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beefromanoff · 6 months ago

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Tempting Fate Ch. 1

summary: a flashback to 1940's Brooklyn, 2022 Boston, and an introduction to our leading lady, Evie Langston.

author's note: OKAY GUYS, you asked for this! the post with my little drabble and idea for a Stucky x Reader fic got so much love that here I am. fair warning if you haven't read my other works (which you should) I LOVE to set a scene and I love a slow burn. I'll definitely get to the good parts earlier in this story than in my other two, but this is going to be spicy AND plot driven.

masterlist

tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

Chapter 1

1940s, Brooklyn

The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and the scent of popcorn. Brightly colored banners flapped in the breeze as children ran around, and the mechanical whirring and dinging of carnival games echoed through the street. Among the bustling crowd, three friends stood out.

Ginny Langston was the center of attention, her auburn hair catching the light. She always was. Even at sixteen, her features were striking, catching stares from grown men passing by. Unbeknownst to Ginny, however, who only had eyes for her two best friends. Her stomach hurt from laughing so hard as she watched Steve Rogers attempt to win a prize at one of the booths. Their best friend, Bucky Barnes, stood beside her, a smirk on his face.

“Alright, Stevie, that was my last quarter.” He winked. “Try not to shit the bed again.”

“Bucky!” Ginny giggled, smacking his arm. “I believe in you, Stevie!”

Steve blushed, his determination clear. “I’ll get it right this time, just watch.” Eyes narrowed in concentration, he pinched the dart between his fingers and let it fly. With a loud pop the balloon on the other side of the booth burst, sending the trio into an eruption of cheers.

“Yay, Stevie!” She jumped down from her seat on the edge of the booth, bouncing over to Steve. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling his skin flush. “Can I pick? Oh, please let me pick!”

“Be my guest,” He gestured to the rack of stuffed animals, cheeks still pink from her embrace.

After selecting a floppy pink stuffed bunny, Ginny skipped over. Her eyes sparkled as she looked between the two boys. “How lucky am I,” she drawled playfully, “To have not one, but two handsome fellas to win me prizes?” To emphasize her point, she waggled the bunny and the stuffed bear Bucky had won by knocking down a tower of bottles with a baseball.

The boys shared a look as she linked one arm through each of theirs and led them further into the fair. The same understanding they’d had for the five years of their friendship passed between them. They both adored Ginny, but neither wanted to ruin the bond they had with her—or each other.

So, despite the chemistry, despite the daydreams…they resisted temptation. It worked well, their trio. Friendship before anything. The laughter and memories they shared didn’t seem to be possible with anyone else. If this was all they ever were to each other –– best friends –– none of them would mind. But that didn’t stop the occasional late night thought from creeping into one of their heads…wondering what would happen if that invisible line in the sand were ever crossed.

Fall Semester, 2022

Boston

The ballroom was a vision of opulence, adorned with glittering chandeliers and rich, velvety drapes. MIT’s alumni gala was in full swing, a celebration of the brightest minds and most generous benefactors. The room buzzed with conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the beats of a live jazz band. Alumni, staff, and donors alike mingled with current students. It was an exclusive event for students to be invited to, needing a recommendation from a professor to be added to the guest list. At one of the most prestigious schools in the country, the competition never stopped. Evie Langston had been thrilled when her invite arrived, especially considering she was only a sophomore. This event was typically reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students, with only a handful of younger students having received an invite ever.

She had been thrilled, but not surprised.

Since her arrival in Boston, she’d been making waves. Big, tsunami-esque waves.

For the child-prodigy community, she’d seemingly come out of nowhere. She graduated high school on time, not early. Her parents were insistent that she make the most of her high school experience, maintaining friendships, attending prom, walking with her classmates across the stage. They’d given her every opportunity to learn and grow, but not at the expense of her childhood. She’d gotten early acceptance to MIT as a freshman in high school after winning an engineering contest with such prestige that she was immediately contacted by a patent lawyer to protect her innovation. It was her first patent filed. She was 14 years old.

At MIT, Evie had quickly distinguished herself as one of the brightest minds on campus. Her freshman year, she had been part of a team that developed a revolutionary nanotechnology application for medical devices, leading to a paper published in a leading scientific journal. Her contribution was so significant that she was invited to speak at several conferences, which she politely declined, allowing an older member of the team to represent them. It wasn’t that she was opposed to speaking, it’s just that she felt like there were better uses of her time than kissing ass and galavanting around a room full of the most pompous, self-important assholes of all time. Her name was listed first on the publication, and that was enough of an ego stroke for her. Especially since it drove the rest of the all-male team absolutely insane.

Her sophomore year had only seen her rise higher. She had spearheaded a project that created a new type of lightweight, high-strength material, earning her a prestigious research grant and the attention of several major textile companies. Her professors often remarked on her uncanny ability to solve problems that stumped even the most seasoned researchers. She had an intuitive grasp of complex systems, a knack for seeing connections others missed, and a relentless drive that kept her working long after everyone else had called it a night. Plus, her ability to pivot between specialties like she was switching tabs on a browser was unheard of. She could go from artificial intelligence programming to biochemical engineering to robotics and not bat an eye.

Outside the classroom, she balanced her rigorous academic schedule with her job as a bartender. It was a role that seemed incongruous for someone of her intellect but was, in fact, a deliberate choice. It kept her grounded, connected to a world beyond equations, experiments, and giant fucking egos. It was there, in the bustling atmosphere of the bar, that she honed her people skills, learning how to read people, how to manage conflict, and how to charm even the most difficult customers. She loved being around her peers at MIT, the shared interest and the constant desire for progress, but she couldn’t stand their larger-than-life self image. Typically, she was opposed to sweeping generalities, but after a year and a half at this school, she felt it was a damn near foolproof hypothesis.

So, to the judgment of her classmates, she became a bartender. In an environment where everyone was either funded by the deep pockets of their families or a hefty scholarship, she was one of the few students who worked a job. Let alone such an unimpressive job. Ironically, the scorn of her peers made her love the job even more. The fact that they were losing grant money to a girl alone was enough to make most of them need to up their dosage, but a girl who spent her evenings serving up gin and tonics in a low cut tank top? Berzerk.

The best part? She didn’t even need the money.

Her parents were upper middle class, back in the midwest. Her dad was a partner at an accounting company and her mom had stayed home with her and her siblings. They’d spent summers on vacation, not the Hamptons or yacht-style vacations that some of her classmates had been raised on, but nice vacations nonetheless. They were more than comfortable. So when she’d sold her first patent in high school, her parents had put her earnings into a trust. One she could access when she was officially out of college. They’d had every intention of funding her education, but it was clear they’d never have to break out their checkbooks. She’d been offered a full ride to just about any school in the country.

There was only ever one option for her, though. The alma mater of the one and only Tony Stark. The Da Vinci of our time. The merchant of death. Iron Man. She’d wanted to be him since she was old enough to find his interviews on YouTube on the family computer. Much to her parents’ chagrin of course, who’d hoped their nine year old daughter would have found a more…palatable role model. It was he who inspired her love of engineering and innovation. It was he who taught her to be unapologetically confident. It was he who caused her to hang an MIT pennant on her wall and refuse to take it down. Even to this day, it hung above her espresso machine in her little apartment above the bar she worked at.

It was he who delivered the most kick-ass, jaw-dropping, profane keynote address earlier that day. She’d been front row for the whole thing, hanging on his every word. It was her intention to speak to him after the address, but he’d been swarmed by overzealous ass-kissers that she didn’t feel like wading through. She’d seen him up close, and that was good enough for her. It was enough to make her want to get back in the lap and continue her work on nanotechnology right that second, but she knew she couldn’t pass up the gala. Not when her professors had personally advocated for her invitation.

So, here she was. Evie stood near the edge of the room, her eyes scanning the crowd. She had dressed immaculately for the occasion, wearing a sleek, midnight blue cocktail dress that hugged her figure and highlighted her fiery red hair, which she’d styled into soft waves that cascaded down her back. Occasionally, a professor would usher some big-name investor over to her, making introductions and raving about her brilliance. So she would smile, put on her best impression of someone who gave a shit about their company and what their mission was, and charm her way through the rest of the conversation. At the end, she’d add their business card to the collection piling up in her purse, never to be looked at again.

There was only one job she was interested in taking after college, and if that wasn’t on the table, she’d start her own damn tech company.

She took a sip of her sparkling water, glancing around the room at the clusters of people deep in meaningless conversation. A commotion towards the middle of the room drew her attention. Her gaze landed on Tony Stark, who was making his way through the crowd with his usual effortless charm, evading those who wanted everything from a selfie to a donation to a job. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, a whiskey glass clutched in one hand and a cigar in the other, openly defying the no smoking rule.

Looking around, Tony spotted her, his eyes locking onto her bright red hair and striking features once again. With a roguish grin, he made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease and a dismissive attitude. As he approached, Evie straightened her posture, her heart pounding in her chest. No fucking way.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Tony said, his voice dripping with charm and mischief as he looked her up and down. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her body like they were hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier at the keynote. Front row, right?”

Evie nodded, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Good memory. It was an incredible speech, Mr. Stark. Truly inspiring.”

“Please, call me Tony,” he replied with a grin. “And might I say, you’re a breath of fresh air here with all these bad toupees and escapees from mom’s basement. The red hair, this dress—” He looked her over again. “Quite the combination. You certainly know how to make an impression.”

Evie smiled, meeting his flirtation with poise. “Why, thank you, Tony. I’ve always believed in standing out rather than blending in.”

“Well, you’re definitely standing out,” Tony said, his eyes lingering on her. “So! What’s a dazzling individual like yourself doing at a place like this? I’d imagine there are more lively places to spend your Friday night than this snoozefest.”

“They say this is the event to be at if you want to shake the right hands.” She offered a teasing smile.

“How’s that been going for you?”

“I’ve shaken a lot of hands tonight, but not the one I came here for.” A coy smile.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, assessing her. “Would I be living up to the egomaniac allegations if I assume you’re talking about me?”

“Yes, but you’d also be correct.”

He grinned, shifting his drink to his left hand and offering her his right. “Tony Stark, Owner of Stark Industries. Benefactor and celebrated alum of this fine institution. Patron of the arts. Not really, but it sounded like it fit.”

“Evie Langston,” Another small smile. “I’m a sophomore, studying engineering, but having a hard time narrowing down a specialty.”

“Engineering, huh? A woman after my own heart,” Tony said, clearly impressed. “Wait, Langston, Langston…you were the one who filed a patent for that new material. What do you call it?”

“Nanoflex.” Evie took a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving his.

“Nanoflex, right, that’s it. I tell you what, you’ve been giving a lot of my engineers hell these past few months.”

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately yes, it is so. I’ve had my whole team working on an alternative material for us to use in the manufacturing of combat suits and after months of research and resource allocation, and way more money than I should have funneled into it –– they’re still lightyears behind you.” He gave her a mock-irritated look. “And you, Evie Langston, hold the patent for the thing I’ve had the brightest minds in the industry working tirelessly on. To no avail or benefit to me.”

“Would you like me to apologize?”

“I’d like you to come work for me.” His voice was decisive. “Say the word, I’ll fire the whole lot of them and you can take the whole lab. Seriously, paint it pink, hang up a boy band poster, I don’t give a shit. I’ve gotta have you.”

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at his words. “Tempting…as that may be, I’d like to finish my education first.”

He leaned in closer. “Don’t tell me you’re really learning from these yahoos. When I was here I felt like I should take advantage of the office hours just to teach my professors a thing or two about their subject matter.”

Evie laughed. “It’s not so bad. I’ve always had a difficult time finding things that challenge me. This isn’t much different.” She waved a hand. “At least they can throw a party.”

“Oh, sweet Evie,” He scoffed. “Let me court you. Professionally, of course. Unless you’re open to other possibilities––kidding, I’m not kidding.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at his candor and casual demeanor. He was funnier in person than in the interviews she’d all but committed to memory. “Come to New York, I’ll send the jet for you, let me show you what we’re all about. I’ll show you a real laboratory, show you what could be yours. While we’re at it, I’ll show you a real party, too. Unless things have changed here, the parties could be confused for a lively wake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this is pretty much exactly the scenario I’ve been manifesting for the past decade, but what’s in this for you? Something tells me you don’t come here to recruit talent.”

“No, I come here because my delightful CEO, Ms. Pepper Potts, threatens to donate my vintage car collection to a museum if I don’t show up every year.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “As for what’s in it for me, that’s easy. Either you find me delightfully charming and decide to remind me why smart girls are the freakiest in the sack, or you fall in love with the endless resources and free reign over innovation and decide to come work for me. Seems like a win-win situation.”

Evie grinned, sipping her drink to hide the flush in her cheeks. She wasn’t a stranger to being prepositioned, but by Tony Stark? The temptation knotted in her stomach and she was grateful she’d opted for sparkling water, rather than something that might impair her judgment further.

“Deal.”

“Deal?”

“Deal,” She laughed. “I’ll hear you out. After all, it’s a win-win, right?”

“Every bit as smart as you’re cracked up to be.” He gestured to her almost empty drink. “What are you drinking? Next round is on me.”

“I’m not drinking, actually.” She held the glass up. “Club soda.”

“Straight edge?”

“Wanted to keep a clear mind, you know, in case I met someone…important.” Evie smirked.

“What a shame.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Well, the drinks here blow anyways. You’d think with all the donor money, they’d be able to afford top shelf, but I guess not. You happen to know if that old bar on McClaren is still open?”

“It is very much open, at least it was when I finished my shift last night.” She grinned at his double take.

“Woah, woah. Wait. You’re telling me you hold a patent that many interested parties, myself included, would pay well into the seven-figure range for, and you’re moonlighting as a bartender?”

“Something like that.”

“You are full of surprises, Ms. Langston.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, forgive me for being so forward, but if I stay at this party one more minute then I’m at severe risk of becoming clinically depressed and doing something destructive.” He held his arm out. “Care to join me for an after party, hopefully with fewer sticks-in-asses?”

“Lead the way.” She took his arm and followed him towards the side door, fully aware of what people would say when they saw the pretty redhead leaving on the arm of the womanizing billionaire.

Let them talk.

Leaving with Tony Stark turned into one of the best decisions of her college career. His driver, a man aptly named Happy, was waiting for them outside. They’d made the short drive across town to The Bostonian, or The Bos, as the locals so affectionately called it. The champagne they’d drank on the way over probably cost more than the whole stock of liquor at the bar. When they arrived at the curb, Happy had rushed around to open the door for them. Downing the rest of the glass, Evie savored the feeling of warmth bubbling up in her stomach as she strode through the oh-so-familiar doors, Tony right behind her.

When she walked in, she saw her best friend, Jade, right in the thick of the Friday evening rush. Flirting with a customer as she popped the lids off of two beers for another, she was a natural. The kind of bartender that every regular had a crush on. Her attention flicked to the door, where she clocked Evie and Tony right behind her. Recognition, confusion, then excitement all flashed across her face.

“What’s up, E!” She yelled over the clamor. A handful of regulars turned their attention to her, whistling at her evening attire. It was a far cry from the jeans and tank top she usually wore, but judging from the tips she made, no one was complaining about her standard uniform.

As they strode further into the bar, all attention turned from Evie to Tony. A slow chant of “Iron Man! Iron Man!” broke out around the crowded room, with Tony not even trying to look modest. After a few moments, he raised his hands in the air to quiet everyone down.

“Alright, alright, I know you all probably think that if you flatter me, I’ll whip out my card and buy a round of shots for everyone,” He gave a disapproving look around the room, then reached in his lapel pocket. “...and I will.”

The room erupted into thunderous cheering, with the Iron Man chant coming back in full swing. Tony put his hand on Evie’s lower back, guiding her through the chaos to the bar. Two regulars immediately vacated their seats, clapping Tony on the back.

Jade put two shot glasses down in front of them, leaning over the bar to give a generous view down her shirt. She was the one who’d taught Evie that if she wanted to make double the tips, leave the bra at home. It seemed that tonight was a night she wanted to make double the tips.

“Now, Mr. Stark, with all bar-wide orders, there is a mandatory fifty percent tip included for the bartender.” She winked, sliding his glass across the table.

“Only fifty?” He made a face, downed the shot with zero reaction, and met her gaze again. “You can have whatever tip you want, and that’s not limited to just cash.”

She smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Evie rolled her eyes, grinning at Jade’s shameless flirting before downing her own shot. She sucked the lime to take the edge off, but her eyes still watered.

“Alright kiddo, this is what happens when you roll with me.” Tony squeezed her shoulder before signaling for another round. “Consider this the beginning of your official Stark industries recruitment period.”

______

The next morning, Evie met Jade for their usual Saturday morning walk to their favorite coffee shop. When Evie took the job at The Bos, Jade had been a welcome bonus. She wasn’t a student at MIT, despite being pretty smart. She’d grown up incredibly wealthy, definitely the Hamptons and yacht type. Her family had pushed her toward Ivy League education, toward the path of marrying whichever eligible bachelor was best suited to take over her father’s hedge fund one day. She told her family she was attending Harvard, faked a transcript whenever she needed to, and blamed her lack of contact on how inundated with her studies she was. Evie had asked her once what she planned to do in two years when her family expected to attend her graduation, and she’d simply shrugged and said she’d figure it out.

She was a breath of fresh air in comparison to everyone who took themselves way too fucking seriously. Having Harvard and MIT in the same city often felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere, being stored up in the massive heads of all those that studied there.

The walk was later than usual, with the sun already high in the sky. Last night’s escapades had stretched well into the night, with Evie ultimately thankful they’d been at the bar she lived above, as she stumbled up the steps at an unholy hour. When she’d woken up this morning, her head was pounding and she was still in her cocktail dress. Even now, in her crewneck and sweatshorts, she could feel the ghost of the corset’s boning pressing into her.

Evie yawned, stretching her arms above her head as they walked. "I can't believe how late we stayed out. My head is still spinning."

Jade grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, but it was worth it. I haven't had that much fun in ages. Tony Stark sure knows how to liven up a place."

Evie laughed, shaking her head. "He's definitely a character. Ordering shots for the entire bar? He definitely lived up to his reputation."

“Oh, he absolutely did.” Jade winked and looped her arm through Evie’s as they walked.

Evie raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something when I went up to bed?"

Her grin widened. "Let's just say, Tony Stark is very generous in more ways than one."

"Jade, you did not!" She burst out laughing, shaking her head.

Jade shrugged, looking pleased with herself. "Hey, a girl’s gotta eat."

“I saw the tip jar before we even sat down, you’re not in danger of starving anytime soon.”

“Hey, he said I could have whatever tip I wanted.” She bumped Evie’s hip with her own. “I just happened to want a big one.”

“Jesus Christ, Jade,” She pretended to cover her ears. “At least wait until I’m not fucking hungover and nauseous.”

“Fine, get your little foo-foo croissant, but then I’m sparing no details.”

They reached the coffee shop and ordered their usuals, then found a quiet spot outside to sit and enjoy their drinks.

Evie took a sip of her coffee, feeling life slowly coming back to her, even as Jade told a story so salacious she felt slightly guilty for listening to it in the daylight. "Well, I’m glad you had a good time. It sounds like he exceeded expectations."

“You could say that,” Jade took a bite of Evie’s croissant. “It doesn’t hurt that my father absolutely despises him. Not that he’ll ever know, of course, but it made my night that much more enjoyable.”

Shaking her head, Evie took the pastry back. “Daddy’s little law student, hard at work.”

“Something like that. Anywho, why don’t you tell me why the hell you showed up at the bar with Tony Stark in the first place?”

“Well, we met at the gala, we chatted, long story short –– he offered me a job.”

Jade nearly choked on her coffee. "What? Are you serious?"

Evie grinned. "Yeah, he was familiar with my work on Nanoflex and offered me a job on the spot. I said I preferred to finish school first, but he told me to consider my Stark Industries recruitment to have officially begun."

Jade's jaw dropped. "Evie, that’s amazing! But wait, why the hell wouldn’t you go now? Don’t tell me that piece of paper really means that much to you. You’re basically already a bazillionaire, you don’t need to pander for funding like the rest of those assholes do.”

Evie chuckled. "I don’t know, I guess I just don’t want to rush things. No, I don’t really need the degree, I suppose. I know my parents will be so excited to come up for a graduation, to tell their friends their daughter graduated from MIT, blah blah blah. They’ve always been so pro-living life. If I drop out of college to go to work, even at my dream job, my mom will lose so much sleep thinking I’m chained to a desk slaving away for the rest of time. Plus, everything I made before I was eighteen is in a trust I can only access if I actually graduate. So, here I am.” She elbowed Jade. “Plus, is it really so bad to keep slinging drinks with you for another two years?”

“No, no it is not.” Jade raised her coffee cup. “To Evie Langston, genius, future Stark Industries standout, mediocre bartender, and the best wingwoman a girl could ask for.”

Evie raised her coffee cup, laughing.

“I swear, Eves, no one is better at getting what they want than you. I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you’re practicing, but I want in.”

“I’ll bring my spellbook to the bar tonight.” She winked.

Present Day

Evie stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the collar of her blazer. Her vibrant red hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, the kind that gave you a splitting headache by lunchtime. Knowing she’d regret it later, she doubled down on her chosen hairstyle, knowing it accentuated her cheekbones. Yet another gift bestowed upon her through the gene pool, along with her green eyes, now sparkling with anticipation. Today was the day she’d start her new job at Stark Industries. Today was the day that years –– decades of her hard work would come to fruition.

All the years being ahead in school, seeking a challenge and never quite finding it. Years of boredom and near stifling education, causing her to get into some trouble. MIT had pushed her just enough to keep her mind occupied, and once she’d officially received her offer from Stark Industries during her sophomore year, the rest of her education had been a formality leading up to this moment.

Now –– just as he’d promised two years ago, there was a job waiting for her after graduation. She’d walked in her ceremony just a week prior, insisting on starting her job right away. The only reason she’d allowed a week in between was to fly home and humor her mother with an over the top graduation party, and then settle into this new apartment just two blocks away from Stark Tower. It was still somewhat sparse, not quite lived-in. The problem with luxury apartments is that they always felt too clinical, too impersonal. A little part of her felt nostalgic for the little apartment she’d lived in above the bar back in Boston, the owner of The Bos giving her a break in rent since she bartended part time. It was small, cramped, and always had a lingering liquor smell wafting up through the floor, but it was the first place she’d lived in on her own. This new apartment was about ten times the size of that little shoebox, but lacked the charm. She was somewhat new to the level of income she’d found herself bringing in, between the numerous patents she’d sold and the consulting gigs she’d taken throughout college, and finally having access to her trust now that her degree was finalized. Plus, with the Stark Industries salary, she was bringing in more money than she knew what to do with. She made a mental note to hire an interior designer and pick up an extra large coffee on her way to the office.

Meandering around the room, she put gold hoops in her ears, pulled her purse onto her shoulder, and slid her laptop into her bag. Behind her, the phone buzzed on her nightstand. She picked it up, a smirk forming as she read the message from Tony Stark.

Ready to knock their socks off, Red? Just remember, no blowing up the lab on your first day.

Evie typed back quickly, grinning. No promises, Stark. Hope your insurance is comprehensive.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a final once-over. With a confident smile, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. As she locked up, she tried her best not to smile like an idiot.

#steve rogers #stucky #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #Tony stark #iron man #stark industries #steve x bucky #stevebucky #stucky x oc #steve rogers x oc

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nadja-antipaxos · 2 years ago

Text

DON’T LET ME DOWN

Title: Don’t Let Me Down

Fandom: GIfted (2017)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC

Summary: Mary befriends a literature professor at the university who catches Frank's eye, Samantha Harris. She teases him and Frank falls hard when he least expects it.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: : Smoking, sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, former cheating (not Frank), pregnancy scare

Word Count: 10,603

Author’s Note: Watching Gifted again, I wanted to give Frank some love. I think he and Brie should do a romance because they're both mega hot. This is for two special Desis who enjoy Frank as much as I do. Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are encouraged, but only if it strikes you. Moodboard by me. Happy Holidays!

AO3

Samantha has been squinting for five minutes and yet, there is still a small child reading a book in the shade on one of the planters.

“Who is that?”

“Oh, the prodigy.”

“Huh?”

Ella takes her confusion as a moment to steal Samantha’s cigarette.

“She’s like 6 and she’s a math genius.”

“Jesus. I wish I was a genius at 6.”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t be teaching English Lit in Florida.”

“Fuck you. Art History teacher.” Samantha gasps and steals her cigarette back then playfully tugs Ella’s auburn hair.

“Okay, but you dress like one.” She gestures to the blue scarf in her blonde hair.

Samantha flicks her cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with her shoe. She pulls the perfume out of her purse and sprays it before approaching the child.

“Hey.” She nods. She keeps a safe distance, not wanting to crowd her.

“Hey.” The child doesn’t look up.

“You cool? I mean. You okay over here?” She rests her hands on her knees.

The little girl has very blue eyes and enviable dark lashes. The sour, annoyed expression on her face fades as she focuses in on Samantha’s dangling rose earrings.

“Those are cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get ‘em?”

“Flea market.”

“I’m Mary.”

“I’m Samantha.” She throws up a peace sign because it’s too weird to shake a child’s hand.

Mary chuckles and does the peace sign back.

“I’m a teacher—professor here.” She tugs on the lanyard around her neck to prove it. “Can I walk you to your next class?”

“Nah. Frank is coming to pick me up. He’s just late.”

“Okay. Nice meeting you, Mary.”

“Bye.” Mary waves and looks back at her book.

Samantha scurries off but only so far until she sees a tall, dark-haired guy walk up to the bench. His loose white shirt is dirty as are his jeans. If she was a gambler, she’d bet mechanic. Maybe it’s an Atticus Finch thing and she calls her dad by his first name. She’s just glad the kid isn’t alone. Her office hours can wait if it means she prevented an Amber Alert.

The next time she sees Mary, she’s waiting outside White Hall on a different metal bench. She removes her earbuds.

“Hey, Mary.” Samantha waves.

“Hey.” Mary looks up briefly from her notepad before going back to it.

“He late again?” She can’t actually remember his name.

“Class got out early. He’s on his way.” Mary shrugs her tiny shoulders.

Samantha nods. She feels weird leaving her.

“Can I sit?” She points to the bench.

“Yeah.” Mary moves her backpack over even though there’s more than enough room already. “Whatcha listening to?”

Samantha looks down at her phone glad it’s simple electronic music and not something more adult. She hands one of the headphones to Mary who puts it in her ear immediately and hits play. Mary bobs her head to the beat and Samantha smiles before doing the same. They sit in relative silence just listening to the music. She’s only with her for ten minutes before the guy whose name she still does not recall shows up. Mary hands her the earbud and they both stand up.

“This is Samantha. She teaches here.” Mary takes his hand automatically.

“Hi. I’m Frank Adler. Mary’s uncle.” Frank extends his free hand. They both have the same insanely dark and thick eyelashes. He’s very ruggedly handsome up close like if she 3-D printed the Brawny towel guy. Beard, biceps, all of it.

“Hi. I’m Samantha Harris.” Samantha gives him a peace sign and for some reason that makes Mary laugh. Frank raises his eyebrows before stuffing his hand in his jean pocket.

“That music was fun.” Mary beams.

“Age appropriate, don’t worry.” Samantha waves her hand.

“So, no N.W.A.?” The tiniest smirk lingers on his mouth.

“Maybe next week.” Samantha shrugs.

Frank chuckles.

“Well, say goodbye. We got Girl Scouts. You’ve got Girl Scouts.”

“You said we.”

Mary waves with enthusiasm before skipping off with Frank.

Samantha falls into a habit of spending time with Mary if she catches her sitting by herself. It’s not so often that it’s a concern. Most of the time, Samantha finds them leaving just as she’s walking toward the building. They’ll exchange a smile and wave, but not too much because after all, Girls Scouts are a priority. Samantha asks Frank if it’s okay to exchange numbers in case he is running late because she’s already on campus. She has nieces and nephews and she wouldn’t want them waiting alone on a college campus. He’s surprised when she asks, but gives her the number all the same. It does give him peace of mind.

Mary seems quite taken with Samantha’s style like her jewelry, scarves, and even hairstyles. it makes Samantha wonder how much of a maternal presence she has. She mentions someone named Roberta a lot and a few of her teachers. After the nonstop praise for her French braid, Samantha brings tiny hair ties for their next visit. In a flash, Mary has two small braids that she can’t stop staring at in Samantha’s compact mirror. She hugs her and that makes Samantha laugh. She’s jumping up and down when Frank arrives.

“Look at my hair! Look! Loooook!”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Sammy did it.”

“Sammy?”

“I’m Sammy now.”

“Yep. My hair is so cool. Much better than when you do it.”

“Ouch.”

Mary rolls her eyes and Samantha hides her smile behind her hand.

“See you later. Have fun, Mary.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

Frank leads Mary to the car. She clicks her seatbelt and looks at him.

“Sammy’s fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Can she come to dinner?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not? What about making friends?”

“Friends your age.” Frank puts his hand on the head of Mary’s seat as he looks out the back window. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about using texting her for other reasons than keeping an eye on Mary, especially when he’s had a few beers. She’s beautiful with a slender, tall frame. Like really beautiful with a perfect smile that makes her soft honey eyes crinkle. Her dark blonde hair flows on her shoulders making her look like a movie star when she puts scarves in her hair. But it’s not just looks—she’s obviously smart—she’s a professor. And she’s kind enough to keep an eye on a little kid she has no obligation to. Still, he’s lucky things ended so well with Bonnie. He doesn’t need to hook up with someone else in Mary’s life and still have to see them.

This is what he tells himself, but then he sees her in a blue sundress with white flowers on it—he forgets. She’s making Mary laugh or Mary’s making her laugh—he forgets. Her head is thrown back as she claps—he forgets. Mary gathers up her backpack and he steps closer to Samantha. The wind ruffles the hem of her pink skirt.

“Hey, do you wanna go out sometime?”

She furrows her brow, confused.

“You seem really nice and you’re pretty. You…” The more he talks the more she tilts her head. “What?”

“You don’t date a lot, right?”

“Not really. No. Why?”

“Well, you kinda just blurted that out.”

“Out of practice, sorry.”

He’s used to making glances at Ferg’s that ends in his bedroom. He doesn’t exactly have to chat them up first. She takes a moment before speaking. He looks back at Mary who is fine but bound to interrupt this conversation at any time.

“Mary’s great. You’re clearly good with her, but uh, no, thanks.”

He stares at her for a moment. She’s a lot smarter (Bonnie aside) and more sober than his usual type. He should give up. He should grab Mary and take her to Girl Scouts.

“Fair. Only for academic purposes, can I ask why not?”

“Wow. Well, I’m not going to ruin your educational pursuits. ” She’s laughing with her hands on her hips. “Honestly, not really looking to relive college. I don’t need the…trouble. I hope that helps your study.”

“I’m trouble?” He places a hand on his chest.

“C’mon, dude. It’s written all over that handsome face.” Her index finger gestures broadly.

“Oh, so I’m handsome?” He smirks.

“Don’t. You know you’re hot. And that’s why you’re trouble.” She rolls her eyes.

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful, Miss Harris.”

Samantha playfully shakes her head. Mary sprints over and the conversation promptly changes.

The first time he sees her outside of the college is like seeing a lion in the wild. Tight jean shorts showing off her perky ass. Tall thin heels. Cherry red lipstick. Gone is the sweet woman who listens to music with Mary and braids her hair. She doesn’t put up with any of the drunken advances as she orders whiskey, neat, at the bar. She doesn’t even talk to these guys. She just holds up a hand and waves them off. Her indifference goes straight to his dick due to the beers he’s had. Throwing caution to the wind, he sidles over to her.

“Nice technique.”

“Ah. You like this?” She puts her hand in his face. She doesn’t look disappointed to see him like he thought she might.

“It’s effective. What brings you here?” He’s never seen her at Ferg’s before.

“Date. Guess she couldn’t make it.” She shrugs and downs her drink in one big gulp.

She? Did she say she?

“So, you’re a lesbian?” He nods. “That’s—”

Her hand covers his mouth with ease since those heels make her practically his height. Her skin is smooth on the scruff of his beard.

“No no. I’m gonna stop you before you say something stupid. I’m pansexual. And that’s not why I won’t go out with you.” She withdraws her hand.

“Got it.” He nurses his beer before looking at her with his best puppy dog look. “What about friends?”

She laughs again like she did when he asked her out. She doesn’t look annoyed. She looks amused. If she really wanted him to stop, he would. He’s not one of those people. But right now, he’s enjoying this and so is she.

“I don’t know if you can be friends with a woman you’re attracted to.” She arches an eyebrow doubtfully. The bartender looks at her as she steps back and she holds up a pack of cigarettes. He nods and she walks off down the stairs. She moves fast in those stilettos. Frank trails a healthy distance behind her.

“You could teach me, Doctor.” Yes, he looked her up on the college faculty page.

She lights up her cigarette and shakes her head before blowing smoke out the side of her mouth.

“Mary wanted me to tell you. She saw you smoking with another professor and it’s bad for you.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Well, tell Mary thank you, but I’m a lost cause. Smoking got me through my Ph.D. program.”

“Where you studied Women’s Literature with a focus on intersectional literature.” He stuffs his hands in his jean pockets. Fucking hell her legs go on for miles. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate as one of her students.

“And you taught philosophy in Boston. Google is very useful.” She takes another drag, not impressed. But she did look him up.

“Listen though that braid you did for Mary.” He gestures to his non-existent long hair. “How’d you do it?”

Her eyebrows go up.

“You want me to teach you how to braid hair?”

“Maybe.”

She stubs out her cigarette underneath that thin black heel and pops a piece of gum in her mouth. Her brown eyes rake over him cautiously, but with interest. They linger on his broad chest and arms before going back up to his face. She blows a bubble and doesn’t even smear her lipstick.

