumbling into the reception desk making the two girls laugh at you together. They didn't even try to mask that they were laughing at you as they continued to stare, waiting to see if you would do anything else. The heat in your body began to rise in embarrassment but you brushed it off trying to act as though you weren't bothered by their laughter and you headed into the room.

As you walked into the room you tried not to let the shocked gasp leave your throat as you looked around the room, it looked more like a study in some penthouse apartment instead of somebodies office. There was large floor to ceilings windows giving a huge view of Seoul, a large mahogany desk directly in front of the windows with a large leather office chair on one side and two red leather chairs on the other.

"Please, take a seat and we can start talking with one another," The man said as he sat down on his chair, opening your folder to look over everything you'd brought with you. Copies of your grades, work experience, references and other things potentially bosses needed to see from you.

"I'm Sejin, you were supposed to meet with my assistant today but I managed to make the meeting instead." He told you as he glanced up at you, putting his hands together on the desk as he made direct eye contact with you. This was slightly different from the other interviews that you had been to before, the others were far more relaxed. You would be given a beverage or something before he headed straight into the interview questions,

"I suppose we should start with the hardest question, Why do you want to work for BigHit?" The question you'd been dreading but had prepared for all at once. It was the number one question that everyone hated to be asked. The thought of telling a complete stranger the truth about why you needed this job was embarrassing so you'd come up with a better idea instead.

"I wanted to branch out, expand my experiences in the business world and work for one of the best entertainment companies in Seoul," The truth was you'd been fired. Your old company was going into liquidation and fired you after no longer being able to afford your pay salary anymore resulting in you relying on your roommates for help. The last four months you'd been searching for jobs high and low, willing to do whatever it took to make sure you could keep the apartment you shared but it appeared as though the world was out to get you. No one was hiring and your roommates were going to kick you out if you didn't get a job soon.

"That sounds like a smart move, branching out can be fun. What made you think of joining our financial team?" He stared back down at your folder and his brows pressed together in confusion as he read over your experience,

"I don't see any finance training or experience on your records. In fact, you were in admin before." The truth was that this was the only job that BigHit had advertised and you applied for it without even looking too much into it, you figured you would get training or learn as you went along and a job was a job a the end of the day no matter what you had to do.

"I needed to learn something new, a new skill." You lied with a convincing smile on your face but it was as if Sejin could see right through you, he simply shut your folder and sighed to himself. Rubbing the bridge of his nose as he realised he was going to have to deliver some upsetting news to you,

"Miss Y/l/n, as much as I would love to take on someone with your enthusiasm, it wouldn't be worth it in the long run. We would have to train you from the bottom up," Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach as you realised he was telling you that you didn't get the job, he had a blank expression across his face as he sighed at you once again.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find something new somewhere else or you can keep checking our website for something similar to your old job-"

"No! Please, sir...I'll do anything, I'll work as a bin cleaner, I'll be your assistant, I'll clean the bathrooms, a bathroom attendant, damn it. I'll be a maid please, I just- I need a job...Any job," Sejin let out a sad sigh as he heard the desperation in your voice and the look on your face as you pleaded with him to take a chance on you. Your eyes were glossed over as it looked like you were about to cry in front of him, he could tell there was something going on in your life that made you this upset but he couldn't take the chance.

"I can't, there's nothing I can offer you...I'm sorry," He looked upset that he couldn't give you what you so clearly needed but if he gave a job to every person that begged him or gave him a sob story he would have lost his job years ago.

"I'll keep you on the list if anything comes up," He promised as you got up from the chair, bowing to him before turning to leave the office. He watched you leaving, biting down on his lip as he flicked your folder open again, going over everything you had to offer including all of your work experience that was on the side. Maybe if there was something in the building he didn't know about he could put your name and number forward for it, help you get the job you so clearly needed. He stared down at your experience and smiled to himself as he saw what he needed to see. After leaving university you'd been a maid for five years before working for your previous company, he chewed on the inside of his lip before grabbing the phone from his desk and calling his assistant. The phone rang for a couple of seconds before she finally picked it up on the other end,

"Maria...Are the boys still looking for a maid?"

Later that night you were in your bedroom of your apartment packing up your clothes after your roommates said it was the final straw, asking you to leave as soon as you could.

"I'm sorry about everything, you know we would let you stay if we could afford it," Sana said as she came into the room with two full glasses of red wine in her hand, it was a peace offering since she couldn't convince the other girls to let you stay. Sana was one of the girls you'd bonded closer with over your time in the apartment, the other girls were nice but you weren't as close to them as you were with Sana.

"You guys need the rent, I understand." You took the glass from her, drinking half of it before carefully placing it down and going back to packing while she sat down on the floor at the base of your bed. The sooner everything was in boxes the sooner it would all be taken care of, you weren't sure where you were going to go since going back to your parents wasn't the best idea in the world.

"What did the interviewer say anyway? She looked like a bitch on her image," Sana hissed as she tried to make you feel better but you sighed knowing that nothing she could say or do would make you smile right now. You began folding up one of your dresses and placed it into a cardboard box as you shook your head, remembering that it wasn't the original woman you'd gone to see.

"It was a man, Sejin, he just said I wasn't qualified enough...Then I begged for a different job and I was still told no." She bit down on her lip at the thought of you begging for a job, she'd tried to get you a job at her office but they were already filled up.

"I'm sure something will come along, everything happens for a reason," That was the way Sana was in life, she was always trying to look on the brighter side of things and normally you would agree with her but lately it just felt as though the whole world was against you. Laughing whenever you failed at something or intentionally getting your hopes up for nothing, making you jump through hoops only to throw a hole underneath you to make you fall into it.

"It is, what it is." You mumbled before downing the rest of the wine and then letting out a disgusted hiss as you got hit by a nasty aftertaste, it was the worst wine you'd ever tasted.

"Well, I'm going to order-" Sana stopped speaking about food when your phone began to ring, it was almost 10 pm, who would be calling you this late? The two of you stared over at the phone with wide eyes as it continued to ring loudly, you were both shocked that it was ringing since everyone you knew was in the apartment. Picking your phone up from the box you saw that it was a private number and Sana smiled to herself quietly getting up from the floor. She showed you that her fingers were crossed as she nodded at you to answer it,

"Answer it. I'll go order dinner." The door to your room shut and you took a couple of deep breaths before answering the call, trying not to overthink it. It could have just been a cold caller or some pervert with your number,

"Hello, Y/n speaking." Your nails dug into the palm of your hand as you realised how stupid you sounded to the other person on the phone but you tried to keep yourself calm.

"Hello this is Sejin, we met earlier about the Financial Admin job," A glimmer of hope sparked in your chest as you recognised his voice, you hoped he was calling to offer you the job after all but you knew you couldn't sound hopeful about it so you acted as though you may have forgotten something in his office.

"Yes Sir, I remember. Did I forget something at your office?" He chuckled softly at you as he bit down on his lip, he was still in his office staring down at your folder along with some other contracts that he had at the ready. After speaking with his clients and remembering how badly you needed a job he knew you would be the perfect one for the job he had to offer. Everyone else before you had either quit not long after starting it couldn't take the job in the first place.

"No, nothing. I was just calling to see if you were interested in another job we have to offer. It's not an admin job but-"

"I'll take it," You said rather quickly as you cut him off midsentence, he let out a breathy chuckle as you cut him off.

"I'm impressed by your enthusiasm but I think we should speak in the morning about it. If you still want it after hearing what it is, you can start working right away." You began thanking him over and over again while jumping up and down on the spot hoping he couldn't hear through his end of the call.

"Thank you so much, sir, you won't regret this." You told him as you looked at Sana in your doorway, a giant grin plastered across her face as she saw how happy you were, she'd heard the jumping from just outside the door and wanted to see what you were excited about.

"I'm sure I won't. I'll see you tomorrow morning Miss Y/l/n, bright and early." He told you in a warning tone before hanging up, you let out a high-pitched squeal while jumping up and down once again. Sana rushing over to you, holding your hands as she joined in on the celebratory jumping giggling with you.

"You got the job?!" She yelled out at you while you nodded at her,

"Kind of, they've offered me a different job but with the same company. I have to go and see him tomorrow to talk things out. He said if I still want it after finding out what it is then I can have it," She stopped jumping as she stared at you with a serious expression on her face, her seriousness made you stop jumping and you frowned at her, wondering what was wrong.

"What if it's some kind of pervert job...Like he wants to pay you for sex or...be his "personal assistant,"," She put up air quotations and you shook your head at her slapping her hands down as she continued to use air quotations followed by rude hand gestures.

"Don't be disgusting, he's like five times my age and he's married...Besides...A job is a job," You wiggled your eyebrows jokingly which caused her to slap your arm playfully and you both went back to celebrating your new job, jumping up and down on the spot.

"Good thing I ordered pizza!" She called out as she kissed your cheeks softly,

"Tonight we celebrate! My roommate doesn't have to move out!" She sang out of tune while making a b-line for the door of your room to tell the others the good news. But before she disappeared she stood in the doorway once again,

"I told you that everything happens for a reason, things are finally starting to look up." Winking at you playfully she left the room, yelling out that you were going to get to stay longer and you collapsed down onto the bed. Smiling up at the ceiling at the thought of your new job, wondering what it could have possibly been and why he thought you wouldn't take it after speaking with him about it tomorrow.

The next morning you'd raced down to the BigHit building so you could get there for opening hours, Sejin said early but he didn't give you a specific time so you just assumed he meant as early as possible. You'd made no attempt to get breakfast, your appetite had gone out of the window after the pizza you had the night before, you'd been too busy going over everything in your head as you thought about what this job could be. Mumbling could be heard from the other side of the room and that was because of the two receptionists sitting there once again as they stared at you, talking to one another as they made it clear it was you they were speaking about. It was as if they didn't care. You had the same outfit on as yesterday but you didn't worry what they thought of you, you'd gotten next to no sleep last night all you worried about was what Sejin thought of you and what was the job he was going to give you. The door to his office opened and he was standing there in a black suit this time,

"Mina, Amber you can go on your break," Sejin said as he stared at them not appreciating the fact that they were laughing at you while they were supposed to be working, they glanced over at him then t you in silence before leaving the room.

"If you'd like to come into my office." Anxiety began to bubble up in your stomach as you remembered what Sana had said the night before about him paying you for sex and how he had just sent out the only two workers in the immediate area.

"Have a seat," He said again as he walked behind the door of the office, pouring you both a glass of water before joining you at the desk. This time instead of your folder being on the desk there were seven other folders spaced out with initials written on them. Alongside that, there were some contracts that looked very important with different sticky notes poking out of the sides of them.

"I won't beat around the bush, I'll tell you what the job is and then we will talk business." He gently placed a glass of water down in front of you before sitting down across from you like he had done the day previous,

"You said you were willing to do any job, is that statement still true?" You nodded with an unsure look on your face that made Sejin laugh softly to himself,

"Don't look so worried...I've been looking for a maid for one of our groups for a while. Of course, there will be a lot of contracts and rules you'll have to abide by but if you're willing the job is all yours," Relief washed over you as you realised he wasn't going to make you sleep with him for money but just clean, cleaning was the easiest thing in the world to do.

"Of course, What rules will there be?" He nodded his head as he pushed the contract forward, it has to have been around two-hundred or more pages long but you stared at it.

"Every rule is in there, I can't tell you anything about the group until you've signed the NDA's." You nodded and he smiled as you pulled out some reading glasses from your bag,

"You can read up everything you like, I'll get someone to make us a hot drink and I'll be here if you have any questions at all." He reassured you with a smile, going to his laptop while you made yourself busy with the contracts that were in front of you. Everything looked so professional and serious, you could expect less from a company such as BigHit but it did make you wonder who you would be working with.

There was so much to sign on each page that by the time you had finished your hand was cramping up and it was getting dark outside. You'd taken breaks throughout the day to have something to eat, speak with Sejin and talk about any changes that needed to be made but everything was perfectly fine with the contract. Signed and dated on every document that needed to be dealt with.

"Now that you've signed those I can tell you who you will be working for, what your job will entail and what they expect from you." Sejin slid the seven folders over to you as he smiled nervously, it looked as though he was unsure about you taking this job but you didn't care who it was as long as it paid and it paid very well.

"I suggest taking those home to look over since starting Monday you'll be working for the boys." The boys? You glanced up from the folder from Sejin to the initials on each folder once again, KSJ, MYG, JHS, KNJ, PJM, KTH and JJK. It made your heart pound as you realised who it was you were going to be working for and Sejin could read you like a book,

"Their preferences for how they like their rooms being done is in their folders. I'll have you a keycard made for Monday morning and I'll take you to meet them myself. They can be daunting at first but they're lovely, I promise." You nodded along with him and he smiled as you collected the folders together,

"I would suggest packing a bag, you'll be staying with the boys. You'll have your own apartment but you're expected to be on call for them whenever they may need your assistance.

"Oh...Living with them? Isn't that a little extreme?" You remembered skimming over your holiday days in the contract but you'd been in such a rush to sign it all and make sure you had a job you hadn't even taken notice of living with a band.

"It's all a necessary part of the job, it'll be like having roommates, I'm sure you and the boys will get along just fine," He told you as he got up from his desk, ready to see you out of the door for the night.

"As I said, go over every detail in their personal folders. It'll tell you what they do and don't like in their rooms, what they want you to clean and things like that." You nodded trying to keep yourself under control as you headed into the reception area, it was empty since it was almost 8 at night.

"Do you need a ride home? I'm sure I can drop you off..." You shook your head, thanking him anyway as you headed out of the office building taking in the cold air and trying to clear your head from the spinning it was experiencing.

It was four in the morning and you were still reading through all of the folders that you had for each of the members of BTS, all of them wanting specific things for their bedrooms but never being too over the top with anything. All of them except for Yoongi that was, while the other boys just wanted you to do basic cleaning of their room every day and changing their sheets once a week it appeared as though Yoongi wanted more than that.

The bedroom must be :

Cleaned every day, nothing moved out of place unless specifically asked to be moved and told where it is placed.

New sheets every three days made with the covers folded at the top. A blanket at the bottom of the bed and pillows fluffed properly.

Hovering the floor once a day, mopping the floor once a day

Dusted over everything once a day, making sure the computer and pianos are cleaned properly without streaks on the buttons or screens

The bedroom must smell like specific aftershave that I will provide

At first, you didn't know if it was to be taken seriously or not, all of the guys were portrayed as these super nice guys but now it seemed as though Yoongi was demanding and wanted to treat you as someone who would wait on him, hand and foot.

"Is he serious?" You mumbled to yourself as you poured another mug of coffee for yourself, staring over the words again and again. The others just wanted basic cleaning in their rooms but the rest of the dorms/building was where you were needed most. Doing everything you would have expected to do on a cleaning job but this was outrageous even for a celebrity.

Monday morning you'd made it your mission to talk to Sejin about everything Yoongi had down in his chart, wondering if it was some kind of joke or if it was serious.

"It's serious, he has a strict way he likes his room," Was all he had told you earlier in the day and now you were making your way into the building where the dorms where.

"The boys are on the 5th and 6th floor. You'll have your own room on the 7th." He explained as he pushed a card into the elevator slot and clicked on the floor he needed, hanging you the card when he was through with it. Your name was on the front of it along with the BigHit logo,

"Don't lose it, you won't be able to get a replacement." He said as he continued going up to the 5th floor with you, standing in silence as you went up on the different floors.

"Have they had maids before me?" You were curious to know why the boys didn't have a maid until now and if they had maids before what had happened to them.

"They did, they all quit without reason. You're the first one they've had in about six months. They've been in need of one for a while," He laughed nervously as he turned to look at you, this didn't make you feel any better. Quit without reason? What did that even mean?

"The boys are all at work except for Jimin and Jungkook, they don't have projects that they're working on so they'll give you a tour of the dorms." You stepped out on the fifth floor to be greeted by a large living space, the lift opened straight into it. An open area with a kitchen off to the side and then down the hall were some rooms that seemed to be locked off.

"Jungkook? Jimin?!" Sejin called out as he dropped keys down onto the counter and waited for the members to come to him, a door slammed from down the hall and Jimin appeared with a smile on his face.

"You must be Y/n!" He said in a happy tone, shaking your hand as you smiled at him.

"Nice to meet-" You stopped talking when you heard running coming from the other side of you, Jungkook was standing there sweating.

"I was just working out when I heard Manager Sejin, it's nice to meet you Y/n." He bowed to you so you bowed back smiling as he turned to Sejin.

"We'll give her the tour, you can leave her in trusted hands," Sejin laughed sarcastically before turning to look at you.

"You have my number in case of emergencies, remember the rules and I guess this is it. I'll bring over your copies of the contracts later." He waved goodbye before getting into the elevator, leaving you with the boys in uncomfortable silence as you stared at one another.

"So...The tour?" You suggested, trying not to make everything more awkward but Jungkook clapped his hands together.

"I'll shower, Jimin show her where everything is on this floor and then we'll head upstairs." You smiled as he rushed off leaving you with Jimin who was still smiling at you,

"You can relax, we know there are a lot of rules but honestly they're easy to follow and we're easy-going." He assured you as he pointed over at the hallway he had appeared from,

"This floor is basically everything you already see. The living room, kitchen and dining area and then these doors lead to different rooms." He began taking you down the hallway, all of the walls were painted the same white colour making it look bigger than it probably was and the doors were all a light brown colour.

"This is the cleaning supply room, BigHit keep it stocked so you won't have to go out and do that but everything you'll need is in here." The door opened and inside were three walls of shelves, stacked with every cleaning supply you thought someone could ever need.

"Then the next room is the laundry room. There's a washing machine, dryer and an ironing board if we ever need it," He closed the cleaning closet and opened the next door, this one was larger than the other. You could stand inside this room with the door closed and still freely move around unlike the cleaning closest which looked as though it could barely hold a mouse inside of it.

"The only other rooms on this floor are the bathroom which is right there," He pointed over his shoulder at another identical door and then down the hall where Jungkook had vanished to,

"The gym. You won't have to worry about cleaning the gym. They have a professional come and do that...All you have to wash in there would be the towels and they're kept in a basket outside of the door." You wondered how you were going to remember all of this but you nodded along with what Jimin was saying and as if he could read your mind he smiled,

"Relax...Trust me, it'll just feel like you're living with some brothers and you'll do it like second nature. Taehyung and I normally do a lot of the cleaning anyway since we're used to it now. You don't have to worry about doing our rooms," It was a relief to know that you weren't going to have to do all six bedrooms every day along with Yoongi's room which was going to take up a lot of your time anyway.

"The second floor awaits," Jungkook said as the elevator doors opened to reveal him standing there, his hair was thrown into a man-bun and he was in fresh clothes.

"The sixth floor is basically just all of our bedrooms with en-suites then one main bathroom on the end," Jimin explained as you all got into the lift together, Jungkook tried to make conversation with you unlike how Sejin let you ride in silence.

After the tour was given to you by the boys they let you go up to your room to chill for a little while, wanting you to get relaxed in your room and unpack. The room you had was a huge bedroom with a small kitchen area to yourself, nothing much. One counter with a small mini-fridge and a kettle for yourself, then there was a joint bathroom to your room with a large corner bathtub, shower and toilet.

"You're starting to clean now?" You heard Jimin asked as he came down the hall to you, you'd brought down the washing from outside of the gym and began loading the machine. The boys each used the laundry-shoot so their clothes were already in the laundry room whenever you needed them to be done.

"I figured I could get a head start, I'll do the washing and then clean up the kitchen after you've all eaten." With Jimin conversation felt easy, you didn't feel awkward around him and it was as if the conversation just naturally flowed between the two of you.

"After we've eaten dinner? You're eating too, you can eat with us." He chuckled softly as he noticed how your eyes had grown wide at the thought of eating with the rest of the guys.

"It'll be a good way to break the ice and get to know us all better. As I said, it'll be like having brothers around you," He nudged your side before winking playfully and heading out of the room leaving you speechless as you started the machine up. Having all of the boys treat you like a sister would be nice and make your job a lot easier,

"Y/n? Wanna play a game for a while? I need someone to beat this level with me," Jungkook asked as he heard you coming out of the laundry room and back into the living room,

"Sure...What are you playing?" You questioned as you walked over to the sofa, sitting down beside him as he handed you one of the Nintendo Switch controllers.

"Smash Brothers, prepare to lose!"

Dinner with the boys had been insightful to what you had to look forward to, Namjoon had brought Thai take-out home with him and you all sat around the table getting to know one another. They apologised for Yoongi not being there but he was working on things at the studio and would probably be home later than the rest of them, or that was how it was most nights. You'd gotten to know each of them and they'd gotten to know you more since all they'd known so far was everything Sejin had told them.

"He said you really needed the job, what happened?" Jungkook asked as he helped you put the dishes away from dinner, you looked at him not knowing if you should tell him the truth or lie but there was something about his eyes that just made you want to tell him everything.

"My job before this went into liquidation and my roommates were going to kick me out unless I found something new...BigHit was my last chance before I would have been on the streets." You admitted as you closed the cupboard, Jungkook was staring at you with wide eyes. He'd figured you just really wanted to work for the entertainment company and that was why you'd been so desperate, he hadn't expected that.

"Going home?" He questioned but you rubbed your arms while shaking your head,

"Not really an option, my parents weren't that great and I didn't want to go home to them with no job...But now I have a job so it's great." You admitted with a smile on your face, thanking Jungkook even though he hadn't been the one to hire you.

"Glad to help, you should get some rest." He told you as he looked over at the time, it was almost midnight and he was crashing soon.

"I'll head up to bed soon, I'm just going to sort the laundry out." You admitted as you disappeared down the hall to the laundry room.

By the time you were done figuring out whose clothes were whose it was almost 1:30 am and the elevator dinged to let you know someone was on the fifth floor, you poked your head out to see if it was one of the boys who couldn't sleep but you saw Yoongi standing there instead. You froze. Yoongi was the one person you hadn't been introduced to yet and it was the early hours of the morning, he looked pissed off so you weren't going to go bounding over to him with a smile and introduction. Backing back into the room you wondered what to do with yourself, looking at the piles of clothes and then back at the now-closed door.

Yoongi had seen you already when you poked your head out of the door but he didn't bother saying anything, he walked into the kitchen grabbing some food and a bottle of water before heading up to his room for the night. Too tired to introduce himself to you and stick with the pleasantries when he knew you would quit within a matter of time just like all of the other maids the boys had had. It was just a matter of when and why. All of them quit eventually, either not being able to hack the jobs the boys had or because they were far too lazy to do anything the boys needed them to do. Yoongi was sick of getting to know new maid after new maid only for them to up and leave within a matter of days or weeks so he decided he wasn't going to bother getting to know you. He didn't see the point in maids anyway when he and the boys could look after themselves, it was nothing but a person getting in their way around the house and why should they have to deal with that? It was why he always gave such a long list of demands in his part of the contract, he wanted it to be off putting to the maids that would think about working for them. Who would honestly put themselves through this just for some money?

The first two weeks of working for the boys had been going brilliantly, you'd been getting along great with all the boys but you'd grown a close friendship with Jimin and Jin who would regularly help you around the dorms when they had days off or spend time with you whenever you had nothing to do which wasn't very often. Most of your days were filled with doing Yoongi's bedroom and the others in the mornings and then the rest of the day was filled with hovering and mopping each floor, dusting every room on each floor of the house. Cleaning each of the bathrooms, sometimes more than once a day if the boys had been messy. Clothes were always piling up on you since they were seven boys each of them wearing different sets every day sometimes more than one set a day so you were constantly doing the laundry. Except for today, today was your day off and you'd gone home to your apartment to visit Sana telling her about your job. Although you couldn't tell her who you were working for you told her that it was a lot of fun, even if it was a little white lie.

Working for the boys was fun but working for Yoongi wasn't, as time had passed at the dorms you couldn't help but feel Yoongi had it out for you. At first, you thought it was all in your head since he was such a nice guy but as more time passed you began to realise it wasn't. He would always give you daunting tasks to do, piling more and more on top of them as if you were his personal assistant. Just yesterday he had you building a brand new bookcase for his room, only to tell you that he didn't like it and asked you to take it back to the store for him. Yoongi was always making sure you were the one doing basic tasks for him around the house as well, testing his food for him, buying him things from the store when no one else would go for him or doing things a personal assistant would do. When it first started happening it wasn't so bad but as time passed you realised the tasks were getting worse and worse as if he was testing you on purpose and he was. When Yoongi realised you weren't going to quit as easily as the other maids had done he'd decided to turn things into his own mind game wanting to see just how far he could push you before you quit. Pushing you as far as he could before you would snap, it was more fun than watching you do the housework anyway. None of the other boys knew about his plan, of course, he could see how much they liked you already which only made him hate you more.

You were his new source of entertainment and he was coming up with different ways he could push your buttons and see if he could break you. Today was the first in many tests he was doing that would affect your work, when you'd finished separating all the colours in the laundry room he "accidentally" broke a plate in the kitchen to grab your attention. Whilst you were cleaning up the glass he snuck a red top between the whites and hoped you wouldn't notice until it was too late. Then all he had to do was sit back and wait for the timer to finish.

"Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you were done with-" Hoseok stopped speaking when he walked into the laundry room to find you holding his white shirt that was now stained a bright pink colour. Panic flooded your body as you saw that it was now a completely different colour than it was when it went into the washing machine. Your heart was practically trying to leap out of your chest and run out of the building,

"I-I didn't do it, I must not have seen whatever dyed it inside of the machine Hoseok. I'm so sorry," Your voice cracked as you looked at Hoseok, you couldn't tell if he was mad about the shirt but you were scared. The shirt looked as though it cost more than you were ever being paid and it wasn't as though you could just run out and buy him a brand new top when it was that expensive. Yoongi smirked from the sofa as he heard the panic in your voice show up, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Hoseok who had his back towards him he wanted to see what would happen when Hoseok got mad at you. Hoseok was the calmest one out of the boys so if he kicked off at you it was surely enough to make you rethink working for them.

"I love it," Hoseok called out, taking the pink shirt from your hands and holding it up to his chest as if he was modelling it without trying it on.

"What?" Yoongi mumbled to himself as he watched Hoseok smile brightly turning around and posing in front of you.

"No one has a pink version of this designer top, it makes it all the more special." Relief washed over you as he walked away from you, your heart calmed down you went back into the machine pulling out a red shirt that must have dyed the rest of the washing but you knew you'd separated everything, you checked four times before starting the machine.

Week by week and day by day things went wrong for you all of the time, it was like the apartment was haunted and throwing mean tricks at you. It started with the boy's laundry all being dyed at least four times a week which was stressing you out to the point where you wouldn't leave the laundry room until it the washing machine had finished its cycle. Yoongi hated that you were starting to take precautions with everything so he had to step up his game, making his room messier and messier every night so you would have to spend more of your time in there than anywhere else in the dorms but nothing was working. He was going about it all wrong and he realised it now. Stepping things up to the next level he began to "accidentally" break things around the apartment, glasses, mirrors, plates...Anything that he could break and make it look like an accident would be broken but it still wasn't enough. It felt as though nothing Yoongi could and would do would be enough so he started to take your sleep away from you in any way that he could, starting with late-night food runs.

"Y/n?" You turned around while you were half asleep to see Jimin staring at you, he was dressed in Chimmy Pj's and holding a glass of milk when he stepped into the elevator to see you there. It was almost 2 in the morning and he couldn't think of a logical reason for you to be awake when he was sure you'd been up since 3 am the day before.

"Where have you been?" All you did was hold up a bag of what looked like warm food and hummed tiredly, resting your head on the wall of the lift as you waited for it to start moving again,

"Yoongi wanted something to eat but the delivery driver wouldn't deliver it here so he asked me to get it," Jimin frowned even more as he heard that Yoongi told you to get him something to eat when they were all perfectly capable of getting their own food for themselves.

"Why didn't-"

"He's in the middle of a song, I didn't want him to lose his groove," Jimin sighed as he watched you get out on the sixth floor and began to tiredly stumble your way over to Yoongi's room knocking on the door for a second before a tired Yoongi opened the door, snatched the food from you and headed inside.

"Goodnight Jimin," You mumbled as you headed past him once again, into the elevator but Jimin was still shocked at the action from his Hyung.

Eventually, Yoongi got bored of watching you push yourself past not sleeping and running on maybe one or two hours of sleep a night and decided to move on from that tactic, instead he was going to try a more direct approach to things. Face you head on.

"Why do you work for us?" You froze when you heard a voice come from behind you, you thought the dorms were empty for the day but Yoongi was standing directly behind you.

"Because I need a job..." You backed away from him, he never spoke to you unless he was after something or one of the boys asked him to talk to you. Even then the conversation was blunt and straight to the point, this time you could sense he was up to something and it didn't sit right with you.

"I mean why...Did you think we would all start sleeping with you if you worked for us?" You dropped a mug onto the floor as the words left his mouth,

"Because we wouldn't, we wouldn't go near someone as poor and pathetic as you," Each word seemed to cut you deeper than the last and you just stared at him wondering what you ever did to make him this spiteful towards you.

"Or did you think you could sell stories about us to the press? We've had that one before too," He scoffed remembering one of the maids that tried to sell a fabricated story to the media, the boys all had stories that they gave to each maid for testing them. If the story was ever attempted to be leaked they would know exactly who did it and that maid would be sued,

"Why would I sell stories about you? I earn enough here," You mumbled as you began sweeping up the bits of broken glass from the floor, making a mental note to replace Jungkook's Bakugou mug the next time you went out shopping.

"You earn enough? It doesn't look like it, look at what you wear," He stared you up and down and it felt as though someone had just pulled a rug out from underneath you. Where was all of this coming from? Why was he suddenly attacking your appearance and personality out of nowhere when he had no idea who you were as a person.

"You're nothing but a no-good maid who should just quit, we don't need you or want you here," You ignored him as you went back to washing up the dishes but this only seemed to anger Yoongi more, he hated being ignored.

"Are you that fucking poor you'll put up with the constant breaking of items around the house? You'll put up with me dying all of the clothes just to see if it'll piss the boys off?" He laughed loudly as he watched you, your whole body tensed giving away that you were uncomfortable or something he had said was the truth,

"You're poor?" He scoffed once again as he laughed looking you up and down,

"I mean no wonder. I think that's the sixth day in a row you've worn that shirt and those pants together. Filthy." He spat at you, his tone laced with venom as he gave you a disgusted look as if you were nothing more than something he had just stepped in but you counted to ten inside of your head trying to stay calm.

"You've been dying the clothes? Why?" He hated that you were asking him about something so calmly, he stared at you waiting for the anger to come but it never did.

"Why aren't you pissed?!" You ignored his question as you drained the water from the sink, trying to walk away from him but he took your wrist in his grasp forcing you to look up at him.

"Can you go and make my bed, I don't like the way it's been made today." You stared at him in disbelief, he'd already had you remake the bed four times that morning.

"I already-"

"Is that backtalk? I might have to talk to Sejin about the way the staff speak to us," You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded at him.

"I'll go and make the bed-"

"I want fresh sheets but I want that bedding. Wash it and have it dried before I get into bed tonight," He ordered as he cut you off mid-sentence, you nodded at him in silence heading up to the bedrooms and you wanted to scream out in anger at him. Reminding yourself that you needed the job and you needed the money.

Months went by but the mind games with Yoongi continued to grow and get worse, he had basically turned you into his personal assistant as well as a maid for the boys. You were lucky if you got two hours of sleep a night on the things he had you doing, just dumb things that no one would ever think of doing he wanted you to do. Polishing each of the awards, cleaning the bathroom downstairs and then making sure all of the cupboards in the kitchen were dust-free because his hayfever was acting up. There weren't enough hours in the day for you to get everything you originally did do as well as the extra chores he was throwing on top of you. Threatening you with the, "I can have you fired," line that he loved throwing around whenever you looked as though you were close to yelling or snapping at him for everything he was making you do. Tonight you were finally going home to your old apartment for some time off since you needed to take your holiday days,

"You look exhausted," Sana said as you laid on the sofa with your head in her lap, you nodded at her whining as you felt your head beginning to spin. It felt as though your head was ready to explode. The week you'd had was giving you a huge migraine and you didn't want to go back to the dorms tomorrow but you had to, you only had tonight off since Yoongi needed you back in time for the party they were throwing. You were in charge of cleanup after it. The boys thought it was weird that Yoongi was the one throwing a party when he didn't like going to them that often but they went along with it anyway.

"Maybe you can take some sick days?" Sana whispered as she ran her fingers over your cheeks, biting her lip as she realised how hot your face was to the touch. It was the first time she'd seen you in over three months and it was starting to worry her that you weren't taking the days off that you were supposed to. You weren't supposed to be working every day as you had been and it was starting to show that you were overworking yourself more than you said you were.

"When was the last time you went to the doctor?" She questioned but all you did was hum at her, her cold hands laying on your head was all you could think about. It was nice having a cold compress on your forehead but you went back to her question, you couldn't even remember the last time you had a day to yourself, never mind going to see a doctor.

"I've been busy," You grumbled at her, not wanting to admit the truth about your lack of sleep and troubles at the dorms, she would only make it into a larger deal than it needed to be.

"I'm going to crash, I'll see you in the morning," She watched you anxiously as you made your way into your old room, not bothering to shut the door or change out of your clothes before you dropped onto the bed and almost instantly fell to sleep.

