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theshippirate22 · 1 year ago

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so i started a fic for this a while ago and it got lost in my wips but then @henderdads posted this and i got right back on my bullshit to finish it! also on ao3 tw: panic attack

November 1985-

Steve had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel of the Beemer while he stared out at the theater ahead of him.

Just looking at it, just thinking about what he was about to do, made his skin crawl. He felt guilty and dirty and miserable, but he didn’t really have any other choice.

Okay, that was a lie. There were definitely a million other things he could be doing. He really needed to clean his room, he was falling desperately behind on movies Robin said he needed to see, and he was supposed to be writing an essay to help him get into Ohio State. There were tapes to be listened to, people to check on, God, his car needed an oil change.

But here he was, anyway, neglecting all of it.

The dashboard clock switched to 11:35 and his stomach burned. He’d gotten himself so freaked out, he was going to throw up in the gutter and drive home before anything even happened. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of what waited for him. The dark, cold, empty house, his relentless nightmares, and his sleepless night.

11:40. His hands were getting cold against the wheel, but he still didn’t will himself into the warm oasis that was the theater. Not yet. He still had time.

He felt like an addict, lying to his friends and family before relapsing back into heroin. He knew it wasn’t like that, that if they knew, all he’d get was funny looks and maybe a snarky comment directed at his intelligence (or lack thereof), but that didn’t make it any better. He still hated himself.

He’d promised to give this up a long time ago, to abandon the lifestyle entirely. Actually, he had turned into something of a doormat at this point- always driving the kids places and covering any of Robin’s shifts when she bailed and offering his house and money up to whoever took advantage of it- because anything he did that didn’t help somebody else felt selfish. He wasn’t allowed to be selfish anymore. He had to repent for when he was selfish.

11:45. Steve groaned softly and got out of the car, attacked by the cold air as it seemed to soak through his sweatshirt.

Way to put the guilt into guilty pleasure, moron, he thought to himself, pushing through the doors to the theater. His inner monologue was starting to sound more and more condescending.

The teenager at the counter glared up at him through her eyelashes, popping a bubble with her gum decisively, clearly annoyed to be running midnight showings at a shitty theater. He slid a five-dollar bill across the counter to her and took a deep breath before forcing out the words.

“Rocky IV, please.”

She looked at him like he was stupid, and he was about ready to run back to his car and pretend none of this had ever happened. This was just another stupid nightmare to haunt him while he tried to sleep.

She handed him a ticket, the bright red DRAGO VS. BALBOA staring up at him-mocking him really- and passed over his change without saying anything at all.

Okay, that was the hard part. That was the part that made him interact with someone, a live actual person, made him admit his sin out loud, make it real and out there.

As soon as the ticket was in his hand and he was walking to the specified theater, he could breathe again. The guilt still writhed heavily in his stomach, but he could fight down the nausea enough to function. Half his brain, the half that had been in control for a good while now, was screaming at him that this was wrong, he was sick and twisted for wanting this, while the other half kept reminding him softly that it was just a movie. No one had to know about it. It would help him tonight- maybe he could get some sleep when he got home- and then it could disappear forever, and he would never think of it again.

It’s just a movie.

Steve was ten when the original came out. His dad had paid for him and Tommy H. to go one Saturday and God, they loved it. They’d gotten in a playfight in the parking lot waiting for Tommy’s mom to pick them up, mimicking the final match between Rocky and Apollo (Steve was Apollo every time they played; Tommy refused to be anything less than the hero, even if technically he was the loser) and Tommy had accidentally knocked him in the face and made his nose bleed. That might’ve been one of the best days of Steve’s childhood if he thought about it.

Three years later, he and Tommy went back and saw Rocky II the first night it was out, and watching Rocky win lit something in Steve on fire, and he convinced himself he could do anything, like how Rocky could still get up even when Apollo had beat him to shit.

Steve got into his first fistfight that summer. He lost, because he had never actually fought before, and his punches were loose and messy, but he didn’t even care, staring up at Jack Donahue through a black eye, because Rocky lost his first fight against Apollo, but he won the second, so next time Steve would win.

He went to Rocky III on a date in 1982 (still waiting to win that second fight, although now it was really Fight 8 or 9 because he’d gotten his ass kicked a good number of times since Jack Donahue). The girl he was with got bored halfway through the movie, climbed into his lap and convinced him to make out instead, but he kept getting distracted by Clubber Lang, and Apollo’s training advice, and Rocky and Andrian’s big house and their happy family, glancing over her shoulder absently as she trailed her mouth up his neck. There wasn’t a second date with her. He didn’t even remember her name.

He remembered what color dress Adrian wore to the final fight, though.

He hadn’t watched any of them since September of ‘84 when he’d rented all of them and binge-watched them one night, mostly to remind himself that Billy Hargrove was just a watered-down Clubber Lang who came to steal his title and insult his (nonexistent) wife and mess up his life. Rocky beat Clubber Lang. Steve would beat Billy.

Within the next few weeks, however, Billy ended up on the ever-growing list of people who had whipped Steve, his Heavyweight-Champion-Of-the-World belt that manifested itself as King Steve of Hawkins High was stripped from him, and he’d started his proverbial pilgrimage to salvation.

He didn’t get to like Rocky anymore. King Steve liked Rocky. Just Steve didn’t have any reason for that luxury. Rocky was athletic, and mindless, and masculine, everything that everyone hated about King Steve, so Just Steve didn’t get it anymore.

It’s just a fucking movie. He reminded himself. No one has to know.

They had unfinished business anyway, Rocky and him. Maybe it was fate, or some shit that IV should come out like five months after Steve did get his first win against the Russian soldier.

Hey, old friend. I did it. I won. I got back up. I won.

We won, Rocky.

Steve hid in the back of the theater, in the dark, where no one would recognize him. There were only maybe a dozen other people in there anyway, but in the dark, he could relax.

He almost felt safe, even, when the opening montage started. There was something so familiar about it, like returning to the house you lived in as a child, but the same sort of estrangement from time. Watching Rocky best Clubber again, knowing Rocky would win, was such a comfortable thing. God, these movies were so good.

He almost didn’t feel like such an asshole anymore.

Rocky was a dad now, you know. Had been since the second one technically, but only now was the kid old enough to have a personality. Watching him with his son was maybe when the six-nugget thing really solidified for Steve. He wanted that, he wanted the house and the kid and sparring with Apollo-the friend who knew- and Adrian.

God, he wanted someone to love him the way Adrian loved.

She was always just there, in the very best sort of way. As if at any moment, Rocky could look over and she would be there, grinning at him, helping him back up, fixing things. And she would shake her head and laugh at her moronic boxer husband and still sing with him when he started up out of tune and flush when he flirted with her.

The reminder of the slump in Steve’s love life manifested itself as a sort of sad aching in his stomach. He redirected his attention out of his thoughts and back to the movie.

The plot was a little mindless; he’d admit it. It was basically the same premise as the last one: Some Big-Bad-Boxer popping up out of nowhere to whip Rocky’s ass just enough in the first half to build a vague sense of suspense as to whether he was going to win the final fight or not, but the only difference now was that he was sparring against Communism or something as a metaphor for the mini-Red Scare happening.

Steve didn’t mind. He knew enough Russians to be pretty psyched about Stallone wailing on them for a few hours.

It’s Apollo Creed, however, who first takes his place across the ring from Ivan Drago. Steve was fine. He was well aware of the fact that whatever happened during this fight would mean absolutely nothing in comparison to whatever happens at the end, except maybe deciding the intensity of the training montage (That was the other thing; Survivor was doing a bunch of the music, how could Steve miss out on that?)

Apollo put on a show, with dancers and lights and that stupid flag robe he’d had in the first one, so this would be good. Mediocre writing, good entertainment.

“You will lose,” Drago growled.

They danced around each other in the ring. Apollo threw a good number of jabs in the beginning. It felt good. Steve almost smiled.

But something happened when Drago started fighting back. Apollo stumbled against the ropes, dripping sweat; Rocky yelled something. Steve missed it- he could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, suddenly a little too aware of his clothes and where they clung to him.

Drago kept fighting. He punched and punched, each one landing hard and solid against Apollo, against flesh, in a rapid thunk, thunk, thunk.

Steve’s hands started to shake.

Apollo leaned back against the corner post as the bell rings-end of the first round- looking dazed and far away.

Rocky begged. “I gotta stop you. This fight’s finished.”

Apollo’s answer thudded through Steve’s head. “Promise you won’t stop this fight. You don’t stop this fight.”

Bell. Second round. Apollo looked stoned, tripping over his own feet as he tried to dance. Steve knew the feeling. Then Drago had him in a corner and it won’t stop, fists pounding against him again and again. Sweat flew off Apollo’s head and fell against the mat like rain. He doesn’t go down.

There was so much blood. Steve couldn’t breathe. He felt the adrenaline in his sweaty, trembling hands, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t movie excitement, it felt real.

Apollo fell back against the ropes, their support being his only saving grace. His wife screamed from the audience “Stop the fight!” but they won’t, the Russian won’t stop, the fight is still going.

Steve must have started hallucinating. For a moment, all he could hear was his own breath, exhausted and wheezy with pain.

“Scoops... I... I work... Scoops...”

Robin is screaming, sobbing, wailing, voice pounding through his aching head. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

A final blow to the jaw. Apollo swung backwards toward the horrified faces of the audience, then lunged forward in depletion. There was blood in his teeth and on his face and staining the white rags and his eye was swollen shut. And the Russian’s wife smiled.

The doctor grinned, white teeth glimmering against the dark beard. He demands something in Russian, and Steve doesn’t understand, but he wants to, he wants to make it go away.

The soldier leans in a final time, delivering a solid blow to his temple.

Steve’s sight fizzles in and out like a kaleidoscope as he falls.

His head hits the concrete floor, and he feels it, the burning pain at the back of his head, seeping up through his brain until his sight goes black.

Apollo was on the floor. His body seized with fatigue and Rocky grabbed him, cradling him in his lap, and he was screaming, crying out for something, and the Russian was still talking but all that gets through to Steve is the grating accent and the fear.

“What did you do to him?!” Robin screams, pulling his weak body towards her with bound hands. “Steve, wake up! Steve, oh my God, wake up, Steve!”

It felt like someone had shoved cotton in his ears. He couldn’t hear anything but his own pulse and his own breath, but somehow, Drago’s last couple words made it through.

“If he dies, he dies.”

Steve got to his feet before he realized he was doing it. His legs were moving, and he wasn’t telling them where to go, but they knew somehow. All he was aware of was the nausea sweeping through him like a tidal wave and the trembling, paranoid fear taking over his entire body.

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops Ahoy. The ice cream place.”

Thud. His face burned.

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops!”

His head flew to the side, pulling something in his neck and shooting white-hot pain down his spine.

“Hit him again.”

Steve collapsed against the bathroom floor. He didn’t even have it in him to make it to a stall and lock himself in; he just melted there against the wall.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his back, drenching him. He couldn’t breathe; his sweatshirt was too tight around his throat and his jeans were touching too much of his thighs and he couldn’t get his chest to move.

Every muscle in his body was too tight to move. Maybe he was having a seizure or a heart attack, but it didn’t even matter, because his head ached around a phantom black eye and a scar on his temple that had taken much too long to heal. His eyes felt massive and dry, like if he didn’t get air soon, they were going to pop out of his head.

He knew he needed to breathe, get the air in and out in a timely manner, but every time he tried to open his mouth, he would just wheeze out “Scoops,” or “Robin!”

The Russians killed Apollo. He was laying on the floor next to him and Robin, in those stupid Americano shorts that were the same color as Steve’s uniform, and Steve knows they’re coming for him next. He played Apollo with Tommy; he is Apollo and he’s about to receive the same fate.

He watched the door to the bathroom in terror like Dolph Lundgren was going to storm through at any moment to try and fight him next. Steve couldn’t win. He wouldn’t win. Not against a Russian, not against Drago.

They were going to kill him. Drago was coming, and as soon as he found him, he was going to beat him to death just like Apollo.

Maybe Steve was sobbing. That would explain the burning in his throat and the noise making his head throb. He couldn’t stop it though; he couldn’t seem to control anything except to pull his knees to his chest and curl in on himself to try and protect his head and his ribs.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, suffocating, shaking, anxious hands tearing through the hair at the back of his head, partially to cover his neck, partially to pull at the roots of his hair until he felt something other than fear. Eventually, he stopped crying, the tears were gone, but he still couldn’t breathe, and his whole face felt clogged up with whatever was left of his sobs.

That only made him panic more, realizing he wasn’t getting any air, and his hands moved down his neck to claw away at his throat and open something up. His nails were dull and harsh, tearing up the skin as he pawed at his Adam’s apple, hyperventilating so loudly, it filled up all his senses so that was all he could hear for a good long while.

“Hey... You alright?”

The voice felt far away and soft like it was spoken by someone who had never experienced the harshness of sensation. God? Steve thought stupidly, carefully acknowledging that to be the first thought he’d had in a long while that wasn’t about his own demise via Russian cruelty.

“Harrington. Can you hear me?”

Steve forced his head up, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, glancing skittishly from wall to wall, trying to remember where he was.

“Right here. You’re okay. Try and breathe for me, Harrington.”

Steve’s shallow breaths continued, hands trailing back up to pull his hair again. He didn’t get there, however, because warm hands clamped softly around his wrists and pulled them away. “Careful. Don’t hurt yourself, honey.”

Steve could see his hands, when he moved his fingers a little bit so he could comprehend that they were his, then followed up the foreign hands- now gripping higher up on his forearm to keep him from falling backward- along pale arms and black sleeves, then up along the corner of a tattoo peeking from underneath the collar of the shirt. Higher up, face-to-face with him, although he hadn’t actually seen it until now, was a tangle of messy curly hair and choppy bangs framing the darkest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“Adrian?” He choked out. Relief surged through him at the recognition, despite the nagging at the back of his mind that that actually couldn’t be Adrian, because Adrian was here with him, and she was gonna take care of him and fix things like she did for Rocky. “Adrian...”

“Sure.” She mumbled. “Deep breaths, Harrington. Like you’re swimming.” She took a few exaggerated deep breaths for him to mirror, and he nodded weakly, trying to force his lungs to expand entirely.

For a few seconds-or minutes; time really had no meaning for Steve anymore- this went on, Adrian taking one breath and Steve copying until he could do it on his own. She loosened her grip on his arms, eventually dropping them completely. “There you go. Feeling okay?”

Steve hesitated while he assessed. His scalp burned from tugging on his hair, and he was sure he’d scratched his throat up pretty bad, but his hands weren’t shaking nearly as much as they had been a minute ago, and he could unclench his jaw finally- he hadn’t realized it had been so tight; the tension was probably the root cause of the headache- so yeah, he decided. “Better.”

“You ever had a panic attack before?”

He shook his head, choosing not to speak again because of the pathetic gravelly sound of his voice and blinking quickly to fight off the next wave of tears- exhausted ones this time.

“Pretty scary, huh? But it’s okay, it’s not forever. It always goes away. You’re safe, okay?”

He nodded weakly, gazing off over her shoulder to be sure the Russians weren’t coming. God, he was going to have to protect her if Drago came. He could fight, he could protect her...

“You aren’t quite back, are you, Harrington?”

Steve startled, darting his glance back toward her. “My...” He choked out, frustrated that his voice didn’t sound right yet; still too wet and broken to be his own. “My name is Steve.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are, Steve. I’m glad you know.” She brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Bathroom,” Steve mumbled. “Starcourt.”

“Starcourt? Like the mall? No, it burned down months ago. Remember?”

Steve swallowed hard, staring at the tile. It wasn’t like Starcourt’s- instead of red, green, and orange, this was green, blue, and black. It wasn’t Starcourt. Starcourt was over. Gone. He took a deep breath. “ShowTimez. Theater.”

“Hey, there you go.” She shifted her knees out from under her- it was painful to kneel for so long- and settled cross-legged across from him. “Do you... do you know who I am?”

“Adrian,” Steve whispered quickly.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, almost disappearing under dark bangs. “Like from the movie? Gee, thanks, Harrington, you know how to woo a guy.” She tore her sight away, almost blushing, and continued self-consciously. “Not quite. You... you probably don’t know who I am. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Steve felt bad for getting it wrong. And if it wasn’t Adrian... who cared enough to be so gentle with him? Panic started to fill up inside him again. Who had caught him? Who knew he was here, worse, who had seen him crying? He looked back up, trying to reassess, figure out the right answer.

Upon better inspection, it very much wasn’t Adrian. Besides the hair and the eyes, they didn’t look at all similar. Actually, it was a man, which should’ve been his first assumption given that he was on the floor of the men’s bathroom, but he also forgot his own name for a second there, so he would let it go. He had thick, steel rings that Steve couldn’t coherently recognize into any shapes yet, and tattoos on his arms that Steve hadn’t noticed in his first sweep either. But the face was familiar. Tommy had hated him, loved to pick on him in high school. Maybe Steve had had gym with him junior year. But really, Steve knew him because he was always in the background of whatever place he was driving Dustin to. The party joined Hellfire in September; Steve had been seeing this guy vaguely for months. The name was slow coming to him- everything felt lagged- but eventually, he managed, “Munson. Eddie.”

