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jmagnabo92 · 3 months ago

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Sailing To Freedom Ch 8 - The Discovery

@aroyallybigbangrwrb

Alex and Henry discover what the White House chose to do against their wishes and they're pissed!

AO3

***

September 20th, 2020

“Isn’t this perfect?” Alex teases as he walks along the streets of Istanbul, hand laced with Henry’s as they take in the history and beauty of the city.

“Every day with you is perfect, but I do love this city.”

“You’re such a Prince Charming – seriously.”

“You keep saying that like it’s bad thing,” Henry nearly pouts.

“Aw, baby, it’s not a bad thing. I used to pretend it was, but…” he stops and smiles at his boyfriend. “Now you’re my Prince Charming and that’s –” he stops again, this time because he spotted People magazine behind Henry in a window of a store.

The cover had three pictures, one of him and Nora dancing together at the Royal Wedding (she’d pestered him to dance just once), the one of Henry and June that never made the light of day thanks to cakegate, and a third of him and Henry together in Athens, dancing in a night club.

***

Dancing? A Key to Love? From Weddings to Nightclubs – which pair looks more in love? FDOTUS/Prince Henry, FSOTUS/Prince Henry or FSOTUS/VP Granddaughter?

***

“Alex? What’s wrong? Why’d you stop talking?” Henry asks, concerned, but Alex is too busy pulling out his phone.

They’d both put their phones on airplane mode after the fight with the White House determined that they would be able to live their somewhat fantasy life of a vacation without interruptions.

Maybe they shouldn’t have done that.

Regardless, Alex immediately starts searching their names, determined to find out what else they’ve been missing. He’s inundated with other articles all about his supposed relationship with Nora, Henry’s with June, and rumors and suspicions about the truth – that he’s with Henry. Many of them don’t show him in a great light from talking about his seemingly abandonment of the campaign to thinking he is cheating on Nora and helping Henry cheat on his sister.

He’s got like a billion tweets most of which are as terrible as the ones he got after cakegate, many of those seem to think that he was corrupting Henry and being disloyal to his sister and girlfriend. Thankfully as the articles started to suggest that the White House was lying, the tides are starting to turn, and he has a bunch of more recent tweets that are in support of him (and Henry), but none of that matters because his sister and best friend betrayed him.

He snaps screenshots of some of the articles and tweets and sends them to June.

wtf, June? i thought we were a team. i thought it was us against the world. i thought i could trust you. guess i cant, thanks for nothing.

Then, he shuts his phone off entirely. By the time he looks back at Henry, he realizes that he never answered Henry’s question because Henry’s looking at him extremely concerned.

“I – we – need to get out of here,” Alex states. “I just – not here.”

Despite not knowing what’s wrong, Henry trusts Alex and doesn’t hesitate to say, “Let’s go home, then.”

***

At first, June stares at the snapshots and the text that Alex has sent not quite believing that he would ever question that he could trust her. She’s completely confused and half-asleep, and she just doesn’t understand what the hell happened that would cause him to question her. He should know that he can trust her, but as she looks through the articles and tweets, she can see why he’d be angry.

His reputation has been shot and everything that they were trying to do to help him (well, the campaign more than him) had blown up in his face rather than theirs.

As soon as she realizes everything, she immediately calls him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk about it (which considering that he’s clearly feeling betrayed, that makes sense).

June takes her phone and makes her way to the Oval Office where she knows her mother should be meeting with Zahra this early in the morning.

“…I’m just saying that this wasn’t supposed to cause him grief –”

She doesn’t bother to knock, which causes her mother to cut herself off and redirect her attention to June.

“June, sugar, you can’t just burst into meetings –”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” June demands throwing her phone at Ellen. “You told me that he was okay with this. Have you been paying attention to the series of terrible articles making him out to be the bad guy and the tweets he’s been receiving? Everyone’s blaming him, claiming he’s corrupting Henry and betraying me and Nora – even though it’s the other way around. Did you know about this?!”

“We were just talking about this, actually,” Ellen states, referring to her and Zahra. “I have not been paying close attention to what this has done to Alex’s numbers –”

“This isn’t about his fucking numbers – he’s a person – YOUR SON and you’re letting the media trash him all because you didn’t want him to come out!”

“June, you have to calm down.”

“I don’t have to do shit,” June states, just as angry, although not as loudly. “It’s one thing to decide to ruin your own relationship with him, but to ruin mine – and Nora’s – because now he thinks I’ve been a party to ignoring his wishes and letting him get trashed in the media. He’s the youngest here, we’re supposed to be protecting him, not throwing him to the wolves.”

“We’re going to fix it,” Ellen says when June finally takes a breath.

“By admitting that it was all a lie and he’s done nothing wrong?” June asks, hopefully. She knows that’s probably too hopeful considering that her mother had clearly gone against Alex’s wishes in the first place.

“No, that would only ruin your mother’s campaign,” Zahra states, entering the conversation for the first time. “Which is priority right now.”

“And I should care about that right now?”

“Now, hold on, you should care about the campaign –”

“Not when it’s clearly come at the expense of her kids and their lives,” June states. “The media has ruined his reputation, and that’s going to stick for a long time. Well passed my mother’s time in office and that’s bullshit.”

“We’re going to fix it with articles about all of the good things he’s done over the years,” Ellen states. “Damage control.”

June crosses her arms and stares at Ellen, unbelievably. “You know that the only way to truly fix this is to admit the truth and you don’t care enough to do it.”

“We can admit something or work something out after the election. He can start doing other First Son things, and maybe some charity work will come up after this mess, but for now… we’ll just do things more subtly.”

June scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Now, why don’t you sit down, and we can talk about your upcoming appearances,” Ellen asks in a tone that suggests it’s not a question.

Well, too bad.

“Cancel them,” June states. “Because I’m not going.”

“June, you can’t –”

“I can and I will. I should’ve done it the second you fired Alex instead of helping you cover for him.” She’s honestly mad at herself for helping to keep Alex hidden away like he did something wrong by falling for Henry. “Maybe then, you would’ve considered what you could do to help your kid and control the narrative before he became a target for Richards and the conservative movement, who are using this photo and Alex’s appearing to cheat with my boyfriend on his girlfriend in the press to tear you a new one.”

“June, you have to understand…”

“I don’t have to understand shit, I’m done. You want my support? Fix this shit.”

With that, she storms off, taking her phone and trying to reach Alex again. She needs to fix this.

***

“I believed in them,” Alex states, the second they’re in the privacy of the little living room on the boat.

Henry had sent everyone away, so that Alex has the privacy to speak his mind and the room to pace (which their room does not have) and it’s the one time that reminds Alex that everyone else on this boat is technically Henry’s employee.

He’ll put a pin in that for later.

“I believed that they would never do this to me. Hell, I said maybe Zahra would because I’m starting to think that she doesn’t give a damn about me, but my mom? Nora? JUNE? After everything we’ve been through together, and how we’ve always supported each other… I just – how could she do this?”

There’s a part of Alex that’s begun to realize that his mother has been so wrapped up in being the president that she’s completely disregarded how she’s still a mother to her kids. He should’ve realized it sooner, particularly when she forced him to befriend Henry and not care about the tweets from hell he’d been receiving for the week between the wedding and the fake press about their friendship, but somehow, he still believed that she was better than that.

What hurts the most, though, isn’t his mother once again putting the presidency above Alex’s desires or needs – it has happened before, even if he thought she was better than that – it’s not Nora, his best friend and ex-girlfriend, because he knows that she would put logic and numbers first, it’s June.

June, his sister. June, his first best friend. June, his rock when the divorce happened. It was June that told him that she would always put him first. It was June that constantly commented that he needed to do less and stop giving himself away just for their mom. It was June that made it clear that she didn’t want to even be a party to their mom’s re-election and being the ‘first daughter’ and only did it because Alex convinced her that their mom was doing great work.

June had always told him not to sacrifice himself for his mother, and yet, here she is … a party to exactly that.

He’s not sure if he wants to cry or punch something – he’s not sure which –, but after nearly an hour of letting his stream of terrible thoughts and pacing around the tiny area spill forth, he finally takes a breath and moves to Henry’s waiting arms and buries his face into his neck.

Henry, for his part, hasn’t said a word. All he does is hold him tight and rub one hand on his back with the other in his hair.

Alex can feel him trying to show his support and comfort with his actions rather than words because he probably doesn’t know what to say at this point – he doesn’t know any of them well enough to offer anything of solace – like maybe she didn’t know, maybe she was convinced to do it, maybe she believed that Alex agreed for some asinine reason. He doesn’t know if that would help, honestly, because she did know one thing – that he wanted to come out with Henry and now his reputation is shot and he’s the one dealing with the fallout.

And he’ll continue to deal with it. Even if they come out now, he’s the one that will be torn apart, people may even believe that he stole Henry from her or some such nonsense. It’ll be exactly as they feared when he said ‘hell no’ to the damn fake dating in the first place.

He shakes his head and leans back. “I can’t deal with this, right now.”

“Tell me what you need,” Henry states. “What can I do?”

“You’re not the problem, baby, but I can’t – I can’t talk to them about fixing this or think about it anymore.” He shakes his head. “I need to run.”

Henry nods. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Alex shakes his head. “I’ll take Cash. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Take all the time you need; I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“God, I love you.”

He gives Henry a kiss and listens to Henry assure him that he loves him, too, before disappearing to get his running clothes and shoes.

He’s not surprised when Cash is waiting in one of the seats by the wheels, dressed for running, too. Of course Cash knows what he needs.

“Let’s go.”

***

June has spent hours going through the stories, comments and tweets trying to figure out how bad this mess is and alternating between trying to get ahold of Alex and Henry. She hadn’t gone so far as to call Cash, although she heard from Amy that Cash checked in – and is just as furious, something about how he should’ve been told so that Alex wasn’t suddenly blindsided by this shit – but that aside from anger, rightfully so, Alex is physically fine.

She couldn’t help noting the physical emphasis. He’s probably a hot mess when it comes to his emotions and knowing him is on a very long run. He’s probably running until his feet bleed, and he forgets that he’s been betrayed by the people he trusts the most.