“I gotta say I have a hard time believin�� you’re not the least bit attracted to me.” He smirks.

“I never said that I wasn’t attracted to you.” She takes one step closer. “You’re very fuckable.” Another step and his face burns. “But you know it.” They’re almost pressed together now. “And I don’t think anyone’s made you work for it…” She leans in and he inhales sharply. “for a very, very, long time.”

Before he can say anything, she dashes back up the stairs leaving him alone with a rock-solid hard-on in his jeans. Fuck. He should just shake this off. He has never had a serious girlfriend with Mary around. It’s not worth the risk.

Eventually, Frank decides his best move is to give her some space. He’s not the kind of guy who does romantic gestures or romance at all, really. He’s stubborn and hates rejection, but he knows she can see right through him. He acts like the moment at Ferg’s never happened (and he definitely didn’t fuck his fist in the shower thinking about those legs of hers). The more he’s around her, the more he likes her. It’s going against every one of his rules about keeping things separate for Mary’s sake. He hates how coolly she rejected him and he’s stubborn as hell, but that won’t do him any favors with her. He flirts with her and she flirts back and it’s harmless. Sometimes, he sees her at the different bars in the area with her friend he recognizes from the university. She doesn’t always see him or so he thinks.

Ella’s green eyes narrow.

“That’s the guy with the smart kid?”

“Mhmm.”

“Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you? He’s hot!”

“I don’t want trouble,” she tells them. “He’d fuck me and be gone. Not worth it.”

“Um? You do that all the time.”

“Yeah, well…whatever.”

Ella shrugs knowing the conversation is over. Samantha catches a beautiful brown-skinned woman eyeing Ella and elbows her in the ribs. The woman sends Ella a drink and Ella goes to talk to her. It doesn’t take long before they’re grinding on the dance floor. She whispers a hurried apology to Samantha before driving off with “Sonya”. Samantha has been there before, so she isn’t judging. She can call a Lyft or something when she wants to go home.

Without her wing woman, Samantha tosses back quite a few shots in rapid succession. She slams cash down on the bar. Frank watches silently as she moves around like a woman possessed on the dance floor: throwing her hands in the air, shaking her ass, and stomping her feet. Her blonde curls whip back and forth and the way her cleavage bounces in her scoop-neck top doesn’t go unnoticed. There are quite a few eyes on her and none of them are good. Frank sees a guy stalk towards her and swoops in front of her. The guy curses and stomps off.

“Okay, I think you’re done.” He tugs her hand gently.

She just stares up at him with big glassy eyes trying to catch up on what he said.

“Hello, Fran.”

“Hi, Sam. Need some help getting home?”

“What’s your…” She blinks. “You have a twin?”

“Let’s go.” Frank nods. He’s still holding her hand and she hasn’t pulled away.

He pays his bill and walks her to his truck. She makes three failed attempts to get inside before he lifts her up. She whistles. Her spine turns into jelly as she slumps against the seat.

“What’s your address?” Frank leans over.

She points out the window and he sighs. Her eyes close, so he grabs her purse and checks her ID. It has a Florida address and he hopes it’s the right one. She’s asleep, snoring lightly when he parks in front of her apartment building. He shakes her slightly and she opens her eyes.

“Hey! Know that place.”

“Good. You live here?”

“Yeaah.”

Frank helps her out of the car and sees her name on the directory for 6D. She practically falls asleep on his shoulder in the elevator while he fishes through her purse for keys. Her perfume fills his lungs every time he inhales. He finds her keys amongst a pair of heart-shaped red sunglasses and three chapsticks. She flops face-first on the bed immediately once they get inside. He takes off her tall heels and tosses them on the floor. He’s never done this for someone, ever. Does he leave? What if something happens? Would she find it weird? Roberta has Mary, so she’s okay. Suddenly, she stumbles to her feet and rushes to the bathroom. Yeah, he’s gonna stay. After a while, he knocks and only hears her snoring. He wedges the door open and sees her on the tile floor. It takes some convincing but she moves away from the door enough to let him inside.

“Like it here.” Her face smushes into the cold tile.

“Your bed is better.” Frank lifts her off the ground and places her on the bed. She’s out. Still breathing, but completely out.

He leaves the bedroom and stretches his legs on her sofa. It’s actually very comfortable.

The sun hits her right in the eyes and her head won’t stop pulsating. What the fuck? She feels like shit. She doesn’t have any idea how she got home. It takes five tries to get out of the bed without falling to the ground. On shaky legs, she makes it to her living room and sees a blue flannel on her sofa. What the fuck? Her brow furrows at the realization that she isn’t alone. A sizzling sound from the kitchen echoes in her ears. It’s painful. Her hands cover her ears as she stumbles along and sees the man at her stove. A muscular back wrapped in a white t-shirt. Dark brown hair. Flipping eggs with her favorite green spatula.

“Hey.” He turns before adjusting the burner flame.

“Shh. Inside voice,” Samantha whines and struggles to connect the thoughts in her brain. “Why you here?”

“Somebody had to make sure you lived through the night. You practically drained Ferg’s tequila supply.”

“Who says chivalry is dead?” She carefully lowers herself into a chair at her kitchen table.

“Here.” Frank hands her a glass with clear fizzing liquid.

“Poison?” She deadpans.

“Alka-Seltzer.” There’s a tiny smirk on his lips.

She takes a few sips and sighs.

“Thanks.”

He sets a plate with a breakfast sandwich on it in front of her before taking a seat. Her stomach flips at the idea of food.

“It cooks!”

“It does. A little. Considering how organized this place is—it’s not hard.”

She shrugs her shoulders in defeat. She likes things the way she likes them.

She eyes the identical sandwich on his plate before looking at her own. There’s a fried egg with bacon in between two pieces of toast. It looks good but greasy. Very greasy.

“Best hangover cure I know. Drink more of the Alka-Seltzer and you should be able to eat.” He nods.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Samantha grumbles.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Frank chuckles.

“Sorry.” Samantha pouts making Frank laugh harder. Her head is killing her and her defenses are down which means she’s willing to admit how cute he is. And apparently, sweet.“Thank you. For all this.”

Frank just lifts his eyebrows before biting into his sandwich. She gives in and takes a cautionary bite. The fact that she doesn’t throw it up immediately is a good sign. They eat in silence.

“I can pay you for the sitter.”

“Hm?”

“They had to stay overnight, right?”

“No. Roberta, our neighbor, and landlord watches her Friday nights until noon.”

Samantha rolls her eyes.

“I need to keep things separate."

“You get to go out and fuck around while someone watches her for free?”

Frank cards his hand through his hair. The only acknowledgment he gives her is a brief lift of his brow. She looks down at her plate.

“I’m not separate.”

“What was that?”

“I know Mary. I’m not separate.”

He nods for her to continue. Her eyebrows knit together.

“But you…”

Samantha looks down at her plate.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. ”I’ll go out with you.”

His ocean blue eyes shine as the smile grows across his face.

“Yeah?”

Samantha nods.

“Yes,” he whispers as his fist struggles not to punch the air.

“Okay, now I’m reconsidering.” She giggles.

Samantha spots Mary sitting on the bench and checks her watch. Frank should be there soon. She wasn’t sure about this date. What had she agreed to? And how would Mary feel? Where was this going to go?

“I like your nail polish, Sammy,” Mary scooches over to make room.

Samantha looks down at her pastel-colored nails.

“Thanks, Mary.”

Mary’s small hand takes hers as she touches each of the individual colors. Yellow. Pink. Green. Blue. Purple.

“So, um, Frank asked me on a date and I said I’d go. What do you think?”

“You’re gonna try to sneak out on Saturday before I get home?”

Samantha closes her eyes. She knew Frank fucked around. She just didn’t know how much Mary saw. Apparently, it was enough. Mary flops Samantha’s hand at the wrist making her bracelet jiggle.

“No, no. Probably like go to dinner? Maybe a movie?” Samantha shrugs.

“Are you sure you wanna go to dinner with Frank?” Mary grimaces.

“I’m willing to try it.”

“He talks with food in his mouth, sometimes. Make sure he doesn’t do that. It’s gross.” Mary lets go of her hand.

“Thank you. I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“It’s a lot more fun to see me and Roberta do karaoke. If he does something stupid, you can join us.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Samantha offers her pinky finger and they do a little shake.

“Oh no.” Frank saunters over in his dark shades and blue plaid. “What trouble’s happening here?”

“No trouble.” Samantha smiles.

“I told her she can hang out with me and Roberta cause it’s gonna be really boring to hang out with you.”

“Thanks for the support, Mary.”

“Just being honest.”

Samantha grins with a slight shrug at Frank.

“So, Sam, does Friday at 7 work?”

“Don’t call me Sam.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not there yet. Depends on how the date goes. Friday’s fine.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Cool. See ya later, Mary.”

Samantha walks across the wooden dock in her flats and blue sundress with white flowers. The boats in this marina cost as much as a house. She checked Google three times before giving the Uber driver the address of a marina. Why the hell were they here? She sees him at the end of the dock.

“This your murder hideout, Dexter?”

“Clever.”

“I’m here all night.”

He has on jeans and the most ridiculous mustard yellow Hawaiian shirt.

“That’s a shirt and a half.” Her eyebrows wiggle.

“It’s Jimmy Buffett meets Tommy Bahama.”

“Jimmy Bahama.”

“Jimmy Bahama,” he repeats with a laugh. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She’s about to make fun of him when she sees the look on his face. He’s completely serious. It makes the back of her neck heat up and the warmth spreads to her cheeks.

She follows him down the pier to where the even more expensive boats are stored.

“So, I’m currently working on this boat.” She was right. Mechanic.

“Okay…”

He steps onto the small yacht which bobs under his weight. He extends his hand to her.

“Which means I can come see it whenever I want.”

She takes his hand. It’s bigger than hers and strong as he pulls her aboard. She doesn’t take her hand back and lets him lead her along the boat she will never be able to afford.

“Do your clients know that you take their boats out to romance poor, unsuspecting women?”

“I don’t take many people here. Just Mary and one ex.”

“Ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife?”

“Ex-almost-girlfriend? Who was Mary’s teacher.”

“Oof.”

Frank chuckles and helps her up to the top deck finally letting go of her hand. There’s a table with LED candles, beers, and two takeout containers. She takes a seat on one of the chairs and he does the same.

“Do you have any ex-wives?” He jokes.

“No.” She reaches forward and grabs a beer. “Just an ex-husband.”

Frank doesn’t hide the surprise on his face. She has a Ph.D. and has been divorced? She had to be in her early thirties, but he became a dad at thirty, so who is he to judge? And for people who actually had their lives together, it wasn’t that strange.

“College sweethearts. We got married too young.”

“You still keep in touch with him?”

“He cheated on me with my maid of honor, so no.”

Frank leans forward and clinks his beer bottle against hers.

“Good thing you got out of that one.”

She laughs loudly making him smile. She has a great, genuine laugh. He reveals the Italian food he ordered. He took a bit of a gamble, but her eyes grew hearts when she saw the chicken pasta primavera.

“This is really nice.” She swirls the pasta around her fork. It’s not too humid out. The moon reflects brightly in the black water. She can hear all the crickets and critters talking back and forth to each other. She had thought he would want to go to a bar, so this is definitely a surprise. They talk about college and jobs then Frank brings up Mary’s mother, Diane. He sees the tears glisten in her soft brown eyes.

“She’d be really proud of you both. You’re really taking care of her baby.”

Frank doesn’t know what to say. Samantha blinks back the tears and squeezes his hand. He sighs and looks down at her long, slender fingers.

“So, now that you fix boats, do you daydream about Kant while you play with your socket wrenches?” She gives him a small smile.

A loud rumble of laughter erupts from his chest making her smile grow.

“Sometimes.”

“You know, you really surprised me.” She laces her fingers through his. “I really thought you just wanted to fuck me.”

“I did, honestly. I’m kinda used to women coming after me.”

“See! I knew it! You know you’re hot.”

“Some say fuckable.”

Samantha giggles.

“I said no and stood out.”

“You surprised me too.”

She looks up at the starry black sky.

“It sure is beautiful out here.”

Frank looks up and nods knowing it’s not the only thing. His eyes stay on her while she gazes at the stars. She’s special and he knows it.

He walks her up to her building when he takes her home. Their fingers are tangled together. Before he can ask how the date went, she presses a light kiss on his cheek.

“Does that mean I get a second date?”

“Maybe. You gonna work for it?” Her eyes light up as she tries to hold back a smile.

“I’ll even beg.” Frank laughs. He has a wonderful hearty laugh.

“Prove it.” Samantha arches an eyebrow.

“I’ll do anything.” Frank drops her hand and falls to his knees. It makes her giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Even kiss me?”

“Absolutely.”

Without another word, she cups his face in her hands and covers his mouth with hers. It’s sweet and chaste and doesn’t last long enough.

“Call me later.” She steps back.

Stunned, Frank looks up at her, still on his knees. She moves to her door and he can see the pink in her cheeks.

“You just look so pretty on your knees, Frank.” She squeals and disappears inside before he can say anything.

Frank lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. He’s so screwed.

Samantha suggests their second date be at his place with Mary because it’s bull that Roberta has to watch her and doesn’t even get paid. Even though Roberta loved having Mary, she thought that answer was pretty great. Samantha parks her car and carries her supplies up to Frank’s tiny concrete porch. She knocks and Mary answers.

“Sammy!”

“Hey!”

Mary throws her arms around Samantha’s legs.

“Ahh, I’m gonna fall over.” Samantha laughs.

“Come in.” Mary jumps back to open the door.

Mary leads her through the apartment to the living room. There are Legos, lots of DVDs, and complicated textbooks strewn about the floor.

“Mary, I told you to clean up.” Frank rushes over to them in a grey t-shirt.

“It’s okay. We got this.” Samantha sets her tote bag down. “Then I can show you what I brought.”

Mary’s eyes light up as she eyes the mystery bag. Ignoring Frank’s protests, Samantha helps Mary put everything in its proper place. It doesn’t take long with the way Mary gets into it. Suddenly, she wants it done as soon as possible so they can have fun.

“Now, your reward.” Samantha smiles watching Mary dive into the bag. She pulls out the nail polish, remover, and cotton rounds. Her head snaps up.

“You’re gonna paint my nails?”

“Yep. I shouldn’t be the only one with cool nails.”

She keeps digging and pulls out a DVD with a young Chinese woman with a red dragon on it.

“Mulan?”

“Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so, but it’s classic. Trust me.”

Mary’s blue eyes squint as she thinks it over, but then she nods.

Frank orders pizza while Samantha paints Mary’s nails. He tries his best to ignore the tugging in his stomach. Seeing her blow on Mary’s tiny nails makes something swell in his chest. When the pizza arrives, they eat at the small kitchen table. Mary has her hand stretched out to admire her nails. Samantha raises her eyebrows at Frank who smirks.

Mary gets sucked into the heartwarming world of Fa Mulan.

“He’s a lot scarier than I remember,” Samantha mumbles to Frank as Shan-Yu gives orders to his men.

“Listen to Mulan!” Mary yells at the television.

As Mulan saves all of China, Mary moves next to Samantha on the couch and holds her hand. Samantha squeezes it. Frank sees a kind of recognition in their gaze. Something he doesn’t know, but it makes his stomach jump. Mary dozes off Samantha’s shoulder before Mulan reunites with her family. Frank smirks when he catches Samantha’s gaze. He nods his head towards where her bed lies in the living room. He’s been talking to Roberta about getting a different apartment so she can have her own room.

“Do you need me to go?” Samantha whispers, finger tapping her chest.

Frank shakes his head.

“Where do I—”

“There’s a TV in my room.”

Her blonde eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Frank immediately waves his hands.

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“It’s okay. Put her to bed, Frank. I’ll be outside.” Samantha watches as he lifts Mary off of her. They disappear down the hallway to the bathroom and she can hear grumbles about brushing her teeth. Samantha spies the small bed in the corner under the shelf. Fred, the orange, one-eyed feline displays himself in a regal stance on top of the comforter. She gets up and offers her hand. He sniffs her before letting her scratch his ear. He purrs softly making her smile before she slips outside.

The door closes softly and she turns her head to see Frank. She smiles.

“I didn’t mean anything. My room is the only one in the apartment with a door.”

“Sure. No, it’s fine. Really.” Samantha smirks. “I should get going.”

Her slender fingers brush the top of his hand. They move down his wrist, up his forearm, and settle at his bicep. Her touch starts a fire that spreads all the way to his chest. His blue eyes are darker now as he locks eyes with her. His large hand cups her face and she sucks in a breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He gives her a bruising kiss that makes her stomach jump. The softness of his lips paired with the pressure of his fingers on her waist makes her gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. He tastes good almost spicy and a little sweet. The pads of her fingers comb through his beard as she presses her chest against his. Her shoulder pushes into his door. One hand in her hair now tugging ever so slightly causing her to moan into his mouth. There’s a throbbing between her legs and god, she wants him to scratch that itch. It’s like he can read her mind when his rough, calloused thumb brushes the skin peeking out from the end of her shirt.

“But…” Samantha forces her brain to work. “We’re outside…”

Even though she wants to know how his hands feel all over her body, she doesn’t need public indecency on her record.

“Then come back inside.”

“If I go inside, I’m gonna fuck you.” Her breathing hitches as his beard scratches her neck.

“You don’t wanna fuck me?” His mouth is hot on her delicate skin.

“Mmm…” She struggles to keep her eyes open. “I do. But not with Mary home.”

She takes him by the shoulders, but he moves off of her.

“Thank you.”

“At least now I know you wanna fuck me.”

“Was that ever in doubt?”

Frank chuckles, tucking his chin into his broad chest.

“No, but I like hearing you say it.”

She playfully rolls her brown eyes.

“I’ll text you, yeah?”

She gives him a quick kiss before dashing off his porch. Frank sighs and watches her go.

The following week, at the university, Samantha sees Mary sitting on the bench. Her nails are chipped now, but the color is still there.

“Hi, Mary. Can I sit with you?”

“Yeah, duh.”

Samantha sets her purse between them on the bench.

“Sorry I missed the end of Mulan.”

“It’s okay. We can watch it another time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, duh.”

Mary giggles. A thought crosses her mind and she gets quiet for a few minutes. Samantha almost asks what’s wrong when she speaks:

“Do you like Frank? Cause I think he likes you and it’s so weird.”

“I do like Frank. He’s not what I thought he’d be.”

“He’s grumpy but he’s okay.”

“Yeah, he’s okay.” Samantha nods as he walks over to them.

Unfortunately, their schedules are too busy to meet up for another date. When work hits a groove for Frank, he can’t really take a break except for Mary. Samatha understands that. Once his schedule becomes more open, hers ramps up for mid-term exams. They see each other on campus when he picks up Mary and of course, they text when they can.

Samantha is surprised to find out her workday is lighter than she thought, so she goes to the marina. She knows he’s working because he sent her a text bitching about some part she doesn’t remember the name of. She spies him on the boat, grumbling under his breath. His t-shirt leaves nothing to the imagination over his defined back. His tan skin glistens under the sun. She steps forward onto the dock as he turns his head. Before she can say anything, her sandals get caught and she stumbles forward into the water. With a loud splash, she disappears. Frank knows the water isn’t deep, but it doesn’t stop him from putting his tools down and leaning over the end of the boat. She surfaces and coughs. She feels Frank’s arms as he pulls her out of the water. She’s sopping wet. Her hair. Her dress. Everything.

“Surprise.” She blushes at how stupid that was.

“You okay?” Frank touches her shoulder.

“Very embarrassed.” Samantha covers her face with her hands.

“Nothing’s sprained or broken?”

“My pride?” She sighs.

Frank removes her hands and gives her a kiss. She shivers against him.

“We gotta get you some dry clothes.”

“Y-Yeah.” Her teeth chatter and she nods.

The sound of her shutting her front door echoed in his ears when he realizes how tight that dress clings to her curves. He watches as she undid the straps on her shoes and sets them down. He kicks off his own while his heart hammers in his chest. She smiles.

“All my dry clothes are in my bedroom.”

“I’ll help you find them.”

He practically chases her into the room and pulls her to him.

“Now your clothes are wet again.” She pouts and gives him a soft kiss.

In one swift motion, he lifts her dress over her head and tosses it into the bathroom. It splatters on the tile loudly and they laugh. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and she unbuckles his jeans. He captures her mouth in another kiss as he unhooks her bra with one hand.

“Fuck, look at you…” Her body is even better than he imagined.

She rolls her eyes playfully.

The last of their clothes find the floor and the back of his knees hit the edge of her bed. He sits up with his back against the pillows. She wastes no time getting on top of him. She runs her mouth down his neck and along his collarbone. He grips her hips as she kisses the dark hair on his chest. She licks his defined stomach making his hips stutter.

“C’mere.” He groans and she hovers her face over his.

Frank strokes her cheek with his thumb and kisses her. His tongue massages hers and she moans loudly. He cups her large breasts and her head falls back. She feels heat pool below her waist as his big, calloused hands move over her body. He’s everywhere. She bites her lip. He flips her onto her back with no warning knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks, mouth on her shoulder.

“Touch me.” She sighs.

His fingers trail past her stomach and she whines as he teases her. Her hips jerk up seeking more. Her hands find his hair when he slips those thick fingers inside her. He loves the way his name tumbles off her lips when he stretches her out.

“Fuck, Frank I wanted this so bad.”

“How bad, baby?” His teeth graze her hip bone.

“I was touching myself after our date wishing it was you.” She bites her lip feeling him drive in and out of her.

“Dirty girl.” He chuckles before latching his mouth onto her bundle of nerves.

She clutches her sheets as he relentlessly makes her come with his mouth and fingers.

Her chest tightens again and she cries out. She has to push his hand away because he doesn’t stop. He kisses her shoulder again as her breathing returned to normal. She looks up at him like she wants to devour him. She kisses him greedily, sucking on his tongue. She needed more. She breaks the kiss to get something out of her nightstand. A condom.

“Are you sure?” he asks staring deep into her eyes.

“Yes.” Samantha breathes heavily looking down. No wonder he was so arrogant. He has every right to be with that between his legs.

Frank takes it from her and puts it on, but he lets her take the lead watching when she straddles him. As Samantha sinks down onto him, she presses her forehead against his. They gasp at how good it feels. She’s so tight and warm. She feels so full. It’s delectable. She’s never felt like this.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Samantha smiles at him. Her lips cover his in a gentle kiss. One hand stays on her hip and the other got tangles in her hair as he deepens the kiss. Her eyes stay closed until he kisses her cheek. She rocks her hips slowly, but it’s not enough for him. He snaps his hips up and she lets out a wanton noise. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses on the valley between her breasts. He thrusts up into her again and her hands desperately grab his shoulders to steady herself. Her body is on fire.

“Oh, Frank,” her nails raked through his dark hair when he bites her chest.

Their rhythm was perfect. Hearts racing, sheets of sweat glistening on their backs, it’s all too much and not enough. From how he grips her waist and the way her hips speed up, this isn’t gonna last much longer. Her brown eyes found his blue ones and he places a soft kiss on her throat before sliding a hand between them. Her head tips back as he touches her perfectly. It’s exactly what she needed. She feels that wonderful familiar feeling on the pads of her feet and the base of her spine. She keeps moaning his name and it’s the best thing he’d ever heard. Her nails dig into his back as her body shakes. He rolls them over chasing his own release. She locks her ankles over the small of his back and elicits a growl from low in his throat as he bottoms out. His movements become more frantic and his hips began to stutter.

Yes!” She breathes.

“You feel so good, Sam.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck.

Her hands gripped onto his shoulders as he pounds in and out of her. He’s hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream.

“Harder.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier and she know he’s close. She starts to shake again and it sets him off. He isn’t making coherent words. He’s just grunting with every thrust as his body explodes with pleasure. His eyes jam shut as the sparks fly behind his eyes. He relaxes his grip and slumps forward, face in the pillows. Their heavy pants and sighs are the only sounds in the room.

“Wow.” Samantha couldn’t think.

“Fucking awesome.” Frank chuckles.

“Definitely.”

“When do we go get Mary?”

“We got an hour. So buckle up, baby.”

Just like that, Samantha becomes a part of their lives and they become a part of hers. She and Mary play around on her piano or her guitar. Mary loves both. Frank thinks it’s nice, but can’t help it when all of Samantha’s attention is on his niece. He’s there too. No surprise, he’s not the most romantic guy around. She starts to wonder if that first date was a fluke. He usually wants to go to a bar or restaurant, have a few drinks, and head back to his bedroom for some amazing sex. Sometimes, they visit one of the nicer boats he’s working on, but not often. The only time she can get him excited about going somewhere is if it’ll make Mary smile like the zoo or an aquarium. They get to pet snakes and Frank’s stunned at how fearlessly Samantha handles them.

Due to how her marriage ended, Samantha admits she’s a jealous person, so when she sees someone beautiful talking him up at Ferg’s, she turns a little green. He wants her to trust him. He’s not going to cheat on her, but he’s a flirt and that’s hard to turn off. Frank is smart, but his favorite answer is a grunt instead of using his words. He’s more willing to tell her what he likes in bed than how he really feels about her. It’s fine for the first three months when she’s closed off too, but as they approach six months, it stings. She knows he has a hard time trusting people but hasn’t she proven herself? She’s even stopped smoking.

She has a bad habit of holding onto her resentments instead of talking about them, so it usually comes out in a big fight where Frank shows up with flowers at her home or office. They make sure not to fight around Mary because they don’t want to upset her and because sometimes, she’ll jump him mid-argument. She’ll call him an asshole as he bends her over her dresser. Instead of being put off by her years of casual sex, Frank is impressed. She knows what she likes and what she’s doing. And she knows what her touch does to him. It works wonders when he finds out about a kid bullying Mary and she comes up behind him, wrapping her slender fingers around his waist, and kisses the back of his neck. He’s an angry Boston boy and more than once she’s let him fuck his frustration out.

Samantha sees a black Mercedes Benz pull up and Mary practically jumps out of the car.

“Sammy! Sammy!!” She hugs her waist and nearly knocks Samantha off her feet. “We went to lunch and Evelyn has been to so many math conferences. All-day long. She just talks about my mom’s work. Isn’t that cool?”

“That is so cool!” Samantha grins and pulls Mary in for a tighter hug. It was only a two-day trip to Boston, but she missed her all the same.

“I gotta go the bathroom and see Fred!” Mary bounces back from their embrace.

“I think he missed you. My cheer didn’t get approved.” Samantha shrugs.

“You made a Fred cheer?” Mary’s eyes light up.

“I tried, but Research and Development didn’t like it.” Samantha scrunches her nose.

“I’ll talk to them after you show it to me.” Mary shakes her head and goes inside.

A tall woman with red hair and a blue cardigan draped over her shoulders eyes Samantha cautiously. She’s exactly how Frank described her like a museum piece—exquisite but cold. Samantha steps off the small concrete porch and walks over in her wedge sandals. Evelyn takes a step forward, but her thin heel gets stuck in the grass.

“Yeah. Just rained. Not great for pumps and small heels. You must be Evelyn.” Samantha extends a hand. Evelyn accepts it gently as Samantha shakes only two of her fingers.

“And you must be Samantha. Frank’s girlfriend.” Evelyn’s deep sapphire eyes sparkle. They’re darker than Frank’s or Mary’s. What was with this family and looks?

“Mhmm.”

“You met at the university?”

“I’m an assistant professor there.”

“STEM?”

“English Literature.”

Evelyn hums her disapproval.

“Well, we do need humanities, I suppose.”

Samantha just tilts her head. Disappointment flickers across Evelyn’s face that her jab didn’t land.

“Where’s Frank?” She pretends to look around for him.

“Grocery store. We’ve spent the past two days living off beer, cigarettes, and sex,” Samantha deadpans.

“I see you and my son share the same sense of humor.” Evelyn purses her lips.

“Among other things. We both think Mary’s pretty awesome.” Samantha shrugs.

Evelyn takes a deep breath before stepping forward once more.

“Look, I can see you’re fairly astute or at least you read as such for a pretty face.”

“Mary’s probably going come out here in five minutes, so cut the bullshit and say what you wanna say.” Samantha doesn’t flinch, but neither does Evelyn.

“The women in this family continue to make advancements in mathematics even after death. Mary’s only 7 and she’s at university.”

“It’s an impressive gene pool.”

“My son tends to rotate through his conquests without involving Mary. I hope you understand the kind of person she should have as a role model. She’s fond of you. I pray that’s not misplaced.”

Samantha presses her lips together and looks down at her shoes. Before Evelyn can gloat, she looks up with a smile on her face.

“Listen, Evelyn, I know I’m not a mathematician, but I do have a doctorate. Frank and Mary don’t care about that. He knows I love that little girl. He allows you to visit because Mary loves you. I’d focus on that.”

“Or what? You’ll make it difficult for me to see my granddaughter?”

Samantha lets out a heavy sigh and shakes her head. This is an exhausting conversation.

“No. That little girl is special and not just cause she’s a genius. She’s the important part of all this. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Before Evelyn can answer, Frank’s blue truck pulls up and parks next to the Benz. He shuts off the engine and gets out with two paper bags in his hands. He has his black sunglasses on.

“I see you’ve met.”

Mary comes running out of the house and Samantha takes the bags before she knocks them out of his hands. They hug and she sees Frank’s broad shoulders relax. She can’t help but smile. Mary pulls back.

“Hey, kiddo, can you take this inside?” Samantha hands off the lightest bag.

Mary takes it from her and stops running before she’s told off. Samantha grabs the other paper bag. She gives one last glance over her shoulder before going in with the groceries.

When Frank comes back in fifteen minutes later, he’s fuming. He lets the front door slam shut. Mary looks up with her big worried eyes. Samantha nods that it’ll be okay. She gets Mary to help with cooking dinner (she allows her to put the green beans on the baking sheet with the other vegetables). They eat the roast chicken while Mary goes on about her trip and have the peach cobbler Samantha made that morning for dessert. The door slamming incident is forgotten. Mary watches the Scooby-Doo DVD Samantha got her for her birthday after she brushes her teeth. It’s classic Scooby-Doo Where Are You?! They watch two episodes before Mary falls asleep on Samantha’s lap. Samantha puts her to bed before joining Frank’s sulking frame on the couch.

“How was catch up with Mommy Dearest?” Her fingertips trail his beard from his jaw to his neck.

“It’s not enough that she got what she wanted. She’s always gotta find something to disapprove of.”

“Lemme guess, it’s me?”

“I’m a goddamn adult. She has no right to say who I bring into Mary’s life and—”

Samantha brings a finger to his lips. He’s raising his voice.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She dashes off, in those wedges no less. She returns with Roberta.

“Heard you can’t use your inside voice, huh?”

“He’s not a lost cause yet,” Samantha smirks.

“I don’t know where she gets the patience.” Roberta raises her eyebrows.

“We won’t be long. I just gotta take him somewhere he can yell.” Samantha pats him on the shoulder.

“Not a problem.” Roberta nods.

“Oh, I made peach cobbler if you want some. It’s in the fridge.”

“She’s too good for you, Frank.”

Samantha hops into the driver’s side of the truck, waiting. He hands over the keys and gets in the passenger’s side. She stops at a very empty park. The moonlight peeks through the trees through the windshield.

“Evelyn didn’t like you.”

“Uh-huh. The feeling was mutual.”

“She said you were mouthy and not the kind of woman that should be around Mary. Like you were a stripper—”

“Don’t slut-shame.”

“Sorry.”

Samantha unbuckles her seatbelt to slide over next to him. She puts her hand on his chest and looks into his eyes.

“Baby, your mom is the Queen of Bitch City.”

A low rumble vibrates through him as he laughs. He’s never heard it put so perfectly.

“I hate that she can get to me like this.”

Frank stops talking because Samantha’s delicate fingers are trailing down his grimy white shirt. She really needs to have him do his laundry in her building. The washing machines are better. She gives him a soft kiss as her hands unbuckle his belt and shove his boxers down to his knees.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Can’t have you bitching all night. Gotta calm you down,” she says before taking him in her mouth to sluice him up. He lets out a choked gasp. She nibbles the shell of his ear while her hand pumps him into a stiff peak.

“F-Fuck, baby.” His eyes are closed.

The noises are wet and filthy once her mouth envelopes him again. His large hand spreads out through her hair. Her tongue is unreal. He grunts and bucks up into her mouth. She coughs and looks up at him with those brown eyes, annoyed. He grimaces.

“Sorry. You feel so good.” His hand cups her jaw and pulls her onto his mouth. He can taste himself as his tongue licks over her lips. She sucks on his tongue and her hand grips him again. He gasps and lets go of her.

Her head moves back to his lap and the hand not in her hair moves down her shirt to squeeze her breast. She moans and he nearly passes out from the sensation. His chest heaves up and down and he knows he’s gonna come soon.

“Sam, s-stop.” He stares at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“What?” She just stares at him.

“C’mere.” He tugs her into his lap and she giggles. “Gotta have you.”

She pulls down her underwear and rucks her skirt up.

“Can I touch you, baby?” He kisses her neck.

“Fuck, yes. Please.” She rests her cheek on his broad shoulder.

His fingers find her glistening when they dip inside her. She lets out the most delicious whine of his name.

“Sucking me off got you all hot and bothered?” He teases before kissing her.

“Uh-huh.” She hisses feeling his fingers stretch her. She can feel his laughter vibrate against her chest. He knows exactly how to touch her. “Frank, I need you.” The way her soft voice begs him he can’t deny her. Not when he needs her just as badly. The sexiest woman alive wants him. He thrusts into her and her nails dig into his shoulders. Her muscles clench around him and his mouth goes slack. She rocks back and forth while his giant hands grip her slim hips. His naughty angel rides him in the cab of his truck and he never wants her to stop.