He grinned. “Yeah! See, I knew I wasn’t that forgettable. Go ahead and call me Talia Shire though, that’s the best name I’ve been called in a while.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. Maybe it wasn’t Adrian, who he knew he could trust- She's not real, moron, he reminded quickly- but Eddie was harmless. Dustin talked about the guy so much, it was like Steve already knew him anyway.

God, Dustin. What if Eddie told Hellfire and the kids found out he’d been here, and worse, that he’d freaked out? He didn’t know if he could handle it if the kids ever found out he wasn’t as strong as he pretended.

“You can’t tell Dustin.” Steve blurted out.

“What?”

“He can’t know I was here, that I was...” He struggled for the words.

Eddie nodded softly. “Yeah. Okay. I won’t tell him.” He lowered his voice as he said it like it was already a secret. “What the little shit doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Steve nodded haphazardly to communicate that he agreed, but he just felt like he looked stupid.

“Hey, uh, do me a favor, and don’t tell the kids you saw me here, either, actually.” Eddie continued. “It goes against my code and everything to watch...” He trailed off, suddenly aware of his audience and needing to watch himself.

“Sports movies.” Steve finished. Eddie grimaced, so he added, “Yeah, no, I get it.”

Eddie nodded, forcing a smile, but it was still tainted with guilt like he’d said something wrong.

Steve was quick to stifle the awkwardness. “How come Rocky makes the cut then?”

“Oh, I don’t really know.” His shoulders relaxed a little and he admitted, “I rented the first one on accident. I was looking for Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the tape said Rocky and I’m a fucking moron, and thought they were the same thing because whoever labeled the tape didn’t bother to write the whole thing, and then I’d already paid for it so I just... watched it and... kinda got sucked in. I love a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.”

Steve grinned. “Me too! I only cared about the boxing when I was younger, but now...”

Eddie tipped his head and stared at him bewilderedly.

“What?”

Eddie shook his head dismissively, tentative smile pulling at the side of his mouth, mumbling, “Never would’ve guessed.”

Steve felt horribly seen, like he’d said too much, flush creeping up his face, and he reached up to pull on the hair at the back of his neck again. But Eddie just laughed softly and pushed himself over next to Steve, leaning back against the wall and brushing his shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay to drive home?”

He nodded, starting to shift to his numb, tingly feet, stumbling and having to prop himself on the wall. “Yeah, I should probably go.”

“Hey.” Eddie grabbed his wrist, softly; he could pull away if he really wanted to. “Calm down, give it a minute. You just started breathing again, let’s make sure you’re good to go.”

So Steve didn’t pull away. He slumped back against the tile, legs sprawled forward to get the blood flowing again.

“Does your head hurt?”

Steve glanced over. “What?”

“Just... uh,” He shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to find a different way to address what he was thinking of. “You were pulling your hair. I wondered if maybe you... you know, what? It doesn’t matter.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little white bottle of Advil. “If you want some.”

“Why do you have that?” Steve chuckled softly, taking it from him thankfully. “I mean, I’ve heard your drug-dealer reputation; I just didn’t realize this is what they meant.”

“Har har.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s for Sinclair actually. He’s been-”

“Bitching about his ankle? Yeah, I keep telling him I’ll wrap it for him but he’s-”

“Being a shithead about the whole thing. He’s gonna drive me to do something drastic.”

“Seriously!” Steve cried. “I’ll hold him down, you can punch.”

Eddie laughed, a real, actual laugh and Steve thought he was going to have no choice but to implode. He was so pretty; he understood the Adrian-mistaking suddenly.

Steve wanted to say something, wanted to make him laugh like that again, but before he could grasp anything, the door shoved open and shattered their perfect privacy.

It was the bubblegum girl from the front desk. She popped the wad of pink obnoxiously, huffing out “Dude, the movie’s been over for like twenty minutes. We’re closing.”

Steve and Eddie shared a conspiratorial Ah-shit-we’re-in-trouble look, before getting to their feet. Steve was still holding the Advil bottle, somewhat uselessly because he’d forgotten he had it. He popped it open and swallowed a few, handing it back to Eddie who banished it back to his pocket.

Bubblegum Girl stared them down the whole way out into the lobby, the pair of them giggling as they went, until eventually they stepped into the cold darkness outside the theater, and the spell was broken. Here they were again, in real life, where things were not so great as that bathroom floor or the world within Rocky.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked softly like he was afraid something had changed the second they’d passed through the doors.

Steve nodded vaguely. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

He shot him a peculiar look and turned off towards where he was inevitably parked, calling out, “Stay safe, Harrington.”

Steve laughed out loud.

March 1986-

Steve hovered over Eddie, who was sitting on Steve’s bathroom counter with his legs over the side, cleaning up the blood on his face with antiseptic wipes Nancy had pulled out of nowhere. His stitches were soft and pliable still, and Steve hated how bulky and thick his fingers were for a moment because if they were small and slim it would force him to be gentler.

Eddie cried out as he brushed over the top of the gash and Steve cringed, yanking his hands back softly to avoid hurting him anymore.

“Sorry,” Steve murmured.

He was afraid to reach back to finish the job- Eddie was in enough pain as it was- so he stood there, watching him for any more signs of discomfort.

Eddie lifted his head languidly, glancing at the slash of bright red on Steve’s forehead, the angry crimson chain around his neck. He tentatively traced his fingertips along his skin, not along the scab, but just below it, and Steve hummed out a low sound in relief.

“You alright there, Balboa?”

It came out a little more slurred than he would’ve liked, but he was on a good deal of narcotics for God’s sake, and it must’ve delivered itself well enough because Steve offered him a small smile.

“Feel like a large wound,” he offered in his best Stallone accent.

Eddie laughed, and it hurt like a mother on his broken ribs and the stitches in his side, so it quickly delved into a whine, and Steve instantly reached out even if there was nothing he could do.

He caught his hand, pulled it into his lap, just to hold it there. Steve didn’t say anything.

“Steve.”

“Hmm...”

Eddie let go. Took Steve’s face carefully in his hands, even though the stretch sent pain shooting through his torso. “I understand now. Everything. Robin told me about the Russians.”

Steve swallowed thickly, head dipping almost in shame, as if it was too much to meet Eddie’s eyes and risk finding his pity there.

Eddie just tipped his head back up gently. “If I had known... I... I wouldn’t have let you go home alone that night. That’s... that’s not what Adrian does.”

Steve tipped his head just a little like he didn’t quite understand the sentiment.

Eddie swallowed. “I’m gonna kiss you now. You ain’t gotta kiss me back.”

He properly grinned this time, leaning in to meet him halfway, hands placed carefully on Eddie’s knees as he pulled in his face.

And he did kiss back. What can he say? He loves a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: panic attack #steddie hurt/comfort #steddie fic #alternate meeting #rocky references #rocky iv spoilers #ficlet

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the-expired-tofu · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil's Trumpets | Pt. 1

|| A 'The Glory' fanfic ||

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a/n: Hey there, this is my first time writing a fan fiction. I might change a few things in my fictions later on. Also, my English isn't my first language so my writing might lack some fluency. Hope you enjoy :) trigger warnings: bullying, murder, gore, depression, abuse, mature content, violence, sexual themes. pairing: reader x multi

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Y/N

“Y/N DID YOU MESS UP YOUR CUSTOMER’S ORDER AGAIN?” My manager yelled.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” I apologise as I bow in front of him, followed by a sharp pain of his slap right across my face. Gasps and whispers echoed in the room.

“Fifth time this month. Do you get what I'm saying? FIFTH TIME THIS MONTH!!! Am firing you next time you do this again. YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yes sir.”

He begins to walk away as I retreat back to clean the counter.

"Honey, you should go easier on her," The manager's wife whispered.

"Look, we are the only ones properly running this restaurant and we barely get any customers. This is the least i can do to atleast get more people.”

"Don't you think he's being too hard on her? She barely got a proper job after her graduation. He should be grateful that she even chose to work here," whispered one of my co-workers.

"I don't know. I heard she ran away from her house. We don't even have any information about her family. Don't you think it's all too suspicious?"

"Is Min-Hee really even her niece? Or is that a child she had out of wedlock?"

And so all the whispers followed. So many rumours yet none of those ever bothered me.

My shift is almost over.

I’ve been working at a fast food restaurant in Seoul for two years now. I live in an apartment few blocks away with Min-Hee, my four year old niece. Her parents were killed in an accident two years ago. Her mother, who was also my sister, had wished for me to take Min-Hee into custody. Quite many people were against this idea since I was financially unstable to raise her on my own. Today, I can say am financially stable enough to get Min-Hee into a school. The restaurant employees, including myself, are not well compensated. Payment of bills and rent is quite difficult for all of us. The money I make from my job was enough for me to manage a roof over our heads. Even though I never wanted to live like this, I am still grateful of the fact that I no longer live in Semyeong.

I finish my shift by depositing the rubbish outside in the restaurant's back yard. I was thinking of buying some noodles for Min-Hee on the way home when I notice a shadowy figure standing at the end of the street.

I didn't give it much thought until the person started walking towards me. Nobody else was on the street except me, and our restaurant had just been closed by one of my coworkers. It was 9:45 p.m. I don’t know where to go. I don’t have anything to protect myself with.

The faint light in the street helped me figure out the person’s appearance. The individual had their hair tied back as a low ponytail and wore a long grayish coat along with long loose pants. As the individual came more nearer, I could finally see the face. It’s a woman.

As she eventually approached me, I could finally recognize her. I felt chills running down my body when she got more closer. I remember who she is.

Moon Dong-Eun. After so many years. I was quite curious to what happened to her after she dropped out. The Moon Dong-Eun I remembered from high school feels like an entirely different person than the one standing right in front of me. But what the fuck is she doing here? How and why did she find me?

“It’s been quite a long time. How are you doing y/n?”

I didn’t say anything at first.

“You can say am doing fine I guess. I have a job now and…." I paused. I decided to stop blabbering and cut straight to the chase. "What are you doing here? How the hell did you even find me?”

“I will explain that later. I need your favour.”

“Favour?” I crossed my arms as I said so.

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to do this for quite many years now. I can even pay you if you want.”

“Pay me?" That's strange. "Okay. What is it that you need from me?” I ask hesitantly.

She doesn't say anything and looks around. Is she trying to look out for someone?

“I need you to go back to Semyeong.”

My arms dropped to my sides. The silence grew louder between us. I stood right there in disbelief. No, I cant go back there. Not when I have Min-Hee now, no. I worked hard to get away from that godforsaken place. No. I cant go back there.

“Sorry I cant. I cant just go back to Semyeong just because you asked me to. Am not going back even if you pay me. Since you’ve been able to find out where I live, you might already know that I have my niece to take care of. Sorry. Just find someone else.” I raise my hands as I try to dismiss our conversation and retreat away from her.

“I understand your reason. But don’t you think they're living their lives quite easily, after knowing what they’ve done to you? What they’ve done to us? Don’t you want revenge too-”

“Am sorry. I already told you, I cant go back there. I can barely afford anything these days, let alone go back to the hell I escaped from. Sorry, I wont help you.” I nod my head as I gather my things.

“It’s 10 pm. I have to get back.” I say after a pause. I start walking towards my apartment. Min-Hee is waiting for me.

“Yoon So-Hee was murdered.”

I stop dead in my tracks. Yoon So-Hee? Oh I remember her so well. Someone like us. Yoon So-Hee. She disappeared one day out of nowhere. Or so I was told. Nobody was able to find out what happened to her. Yoon So-Hee.

“What?” I turned around to face her.

She shows me a picture of a dull yellowish name tag. On it was carved in black “Park Yeon-Jin”. My mouth went completely dry. Yeon-Jin? She is behind the disappearance of So-Hee? How did Dong-Eun find that out?

“I mailed this name tag to the police right after I dropped out, hoping it would work, I was pretty naïve back then.”

“If you gave that to the police, how do you have the picture with you then?”

“I have my sources, which I can’t tell you yet.”

I keep staring at the name tag, did she really murder her? She willingly went that far to kill someone for her pride?

“After Yoon So-Hee’s disappearance, the police found a body of a girl in her teens with her skull cracked. Maybe she had few of her ribs broken as well. The body was found near the abandoned building of our school. Apparently, they did find a pink lighter at the roof of the building and never informed anyone outside their own people, but because of the snow, they couldn’t trace who it belonged to. The sweater she wore was burned too.”

All this information was just a lot for me take in. I just couldn’t say anything.

Dong-Eun takes my phone out of my hand and dials some random digits on it. She saves the number under her name. I need to put on a phone password.

“Call me if you ever change your mind. I’ll see you later.”

I stood there completely motionless as she walks away to the end of the street. She gets into her car and drives past me, didn’t even bother to look at me. What did she get herself into? How the hell did she manage to get hands on a confidential evidence? What will be her next move? She did mention she had some help in accessing the name tag. Then who’s helping her? Are they even reliable?

The ring of my phone interrupts my chain of thoughts. It’s Min-Hee calling from a telephone number.

“When are you coming home?”

“Almost there. Just crossing the street.”

“Doesn’t your shift end at 9.30?”

“Yeah I was just caught up with some stuff. Do we have food at home?”

“Oh yeah we have the leftovers from today’s lunch.”

“Oh that’s great. I’ll be right home.”

“Okay.”

I slide my phone inside my pocket as I walk up the stairs. Moon Dong-Eun. What the hell are you playing at?

I walk into my apartment. I haven’t stopped thinking about what Dong-Eun told me. She comes out of nowhere, tracks me down, finds out where I live and where I work, and decides to tell me about an information I am in no liberty to talk about to anyone. Are there more people who know about this? Or is it just me? What the hell do I do now?

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

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rorykeanersactualgf · 5 months ago

Note

request where Benny Weir and the reader have a sleepover and watch scary movies

CW: none really

Sleep Over

Part 1?????

It was a Friday afternoon and I had just gotten out of school with my friends. Spirits were high as we all thought about the weekend, Sarah and Erica were having a girls night, Ethan was going on a family holiday, Rory was just happy to be free again, and Benny and I were having a sleepover at my house while my parents were at a work gathering.

As we walked together and slowly parted ways, Benny gave my hand a small squeeze as we got to his house, giving me a small hug and kiss on my cheek as he walked towards his house and gave me a cute smile and small wave. I walked the rest of the way home with a smile on my face and a warm feeling flooding my chest, excited for our sleepover later that night. As soon as I got home, I started preparing for our sleepover, tidying around the house, making sure that there was enough food and drinks for us, as well as some money so we could get take out if we wanted it, having a quick shower to was away the day, some movies and tv shows to binge, and some of our favourite video games to play.

I went around the house lighting some candles and turning some lamps on, turning off the harsh big lights above so we could relax easier. After all that, it was around half 6 at night and Benny should be here any minute now, according to what he was telling me over the phone. As Benny was coming up my porch to knock, my parents passed him, my dad pulling him aside to make sure no funny business would be happening between me and him while they were out, to which Benny replied with exaggerated waving hands and quick rambles and reassurances, which made me and my mom smile.

As they left, Benny came in, took off his shoes and gave me a big hug. His arms wrapping tightly around me and hiding his face in my neck, inhaling lightly against my skin, holding the back of my head as he relaxed into my arms.

"Benny, what are you doing?" I asked with a smile in my tone, letting him know I wasn't mad but just confused at his sudden display of affection; holding him in my arms, resting my head against his shoulder, drawing small patterns on his back, smiling more when he sighs into my touch.

"I just missed you so much, I wanna hold you for a minute." He breathed and held me closer to him if that was even possible.

"You literally saw me a few hours ago."

"But still..." He said exasperatedly, almost like a small child when they didn't get their way. I rolled my eyes playfully as I just stood and accepted his affection until he was ready to let go so we could start some other things, which took longer than I had anticipated.

After a good 5 minutes of being stood at my front door with Benny holding me, I decided to speak up, "As much as I love your affection, my legs are getting tired and we can continue to hug each other on the couch or in my room, it's up to you ," I said with a small chuckle following and a small pout on Benny's face when I pulled away fully, still holding his hand while walking through my house. We made it to my living room and told Benny to turn the TV on and put whatever he wanted on while I went and ordered some pizza.

Flicking through the various channels given, Benny couldn't find anything interesting or entertaining, the only things that were on were some news, a random sitcom, some boring movies and some music channels. He decided to play some games and wait for some interesting things to come on later.

When I walked back into the living room, I sat down next to Benny and he turned to me instantly, a big smile spread across his face and basically shouted:

"You have (favourite game)! I forgot about that," while placing our controllers on the coffee table in front of us, setting the game up for us.

"Yeah, I got it a while ago, it's so good..." I continued to ramble about the game, not noticing the look of complete adoration from Benny, his eyes basically having hearts in them and a small flush of pink filled his cheeks as I started getting lost in the details and lore of the game.

After about 5 minutes of me speaking, I realised that Benny was looking at me with a fondness, unparalleled to anything I've ever had before, my heart swelled in my chest, "Sorry..." was all I could utter before he held my hand and said "What for? I love when you nerd out like that." A blush bloomed across my entire face as I shook my head and sighed, a quiet laugh leaving me.

We started the game and played for a while until the food came. I paid for the food, leaving a tip and thanking the driver before bringing the food into the living room and leaving the game, putting a TV show we thought looked alright on and began talking about our day.