There was that noise again, a shrill beeping sort of noise that kept coming and going, sometimes getting louder than before. You groaned trying to reach your hand up to touch your head but it felt as though you weighed the same as a bag of bricks,

"She's waking up," A voice you knew said as you tried to move again, the beeping got faster the more you began to wake up and you opened your eyes to bright light. Once you adjusted to the new lighting you looked around the room to see the boys standing around your bed,

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" You mumbled trying to seat up in the bed but you let out a squeak as you felt a pain radiate through your body, you looked down to see an IV drip attached to your arm and then a heart monitor on your fingers. That explained what the annoying beeping was that you'd been hearing over and over again.

"You're in the hospital," Jimin said as he looked at you with a worried expression plastered across his face, you glanced at each of them and they all looked as worried at the next included Yoongi who was staring at Jimin.

"You idiot, she can see she's in the hospital, Don't be dumb. Go and get a nurse," He hissed making Jimin mumble under his breath before turning to leave the room, the other boys all went back to asking you what had happened and how you got there.

"I don't know..." The last thing you could remember was going to bed in your old apartment and then everything was black,

"Miss Y/l/n, I see you're awake now. It's good to have you back, you gave us quite the scare." You frowned at the male doctor who began talking to you, telling you what had happened. Sana had found you the next morning and you were out cold, not responding to any touch or shake so she brought you in.

"It seems as though you just overworked yourself and had a pretty bad migraine. I'll prescribe you some strong painkillers for the pain and advise you to take some time off work," As Yoongi listened to the doctor explain that you were overworked he began to felt guilty for what he'd been making you do over the last months of you working for them. He knew he was responsible for making you work so much and yet you still continued to work for them despite being around this overworked to the point you were hospitalised you were still willing to go through the hell he was putting you through.

"Yes Doctor, I'll talk to my boss and arrange some time off." You lied as you waited for him to leave the room, turning back to the boys with a weak smile.

"I'll just do light work around the dorms if that's okay?" The question was said to all of them but directed mostly at Yoongi who nodded his head before ditching the room. The guilt on his chest felt like somebody was trying to crush him and he knew he had to lay off you and stop treating you the way he had been.

It was your first week back after taking some time off, the boys had been kind enough to let you stay in your room in their dorm while you recovered. Bringing you food whenever they could and making sure you didn't lift a finger until you were feeling 100% better. All week had been refreshing, nothing bad had happened and Yoongi had left you alone. No longer treating you as his own personal assistant he let you do your own jobs that you were originally hired to do.

"I was thinking we could go and have dinner tonight, we can all order our favourite take out," Jungkook said as you were making his bed with him.

"We should do that, it'll be fun." You told him as you put the pillow down onto his bed, looking over at him with a smile, he insisted on helping you do his room even though you'd told him you'd felt fine all week.

"How about we play some video games-" Jungkook stopped speaking when he heard a loud crash coming from down the hall, it sounded as though someone had just thrown something at the wall. The two of you stared at one another in worry before heading down the hall to find Yoongi attempting to clean up broken glass from the floor, mumbling to himself.

"Let me do it before you hurt yourself," You mumbled as you realised Yoongi was going to hurt his hand if he didn't stop but he couldn't. He hadn't meant to break the glass frame, it was supposed to be a surprise for you from Jimin but now it was ruined and smashed to pieces on the floor.

"I'll get the dustpan and brush," Jungkook called out as he ran for the lift, leaving you and Yoongi as you told him to stop picking up the large shards of glass but it was too late, he let out a yell as a piece sliced into the palm of his hand,

"Fuck! That's your fucking fault!" He yelled out as blood dripped onto the floor,

"You're nothing but a distraction! Fucking idiot!" He continued to yell out but you ignored him, grabbing his wrist as you began to drag him in the direction of the bathrooms as he continued to haul verbal abuse in your direction, reminding you why you were so stressed from before.

"Look at you, you can't even fucking say anything because you know I'm right don't you. So desperate for cash you begged for any job and are willing to put up with me," He laughed as you continued to clean up the small cut that was on his hand, keeping the tears in as much as you could despite how much his words were hurting you. Wondering how he found out that you'd begged for a job that day you went for a meeting,

"Begging for a job, pathetic." He scoffed once more and you finally lost it. Letting the tears you'd been holding in for months stream down your cheeks as you looked up at him.

“You really think I have a choice? Do you think I enjoy putting myself through this every day?” Tears poured out from your eyes but you didn't even notice them now, you were too angry to care that you were crying in front of the one person who made you feel the worst.

"Do you think I enjoy letting you do this shit to me? Using me like a fucking personal slave?!" You yelled out as he stared at you in shock, he hadn't expected this to come from you.

"I put up with everything you've thrown at me! Fucking ruining the laundry I did, breaking plates so that I would have to clean it up, being your person errand girl," You said as you remembered every little thing he'd made you do for him from shining his shoes down to making sure his folds on his laptop were organised properly because god forbid he actually do something for himself.

"I let you ridicule me day after day because I needed this job. Not all of us are some rich fucking celebrity who likes to shit on other people who have nothing," Jungkook froze outside the bathroom door as he heard everything Yoongi had put you through.

"I kept my mouth shut when you overworked me to the point of being hospitalised and what? I rest for a week and you decide to start it up again?" He didn't know what to say so he just stared at you,

"I'm fucking done." You threw his hand back to him and he hissed at the cold air hitting his wound but you didn't care anymore, you stormed out of the bathroom and into the lift. Not noticing Jungkook who had gone into the bathroom to speak with Yoongi after you left.

Sejin stared at Yoongi from across his desk, Yoongi felt as though he was in some kind of intervention. The boys were all stood behind him while Sejin told him off for everything. As soon as Yoongi confirmed to Jungkook that what you said was true he told everyone, not wanting him to get away with it.

"Do you think she'll sue us? Tell the press?" Sejin questioned as he threw his pen down onto the desk feeling fed up with everything,

"That's what you're worried about!?" Namjoon was red in the face with anger as he stared from his manager to band member, neither of them seemed to care that they had put a human life through hell for months.

"Do you not realise what Yoongi did?!" Yoongi stared down at his lap, he could already feel the same guilt crushing feeling he had at the hospital creeping back into him and it was feeling even worse now that he'd snapped at you before you quit without warning. The boys did nothing but yell at him for the car ride to the studios and he knew he deserved it, he deserved so much worse than they were going to do.

"You'll go and apologise to her, you'll make sure that she plans on telling no one this story and if she wants...She can contact me and we'll talk about compensation for what she went through," Namjoon went to say something but Sejin held up his hand to silence him,

"I don't want to hear it. Yoongi will go and say sorry." The room fell into silence as they all stared down at Yoongi who was still sitting there, his hand wrapped in a bandage.

"Now!" The boys yelled in sync with one another watching as he got up from the chair and stormed out of the office.

Opening the door to your apartment the last person you thought to see standing there was staring back at you, a bouquet of flowers in one hand with a box in the other.

"What do you want?" You asked plainly as the smile faded from your face, looking at the presents before back to his face.

"I wanted to say sorry for everything-"

"And you think presents will do that?" You cut him off, he licked his lips as he let you cut him off. You had every right to be angry with him and say whatever you wanted to say to him.

"No. I just...This is from Jimin, it was what I dropped earlier and it was an accident...I wasn't trying to break it on purpose...You have to believe that I feel guilty for everything I did and said before you were in the hospital...I thought if I pushed you too much you'd quit but you just kept working." You scoffed at him as you rolled your eyes,

"I needed the job. Now I'll be homeless in a couple of weeks," You took the present he said was from Jimin and placed it onto the table just inside the doorway of your apartment not wanting to move.

"Sejin said to call him...He'll be more than willing to compensate for what-"

"You mean to pay me to be silent with my story?" You raised your eyebrow at Yoongi who nodded his head.

"I feel so guilty, you have to believe I never meant to hurt you this much," You stared at him in disbelief,

"How could you not mean to hurt me? The hell you put me in?" You stared at him reading his face as you realised he really did feel guilty but it wasn't because you got hurt or you were upset it was because the boys were mad at him, he felt guilty because though around him made him feel that way.

"You only feel guilty because you got caught," You mumbled to him but he shook his head at you, trying to talk but his words came out as a stutter,

"I’m underneath your skin...Aren't I? The feeling of what you did to me crushing you? Now I'm the heavy burden that you can't bear...Ironic," You told him as you nodded your head smugly enjoying the fact that the person who had put you through hell was going through the exact same thing as you were.

"Don't worry, I won't tell my story to the press. I'll keep my mouth shut. Tell Sejin he can keep his money I'm not interested." Yoongi stayed silent but you waited to see if there was anything else,

"Do you still need the job?" You debated it as he questioned you, debated going back and acting as though nothing had happened but you shook your head.

"I'll find something else." You mumbled, folding your arms over your chest as he attempted to give you the flowers once again.

"I'm sorry-"

"I won't ever accept it, if you were sorry you would never have done it," He knew you were right but he still couldn't bring himself to move even after you shut the door in his face and disappeared back into your own apartment.

Jungkook walked into your apartment yelling out that he was there and you came down the stairs and jumped onto his back,

"Hey, you're late." You whined as you took the ice cream from his hands and wandered over in the direction of your sofa, he sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"I had a long day. We all had to record a song for, In the soop, you should have seen Yoongi running into the booth." It had been a year since you quit working as a maid for the boys and although you and Yoongi were never going to be the best of friends you'd managed to move past what he had done to you and put you through managing to deal with one another since you and Jungkook had begun dating not long after quitting.

"I bet it was funny," You laughed as you leant up to kiss Jungkook's cheek, pushing play on the movie you were watching together.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @that-anxious-bisexual

A/N: If anyone ever treated me or someone I care about this way he would be out on his asssssssss

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adarlingwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s notes: Huge spoilers for episode 8 and the manga.

TW: blood, references to past self harm.

Edit 5/5/2021: Fleshed out a scene involving Aguni and Yamane’s arm injuries.

propaganda is in our flesh and blood and we rejoice in the control of others / euphoria – poisoning the minds of the future / and it is turning our kids to murder, to murder

A few floors below them, as Last Boss trails his fingers behind Yamane’s legs to point out a few more arteries, their chief converses with his friend, a secret no other Beach members knew.

“That girl is concerning me,” Aguni admits, crossing his arms. “Accepting her in the military sect might have been a mistake. The kid couldn’t even kill without the guilt gnawing her alive. She’s innocent compared to the likes of Niragi.”

“But isn’t that a good thing, Mori?” Hatter asks, leaning back into the sofa and putting his arms behind his back. “She’s a stabilizing element. It might help you with keeping the violent members of the Beach in check by having someone with her restraint around,” he continues, chuckling as he puts his feet up on the coffee table between the sofas. “Plus, it’ll help me sleep better knowing that the military sect of our utopia has members who aren’t simple, mindless killers.”

Aguni’s brow furrows. “Takeru, I’m afraid she’d become more like those two who took her here. I asked Saiko what she knew about that girl. That girl has problems that could drive her over the edge.”

At Aguni’s response, the Hatter smiles and moves to sit next to his friend. “Reminds you too much of yourself?”

Aguni merely nods.

“Remember that quote by Gandhi that I said to recruit the first members of the Beach, Mori? ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’ Do what you can to help her stay sane.”

Nodding, he pats Hatter’s back.

Above them, another militant was heading towards the balcony. “Last Boss, there’s- whoa. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The other man stopped in his tracks when he saw the silent militant kneeling in front of a woman.

“I-it’s not what it looks like,” Yamane blurts out, stepping away from the tattooed militant.

The interrupter gave her an awkward nod and rubs the back of his head. Seeing Last Boss with a woman came as a surprise to him; the tattooed man was known for keeping to himself instead of sleeping around like Niragi. Last Boss turns around to give the interrupter a sour look.

“There’s a group of traitors who kept their cards from the previous game. We gotta get rid of them,” the man says, averting his gaze from the two of them.

Last Boss unsheathes his sword, and he turns to Yamane, motioning her to follow.

“Wait- me?” Yamane asks, blood running cold.

“Part of our duty is to discreetly kill traitors,” the other militant says. “Didn’t they tell you that when you came here?”

Gulping, Yamane wordlessly follows the two. It’s finally sinking in; her role in the military sect meant dealing with not just most physical games, but these ugly matters as well.

They walked all the way to the basement, and the other militant waited outside, keeping watch. There were three people kneeling, eyes and mouth bound by duct tape. Their arms and legs are bound as well. Yamane recognizes one of them as the medic that helped Sunohara treat Last Boss’ injuries.

“Go ahead,” Last Boss tells her, kicking a bucket in front of the captive.

Yamane freezes at his command. Eyes flicking towards the captive, she could see the sweat dripping from his skin as he struggled in futility. The taller militant advances on her, tilting her chin with his fingers, and the words don't come to her.

“Put what I taught you into practice. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The dormouse’s only response is a slow, nervous nod. Her small fingers reach for the dagger from her holster, and she kneels behind the bound medic, who was thrashing and sobbing as her other hand pushed his head down.

A gasp escapes Yamane as Last Boss knelt behind her as well, wiry arms guiding her, and his hand over hers. Warm breaths on her neck and his proximity made Yamane feel the heat surge between her legs again, mind muddled by a cocktail of fear and lust hormones. The dagger presses into the victim’s skin, and with Last Boss’ guidance, they make a quick slash to the artery, blood pumping and draining out to the bucket.

“Good Yamaneko,” he whispers, not letting go of her despite the deed being done. His scent engulfs her, and Yamane chokes back a moan, disguising by clearing her throat.

“Let’s move on to the others,” she whispers, moving away from him.

Later that night, in an attempt to purge the mental image of slicing three people’s throats, Yamane’s feet bring her to the loud merrymaking at the pool. She grabs one drink, and sits in a corner. It helps that her status as a militant meant people left her alone.

It didn’t stop Sunohara from sitting next to her, though.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while you’re taking tramadol, you know,” she casually mentions, lighting a cigarette. Smoke wafts to Yamane’s face and she waves it away with her free hand. “I thought doctors advise people to stay away from cigarettes, why are you smoking?”

Sunohara laughs. “Touche. I guess I can’t stop you. Just don’t drink before a game. It’ll make you drowsy.”

“Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

In consideration, Sunohara blows the smoke away from Yamane’s direction. “So, what was your game tonight? You had so much blood on you.”

“A Spade.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sunohara comments, taking another hit of her cigarette. “Physical games tend to get messy. Though, Heart games can get messy too.”

Now Yamane’s interest is piqued. She never had a heart game before. “What’s in a Heart game?”

“Ah, never played one before? Heart games play with, well, your heart.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Yamane replies, taking a sip of her cocktail. “What do you mean by it plays with your heart?”

Sunohara flicks her spent cigarette away and crushes it with her sandal. “They’re psychological, the type that uses your emotions to make a fool out of you. They mislead you into thinking that you’d have to do something terrible, but losses can be avoided if you think things through and don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“You sound like you’ve seen a lot of Heart games, Sunohara,” Yamane comments, setting her empty drink down.

“Not really. Just two. When you’re a doctor like me, you need to be calm in an emergency. Assess the situation properly, and give proper treatment. I just applied my experiences.”

Sunohara stands up to shake off the ash from her coat, and gives Yamane a smile. “I need to go. My assistant disappeared on me and I need to check the medication supply.”

With that, she sets off. Yamane gulps the last of her drink, and guilt drops like a heavy stone in her stomach. That assistant must have been the man she executed.

Drowsiness settling in, she needs to rest for the games. Unlike when she was surviving on her own, Beach members play them every night regardless of how many days they have left on their visas. Yamane lies on the bed, but her body is still buzzing. She recounts her experiences for the day, and her mind wanders back to the time she spent with Last Boss.

Against her better judgment, her fingers trail downward to the waistband of her shorts, and she pulls them off of her legs, underwear coming off with it. A string of her juices coats her finger as she glided it against her folds.

The little dormouse pleasures herself that night thinking about the tiger above her, fantasizing about him doing unspeakable things to her body. She comes quietly, intensely. Then, she drifts off, the post-orgasmic bliss calming her down.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling worse.

Sluggish, she climbs out of bed, and goes to the bathroom. The blood had come off of her clothes now, so she scrubbed them, rinsed them, took them out of the sink and hung them to dry. In the middle of hanging up her skirt, her stomach rumbles. She forgot to eat last night.

At the lobby, the usual banquet is set out for the residents. Yamane takes all the food she can fit on a plate, goes back up to her room, and eats in peace. She’ll need the strength and energy to survive tonight.

She didn’t know if she should be dismayed or relieved that she’s not grouped with Niragi and Last Boss in the game tonight. Instead, she was grouped with Saiko, Sunohara, Aguni, and another Beach member that she hasn’t spoken to yet. One of them wears a plain white hood, a distant, sly look on his face. They all went through the laser grid, and there were enough phones for ten players.

Soon, other participants arrived.

This game takes place in a hospital, and various implements are laid on the table. Yamane takes note of them; stress balls, large needles, blood bags, scalpels, and buckets. Sunohara was eyeing them as well, deep in thought.

In the middle of the room was a large electronic weighing scale.

“Registration closed. There are currently eight players. Difficulty: Five of Hearts.”

Ice runs through Yamane’s veins. Just last night she was talking to Sunohara about Heart games, and here she was.

“Game: Bloodletting. Rules: There is a bomb in this building. Players must spill enough blood to defuse them all. Time limit: thirty minutes.”

“Spill blood? This should be easy,” Saiko comments, loading her gun.

“Game Start!”

At the cue, Saiko shoots an unaffiliated player dead. Yamane’s eyes widen in surprise, while Sunohara screams, bracing herself against a medical gurney. Aguni is quiet, looking at the corpse, while the man with the white hood rolls his eyes. The others were too shocked to say anything.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice announces.

“Dammit!” Saiko shouts, shooting another player dead. The other one tries to flee, but she makes quick work of her.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice continues.

Saiko points the gun at Sunohara, but Yamane shoves her aside. “Idiot. It didn’t work the first time, what makes you think that it’ll work the fourth time?”

“Huh. Will you look at that. A militant that isn’t entirely stupid,” the man in white comments in a sing-song voice. Saiko turns to him and points her gun. “Would you rather I shoot you, Chishiya?”

“Saiko. Enough,” Aguni commands, crouching to look at the fallen man. “Your strategy clearly doesn’t work.”

Collecting herself, Sunohara sighs. “This is a Heart game. The rules aren’t what they seem. Look around you, there are implements for blood transfusion, and a weighing scale in the middle of the room. The game’s name is ‘Bloodletting’ too.”

“Let’s use the dead’s blood to fill the buckets then,” Aguni suggests. “How long does it take to drain the blood from a man his size?”

“A man that size looks like he has about 1.5 gallons of blood. That’s roughly 5.6 liters, enough to fill ten blood bags, which holds 525 milliliters of blood,” Chishiya comments. “The heart pumps five liters of blood per minute, but that man is dead.”

Saiko and Yamane look at him with bewilderment. “He’s a medical student. I was his senior,” Sunohara comments sheepishly. “But, still, each transfusion would last eight to ten minutes, and that’s on someone alive. There wouldn’t be enough time for us to drain all their blood before the building blows up.”

“It’s still worth the try,” Yamane comments, taking a bucket. She kneels in front of one of the dead players, takes a deep breath to steady her hands, and applies what she learned from Last Boss the night before, the blood spilling into the bucket. Horrified, Sunohara could only watch as Yamane worked. Aguni takes a scalpel and starts to drain the other dead player as well.

“Twenty minutes remaining.”

The doctor takes a steadying breath when she takes a scalpel and kneels. The rest follow suit except for Chishiya, who merely observes. Soon, they were moving buckets of blood to the weighing scale.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice chimes in, and Saiko groans. Sunohara is nervously eyeing the militants, including Yamane, while Chishiya smirks. Impatient, Saiko points her gun at Chishiya again, and Sunohara gets in the way, eyes defiant.

“Get out of my face before I blow your face off instead of his,” Saiko hisses, but Sunohara remains firm. “Stop. I’m not letting anyone else die. This is a Heart game! It’s deliberately fucking with your head to make you think that killing each other is the only solution.”

“There’s something in the rules you’re all overlooking,” Chishiya comments, unfazed. “The rules said players must spill enough blood.”

Upon hearing his remark, Yamane has an epiphany. “Maybe it meant that we should all fill a bag?”

Chishiya smirks.

“Ten minutes remaining.”

Sunohara rushes to gather the blood bags and stress balls, giving them to the remaining players. “We better hurry,” she says, panting. “Hold out your arms,” she instructs. “Chishiya, don’t just stand there, help me!”

He gives her a cheeky smile and gets to work.

Plunging the needle in Yamane’s arm, Chishiya gives her a look. “You’re too clever for this lot.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she responds. “Let’s just focus on the game.”

“Fair.”

Soon, everyone had their needles inserted in their veins. “Now what?” Saiko asks, scowling.

“Squeeze those stress balls!” Sunohara directs, and everyone starts. Slowly but steady, they all fill a bag.

“Five minutes remaining.”

“How long does this take again?” Saiko asks, still hard at squeezing. “Eight to ten minutes,” Sunohara replies, eyeing the weighing scale.

“Three minutes remaining.”

At that point, Yamane was cursing, bag filled only three-fourths of the way through. She looks to the other players’ bags.

“Two minutes remaining.”

Aguni is first to finish his bag, and Sunohara promptly helps him move it to the weighing scale. Chishiya follows, then Saiko, then Sunohara. Yamane’s bag still isn’t full.

“One minute remaining,” the robotic voice chirps again, and Yamane curses. “Hurry the hell up!” Saiko yells, distressed.

“Thirty seconds remaining.”

In desperation, Yamane grabs her bag, puts it on the scale, and takes one of her daggers to slash her arm, blood spilling on the weighing scale.

“Enough blood has been spilled. Game Clear. Congratulations!”

Collective relief rushes through the group. Yamane should be relieved herself, but now, blood continues to spill from her arm. “S-Sunohara, I won’t stop bleeding,” she gasps.

Cursing, Sunohara scrambles to find supplies to help stop the flow. But the pressure wasn't enough; Yamane continues to bleed all over the table. Aguni steps in, meaty palm pressing against the wound. As he kept the pressure on her arm, he notices a few scars on the surface of his underling's skin. Multiple stripes lined up on her wrist, and it only took one look for him to realize that they were self-inflicted. Sensing the discomfort in Yamane's gaze as she watched him stare at her scars, Aguni looks away.

Once the bleeding stopped, Sunohara treats Yamane’s arm, wrapping a bandage around it. “You’re lucky,” Sunohara comments. “The cut wasn’t deep enough to sever your radial artery. A little deeper, and you would be dead in two minutes.”

“Let’s go,” Aguni grunts, collecting the card from the round table that always shows up after a game.

Before they leave, Yamane eyes the bodies of the dead players Saiko shot, and she feels less horrified. Desensitized.

As soon as they arrived in the Beach, she passed through the pool, most of the Beach residents already hard at partying, and Yamane couldn’t stop the dread from creeping up her spine. These people probably saw other people die in a game tonight, yet they’re more than happy to forget all that with a drink and a good fuck.

“Maybe I should try drinking and fucking my sorrows away like them,” a small part of Yamane’s psych tells her. But her own thoughts are interrupted by the rumble of her stomach.

The blood loss made her ravenous, and she went directly to the banquet. Yamane didn’t even take the food back to her room; she just picked up whatever she found appealing and started eating right there. Biting into a chicken leg, Yamane didn’t care for what the onlookers thought. Sauce pooled in the corner of her mouth as she polished off the chicken, not a single shred of meat left on the bone.

“Yamaneko.”

Abruptly, she turns around to see Last Boss giving her an amused look.

Almost choking, Yamane forces herself to swallow the meat in her mouth. She couldn’t look him in the eye after pleasuring herself at the thought of him the night before. “Last Boss. Hey.”

She moves aside to allow him to gather his serving too. Yamane follows him afterwards to a secluded area afterwards, and he seemed to tolerate her presence, allowing her to sit next to him.

“Thank you for last night,” Yamane tells him. “It helped me clear my game tonight.”

Last Boss only stares at her as she ate, which made her self-conscious. She slowed her chewing, and when he didn’t stop, she turned to face him.

“Yes?”

Goosebumps ripple through Yamane’s skin again as the other militant brushes his thumb on her lips, towards the corner of her mouth. He proceeds to lick it off of his finger. Yamane’s entire face is red now, and she rubs the rest of the sauce off of her mouth with a napkin.

“Y-you could’ve just told me I have sauce on me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he finally speaks up.

Yamane just knew that she was going to spend nights touching herself to the thought of him again. Several nights.

Four days later, after a Club, a Diamond, and two Spade games, Yamane is given her new player tag. Number twenty five. She’s slowly becoming a seasoned player.

Every after game, Yamane sought out Last Boss’ company more and more. Whether they spoke or just sat in silence didn’t matter. He hasn’t told her to go away once, so Yamane continues to spend more time with him. People started to talk. Not like Yamane cared; she endured all of that in the real world, it doesn’t faze her anymore in this strange land. Soon, the thoughts of home started to dissipate from her psyche, preoccupied with the games and the twisted sense of acceptance she received from her fellow members of the Beach’s militia.

A day after Yamane’s Spade game, she received her next team assignment. She looks at her slip of paper and proceeds to look for other members. Last Boss locks eyes with her, and holds out his slip of paper. They were grouped with a couple who couldn’t get their hands off of each other in the backseat as Yamane drove. Last Boss sits next to her in the front seat, eyes occasionally wandering to her.

Yamane pretended not to notice, locking her eyes on the road.

Soon, they arrive at the game venue.

A love hotel.

As the two other Beach players walked towards the venue, Yamane leaned against the car, eyeing the neon sign. “This… this probably won't be a Spade game, huh?” she mumbles to her companion, whose mouth was slightly open.

“Ever been to a place like this before?” Yamane asks him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No.”

Yamane didn’t say anything else after that, proceeding inside the venue with Last Boss.

The signs led them to a large suite, where X-crosses are lined up. Smartwatches are laid out for the players, along with guns. Yamane and Last Boss pick up a phone, and proceed to wear the watches. On Yamane’s watch, an arrow pops up in the display, while a heart shows up on Last Boss’ watch.

As another pair gets in the room, Yamane inspects the guns, which had an arrow engraved on the handle. Her eyes flick to the restraints, and dread washes over her when she sees the heart designs in the red light.

“Please sort yourselves accordingly,” a sign on the table instructs them, and the players are done as they’re told. Last Boss went to the X-cross, which had automatic cuffs that bound his arms and legs. Yamane looks at him with slight discomfort, but he stares at her with a blank expression.

“Registration closed. There are currently six players. Difficulty: Nine of Hearts.”

The other players started to mumble amongst themselves, while Yamane’s eyes remained locked on to her fellow militant.

“Game: Desire. Rules: Arrows must take turns to confess their feelings to the Heart they find most desirable. Arrows must fire the gun at the Heart of their choice. Lying or failing to fire the gun would result in a Game Over. Time limit: five minutes.”

“Shit,” was all Yamane could say.

“First player: Daisuke Inamine.”

Yamane turns to the said player, whose tears are streaming down his face as he looks at his lover. “Shit, I can’t do this! I can’t do this,” he sobs, putting the gun down and running out of the room. A laser fired and killed him in an instant. His lover was crying and screaming, fighting against the X-cross’ restraints.

“Next player: Rina Yamada.”

Hands shaking, the other player picks up the gun, and points it at the boy she came to the venue with. “Hiro,” she starts, voice shaking. “I’ve- I’ve always liked you since middle school,” she confesses, sobs wracking her body. “I appreciate that you enjoy the bento I’d always make for you. I like how you’d always come to protect me from my bullies. I- oh god, Hiro, please, please forgive me.”

“Three minutes remaining.”

Hiro was looking at her with resignation in his eyes. “Enough, Rina. I’ve always liked you too. Please, do what you can to survive.”

Shaking, sobbing, Rina pulls the trigger, firing the gun at Hiro’s chest. She then tosses it away, covering her face as she wails.

“Next player: Minami Yamane.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #last boss x oc #takatora samura x oc #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #morizono aguni #takeru danma #hatter #oc: lilian sunohara #fanfiction #character study

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chysgoda · 4 years ago

Text

The Missing Oracle

The fourth girl to be named Minfilia steals a choice for herself.

Content Warning: discussion of child soldiers

Spoilers: Shadowbringers

Author’s Note: This hurt, alot.

She did not say anything anymore, she had not since her eighth summer. Ran’jit had watched with concern, this Minfilia’s words dried up until she only responded with curt nods or shakes of her head. She still trained but something behind the blue glow of her eyes was empty. These girls were their hope for the world. If she did not have hope how could she keep it burning? He pushed her harder, showed her that she could overcome the sin eaters. She met and overcame his every challenge, but Ran’jit could not discern what choked her voice and hollowed out her soul. She may as well have been a well crafted talos for all of the humanity she showed.

On her tenth birthday he gifted her bow. He’d commissioned it from an artisan who had escaped Vorebtire’s fall. It was a thing of subtle beauty and power. Her glowing blue eyes followed her fingers as they traced patterns inlaid in ivory and lapis lazuli. Ran’jit thought he saw something in her gaze, something like a spark of life. He opened his mouth but closed it quickly when he hear someone running toward them. Both Ran’jit and the Minfilia turned to the door as it burst open.

“There are Sineaters massing to the west!” The youth got out between heaving breaths. “There’s… there’s so many of them…”

“Then we don’t have a choice?” Ran’jit’s head snapped towards the Minfilia before his mind parsed the words she actually said. Her voice was breathy, and there was a pained tug on her lips when she finished speaking. Ran’jit stared at the blank eyes that looked back at him with only that dim flicker of something.

“She spoke,” the messenger stared down at the Minfilia. He sucked his lips between his teeth to bite at them as he took a step back. “The silent oracle spoke!”

“Get to the barracks and make sure that you are prepared for battle, boy.” Ran’jit hissed. The awed statement had strangled the spark in the Minfilia’s eyes. When he looked back after issuing his order she had turned away and was walking to the stand her armor hung on. Her lips were not just closed but deliberately pressed into a thin line. There would be no more words tonight. He turned his mind to the battle that was coming to them and left the Minfilia to finish her preparations for battle. Later there would be time to press her about her first words in two years.

~**~

She’d left her pretty bow behind. It didn’t feel right to take it when she was running away so soon after General Ran’jit had given it to her. But she needed something so she took the plain bow of a dead soldier and left her pretty one in its place, carefully folding the soldier’s arms and closing his eyes so that they didn’t think he’d tried to steal it from her. She glanced around, no one really paid attention to her after a battle. General Ran’jit would be working with Mr. Wrenden to get supplies to people who needed them, and troops back to Eulmore. The healer’s would be checking the wounded to see who could be helped, who needed to be made comfortable and who would need to be given draught they quietly referred to as the dark’s kiss. She wasn’t needed anymore, and no one would look for her for several bells. They just assumed she would be a good girl and keep herself out of the way. She slipped away disappearing into the tall grass and leaving only her pretty bow behind.

She didn’t know where she was going or how she would make her way. Anyone who saw her would identify her as the Minfilia and turn her back over to Eulmore like a misbehaving puppy. She knew she didn’t want to go back. She knew she wanted her own name like everyone else, but that was selfish and not befitting of the Minfilia. Neither was running away, but it was her choice and not a direction given to an automaton. She kept close to the cliff wall and stopped by a stream to drink. She looked at the reflection of the white leather and silk she wore. Why had they always insisted that she wear white? No one ever gave her a reason that she couldn’t wear purple like the other soldiers. White was what the Minfilia wore and that was the end of it. She left her hands in the stream and just felt the tickle of water rushing past her skin. It would be dark soon and she didn’t know anything about the world other than fighting Sineaters. There were noises that she didn’t understand and she could not sense any freezing light. She could go back, say that she had felt something and went to scout it. But then she’d just be a doll again.

Something like fire made her nerves jitter and she looked around. A few short strides away from her stood a man in heavy dark skirts and jacket. She cringed away and looked around for the best way to run. He made a gentle shushing sound and hiked his skirts up a few ilms so that he could slowly lower himself into a crouch and be closer to eye level with. He moved slowly resting his elbows on his knees and giving her a lopsided smile. “Now what shall we call you little one?”

She licked her lips and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She didn’t have a name, she was just the Minfilia or the Oracle of Light. She kept looking between the man and distant Eulmore, while straining her ears for the sound of soldiers sent to take her back. Something changed about the man’s golden eyes and for just a moment they were dull with sadness. He steepled his fingers in front of his lips like it would hide the frown. “I won’t take you back, little one.”

The corners of her lips turned down and she chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t know him but he was the first one in as long as she could remember who had not called her the Minfilia. That was nice. The man smiled and held out his white gloved hand to her. “I need a name to call you by, if you give me your hand I can give you one.”

The girl’s glowing blue eyes widened. Her own name? Was it that easy? Could he really give her a real name? Slowly she went to him with careful halting steps. He didn’t move and just held her gaze until she rested her fingertips against his. He gripped her fingers gently and bowed his head over her hand like she’d seen some of the soldiers do with their sweethearts. The girl giggled and the man’s eyes brightened just a bit. He gently turned her hand over so that he could look at her palm. “Hmmmm... how would you feel about Desdemona?”