“I’m so close.” A small whimper escapes her lips. “Frank, harder, please.”

A long moan and the sharp snap of his hips are exactly what she wants. She’s praising him over and over begging him for more.

“Frank, Frank, yes, yes, Frank, yes.”

His truck is filled with the harsh slaps of skin paired with their gasps and moans. It’s filthy and perfect. Her breasts bounce through the thin fabric of her top when she grinds faster. He can’t even remember feeling angry. All he knows is her. Their eyes lock for a moment and a small smile spreads across her face. Frank kisses her gently despite the relentless pace. His thumb finds that sensitive flesh rubbing it until she yells his name. He follows soon after stroking her blonde hair. She sighs struggling to catch her breath. He kisses the underside of her jaw.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He smiles.

“I know.” She chuckles.

“Shit, the seats,” Frank says once she gets back behind the steering wheel. It’s one of the reasons why he hasn’t fucked her in the truck before. He’s learned from experience and a judgmental look from Roberta. He went beet red from his ears to his neck and drove off. Roberta watched Mary no questions asked.

“Don’t worry.” Samantha pulls out of the parking lot.

To his surprise, she finds a gas station with vacuums, brushes, and shampoo and lets him clean the seats while she gets some ice cream for Roberta.

Things are busy again, but they are better at keeping in touch now. She has papers due, so she spends all of her time outside of class doing office hours. She doesn’t think much of it when her period doesn’t come because of how stressful things are. It’s happened to her before. But then another week passes and nothing. Was she pregnant? Should she take a test?

They had gotten so caught up that they didn’t even think about protection. How could she be so stupid? She’s just paralyzed with fear and can’t answer Frank when he tries to get in touch with her. She buys a pregnancy test at the store, but can’t bring herself to use it. She just sat there—a body filling a room. What would Frank want to do? Would they keep it? Would they get married? Would he just abandon her? Frank leaves worried voicemails. She doesn’t know what to tell him. On the third day, she dials his number and he picks up immediately.

“Sam, what’s going on, baby?” He sounds distraught.

She bursts into tears.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I’m late.” She sobs.

The line goes quiet and she cries harder.

“Did you take a test?”

“What are we gonna do? You already have Mary and I’m—"

“Sam, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Did you take the test?”

“No.” She wipes her eyes. ” I’m so scared.”

“Okay. I’m coming over.”

Frank arrives thirty minutes later and wraps her up in a hug.

“I was so stupid—”

“Shh, shh, Sam, we’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“But I—”

“C’mon, let’s take the test. I got a few more.” Frank leads her to the bathroom.

Time ticks by torturously slow as they wait sitting on her bed. Frank looks at her. She keeps clenching her fists.

“I love you. No matter what that test says.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“It’s true.”

“Frank, I’m not—this isn’t—I don’t wanna be an obligation. Not to you.”

Samantha goes into the bathroom to check, but can’t look at them. Frank squeezes her shoulders and looks.

“They’re negative.”

“What?”

“They’re negative. You’re not pregnant!”

Samantha throws her arms around him. He let out a slow breath and looks at her.

“I’ve never said this to anyone which is why… I shoulda told you, but I’m a fucking idiot. I love you. Today. Yesterday. Day before that. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this. But I know I love you.”

Samantha lets the tears fall. She nods. She’s scared too. It’s hard to let him in after what happened with James, her ex. But he’s not James.

“I love you too.” She laughs as the tears fall down her face.

Frank takes her face in his hands, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Their lips meet.

Samantha goes to her doctor later that week and finds out she’s anemic. Frank waits by the car and she gives him a double thumbs up. He flashes her a smile as she walks over.

“You really love me?” The wind blows her blonde hair across her face.

“Yeah, of course, I do. You love me?” He tucks her hair behind her ear.

“So much.” She sighs.

“It’s not gonna be easy, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“I believe you.” Samantha moves her arms around his waist and he pulls her into his chest.

The holiday season seems different this year. Frank and Mary always did something, but coming from Boston it always felt strange to be somewhere that didn’t snow. He always put up a plastic snowman and their fake tree and called it a day. Samantha’s from Southern California, so she’s never really had snow on Christmas, but she’s much more into the season. He doesn’t see her for two weeks due to grading exams, but after that, he gets used to seeing her car waiting when he gets home. Mary gets tired of seeing her on the porch, so she badgers him into making her a copy of their keys. That’s how he comes home on Christmas Eve to find they’ve decorated everything for Christmas including Samantha herself. Gold tinsel sits on top of her yellow hair while a garland is wrapped around her neck like a scarf. She puts her hands up in defeat when Mary plugs in the lights. Frank can’t help but bowl over with laughter. Mary tells him it’s part of the Christmas play that she and Fred wrote. She has one final touch and disappears. Frank leans down and kisses Samantha on the lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mary comes back with a script and performs the play about a lonely Christmas tree saving Christmas. They have dinner and watch Home Alone. Samantha helps Mary get ready for bed while Frank puts their gifts under the fake tree. He becomes a little suspicious when he hears them whispering in the hallway.

“Is the ring under there?” Samantha giggles.

“Mary! You told?” Frank sighs.

“No, I swear. It’s not my fault she’s smart.” Mary puts her hands up.

“And that you’re stupid.” Samantha raises her eyebrows causing Frank’s brow to furrow. “I found the box in your sock drawer when I did your laundry.”

Frank groans and closes his eyes. He should’ve found a better hiding place.

“My answer is yes, by the way.”

His eyes snap open. He rushes over to her and lifts her off the ground. He’s about to kiss her when he pauses.

“Shit, I wanted to ask you.”

“Then let’s do it. This never happened. I wanna see.” Samantha smiles down at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“God, I love you, Sam.” Frank crashes his mouth onto hers.

“I love you too.” She giggles. “Now, put me down.”

He does as he’s told and goes back to the main room. Samantha follows with Mary and they sit on the couch. He places a bag covered in blue snowflakes on her lap. She smiles, blinking back the tears stinging in her honey brown eyes.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I can’t wait. Open it.”

She pulls out a red velvet ring box and raises her eyebrows.

“Frank…” She sighs as she pops it open. When she found it before, she didn’t have the guts to actually open it, but she was 98% sure it was a ring. It’s a gorgeous, modest round diamond ring. She wonders how long he had to save for this. She honestly would’ve accepted a crackerjack ring. She loves him so much and she loves Mary. She hadn’t expected them to change her life when she saw Mary on the bench, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Oh, Frank, it’s lovely. It’s too much.”

“No, it’s not enough.” He takes the box from her hands and gets down on his knee. “Samantha Harris, I don’t really do speeches, but you make my life better. You make Mary’s life better—“

“Yeah, you’re the best,” Mary adds. “Ask her already.”

Samantha chuckles at the interruption. He knows some people take proposals so seriously and would’ve snapped at Mary, but she doesn’t. And that’s why she’s the one. She would never ask Frank to choose. She always wants Mary to be first. She just completes them.

“You make Mary’s life better. You make my life better. There’s no one else. I love you. Please, marry me.” Frank swallows hard as his vision blurs. She slides off the couch and crawls over to him.

“Yes, I will marry you.” Samantha cups his face in her hands before kissing him. Her heart soars at how softly he kisses her back. He sighs and pulls her to her feet. He places the ring on her finger before kissing her again. Frank breaks their kiss at the sound of Mary’s voice. This is the most PDA they’ve ever done in front of her, so she’s probably annoyed. His arm stays secure around Samantha’s waist as they look at Mary.

“Fred thinks we should move to Sammy’s.”

“Oh, he does?”

“Yeah, it’s bigger with a piano.”

Samantha throws her head back against Frank’s shoulder as she laughs.

“I was thinking a house,” Frank smirks.

“And we’ll bring my piano.” Samantha smiles at Mary.

“Yay!” She hugs Samantha’s legs.

Samantha giggles at the fact that Mary is more excited about the piano. Frank gives her a wink. This is more than enough.

#gifted #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x oc #fan fic

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sometimesiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Hooked on a Feeling

The Witcher: Modern Academia AU

Essi/Eskel

A/N: Inspired by this lovely art piece and my general ongoing obsession with Lit Prof Eskel, I bring you this—whatever this is. It came about largely because I want to explore Essi more thoroughly through different pairings, various different planes of existence, etc. The best way for me to think about and develop a character is to put them in with other characters and see what happens. This may or may not become a series, this also might stay where it is. I chose a modern AU because I wanted a challenge. I believe characters change with context, and this has been an interesting time spent with Eskel in this context as well. I’m not sure how I feel about him in this universe (aside from the love and affection I will likely always feel for that man); more specifically, I’m not sure I’ve done him justice, but I suppose I’ll let you decide for yourself. Feedback is usually helpful and always welcome. Cheers, friends!

Warnings: bit o’ smut, age gap, academic power structures, dialogue-heavy

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

Strong hands held her steady, warm and luxurious through the cotton-poly-spandex of her skirt as it bunched around the tops of her thighs. A breathless roll of her hips left a spot blooming slippery dark on the red cotton of his boxer briefs, and a hungry moan escaped his throat as he explored the tender flesh and tendons of her neck. Papers crumpled under foot, previously housed on top of the desk, but now relegated to excess carpeting. Roget’s Thesaurus, Crabb’s English Synonyms, Shakespeare’s Lexicon, and other reference materials splayed open helplessly on the office floor as he toed off his shoes and sloughed off his pants.

She clutched him to her, feeling the shift and flex of his torso beneath her hands as she pressed her right cheek to his. She was overwhelmed with the urge to be closer, to know better, dig deeper into the possibilities of what they could mean to each other. But she could also feel the hesitation lingering between his fingers and her skin like a mirage over hot pavement, and the desire to ease and reassure took over. “You’re holding back,” she whispered, pausing their fervor. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Her hot breath against his ear sent a rushing tingle down his spine that made him falter, ever-so-briefly, before he regained his composure. He was breathing heavy against her, hair a mess, glasses askew, every muscle in his body quivering as he stood; caught between following the raw satisfaction of impulse, and listening to the unwelcome logic echoing loudly in his head that this was a bad idea. “No, no, believe me, this is very much what I want. I just—I need to make sure tha-ha-ha-haaaaa,” no one, not even him, got to know the end of that sentence as her palm dragged along the bulge in his briefs.

She blinked at him with certainty, pale cheeks blushing from her own boldness. But she wanted him to know that he was wanted: his mind, his body, his whatever-else-he-chose-to-give-her. Slender fingers nimbly worked the pearly buttons on his dress shirt. “You need to make sure that I don’t feel coerced by the difference in our ages or your institutional status.” She ran her hands over the crisp white cotton of his undershirt and smirked, “or your strength.”

Gods the way she talked sometimes, like her fucking soul belonged somewhere else, the way she just spoke words and meant them like it was the easiest thing in the world to be straightforward. It felt… safe. He could drift in the current of her transparency and never question whether she was holding something back or saying something merely for the sake of placating his insecurity. This woman had no subtext. It was liberating and, if he was perfectly honest, acutely arousing.

“Yes, of course I want to make sure,” he ran a hand through her hair, smelling sea salt and verbena. “And I want to make sure that you…”

She took his face in her hands and washed his honey-hazel eyes in her startling sea-glass-blue, “I want you.”

__________

Not even a third of the way through the semester, and Essi had already given up on the idea of making coffee and having a “pleasant wakeup” at home before class. It took no less time to roll out of bed and walk all the way to the cafeteria, but at least there was always a blueberry danish for her trouble, and the walk ensured she wouldn’t be tempted back into the warm bundle of blankets on her bed. She blinked heavily and shivered a little, her eyes still bleary from not-enough-sleep. She gripped her contigo travel mug and tried to remember the first two chapters of Gadamer that she’d half-read the night before (earlier that morning) as her eyes drifted closed.

...can I get for you?

Good morning… Miss?

The man in front of her gave a wry smile to the cashier, “Almost seems a shame to wake her up.” He gingerly reached out and nudged Essi’s elbow. She startled and her eyes—her two spectacularly blue eyes—blinked open. “Sorry,” the man said with an endeared smile, “You, uh… you alright?”

Essi blinked herself alert as a piece of strawberry blonde hair escaped a silver clip at the back of her head. She brushed the loose piece back behind her ear. “Yes. Sorry, just… uh, house blend in this, please. Double-double. And a blueberry danish.” She paid the cashier and stepped to the side to wait for her order. The man in front of her, she assumed, was also waiting on his. He leaned to the side, still facing forward.

“Long night?” he asked, clearly still mildly amused by the situation.

She conducted a surreptitious survey of her chatty companion, “You could say that. Philosophy reading got away from me this week.” A keycard was clipped to his breast pocket: Dept. English, E. L. Varga, Ph.D. The lack of photo indicated it was at least a year old if not more—photo IDs had only just become mandatory with the rapid growth of the campus and certain programs. She reckoned he was maybe 37-ish, from the way his hazel eye crinkled a little at the corner and the few bright silver streaks in his dark auburn hair. He looked… distinguished, but without the stiffness of someone whose entire adult life had been fully committed to academia. Post-doc? Assistant Professor?

“Full day ahead?” Essi couldn’t help but think the world of radio was missing a key contributor, his voice was so striking—deep and rich, but without being flashy, an unassuming timbre that came from somewhere deep within and carried a vulnerability with it.

“Oh, a little. Philosophy seminar followed by Contemporary Poetry this afternoon.”

“Two on a Friday. That’s a bit unkind.”

“I like them both and the professors are very engaging, it’s just, well…”

“Abrupt end to the week.”

“Yes exactly…” This unexpected morning companion was an excellent conversationalist. So much so that Essi hardly noticed she’d only seen the left half of him the entire time they’d been standing in line. She didn’t have much time to ponder on it, though, as her travel mug appeared at the same time as Dr. Varga’s order (a coffee and a cream cheese bagel). She glanced at the time and hastily lidded her thermos, hoping to get a bit more reading done before class began.

“Oh look, we have the same one!” she said, pointing to the turquoise blue, double-walled, spill-proof (as if) container as she tightened the seal on her own. “Funny coincidence.”

“Or maybe,” he offered suspensefully, tucking his bagel into his shoulder bag and lidding his own, “it’s not.”

Essi offered a sleepy chuckle, “Divine intervention in the form of coffee?”

“You’re the philosopher,” he smiled warmly, and moved to face her fully but stopped himself, instead opting to stare at his hand where it rested on the lid of his thermos. His left eye caught Essi’s inquisitive head tilt as he cleared his throat, “Have a good day.” He pursed his lips in a halfhearted smile and turned away. No doubt he has places to be, she concluded. But a small part of her couldn’t get over his sudden shift. He’d gone from being so open, so warm and charming to being—well, distant.

Essi’s musings about the mysterious E. L. Varga, Ph.D. were quickly dissolved by her professor’s introduction to Hermeneutics followed by a lively discussion about the nature and qualities of knowing. At the halfway point, the class dispersed for a ten minute break as they all stretched their legs and went to the bathroom. Essi gambled that her coffee would have cooled down to a drinkable temperature, and took a sip. What the—?

“Oh, damnit!”

“Hm? What’s the matter?” Julian asked, through a mouthful of pita and hummus.

“This isn’t mine,” she said, half-befuddled, half amused.

“How do you know they didn’t just get the order wrong? You’re telling me you took a stranger's coffee thermos which just happens to be identical to your own?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Essi stated with certainty, staring into the middle distance. “I should find him after class and give it back.”

“Well, unless you can see through walls now, you’ll need to track down his office. Which,” Julian took another sizeable bite of pita, “I doubt you’ll be able to do without knowing his name, so I say just leave it and—“

“E. L. Varga, Ph. D., English department.”

Julian stared at his cousin, “You’re a little scary sometimes, you know that?”

________

Essi combed the halls of the English department after her seminar. Several times, she thought about going to the admin office to ask (it was the logical thing to do), but she felt suddenly shy about looking for him. Perhaps Julian was right, perhaps this was more trouble than it was worth. Her head was spinning with questions about whether she was imposing or perhaps impinging on his boundaries, disrespecting his privacy. Perhaps she should just leave the thermos with the Admin office and trust that it would get to him. She could just buy a new one for herself, no problem there. But then a part of her wanted to see him again, make a good impression. He intrigued her, and the small taste of conversation he’d given her that morning made her want to talk with him more about anything at all, no matter how trivial.

She wasn’t infatuated. Rather he’d made an impression, and something about him—the way he carried himself, presented his thoughts, his general affect—drew her to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Suddenly he mattered, and she was trawling the seemingly-endless network of almost-identical hallways in the hopes of returning what was his, and retrieving what was hers. She finally found the right office, impossibly small, and tucked away at the far end of a cul-de-sac. She knocked quietly.

“Come in?”

E. L. Varga, Ph.D. had his back to the door, ankles crossed on a corner of his desk with a stack of papers in his lap. “Just.. one second,” he finished underlining a scrawled turquoise notation in the margin and spun around to face the door, setting his papers down as he turned. “Yes, what can I do for—” he froze, coming face-to-face with dazzling blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a silver clip. “Ah.”

Essi tried hard to avoid the look of shock that rippled across her face and made her big blue eyes even bigger. Three jagged scars trailed angrily from the corner of his eye and past his mouth, coming to a final stop on the side of his chin. He cleared his throat and gave the same wry smile he’d parted with earlier that morning, adjusting his rectangular, wire-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“I imagine you’ve come for this,” he said, placing Essi’s thermos on the edge of the table.

“I—yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and, well,” she fished his out from her bag, “here.” She handed it to him and he accepted with a lighthearted raise of his eyebrows. She paused for a moment, meeting his eyes intensely. There was a sadness behind them that made her want to stay, made her want to ask questions, find out the source of his pain and eradicate it. Instead she smiled a little more stiffly than she meant to and lingered in the doorway.

E. L. Varga scratched at the lines in his cheek, “Was there, uh… something else?”

Essi shook her head pleasantly, “No. I suppose I’ll go now.”

Another pause, “Alright. Well. Enjoy your weeke—.”

“Why do you mark in blue?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Varga blinked, nonplused.

“When I came in, before you turned around, I saw you leaving a comment on someone’s paper. I assume you were marking?” (he nodded), “You use turquoise. Most professors use red.”

He huffed a small laugh, spinning his marking pen in its cap, “I prefer to use a colour that’s a little less foreboding. It’s still bright and easy to notice, but it doesn’t mean instant panic for those students who, like me, have a Pavlovian panic response to red ink. That and red is my favourite colour, so the last thing I want is to associate it with constructive criticism and a never-ending trail of ‘see me’s.”

“That’s very generous of you. Most professors don’t think about it that hard.”

“The extent to which many professors don’t think is shocking, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m glad for your students. They have a thoughtful instructor.”

Dr. Varga smiled warmly and removed his glasses, “Thank you. Was there something else?”

“You hid from me this morning,” Essi answered calmly, not knowing how else to bring up something like that—clumsily had been the only other option.

He answered slowly, “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

There was a pause as Dr. Varga tried to wrap his head around what exactly was happening. Part of him was feeling exposed and a little too noticed for his own comfort. Another part of him, however, found this straightforwardness refreshing. Most people pretended to ignore the massive scars on the side of his face—which he always thought was a bit ridiculous and usually led to more awkwardness than if they just stared like he knew they wanted to. It wasn’t that she was staring, either, or asking unwelcome questions, but she wasn’t avoiding acknowledging the obvious. He liked that, he decided, even if it did make him feel a bit raw.

“It depends how you define ‘need’, doesn’t it?”

His averted glance was all Essi needed to realize it wasn’t her he had been trying to spare somehow; rather, he was trying to spare himself from her unpredictable reaction at 8:30 in the morning. A wave of sadness crested inside her at the thought of this warm and charismatic man having to strategically orient his face because he didn’t want a pleasant conversation suddenly filled with maneuvering and overcompensation. He’d just wanted a normal moment of small-talk to start his morning.

“I’m sorry,” Essi said. “Navigating others’ reactions must be exhausting. You deserve better.”

E. L. Varga shrugged and steered the subject to something a little less eat-pray-love. “Unexpected things surprise us. Like you, finding my secret gremlin office for the sake of two identical thermoses we could just as easily have dumped out and used as our own.”

“But I would have known it wasn’t mine,” Essi answered with an overly-earnest, wide-eyed expression.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded contemplatively in his lap, ”Would that bother you?”

“Some of the colour has worn off the bottom rim on yours, probably from swirling it on your desk while you think. Whereas mine has a shallow dent in the side from when I dropped it last semester on my way to the library. Yours got the way it did because of you, just like mine did because of me. They both have stories connected to them. I can’t walk around carrying my coffee in someone else’s story. It wouldn’t feel right.”

Dr. Varga tilted his head, considering this shrewd young woman with seemingly no filter and unnecessary depth. It was a coffee thermos, for Christ’s sake. But she was genuine, poetic, and her eyes were the most alluring shade of blue he’d ever seen.

“Well,” he tapped his pen, “thank you for bringing it back to me safe and sound. Yours should still be drinkable if you unscrew the top. I only took one sip, but in case you’re afraid of cooties…”

“Same with yours, I’ll probably just rinse mine or…” she trailed off, realizing that saying ‘leave it’ would sound a bit strange. “So, Dr. E. L. Varga. Was it a coincidence after all?” Essi asked, a small enigmatic smile pulling at her lips.

“Eskel,” He said. “My name is Eskel.”

“Essi Daven. Until next time.”

With a little nod, she closed the door behind her, leaving Eskel to release the half-breath he’d been holding.

_______

The weekend passed all-too quickly. Essi and Julian played a double set at the campus bar—a standing invitation they never missed no matter how busy their schedules were. They both had double lectures on Friday, and nothing quite staved off the risk of burnout like good music and an enthusiastic audience. The rest of the weekend was spent more-or-less curled up in the livingroom with stacks of notebooks, JStor printouts, and dog-eared anthologies as they got to work on their readings for the coming week.

It was Wednesday by the time Essi made it back to the campus cafe, this time a good 45 minutes early and significantly better-rested than she’d been the previous Friday. Still, it didn’t stop her from nearly jumping out of her shoes when…

“Awake this morning, I see.”

She turned abruptly at the familiar voice to find Dr. Eskel L. Varga standing behind her, smiling welcomingly. She grasped the outside of his arm while she caught her breath, “Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. Good morning!”

A rich chuckle came from the professor’s throat as he offered her elbow a brief touch of reassurance. “You know, most people do that after they’ve turned around.”

“You know, I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she answered lightly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It was just—”

“That’s alright, I know what it was,” Essi blinked warmly up at him and Eskel got the distinct feeling she was checking him somehow, the way her eyes hovered and flickered between his own. Satisfied, she turned to the cashier and placed her usual order, stepping aside to wait with Eskel for his bagel.

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the twins today,” he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.

“I think any amount of attention from either of us will be enough to prevent another mishap. But, then again, it’s a shame we won’t have an excuse to distract ourselves with an early afternoon mystery.” Essi thanked the young man behind the counter as she accepted her thermos and blueberry danish.

“Hm, I imagine you’ll be glad not to have to find my office again, though. Cheers,” Eskel held up his own travel mug before taking a sip and lidding it. “I should be off. Busy day today. Good to see you, Essi.”

“I can walk with you if you like.”

Eskel slowed and turned tentatively back to her, “Sure, alright. If it won’t make you late.”

“No, no, I have time. My class doesn’t start until 9:30. That is, if you want company. You might… prefer to walk alone?”

Eskel smiled again, the friendly distanced smile of someone who wanted to avoid any and all misunderstandings. You see, there was something about Essi that set this post-doctorate professor on edge—not because she made him uncomfortable. On the contrary: she made him feel surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable in a way he was not accustomed to feeling around someone he’d only just met, and briefly at that. But even the brief few minutes they’d spent in each others’ company had been enough for Eskel to feel strangely drawn to her. There was an inherent intimacy in the way she interacted with him—with everyone, he assumed; the way her large blue eyes blinked slowly and inquisitively at him, the way they penetrated without piercing and lingered on his without darting away. It only served to enhance the subtle, self-possessed sensuality she exuded, and it made Eskel slightly-less-than-comfortable (insofar as he found it unavoidably appealing).

“I don’t mind a bit of company from time to time,” he offered, having opted for ‘Intriguing Conversation with Interesting Potential Future Student’ as his intention for this and all future encounters. They walked for about a minute in silence, neither quite knowing where to begin. Without the crutch of mistaken coffee-identity, the realm of conversational possibilities seemed a bit daunting. Eskel decided to ease the tension, “So, Essi. You know that I teach in the English department and where my office is. What’s your major? Or are you just doing general studies?”

“Well, I did do general studies my first year of undergrad,” a small piece of Eskel’s uneasiness eased. So she’s a grad student… “Now, I’m finishing off the first half of my Poetry MFA.”

Essi watched as his face immediately opened, eyes lighting up like a kid at DisneyLand, “Really? What’s your focus?” It was unbearably endearing.

“Affect and Poetic Performance. I’m examining the relationship between lyric and melody through the lens of Affect Theory.”

“Affect Theory…”

“It’s a way of talking about our ineffable responses to different environments. It’s all well and good to say, ‘well this or that has a certain vibe,’ or ‘something about that person feels off,’ when we’re speaking colloquially, but how do we talk about it in a broader, more objective way for the purposes of research? It’s a kind of philosophy of sensing if you think about it.”

Essi’s entire demeanor had changed on the turn of a dime. She was effusive, incisive, and talking a mile a minute, her gestures captivatingly eccentric as she spoke—Eskel thought it looked like her thoughts were physical things she was trying to pull out of her so she could arrange them properly. He wanted to see more of this side of her. Not just because he was amused and impressed, but because he was genuinely fascinated by where all this discussion of affect was going.

“And so affect itself is…”

“Affect is the thing that happens before emotion; a gut feeling or an intuition. It’s all those feelings we don’t have words for yet still sense acutely and precisely.” Her footsteps were becoming shorter, as though they were trying to keep pace with her thoughts, and her cheeks were starting to flush a pretty shade of pink beneath her light layer of foundation (or powder or whatever it was that made her shimmer slightly).

“This all sounds very elusive, Essi.”

“Exactly! It is! It’s incredibly elusive! And yet, what is it about a certain song that we can all agree sounds ‘melancholy’? How do we, as artists—poets, actors, sculptors, writers, musicians, gallerists, interior decorators—curate affect in a way that’s consistent and predictable?”

“Hm…” Eskel had forgotten about being charmed by his companion and was now fully invested in the inquiry at hand. He felt confident that he’d pieced it together so far. “So: how do lyrics and melody work together to form a cohesive, wide-reaching atmosphere...”

“—And how does the singer or musician facilitate that? Precisely.”

“It sounds like you’re digging into some interesting corners. Are you enjoying it?”

“I’m finding it invigorating,” the pink of her cheeks only served to intensify the blue of her irises as they flashed brightly up at him.

“I’m happy to hear that. It isn’t always the case,” Eskel stopped, having reached the top of the hallway leading to his office. “I should get to work, but. Thank you for the company. You’re thinking about a lot of interesting things.”

“A roundabout way of saying I’m interesting, perhaps.” There was no flirtation in her voice, no slyness on her face, but Eskel felt his face grow warm all the same. He couldn’t decide what was worse: that she wasn’t flirting but stating the obvious; or that her stating the obvious had the same effect as flirting.

“Yes, well. Duty calls,” he gave Essi a polite wave and turned towards his office.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He stopped. “Sure” he replied stiffly, privately bracing himself for the inevitable question. Fine. Alright. It’s natural to be curious.

“What’s the L stand for?”

Eskel turned back to face her, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Sorry?”

“Eskel L. Varga. What’s the L for?”

“Oh! Sorry I thought…” he scratched gently at his right cheek and Essi’s heart sank. How many callous people had imposed their curiosity on him? A spark of protective anger shot up inside her as she watched his hand and she had an overwhelming urge to reach for him. “It’s, uh, it’s for Llewlyn.”

She swallowed heavily, restraining her hand as it twitched by her side, wanting to touch, to ease, to unburden. “You thought I was going to ask about something else that’s none of my business.”

Eskel rocked on his heels, examining the various dings and dents in the linoleum tiling, “Yes.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“Thank you,” he looked up, his free hand now in his pocket. “Most people don’t… I should go.”

“Have a good week, Eskel.”

“You, too.”

To say that Eskel retreated behind his office door would be a bit of an overstatement. But in the quiet solitude of his own private space, he had a moment to collect himself, to temper the intense vulnerability pressing on his chest. But there was another feeling, too, that felt more… elastic. A buoyancy driven by stimulating conversation and pleasant company; he was impressed, incredibly impressed; and despite his better judgement there was a part of him that hoped he would see her again on Friday morning.

Essi made her way to class with an indelible smile on her face as she struggled to convince herself that it was a professor’s job to listen to eager students and find their research topics interesting. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening. She didn’t know what, just yet, but it was something. Only time would tell.

______

@morethangeraskier @the-space-between-heartbeats @just-a-sad-donut @oxenfurt-archives @thirstyforred @titaniafire @belalugosisdead @lonelygayz @awkward-turtles-world @iloveyouyen @criminaly-supernatural@friendlybelladonna @enkelikauneus @sulkyshengshou

#Essi x Eskel #Essi Daven #Modern AU #Witcher AU #rarepair #Essi/Eskel #Profskel #The witcher #Eskel

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rohad93 · 4 years ago

Text

Werewolf in the hospital

As far as Halloween’s go, this one could have been better for her. It wasn’t often she ended an evening sitting in the ER, dressed as a werewolf, with a broken nose, but she couldn’t say now that it didn’t ever not happen!

The night had started fun enough. She’d been out with Gus and Willow at a party being thrown at one of their college’s many fraternity houses. One that was affectionately referred to as the ‘Illusion coven’ around campus because of its many resident students that were known for their penchant for pranks and being able to disappear without a trace when the heat was turned up in response, as well as a large handful of their students that were also members of the school’s ‘magic appreciation club’.

They of course, always threw the best parties, especially at Halloween.

This one had been no different. The music and lights could be seen from about two blocks away. There was a long line of students waiting to get in the front door, but luckily for her and Willow, Gus was a member, which got them through the door instantly.

The place was jammed packed when they finally arrived and Luz could barely hear herself think over the music that was trying to vibrate her teeth right out of her skull, but that didn’t stop her from making a beeline straight for the dancefloor with her friends in tow for the first hour. Excessive amounts of energy made dancing the perfect activity for her, even if she generally lacked any grace or coordination.

It was weird to finally be at one of these raging school parties after all the ones she had been purposely excluded from in high school.

After four years of being an outcast in high school and spending most Saturday night’s alone, watching anime or writing fanfiction to fill her spare time, she hadn’t expected her social life to really take off in college, though ‘take-off’ might have been a strong word for it. She still only had a handful of friends, but it was still a far cry from how she’d been a loner in high school.

Leaving to go to college out of state had given her an opportunity to start new, though she was still the same old Luz she had been her senior year, there were so many more people at her college with varying interests and backgrounds than her small-town high school where everyone had known each other since grade school and pretty much stuck together from the first grade on.

You release one nest of spiders at nap time and suddenly you’re branded for life as ‘that weird kid’. She didn’t like to admit how much that had really bothered her when she was a kid, but it just became the norm as she got older. It didn’t stop her enjoying life as much as she could, even if she had gotten thrown out of prom her senior year for wearing an otter onesie.

It was still nice to actually have friends now, one’s she could study with in the library or just have lunch with and not blink an eye when she said something totally bizarre, or at least bizarre by most people’s standards.

Meeting Willow, her dorm mate, and then Gus through her, had been a lifesaver and through them, she had met other student’s, some of which she shared classes with, like Viney, who despite being an upperclassman was only now taking her English comp basics so they worked together on group assignments, she was funny and easy to get along with. It didn’t take long for Luz to count her, along with Gus and Willow as her closest friends.

Viney was also dating Emira Blight, one of the infamous Blight twins, who were also members of the ‘Illusion Coven’, so she knew Viney was probably somewhere here among the many bodies packed into the large house, though the chances of running into her were slim.

She wasn’t at all surprised to see the copious amounts of alcohol that was everywhere either, that was one thing about college that TV had gotten right. College students drank; a lot.”

She watched three students doing a keg stand till beer squirted out of the guy on the kegs’ nose.

She snorted, grinning to herself and showing off the mouthful of sharp canines she had spent a good hour in the bathroom getting molded to fit too her teeth. She was, of course, the definition of a broke college student, attending entirely on a full scholarship, cause when you don’t have anyone to hang out with, you might as well study, and it was finally paying off, but she still had little in the way of personal spending money given her measly paycheck from working part-time at ‘The Owl House’ An owl themed diner just off campus owned by the most eccentric woman Luz had ever met, did not make for the most extravagant costume. But she made do with an old red flannel, ripped jeans, and some dollar store pointed ears and face paint. She had splurged a little on the fake teeth, she’d reuse them next year, werewolf was a classic after all.

Despite her less than ideal paycheck, Edalyn Clawthorne, or Eda ‘The Owl Lady’ as she was known around town, was good to her, letting her eat and drink for free or study there when she wasn’t working, and honestly, Luz kind of wanted to be Eda when she grew up. She was self-assured and didn’t care what anyone thought about her, not to mention surprisingly foxy for her age.

“You guys want something to drink?” Gus yelled at her and Willow to be heard over the pounding music and voices.

“Is there anything without an octane rating?” Willow questioned, as she watched an upperclassman drinking something straight out of the bottle at maximum speed.

After all, she and Willow were only nineteen, and Gus seventeen, he was crazy smart and had skipped a couple of grades. Luz had never had much interest in drinking, despite Eda sometimes offering her a drink from her flask with the Owl etched into the side.