"Oh my God, did you see what Rory did today?" He said with a bit of pizza sauce on his cheek.

"No, what happened?" I asked with worry and interest laced in my voice, while wiping the sauce off of his face.

"He tried to flirt with this girl and it seemed to be going well until he turned to walk away and he fell flat on his face, it was hilarious, you should've seen it." A fit of giggles left us as I imagined what it would look like and Benny remembered it in great detail, sure to use it against Rory when he can.

We continued to talk and gossip about school when I remembered I had a paper due next week, I'd have to do it tomorrow when Benny leaves and frankly, I didn't want to do it anyway.

After we finished our pizza, we were pretty thirsty and a bit hungry so we went to the kitchen and got some soda to drink and some more little snacks to have while we were still up.

It was only now that I had realised that it was about 11 pm and the exhaustion had caught up with me all at once. I yawned once, looking over at Benny stuffing his face with some snacks and thinking how lucky I was to have him. We threw away the pizza box and empty wrappers and went back to the living room to watch some movies, seeing as were both too tired for games.

We sat down with full stomachs, sleep already pulling at my eyes and making them heavy and droop. I shuffled over to Benny and leant my head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back and waist, hand comfortably resting on my side, rubbing slow and soft circles into my skin gently, as if I were a fragile China plate ready to break any moment.

We looked at the channels on the TV and still saw that there was nothing good so we agreed to go up to my room and watch some Netflix on my laptop.

I got settled on my bed and gestured for Benny to join me when he seemed apprehensive, "What's up?" I asked, a little bit confused.

"It's just... I've never shared a bed with someone, is it okay if I sit with you?"

"Benny..." I said with an incredulous look on my face, smile tugging at my lips, "We've been dating for how long?" I asked with a knowing smile on my face.

"Uh, a little over a year?" He said more like a question than a statement.

"And how many sleepovers have we had?" I said with a small wave of my hand to add emphasis to my words.

"Too many to count..."

"So come into bed with me, its not like my parents will care too much. And before you say my dad will, he's only joking, he doesn't mean most of the stuff he says. I promise that everything will be fine. Besides, I'm cold so come here please?" I said with my arms open for him to come over to me and not be so shy.

We sat on my bed, laptop on my legs, his head on my shoulder as we tried to decide on a movie to watch, after a small debate, we agreed on some horror movies; now I'm not one to be scared at horror movies but it felt a bit too real.

As I was trying not to jump at the jump scares and music stings, Benny had no shame in screaming and jumping at most of the movies. They managed to get the visual effects and screams of the actors to feel so real that it actually freaked me out a bit, only slightly jumping at the scares but hiding it well enough. At the end of the movies, I just looked at the screen while I put some SpongeBob on and some lamps to cheer us up. After about half an hour of us almost cry laughing at SpongeBob, we put some random show on and cuddled up to each other.

About 10 minutes into the episode we had already started to talk over the characters and have random debates about what ice cream flavour we would be or what type of dog we would be. It was well into the early hours of the day when we both started to feel our eyes droop. I laid in Benny's arms, his hold tight and soothing on me; I laid my head on his chest, feeling the rhythmic beats of his heart and the slow intakes of his breath. I started to draw little patterns on his shirt and looked up at him, giving him a small kiss on his lips, laying my head back on his chest again and feeling how it sped up slightly. My heart felt warm to know I still had this effect on him after being with him for so long.

After exchanging a short and mumbled "Goodnight," to each other, I felt a small kiss be pressed to the top of my head, making me flush pink and my head nuzzle his chest a bit. We fell asleep in each others arms, fully content with how we were laid... until a few hours into my sleep when I woke from a nightmare that was eerily similar to the movies we had watched earlier.

A/N: part 2 with a similar request where we dont watch horror movies but just hang out at bennys the next day?????? im so sorry this took a while to get out but we live laugh love life xx

#benny weir x reader #mbav #mbav fanfic #mbav stuff #benny mbav #benny weir

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years ago

Text

Dante and Vergil with their s/o giving them late Christmas presents

Pairing: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Interestingly enough, Christmas was a time of the year when demons decided to cause mayhem - giving the whole crew enough work for months to come. Because of that, you didn't have the chance to buy your dear devil a present... But that wouldn't stop you from showing you cared.

Age restriction: none, really. Dante's present you can interpret as NSFW only if you WANT to. It pleases all readers: you can read it as something very silly or kinda spicy - and BOTH go with our red devil. He is a seducing goof, really.

Author's notes: I'm not in a very jolly Christmas spirit this year and feeling quite meh about the Holidays, so maybe this can cheer up some people who are on the same vibe as me. Sometimes we're not on our best days and it's ok if we're not on the Holiday vibe - you're not broken. It's fine if you don't feel great.

ALSO IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: the poem on Vergil's part is a song lyrics I've written a long time ago and I went through my notes to find something I liked for this one. You're welcome to share if you like, but please credit me. It's my first time sharing this sort of work, so be nice about it ^^

Dante

Oh, Christmas. Jolly time, beautiful time, snowflake insanity time and carols playing everywhere a human – or demonic – hearing could reach.

One thing everyone seemed to forget, was the high incidence of demons causing pure mayhem. You understood Halloween – based on Samhein and all that – but Christmas…? Maybe demons liked to follow the Wheel of the Year as well and wreaked havoc during Yule?

Well, you settled with that explanation. Demons were all about magic, solstices, equinoxes, and such, so Christmas should be one of those magic heavy times too.

It was a bummer that the Devil May Cry always got busier that time of the year.

After the family and the crew got together, Dante started celebrating and waiting eagerly for it every time December 1st arrived on the calendar. Prior to that, though, you knew your red devil wasn’t much of a celebration type of guy – for a long time, he had no one to celebrate it with; therefore, he allowed the date to die inside his heart.

Hunting was his – and yours, to be honest – way to stop thinking about it. If you were busy, you wouldn’t notice that loneliness that seemed to approach during the jolly time.

You sighed, while walking back home in the streets of Redgrave. With hands inside your coat’s pockets, your sword was carefully kept inside a guitar case you caried on your back – something you learned with Dante to be less obvious of your status as a devil hunter to other people. You were just another tired musician, coming back home after a tiring day at work.

And what a day. You received so many calls, the crew had to cancel Christmas and each one go to a job and clear one demon infestation at a time. That meant no Christmas food, no cozy drinks, no jolly songs on repeat and no presents.

With your feet marking your way in the snow, the snowflakes spiraled as you let out another sigh. You wanted to give Dante a present – to show him you cared and all that, even after he told you he didn’t want anything. But that was the thing about him: Dante never wanted anything and always thought he didn’t deserve it.

If you could only grab him by the shoulders and shake that stupid belief out of his head. It was funny even how many times that type of thought crossed your head – but it was a staple of living with Dante.

You could hear people celebrating inside their houses. It was very late and probably in the middle of the night – you didn’t carry a watch or something to tell the time since a demon blasted your cellphone in two during a job and it took you more than a year to scrape some money to get a new one. Nevertheless, you learnt to tell the time by the skies and, giving how late it was, Dante probably was coming back from his as well.

He would be tired – or at least sore from all the fighting – and certainly in need of a shower, just like you at the moment.

Crossing the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry, you left the guitar case and dirty boots by the jukebox, noticing how Dante’s were missing – that meant he still wasn’t home.

As you went up the stairs, you still thought about his gift. You could give him a pizza for the night and Dante would be happy. One would think it would be great to have someone easy to please around, but it did make your life more difficult: you had no idea what to give him when you wanted something to be really special.

Everything was special for Dante.

Reaching your room, you finally smiled while searching for some clean pajamas. That little thought made you realize something – and search for a beautiful ribbon you could wrap a present with.

“Ei, babe! Still in the shower?”

“Hey, Dante! Just got out!” You answered while drying yourself with the towel. You could hear a little laugh in his voice as he walked around the room on the other side of the door.

“Damn, seems like I lost my chance for a nice shower with ya tonight!” His voice was a little muffled, making some effort with something. If you knew him well, Dante was finally taking his boots off and would remain sitting on the bed for a while to let his feet rest.

“Oh, I was desperately needing a shower.” You sighed, making him giggle a little. “How was your job today?”

“Eh, same as always… Nothin’ special, just a bunch of buffoons thinkin’ they’re gonna conquer the human world.” The sigh in his voice made you lough this time. You found it lovely how you always could hear his smile in the way he spoke back at you. “What…?”

“Not a usual thing hearing you say ‘buffoon’. You’re really Vergil’s brother, huh?” You couldn’t stop giggling as your fingers fumbled with the beautiful stripe of red cloth that would be a beautiful bow when you’d be done with it.

“What can I say, babe?” You already knew Dante so well, his shrug was in his voice, as well as his smugness. The cocky smile was beautifully plastered in your mind – and you’d hope you’d never forget it. “You start livin’ with the prince of darkness there, you get a few of his mannerisms.”

“Hmmm.” You tried to hold back a laugh, but the wheezing was recognizable even to Dante in the room. “Now I’m imagining good ol’ Verge dressed as Ozzy singing Paranoid like a crazy metal dad.”

You could swear Dante’s laugh could be heard through the whole shop – and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing alongside him. Moments like those were better than any presents you could give him.

“Ha! Now that would be a sight to see!” He coughed back. “But ya know, don’t mention this to Verge, but he used to like Black Sabbath and uncle Ozzy when we were kids.”

“Nooooo…! You’re joking!” As soon as your voice achieved the heights of disbelief, Dante just laughed in response. “Verge is a Sabbath guy?!”

“I’ll say two things: Mr. Crowley and War Pigs.” Dante’s voice disappeared for a few seconds before coming back again. “If ya sing one of these by his side, Vergil knows the lyrics by heart.”

“Man, I gotta do that one of these days…!” You giggled to yourself, hearing Dante falling on the bed. Probably sitting, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. “What about you?”

“Oh, I love uncle Ozz and Sabbath! Who do ya think introduced metal at home?!” With a sigh, you knew he was stretching and finally starting to relax. “But yeah, I was more into AC/DC, and later bands like Mötley Crüe. Verge said it was all one hell of a noise and he couldn’t focus on readin’.”

“Huh. As if you can focus on Sabbath.”

“Touché. He knew some songs on drums too, he just liked complainin’…”

That was a good present for you. Having Dante remember things of his life and talk to you about mundane things, like music, was something that always warmed your heart – you loved everything about him, but spending time together and just getting to know each other more and more… That was something only his soul could gift you.

“Talkin’ ‘bout complainin’, is everything alright there, babe? Or did the toilet swallow you?”

“Oh, you know. Just a couple of sewer demons, I’ll be done with them in nooo time.” Your answer made both of you laugh – although, sewer demons were indeed an annoying breed of devils. “I’ll be out soon, red devil, chill out. I have a surprise for you.”

“What…? Surprise…?”

That suddenly kicked into his head: it was Christmas. Dante had completely forgotten about it. He was so used to not celebrating, that going about it like a normal day was just average to him. All the lights in the street, the snow, the songs, the smells of Christmas food… It was something he had learned to ignore.

“Oh, babe… You…”

But Dante’s mumbles were interrupted as soon as you emerged from the bathroom wrapped around the red ribbon; a perfect big bow resting on the top of your head as you opened your arms. You found him sitting on the bed, shirtless, stretching his legs after a tiring day of hunting – his dumbfounded sky-blue eyes staring at you in awe for the couple of seconds you took him by surprise.

“Merry Christmas, cowboy!” You giggled back, a wide smile on your lips. “I couldn’t buy you a present, so…” You signaled to yourself, opening your arms again right after.

“Damn. I love you, babe. Have I told you that already…?” Dante murmured with a beautiful big smile on his lips, taking your hand on his as you approached. “Merry Christmas, beautiful. Sorry I couldn’t get ya a present this year.”

“It’s ok. You’re already my present, big guy.”

Dante just kissed you in return as you sat on his lap. The only way for you to know how much your words meant to him, was by the rhythm of his heart, beating like fiery drums.

He wouldn’t mind receiving that Christmas gift every year.

Vergil

The last demon fell on the floor, slayed by your very own ghostly white Mirror Edge. Your hands were covered in blood, as well as the snow covering the ground in that Christmas night.

The moon was high in the sky, celebrations already starting to come to an end inside homes all over Redgrave. Vergil once told you there were times of the year, usually celebrated by witches and occultists in general, that held power – and Christmas time was one of them.

You had to take a different job than Vergil in order to keep demons at bay that night; returning home, then, was a lone path. Quietly walking in the streets, you kept your hands warm inside your pockets, watching as people went back home or just turned off the lights to go to sleep.

“I do recall Christmas at my family’s home…” Vergil said calmly, watching the snow falling outside while he kept his hands warm with the cup of fancy tea you brewed for the night. “It all seems like a distant memory. I…” He halted his words, furrowing his brows as Vergil carefully chose his words. He wasn’t one to speak without intention and, when it came to his feelings, he always struggled to find the right words. “…Spent too much time in Hell. Time itself is a concept forgotten on those lands.”

“Hmmm. Were you aware of the passage of years…?” You kept focusing on your painting; sitting in front of it, you let Vergil speak, paying attention to his words but being careful not to overwhelm him with attention. He raised his eyes to you, watching as your hands carefully painted the snow from the night outside – Vergil knew it required trust from you to allow him to watch you creating something.

“Sometimes…” He let out a deep, controlled sigh. There was a type of tug inside his chest every time he talked about those memories; as if something inside him was twisting and leaving him breathless. “Some minutes seemed like years… And some years seemed like seconds. I only realized how much time had passed when I saw Dante for the first time.”

“Huh. Makes sense…” You muttered, making him raise one eyebrow. You reached for something on your paint desk and Vergil gave you your teacup – he always feared you would accidentally take a sip of dirty paint water in your moment of being absorbed by your art. He had done that countless times while reading; it was something he wasn’t proud of. “I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to know what year it was if I was falling apart after crawling out of Hell. Makes sense you only noticed when V united with Urizen again.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with a subtle nod, brewing your words inside his mind. You seemed to be the only person he could openly talk with and not be judged – there was something of welcoming about it. “I… Forgot. How Christmas is like. I know the memories; I know the traditions. But I don’t know the feeling anymore… I see just a ritual that only has meaning if people believe in it. In Hell, no one believes in anything; the only thing keeping you alive is a small light of hope that one day you will make it out of there. The rest…” And Vergil did a vague gesture with his hand, preparing to take another sip of his tea. “Is frivolous.”

“Only survival matters.” As you added, he nodded alongside you.

“And keeping yourself. Not allowing your soul to die. If you lose that, not even your body can bring you back.”

That conversation with Vergil marked you. They were just a few words before he went back to reading and you focused again on your painting, singing a couple of songs ever time your heart felt like it. Surprisingly, it was something Vergil enjoyed while reading – as well as mindlessly massaging your feet and calves you usually rested on his lap while both of you were concentrated on something else.

Vergil was easing back on Christmas. It was a lot of work – he wasn’t specially loved by anyone but you and Dante in the crew, but everyone was warming up to the blue devil. Trish and Lady found it easier to welcome him given their history together, and Nero was working on his own feelings of having a father – and one who didn’t even know him, to top that. The first Christmas together was a miracle and the second Christmas, Vergil already showed he was a lot better at thinking of gifts than Dante – they usually didn’t remember people actually expected to receive something, but Vergil always knew each one’s preferences.

He never expected anything back, though. It had something to do with him atoning for his sins, but there was something else as well. If you didn’t get in the festive spirit, Vergil wouldn’t get into it as well. Time and important dates were a real struggle to the blue devil – as he said before, there wasn’t such a thing in Hell.

Vergil was completely tone deaf when it came to noticing the passage of time: it was common between you two a few reality checks. Vergil usually approached and you helped him make sure what he was living was real – not one of his many hallucinations when incarcerated – and when were you. “When” as in how many weeks had passed since an important event, how many months, how many hours. That way, you helped him with his time dissonance.

He probably didn’t even remember it was Christmas… It was your job to remind him, then.

As Vergil entered your room, he could hear the shower as your voice entangled around the notes of water in a song he didn’t recognize – not that he needed to, for Vergil loved hearing you sing.

Leaving his coat on the back of the chair, he sat on the bed to take off his boots. It was a relief, really. The moment the day ended, and he came back home – it had been a very long time Vergil didn’t really have a routine of winding down, changing to comfortable clothes and sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. He always took some time to close his eyes and feel the ground under his feet, focusing on how grounding that was.

His heart seemed to go back to its own place – a forgotten place in his chest, filled with a warm sense of safety. He could only define it as the feeling of love and protection he longed during all his years of seemingly endless suffering.

There were days in Hell that indeed felt like an eternity. Sometimes, Vergil questioned if everything he was living with you was real – working in the Devil May Cry, talking to his brother again, getting to know his son. It was a dream, and dreams were prone to ending.

Shaking his head, Vergil took a deep breath before taking his boots and opening the closet to keep them safe and sound in their proper place. The next piece was his vest, carefully kept in a drawer.

Vergil calmly went back to the desk, in order to get his coat and hang it inside the closet – hearing while you turned off the shower and started to dry yourself, still humming your song of choice. It was one you had shown him before, that he could identify.