The girl licked her lips and swallowed hard; this was something she could speak for. She didn’t think she needed to hide her voice from this man. “Des…” she frowned when her voice gave out. She swallowed and tried again. “Desdemona?”

“It rolls off the tongue nicely doesn’t it? Would you like to keep it?” The man gently lowered her hand and rested his elbows on his knees again. She nodded enthusiastically. She could keep it! She didn’t HAVE to be the Minfilia now, she could be Desdemona!

Desdemona didn’t realize she was crying until the man’s thumb wiped a tear from her cheek. “Yes, Desdemona is a fine name for you. You may call me Emet-Selch.”

Desdemona smiled and reached up to wipe away her tears quickly. She got in trouble when she cried. She swallowed again to moisten disused vocal cords, “Thank you Emet-Selch.”

“Now if you want to win free of Eulmore we’ll need to hide those eyes and that hair. If you can find me your favorite stone in the stream right here I can help with that.” Emet-Selch stated. He stood up straight and watched Desdemona eagerly search for what he had asked of her. He hated when a plan caught a child in the machinations of a rejoining. Malformed and fragmented though they were, in children he could almost see a hope for Amaurot’s return. Here at least the best thing for the rejoining was also the best thing for this child. He would send one of the lesser acolytes to find a suitable home once the child was asleep.

Desdemona came back from the stream with a bounce in her step. She held out her rock for his inspection. He took it and made a show of examining it carefully. It was just a rock, he had no idea why it had caught the child’s fancy but that was the way of children and their treasures. He looked at the child and built another image of her in his mind; sun spun golden hair dulling to mousy brown, and eyes with white sclera and dull brown irises to match the hair. A plain little wren of a girl that eyes would pass over. He wove that illusion into a spell and anchored it to the stone. Emet-Selch snapped and copper wire wrapped the stone securely and made a loop that allowed it to hang from a leather cord. He gave Desdemona a wink and smirk when he saw her eyes had gone wide and her hands were covering her gaping mouth.

“Now you must remember that this is secret magic. If you tell anyone about it the spell breaks and all will be able to see that you are the Minfilia.” Emet-Selch warned in stern tones as he held out the necklace for her. The girl nodded forcefully and took the necklace. She dropped it over her head and by the time the stone thumped against her chest the Minfilia had vanished and now there was only plain Desdemona. Emet-Selch snapped again and the bright white armor transmuted into a linen tunic and trousers.

Desdemona looked down at herself, she pulled her braided hair over her shoulder and stared. She swallowed thickly, relief and exhaustion mingling in the tears that began to spill from her eyes. She leapt forward to wrap her arms around the neck of this strange man who helped her. She buried her face in the soft fur of his coat collar and sobbed as she hugged him tightly.

Emet-Selch rocked back on his heels when he reacted to the sudden hug a beat too slowly. Carefully he held the child as he stood up. Memories from too many long lost dreams ago surfaced and he whispered reassuring nonsense while laying the gentlest of sleep spells. Desdemona feel to the spell easily, all of her energy spent in the battle and her flight from the Eulmorans. Emet-Selch pushed back memories of other children, ones he had fathered in various mortal guises, his son as Solus Vos Galvus, his niece in Amaurot. Nostalgia would not serve him here. So instead he bent his thoughts to more practical matters, and fed his hate of Hydaelyn with resentment of how often the young were caught up in this unending conflict as pawns.

Someday the world would have no need for such distasteful things. Someday the world would have no more need of heros to manipulate.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #red head writes a thing #child soldiers CW #Ran'jit #emet-selch #oracle of light #the minfilias

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

Text

Bug butt and Auntie Chloe (Ladybug and Cat noir)

As the end of the day bell rang at Françoise Dupont High School, Most students were eager to leave and go to whatever after school social lives they had. Most, but not all.

For one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, School was preferred to what awaited her after classes where let out. The teenaged girl/Superhero had been having a few..ok A LOT of accidents lately and her parents while trying to be understanding about it had gotten fed up once she went from not just wetting herself off and on to having a full blown 'uh-oh' accident in the seat of her panties.

She couldn't even explain what was going on, As it wasn't the result of a super villain or anything like that and a trip to the doctors had reported her in clear health. it was said doctor's belief and her parent's echoed it that it was just laziness on Marinette's part and she was faking they were accidents.

As such, if she wanted to act like a naughty toddler who refused to potty train she'd be treated like it, and she had been enrolled at a after school daycare that specialized in potty training. Furthermore her panties had been replaced with a mix of princess pull-ups and thick over night diapers, her parents making it clear they expected a solid week of no tinkles or uh-oh's in her undies if she wanted big girl panties back.

All of this was enough of a nightmare, going to school in pull-ups and trying to keep them hidden, but it only got worse as it turned out Chloe of all people worked at the daycare Marinette had been enrolled in.

the blond self proclaimed princess of Paris was totally delighted to find out Marinette was in the potty training program and made slight 'changes' to the rules regarding her training.

For one while Marinette was suppose to be in pull-ups during the day, Chloe made sure the second her little 'bug butt' as she nicknamed Marinette (Ironically she didn't know Marinette was lady bug, it was more in reference to the size and shape Marinette's bottom took when the bulky diaper was on) was thickly diapered and 'somehow' always seemed to be too busy to sit Marinette on the potty and when the inevitable happened would just cite the wet or messy diaper as proof that Marinette was just a silly big baby.

Since she was SO kind and dotting on Marinette when other adults were around and even when in private her words would say one think but her tone anther, Marinette couldn't prove she was being set up to fail.

Worse, when she tried to use the example that her pull-ups were mostly dry when she got to daycare in her parents minds that only proved she was using them by choice, only soiling herself when others would have to clean her.

So, when the final bell rung Marinette toyed with the idea of just running off and avoiding daycare as she gathered up her books and packed her book bag.

She was making a B-line to the side exit from the school when Chloe's voice rang out in the hall.

"And just where do you think YOUR going?" She asked.

Marinette turned around and gulped as Chloe made her way over, a frown on her perfect face as she for in front of Marinette and folded her arms. "Well little girl?"

The other students in the halls knew the tone Chloe was using and not eager to have her anger spill over, quickly left leaving it just the caretaker and the diaper girl in the halls.

"I was um.. Just heading..to daycare?" Marinette stammered out, a weak smile plastered on her face.

"Mhmm.. you know the most direct route is out the front entrance Little lady." Chloe said.

"O-Oh but it's..such a nice day out, I wanted to..enjoy..the outdoors and take the scenic route!" Marinette said, scrambling for a excuse.

"...You know you ARE right. it IS so nice out today." Chloe said and gave a smile that would of made Hawk moth flinch."In fact it's so nice I think you can play outside today, after we get you in your diapies."

the mental image of being outside in a t-shirt and her massive diaper, sitting in a sandbox as people walked by and laughed flashed in Marinette's mind and she turned crimson.

"N-no! please!" She yelped and then she did something else, a loud hiss heard in the empty hallway as she flooded her pull-up in fear.

Sadly it was already damp from a scare during chem lab where they had been a loud BANG and the inner thighs of her red pants started to turn dark red.

"Awww, Poor little Marinette sprung a widdle leak huh?" Chloe coo'ed, and patted the whimpering brunettes head. "it's ok, I won't make you play outside. come with auntie Chloe and we'll get you all cleaned up and safe and snug in your diapie bug butt."

with the stains growing and knowing she had no choice in the matter, a defeated Marinette just nodded her head and let 'auntie' lead her to daycare.

Thankfully for Marinette her wet pants were noticed thanks to a careful placement of a note book, at least till she got to the daycare where Chloe tugged the notebook away and whistled for the attention of all the other kids.

with the oldest kid after Marinette being five, giggles and chuckles broke out among the little guys and girls.

"Look everyone! Poor Marinette made her pull-up leak, who thinks she needs to give up on them and just wear her diapies alll the time? show of hands!" Chloe coo'ed.

out of the other 26 kids in the room, 18 hands shot up (the other 8 were too young to understand.)

"I..it's just..I didn't.." Marinette started to whined and whimper, tears building up in her eyes.

"Awww, it's okay." A little 4 year old girl said, coming up and hugging her leg. "Potty training is hard, but when ya finally get it you'll get big girl panties like me!"

the little girl moves to lift up her dress to show her Disney princess panties off but Chloe quickly stopped her.

"See Marinette? Goals!" Chloe said and smirked as she took hold of Marinette's hand and lead her towards the dreaded changing table.

"You don't have to enjoy this QUITE so much." Marinette grumbled, her bottom lip sticking out as she was still trying to fight back tears.

"Now now bug butt, be nice. I can always send a note home with you telling your parents how you tinkled in your pants in front of me on purpose~" Chloe said in a low evil voice, a warm smile on her face so any of the other workers would think that she was giving words of encouragement to the pants wetting teenager, pausing the pat the top of the changing table as she took the back pack away for the poor girl.

"You wouldn't!" Marinette gasped then groaned as she climbed up on the changing table, hands covering her face as her shoes were removed and Chloe started to undo the wet pants. "..Oh who am I kidding, you totally would."

"I'm glad we got that bit of nonsense out of the way. But I'll make you a deal bug butt. if you act like a happy little baby girl for me today, no fits, no huffing and NO attempts made at using the potty.. I'll keep your little leak allll to myself." Chloe offered as she tugged the pants off and tossed them in a hamper to be washed asap.

"..why would you want that? Do you LIKE wiping my poopie butt or something?" Marinette asked.

it wasn't a insult but more of a genuine question, and Chloe could tell and smirked.

"hey, you get your rocks off crapping and pissing yourself, don't judge me if I like reducing my rival for Adrien's affection to a big baby girl. besides whats your only other choice? end up coming to school tomorrow in one of your thick diapies? Personally I would find that hilarious but i doubt you will." Chloe said as she ripped the sides of the destroyed pull-up and tossed it into the diaper pail.

Marinette pictured it, there was NO way any of her pants would cover her diaper's, and one good breeze is all it would take to flash off her huggies in any of her dresses. Or even worse, if her Parents went total punishment mode and made her wear one of her short skirts, with the diaper peeking out!

shuddering from the mental image and the cold wipes being used to clean her up Marinette mewed softly and looked to the side.

"H-How..how do I act like a good little girl for you?" she asked in a low, defeated voice.

"you can start by calling me auntie." Chloe said, a smug look of victory on her face.

when Chloe had first been forced to come and work at the daycare as punishment for trying to drive her parents car, she had been convinced this was going to be the worst month of her life.

Thankfully the fates smiled down on her and gave her a way to amuse herself as she served her time in the front of nerdy Marinette being dropped off by her parents.

Learning the whole story it was just simply too delicious not to take advantage of and she toyed with maybe extending her time at the daycare as her punishment was due to end in a few days or offer a more 'one on one' effort to 'help' little Marinette conquer the potty.

Either way it was food for thought at a later point as she took out not just one of the stupid thick diapers the day care carried for older kids (to be fair, the diapers were thick then normal for any age range as the owner hated the thought of kids leaking on the plush carpet) but two of them, making use of a razor blade to slice slits in the first diaper. it was a trick she had been shown the first day as a way to deal with the super soakers and she thought it would be just perfect for a excuse to have her little nerd bug butt waddling more then usual.

the poor little nerd didn't even dare argue and actually to Chloe's delight, started to suck on her thumb as she watched. technically she could of let Marinette keep sucking on her thumb but there was always a better solution aka more humiliating. Setting the diapers down with the slit's cut in it and putting the razor in the locked compartment where it was kept in the table, Chloe tugged Marinette's thumb out of her mouth with one hand and reached into anther compartment and pulled out a cleaned and sterilized pacifier with the other.

"no no no little Bug butt. No sucking on your thumb. little girl's hands are covered in germs. here, suck on this instead." Chloe coo'ed, ironically though she wouldn't know it, popping a paci in Marinette's mouth that had a red and black ladybug theme on the mouth guard.

Marinette whined and looked ready to spit it out for a second, then a look of defeat washed over her again and she suckled loudly on her paci.

"That's a good girl!" Chloe coo'ed and tickled Marinette's chin, making the teenaged baby giggle and smile behind her paci.

with the big babies mouth full, it was time to finish getting that butt back in diapers, and with expert ease that comes from doing a task over and over again Marinette was powdered and double diapered.

'I think i would rather face powered up versions of every akuma villain I've ever taken down this put up with this.' Marinette grumbled, sucking loudly on the paci in her mouth as Chloe finished putting her diapers on.

"ok bug butt, time to go play, need help getting down?" Chloe asked, voice dripping with honey and clearly loving every second of this.

'laugh it up..next time your in danger I'm letting the akuma victim of the week torment you for a bit.' Marinette thought, sitting up with a bit of difficultly.

scooting on her butt and nothing she couldn't even get close to bring her knee's together she went to slide off of the changing table and land on her feet as usual, however the bulk and the difference in balance had other ideas.

She did land on her feet, for all of 3 seconds before her legs wobbled and she plopped down on her diapered butt, pacifier dropping out of her mouth as she let out a yelp more out of shock then any pain due to the ample cushioning her backside had.

"oh dear! Did baby fall and go boom?" Chloe asked, bring her hands together and putting them to the side of her face. "You poor little helpless thing~ Are you alright? do you need auntie to kiss your boo boo better?"

"I..Uh.." Marinette stammered and squirmed, then it clicked.

Chloe might of just said that last part to torment her, but since Marinette had just fallen on her BUTT..

"Y-yesh aunite Chloe. widdle Marinette fell on her bum bum and needs a kissy better!" Marinette said in a loud voice, getting attention from the whole room.

the look on Chloe's face said it all, she hadn't been expecting to have to follow up and with the whole room watching now the pressure was on.

Rolling over onto her hands and knees, Marinette stuck her padded rear out and wiggled it.

"A-auntie, a-aren't you gonna kiss it b-better wike you pwomised?" Marinette asked, putting a sad babyish tone to her voice that would make Chloe look like the meanest person ever if she didn't follow though.

Face turning crimson and gritting her teeth, Marinette tried not to giggle as Chloe replied.

"O-Of course I'll kiss it better sweetie. I made the offer after all." She said, then kissed her index and right fingers on her left hand and pressed them to the back of Marinette's diapered butt. "that better?" she asked.

"Noooo! you hafa us your lips or it doesn't work auntie!" Marinette 'whined' and wiggled her massive padded rump. "D-Don't you want it ta git better?"

"O-Of course I do," Chloe said, and slowly got down onto her knees, thinking of just how much she was gonna make this little bitch pay for this. "Auntie Chloe cares about all the little guys and girls under her care." She added, trying to stall for time.

'of all the days to wear lipstick.' she thought with a mental groan then closing her eyes and puckering her lips leaned in.

Marinette was waiting for the and as 'auntie' leaned in she pushed back and smushed her pampered bottom on Chloe's fart, while pushing with everything she had and letting out a muffled fart.

Sure there was gonna be hell to pay, but the memory of making Chloe kiss her ass and eat a fart was going to be Marinette's new favorite memory for a long, long time.

The end...for now

3 notes · View notes

untilmynextstory · 4 years ago

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Chapter Six: The Separation of Crows

WORD COUNT - 4K

AUTHOR NOTE: So Alma’s is going to be going through it. So please be patient while she works out all the trauma she has endured.

FIVE YEARS LATER

For the first time in years, Alma is going to fully acknowledge her ex-husband. Since their divorce things had been rocky between them. They never had fully recovered from the events that took place that led to their divorce.

They are civil when it comes to anything regarding Nathan. 99.9 % of their conversations revolve around their son. Outside of the first year of the divorce and working out the distance, they had been able to work out a schedule that didn’t hurt Nathan’s relationship with his father. Jax got their son for the summer and every holiday and Nathan stayed with her for the school year.

Alma can say she is proud that she and Jax have managed to co-parent as well as they have. She had thought it would be harder. She expected so much resistance. Yet, Jax has been over generous through the years and she knows he is overcompensating for the guilt he still feels.

She feels bad that she and Jax have turned into strangers.

She knows exactly when it happened.

Wendy had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. After getting the paternity test, it turned out Jax was not the father. She had been happy for Jax if that made any sense. She knows that he thought it could be the start in mending things. Instead it just brought up old wounds as it didn’t change that he had slept with another woman, one of many, who could've been pregnant with his child. That had thrown Alma down a spiral she had managed to avoid and after that short and clipped phone call. She had a night out in the town where she met Vitaly Petrova. The man that would become her husband.

She knows the only reason Jax came to the wedding was because of Nathan. He would have his boy for a month while she and Vitaly went on their honeymoon. Since her wedding night, any type of thread they had on a relationship evaporated. Jax created a bigger distance she couldn’t even begin to build a bridge too. She knows she is at fault considering what exactly conspired between the two on her wedding night.

She knows he is going to have questions. It’s been 2 years since she has been back to Charming. She only made a trip to Opie’s homecoming party. When Nathan comes to stay with his dad, she and Jax always meet halfway.

She knows Nathan is going to be mad, but she is doing what is best for him. That is her job as her mother. What hurts is having to follow the familiar route to hers and Jax’s first home. Nathan had mentioned in passing that Jax found the second house too big - too empty. The house is for Nathan when he is older and wants to come back to Charming.

Nothing really has changed except for the vines that are overtaking the exterior. She finds Jax outside restoring a bike. He looks shocked to see her as Nathan isn’t due to visit until June for the summer. It’s May.

Alma makes note in the changes of her ex-husband though. He had chopped off all his hair. He has a close cropped shave and it seems he has added at least 15 pounds in muscles since the last time she saw him.

He doesn’t show any reaction to her showing up unannounced. He never shows any reaction towards her anymore. His eyes scan her car before her appearance. She isn’t all dolled up as she usually is. Her now blonde hair is in a sloppy bun and she is wearing a simple red summer dress.

“Hey, Jax,” she greets.

He doesn’t say anything as he begins wiping his hands off with a rag.

“Everything okay with Nathan?” He asks.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

Jax raises his eyebrow. “If it were, you wouldn't be here in Charming unannounced.”

“I wanted to talk about changing Nathan’s visiting schedule.”

Jax nods his head. “You and the Russian going on vacation?” That was another thing. Jax never referred to Vitaly by his name. Just the Russian. She knows Jax hates her husband for many reasons and now she is potentially creating another one.

“Actually, I was thinking Nathan should start high school in Charming. I want him to come back living here.”

“What?” Her ex-husband replies visibly confused.

“I think with high school, it may be best for him to be with you. I know the visitation...it’s hard for you.”

Jax sighs. “He wanted to be with you, Al. It’s hard, but it’s not like I don’t see him. We talk almost every day.”

“I just want to do this for you.”

Jax stares at her directly in her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Alma hides the panic. She has gotten good at lying in the past three years. She knows she is risking a lot by not hiding her eyes with sunglasses, but it would put Jax on even more of an alert.

“Everything is okay, Jax.” She assures him.

Jax doesn’t press. He folds his arms across his chest. “I mean it’s not like I am going to have a problem with my son wanting to live with me.”

Alma smiles and some tension leaves her body. “I already completed the paperwork and I enrolled him at Aquinas Academy.”

“That Catholic school in Stockton? That place is expensive as shit.” Jax exclaims.

“We always planned to send the kids there Jax. Did you forget I went there? We get a discount.”

A fond smile comes across his face. “Trust me, darlin’, I did not forget you in that skirt they passed as a uniform.”

Alma rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the smile that comes across her face. It’s nice to be talking to Jax like this without any tension. Although it makes the heartache worse because she misses him. She never stopped despite all the heartache he put her through. She knows that makes her stupid.

“I already ordered him a couple uniforms too.”

“Jesus, Al, let me pay for something. I know the Russian has money, but Christ, Nathan is my son.” Jax says with more bite than intended.

“I didn’t use any of his money, Jax. I never do with things for Nathan and I’m sure you know that considering you make it a point to send child support checks I never ask for.” Alma constantly rolls her eyes at the money Jax sends her on a monthly basis. Of course it all goes directly to Nathan, but she knows the excessive amount Jax puts in is for her as well. With the money, she has been teaching Nathan about budgeting and she makes sure he isn’t always buying outlandish things. “Besides, I have my own money.”

Jax lips tug up. “How is your shop? Mom liked the nails you sent in for her to try.”

A bright smile comes over her face any time anyone asks about her nail salon. Two years ago she started Picassos. She started a small online shop for press or glue on nails and after getting the necessary paperwork and certifications, she was able to open her own salon and it has done exceptionally well. In fact, her online store constantly keeps her busy.

“It’s going so well. I’m thinking of expanding.”

“Yeah. Have any spaces picked out?”

A blush taints her cheeks for some reason. “I’m actually thinking of opening a spot here. I am supposed to meet with Hale about potential spaces especially since Nathan will be here now.”

Jax presses his lips together. She can tell he is thinking hard. He is trying to understand what is going on around him. He closes the distance between them. His hand comes up and grips her chin forcing her to look at him. She hates how a simple touch from him causes goosebumps to erupt across her flesh.

“I know I was shit husband -”

“You weren’t,” she interrupts foolishly. Sure, at the end he was, but in the beginning, she can’t find herself tainting the image of the man she had hopelessly been in love with.

A strained smile reaches Jax’s lip. “...still despite what happened between us. You can still come to me if you need my help.”

“Jax, I’m fine. Everything is okay.” She places her hand over his and squeezes it before removing his hand from her face. “I’ll see you next month.”

She doesn’t let Jax get another word back in as she rushes back to her car.

Alma had to plan it meticulously. Vitaly is always busiest it seems between May and until the end of June. It’s then he makes his visits to other states or countries for things. Then in July, he would spoil her with a trip someplace. She knows this summer will not be an easy one. Most importantly, she feels bad for having to deceive her son.

She looks at her oldest, as he gets older, she thought he would take after his father more. She had been surprised how much he resembles her physically. From the brown hair and she even finds some of her mannerisms in him. However, his eyes are his father’s eyes. Those blue orbs are a carbon copy of his father’s and he also seems to have inherited his father’s brain when it comes to things that aren’t particularly suited for the interests of 14 year olds. She has gotten too many phone calls about her son setting up candy stores trying to make a buck at school.

Despite his lukewarm relationship with Vitaly, she knows Nathan does enjoy spending time learning the business side of the wine industry. Nathan has expressed an interest in going to school for business. She had been pleasantly surprised that her son showed an interest in college. She had been convinced her son would move back to Charming at 18 and join the club. Although she might be changing the course of his life by moving him to Charming.

“What do you mean I’m moving with Dad?” Nathan asks as he packed what he believed to be his summer bag to his father’s. He only brings simple things like a book, movies, and games. Maybe a sweatshirt he is particularly fond of. Usually the first day he is back in Charming, his dad takes him shopping for new clothes and things he needs if he outgrown some things. It also helped that he didn’t need to lug around a suitcase and deal with unpacking.

“I enrolled you at Aquinas Academy for high school. So now for holidays you’ll come here. I thought it might be best for you to spend your teenage years with your dad.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?” Nathan asks.

“If you really hate Charming that much, you can come back here of course. I think it would be best. I mean I got you for all these years. I think you and your dad would love this.”

“Does Vitaly know?”

“It doesn’t matter. When it comes to you, the final decision is between me and your father.” His mother deflects.

Nathan straightens his back. He doesn’t like that answer. The thing was being young Nathan didn’t see the warning signs, or maybe Vitaly was good at hiding them. He can also say he had come to a point where he hated his father for the pain he inflicted on his mother. Vitaly didn’t seem to be wrong for his mother. He was spoiling his mother with gifts and seemed like he wanted to form a friendship with him. Now, he thinks Vitaly just knew how to prey on his mother. She was emotionally vulnerable and he dove like a crow.

He thinks it was almost a year into his mother's marriage something felt off between his mom and Vitaly.

The problem is he never sees anything. Sure, there are some raised voices and he does check his mom over for marks, but there is no evidence.

There are times when he wants to mention something to his dad. He just is scared of his dad’s reaction and what could happen to his mom. His dad doesn’t like Vitaly as is and he knows his dad might do something reckless. Knows the club could get into trouble if his dad did do something.

Although his main concern is his mother, he has researched a little on domestic violence and he needs to be sure she is safe.

“Mom, I can’t leave you alone.” Nathan settles on.

“I won’t be. I have the salon keeping me busy.” She answers.

Nathan wants to scream and shout, but he doesn’t. He is a teeanger and he needs to be smart about this. Just maybe his mom does have a plan if she is sending him back to Charming. It doesn’t ease his worries though.

“You’re gonna come to visit at least on the first day of school?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Alma didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s always hard when her baby leaves for the summer. She misses him terribly and Nathan’s absence is always felt. Now though she can’t stop crying as she holds him to send him off with his father.

“Christ, Mom,” Nathan says as she smothers him in kisses as she has to stand on her tippy toes a bit.

She can hear Jax chuckle in the background.

She pulls back, “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

“I can see that.”

“Oh stop,” Alma says.

“I’m just going to be with Dad. It’s not like I’m moving to another country.”

Alma gives her son another hug. “I’ll miss you, baby.”

Nathan’s arms wrap around her tightly and they hold each other. Her baby is growing up. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.”

Alma pulls back and watches as Nathan makes his way to Jax’s truck. Jax is leaning against his grill with a somber expression. He walks over to her, “You sure about this?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in town for a couple weeks in August to see him start school.” She tells him. She wraps her arms around herself. “Just take care of him, Jax. He’s the only thing I have left.”

Jax nods his head. His eyes scan her over, “I’ll see you in August.”

The ride to Charming was quiet. Jax expected it to be considering how Alma clearly was distraught with Nathan moving in with him. Jax reminds himself that Alma wanted this and he was happy to have his son full time. Yet, since she popped up unexpectedly last month, he felt something was off. He was missing something from this. Sure, he had his suspicions. He made the mistakes once of making an offhand comment to Clay about it. The guys would usually ignore his comments about the Russian and write it off as jealousy. Yet, Clay had looked at him and made the pointed reminder that Alma wasn’t his wife or old lady. Her marriage wasn’t his business. Also if he did something the blow back wouldn’t not only hurt Alma and Nathan, but the club would suffer.

Sometimes, Jax wanted to ask Nathan if he had worries or issues with Vitaly. He just didn’t want to put his son in that position. If there was a truth to any suspicions of wrongdoing, Jax would murder Vitaly without any hesitation.

He just doesn’t know how to handle the fact he pushed Alma into this situation. He fucked up and she landed into this assholes lap.

“We’re going to Grandma’s?” Nathan asks when they don’t take the turn to the house.

“Her grandbaby is moving back to Charming. She made a whole spread for you.” Jax informs him.

Gemma had been ecstatic when he told her Alma was sending Nathan to move in with him permanently. Since Alma married the Russian, their relationship had turned frosty. He knows his mom thought a reconciliation would happen and he thinks it's safe to say they were both blindsided when she announced she was getting married.

His mother didn’t like the Russian either, but for other reasons. Jax thinks he is the only one that believes Alma’s marriage isn’t what it seems. He thinks it may be time to talk to Opie because he might get clarity from him, but even then it doesn’t change the fact Alma isn’t his old lady or wife.

“You think she’ll be nicer to mom now?”

Jax raises an eyebrow. “Who knows with your grandmother. How’s Ann doing?”

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “Somewhere with her boyfriend. I don’t know. She and mom don’t talk much anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everytime they would talk, Ann would say something bad about you and praise Vitaly. It would lead to arguments. So mom stopped checking in unless she felt I needed to talk to her, which I don't.”

Jax snorts. “Unbelievable. How is the Russian?” He asks with clear distaste.

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “On a business trip, I guess.” Nathan taps his fingers against his knees. “I just wish my mom wasn’t going to be alone in the house.”

“You worried for her.”

“It’s just been me and her, ya know. After Ben and Kaylee...I always worry.” Nathan reveals.

Jax fights the ball in his throat at the mention of his two youngest. His chest still tightens thinking about them and what their futures could’ve been.

“She and the Russian don’t want kids?” He asks. He tries not to think about Alma sharing a bed with that man, but he has been mentally preparing for the pregnancy announcement any day now.

“Vitaly doesn’t like kids.”

“What!” Jax exclaims, shocked.

“That’s what he told me.”

“What? When?” Jax inquires.

“It was a little bit after when they got married. One of the workers at the winery had a baby. He told me I didn’t need to worry about getting another sibling. He wasn’t fond of kids, especially babies.”

“Your mom knows this?”

Nathan furrows his brow. “I would imagine. It’s not like I really want to talk about mom’s sex life, Dad. Gross.”

“How do you think you got here?”

Nathan’s nose scrunches up. “Disgusting.”

“Speaking of sex, don’t think you are living with me you can be sneaking girls over. Your mom will kill me if you get a girl pregnant.” Jax warns. “You do know how to use a condom?”

“Ugh, yes, Dad. Mom showed me.”

“When?”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well you are getting a refresher and I’ll take you shopping, or did your mom already take you?”

Nathan’s cheeks are red at this point. “No, Mom said she’ll save the shopping for you.”

“Look at that, your mom thinks of everything.” Jax says as he pulls into Gemma’s driveway. He turns the truck off. “I’ll give you a few minutes to call your mom and tell her that you're here, alright.”

Nathan nods his head and Jax slips out of the truck. He walks into his mother’s house. He almost jumps as the door is swung open. His mother is on the opposite side of him. She looks behind him. “Where is my grandson?”

“Calling Alma real quick to tell her we made it.” He answers as he walks into the house.

“Well?” Gemma presses.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you excited? You’ve been mopey since Alma gave you the good news. It’s about time she came to her senses about the boy needing to be with his father.” Gemma adds.

“Ma,” Jax warns.

Gemma presses her lips together. “You should be happy.”

“I am.”

“She’s not your concern anymore, Jax.”

“She is still family, Ma.” Jax answers. “She’s the mother of my children. She is always going to be a concern.”

...

Alma has been nervous for this day. She is in the sitting living room by the tall windows as she looks out into their backyard. Vitaly is returning from his business trip. She can hear his footsteps approaching. She watches as he waves off his security to give them privacy.

Vitaly is a handsome man. Tall and lean, his dirty blonde hair is slicked back and parted on the side, and it seems in the month he has grown out a mustache. When they first met, she wasn’t really impressed with him. Or at the time, he shared some similarities with her ex husband with the long hair and baggy shirts and jeans. But Vitaly’s sense of style has matured to silk buttons up and slacks. Expensive shoes and diamond jewelry. Despite having a legitimate winery with vast distribution, he has ties to the Russian Mafia. His uncle is Viktor Putlova, the head of the Mafia.

Alma had been hesitant to be involved with someone in the Life again, but she was swept up by Vitaly. Also it helped that the Sons rarely do business dealings with the Russians.

She took the risk.

“Hey, baby,” he greets and gives her a kiss before sitting next to her.

“How was the trip?”

“Too long. Just wanted to come home,” he tells her as he puts an arm around her shoulder.

“Nathan already gone?”

Alma swallows the ball in her throat. “Yeah. Dropped him off last night.”

“When is he coming back?”

“He...uh...he is going to be actually staying in Charming. He is going to live with Jax.” She informs him.

Vitaly freezes. “When was this decided?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you are only telling me now?”

Alma doesn’t say anything.

“Answer me.” Vitaly barks.

“He is starting high school. I thought it was best he was with his dad. They both miss each other.” Alma rushes out.

“You couldn’t tell me this over the phone. You went behind my back.” Vitaly points out. “When did you tell, Jax?”

“May.”

“Over the phone.” Vitaly inquires.

Alma shakes her head.

Even though she is prepared for it, it still manages to take her by surprise when Vitaly grabs her by her throat. He squeezes hard as he chokes her. She begins to feel light headed and white spots are forming in her eyes.

She coughs as he throws her to the floor.

“Jesus, fuck, Alma!” Vitaly shouts. “Get to the fucking room.” She can hear him unbuckling his belt.

She used to think she was in love with Vitaly. Maybe a part of her was, but all she knows that her heart was already broken once so it can’t be broken again.

TWO YEARS AGO - The Wedding

Alma never imagined getting married again. In fact, she thought she was done with marriage. She had no desire in making vows with another man. Yet, look at her now. She is only in her peach colored robe and the fancy lingerie set she bought for her soon to be husband. She had just finished her makeup when she began to feel overwhelmed.

Her mom sensed that she needed some space. She didn’t remember feeling nervous when she married Jax, but then again she already had a kid. Marriage paled in comparison to that.

She is just worried she is making a mistake. Her choices affect her son. She and Vitaly could be together without the attachment of marriage. She wonders if it is normal to feel scared. She knows she sure as hell doesn't feel happy at the moment.

Thinking on it, Alma didn’t have much say in the wedding planning. Her mom had taken over everything for her.

A knock comes at the door.

“One minute.” She replies.

It’s quiet, but the knock comes again. She sighs and storms to the door. “I said one -” Her voice dies as she finds Jax on the other side of the door.

He rushes into the room. Alma closes the door. She knows the only reason he is here is because of Nathan. Immediately after the wedding festivities Jax is going to take Nathan while they are on their honeymoon.

She doesn’t get to question him as to why he is here because he beats her to it.

“Please do not do this,” he pleads.

Alma rolls her eyes. She walks back over to her vanity. “You did this. You ended us.”

“Alma, please, I’m sorry...there has to be something -”

“You’ve done enough.” She informs him bluntly.

It goes quiet in the dressing room. Alma busies herself by playing with random items on her vanity, but it doesn’t conceal that her hands are shaking.