She didn’t even know what was in it, only that Eda referred to it as “Mama’s magic Elixir’. She always said no and Eda would shrug and tip it back till it was empty.

“There’s punch, but I’d still be careful. Chances are good it’s already been spiked.” He shrugged.

“No thanks,” Willow shook her head and turned to look at something, the glitter on the wings of her fairy costume catching the bright colored lights overhead. She still hadn’t figured out what Gus was supposed to be. He was wearing a long red tube with a smiley face on it and long sleeves that went down to the ground that he flung about in excitement.

“I might take my chances on those snacks!” Luz shouted, eyeing the array of treats laid out on the table for the taking. She was willing to bet no one had spiked the cake and it looked really good from here. Gus grinned and Willow rolled her eyes, smiling. Anyone who knew Luz for any amount of time knew she had a voracious appetite and an even bigger sweet tooth.

“Yeah, okay, just don’t eat everything.” Gus laughed at her.

“No promises!” She grinned back before moving across the room, trying to slide between the bodies that packed every square inch of the place and get to the refreshment table. People were moving in every direction around her as the music blared and the lights flashed, it was a little disorienting actually, but she had her eyes on the prize.

She had just made it to the table when the crowd surged and sent her careening into someone else standing there, slamming into their back and making them spill their drink.

“Watch it, nitwit! A voice growled at her before stopping. “Oh, hi, Luz.”

Luz blinked, realizing who exactly she had just slammed into, and swallowed thickly.

Amity Blight, who she did not exactly start off on the best foot with when classes had started a few months ago but now had a much more friendly relationship with.

Amity Blight, the smart and talented girl she shared creative writing and literature appreciation with. Amity Blight, who Luz had a teeny, tiny, minuscule... huge, crush on.

Amity Blight, who was dressed prettily as a witch, complete with black and green striped leggings and a pointed black hat and, who she had just slammed into and spilled her drink on.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Amity!” Luz grimaced at the wet spot now in the middle of Amity’s black blouse.

“Oh, it’s okay, really, no big deal!” Amity waved a hand, snatching a napkin off the table and dabbing at the spot.

“You sure? I could go...get you something or…,” she started, unsure.

“NO, no it’s fine, really…,” she insisted and Luz frowned. She must have embarrassed the other girl, her face was tinged red as she wiped at the spot, and was trying not to look Luz in the eyes.

‘Mierda’ Luz cursed under her breath.

Clearly, Amity did not want to talk about the spill anymore, so Luz cleared her throat, drawing the young woman’s gaze.

“What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the… party type,” she asked and Amity rolled her eyes and Luz’s chest seized up, wondering if she’d insulted her until Amity spoke again.

“I’m not, but my brother and sister are members here and all but forced me to come tonight,” she huffed. “I’d much rather be back in my dorm, studying for our quiz in lit appreciation Monday and not getting a headache from this music.” she frowned and Luz blinked.

“Oh, Mierda! I forgot about the quiz!” Luz slapped her hands to her cheeks and Amity blinked at her before laughing.

“It was written on the board yesterday and the professor sent out an email reminder this morning.”

“Ugh, I didn’t check my email today,” she groaned, squishing her cheeks.

“Well, you still have tomorrow to study,” Amity offered.

“There was so much material to cover though…” Luz groaned. “I’m not gonna sleep all weekend, I’m going to have to cram till I push out every memory of the third grade just to make room for it all.” She frowned, already thinking about all the coffee she was going to have to drink before Monday morning, and on Monday morning.

Amity was biting her lip, thinking, but decided to take the chance.

“You can come study with me. Only if you want that is!” she quickly finished, pushing a stray strand of dyed, half mint, green, half auburn hair behind one of her ears.

“Really?” Luz asked.

“Yeah, I was just about to get out of here anyway, I’ve had enough of the party…” she said, looking around at all the people crowded into the room.

“Yeah, I’d love to!” Luz jumps on the opportunity, cause why wouldn’t she. “Oh, I came with Gus and Willow…” she remembers her friends somewhere in the house.

“Oh…” Amity seems to deflate a little at that. “Maybe another time?”

“No, it’s all good! I’m just gonna go tell them I’m headed out. You, uh, wanna meet outside?” she asks and Amity is smiling at her again and Luz just wants to melt into a puddle on the floor as those amber eyes stare back at her

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you.”

“Great! I’ll be quick,” she promises as she runs back out into the crowd, looking for her friends. It takes her about ten minutes to find them in the living room.

“Hye guys, is it cool with you if I head out?”

“Where are you going?” Willow questions her.

“I ran into Amity, who reminded me we have a quiz in lit appreciation Monday and I really need to study and she offered to study with me, so…” she trails off, seeing the look Willow is giving her. The horticulture student is very aware of Luz’s crush, despite her never really saying anything about it. She does not count gushing to the shorter girl about how smart and pretty Amity is as ‘saying anything about it’.

“Why would you wanna leave a party to study?” Gus makes a face and Willow smirks.

“I think it’s more about who she’s studying with…” she says knowingly and Luz blushes as Gus blinks at her, confused.

“It’s cool, Luz. Go study with Amity.”

Luz does not care for the knowing way Willow says the other woman’s names, with a teasing lilt, but she’s not concerning herself with that for now.

“Thanks, guys, I’ll see you later,” She calls, already running toward the front door.

She doesn’t immediately see Amity, in fact, the yard in front of the house is empty, everyone inside.

Luz frowns, looking around. Did she get tired of waiting?

Her chest aches a little at the thought, shoulders slumping, and is just about to turn around and go back in the house when she hears something that does not match the thumping bass of the music inside, voices. She walks quietly around to the side of the house and peeks around the wall curiously, if college has taught her anything it’s that there are students making out anywhere at any given time and not to look too closely into dark corners where sounds are coming from.

Her eyes widen as she spots Amity right away, her back is pressed against the wall and a guy dressed in a toga is standing in front of her, leaning down over her. He’s not particularly big, but he’s standing uncomfortably close with his hands wrapped around both of her wrists, hands fisted, Amity is scowling angrily up at him. Luz’s brows furrow between her eyes and she frowns, walking over quickly.

“I said let go!” Amity snaps, trying to rip her hands free from his grip and he’s so close she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Come on, just a little kiss, it’s Halloween…” He leans forward and Amity turns her head away, sneering.

“I don’t care if it’s fucking Christmas!” she snarled. “I said no!”

“Hey!” Luz shouts standing just a few feet away now. “She said no!” she growled, lips pulled back over her fangs.

“Luz!” Amity stares at her wide-eyed.

“This is none of your business bitch, go howl at the moon,” he slurred before turning back to Amity and yanking on one of her hands. She yelps in pain as he jerks her and Luz is moving forward before she even knows it and her fist is connecting with the side of his face.

He goes fumbling backward, releasing Amity as he stumbles to his butt in the grass.

“Santa mierda, eso duele!” she hissed, shaking out her screaming hand.

“Come on!” Amity grabs her other hand and starts to pull her away but then the guy is scrambling to his feet and coming at her with a strangled yell and Luz does the first thing she can think of, she uses their joined hands to yank Amity behind her and then the guy’s fist connects with her face and her world an explosion of pain and crunching noises.

She’s only vaguely aware of Amity screaming her name as her back hits the grass and everything goes black for a second but then she’s quickly pulled back to consciousness by his hand fisted into the front of her shirt and her fight or flight instincts kick in and she’s swinging wildly at his ugly mug as quickly as she can.

Her hands protest every hit that connects with his stone-hard face but she doesn’t stop and he’s swinging back, but she can hardly feel it over the constant pain radiating from her nose through her whole body.

She just clenches her eyes shut and keeps swinging, punching him as hard as she can, but then there are more voices and two large burly guys have him in a stranglehold, pulling him off her.

Amity had dashed back inside to grab the houses ‘bouncers’ standing just inside the door.

“Oh my god, Luz!” Amity holds her hands over her mouth as she kneels onto the ground next to her, looking over her face in horror.

“Ugh…” is all she can manage and then Amity is grabbing her hand and helping to her feet and dragging her across the yard, fumbling, panicked through her purse before finally pulling out her keys. She unlocks the passenger side door of a small black sedan and carefully pushes Luz into the passenger seat.

“Keep your head tilted back,” she says before closing the door and hurrying around to the other side, and jumping in the driver’s seat.

It’s only now that Luz realizes she can taste blood and reaches up to touch her top lip and pulls her hand back to see her fingers covered in the crimson liquid.

‘Well, that’s not good,’ she thinks, but it definitely explains why her face hurts so bad.

She tilts her head back but can feel it dribbling down her chin and neck as Amity pulls away from the curb, much faster than the speed limit, Luz is sure as the tires squeal.

She runs her tongue across her teeth and feels a distinct lack of a point and groans, making Amity glance at her.

“I think I swallowed one of my teeth…,” she mumbles more to herself but Amity’s pained expression turns into a grimace as they speed down the road.

Which was how she found herself sitting next to her crush in the ER with her head tilted back and the front of her once white shirt stained crimson as her nose continues to bleed.

Halloween is apparently a very popular time for injury because it’s crowded and takes two hours for someone to see her, while they wait Amity fills out her paperwork for her.

“Birthday?” she asks glumly, and Luz tells her. She hasn’t said much since they left the party, she looks miserable, and that’s coming from someone who is doing their best impression of a fountain with her nose. She can’t stand that face Amity is making. “Allergies?”

“Lactose intolerant, so no milk IV’s,” she jokes, despite the incredible pain in her face. Amity starts to write but then stops, blinking, before turning to look at her grin.

“How can you joke? You just got beat up… because of me.” she frowns.

“No, I got my block busted because some guy was being a pendejo.” Luz frowns. “It wasn’t your fault, and I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him….do whatever he wanted!” she scowled, throwing up a hand.

Amity is looking at her with an unreadable expression, but before she can say anything they are calling her back.

“Oh goody, my turn.”

It takes forty-five minutes for them to tell her that her nose is broken, which she could have told them when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, a bloody mess and her nose pushed to the side at an odd angle. No wonder Amity had been so panicked and run all those red lights.

Putting it back in place is… not fun, and then the doctor stuffs gauze in her nose and splints the outside, telling her she needs to keep the gauze in for a week and then sends her on her way with a prescription for antibiotics and some mild painkillers.

Amity is waiting for her when she comes out.

“What did he say?” she stands as Luz walks back out into the waiting room and frowns at the splint on her face.

“It’s broke.” she shrugs and Amity grimaces as they walk out back to the parking lot.

“I am so sorry, Luz.” Amity frowned. “If I’d just…”

“Hey,” Luz cut her off, she wasn’t having any of that. “I told you, it’s not your fault, technically, I started that fight… didn’t win it, but I started it,” she laughed to herself.

“You are surprisingly chipper for someone who just got their nose broken…” Amity can’t help but smile a little at the other woman’s cheery disposition.

“It’s not the first time I’ve broken something you know. The first time someone helped me along, but hey! Besides, I helped you, and that’s good enough for me.” She smiled as they stopped next to Amity’s car. Amity has a small smile on her face as she unlocks the car. “I hope this is healed up by thanksgiving or my mom is going to have a cow…,” she mumbled as an afterthought. Amity giggled to herself.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The drive is mostly quiet until they pull up into the parking lot in front of Luz’s dorm building. Willow is probably already back in their room.

“Do you think this will get me out of the quiz Monday?” Luz wonders aloud as she unbuckles and Amity laughs.

“Doubtful... but…, if you’re up for it, I feel like I should at least treat you to breakfast or something for what you did… we could study after?” she offers.

Luz blinks at her, finally realizing what exactly is going on. She was certain before when Amity had asked her to study that she was just being nice, but the way she looks now, fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel and glancing at Luz out of the corner of her eye, she finally catches on and curses how oblivious she is at times.

“Like… a date?” she asks uncertainly and Amity flinches.

‘Y-Yeah.” she jerks her head in a nod and Luz is silent for a few seconds too long it seems. “If you don’t want to…!”

“No! No I do, want to go on a date with you, yes!” Luz nods, too fast, it makes her nose throb.

“Really?” now Amity is turned to look at her, eyes wide, with a hopeful glint.

“Yes, absolutely.” Does she sound too eager? Probably, but she does not care, especially when Amity’s face lights up with that adorable little smile she’s seen on her face once or twice before in class when they talked and now she feels even dumber for not catching on quicker.

They plan for Amity to pick her up here at nine tomorrow morning and then Luz opens the door, but Amity stops her.

“Thank you, Luz… I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up...” Amity says finally.

“Amity Blight, I will be your fearless champion anytime you need me too!” she declares, a fist on her chest. The bandages and bloodstains, as well as her nasally stuffed up voice, diminishes the gesture some, but Amity smiles adoringly at her none the less.

She hesitates a second before reaching across the console to lay a hand gently on Luz’s cheek before leaning forward to quickly kiss the other. Luz’s face erupts in red as her heart hammers in her chest.

“My fearless champion,” she agrees, cheeks a bright pink.

Luz’s face erupts in a grin.

Maybe the evening started poorly, but she can’t find it in herself to mind one bit.

#Halloween #Lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Willow park #Gus Porter #fic #toh #the owl house #gay

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emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

The Casket of the Armadillos (by Edgar Allan Nope)

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 9 - buried alive

Summary: When Shawn confronts a grad student turned murderer, he learns a very important lesson a very hard way: Don’t piss off English nerds - especially the homicidal ones.

Characters: Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Henry

Words: 5,924

TW: panic attacks, buried alive, claustrophobia

Note: If you liked this classic lit-inspired Psych fic, you can always check out this one I wrote, inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird: The Finch and the Mockingbird

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!

- Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”

Her name was Olivia Hale, she was a twenty-three-year-old grad student at UCSB, and she was working on her doctorate in American lit. She was attractive in a cute librarian sort of way - short and petite, with long, curly auburn hair she kept in a bun and oversized glasses with thick lenses, and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose. She knew a little bit about everything when it came to literature as a whole, a rather impressive amount about American literature, and absolutely everything there was to know about the life and works of one Edgar Allan Poe.

She was also batshit crazy and currently pointing a .22 pistol directly at Shawn’s head.

“Don’t move,” she growled, disengaging the safety.

Shawn did a cursory glance around the empty classroom, looking for anything at all he could use to his advantage, to distract her or attack her with or - worst case scenario - to use as a shield. But Olivia had found him snooping around on the tiny fourth floor study room that she’d been given to use by the department chair as her thesis headquarters. She’d really made herself at home here, piling books and journals and what seemed like hundreds of loose sheets of paper on every available surface.

But he was stranded in the middle of the room, with nothing close enough to use as a weapon, and so Shawn used the most powerful tool he had, one that had saved his life and many others, wooed women all over the country, and ordered more chili cheese dogs than he could count.

He started talking.

“Look, Olivia, I get it,” he said soothingly. Slowly, in the most non-threatening manner possible, he lowered his hands. Olivia gripped the pistol tighter but didn’t shoot. “I know what happened. You didn’t mean to kill him.”

Her eyes were wide and fierce, her lips pursed into a thin line. “No,” she admitted. “It was an accident. But he was going to--”

“Yeees,” drawled Shawn, slowly raising his left hand and putting it to his temple, very well aware that he was probably pushing the limit with all of this movement after she had expressly ordered, at gunpoint, for him to stay still. “I see it. Dr. Graves was feeling guilty, wasn’t he? A fifty-five-year-old professor with a fancy PhD and tenure, and a devoted wife and three kids and two grandkids, to boot. The perfect life. But oooh, it wasn’t enough for him, was it?”

Shawn immediately answered his own question, something that he had become exceptionally good at over the years since he was usually the only one who could keep up with himself. “Of course not! What’s the perfect job and family when you’ve got a smokin’ hot, super smart student in her mid-twenties who thinks you’re the most impressive man on the planet?”

She sneered, and Shawn noticed with some trepidation that the hand holding the gun trembled just the tiniest bit. When she spoke, her voice warbled with rage. “My age and appearance had nothing to do with it - and even if it did, there was nothing wrong with our relationship! We were perfect for each other, intellectual equals. We were on each other’s levels - he was my soulmate! So don’t you dare belittle what we had like that!”

Ah. So he had hit a nerve. This could now go either one of two ways, in Shawn’s extensive experience in being held hostage: Either she would get fed up and send a bullet screaming through his body, Garth Longmore style, or she would let her emotions distract her, and cause her to make a stupid mistake. Obviously, Shawn hoped for the latter.

Now Shawn had to make a choice, because he could proceed in one of two ways: Either he could back off and try from another angle, or he could further antagonize her into (hopefully) making a mistake. Naturally, Shawn went with the latter.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed airily. “Older men and younger women do it all the time. But to say there was nothing wrong with your relationship? The man was married, and you were his student. I’m not the headmaster here -”

“Dean,” she corrected sharply, and this further proved that Shawn had pegged her correctly as a know-it-all literature wunderkind who had to be right one thousand percent of the time. “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

Shawn gave a tiny shrug. “To be honest, all big schools look like Hogwarts to me.”

“Because you have the mind of a child.” The words were accusatory and patronizing, but Shawn flashed a dazzling smile.

“Thank you,” he said. Before she could respond, he continued his earlier thoughts, “Even though you were the ‘perfect couple,’ you were furious with him for even suggesting that you stop seeing one another. The affair was too risky, and he missed his wife. He wanted to tell her the truth, fix things.”

“It would have ruined everything!” Olivia hissed, and the sound of her voice sent shivers down Shawn’s spine. There was an unhinged quality to it, something raw and dangerous that he hadn’t sensed before. He fought the sudden urge to backpedal as far away from her as possible. “We were perfect together! And if he told his wife and she let it slip, I would be kicked out! All my research, all my time and work here, everything would be gone! He had no right to make that decision for me, to take away my future!”

“Maybe,” said Shawn, and it was like he was watching from outside his body, because he knew that what he was about to say was a big mistake, but he was helpless to stop the words from tumbling from his lips, “you should have thought more about your future before you pursued your married Shakespeare teacher.”

Fury etched itself into every feature of her face, turning her from a beautiful librarian to a feral monster, but her voice was slow and measured as if it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to shoot him where he stood. “He taught Southern. Gothic. Masterpieces.”

Shawn tried to backtrack, to undo whatever damage had been done by his unpredictably big mouth. “But,” he pressed. “Killing him was an accident. You didn’t mean to push him down four flights of stairs.”

She considered this. “No, I didn’t mean to kill him,” she reaffirmed, and then an odd calm smoothed out the angry crevices between her eyebrows - the peace, perhaps, of having come to an important decision that she knew was absolutely right. Shawn recognized the look because he’d seen it on others’ faces before (very rarely, if ever, had he seen it upon his own). “And I don’t think I will kill you, either.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Everything about this woman screamed insane and vengeful. If Shawn lived, he would turn her into the police, and she would go to jail for a very long time. She was incredibly intelligent - surely she knew this!

And then she clarified, and the world started to make sense again - though Shawn would have honestly been perfectly content in this alternate reality where the bad guy suddenly has a miraculous change of heart. “Well,” she amended, “I won’t kill you directly. I’ve never shot anyone before - I only have this little guy here because I’m a young, pretty girl on a big college campus, and I have two night classes. Besides, your death shouldn’t be so easy.”

Shawn swallowed. “Olivia, you don’t have to do this. You haven’t intentionally killed anyone yet. If you turn yourself in now and cooperate, your sentence will be a lot shorter than if you kill me - directly or not. Because make no mistake, even if you kill me, you will still get caught. The SBPD has some damn good detectives, and they’ll bring you down even if I don’t.”

She didn’t respond to him directly. Instead, her expression was flat save for the dark gleam in her eyes, and she intoned words that in and of themselves had no meaning to Shawn, but that still managed to strike a chord of fear deep inside of his soul. “‘The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.’” Shawn was utterly unnerved by this point; it was like she had been taken over by something both sinister and incredibly well-spoken.

And indeed, in many ways she had, as Shawn soon found out, she was quoting the beginning of a story by Edgar Allan Poe.

Presently, however, Shawn had no context for her strange words or sudden shift of demeanor. His skin crawled and his heart pumped with more get-up-and-go than he’d ever been able to muster in his whole body before. “Uh, Olivia…”

“Move,” she ordered.

This time, though it was contrary to his nature, Shawn did what she said without arguing. This side of the student, with stolen words sliding evilly from her mouth, was a million times scarier than the enraged Olivia who had very nearly shot him between the eyes.

She marched him out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the main lobby of the English building. It was dark outside, nearing midnight, and Shawn kicked himself for thinking he was clever for coming to investigate this late. He’d thought she’d be at home sleeping. He should have realized that as a grad student, sleeping was the one thing she wouldn’t have time for! And now he was in very deep trouble, alone, and no one knew where he was. He should have waited until morning, until the building wasn’t deserted, should have at least called Gus and told him what he was doing. But it was a college campus, and she was a tiny little literature nerd - it should have been safe!

As she forced him down one flight of stairs, then two, then three, and finally, into a stairwell off the beaten path that had to be unlocked with a key card - which she had - she continued to encant, her voice slowly losing its flatness and growing into something twisted and sing-songy with every word.

“‘You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point, definitely, settled - but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk.’”

“Olivia--”

It was as if she hadn’t heard him as she shoved him into the basement, and now her voice stilled from a chant to a slow, measured whisper.. “‘I must not only punish but punish with impunity.’”

Shawn wasn’t sure what impunity was, but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

Their final destination ended up being a small, partially finished storage room near the back of the basement. Dusty boxes and rusted cabinets and archaic old computer monitors lined the walls and cluttered most of the walking space. Shawn was reminded grimly of a school supply graveyard.

Olivia stopped him when they came to a brick wall that had been busted through to fix some issue with the pipes - Shawn saw the water stains on the concrete floor near the break in the wall, and there was a brand new water pipe joined to an old, yellowed one at about eye-level in the small open space between the bricks and the drywall beyond. Shawn also noticed that the new bricks had been neatly piled up near a sealed bucket that almost certainly contained mortar, right outside of the hole. Someone was in the process of walling this section back up.

“Nice wall,” Shawn joked, relieved that Olivia had finally stopped her creepy recitation and desperately trying to lighten the mood and bring things back to some sort of normal - honestly, he’d take being threatened with the gun again to the horror movie stuff he’d just witnessed. “I bet all the other walls are jealous of it.”

It was a lame joke, but her eerie dramatics had him all kinds of messed up. He expected her to tell him to shut up, or to threaten to shoot him again, or to actually shoot him, but instead she asked him a question in that same cold, calm voice as before. “Have you ever read ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Shawn?”

Shawn blinked. “I make it a point not to read anything that’s not a magazine from the 80s or WikiHow articles on ‘How to Escape from Dangerous Forest Animals.’”

The corner of her lips lifted in a mockery of a satisfied smile. “Good. Then you’ll get to experience it for yourself, first hand. Just wait until you get to the ending! You’re going to love it.”

Somehow, Shawn doubted that very much.

Still holding the gun on him with one hand, she reached her free hand into the cross-body bag she wore and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Shawn groaned.

“Come on! What college student just carries handcuffs in their school bag?” Then he remembered that this particular student had until recently been having a passionate affair with her teacher. “Wait - never mind. It makes perfect sense.”

She laughed, even though what he said wasn’t even remotely funny. The sound of it was strange and discordant - light and tinkly with a threatening undertone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Then she gestured at the hole in the wall and ordered, “In.”

Shawn had known it was coming, but had tried to shove that knowledge into the corner of his mind - something that was quite difficult to do for someone with a photographic and eidetic memory - in an effort to convince himself that even she wasn’t that cruel. He tried to appeal to her one last time: “Olivia, it’s not too late to stop this. I mean, are you really going to do this to another human being - seriously, look at this place - it’s dusty and moldy and I’m almost certain there’s no room service! If you’re going to chain me to a pipe, why not do it in a five star hotel?” When she nudged him with the gun, eyes gleaming with something dark and triumphant, he reluctantly stepped into the small space and implored, “I’ll even settle for a seedy motel off a poorly lit backroad. I’m not too picky.”

She didn’t answer him as she stood on her tiptoes and handcuffed Shawn’s wrists around the pipe, cinching them so tight that the metal dug into his skin and he doubted that even his dad’s lessons on escaping handcuffs wouldn’t be much help here. Already he could feel his fingers going numb, and his shoulders and back had started to ache from the hunched position he was forced to take due to the height of the pipe and the awkward angle of his arms.

Well, Shawn thought glumly as she smiled at her handiwork and carefully backed out of the small space, maybe all wasn’t lost. Surely someone would come down here and find him. This place was dusty, but it couldn’t be abandoned - work still needed to be done down here, after all. And he could always yell for help once he was sure Olivia was gone. She was booksmart, but maybe she wasn’t criminally minded. He might be in for an uncomfortable night, but in the morning someone would find him and he could have his vision and the cute little psychopath would go to jail for a very long time.

He waited for her to leave, but instead, she used a crowbar to pry the lid off the bucket of mortar, and the pit in Shawn’s stomach became a whole-ass trench. He should have seen this coming - his heart pounded madly against his rib cage as if trying to free itself, with or without him. He couldn’t blame it. “Olivia, please,” he said, and this time, there was no joke, his voice imploring and terrified. “You don’t have -”

Again, she cut him off. “How would you like to hear a story before you die, Shawn?” she asked in a tone so casual that she could have been asking him if he wanted to grab a taco.

“How about you tell me a story and then I don’t die?” Shawn bargained weakly.

“Mmmm… If you stay alive, my whole life will be ruined,” Olivia reasoned. “And I have worked far too hard to allow that to happen. So. You just stand there - quietly - and I’ll tell you the story of Poe’s most beloved tale of revenge. I won’t tell you word for word, of course - we don’t have time for that - but for posterity, I do have it memorized.” She sounded grotesquely proud of that fact. “It’s my favorite of his stories, after all.”

And so, as she slowly began to brick up the hole in the wall, with Shawn trapped, helpless and in a dissociative state of panic, she told him the story of two men with really stupid names that Shawn somehow managed, despite his raging fear, to file away for later as possible nicknames for Gus.

“Our story starts in Italy, during the carnival, and our narrator is a man named Montresor, who has a grudge against his once-friend, now-foe, Fortunato…”

The story was an interesting one, even to Shawn, who preferred watching over reading and especially over listening any day. And as it turned out, Olivia was a really good storyteller. If he had been in any other position, Shawn might have actually enjoyed the suspenseful tale of revenge.

But as he stooped there and was forced to listen, all he could think about was about how terrified this Fortunato guy must have been, and then he started wondering how long it had been before the man hadn’t been able to hold his bladder or… other things… anymore, and then about what had happened when he was too tired and dizzy to stand up, if the manacles on his wrists had pulled so hard against his flesh that they cut into him, and if lack of water or oxygen killed him first, all the while he knew that he wasn’t asking these questions for the sake of the fictional character. He was asking them for himself. Olivia had made it exceedingly clear - for a literature scholar, she was surprisingly un-subtle about any underlying meanings or motives - that Fortunato’s story was now to be his story.

It wasn’t until she had begun discussing with rapture the brilliance of Poe’s use of the Italian carnival as the setting of a story about murder (because of its abandonment of social order, whatever that meant) and had built up all but the last two bricks, leaving a hole around Shawn’s eye level, that came to the most horrifying realization yet. He’d been so focused on his own thoughts and fears with Olivia’s words washing over him like an acid bath that he’d barely registered that the dim light in the hole had been darkening incrementally with each new brick placed. Now he came to the bone-chilling understanding that once she placed those last two bricks, he would be completely in the dark.

He was going to die, alone, terrified, and in utter darkness with fear as his only friend. He thought in that moment that he might die of a heart attack before he could even think about dehydrating or suffocating. Honestly, it sounded like an easier way to go.

“Well,” said Olivia finally. “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure to meet you in any way, Shawn, but I suppose I should thank you. Ever since I found out about this unfinished wall down here, I’ve had this unscratchable itch to recreate the titular scene from my favorite Poe story. You gave me the means and justification to do it!”

Shawn was so overcome by the surging sea of fear and early-onset claustrophobia that he couldn’t even muster up the gumption to make a joke about the word titular. Instead, as Olivia knelt down next to her bag, rooting around for something, he jerked madly against the handcuffs, desperately searching for any give in the metal or the pipe he was handcuffed to (or even his wrists, at this point he wasn’t picky). But the pipe was new, and it was sturdy, and so was the fitting that connected it to the old one, which itself didn’t seem too keen on budging, either.

A sick grin teased at Olivia’s parted lips. “Oh, Fortunato tried that too. But then he stopped crying and struggling and chose to die with a shred of dignity. But I highly doubt dignity is something you’re capable of.”

And then, with the finality of fitting a lid to a coffin, she slapped a piece of fluorescent pink duct tape over his mouth and a fresh wave of panic ravaged Shawn’s everything. He didn’t remember this happening in her retelling of the story! Then again, the Fortunato guy had been sealed into catacombs deep underground. Shawn was in the basement of a heavily trafficked university building. Someone would actually hear him if he called for help, so she took his voice away from him too. He couldn’t even sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” to pass his time or distract him from the inevitable. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he would die in the dark, he would die in the quiet too - and silence was, as his incessant need for chatter plainly proved, Shawn’s worst enemy.

“Goodbye, Shawn,” Olivia said, and she added one brick, layered on the mortar, and then gave her captive one last satisfied glance before adding the last brick and leaving Shawn in total, impenetrable darkness. He would never forget that last, terrible look in her eyes before his world went black - she was no longer human; she had elevated herself to the level of the storytelling gods and she relished in the twisted power she held over the life of another human.

As her footsteps clipped away, her voice, obscenely gleeful, called out, “In pace requiescat!”

***

The next ten hours were the worst of Shawn’s life, and they consisted of five main elements all bundled together into a nightmare that would stalk him for the rest of his life.

Cold. It was the middle of January, and though it couldn’t have been less than forty-five degrees outside, the basement - especially behind the walls - was chilly, and with the musty smell and the dust and the pitch black, Shawn was reminded far too much of a grave and knew that he might as well be in one, because this was going to be his. It was the kind of cold that bit deeper than the skin and wormed its way into the very core and dug its icy fangs in and refused to let go - the chill of death, an open invitation from the dead to join them in their home beneath the ground. He shivered a lot, but he couldn’t be sure if it was the cold, or the panic. It was probably a little of both.

Dark. The darkness that surrounded him had an unreal nature that could easily trick the eyes into thinking that they were already closed. It was oppressive and thick, pressing in from all sides, inky black water dredged from the depths of the sea.

Shawn had never been a fan of the dark, but neither did he exactly fear it. That changed the second that the last brick was put into place and he found himself in a darkness so severe that were in not for the feeling of floor beneath his feet he could have been suspended in the depths of space so remote that not even stars could reach. The darkness swarmed his senses - it had a physical presence, and it didn’t lessen, never permitted Shawn’s eyes to adjust to it in the slightest. It just hung there, surrounded him, assaulted his mind with its infinite arsenal of nightmares.

After experiencing true darkness, Shawn would never sleep without a nightlight again (which unfortunately meant he couldn’t judge Gus anymore for using one, either).

Pain. At first it was just the pull of his shoulders, the ache in his back. Then, about five minutes after he’d been sealed up, he realized his wrists were screaming with agony - he must have torn them badly when he fought to get away, but the adrenaline staved off the pain until now. He vaguely wondered how deeply the cuffs had cut - it felt like the skin on his wrists had been flayed - but quickly remembered that it didn’t matter where he was going.

Then there were the hunger pangs, and they mingled with the cramps from holding his bladder longer than he ever had before, and at some point muscle spasms in his arms and chest and legs joined the choir of suffering. At one point, he shed a few tears, but they could have just as easily been from anxiety or exhaustion, which itself produced its own kind of pain - he longed to sleep, but his body refused to allow him even that comfort until the very end, right before he was rescued, as if he were being forced on pain of death to endure the pain of death right up until the very moment of his painful death.

At least he didn’t have too much trouble breathing. There must have been a crack somewhere in the wall in front of or behind him, because fresh air was entering somehow. He did, several hours into his imprisonment, begin finding it difficult to pull in a full breath, and by the time he was rescued he was giddy with light-headedness, but he didn’t know if it was from the air quality or exhaustion or panic or from being forced to breathe only through his nose for hours, but he really didn’t care.

Quiet. Even worse than the cold and the dark and the pain was the quiet. The tape over his mouth prevented him from doing the one thing that could bring him comfort in even the most difficult of situations. Talking was what Shawn did - he utilized mindless prattle to distract bad guys, to make people underestimate him, to quell fear and panic in himself and those around him, to annoy and wheedle those whose opinions meant the most to him (and who he was most afraid to be real with), and most importantly, to distract himself from all the pain and baggage that his exceptional memory had filed away for him throughout the years. Talking nonsense meant that he wasn’t thinking about or acknowledging the parts of himself that arguably needed the most attention, those bits that were scared and unsure and hurt and vulnerable.

Shawn had always detested silence, and now it had invaded so intimately that even he could not drive it out.

And all of these culminated in a constant, agonizing state of absolute, unrelenting fear.

Panic attacks are horrific things that take your natural instincts in potentially dangerous situations and turn them against you in the cruelest of ways. They suck the air out of your lungs and make your heart pound so fast and so hard that you are convinced it’s going to give out in pure fatigue and never make it to that next beat. It makes your skin crawl like there are thousands of spiders nesting there, and your chest hurts and your breath is short and stunted and you know you are dying, that the next breath will be your last, but it isn’t, and the fear just continues and sometimes you curl into a ball or rock back and forth or scratch at your skin.

Panic attacks generally last anywhere from five to twenty minutes. Shawn was stuck in a state of raw, unfiltered panic for ten hours. When the EMTs at the scene took his heart rate, it was 160, had been the entire time he’d been buried in a collegiate tomb, knowing that he was going to die.