As soon as his fingers touched his coat, Vergil furrowed his eyebrows – his eyes meeting an envelope with his name atop of his read of that month. That was your handwriting; that he was certain.

Taking the envelope between his fingers, Vergil turned it around, finding the words “Merry Christmas”.

Oh.

He had forgotten about Christmas.

Vergil stared at a lost spot on the wall for a while, internally complaining about his lack of awareness of important dates in a human world. Shaking his head once again, he finally opened the envelope, finding a simple piece of paper with your handwriting – a poem, by the way you framed it on the sheet of paper.

“When I believed life was concrete and coal

You made my heart rain gold

Dripping like honey over your chest and arms

I want to glimmer with you amid the stars

Your breath caught on my lips, kept in my soul

Your sparkle entangled in my hands, I will never let go

In the silence of the Universe, witnessed only by Venus and Mars

I give you, my love, my soul and my heart.”

Vergil didn’t know that poem.

He read those words again and again, breaking the meaning and feeling behind them. His silvery eyes had never seen them before, but there was something of different… Something that seemed to wrap around his heart and make his eyes threaten to feel more than he usually allowed them to feel.

Until he found the little note on the bottom of the paper.

I know it isn’t perfect, love, but I wrote this poem for you. It’s the sincerest thing I can give you this Christmas. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.

“Oh, you found it.” Vergil was lifted out of his storm of thoughts by your voice, recently emerged from the bathroom. He turned around, having a stern look on his face and his hands holding the single piece of paper for dear life. “Merry Christmas, my dear. I hope you like your present. I didn’t have time to buy anything, and I wanted to give you something meaningful.”

Without any words, Vergil approached you with the same resolution he did when he had an enemy in sight. You just looked at him, trying to understand his reactions – Vergil was always a box of surprises. He never reacted like everyone else did, but it was to be expected after all he had been through.

You were caught completely by surprise when he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his body – his face hidden in the curve of your neck. His heart was aligned with yours; and that made you smile.

It was the first time Vergil was the subject of a heartfelt poem – not just a heartless reader searching for some tenderness.

I blame Duff McKagan’s Tenderness for that last line and overall feeling of this ending part

youtube

This Tenderness. I love this man, I love this song, and it was Vergil written all over. It's also really comforting on trying times, give it a listen ;)

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dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth · 11 months ago

Text

My father ain't getting his Christmas present today. Everyone in the house will get presents, multiple. But he won't get a damn thing from me now or probably ever again for that matter. He doesn't even love me. Why should I spend anything on him?

When my brothers and I went to go get my wheelchair I bought, my father pulled me aside and didn't even look at me as he said, "You can become magically able bodied if you just exercise and lose some weight. If you buy that thing, it has to go into storage and you have to pay for storage. You're making a big mistake." I told him then and there I don't appreciate him and he does nothing for me. Then I left.

On our way home, my father tried to physically blockade my brothers from pulling into the driveway, and said we have to take the wheelchair directly to storage. We... don't have a storage unit anywhere, and it's New Year's Eve, so none are open. Additionally, we have a double garage which you can park 2 vans inside of. We've done it before. And here was father, yelling at us that we can't fit a wheelchair inside...

A few months ago, my father tried to obtain legally confidential information from my therapist which I legally signed documents to make sure he could never get. And he sent lawyers after her and her staff, angry phone calls, and it got to the point the staff texted me and asked for assistance. Twice.

What's more is, I've gotten dozens of blood tests from half a dozen different doctors over the years. All of them confirmed I have high numbers for lupus and arthritis. There's no denying it. And yet, my father said they're wrong. My doctors are wrong, my therapist is wrong, and science is wrong. There is nothing wrong with me. He asked me, "How did you get around Universal Studios?" I told him I limped and complained about my leg pain the entire time. He said, "I don't remember that." But considering he gaslights me on a daily basis, I can promise he remembers and is lying.

And then, I remembered something else. My father has a cousin who was born with a deformed spine. She cannot walk, never has been able to, and yet, whenever my family visits her or she visits us, my father will make offhand comments when she's not looking or isn't in earshot, that she doesn't need to be in a wheelchair and she could walk if she just tried hard enough and that it would straighten out her spine if she did. She... has a shifted spinal column that's missing discs. I uhh... I don't see how you can fix that by walking.

Anyway, yeah. I'm not going to give anything to my father today, tomorrow, next year, ever. He takes my money each month just to turn off my electronic contact with the outside world whenever he's angry (he disables my phone, wifi, TV, data, etc. on all devices). You know, I learned to hack so I could hack his account to gain that access back. He somehow found out, and set up 2FA which I don't know how to get around (my guess is he was tracking when the account was logged into, from which IP, and checking the trace logs).

There's a reason I send all my messages to friends through encrypted apps, or untracked accounts, and hide all my social media posts from my father. I've learned the sounds of everyone's footsteps in the house, so I know when to be silent if my father comes around. I know to lock my door if he does. I fear him and everything he says. Nobody should have to live this way. But I do.

And sometimes, I ask myself if it's worth it to live at all when these are the conditions I'm forced into.

Here's to 2024. Maybe, somehow, it'll lead me to freedom...

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depressopax · 8 months ago

Note

Hii if its ok could I request some married life with Mike Ehrmantraut headcanons? Or like how he would go about proposing to (gender neutral) reader he’s been dating for awhile, I love all your work with Mike! 🩵

Thank you for the kind words and the request!! <3 It’s been a while since I wrote about Mike now, so I had fun writing this! :) It’s a bit short thoo 😭 ALSO HIII FELLOW MIKE FAN Hope you enjoy the fic!! <3

Pairing: Mike Ehrmantraut x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): None (lmk if I should add any!) Words: 0.6k Summary: Married life with Mike would include... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

Proposal 💍

I think I said this in my relationship HC’s for Mike, but… He’s the king of slow burn romance lol

Not because he’s insecure in what he feels for you - he does love you more than anything

Rather because he’s scared. Scared to move too quickly, to scare you away, and simply because his work “doesn’t allow it”.

Fuck it, let’s say he somehow quits his job for Fring… Then…

He’d be very quick to put a ring on your finger.

He realizes that his criminal lifestyle is the reason as to why he’s been so scared of a bigger commitment.

But now there’s nothing holding him back.

He has money, so he makes sure to find the perfect proposal ring.

Finally deciding on one, he tries finding the right moment.

He cringes at cheesy couples etc, which is pretty double standard-ish, considering he’s one cheesy mf when it comes to you lol

He takes you out to a fancy restaurant and then goes for a walk in the dark

After building the perfect romantic tension, he surprises you by kneeling before you

When he show you the ring, you can only think one thing: “Finally.”

He can barely ask before you answer. “Will you ma-” “YES!” “...Can I ask first, at least?”

The two of you couldn’t be more happy - finally being able to show love for each other without secrets.

Friends and family of you and Mike are the first ones to find out.

…And you can’t stop flexing with the ring to every person you meet lol Mike will be like: “Stop bragging with the ring”, but secretly loves when you do

Wedding 💒

Half a year after the engagement, you decide it’s time for a wedding.

Mike is a simple man, for him, it would be enough with a church wedding, or even just in the city hall

But you had bigger plans

And who is he to disagree?

If you want a big white wedding - he’ll fix it. PERIOD.

Seeing you all dressed in white/in a suit is enough to make his heart melt.

You marry each other surrounded by friends and family

With Kaylee being the flower girl 🥹 (Btw, her and Stacey both adores you and are relieved to see someone finally give Mike the happiness he deserves <3)

The ceremony is beautiful and afterwards you have after-wedding party

You even successfully force Mike to dance with you lol

Honeymoon 🏖

Mike takes you on a beautiful honeymoon.

He wanted it to be somewhere adventurous, but settled for a nice place.

Probably hiring the best room at some beach hotel

You spend an entire month celebrating your love together, going to spas, hiking and exploring the city and… Other things ;)

None of you want to go back home, but then again - you’re married now. So it feels ok.

Married life 💕

You live in Mike’s house, but he eventually suggests moving to a bigger place, in a more calm neighborhood - and closer to Stacey and Kaylee.

You buy a nice two-floor house together

Cheesy as Mike is with you, he def does the “carrying his s/o over the threshold to the house” thing 😌✨

The two of you probably get a dog or cat, depending on your preferences - screw it, maybe both!

You are happy to return from work everyday and have Mike waiting for you

He kinda become a “househusband” lol

I feel like he’s a clean freak, so he def gets these impulses to deep clean the house when you’re away at work - and that way he can distract himself from missing you too much

He also spoils you with gifts and dinner

Movie nights <3

Mike has had an intense, dangerous life but now finally can settle for peace and calm, together with the person he loves.

He is so happy he met you and grateful he got the opportunity to love someone again.

Thanks for reading! Btw, I'm currently writing on my first ever chapter novel fanfiction! It's a Nacho spin-off and an La casa de papel & Better call Saul crossover! Would mean a lot if you giys wanna check it out an leave a like or comment! Thanks <3

Link:

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pricegouge · 2 months ago

Note

Oooooo you want ghost stories???

Grandma has had prophetic dreams. She once dreamt she was at a tea party with a bunch of women who were all dead (her mom, her grandma, etc) except for one. Her best friend’s mother. Roughly a week later, said best friend’s mother dies in the hospital from heart issues.

Grandma’s (former) house is MONDO haunted. As in, pretty much everyone has had experiences including the family friend we had helping us touch up the house and move everything out. One I’ve had specifically is when I was staying up late in the downstairs TV room playing with a friend online, both of us heard a massive bang from another room. Him through my shoddy mic, and me. Never figured out what fell, but it sounded like something was shoved over. There were no animals in the house and I was the only person on the first floor.

Another spooky experience: Late at night again, I’m sitting in grandma’s office/den, which has two doors. The door that leads into the living rooms/TV room is closed bc it gets dark and scary at night. I’m sitting in the chair, both doors closed, the only one awake on the first floor. And I hear someone knock once on the door leading to the living rooms. I went to bed after that.

On the topic of the house, I’ve had nightmares regarding it lately. I practically grew up there, and having to sell it was really fucking painful for my family. It’s horrible knowing that I’ll never set foot in there again when I spent so much of my childhood in there. I’m scared that my resentment and anger of having to give up the house may have left something bad inside. The place is already haunted, but I’m worried that I may have planted the seeds for some kind of construct made of emotional energy, like a poltergeist. I really hope the new owners treat the house well. It’s an old, old house (built in 1900) and the ghosts are all our ancestors. I had plenty of days where I went to the third floor, the place I felt most comfortable speaking with them, and told them to please be kind to the new tenants, but I wonder if it was enough. My mama and I watch Dead Files together a lot, and part of me wonders if we’ll ever see an episode where Amy Allen gets called to walk through Grandma’s House.

There’s also the uncle who I’m fairly certain is cursed and whom we don’t talk to because he may or may not have killed my great grandpa, but that’s another story

~🦋

Answering under the cut just to keep things short on dash

Okay so full disclosure I'm like 98% sure I don't believe in ghosties HOWEVER, that 2% is a direct result of living with my grandmother as a kid in a house built in the 1700s and Seeing Some Shit

So with that in mind, I fully believe you and that house sounds crazy! I'm sorry your family had to sell it :( I'm not quite in a comparable position because I COULD see my grandmother's house now because my uncle owns it, but it's been fully renovated and none of it still feels the same :( I get so sad every time I visit because like ... Where is she? What did you do with her memory? I'm not sensitive to believing my turmoil would leave a mark on the house, but I can easily see where a similar feeling from you would make you feel like that. That being said, whichever family members still linger, I'm sure they know you only want the best for the house and any negativity you may have left was absorbed as what it was, silly little mortal emotions that everyone has at some point. Your ghosties sound similar to the ones that haunt my grandmother's place in that they all sound generally benevolent except for the odd spook.

You may one day see them on a ghost show but I bet you any money they'll keep being a sweet, if slightly scary, presence. I don't think us living people have that much sway over their temperment 💛

#asks #🦋 anon

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emmawithtwoms · 1 year ago

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TWIN SIZE MATTRESS

so, this is a little thing I wrote about the Black Brothers, it was obiously inspired by the song "Twin size mattress", hope you like it. Any constructive criticism is very welcome, and since English is not my native language, any correction or advices too are very well accepted. love you all! words: 2595

This is for the lions living in the wiry broke down frames Of my friends’ bodies When the flood water comes it ain’t gonna be clear it’s gonna look like mud But I will help you swim

-1st of september, 1971

“GRYFFINDOR!!” the wicked hat shouted, and all of the (already little) colour washed off Sirius’ face. The first ever Griffindor of the Noble and most ancient house of Black, his parents will be horrified.

Great.

His parents will be horrified. Disgusted even. Well, that was a strange turn of events, and Sirius, at the ripe age of 11 and ¾ could feel a little pull of excitement inside of him.

He was a Griffindor, and no amount of money or pureblood connections could have ever changed that, his lovely parents could only suck it up and accept it, regardless of the infamous “Black family madness” nobody would be so crazy to challenge Dumbledore.

Sirius was trying to sort his thought while, oh so slowly, walking towards the Gryffindor table, throwing a glance towards the Slytherin table, where his lovely cousins Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa were all looking at him, giving three very different looks (amused, horrified and disgusted).

He could have only imagined the shouts and the curses that he would have received the following morning in the howler from his parents, he would have had to add Blood Traitor to the already pretty coloured list of adjectives his parents had for him. Mind, none of those were considered insults for Sirius, but still, it’s pretty annoying when those things are being shouted at your face every day.

So he was pretty proud of having been sorted in Gryffindor, another thing that could separate him from his bigoted family, but the pride was not enough to erase the fear of the punishments he would have received back home.

But he would always have Reg sneaking him food in his bedroom, or telling him when it was safe to come out.

Oh, right. Reg.

How could he have forgotten about Reg?Sirius was counting on the fact that he could have written letters to Regulus regularly, but now he wasn't so sure of that. And what about the following year? When Reggie too would have come to Hogwarts? Sure, there was a slight chance that he too would have been a Gryffindor, but what if he wasn’t? What if Reggie got sorted in Slytherin? What then? He could not protect him there, could not screen him from the comments, and the blood supremacists in there, he could not help him escape that wicked circle of purebloods that would sell their families just to be acknowledged by a Black. He would be forever separated from his little brother, and that was the last thing he wanted for them.

HIs stream of negative thoughts was interrupted by a boy throwing all of his weight on him and squeezing him in a suffocating hug.

“What the hell, mate, you scared me!”

“Well, you wouldn’t bloody listen, and you weren’t clapping when I got sorted in Gryffindor too, I got pretty offended by that”

The boy, James Potter, fixed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and gave him a toothy smile, and Sirius could feel all of his negative thoughts leave his mind. He had met James merely 10 hours prior, while running from his cousin Bella, who was trying to force him to sit with her on the train, and it was brotherhood at first sight. Sirius could feel a connection between them, like it was fate that brought them together.

“Bloody hell! Sorry mate, I was just thinking about some family stuff.”

“Well, none of that anymore, now you just gotta enjoy the feast and stuff your tummy until you explode!”

“Yeah mate, you’re right.”

And he broke into a mischievous grin, that would soon become his signature for many years to come.

“Don’t worry Reg” He thought “When you’ll be at Hogwarts too, nothing will separate us, I’ll make sure of that,”

This is for the snakes And the people they bite, For the friends I made For the sleepless nights

-february 1975

The slytherin common room felt familiar, way too familiar, in a way Regulus never really liked. He felt comfortable between the tall stone walls, the leather armchairs, the silver and green drapes and the constant feeling that everything around him shouted wealth and nobility.

He sometimes laid awake at night, longing for a cozyness he never really felt, looking at the cold green and silver decors of his room, feeling trapped in the underwater dungeon. He wished that the Slytherin common room had windows. During those nights Regulus envied the clear view of the sky that the Ravenclaws, from their tower, had. Hell, he almost envied the Gryffindors. But instead he was stuck underground, polar opposite from that damned tower, unable to see the stars, to see his brother.

During those nights he would cast a closing spell on the courtains around his bed, creating total darkness, and would enchant the canopy’s roof to reflect the stars outside, looking for the brightest one. This would numb the coldness he felt, if only a little, and would help him drift in a short, agitated, dreamless sleep. It was better than nothing.

Some days Regulus would catch a glimpse of his brother, sometimes he would even interlock eyes with him, only for a moment, and then abruptly look away. Things were not good at the moment between them, had not been for the past couple of years, actually.

He did not know when it started: the resentment, the abandonment feeling Reg always felt, the longing, the constant feeling of not being just enough for his brother.

They stopped talking at Hogwarts: they had totally different friend groups, different courses, but they were still brothers. Sirius was still his brother and he often ended up thinking: “Just look at me, stop looking at Potter, I’m your brother, you’re supposed to be looking at me!” He felt like a child.

But sometimes, sometimes Regulus would be alone, and see his brother walk towards him. Sometimes he would notice Sirius coming close to him and hesitating, almost as if he was about to say something, and Regulus would find himself begging that he would, begging for anything, begging for himself to say anything to Sirius, his brother, still his brother.