She hears Jax footsteps behind her before his chest is against her back. Alma freezes. She turns immediately to slap him for even crossing that physical boundary.

Yet as soon as she turns, Jax hoists her up on the vanity and immediately spreads her legs to stand between them. His movements were rough and desperate as he immediately removed her robe leaving her in her peach colored lingerie.

His fingers wrapped around her throat and he moved her closer as he applied the smallest of pressure and pressed his lips against hers.

She was distracted by Jax kissing hers that she jumps slightly in surprise when she feels his fingers move her panties to the side and tease her opening. He didn’t thrust them inside of her, but kept circling them making her buck her hips up on the counter.

“Jax,” she moans.

She hears him unzipping his pants and her panties are pushed to the side again and he slams himself inside of her.

Alma screams are muffled as Jax moves the hand around her neck to cover her mouth. Her walls constrict around him as her body gets adjusted to him. She hates to even admit that she missed this side of Jax. She missed him.

Jax moves his hand back to her throat as he presses another rough kiss to her mouth. He pulls all the way out before snapping his hips back up into hers. Alma bites her lip to stifle her moans as each thrust is harder than before.

She knows what Jax is doing. She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She shouldn’t be doing this at all. But she tightens around him.

Jax releases a broken moan, “Christ, you feel so fucking perfect.”

Jax lifts her leg and he hits her G-Spot repeatedly. It triggers her orgasm unexpectedly. Her body quivers and a lewd moan leaves Jax mouth as he releases. She can feel him coating her walls. He trails kisses across her collarbone and throat before he meets her lips.

She can feel the tears building in her eyes. She thinks she truly hates Jax and herself at this moment. Jax pulls back when he feels the first drop of liquid against his cheeks.

Alma winces as he pulls out of her. She ignores his cum dripping out of her and staining her panties. She is lucky she brought another set of lingerie as she couldn’t decide.

“I hate you.” She tells him. She doesn’t glance at him as he cleans up. She has barely tied her robe back together and Jax has just buckled his belt when the door slams open revealing her mother.

Ann doesn’t say anything as she glares at Jax, who walks out without a glance back.

Alma turns as she looks for the other set of lingerie.

“Is it out of your system?” Ann asks.

Alma nods her head.

#the unknown #soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x oc

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coraxaviary · 5 years ago

Text

Sister-in-Arms | CHAPTER 1: Toccoa, GA

(Part I, Run the Gauntlet)

Summary: June arrives at Camp Toccoa.

Word Count: 5.8K

AO3 | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Author’s Note: Welcome to my main fic. This is the start of a long journey. I am proud of this fic, and I hope you like it. If you have any questions, refer to my first post or shoot me a question. Once I get about five chapters out, I’ll start posting on AO3.

Warnings: None

Taglist: @keoghans @papercinders (ask to be added)

June Hazel Diedtrich stood at the depot in Toccoa, Georgia, wondering how she’d gotten there so soon.

Cars rushed by; buses passed and young men crowded the corners of the plaza, supply trucks being loaded and unloaded. More than a few men in uniform were about the area, their jackets and pants creased and tucked, berets cocked at a slight angle. The town was rushed, hot, and dusty, but bursting at the seams with a dynamic energy: the energy of hope, and dually the uncomfortable undercurrent of lingering expectation.

Most of the men would eventually ship out. Maybe it would be months, or even years. But it was going to happen, and with combat came the unavoidable reality of pain and death that were the bounty of war.

June gripped the handles of her suitcase tighter, eyeing the military men, most her age or only slightly older. They looked energetic and diligent. Spirits were high. And yet the feeling of a held breath remained.

Such was the nature of a nation at war. The Japanese had made sure of that.

June took a deep breath of the Southern air, the dry smell of red dust drifting from the ground. A few pigeons pecked errantly at the dirt, and some flock birds chittered overhead from rooftop to rooftop. A car horn honked; someone shouted in return. Boxes and crates knocked together.

She craned her head, looking for a taxi. She didn’t expect many: Toccoa was a sort of backwater area except for the military presence that brought in a lot of soldiers and trucked-in supplies. She’d have to wait for the bus.

Some other women milled about. June figured at least some of them might know the bus schedule, and she approached one woman dressed similarly to her – in a light cotton shirt and a knee-length skirt – and cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know the bus schedule?” June asked, already feeling lost in the new environment.

The other woman turned around. She was blonde, tall, and her red lips curved into a pleasant expression.

“Sure. There’s a bus coming in a few minutes, heading out to the base,” she said with a mildly Southern twang. “Where are you headed?”

June exhaled, relieved that there was a bus. “I’m trying to get to the base, too.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, um…” she trailed off.

“June. June Diedtrich,” June supplied.

“Nice to meet you, June. I’m Bea,” she responded cheerily.

“Likewise,” June said, adjusting her sliding grip on her suitcase handle as her palms started to sweat in the hot Georgia air.

“You know, it’s always nice to see a new face around here,” Bea said, smoothing down a piece of hair that had come free from its pin. “Sometimes it gets a little old seeing the same few people.” She glanced quickly at June, and added, “Working up at the base is nice and rewarding, because we’re helping the war effort. Never bad work, I’ll assure you.”

June breathed a brief laugh. “I’m sure it’s that way,” she said, not sure how to relate to the woman who most likely assumed June was there for secretary work. “Good all the same.”

“I wouldn’t want to scare you off on your first day,” Bea said. “Typing isn’t bad overall.”

June watched Bea’s face, careful not to encourage any new questions about her position. She was sure it was coming, though, and she prepared for how to answer inquiries about the place she was stationed. Bea was going to ask sooner or later.

“Are you a typist?” Bea asked innocently, and June straightened, breathing deeply.

“No, I’m not,” she said, not sure how to respond. “I’m not working in the office.”

Bea looked at her curiously. “Nurse? I didn’t take you for the nursing type, but I suppose we could take on more nurses. The men are always getting injured out there, God knows how.”

June looked at Bea, careful not to interrupt, trying to find a way to explain that no, she was not going to be a nurse. She was not going to shuttle papers, pound a typewriter, or drive jeeps – half of which women were rarely permitted to do. She would not be a WAC or a WASP or a WAVES woman or another ridiculous acronym, though God knew they were needed too.

Bea kept talking, and June took that as a good sign.

“... last week, another one came in with a broken leg. And that was after he’d been denying that he needed to get it fixed, can you believe it? The nurses down at the aid station must get at least three sprained ankles a day, the way it would seem.” June understood then that Bea was an avid talker. “There ain’t much scrapping, between the boys, you know, but there are some mysterious injuries that the nurses gotta figure out. Gosh, how does a guy get all those bruises?” she finished, looking to June for some kind of acknowledgement.

June coughed into her sleeve hollowly, to stall for time, and then got out a weak, “I wouldn’t know.” Which wasn’t exactly true because James taught her to sock a guy in the eye – and knee a guy in the balls – but June didn’t know a broken arm from a dislocated elbow. “I’m not a nurse,” she said.

“Oh, then where are you? Do you drive?” Bea asked, clearly confused. “Have you not been assigned yet? Because then I’d think you’d just be a typist like me,” she said nonchalantly. She picked a fold out of her skirt and let it fall back against her legs. “Do you know yet?” she asked, blue eyes searching June’s face.

“I’m―” June started, when the bus pulled in, in front of the depot. She glanced at Bea. “It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated,” she said brightly. “My dad is a biology professor down at Emory.” The bus came and the women began filing inside one at a time. “I mean, he talks about very complicated things,” she said, connecting her anecdote to the conversation. “You can tell me once we’re seated.”

June stood in line with Bea, trying to come up with a way to explain. Despite her preparation for Toccoa, both mentally and physically, June somehow neglected to prepare a predetermined statement on why she was there. She’d glossed over it, probably assuming that she’d just be inducted into the barracks fairly quickly without much prelude. With the road to Toccoa looming in front of her, June was forced to reconsider how optimistic that thought had been.

She moved through the bus silently, sitting down mutely beside Bea, and when all the women were on, the bus started to drive down the road. June felt more than a few curious looks to her, the newcomer.

“Well,” June started. Bea looked at her expectantly. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, betraying a little frustration on her face.

“Aw, honey, are you trying to get a job near a husband or something? I hadn’t pegged you for the already-married type, but with a face like that, I’d be married outta school too,” Bea said.

“I’m here to join the Army,” June said quietly.

Bea looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, girl, but the Women’s Army Corps doesn’t have much of a presence at camp, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Bea shifted, placing her bag on her lap. “You sure you’re in the right place?”

June pressed her lips together. “Mm, no. Not the WAC. The Army. The Paratroopers, to be exact.” The truth, she found, was best in some situations.

Bea squinted, trying to make sense of the statement. “You’re stationed with the Paratroopers? What, writing papers?” She half-laughed, expecting something out of June.

June cringed internally. “No, I’m going to be billeted with the men, training. Basic training. At least, that’s the plan. After that, I’m trying to become a combat paratrooper.” It was hard for June to say at this point for some reason, but she pushed out the words with diligence, as if putting them out into the world for the first time would make them more true. Her future had never seemed more remote, though. She wished she could explain more, but the words didn't exist. It was a simple statement. “It’s the plan,” she ended, not knowing what else to say. One shoulder lifted in a shrug.

Bea blinked at her, and leaned back in her seat with eyebrows knitted together for a few long seconds.

June looked concernedly at Bea, trying to gauge her reaction. Damn, if everyone reacted this way, June was going to have a hard year. Even worse, June realized, if she had this hard of a time telling people why she was here, it would be even harder than she expected.

Pale grass blurred under the blue sky outside the windows. Sparse fences passed by, and then the rare supply truck or car. A tree appeared every moment or two, and June watched it all flow together after some time trying to clamp onto the image of the clouds or the birds. It was better to just watch from afar and see the colors blend.

“So, you want to do a man’s job?” Bea said slowly.

June nodded.

Bea failed to say something multiple times, starting and stopping before settling on a phrase. “Why?” she got out.

June saw confusion in Bea’s eyes. She searched for judgement, but there was none yet, mercifully so.

“I want to make something of myself.”

That was what June’s father and younger brother had said when she was admitted into West Point. She was making something of herself, they’d said, and June took the phrase to heart. She was doing it alone, herself, and for her only. It turned into a mantra. She’d made something of herself yet: a girl from an apartment above a small grocery, smack-dab in the middle of the middle class, vying for a spot among the political and the academia. This time, she was aiming for a spot that many men didn’t even achieve. The paratroopers had one of the highest wash-out rates in the nation. She’d make it, just like she made it to West Point and out in three years. She’d do it, and make something of herself.

She’d do it, and maybe die trying.

Bea shifted somewhat uncomfortably, fiddling with her hands in her lap. June looked out the window, not as fidgety as before she’d explained, but still pulling at her fingers incessantly.

“Why didn’t you want to be a WAC? It’s safer. As a woman, you know, you should be doing more appropriate things. The men fight. And we do our own fighting away from the front lines, but it’s just not holding a gun.” Bea’s voice was starting to rise in indignation.

June looked down, then decided to straighten and face Bea. This was June’s decision, and it had been approved by the military. She was going regardless of what Bea thought.

“How is this even possible?” spluttered Bea, in disbelief. “Who let you? And why do you feel the need to–to do something like this?”

June sighed, fearing the reaction. “I sent correspondences to the military base and some other branches. I got support from my local politicians. I suppose the West Point degree didn’t hurt,” she said, trying for some levity.

Bea still looked concerned and scandalized. “West Point? You don’t mean–” Bea looked intently at June’s face. “You don’t mean you’re one of them?”

“The graduates this year?” June offered, neutrally.

Bea nodded, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, I graduated with the class of ‘42. This month of June, actually.”

Bea wore the same expression on her face, half confused and half dismayed. June told herself that minds changed slowly. People like Bea were in the majority. Most Americans found any challenge to their status-quo unbearable. She was just like June’s mother when she’d been admitted.

And because Mom was against it, so was Sharon.

June had a very distinct memory of Sharon trying to talk her out of it.

“Mom doesn’t like it, you know,” she’d said, a frown on her face. “She says it’s ridiculous. Just go to University of California or something. You wouldn’t even have to go that far.”

June told herself that she’d consider Cal. Her family had even visited – many of the young people from their area went there and it seemed like a natural progression for a girl like June. She didn’t like it – not because of the area or the attitude emanating from the school, but because for some reason, she’d already had her heart set on West Point. Assuming she got in.

When June left for West Point, Mom cried and Sharon grudgingly gave her a hug. She left with a pit in her stomach. Leaving for Toccoa had created a similar reaction.

“Stay safe,” her mother had said, probably hoping Toccoa would refuse June from the start, despite their promise in the letter to consider June’s military-style education. Sharon probably thought June would wash out. It was an elite division with high drop-out rates, after all. Paratroopers.

Paratroopers. The word was unfamiliar and sounded wrong. She figured the concept of dropping from the sky was in itself, wrong. Humans had figured out how to fly close to the sun and now they were falling voluntarily, too.

June wasn’t really sure she could do it. This wasn’t West Point, where intellectual and memorization skills could supplement your success if your other scores were lacking. This was the Army. It was physical. It was about survival and combat. She couldn’t just be there, passive, and study at night to play catch-up. She had to take her future into her own hands, once again.

It didn’t matter if she thought she could do it. It only mattered if she did it.

And here she was, having a hard time explaining her situation to an amateur typist, God forbid her struggle when she got up to base.

June checked her watch. They were going to get there soon.

Bea looked into June’s eyes suddenly. “I knew I saw you somewhere else. The newspapers…” she muttered, looking as if she didn’t know what else to say despite being full of questions.

“I know it would be a lot less audacious of me to just stay on the home front.” June said, waiting for the storm. “That’s what people have already told me. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Bea furrowed her eyebrows again, taking in the grass and trees out the window. “No,” she said quietly, suddenly uncharacteristic. “No, I won’t say that.” She sat in silence for a while, and something came up on the horizon: a peaked hill, poking up from the trees and bushes, ringed with clouds and sitting against a blue sky. “Times are changing,” she said, shifting to look once again back at June. “You seem like a nice girl. I don’t think you’ll make it. You’ll drop out in a week or two, tops,” she said, shrugging, then paused. “But in the instance that you somehow make it, you’ll have done a great thing, female or not.”

June didn’t know what to say. No one had said anything like that to her. Be it with wonder or disgust, people who knew her story would always look at her with a sort of alien strangeness.

The bus was entering the base, and gates loomed in front of them. Wooden structures started to appear along the path, and men became more and more common along the path. The bus finally broke through the fading trees and the base was spread out before them: half paved, half dirt, with wood and brush and trucks everywhere. And the sheer volume of young men, all in uniform, all making their way to a specific destination. Each soldier here was here to train.

June intended to become just like the men.

She’d almost forgotten about Bea beside her, and there was a brief touch on June’s hand as Bea got up to walk towards the front of the bus.

“Wait,” June said. Bea turned around, expression unreadable. June couldn’t figure out whether Bea had concluded that she disliked her, but it didn’t matter. “I’ll see you,” she decided to say, the statement impersonal but not too remote, because in the back of her mind, June genuinely hoped she’d see Bea around base. She’d soon have no friends and have to start all over.

Bea gave her a half-smile. “You’ll know where to find me.”

And with that, June was the last woman on the bus. She made her way out in a daze, memorizing the leather of the seats with her fingers as she stepped out into the hot sun, the sounds of the base flowing over her.

June stared up at the sky, trying to gather her thoughts. She was here to be like the other men. A girl named June couldn’t make this trip to the finish, unscathed. But maybe a soldier named Diedtrich could.

She was here to fight, to learn to kill the enemy – to advance the mission of democracy throughout the quickly darkening age. The task of the U.S. Army was something huge and something glorious.

If June’s nation was embarking on the greatest mission of faith and attrition on God’s good world, she wanted in. She wanted in, bad.

And here she was, with the hardest part far ahead.

♤

She found herself gawking at the place. The other women scattered quickly after leaving the bus, reporting for their jobs in various directions. June was left standing in the dust, taking in the huge hill rising above the camp, drowning in blue sky and flanked by hastily built wooden buildings.

A few groups of men – platoons – jogged past, running around the base. The pop-bang of rifle fire drifted distantly from somewhere to June’s north. Some yelling voices floated over the din of engines and footsteps.

A man came walking briskly out from a corner of one of the offices, in his service greens. He immediately spotted June and made a beeline towards her, dodging a passing truck. He came closer, and June noted the triple chevron on his shoulder and kept a smile to herself, preparation already paying off. Sergeant, she thought. He was dark blonde, of medium build, and tall. As he arrived in front of her, he slowed.

“Sergeant John Coates,” he said, extending a hand to her. June took it and gave a firm handshake.

After a moment of indecision, June decided in a beat to introduce herself the civilian way. “June Diedtrich, sir,” she said with a smile.

He nodded, already leaning around to take June’s suitcase. She pulled away. “That’s not necessary, but thank you,” she said hastily.

“Alright,” he said brightly, not looking put off. “I’m going to take you to Colonel Sink.” He turned away, starting up a cement path pointing away from the road.

June hauled her suitcase along, switching hands, and followed quickly after the Sergeant. Her heels clacked noticeably against the ground as she picked up speed in comparison to Coates’s boots. They were jump boots: the pride of parachutists and the envy of non-paratrooper infantrymen. June tore her eyes from Coates’s uniform when he spoke, suddenly aware that she was staring.

“So, you’re here to join the Army,” Coates commented, from a few paces ahead. June blinked in surprise. She figured no one would know other than Sink and some upper-division ranking officers. There was no way to tell, except for her suitcase, which wasn’t really an obvious indicator in itself.

“Yes, I am, sir,” June said.

“Interesting thing, a woman wanting to fight and all,” he said, voice curiously devoid of judgement. People always had to comment on the idea, and June expected nothing less of Coates, even if he seemed courteous at first glance.

“I think so, sir,” she responded cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always did. People always had something to say about her outlandish ideas.

The two were passed by another jogging platoon in silence. June felt the weight of their curious stares, probably sizing her up as another new nurse or secretary to try and take out to the movies.

More buildings passed. June looked out over the field to her right, a large expanse of flat green grass, which had a primitive track lining the perimeter, and forest beyond that, fading into a gradient of thin trees and ground cover. There were rows upon rows of barracks between her and the field – wooden row houses, long and narrow with square windows and thin walls. Some of them were covered with tarp fittings over the roofs and sides. June thought of winter in those poorly-insulated boxes and wondered how the men stayed warm.

“Look, I just want to tell you one thing before you go in,” Coates said suddenly, rounding a corner and facing her. June straightened again. “Colonel Sink may have let you in, but he’s not a nice man,” Coates said, looking slightly down at June, who was a good deal shorter. His tone was not harsh, but it seemed to be genuinely honest. “You’re here for a unique reason. I know that you are aware you will have to prove yourself more than any other man here.”

June looked seriously at him. “I know, sir. You have no idea how well I know.” She immediately reconsidered her statement. Was it too disrespectful? She searched his face. He didn’t look particularly upset. She told herself not to push it.

He nodded, looking at her sidelong without malice. “You will know if you didn’t before,” he said lowly. “I don’t envy your position, Private.”

June looked up, startled. This was the first time she’d been acknowledged as a military person, let alone a hopeful.

Private Diedtrich. She would have smiled to herself if not for a wave of overwhelming nervousness as she looked at the door that would lead to Sink. Coates broke eye contact and rose back up to full height.

“Colonel Sink is in here,” he said, holding open a door and following June into the building.

Inside, the air was cooler, but still warm. A narrow hallway led down the building to the left, and office doors – some shut, some open – punctuated the wood wall every few feet. June stepped aside to let Coates pass, and she followed him down the corridor to the last door on the right. Coates knocked.

“Come in,” a voice drifted out from the room. Coates nudged open the door and held it open for June, who slipped past him into Colonel Sink’s office.

The office was filled with light from the window behind Sink, who rose from his chair at the sight of June entering the office. June heard the shift of fabric behind her as Coates stood at attention, and after another brief moment of panicked debate, she too snapped her heels together and raised her right arm in salute, feeling a little strange doing it in her civilian clothing: skirt, lipstick, pin curls, and all.

The Colonel looked at June for a few seconds with an unreadable look, then back at Coates.

“As you were,” he said in a strong, slightly nasal voice. He had gray hair and a composed mannerism.

June heard Coates’s uniform shift again, and a half-second later, she relaxed her arm, not wanting to be found incompetent. She was feeling out-of-place already. Knowing how to salute and drill and address officers in the book was different than when the Colonel of Camp Toccoa was standing right in front of her.

Would he offer his hand for shaking? Was she supposed to take it and shake once or twice? Thankfully, Sink didn’t offer a handshake, but instead dismissed Coates with a brief wave.

“Sergeant Coates, please wait outside,” he said, and then turning to June, he pointed to a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat, young lady,” he said, and June obediently pulled out the chair and sat down, setting her suitcase down next to her. The thought that Sink hadn’t called her Private briefly flashed through her mind, but June’s thoughts were so jumbled that she pushed the useless observation out of her mind and tried to breathe deeply to calm down her rapidly beating heart.

Sink sat down in his chair across from June and folded his hands, looking at her, the beams of noontime sun slatting through the blinds in the window and giving Sink a backlit glow. June met his eyes straight on, challenging him to make any assumptions before he talked to her first.

This was the man to impress. If anyone, it was Sink. He could throw her out of the camp right then if he wanted to. June was no Congressman’s daughter, no relative of a high-ranking official. Sink had the right to deny her requests immediately without repercussions, and they both knew.

Yet Sink had been the one – the only one – to answer June’s request, asking her to come on base to begin training that September. That had to mean he had some sort of hope for her when the others didn’t. It had to. Right?

Sink’s letter promised her a shot. It might have been a shot in the dark, but June took it.

“June Diedtrich. We finally meet,” Sink said, leaning back in his chair.

June nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said steadily. Sink laughed, probably at her stiffness, or maybe at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

“Well, let’s get into it,” he said with an air of business, turning to a few papers on his desk and laying one on top of another. He had a particular habit of enunciating syllables and drawing them out in a Carolina accent. It reminded June of her grandfather, though she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to make that comparison.

“In your letter you stated that you specifically wanted to join the Army. Not the WACs, or other female divisions,” Sink said, looking fleetingly at the mentioned letter and back at June. “You do realize how strange and frankly abstract an idea like this is, June?”

June kept her face stoic, but she felt a cold flash of nervousness. “Yes, sir.”

Sink scanned the rest of the letter and put it back down. “Your request has been approved by the top brass, as you already know,” he said, drumming a finger on the table and leaning back once more. “This is something that has never happened. Not once in the history of the United States Armed Forces has a female actually entered front-line combat,” Sink said with an air of finality.

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. A growing fearful anticipation of rejection grew in her mind, and she shifted in the chair uncomfortably. She reasoned with herself: why would Sink kick her out now? She’d taken a train all the way from California to get here. Sink seemed to be a man of practicality. She told herself she was being ridiculous by having anything to fear, but her own voice of logic was drowned out by anxiety.

Their correspondence had been constant, but June still knew nothing was ever concrete with such a tenuous plan relying on scant approval. Was Sink preparing to drop her right here and now? Was that why he’d kept Coates outside the office, so she could be driven back into town? June’s heart sank, even though she knew in her mind that she’d been approved to this position.

“You’re a high school valedictorian, West Point graduate, and women’s distance running champion. You have political contacts all over the country in top positions, a secure home in San Francisco, and job prospects open everywhere because of your degree. You’re smart. You’re also a woman. You have the option,” Sink said, clearing his throat and leaning forward, “of completely ignoring the war as someone who will not be affected by any possible future drafts. In fact, there will be more jobs for you when men start draining out of the country by the millions.”

June watched his face, trying to follow his logic.

“So, when I ask this, answer me honestly, because I want to know,” he said. “Why are you here?”

Bea had asked June the same thing on the bus but curiously, it seemed different when the words were coming from the mouth of a distinguished Colonel, sitting here with June’s fate in his hands. She twisted a finger in her lap and stopped herself, knowing Sink could see.

“You could be in danger if you wanted, Diedtrich,” Sink said. “You could fly a plane. You could make yourself useful by manufacturing artillery shells.” He snorted. “Hell, you could even haul ass to Europe and do some fighting yourself without being–” he waved an arm around, one side of his mouth lifting below his moustache in a scowl, “restricted by the organization of the U.S. Army. God knows we haven’t been as welcoming as some Holland revolutionaries could be on the other side of the world.”

June pressed her lips together, thinking. “I’m not bilingual, sir,” she started, and Sink laughed for a moment, his stony exterior breaking for just that second. “I don’t have a pilot's license. I don’t want to work in a factory, sir,” she forged on, wondering if her use of sir was too frequent. No matter – it was better to sprinkle in too many than too few. “I feel love for my country, this great nation I was born into. This is the land of the free and the home of the brave. And if I am daring enough to count myself to be among the free and the brave, then I intend to take up arms and fight for it too.”

Colonel Sink had asked why. Why was she here? She paused just for a few seconds.

“And if not for Europe or the free people of the Pacific, I want to fight for my country. The United States of America.”

Sink looked down at the papers without reading them, up at the ceiling, and then back at June, exhaling. Then he nodded. “That’s exactly why every other man is here,” he said. “I’m glad you feel so strongly about our country. But I’ll ask you this.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you prepared to watch your comrades die? To have the cloud of death and blood all around you as you pack yourself into trenches, waiting for the artillery to tear some poor boy’s arm off? To be hit by the blood and guts of the man next to you, deafened by gunfire and blinded by flares?”

June swallowed, trying to picture the carnage, knowing it was a reality that was all too near, men torn limb from limb just across the sea.

“The taste of ash and metal doesn’t leave your mouth. And if you yourself get hit in battle, sometimes it’s a mercy to not have to watch your brothers bleed out in front of you or get their helmet shot through with some German machine gun,” Sink concluded. “If you ever get through the training and somehow make it into battle, can your female mind and soul bear it?”

June stared into the distance, trying to imagine it – a familiar mental choreography she’d replayed again and again for months, trying to picture the mud and screams and rivers of red. She’d watched war films when she could, but she had a premonition the worst was never shown. She’d known veterans from the Great War, hollow and haggard, missing limbs or parts of their skin or sections of their face. Burns. Amputations. Bullet wounds. Broken arms that never healed. Big scars that were never named, but pointed to some greater wound inside their soul. Empty eyes.

June hoped she’d never get to that point. Empty-eyed was the worst that you could become.

“I know it, sir,” June said, knowing it was a woeful lie. “In the event that I am eventually deployed overseas, I am prepared for it.”

Sink grimaced. “You will never be prepared. You do not know. But I have faith that you are willing to learn what it takes to become a brother-in-arms.” He paused. “Sister-in-arms.”

June nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You are not one of them yet,” Sink said, pointing over his shoulder into the window, framing a scene of men doing drills, running, and standing at attention. “You may never be one of them. You have to make them understand, Diedtrich. You must make them. No one else will do it for you.” A brief shake of his head. “But the battle for now is not to make friends. You will earn their respect by your actions, your fortitude, and your resilience, something each man must do. And now you are a woman attempting the same thing. If they accept you,” he said, “and that is a big if, you will do it by surviving Toccoa. There is no shortcut. You either shape up or wash out, same as the others, West Point degree be damned.”

June’s eyes narrowed slightly, hating that her degree was probably going to be held over her the whole time she was here, if she lasted longer than a few days. She hated being told about her own education, because she was reminded of how she’d been given exceptions that made her class graduate in three short years.

If she ever earned something, it would be her place in the Paratroopers.

“I cannot stress this enough, Diedtrich,” Sink said. “You must earn this. The Army men will not be easily convinced of your competence unless you demonstrate it.”

June nodded firmly, face hardening. “I will try my best, sir.”

Colonel Sink looked as if he was going to try to say something else, but then decided against it. “Well, Private Diedtrich, I wish you the best, but that’s all I can do. Welcome to U.S. Army training,” he said, rising from his chair. “The Basic Training exam is in a few weeks. I’ll see you then.”

June stood up quickly too, and Sink offered a hand for a shake. June gave him her firmest handshake, and Sink nodded at her.

“Survive this, and you make history,” Sink said, face serious.

June felt the unsaid implication hang in the air.

Fail, and you’re just another drop-out.

June didn’t intend to fail. She’d weather this, just like she had weathered her other obstacles. This time, the obstacle was called Toccoa. And maybe – just maybe – she’d eventually face down the forces of Europe.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #hbo war #hbo war fic #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #sister-in-arms #run the gauntlet #writing

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years ago

Text

Crazy little thing called love

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: None!

Preview: “Turn around! Get your arse back in that fitting room right this second!” She yells, waving her arms above her head wildly.

“Mary? What on Earth are you doing?” “Roger! The boys! They’re outside, they saw me and are coming in!” “Get rid of them! I don’t care what you have to do, but they cannot be in here!” You plead.

“Look Y/N, there’s another one!” Mary squeals excitedly as you walk along the busy street, you come to sudden halt as she stops moving, your linked arms preventing you from going any further without her. “Come on, lets take a look!” She urges, as she gently tugs you into the bridal store. As you enter, you feel like royalty, and know that you definitely do not belong in here. Pristine white dresses are displayed across the shop floor on mannequins in uncomfortable poses. Marble tiles line your way as you walk further inside, your jaw going slack as you look around. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging above you, its lights twinkling away merrily, unaware that no one in the history of the world would ever be able to afford a dress in this store.

“Mary, we shouldn’t be in here. We don’t belong!” You mutter, as you gaze down at yourself, your dusty combat boots nearly leaving scuff marks on the tiles.

“Oh come on, Roger just popped the question, you have to at least start looking for a dress!” Mary admonishes sharply, with a final tug at your arm to move you further into the store. She was stopped in front of the clothing racks, each garment in a bag to protect it from dust, and other foreign bodies. Ivory and cream fabrics were overloading your senses as she moves each dress to look at it.

“He asked me last week, we haven’t even spoken about it since, he’s been so busy with the record, I don’t think we’ll start planning it until the end of the month.” You shrug, following Mary’s lead and looking through the numerous dresses.

Mary rolls her eyes, huffing at you. “That isn’t the point Y/N. The point is, is that you are going to be Missus Roger Taylor at some point in the near future! And I’ll be damned if you don’t look a million dollars on your wedding day!” She declares, stamping her foot down to make her point as final. An older woman looks up from a few racks away, lifting an eyebrow at the noise Mary had been making.

“May I help you ladies?” She asks, her lips pursed as she saunters her way over to you both. You gulp, looking to the bottle blonde woman, wanting to simultaneously run from the store and also give her a swift kick to the knees. You knew you didn’t belong in here, but she didn’t have to make it so obvious with that look!

“Yes actually, I’m in the market for a wedding and maid of honour dress.” You smile sweetly, your perfect customer service voice coming in to play. Moving your hand to brush away a stray lock of hair, you make sure your engagement ring is clearly visible to the shop assistant, noticing her frown lift from her face somewhat. She still has a hard look about her, though it seems to be crumbling away slowly. Mary stifles a giggle from beside you, hiding it behind a sneeze.

“Of course, congratulations on your engagement! Was there any style of dress you were looking for in particular?” She asks, moving her hands in grand gestures towards the racks you and Mary had just been browsing through.

You frown for a moment, you hadn’t really thought about your dress very much. You know that Roger would find you stunning no matter what style you picked, though you also know that he would probably prefer you to wear jeans and one of his leather jackets. “Nothing too over the top, classic and simple, maybe with lace? I like off the shoulder sleeves…” You finally decide, an image of what your dress should be forming in your minds eye.

“And nothing too frilly, or too puffy.” Mary chimes in, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. The two of you had been to a wedding earlier this year, for a friend you had both went to school with. Although it was her big day, both of you decided that the dress was utterly hideous, not that you would ever say that to her face of course. The dress had wide, puffy sleeves that were at least twice the size of her head, the bodice had a corset style ribbon running across it, with lace surrounding the edges. Then, there were the ruffles. The skirt had layers, upon layers of tulle, with ribbon edging each one. All in all, she looked like a yeti, but it seemed to make her happy at least.

You nod your agreement, and the sales woman busies herself with finding suitable dresses for you to model for Mary.

Twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a circular fitting room, with mirrors covering the entire wall around you. The sales woman was with you, helping you into each dress you tried on. The first three had been, nice enough, just not quite what you had been hoping for, and you were beginning to think that maybe the dress you had imagined didn’t exist. “There we are, all buttoned up.” She smiles, patting you on your shoulder with a soft smile. “Now, off you go and show your friend this one!”

You step out of the dressing room, noticing that you didn’t have to lift the skirt while walking unlike with the other dresses you had tried on, a smile forming on your lips at that. You wanted to be able to move easily in your dress, and the idea of lifting the hem each time you took a step just sounded like torture!

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

The four men walked through the bustling streets, smiling and waving at fans as they made their way to the nearest pub. They had been in meetings all morning, discussing what their latest album should be, and were tired of trying to explain what they had all come up with.

“I just don’t get it.” Roger huffed, kicking a stone away from his feet as he walked. “What about Radio GaGa don’t they understand?” He groaned, as John placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

“It’s a great song Rog, and it’ll be on the album whether the record execs understand it or not.” John offered with a smile, which was returned by Roger.