June hates that she’s one of those people causing him pain at the moment. She knew something was off with the situation, and she should have insisted that she talk to him first. No wonder Zahra said he just wanted to be left alone and that they didn’t need to bother him.

Now, it all made sense.

Still, she wants to talk to Alex, herself. Apologize, tell him what happened, and hope that he forgives her. In the meantime, she’s got a mission.

Leaning back a second after reading a dozen tweets ripping Alex apart, she dials Alex again – straight to voicemail.

Deciding that maybe Henry’s the better answer, she dials his number.

“Hello, June, I expected we’d be hearing from you,” Henry states. Unlike his usual polite tone, his voice like ice as he sounds angry and frustrated. “Finally decided to check in?”

“Henry – I – is Alex there?”

“No.”

“Please, I need to talk to him.”

“That’s funny because you apparently did not desire to speak to either of us when you went on interviews and lied about being in a relationship with your brother’s boyfriend.”

She winces. She knew the interviews were a terrible idea. She knew that photos were one thing, but the interviews were an entirely different animal.

“You have to understand, Zahra told us that she convinced Alex that the photos and interviews were fine. I – we tried to call – just in case, but his phone was off –”

“Should that not have told you everything that you wanted to know? Alex (and I) made it plainly clear that there were two options: one, tell the truth, two, ignore it. You deliberately made the third option that we vetoed as this is our lives and our decision to make without confirming that we changed our minds.”

He's right, of course.

She should’ve known. She did know, deep down. She knew it in her heart, and she did it anyway.

“You’re right.”

“I am not angry with you on my behalf even though I should be,” Henry states, tonelessly. “It was bad enough that you suggested it, but to follow through with it… I cannot ignore how you betrayed him and broke his heart. He deserves better than that from you. The way he talks about you – you’re his hero. He looks up to you and he would never have broken your heart the way that you’ve broken his heart.”

“I know,” June says, trying not to cry. “If the roles were reversed, he never would’ve done this to me.” She knows that she screwed up, that she was the one person in their family not to let him down and now she has. “And I know that I should’ve known that I should’ve realized that none of it made any sense and refused to do it, but I didn’t. I let my trust in my mother and Zahra erode my instincts that it was wrong and that it was a mistake, and I don’t know what I can do to make this better.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? The damage is done. No matter what happens now, we tell the truth, or we just disappear, there’s always going to be people out there that believe the worst in him. That believe that he stole me from you and will not support him because of it. Do you realize that he’s the youngest of us all and they’re all believing that he’s the one that is at fault for everything? He did nothing wrong, June! I pursued him, not the other way around! And yet, everyone thinks the worst of him because his sister and his best friend decided to lie on him! How could you possibly think this was okay?”

He takes a deep breath as if trying to keep control of his anger.

“The fact is, there really isn’t anything that can be done to make this any better, but you can start with trying to correct the narrative. Remind people that things aren’t always what they appear to be, that Alex is currently with me which should suggest something about the lies, and that Alex is one of the most insanely loyal people we’ve ever known. Tell them the truth!”

“I can’t – do you know what that would do to the election?”

Henry scoffs. “You wanted a way to fix your mistake. That’s the answer. You’ve got until we reach Casablanca to make the right decision and fix this. Five days. Or we’re going to have to take matters into our own hands.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know, yet, but that’s certainly something that Alex and I will make together since it is our lives and our relationship being affected by this. Goodbye.”

Henry hangs up before she can even consider discussing alternative ways or anything else. Effectively dismissing her and she honestly deserves it.

She has to find a way to fix this mess without compromising her mother’s re-election.

***

Just when Alex couldn’t love Henry any more than he already does, he stands in the doorway of their room listening to Henry defend him and his right to make his own choices and honestly making June understand how terrible this is for him and it’s exactly what he needs.

He’s not in this alone. Henry’s here, too, and no matter what happens – he’s always going to have him. Now and forever.

He couldn’t be more in love.

He moves to wrap his arms around Henry’s waist. He has to stretch a bit to put his chin on Henry’s shoulder and kiss his cheek.

“You really are my Prince Charming.”

Henry turns his head to him look into Alex’s eyes. “I thought you would be upset with me – talking to your sister that way.”

Alex shrugs as he kisses his cheek again before letting go and moving to the bed. “If it was for any other reason or anyone else, I’d probably punch them for talking to June like that, but you… you were saying what I probably couldn’t to help get June to fix this.”

“Sometimes even those we love hurt us, and I just – I keep thinking about what we were worried about,” Henry admits as he sits beside Alex on the bed. “I read some of the articles and comments and tweets while you were gone…”

Alex nods. “I saw enough of the articles and tweets to know how the world is looking at the situation. It doesn’t help that people are using my time locked away against me as well. It makes sense – to them, it looks like I quit randomly on my mom probably because we got caught, that maybe she was punishing me for breaking June’s heart or something (honestly who knows), and then decided I had enough and abandoned my family entirely to be with my lover at the detriment to my own sister and best friend.”

Henry nods because he, too, had obviously gotten that sense.

“I – I obviously don’t know how bad it is, and I am not ready to see how bad it is, but I asked Cash and Schmitty to download every article, all of the comments, and the tweets so that we can review it and see how bad it really is,” Alex admits as he takes off his socks and shoes, his feet are bloody and in pain. “So, we can –”

“What did you do to your feet?” Henry asks, cutting him off. He’d been nodding along until he spotted the blood.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay… it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks? Alex, your feet are bleeding.” Henry stands up and goes to the bathroom to get some things to take care of Alex’s feet. “Is this what happens when you go for a run?”

“Sometimes,” Alex admits. “Just when I’m upset. It’s just a terrible coping mechanism.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Henry scoffs as he kneels before Alex. “You are staying off your feet for at least a day if I have to carry you everywhere on this ship. And you’re not looking at those articles or anything else for at least a day or until you can look at them and not do this to your feet.”

“To be fair, we have five days until I would even be able to run –”

“Alex.”

Alex swallows, there’s that tone – the voice of authority that unfortunately, at least in this moment, turns him on and makes him want to obey. “Okay. I promise to be better.”

“Good,” Henry says.

He then focuses on cleaning up Alex’s feet, it feels a bit strange to have Henry taking care of him like this.

“You know, I can take care of –”

“No. I’m taking care of you and you’re going to let me and then, we aren’t talking about this stupid media situation for at least a day. We’re just going to spend the night cuddling and together.”

“But –”

“No buts, Alex.”

Alex feels like he should continue fighting, but he’s honestly tired, and he sighs. “Alright, baby. Your wish is my command.”

Henry gives him a smile and a little kiss before returning to taking care of Alex. “Good boy.”

#RWRB #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #First Prince #Firstprince

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strangerstime · 2 years ago

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✨Time to talk!✨

I watched the gameplay of Security Breach: Ruins without words, caught several screamers, and was shocked by what was happening several times. I can say for sure that the DLC is made much better and more interesting than the main game. However, the search and disabling of security protocols was still not so exciting, but it did not spoil the impression of the game at all!

But I would like to talk about something else, about what I could call the origins of this franchise, namely about the history from the first to the sixth part of the FNAF. Why do I want to talk about this? Well, the thing is that I am, if not an old-timer, then someone who watched the development of the FNAF franchise from the very first game and who was terribly afraid to play these games until 2020 (😂).

And what has happened in these almost 10 years amazes me. From the concept of a soul enclosed in the body of an old robot and suffering in agony, we have come to highly intelligent robots behaving almost the same as humans! Isn't that amazing?

And I'd be a fool if I said I didn't understand what was going on. Since the appearance of the fifth part (Sister Location), it was clear that Scott intended to add smart robots. Was it interesting? - Undoubtedly it was. Was it stupid? - Well, no, some got even more interesting details and a riddle: "How were such smart killer robots created in such early years?"

I remember the times when people wondered what kind of souls were inside animatronics; thought about who was hiding behind the guise of a security guard; looked for Easter eggs and secrets to finally unravel the plot of FNAF. To some extent, this happened: everyone was able to unravel the plot in their own way and a bunch of alternative universes appeared where people shared their vision. I think it was pretty cool! My favorites to this day are 'Springaling' and 'Springtrap and Deliah'.

And I didn't mind what was happening at all. Yes, people (including me) quarreled on the basis of different theories, but everyone was somehow waiting for them to reveal the true plot of all these games. But that's just not what happened. Books happened, a trilogy came out, and then other parts, and there were no fewer questions. The whole plot, which was pieced together from different games, finally disintegrated, because that part of the fandom appeared, which began to say that books should be combined with games almost completely.

I won't say anything about books, because I simply haven't read them (seriously, do I need to read stories about how smart killer robots kill people, or about how stupid people kill themselves with robots?), but the fact that history has broken into separate universes is very confused. Someone was looking for answers in the trilogy, saying that the characters there are the same, just with different names; someone, like me, brushed the books aside, trying to focus only on the games. And so, FNAF 6 is the end of the story about William Afton and his victims. A beautiful end to the story and a new beginning in the form of FNAF 9, in which a completely new villain and heroes! Smart robots, a huge complex, underground catacombs! That's the scope!

But it just didn't work. Why? For one simple reason: under the Pizza-Plex there was an old pizzeria from FNAF 6, where once everything burned down. Why is this important? Well, because in this very pizzeria there was Burntrap and Molten, who were also present in FNAF 6. Why is IT important? For another simple reason: it connects two stories into one. That is, the whole story of William Afton smoothly flowed into a new history of Pizza Plex.

(And yes, I've heard about a mimic; that it's not William, but a mimic that imitates him, but let's be honest, in the game I see an endoskeleton with meat and bones in a springbonnie's suit and with purple eyes. How am I supposed to understand, without reading the book, that it's not William Afton who's back again? If you give me an answer to this question, I'll shut up.)

What's the matter? Big deal, Afton has risen. What's the difference? That's the freaking problem. If William is alive, then other souls could not rest.

Michael won't rest because he didn't finish off his father; the missing children won't rest because they didn't take revenge on their killer; Charlie won't rest because she will have to protect these children; Henry won't rest because his daughter is still here and so on. And then the question is: where are all these souls? Inside Molten? Perhaps, but still it is not said about it. You can tell me: "The souls have already rested! They don't care that William is back!" And they should care! Otherwise, why didn't they rest all 40 years before?