Sometimes Sirius would, sometimes he would say a little “Hey” or he would ask about classes, as a normal brother would. Sirius would try to make him laugh, to coax any kind of reaction out of Reg, and Reg would feel so light, would feel so happy, like a ball of light settled inside of him, warming him up, and would feel the need to tell his brother anything, to share a funny story Barty told him the previous morning, or complain about homeworks, or tell him all about his weird friend Pandora who Sirius would love, but in the end he never would.

Regulus would just send his brother away with some snarky remark and go back to his homework, secretly hoping for his brother to not go, stay with him, fight for him like he used to do at home. It was selfish, and controversial, and weird.

Reg wanted his brother to want only him, to need him like Regulus needed Sirius, to abandon all of his friends to stay with him, and he hated himself for that.

He hated himself for treating his brother that way,

hated himself for needing him still,

after all these years,

hated his brother for having friends other than him,

hated that stupid Potter kid who stole his brother,

hated the stupid sorting hat for putting them in separate houses,

hated the school and the damned housing system,

hated his parents for forbidding him to keeping in touch with his brother,

hated the universe for having them born in that cursed house,

hated himself for being too afraid to disobey and just hug his bloody brother.

Every time it happened Reg would reverse all of his hatred in the toilet at night, not like he had that much to throw up anyway.

For the warning signs i’ve completely ignored There’s an amount to take Reasons to take more

-end of term, 1975

Sirius saw his brother, he saw him walking around with his friends, a ghost acting with the confidence of a prince. He saw his little brother alone, sulking, thinking, late at night in the library. He saw him in the slytherin common room at night, spying on him with the map, pretending to not be worried about his brother, wanting to protect him from something he didn’t even know what it was, feeling the urge to throw himself in the fire for his brother.

He tried, and tried, and tried to talk to his brother, he would see those godforsaken walls crack in his brother’s eyes, but never quite falling, never letting him talk to him, telling him why he was not eating enough, why his eyes looked so tired all the time, why was he dragging himself around instead of being the prince he had everyone believe he was. He did not understand why his brother was so close, but always so out of reach.

Maybe they really were like stars, so close in the charts when in reality there’s a full sky between them.

Regulus knew what was coming, maybe he always had. He saw Sirius play, joke, run, live with his friends in a way that broke his heart. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill them. He really, really really wanted to join them.

Regulus knew he was not enough for his brother, but he still wished.

During the holidays they would both go back home, and those were the only times the two brothers felt like they could fix things, like they could go back to being just brothers, like they were before Hogwarts, before Potter, before the houses, before this bloody war.

It would take some time, but they would fall back in place again, sneaking in each other's room at night to not be heard by their parents or Kreacher, not talking, but staying in the other’s company, breathing the same air, feeling the other’s heat, trying to close the cracks between them.

And every time they felt like they were doing it, like finally, finally they had made some progress: Sirius would coax a laugh out of Regulus, and Regulus would tell Sirius that he missed him, and they would feel good, finally at peace.

But that could never last.

Because sometimes one of them would laugh too hard, or would not close the door properly while sneaking out of his bedroom, or Sirius would say too much at the dinner table, and Regulus would stay quiet, not wanting to upset their parents more, and both of them would feel betrayed, again.

Why couldn’t Sirius just keep his mouth shut, and why couldn't Regulus just speak up for once?

Maybe that was just their fate.

Besides, stars could never get too close, because when two stars collide, their destiny is to consume each other until extinction.

So they would go back hating each other, not talking, not looking, closing up on their bedroom, burning and suffering alone.

The holidays would finish, and they would have to go back to Hogwarts,one resenting the other again, hurt and alone.

They knew what was coming, they just wouldn’t acknowledge the signs, that would have hurt too much.

It’s no big surprise You turned out this way, When they closed their eyes And prayed you world change When they cut your hair And sent you away You stopped by my house The night you escaped With tears in my eyes I begged you to stay You said “Hey man I love you But no fucking way”

-christmas 1975

It was night when it finally happened, when Sirius finally snapped.

He just couldn’t take it anymore, the violence, the insults, the curses, and now they were talking about joining Voldemort. It was too much.

Sirius had to leave. The new wounds on his body were just another confirm, the last proof he needed. If he hadn’t left, he would have died in that house.

His lovely mother had decided to try some new form of punishment that left Sirius wheezing on the floor, unable to move, to see, to feel anything but pain for hours.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he knew the Potters would have welcomed him, and even if they hadn’t, anywhere would have been better than that house.

He had one last thing to do.

Sirius walked down the corridor that took him in front of that door, took three deep breaths, and finally knocked right under the solver plaque that read “R.A.B”

Regulus opened the door, took a look at Sirius and knew what was coming.

“So you’re leaving”

Please say no

“Yes, I have to.”

“No, you don’t, you can still stay.”

Just stay, for me

Regulus knew, deep down, that that was not true, because staying would have meant dying for Sirius, if not literally, it would have killed his spirit, everything that he believed in, everything he fought for.

He wished Sirius would do it, for him.

“You know I can’t.”

“Please don’t go.”

“Come with me”

“What?”

“Come with me, to the Potters, there’s enough space for both of us, they will welcome you like a son, please, come with me”

Regulus laughed, a cold laugh, Sirius was startled, like he was not standing in front of his brother, but in front of his mother. He took a step back, wide eyed at the sight of his brother.

“I don’t want to leave, Sirius, you are the one who wants to turn his back to his family” To me “But I have no desire to do such thing”

“ So you just want to stay here? With them? In this cold house, with their hatred and their punishments? This is not love, Regulus, I can show you what real love is, please just come with me.”

Sirius reached for his arm, extending his hand, trying to touch his brother, but Regulus flicked his hand away.

“If you wanted to show me love you would not leave, you would stay, instead of leaving me for your friends. I am your brother, not them. I am your family, your true family.”

Regulus could feel tears collecting at the corner of his eyes, but he did not care.

“Please, stay, they can still forgive you, they can still change their minds, if you would only behave, I’m sure they would-”

“And change everything I am? Destroy all of my principles? For what? For What Reg?? A family that does not truly love me, but only needs me for their fucking political affairs?”

“FOR ME! YOU SHOULD STAY FOR ME SIRIUS, BECAUSE YOU ARE MY BROTHER!”

“Reg, I love you, but no fucking way.”

“Then I guess that does it. Goodbye Sirius.”

“Reg please, wait-”

But it was too late, Regulus shut the door, and with that he shut his brother out of his life.

He waited until he heard Sirius’ footsteps leave from his doorstep, and until he heard the floo on the library across the hall being activated, his brother saying “Potter Manor” and the crackling of the fire swallow his voice, and then finally he started crying.

(Twin size mattress- The front bottoms)

#sirius black #regulus black #marauders #angst #black brothers #harry potter #fic #ao3 fanfic #twin size mattress #marauders fic #black brothers angst #the black brothers #black brothers fic #headcanon

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thenasoneshots · 1 year ago

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Bruno Oneshot - You Can Always Find Help in Friends and Family

Requested?: No

Prompt: None

Type of oneshot: Fluff? (idk what to call this)

Reader's Relations: None/Best friends with Agustin (Cause he’s Bean)

Warnings: Mentions of death

Other notes: This randomly came to me after rereading the backstory for Gabriella (one of my Encanto OCs), just to say you own a flower shop… This takes place a few months after Isabela gets her gift (therefore all other character ages are adjusted accordingly)

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

I sighed looking down at the many bunches of flowers that were starting the shrivel up in the shop, feeling my stomach starting to rumble a bit as I hadn’t eaten anything apart from one slice of bread, and it now being around 3 in the afternoon. It had been difficult for me, my father had died before I was born and my mum had died when I was 18. Since then I’d run my mother’s flower shop, selling flowers to the townsfolk. This is what actually led me to meet the person who would become my best friend. Agustin would come to the shop at least once a week to buy flowers and I soon learned he was smitten with Julieta and was trying to impress her by constantly giving her flowers. To start with, I thought it was adorable that he was so in love that he’d buy flowers every week for her, but then it started to become more frequent and eventually, I just started giving them to him for free knowing they were going to a good cause.

It was a few months after Isabela got her gift that I noticed that the flower shop was losing business. I knew why, obviously, it was because of her gift as she could make flowers appear of out thin air, and she was doing it for free. Due to this, I started to not be able to make enough money to feed myself or take care of myself properly. I knew no one would miss me if I did end up dying from starvation or something.

I had been busy watering the flowers in the shop, just on the off chance that someone would come in when I slipped on a wet patch on the floor, “Mierda,” I muttered to myself standing up, only to fall back down again from the water in the floor. I growled and started to crawl over to where it was, soon wincing in pain at my ankle. I let out an exasperated sigh and pulled myself up by leaning on the counter, putting my weight on it as I grabbed an icepack I had just in case of emergency.

“(Y/n), hello!”

I quickly hid the ice pack under the counter and stood up, leaning my weight on the top so Agustin wouldn’t be able to tell anything was wrong, “Hey, friend! Let me guess the normal?” He nodded, a blush overtaking his cheeks, “Yeah.” I smiled and placed weight on my foot to see how it would hold up, and I was unable to hold back the wince and sharp intake of breath.

“You’re hurt. (Y/n) what happened?”

“I’m fine, just tweaked my ankle a bit when I had a fall. It’s nothing serious.”

“You’re wincing in pain. Trust me if anyone knows anything about pain, its me.”

“Yeah, I know, Mr Accident Prone. I’ll be f-PUT ME DOWN!” I interrupted myself when Agustin picked me up and put me over his shoulder, “No, you need help. I’m taking you back to Julieta so you can get your ankle healed, then I’ll come back with you for the flowers.”

I growled and continued to hit him in the back as he walked towards the Madrigal’s house, “You puta! I'm fine, I do not need medical attention! Put me down! I am fine! I told you it’s just a tweak, I can walk it off!”

Despite my protests, I ended up in the kitchen of the Madrigal’s house, my leg propped up on another chair as I sat down, Julieta making a batch of arepas.

“How did you manage to break your ankle, (Y/n)?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“I did not ‘break’ it. I just tweaked it. Could have just walked it off!” I grumbled, “I tripped over a patch of water I didn’t realise was on the floor in the shop.”

“Oh, well here you go, eat up and you’ll be back to yourself,” Julieta replied, shoving one of the now-cooked arepas into my hand. I reluctantly took a bite and felt the pain go away. I stood up and thanked her before walking to the kitchen door, but I felt her grab my wrist and gasp, “(Y/n), have you lost weight?”

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t see why that’s any of your concern. Now let me go, I have flowers that need watering.”

“Are you eating enough? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

I pulled my arm from her grasp and continued towards the door, when Castia trapped me in the kitchen, “Stupid house,” I muttered to myself, sitting back down, knowing there was no arguing with the magic house, “Fine! To be completely honest, no I’m not. I haven't had a decent meal in months, in fact, haven’t had a decent meal since Isabela got her gift! Since then hardly anyone ever comes to the shop to buy flowers as they can get them for free from her, no one wants to buy flowers.”

“Oh, dear. Eat up, come on you need food, (Y/n),” Julieta responded, placing the remaining arepas in front of me.

“You’re not mad at me for talking bad about Isabela? I mean, she’s your daughter and I’m basically blaming her, a 5-year-old, for my problems!”

“Of course not, it’s not your fault that is what Isabela’s gift is, (Y/n). Now, eat.”

I gave her a small smile and took another arepa, seeing Julieta mutter something to herself. A few minutes later, Bruno walked into the kitchen, “Julieta, Dolores told me you wanted me to come down?”

“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to look into (Y/n) future. I’m worried about her and the flower shop.”

My eyes widened, “It’s fine, honestly! I’ll be fine, you don’t need to trouble yourself with my personal issues. I mean, they’re called personal issues for a reason.” Before I could say anything else, Bruno had grasped my hands, his eyes glowing green. A few minutes later, he let go and I noticed a slight pink tint to his normally dark skin.

“Bruno? Are you alright?” I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to snap out of a daze and looked me in the eye. I’d got to know him at Julieta and Agustin’s wedding, and since then I’d grown a crush on the youngest triplet.

“Bye,” he spoke, turning around and leaving, but I grabbed him before he could, “If it’s something bad, tell me so I know to prepare myself. Please.” I took a shaky breath and bit my lip as he turned around again, “I-I… Fine, whatIsawwasustogetherandeventuallymarried!” I saw the pink in his cheeks grow and I let out a small giggle, “Wow. That’s not what I was expecting you to say. I was expecting something along the lines of that ‘You’re going to wither away to nothing because your flower shop is going to go out of business’.” I spoke, giving my best impression of Bruno for the last statement, “Not that what you saw isn’t welcome to me,” I continued tucking a hair behind my ear, not noticing that Julieta had left the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone. Bruno’s head shot up, his black curls bouncing, “Really?” I giggled again and nodded, “To be truthful, I’ve had a crush on you for a while.” His eyes widened and his smile increased, “T-that’s like the best news I’ve ever-” he was cut off when he fell over, bumping into me, causing the two of us to end up on the floor of the kitchen.

“(Y/n), c-can I kiss you?” I felt my face heat up and nodded, “You don’t need to ask.” With that said, I leaned down, as I’d landed on top of him, and kissed him.

“Does this mean you’re going to be our Tía now?”

I broke off immediately and stood up looking to the door to see Isabela and Dolores standing there, the latter with a smile on her face, causing me to guess that she was the one that had asked the question. My face went bright red, “We’ll have to see about that, Dolores. Maybe in a few years.” Isabela then walked over and I bent down to her level so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at me, “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Isa, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s m fault you haven’t eaten well. I don’t deserve this gift, your flowers are so pretty! I see the ones Papí brings home for Mamí. They’re so pretty!”

I gave her a smile, deciding to sit down on the floor, “It’s not your fault, Isabela. Listen. You were given your gift because it would help the Encanto. You do so much by giving out flowers and making them grow. The village looks so amazing with the flowers you grow.”

“But it’s made you lose busy-ness!” she squeaked out as a reply, “I have an idea! I can grow flowers and then give them to you to sell!”

I smiled, feeling my heart melt at how much she was willing to do for me, someone who she barely knew, probably only heard of my name, and wasn’t part of her family.” I just gave her a small pat on the head, “Isa, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

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

“Can you tell us the confession story again? PLEASE?!”

I smiled and gave Glacia and Estrella a kiss on the forehead each, “I’ve told you that story before,” I responded to the two 3-year-olds, “I could always tell you the story of when Camilo managed to get stu-”

“Tía! Please don’t!” I stood up carefully, and turned to the door, to see Camilo there, his face slightly pink, “You said you wouldn’t ever tell that story!”

“Did I? I don’t remember tha-” I cut myself off when I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, “Camilo, help, my water broke.” His eyes widened, knowing what I meant after both Antonio and the twins, and ran over supporting me so I wouldn’t fall over, muttering, presumingly talking to his sister. A few minutes later, Bruno came rushing into the nursery, the rest of the family behind him.

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

Several hours later, I was holding Alieta in my arms, lying on Bruno’s bed, and the rest of the family was allowed back in, the only ones in the room before were Bruno and Julieta. The twins came running in and up to the bed, still arguing about who was going to be a better sister, causing me to giggle, “You two want to meet her?” They immediately stopped squabbling and nodded and Bruno lifted them onto the bed. I smiled as they crawled over and I showed them their now sister, “Say hello to Alieta.”

They both said their hellos and I felt my heart melt. I soon let out a yawn, it now being very late at night and Bruno took Alieta from me, placing her in the small crib that had been set in the room ready. Julieta walked over and offered to put the twins back to bed, something I was very thankful for as the minute I laid back down, I fell asleep.

----------------------END OF ONESHOT

Yeah… not too happy with th ending of this one… For info on my ocs, go to my toyhouse: HamiltonAttorney2277 https://toyhou.se/HamiltonAttorney2277/characters/folder:4585111

#encanto x reader #xreader #bruno x reader #bruno madrigal #encanto #female reader

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gogogoats · 2 years ago

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Pirate!Gunther AU

As promised for Aura on the JatD discord.

The sloppy summary of my pirate!Gunther AU that I would like to write someday but probably never will.

TW: slavery

Gunther is tasked with escorting one of his father’s ships on a long (6+ month) voyage. Theodore/the King agree to it because it will be a character-building experience for Gunther and the kingdom owes Magnus lots of money soo. Gunther isn’t really keen but he knows he has no choice and no one cares so he just has to suck it up. All he knows is that they are picking up a highly valuable cargo and he must guard it until it is delivered, then the ship can return home. Jane and the others are just like ‘well it’s only six months/it’s an adventure!’ and aren’t reality worried.

So Gunther sets off, eventually gets his sea legs and stops feeling sick constantly and starts to enjoy the taste of freedom. This is a new ship with an entirely new crew, none of the familiar faces Gunther has come to know over the years, and they mostly leave him alone.

A few months after his departure, word arrives at Kippernium that the ship and all hands have been lost at sea. Jane wants to organise a search party but Magnus is strangely refusing to help, saying there’s nothing to be done, and the King doesn’t have the resources. She flies out to sea on Dragon to search a few times but with no information on what direction to go and her responsibilities doubled at the castle without Gunther she ultimately has to give up.

Many years pass and Jane, now a knight, is on night-time guard duty at the gate when a stranger approaches. She can tell from his walk that he’s a sea-farer, and he says his ship is in port and leaving early morning but he had hoped to see the castle and dragon he once heard about from a boy lost at sea.