Put simply, Shawn Spencer spent ten hours in his own personal hell.

***

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Detectives Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter, with the help of a frantic Gus and a worried Henry that tried his damndest not to show how worried he was, made the final connections in the case and tracked down the woman who had slept with and then killed her lover like a hyper-intelligent, book-loving black widow. Juliet and Gus remained on the college campus to continue investigating while Lassiter and Henry went on to the station to question Olivia. She had refused to say where the missing psychic detective was, however, and only offered one bitter phrase, spoken in another language that sounded to the questioning party like a curse being placed on their heads:

“Nemo me impune lacessit.”

It was Gus who figured it out after Lassiter related the cryptic saying over the phone.

“I know that phrase!” he exclaimed to a swell of raised eyebrows. “It’s Latin! It means no one wounds me with impunity!”

“You speak Latin?” Juliet seemed impressed.

“Not much. But I recognize that particular saying, because it’s from a story that gave me nightmares my entire sophomore year of college.” He shuddered. “It’s from the second-most terrifying Poe story.” He didn’t elaborate on what the first-most terrifying one was, largely because he didn’t want to give the others fodder to use “The Tell-Tale Heart” against him like Shawn already did. Then the full implications of the words sunk in and he gasped, “We have to find Shawn, now.” The horror in his expression sent a chill down Juliet’s spine.

“Gus - what the hell are you talking about?” Henry was no longer trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“It’s from ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Gus clarified, his own panic making it difficult to express himself clearly.

“Guster, this is hardly the time for you to have a glass of wine,” Lassiter barked. “Now stop talking in riddles and just spit it out!”

But Juliet had now made the connection as well and answered for Gus. “Oh my gosh - isn’t that the one where the guy is sealed into a wall and left to die?”

The dread in Gus’s eyes said it all.

“He’s got to be somewhere on campus,” Henry reasoned, and his voice shook the tiniest bit. “Lassiter and I are on our way back to you now. In the meantime, check with the school and see if there are any places that are easily accessed and under construction.”

No one said it aloud, but the possibility that her words hadn’t been a hint at all and that Shawn was somewhere else entirely hung in the air amongst them. It was funny, Juliet thought - though it wasn’t funny at all - she urgently needed Gus’s theory to be right, because otherwise they would have no leads, but at the same time, she was terrified of the implications if it were true.

Her heart felt as sick as Montresor’s when he placed the last brick as she and Gus raced to the administration building and prayed they weren’t too late.

***

When they broke through the wall, the sight that greeted them was one that would never leave them - any of them. Even Lassiter, who made it his sacred duty to remain unfazed by anything his job threw at him was visibly disturbed.

A moment of silence, a beat where time stood still and everyone was afraid to move, and then -

“Shawn!” The four rescuers surged forward as one, but Henry got there first, his trembling fingers groping for a pulse - thank God, but it was racing, dangerously fast, and in the background he heard Lassiter radioing for an ambulance.

Shawn woke up as Henry gently peeled the hideous pink duct tape (an affront to all duct tape everywhere) off of his mouth. It wasn’t a gentle waking, a flutter of eyelashes or the murmuring of a name - it was violent and erratic, fueled by terror.

Henry had had to deal with panic attacks before - mostly Gus’s when he took the boys camping together, but once or twice when Shawn was really young and he’d had a bad dream. This one was the worst that he’d ever seen - Shawn woke with a muffled yell, panting through his nose, writhing, tears streaming down his face, eyes squeezed shut against the trauma he’d been subjected to, and he threw himself against the handcuffs so fiercely that Henry feared he’d break his wrists.

Soon his wrists were freed, though, and Henry, with the help of Lassiter, helped a weakened Shawn out of the wall and into the basement and lowered him to the floor. Henry sat with him and rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him, Juliet took his hand, and Gus reassured him while Lassiter ran up the stairs to check on the ETA of the ambulance.

Twenty minutes later, Shawn had been placed onto a stretcher and carried up the stairs and out into the sunlight - sensing the warm rays, he opened his eyes only to pinch them shut again as the brightness after so many hours in the dark nearly blinded him. He had been given something to calm him down, and he would be going to the hospital to be checked over and observed overnight, and a psychiatrist would be sent in to evaluate him in the morning, and everything was moving so fast that Shawn leaned over the side of the stretcher and deposited the remnants of the last thing he’d eaten, nearly twelve hours before.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get,” he gasped as he was eased back onto the stretcher. “Where do the armadillos come into her plan?”

The EMTs exchanged a concerned look at the stretcher, probably wondering if there had been some carbon monoxide poisoning after all. Gus, however, just rolled his eyes.

“Amontillado, Shawn. It’s a kind of wine.”

“The story is called ‘The Casket of the Armadillos,’” Shawn argued stubbornly, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest, pulling at the IV in his right hand.

Gus was going to argue, to insist that he’d actually read the story (and why the heck would someone fill a casket with armadillos?), but then Gus saw the plea in Shawn’s hazel eyes, that need for jokes and silliness, and understood that his best friend was clinging onto his last shreds of control.

“You know what - I forgot,” Gus corrected, shaking his head and giving himself a light smack on the forehead for good measure. “It is ‘The Casket of Armadillos.’” He glared out at Henry, at Lassiter and Juliet and the EMTs, defying them to challenge his claim. No one did, but they all shared a similar baffled expression.

Well, they could deal with their confusion, Gus thought protectively as he watched Shawn and Henry disappear into the ambulance. Shawn had been through a night of unspeakable horror, so if it was armadillos he wanted, then it was armadillos he was going to get.

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sides-of-demigods · 5 years ago

Text

The Forest Incident Pt. 2

Word count: 2,197

Warnings: Cursing, blood mention, fighting, injuries, scorpions. If you see anything else you think may trigger people PLEASE let me know.

Author's note: Originally I thought I was going to do this in two parts but it ended up being way longer than I thought it would, so it'll have to be three, maybe four parts.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Virgil shared one last look with Patton before leaving the room in a huff.

Damn it, why did he have to work with Roman Prince of all people? He would have preferred Dennis and he was like 12.

Okay maybe not really, because something about that kid really unnerved Virgil and made him really uncomfortable.

But still!

And worse, what Thomas said actually made sense.

Plus, as annoying as it was when Roman rubbed it in his face, out of the four of them Virgil had been there the shortest amount of time while Roman had been there the longest.

Roman would know the woods way better than Virgil did, and without him, Virgil would probably get lost.

And getting lost in the woods is a BAD idea.

Virgil begrudgingly got together everything he assumed he'd need: A baggie of ambrosia, water, a couple of protein bars because who knew how long they'd be out there.

He didn't have a full medkit and certainly wasn't a healer but all campers, especially older ones, had basic First Aid training, so he had bandages and rubbing alcohol, cleaning gauze, tweezers, and medical tape inside a small First Aid kit.

His sword and shield of course.

He debated on bringing his headphones, but eventually decided against it. As nice as it would be to muffle Princey's voice, he needed to be aware of his surroundings.

He still hesitated because the comforting weight of them could help with his anxiety, but overall his anxiety would help him be aware and observant, plus he was pretty sure it made his reflexes faster.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Virgil sat with Skylar and Heather at Dinner, sacrificed some of his meal to Phobos, sat with Logan and Patton at the bonfire and didn't participate in the sing-along. The usual.

But he kept shooting glances at Roman Prince. He wasn't sure why, but he told himself it was to see how Roman was reacting to the arrangement.

But as far as he could tell, the auburn-haired boy didn't really seem fazed. He was singing, laughing, and talking with his siblings as usual.

Virgil wasn't sure what to make of that.

Then, it was the next morning.

Virgil got dressed as quietly as he could as to not wake his siblings. He left a note saying he was running an errand for Thomas with Patton, Logan, and Roman so they wouldn't worry but didn't say what the mission was.

He shouldered his backpack and made sure his sword was in its sheath.

He grabbed his shield but didn't secure it on his arm yet, as dealing with the shield would be a hassle, and left the cabin.

As he emerged he caught a glimpse of the slightly rosy sky over the trees before he turned away and was on his way to meet the others.

Everyone else was already waiting for him on the porch of the Big House, which Virgil was expecting since their cabins were so much closer than his.

Well everyone except Logan, who was probably double and triple-checking he had everything.

His first step onto the deck and he could feel nerves coming from all around him.

Thomas was fidgeting while staring at the woods, although Virgil suspected he wasn't really seeing them.

Patton kept taking stock of his pretty large medkit over and over and picking stuff up and messing with it before putting it back.

Roman seemed relaxed, leaning back in a deck chair with his eyes closed and his double sword across his lap, but Virgil knew better.

Roman was just as afraid as the rest of them, Virgil could literally sense it. In fact, he might have been more anxious.

As tempting as it was to call him out, Virgil sat next to Patton and bumped their shoulders.

“Pat it's all going to be okay,” Virgil promised, blocking the kit next time Patton tried to reach into it. “You have everything you need, and if anything happens it's nothing you can't handle, alright?”

Patton's breathing was still a little shaky but he took a deep breath and finally closed his medkit.

“Yeah, yeah you're right,” Patton agreed. “We've got this. I've got this.”

They were interrupted by Logan's arrival, and everyone seemed to switch to battle mode.

Roman stood and strapped his sword to his back, Patton and Virgil stood up and Thomas seemed to snap out of his daze.

Thomas turned to face them, eyes hard and prepared.

“Alright, look,” Thomas said. “I know you're all probably worried, but I wouldn't have picked you four if I didn't think you could do it. But, you put yourselves and each other first, you hear me? The mission comes second. If you get overwhelmed, get out of there, don't get yourselves killed trying to kill the things. And don't try to stay out all night searching. If you don't find them, we can try again tomorrow. Meet back here at sunset at the latest, alright?”

The boys nodded, no one saying anything. But really, what else was there to say?

They said their goodbyes to Thomas and walked as a group towards the woods, knowing that once they reached the woods they'd be splitting up.

It was finally fully sinking in for Virgil that he might not be leaving these woods. At least not alive.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he barely had time to register that they'd reached the woods when he suddenly had Patton wrapped around him, hugging him tightly.

((As soon as I started writing this part House of Memories came on my Pandora so…))

Virgil hugged him back almost instinctively. He was very used to Patton's spontaneous hugs.

This time though, Patton clung to him a little longer than usual and a bit tighter. More desperately.

“Stay safe out there kiddo, alright?” Patton begged him. Virgil squeezed him tighter in response. He couldn't bring himself to speak because, well he couldn't promise anything. Patton seemed to understand because he sighed before seizing Roman in a hug.

Virgil stood next to Logan and crossed his arms.

“Take care of each other in there, Professor.”

Logan, who had been watching Patton talk to Roman turned to face the son of Phobos.

“Don't we always?” Logan pointed out, a small smile on his face. “The same to you and Roman. I know he isn't your favorite person, but give him a shot. Roman Prince is full of surprises.”

And with that, Patton came back over and Virgil walked over to Roman. Then, they entered the woods.

They had been in the woods for a few hours and Virgil was really missing his headphones.

They had been in the woods for a couple hours before they found a bunch of broken and scratched up trees near some giant tracks with a large scrape in the middle, like something a tail would leave behind.

The tracks were their best bet so they followed them, and had been for a while.

It hadn't been too bad at first, but now Roman just would not shut up.

Virgil did his best to just keep walking but Roman kept trying to tempt him into a conversation.

“And then-” Roman was telling some story his counselor told him this son of Poseidon or something who apparently saved the world a few times or whatever, but Virgil had stopped paying attention a while ago.

“For the love of Zeus will you SHUT UP?” Virgil finally snapped, interrupting Roman. “Look, Your Majesty, I don't know about you but I'm trying to actually find these things. But I wouldn't have any idea if we were close since I can't hear anything except your stupid voice! Not to mention that the serkets aren't the only things in these damn woods. Anything could come up behind us and kills us before we even knew it was there!”

“Alright, geez Hot Topic,” Roman rolled his eyes, which if anything only infuriated him more. It took everything Virgil had to keep walking. “Just trying to lighten the mood a little. Not everything has to be as dark and gloomy as you all the time.”

“Oh so suddenly this is about me?” Virgil retorted.

“Well duh,” Roman said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You're the one who snapped at me. Although I really shouldn't be surprised, considering.”

“What the HELL is-” Virgil started before Roman slammed his hand over Virgil's mouth, using his other hand to grab Virgil's shirt and stop him from walking.

Virgil was about to go OFF before Roman spoke.

“Virgil,” Roman was suddenly deadly serious, his voice barely above a whisper, and the fact that he used Virgil's actual name instead of some nickname threw him for a second. “Shut up, just shut up, and look.”

Roman let go of Virgil's shirt to point, and Virgil shoved his hand away from his face. He looked where Roman was pointing, expecting something stupid or to see nothing and for Roman to just be trying to distract him.

He saw nothing, and that's what caused a chill down his spine.

“The tracks stopped,” Virgil breathed out, his hand going to grip the hilt of his sword. “Wait, hold up. Listen.”

Everything was absolutely silent. It was one of those things you don't really notice, but the forest was always making noise, whether it be the nymphs, birds, or various animals. But it was completely silent now.

Virgil saw it too late.

He turned towards Roman, mouth open to ask if he heard anything when he saw the serket, claws poised to attack.

He was too slow in reacting, and the serket was already moving by the time he shouted Roman's name in alarm.

The other boy turned around and managed to jump back but he didn't have time to get far and the serket managed to slash his chest.

He staggered backward into Virgil, who managed to catch him and throw them both to the ground in time for the scorpion's stinger to strike the ground where they had both just been standing.

He helped Roman to his feet, who shook his head for a second as if dazed but managed to pull his sword off his back.

Virgil did the same and barely had time to get into a defensive stance before the serket had prepped its tail again.

The boys both dived in opposite directions, the stinger missing them once again. After a split second the serket apparently made a decision and charged at Virgil.

Virgil had a split-second where he realized that he had never properly secured his shield and that it was currently laying on the ground out of his reach before the scorpion hit him, sending him flying backward.

He hit the ground and the scorpion was on top of him, ready to sting him. He raised his arms instinctively before he heard someone shout “VIRGIL!”

He looked over to see Roman throw Virgil's shield to him. He caught it as the serket thrust its tail down towards him and managed to hold it above him just in time for the point to bounce off it harmlessly.

He slammed the shield into its face, causing it to screech in rage and stagger back, allowing Virgil to scramble out from under it.

The serket switched gears and ran at Roman who despite the large gash in his chest was actually upright and moving, a feat Virgil suspected was the result of adrenaline.

It reared up to stab him with its pincers but Roman let out a loud grunt and kicked the scorpion towards Virgil.

Virgil in turn sliced off the scorpion's stinger before shoving back at Roman with his shield.

Roman used the serket's momentum to his advantage, letting it impale itself on his sword.

The creature made an ear-splitting screech and turned to golden dust.

The boys allowed themselves the chance to look around and, when spotting no more signs of a serket, stumbled towards each other and collapsed onto the ground next to each other.

Both were breathing heavily and clutching various parts of their body.

“You...look like shit,” Roman admitted helpfully between shallow breaths, and Virgil huffed a laugh.

To be fair, he was probably right. Virgil felt plenty of scratches and bruises all over his body from when the serket rammed him, and he was pretty he had at the very least fractured a few ribs.

The force from the stinger had shocked him, and his arm was SORE. It was a miracle it wasn't broken.

But he got his first real look at Roman when he heard his body fall to the ground next to him.

His shirt was absolutely soaked in blood, the dark red a jarring contrast to the usual bright orange.

He was so pale and his breathing was short and shallow. Virgil had to do a double-take.

But then he moved to the son of Apollo's side, waving his hand in front of the other boy's face, smacking him lightly, shaking him. His eyes wouldn't open.

“ROMAN!”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides roman #sanders sides patton #sanders logan #virgil #logan #roman #patton #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides au #demigod au #sanders sides demigod au #prinxiety au #logicality au #the forest incident

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slytherinprongs-writing · 4 years ago

Text

At Long Last

Warnings: Mention of death, and very slight swearing.

Chapter 1 - The Beginning, and the Spreading of Rumours

Madeline Penhallow was in many ways very different from Katerina. That was the point, after all, to make sure that she was different enough to never be discovered.

Katerina had the Dumbledore auburn hair and bright blue eyes, much like her grandfather before his hair had whitened.

Madeline had blonde hair and green, catlike eyes. Her face shape and features were different, and she was a few inches taller - just enough to notice a difference if you stood beside one and then the other.

Kat thought she was rather clever coming up with Maddie's backstory: she was a transfer student from Ilvermorny in America, after her parents had died in a car crash. Minerva McGonagall (who had always been like an aunt to Kat) had agreed to pose as a distant relative of Maddie's, who she had come to England to live with.

It was simple really. The trick with lies was remembering the details, and Kat, had a very good memory.

XXX (scene break)

"Remember the charms must be reapplied every morning," her grandfather told her for what felt like (and probably was) the 12th time.

Kat, or rather, Maddie, simply sighed, grabbing her trunk and moving to stand by Minnie, Professor McGonagall, she reminded herself, although a slip up on that part would be salvageable since she was supposed to be Maddie's aunt.

The charms were complex, however well within Kat's capability. Despite her multiple expulsions, she was a good student and had studied well beyond her level. That would have to change. There would be no room for Maddie to go round casting N.E.W.T. level spells, as if being a new Fourth Year student wouldn’t be enough!

After the whole process of gathering her trunk, coat, and other belongings, Minnie (for she was still Minnie before they were at Hogwarts, Maddie’s mind argued) apparated them to the train station.

The most striking thing about Platform Nine and Three Quarters, was of course the great scarlet steam engine that stood before her, and Maddie couldn't help but sigh in delight, as she finally took in the view she'd been missing all these years.

Turning around, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss her aunt on the cheek and grinned.

"See you at Hogwarts Minnie!" She shouted over her shoulder as she made her way towards the train.

XXX

She made sure to walk down the entire length of the train, peeking through the windows of every carriage. This was partly because she knew the 'cool kids' would be at the back end, but also because, ever the dramatic, surely at least a few students would realise as she went past that this newcomer was not a first year.

She couldn't wait for the rumours to begin.

A smirk, tired but pasted there, graced her lips as she finally reached the second to last compartment. She was about to knock when she was unceremoniously barged out of the way by two boys coming from the next one down.

She let out an indignant huff as she was pushed to the side, only to be drowned out by one exclaiming: "Oi Evans!"

The girls in the compartment turned to the now open door. A couple of them were trying to hide smiles, but the redhead in the corner had the same expression as Maddie. Annoyance. Plain and clear across her face.

"An hour."

What? Maddie looked on from the side-lines confused, before the girl continued, "I can't even have ONE bloody HOUR with my friends before you come and start harassing me again!"

Ah. It seemed like this was a regular thing.

"But Lily-" the messy haired boy protested, only to be cut off,

"No Potter. Shut up, and get out. I don't want to see your face again before tomorrow at the very least!"

"What about my face Evans?” The second boy interjected, “mine is clearly much better than James's." He had black hair down to his shoulders, masking his face from the angle Maddie was at, and his comment welcomed a half-hearted shove and an indignant snort from his friend.

"You too Black! Out! Just- URGH!" The girl threw her hands up in irritation and sat down on the seat with a heavy thud, crossing her arms.

Mercifully, at least for the redhead (Lily seemed to be her name), the two boys dispersed, although not without a few lingering looks. One from the boy with the glasses and messy hair towards the irritated girl, and a couple from girls in the compartment to the other boy.

As he turned towards her, Maddie suddenly realised why.

He had fine, perfect features, she saw, as she scanned his face. Cheekbones that could cut glass and a chiselled jawline, immediately stood out, as well as the smoky grey eyes that stared at her in confusion.

"You. You're new. Why are you new?" He asked her jokingly.

Luckily, Maddie was used to fine features and was not even partially swayed by his pointed gaze. She was used to beautiful people (for this boy certainly was beautiful,) and she was used to - no, loved - the spotlight on her.

She sent a smirk and a light chuckle his way. “Well..." she lowered her voice, leaning towards him, "that would be for me to know, and you to find out."

She locked eyes. Challenging him.

"Well..." he mimicked her, leaning in further until she felt her hair flutter from his breath, "then I suppose I'll just have to try my best."

He drew back, and stepped to the side, gesturing to let her past. Gathering her belongings, she approached the door of the compartment, but not without missing the look on the other boy - James's - face, a mixture of exasperated annoyance, aimed at Black, and confusion at Maddie.

She smiled to herself. It was all going perfectly. After all, those boys and these girls seemed like the popular type, and the popular type were the best spreaders of rumours...

XXX

The girls welcomed Maddie at once. There were five of them, plus her, and all of their luggage, and even though the compartment was one of the larger ones, it was still a tight fit. Nevertheless, after the few hours the journey had taken, Maddie felt as if she'd known them forever.

Lily, was sharp tongued (as Maddie had witnessed earlier), but her kindness more than made up for it. Marlene was blonde, beautiful and brash. She was the flirt and proud of it, but through the mask, Maddie could see she was incredibly intelligent.

Emmeline was quieter, with long brown hair hanging straight down towards the book she was reading, but she smiled warmly at Maddie when she sat down opposite Emmeline and beside Dorcas. Bright and bubbly, Dorcas seemed to never stop laughing, and her laughter was the type that made others helpless but to smile and join in.

Alice had a permanent smile, soft and gentle. She came into the carriage halfway through the journey after meeting her boyfriend Frank. Marlene had told Maddie that Frank and Alice were practically soulmates, and from the way Alice’s face lit up when she mentioned him, Maddie got the impression they were a perfect match.

XXX

The journey was worth it.

As they rounded the bend, all of the girls stopped what they were doing to gaze out of the window. Maddie joined them and finally, after 14 years she saw the castle.

It was majestic, incredible, and even more so up close as they took the Thestral drawn carriages up to the doors.

The other girls giggled at her look of awe but Maddie didn’t care. With a smile on her face, she stepped over the threshold.

And at long last, she was home.

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

a/n: so kinda a lot of description here but I'm just setting the scenes. You can already see some flirting, but we'll see how that continues... (I'm telling you now, there's gonna be angst.)

Anyways, hope you liked it! Next chapter is posted.

#at long last #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x oc #katerina dumbledore #Dumbledore's granddaughter #madeline penhallow #marauders #marauders era #fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #lily potter #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #potterverse

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 5 years ago

Note

Majin 21 using her tail to get Jaune off

I fucking loved this ask! Thank you @nate-the-content-creator!

I also really got into this ask. By that I mean 3050 words into it! Hope you all enjoy reading as much as I did writing it. I can also post it to my Ao3 page if you’d all like. Just let me know if I should!

{21′s Counseling Arc}

Jaune stood outside one of the professors offices in Beacon. This office belonged to Ms. Android 21. He’d had been called to his professor’s office on the weekend, so he wasn’t expecting something good. When he knocked, Ms. 21 had called him inside and told him to close the door. He was a little unnerved but did as he was told on both regards.

Ms. 21 was sat behind her desk, doing paperwork. When she heard Jaune enter. she leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Hello Mr. Arc.”

“Hello Ms. 21.” Jaune remembered when that should have sounded weird, but after almost a year at Beacon and calling her that, it didn’t even phase him now. He also knew that when she called him “Mr. Arc“, it wasn’t good news.

“Please, take a seat.” 21 gestured to the cushioned chair right in front of her desk, which Jaune did indeed sit down in. “You’re probably wondering why I called you here on your day off from school correct?” Jaune nodded. “Well it’s because I just received this.” She held up a vanilla envelope. “Your report card.”

And just like that, Jaune’s face paled. “R-really? A-and what about it?”

21 sighed and opened the envelope. She took out the sheets of paper and looked at them briefly before extending them out for Jaune to take. Jaune’s hand shook a fair bit as he accepted the papers. As he started to look over them, he heard Ms. 21 speak. “I must say I was pleasantly surprised. I’m proud of you Jaune.”

Jaune glanced up at her in confusion after hearing her use his first name before looking back down at his grades.

Grimm Studies: B-

Combat Class: B

Dust Affiliation: A-

History: B-

Aura Control and Manipulation: A

Strategic Thinking: A

Jaune stared at the letters. After rereading them four times, he moved on to the comments his other professors wrote. All of which we commenting on how he’s improved recently and is becoming a better student. Except Oobleck, he couldn’t make out a thing that man’s chicken scratch read. But even Professor Goodwitch had written some okay things about him! That was huge!

Jaune felt joy well up inside of him at all of it. This was proof her was getting better! That maybe he was meant to be at Beacon! He couldn’t help but let a goofy smile form on his face as he looked up to his professor. “You really had me Ms. 21! I thought it was going to be like last time!”

21 giggled at her student’s smile. His joy was pretty infectious. Now down to business. “I couldn’t help it. It helped sell the surprise though. However, speaking of the last time you were here, do you remember what I said near the end of our conference?”

Jaune paused to think. It was vague, but he remembered something. “You said that I needed to try harder to do better.”

“Yes I did, which you have, but also promised that if you managed to bring your grades up to a suitable level, I’d reward you personally.” 21 opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a file folder. She put it on her desk, opened it, then pushed it towards Jaune. “This was your report card from last semester.”

Jaune winced as he saw his old grades.

Grimm Studies: F

Combat Class: D

Dust Affiliation: D-

History: F

Aura Control and Manipulation: C

Strategic Thinking: C

21 saw his wince when he looked over his past work. “Nothing higher than a C last semester. And now nothing lower than a B-! All you grades went up at least two marks! That’s a great accomplishment Jaune. And the fact that you managed to improve this much in just a single semester is outstanding.”

Jaune turned bashful and started listing off reasons/excuses. “W-well I-I had a lot of help. Pyrrha started training me, Blake made me spend more time in the library,”

“Jaune.”

“-Weiss let me join in on her tutoring sessions with Ruby, and both our teams started have study groups at least once a week and every night before a test!”

“Jaune!”

21 stopped her student. He fell silent and she smiled warmly. “All of that may be true. Maybe you did get help and needed others to push you a bit. But there isn’t a person alive that doesn’t need help at some point. However, the fact of the matter is that you wanted to get better. So you accepted their help and pushed yourself. If you didn’t want to better yourself, then you wouldn’t have even tried. And that is something to be very proud of Jaune.”

As his teacher reassured him, Jaune felt pride swelling inside him. His eyes grew misty against his will so he rubbed them dry with his sleeve. “Thank you Professor, that…that means more to me than you know.”

21 nodded and then clapped her hand once, suddenly and loud. “Well now we need to move on to the second reason you’re here right now. Since I feel that these grade improvements are easily ‘suitable’, it’s time for your reward.”

“Oh, Ms. 21 I really don’t-”

“Now now, none of that. I promised you I’d reward you personally and I won’t feel right if that was just an empty promise. You did work very hard to achieve this, so I feel like you deserve something in return for your efforts. While you did improve much more quickly than I’d expected, I fully intend to follow through on my word.”

21 stood up from her desk and walked over to the door. “Besides,” She twisted the lock close and brought down the curtain to her door’s window. “I think I thought of something that a hard working young man like you would enjoy very much.”

Jaune turned around in his seat to look at his professor and what she was doing. Ms. 21 stood by her office door, taking off her red glasses before she activated her semblance and turned into her Majin form. Everyone at Beacon knew about her semblance. Most of them also feared it for good reasons. Which is the reason Jaune sprung out of the chair he was in and nearly flipped over 21′s desk.

Her long auburn hair turned such a pale shade of pink that it was almost white, her skin also turned pink, though a darker shade, her ears grew more angled, and her eyes turned from normal blue eyes to solid black with blood red irises. A smug smirk formed on her face.

Her clothes changed too. Her red and blue square patterned dress with a white lab coat, black leggings and red and blue shoes seemed to just morph with her body. Now in her Majin form she wore a black tube top that was barely enough to hide the bottom half of her D-cup chest, but did nothing to hide the top half and most of her cleavage. Her pants became white and extremely baggy, held up by a tight gold band around her waist. A gold collar shimmered as it appeared around her neck. In fact the only thing that still remained of her original outfit was the black arm sleeves she wore from her wrist to bicep.

The most noticeable thing however was that she also grew a large, pink tail. It came out through the back of her pants just underneath her golden belt and wagged lazily behind her back.

Jaune was nervous when he saw her enter that form. It only got worse when her red eyes focused on him, and she smirked. Before he could voice any of his numerous questions, 21 disappeared. Like, she just seemed to blip out of reality.

Though Jaune soon found out where his teacher went when two pink arms reached around from behind him and wrapped around his chest. 21 grabbed her own wrists, fully ensnaring Jaune and pinning his arms down to his side. Jaune proved she had a good grip when he instinctively struggled, but couldn’t get free or move his arms. Jaune stopped trying to break free when he felt a breeze over his legs. He looked down to see why and went wide eyed seeing his pants around his ankles. His face turned rosy red when he saw his underwear was down with his pants, leaving his penis to hang free. ‘Wh-?! H-how!? I-is Ms. 21 just that fast!?’

“Oh you look so cute~!” Jaune was brought out of his thoughts by Majin 21 speaking up. He looked over his right shoulder to see her smiling widely at him from behind him. She squeezed her arms a bit tighter around him, pressing her large, soft chest into his back below his shoulder blades. “My favorite little student has been working so hard~. Now here you are all alone with me~. You look simply adorable and delicious and you’re all mine~!!” Jaune felt something tickle his cheek and snapped his head forward again to look at what it was.

There, less than two inches from his face, was the tip of 21′s pink tail. It swayed side to side, looking like a cobra ready to strike. It moved forward again to gently, almost teasingly, flick the tip of his nose. He followed it as it slowly moved to his side and up to 21′s own face.

“Get ready for your reward sweetie~.” Jaune watched as 21 opened her mouth. A tongue at least a foot long roll out. Jaune watched as 21 dragged her long tongue all over her own tail. She sensually moved it up and down her tail and even wrapped her tongue in a complete ring around it as she did. Jaune’s dick slowly began rising from the show. 21 pulled back her tongue and shot her now saliva slick tail downward.

Jaune looked down when he felt the tail push up his against his dick. 21′s tail bounced his dick up a few times. The attention helped it reach full mast. Feeling him get fully erect, 21 giggled madly while she began coiling her tail around her student’s shaft. Once, twice, three times she fully wrapped her tail around the boy’s cock and his head was still showing!

“You’re so big! A full meal for me to enjoy~!” 21 giggled again as her tail moved, sliding easily along his shaft thanks to her spit lubing up her tail.

Jaune let out a sharp gasp at the feeling. 21′s tail felt amazing! The appendage that he’d seen crush a training drone in half, lift over 200 pounds in Beacon’s gym, and bat aside an Ursa Major effortlessly was around his cock! It was so soft and warm! It wasn’t like any faunus tail he’d seen before. It wasn’t furry or scaly, it was just silky smooth skin. Wrapped tightly around his shaft and jerking him off.

Velvety soft and warm coils pumped his cock. Squeezing down a bit tighter made Jaune gasp and when they’d loosen he’d feel it lightly brushing along his shaft.

Each move it made up towards his head sent waves of pleasure up his body and when it came back down he tried to buck his hips into it. Jaune threw his head back and let out a throaty groan, his eyes closing in bliss. He didn’t even bother struggling anymore. He didn’t want this to end!

21 shivered slightly both from hearing Jaune’s delightful groans and the feeling of her sensitive tail sliding along Jaune’s rock hard dick. She simply loved the appetizing noises he was making! She kept pumping her tail, the smacking sounds of her tail patting back down against his hips meshing with Jaune’s moans.

For five minutes, 21 jerked Jaune off with her tail. Squeezing and letting go with her coils so that Jaune didn’t get use to how her tail felt. He speed kept its steady rhythm. ‘Pat pat pat pat’ the sounds of light slapping sounding from Jaune’s hips when they bucked into her tail.

21 was both impressed with how well he was holding back, but also getting incredibly impatient! Jaune was getting there, but he wasn’t giving her what she wanted! From behind Jaune, she cried out, “That’s it! I know my meal will be done soon, but I can’t take it anymore! I need to taste a sample~!”

Jaune eyes shot open when he felt Ms. 21 lick his neck. Given how long it was she was even able to lick his Adam’s apple and the under side up his chin. She scrunched up her shoulders as her tongue retreated back into her mouth. “Mmmmmm! Sooooo tasty~! Bon appetit!” Without another word 21 latched her mouth and teeth on Jaune’s neck, making his body tense up.

She softly gnawed and suck on Jaune’s skin. She was loving the taste while Jaune was loving the feeling! Her tail pumping his cock quicker than ever and the sucking on his neck was too much to handle now! 21 felt Jaune’s cock twitch as she sucked away. She gave one last nibble to his neck and pulled off, leaving a red oval with small teeth marks where she was latched on to. “Mmmmm here comes my meal~! Give it to me sweetie! Gimme gimme gimme~!”

Jaune let out a semi-restrained “Fuck!” and came. 21 moved her tail up to wrap around his sensitive head, catching all his white cum in her coils. Every strand of thick cum landing on her tail. Not a drop was missed.

As Jaune came down from his climax and panted hard, 21 finally released her grip around him. Suddenly being able to move again along with his pants still being around his ankles, Jaune stumbled forward a bit. He stood straight after catching himself on the chair in front of 21′s desk. He spun around to look at 21.

21 had brought her tail back up to her mouth, her tongue tracing over every inch where Jaune’s cum had landed. Making several passes over the part of her tail she’d just used to get her student off, she lapped up all his baby batter and brought her tongue back into her mouth. When she close her lips again her entire body shivered. Her eyes began to sparkle as she sighed heavenly. “So thick and creamy! Absolutely delicious just like I knew you would be! 100/100!”

21 came out of her bliss when Jaune spoke. “Wh-, why did you-?”