You can tell me, "This is not William Afton! That's why they didn't come back!" Even if it's not William Afton, but a mimic… There is still a Glitchtrap here, which was obtained from William's chip (although what chip could have survived after such a fire?). Why haven't the chips of others been scanned? Are you saying they haven't been preserved? Or did William, in the form of a barely moving zombie, make a copy of his chip?

I'm not asking these questions to show how FNAF 9 is bad! Perhaps this is just a cry from the soul of a fan of the first 6 parts, who hoped to see someone from the old band, at least in the form of small memories…

Sometimes it feels like Scott is ashamed of his first parts. Perhaps he didn't like the story that he himself can't put together…

But I am warmed by memories of bygone days. I still remember how touched I was by the ending of FNAF 6, when Henry in a few words was able to show all his love for his daughter and their fatigue. And at the sight of an old pizzeria in FNAF 9, in which my favorite characters once burned down, the thought arises: "What if they are still here?"

Of course, the last thing I want to think is that Michael, Charlotte and others are still trapped in these piles of metal underground, where there is no chance of getting out, but… I so want to see my favorite characters in a new beautiful shell, at least for a few seconds...

Thank you for reading my thoughts. I think, I'm too much as always xD

(a few sketches of my fav FNAF girls)

(About Blob possessed by Henry, it's just me and my thoughts about plot, don't mind)

#fnaf 9 security breach #fnaf security breach #security breach ruin #ruin spoilers #fnaf ruin #ruin dlc #my thoughts

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seroothincs · 2 years ago

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Well now I gotta see your Louie headcanons

Awh, yes the sweet baby boy. He's honestly such a favorite of mine, he's just soo.. Mmm Baby. An Absolute dork who tries to put on his best tough face but ends up being more cuter. I don't have that many headcanons of him since we already know a lot about him as a character, he has a lot of voice lines and is therefore the most involved mafia member in the show. Rather than Legs or even Johnny, but Johnny never says anything so it's obvious why we don't know a lot bout him. Headcanons: Now he's the bit more timid and friendly mobster in comparison from examples like Legs or Johnny, of course he isn't afraid to kill someone that gets into his way but he certainly is the more chatty type of guy you'd meet in college. Of course he's all around the place and eager to follow out Tony's every order, he isn't shown to be bothered when needing to kill someone. Though he does show concern for other people's well being like when he called out Homer's reckless use of a gun in "The Cartridge family", saying that homer could have seriously injured someone. Another example is in the famous scene from "Insane Clown poppy" where Johnny got shot. Paints him as a more sensitive mobster, which is what makes him all the more cuter.

He's usually shown to be the shortest member of the gang, shorter than both Legs and Tony. Johnny as well but I'm not so sure about Frankie in comparison with him. Maybe they're the same height, maybe Frankie is taller maybe Louie is. Anyways, there could be a reason for that, maybe a history of shortness in his family -- or maybe not. OR MAYBE it has to do with his past. Look he's a pretty thin and short dude, has a bit of belly chub but that's normal for a dude like him in an old age. He was extremely thin since his childhood, likely because he was raised by a single mother and back then they struggled to maintain a proper income to care for themselves. Causing for him to grow up a bit malnourished, which both caused his baby face, his short height and why he looked so thin. So you could imagine the confusion and worry when Legs and Tony grew more and more while Louie only grew half of their previous heights as teens.

Possibly and this is just one of my many filled in plot points regarding his backstory. When he was a young adult, so say early 20s, He got his first and only real job, after Anna Maria's death and after he quit college, in an Equestrian facility.

He had been spiraling into a deep depression after the terrible news of Anna's passing, so much so that he didn't see a point in continuing his studies to become a chef and gave up on his dream. Instead he wanted to try a new thing and that was caring for animals, he thought if he was under the presence of them he could feel more at ease and escape from the busy life he had once lived.

The job, working as a cleaner, paid enough of a salary to live off it, though he still was miserable. Tony eventually found him and it took some convincing to do once he got him to join the mafia again.

I should probably mention at this point that Anna Maria (Fat tony's deceased wife if anyone isn't familiar with her) and Louie were really tight best friends in the younger years. They have been ever since their teenage years and even went to college together, I don't wanna get into this too much as I will write a separate post to how the young mafia only consisting of three rose up out of Springfield's slumps into the most feared organization that ever appeared in the country.

This guy will search for anything to function as a lighter for his cigarette. Doesn't matter if it's a grill, gas stove or even a iron. He sort of got an addiction back in his early 20s and now he's trying his best to cut back.

He had much, much, much, much more curlier and luscious hair when he was young. He kind of misses it but that's just what happens with old age, he's also kind of glad that he doesn't have to deal with the thickness of it anymore. So many combs broke when he just wanted to brush through it, so many.

It's no surprise horses are his favorite animals, it's weird for a boy to like them but he got the love for them from his father. His dad was a jockey back in Italy and before he died he had promised Louie he would take him with him one day to the ranch where he used to work at and train at. This promise obviously fell through and Louie only remembered that place after he quit college.

Frankie and Louie are sharing one single braincell and it's almost dead.

Louie and Tommy "The face-shooter" are really close and I think that's because Tommy is just like Louie, both were and are young when they joined. (but I think it's also because Louie is no longer the youngest in the whole mafia and relieved that a 19 year old joined)

Louie and Michael are good friends for two reasons. One: They both are excellent cooks and occasionally when they meet up they cook together. Two: Both are children.

Louie, as mentioned in earlier episodes, is a good dancer. He was shown to be good at tap-dancing in "Mayored to the Mob" so I feel like he had dance class as an after school activity. Yeah sure the others laughed at him because of it but he really liked going to that place, wasn't a big fan of the ballet they did but he loved tap-dancing, he still does it to this day.

Besides his love for dancing, he also has a love for instruments. He has been seen attending the Rolling stones Rock N' Roll Fantasy camp and later in the episode he even dragged Tony and Legs along with him to the concert. A total Stones fanboy. But this makes me think that he started playing guitar when he was a young teen, his idols being Keith Richards and Brian May.

He is, so god damn accident-prone it's not even funny. He has been already through so many tragedies in his life and he continues to be put under them. He always manages to get shot in some way shape or form during gang wars, trips when there's nothing even there for him to trip over, fell out of a three story building that one time and he has so many scars on his bodies to show where he was stabbed. I don't even know how he continues to live after so many things happened to him, guess he and Frankie are really immortal.

What was that? You said your favorite band are the Rolling stones? Bad move, buddy. Now you're caught by an ecstatic Louie. He is such a huge fanboy for the stones and once you mention even the slightest of references at the band he turns into a blabber-mouth. It's cute at times, though his music choice sometimes gets in the way of Legs's when they are driving in the car and want to put on some music. (His favorite album of course is Sticky fingers)

Louie plus Frankie and all of the kids from their mobster colleagues (Including Michael) are loyal fans for the Muppet Show and watch it all the time when they're together. Oh and they of course watch Itchy & Scratchy together.

He loves tiramisu over everything, it's the one dessert he always orders at La Coffee nostra. He also a sweet tooth, both Legs and Tony tell him to cut back since Louie has been through so many dentist's already, so many holes.

He doesn't like to admit it at times but he's forced to when Legs gets on his back. He can be disorganized and messy, his apartment looks like a war zone and I don't think anyone would want to step in his bedroom if they already saw the state of his living room.

And that was it for the headcanons, I at least Think these are all of them. I can never make enough because of the cute boy.

#Springfield Mafia #Louie #Legs #Fat tony #Headcanons #just for fun #The Mob's origins

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sarah-dipitous · 2 years ago

Text

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 77

Sex and Violence/The Family of Blood

“Sex and Violence”

Plot Description: Sam and Dean find three small-town men have beaten their wives to death. Behind the murders is a siren, who put the brothers under her spell

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: there are various reasons why I COULD

Mmmm…happy people don’t kill their wives with meat tenderizers. They just don’t. Man, you fucked up big time

Dean, on one hand, sure. Maybe you were “c-blocked” by Sam (Sam who does have a demon girlfriend already), but you barely said two words to the doctor…were you REALLY cockblocked??

Ok Dean. Keep pretending that what you don’t want is a healthy, stable, domestic relationship…

Why does the siren keep taking the name of a Disney princess???

I love that Bobby has labels on the phones for the different professions he has to pretend to be

Who would have taken the blood samples???

For a second I thought the fbi agent was the siren…like, for Dean…because what would be better than someone who appreciates the things you love? Marvels at your car, knows everything about the music you listen to, goes to the strip club with you…but NOOOO seems like they’re going the boring route with Sam and the doctor

Sam…bestie…you know there’s a siren in this town, and you’re gonna let yourself get seduced like this? Are you dumb?

YES, Dean. Call him the fuck out for his stupidity

Omggggggg it WAS THE FBI AGENT. I WAS RIGHT??? MY INSTINCTS WERE CORRECT????

What the ABSOLUTE FUCK, SAM??? I know part of this is just the siren shit, but…there’s always nuggets of truth in these

Thank god for Bobby Singer

“Been On My Mind…”: I mean, it was in the description, and now I feel less bad for putting it back up at 10 the other day. 10.

“The Family of Blood”

Plot Description: The sinister Family search for the Doctor, while he struggles to come to terms with his destiny. Meanwhile, the women in his life are forced to take desperate measures to save history

OKAY BUT WHO DOES THE SON IN THE FAMILY REMIND ME OF??? Omg....okay. I can calm down now. It's not that he reminds me of anyone. It's that this actor DID PLAY Viserys Targeryen. That's the other reason his face and voice is so unnerving. I feel a lot better having looked at his imdb

God. Poor Martha. Has to make up for the Doctor being "rubbish as a human" (and he is) while not getting to take the time to mourn Jenny...while ALSO ALSO NOT BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY BY ANYONE

I know I spent the entire last episode railing against this school, but...god...they're BOYS. They're just BOYS. CHILDREN. Being forced to fight against this army of...things that aren't even alive and so then can't even really die.

The lighting to indicate telepathic communication between the Family is always a weird delight. It makes very little sense, but I love it

I don't know how I feel about them continuing the period romance at this moment...

The boys choir as they shoot down the scarecrows...haunting.