Of course Jane thinks of Gunther and immediately starts questioning the stranger, who tells her that might have been the name of the boy he knew briefly, but he was taken by pirates and is long dead. The stranger asks about Gunther and his father, and Jane tells him that Magnus died of ill health several years ago. A new merchant family live in his house now, and with no heir left the kingdom took possession of his properties and was freed of their debts. They tried to continue his trading business, but his ships were often targeted by pirates and the fleet greatly reduced. The stranger is quiet. Jane wants to know more about what happened to Gunther but he is reticent and sticks to the shadows. Eventually he agrees to tell her a story if she doesn’t ask any more questions. Jane agrees.

The ship Gunther was on was enroute to pick up slaves, Magnus’ new money-making scheme. He wanted Gunther to act as guard because he was loyal to his father and Magnus didn’t want his new venture to be widely known. The slaves were loaded into the hold one night while Gunther slept, and the ship was back out to sea before he realised. He was upset and disgusted of course but the crew of the ship ignored him and wouldn’t turn around. Ultimately Gunther decided that if he was to guard the cargo then he would do just that, and protect them from the ship’s crew and make sure they were being fed enough. This didn’t make him popular with the crew and the slaves didn’t trust him, but he spent most of his time in the hold with them, trying to bridge the language barrier. He wasn’t allowed to let them out of their cages and the hold grew increasingly pungent, but he couldn’t go enjoy fresh air and freedom on deck while captive humans suffered below. Of course this all took a toll on his health, so when the ship was attacked by pirates one night there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The ship and the cargo were taken and the crew put to death. Gunther was knocked out and woke up chained in the scullery of the pirate ship. He was put to work as a kitchen hand/deck hand, and it was days before he began to piece together what was going on. Half of the pirate crew remained on board the merchant ship with the slaves who were now freed to move around the ship. The pirates were mostly freed slaves themselves, from all different countries, races and languages. While they were always looking for merchant vessels to plunder, they would take the time to free any slaves they found and offer them two choices, join the pirates or be left at the nearest safe harbour. The pirates always killed slaver crews, and Gunther was only left alive because some of the slaves spoke in his favour, and the pirates needed a new cabin boy. He wasn’t treated kindly by the pirates who had little sympathy for the son of a slave trader and his already failing health was made worse by hard labour.

The stranger told Jane he was a freed slave who met Gunther briefly on his journey to safe harbour, and Gunther told him stories about the distant kingdom with a gentle King and a dragon that was tamed by a girl with wild red hair. “They will be searching for me,” Gunther would tell the stranger. He died before the man left the ship, his body thrown to the sea, his existence erased.

The stranger prepares to leave, his story told, and Jane becomes upset, wanting to know his name.

“No questions,” he reminds her. “The boy you knew is gone. Tell your king to run dragon flags on his ships and they will be left alone.”

He leaves, and Jane must remain at the gate. She heads to the port as soon as her shift ends, but the ship is long gone.

Out at sea, the stranger has removed his cloak and hood, and gives orders as the captain of the ship. They take down the merchant flags and run up their pirate blacks. His first mate asks after his night ashore. “The merchant is dead,” says the captain. “His line is done. They will do no more harm.”

The captain is called all number of things by the people he robs and the people he helps. By his crew he is simply called ‘captain’. Once, in his distant past, he was called Gunther, but that name died with the boy who wore it, when another pirate captain learned he was educated in language, reading, numbers and combat and had been kind to slaves. He gave the ailing boy a chance, which grew into a different kind of apprenticeship than the one the boy had known. A new life, an atonement, call it what you will. His old identity was shed and he became ‘the boy’ who one day eventually became ‘captain’.

A vast shadow passes over the ship. A giant green dragon, and a fire-haired knight on its back. The captain looks up as his crew yell and clamour. His black hair waves like a banner in the wind and his grey eyes meet the dragon riders’ green ones. They share a moment before she touches the dragon’s neck and they turn, rising as they go, back towards the mountains of their home.

The captain watches them go.

#IDK why I always descend into melodrama with these things #jane and the dragon #jatd #au

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satansapostle6 · 11 months ago

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folie à deux

Sometimes poison is sweet.

Selina Romanov and Draco Malfoy met when they were only eleven years old. The two of them have always shared an intense bond, always having gravitated towards one another. But the question still remains, as the years pass by, is their connection one of passion, or delusion?

Warnings: Contains Mature Themes/Language, Themes Such As Sexual Content, Violence, Abuse, Sexual Assault, Eating Disorders

One.

Two Years Ago

Eleven year-old Selina Romanov sat alone in a train compartment headed for her new school. The Romanov family was held in very high regard in the wizarding world, and yet, she felt she had no friends in that world, or any world she belonged to, for that matter. She sat alone in a train compartment full of sweets she'd bought, hoping at least one other person might join. Selina's grandmother had given her plenty of money in her journey to Hogwarts School in Scotland, one of the only good things she'd ever gotten from her. Many other children passed by over the long train ride aboard the Hogwarts Express, but none had come to sit down in her compartment as the hours passed. After little over two hours had gone by, a boy had been walking outside of her compartment and almost passed it, before walking backward, opening the door.

"Oi. Is that cherry?" he inquired, pointing at the box of candies she was eating from.

"Yeah, it is," she nodded quietly.

"Give me some, then," the blond-haired boy demanded, extending his hand.

"That's a funny way of asking," Selina remarked, tipping the box over and dropping a few candies into his hand.

He frowned at her resentfully, taking the candies and popping a couple of them into his mouth. He begrudgingly took a seat across from her, looking around at the other treats that she had gotten from the trolley, as well as from Diagon Alley a few days prior.

"You know, Chocolate Frogs are alright, I suppose, but these will always be my favorite," he said confidently, still chewing.

"Yeah. Cherry's one of my favorite flavors. They didn't have strawberry, though," Selina thought.

"Eh, strawberry's alright," the boy with pale blond hair and blue eyes conceded, "But cherry is simply superior."

They sat in silence as Selina wished she could go back to being alone, looking out the window almost melancholically, drowning everything out in her head with music. Selina Romanov always wished she had friends until she remembered what it was actually like to have friends.

"Say, what's your name?" the young boy, most likely another Hogwarts first year, asked, somehow still sounding rude. "I know you, from some of my parents' parties, and stuff. I don't think I've seen you at one in years, though."

"Selina."

"Selina what?" he demanded impatiently.

"Selina Romanov," she responded dryly.

He nodded quickly. "A Romanov. Now that's a respectable enough family," he determined with an obvious haughtiness.

She just smiled, knowing that upon her mother's death and her father's life sentence to Azkaban prison, she had inherited an entire vault of riches, jewels, and other heirlooms that reached two full floors of twenty feet each.

"My name's Draco Malfoy," he remarked, holding for applause, no doubt. "I knew you looked familiar. Your parents knew my parents. I remember seeing you at the parties, and such from before."

"Nice to meet you, I suppose, Draco," she remarked, underwhelming him with her amount of enthusiasm.

"So. What House do you think you'll be sorted into?" he questioned curiously. "I'm going to be a Slytherin. No one on either side of my family's ever been anything else."

"I can't say for sure. Not all of my family's studied at Hogwarts. Most of the men on my father's side went to Durmstrang," Selina explained. "But the ones that didn't went here. They were all Slytherins, I think."

"Oh, I almost went there," Draco nodded nonchalantly. "But, my mum said no. She and my father both went to Hogwarts."

"My parents went to Hogwarts, too. Both of them were Slytherins, and a lot of my mum's family were Slytherins. She did have a few Ravenclaws on her side, though. I'll most likely be one of those two," she thought. "I'm guessing Slytherin, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too surprising."

"Those are the only two houses worth a damn," Draco Malfoy scoffed wryly.

Selina just rolled her eyes as she looked out the window, unimpressed by Draco's keen memorization of his parents' hot takes.

"I hope we're in Slytherin together," he carried on. "I just came from a car with a few of the others who are going to be in Slytherin. They're easily impressed. Not very bright, either."

Selina did her best to ignore the irony.

"I hope we're in Slytherin together, too," she remarked.

Strangely enough, she felt that she hadn't been telling a complete lie when she had said so.

"Do you think you'll make it into Slytherin?" Draco asked, not paying much mind to tact.

"I definitely can. My uncle says that I ought to be in Slytherin, based on my personality and such," she replied.

"Do you live with him?" he asked, still indulging himself through her candy. "I mean, your father's in prison for murdering your mum, so I expect you can't be living with either of them. Especially since your mum isn't even living."

This comment made her chuckle, despite its socially and generally inappropriate tone.

"I live with my grandmother," she answered humorously, "But she's not very pleasant, so I don't really count her opinion on this subject, or any other, for that matter."

"Well, that's just hilarious," Draco scoffed, "All these years, I've been wishing my parents were dead just so I could have all the money, and none of the anger, or the rules, and yours practically are, and you're still miserable!"

Selina genuinely smiled. "Yeah. Something like that."

Although just about anyone else would've found Draco incredibly annoying and offensive, the things that he said were more entertaining to her than stress inducing. He was practically a free source of entertainment.

"Is it true what they say about you?" he asked, finally making eye contact as well as not eating candy.

"Which part?" she wondered. "There's kind of a lot, you know. According to some, my father is a vampire. According to others, my mother was part Veela."

She had a sense already of what he was going to ask, but she wasn't certain.

"No, not that," he shook his head dismissively. "You know."

"No, actually, I don't."

"The part where they say you saw your father murder your mum," Draco replied nonchalantly.

She smiled, knowing she'd been right.

"Yeah. I did, actually."

"Oh."

To her surprise, Draco's casual expression slowly turned to one of sadness and disgust.

"Yeah. I was six. Remember it clear as day. I can tell you all about it, if you like," Selina Romanov offered with a disturbingly subtle smile.

"No. That's—that's okay," he murmured, sitting in the seat quietly for a moment.

Despite the sad awkwardness that lasted a few minutes, Draco Malfoy never left the train compartment.

*****

"Selina Romanov!"

Selina sat before her entire school as she began her first year of Hogwarts, waiting patiently as Professor McGonagall carefully placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Mmm, a Romanov, eh?" the old hat recognized as it sat on her head. "Ambitious, cunning, powerful... But also, intelligent, sharp, thoughtful... Oh, I've made my decision. Slytherin!"

Everyone in the Great Hall exploded into applause, but the Slytherin table cheered especially loudly. The Sorting Hat was removed from Selina's head as she promptly left the platform to take a seat at the appropriate table, searching for someone to sit next to. As she walked by, many of the Slytherins waved her over, hoping to gain one of the Romanovs as a friend. One of the students hopeful to gain Selina Romanov as a potential friend was a small, dark-haired girl who Selina had seen pushing one of the Hufflepuff girls on the train in the line for sweets. Not particularly charmed by her desperate smile as she tried to wave her over to sit beside her, Selina looked down at who she would eventually discover was Pansy Parkinson as she passed, the girl who she had seen at a few of her parents' social engagements when she was younger. Before Selina could come to her own conclusion, she was stopped as Draco Malfoy, the dude blond boy she'd met on the train stood in front of her.

"Selina Romanov, right?" he asked her. "We met on the train? Our parents used to know each other."

This time, he was much more cordial and formal.

"Yeah," Selina nodded, looking at him with skepticism.

"These are my friends. Crabbe, and Goyle."

"Yeah, I think I remember them from the parties," she nodded, her face not particularly emotive.

"Come sit with us," he invited her with a wide grin, "Next to me. Our parents all know each other, and look out for one another. We could do the same," he offered, his voice dripping with Machiavellianism.

"I'm not sure I follow," she replied carefully.

This was a lie. She understood exactly what he was suggesting, and was simply waiting for him to clearly lay out the terms of the arrangement.

"You're a Romanov. And, you made it into Slytherin. I saw you hex that Gryffindor boy who stepped on your shoes. I'm guessing you'd be pretty good at magic," he assumed.

"And if I am?"

"Well, I'd like to have a friend like that," he explained. "You see, these two oafs here... they're alright as muscle, but to them, wands are practically just glorified backscratchers. I need someone who's got a few hexes up their sleeve," he said thoughtfully.

"So what, you just need someone to do your dirty work for you?" Selina surmised. "For nothing in return?"

"I didn't say that," he promised her hastily.

"Then, what?" she asked. "What would you have to offer someone who's a good enough friend to cast the occasional hex?"

"You said on the train you liked Quidditch," he said plainly. "What if I told you my father can get tickets anytime he wants? Or, that he could ensure my spot on the team in the next two years, and could probably find room for someone else, if he wanted?"

Selina considered the implications of this proposal of friendship, carefully weighing the pros and cons. She knew she needed no one's help succeeding, but she also knew it certainly wouldn't hurt to make a friend with some influence. She was always looking for a way to ascend to the next level, and she knew with friends like Malfoy and his little henchmen, she could do just that.

"Come sit with us," Draco Malfoy said again. "I think we could be very good friends," he said persuasively, offering his hand for her to shake.

Selina Romanov smiled, shaking his hand. "Nice to see you again, friend."

Draco grinned, nodding his approval as he crudely snapped his fingers, motioning for Goyle to scoot over as if he were a dog. Soon enough, Selina would learn she could actually become very good friends with the likes of Malfoy and his posse. She would soon meet her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, as well as Elspeth Laurier. She didn't know it yet, but the people that she met in Slytherin would soon become like her only family, for better or worse.

Two Years Later

Most at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would've assumed that Draco Malfoy, or perhaps Pansy Parkinson, was the meanest person in school. Most people would have been wrong. Although she rarely ever felt the need to make public displays of arrogant and cruel behavior, Selina Romanov was much more evolved in her own concept of power and intimidation than others. She could be just as domineering as Draco, or just as mean-spirited as Pansy, although she rarely ever felt the need to be. Most who knew her considered her to be most levelheaded of all the 'popular' Slytherins who dominated the school, but few ever made the mistake of considering her to be mild-mannered, or even weak. The most notable difference between Selina and people like Draco was that, while Draco's cruelty was in his words and actions, Selina's cruelty shone through via her silence. Normally, it was Draco who would push the first-year students around, or threaten them with the Unforgivable Curses, but it was Selina who would either laugh at their misfortune, or say nothing at all as she watched. However, she definitely didn't entertain herself with the torture of weaker children as often or as obviously as the others. This commonality that she had with the other boys in Slytherin definitely opened many doors for her, allowing her a place in a friend group that was essentially considered the Hogwarts elite. Whether she liked it or not, to them, Selina was just another one of the boys.

She never failed to make an impression anywhere she went. She was aware of all of it, although she would sometimes elect to ignore the lasting impressions she made. Oftentimes, she didn't know what to expect from them. Selina didn't know that the smile she'd offered to a lonely eleven year-old Hufflepuff boy would lead to him waiting outside of her dorms every day for a week with flowers he'd picked outside. She also was horrified to find that a strange old wizard she'd met in Diagon Alley while shopping for her school books when she was eleven was so captivated by her that he violently offered her money for her shoes. Just about everyone who met Selina Romanov had an opinion of her. Her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, would've described her as a beautiful, kind soul. Another close friend of hers, Draco Malfoy, would've described her as a funny person and a shockingly talented Quidditch player, although he never would've said it to her face. Pansy Parkinson would've and had called her an attention whore before, and her close friend Daphne Greengrass would've referred to her as a stuck-up bitch. Many people disliked or even hated Selina, often for reasons that actually had nothing to do with her in reality, but of course, even more people liked her. Still, it was at times difficult for her to focus on this.

She didn't get along with many people. When she was six years old, her father Ilya Romanov had been famously sent to Azkaban Prison for murdering his wife and Selina's mother, leaving her in the care of her grandmother, who resented her. Needless to say, when Selina started her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she hadn't expected to end up in one of the groups that everyone in their grade constantly talked about. Selina came from a particularly wealthy family with an ancient, all-magic lineage of Pureblood witches and wizards, which was an incredibly rare thing in the wizarding world. Both of her parents had come from Pureblood families that belonged to incredibly exclusive and tight-knit social circles. At almost all of the events she'd attended throughout her childhood, Selina had interacted with a lot of the same children close to her age over the years, many of which, she found out, also attended Hogwarts. Surprisingly to her, upon starting school at Hogwarts, Selina had actually ended up making friends with a few of them, particularly a boy named Draco Malfoy, one of the more popular boys at school, who became one of her best friends.

Although Selina was popular and had made many different friends and acquaintances, she still was a very unusual witch, with rather unusual powers. Selina Romanov came from two powerful and unique bloodlines, her father being descended from the famous Romanovs, and her mother being descended from the Bonheur family, a famous line of witches and wizards. The Romanovs, with Selina's father Ilya being no exception, were known amongst wizards for being exceptionally gifted in dueling, especially when it came to curses and other forms of Dark magic. Although Selina's mother's side of the family did not share this particular gift, they did in fact have other unique traits. The Morais bloodline had been cursed, with something unidentifiable. For some inexplicable reason, the Morais's had a strange connection to death. Many of them had been born with various diseases, with Selina's mother having been born with a metabolism so strong that it had almost killed her in her childhood. Others in the Morais family formed eerie connections with Dark creatures, such as Dementors, Nundus, or Horned Serpents. Many also strongly suspected that Selina's mother, Adeline, had been part Veela. The Veela were beautiful magical creatures with pale skin and golden hair so light it was almost white, capable of charming and seducing humans.