“Oh sweetie that was your reward! The delicious snack you gave me was just a bonus for me~! So did you like it~?”

Jaune finally caught his breath. “Y-yeah. I really did. It was amazing!”

21 clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Now I have another promise to make too you~.” 21 sashayed up to Jaune and poked his chest. “If you can bring your grades up to perfect, you’ll get to fuck me anyway you want~! Doesn’t that sound great?”

Jaune stared into his professor’s eyes in disbelief. “Y-you’re being serious?”

21 giggled at Jaune’s dumbfounded face. “Uh huh! Bent over my desk while you fuck my ass, holding me down in a mating press as you pound my pussy, stuffing my mouth and throat with your dick, or having me jerk you off to your hearts content~! Anything for my favorite student~.” 21 watched as Jaune’s mind seemed to shut down as he probably started imagining the things she just said.

21 let him ponder for a bit, then said a loud “But!” breaking Jaune out of his lewd daydreams. “You’ll only get your reward if all your grades are A’s. Until then, the only thing you get to fuck is my pretty tail here.” Her said tail came up to wag a little in front of him as if showing off. 21 closed the little distance that was between them and whispered in his ear with a hot breath. “So do your best Jaune~.” Her tongue traced all the way up his ear making him shiver.

“I-I will try my hardest Ms. 21!”

“Splendid! Now get going sweetie. It’s still your day off. I don’t want to hog you all day and make people suspicious.”

Jaune quickly pulled up his pants, mind still racing from what he’d just heard. He walked over to Ms. 21′s door and unlocked it. As he opened it, he waved goodbye to 21. “T-thanks again Ms. 21! I’ll do even better in the future!”

In return 21 waved back with one hand as well with her tail. With a giggle she said, “You’d better, Mr. Arc~.” Her tail formed a quick heart shape behind her, something Jaune barely caught before it was gone. He turned around, red faced all over again and closed the door behind him when he left. As he walked down the halls back to his dorm, he completely forgot about the love bite his professor left on his neck.

…

…drip…drip…

Now alone in the silence and solidarity in her office, 21 barely stayed standing as her legs grew weak. She let out a heavenly sigh. If Jaune had looked a bit lower on his teacher, he would have seen a wet spot appearing at the crotch of her baggy pants. It finally grew so wet that it dripped down to her tile floor.

The whole exchange she’d had with her adorable blonde student had her so wet! From hearing his moans to the pleasure of her own sensitive tail sliding along his cock! It all added up to her dripping wetness right now. And when she tasted his cum! Mmmmmm she nearly came just from that!

Then she had the idea to offer him another reward. Those thoughts filled her head and loins with so much anticipation for what could happen in the near future. 21 stared longingly at her door as she morphed back into her normal form. The wet spot on her white pants transferring to the black leggings that took their place. She straightened up, intent to get back to work, but not before one final thought crossed her mind.

‘I can’t wait to see how you do Jaune~. I’m looking forward to your reward even more then you are~.’

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

Story word count: 3048

Posted on Tumblr: 8/6/2019

#rwby #dbz #dragon ball z #crossover #jaune arc #android 21 #majin android 21 #jaune x android 21 #ask #non sfw #lemon #nate the content creator

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bloodtroth · 5 years ago

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Grindeldore 120th anniversary fic

(Ao3 link)

@hannahtheshipper

---

Gellert raised his head as he heard the distinctive sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor. As he identified the footsteps, he lowered his head back down again, not bothering to look at the person that was now standing behind the door of his cell.

“I see you’ve finally decided to come to see me,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. The sound of it felt enormous in the silence of the prison. The quiet, he thought, was the worst aspect of his punishment. It had driven him mad more than once.

When he received no answer, he looked up to confirm that the person was not merely the product of his own mind. It would not have been the first time. But, no, the shadow Albus’ figure cast on the floor was there, and from his position on the floor, Gellert could just see the top of his head.

Unnerved by his silence, Gellert sneered, “What may I thank for this great honour?”

In answer, a hand reached for the flap on his door and passed a small packet through it. “Happy anniversary, my dear,” Albus said, and Gellert closed his eyes against the feeling hearing his voice arose in him. It had been years since he had last heard it. Albus’ voice was different now; whereas before it had still held the lingering notes of youth, it was now slowed and dragged down by age and remembered grief.

As he rose to shaky feet and made his way to the door, Gellert wondered if the grief had all been due to him, or if Albus had faced other tragedies since the day he had locked him here and walked away without looking back. Gellert was uncertain; his Visions were hazy at best, fragmented by the wards restraining his magic.

Bending down, Gellert picked up the packet. It was wrapped in a green paper that was sprinkled with stars. Gellert nearly smiled. It was very much to Albus’ taste. He turned it with his hands, trying to guess what was inside.

After a moment, he slipped the packet inside the pocket of his torn prison robe and, raising his head, met Albus Dumbledore’s eyes for the first time in years. The sight of his aged face shocked him, although it shouldn’t have. He knew that it had been decades between the last time and now, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. Albus looked old. Ancient. A far cry from the auburn-haired youth Gellert had first known, or the grim, dignified professor that had been his doom. Albus smiled at his shock, and his eyes were suspiciously moist.

Gellert averted his eyes; tears had always made him uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he asked, “We’ve never celebrated anniversaries before. What’s different this time?” Albus did not answer, but Gellert could hear him shuffling in place, his hands sweeping across the expansive fabric of his robes in an unconscious gesture. Sharply, Gellert looked at him. Albus did not meet his eyes.

“Show me. Now,” Gellert commanded, his heart beating furiously at his chest. Albus sighed before lifting his hand through the bars of the small window. Gellert sucked in a breath as he saw Albus’ hand. The skin was black and withered, clearly as a result of some powerful curse. Quickly, before Albus could withdraw it, Gellert grasped hold of it. Albus let out a small wince, but Gellert ignored him as he closed his eyes and felt for the extent of the damage. His magic confirmed his fears. “You’re dying.”

“Yes,” Albus confirmed, his voice resigned. Gellert looked at him and saw the calm acceptance on his face. Desperate, he pleaded, although from his mouth it sounded more like a command, “Let me use my magic. I can heal you. You know I can.”

Albus smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, Gellert.”

Switching tactics, Gellert lifted the hand to his lips and whispered, “Mein Schatz-“

“I said no,” Albus said, his voice sharp as he extracted his hand from Gellert’s grasp.

Narrowing his eyes, Gellert grasped the bars tightly and leaned his head against them. “What are you planning?” he hissed. Their eyes met again, and within seconds Gellert knew everything Albus had done and would do for his version of Greater Good. Gellert wondered if he slept at night. He had always been a slave to his guilt.

“It’s a necessary sacrifice,“ Albus answered, his face detached as if they were talking about the weather and not his oncoming murder. Gellert wasn’t fooled for a second; Albus only appeared detached when he was trying to restrain his emotions. Scoffing, Gellert shook his head and hissed, the accusations practically dripping off his lips, “So, that’s it then- you are willing to sacrifice yourself for the Greater Good. Just like you were willing to sacrifice me. To sacrifice us.”

Something flickered behind Albus' eyes - a flash of hurt perhaps - before he composed himself again. “You speak as if you hadn’t been willing to do the same. Wasn’t that what you had planned with that poor boy? To kill me.”

Gellert shrugged. “I won’t deny it. But I didn’t.” Leaning his head as far as the bars allowed him, he whispered, “Do you know why you won our duel?”

Uncertainty flickered across Albus’ face. “I was always more skilled in duelling.”

“True,” Gellert acknowledged, “but that is not why. You know I could have killed you when you stumbled. You have always known, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Albus admitted, his voice soft.

“So, why didn’t I?” Gellert asked, even though he did not expect an answer. Albus looked down. Gellert pressed closer, the bars digging into his skin. “Because when it came down to it- when it came down to killing you- to letting you go- I couldn’t. Because I love you.” Gellert watched as the impact of his words hit Albus as if he had been smacked. A single tear made its trek down Albus’ cheek. Ignoring his pain, Gellert continued, “You have imprisoned me, you have not visited me, you have taken from my everything I once held dear. And now you would take yourself as well?”

Albus looked fragile. Gellert wondered why he had come at all. Perhaps he had thought that Gellert would comfort him. He was wrong. If he was so determined to force Gellert to live in a world without Albus, then he deserved none.

“Don’t be selfish,” Albus admonished, but his voice lacked conviction.

Gellert snorted. “Selfish? Are you sure I’m the one who is being selfish?” he asked, his voice mocking. “You are the one who is planning to take themselves out of this mess you’ve created and leave it to others to solve. When it comes down to it, mein Lieber, you have always been more ruthless than I,” Gellert hissed. With every accusation, Albus’ veneer of calm was breaking. All it would take was one more blow. And Gellert had always known just how to hurt him. His voice carried a pitying tone as he delivered the final strike, “If they knew the full extent of what you had done, I’m sure those boys of yours would agree.”

Albus turned away abruptly, and his voice shaking, whispered, “Goodbye, Gellert.” He made his way hurriedly down the corridor, running away as if the force of Gellert’s words could not reach him anywhere he went.

Throwing himself against the door, Gellert shouted after him, “Don’t think you can get away from me by dying! I will follow you to death if I have to, I can promise you that!”

Albus stopped at the end of the corridor. His back turned to Gellert; he said, “Gellert, I’ve never been under any delusions that I could.” Then he turned down the corridor and disappeared from view.

As Albus’ footsteps faded, Gellert fished the packet Albus had left him out of his pocket. He ripped open the green wrapping, revealing a ring box. With hands still shaking from rage, he opened it. Inside there was a marble ring in the shape of the Deathly Hallows. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. The back of it was engraved; The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Smiling wryly, Gellert slipped the ring on his ring finger. It fit perfectly. Closing his eyes, he sat down and leaned his head against the cold rock wall. Behind his lids, there was a pale face with glowing red eyes, his own laughter and the sudden flash of green light. He smiled.

Wait for me, darling, he thought, wait for me.

#grindeldore #fic #my fic #grindeldore120thanniversary

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grindellore · 6 years ago

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fanfiction: and when he falls (chapter 1)

Fandom: Harry Potter | Fantastic Beasts Pairing: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Ariana Dumbledore, Bathilda Bagshot Rating: T

Summary: In the beginning, love was blossoming between an unearthly beautiful boy with radical ideas and a penchant for talking big and a spirited boy with a ready quill who was forced to take on the role as the head of his family far too early. In the end, there would be two broken hearts, and the beautiful boy would set out to change the world on his own while the spirited boy would be left behind with utterly destroyed family bonds and a well of guilt inside of him.

Also available on my AO3 (see the link in my profile).

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. —Cardinal Wolsey on the “state of man” in William Shakespeare’s All Is True (Henry VIII), 3.2.371-372

The umpteenth version of “those two months of insanity”, but I hope my take on them will still be an interesting read. Canon compliant up until Crimes of Grindelwald with two reservations: First, both of Grindelwald’s eyes are blue (as stated in the Harry Potter books and the first Fantastic Beasts script), just as my physical descriptions in general attempt to comply with the books (Dumbledore has elbow-length auburn hair and a wispy beard; Grindelwald shoulder-length, curly golden hair and—I quote from Deathly Hallows—“a Fred and George-ish air of triumphant trickery about him.”) Second, I hc Dumbledore lied when he said the next time they met (after that fateful duel in 1899) was their duel in 1945.

Chapter 1

Gellert Grindelwald was crouching in the grass in front of the mossy tombstone; positioned, perhaps, directly above the remains of the person interred under it. If there were still remains, that was. The stone was crumbling; all raw, weathered coarseness and sharp, jagged edges. Gellert saw it but he also needed to feel it under the tips of his fingers; needed to follow the traces of the nigh illegible name and, most importantly, the triangular mark underneath. He closed his eyes to eliminate one of his senses, focusing on the sensation of the engraved dents in the stone.

Yes, there was a circle inscribed in the triangle; a line, too, bisecting the angle directly under Ignotus Peverell’s name. They were faint, but they were definitely there.

Gellert drew a shaky breath. This, he thought. This was it. He had been right to visit his aunt in Godric’s Hollow; not just to draw upon her vast library and equally vast historical knowledge, but also for this. This grave, seemingly unremarkable save for its age.

“Are you a distant relative of the Peverell family?”

Gellert all but started at the sound of the deep voice. When he had entered the graveyard, he had been aware of the black cloaked boy, kneeling in front of another grave with a bouquet of white lilies in his hands and shielded from the world by the thick curtain of his flowing auburn hair, so long it was almost touching the ground. Gellert had decided not to greet him, reluctant to intrude on the silent conversation he might be holding with the person he was mourning or, perhaps, with God.

Now the auburn-haired boy was standing right next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a worn but elegant pair of high-heeled, buckled boots.

Gellert, who had always had a sense for first impressions, allowed his own golden curls to flow out of his face, looking up at the boy before he rose in a smooth motion. The other was half a head taller than Gellert, even subtracting the heels. His form was as thin and slender as his face, with a wispy beard, a long, even nose and faint freckles under the rims of bright, light blue eyes.

Right now, these eyes were staring at him, thunderstruck. Gellert knew that reaction. He had seen his own face in the mirror; all even features and angles and long, black lashes over eyes that were a slightly darker shade of blue than the other boy’s. His golden, shoulder-length locks gave him an unearthly, almost angelic appeal that made most people hold their breath for a second when they first saw him.

“Not to my knowledge,” Gellert said smoothly and added a dazzling smile to the rest of his striking outward appearance. He straightened, making himself as tall as possible as he extended a hand towards the boy. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gellert Grindelwald, Bathilda Bagshot’s great-nephew.” The other took his hand, but before he could say anything, Gellert added: “And you must be Albus Dumbledore. I saw photos of you on Aunt Batty’s chest of drawers. She told me a lot about you; said you’re brilliant: Head Boy, Prefect, Winner of the Barnabus Finkley Prize…”

“Stop it; stop it!” Albus chuckled, holding his palms away from his chest. “You’ll make my face turn as red as my hair if you continue like that!” This wasn’t the kind of reaction Gellert had expected. It made Albus’s eyes sparkle and softened his features; made them pleasant and appealing.

Now it was Gellert who was staring, if only for a split second. He had assumed Albus would be rather sullen; depressed maybe because he had just come from a grave—and not any grave but his mother’s, if he recalled correctly from the abundance of information his aunt had fed him at his arrival in Godric’s Hollow.

“My great aunt does have a tendency to talk quite a lot about other people, and it’s often things that are a bit embarrassing,” Gellert conceded with a smile. “Usually good things, though.”

“Bathilda is a charming lady,” Albus said with a genuine smile of his own. “A brilliant historian, too! I wish I had an aunt like her.”

“She’s wonderful even though she’s a bit nosy.” Gellert cracked a grin, registering with satisfaction that Albus held his breath again even though he managed not to stare this time. “Asked me if you wanted to come over for coffee and cake, too.—Well, more like tea and cake,” he corrected himself. “For teatime, anyway.”

Gellert silently cursed himself. He knew his English didn’t betray much of his accent even though it was a bit lilting, but now he had given himself away as a non-native speaker for good. Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore, the wizarding wunderkind, would catch on to it.

“Bathilda may be as English as one can get, but you’re not from here, aren’t you?” Albus asked, sure enough, furrowing his brow in curiosity.

“No, I’m from Sopron, actually,” Gellert admitted. “Or Ödenburg, if that rings more of a bell. It’s in Austria-Hungary. Part of the Kingdom of Hungary, to be precise. My mother’s Hungarian; the father’s Austrian.”

“Interesting,” Albus said, eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry I must decline Bathilda’s invitation, though,” he added, and the light was suddenly gone from his eyes, as if someone had extinguished a candle. Gellert felt a strange and uncalled-for desire to do or say something to see it again. “Please tell Bathilda I’d gladly have accepted her invitation, but I’m afraid I must take care of my younger sister. I left her alone for far too long already, whiling away time at the cemetery.”

Gellert was fairly sure spending time at a deceased family member’s grave couldn’t exactly be called whiling away said time, but he decided not to comment on it. There was something peculiar about this boy; he was young, but there was an air resembling that of an absent-minded professor about him. Gellert felt drawn to him without being able to explain what exactly it was that made Albus so fascinating; what made him think desperately of ways to convince him to accept Bathilda’s invitation after all.

“Why don’t you just bring your sister along to Aunt Batty?” was the most natural thing that came to his mind.

“I’m afraid my sister is very frail … shy and easily distressed when she meets new people…” Albus’s voice trailed off, seemingly unconvinced by his own line of reasoning. He looked to the ground rather than into Gellert’s eyes.

“Why don’t you just ask her if she feels ready to meet me?” Gellert suggested, hope rising in his chest, fluttering up just like, as he hoped, the sparkle in Albus’s eyes. “I’m assuming she already knows Aunt Batty?”

“She does,” Albus admitted, “but she has never been to her house … Besides, my brother will kill me if I take Ariana to Bathilda’s.” He sighed.

“Then make sure he won’t find out about it.” Gellert smirked mischievously. Albus gave him a surprised look. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Fine,” he said, already turning on his heels. “I’m going to ask her.”

Interesting, Gellert thought. Albus had to be fairly desperate to escape his household charges, judging from how fast he had changed his mind. Either that, or… But Gellert quickly pushed that train of thought out of his mind.

“…so lovely if he could finally bring little Ariana over!” Gellert heard his great aunt say from the kitchen. He was in her sitting room, leaning against the bow-fronted chest of drawers on which she kept photographs of people close to her in silver frames. There was a particularly English note to the room, with embroidered doilies and colourfully painted flowerpots and saucers everywhere, but also a note that was purely Bathilda: There were stacks of books all across the room, some of them with an opened book on top and at least one scribble in the margins of the opened pages.

Aunt Batty’s sitting room was a little chaotic, but Gellert supposed it was practical if you were a famous historian and needed to draw on written texts all the time for your own books and articles. Nonetheless, he was feeling a little out of place in his spotless black trousers and black-grey striped waistcoat; too monochrome for the vivid colours of the room.

“Gellert, did you hear me?” his great aunt interrupted his musings about the room. “Should I set the table for two or four; what do you think?”

“Better set it for four,” he called back. “I think it’s better to have too many rather than too less place settings on the table, even if they don’t come in the end.”

He watched as four flowery saucers materialised on the wooden table in the middle of the room, followed by matching teacups and plates. Then there was a knock at Aunt Batty’s front door, and his attention strayed from the self-setting table.

“I’m going to let them in!” he informed his great aunt, already on his way to answer the door.

“Thanks, darling!” he heard her call from the kitchen.

Remembering what Albus had told him about Ariana’s shyness around unknown people, he opened the door slowly and with gentleness. Albus, now wearing purple robes, stood in front of him. His sister was half hidden behind his back, ogling Gellert from under Albus’s arm.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he greeted them both, beaming at Albus in particular. Then he turned to Ariana, bowing down a little to be on eye level with her. She had to be about a head smaller than him, though it was difficult to tell because she wasn’t standing upright.

“You must be Albus’s sister Ariana,” he greeted her, extending a hand. “I’m Gellert, Bathilda’s great nephew.”

She only stared at him suspiciously, making no move to take his hand. He reacted by extending only his bent index finger to her. She tipped at it with her own index finger, making a sound that was almost like a chuckle. His smile broadened.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked her. “Aunt Batty has made her famous chocolate cake.” She nodded. Albus exchanged a relieved look with Gellert as he went inside with his sister.

“Albus!” Bathilda exclaimed, storming out of the kitchen with open arms. She was smaller than Ariana, but that didn’t stop her from hugging Albus with the protective fierceness of a mother hen; it hadn’t stopped her from hugging Gellert with equal fierceness at his arrival either. Albus stooped down and hugged her back, smiling quietly into the tight bun of her brown hair.

“And Ariana!” Bathilda took Ariana’s hands with gentleness, smiling fondly at her. “Would you like to help me a little in the kitchen? Tea is almost ready.” Ariana nodded, and Bathilda tugged her along.

Albus clearly wasn’t at Bathilda’s for the first time. He walked alongside Gellert to the sitting room, taking a seat in a chair next to the empty fireplace. Gellert sat down across the table, scrutinizing Albus’s outward appearance.

“Honestly,” he said, “you’re fitting into this room way better than I do. Though I must admit the colour of your robes jars a little with your hair colour…”

“Interesting,” Albus said completely unimpressed. “A male individual who understands the idea of matching colours. What rarity.” He paused for effect. “Which colour would suit my hair better, Gellert; what do you think?”

“Green,” Gellert said without thinking. He realised he had been led up the garden path the moment the words left his mouth.

“Well … green.” Sure enough, Albus conjured a green carnation out of thin air and attached it on his purple robes. He raised both eyebrows. “Better?”

Gellert stared at him, utterly lost for words—and he was never lost for words. His heart was thumping in his chest. Albus had to know what he was alluding to, but what was he implying? That he was…? That he thought Gellert was…?

The truly unsettling thing was that he would have been right. Gellert’s head was hurting. He hadn’t known he was so easy to see through.

Then again, maybe Albus hadn’t seen through him after all. Maybe he had been making a statement about himself, or maybe it just amused him to scandalise other people. But that was something he, Gellert, thought funny! Would a model pupil like Albus even do such a thing?

Suddenly a large chocolate cake appeared on the table and their cups were full of tea—herbal tea by the scent of it. Gellert was immediately distracted. He found even black tea just barely tolerable, but herbal tea… Gellert sighed inwardly. As Aunt Batty’s guest, he needed to drink what was served to him, grin and bear it.

“Ah, wonderful!” Albus exclaimed, apparently delighted by the sight of the chocolate cake. “May we help ourselves to a piece, Bathilda?”

“Of course!” Bathilda said, walking back into the sitting room with Ariana. She smiled at Albus. “After all, I know how much you enjoy my cakes.”

“Well, but first of all, we need to serve the ladies,” Albus said as he pulled his wand out of his robes and gave it a flick. Two impeccably cut pieces of cake separated from the whole of it and settled on the plates in front of Bathilda and Ariana. “Then the well-travelled guest.” Another piece went to Gellert’s plate. “And, finally, myself.” The piece of cake that made its way to Albus’s plate was of the exact shape and form as the other three. Gellert raised his eyebrows.

“Are you a believer in the distributive norm of equity?” he asked curiously. “Donum suum aequale sibi?”

“Much as I’d love to distribute sweets proportional to body height,” Albus said, corners of his mouth twitching, “I believe that would be rather impolite toward your aunt and my sister.” Gellert laughed.

“Well then, Gellert,” Bathilda said. “How do you like my cake?”

“Wait a minute, Aunt Batty!” Gellert replied, still giggling. “I need to take a bite first!”

“And you, dearie?” Bathilda turned to Albus. “What do you think?”

“It tastes delicious as always,” Albus said and took his first bite. Gellert blinked incredulously. Bathilda didn’t seem to have noticed; she left her chair and headed for the kitchen again, muttering something about forgotten cream.

“Did you just…” Gellert asked as soon as his great aunt was out of earshot, staring at Albus.

“So what if I did?” Albus put down his dessert fork. “Any other answer wouldn’t have been socially acceptable anyway, would it?” There was an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Besides, I know from experience that your great aunt makes the best pastries and cakes in the whole West Country of England!”

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” Bathilda, who reappeared with a full bowl of cream floating beside her in mid-air, had apparently only heard the last part of Albus’s declaration. Gellert hastened to take a bite of his piece of cake as well so he could make a statement about it based on evidence.

“Delicious!” he exclaimed after a pause. “There’s a lot of cocoa in this cake, isn’t it? It tastes luscious, almost like melted chocolate!”

“The recipe is a family secret.” Bathilda smiled at herself. “Then again, you are family, so perhaps I’ll hand it to you if you behave nicely during your stay here.” Gellert wanted to tell her how she was probably much better at baking than him anyway, but he didn’t even get to say a word.

“I wish I was part of your family too if that’s the only way to get this recipe!” Albus declared in such a heartfelt way that Ariana started to giggle again. Bathilda made eye contact with her.

“Sweetie, I think your brother is a bit silly today,” she declared. Ariana nodded eagerly, and soon all four of them were grinning. Then Bathilda seemed to remember something.

“Oh dear, I completely forgot to properly introduce you three!”

“It’s no problem, Auntie,” Gellert tried to calm her. “We already introduced ourselves to each other, and you told me so much about Albus...”

“But Albus hardly knows anything about you, darling!” Gellert winced.

“Please, Aunt Batty, let me tell him myself!” he asked, hating how desperate he sounded. He saw the scene right before his mind’s eye: Gellert, this is Albus, the star alumnus of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus, this is my good-for-nothing great nephew Gellert who was expelled from Durmstrang Institute. Would Albus still want to talk to him if he learnt right now that he...

“But I think your research project would benefit enormously if a bright boy like Albus could look into it!” Bathilda objected gently. Gellert felt dizzy with relief as he realised she wasn’t going to tell Albus about the disgraceful end of his schooling.

“A research project?” Albus piped up.

“Um, yes, it’s ... a bit difficult to explain.” Gellert blushed. Again, he saw the scene right before his eyes: Hello, I’m trying to find three magical artefacts from a children’s tale. Who was going to take him seriously? If only he could get enough time to explain ... preferably without Ariana and his great aunt present...

“It involves an enormous amount of historical research, which is why Gellert came to me in the first place,” Bathilda explained. “Unfortunately I’m pressed for time to finish a revised edition of my book on witchcraft trials at the moment; the publisher needs the final draft by the end of August. But you know your fair share of magical history as well, don’t you, dearie?”

“Oh, it would be an honour for me if I could help you!” Albus said eagerly, turning to Gellert.

“Perhaps we could go to my room and have a look at Aunt Batty’s books together?” Gellert suggested. “I’m sure she would love to stay with your sister in the meantime; wouldn’t you, Aunt Batty?”

“Of course, darling!” Bathilda beamed. “I need to work on my book this afternoon, but you enjoy knitting, don’t you, Ariana?” The girl nodded and smiled at her. “So we could sit together while I’m writing and you’re knitting,” Bathilda suggested. “How does that sound?”

“Lovely,” Ariana said quietly. It was the first word Gellert had heard her utter during the whole afternoon. She had a bright and pretty voice.

Then Gellert turned to Albus, watching his inward struggle with his promise to take care of his sister himself and the temptation to leave her in Bathilda’s care instead. Just like in the cemetery, Temptation won with ease.

“Thank you, Bathilda,” Albus said. “That’s very kind of you.” Then he gave Ariana a tentative smile. She smiled back, but neither of them said anything.

“Come with me?” Gellert asked before Albus might change his mind. Albus nodded and followed him to the stairs. They were steep and narrow, so Albus was quite close to him when he stopped right behind him. He took the green carnation from his purple robes, twirling it between his long fingers.

“Your reaction was quite satisfying,” he commented offhandedly.

“What?” Gellert’s hand clutched around the landing. His knuckles turned white.

“There, again,” Albus said. “You seem so confident and sure of your own beauty. I wanted to see if I could do or say something that would unsettle you.”

Gellert stared at Albus in bewilderment.

“As it turned out, I could.” Albus smiled. His eyes sparkled. Then he flicked his wand, and the green carnation vanished. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. That was not my intention.”

He knows. Gellert felt the pulse of his own heartbeat in his throat.

“Oh, you didn’t disturb me at all,” he said as smoothly as he could and resumed walking. But he was sure he hadn’t fooled Albus.

Notes:

Oscar Wilde popularised green carnations as a symbol for homosexual men in Victorian England. He was tried for “gross indecency with men” in 1895 and jailed in Reading Gaol from then until 1897. Putting a green carnation on one’s lapel would have been considered risqué, to say the least, in 1899.

My headcanon that Gellert is from Sopron is very, very similar to that of Kierkegarden. I developed it independently but we were apparently thinking along very similar lines of reasoning: Nurmengard, the prison Gellert Grindelwald built, is located in Austria; Szent Gellért is a patron saint of Hungary; and Grindelwald is a village in Switzerland, which could be a Habsburg reference since Habsburg Castle, the originating seat of Austria’s long-time ruling family, is also located in Switzerland. (If you want to read this headcanon in a little more detail, follow the #grindellore tag on my blog 😉) Choosing Sopron as the place Gellert was born seems pretty natural, too, considering it’s an old city that used to be part of the Kingdom of Hungary; its status as Hungarian, not Austrian, remained controversial right after WWI; it was bombed several times during WWII; and it was the site of the “Pan-European Picnic”, a peace demonstration in 1989.

In case anyone’s curious: I hc Albus as about 1.85m in this fic; Gellert is about 1.75m; Ariana is c. 1.50m. Albus is frequently described as tall and thin even by the standards of the early 1990s in the Harry Potter series; he would be huge for a human man by the standards of the late 1890s.

#grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #harry potter #fantastic beasts #fanfiction #my fanfiction #katemarley #grindellore

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lycorogue · 5 years ago

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Who Wants to Meet My OCs? (Part 3b – Glitches Reworks)

Who’s ready for part two (er... of part 3...)?

If you’ve missed it, I’m doing a series to introduce everyone to my main OCs (and no, I’m TOOOOOTALLY not doing this to procrastinate on writing my fanfics... why do you ask?)

In Part 1, I introduced the series, what I wanted to do with it, and gave some insight on the real world inspiration for my two worlds:

Gyateara

Glitches

Then, in Part 2, I talked about the IRL inspiration for my Gyateara characters:

Amara Yori

Natalie

Connor

Jolene Crisslebalm

The first half of this third part of the series - Part 3a - I talked about how characters are created for the Play-by-Post RP X-Future; the game that birthed Glitches. I also talked about the inspiration for my main four truly original characters: my husband’s character Chayse, and My Girls: Lia, Willow, and Trish.

In this final part of the introduction series, I’m going to talk about the adult characters of Glitches, the X-Men/Marvel canonical characters they were derived from, and how I have started altering them to create original variants to use for Glitches.

If this sort of thing strikes your fancy, feel free to read about these characters below the break. If you’re more interested in the actual individual character bios, the first one will be up next Sunday. Catch ya then!

Marvel Canon Reworks:

The next series of characters were all originally canon characters for the X-Men comics. They are all significant for the X-Future characters, and therefore would need an original counterpart for Glitches. I have yet to figure out anyone’s last names....

Matteo

Emily

Ryder

Keahi

Cody

Ignatius “Iggy”

Ready to find out who they were originally?

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Matteo

In X-Future, after Xavier dies in The Reaping, Kitty (Pryde) LeBeau and James “Logan” Howlett take over as the headmistress and headmaster of the school. Wolverine has a strong presence in X-Future because of that, and also because of family created by some of the players. Now, I don't have the IP for any of Wolverine's children/grandchildren/clone's children... (it gets complicated...), but I like the idea of Wolverine being Kitty's foil. A sort of Magneto to Kitty's Professor X. So Wolvie needed an overhaul.

Matteo is half-Puerto Rican, half-African American. His Latino features are more dominant though. And, honestly, the only real reason I thought of including the half-African American part was because it was a suggestion of a friend. His character Lucas is the son of Wolverine's clone X-23. Back when I was first thinking of creating Glitches, this friend was very much involved in helping me figure out what parts of X-Future should make the cut. We jointly reworked Lucas slightly so that he is instead a kid whom Matteo rescued from government experimentation. Lucas was Black, and so my friend thought having Matteo be at least half-Black would help Lucas see a connection that would lead him to trust Matteo and bond with him. A sort of Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson sort of dynamic.

Said friend of mine sort of went radio-silent after moving a few states away, and so I no longer feel comfortable using Lucas in Glitches. Therefore, I'm not sure if I should just revert Matteo back to full Puerto Rican. It's still up in the air.

I needed him to have the feral personality and physical durability that Wolverine has, but he's now gruff and hardened less because of what had been done to him, but because his younger sister was killed in government experimentation. He is NOT a fan of humans and Glitches (my word for mutants) cohabiting. He no longer has the claws, but takes Logan's begrudging paternal personality and cranks it up a few notches.

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Emily

Kitty “Shadowcat” Pryde, as mentioned above, is the headmistress of the Institute, and she's Chayse's very involved mother. I couldn't leave her out if Chayse was transitioning into Glitches. So, she became Emily. Since Chayse has both parents' powers in equal parts, it was a touch easier to manipulate both Shadowcat and Gambit so that Chayse still had the same power set, but the Glitches version of his parents SHOULD be different enough not not be blatant rip-offs.

I started off by giving Emily Gambit's powers, sorta. Instead of Gambit's ability to create kinetic energy, Emily can MANIPULATE kinetic energy. Not only can she build up or create kinetic energy out of potential, she can also instantly pull kinetic energy out of an object in order to drop it back into potential energy. This means, for instance, if she were to catch a ball, she wouldn't need to follow through with her arm; it moving with the kinetic energy transferred from the ball once it's stopped in her hand. Instead, her skin simply absorbs the kinetic energy and the ball stops instantly, as if it were gently lobbed over to her. Likewise, if she concentrates, she can make her skin impenetrable: instantly withdrawing the kinetic energy from things such as bullets, cars, blades, etc., before it can puncture or otherwise injure her skin. No skin injuries also tends to mean no internal injuries.

Of course, the main use of this kinetic manipulation is the way Gambit uses it: adding or building up kinetic energy in an object. This can be used to add force to an object, such as hitting harder with a bat or bo staff without added effort, jumping higher or running faster, or building up enough energy the object explodes. Emily and Chayse also figure out how to use the kinetic energy very similarly to The Flash from the DC comics. Namely, build up enough kinetic energy within their own cells that they vibrate fast enough to pass through other particles. This makes them intangible and capable of phasing through solid objects. It takes a LOT of practice to keep their feet particles on top of the ones that make up the floor/ground. Even more practice allows for “air steps” where they can actually climb the particles that make up the air itself. This brings things back full-circle to Kitty's phasing powers.