WHO CARRIED THE TARDIS TO THE SCHOOL??? DID THE SCARECROWS DO IT?????

Oh...I forgot how terrible it was to watch the Doctor break down about just wanting to be John Smith, a school teacher.

YOU WERE NOT GIVEN THE WATCH. YOU FUCKING STOLE IT.

The boys choir as they shoot down the scarecrows...haunting.

WHO CARRIED THE TARDIS TO THE SCHOOL??? DID THE SCARECROWS DO IT?????

Oh...I forgot how terrible it was to watch the Doctor break down about just wanting to be John Smith, a school teacher who loves the school's nurse, and isn't that enough??

Them being able to see their whole future together. What it could have been if the universe didn't need the Doctor. *sobbing*

"If there's one thing you should have done, you shouldn't have let me press all those buttons" --every kid on an elevator

...it IS weird that the Doctor only travels with people from the 21st century for...at least...seven seasons? I can't say anything about old Who (but would obviously be 20th century), but offering the opportunity to travel in the TARDIS to Joan...it's just kind of weird to see

(OMG BLINK IS NEXT!!!!!)

Episodes Since the Doctor's Last Attempted Genocide: 6. One, I don't think it was ever said that they were like the last of their species or anything like that, and two, he doesn't technically KILL them. Just, you know, horrifically imprisons them for all of time

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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youreyeslookliketheocean · 3 years ago

Text

youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

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writer-akihiko · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I hope your feeling well. Can I have a request for obey me brothers x a neutral s/o which they look innocent into their but they actually badass and a savage fighter? It's okay to ignore this ask if you like.

ObeyMe!Brothers + Fighter!GN!MC

These are a little short, but I hope it was sweet enough as compensation! I put the description of the weapon next to the names, so you can have an idea of what's to come [in case anyone's uncomfortable with certain weaponry]. Asmo's part is a little suggestive, so please skip if you are uncomfortable.

Warnings: Mentions of stalkers and sudden attacks [by NPCs]. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that.

Lucifer – Dagger

Lucifer thought he knew you, but apparently he didn't anticipate that his lover was capable of handling themselves amongst even the wildest demons

He was with Diavolo, and that's when Belphegor reported an instance of some monsters that were let loose, and he was quick to get anxious that you were at the location of the rampage

He didn't care for any instructions, he had to ensure your safety first. Diavolo allowed it, trusting Lucifer's abilities to settle the situation

It surprised the Avatar of Pride to find his lover in the midst of the battle, slashing away at the beasts. You didn't kill any, since you didn't have demonic magic but Lucifer was still astonished that you could hold them off

After the scuffle, Lucifer held you up, brushing his hands over your skin to check for any wounds. You found his visible confusion adorable, "Oh? Are you impressed?" you laughed, combing the stray hairs away from his face.

He was quick to readjust himself, giving you a tender smile only you would ever see. "Very much so, my love."

Mammon – Axe

Sure, he'd usually fool around with his goldie but he never took you seriously when you asked him to get you an axe. It was a purchase that was excused by Lucifer, to Mammon's relief. Still, he was sure that the axe wasn't just for decoration…

Mammon planned to spend the evening in your room, and he was running late since he forgot the snacks for your date night. Sounds of breaking glass only made him panic, as he thought for your safety

What he didn't expect was to see his darling with an axe in hand, looming over two pesky demons and huffing at them

The demons were perverts peeping in your room, and of course you had to settle them. The only thing now was Mammon fearing what you'd do if he misbehaved...

The demons were quickly settled with, and soon Mammon and you were wrapped in comfy blankets, cuddling with each other close. "Hey..." He started. "You won't ever use that thing on me right?"

All you could offer was a smile. "Hmm... Who knows if you behave, my Mammon?" The teasing never ended, but Mammon grew a habit of showing off your axe skills to anyone shortly after.

Leviathan – Mace

Levi and you got along for your knowledge of games, but there was also no exception to the merchandise. You were floored that Levi got you a usable replica of one of your favourite weapons form the game Dark Spirits

The usable part was only meant to be a feature, but he'd never expected you to utilise it...

Henry the Snake was misbehaving, so of course Lucifer told him to settle it. You came along, bringing your mace with you 'to defeat the labyrinth' as you said

Henry apparently had a toothache, but before he could use his magic, you kindly asked Henry to open his mouth. He didn't look, but you removed the hurting tooth using your mace

"You knew how to use that?!" He stood there, dumbfounded at how easily you

You shrugged it off. "I like the weapon in-game for a reason Levi..."

Satan – Tantou [Japanese Short Sword]

One day, he found you in the library searching for a certain book. Your peering form was simply adorable to him, so of course he accepted the offer of giving you the book you wanted, no matter how difficult

He gifted you a book on the History of Japanese Weapons, and you were occupied with the several volumes, as you both read with each other in complete peace. He'd be lying if he didn't admit he snuck a few glances of your concentrated expression

Satan was quick to feel a presence, pulling your chair close to his, but his reflexes weren't. He felt the demonic plant reach out to you, about to choke-

The plant didn't harm you in any sort, as you cut down the vine that was reaching for your neck. He was stunned, almost dropping the book in hand as he marveled at your swordsmanship

You had a look at your lover, grinning at him. "Are you impressed? It's been a while since I used my tantou…"

He was speechless, stammering at how you hid such a skill from him. He had such confidence that he knew everything about you, and yet you still proved him wrong in the most amusing way…

Asmodeus – Bow & Arrow

The teasing never stopped from your lover Asmodeus when you asked him if you could have a set of bow and arrows. It wasn't terrible teasing, but your cheeks warmed thinking about the nicknames he'd given you

He'd refer to you as his personal Cupid, praising you so for stealing his heart and his teases about being bound to you forever

You welcomed Asmo's ever public affections, even when you were practicing your archery. For a while, Asmodeus assumed you took the sport as a means of exercise, but he was quickly proven wrong

You reserved your sweet demeanour only for Asmo, so your annoyance had reached its peak when some demons won't leave alone. None of the arrows hit them, but it was close enough to their vital parts for them to feel threatened, and for Asmo to be turned on by the fierce look in your eyes

"U-Um… Are you impressed Asmo?" You hesitated, realising you showed a little of your scarier side to him. You fiddled with the bow in your hand, shuffling your feet.

He pulled you in, gently prying the bow off of you and carried you in his arm. "Oh my sweet Cupid… I'm more than impressed. I don't think I can express it in any other way than showering you in my love~"

Beelzebub – Kunai [Ninja Throwing Knife]

Beel didn't think any of it when you admitted to knowing how to fight a little. He didn't mean it in a doubting way, but he preferred to protect you by himself since he'd prefer you to be unharmed

Your adorable Beel decided it would only be suitable to help you out in the kitchen when it came to knives, even though you were baking his favourite set of cookies…

The cookies were then left to rest, as you and Beel finally had your lunch. Beel's lunch was larger than yours so you decided to check on the cookies…

You caught a cookie thief in the act, reaching for the kunai you had in your pouch, pinning the thief down. It was a wandering hungry soul, but then again, it faced the wrath of a hungry Beel with the stake of his cookies…

You pat Beel's head, as he hadn't stopped pouting since his cookies were under threat. "There there… the cookies are fine…"

His pout never went away, as he asked, "But are you okay YN? Nothing hurt?"

You could only smile at your sweet Beel, nodding as you both took the cookies for the second round of the eating date.

Belphegor – Tessen [War Fan]

It was an understatement of jealousy since Belphegor thought that the intricately decorated fan was a gift from Lord Diavolo

Since the fan could've been a hazard to those who don't know how to use it, you ushered Belphie away from the item, drawing his attention to the fluffy pillow fort you made just for your date

Belphie rested, cuddling you as close as possible, but he had secretly put up a barrier, since he felt someone watching you the entire day…

You knew of the stalker, well, more accurately some demon who dislikes you. The commotion woke Belphie up, who saw you shave off the demon's hair with the fan

"Sorry about that Belphie, are you alright?" You said, folding your fan up after scaring the demon away.

"Yeah I am…" He said, stretching out his arms to you. "Now let's cuddle…"

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lilyofthestyx · 4 years ago

Note

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

#anon ask #anon #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil 8 #the duke #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil village fanfiction #gender neutral #headcanons #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #yeah i had a lot of fun with this #thank you again anon

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,�� Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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taken-by-the-fae · 10 months ago

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Thanks for the open invitation @tiamatisobscure!

Last Song: Liar by the Arcadian Wild, although technically more recently is Spain by Chick Corea because I'm trying to learn it on the violin.

Favorite Color: All of them. They all look good in different contexts. I've never seen a truly terrible color.

Currently Watching: Hermitcraft, and also bingeing many of the documentaries by the YouTube channel History of the Earth. Seriously. Go check them out. Studio level work, and they will make you cry with sadness and beauty over even the smallest lifeforms in the distant past.

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: Yes.

Current obsession: Hermitcraft, Subnautica, Phasmophobia, and also The Magnus Protocol

Last thing you googled: My college library's website so I could use their search engine to do research for a speech. Before that it was to spell keratosis pilaris, my very inconsequential skin conditon.

If any one following me wants to do the ask game, feel free!

Tag Game! :D

Tag game! Tag nine people you would like to know better: Havent done one of these in a hot minute, thankies @metamagic-adept for the tag.

Last song: Anamorphic by Joker off of that Castle Chase Music playlist which is a great bop for sports

Favourite colour: Purple or that weird blue green thats not quite teal that you find in the ocean but it isnt really a color as its not a pigment but instead a refraction

Currently watching: Uhhhhhh.... It counts when you only really watch stuff with your friend right? I guess, Dropout? And Hermitcraft.

Sweet/savory/spicy: Savory, Savory/Spicy, Savory/Sweet, Sweet, then spicy on its own. Oh but i just had watermelon with tajin recently and i had forgotten how much i love that particular spicy sweet combo there. Hm.

Relationship status: Single. Vibin.

Current obsession: Hermitcraft. Goldeneye (Yes the james bond movie, yes its old, no we dont understand why here at the ministry either). Ah. And Miss Fishers Murder Mysteries, but the books not the show.