“Mary!” Freddie squealed loudly, causing the other three men to look at him in surprise. From what they could see, there was no Mary anywhere in sight.

Brian looked at Freddie, squinting down at the excited man. “Fred, there’s no Mary here.” He shrugs, unsure as to where his exclamation had come from.

Freddie points towards a bridal store, grinning light a child on Christmas. “She’s in there darling.” He coos, waving at Mary through the display window. Mary looks shocked, then promptly runs away from the window, arms flailing like a mad woman.

Roger had turned his attention to the store now, along with Brian and John. “What’s Mary doing in a bridal shop?” He muses aloud, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette, before stamping it out beneath his toe.

“I haven’t the faintest idea, let’s go find out, shall we?” Freddie decrees, as he pushes his way through the crowds of people, parting them as if they were the red sea. The remaining three men gaze between one another, before following their lead singer towards the elegant store.

Upon entering the store, the four men look around, rather overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of white dresses. How can there be this much choice in only one colour? Roger walks further in, stopping every now and then to take a closer look at some of the garments hanging around him. From the corner of his eye, he spots a frantic Mary shoving a figure draped in white back inside a dressing room. “Get in! And don’t come out!” She shrieks, as she barricades the door with her body. Roger frowns at the sight before him, shaking his head before making his way towards his flustered friend.

As he reaches Mary, the other men had decided to check what all the commotion was about themselves. “Uh, hi Mary?” Brian begins, lifting an eyebrow at the pale rose coloured dress she had on. The dress boasted puffy sleeves at the shoulders, with the length ending mid forearm, a deep plunging neckline showed off her chest nicely, and a large bow was tied at the back. “You look stunning love, but I must ask. Do you have some news to share with us?”

Mary had the decency to look affronted by Brian’s suggestion, placing her hand against her chest. “Why, whatever do you mean Brian?”

It was John’s turn to speak up next, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Mary. “I think what Brian means to ask, is whether or not there is a particular reason as to why you’re trying on bridal dresses?”

“Yes! Who is the lucky man? And for the love of God, why did you not tell me you were getting married?” Freddie gasps, as he takes Mary’s hand away from her chest, twirling her in a circle.

Roger frowns deeply, desperately trying to put the pieces together of this puzzle. “Who’s hiding in the fitting room?” He finally asks, referring to the figure he had seen her practically tackle into the small room just before

Mary blinks up at the four men before her, her eyes darting between each of her friends, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation. “What makes you think I’m getting married?” She finally asks, folding her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently as she awaits a response.

“Well darling, either you’re getting married, or being just a little bit presumptuous. I will happily speak on behalf of all men here, if you were to find a wedding gown in the closet before having asked the woman to marry you, it would be a little bit confronting.”

Mary’s eyebrows crease together, listening intently to Freddie’s explanation, of course he of all people wouldn’t buy her story! She bites down on her lower lip, looking back at the fitting room behind her, praying that you would be able to keep quiet, and hidden from just a little while longer. “If you must know, my dear friend is getting married shortly, and she has asked me to be a bridesmaid. So I’m looking for a dress for her big day.”

“Oh really?” Brian smirks, lifting an eyebrow in challenge up at her.

“Yes really, thank you very much.”

“What’s her name?” Roger queries, leaning his hip again a glass cabinet filled with tiara’s and accessories of the like. His arms are folded across his chest, his baby blues regarding her with scepticism.

“Um, my friend’s name?” Mary stammers, her eyes going wide, as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car.

“Yes, your friend’s name. Who else?” Deaky jumps in, from what he could tell, none of the others were believing her story. What he couldn’t quite understand, was why she was being so secretive. If Mary was engaged, surely, she would be excited?

“Her name?” Mary begins, before losing her nerve, and stepping backwards, pressing herself closer to the door leading to the fitting room. “Jessica!” She quickly declares, breathing a sigh of relief as she thinks up a name.

Freddie’s grin broadens across his lips, showing off his teeth. “My dear, I met all of your friends while we were together, you have never known a Jessica.” He chuckles, and the four men watch the colour drain away from Mary’s face.

“Just tell us the truth Austin, who’s in the fitting room, and who’s wedding is it?” Roger groans. He was already tired from the morning they had had, and he found himself in no mood to play silly games with an over emotional Mary.

Mary gulps audibly, “I dragged Y/N in here to start looking for her wedding dress.” She finally admits, and as if on cue, the fitting room door which she had been guarding is pushed wide open, sending the young woman tumbling to the ground, as a vision in white emerges behind her.

You only manage to make it halfway towards the podium in the centre of the store, surrounded by mirrors so you could see yourself from each and every angle, before Mary comes running at you, the silken fabric of her maid of honour dress shining merrily beneath the bright lights. “Turn around! Get your arse back in that fitting room right this second!” She yells, waving her arms above her head wildly. You blink at her in surprise, unsure of how to react to her sudden outburst, that is until her hands are cupping your shoulders, and marching you backwards, back into the fitting room you had just emerged from.

“Mary? What on Earth are you doing?” You gasp out, as you take hurried steps backwards, both trying to follow the lead of your friend, and also get away from her.

“Roger! The boys! They’re outside, they saw me and are coming in!”

Your eyes widen, while your jaw goes slack, Roger can’t see you! It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress! Even if this isn’t the dress you end up purchasing, you still don’t want him to see you! “Get rid of them! I don’t care what you have to do, but they cannot be in here!” You plead, just as the chiming of the bell above the door informs you that the band had arrived. Mary has just enough time to slam the fitting room door shut, sending you tumbling into the sales assistants arms. She caches you swiftly, a scowl forming over her features.

“What do you think you’re doing, playing around in a dress this expensive?” She chastises you, glaring daggers down at you.

“I am so sorry. But please, we need to stay quiet, my fiancé just walked in with his friends, he doesn’t know I’ve started looking at dresses yet!” You plead with the furious woman. The moment you had regained your balance, she had taken her arms away from you, whether to protect the dress or because she was cross with you, you were unsure.

You keep your voice hushed, and the sales assistant does the same, allowing you to hear the conversation beyond the door. The boys are pressing Mary for a reason as to why she’s here, and her lies didn’t seem to be doing a good job at convincing them as to her situation.

“I’m sorry my dear, but I don’t care who else is in this store. You do not, under any circumstances throw yourself around wearing a dress like this.” The woman hisses at you, as she pushes you towards the door again, desperately trying to get you out of the fitting room, despite your protesting. “This is a three thousand pound dress, you either get out there or get out of the dress!”

With one final push, you find yourself practically flung out of the door, falling against Mary as the door swings open. You both crash to the ground, Mary luckily breaking your fall. “Five more minutes Y/N! I nearly had them convinced to leave!” Mary groans, as you roll off her back.

“You really didn’t…” Four voices laugh from above you, and you find yourself too embarrassed to look up at them. Mary pushes herself up to a standing position, before dutifully reaching her hands down to you, assisting in pulling you upright.

Once standing up straight again, you smooth the dress out around you, lifting the skirt before dropping it back down, quickly removing any creases that had formed from your, elegant entrance. After a few moments of silence, you finally look up at your audience, biting your bottom lip, desperate for someone to break the silence.

“Y/N, you look stunning…” Roger breathes out, drinking in the sight of you. You were an absolute vision, the dress looked as if it had been made just for you, and he would not mind seeing you walk down the aisle wearing exactly this dress.

“Thank you, Rog.” You smile gently, your gaze meeting his heated one, causing your smile to grow wider. It wasn’t an often occurrence for Roger to be honest with his feelings, however you knew he was genuine with his compliment.

Brian nods in agreement, his wild mane of curls bouncing around his shoulders. “You truly do look wonderful, but I must ask. Why are you trying on wedding gowns?” Deaky and Freddie both nod their agreement, all with equal looks of confusion adorned on their faces.

You blink at the three men, confusion colouring you features also. “Why wouldn’t I be trying on bridal dresses?” You press, lifting your eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well as we said to Mary just now, typically one waits until they are engaged before they start dress shopping.” Deaky supplies helpfully.

Nodding, you lift your left hand up, just as Mary points directly at the engagement ring adorned on your ring finger. “Yes, I think I’ve completed step one.”

Freddie gasps loudly, racing over to you and wrapping you up in a rib crushing hug. “Who and when?” He squeals, reaching a pitch that only dogs could hear.

“What do you mean who? Roger of course!” You declare, whirling around to glare at your fiancé.

Brain looks between the two of you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Roger finally got up the guts to propose?” He chuckles deeply.

“Roger Taylor. You have some explaining to do Mister!” You snarl, your hands resting on your hips as you glare at the blonde, who at least looked somewhat embarrassed by the situation at hand.

“Yes, I proposed, last week so everyone knows exactly when it happened, on a Tuesday. I just, I wanted to keep it between us for a little while, before telling this lot.” He shrugs, a look of guilt gracing his features, as he gazes at you. You step closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, causing him to smile against yours.

“Okay, I understand. You just had me worried for a moment there. I thought maybe I had imagined the whole, you getting down on one knee, and asking me to marry you, thing. But good to know I didn’t!” You blush, reaching up to push his hair back off his forehead.

Mary sighs dreamily behind you, wiping a fake tear off her cheek. “No matter how many times you tell me, I still find it hard to believe that The Roger Taylor proposed to you in a traditional manner.”

You roll your eyes at her antics, shaking your head slowly, smiling once more as you feel Roger’s arms circle around you, his hands resting gently against your waist. The moment is soon broken however as Deaky raises his voice to gather everyone’s attention. “While this is all very romantic, may we just take one moment to remind ourselves of the fact that Roger, our dear drummer, didn’t think any of us important enough to share this news with!”

Roger bows his head, his shaggy hair flopping over his forehead once again. “I mean, you did find out eventually.” He shrugs, looking only somewhat guilty about the whole situation. Deaky shakes his head in disapproval, while Freddie and Brian grin at the semi argument before them.

You can feel Roger’s fingers gliding along your spine as you face the group, playing with the ivory buttons that trail from the nape of your neck, down to the base of your spine. His fingers catch on the price tag, and he plays with the piece of card idly, taking a moment to glance down at the price stamped across it. His breathe hitches in his throat for a moment, though you pay him no mind, instead focusing on the grumpy sales assistant. She had recently emerged from the dressing room, her arms folded across her chest, a stern look gracing her already hard features. “This is no place for a friendly catch up! I must insist Miss, if you are not here to try on our gowns, then you must leave.”

Her look is focused solely on you, and you feel a blush cover your cheeks, averting your gaze quickly. Freddie, reading the discomfort on your face jumps to the rescue, sauntering over to the woman, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. “My dear, we were just leaving now! We are so sorry to have caused a scene, please forgive us!” He finishes his apology by walking up to the woman, taking her hand gently, and placing a kiss against the upside of her palm. Freddie’s grovelling only manages to raise a small smirk from the woman, though it soon falls away.

“I believe it best if I never see you four in this store again.” She grumbles, before turning her attention to you and Mary. “And you two are on thin ice too.” Mary gasps, taking a step back, at what she had deemed as a verbal attack.

“What did we do wrong?” She demands, stomping up to the older woman, both standing with their arms folded across their chests, glaring daggers at one another. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, it truly looked as if Mary were fighting with an older version of herself.

As Freddie rounds the band up, deciding it really was time to leave, Roger leans down against your side, his lips resting against the shell of your ear. “Get any dress you’d like Y/N…. Just not this one.” He whispers, still struggling to wrap his head around the exuberant cost of one dress. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he dashes out of the bridal store, racing to catch up with the others, leaving you to try and stop Mary from arguing with the sales assistant.

The four beer bottles clinked together, the noise muffled out nearly entirely by the noise of the band playing in the small pub. “To Marriage!” Brian declares as he grins at Roger.

“To secret proposals and not telling friends!” Deaky interjects playfully.

“Let’s just stick with to Roger hm?” Freddie offers, before downing a large gulp of his beer, the other three quickly following his lead.

Roger taps his foot along to the song the band had begun playing, the drummer in him unable to rest when a decent beat started. He had never heard of this band before, nor seen them at any of pubs the regularly visited. Though they were quite good, might even be the next Queen he thought. “Is it wrong for me to be worried about the cost of this wedding already?” He laughs half-heartedly, looking at John intently. “You got married Deaks, how much did it cost? Are you still in debt? Help me!”

John blinks at Roger in surprise, the usually stress-free drummer looked to be in the midst of a panic attack. “Ronnie and I kept it pretty simple, so it wasn’t too much, and no we aren’t still debt. We were never in debt. It’s the dress that’s the killer, they can cost a small fortune.” He finishes, before taking another swig.

“Trust me, I know. The dress Y/N was wearing, I don’t think I could ever afford something like that.” Roger sighs, his nerves now calmed somewhat from John’s reassuring words.

John nods in understanding, smiling gently. “You may think that now, but the dress is what makes them the happiest. That’s what Ronnie says at least. At the end of the day, all she cared about was having me there, and her perfect dress.”

“So, from the sounds of things. As long as you let Y/N get the dress she loves, then the wedding could be held in a grocery store, and she wouldn’t care!” Brian chuckles, noticing as the colour drain from Roger’s face.

Roger gulps audibly, before he leans forwards and rests his chin against the table. “I told her not to get the dress she was wearing. And now I can’t imagine her wearing anything other than that one!” He groans, as John moves Roger’s beer away from his head, in an effort to stop it from spilling.

“Congratulations Rog, your marriage is already doomed, and you haven’t even started planning the wedding yet. Surely that must be a world record!” Freddie smirks, while Brian timidly pats Roger’s head.

“Did you get the dress?” You hear Roger long before you see him, as he stumbles through your apartment door, swearing as he walks directly into the coat stand by the front door. Despite you both having your own apartments, you can’t quite recall the last time Roger had stayed at his, not that there was much of his there anymore. Most of his belongings had migrated their way into your living space during the course of your relationship.

You bite down on your lip, waiting for your drunk fiancé to navigate his way into the sitting room. You couldn’t blame him from having a few drinks in celebration with the others, even you and Mary had gone to a fancy café that served mimosas all day, after leaving the bridal shop. Though from the sounds of things, Roger had likely had a few more to drink than you. “You’ll just have to wait and see won’t you? Just, you know, don’t go into the closet.” You grin softly, as he finally makes his way to you. It was fun to tease drunk Roger, it was fun to tease sober Roger too. Roger looks down at you, curled up on the sofa, with a book across your lap. He raises and eyebrow at your comment, mulling over your words for a few moments, before turning on his heel and marching towards the bedroom.

A part of Roger was ecstatic at the thought you having bought the dress, the other part of him was utterly terrified, still unable to get the price tag out of his mind. Soon, he finds himself stood before the closet, hand hovering above the handle, shaking with anticipation. “Just do it!” He mutters to himself, before swinging the door open. There, in the corner of the closet, is a white garment bag, with the name of the bridal store printed across it, in black cursive. Reaching out, he pulls the bag off the rack and brings it over to the bed, draping it over the duvet. It’s not as heavy as he had thought it would be, though really, what did he know about the weight of a wedding dress?

Carefully he pulls the zipper down on the bag, pulling it down inch by inch, before it lay open before him. Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the sight before him, there, in the garment bag, from a bridal store none the less, lay a brand new leather jacket. A note, with Roger written in your handwriting taped to the material. He hurriedly shook off the denim jacket he was currently wearing, before replacing it with your gift, grinning at how well it fit, the smell of leather filling his nose as he breathed in deeply.

While Roger was engrossed in his findings, you quietly made your way into the bedroom behind him, leaning your hip against the wall, as you waited with a baited breath for him to reveal the jacket. “Damn I have excellent taste in clothing.” You chuckle, as he whirls around on the spot, sporting his new jacket.

“So, you didn’t get the dress then?” He raises his brows in surprise, blinking his striking blue eyes over at you. With a sly grin, you step over to him, reaching your hands out to his jacket.

You zip up the jacket slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I will not justify that question with an answer.”

The zip stops at his throat, and Roger smirks down at you. “It’s at Freddie’s isn’t it?’

“it’s at Freddie’s.” You smile.

My Masterlist

57 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

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timelordthirteen · 5 years ago

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Killing Time 21/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver start working their new lead, and relationship status, with some surprising results.

Notes: This was a rough one to get out and I'm sorry it took so long. Here on out there will be two parallel plots: Belle's recovery and relationship with Weaver, and solving the murder of Eloise Gardener. Warnings in this chapter for discussion of PTSD, Belle's attack, and mention of her miscarriage.

Warnings: Miscarriage reference and discussion in some chapters. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

The room smelled like paper and tea, a comforting and warm contrast to the steady rain that was falling outside.

Belle pressed her hands over the front of her skirt and looked around the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper. There was a leather sofa flanked by two bookcases with a set of three black and white prints in thick black frames hanging above it. The shelves were arranged with a mix of artistic pieces and leather bound volumes of medical and legal books, looking so perfectly put together that combined with the rest of the room it all had less the feel of Archie, her friend and colleague, and more last month’s Pottery Barn catalog.

“Nice office,” she said finally.

Archie smiled and took a seat in the high backed leather chair across from her. “Thanks. It beats the south wing of the hospital.”

She laughed lightly, recalling the rather dilapidated old patient rooms that had once made up a sizable bed tower and part of the original hospital where Archie had once worked. While the rest of the building was expanded and renovated over the decades, the south wing had been largely ignored and converted into office space for those who didn’t rate mid century modern credenzas and floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the bay.

“Yeah, it definitely does,” she agreed, glancing around the room. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world.”

“It was those excessive bonuses the city paid me for all the consulting hours you demanded.”

His lips curved, and Belle shook her head. “Yes, well, good to know my budget overages were well spent.”

They shared a laugh, and then Dr. Hopper shifted in his seat, mentally moving from friend and colleague to therapist with no more than an adjustment of his body and the picking up of his pen.

“I’m assuming that what brought you here wasn’t a desire to reminisce about the city's lack of funding for prosecution experts.”

Belle looked down at her hands. “How did you ever guess?”

Archie flashed her a weak smile, and let out a breath. “Belle, I know what happened to you - not the details, of course, but enough - and I know that it’s policy to have a psychological review before returning to work. However -”

“That’s not what this is,” she interrupted. “I mean, yeah, I’ll probably need you to fill out the official form at some point, but I’m already back at work.”

Hopper frowned slightly. “I see.”

Belle glanced up. “Midas knows me well enough to know that I feel better being back at work than taking two weeks of leave.”

“And how do you feel being back at work so soon?”

She gave him a look. “Fine. We’re making some progress on, um, the body that was found in the community garden.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because -” she paused and licked her lips, spreading her hands over her thighs as her palms started to feel clammy. “Because it’s when I’m not at work that, um, that I don’t think I’m fine.”

He nodded and made some kind of mark on his pad. “What makes you think that you aren’t fine?”

Her head rolled back against the sofa as she blew out a breath between her lips. “Is this how it works? You just turn my answers into questions?”

“How else would you like it to work?”

Belle’s head lifted, her eyebrow arching. “Ha ha.”

Archie smirked and then made another mark on his notepad before setting it aside. “Look, this is like any other doctor’s appointment, right? You have to tell me your symptoms, as it were, so I know what’s going on and where to start. Right?” She nodded, and he continued, “So, what’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she said, leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees. “Got attacked by a serial killer in my own apartment, stabbed him in the leg, and now...”

“Now...what?” Hopper coaxed.

She sighed. “I can’t sleep unless my ex-husband is with me. I keep sort of - reliving what happened, but the memories are - are weird. I feel...I don’t know, like tired but jittery all the time? I only feel okay when I’m at work, when I can focus on the case, focus on doing something about what happened, you know?”

She left out that the only other times she seemed to feel normal was when she was playing house with her ex, eating, sleeping, and fucking like nothing had happened in the last two years, like they hadn’t made a mess of everything.

Archie raised his eyebrows when she mentioned Weaver, and folded his hands. “So, you and Detective Weaver are...?”

She shrugged and straightened. “I don’t know what we are. I stayed with him while my apartment was a crime season, but it’s been cleaned and released. I just haven’t gone back. I haven’t wanted to, I guess.”

“Okay, let’s, um, let’s park the relationship stuff for now,” he said. “Tell me - tell me about your memory of what happened. When does it come to you? What do you recall?”

“Usually when I’m alone,” she replied. “Day or night, doesn’t matter. It’s flashes, mostly, feelings. Cold from his - his leather jacket, pressing against my back. I was told that he’d been hiding out on the balcony, waiting until - until I got home.”

Archie swallowed and crossed his arms. “And?”

“Heat,” she continued. “Like my face is flushed, but it’s - it’s from, uh -

She lifted her hair at the front, exposing the red line where her skin was still healing even weeks later. “He hit me and it, um, made it hard to see. Everything was - was red.”

Dr. Hopper pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing as her hair dropped back over the wound. “You said that your memories were off. Could you tell me more about that?”

She held his gaze for a long moment, as she bit her lip. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth curved slightly as he gave her a brief nod. The room started to feel too warm, and she leaned forward to take a sip of the water he’d set out for her.

“It’s strange,” Belle said finally, sitting back against the cool leather. Her hands fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “Remembering, I mean. It’s like - it’s like I’m outside of myself, but not - not in any kind of weird out of body experience way, more like... I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dr. Hopper gave her a small smile and nodded. “Try. Tell me one thing at a time, and take as long as you need.”

She sighed. “I feel - heavy. Like I can’t move my arms or legs no matter how much I want to. There's pressure too, in my head. It’s kinda like a sinus headache, but without being stuffed up at all, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Then he shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “Does your heart rate increase or is it hard to breathe?”

Belle shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I just have this strange feeling, and there’s a flash of light. Then I look down and - and there’s -”

Hopper’s head tilted. “What? What do you see?”

She breathed in and out through her nose as her eyes fixed on the glint of the light as she twisted the white gold band of her ring back and forth. It was a square sapphire in a pale blue color, about a half carat in size. Weaver had given it to her for their first anniversary. She’d worn it nearly every day while they were together, but as soon as she left the divorce attorney’s office, it had been relegated to a small wooden box at the back of her dresser drawer where she kept some of her mother’s old jewelry. The first night they’d retrieved her things from her apartment, she’d grabbed it without thinking as she was rummaging for some socks.

“Belle, what do you see?” Dr. Hopper repeated.

Belle swallowed and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Blood.”

Hopper nodded, pressing his lips together again as his pen tapped against the pad next to him. It was an action she’d seen from him often when he’d consulted on a case, usually when he was thinking through his response to a question.

“Yours or - or his?”

“Both,” she said quickly, the hitch in his voice making hers waver as well.

He gave her a sympathetic look and took a breath before he asked his next question. “And, um, where is the blood?”

She breathed out again, slowly and took another swallow of water. “On my hands.” She set the drink down and looked down at her palms, blinking a few times as the image of the red, dripping stains flashed into her mind. “My blouse. The counter. The floor.”

Then she took another breath. “And sometimes it’s um -”

Dr. Hopper’s head tilted. “It’s what?”

Belle blinked hard. “Um, on my - my legs.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she tried to force the image away. “Don’t know.”

The slight shift in Archie’s expression revealed he didn’t believe her, but he seemed willing to let it go for now, and she sighed again.

“Let’s go back to your relationship with Detective Weaver.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Dr. Hopper sat back, crossing his legs, and smiled. “I suspect some of this starts a little further back than Jack Branson.”

Belle huffed and shook her head. “It doesn’t. And you already know the story. We were married, then we got divorced.”

“And?”

“And?” She raised her eyebrows and held Archie’s gaze. “What?”

“And now you’re...?”

There was a low throb starting in her head as she pulled at her ring again, sliding it over her knuckle until it spun freely around her finger. “I told you, I don’t know what we are, not right now.”

“Can you tell me what you’d like to be?”

“No.” Then she sighed. “I let things go too far while we were working on the case, and before you ask, you know exactly what I mean by ‘too far’ Mr. I Accidentally Screwed the Waitress Who Was Also a Witness.”

Archie’s face flushed, and Belle flashed him a brief smile. His affair with Ruby had been problematic at the time, and it had forced him to step back from his role as an expert consultant. Now that they’d been together for a couple of years, it was all water under the bridge, and the switch back to private practice was overall better for everyone. She sighed. “Now everything is...I don’t know. It’s good, but it’s also temporary, so I’m trying not to get complacent or get used to anything, you know?”

Hopper shifted in his seat, his lips pursing for a moment. “Why does it have to be temporary?”

“Because we’re divorced,” she answered flatly.

“Why?”

Belle pushed her ring back on her finger and paused. “Why what? Why are we divorced?” Dr. Hopper’s head tilted again, and she gave him an annoyed glare. “I’m not dredging up our marital issues, Arch. I’ve been there, done that.”

“Have you?” he asked. “Been there, done that?”

She made a face. “Well not like this, obviously, but I think I’ve rehashed it enough in my head for ten therapists, thanks.”

Archie chuckled at that and shook his head. “Fair enough. Though I do get the impression there’s a piece I’m missing here.”

“How do you mean?” She folded her arms over her middle and mirrored Archie by crossing her legs.

He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You and Ian were good together, Belle. We all saw that. I have to admit that when I heard you two were splitting up, it was - it was quite a shock.”

Belle looked away as he spoke, clenching her jaw as she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d heard the same statements from others before, during, and immediately after the divorce. Everyone thought they were so perfect together, but of course none of them had to live with a reticent police detective who didn’t know how to let anyone in. She always thought he’d change, that he’d soften with time, open up more the longer they were together. The night he chose a murder over her and their baby, she’d realized she’d been wrong.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It was to me too.”

Hopper pursed his lips again and watched her as she tugged on her ring again, slipping it over her knuckle to spin it around her fingertip. She paused to wipe at her eye, and he sat back with another heavy sigh.

“Belle -”

“I had a miscarriage.”

Archie blinked and frowned at the words she’d blurted out. “You - what?”

He licked his lips as his mind grasped for words. Confusion and shock had made him lose his usual quiet coherence, and he leaned forward again. “I’m sorry, I’m just - I’m trying to understand. Was this after - after your attack, or -?”

“No,” Belle said quickly. She met Dr. Hopper’s eyes, her stare firm in spite of the tear that was trickling over her cheek. “No, it was - before. It’s why - why we divorced.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “So -”

She felt her face heat as her vision blurred. There was a faint ringing in her ears that made her shake her head, sending a volley of tears down her face. She was vaguely aware of the tissue box sliding closer, pushed by Dr. Hopper, when she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then lurched forward. Her feet stumbled over each other, her shoe coming loose as she stood and tried to walk around the coffee table that was between her and Archie. He said her name as she moved, one hand stretched out in front of her to catch the bathroom door and push it open while the other was pressed to her mouth.

Belle sniffled again, wiping at her nose with the battered tissue before tossing it in the trash can and exiting the small bathroom.

Archie stood up quickly. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

She was surprised how true it felt in spite of how upset she’d been a few minutes ago. It had been a long time since she’d said the words out loud, and once she had it was like the dam had broken, flooding her body with emotions she’d kept at bay for over two years. In hindsight, the miscarriage had bled into the situation with Ian, leaving everything a jumbled mess well before her encounter with Jack.

Archie was right.

“So, Arch, how fucked up am I?” she asked, letting out a humorless laugh.

Dr. Hopper sighed and came closer, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “No more so than any of the rest of us.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

“Belle, what’s happening to you is normal,” he started. “You were physically attacked in your own home, by a man whose pathology I can’t even fathom right now. Having some PTSD from that is completely expected. Everything else on top of that...? I can’t imagine what all you’ve been through.”

She breathed out, feeling a strange sort of relief at his words. “Yeah.”

“I think,” Archie started, cautiously, “that it would be a good idea for you to keep talking about this.”

“With you?” She blinked up at him, her expression pulled as the steady pulse of a headache grew.

He shrugged. “With whomever you like, whoever you feel comfortable talk to. That’s the only way this is going to get better.”

Belle reached up and pushed her fingers into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. “I don’t think I’d want to talk to anyone else, if that’s okay.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Of course it is. Whatever I can do to help, Belle.”

Belle checked her makeup in the mirror one last time and ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it into place. She looked passable, if a bit tired, but then that had been her almost perpetual state since the case had started. Her heels thudded softly on the carpet as she made her way back to her office, her gait stuttering briefly when she spied Weaver sitting at the conference table.

Shit.

She’d been hoping he was still at the station following up on Nick Branson’s former employer in Las Vegas. When she’d made the appointment with Dr. Hopper, she’d had every intention of telling Weaver that she was going, but in the end every moment that might have been right, wasn’t. He’d be supportive, of course, he had been when she’d first mentioned it a week ago, and their history with Archie had only raised the psychologist’s esteem in his eyes. Yet she’d held back that morning when he’d asked her what she was going to get up to while he was tiring his eyes out at a computer screen.

She let out a steadying breath and pushed open the door to the office.

Weaver twisted and looked over his shoulder at her, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, brightly, hurrying over to her desk to set her purse down.

“I was surprised you weren’t here when I got back.”

“Oh, I ran a quick errand after lunch.” She shrugged and looked up at him, knowing full well by the way his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly that he didn’t quite believe her. “Find anything?”

“Couple addresses,” he replied. “Some names to follow up on. The construction company Branson worked for went out of business a couple of years ago, but I have contact information for the holding company that took over its assets.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I guess.” Then he frowned slightly, and pushed back from the table, twisting to face her. “Are you okay?”

Belle sighed and busied herself with sorting through some papers on her desk. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

His expression was inscrutable as he stood and came to stand in front of her desk. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more done today, if you want to take off early.”

She glanced up at him. “Why would I do that?”

Weaver shrugged. “You’re tired.”

She sighed again and straightened, knowing from his flat tone that he hadn’t believed her, but he was still offering her a way out anyway. It annoyed her and she wasn’t sure why. “Well it’s been a long...month.”

He gave a slight nod as his lips pressed together. “Yeah, and we worked a lot of weekends in the last little while. You need some down time.

She shot him a look. “I’m fine, Ian.”

He gave her a look and moved around the side of the desk until he was next to her. “Belle, you look absolutely shattered.” Then he took hold of her hand and started tugging her away from her work. “Come on.”

“Ian...” She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

He turned on his heel and faced her. “Belle...”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other with equal exasperation, until Belle’s shoulders sagged. She was tired, that went without saying, both from her appointment with Archie and the weeks and months that had preceded it. There was a standard level of fatigue that she’d dealt with her whole career, brought on by long days in court, and longer nights of composing motion documents and briefs. But this was new. This was a less familiar bone deep weariness that weighed her whole body down, pulling her to the Earth. It didn’t feel like being grounded so much as it felt like being drowned, sucked down under the dark waves and suffocated.

Belle’s head dropped as she exhaled. “I went to talk to Archie after I left Midas’s office.”

Weaver seemed to startle a bit at her words, shifting his stance as his eyes went wide. “Okay...and?”

“And, it was... a lot.” She looked up and blinked almost dazedly.

He moved closer, taking the kind of slow steps one might when they were approaching a skittish cat. When he came within arm's length, she reached for him, all but grabbing the front of his white shirt as he closed the distance between them. She turned, falling against him as he moved to hold her, and buried her face in his chest.

"You sure you're all right?"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. “Yeah,” she replied, slightly muffled. He made a grunting noise, and she looked up. “What?”

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Let’s go home.” She stiffened and he squeezed her against him. “You can take a hot bath, I’ll make the scallops I picked up on my way back form the station, and -”

“You got fresh scallops?”

His lips quirked as her eyes widened hopefully. “You won’t know until you get home.”

Belle pulled back and swatted at his chest. “You don’t play fair.”

He laughed softly, and she shook her head, knowing that what he was suggesting was for her own good. They both needed a break, and the lull while they waited for courts and county clerks to process a pile of paperwork and red tape might just be the thing.

“Yeah, okay. I can write up the rest of the records requests on my laptop.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, dryly, dropping his arms and taking a step back. “Just not in the bath this time, not after what happened with your iPad.”

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and shot him a glare with significantly less venom than usual. “Shut up.”

Weaver pulled open the office door, still smirking, and held it for her as she stepped through into the hallway. “Yes, dear.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #killing time #fic #my woven beauty fic #cw miscarriage

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batgirl-87 · 6 years ago

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Summary: The end of Fifth year approaches including the End of the Year Ball where the school says goodbye to the graduating students. While normally missed to catch up on much needed rest after Cursed-Vaults adventures, the entire gang is attending because it is Bill’s last year at Hogwarts. However, their original plan to go together as a group begins to fall apart as one by one members acquire dates to the ball. With Charlie’s recent realization of his feelings, maybe this is the best time to share them.

Word Count: ~14k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: A little angst, language? (Swearing but in French and Irish and British slang)

Note: I wrote this for my MC/OC and Charlie since I’ve had this idea for a while and it’s sort of a personal headcanon (I hope that doesn’t deter you from reading!). I know it’s not my best work but it has been quite a while since I’ve written something like this and I am excited to get back into creative writing. This also ended up much longer than anticipated – sorry! I tried to break it up for easier reading (I made scene transition images and a header, I’m proud of myself!). Also I unfortunately am not in Fifth year yet in the game so reference to new friends is limited.

*The reference made to Charlie realizing his feelings and falling asleep together while studying may be another fic I write and if so I will link it here!