I have been so focused on Emily's backstory, ideals, and new powers, so I don't really have a mental image of her that is vastly different than Kitty Pryde's. I still need to work on that. The only real big thing is that Emily has eyes similar to Gambit: unnatural colored irises and sclera. Normally, Emily has the naturally occurring white sclera, and magenta irises. When she's using her powers, however, the magenta bleeds into her sclera. That's it. That's all the physical description I have thus far...

Personality wise, however, she is much more stern and focused than Kitty is shown in most canonical iterations.

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Ryder

Gambit is just as much of an involved parent as Kitty, so it's only natural that if Kitty has to become Emily, then Remy becomes Ryder. My biggest problem, though, was how to make a suave, Cajun, con-man with powers NOT feel like THE Cajun: Remy “Gambit” LeBeau himself. Granted, not having the ability to blow things up helps, but there's so much more to Gambit than just that.

I wanted to keep him suave, a reformed con-man, White with a non-American accent, and have a love of play cards. That's just TOO Gambit to not include. At the same time... it's SOOOOO Gambit to NOT be recognizable. So, I started off by changing the Cajun accent to one I find equally sexy: Australian. Next, Ryder is more a con-artist than a con-man. More of a manipulator than a thief. He still loves his cards, but he's more likely to play Three Card Monty with them than blow you up with them.

One of the side-effects to Gambit's kinetic powers is the “accidental telepathic manipulation.” He may not even realize he does this, but Gambit can mess with the kinetic energy WITHIN SOMEONE'S BRAIN! He can make certain parts of the brain fire off, making his target much more susceptible to believing his lies, manipulation, and over-all charm. Gambit also always has a kinetic shield around him that continuously shifts erratically. This makes it extremely difficult for telepaths to break through the kinetic field and attack Gambit's mind. Effectively making him highly resistant to telepathic attacks and/or manipulation/suggestion.

So, I figured I'd take this commonly overlooked part of Gambit's powers, and make it Ryder's main mutation. He has a “silver tongue” and has the telepathic ability of verbal suggestion, manipulation, and hypnosis.

Ryder looks like a normal human, albeit a gorgeous one. He has brunette hair instead of Gambit's usually auburn, and he has intense “baby blues” that helps him hold eye contact, which elevates his powers. I don't have much more by way of physical description.

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Keahi

On the one hand, Keahi is a major rework of her canon counterpart. In the comics, Amara “Magma” Aquilla is a blonde haired, blue eyed, White girl from the Roman-like society of Neo Roma. They wear togas still and everything. The Amara from X-Future is the version we see in “X-Men: Evolution” in which she's just a typical Brazilian girl of tan skin and brown hair and eyes. I shifted her again so that Keahi is Hawaiian. A bit of a change.

On the flip-side, you can only do so much with “woman who can manipulate tectonic plates and magma, can create fireballs, is immune to fire/lava/breathing in ash, and transforms into a humanoid walking ball of magma.” Lia has all of those powers, so her mother has to have them. Which means I can't really do much with Amara's powers to alter them for Keahi.

Since Keahi doesn't actually show up all that much in Glitches – ya know, since she's MIA – I didn't spend terribly too much time on her. I still need to sit down and figure her out a bit.

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Cody

Jamie “Multiple Man” Madrox is too much of a helicopter parent to not have him follow Lia over into the Glitches rework. The main reason he could be a helicopter parent to such an extreme is his ability to create duplicates. That way he can literally always be with Lia, except for when she needs privacy, such as when she's in the bathroom and/or changing.

In Glitches, Jamie is now Cody, a man who can still create clones of himself out of fresh drops of his own blood. Slightly different than Jamie's impact-created duplicates. The funny thing, though, is for someone whose powers requires bleeding, he's as Edge Lord as a middle-aged man with diabetes. Cody gets viciously protective of those he loves, so he can get some of that badassery his comic counterpart has, but... it's not wholly evident.

In order to use his power, I had Keahi design a special wedding band for her husband. It's similar to (Spoiler alert?) Annie's ring from “Attack on Titan.”

It has a spike hidden inside it that Cody can flick out to puncture or slash his skin whenever he needs blood in a hurry. Normally, he does keep a sleeve of sterilized sewing needles in his pocket, and pricks his fingers on those, but the wedding band is used in a pinch, and has helped him in the past.

Cody still needs some more work as well, but his build is mostly “generic over-protective dad.”

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Ignatius “Iggy”

Iggy started his life as St. John “Pyro” Allerdyce, aka: Devon's father. I was actually largely inspired to create Iggy after watching the anime “K.” Specifically, Iggy is largely designed after the Red King Suoh Mikoto. I mean, look at this guy!

(Sorry, I no longer have the artist credit after my computer crashed. If you know who put this together, please let me know.)

(Same deal; the file I had that listed where I found this fanart got corrupted when my computer crashed. Please let me know if you recognize the artist)

(There's just something about a fit man juuuuuuuust barely showing off his stomach that is just so yummy for me.)

Anyway... Throw in a little Billy Idol and flame-ombre hair, and you have the basic aesthetic for Iggy.

Iggy's personality is more manic than Pyro's. He can be calm and calculated, but also be enraged out of nowhere and go on a rampage; the same qualities his protégé Trish possesses. I wanted Iggy to have a “sexy British-derived accent” still, and with the red hair, I figured: go Irish. So Iggy is an Irish immigrant. The Brotherhood is now a street gang that Iggy turned into a terrorist group. So... again, semi-inspired by Suoh from “K.”

He still has the power to manipulate flame, without the ability to create it. However, there are so many fire manipulators/pyrokinetics throughout pop culture that I'm hoping Iggy doesn't feel like a Discount Bin Pyro.

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In the end, there's not much that I've really done with these character re-works yet, but you'll get to meet them further in later posts.

Until then, thank you for taking this time to see a broad look at my character creation process. If you have any notes on how I can make these characters more distinct from their canon counterparts, feel free to drop me a DM or something.

Thank you, and I’ll see you guys again next week for the first of my individual character profiles. I’m going to start with the “most vocal”: Willow.

#writing #LycoRogue writing #OCs #Meet My OCs #character creation #IRL character inspiration #writing process #long post #Glitches #Matteo #Emily #Ryder #Keahi #Cody #Iggy #series post #4 of 18?#LycoRogue original

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aj-the-psycho · 6 years ago

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The Hour: A Sanders Sides Story - Chapter 6

IMPORTANT INFORMATION: HE’S NOT HAPPY

TW: None

Summary: Roman finally had his hour.

AO3 Link

Roman was excited. Ever since that announcement about the original theater production, Roman couldn’t help but think about it all the time. He got distracted a lot, thinking about the plot lines of his first original play. The professor never said it should be a musical, but obviously he’s making it a musical, because who could live without ever hearing his wonderful singing voice?

It was almost midnight and Roman was still hunched on his desk, writing ideas and creating scenes. He had always liked writing romantic or heroic tropes, be it poems or stories. Princes and knights saving damsels, fighting evil and dying an honorable death. Or perhaps, little scenes with romantic gestures where the hero would woo the girl and they would fall madly in love with each other. What people don’t expect though, is that Roman loves stories where the villain turns good and be the hero. He thought the most noble deed anyone could do is to own up to their mistakes and change themselves for the better.

Roman had been at his desk for six hours. His shoulders felt like it was made out of concrete; heavy and stiff. His fingers were jellies; weakly holding a pen and dancing across the paper in an erratic pattern. His eyes sting from the bright white light of his desk lamp. Roman ignored his discomfort and continued his writing, imagination still running wild.

‘I should maybe start writing at least one scene. What good are ideas if I don’t use it? Which one though?’ Roman paused for a moment. ‘Oh, that part at the near-ending is a good one.

‘How should that scene start? Oh, I know…

~~~

“You took a bullet for me.” the villain stared at her as she gasped for a breath that didn’t quite reach her lungs. “That was a stupid move.”

She wished she had something to say. An excuse. She wished she had had a plan, but he had done it out of instinct.

She wished she had something to say. A witty comment. Something smart. But every word she wanted to say died on her lips. Everything hurts.

The villain stepped closer, looming over her. For a second, everything was silent. Nothing moves, the wind holds its breath, the birds didn’t sing their happy songs. The villain scooped her up and leaned him over the large tree behind them.

“Why did you have to be so stupid?” the villain said, desperation dripping from the words. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me. Please. If you stay, I promise-I promise I will tell you everything. I promise I’ll be better. Just… please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” she said. Her breaths were getting shorter…’

~~~

‘I think that’s good for now.’ Roman thought, satisfied with what he had worked on for now.

Roman would never admit it, but he would often imagine himself being the hero who people adore. Well, one person would be enough for him. Roman have always wanted someone who he can protect and shower with gifts and kisses. Someone who doesn’t demand anything from him. Someone who he can love.

Suddenly, Roman felt a dull pain at the back of his head, like someone had punched him at the back of the head. He ignored it in favor of writing more ideas. He felt another pain, more intense this time. Roman threw his pen on his desk in frustration. Why can’t he just work in peace?! He held his head in his hands, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to go away. After the pain had receded, he opened his eyes and was greeted by an unusual sight.

“¡Qué mierda! Where am I?!" Roman exclaimed in his surprise upon finding that he was no longer in his bedroom. He found himself seated on a bed with extremely soft sheets and heavy blanket. Roman didn’t do anything for a little while, just looking around without thinking.

He stayed on the bed for about ten minutes before he started processing his situation. ‘Am I dreaming?’ He looked around him again, now choosing to internalize his thoughts. ‘I don’t think I like this dream. I want to go back. How do I go back?’ Roman looked around some more without leaving the bed. The first thing he noticed was that everything was dark. By that meaning whoever decided to decorate this place has a dark aesthetic. That’s not the right word, but Roman didn’t care.

‘Wow… even the pillow smells edgy.’ Roman stood from his perch on the bed. He walked over to the bookshelf to the left of the bed, taking a closer look at the book collection. They were mostly poetry books, dated and modern. There are some other things too, three or four books about linguistics and two other books about space. ‘An emo nerd. That’s a weird combination.’

Roman dropped one of the books he was holding, so he bent down to pick it up. He almost instantly felt that something was off. He couldn’t place it. Something was off and he didn’t know what. ‘Wait…’ Of course. Usually, when he bend down to pick something up, the distance from his head to the floor was longer. ‘Am I shorter? I’m shorter.’ Roman told himself after reaching the conclusion then immediately back-paddled “¡Qué mierda! I’m shorter! How in las tierra is that even possible?!”

Roman paced back and forth in the small, dark bedroom, thinking about how he had gotten himself into this nonsense situation. He wished his nerdy friend was here to help him think. Logan would have known what is happening. ‘Think. How can this happen? What did I do? What did I do to the universe that it does this to me. Oh… the universe—oh… oh no. No, no, nononono! This is not happening!’

Of course it’s the hour. Of course the universe loves to mock him. Of course the universe would know the one thing he hated most. And of course the universe decided to give him that one thing that he hated most; a soulmate.

‘What time is it now?’ He took the phone at the bedside table to look at the time. When he saw the lock screen picture he froze. ‘Uuuuumm…’ he furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, thinking hard while staring at the picture. ‘That’s—that’s Remy. The Russian dude in my class?’ The picture was of Remy and another guy—who Roman thinks is super cute and immediately shoves the thought away—standing back-to-back looking straight at the camera, both having a neutral expression.

Roman would agree if someone said Remy was an attractive guy. Perfectly mussed auburn hair framing an oval face with ungodly jawline, sunglasses covering half his face which gives a mysterious vibe—until he talks, that is—and the classic ‘t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans’ combo that he usually goes for. Yes. Remy is positively hot. However, Roman was unsure about having him as a soulmate though. He looked down at himself—technically it’s his soulmate—and back at the picture.

Roman looked at the time once again. ‘I still have thirty minutes. Why can’t this just end right now?’ He walked out of the bedroom to find the bathroom. He marched in and faced the mirror. ‘Oh, I knew it was impossible for Remy guy to be my soulmate.’ was Roman’s first thought upon seeing the reflection in the mirror. His second thought was… well, it took time for him to form another thought. A pretty long time.

Roman could see the resemblance between his soulmate and Remy. They are undoubtedly related. Pale complexion making the skin look smooth and milky, striking steel grey eyes that pops against the soft-purple dyed hair, chocolate brown hair peeking at the roots. Noticeable cheekbones and killer jawline, subtle muscles framing the thin body perfectly. Roman dared to lift the loose black t-shirt to peek, revealing the same pale, milky skin. He stared at the mirror once again and noticed the dark under-eye bags.

Roman couldn’t help but think that this person was enchantingly beautiful. He immediately shook his head, as if by doing that he could banish the thought out of his head. No! This can’t happen, it’s not possible. Roman hates soulmates and nothing will change that. He doesn’t need a soulmate, because soulmates are not true love. He is not going to fall into that trap. He furrowed his brows while still staring at the mirror and leaving the bathroom with a sour mood.

‘Everything sucks.’ Roman stomps back into the bedroom. He didn’t know what to do. He never wanted this. He still didn’t want this. So, he decided to write a note.

Roman walked the short distance from the door to the desk at the corner of the room and angrily wrote a note.

~~~

Roman Cascales.

I never wanted this, still don’t want this. Don’t look for me.

If you ever see me, walk the other way.

~~~

He left the note, written on a post it, on the desk and sat on the bed again. He scrunched his face in annoyance. Why did the universe, or whatever being or force that created the universe decided that it was a good idea for soulmates to be a thing? Everything is a lie. Many people are trapped in loveless relationships just because they’re soulmate. Other people take advantage of their soulmate status to manipulate their match for their gain. Roman wanted to give a long lecture to whoever make soulmates an actual concept and maybe give them some murder charges for those whose life was taken because of that concept—literally and figuratively. Many people have had their lives ruined because of soulmates.

Roman looked at the phone once again to look at the time. He realized that the other boy in the picture was his soulmate. The realization made him want to punch something and just burst with red hot anger. ‘Ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes, hold on Roman.’ Roman tried to cool himself down.

When he felt a familiar pain at the back of his head, he embraced it. He wanted this to end right now.

Roman launched himself to the bed. His chest rising up and down quickly. He screamed into his pillow to muffle the sound and clutching the material of his thick blanket tightly in contained anger. His excitement from an hour ago was forgotten.

In the morning, before he left the apartment, he found a note on his desk.

~~~

Virgil Dudnickov (19)

Not much to say about me.

~~~

With the additional of email address and phone number, there was nothing else written.

After reading the note, Roman left his apartment in a foul mood.

**********

Roman's vocab (please tell me if I made any mistakes with these):

¡Qué mierda! [What the fuck!]

Las tierra [The world; the Earth]

3 notes · View notes

tonidshipper · 6 years ago

Text

The Sky In My Heart Clears - A YoshiMaru Fanfiction

Read on Ao3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 2: That’s one hell of an opportunity indeed

Chapter Summary: In which Yoshiko is just plain confused with how her day is going.

Yoshiko have Cinematography 1 and Film Theories 1 for today, both of which are morning classes so it is convenient that she is scheduled for an afternoon interview.

Cinematography is interesting, as usual. They’re finally testing the different cameras to use for filmmaking. The Arriflex’ video quality was superb but, she is much more comfortable with the low-costs filmmaking using a DSLR. Thanks to Mari’s gift, her DSLR is up to date with the new ones. She was still using a camcorder back then for her ‘fallen angel livestream for the little demons’ and it was also the same one they used to film their first few Aqours PV and other content. Compared to the DSLR, that camcorder was like a potato, as the internet would say.

Since Yoshiko got the camera, she’s been studying the functions and using it to practice which is why she’s thankful that when they start making their short film projects, they’re not required to use the Arriflex and they can use their rigs. For this term, at least. They will have to use it at some point for Cinematography 2 though.

After that fun class comes Yoshiko’s least favorite course, Film Theories 1. Mis-en-scene is the current topic, which Yoshiko defines as ‘everything you see on the set and in the scene, basically ’. Of course, it is a lot more broader than that, with the different elements and all, but she is just very distracted by the fact that she will be going to an interview after class.

As soon as their professor dismisses them, Yoshiko bolts out of her seat and out of the classroom.

She barely makes it on time. She enters the building, showing her ID to the security guard. She receives a pass which she pins to her ID before heading towards the reception desk.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The brunette receptionist inquires.

“Hello, I’m here for an interview with-” Crap, she forgot the name of the person she was supposed to look for. “Sorry, let me just get my phone,” she says.

The receptionist practically beams at her before which, Yoshiko doesn’t really know how to react to. The older woman watches her for a few seconds. “Tsushima Yoshiko-san, right?” She asks. Dumbfounded, Yoshiko nods. “It’s nice to meet you. My younger sister is a fan of Aqours. As am I, as an extension.”

Oh, right. “A-Ah, yes. Thank you for your support.” She smiles then bows her head, not sure how to react once again. She really needs to calm down, she scolds herself mentally for it. Yoshiko finally manages to fish her phone out and read the text from last night. “Sorry, I’m looking for Tanaka Keiko-san.”

The woman nods in acknowledgement. “For a moment please, Tsushima-san.”

Yoshiko still can’t believe that people recognize her for being a part of Aqours up to this day. In fact, the friends she met in university approached her because they recognized her. While it did have its perks, Yoshiko feels like some people are reluctant to approach her because of it.

A woman comes up to the reception desk while Yoshiko is lost in thought. The receptionist knows her, it seems.

“Ah, you’re here to see Tanaka-san?”

“Yup! She’s here, right?”

“Yes but Tsushima-san here is being scouted as a talent, I believe and she’s asked by Tanaka-san to come here for an interview.”

“A talen-?” Yoshiko mumbles to herself in confusion and finally glances at the person the receptionist is talking to. The woman is shorter than her by 2 inches, probably. Her hair is jet black hair which are tied into high pigtails with red ribbons on both sides. The woman’s ruby eyes are doing the same thing - looking at her curiously.

Then, the woman grins. And Yoshiko swears she has never been more stunned in her life. It’s almost impossible for Yoshiko not to recognize who this person is. After all, Chika would gush about them back in high school non-stop during the time they were in the process of establishing Aqours. Also, Ruby and Hanamaru managed to make her watch a lot of their music videos and TV guestings. Because of that, somehow, Yoshiko knows what the woman will say next.

“Nico-Nico-Nii!”

“Y-Y-Yazawa N-Nico-san!”

Nico strikes her signature pose while Yoshiko bows.

“Call me Nico! You’ll be working with Nico, after all. You’re Tsushima Yoshiko of Aqours, right?” Nico tilts her head. Still, Yoshiko hasn’t recovered from the shock that is meeting one of Aqours’ inspiration that she can only nod. “Ah, this is amazing! Hanayo’s going to flip when she hears that Nico’s going to work with a member of Aqours!”

A lot of things are going on in Yoshiko’s mind. First is, what the hell? Second is the Yazawa Nico of μ's somehow knows her and the rest of Aqours. Third, did the idol just say that she’ll be working with her?

“N-Nice to meet y-you, Nico-senpai,” is what Yoshiko manages to reply because honestly, what do you even reply at a time like this?

Nico grins. “Likewise! You can drop the senpai too, really. But that’s up to you. And, since we’re both heading towards Kei-chan’s office, let’s go together!” The idol waves at the receptionist and heads toward the elevators.

The younger girl continues to stands there in shock which Nico has noticed. The idol looks back at her. “Tsushima-san?”

“E-eh!” Flustered, Yoshiko nearly jumps at the sound of the idol calling her. “P-Please, just call me Yoha-” No, not that, she scolds herself. “Yoshiko.” She bows down to the woman behind the reception desk who seems pretty entertained by their interaction before following Nico.

When Yoshiko was still in high school, she could remember their no. 1 resident idol expert, Dia, saying that Nico was the only one from μ's who actually continued being an idol. Yoshiko remembered the older Kurosawa saying that even if μ's had already made a name for themselves, Nico still worked hard and started in a small agency. But she made it big in the end. Which is why Yoshiko still can’t comprehend how she’s now standing next to one of the members of μ's in an elevator.

“Nico was with Kei-chan when she was sorting through the submissions from applicants.” The older woman starts, breaking the silence. “When she mentioned your name, Nico had to look at your profile because Nico had to make sure that she heard that correctly since I’m a fan of Aqours. I then ended up showing a bunch of videos from Aqours. Nico’s always been really impressed with your voice. When Kei-chan heard you, she was too.”

Yoshiko takes note of the fact that Nico refers to herself in third person which, she finds odd. Then again, Yoshiko referred to herself as 'the fallen angel, Yohane' for so many years that she really shouldn’t judge. Also, did her senior just say that she’s a fan of Aqours? “T-Thank you very much,” is all Yoshiko musters to reply.

Nico tilts her head then laughs. “I know Nico’s presence is stunning but you don’t have to be so reserved!” The older woman is grinning at her. “You need to get used to being with the No.1 idol in the universe if you’ll be working with me on this project after all.”

Okay, she’s… a lot of things, Yoshiko thinks, for the lack of a better word. Overwhelming might be the closest word to what she’s feeling but not exactly. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to meet you and you’re even saying you’re a fan of our school idol group,” Yoshiko explains, slightly bowing her head as a sign of her apology as well. “Aqours was actually established because our leader was inspired by μ's. She eventually managed to turn us into fans as well. We look up to μ's so much so it’s quite a surprise to hear that from you.”

The elevator stops and Yoshiko sees that they are on the fifth floor. Nico gestures for her to go, so she does and the idol gets off as well then begins walking down the hall. “Takami Chika-san did mention in a few magazine interviews, yeah.” She even knew Chika? At first Yoshiko was thinking maybe Nico was just being humble but, holy shit, is she serious? “Nico likes to be updated with the winners of Love Live. It’s nice to see new faces in the industry, y’know?” The idol continues walking until they reach a door at the end of the hall.

Yoshiko watches as Nico raises a hand to knock on the door three times before turning the knob and swinging the door violently. She stands there in shock as Nico barges in. “Your favorite idol is here!” Nico announces. By the doorway, Yoshiko sees paper, crumpled into a ball, thrown at Nico’s forehead. “Hey…” the idol’s voice lowers and she scowls at who Yoshiko assumes is Tanaka Keiko. “You can’t treat me like that! Especially when I was kind enough to bring you the company's latest recruit!"

The fallen angel feels her face loosen into a smirk. So the idol’s demeanor totally changes when she’s talking to people she’s close to, maybe?

“It was just coincidence that you happen to arrive at the same time, Yazawa.” A stern, modulated voice comes from the inside. “Tsushima-san, please come inside.”

At the sound of her name, Yoshiko walks to the door, peeking inside the room first. She’s met by two keen, blue eyes that followed her as she makes her way inside. They’re not exactly harsh. Rather, the eyes reflected warmth and kindness. Somehow, she feels calmer than before. Yoshiko bows down. “I’m Tsushima Yoshiko. It is a pleasure to meet you,” she greets.

“The pleasure is mine, Tsushima-san.” The woman, dressed in a black blazer over a white shirt tilts her head and smiles. She then stands up from her seat. “My name is Tanaka Keiko. I’m one of the artist managers here in Grand Sky Entertainment.” The auburn-haired woman says. Yoshiko nods in acknowledgement but wonders why she’s meeting an artist manager . Shouldn’t she be meeting the Human Resources for hiring? From her peripheral vision, she sees Nico lounging on a leather couch inside the room and looking at her phone. “Thank you for coming today. Please have a seat.” Keiko gestures the seat in front of her table.

The college student obeys. “I’ve read your profile,” the manager starts. “I do admit that I am quite interested because you came from a school idol group much like Yazawa. Though I’ll be frank, I almost didn’t consider sending you an invite.” Again, her blue eyes looks at Yoshiko, as if seeing how she reacts. When she sees that Yoshiko still looks at her with a determined face, she smiles then continues. “The reason for that is because you’re still a student. You see, we here at Grand Sky rarely accept students because of schedules and conflicts.

However, Yazawa over there insisted because she was very sure that you’d do well so the whole student issue will not apply,” She gestures Nico who is now playing what seems to be a rhythm game on her phone. She has her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she played the game. Yoshiko is getting more confused by the second. What exactly is going on? “Which is why I’d like to know if you’re willing to commit to us, if ever we do accept you in the agency. We don’t just take in people, Tsushima-san. We develop them.”

“Basically,” the idol intervenes, making Yoshiko look at her direction. “What she’s trying to say is that she’s willing to take you in as a talent of Grand Sky and not just someone they call occasionally for a job,” Nico mumbles from the couch. Keiko shoots her a look which she doesn’t even see because she’s too busy playing- “Ah, I was scouting for a UR! What’s with these SRs? Stupid game...” -School Idol Festival, it seems.

Keiko clears her throat, Yoshiko’s attention immediately diverted back to her. “Before I was rudely interrupted by-”

“The number one idol in the universe.”

“I was going to say number one annoyance in my ass,” Yoshiko can’t help but let out a subtle chuckle at that. If the idol did notice, she decided not to comment about it. “But yes, Yazawa is correct. We’re willing to take you in as a talent. Of course, that means you’ll go through formal trainings if you’re on board.”

Yoshiko looks at them, bewildered at what is currently happening. “U-Uhm, you must be mistaken, I’m applying as the part-time assis-”

“And we’re offering that you be a talent of ours instead. We do know you’re looking for the job experience since it does say here that you go to a film school. And yes, we are looking for part-timers willing to assist us in some of our shootings and recordings. But, Yazawa over there has sent in a video of yours back when you were still engaged in your school idol activities. I was impressed with your voice and Yazawa gave me the idea that maybe we could scout you as a talent instead.” Keiko explains.

Nico puts her phone down and smiles at Yoshiko. “Unless you’d rather sort out scripts, manage the schedule and all that, I’m sure Kei-chan’s willing to hire you as an assistant around here too, of course.” The idol chuckles. “Totally up to you, Yoshiko-chan.”

In the end, they gave Yoshiko a few days to think about the offer. She has absolutely no idea how things escalated so quickly. She walked in there, applying to help out for music video shoots and studio recordings - how did she end up with a contract to be Grand Sky’s newest rising talent?

“Admittedly, from a business standpoint, you’re very bankable, Tsushima-san.” Yoshiko remembers Keiko’s words from earlier.“You’ve got a good number of followers and fans up to this day, even if you do not realize this yourself. Aqours may have stopped performing but your fans have stayed. That’s part of why we’re scouting you.

As for Yazawa, she’s coming from a fan’s standpoint. School idol groups from Love Live! tend to disband after a few members graduate. Only a few decide to stay together and transition as professional idols, A-Rise being the first. Fans are devastated when that happens. I think that’s why Yazawa is so insistent to take you in. Because she knows how it feels to have a group disband at the peak of their career. She knows how μ's fans felt during their disbandment. She also knows that you’ve got so much potential than just sorting out schedules and scripts, and all that kind of work.”

It’s flattering to have someone like Yazawa Nico, one of the most popular idols right now, believe in her so much but, Yoshiko’s not really sure if she can live up to the expectations that her senpai has of her.

“Give it some thought, Yoshiko-chan,” is what Nico said before she went out of Keiko’s office. “We’re not pressuring you or anything. Like Nico said earlier, Kei-chan can offer you the assistant job if you’re set on that. Nico personally thinks that Yoshiko-chan’s got a lot more to offer so, we want to give you the opportunity.”

Yeah, opportunity. That’s one hell of an opportunity indeed. But can she really do it? Besides, she’s studying and she actually likes films. What happens when she agrees to become Grand Sky’s talent? She didn’t really look into what Grand Sky’s talents does because she wasn’t even applying to be one but now, she’d be lying if she says that she’s not interested.

And so, Yoshiko relies on Google.

Apparently, Grand Sky was previously known as a voice acting school and a recording studio.

So, voice acting?

But Grand Sky isn’t just a voice acting school now. When Yazawa Nico, who was under a small entertainment label back then, signed as an endorser and became the face of the company four years ago, she became a game changer for Grand Sky as she attracted investors because of her fame. From then on, it was eventually turned into an entertainment label.

It turns out that during that time, Nico was in the process of going on as a freelance idol because of misunderstandings with her previous label. It was not disclosed but a lot speculated that it has something to do with the idol love ban that her previous label strictly imposed. There are a lot of gossips on the internet about the issue.

Yoshiko makes a mental note that she really shouldn’t look too much into it. The idol love ban is stupid anyway, in Yoshiko’s opinion. It was not confirmed whether that was true but whatever they did to Nico was enough for her to think that she should go on her idol career as a freelancer. That was supposed to be the case however, she figured she could stay with another company for a while so she signed with Grand Sky as their talent. Because of Grand Sky’s sudden popularity, Nico eventually decided to invest on the company as well, now making her a shareholder.

Another contribution that Nico did for the industry other than helping Grand Sky to establish a name as one of the fastest growing entertainment label is the school idol transition program. Grand Sky is closely tied with Love Live! as school idols who decide to go professional are trained there and eventually, they debut as Grand Sky’s new idol group. In short, it became a starting ground for school idols transitioning to professional idols.

Yoshiko’s jaw slacks at Nico’s achievements, business wise. She’s already known how huge the name Yazawa Nico is in the entertainment industry - the idol industry, to be exact so it’s not surprising to hear about achievements such as music awards and idol recognition. Impressive but not surprising. But when she thinks of how her senior was acting earlier, she wouldn’t have thought that the behind the child-like appearance and personality, the idol is a force to be reckoned with. Clearly, more than being just an idol, Nico has thought of helping other idols which, in turn, helps out the idol industry.

Well, Yazawa Nico’s pretty amazing but still, what did she see in her for her to be so insistent on taking her in as a talent? Yoshiko’s been so into her research that she jumps in surprise when her phone rang.

Call from: Zuramaru

Yoshiko swipes on the screen to answer the call. “He-”

“Yoshiko-chan?! Are you alright?!” Comes her friend’s worried (and unnecessarily loud) voice from the earpiece of the phone.

“Eh? I’m fine! I’m fine! What’s wrong Zuramaru?”

A sigh. “Thank goodness, zura!” Yoshiko hears actual relief from Hanamaru’s voice. “I’ve been texting you multiple times earlier and you haven’t replied so I thought you might be busy or you’re still bein’ interviewed but, it’s been hours and you aren’t replying so I thought something might’ve happened to you, zura. I kind of panicked and decided to call you-”

As Hanamaru continues telling her why she’s panicking, a smile tugs at Yoshiko’s lips as she feels warmth envelope her. She’s so cute, she thinks to herself. “Zuramaru,” Yoshiko says and almost immediately, Hanamaru stops. “Breathe,” she instructs and sure enough, Hanamaru exhales. “I’m sorry I haven’t replied. And, thank you for worrying about me. I just had,” Yoshiko pauses, thinking of the right word to describe what just happened to her. “a bizarre day.”

Hanamaru hums. “Did you not get the job, Yoshiko-chan?”

“Quite the opposite, Zuramaru.” Yoshiko lies down her apartment floor and stretches. “I got offered a different job.”

So she spends a good couple of minutes explaining everything to her best friend. “And now, I’ve got a contract with Grand Sky that I’m not sure what to do with.” Hanamaru is silent on the other end and Yoshiko begins to wonder if the other girl had fallen asleep somewhere along her story. “Zuramaru?”

“You met Yazawa Nico-san?! Nico-san from μ's?!”

“Glad to know you’re excited for my new job, Zuramaru.” Yoshiko jokes.

Surprised Hanamaru noises follow afterwards which makes Yoshiko laugh. “That’s not what I meant! Of course I’m happy for you, zura!” Her friend exclaims. “But I think it’s astonishing that you met Yazawa Nico! Was she kind?”

Yoshiko thinks. “Well, she is. But she is also a lot of things.”

“I can imagine, zura.” Silence. “I hope you’re not feeling pressured, Yoshiko-chan. You can say no if you feel like it’s not for you.”

“I know, thank you Hanamaru. Actually, Nico-senpai said that they’re not pressuring me into it.” Yoshiko scratches her cheeks with a finger, lost in thought. “Honestly though, a part of me feels like I want it. I’ve always liked performing. You know how I am with my theatrics.” That earns her a giggle from Hanamaru. “I don’t know Zuramaru. When I think about myself, doing these kinds of things, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Why so?”

Why? Yoshiko sighs. “It doesn’t feel right not to have you, and everyone else by me.”

Aqours has always Aqours. They all performed as part Aqours. When she thinks of her, alone, without the eight girls she’s been with during their time in the limelight, it feels lonely.

“Y’know, Yoshiko-chan? Sometimes I just wish I was there with you,” Hanamaru says it so genuinely that Yoshiko can’t help but smile sadly. “You sound so different - so sad at times, zura. You know we’re all just here for you, right?”

“Hmm...” Yoshiko sighs. “Zuramaru…” she groans and makes sure to drag out the last syllable, sounding like a whine.

“Now, now, Yoshiko-chan, don’t make me go there,” Hanamaru replies, chuckling. “But really, I feel like you’ve got so much going on so I really worry whether you’re getting enough rest and if you’re eating well, zura.”

Yoshiko leans her head against the table, sighing. Hanamaru always know how to warm her heart. Along with this is a longing to see the girl in person. “I’m alright, Zuramaru. You’re talking about Yohane, the fallen angel! Sustenance is not a problem for me unlike mere mortals like yourself,” Yoshiko says to lighten up the conversation also because Hanamaru has done enough worrying for today. As if on cue though, her stomach rumbles.

“Sure, Yoshiko-chan. Also, I heard that, zura.”

“Zuramaru!” Yoshiko groans in embarrassment as she hears Hanamaru laughing on the other line. She can’t help but smile though because somehow, she feels a lot better. “Fine, I’ll prepare my food.” Yoshiko grumbles. “Say, have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have,” Hanamaru answers. “Uhm, do you want me to hang up?”