Although it was in fact true, it was only rumored that Selina Romanov's grandmother, Dominique Morais, was a quarter Veela with beautiful blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Selina's mother Adeline, when she was alive, was a radiant and beautiful woman with golden brown hair and cool blue eyes, a trait which she had passed down to her daughter. Selina Alyona Romanov, much like her mother, had a rare sort of gift when it came to her occasional encounters with Dark creatures. When she had been alive, Adeline Romanov had many special abilities. Although she was an Animagus, and could turn into a graceful dove at will, which also happened to be the form that her Patronus took, also had a gift with Dark creatures that would've killed any other witch or wizard who dared to approach them. When she was younger, Adeline had practically made a pet out of a dangerous Horned Serpent she'd encountered on a trip to the far east. A gifted Parseltongue, Adeline had been able to speak to snakes in their language. When she'd encountered a Horned serpent on her travels after Hogwarts, she was able to use a part of its horn as the core to her wand. Adeline Romanov's wand was one of the most precious heirlooms that her daughter had inherited after her death. Although she was unable to use it, even Selina recognized that the wand was a precious heirloom. Her mother's wand had been exceptionally powerful and intimidating to any who were aware of it.

The wand that had belonged to Adeline Romanov had been twelve inches long, made from ebony with a Horned Serpent horn core. Although Selina hadn't inherited her mother's gift for Parseltongue, or the ability to use her wand, she had inherited her mother's talent for complex magic. Little over half a year ago, at only thirteen years old, Selina had used her mother's diaries to successfully perform the Animagus ritual. She had, as a very young witch, completed the complex ritual and drank the potion that allowed her to become an animal at will. Upon completing the ritual, Selina had revealed her Animagus form to be a raven, which felt like a faint connection to her mother. Selina's powers were both potent and unusual, something she had in common with both of her parents. Like her father, Selina Romanov had joined the Slytherin Quidditch team at Hogwarts at a young age. She had first been chosen as a Chaser on the Slytherin team a year before during her second year, even earlier than Ilya Romanov who had become the team's Seeker during his third year at Hogwarts. In her first year of playing on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Selina had gotten the chance to show off her years of learning maneuvers from books her father had left behind in only one game, due to most Quidditch matches having been canceled after the deaths of multiple students. Selina had been selected as one of the team's Chasers during tryouts on her own merit, although her connection to Draco Malfoy, whose father had donated expensive Nimbus 2001's to the Slytherin team in order to secure his place on the team as Seeker.

She was an exceedingly talented Quidditch player, and would have enjoyed playing as Seeker on the Quidditch team, although after she had learned that her friend had his eyes on the position of Seeker, she realized that her efforts and strategy would be even more useful to the team as a Chaser. Selina and Draco Malfoy's friends were certainly jealous of the two of them as players on the Slytherin team, which often came out when they discussed Quidditch. A thirteen year-old Selina Romanov sat at the window seat of the train compartment on the way to Hogwarts, sighing as she watched the train pass by mountains and rivers. She was trying her best to tune out everything else that had been going on. Sitting next to her was Draco Malfoy, who had been engaging in a lively argument about something Quidditch-related with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who sat across from them in the car.

"No it wasn't, you twat! Goyle. You went to that match, right?!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was a foul!"

"No, for fuck's sake, it wasn't!" Draco yelled, not getting the answer he wanted out of him. "Sel! You went to the game with us! Was it a foul, or not?" he demanded impatiently.

"Will you three just shut the fuck up already?" Selina scoffed. "I can't even hear myself read!"

"Who the hell reads a book on the train to school?" Draco argued.

"Someone who's actually going to become a Chaser this year," she replied smugly, shooting a look at Crabbe, who just stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

"Crabbe, a Chaser?" he laughed at the idea. "The only thing I've ever seen him chase after is a pumpkin pie."

Goyle laughed at the crude joke at Crabbe's expense, insulting him as he enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

"I wouldn't be so smug if I were you, Malfoy," Selina remarked. "The only reason I'm not going out for Seeker is because you want it more than I do."

"Like you could beat me," he sneered, very obviously overconfident in his abilities.

"I have. Multiple times," she reminded him, "Eight times, just this summer."

Draco shook his head at her dismissively, trying not to admit that she had, in fact, beat him at playing for the golden snitch many times before, and that she usually did. Selina Romanov was one of the youngest players to make Slytherin's Quidditch team in years, having been chosen as one of the team's Chasers last year at Hogwarts after her impressive tryouts. Draco Malfoy, although he had tried to hide it then, had been extremely jealous of her their first year at Hogwarts. He of course had made the Quidditch team the year before, as the Slytherin team's Seeker, allegedly after a substantial donation of brand new Nimbus 2001's for the entire team from his father. Selina, unlike Draco, had a greater sense of integrity when it came to her athletic abilities. If she hadn't earned something on her own, it wasn't nearly as satisfying of an accomplishment to her. She wanted to be the best, certainly, but usually only if she'd actually achieved it herself. But still, she was certainly grateful for the sleek black brooms gifted to the team by a vicariously ambitious Mr. Malfoy. Selina treasured her Nimbus 2001, believing strongly that, although a truly skilled player didn't need any fancy equipment in order to succeed, good equipment could certainly enhance one's game.

As the train ride to Hogwarts progressed, Selina watched for the Dementors that would be supposedly searching the train for Sirius Black, the murderer who had recently escaped from Azkaban Prison. Crabbe had eventually fallen asleep after an intense sugar crash, followed by Goyle who had nodded off beside him. Draco sat awake across from Selina, switching back and forth between fiddling with something he'd found in his bag and watching her read her Quidditch book. After being on the train for about an hour of so, Draco had grown restless and began watching Selina Romanov gently pet her cat as she read, affectionately scratching the animal lightly behind the ears. Selina's cat, an undeniably adorable Norwegian forest cat with brown fur so dark it almost appeared black, was sitting beside her quietly as she read. Bored, Malfoy stood and walked towards Selina's side of the train car which she shared with Goyle. He forcefully scooped up the animal only by its shoulders, prompting it to hiss rather loudly at him as he set the cat down on his lap. Selina looked up at him, frowning.

"Freya doesn't like that, you prick," she snapped.

"Oh, relax, she'll get over it!" Draco complained, forcing the cat back into his lap as he lazily pet her.

Not appreciating his brutish forcefulness, the cat hissed again before aggressively scratching his arm.

"Ow!" he hissed, sucking on the bleeding scratch on his arm as Freya the cat remained sitting in his lap.

"I told you," Selina muttered.

"For fuck's sake, Sel, that hurt! Why isn't she leaving?" he demanded, scowling down at Freya.

"Well, you've already gone and upset her! You might as well give her some attention," Selina remarked indifferently as she read.

He sighed with boredom, picking the cat up in his arms as he he held her close to him, petting her as he clicked his tongue quietly, as if speaking to her in their own little language. Freya eventually accepted Draco's presence, and purred against his body. He chuckled as she purred softly, scratching her nose with his index finger.

"Hello," he whispered to her, her head raised as she demanded more. "Hello there, you fluffy little thing."

Selina just shook her head at him as she read, knowing that her cat also enjoyed his company but hated it at the same time.

"Hi, little kitten," he said absentmindedly as he pet Freya. "Yes! You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

Setting her book down, Selina crossed her arms as she rested against the wall, wishing that she had a blanket.

"How old is she, again?" Draco asked her considerately.

"She's about five. Fairly young, for a cat. Got her when she was a kitten."

"I like her," he said obsessively, setting her down and allowing her to sleep on his lap. "Even if she scratches the hell out of me."

"Only because you go and annoy the hell out of her," she pointed out.

"I wish I had a cat," he thought. "I mean, I have Ares, but a pet I can actually play with would be nice."

"I'm sure Ares is big enough to have a nice game of catch with," she chuckled at the thought of Draco's giant eagle owl.

"It's not the same," he sighed. "I want a pet that's meant to be played with. Maybe a nice cat, or a big dog."

"You, with a big dog?" she chuckled. "Draco, I've seen you get scared of especially big mice."

"That doesn't count, they came at me!" he insisted, earning an amused smile from Selina Romanov.

He fished into his pockets for snacks, pulling out a small bag of sweets from his mother.

"Chocolate muffin?" he offered her one.

She nodded with a smile, taking one from him as she ate contently.

"Are these from that one bakery she took us to?" Selina asked curiously to pass the time.

Draco nodded. "They're the best. Not too sweet, not too bitter, either. I don't like chocolate that much, honestly. Too much and it gets really bitter."

"I'm not much of a chocolate fan," she agreed, "I just eat it when it's there."

"Are you and Pansy Parkinson friends?" he asked, changing the subject out of nowhere.

"Not particularly," she shrugged, "Why?"

"Have you heard what she's been saying about you?" he asked her. "And me."

"No," she scoffed, "Why would I care what she says?"

"You shouldn't, she's like a walking Babbling Curse," he said frankly.

"Why?" Selina asked, brows furrowed. "What's she been saying?"

"She's been saying you're dating Goyle," Draco stifled a heavy laugh, "And that we fancy each other," he spoke slowly.

"Oh really, is that all?" she asked in disbelief. "She could write a whole gossip column, that one."

"I'll say. Blaise says he heard from Tracey she's been blabbing to everyone all summer. Both of our names have been in those letters at least a few times," Draco remarked.

"Why? What else has she got to say about us?" she wondered.

She didn't see a reason as to why Pansy Parkinson would go to such great lengths to convince everyone that Selina and Draco were a couple, considering that everyone knew it was Pansy who really fancied him.

"I didn't pay attention to much of it. She did try to start a rumor that you killed your mum, though," he said with disdain. "And that you and Blaise are dating. He's not very happy about that one."

"Oh, I'm flattered," she rolled her eyes.

"No," he rolled his eyes at her, "It's not that Blaise doesn't think you're fit, I think he just hates Pansy," he assured her.

"Hmm, can't see why anyone would do that," Selina said.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking out the train window.

"Do you?" she raised an eyebrow.

Draco looked away from the window. "'Do I' what?" he snapped.

"Hate her?" she finished. "Or... is it something else?" she asked.

"What are you playing at?" Draco snapped, sitting back expectantly.

"Nothing," she laughed, amused by his disdain, "Nothing."

He didn't believe her for a moment as she failed to stifle her giggles.

"No, really! What are you getting at?" he cocked his head at her accusingly.

"I'm not getting at anything," she assured him in ridicule. "Relax."

He heaved a loud, pouty sigh as he continued to look out the window, thinking about his complaints about nothing in particular. He eventually relaxed in his seat, falling almost asleep underneath the blanket his mother had packed in his bag for him, looking out the window. The both of them had nearly drifted asleep, until a growing commotion spread about the train. Draco was the first to be woken by it, looking over at Selina as he heard noise. She noticed his concern, looking around.

"What is that?" he asked her, looking out the window and seeing shapes somewhere in the darkness. "What's out there?"

"I don't know," she responded tiredly, trying to fall back asleep. "I don't care."

"My father says the Ministry's allowed the Dementors to leave Azkaban to act as security at Hogwarts," he recalled, "Do you think that's what that is?"

"Probably, yeah," Selina replied indifferently. "Now go to sleep."

He sighed aloud as he failed to return to sleep. Draco sat up, completely awake, as Selina, Crabbe, and Goyle all peacefully rested throughout the train ride, at least for a short while. With Draco's unrest and constant shifting about, Selina had woken up shortly, feeling disoriented. It didn't take long for her to notice what it was that had caught Draco's attention. The flying, cloaked Dementors hadn't actually entered the car that she and Draco were riding in, but as she watched one of them pass, she saw the darkness looming over them for just a moment, and felt an indescribable sense of dread as she observed from a distance. As they passed through the train, Selina exchanged glances with Draco. While he didn't seem to fully share her sense of disturbance, he had also seemed mildly uncomfortable for a moment as everyone else hardly noticed the Dementors, and continued on as if nothing had happened. Although no one else seemed to understand the effect that the Dementors had on those who felt their presence, Selina had learned through Draco's relentless bullying that Harry Potter, the infamous survivor of an attack by none other than Lord Voldemort, had been so affected by the Dementors' presence that, for a little while, he had been knocked completely unconscious on the train.

"Those Dementors. They're fucking disgusting-looking," Draco muttered to Selina as they walked from the train station to the boats that went over the most to the Hogwarts castle.

"I don't think they should really be allowed at a school," she stated. "That can't be safe."

"Why, because little baby Potter's gone and collapsed?" he argued crassly. "Please. He'll he taking photos and signing autographs again in no time."

"You sure you don't wish you could be the one signing autographs and babies?" she grinned.

"What are you saying? Me? Jealous of that prat?" he gave a haughty, forced laugh from his chest. "It'd be like a snake watching a rat eat rubbish and getting jealous."

"Hey, I could give you a scar right now and make you famous," Selina teased, playfully pointing her wand at him.

Draco broke his facade of arrogance as he quickly reached for the wand, just as Selina pulled it away with quick reflexes, as he chased after her. He raced after her, reaching out as she easily alluded him, running circles around the other Slytherin students. Trapped in by the crowds of other students, Selina was completely boxed in as Draco scooped her up in his arms, lifting her up off the ground and she slapped him in return. He childishly ran off despite her protests, carrying her in front of him the same way he would a heavy box. Selina slapped him jokingly on the face as he dropped her, the two of them rushing off towards the boats.

"Alright, three to a boat!"

The school's groundskeeper called to help the first years as all of the students piled into the small boats. Selina and Draco looked around for a third person, hoping to find Blaise Zabini, or perhaps Crabbe or Goyle to join them as they climbed in. Instead, it just so happened to be Pansy Parkinson who had climbed with them into the wooden boat. Selina turned back to look at her, but before she could utter a single word, the boat had already pushed off from the docks, launching them on a painfully slow journey, with only Pansy, to the school castle.

"Oh. Parkinson," Draco nodded to her, as Selina glanced at him with wide eyes.

"Hi, Draco," she chuckled coyly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "How was your summer?"

"Oh, it was alright. We summered in Paris again.," he said to her haphazardly. "It was pretty boring."

"I got your letter," she blurted out eagerly. "It was really nice."

He smiled, nodding in silence as they exchanged awkward but polite looks.

"Did you see the Dementors on the train?" Pansy piped up hopefully.

"Yeah, we talked to Blaise, they went through the entire train," Selina Romanov spoke to avoid the awkward silence.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Pansy squealed impatiently, earning surprised expressions and eyebrow raises from both Selina and Draco.

She just sat there, her jaw dropping as a laugh of disbelief slipped out, her eyes widening with excitement as she barely resisted the temptation of slapping her right across the face. She stared back at Draco, who only shrugged at her with a particularly insufferable smirk on his face. At first, Pansy's constant snapping at Selina had been cute and charming, simply an adorable quirk, but eventually, Selina had stopped finding it cute. She was willing silent for the rest of the boat ride to Hogwarts, watching Pansy fawning over Draco the entire time, appealing to nothing but his ego the entire time. Selina could hardly wait for the boat to dock. She was more than eager to see the rest of her friends, including Jasper Carroll, who was not only one of her favorite people at Hogwarts, but anywhere.

"Sit next to me at dinner?" Pansy asked Draco hopefully.

"And catch which diseases?" Selina asked with a cold grin on her face, walking away as Draco followed her with a laugh, leaving Pansy alone at the docks.

Selina always got the last word. They continued on to the castle with Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini, discussing the Hogwarts Quidditch teams, as well as various school gossip, much of which naturally included Harry Potter, the boy famous for having survived his parents' murder as an infant. Selina, even if she never participated much in the boys' childish behavior, occasionally took interest in listening to the cruel gossip and insults that they shared with one another. To her, it was fairly natural to let out a wry chuckle at some of their crude jokes, or give one of them a friendly smack in response. Although Selina Romanov was nowhere near as shameless as her friends when it came to the insults that easily transitioned into straightforward bullying, she was certainly just as ruthless, if not worse at times, whether or not she chose to openly exhibit it. Selina Romanov was genuinely a fair and even-tempered sort of person, even when it came to the likes of Harry Potter, who Draco and many of the others in Slytherin all relentlessly made an enemy of. Selina had hardly ever lashed out at others unprompted, mostly because she never deemed the potential consequences to be worth it, but just about everyone at Hogwarts knew that under her calm exterior, she was equally as capable of inflicting pain as Draco, or Crabbe and Goyle, or even Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy Parkinson was essentially a female version of Draco Malfoy, terrorizing the female population of Hogwarts with extremely personal humiliation and name-calling as well as threats of unspeakably horrible gossip as opposed to physical violence. Selina Romanov was more so the reasonable mother that the children went to the father instead of when she said no, with an additional mini skirt and pink lip gloss. In a way, Pansy's version of bullying was much worse than Draco's could ever be. Pansy put much more effort into her torture of others than Draco Malfoy ever did. While he would simply stab at them in the dark with meaningless insults and silly physical blows until he grew bored of them and abandoned the endeavor altogether, Pansy spent time on her pursuits, gathering leverage against her carefully picked targets and going for their very worst weaknesses until they could take it no longer. She was far worse than a bully, chipping away at the self esteem and very sanity of all the girls she decided that she hated at Hogwarts, for various reasons. However, most were smart enough to understand that Selina Romanov was far worse, or at least she could be, if she ever wanted to be. There were countless examples, little displays, in which Selina's potential outweighed Pansy's by far. There was the time Selina had knocked Angelina Johnson off of her broom the year before in the midst of a rather intense Quidditch match against Gryffindor, or the time she had stolen Fred Weasley's Beater's bat to hit the Quaffle away from him during a game.