Last thing you googled: That would be much to revealing so instead have the second to last thing i googled which was "HermitcraftxGamersOutreach Donation Campaign"

i tag (no pressure, just for fun): @lunarshores @authenticaussie @anadiangelo @dee-de-winter @wordsdrippinginink @computerpotpourri @a-redharlequin @einsamewache an @tiamatisobscure and an open invitation to whoever would like to

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

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Raise the Barre (Ch. 3)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: descriptions of past bullying

Word Count: 6,816

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

It was nearly eleven when you returned to your room later that night, collapsing on your bed in a disgruntled heap. You barely had enough energy to change out of your clothes and shower, though you forced yourself to do so, if only for the sake of appearances.

Noelle was already asleep, so she didn’t have the presence of mind to grill you, but her questions came as soon as you woke up the next morning. Seated at a table in the coffee shop on the corner, you opened your yogurt and spilled your frustrations.

“So, that’s where I am,” you said, shaking your head when you reached the end of the story. “Miss Britt pulled me aside and I need to find someone to tutor me, fast. Fun times.”

“That’s bullshit.” Noelle looked outraged. “You’re clearly one of the best dancers at Russet! It’s why Sabrina has such a problem with you. She knows you’re competition.”

“Thanks,” you said, a bit glum. “But Miss Britt is right – I’m no ballerina. I need more practice if I want to catch up to the rest of class.”

“But you don’t even want to be in Russet’s ballet company! You’re a talented dancer outside of that specific genre.”

“True. But if I can’t make it through freshman year, that doesn’t really matter – does it?”

Noelle fell silent for a moment, not having a response as you sighed.

“It’s not like I expect you to have a solution,” you admitted. Scooping another bite of yogurt from your parfait, you shoved this in your mouth. “It’s my problem to figure out.”

Noelle leaned back. “Maybe you should take Miss Britt’s suggestion,” she said.

You gave Noelle a look of such open disgust, she had to laugh.

“I’m serious!” She grinned, taking a sip of her coffee. “Obviously, Sabrina’s the worst, but you could ask Jimin. Is he really as bad as you say?”

“That all depends,” you mused. “Is Satan as bad as they say?”

“Never met him, so I can’t be sure.”

“Well, I have met Jimin and can definitively say he’s the worst. If I went to him for help, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hm.” Noelle sounded skeptical to you; she clearly thought you were exaggerating, but this was one subject on which you were unwilling to budge. “Maybe you can ask someone else, then. An older student? Oo – you could ask Seokjin! He’s so hot.”

Perked up by this idea, you casually stirred your coffee. “You know what, that’s not a bad idea. He’s super talented and clearly knows what the teachers are looking for.”

“See!” Noelle set down her fork. “You have plenty of options.”

“You might be right,” you said with a smile.

Feeling marginally better about the whole situation, you pulled out your phone to search Russet’s website for Seokjin. All the teacher’s assistants had a web page where they offered private lessons, much like Miss Britt and other teachers. Unfortunately for you though, all of Seokjin’s slots were full.

This seemed to be the case with most upperclassmen and you sighed, standing from the table to clear your place. Discouraged by this, you threw your phone in your bag while you left the shop. Noelle began suggesting other students she knew while you walked to class, but you had already begun to fixate on what was probably a terrible idea.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized Miss Britt’s initial suggestion made sense. Sabrina was frustrating, but she knew all the teachers and had the most training of your class in classical ballet. True, you hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but you’d played a part in that, too. The first night you met, you didn’t have to be a dick to her.

Most importantly, you didn’t have the same history with Sabrina that you did with Jimin. Jimin had been your rival since day one – it’d take more than some halfhearted peace offering to make him forget that. Your relationship with Sabrina was new enough you still had hope it could change.

Besides, you already knew she did morning barre on days off from class. Surely, she wouldn’t say no if you asked to tag along. Cheered by this thought – you were the type of person who enjoyed having a plan – you perked up, chatting eagerly with Noelle as you walked to class.

Wednesday ballet was held by Mr. Jordan, the only teacher at Russet who was routinely late to class. Only by five minutes, but you found it remarkable how consistently he hit this deadline. The rest of the class arrived fifteen minutes early regardless – better to be consistently early than to be late the one week Mr. Jordan wasn’t, and be banished to the hall.

You and Noelle entered at 8:50 AM, setting your bags on the ground to stake out your place at the barre. You were midway across the room when you saw Sabrina and paused.

Her pointe shoes were already on, doing slow relevés at the barre in the center. You hesitated only a moment before turning to Noelle.

“I’m going to do barre over there today,” you said, nodding in Sabrina’s direction. “See you after, okay?”

Noelle looked up in alarm, but you had already turned, halfway across the floor. When you reached Sabrina, you set your bag down and took a long sip of water.

Sabrina ignored you, placing one leg on the barre to bend at the waist. You waited a moment for her to rise and when she did not, set your hand on the barre.

“Hey,” you said, waiting for a response.

Sabrina didn’t react.

Moving to stand opposite, you lifted your leg to place beside her own. Stretching an arm overhead, you leaned forward until your face was mere inches away.

“How’s your morning?” you said, trying your best to be pleasant.

Sabrina released a long, slow sigh.

“Good.”

You waited, but she said nothing more and, feeling kind of stupid, you glanced over your shoulder. Noelle remained at your usual spot by the door. You were momentarily tempted to leave and join her, but then you remembered what Miss Britt had said. You needed a tutor.

You could do this. You had made it to Russet Academy, dammit – asking Sabrina to help couldn’t be more difficult than fifteen years of ballet class.

“Do you have a second?” you said, lowering your voice. “I wanted to ask you something.”

After another long pause, Sabrina raised her head. “What?”

She sounded curious at least, which you supposed was a start. Even if said curiosity didn’t extend to her lowering her leg, or even her voice.

“Uh…” You blinked, your nervousness rising. If Sabrina said no, it would be absolutely humiliating. “I know you’ve been training at Russet longer than most people in our class.”

Sabrina stared. “And?”

You bit down on your lip to keep from saying something you’d regret. Clearly, Sabrina wasn’t going to make this easy on you and again, you wondered if this was a bad idea. You reminded yourself that you’d committed to doing whatever was necessary to keep your spot at Russet.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but ballet isn’t really my dance style.” Ignoring the small smirk she gave, you continued. “I know it’s yours though, so I was wondering if you’d be open to practicing together sometime. You know, maybe you could give me some pointers.”

Sabrina looked at you a long moment, then lowered her leg. Bending lithely at the waist, she grasped her water bottle to take a casual swig. She remained silent the entire time, forcing you to stand there and watch. To stand there and wait while she considered your proposition.

The kernel of humiliation within you grew even further.

Sabrina turned her head. “Do you know what my mom said to me when I told her I wanted to dance professionally?”

You blinked, not having expected this as a response. It wasn’t an actual answer to your question, so you tried not to sound annoyed when you said, “Uh, no.”

Sabrina arched a brow. “She said there wasn’t much room for women at the top.”

“She… huh?”

“Success is a zero-sum game.” Sabrina spoke slowly, as one would to a child. “There are fifteen spots offered at the end of our four-year program. If you get one, that means there’s one less spot for me at the table. Why would I help when it’s to my best interest not to?”

For a moment you could only stare at her, open-mouthed.

“See?” Sabrina set her water bottle down. “You can’t even think of a good reason. Maybe you weren’t a ballerina before, but you were a dancer. You know how competitive this field is, especially for women.”

An uncomfortable feeling spread through you. Sabrina’s words were remarkably similar to what you had said to Jimin but still, you hated hearing them thrown back in your face.

“You don’t think this is all a little… juvenile?” you said, a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation. “This isn’t high school anymore, Sabrina. We’ve all made it.”

“Yeah – to Russet,” she said, point blank. “This is barely the start if you want to dance professionally, Y/N. It’s nothing against you personally, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Oh, good. As long as it’s not personal.”

Sabrina smirked. “Well, maybe it’s a little personal. Like I said to you yesterday, I really wouldn’t mind having Jimin for a partner. If you got kicked out, that would solve things, wouldn’t it?”

Teeth gritted, you stopped the next words from leaving your mouth. They hung on the tip of your tongue, stillborn while you pointedly shoved them back down. If you said anything more to her, you might seriously regret it and Sabrina wasn’t worth that kind of stress to you now.

Turning around, you bent to pick up your bag – only to stop as Mr. Jordan entered the room.

“Sorry I’m late, class!” he said, shaking free from his jacket. “Subway was a nightmare. Anyways, I’m here now, so let’s start.”

Realizing you were stuck, you slowly turned back around. It seemed your place at the barre had been decided. Sabrina hid her smile when you took a step closer, placing one hand on the barre and lifting your chin in the air.

It had been silly to ask Sabrina for help. You apparently expected too much from someone so utterly determined to rise alone to the top. You could only assume that kind of attitude would one day rise to bite her in the ass but until then, you just had to grin and bear it.

Even more irksome was the fact that she’d said so many of the same things you’d told Jimin. Pushing this uncomfortable thought aside, you forced yourself to concentrate on the combination Mr. Jordan began.

The entire length of the barre, you avoided eye contact with Sabrina. It was a difficult feat, but you managed it because you had no other choice. Throughout tendus, dégagés and rond de jambes, you sucked it up and stood next to Sabrina in glowering silence.

You were so concentrated, the time at the barre seemed to go by faster than usual. The first time you glanced at the clock was when Mr. Jordan stopped to call for a water break.

Bending abruptly, you grabbed the straps of your bag and said nothing to Sabrina while you walked away. Setting your stuff by near Noelle, you straightened and began to furiously unscrew your cap. She gave you a sympathetic look while you did this, reaching overhead to studiously re-do her bun.

“That bad, huh?” she said.

Furious, you scowled. “She’s an asshole.”

Noelle’s brows shot straight up. “Damn,” she whistled. “What’d the ice queen say?”

“That she hopes I drop out,” you said shortly, turning around. “That there’s only so much room for women at the top. She told me dance is a zero-sum game and if she helps me get a spot at Russet Company, it’d be one less spot for her to take.”

Noelle made a disappointed noise with her tongue. “See,” she said, around a mouthful of bobby pins. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that’s kept women down for centuries. Let’s ban together to burn the men!”