Yoshiko looks a the time. It’s just 7:30 in the evening. She and Hanamaru have stayed on the phone later than that so maybe she should try and push for a few more minutes. “Shouldn’t I be the one hanging up, since you’re the one who called?”

Hanamaru giggles. “Well, it is not like it is a written rule, zura.”

“It’s a tradition!” Yoshiko exclaims, earning her another laugh from Hanamaru. “A-Are you tired yet, though? If you are, then it’s fine,” she mumbles.

“Does this mean that Yoshiko-chan wants me to accompany her longer, I wonder…” the temple girl says, her tone teasing.

Yoshiko chuckles. “And you call me horrible.” She shakes her head, smiling. Yoshiko stands up and starts heating up some leftovers from her meal the other day. “Is it bad though, if I want you to stay longer?”

She hears Hanamaru make one of her usual ‘Hanamaru noises’ - which is usually a small gasp or a low humming sound or, sometimes just a dragged out ‘zuraaaa’. Yoshiko thinks it’s very adorable when she does that. Though, she wonders what Hanamaru is doing since it’s taking a while for her to reply.

“Zuramaru?”

“Eh?!”

Yoshiko raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine, Yoshiko-chan! I-I said I’d actually love to, zura.” Hanamaru replies quickly. “O-Oh, and Yoshiko-chan, actually I’m curious. Did Yazawa-san do that thing she does?”

What was up with that sudden change of subject? Yoshiko wonders but she doesn’t address it. Instead she asks, “Thing?”

“You know! Did she do the ‘Nico-Nico-Nii’ at you, zura?”

Yoshiko laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “That she definitely did.”

The two of them spend the rest of the evening, talking, as Hanamaru accompanies Yoshiko while she eats.

Still, as they continue talking, Yoshiko can’t help but think back to what Hanamaru has said earlier.

She really wishes that her best friend is actually there with her, too.

13 notes · View notes

poca-staks · 8 years ago

Text

His Father’s Tale

by RoyaltyLaine

Gideon learns how to defeat the Black Fairy and at the time learns what happen to his family.

Rating: Teen and Up Words: 4262 Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends

Read here or on (Ao3)

Loosely based off Chp 33 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows, part 2: The Prince's Tale. (or Severus and Lily's tale)

Gideon stood in his mother's library, shielded behind bookshelves, wand in hand, ready to strike the evil Black Fairy down. The words Avada Kedavra spurned his tongue, as he watched the wretched woman gloat alone in victory. Just when he was about to raise his wand and utter those killing words, a hand fell on top of his and lowered his weapon.

"Wait, Gideon." His long time friend Emma whispered. "Someone's coming."

Someone indeed. It was none other than Professor Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, and Gideon considered him just as evil as the Black Fairy.

"Ahhh. Rumplestiltskin, come to celebrate my victory with me?" The woman asked.

"You've chosen a most fitting spot." He replied, walking to stand beside her.

The Fairy chuckled and smiled devilishly at him. "M'yes. The half-blood's library. I thought you would've agreed."

Rumple nodded and sighed. "I've come to ask you a favor."

"You're free to ask anything of me." the Black Fairy said before turning to the man. "You are my son after all."

Gideon and friends were in shock. The all looked at each other in disbelief, but they all heard it, all four of them heard her say the word son, so it must be true.

Rumple walked over to a table that was close to the group of teenagers. It held two glasses and a bottle of champagne. The teens watched their professor pour the drink into both tall champagne flutes before reaching into his sleeve and removing a small vial from it. Rumplestiltskin popped the cork and poured its contents into one of the glasses, picking them both up and walking back to the Black Fairy with the glasses.

Gideon's eyes widened with realization. His Professor was about to kill the evil fairy. But why? After all this time, Gideon and his friends could have sworn that Rumplestiltskin was working with the Black Fairy, not against her.

Rumple handed his mother the glass. "Leave the boy alone. You've won. Storybrooke is yours, and soon all the magical people will be in your control, just not him. Not Gideon."

"Really Rumple. You're still soft. Just like that half-blooded wrench you eloped with." The Black Fairy tilts her head back, downing the drink in one turn and throwing the glass, letting it shatter on the wall.

"Her name's Belle," Rumple said as one of the Black Fairy's hands went to her throat like she was beginning to choke.

"You should remember. After all, you're the one who killed her." He said as the Black Fairy fell to the floor. Gideon watched as his Professor loomed over the evil woman as she struggled to breathe. "And now I can avenge my wife's death, and protect my son."

The Black Fairy stopped moving and lay there dead beneath him. Rumple stepped over her body and walked wearily to the library circulation desk. He put both hands on its counter and stroked the wood softly as water began to well in his eyes.

"We did it Belle," he said, taking shallow breaths, letting his tears fall on the desk. "My love, she's gone. Forever. I'm so sorry my Belle."

A voice clears their throat. When Rumple turned around, he's in shock to see that the Black Fairy was still alive and smiling menacingly at him.

"Sorry for the theatrics son, but I'm not dead." She laughed frantically before holding an invisible hand to his neck. "Did you really think it would be that easy to kill your mother?"

She held him up off the floor. Rumple was kicking the air and struggling to breathe. "And just for that, I plan to kill your precious son Gideon first."

"Now drink up Rumple," She said, using another invisible hand to pour the real champagne that contained the poison into his mouth.

"You're a growing boy." She added before dropping him on the ground in front of the circulation desk. Then she whisked herself away in a cloud of smoke, letting her son succumb to the poison in agony, only leaving behind a fading echo of her evil laughter.

Gideon and his friends rushed out of hiding to aid their fallen teacher. Rumplestiltskin was pale and barely breathing. Gideon took the Dark One by the hand and held it tightly and pressed his forehead against his. This man was his father. Why didn't anyone tell him? Gideon didn't ask for this life. He never wanted to be the chosen one. All he ever wanted was to have his mother and father and make them proud of him by being a good kid. Now one was dead, and the other was dying before his eyes.

"Take them son," Rumplestiltskin rasped, gesturing to the fallen tears on his cheek. "Take them."

Gideon pulled out a spare vial and gathered his father's tears in it before corking the small container tightly.

"Why didn't you tell me Professor?" the teenager sniffed, unable to hold back his tears. "Why didn't you tell me that you were my father?"

Rumple smirked and looked into his son's eyes. "You have your mother's smile."

He was gone. Gideon held his father's hand, letting his tears fall on him. He screamed ferociously until his friends dragged him away from his father's lifeless body.

"Gideon, Gideon snap out of it," Emma said.

"We need to leave Storybrooke. It isn't safe here anymore." Gideon's other friend Regina added.

"I'm not leaving!" He announced.

"Mate, didn't you hear what that evil witch said. She wants to kill you." Robin said, trying to make his friend see reason.

"I don't care. She killed my family." Gideon snapped as he got up from the floor. "I will stop her. I will destroy her like she did my family."

All his friends sighed. It was a suicide mission if they stayed. But they weren't going to let their best friend parish alone. They were in this together.

"I'm staying with you then," Emma revealed taking Gideon by the hand.

"Emma!" Regina exclaimed.

"So am I." Robin joined his hand with Gideon's.

Regina groaned. "Fine. I'm in too." throwing her hand in and completing the circle.

"What's the plan mate?" Robin asked.

Gideon pulled out his father's tears. "Maybe he can help us."

"Okay, we'll go to the roof and place the library in a protection spell until you figure out how to defeat her," Emma said before walking off with Robin towards the elevator.

"This better work," Regina added before following the rest of her friends to the roof of the library.

Once his friends were gone, he pulled up a chair and takes a seat. He looked at the man laying dead next to the desk and closed his eyes. Gideon balled up his fists, releasing all his anger one more time in a mighty shout until his throat felt sore. He hunches over and breathes slowly, trying to settle his nerves.

He was ready. He finally was ready to know everything. Even if it killed him, he wanted to know why this path was chosen for him. He uncorked the bottle and poured his father's tears into his eyes. His vision began to blur, then black out completely. Gideon couldn't make out where he was, all that was there was a small flicker of light. He follows the light until it blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes with his arm. When he felt the light's intensity fade, he heard birds chirping and felt a soft breeze against his skin. Gideon lowers his arm and finds himself in a field.

A small child was crying on a swing set. She swung lonely, sniffing and wiping the tears from her blue eyes, long auburn hair blowing softly in the breeze, dragging her feet as they swayed on the ground. Gideon heard a twig break behind him and turned around to see a young, skinny boy with long dark brown hair, step out from the meadow beside him. The boy walks over to the swing set and sits on one of the empty swings beside the girl.

"Why are you crying?" the boy asked. "Do you know how to swing?"

The young girl nodded and continued to rock on the swing. The boy got up from his seat and begins to push the little girl on the swing set until she was at a good pace. Then he jumped on his swing to catch up with her.

"Kick your feet like this." the boy motioned, showing the young girl how to swing.

She looks over at him, her frown finally gone, and begins to kick her feet. Soon they were both swinging high, and playful laughter ensued. After a few minutes, the pair came to a stop.

"My name's Rumple, what's yours?" he said holding out his hand.

"Belle." the little girl said, shaking the boy's hand. "And I know how to swing."

"You do? Then why were you crying?"

"My mom died yesterday," Belle revealed, becoming sad again.

"My mother's gone too," Rumple said. "She left when I was a baby."

"Why did she leave you?" Belle asked.

"I don't know." Rumple shrugged. "My father said she just did."

"I'm sorry," Belle said looking down at her shoes.

"It's okay," Rumple said, before turning to her and trying to cheer her up. "Hey, can you do that trick again?"

"What trick?"

Rumple gets off the swing and picks up a flower bud, then hands it to Belle. "Make it grow."

"How do you know I can do that?" Belle asked curiously.

"I see you do it all the time," Rumple revealed.

"You have?"

"Yes, I watch you a lot in the grove over there," Rumple said pointing to the spot where Gideon was standing.

"My father said I'm not supposed to do that," Belle said rolling the tiny bud around in her hand. "He's said I might hurt someone."

"No, you won't. My dad does magic all the time."

"Your father can do magic?"

"Yes, doesn't yours?" Rumple asked, and Belle shook her head no. The boy shrugged. "Well your father's not here, and you couldn't hurt me, just try."

Belle looked down at the tiny rosebud in her hand and closed her eyes, and when she opened them again a fully bloomed rose was in her hand.

"See, I told you," Rumple said taking the rose and putting it in her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

The scene changed, colors flowed around Gideon until a new vision appeared. Belle and Rumple were older and lay beneath a Maple tree, holding each other hands and watching the red and yellow autumn leaves float down from the tree.

"...And went you turn 12 you get to come with me to Storybrooke."

"Storybook?" Belle repeated. "That sounds fantastic. I love to read."

"Not Storybook. Storybrooke," Rumple emphasized. "You'll learn more about your magical powers."

Rumple rubbed his back on the ground, letting one of the tree's root scratch his itchy shoulders.

"Is it still bothering you?"

"Yeah, it's been itching really bad now," Rumple told her.

"Can I see it again?" Belle asked.

Rumple sits up and takes off his shirt and shows Belle the markings on his back. They were dark brown lines that resembled a spider's web. The lines extended across his back, from shoulder to shoulder, and when Belle touch them, it almost felt as though they buzzed.

"Father said soon they'd be strong enough to fly, and I'll even be able to carry a person."

"It must be nice to be a fairy," Belle said, tracing the lines on his back with her fingers.

"Nah," Rumple said. "I would give anything to be a wizard like you."

A tall older boy approached them with his two friends and pushed Rumple onto the ground, holding him down with his knee.

"Look at this freak guys, he has tattoos, and he's only a kid." The boy taunted.

"Gaston get off him!" Belle said, pushing the brute off of her friend. "Leave him alone."

"Awww my neighbor is taking up for her freaky boyfriend, how cute."

"She's not my girlfriend," Rumple said putting on his shirt.

"Shut up freak. If I wanted your little girlfriend, I could have her."

"I said she's not my girlfriend," Rumple said, balling up his fists as his face redden.

"Rumple its okay. Calm down." Belle said, trying to temper her friend's anger. "You can't do magic, or you will be expelled from Storybrooke."

"Listen to your girlfriend tattoo boy." The bully said, making his friends laugh. "Better yet, since you've told me she's not your girlfriend." Gaston grabbed Gideon's mother by the arm and pulled her with him and his friends. "She can be mine."

Rumple quickly scrambled to his feet and raised his hand, ready to blast the older boy with every ounce of magic he had. But Belle couldn't let him do that. She refused to be the reason why Rumple got expelled from Storybrooke. The 11-year-old cast a spell, throwing the boys to the ground. One even had a bloody nose from falling on a rock. The boys quickly got up and left, crying and calling them both freaks as they ran home while Belle and Rumple watched, holding each other's hands.

The scene shifted once again, and Gideon found himself in Storybrooke. He was right in the middle of the sorting festival for the new students.

"I'm nervous Rumple," Belle said squeezing her friend's hand.

"Don't be Belle. We all had to do it." He explained. "The hat will just decide if you possess dark or light magic."

"And which one do you possess?" Belle asked.

"We'll talk about it after your sorted."

The Head Mistress, Reul Ghorm, called Belle's name next. She puts on the hat, and it shouted Light Magic. Everyone on the light magic side stood and cheered for their new comrade. Belle looked around for Rumple among her new classmates, but he wasn't in the same group as her. He sat smiling at her from the dark magic side. Gideon noticed Rumple held disappointment in his eyes while his father tried to remain happy for Belle's achievement. He supposed his magic took after his father's. Gideon was sorted into the dark magic side too.

The environment switched again, and his parents were a few years older, perhaps even the same age as Gideon was now. They were walking together in the school's corridor, Rumple was carrying her book bag for her, but this time they weren't holding hands, like in the visions before. They looked to be heading toward the mess hall for dinner. Gideon quickly caught up to them and follows closely behind.

"I thought I was your girlfriend Rumple," Belle said, walking with her hands folded across her chest.

"You are, sweetheart."

"Then why don't you walk me to class anymore?" Belle asked, pulling him by the arm so he would slow down and talk to her. "It's almost like you're ashamed of me when you're around your friends."

"Belle don't be silly,"

"I see the way they look at me. That Cora and Hades, they all hate me, just because I'm on the light magic side." Belle shook her head. "If I had any choice I would be on the dark side with you."

"Don't say that Belle, I love you because you're light." He stepped closer Belle and wrapped his arms around her waist. "And I don't care what my friends think about you, or us. They can all kiss each other's asses for all I care."

Belle giggled and stepped up on her tippy toes to give Rumple a kiss. "You promise nothing will change between us?"

"I promise Belle." He told her. "I love you."

Belle smiled. "I love you too."

The chatter in the halls stopped as Reul Ghorm spoke over the school's loudspeaker to deliver some urgent news.

"Students and faculty. There will be no classes today. All students are to return to their dorm rooms immediately. All students must promptly be accounted for after dinner. That is all."

Belle looks up to her boyfriend who looked almost white as a ghost. "What do you think it is Rumple?"

"I'm not sure sweetheart, but let's get you to your room. We can have dinner there."

As Rumple walked Belle to her dorm room, Gideon could tell Rumple knew something was wrong. His father walked closely beside his mother with his arm wrapped around her as terror lurked behind his eyes.

The scene reformed once more, and Gideon stood in a familiar room. It was his dorm room, but in his vision, it housed his father, Rumplestiltskin. Gideon recognized an evil laugh behind him. The Black Fairy passed through him and approached his father's bed.

"Wake up son."

"It's you. The- the Black Fairy." Rumple stammered, jumping from his sleep.

"Now is that any way to speak to your mother." The Black Fairy sneered, sitting down next to her son on his bed. "Call me mom."

"What do you want?" Gideon's father asked.

"I've been watching you Rumplestiltskin." The evil woman cooed, stroking her son's face gently. "Always galavanting with that half-blood girl."

"Her name's Belle."

"Whatever. She'll never truly love you." The evil fairy said. "She's light, and you're dark. Those things don't mix."

"That doesn't matter."

"Perhaps. But what if I told you that I plan to destroy all the half-bloods." She said, squeezing her son's cheeks with her hand in a mocking fashion. " And that I can use your help. After all, you are my son, and that makes you the Dark One."

"The Dark One?" Rumple asked with a look of fascination in his eyes.

"I've piqued your interest." the Black Fairy giggled. "Why yes honey, the Dark one. The most powerful wielder of dark magic. What do you say? Join me, son."

Just when Gideon thought he found the reason why Rumplestiltskin chose to accede to the Black Fairy, his father surprised him.

" No!" Rumple reached under his pillow and took out a dagger and stabs the Black Fairy through the chest, "My father gave me this knife to stop you. Only the Dark One can use it, and only the Dark One can kill you."

Rumple began to say the incantation, but his mother distracts him with an eerie promise.

"This isn't the last you will see of me. I'll take everything you love away from you." She said, poofing away in a cloud of smoke before Rumple could finish the banishing spell.

The vision shifted quickly in a haze. Scenes entered briskly then changed rapidly. Gideon could briefly make out what looked to be his parents graduating from school before it vanished. Next, the vision shifts momentarily to them getting married by the same maple tree of their hometown. Then the scene switched swiftly to his parents getting jobs in Storybrooke. Belle, as its librarian, and his father as the school's Professor of magical artifacts. It was becoming too much for Gideon, and he finally had to close his eyes to stop the bout of dizziness he was experiencing from the flashing locations in time.

When he reopened his eyes, he was in Storybrooke's magical artifact shop with his father and Reul Ghorm. They sounded to be having a heated discussion about the safety of Storybrooke.

"We prophesized her return Rumpelstiltskin, all we need is for you to destroy her this time." the Blue Fairy said.

"I will, just get my family to a secure location, out of Storybrooke and away from harm," Rumple said. "I'll do what needs to be done."

"I'll escort your family myself," The good fairy told him. "But I still need to know where you've hidden the dagger?"

"It's with my wife's favorite things." Rumple sighed, Reul Ghorm was wasting precious time. "Please just get her and my son out of town."

"Thank you, Rumple." The Blue Fairy began to chuckle familiarly. "My son."

The Black Fairy had tricked him by disguising herself as the Blue Fairy and acquired the dagger's location. She immobilized him with squid ink and laughed wickedly at her son's helpless state.

"I should kill you for what you did to your own mother, but I think I'll settle for your family. Perhaps then you will join me." She said poofing out of his shop to find Rumple's half-blooded wife.

Gideon followed the Black Fairy. He had a feeling where she was headed to, his mother's home. Gideon made it just in time to see the evil witch step into his home, although he was too afraid to go in after her. He wouldn't be able to stop his mother's death anyways. This was just a vision, and his mother had long since passed. His father approached the house too late, and they both heard a bone chilling scream. The broken expression on his father's face shattered Gideon's heart. He watched as Rumple waved his hands and summoned his son outside. Gideon as a one-year-old appeared in his arms, crying his tiny brown eyes out as Rumple tried to settle him.

"There There Giddy. Daddy's got you." Rumple told him, then he looks towards his house. "I'm so sorry Belle."

The Black Fairy poofed in front of them, wearing a sinister smile, with her wand in hand, ready to kill baby Gideon in his father's arms.

"Wait," Rumple said. He kissed his son's head and made Gideon vanished from his arms before she could inflict any harm herself. But the Black Fairy was unaware that Rumple merely sent his son to the Maple tree in his hometown, where Rumple's father discovered him and sent him off to live with another family. "He's gone. You win. I'll join you mother."

"I knew you'd see it my way son."

Gideon finally realized that everything Rumplestiltskin did was to protect him. He hid Gideon and pretended not to know his own child just so the Black Fairy wouldn't discover him. Gideon couldn't imagine what his father had to go through. Watching his son grow up with another family and hiding the truth from him and continuing to save Gideon's life.

"Wake up," A friendly voice said. "Gideon please you have to wake up. Now!"

He opened his eyes, and Gideon was back in the library named after his mother for her bravery. Everything was much clearer now, and he knew how to defeat the Black Fairy.

"What did you find out mate?" Robin asked.

"It's here," Gideon said getting up from the chair.

"What's here?" Regina asked, looking around the empty library.

"The weapon that can stop the Black Fairy," Gideon explained. "My father said it was with my mother's favorite things."

"Which is?" Regina still trying to figure out just what in the world he was talking about.

Gideon got up and skedaddled off to the fantasy section of the library and located the book titled, Her Handsome Hero. He opened the book and inside he found the Dark One's dagger.

"The Professor always used to mentioned that this was my mother's favorite book." He said.

"That's the Dark One's dagger," Emma said. "Only the Dark One can use it."

"And after my father died, I became the new Dark One," Gideon tells his friends. "You all need to leave. I need to speak to my grandmother alone."

"Are you sure mate?" Robin asked.

"You may need our help." Emma offered.

"No, I've got it from here guys." He gave his friends a hug. "Thanks for all your help."

The trio left their friend behind and vacated the library. Gideon stood there for a moment looking down at the massive dagger in his hand. He knew what he must do. It was time to put an end to the Black Fairy's life for good. Gideon looks back up and sees a pair of glowing orbs. They grew brighter and almost blinded him. When the light had dissipated, there stood his parents.

"We're proud of you son." His mother said smiling. "We knew you could do it."

"Mom. Dad."

"I'm sorry I had to keep the truth from you," Rumple told his son.

"It's okay dad. I understand why you had to." Gideon said wiping the tears from his eyes. "And I don't blame you for working with the Black Fairy."

"Thank you son." Rumple smiled. "Your forgiveness was all I ever wanted."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"You won't be alone while you are facing the Black Fairy," Belle said placing her hand on her son's shoulder. "We'll be right there with you, okay sweetie?"

"Thank you, mom. Thank you, both."

"Good luck son," Rumple said as they both vanished from the library.

Gideon dried his tears on his sleeve and used the dagger to summon the Black Fairy.

"Well well. If it isn't my grandson." The Evil Fairy sneered. " I thought my son had killed you long ago, but he's always been my biggest disappointment."

"Not mine. My father is my strength, and so is my mother."

The Black Fairy laughed. "Well then, if you love them so much how about you join them."

The evil witch charged Gideon full force. Unknowingly, the teenager purposely lets her attack him with her bare hands so that he was close enough to stab her through the stomach with the dagger.

"No, where did you get that?"

"My parents gave it to me," Gideon said, before reciting the banishment spell.

The Black Fairy solidified into stone. Gideon picked up his wand and delivered the final blow. Avada Kedavra, and the Black Fairy was no more.

xox0xox

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Rumplestiltskin #belle french #belle gold #gideon gold #the black fairy

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themarauderlife · 8 years ago

Text

The Complexity of Youth- Part 3

This ones a little longer than before, but in celebration of two thousand followers, here’s the next Complexity of Youth!!

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Just as they finished musing about what their other new teachers would look like, (it had been announced the previous year that frail old Professor Galbraith, who had taught Care Of Magical Creatures for twenty years would not be returning after an incident with Peeves- which had unfortunately involved her fainting and falling down three flights of stairs), and trying to talk Darla out of pursuing a relationship with him, the door opened again, and in entered a windswept Jo Harrington. She looked slightly flustered, but her auburn hair which was always sleek and well groomed, still managed to fall endearingly onto her shoulders. She was a striking girl, with tanned skin and hair that she’d charmed to be the colour it was, and Addie had always marvelled at how she managed to look like she'd just appeared off a magazine photo shoot, come rain or shine. Jo scanned the group of girls sat around the cabin, wearing the familiar haughty expression she wore when around people she believed to be below her social status- her nose would turn up, as though a bad smell lingered in the air, and her mouth would become tight and thin.

Susan got up, smiling, and tugged her best friend into a seat.

"Jo! You're here!" she squeaked.

"Yeah, finally. I was slightly... preoccupied.'' she threw them all a lazy grin, which only Susan returned. The others didn’t see it as their business to get involved in Jo’s love life, but it was hard to refrain from commenting when the girl flaunted it around. She was a ‘one night only’ kind of girl, and had a reputation at Hogwarts- but they still wanted to keep the peace, even if whatever said was deserved. Darla was the one who struggled with keeping her opinions to herself most of all. Even now, a sharp jab had floated to the tip of her tongue.

"Is this, er, Andrew?” asked Lily throwing Darla a warning look.

"Yep. We met over summer.'' she gushed. “I never knew he lived nearby until he said that he recognized me from school. Oh, he's just perfect.” It was hardly a long relationship, but probably one of the longest Jo'd had, and Addie couldn't help but feel glad for the girl- maybe this was a new her, after all.

“I thought you were in Egypt all summer? That's why we didn't meet up.” pouted Susan.

“Ohh, right. Mummy cancelled it at the last moment. I'm sorry, love. I didn't want to spoil your plans.”

“It's alright, I guess.” replied Susan, though rather sulkily. There was a pause, which everyone but Jo seemed to find awkward.

“So, are any of you planning on actually getting with boys this year?” Marlene asked, folding her legs beneath her as she bought up their earlier conversation once again. She was the best at smoothing over uncomfortable silences.

“I personally think Susan has the hots for Lupin.” Jo smirked.

“Remus? She… she has?” Marlene seemed to be finding it very hard to swallow as Susan turned an angry shade or red. They’d all guessed that she’d had a crush on the sweetest marauder, but never said anything.

“Well, he is rather good looking.” she admitted.

“I knew it!” Jo laughed. “You should go for it, Suze. It’s not like Remus could do any better.”

Lily’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “Remus is lovely… and good looking too.” She’d personally had a crush on him up until fourth year, and was still touchy on the subject.

“Yes, but he’s so quiet.” Jo argued.

“Not once you get to know him.”

Lily’s voice held a warning tone, and Addie quickly jumped in. “I think you two would be a lovely couple.” she smiled.

Marlene nodded firmly. “Yep. I agree… it’d be great.” But Addie couldn’t help but hear the false note in her words. She glanced at the girl, her eyebrows raised, but refrained from saying anything.

“Anyone up for a game of gobstones then? Now we’ve dished all the dirt.” Susan offered.

“We never asked Addie.” Lily reminded them, ignoring the glare thrown her way by the said girl. So much for escaping interrogation.

“Spill the beans then, Ads.”

“There’s really nothing to tell.” she muttered. “You know I’m not really a magnet for the opposite sex.”

“Purr-lease, you’re a looker, love. And don’t you think otherwise.” Marlene scolded. “You’ll meet a bloke one day. You just need to be more… confident in front of them.” She hesitated. “And maybe tone the temper down a little bit.” It was known that Addie had the shortest fuse out of them, which was saying something considering Darla was always full of sass.

Addie frowned. “I don’t have a temper.”

Marlene laughed. “Whatever you say, sweetie, whatever you say.”

Five minutes later, they were playing gobstones, the previous conversation forgotten, but Addie couldn’t ignore the way Jo was glaring at her- acting as if she were hiding something.

The rest of the journey was more uncomfortable after Jo's arrival, despite Susan's attempts at conversation. The girls got on, yes, but they didn’t often spend mounds of time together as a group. So when, a couple of hours later, Lily had to go to the prefect cabin for a meeting, she hated to admit that it was a relief to enter the open corridor. She checked her watch. The prefect meeting started in fifteen minutes- so she'd just have to wander around for a little while first. Briefly, she wondered if she could find Alice.

Slowly, Lily walked along past the compartments filled with students, looking at the pretty view outside the train.

But, suddenly, she was interrupted.

"Lily." In front of her stood none other than Severus Snape. Her heart clenched as she took in the boy who had once been her closest friend. All through summer, he'd tried to talk to her, contact her, but she'd kept her distance, and even though she knew it was bound to happen, it was still a shock to see him up close like this. He'd grown a few inches over summer, she noticed, so now he was a lot taller than her. She knew he'd always been desperate to be tall when they were younger, and it looked like he'd finally got what he wanted. Surprisingly, the thought made a lump rise in her throat, and she swallowed thickly.

"Severus." she replied. There was a pause.

"I tried to talk to you, but you avoided me." he said, quietly, bitterly. God, he sounded hurt. Lily's heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"I know." She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry Sev, I really am. But us, this-" she gestured between them. "... this was never going to work. We can't be friends... we just can't." She turned to leave.

"But why not Lily?" he asked, his eyes desperate. "Why can't we be mates? You know how much I regretted saying it; you know how sorry I am-"

"It’s not that, Sev." she snapped, her eyes burning as her patience waned. "I'm over it, I've forgiven you. But you're a different person now. You've changed, can't you see that? You're still frightened to talk to me in front of your Slytherin friends- Mulciber, Avery, Stebbins; you're still obsessed with the dark arts, like them."

"I-"

"No, Sev. No excuses. If anyone's got dirty blood it's you, because it’s your blood that’s tainted with hatred towards people.” She took a deep breath. “…People like me. And I’m sorry- really I am- but I can’t ever be your friend when you have this infatuation with the dark arts.” When she met his eye this time, the decision in hers was final. “So, I guess this is goodbye." And she turned to leave once again, but he stopped her.

"Lily, wait-"

She turned back, her eyes still fiery, but glossy now, too. "No. I'm done waiting, Sev!" she exclaimed, angrily. "Waiting for you to change, waiting for you to care about me, to actually treat me like a friend-"

"What’s going on here?" demanded a voice- it was low, gruff, angry. Lily turned and found herself face to face with Nicholas Mulciber, one of the nasty Slytherins whom Snape hung around with. His dark hair fell around his eyes, which black depths glinted with malice. Next to him stood Avery and a younger boy Lily barely recognized- was his name Barty? She wasn't sure, but he looked excited to be there- it was probably a privilege in their house to be chosen to hang around with Mulciber. He was one of the nastiest students she knew, probably coming close to Bellatrix Black, who had thankfully left the previous year. Lily could feel herself becoming increasingly angrier- he was the one who had hexed Mary McDonald, (a cheerful fifth-year), last year, and caused her to be admitted to the hospital wing for the weekend. Severus spoke before she could.

"I was just passing Evans on the way to the prefect cabin." he explained, coolly. So, Snape was a prefect now too. Great, thought Lily. Mulciber's eyebrows burrowed with suspicion.

"It didn't look like you were just passing. I though this friendship-" he snarled the word. "-was over."

"It is." snapped Lily, ignoring the pain that pricked her chest at the words. Mulciber grinned, an ugly grin, and pulled out his wand.

"I don't believe you." Lily's heart rate accelerated.

"It's true." intervened Severus, frowning. "We no longer associate with each other." Mulciber looked between them with a calculating look in his eye and pocketed his wand. Lily sighed in relief.

"Well..." He spoke slowly, drawing out his words. "If that's so... why don't you disarm her, Severus?" he asked, in a curious voice. He was still grinning horribly. Lily glanced at Severus, uncertainly, who had gone as white as a sheet. "Or..." continued Mulciber. “Why don't you call her the name that made her hate you?" His voice was mocking- he was enjoying this. Lily's hands shook slightly, as her breath caught in her throat. He wouldn't. Sev wouldn't, not again. She turned away from the Slytherins, and looked right into his eyes, which were wide with fear. “Go on, Snape.” Mulciber coaxed venomously.

"Sev." she whispered, so only he could hear. Her heart was thudding so loudly, she was surprised no one else could hear it. There was a long, painful pause, and then-

"Mudblood." He said it quietly, avoiding her gaze. There was a moment of silence, where Lily felt like someone had basked her in cold water. Hurt pricked at her chest as Mulciber's dark laugh blasted in her ears, and she turned and fled down the corridor, wiping away the stray tears and breathing deeply. He was lost to her.

She took a deep breath, and rubbed her face, trying to calm her thudding heart. How could he? How could he do it again? Her first day back at Hogwarts, and she knew it couldn't get any worse.

That was, until she saw James Potter.

"Evans!" His face lit up as he saw her, and she glared at him in return. She wasn't in the mood for this. He was wearing a blue shirt and jeans, since he hadn't changed into his school robes yet, and was leaning casually across the corridor, blocking the way. The arm he leant on was bent in such a way that the muscles on it stuck out, and Lily rolled her eyes internally. Cocky git. Her gaze trailed up to his face where he wore a crooked smile, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Move out of the way, Potter. I'm busy." she snapped. He grinned.

"Prefect meeting, right? Moony's going too, but it doesn't start for another ten minutes or so.'' He grinned again, obviously proud of his superior knowledge. "Why the rush?" Lily groaned internally- he was so incredibly irritating.

"Because I wanted to go early! Why don't you keep your nose out of other people’s business?!" she exclaimed.

"I was just..." His crooked grin faltered as he looked carefully at her face. "Are you okay Evans? You look like you've been... crying." He looked so confused and concerned, that she had to take a deep breath to stop the tears from spilling over once again. She couldn't deal with more people mocking her.

"I'm fine, Potter, I just want to go to the prefect's cabin." She bit her lip, which had started to tremble. He was frowning.

"But-"

"Potter, move." Something in her voice must have made him relent because he moved out the way and she marched into the empty prefect compartment, slamming the door behind her. She sank into the seat and tried very, very hard not to cry.

It wasn't long until the other prefects showed up, but by this time Lily had calmed herself, and formed a pleasantly detached expression. Remus came to sit by her and greeted her with a smile. His amber eyes were glistening with warmth, and his skin pale seemed to glow through the shabby clothes he wore. He stretched out his thin legs, and told her how glad he was that Frank was the new head boy, giving no indication that Potter had said anything to him which was good. She knew Remus would hold actual concern for her, sweet as he was, and she wasn't in the mood for fuss. She could forget the whole Snape fiasco had ever happened.

As Colin sat down, he flashed her a grin, causing warmth to creep through her cheeks.

She hoped no one saw.

(Part 4)

#jily #marauder oneshot #marauder fanfiction #marauder fanfic #james potter #lily potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #OC's #marauder era #jily fic

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