Needed information about My MC: Nereida Adelyn-Keira Black, goes by her middle names – most call her Keira but friends have a variety of nicknames for her, Charlie likes to call her Ady; born in Ireland but raised in Canada – duel citizen; demisexual

Soundtrack Suggestions: Perfect – Ed Sheeran, Under the Stars – John Legend, It Was Written in the Stars – Ella Fitzgerald, All of the Stars – Ed Sheeran

Preview: He knew it was cliché but he swore this is what it felt like. The moment he saw her walking towards him time seemed to slow, only a bit, enough for him to admire the way the bottom of her dress floated behind her as she descended the stairs and the hint of silver shimmer that glimmered much like the twinkling stars with her movements. The voices and sounds of everyone else around them faded into the background until her laughter that filled him with such warmth was the only thing he heard. And he knew it sounded cliché but he swore, for a moment, everyone else seemed to vanish and all he saw was her. And when her stormy sea eyes met his, his heart skipped a beat, he forgot how to breathe, and time seemed to stop, just for a brief a moment, as he stood there, frozen, completely captivated and mesmerized. It was cliché. But that’s how he felt.

“What about this one,” Penny asked as she held up a black gown to her bewildered best friend. The popular Hufflepuff was quite giddy as their little curse-breaking group shopped in Hogsmeade for the upcoming end of the year ball, as if she hadn’t been asked to attend every year.

“Are we all wearing black because we’re mourning Bill leaving us,” Keira asked with a small smirk earning a look from the blonde as she pulled the dress away from the young woman’s frame and hung it back up.

“Come on. How often do we get the chance to go shopping, not for school supplies, and get to dress up and attend a ball where we can spend the whole night dancing and having fun? And after everything we have been through since attending Hogwarts we deserve at least one night of fun,” Penny insisted, and Keira had to admit the case she presented was difficult to argue against. When the dark haired girl failed to offer a rebuttal a smug look briefly appeared on the Hufflepuff’s face. The amateur curse-breaker spent most of her time researching and hunting down these cursed-vaults, determined to find her brother, while also managing to stay on top of her school work and somehow balance her new Prefect and Quidditch Captaincy responsibilities. Their group was pretty sure she never slept. They were always concerned for their friend who seemed to carry so much on her shoulders, yet rarely show the strain of it, and who was always the first to offer help to any of them no matter how small the task and never appeared too stressed with everything they were juggling. Hence Penny’s determination to not only have a fun day out shopping in Hogsmeade but a night of fun at the ball where they could relax and enjoy themselves and not be worried about exams or cursed-vaults or lost siblings – which, Penny herself now understood more than every after that year and losing her baby sister if even for a brief time compared to what her best friend was going through with her brother. But Keira helped her save her sister and Penny was more determined than ever to help Keira find her brother. But she was also just as determined to give Keira a break whenever she could and this ball was the perfect chance to have a whole night off!

Plus she knew how close Keira and Bill were, he quickly becoming a surrogate older brother for her, and him leaving was hard on her. Certainly they would write to each other all the time but it wasn’t the same as having him there. So this was also a good excuse to spend more time with him and have one last hoorah before he graduated.

“Therefore, your arms should be filled with dresses to try on in a classic montage style,” Penny informed before shoving aforementioned armful of dresses into the unsuspecting Slytherin’s arms. “And most importantly, we should be having fun!”

As her grey eyes studied the grinning blonde in front of her Keira swore the young potions master literally glowed and radiated light. “Okay, okay,” she easily conceded earning a squeal of excitement from her friend.

“We rarely get the chance to wear formal gowns and you two want to wear suits instead?” As Keira changed in one of the dressing rooms, after being pushed there by Penny, she overhead Penny scolding others in their shopping party and was relieved to no longer have the Hufflepuff’s focus set on her. Curiosity did get the better her of, as it normally did, and caused her to peek her head out from the privacy curtain to see Tonks and Tulip looking quite dapper as they posed in formal suits men normally wore to these types of events.

“Everyone expects women to dress up in big, poufy ball gowns,” Tulip retorted. And she of course, being her rebellious self, refused to abide by any set rules even social ones.

“Besides, we look good,” Tonks added proudly as she struck another pose.

Penny huffed and folded her arms before noticing Keira’s head poking out from her dressing room. “Keira,” she gasped excitedly, “Are you ready? Come out, come out, come out,” she urged practically jumping up and down. Keira took a deep breath before pulling back the curtain to her dressing room and stepping out in an emerald gown probably chosen for the color matching her Hogwarts house.

“You look beautiful, Keira,” Rowan complimented from her seat as she watched her friends try on possible outfits for the ball. Rowan had plans to wear a beautiful embellish saree from her mother so while she waited for her outfit to be sent to her she accompanied her friends in their journey to find the perfect outfit for the occasion and offer her advice and encouragement.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Keira replied with a small smile, thankful her friend and roommate was there. She knew Rowan would provide her honest opinion and genuine praise. “And you look beautiful as well, Penny. That dress brings out your eyes,” she complimented, smoothly turning the attention away from her and onto the blonde in a blue ball gown which did make her blue eyes pop.

“Thanks but I feel too much like Cinderella,” Penny replied earning some quizzical looks from the purebloods in the group who were unknowledgeable about muggle life. After a very brief re-telling of the age old fairy tale so the others could be brought into the loop the dress up montage continued and the friendly bickering easily turned into laughter.

The windy March weather sent a chill through the group of girls as they left the store after making their purchases. Although the end of the year ball would not be held until June, to ensure there would be enough time for alterations they went out to get them early. This recommendation was brought by Andre who also offered his services to make any further alterations to the gowns they chose, after the seamstresses as the store were finished with them, to “take them up a level.” None of them were exactly sure what that meant but Andre obviously had an eye for fashion and designed most of his own clothes which always looked nice so they felt they could trust him. He also offered, well more like demanded, to accompany the girls on their shopping trip to approve of their choices but they somehow managed to convince him it was a girl’s only trip to have some girl bonding time, alone, without any men around.

Tonks and Tulip clearly had decided on formal suits which, once tailored to fit them perfectly, Keira had to admit they would probably be the best dressed at the ball. Penny had found a laced white and golden yellow dress which suited her very well, at least the group thought so. For herself, Keira had decided on an ethereal ice blue dress with a lace bodice adorned with some silver sparkle and sleeve chain detail dangling across her shoulders, the lace and hint of silver shine gradually cascading down to the flowy skirt. Something about the layers of blue, grey, and ivory of the skirt, the sheen of silver, the airy yet graceful movement of the skirt reminded her of the sea which made her feel this connection to the garment. When her other friends agreed it seemed perfect for her she bought it without any hesitation. And she had to admit, now that she found a dress she actually felt beautiful in she was looking forward to the ball and any reluctance or insecurities she had about attending washed away with the wave like movements of the dress.

“I don’t understand how you can stand being out here without a jacket,” Penny remarked as she hugged her jacket to herself to shield her from the wind chill on that cloudy day.

“I was raised in Canada, you get used to the cold,” Keira replied, adjusting the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands. However the cold from the snow and cold from the wind were different. The still cold from a winter’s day was actually peaceful and calm while the chill from the wind seemed to sting right to the bone. And she hated the wind.

“I think it’s impressive,” Tonks said, throwing her newly discovered cousin a smile, earning one back. As the group of girls made their way through Hogsmeade to return to their school they ran into the rest of their gang leaving the Three Broomsticks.

“So, how did the shopping venture go,” Andre asked, studying the group of girls closely. Andre continued to question the ladies on their way back to Hogwarts about their shopping choices while Keira wisely fell a few steps back to avoid the conversation. The windy weather drowned out the conversation of those in front of her causing the young Slytherin to shiver. Okay, next time she would bring a jacket even if it did go against her cool, tough reputation she tried to uphold. Ugh, she hated the wind.

After another gust of wind sent another icy chill through her slender frame, Keira was surprised to suddenly feel a weight on her shoulders and a warmth spreading through her. She glanced briefly at the large jacket now draped over her shoulders before looking up at the smiling, dragon obsessed Weasley.

“You were cold,” Charlie answered her unspoken question.

“But… what about you,” Keira asked, motioning to the sweater clad Gryffindor who assured her he would be fine – he was always warm, which was true. He seemed to radiate heat which the always cold to the touch Slytherin appreciated. Besides, they were almost back to Hogwarts.

His assuredness convinced Keira to drop it instead of arguing with him and just graciously accept his jacket, which she truly was thankful for, more than he might know. She was so used to doing things for herself, struggling to let others help her with anything. Her friends were already putting themselves in danger by helping her find the cursed-vaults and her brother, she didn’t need to bother them with other, trivial things. She could take care of herself. But she had to admit it was nice having someone do something for her, take care of her, even if it was something little like offering her their jacket. Although it was a little weird to think someone had also been paying that much attention to her to notice her shiver a little bit at a gust of wind. Shouldn’t he be participating in the conversation instead of watching her? Weirdo…

“Thank you,” Keira said as she slipped her arms through the sleeves of his jacket. His kindness and thoughtfulness spread a warmth throughout her chest. He really did make her want to be a better person. “Hmm,” she murmured as she snuggled up in his oversized jacket, keeping her thoughts to herself.

“What? Is something wrong,” Charlie asked with some concern.

“No,” Keira quickly replied to reassure him, but as he continued to stare at her she knew that answer wasn’t enough to satisfy him. “It smells like you,” she explained, which should be obvious considering it was his jacket.

“It…. What,” Charlie asked, clearly not expecting that answer.

“It smells like you,” Keira repeated with a smile as a small blush began to spread across the Gryffindor’s face.

“Oh, well…I’m sorry, probably smells bad then,” he replied somewhat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. With all his adventures roaming the Forbidden Forest plus sweaty Quidditch practices and games, he worried it might not smell the best.

“No, it doesn’t,” Keira replied with a small laugh causing the Gryffindor to blush more. “It smells good,” she assured him, throwing him another smile. “Kind of earthy, but sweet.”

Charlie stared at her a moment silently. Her description of his scent only made him redder in the face. Unaware to the amateur curse-breaker, the future dragonologist had recently, very recently, burst out of his oblivious bubble and realized that he may actually have feelings for her that were more than one felt for a close friend, primarily with the help of his older brother.

It had hit him harder than any bludger had but practically knocked the wind out of him all the same. The weird thing was there was nothing particularly special about that day or how it happened. The gang was studying in the library, well in the Study Area to avoid Pince, or avoid an intense standoff between Tonks and Pince, like they normally did, and also as they normally did, they distracted themselves with idle chit-chat and random discussions to avoid actually doing their homework. And because Charlie was there, of course the conversation somehow got turned onto dragons.

“A Hungarian Horntail can breathe fire to fifty feet. Their breath alone can reach extremely high temperatures,” Charlie argue.

“But a Ukrainian Ironbelly’s scales are hard as steel and they’re huge,” Barnaby retorted. “One could probably just sit on a Hungarian Horntail and squash it.”

“Not to sound like Pince but could you two keep it down? You’re distracting me.” Tulip interrupted their dragon debate while hunched over a piece of parchment she was scribbling on vigorously, however it did not look like any homework they had but more like some sort of blue prints, probably for her next grand prank.

The two boys mumbled their apologies. “Do you think I could turn into a dragon,” Tonks asked from next to Tulip. “Never tried it before.”

“Which dragon would you turn into,” Barnaby asked curiously, and a bit excitedly. How cool would it be if she did?

“I don’t know, whichever,” Tonks responded with a shrug.

“Not everyone has a favorite dragon like you two,” Tulip informed the two magical creature obsessed boys sitting across the table from them. That was a harsh reality Charlie had learned at a young age. He used to assume everyone had a favorite dragon, asking everyone he came across what theirs was. He soon learned the sad truth that not everyone had one or even knew that much about dragons, cared as much about them as he did. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking people because some people did have a favorite and he felt that said a lot about them. Of course most seemed to say the Hungarian Horntail, possibly because it was the most infamous of the breeds. He actually got kind of annoyed that being most people’s answer. Maybe that’s why he liked discussing it so much with Barnaby because he didn’t share the same favorite breed of dragon.

“Well that’s dumb, they should,” Barnaby said with frown. Charlie chuckled and had to agree before turning his attention to the Slytherin sitting across from him who had been quiet this entire time, focused on reading their Alchemy book.

“What about you, Ady? What’s your favorite dragon,” Charlie asked, for some reason unable to recall if he’s asked her that before. He must have since that was normally his go-to ice breaker but conversation always seemed to flow so easily with her and typically the conversation revolved around the Cursed-Vaults if not school and Quidditch. Maybe he never got the chance to ask her? Or he did but… how could he forget her answer? He did ask everyone he came across practically. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t remember her answer? They all got jumbled together. But how could he forget her answer?

“A Hebridean Black, right,” Barnaby answered with a proud grin before Keira got the chance. The dark haired girl glanced up at him from her book giving him a smirk and a wink to indicate he was correct causing Barnaby to grin more and sit up straighter, proudly, in his chair. Charlie looked between the two Slytherins, well aware of how close they were but part of him couldn’t help be a little envious. But more prominent than that was the fact that she had in fact told them her favorite dragon – and she actually had one that was not a Hungarian Horntail! – and he had forgotten! How could he have forgotten?!

But yet even more impactful was the fact that after Keira agreed to help him buy an alleged dragon egg, which of course turned out to be scam, putting herself in danger for it, for him – something he was clearly still dealing with – they were gifted a dragon scale. A Hebridean Black dragon scale. Which Keira told him, urged him, to keep.

“Why would you give me the scale if it’s your favorite dragon,” Charlie asked, watching her closely. In case he didn’t feel selfish enough making her go on that wild and dangerous goose chase to get himself a dragon egg now he took the one good thing that came out of it from her.

“Because you love dragons,” Keira replied with a shrug, as if it was obvious, before looking up at him from her book with a small smile. It was a simple statement that everyone knew, even those who didn’t even know him, but for some reason when she said it just then it stirred something inside of him. She was selfless, thoughtful; she put him first.

When her eyes, which he liked to describe as the color of the ocean after a storm – that’s when Bill claimed he knew Charlie was completely smitten – met his they pierced right through him shattering the naïve and oblivious bubble he had subconsciously placed himself in and realization washed over him like an ice-cold tidal wave.

He loved dragons, but he also –

“I got to go.” And with that Charlie quickly gathered up his books, swung his bag over his shoulder, and hurried out of the library. He raced straight back to the Gryffindor Dorm and to his older brother and best friend where he then proceeded to pace back and forth in Bill’s room rambling on and on for about an hour about everything he had realized, had been thinking and feeling, trying to make better sense of it all. He was thankful his brother was so patient and understanding during it all. He went to bed that night unable to sleep and just kept staring at the dragon scale on his nightstand, thinking about her. And then the next day when they fell asleep studying didn’t help him either. Fortunately, she hadn’t behaved differently around him after that. Oh, but he was sure his behavior had changed around her.

Since this jarring realization had occurred he had come to gain more self-awareness – why when she looked at him his heart skipped a beat, why when she laughed, particularly when he was the cause of it, it warmed him inside, why his thoughts always turned to her, why he always sought her out to talk to or spend time with when he had free time, why he disliked it so much when she appeared to be getting too close and friendly with others, or why he had been caught a few times staring at her. He had also gotten much more annoyed by others being close with her, trying to get closer to her (okay guess some might call it jealousy), and particularly annoyed at blatant flirty primarily done by Diego (he sometimes really wanted to punch that guy). Despite this realization the heart skipping a beat, the breath getting caught in his throat, the dragons in his stomach, none of it stopped.

But the bad thing was Charlie had caught himself doing these weird things like starting to drape an arm around her or wanting to reach up to move a strand of hair out of her face, shifting so their legs or arms touched while sitting next to each other, staring at her hand swaying next to her as they walked. He even caught himself reaching out to hold it on occasion but thankfully stopped himself before that happened. He had no idea how he would explain that.

He looked for any excuse to talk to her, spend time with her, be near her, touch her… he had no idea what to do in this situation, it was all new to him! Bill suggested telling her how he felt but Charlie was worried about possibly losing a close and dear friend. So Bill suggested to flirt with her and see how she responded, maybe she was interested too but afraid to say anything, but Charlie didn’t know how to do that! Like he told his brother, this was an entirely new situation for him and he was trying his best to navigate it!

Keira silently watched the rain fall as she leaned against the cool stone wall of Hogwarts. She was currently perched upon a covered balcony on the fourth floor of the school, one of the few places she liked to go to be alone and enjoy the weather, particularly a rainy day without having to be out in it or a window dividing her from it. Unlike most who found rainy days like this grey, cold, and depressing, Keira always found them serene and relaxing. And right now she needed a peaceful place to think.

It had been a little over a month since their shopping excursions in Hogsmeade for the ball and since then their plans to go together as a group had sort of fallen apart. It had started with Penny who, while sitting in the Great Hall one day for a meal, informed the girls that she had been asked to the ball. That announcement came as no surprise since Penny got asked out pretty much on a daily basis since she arrived at Hogwarts. However, the fact she was announcing it was odd.

“…And you accepted,” Keira asked, or more like stated, suspecting that was the reason for Penny informing them and the weird way she was acting, like she was worried she would get in trouble.

“W-well, yeah, kind of…” Penny admitted sheepishly. “But that doesn’t mean we still can’t all go together! There’ll just be one more of us.” Honestly the group was just surprised to hear she had actually accepted one of the many romantic invitations she received. But she wouldn’t have just accepted anyone’s invitation so clearly they had to be deserving, right? One more person couldn’t hurt.

From there it sort of snowballed.

Tonks and Tulips had derived so many plans for that night at the ball to mess with basically everyone in attendance with a grand finale to end the night, they informed the rest of their friends they would probably be pretty busy during the actual festivities. They invited Keira to join them if she wanted but, to be honest, she wasn’t that into pranks. Not like the ones those two did at least.

Andre of course had his choice of dates to take to the ball which he was in the process of narrowing down.

Bill of course would be busy with his class of graduates.

And Ben…well Keira gave him the benefit of the doubt that he was being controlled to attack her and she still was there for Ben whenever he needed a friend but she had been keeping her distance since the attack.

But Keira thought she would at least have Rowan to go with and spend an evening dancing and having fun with her best friend and roommate.

“You’re what?!” Keira’s exclamation echoed throughout the Slytherin Common Room.

“I’m going to the dance with Diego,” Rowan said again quietly, avoiding eye contact with her best friend.

“What? How? When?” Keira had so many questions! Sure, they chatted in Defense Against the Dark Arts sometimes but she had no idea they had grown this close! And sure, she admitted while in class she encouraged the light flirtation between the two and she did believe Rowan had a small crush on him but she was not prepared for this.

But she wanted her friend to be happy and assured her of that and to go to the ball with him, once the shock wore off that is. She would have a lot of fun and a night full of dancing.

And she still had Barnaby! Next to Rowan, Penny, and Charlie, Barnaby was one of the people Keira felt closest to. She loved Barnaby like a best friend or brother or second cousin. So imagine her surprise when Barnaby said he too had a date to the ball.

“I think I have a date,” Barnaby awkwardly explained when Keira asked him about going to the ball.

“You think?” How did one not know? Well, it was Barnaby.

“Well, I was talking to this girl in Care of Magical Creatures and she brought up the ball and I guess she sort of asked me and I said yes? I didn’t realize she was asking me to go with her, like as a date, until she told me the color of her dress yesterday to make sure we matched… because apparently we are going together…” Keira’s face fell as she listened to Barnaby explain his situation. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to disappoint her. I mean, I did sort of agree to go. Would be rude to back out now.”

“No, of course. You’re right. You should go with her. I’m sure you’ll have fun,” Keira assured him although it was hard to hide the disappointment in her voice. But she couldn’t ask any of her friends to ditch their dates for her.

“I’m sorry,” Barnaby apologized again. “But we’ll still see each other there! And I promise to save a dance with you.”

“Thanks, Barnaby,” Keira replied with a small smile.

Her friends deserved a night of fun just like her and if going with a date added to that then they should go with a date of their choice. Even if that meant her night might be less enjoyable… The girls still agreed to all get ready together which would be fun and Penny kept insisting they would just all go together as one large group but Keira knew even if they arrived all together in one large group the couples would pair off to have their night to themselves. As they should! She didn’t want to ruin any of her friends’ night. But she still couldn’t help being disappointed and feeling left out. She even considered not going but she couldn’t do that to Bill.

So now here she sat, watching the exposed half of the balcony ledge she was sitting on get struck by rain drops, trying not to feel sorry for herself. How could she when she had all these wonderful friends? Friends who she never thought she would have given her family’s history. She was very thankful and appreciative for them. But it was hard not to feel like… like she was being left behind.

Rowan and Penny had been their every encouraging selves throughout this little situation. Besides still getting ready and going to the ball together they were certain Keira would get asked. They were surprised honestly that she didn’t get asked out more often. Surely many people at the school fancied her? She was not only a great Quidditch player but Captain, and as Penny liked to point out, Quidditch players were very popular. Plus she was smart, funny, charming, attractive, and brave according to Rowan. Who wouldn’t want to be with a Curse-Breaker? That was one of, if not the, coolest things to be. And Keira was basically the definition of cool – Rowan always laid on a lot of compliments. Which Keira appreciated and it did help her feel better about herself but she kept the truth from them and replied with a simple thanks.

Truth was it didn’t matter how good she was at Quidditch or how smart she was or how good her grades were, how many witty remarks she made, how many adventures she went on, or how physically attractive she may apparently be – something that was supposed to run in the Black family according to rumors she heard – no one would ever be interested in her more than the interesting, and possibly, cautionary tale she was. Sure, her ‘alleged’ curse-breaking adventures around the school fueled rumors and were cause for most of the excitement around the school but she was basically some glorified article in the Daily Prophet – provided some captivating entertainment but the stories were most likely riddled with false and over dramatic information.

Truth was, she was cursed.

Not cursed like ‘I’ll never get a date because something’s wrong with me and I’m cursed’ and not cursed like ‘if I get kissed I’ll turn into a frog.’ It had nothing to do with dating or romance really.

Cursed like if you get close to her you may end up dead. Or at the very least seriously injured and used as a puppet for some dark witch or wizard.

She was cursed from the first moment she walked into Hogwarts and she still would be when she left.

While the students loved to talk about her and her ‘alleged’ adventures none of them wanted to actually talk to her, get to know her for her. They were all afraid of her. And not afraid of her because she was a tough badass who would knock all your teeth out which she would be fine with. But afraid because she put those who were close to her in danger.

How she still had friends she had no idea. She never thought she would have them and once she did she never thought they would stick around. Not after everything she put them through. And she never wanted to put them through such traumatizing and deadly conditions but those seemed impossible to avoid when dealing with these Vaults. But they continued to stick around and offer to partake in these adventures still, why she had no idea, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Hey! There you are!”

The cheery greeting snapped Keira out of her thoughts and she turned her head to see the grinning Gryffindor Seeker who appeared to have gotten caught in the rain with his wet hair and clothes dripping to the floor to create a small puddle around his feet.

“Out dancing in the rain,” Keira asked with a small smirk.

“Oh, no,” Charlie laughed as he reached up with his free hand to push back his bangs which kept falling into his eyes by the weight of the water. “Got caught in the rain on the way back from Hogsmeade. I like to reward the team after a good game or practice with a trip to Honeydukes,” he explained. “Uh, here. I got you something.” Charlie tossed the small package he was holding in his hand to her.

Keira caught the package and took a moment to study it. “Pink Coconut Ice. Thanks,” she read before smiling at the now blushing redhead. He always brought her something from Honeydukes after he went there with his team and she always appreciated the sweet gesture, especially knowing the Weasley’s were not the wealthiest family. Normally it was Toffees or Chocolate Cauldrons, or anything chocolate. She was sure he brought the rest of the group something to, although she hadn’t seen him hand any out to them, but he never handed out hers in front of them either. She assumed it was to keep them from fighting over the candy.

“Yeah. You’re like the only person I know who likes coconut so I thought you probably like those,” Charlie explained, his blush just growing more with his explanation.

Keira smiled more as she watched him nervously rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do. Thanks. It’s very thoughtful.”

There was a slight lull in the conversation which did not help Charlie’s nerves. So he had to say something to end it. Anything! Just say something!

“You know, I should give you my jacket to wear again.” Keira looked over at him quizzically. “…Be-because it doesn’t smell much like you anymore.”

Oh merlin. What did he just say? Why would he say that? She was going to think he was a complete git! He thought things were awkward before, well they certainly were now!

While this panic ensued inside the second eldest Weasley, Keira was still trying to make sense of it. “…Why would you want it to smell like me?”

Okay, maybe this was his chance for redemption!

“Well, because… you smell better than me,” Charlie answered with a shrug before mentally kicking himself. He should have just given her the candy and left!

Keira watched him a moment before laughing which visibly relaxed the Gryffindor. “You don’t smell bad, Charlie, stop worrying that you do. You smell nice.” While thankful she did not get offended or weirded out by his comments, her compliments meant to reassure him only caused a slight blush to appear on his freckled face. Fortunately, he managed to stop himself this time before saying more inappropriate comments about how nice she smelled.

“So, what are you doing up here,” Charlie asked after a moment, stepping closer to her.

“Just enjoying the rain. And thinking,” Keira replied, looking back out at the grey, cloudy sky. There was a slight pause in the conversation as, unaware to her, Charlie took a moment to admire her in that setting.

“Thinking about what,” he finally asked.

Keira took a deep breath before replying. She informed him how their group’s original plan to go together to the ball to send Bill off in style was no longer the plan. Everyone had dates, whether with another person or a date with chaos as it was for Tulip and Tonks. Which, she was happy for them, don’t get her wrong, they deserved to have a night of fun but…

“…But,” Charlie gently pried when Keira fell silent, stepping closer and leaning against the castle wall next to where her feet were perched to face her.

Keira took another deep breath as she watched the rain drops hit the ledge of the balcony. “But… It kind of feels like they’re moving on,” she answered quietly. “I know it’s dumb,” she added quickly, glancing up at him. “But that’s how it feels. Like they’re moving on and leaving me behind.”

“Just because they have dates to the ball or start dating doesn’t mean your friendship with them has to end.” Charlie was always ever the reassuring one. “Or are you really just upset because you don’t have a date,” he teased, earning a small glare from her. He was probably just trying to lighten the mood. “I’m surprised you haven’t been asked yet since I’m sure you have plenty of admirers around the school…”

Keira continued to glare at him, trying not to smile but it was proving to be very difficult. “Oh, but Charlie, haven’t you heard? I’m cursed.” The words stung him more than they did her. “Don’t think anyone is going to be asking me out any time soon,” she added, looking out again at the view. Before he had a chance to speak, to point out how wrong she was and passionately make his case that she was not cursed, Keira continued.

“It’s not just about them potentially dating, it’s about them connecting with new people who they will prefer spending their time with. People who aren’t going to put their lives in danger every year,” Keira tried to explain. She couldn’t help always having this anxiety and fear that her friends weren’t really her friends or would move on from her and make new friends who, like she said, wouldn’t be putting their lives in danger. She never thought she would have friends and now she was constantly afraid of losing them somehow.

“They’re not going to stop being your friend.” Charlie’s voice once again pulled her out of her negative thoughts. “Sure, searching for these vaults and breaking their curses is dangerous but it’s much more exciting than just sitting around gossiping about who’s dating who and studying for exams. If they didn’t want to help you they wouldn’t be. And they want to help you because they care about you. You have to give your friends more credit.”

Keira smiled back at the kind Gryffindor. “See? I told you it was dumb,” she laughed sheepishly.

“It’s not dumb,” Charlie tried to reassure. “Maybe silly and ridiculous, but not dumb,” he teased earning a small laugh from the Slytherin.

“And you’re not cursed,” Charlie added suddenly, much more sternly than the previous lighthearted tone. “And anyone who says you are is just intimidated by how brave and resilient you are while handling the situation you’re in.” Keira stared in shock at his short, passionate speech and his rarely seen intensely serious demeanor. Even while playing the fiercest game of Quidditch he was still all smiles and jokes. She fell silent as she let his words sink in, glancing away from his intense gaze.

“And, hey, we can always go together,” Charlie reminded her after a moment. He was part of this group too and he didn’t have a date. Well not yet…

“You’re sweet but I don’t want a pity date,” Keira replied. “I mean, you should go with who you want to go with, who you’ll have fun with. Like your Quidditch team,” she suggested, unsure what that strange look on the Seeker’s face was.

Honestly Charlie wasn’t sure how to feel either. Somewhat offended that she thought he would only ask her out of pity, hurt that she rejected him, but also dumbfounded that she really thought he wouldn’t want to go with her when she was the one person he would want to go with the most, the one he knew he would have the best time with. Before he could say anything more she spoke up again.

“Hey, is Percy free,” she joked.

Charlie’s hand flung up to his heart as he feigned heartbreak. “You would rather go with Percy than me?” The betrayal!

Keira laughed and shook her head. “No, of course not,” she assured. “But I can’t ask you to go with me out of some sort of obligation.” She held up a hand to stop him before he started to dispute with her.

“Well guess I better go get into some dry clothes,” Charlie said as he looked down at his still damp sweater. He knew better than to try and argue with her when her mind was already set.

“Yeah, you’re starting to smell like mildew,” Keira teased with a smirk.

“I thought you said I smelled good!” The two laughed before Charlie motioned for them to get going.

“What? You need me to pick out your clothes like your mum does for you?” Charlie tried to narrow his eyes at her but was unable to keep from smiling. He knew her teasing was a weird way of showing her affection.

“No. I just thought we talked, hopefully you’re feeling better because of it, so we can go now.” Keira studied him closely a moment before a devilish smirk slowly spread across her face.

“Charlie… Are you uncomfortable with me sitting on the ledge?”

“What? No,” Charlie scoffed, although it wasn’t very convincing.

“Is the big, brave, courageous Gryffindor scared,” Keira continued to mock.

“No,” Charlie claimed, stubbornly folding his arms.

Keira only smirked more before shifting to lean out the opening. “Oh no, I’m going to fall! Help me Charlie!”

“Very funny. This doesn’t affect me. I don’t care.” Charlie continued to act unfazed as Keira continued to pretend to be falling off the balcony. “I know you think this is getting to me but it’s not. This doesn’t freak me out. At all. I’m fine. I don’t – Okay, will you stop that!” He had finally had enough when she was hanging half out into the air and reached out to grab her arm before yanking her back inside. She was going to give him a heart attack!

Keira just laughed as she regained her footing. “Aw, I knew you cared.”

“I should have let you fall,” Charlie muttered, although as usual he was unable to keep from smiling.

“You would never let me fall.” And with that she turned to leave, opening up her bag of candy he brought her before popping one in her mouth. “And thanks again for the candy,” she called with a wave as she headed down the hallway leaving Charlie staring after her.

‘Addison, will you go to the ball with me?’

The fireworks request lit up the sky in the courtyard. Yep, it was that time of year again with grand proposals to the dance. Normally this was only done by the older students but now most people in Keira’s year were participating as well – guess they were getting older.

Besides the fireworks there had been singing telegrams, poorly written poems read out loud in the Great Hall, end of presentation surprise asks, time-outs used in Quidditch to ask someone in the stands, a scavenger hunt – which Keira had to admit was a good one, probably the best one she’s seen yet – and notes hidden in text books or even just a note passed in class. There were many more elaborate, extravagant gestures asking people to the ball but she couldn’t keep up with all of them.

On one hand they were a bit obnoxious and could put people on the spot, putting the pressure on them to accept. On the other hand, if done correctly such as it being personal and meaningful to the person being asked, like that scavenger hunt, and by the right person, it could make someone feel very special. Fortunately, the Professors were more lenient with the students’ and their ball proposal shenanigans during this time.

“Keira, you forgot your telescope!” She had been so focused on getting the students organized in an orderly fashion to head up to the Astronomy Tower she had completely blanked!

“Merde! Thanks, Rowan. Can you start leading everyone up there? I’ll catch up. Barnaby will help.” Before Rowan even had a chance to respond Keira was already running back to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew Rowan would handle it.

Rowan watched her friend run off before instructing everyone to follow her and starting to lead the way to class. “Yeah, you heard her, get going,” Barnaby commanded, doing his best to help. However, his eagerness to help earned him getting hit in the head by a balled up piece of parchment. “Okay, who threw that? You’re going to get it in Dueling Club, Reyes!”

Keira hurried back to her Dorm and located her telescope in her room before hurrying back to catch up to the rest who were already making their way up the long winding staircase of the Astronomy Tower. “J’en ai ras le cul with stairs,” she swore under her breath as she climbed the seemingly never ending staircase. She tended to prefer swearing in French believing she could get away with it more than if she did so in English.

Professor Sinistra greeted the group of Slytherin students as they reached the top of the Tower. “Where is your Prefect, Miss Black?” Rowan and Barnaby shared a look.

“Was that a shooting star,” Rowan suddenly exclaimed, pointing behind Professor Sinistra causing her to quickly turn around just in time to miss Keira sliding to a halt next to Barnaby.

“What? Where,” the Professor questioned before Rowan sheepishly admitted she was mistaken, probably just saw something, a lightning bug perhaps. Professor Sinistra frowned at her before looking over at Keira curiously. “How nice of you to join us.”

“What? I’ve been here the whole time,” claimed Keira as Barnaby nodded his head to confirm. The Professor gave her a look but fortunately told them to go set up their telescopes instead of punishing her for being late – allegedly being late.