Although you laughed a little, you quieted quickly. Remembering your conversation with Sabrina made your legs a bit shaky. Shutting your eyes, you took several deep breaths until you felt calmer.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I know that it’s stupid and ultimately, I don’t care what Sabrina thinks – but she just makes me so mad.”

“She really said she hopes you drop out?”

Opening your eyes, you nodded. “Apparently, she wants Jimin as her ballet partner.”

“W-ow.” Noelle shook her head. “This plot has more twists than the Winchester mansion.”

Unable to help it, you snorted. “Oh, well,” you said glumly, following Noelle out on the floor. “It’s probably for the best. If this is how she reacts to me asking for help, imagine how awful she’d be as an instructor.”

“Yeah, you definitely dodged a bullet there,” Noelle agreed.

When Mr. Jordan cleared his throat, this led to a scurrying of movement as everyone took their places. He began to show the combination, leading the class through the steps with an easy poise. When the time came for you to break into pairs, you were forced to look around the room before you spotted Jimin.

He stood on the opposite side from you, practicing the steps Mr. Jordan had laid out. You blinked, hesitating a moment before crossing the room to his side. Every time before now, he had come to stand beside you.

Coming to a stop, you looked at him curiously. “Why’re you over here?”

Jimin shrugged in response.

You opened your mouth to continue, but then Mr. Jordan began the partner portion of the combo. Falling silent, you stood beside Jimin while you learned the steps. He was oddly quiet. This quietness alone wasn’t enough to raise any brows, though you typically exchanged at least minimal small talk. You know, hand here, leg there, lift your arms higher – that type of thing.

His silence wasn’t the only thing about him that was odd, though. His grip on your waist felt different today – rough, almost angry as you practiced the first lift. You winced when you landed, stumbling a bit as you whirled around.

“What was that?” you demanded.

Jimin blinked innocently. “What was what?”

You stared at him a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “Whatever,” you said, turning around. “Gentler, next time – okay?”

“Sure.”

Jimin moved back into place, standing in fifth position while Mr. Jordan started the song over. The combination wasn’t an adagio, comprised of slower movements, but a fast-paced pas de deux he’d created last week. You didn’t have much experience with this kind of partnering; most of your classes had preferred slower movements so far.

The fast pace required a higher level of trust with your partner, since you didn’t have time to second-guess all their movements. Apparently, Mr. Jordan had decided the fastest way to learn was to do. Jimin led you through the combination, one hand firm on your waist.

Normally, Jimin was a solid male partner to you. He knew when to push, when to hold back and when to allow you to take the lead. This no longer seemed to be the case. As you started to dance, you found yourself a bit dizzy. Jimin didn’t let you finish each spot before he whisked you around, keeping you – both literally and metaphorically – on your toes.

A swear nearly escaped when he pulled you to his chest – eyes flashing, you turned and started to boureé away. Jimin chassed forward, ending in a lunge for circular port de bras.

“You’re doing it again,” you muttered, moving behind him.

Facing forward, you piqued into arabesque.

“Doing what?” he said blithely.

Jimin twisted, grasping your hand in his as he crossed behind. Placing one hand on your hip, he waited for you to wrap your leg around him in attitude arabesque.

“You know what,” you hissed, as he walked you in a promenade.

Extending your leg fully, you lowered yourself in a penché. Contrary to their appearance, penchés were difficult to do with a partner. It involved an extension to arabesque, then bending with said leg held at a ninety-degree angle, or higher. The male helped with the motion, but his addition altered both your centers of gravity. It might have seemed logical for him to stand behind you, but he actually needed to stand slightly off center. It was easy for one – or both – of you to lose your balance.

You and Jimin had practiced the move enough that it’d become second nature – which is why you began to panic when you felt Jimin’s weight shift.

“Jimin,” you whispered, clenching your abs. “Step back!”

“Step back?” he said innocently, not moving at all.

“Yes! Jimin, you –”

He languidly stepped into the correct position, helping you up a second before you toppled over. You spun, eyes blazing and Jimin caught your knee. The smile he gave you sent rage through your veins, since it was instantly apparent he’d been fucking with you.

You imagined those cartoons where the main character’s head exploded, or became a volcano, or turned into a tea kettle that had steam escaping. This was exactly how you felt, but there was no time to respond, since the next portion of the combination was fast and required intense concentration. Shooting Jimin a glare which promised him a painful death, you continued.

Luckily, barre had been long, so only one combination remained until you were released from class. You contained your annoyance until class had ended, turned to stalk across the room the second Mr. Jordan turned off the music.

Noelle chuckled when she saw, noticing your clear annoyance. “Oh, no,” she said, glancing across the room. “What’d he do now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you seethed, tossing things in your bag. Yanking out sweatpants, you tugged these over your leotard. “Nothing a little conversation won’t fix.”

Knowingly, Noelle nodded. “Is ‘conversation’ code for beating Jimin up in the parking lot?”

Despite yourself, you laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Unfortunately not,” you said with a sigh as you walked from the room. “This’ll be a lot less fun.”

You came to a stop in the hall, some of your anger diminishing. A current of annoyance simmered beneath the surface though, since it was one thing for Jimin just not to like you – it was another entirely that he purposefully antagonize and jeopardize your career. This was exactly what you’d been worried about when you’d been assigned as partners.

“Well.” Noelle glanced at the room. “Did you want to get dinner tonight? You know, after you’re done tearing Jimin a new one.”

“Dinner sounds good,” you agreed. “I’m hanging out with Finn later, but I’m free before then.”

Noelle nodded sagely. “Good, good. I hear it’s healthy to fuel up before a massive sex marathon.”

Jimin – who’d been exiting the room – stopped short.

“Uh – what?” he said, glancing between you.

Waggling her fingers goodbye, Noelle shrugged and walked past. “Nothing for you to worry about. Good luck walking later, Park!”

Jimin stared at her as she left, completely bewildered until you grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging him away. He stumbled forward, not having expected the motion – but caught up to you fast as he tugged his arm free.

“Hey! Whoa, Y/N – what’re you doing?”

You whirled to face him in the hall.

“What was that?” you demanded.

Jimin blinked at you, uncertain. “Uh, let’s see. I was minding my own business and you just assaulted me –”

“During class,” you interrupted, gesturing at the classroom. “You had such an attitude today. You can’t even say it wasn’t purposeful, because –”

“Y/N.” Jimin stared in disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me what’s wrong? Your memory can’t be that short.”

Faltering a bit, you came to a stop. Jimin’s expression told you you were missing something big. It was last night, you realized. Jimin was mad about last night, when he’d chased you down the hall and you’d basically told him to fuck off.

“Ah,” Jimin said, seeing your understanding dawn. “I take it you remember now. That time you ambushed me in the hall and said I don’t deserve to be here?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant by that.”

“Oh?” His laugh sounded forced. “You told me I only worked half as hard as you did.”

“Well, because you do!” you sputtered.

The words escaped despite your intent to stay cordial. Jimin was right; you had exploded last night and some of that wasn’t his fault, but the core of what you’d told him remained. Guys did have an easier time than girls in the dance world. That was just a fact.

“Come on, Y/N.” Angrily, Jimin shoved a hand through his hair. “You seriously think that I’ve had it easy? I used to hide my dance stuff in a hockey bag because all the kids at my school teased me about wearing tights.”

Somewhat uncomfortably, you recalled what Finn had said the other night at dinner. Jimin wasn’t wrong about external prejudices regarding male dancers.

“I’m not saying you weren’t teased, Jimin.”

“Teased?” He stared at you in disbelief. “Y/N. I was beat up every day on the playground for the entirety of third grade. When I was eleven, some kids filled my locker with used tampons because I was a ‘pussy.’ Freshman year, I asked a girl to the dance and she said yes – only to stand me up the night of because her friends thought it’d be funny. I once went to ballet class in bare feet for a week because some assholes stole my bag and hid it in the women’s locker room. My life was shit half the time, Y/N,” he said, with sudden vehemence. “The only reason I kept going was because I love dance more than anything else.”

Jimin stopped talking, slightly out of breath and you stared at him in shock, never having heard him this angry before.

You’d thought that you had. You’d thought he’d been angry all those times you beat him in dance, but you had never seen Jimin looking anything like this. Hurt, a little broken and fiercely determined.

In some ways, it felt like the first time you’d seen him.

“Yeah, well…” You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I don’t know what to say to that. That sucks.”

Jimin laughed, a bit hollow. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, glancing away. “Fuck. I didn’t want to… make you feel bad, or whatever. That’s not why I said it. I just wanted you to know I’ve also overcome stuff to be here.”

Hearing him speak, you both bristled and wondered why he said it like that. Like he wanted you specifically to know and not someone else.

“I’m not saying you haven’t worked hard,” you admitted. “That sucks, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that there are ten female dancers for every one guy. Dance is a lot more competitive for women than men.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t also worked my ass off.”

“No one’s saying you didn’t,” you snapped, finally fed up. “I’m just saying more doors were opened for the effort you gave than for mine. And besides,” you added, unable to help yourself. “I’m sure it was real hard, coming from Harleigh Heights.”

Jimin seemed baffled by this. “What does my hometown have anything to do with this?”

“Oh, come on, Jimin. You can’t be that naïve.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You’re rich!” you blurted. “Or at least, your family is. You could afford all those fancy master classes in the city. You had private lessons, small group lessons and whatever else your parents’ money could buy. All I had was Rita’s Dance Studio.”

Jimin hesitated. “Rita’s isn’t… bad.”

“Jimin,” you said. “I was the only person from my studio to ever place at national dance competitions.”

“That doesn’t mean the studio itself was bad!”

“You have a fucking car in the city!”

He gave you a bewildered look. “What does… that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just another reason we’re different,” you groaned, rubbing your temple. “I know you work hard. I know you do, but you’ve also had way more advantages than I have and sometimes, that sucks.”

Jimin paused. “That’s not really something I can control.”

“It’s not,” you admitted through gritted teeth. Deciding you were done with this conversation, you moved to walk past. “It isn’t your fault, but the challenges we’ve faced aren’t the same and you know it.”

Before you could leave, Jimin grabbed your arm.

He turned you to face him, barely an inch from his face. Everyone always said Jimin reminded them of a puppy – cute, loveable, and eager to please. This had never been something you agreed with. Sure, Jimin could be cute when he wanted to be, but beneath that lay a deeper hunger, an insistent desire to prove himself in a way you found all too relatable.