There was also the time that she had called Millicent Bulstrode an 'interrupting cow' to her face for publicly calling Tracey Davis ugly during a conversation she and Selina had been having, or the time that she had gotten away with using the illegal growth hex on Marcus Belby's head, causing it to swell up to six times its normal size after he'd been boasting in the Great Hall by using a Confundus charm on a first-year, or the time that she cast a Flagrante curse on some Hufflepuff boy's wand when she noticed him trying to hex Draco behind his back, which resulted in his hand being severely burned after coming into contact with the wand. She never liked to seem hot-tempered or immature, but when the situation called for it, Selina Romanov was an expert at retaliation. She was indeed very formidable of an opponent when it came to magic, especially various forms of Dark magic, typically in the form of spells or even interacting with Dark creatures in the forest. It wasn't unusual for Selina to leave the Hogwarts castle and hide away in the Dark forest to find the thestrals, the black winged horses that could only be seen by those who have witnessed death. The Thestrals, which were often misunderstood as dangerous, were very gentle creatures that appreciated attention, seeing as many witches and wizards couldn't even see them.

It was true, Selina was an entirely uncommon witch with powers that seemed to have the potential to rival even her father's when he was her age. When Ilya Romanov attended Hogwarts as a young Slytherin, around the same as the Malfoys, who he had become fast friends with, he had a definite talent for advanced spells, especially those which could be used against his fellow students. Ilya Romanov, even in his early years, had been gifted with hexes and curses, especially with nonverbal magic that gave him the impactful advantage of catching his opponents off guard. Selina, just like her father, was undeniably talented and could easily accomplish much of the same magic that he could at her age, and much more. Ilya Romanov was, to this day, was immensely skilled at dueling, which Selina had to bear witness to the day that her mother died. She was skilled at magic, especially combative magic that required a sharp mind and quick reflexes, which also proved equally convenient when it came to her interactions with those like Pansy, who made the mistake of underestimating her as a rival.

Pansy might've been cunning, and her words might've been biting, but still, it was Selina who ultimate ended up walking away for dinner with Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini, while she was left to return to her other friends. Pansy didn't understand the influence that Selina had. In her eyes, Selina could try half as hard as Pansy and still get twice as much out of people. Pansy Parkinson could hardly understand why Selina was practically silent most of the time, and usually only had the occasional eyebrow raise or sly sneer to offer, and yet all the boys, including Draco at times, always seemed to take her side. It seemed no matter what Pansy said or did, no matter what she had up her sleeve to tip the scales in her favor, everyone seemed to be more inclined to be swayed by what she would describe as her eerie good looks and silence disguised as poise. Pansy watched with a maddening envy as Selina walked with the boys, sandwiched between Blaise and Draco talking Ministry business that they'd heard about from family and read in the papers as they gestured colorfully and made cracks about Ministry employees and their various laughable qualities.

Selina sat at the welcoming feast with the boys, as she usually did. She sat beside Draco with her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, on her other side, across from Blaise, who reluctantly sat by Crabbe and Goyle. She has noticed her friend Jasper Carroll sitting far down the Slytherin table on the same side. Jasper smiled, his long, dark hair offsetting the friendly smile on his face. Selina had kindly waved back to him, the two of them chuckling at themselves as they momentarily ignored everyone sitting around them. After the students' first dinner of the year at Hogwarts, which had been initiated by a rather disturbing speech from the Headmaster regarding the Dementors guarding the school and watching out for Sirius Black, the Slytherins had all retreated to their common room, in the dungeons beneath the rest of the school, where Selina had accompanied the boys to the dormitory that they shared, sitting on the floor, talking and laughing together as they all shared the half bottle of Firewhisky that one of the boys who slept in another room had stolen from his parents. After a while, the others had all gone to sleep, leaving Draco and Selina sitting up without the bottle, trying not to wake them as they talked later and later into the night. Before either of them knew it, it had been hours since dinner, and Draco Malfoy sat around chortling uncontrollably, with the help of the small amount of Firewhisky he'd drank. Funny enough, Selina had drank more of the Firewhisky than he had, and was growing bored of indulging his childishness. He was currently leaned up against his bed, his hand supporting him on the ground.

"Careful," Selina spoke slowly, tiring of him as she helped prop him up with her hand, "You're going to fall over."

"I'm fine," he insisted, waving her away as he sat up.

"We should probably go to bed soon, we have to be up early for classes tomorrow," she patted his shoulder.

"Great, get in," Draco replied smugly, nodding at his bed.

Occasionally, Draco's arrogance would result in questionable behavior that, to one who wasn't accustomed to him, might perceive as flirting, or even genuine affection. Luckily, Selina knew how to avoid this sort of trap.

"Okay. I'm going to assume that's your own stupidity talking, with the help of the Firewhisky," she concluded, unamused.

She was starting to miss Jasper more and more as she continued spending time with Draco again.

"Oh, come on, we shared my bed during that thunderstorm our first year," he reminded her.

"Yes, after I told you I'd give you ten minutes because you were so scared," she laughed in disbelief.

"You liar, I was not scared," he scoffed, lying to her through his teeth.

"Really? And you just snuck into my dorm and shook me awake screaming about lightening because you were bored?" she questioned.

He thought for a moment, for some reason hesitant to answer the question.

"I-I hate thunder, alright?" he shrugged, as if it were nothing.

"I know you do," she assured him with a chuckle, watching as he struggled to understand why he'd answered the question that way.

"More Firewhisky?" he prompted.

"He left with the bottle. Remember?" Selina asked, forgetting the name of the boy who'd brought it.

"I have my own," he scoffed, pulling a new, full bottle out of his trunk, offering it to her.

"Go to sleep," Selina said firmly, grinning back at him as she left his dormitory.

*****

The next morning, Selina had reluctantly took her seat in Charms class with Professor Flitwick, waiting alone as she flipped through the day's lessons out of boredom. Draco Malfoy and a few of her other friends in Slytherin took their seats near her, as she sat sandwiched between Draco and a sweaty Crabbe who had definitely forgotten at least two different forms of personal hygiene that particular morning.

"Crabbe! You smell like absolute dog shit, bloody hell, when was the last time you bathed!" Draco exclaimed sharply, naturally plugging his nose for an added dramatic effect.

The large boy just shrugged, which Selina found especially promising.

"Did you hear about Quidditch tryouts? They're supposed to start a couple weeks from now," she told Draco.

"Please. As if I actually have to try out," Draco Malfoy scoffed smugly. "All I have to do is show up, and I'm the Seeker. I've got it made."

"That's the spirit," she muttered sarcastically, shut her book.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be able to make Chaser again this year," he teased, "Crabbe probably knows he's better off just going out for Beater. He might not be a good...well... anything, but he's definitely got the build of a good Beater. Or three of them," he remarked snidely.

She couldn't help but smirk a little at Draco's stupid joke. Selina was equally as mean-spirited as Draco, whether others picked up on it or not. She was the kind of girl who seemed shy and timid, but really whenever she actually spoke, her words had a sort of sting to them. Usually, she chose to keep most of her less-than-kind thoughts to herself. The most important distinction between she and Draco was, of course, how they chose to express it. Oftentimes, they would clash with one another due to Draco's arrogance and rudeness towards those who didn't deserve it, combined with Selina's indifference and more evolved sense of humor. However, they still seemed to be able to get along, even if it wasn't always clear how. Not more than a few seats down, Pansy Parkinson sat scowling spitefully right in Selina's direction. She resented her easygoing friendship with Draco, the way he would readily approach her and speak to her, or joke with her, or share things with her, the way Pansy knew he never would with her. Why she couldn't be as good to him as Selina Romanov, she had no idea.

"You know, I'm getting sick of all these stupid restrictions. You can't even take a piss at night!" Draco complained. "But I suppose if I was a serial killer like Sirius Black, I'd come back here to kill Dumbledore, or that twat Potter, too."

"What did Dumbledore ever do to you?" she scoffed, ignoring his childish rants.

Draco Malfoy ignored her, engaging in his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle once again. Much of a fairly dull class with Professor Flitwick passed by, as Draco sat quietly beside Selina, patiently waiting for her to finish each item on the assignment as he copied down the answers.

"You know one of these days, you'll actually have to do things by yourself," she reminded him.

"But I have you to help me," he smiled, looking down as he leisurely decided on which questions to intentionally get wrong so as to make it seem as if he'd done his own work.

"Not to sound like a parent, but I can't always be around, you know," she pointed out.

"Well, that's sad," Draco pouted. "I like when you explain things, or tell me what to do. It's like having a teacher I actually like. You just get me!" he attempted to convince her.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Selina sighed, shutting her textbook.

She sat there playfully indulging Goyle's questionable attempts at polite conversation, awkwardly agreeing with his points, which she wasn't quite paying attention to anymore, some poorly stated and justified hot takes on the Chudley Cannons. Everyone except Gregory Goyle knew that the entirety of Slytherin House, as well as many of the other students at Hogwarts, were well aware of his gigantic crush on Selina.

"Sel," Draco interrupted him.

She was, to her own surprise, thrilled that Draco had decided to interrupt her conversation.

"We should probably get some Quidditch practice in," he digressed suddenly. "Meet you down at the pitch before dinner?"

"What's this? Malfoy? Practicing?" she sarcastically raised an eyebrow.

Malfoy rolled his eyes impatiently. "Shut up. I need to work on my skills, and I need someone to practice with who isn't Crabbe or Goyle."

"So, someone who doesn't have a limp penis for a brain?" she concluded.

"Yes, exactly. What do you say?"

"Alright then, I'll meet you out on the pitch at four," she agreed, "We'll split our time between both of our needs."

"Perfect. You're the only one good enough to practice with. If I had to spend one more practice with Crabbe running out of breath or Goyle getting his left and right confused, I think I'd have to walk myself straight into the Black Lake," Draco muttered mostly to himself.

*****

After the day's classes had come to an end, Selina took a walk down to the Quidditch pitch with Jasper Carroll, who she'd made friends with the year before. Jasper was a year older, and was also in Slytherin. She had run into Jasper on his way out of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin, the new teacher who everyone seemed to like.

"Honestly. Lupin's fucking hilarious. He totally told off that one Gryffindor who always smells like cheese," Jasper Carroll chuckled in his light Irish accent as they leisurely walked their laps around the pitch. "You really should've been there."

"Sounds like it," she agreed, laughing at the mental image.

"Do you walk the pitch every day?" he asked curiously.

"I would if I could," she nodded. "I do a lot, though."

"Is it really your favorite place at Hogwarts?" he inquired.

"It's one of them," Selina shrugged, "It's peaceful when it's empty, and comforting even when it's busy."

"What are the other good places to peruse?" he questioned. "Usually, when I want to unwind, I just stay in my bunk."

"Hmm. The courtyard's always nice, but a lot of the times, you'll either see people you don't want to see, or see people being as stupid as they can," she remarked. "The forest is always good, too. Sometimes, I see Hagrid out, and we wave to one another. In the winter, sometimes he'll invite me into his hut for tea."

"Hagrid's a very nice man," Jasper recalled, "He's nice to talk to. He's taken me out to the forest with him before, and he lets me take care of his dog. No wonder those Gryffindors are friends with him."

"Hagrid's one of the nicest people I've ever met, I don't know why people judge him so quickly," Selina said. "I wish he was my father."

"I wish he was my father and my mother," he agreed, making her laugh.

She had gotten to know him very well in the past year that they'd known each other. Jasper's mother had left his father when he was very young. Ever since, Jasper had told Selina that his father had always been distant and flippant with him ever since, choosing Jasper's stepmother and step siblings over him every time. His father didn't seem to speak to him at all, unless it was to criticize or reprimand him for not conforming to his wishes. Jasper's less than desirable home life was the subject of almost half of the letters he wrote to Selina over the summer. He never would've admitted it, even to himself, but as he watched Selina laugh he found it was something he associated with the idea of bliss itself. Something about her soft laughter was as serene and expressive as it could get. When he thought of laughter, he instantly thought of Selina Romanov and her deep, gentle chuckles. Seeing Selina chuckle for the first time not long after he had first met her was surprising and a little jarring, as if it was easy to forget that such a reserved and poised sort of person could smile and laugh. Something about Selina made her almost seem to be above laughter altogether. She was, on the surface, graceful and magnetic, with an angelic face that both pulled you in and kept you at a distance.

Selina had inherited all of the infamous Romanov characteristics. She had radiant olive skin and greyish blue eyes, framed by long black hair that just barely hid sharp cheekbones and an angular jawline, as well a long, thin button nose. Although she had inherited her father's features, she no doubt reflected all of her mother's beauty in them. Adeline Morais Romanov had been one of the most beautiful women in existence to any of those who had known her. She was both descended from nobility and known for her captivating, otherworldly beauty. Many men tried and failed to earn her hand in marriage, Selina's father Ilya had been considered blessed when he had married her mother. To hear of his brutal murder of his wife years ago was surprising to many, to say the very least. Although Selina had hardly known her mother, she found herself relating to her constantly as she got older, having read all of the old diaries that she'd left behind. Selina had related to Adeline in all of the things that she had found joy in, and even more so in her many sadnesses throughout life.

Adeline had always been a beautiful woman, especially to the men in her life. Including her father. The horrors of Adeline Romanov's childhood and her daughter's seemed be likened to one another by one thing in particular; Adeline's mother, Dominique Morais. Much like her mother, Selina had been subjected to a long childhood of silent suffering most easily defined by tears that she'd been struck for no matter the reason, as well as brutal fasting from a young age. Selina's childhood had never truly been a happy one, even in its best moments, no matter how much money she'd had growing up. It was one undeniable reason for her friendship with Draco Malfoy. He understood, when he would actually let on, what it was like to have everything but still never know warmth. Selina didn't have many friends at Hogwarts. The first person she'd met, Draco, was the first person who reminded her of the warmth of family. Draco was funny, immature, and kind, at times. He never made her feel sad or strange. He was willing to bring up her mother's murder, or tease her without fearing she'd burst into tears at any moment. Jasper, naturally, was the second person she'd met who she could also share that feeling with. Jasper Carroll was gentle and trustworthy, and she could tell he truly cared. Selina liked spending time with Jasper. Both of them often forgot that he was actually a year older. To them, they were true equals.

"How are you feeling about Quidditch tryouts this year?" Jasper asked thoughtfully.

Selina laughed emptily. "I wish you wouldn't ask that. That's all anyone's asked me about since they were announced."

"My apologies, then," he accepted, "Shall we discuss the cheesy Gryffindor, then?"

"No," Selina scoffed, "Absolutely not."

"Very well then. What would you like to talk about, then?" he asked grandly.

She grinned humorously. "Who says we have to talk?"

Jasper turned to her curiously, just as her form in its entirety seemed to disappear, transforming into the tiny figure of a sleek, black raven flying graceful circles around him. His mouth stood slightly open in awe, watching her with pleasure. He laughed happily as the little bird swooped back down, landing perfectly on his shoulder.

"Hello there," he beamed, very softly petting the bird's head with a single finger. "I'm still jealous you already mastered the Animagus ritual. You know, you'd think the older one would have accomplished it first."

With that, Selina flew off of his shoulder in her raven form, flying to the ground and landing softly in her typical human form. Becoming an Animagus was certainly an accomplishment, especially for someone so young, and was the sort of magical power that could only be managed with someone born to a parent with as much inborn talent as Adeline Romanov, or even Ilya Romanov, let alone the both of them.

"I guess I'm just that talented," she giggled. "You know, my mother was an Animagus, too. She was a dove, when she transformed. She was beautiful. I learned the ritual from one of her diaries."

"A dove? That sounds lovely," he thought.

"It really was, from what I remember," she nodded in agreement. "Watching her take flight... it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. It's one of the memories I hold onto the hardest."

"I can imagine why," he remarked. "Say, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you... do you ever remember your father fondly?" Jasper wondered aloud.

Selina froze, not prepared to answer that particular question. She and Jasper had discussed her mother's death on many occasions, but rarely did he ever have any questions on the subject. And never had he asked that one. The only person Selina had ever fully told about her mother's murder was Draco, and even then, she'd kept many of the traumatic details to herself.

"Erm..." she hardly knew how to respond.

"I'm sorry, Selina," Jasper apologized to her immediately, "I really shouldn't have asked you that—"

"No, it's really okay, Jasper," she cut him off quickly, walking faster ahead, "It's fine. But I, er, I've just got to go..."

"Selina! Wait, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Jasper called, running after her.

"No, you didn't, I'm fine! But really, I've got to go now, I'm supposed to meet Draco for Quidditch at four, I didn't mean to stay this late," she quickly made an excuse.

Jasper watched in distress as she ran off back to the Slytherin dormitories to change. He considered continuing to run after her, but decided against it as he remembered the far away expression on her face when he'd asked about her father.

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