Keira set up her telescope next to Rowan before taking out a quill and some parchment from her bag, thanking her friends for helping her out. Despite the rush to get to class, the class itself seemed to move very slowly. At least they were able to enjoy the fresh air and a beautiful scenery instead of being stuck sitting in a stuffy classroom.

“Why is there a constellation named after a dragon but not a kneazle,” Barnaby questioned as he stared up at the night sky through is telescope as the class drew close to being over.

Keira laughed slightly and glanced over at her fellow Beater from marking the constellation of Draco on her parchment. “You ask such thought provoking questions, Barnaby.”

“Really?” Barnaby moved away from his telescope to grin at her. “Normally I’m told I ask dumb questions and to shut up.”

Keira frowned slightly as she glanced down before looking back up at him with a smile. “Well I think you ask very interesting questions that no one else would think to ask. And that’s important, to have a different way of thinking, a different perspective.”

“You’re always so nice to me,” Barnaby replied causing Keira’s heart to ache slightly instead of relishing in the compliment. She knew he meant well and she was glad to always see him so happy when she did compliment and encourage him but it was also so depressing to hear how he had been treated so poorly by most people in his life.

“I just treat you how you deserve to be treated,” Keira told him. “And you’re my best friend.” She gave him another reassuring smile before looking through her telescope and frowning. “Hey, wait. Were those there before?” She looked back and forth between the mapped out constellation she drew and the starry night sky through her telescope which were no longer matching up. Now there appeared to be more stars appearing in the sky. She wasn’t sure how that was possible exactly but it was ruining everything she just worked on all class!

“Uh, Keira, I think you’re notes are safe,” Rowan told her as Keira scrambled to fix her constellation drawing. She paused in her frantic scribbling and looked at her other best friend quizzically who was smirking smugly at her. Why was she not panicking to fix her notes? Rowan of all people should be hurrying to do that!

“Look,” Rowan gently instructed, motioning up to the sky. “I think the stars have a message for you.”

Keira stared at her friend in confusion. What the hell did that even mean? That was oddly cryptic, especially coming from Rowan.

“What,” Keira asked but after another encouraging motion from Rowan to look up she dropped her questioning and turned her head to look up at the starry night sky.

She didn’t need her telescope to read the twinkling star-like words written in the clear midnight sky.

‘Adelyn-Keira Black, Will You Go To The Ball With Me?’

Keira stared at the message in shock, unaware of the rest of her class’ reaction. She had to read it a few times over to make sure she was reading it correctly and then had to look over at Rowan for confirmation that she wasn’t hallucinating and it really was up there written in the sky.

Once Rowan confirmed that it was, in fact, real Keira returned to staring at her starry message in disbelief. What? Why? Who?

Her eyes drifted to below the message where, as if this entire thing had been orchestrated to perfection meticulously, the dragon constellation they were just studying lay.

“Really,” Keira muttered to herself, incredulously as a small grin crept onto her face.

As if on cue a familiar redhead with a Cheshire grin appeared before her, flying gracefully on his broom.

“Eejit. Have you gone daft?”

“So, is that a yes or…” Charlie questioned with a sly smirk.

“Charlie, why,” was all Keira could muster up with a small, embarrassed laugh.

“Because, you deserve to be asked out to the ball properly,” Charlie answered. “And maybe if I did so properly you’d realize I’m serious and this isn’t a pity ask.”

Keira studied him a moment, trying to keep a neutral poker face but the smile she fought against tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“Is this where I make a comment about moving the stars for you or about it being written in the stars? There’s something there, hold on, I’ll figure it out.” Keira laughed as she watched Charlie struggle to come up with whatever line he was trying to create.

“Didn’t come very prepared, eh? Maybe you should have had Bill write you some notes on what to say,” Keira teased.

“I am much more charming than Bill,” Charlie informed her before noting the look from Professor Sinistra to wrap it up. He was lucky she was allowing him to interrupt her class, even if it was the end of it. She was just glad there were not loud fireworks or anything of the sort or else she might have punished him despite the leniency the faculty showed to the students while they made their dance proposals.

That look from the stern teacher almost knocked Charlie off his broom (and his game). “Uh, so, you still haven’t given me an answer.”

Keira glanced back up at the message asking her to the ball one more moment before it would inevitably fade away – she wished Penny was there to snap a picture so she could have a keepsake to remember this moment more vividly – before turning back to the nervously waiting Weasley.

“I would love to go to the ball with you, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned from ear to ear. Not like he expected her to cruelly reject him, they were close, but part of him was still nervous she would say no with some lame excuse. He was extremely relieved, and overjoyed, that she accepted.

“Is this where I whisk you away,” Charlie asked with another sly smirk as he held his hand out to her.

“No! Absolutely not! There will be no flying off the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night during my class,” Professor Sinistra finally interjected.

“But class is over,” Rowan gently pointed out. She was clearly happy for her best friend and didn’t want anyone, even the Professor, to ruin it! Unfortunately, Rowan’s attempt to politely disagree with the Professor only earned her a stern look before Professor Sinistra turned that stern look to the Gryffindor.

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly withdrew his hand upon being scolded and glared at by the strict Professor. “You can whisk me off some other time,” Keira assured him. “I think right now it’s probably best if you just go.” Charlie had to agree with that statement.

He nodded his head as he timidly watched Professor Sinistra before throwing Keira one last smile. “I’ll talk to you later.” And with that, the Gryffindor Seeker flew quickly away from the Astronomy Tower just as her ask to the ball faded away.

“You better go straight back to your dorm, Mr. Weasley,” Professor Sinistra called after him before telling her class to finish up their star charts and pack up their things to head back to their own dorm as well.

It was the first time Keira didn’t complain about all the stairs as they made their way down the winding staircase. Rowan claimed she was practically skipping down the halls and could not stop smiling the rest of the night.

“Tulip, you better not let off that dungbomb,” Penny scolded sternly.

As planned, the girls were all getting ready for the End of the Year Ball together, gathered in the Ravenclaw Tower. By now, after years of inter-house friendships and Penny’s popularity that taught her how to get into any house’s Common Room, particularly when there were house parties, the gang managed to figure out to hang out together in the different house dorms. They were originally going to get ready together in the Hufflepuff Dorm but Andre insisted they get ready in the Ravenclaw Tower so he could inspect their looks and make sure they were perfect and something about the stairs helping to create a more dramatic entrance. So the girls gathered up their things and headed up to the windy Tower. However, preparing for the ball differed among them.

While most girls were doing their hair and makeup as prep for the ball, Tulip and Tonks were determining how to best sneak all their pranking supplies into the ball without it being noticed. Fortunately, their perfectly tailored tuxes had plenty of pockets! And, as Keira predicted, they looked very dashing and would probably be best dressed at the ball, which would be well deserved.

Penny sat down next to Keira with a huff once she had ensured Tulip would not accidentally let off one of her many dungbombs as they got ready. She did not want to stink all night! Her frustrated attitude soon disappeared as she watched her friend get ready for the ball. “So I heard Charlie actually moved the stars for you to ask you to the ball.”

“No, he didn’t move any stars,” Keira corrected, unable to keep from rolling her eyes at these rumors that spread around. “He said he had been working with Flitwick for weeks after class on perfecting the charm so it would appear like he wrote it in the stars.”

“And he signed it with a dragon,” Penny asked, making a small face. This dragon obsessed boy – she did not get it. Although, people may not understand her passion for potions.

“He didn’t sign it with a dragon, it was written over the constellation Draco, which Charlie claims he did not intend but I don’t know if I believe him,” Keira explained.

“Mhmm… And you’re excited to be going,” Penny asked with a slight mischievous glint in her eye.

“Sure, but I was always going regardless if I got asked to go with someone or not. I’m going to Bill,” Keira replied.

“I mean, you’re excited to be going with Charlie,” Penny specified.

“Oh. Well, sure. We’re close friends and we always have a good time together,” Keira replied with a shrug. Penny watched her friend closely with a knowing smirk. Keira glanced over at the blonde, squirming slightly under her intense gaze. “What?”

“I’m just very happy you’re going with Charlie. That this is finally happening,” Penny answered as she turned her attention back to her hair possibly as an excuse to avoid the Slytherin’s stare.

Keira frowned slightly as she watched the Hufflepuff curiously. “What does that mean?”

Penny paused a moment as she thought of how to explain this. Their group was aware there was something there between the two and admittedly, often, their conversations would turn to the topic and how oblivious the two were. However, now it seemed one of them had at least realized it while the other was still reluctant to.

“You two just seem to have this close connection. A connection you two don’t have with anyone else. Never even seemed interested in trying to create with someone else. I don’t really know how to explain it exactly but… I’m just happy for you. I think this is good for you,” Penny told her with a small smile.

“Because I won’t be sitting all alone at the ball, moping in a corner somewhere,” Keira teased earning a small laugh from the Hufflepuff.

“No, well… sort of. I think it is good you’re going with Charlie to the ball so you’ll have a fun time, which you deserve,” she pointed out as the Slytherin appeared to almost argue with her. “But I also think it’s good for you to be…exploring this connection you have with Charlie and taking it to another level. I know you put on a brave, cool and collected front but I know everything you’ve been going through all these years is really hard on you. When I lost Beatrice, for a short time compared to what you’ve been through with Jacob, I was an emotional wreck. Crying all the time, always in a panic, frantic, literally pulling my hair out. I don’t know how you cope with it with death threats on top of it.”

“I have you guys,” Keira answered, giving Penny a small smile. “I don’t know what I would do without all of you,” she admitted quietly.

Penny smiled back at the Slytherin and reached over to place a hand on hers. “We’re always going to be here for you, Keira.” The two shared a quiet moment together before Penny continued with her original point.

“Even with the support of our great group of friends, you still keep a lot inside. And you need someone you can talk to, like really talk to. Be open and vulnerable with who you trust and can rely on. And someone who makes you happy. Because you deserve to be happy too. And I think Charlie is that person.” Keira sat there silently as she let Penny’s words sink in. She didn’t realize Penny or any of her friends thought about her this much, or her and Charlie. What did they talk about exactly when she wasn’t around?

“Here,” Penny said as she pulled something out of her bag she brought with her to help her get ready for the ball. She slid the item over to Keira who stared at it in disbelief.

“What? How?” Laying before her on the table was a picture of that night where Charlie asked her to the ball, the starry message in the sky, Charlie appearing in front of her on his broom with that cheeky grin.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere. Everywhere,” Penny informed. “I know everything going on in this place. Everything.” Keira stared at her friend a bit fearfully. Everywhere? Everything? Why did that sound more like a warning? Penny was more powerful than most people knew or wanted to admit. But that was one of the many reasons Keira loved her.

“My hair is being positively unruly. Can you guys help me, please,” Rowan pleaded as she sat down with a huff between the two girls. She was never one to do her hair or wear makeup and all of this was confusing to her. Which was hard on her because she was so smart and excelled in all her classes but she couldn’t figure out how to do her hair?

“Of course we can help,” Penny assured her with a beaming smile, moving behind Rowan to fix the tangled, frizzy mess she somehow made.

“Here, I’ll help you with your makeup,” Keira offered, moving to do just that.

“Thanks. I know it’s kind of stupid to be fretting so much over all this stuff but, Penny is right. We never get to dress up in fancy gowns and get all done up for a glamorous evening and I think we should take advantage of it. Go all out,” Rowan said, clearly relieved to be getting help.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, I completely agree,” Keira assured her with a small smile. “It’s not every day we get to do this – do up our hair, play with makeup, dress up – it should be fun, not stressful, because we deserve to have some fun.” Penny beamed from behind Rowan, glad these girls were finally coming around.

Penny and Keira helped Rowan with her hair and makeup and honestly that little makeover was probably the most fun they had all night, talking, joking, laughing, especially when Tonks and Tulip got involved, dancing and singing loudly, and obnoxiously, to the music Penny played, and overall bonding.

“Let’s go, ladies. The guys are waiting and the feast is about to start.” At Andre’s call the girls wrapped up their final preparations before heading down to meet the rest of their party. Penny made sure to grab her camera and informed them all to be prepared for many, many pictures. In case any of them thought she was kidding Penny hurried down the stairs, much to Andre’s exasperation, to take pictures of the girls coming down the stairs and the boy’s reactions because she felt this entire night had to be documented. Doubtful they would go to next year’s ball and at their own graduation they may be too wrapped up in everything, although she would still probably make sure every was documented then as well. And Merlin forbid something happened to their group before graduation. People did grow up and grow apart, friendships could end, these vaults were dangerous… She just felt it was important to document as many happy moments together as possible so they could all look back on these days fondly and remember each other, no matter where they were in the world, no matter where life took them, no matter what happens in the next couple years left at Hogwarts, that part of them would always be friends.

He knew it was cliché. This wasn’t one of those romantic comedy talking and extended moving picture things that Penny brought from the muggle world and made them watch, what were those things called again? Movies, that’s right. It wasn’t a movie, a rom-com as they were apparently called if he remembered correctly. This wasn’t a scene in one of those movies where one of the main characters has a sudden epiphany upon seeing the other in a different light and realizes they have feelings for them. Of course it wasn’t one of those moments because Charlie already had that epiphany months ago.

He knew it was cliché but he swore this is what it felt like. The moment he saw her walking towards him time seemed to slow, only a bit, enough for him to admire the way the bottom of her dress floated behind her as she descended the stairs and the hint of silver shimmer that glimmered much like the twinkling stars with her movements. The voices and sounds of everyone else around them faded into the background until her laughter that filled him with such warmth was the only thing he heard. And he knew it sounded cliché but he swore, for a moment, everyone else seemed to vanish and all he saw was her. And when her stormy sea eyes met his, his heart skipped a beat, he forgot how to breathe, and time seemed to stop, just for a brief a moment, as he stood there, frozen, completely captivated and mesmerized. It was cliché. But that’s how he felt.

Gradually all the voices and sounds that had faded into the distance returned and he was jarred back into reality with a firm hand on his back.

“Well I must say I did wonders on your atrocious dress robes,” Andre praised himself as he studied his fine work on Charlie’s once embarrassing and fashion disaster of dress robes that were sent to him from his family. His and Bill’s looks for the ball were the ones Andre had to do the most work on. But he did an amazing job on fixing them up, tailoring them to perfection, and even adding personalized details for the two gentlemen such as some dragon embroidery for Charlie, if he did say so himself.

“Yeah, thanks,” Charlie chuckled, trying to hide his embarrassment of possibly being caught gawking at Keira.

“Hey. You clean up nice.” Charlie whipped his head around and stared at the beautiful girl in front of him. Keira smiled charmingly at the Gryffindor as she admired his fixed robes. She did have to commend Andre on his great job. When Bill and Charlie received their packages of dress robes they group had their fun of teasing the two. But now Charlie, and she was also sure Bill, looked quite dashing in them.

“Th-thank you,” Charlie replied, clearing his throat, before mentally kicking himself. Oh, Merlin, did he just stutter like a nervous tosser?

“Compliment her,” Andre whispered in his ear. Did he have to do everything for them?

“Oh uh…” Charlie stared at the ethereal dark haired girl in front of him as he tried to come up with a good compliment to give her. All he had to tell her, without stammering or sounding like a complete tosser, that she looked beautiful. Radiant even. Breathtaking? No, maybe that was too much even if it was true.

“You look beautiful.”

Keira smiled at him before glancing down and, he may have been mistaken but he thought he saw a slight blush spread across her face. “Thank y-“

“Like an Antipodean Opaleye.” He should have stopped at she looked beautiful. Andre groaned and smacked his forehead with his palm, muttering about how Charlie was hopeless before walking away from the couple.

Keira whipped her head up at his interruption and stared at him a moment as she processed what he just said before she started laughing. Charlie visibly relaxed when he heard her laugh and was relieved she didn’t think he was weird or a freak like most did in regards to his obsession with dragons. But that was never really a concern of his from her. She was always willing to listen to him ramble on and on about dragons, even asked him about his interest – the uses of dragon’s blood, interesting facts about the creatures, etc. – found and brought him dragon related books from the library or bookstore. And never once did her eyes gloss over as she spaced out during his ramblings nor did she ever roll her eyes or seemed annoyed or bored. She always listened intently, asked questions, and sure joked around with him sometimes about it but she never discouraged his passion.

“You’re such a dork,” Keira teased him, playfully hitting his arm and snapping him out of his thoughts. “But thank you. That’s quite the compliment coming from you.”

Perhaps just in time to save him from making a fool of himself again, Penny called everyone over to take some pictures before they headed off to the feast and ball. And when Penny said pictures, she meant photo shoot.

There were group shots of everyone, all the girls, all the guys, those who played Quidditch, Prefects, the members of each Hogwarts house; there were couple shots of dates and basically everyone in their group paired off together and other random combinations they could come up with. Some were serious, some were ridiculously posed, but the best pictures of the whole night were the candid ones Penny took of them.

Finally, after their extensive impromptu photoshoot which could have gone on longer if they hadn’t convinced Penny they were going to miss the ball entirely at this rate, the group was free to go to the Great Hall together which had been transformed. Round tables had been set up along a perimeter surrounding a dance floor. The gang was fortunate to find a table for all of them, possibly having to convince others to move to a different table so they all could sit together, and enjoyed the feast which was accompanied by speeches by the faculty wishing the graduates well. It was hard not to get emotional thinking of Bill no longer being there with them. Of course Keira and certainly Charlie would write to him almost every day but not having him there to help them would be hard. He had become the group’s surrogate older brother. It would be hard without him there.

Once the feast and speeches had concluded and the music started they were free to mingle and dance. But before any dancing was done Keira wanted to see Bill – get the emotional stuff done and over with so they could enjoy the rest of their evening.

She hugged the eldest Weasley tightly, refusing to let go but Bill didn’t seem to have any problems with that. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I know, I’ll miss you too. But I’ll write to you all the time,” Bill promised. “And you’re going to write to me too, right? I need to be kept up to date on all your Cursed Vaults adventures.”

“As long as you keep me informed about all your Curse-Breaking adventures too,” Keira negotiated before demanding him to stay safe.

“After all these years of hunting down and break these Cursed Vaults, I am prepared to handle anything, thanks to you,” Bill assured her before smiling warmly down at her. “I’ll be safe, I promise. And you two be safe too,” he added quickly in that classic older brother tone. Cursed-Vaults, death threats, and trying to find a dragon in the Forbidden Forest amongst all the dangerous creatures lurking in there – they were in more danger than he was!

Keira reluctantly let him go as Bill began to address Charlie and lecturing him on being the eldest brother at the school now. With Bill gone, Charlie had to watch out for his little brothers. Percy shouldn’t be any trouble but next year the twins would be arriving and Charlie had to look out for them.

“Funny how you’re leaving just in time before Fred and George arrive,” Charlie noted.

“Yeah, almost like mum and dad planned it that way,” Bill retorted with a smirk.

The two brothers continued their bickering for a bit before Bill suggested they should be enjoying the evening instead of standing around him all night. Keira groaned slightly before flinging her arms around the towering Weasley once again.

“I’m not dying,” Bill reminded them. “You’re going to see me again.

“If you don’t get mauled to death by a Sphinx,” Charlie muttered. He tried not to show it but he was really going to miss his brother too. Bill was his best friend, well besides Keira now, but they grew up together, shared the same bedroom. He couldn’t even go to sleep without talking to Bill before going to bed, what was he supposed to do now? He talked to Bill about everything, always turning to his older brother for advice! Sure, he would write his brother letters but some things were time sensitive and needed to be said in person in the moment. And now being the eldest Weasley at the school, leaving him to watch over his younger siblings and be the role model was nerve-racking. He loved them dearly, and while Percy shouldn’t prove to be too difficult, his siblings had been known to cause some trouble and be a handful, particularly the twins.

“I’m not going to get mauled to death by a Sphinx,” Bill spoke sternly as Keira gasped and tightened her grip around him at Charlie’s comment. “I am not going to die. I’m going to be fine. And I have you guys to thank for that. Preparing me for curses and dangerous creatures. I’m going to be alright and so are you guys.” Keira’s grip loosened around the eldest Weasley as she slowly let him go, trying to hold back her emotions. She was not going to start crying at the ball. What a mood killer.

Bill gave them another brief pep talk, reassuring them they would be fine without him, he would be safe, they would write to each other all the time and if they ever really needed him he would find a way to be there. And he’d see them for holidays!

“And hey, in a couple years you’ll probably be joining me. Right, Keira?” Keira paused and mulled over Bill’s question. Honestly, she hadn’t thought much about a future outside of Hogwarts. Her whole focus while going to school was finding these Vaults in hopes of finding her brother. And of course to learn magic and all that. Especially when that was necessary to break the curses on these Vaults!

“I don’t know, maybe,” was all Keira could muster up at the moment. If she was completely honest, which she wouldn’t be at the moment because that would be a serious mood killer, but she wasn’t even sure if she would live to see graduation some times. She had made that dark, it’s-funny-because-it’s-true joke to Bill before when she suggested him to be Madam Rakepick’s apprentice instead of herself. Bill didn’t find it funny.

“They’d be lucky to have you,” Bill told her in an attempt to put any doubts or insecurities she may have to rest. “Heck, you could probably stroll right in there and be Head Curse-Breaker on your first day once they learn you broke your first curse at the age of like twelve.” Keira couldn’t help but smile at his compliment. She was really going to miss him and was going to drown him in letters, needing his wisdom and reassurance. He had easily become one of her dearest and closest best friend. And after all this was over, if she survived it, working alongside her brotherly best friend would be nice. Could be fun. Almost ideal even! Could be worse…

“Okay, you two are depressing me now. Go have fun,” Bill instructed, shooing them away.

“But-”

“No buts! You can’t spend all night crying over me, literally. Go have fun,” Bill demanded. “And I’ll see you on the dance floor or by the punch bowl. This isn’t goodbye just yet. This is about celebrating all the great times and adventures we had here together. Tomorrow we can have our tear-filled goodbyes.” Well, he did have a point. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a party. Tomorrow, on their official last day they could all cry and hug Bill and never let him go.

Despite this being Bill’s last hoorah with them, at least for now, the gang had a really fun night. They ate, drank, talked, laughed, and danced together. Rowan, albeit a somewhat awkward dancer and therefore a bit shy at first, was swung around the dance floor by Diego who seemed to really help her let loose and not be so self-conscious about her dancing. Tonks and Tulips darted all around the ball, setting off their pranks and then hurrying back over to their friends to dance with them, like they’ve been there the entire time, hide behind them, or sometimes even under the table to escape from Filch and his wrath. Tonks tried to get herself, Ben, and Talbott when he was suddenly located, “just checking things out” after claiming to not want to attend this “stupid event,” to be crowd surfed, only to have her efforts thwarted each time, unfortunately. Barnaby kept his promise and saved a dance for Keira which also provided him with the opportunity to surprise the group with his waltz and general ballroom dance skills. Didn’t all pureblood families, at least those wealthy pureblood families, learn classic, perhaps even archaic, proper etiquette such as ballroom dance or playing a classical musical instrument? (No guitars here!) Anything to show off to their other rich friends like all that somehow made their children better than others.

Overall it was a night of fun and laughter and happy memories. Memories they could look back on fondly especially with Penny capturing them all on her camera. While laughing and dancing with her friends was a lot of fun, after a while, being surrounded by so many people with so many conflicting, competing noises reverberating throughout the space, it all became a little overwhelming so Keira excused herself and headed out onto the balcony that surrounded the Great Hall.

The fresh air and cool breeze that blew her loosely curled hair was refreshing and welcoming as she stepped out onto the mostly empty balcony. She had to wander a bit to find a space for herself, away from couples who had escaped out there for their own private snogging session. She reached up to adjust the antique looking silver decorative hair pin Penny convinced her to buy for the ball that held back part of her hair before resting against the balustrade of the balcony. The quiet and stillness of the night air was peaceful and invigorating. Keira sighed contently as she enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere the calming night and faint music from inside created.

“There you are.”

Keira turned around when she heard a familiar voice behind her and smiled at her date.

“You’ve been gone for a while, just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Charlie explained as he walked closer to her.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to get away from all the crowds and noise for a moment,” Keira informed him as Charlie leaned on the balustrade next to her, gazing up at the clear night sky.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Charlie replied. Keira watched him a moment, admiring how the moon light highlighted his handsome face before turning to rest against the balustrade again and sunk into the comfortable silence that fell between them.

After some time Keira felt someone staring at her and turned to head to meet Charlie’s adoring gaze. There had been other times where she felt someone’s eyes on her such as during class, and she had assumed it possibly was Charlie since it seemed to always come from his direction and her friends always claimed Charlie stared at her and gave him a hard time about it, but any time she looked over he looked away and she never caught him actually doing it. But this time his gaze held strong. He didn’t appear to be embarrassed at being caught or even fazed at all.

Keira shifted nervously under his intense gaze, feeling her face heat up causing her to avert her eyes from his. “What? Why are you looking at me like that,” she asked self-consciously.

“You’re just really beautiful,” Charlie answered softly, genuinely, not trying to be funny and charming, which just caused her face to grow redder.

“I think you’ve had too much punch,” Keira replied jokingly, obviously unsure of how to handle a compliment like that delivered so honestly. And she fully admitted she may have some intimacy fears and issues.

Fortunately her comment didn’t seem to offend Charlie or ruin the mood, earning a small chuckle from him which filled her with warmth, although she didn’t really need it when her face already felt like it was on fire. She glanced over at him to catch his usual caring smile which always caused whatever winged creatures that were in her stomach to flutter.

Charlie only broke his fixed gaze on her to glance behind them, back towards where to roaring party was still raging on, as a slow melody began to flow out from the Great Hall and fill the air.

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out towards her.

Keira looked down at his hand curiously. “What?”

“Let’s dance. They’re playing our song,” he added with a charming smile.

“We have a song,” Keira asked with a small laugh as she shyly placed her hand in his.

“We do now,” Charlie answered before taking her hand firmly in his. He spun her around once, causing Keira to laugh more, before pulling her close to him. He slid his free arm around her waist to hold her securely to him. They swayed along to the dreamy melody, gliding along the terrace as one, the romantic lyrics seeming to narrate the moment between them perfectly.

It was funny. Before he had asked her to the dance, Charlie had always been the nervous, self-conscious one around her. They still spent a lot of time together, talked, laughed, even at his lighthearted attempts at flirting and cheeky charming comments, but sometimes the nervousness would hit him. Then he would be the one with the red face, nervous laughter, and stammering; pretty sure he made quite the fool of himself. But now, ever since she accepted his proposal to the ball he had this new found confidence. Sure, she still caused fluttering in his stomach and his heart to skip a beat, still made him nervous (he did call her an Antipodean Opaleye dragon), but seeing her reaction when he asked her to the ball, getting this chance to act on his newly understood feelings and make this something real somehow ignited this determination and confidence within him.

And on the other hand, normally cool, calm, and comfortable being herself, Keira now found herself being the nervous, self-conscious one. Perhaps it was because before this she was in blissful ignorance of any deeper feelings Charlie may have for her. Sure, she had heard her friends joke about it but she never thought it was real. Charlie wasn’t one to be lusting after others, show any interest in dating or romance, something she and him had talked about before and bonded over since she felt similar, so why would he feel those feelings towards her? And yeah, maybe she did have certain feelings for him but she was too afraid to admit that to herself, let alone anyone else. Although she was pretty sure most of her friends, especially Penny and Rowan had already figured it out based on their comments and questions to her about it.

But as long as she believed there was no way he felt the same way, there was no chance of something more, she was free to be herself, no matter how ridiculous or embarrassing, and still got a very close and reliable friend who she cherished. Now suspecting he may actually have deeper feelings than friendship for her, which was just speculation still since he hadn’t ever actually said anything on the subject, Keira found herself suddenly hyperaware of her behavior, things she said, how she looked, his behavior, things he said, how he responded to things she said, how he looked at her – everything. And it was making her more self-conscious than she had ever been before, especially around him since he was the most accepting, understanding, and least judgmental person she knew. She just didn’t want to do or say anything to mess this up and lose someone so important to her.

They floated across the terrace floor slowly, gracefully, Keira quite impressed and surprised by Charlie’s dancing abilities. The entire time Charlie looked down at her warmly, unable to stop himself from smiling, and while Keira may have needed to occasionally coyly avert her gaze from his, she could not stop smiling either.

The waning moon cast its spotlight upon the dancing couple who moved together harmoniously under the velvet night sky with only the twinkling stars as their audience. The more they danced the more comfortable this felt, the more right it felt.

As the song neared its end, Keira peered up to meet Charlie’s steadfast gaze. Their eyes remained locked as they gradually slowed to a stop but neither made a move to part from the other. Instead, Charlie leaned down to close the small distance between them, his eyes falling half shut as he hesitantly brushed his lips against hers causing a spark to jolt through them both leaving a tingling sensation, a rush of anticipation as their hearts pounded in their chests.

When his lips met hers the first thought in Keira’s mind was how surprised she was by how soft they were. That thought was quickly followed by her utter disbelief and shock that Charlie Weasley had leaned down to kiss her – that he wanted to kiss anyone but especially her! Maybe she should have checked to make sure no one had drank a polyjuice potion and was parading around as him.

His hesitancy, though, spoke volumes.

This was new territory for both of them and until now he had appeared so confident in what he was doing. But now this – there was no turning back from this. Was he sure about his feelings? Was he sure about her feelings? Is this what they both wanted? Did she want this? What if him doing this ruined everything? He was unsure and nervous about making a mistake, which was valid. Neither of them wanted to lose their close friend. But his uncertainty only made her more certain that this was right, confirmed for her how much this meant to both of them. Suddenly she wasn’t afraid any longer of all the what-ifs. This is what they both wanted. This was right. And they would be fine.

Keira smirked slightly against his lips before leaning up to meet him in a silent effort to put his insecurities to rest, her eyes falling shut as she allowed herself to give into the moment. Her gesture provided Charlie with the reassurance he needed. Once he felt the enticing sensation of her lips on his, his eyes fell shut as he felt free to give into his emotions. He kissed her gently at first, both taking their time to slowly enjoy this moment and the awakening and intensity of new feelings and sensations with each other before his arm around her waist tightened and his hand grasping hers moved to hold the side of her face as their kiss grew deeper and more passionate.

Under the night sky they remained wrapped in each other’s embrace, taking a chance on expressing their long hidden feelings for one another. Once again time seemed to still and everything around them faded away until all that existed to the couple were each other and the moon and stars that shone down upon them, preserving this intimate and pivotal moment they designed.

The night sky was suddenly illuminated by countless fireworks set off from the opposite end of the balcony surrounding the Great Hall. Tonks and Tulip promised a grand finale. But neither Charlie nor Keira seemed to even notice them, lost in each other.

Keira lay on the couch in the Slytherin Common Room, staring up at the ceiling with a dreamy look and blissful grin on her face. She knew it was there and probably made her look insane or worse, love-struck, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Come on, Keira!” She suddenly felt herself being pulled up off the couch by Rowan who apparently had her inner dancing spirit awakened. The two girls laughed and danced around the Common Room, twirling in their dresses they refused to take off even though the ball had ended hours ago.

“Woo, dance party,” Barnaby cried before literally jumping in to join them. The Slytherin trio laughed as they danced around before Barnaby seemed to suddenly remember something. “Oh yeah, I’m supposed to give you this.”

Barnaby handed Keira an envelope and while she stepped aside to open it, Barnaby and Rowan continued their lively dancing. She studied the plain envelope curiously before opening it and pulling out its contents.

She stared at what she held in her hand in shock.

The picture the envelope bestowed showed her and Charlie on the balcony in the midst of their first kiss under the waning gibbous moon, twinkling stars, and fireworks that shot up in a spectacular explosion in the sky around them. She turned the picture over to see the date written on the back along with a message which caused an eerie chill to creep throughout her body as she nervously looked around the room.

‘I know everything that happens at Hogwarts’ ♥ Penny

Merde – Shit

J’en ai ras le cul – I have fucking had it (with stairs)

Eejit – Idiot

I think it’s safe to say we all know, or can at least figure out, the British slang words (I hope I used them correctly or else how embarrassing!)

A/N: Could I have ended it with them kissing under the night sky on the balcony? Sure. But then this idea popped into my head and I thought it was funny. You can pretend it ends with the romantic scene.(I’m still not perfectly happening with the ending scene of them kissing but I can’t keep obsessing over it and tweaking little things here and there throughout the story, I need to just post it and be done! Also still kind of wish it had a better title but whatever - ugh the perfectionist in me!)

I didn’t write this all in one sitting so hopefully it flows, and again it has been so long since I’ve written something like this but I enjoyed doing it. I know I can tend to ramble and be over detailed and I do love my commas but that’s just me being excited to write this kind of stuff again. Sorry it ended up so much longer than anticipated! I also know I could have just focused on the relationship with Charlie but I love the relationship with the whole gang and wanted to highlight that as well. Oh, and the Rowan and Diego thing – I see one screenshot of them talking/close to each other in DADA and now I kind of ship it? I don’t know…Barnaby could have possibly gone with Liz, I don’t really know her but they both love magical creatures and she is rather socially awkward so I could see her asking him to the dance without him realizing =p Or it was some other girl. Shout out to all the Addison’s out there! I kept seeing this name in reference to the game and thought ‘well this is a popular name I should use it.’