Jimin held your gaze. “Seeing as you’ve never walked in my shoes and I’ve never walked in yours,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we stop making comparisons?”

Your gaze narrowed a bit, but before you could respond, he continued.

“If you’re having trouble keeping up, stop making excuses and ask someone for help.” Abruptly, he dropped your arm. “Otherwise, you’ll never improve.”

Jimin left without another word, jerking his bag higher as he stalked down the hall. You watched him go, too stunned to do anything else.

His last words – however accurate – made your ears burn. Hands curled into fists, you saw red for awhile, until Jimin had gone. After several deep breaths, you finally calmed down enough to be objective.

Unfortunately, objectivity was not in your favor, because Jimin was right.

He was right about you and you hated that fact. Even if your circumstances had been different, all that had changed when you both were accepted to Russet. Now, you were on a level playing field and you were the one person hanging on to what came before. The only thing that mattered now was what happened next; if you couldn’t compete at Russet, you’d be pulled from the game.

And the one person standing in the way of success was yourself.

Jimin had nothing to do with your lack of ballet technique. Sure, he had more money than you did – seriously, who brought a car to the city? – but it wasn’t like you’d been destitute. Your parents had made enough to afford all your lessons and costumes and dance competition fees. You’d had a studio, even if it wasn’t a fancy one within city boundaries.

Exhaling, you considered the other point he had made. While it was true male dancers had certain advantages, Jimin was damn good despite this. If you were being honest, you knew he was one of the best dancers at Russet regardless of gender.

Nearly ten minutes had passed before you began to walk down the hall. Everyone else had left for lunch, so it was just you and your thoughts as you exited the building. You felt exhausted, only partly because of the intensity of Mr. Jordan’s class.

You’d always been a planner. It was something your parents had teased you about but secretly, you’d always enjoyed. Here though, you felt at a loss.

For the first time in your life, you were forced to consider what would happen if you gave dance everything you had – if you tried everything you could think of – and still came up short. Everyone always said if you loved something, keep trying and you’d eventually succeed, but you’d seen enough by now to know this wasn’t necessarily true.

Everyone at Russet was talented. Everyone here was a hard worker. You didn’t make it this far without both of those things – which meant you could have it all and still fail.

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, you released a sigh. It was mid-September and already, the leaves had begun to change. You’d been at Russet for nearly a month and felt you’d yet to make any real progress.

Pushing this thought away, you wondered what you’d do with your life if you got kicked out. Go to a college near home, maybe. Find another career path that’d be mildly fulfilling and yet, nowhere near the release you experience through dance. The idea of it made you feel somewhat ill.

All you’d ever wanted in life was to dance. On some level, you’d thought things would be easier once you got into Russet. This had been a naïve expectation; you saw that now. Lift and the struggles which came with it refused to stop for even a second. Again, your former dance teacher’s words came to mind. If dance wasn’t truly what you wanted, it was better to give up than to go through the struggle.

You did want it, though.

Even if you had to go through hell to get it, dance was the thing which made you feel alive. If you didn’t make it at Russet, you could figure out what to do next – but until that moment came, you’d do absolutely everything necessary to make sure you stayed.

In the back of your mind, a voice whispered – even ask Jimin for help? – but you ignored it. That question could wait for another day, you decided as you walked away.

Even though he’d made some valid points, everything else still made you see red. The more you thought about it though, the more persistently his words seemed to grind away your resolve. Jimin may have been pissed at you, but he was also correct.

You could either continue to walk around campus feeling sorry for yourself, or you could improve.

Teeth gritted, you decided to do the latter.

Lounged at the foot of Finn’s bed, you scrolled through your TikTok in an endless loop.

“Ugh, my muscles are so sore,” you complained. Reaching out your foot, you poked him with your toe. “Massage them for me.”

“All of them?”

“Uh-huh.”

Grabbing your foot, Finn pulled this into his lap. To his credit, he started to give – well, not a massage, but he did something. Finn began poking the bottom of your foot with his index fingers until you finally laughed.

“Okay, not that!” you grumbled, pulling your leg back.

Finn grinned and turned a page in his book while you let your gaze linger. He looked good, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt he’d pulled on after sex. It was the first time all week you’d been truly alone; things had gone faster than usual, but that was to be expected. It had been awhile since the last time. It was nice just to see him, to touch him and talk to him – you’d missed having a semblance of normalcy in your life.

Innocently, Finn flipped the next page in his book. “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the pleasure of my touch?”

“I did not, no.”

Tossing his book aside, Finn bared his teeth and began to crawl forward. With a shriek, you backed away until your spine hit the wall and you laughed.

“No,” you begged, kicking his shin as you grinned. “No tickling!”

Finn growled mercilessly, but eventually relented. Twisting, he dropped to lay his head in your lap.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll just hang out here, then. My book is so far away. I guess I can’t study. Too bad.”

Although you rolled your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. Finn’s roommate was gone for the weekend, giving you the entire place to yourselves. You knew you’d have to leave at some point – ballet class started tomorrow at 8:30 AM – but until then, you could happily live in denial.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” you asked. “Tests? Something?”

Finn shrugged. “I already studied today.”

A twinge of jealousy went through you, although you squashed this immediately. Finn’s collegiate experience was different from yours, but this was through no fault of his own.

You’d arrived at his dorm room shortly after dinner and, after unloading the crappy events of your day, Finn had merely shrugged and said his day had been fine. It seemed Finn was adapting to Redfield like a fish to water; nearly everyone you passed on your way to his room had stuck their head out to greet him.

On your way over, you’d considered asking Finn for advice about Jimin, but had given up on the idea soon after arrival. Visiting Finn was like stepping into a bubble. You knew the vision would pop as soon as you stepped outside, but it was nice to exist outside the worries of Russet.

Finn wouldn’t understand what you were going through either, which again, wasn’t his fault. His greatest stress was an upcoming test, while you were constantly on edge about whether you’d fail. There were no grades in your classes, no real way to tell if you were passing.

The most difficult part of Finn’s freshman year had been registering for his classes; a fact which cast your experience in stark perspective. If Finn dropped a class or had to miss a test, it didn’t really matter for him in the long run. It mattered for you.

Every time you’d previously mentioned Jimin to Finn, his advice had been to simply ignore him. It wasn’t the best advice, all things considered. Jimin was your assigned dance partner for the semester; you needed him in order to pass your classes.

It helped some to vent, but at the end of the day, you didn’t want Finn trying to fix things for you. That was what he did – he solved things. He loved to fix other people’s problems, loved to tie up loose ends and find neat solutions. The problem was though, you weren’t sure such easy answers existed.

Before you could suggest a movie to watch, someone knocked on the door to Finn’s dorm room.

Lifting his head from your stomach, Finn called, “Enter!”

The door swung open to reveal a tall, gangly-looking freshman in the hall. He looked at you with some surprise before glancing at Finn.

“Dude,” he said, sounding excited. “Sigma Nu is having a crazy party two blocks away. Ellie just texted saying there’s no cover for guys. A bunch of us are heading over – you in?”

“What – seriously?” Finn sat up straight. “No cover? That’s a first.”

He beamed and glanced at you, so you gave a small smile.

“It is?” you said tentatively.

Your words sounded uncertain even to your own ears, but Finn nodded excitedly. You hadn’t been out enough times this semester to notice.

“Coming!” door guy yelled to someone in the hall. Stepping back, he returned to the room. “So, you in?”

Your automatic reaction was no, since it was a Wednesday and you had class tomorrow, but before you could speak, Finn hopped from the bed.

“Sure!” he agreed, searching for his coat. “Y/N – you good with that?”

Hesitating, you fiddled with a corner of his blanket. Ideally, you’d love going to a weekday party with your boyfriend. Finn’s enthusiasm could be contagious, and you wanted to see him in his collegiate environment. He’d been the life of the party at high school and you knew it’d be the same here.

Unfortunately for you, ballet class wasn’t something you could just forget. You’d made it a personal rule not to drink before class and it would be no fun to attend a frat party sober. You were already skating on thin ice at Russet; you could only imagine what would happen if you showed up to class hungover.

“I don’t think I can,” you said softly, wishing the guy would leave Finn’s room. “I have ballet in the morning. Remember?”

“Oh.” Finn’s disappointment showed for only a moment. Hiding this swiftly, he sat back down on the bed. “Sorry, Ben,” he said, forcing a smile. “I think we’re staying in.”

Door guy – Ben, apparently – paused. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. “Y/N and I already have plans.”

Ben seemed confused; you assumed from this that he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch.

“Really?” he said with a frown. “I thought you said you wanted to come.”

“It’s my fault,” you interjected, feeling a bit guilty. “I have class super early in the morning.”

“Oh, is that all?” He brightened. “That’s no big deal – so do I!”

Your lips tightened, not wanting to be rude, but this guy just wasn’t getting it.

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “But I can’t be hungover for mine.”

Ben stared. “Huh. Okay, well – if you change your mind. So weird,” he laughed, exiting Finn’s room to the hall. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend, Finn? Later!”

Pulling the door shut, he left the two of you in silence.

You stared in shock at the door, attempting to process everything you were feeling.

There was guilt at keeping Finn from something he wanted to do. Longing, from not being able to do the fun things that you wanted. And nausea, at hearing Ben say he didn’t know Finn had a girlfriend.

Hesitant, you glanced in Finn’s direction, but found him looking away – at the ceiling, at the floor, anywhere but at you.

“So…” You paused. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” Finn leaned back on the bed. Turning on his TV, he navigated to Netflix. “Want to watch a movie, or something?”

“I guess.”

You continued to sit there, clutching his blanket and staring blankly at the screen. After another moment, you decided this couldn’t be brushed aside and faced him on the bed.

“Why haven’t you told anyone you have a girlfriend?”

Finn looked at you, surprised. “I have!”

“Oh?” you said, glancing at the door. “Then, why didn’t he know?”

Finn snorted. “Ben? Look – I like him, but the dude’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. As you may have noticed,” he added, giving a pointed brow raise.

Begrudgingly, you nodded. You had noticed.