As mentioned before the reference to Charlie realizing his feelings and falling asleep together while studying may be another fic I write as well as a sort of aftermath of the ball where they make it official. I also have some other one shot ideas or headcanons I’ve mentioned in others posts I may actually write out as well (e.g. Keira getting a concussion during a Quidditch match and being caught by Charlie, Keira and Barnaby accidentally knocking a ball into the Potions classroom). I don’t know if anyone would be interested but might be something I do. I am really happy to be getting back into creative writing.

Let me know if you are interested; I noticed some people tag others to keep them updated on their fics and if you’d like that let me know! And if you have any prompt ideas or collab ideas or anything let me know too! I would just really like to connect to others, maybe even make friendships - how crazy would that be =p

~ Hope you enjoyed =)

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wafflesetc · 7 years ago

Text

What’s in a name?

OL: Missing Moment, Drums of Autumn Timeline.

Shout out to @missclairebelle and @kkruml for being the ballers they are. XO.

She thought she had seen what marriage was like- once upon a time, in a whole other century. Yet, she also thought she had known who Claire Beauchamp was- that is, until she saw Claire with him.

The first time she heard it, she was standing inside the house: the windows were open and the door was ajar with the light autumn breeze that filled the house. The mountain air was cool and crisp on her face. Her mother was standing on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around her body while she watched the horizon for a sign of her husband.

She peered out the window to see her father coming with a deer on his back, his cheeks flushed from the day’s work. Bree watched as her father dropped the deer onto the porch and her mother opened her arms. Jamie reached and pulled Claire into his embrace, kissing her forehead.

“Sassenach,” Her da breathed quietly, pushing a curl out of her mam’s face, “I missed ye.”

“Mmhmm,” Claire sighed happily tilting her head up and kissing the base of Jamie’s jaw. “It is good to have you home.”

He pulled her mother closer, each just breathing the other’s air—present and whole—alive and together. She watched their embrace for a moment, her eyes lingering on them for what seemed like an eternity.

Sassenach, she thought to herself- that’s an odd term of endearment. But as her mother reached up and cupped her father’s cheek, she witnessed a look shared between them- a million unsaid words and feelings conveyed with just a look- in the moment it was just them, their own little universe.

Bree smiled to herself, turning on her heel, leaving them in their own little world.

The second and third time she heard it, she didn’t even realize at first her father was doing it.

She had heard the stories. Her Da’s time of war, of prison, of living in a cave. She had heard the tales of the three years Claire had spent with him. She had heard about the man named Murtagh, their careful guardian and companion, a man she wished she’d also get the chance to meet. She heard their tales of the Bonnie Prince and that terrible day where their lives had taken that dreadful turn. Brianna knew all the bad, ugly, and torturous things that had happened to Jamie Fraser.

He had once been a man in a story: a man that had no face, no image in her mind. Jamie Fraser was just the hero of her mother’s story- but now he was living, breathing, and before her very eyes.

Bree poured a cup of whisky and set it on the table. Her father sat, his hand reaching for hers and giving it a light squeeze.

“Thank ye, lass.” His voice was quieter than usual and she could hear and underlying tone of pain beneath his bravado.

“You were out working all day, while I just stood around and washed and folded clothes. It’s the least I can do.” She put a hand on his shoulder giving him a tight squeeze in return.

“Have you seen yer mam?” Jamie asked as he reached for the glass and took a sip.

“Not too long ago she went to stitch someone up, I think- she should be back any minute….” Bree answered as she heard the door creak open. “Speak of the devil.”

“The devil am I?” Claire smiled, medical box in hand, and shut the door behind her. “Am I needed somewhere?”

Bree leaned against the counter and turned to face her mom. “Da was just asking where you were.”

“I see,” Her mother shrugged off her scarf and hung it on the wall, “Did you cut yourself today, Jamie?”

Bree watched as her father shook his head, and with tired eyes looked back up to Claire.

“Mo nighean donn,” He breathed almost silently, and stuck his hand out to his wife.

Oh for the love of god he needs her. He just… needs her. She thought to herself, she could feel her heart swell in that moment.

Bree turned her attention to her mother, whose entire demeanor changed at Jamie’s words. Her smile faded and was replaced pensive look and a raise of her eyebrows.

Wordlessly, Claire took his hand and sat on his knee. “Headache?” She asked.

Jamie shook his head and Claire’s hand came to the base of his skull, rubbing small circles in a uniformed pattern. Jamie let out a breath and Scottish grunt of relief; it caused Bree to stifle a laugh.

“I’d say Da is happy you’re home.”

“Appears so.” Her mother laughed and moved her hands now Jamie’s neck.

“Mo chridhe, ye have the hands of an angel.” Jamie laughed and kissed her neck.

Bree stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt and blushed, almost from embarrassment, seeing her parents be intimate and make references to their sex life- that’s for sure one thing she had missed in her teenage years. Yet, part of her enjoyed seeing this- whatever it was between them- to see Mama nothing but happy.

“Bree, open my medical kit. Top row there is a black bottle, hand it to me.”

Brianna nodded in response, walking across the room and opening the box and grabbing the item, handing it across the table to her mom.

“Thank you, love.” Claire beamed with a smile. She stopped rubbing the back of Jamie’s neck and opened the bottle, pouring some oil onto her hands.

“I’m going to rub this on your neck and your temples,” She started massaging Jamie’s neck again, “And then I am going to go get out of these dirty rags and feed you two.”

“Aye, Sassenach.”

“I’ll set the table.” Bree turned to the shelves and grabbed some bowls, while her mother finished rubbing her father’s temples. She felt the temperature rise in her cheeks as her father’s moans filled the silent room. Thinking to herself, I think they need a moment.

“Alright, finished.” Claire kissed Jamie’s cheek. “You taste like peppermint.”

“I smell like it too.” He agreed.

“I’ll be right back, then we can eat.”

Bree kept her attention on getting the dishes and silverware out as she heard her mother’s footsteps leave the room. She turned to find her father sitting still, a grin across his face and the tips of his ears turned a shade of red.

“Yer mam, lass…” Jamie started, she couldn’t tell if it was meant to be heard or not, so she just let the words linger as she set the table around him. “Is sae good for a lot of things…. Tendin’ to me, Christ. Woman has an angel’s touch. I am a better man because she grounds me.”

She stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “I bet she’s good for other things, aye?” Bree said in her best Scottish accent.

Her father turned his head, his brown quirked and an impish smile, his face blushing. “Aye, lass.”

Bree could feel her father’s eyes watching her as she finished rinsing the bowls. “If you want to ask me something, all you have to do is, you know, ask.”

He laughed at that and ran a hand through his hair. “Yer mam may say we look alike, and we do, but I canna lie to ye, Bree. Ye are definitely Claire’s daughter.”

Bree’s cheeks flushed at that, because of course she was Claire Fraser’s daughter- no matter who had fathered her or raised her, or was in her life now, her mother had always been there. She knew she had inherited some of her mother’s stubborn tendencies, knack for speaking when less than appropriate for a woman in this present time, and having a predisposition to not hide some thoughts

“And what makes you say that?” She turned and sat back down at the table, across from her da.

“Ye both do this small furrow in your brows,” Jamie grinned as he reached across the table. He placed his finger right in-between her eyes. “And when ye have somethin’ ye want to say, it stays. And ye purse yer lips.”

“Hmmm.” She said as she pursed her lips.

“Just like that.” Her father sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Out wi’ it.”

“It sounds funny….” Bree admitted and tossed her hair into a bun.

“Mmm.” Her father said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Okay, fine.” Bree said in defeat, “You know, I didn’t think much of it at first. But being around you two, and seeing and hearing you two talk… I realized, you never call mama, Claire…” She stopped and pulled her eyes up to meet her da’s gaze. “Daddy always called her Claire, or Dr. Randall. But she’s not just Claire to you…”

“Ah,” Her father whispered. He sat at the table, his fingers fidgeting and she could see a look of inquiry on his face. “I see.”

“I was just wondering… Why is that?”

“Did yer mam tell you about the night we met?” He asked, leaning his arms onto the table.

“She did. She fixed your shoulder.”

“She was in naught but a white shift, hair disheveled, and I woke up in the dark, lookin’ up at her face…” Jamie smiled to himself, a memory coming back to his vision. “I didna know her name or where she was from, but she saw me in that moment. I wasna a wanted man, a traitor, or a prisoner, I was just there.”

Her father stopped talking and reached for her hand. Bree reached across the table and took it, his hand warm, large, and encompassing.

“I told her once that for so many years, I had been so many things to other people. I was ‘Uncle’ to yer cousins, ‘Brother’ to yer auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian, ‘Milord’ to Fergus, ‘Mac Dubh’ to my men at Ardsmuir, and then ‘MacKenzie’ when I was at Helwater, ‘Malcolm’ the printer.... I am only Jamie Fraser when I am with yer mam.”

She watched a small film of tears covered her da’s eyes. “I dinna ken how to explain it lass, but she’s Claire to everyone else… But to me, she’s so much more than just a name.”

Her own eyes filled with tears now, and she let one fall down her face.

“Thank you for loving her, me… Us.…” She whispered as she felt his thumb wipe away her tears. “And what am I to you, then?”

“Mo cuishle,” her father said, barely above a whisper, “Yer the one who makes my world go round.”

#Outlander #Jamie x Claire #Brianna Mackenzie #outlander fanfiction #Ol: drums #missing moment #myfic!#craigh na queue

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thescribesloft · 6 years ago

Text

The Prophecy

So this was a request by @royalbounties for a fairy tale featuring their favorite animal the octopus. So here it is!

She wasn't like her mother. It was hard being the daughter of the Desert Witch. Just because she was the Queen of the Sands, she expected her daughter to uphold the same views she had. More like she treated her daughter as a slave.

Octavia sighed as she combed her hair. Just to irritate her mother, she closed her eyes and willed azure spots ringed in ocher to appear on her skin. Her mother detested it when she changed her skin like that, but Octavia loved it. What was the point of being the daughter of the Sand Queen if she couldn't at least change her skin? She crossed her legs and smirked as her plain gray skirt rippled into a swirl of color. Let her mother rage. She could afford it.

“Octavia, are you in there?” Her mother's voice resonated through the door. It vibrated with her mother's angry fist. Octavia inspected her nails as her mother raged. She wasn't about to sink to her level.

A stream of sand drizzled through the keyhole of her door and Octavia watched it form a cone on the floor. The sand coalesced into the form of a beautiful woman. A gown of woven glass shards formed her body, refracting light like a thousand suns. A staff of solid gold topped with a blood red ruby was gripped angrily in her long claw-like talons. She towered over Octavia, but the girl stood her ground. She regarded her mother with a look of irritation.

“Ever heard of knocking?” She said.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Her mother seethed.

Octavia looked up, feigning innocence. “To what are you referring, dearest mother?”

The Sand Queen folded her arms, the staff remaining upright without assistance. “You know what.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “No I don't, mother.”

“You know perfectly well that humans are off limits.” Her mother said. There was a pause as something occurred to her. “You mate bonded with him, didn't you?” When her daughter didn't answer, she snarled, “He is a human, Octavia. How could you? That is a filthy thing to do.”

“How could I?” Snapped Octavia, “I've known him since he was born, mother, so don't you dare pull the I-just-met-him card on me!”

The Queen fought the urge to slap the insolent brat. Why she had children, she'd never know. “You gave yourself away to a human of all things. Why?”

“You're one to talk, Miss Perfection! You've slept with every living thing from here to the Forbidden Kingdom and back! I make love to one human and vow to spend the rest of his mortal life with him and I'm suddenly a slut?” Octavia was livid. Arguments with her mother always ended this way.

Her mother snorted. “I wouldn't call it making love. I'd say it was more like rutting like rabbits. He is dangerous, Octavia, and you know it.” Said the Queen, “I have seen into his mind and he dreams of depths we should not hope for.”

Octavia smirked. “Meaning you're afraid of him.”

Her mother towered over her as sandy shadows filled the room. “It has been foretold he will inspire something horrible. I have worked too hard for this kingdom and I will not let it fall because of a fleeting romance between two hormonal teenagers!”

Octavia sighed. “Really?” She groaned, “Don't you trust me? This isn't freaking Romeo and Juliet, for crying out loud! I'm not a hormonal thirteen-year-old. I'm over two thousand years old. I'm barely a child.”

“Do you want to know what that boy represents?” The Queen growled, “He will mean the creation of- Of something I cannot name. This world has always known the Desert and he will introduce a new reign. I cannot allow that to happen.”

Octavia frowned. “What are you talking about? Are you insane?”

The Queen ignored the question. “I forbid a union between you and that- That monster.”

Octavia stood up so fast her chair toppled to the floor with a clatter. “You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. You're just too selfish to care about anything other than yourself and your hedonistic empire. You can't see the pain and misery you cause. The only monster I see here is you.” She brushed past her mother and kicked through the pile of sand at her door. She was done with this place. She kept walking even as she heard her mother calling after her.

The Queen allowed a curse to slip from her glistening lips. She shouldn't have allowed her daughter to speak to her that way, but she couldn't stop it..

She closed her eyes and images of storm clouds filled her vision. But these were not sandstorm clouds or dust devils. They were black and swollen with something. Something that would topple her empire forever. Her daughter wasn't wrong. She was selfish and at times, she did put her kingdom before her own daughter. But the Prophecies she read in the skies and in the Annuls foretold of something horrifying. And her daughter was a key part in it's manifestation.

She rushed from her daughter's room and to her own chambers. It was no use chasing after Octavia; she already knew where she was going.

The boy was perfect in every way. For a human. He was a devoted servant and follower and the day he met Octavia, the Queen watched as they fell deeply in love. He didn't seem to care that she was immortal or the daughter of the Sand Queen. He just loved Octavia for who she was and the Queen hated him for it.

But he was different.

He filled his home with paintings. That in itself wasn't a crime, but rather it was the subject matter that bothered her. If he'd spent most of his time painting her daughter naked she would have been more relieved.

No, he painted strange creatures.

Creatures of another world. These creatures had no place in the sand. They were designed for a substance smoother than sand, but heavier than air.

When she first heard of this substance, she couldn't comprehend what it was and she had no desire to. And the more she learned more about it, the less she wished she knew. In her visions of the Prophecy fulfilled, she saw people drinking the substance, using it to feed their livestock, and even worshiping it. She saw herself wither and fade as those who used to worship her and drink her sustenance potions either died or changed their allegiance to this false god.

The creatures this demon boy painted were terrifyingly beautiful and alluring. They wove across his walls like the liquid of life that flowed from human veins. Some were shaped like blobs, others were streamlined and built for speed. Almost all of them had strange protrusions that seemed to propel them for some reason.

But one creature stood out from all the rest.

It was a bulbous sac with eight arms radiating out from the center like the spokes of a wheel. It looked monstrous and hideous, especially with it's bulging eyes. On the arms were tiny cups, but she couldn't tell what they were for. She could only tell that this creature was part of the Prophecy. All other creatures in the boy's murals formed rings around it and created mandala-like layers in an ever growing spiral.

Something evil was happening and that boy was also a part of it and she wanted no part in it herself.

The Queen knew there was no other way to deal with this than to use the Curse.

If the boy looked like this hideous creature in the center of his murals, maybe her daughter's supposed devotion would backfire and she would lose interest in this human.

The curse took less time than she expected and within hours, Octavia was back, staring at her with hatred in her eyes.

“You tried to curse him didn't you?” She asked.

The Queen nodded. “I decided to turn him into that hideous creature painted on his wall. I do hope you like it. He's so handsome now, isn't he?”

Octavia couldn't stop the rage building in her heart. How could she do this? How could she destroy the one thing she loved knowing how it would affect her?

“You evil, hateful hag!” She snarled, “He's been nothing but a faithful servant to you and you turn him into a monster? This is to get back at me, isn't it? Then why don't you take it out on me?”

“All the better that he should serve his purpose as a fine meal. I do like the taste of man flesh.”

Octavia felt the power in her grow, flooding her veins. She longed to wipe that smirk off her face once and for all. But she wouldn't lower herself to the Witch's level.

“Then change me.” She said.

Her mother's eyebrows rose. “You wan to take his place? Why?”

Octavia lifted her hands, palms up. “Why not? I'll finally be what you want me to be. A monster.”

“You'd let me turn you into that hideous blob to save his worthless life? He is but a grain of sand in our life time. How can you make such a decision?”

“Because it's my decision to make!” Said Octavia.

“You cannot!” Her mother roared, “It will ruin the Prophecy!”

“Good!” Octavia snapped. She stormed from the room, her eyes burning. She knew she'd always felt that strange burning behind her eyes, but nothing had ever happened from it. She knew something was brewing behind them, but she just didn't know what.

She ran and ran until she arrived at his house. Pusharen was probably inside painting. She could hear him humming. The curse hadn't happened yet, but she knew it was coming. She'd felt the power of her mother's magic coursing through the air like lightning, searching for it's victim.

There was still time.

She burst into the hovel that he called his home and he jumped at the intrusion. He stared at her with his gorgeous blue eyes, paintbrush still in hand, a drop of crimson on the tip.

“Octavia? What's wrong?” He asked, setting his things down to come to her.

Octavia stared at the man she loved more than anything in the world. More than life itself. She glanced at the mural on his wall. The monster.

It was painted such beautiful vivid colors. The arms writhing and dancing with life. She would rather die than become that thing. But for Pusharen, she was willing to spend her life as an ugly monster.

She took his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. He should be the king of this country. He saw so much and loved so fully. There was no one he wouldn't give his life for. But this time she had to save him. If his visions were true, than she had to do this. She had to fight her mother in order for this prophecy to become true.

“Push, are you sure that your vision will come to be?” She had to be sure.

Pusharen stared at her. “Of course it will.” He said, “Why do you ask?”

Octavia sighed. “There are two Prophecies, Push. They both can't be true.”

Pusharen tilted his head. “Two? What do you mean?”

“My mother also had a Prophecy.” Said Octavia, “She foresaw the fall of her kingdom and the rise of a new ruler. Her kingdom would be destroyed by a strange alien substance.”

“She's right, but only half so.” Said Pusharen, “What your mother saw I also saw. I think our visions are one in the same.”

Octavia blinked in confusion. “But I don't understand. She's cursed you!”

“I know. I am to become the creature on the wall.”

“Then let me take your curse unto myself.” She said, “Let me become that monster.”

Pusharen shook his head. “I can't let you do that, Octavia. The Prophecy must be fulfilled.”

“And just what does the Prophecy have to say?” Said Octavia. She was tired of being left in the dark.

“Octavia, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but it is essential.” Pusharen swallowed. This was a hard enough pill for him to swallow. She would never agree to it.

“You must do this.” He said, “It means everything that this is fulfilled.”

Octavia looked into his eyes and shook her head. “No! I won't do it!”

“You have to.”

“Why would I do that to you! I couldn't do that! Not even to save you from my mother!” Octavia was mortified. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“No, that's just it. Octavia, you must let your mother curse me. It must happen.” He gripped her hands firmly, forcing her to look at him.

Octavia shook her head and wrenched her hands free. She would never allow this to happen. She had to do something. She pursed her lips and refused to look at him. He may be able to foresee the future, but he never saw her coming.

“Octavia? What are you doing?” Pusharen watched as his lover circled him, murmuring under her breath. He could feel the magic boiling in her veins and gasped as a viscous black liquid started to seep from her kaleidoscopic skin. The room darkened as Octavia fought against her mother's curse. He swore under his breath and grabbed Octavia's shoulders, attempting to shake her from her trance.

“Octavia, please don't do this!” He screamed.

Octavia shuddered and crumpled to the floor as he scrabbled to keep a hold of her. He knelt beside her, running his fingers through her chocolate hair.

“Hello, Pusharen.”

Pusharen turned to meet the malicious eyes of the Desert Witch. He stood to face her. They stared at each other.

“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.” Said Pusharen, “Please don't sacrifice your daughter for your hatred of me.”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “Please spare me your love-all speech.” She said, “You know the Prophecy and you know she is a part of it. What I want to know is how you, a peasant, would have the gift of Sight?”

“Does it matter?” Asked Pusharen, “You're going to kill me anyway.”

“No,” Said the Queen, “I'm going to gut you like a butcher guts a cow.”

A wet, slurping groan from the floor caused them both to look down at Octavia. Pusharen frowned when he found that her clothes were piled loosely on the floor. Something moved within the empty folds and they both jumped back as a strange alien arm with tiny suckers poked out of the neckline. It was scaly and gray in color, but changed into beautiful patterns as it moved.

Pusharen crouched beside Octavia and pushed aside the clothing and gasped as a large, blob-like creature emerged, eight long arms writhing and wiggling about as if it had not really gained control of itself.

“Octavia?” Both Pusharen and the Queen asked incredulously. The creature slithered onto the wooden floor with a wet splat and regarded them with confusion. All three of them stared at each other for what seemed like eons.

“No.” Said Pusharen. He watched in horror as his lover looked up at him with a mixture of remorse and relief.

“No!” The Queen shrieked. She grabbed Pusharen by the throat and slammed him up against the wall.

Pusharen struggled to breathe as he clawed at the woman's steely arm. He barely left a mark on her and she didn't budge an inch. He let out a gurgling scream as the Desert Witch's claws tightened around his throat like an egg being cracked inside a lizard's mouth.

Pusharen closed his eyes. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be transformed. Not Octavia. Never Octavia. He would never forgive himself for what would be done to her now. He would have accepted death in the form of the creature, but not now.

The Queen screamed and Pusharen felt the pressure on his throat lessen. He opened his eyes. Ocatavia had somehow launched herself onto her mother and had wrapped her multiple arms around the Queen's head, obscuring her face.

The Desert Witch released Pusharen and air rushed into his lungs as he crumpled to the floor, sucking in great gulps despite his reservation to die. He watched as the Queen staggered about the room, trying to pry her daughter's monstrous body from her face. Her muffled screams jolted fear into the boy. He jumped up and attempted to pull his lover from her mother, but with little success.

“Octavia, please don't do this!” He cried, “She's your mother, no matter what she's done. Let go!”

With a grunt, Pusharen managed to yank Octavia from her mother. There was a terrible ripping of flesh and a high pitched screech of pain as Octavia allowed herself to be pulled from her mother's head.

Pusharen screamed as he caught sight of what she had done.

The Queen moaned, clutching her ruined, bloody face. Strips of her flesh hung off her once beautiful cheeks like strips of scarlet cloth. Her eyes were sunken and bleeding. Her mouth was a grotesque, twisted hole, through which her teeth shone like bony daggers.

Pusharen screamed and stumbled back. He looked down at Octavia squelching smugly on the floor, a trail of flesh protruding out from under her body.

The sound of magic charging the air made him look back up at the Queen. She looked demonic as she wielded her staff. She aimed her staff at him with malice in her eyes and the tip glowed blood red.

Pusharen squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the death he wanted to come. The Prophecy was shot, so he might as well be. He could hear Octavia's scream of anguish through their mate bond and he felt his heart wither as his life was taken.

Octavia hated her mother. She hated herself for not saving her lover. She hated everyone. She glared in hatred at her mother as she vaporized Pusharen's body. All she could think about was his beautiful blue eyes. He knew. He knew he was going to die. And she hated him for it.

Her mother rounded on her and stared at her daughter's hideous body. She brandished her staff and the ruby tip sharpened into a blade. She approached her daughter and placed a heeled boot on her rubbery body.

“I'm going to cut you limb from limb for defying me!” She growled.

Octavia felt her heart give in. She'd lost Pusharen and now she didn't care about anything anymore. She resigned herself to her fate.

Octavia, my love

Octavia started at the sound of the voice. It echoed within her mind, her very being. Her heart quickened. Pusharen?

I'm sorry it has to be this way, Octavia, but in a way we'll be together again. I was wrong. The Prophecy will come to be, but not in the way we all thought.

What did he mean by that? She slipped out from under her mother's boot and scuttled away as the psychotic woman tried to slice off one of her arms. She moved with renewed fervor now that she'd heard Pusharen's voice. He was still with her. They were still connected through their mate bond. Well, what do you know? The bond really did transcend all things, including death. Screw you, mother.

She couldn't see very well so she bumped into the wall and gripped it, trying to climb it, desperate to get away from her mother. She did a double take. The wall was covered in deep blue paint. It was painted in waves and squiggly lines that ran around the creature in concentric circles. She stared at it in confusion. The blue lines were coming from the creature's arms.

As if they were it's blood.

What-

Searing pain coursed through her body and Octavia wanted to scream but she couldn't. One of her arms flopped to the floor and wriggled about uselessly. She could even feel it moving. A strange liquid seeped from the severed end of the appendage and leaked onto the floor in a wet puddle.

Octavia jerked away from it in fear, not knowing what it was. One of her arms slipped into the liquid and instantly, she felt comfort. As if her destiny was to be always in contact with this substance.

She looked up at her mother who was still brandishing her staff. The Queen's sunken eyes flashed with madness as she bore down on Octavia, her teeth glistening through the gaping hole she'd ripped in the soft flesh with the beak under her blob-like body.

Octavia tried to scuttle away but searing pain ripped through her body once more and she saw white. Her mother had skewered her.

Her mother's maniacal laugh filled the room and made Octavia's ears throb. Her mother twisted her staff around and around, grinding her daughter's body into the ground.

Octavia's arms continued to move even as death took her, still writhing and wriggling, confused that the signals sent to move them had stopped. Octavia heard Pusharen moan along with her as she died.

But it was all for the Prophecy.

The Queen panted as she yanked her staff from the ugly blob on the floor that had once been her daughter. Strange liquid leaked from the stump where she cut of one of it's arms and from the center where she'd skewered the life out of it. That thing wasn't her daughter, so no remorse was felt.

She took her staff and began to hack the creature to pieces, severing the arms from the body and tossing them away. She stood up and gazed down at the carnage, proud of her work. The Prophecy had nothing now. It would never come true. That horrible boy Octavia had been in love with was gone and her daughter was no more, but the terrible future of her kingdom would never come.

She wiped sweat from her ruined face, blood dripping from her shredded chin.. She stooped to pick up the creature and her hand brushed some of the liquid that wept from Octavia's ravaged body. She screamed as pain tore through her hand. Sizzling filled the air and she watched her fingers melt before her eyes. Wherever the strange fluid touched her skin, it ate her delicate flesh like a hungry death. She looked down at the pulverized body in horror.

“No.” She gasped, her eyes widening.

More of the liquid was flooding the floor, it's cool wetness soaking into everything. She scrabbled backward, trying to avoid the ever-growing puddle, but it followed her. It dribbled through the floorboards and she could hear it dripping. Heard it rushing as more and more of the liquid seeped from the body. Some of the liquid seeped into her soft boots and her feet withered from the pain. She screamed and jumped back as her blood seeped from the soles of her shoes, her feet liquefying before her very eyes.

Wrapping her hands in her woven glass gown, she picked up the severed body parts and stumbled painfully to the door.

“Disgusting.” She gagged. She tossed the arms and body out into the sand, where she hoped the wild dogs and carrion birds would feast upon them. She smiled with satisfaction as what was left of her daughter's body melted into the sand, leaving a darkened patch. She limped forward, confused. It looked like the sand had been burnt. When she stepped closer she noticed that it was not burnt, in fact it looked to be drying. She frowned as little green specks started to grow, little emerald tendrils breaking the sand and reaching for the boiling sun.

“What?”

A rumble shook the ground upon which she stood and she gasped once more as something else broke the surface. A gargantuan suckered arm ripped through the sand and whipped through the air, spraying cool liquid everywhere. The Queen shrieked as the droplets punctured her skin like daggers, burning holes into her delicate skin.

The arm slammed into the ground, growing larger and larger, disintegrating into a flood of the substance. It became a long ribbon of liquid, babbling and rushing as the flesh of the arm faded into rich soil. The Queen watched it happen with disbelief.

It... It couldn't be.

She crawled to the edge of the ribbon and watched with dread as creatures leaped and swam beneath the surface of the toxic substance. Some of them were feathered and others were scaled and glinted in the sunlight.

No. It wasn't possible!

She crawled and crawled, looking for the rest of the remains of her daughter, but they were gone. Missing.

Eventually she grew tired and fell on her face in the sand. She didn't know how long she lay there, but she finally fell asleep. She awoke to the sound of rushing and the call of alien birds. They didn't have the same dry desert call that she was used to. The overwhelming scent of salt filled her nostrils and stung. She sat and her eyes grew in horror. Instead of endless sand, something deep blue had appeared overnight. It was frothy with white-capped waves lapping onto the sand, leaving huge wet footprints. She struggled to her feet, staring at the endless blue desert before her.

“This can't be happening!” She cried.

Suddenly the sky rumbled above her and she sighed in relief, looking up. Perhaps a sandstorm would cover up this monstrosity.

The charcoal black cloud loomed angrily above her and lanced the sky with light. Droplets began to fall and the once blue waves before her began to roil. The Queen scream in agony as tiny sharp bombs tore her to shreds. She was covered in the stuff and now her skin boiled and bubbled like sugar turned to candy.

With sudden realization she looked into the distance across that huge blue desert toward where her castle was. Or had been. There was nothing there now. How could it be gone? It was made of tightly packed sand. Not even a dust devil could disturb it. What kind of sorcery was this substance if it could dissolve a castle of sand? Was it the Prophecy? Had she truly misread the ancient Annuls?

Approaching footsteps caused her to turn. She could barely see as her eyes were turning to gooey holes pf nothingness, but made out the shape of a man standing in the deluge.

“Your majesty.”

It was Pusharen. But that wasn't possible. She'd killed him. She had dissolved his body. How could he be alive?

He stepped closer and she noticed he looked better than before. He was more handsome and glowed as every drop of the alien liquid touched his skin. As the Queen melted so he was revived, but he wore an expression of terrible sadness. He regarded the melting woman before him not with anger or hatred or even pity. Just sadness.

“How could you have done this?” He asked, his voice reverberating through her like thunder. “You're own daughter.”

The Queen screamed in agony and anger and aimed what little magic she had left at Pusharen. He easily sidestepped it, slapping her magic away with his hand as if she were nothing more than a raging child. She screamed in frustration, crying out her rage against the downpour. Why wouldn't he just die?

“What have you done?” She snarled, spitting blood onto the sand. “Wh- What are you?”

Pusharen sighed and looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes as he was pummeled by the storm. “I did nothing.” He said, his voice filled with sorrow. “You did this. It was going to happen regardless.”

The Queen retched a crimson river as she felt her skin dripping off her bones. “What- What are you talking about?”

Pusharen shook his head. “I should have been cursed.” He said to himself. To the Queen he said, “Then you would be together with your daughter. She didn't have to die. You could have saved her.”

“She was a monster!” The Queen cried, “I rid this world of a plague!”

Pusharen leaned close. “She was your daughter. You made her into that monster and now you're going to have to live with that.”

All she could do was scream as her body became sand.

“So, that's it? She just dies?”

The King smiled at the little girl sitting at his feet. “I wasn't done yet.” He gently reprimanded her.

The girl's mother placed a hand on her head. “Kona, let his Majesty finish his story. Please continue, Your Highness.”

The King smiled. “Yes the Queen died.” He said, “But it was what the Prophecy had predicted.”

“Wait, just what did the Prophecy say?” Asked another child, a boy.

“Well, it was foretold that the Queen's kingdom would crumble. A demon creature would destroy her and begin a new empire.” Said the King. “And what of the eight armed creature, you ask? Yes, it had something to do with the creature. In fact it had everything to do with it.

You see, the creature was the whole reason for the balance of power to be tipped. Octavia's death-” here he paused and a look of immense sorrow crossed his face. His wrinkled face sudden looked much older.

“Octavia's death was the catalyst.” He said, “If she wasn't changed, then the world wouldn't have water.”

Silence filled the clifftop as this information sank in.

“You mean that crea- um, Octavia, created water?” Asked the boy.

The King smiled fondly. “Yes. She was the Mother of the life-giving liquid that brought this Kingdom to power. If it wasn't for her, then it would still be a desert today.” He stepped between the crowd of mother's and children. He stood at the edge of the cliff and took a deep breath, taking in the beautiful smell of the Ocean.

“Each of Octavia's arms became a body of water so precious to this Kingdom. Her body became the Sea, that loving Mother, one who birthed us all. Each of her eight arms became a river, giving life to the land. Diro, Phenshi, Col, Bal, Skinshen, Haronen, Ir, and Gja. Every single one of them. Her blood fed those rivers, starting from the mountaintops where it was cold as ice, pumping with the beat of her heart. She gave birth to them. The Prophecy foretold that two lovers would have to endure the death of one and the other would have to cut their true love to pieces.” He paused as he heard a rumble of thunder.

“And her tears.” He continued, “Her tears bring the rain.” He felt the first drop and allowed a rare smile to grace his face. It had been so long since he'd felt her presence.

While the crowd scattered to avoid the rain, the King embraced it, even as the thunder and lightning grumbled closer.

As he was pelted by the rain, he spread his arms out, allowing the salt-tinged water to cascade over him like a caress. He sighed in happiness, one of his hands reaching up to his throat where a brooch pinned his cloak together. He traced each of the eight arms of the bronze figure, the symbol of his devotion. He gave it a name, the Octopus, a combination of their names, as a tribute to their love. In a way he was glad he had not been the one to cut Octavia into pieces for the sake of the Prophecy. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself.

Pusharen turned his face back up at the darkened sky. “Hello, my love.” He said, wondrous joy and affection filling his heart. “It's good to see you again.”

#Sorry this is long #writing #my writing #short story request

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