“Hey.” Finn sat up straight. Clicking off the TV, he scooted closer on the bed. “I swear I’ve told people about you,” he said, taking your hands. “Promise. Ben is just an idiot. The instant someone is off-limits to them, they turn invisible. He’s probably even forgotten his sister by now.”

“Gross,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

Finn nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Ben’s an ass. I wouldn’t even hang out with him if it weren’t for the other guys on the floor. College. You know how it is.”

“Sure,” you said slowly, although you really didn’t.

There were multiple people on your floor and at Russet whom you didn’t like. You weren’t unfriendly to them, of course – with Sabrina being the exception – but neither did you hang out with them just because you were classmates. This entire world of collegialism was foreign to you.

“I love you,” Finn said.

Finally, you cracked a smile. “Love you, too.” Sliding both arms around his waist, you settled down on his chest. “Sucks about Ben being a dick, though.”

Finn laughed, brushing a kiss to your hair. “I think I’ll survive.”

You shook your head, knowing he was right. Finn always got through things like this; troubles seemed to easily roll off his back like water. You watched him turn on the TV and choose a comedy on Netflix.

When the first scene began, you tried hard to relax, but this proved to be difficult. In high school, you’d been able to compartmentalize fairly easily but now, you found worries steadily leaking back in. Your Finn-bubble, the one which had always been so impenetrable, had started to become porous.

Worries about Russet, about your classes, about your teachers began to seep in and no longer did Finn’s dorm room seem like such a haven.

You didn’t belong here.

The thought occurred to you suddenly, as obvious as knowing the main characters on screen would eventually get together. Finn’s world was entirely different from yours, completely alien from Russet and you had no idea how to navigate the two worlds together.

It made you uneasy to consider, seated with your head on his shoulder and arms around his waist, but instead of facing this knowledge head-on, you pushed it away.

Too many things were being kept in your mind-boxes and, instead of disappearing, the thought continued to linger. It followed as you left Finn’s dorm, walked through the city streets, up the steps of Grace Hall and all the way to your bed.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

[ RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST ]

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts writing #bts series #jimin writing #jimin series #jimin e2l #bts e2l #jimin dance au #bts dance au

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daisys-gard3n · 3 years ago

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Hi Daisyyy...it's Anya here...heehoo.

I think about your yandere art college au SO MUCH like it's REALLY IN THERE IN MY BRAIN FOLDS. Brain wrinkles? However you call it.

I think I'd definitely want to major in something that has to do with the human form. That is my MOST favorite subject of all, practically the only thing I ever make art of. Perhaps in all forms of traditional art, like paints and pencils? Anything that really encapsulates "humanity" in any form is what I'm drawn to. Wether it's something softer and more dreamy, or something horrid and nightmarish.

If I had to pick a minor...perhaps something in dance, or performance. I ADORE ballet, orchestral pieces, and theatre. I think it's just breathtaking. The movement of body to music is just hypnotizing. Is there a ballet program in your art au? That's something I'd LEAP right into.

Catch me gunning for...well. Everyone. Really. But I'm not the kind of person to approach others first IRL. I'm...terribly shy, quiet, and anxious. So I'm not sure who I'd be able to make good friends with at first ;w; I'm usually the type to make friends with the teachers and professors as opposed to the other students. Seriously, I will go ham just talking a teacher's ear off if they make the mistake of getting me going. RIP to them...but it's good to have a passionate student, I guess???

But I wouldn't mind making friends with someone like Illuso or Risotto, someone that can share my love for the more intricate and horrid side of art. Or life in general...really.

I'm the type to babble once I DO open up. I think a LOT about MANY things, surprisingly. I'm amazed at...anything, really. I think that's why I'd like art college so much. There's just SO MUCH to learn from SO MANY different art forms, and art histories. I think I'd definitely be a good person to help you study with, as I could get into something very easily!

I dunno- I think ultimately, I'd be the quiet, off to the side, reserved type. But the kind that genuinely wants to have something to offer to others in the end, no matter what kind of connection that ends up being. ESPECIALLY when I finally open up.

Anyway ily Daisy 💕💕💕

If you can't decide from painting or drawing, you can always choose to major in art studio - which allows you to use a multitude of 2D materials to make your art. You'll get a chance to try out different materials, like charcoal, wax, pastels, water color, etc. And there is conveniently a human anatomy study course you can take to further your skills on drawing the human figure and anatomy.

Our performing arts program has plenty of dance concentrations - everything from salsa, to contemporary, to jazz, to hip hop, to ballroom, and of course classic ballet. The ballet and the orchestra class work hand in hand together, performing both timeless classical pieces and original pieces came up with the program.

From the get-go, you'll have Melone has your upperclassman who helps you out with different forms and stretching - but he's secretly eyeing you up. Melone isn't ashamed about how he searches for his next partner in bed, originally only hanging around you because you seem like the next tight piece of ass to come into his bed...But the more he gets to know you, the more he realizes he really does like you as a person. He thinks the quiet and shy you is adorable, at first thinking you'll moan pretty under him, but just seeing you stumble over your words and can't look him in the eyes...It makes his heart flutter. And your babbling is so adorable, he doesn't even care that you're talking about bottom feeders or what you think ivory clay tastes like. How your eyes light up and how you ramble on and on...Melone find its precious, like he needs to wrap you in a blanket and protect you. Oh, but how he hates that you're so comfortable with the teachers...Or how you do your cute rambling to the dance teacher or to anyone at the matter. Melone just thought it was an off day, conflicted...He just wanted to sleep with you, right? But it grew worse, his dreams and thoughts infected with you and every waking moment is just for you. His dance becomes more contemporary as he channels in all of the negative feelings and all of the dark thoughts he has for you. His graphic work becomes much more darker in nature, having taken secret pictures of you or drawing illustrations and putting you into his fantasy...Oh, how he would almost cry of happiness getting a duet with you. Oh how he almost came when the two of you finished. He then realizes his true goal with you - you need to be with him, you complete is tango. He'll take that sweet and nervous little bird and cage it.

Risotto would definitely be interested in you after seeing one of your works displayed in the drawing or painting halls. He's very interested in your thought process and your art style - it mesmerized him. When he sees you in real life, seeing you interact with other people...He's almost taken aback that you're this shy little thing...And how you babble on and on to the professor you're close with. You've definitely caught his eye. Here's the thing though, Risotto is not the greatest at communicating. He's like a shadow, lurking silently from behind as he watches you, learning everything about you from a distance as you live out your days. He doesn't know how to approach you and he doesn't know when he'll get a chance to. If he's feeling bold, he may walk up to your lunch table and ask to sit with you - even though it sounds more like a demand. He's silent, knowing how to get you into that adorable babbling state. It's like he's watching a small animal and he was the predator stalking by. He'll be interested in your thoughts and your hyperfixations, listening as you give him that starry-eyed look while going on about that certain topic. He thinks its cute. He's also interested in learning about your philosophies - why were you so interested in making the art you do now? Even though he's managed to become friends with you...It's not easy to shake off his habit of lurking by. It's gotten out of control, to the point where he's following you home. He just wanted to make sure you're safe...But eventually, he'll deem your living situation inadequate for you or how you live life by yourself inadequate...He was your friend, so he'll help you. Whether you like it or not.

Illuso has an interest for darker art, but almost laughs when he sees the artist. Oh, this trembling little mouse? The one who looked at him like he was gonna eat them? This would definitely be a great time waster, he thinks. He'd originally entertain himself around you by trying to pick you apart, trying to analyze why you make the art you do and yet you present yourself almost differently - that was until he started to realize he actually liked listening to you ramble on about your interest or your philosophies. He's in denial, you were just something he could pick on when he was bored...He only drove people away from you just to see your reaction, how you would solve the problem when all your friends left you. How would you react if he locked you in a room. How would you react if he secretly snatched your tools away, etc...You were just his little lab rat. He needed someone's psyche to paint later for his latest personal project. You just seemed like the perfect person to poke and prod at! That's it! Maybe he should try and break you down harder - maybe spread rumors about you so you run to him with no escape. No, he can't feel attracted to you - he hated how he felt a flutter in his chest when you would smile at him, how he felt like his skin was on fire when you two made the tiniest bit of contact, how he dreamed about grabbing that throat and making you cry. Illuso would spend sleepless nights trying to figure out your 'photograph', horrid forms of shapes and confusion onto canvases only to be tossed to the side later because they weren't good enough. He wasn't grasping it right. Why were you like this? Why were you still nice to him ever after the shit he did to you?! Oh, how he needed to cage you in and study you - it was driving him mad that he couldn't understand you. Maybe he can take that adorable babbling person and confined them, so he can study you more closely at all times...Maybe your true defining demons can come out that way.

Ghiaccio is one of your drawing classes. You just sit next to each other. He only gets you to start talking to him when he notices something he recognizes as your inspiration for one of the projects. He's a bit off-put from the quiet to suddenly chatterbox he created out of you. But then you start asking him about his inspiration and his ideas. It's a bit awkward since he grew up with people telling him no one wanted to hear his thoughts or opinions - he'll warm up eventually. It feels so good to have someone tell him that he wasn't a waste of life or an insolent fool for his ideas and his creative ideas. It felt nice to have someone around he could have a serious and heartfelt conversation without getting into a screaming match. He'd have to learn to control his anger around you, not wanting to scare you off. The two of you hanging out more and more, making Ghiaccio feel more and more like a person. You offer him the chance to be a person and you feel like you're bonded with someone special. Oh...But why were you doing the same to that person? Wasn't he your person? You were his, why are you going off to other people? No, you can't leave him...Was it something he said? Did his family say something to you without him knowing? He's sorry, he really is, he just doesn't know how to say it. Just don't leave him, he can't be left alone with his emotions they turn him into an ugly person. Why do you keep doing that those people? Why were you hanging around them instead of him? No, he thought that was only for him...Please don't leave him, or Ghiaccio is going to have to make you stay.

You'll attract Sorbet and Gelato easily when they see your work posted up. They both have an appreciation for more horrifying art and more dream-like visions (Sorbet spends hours playing LSD Dream Emulator). They'll find you and probably entice you a little bit with a shared interest, maybe talking about their minor projects with painting and drawing or offering photography as your next medium and experiment with collage. They're a rather aloof couple, so it's surprising when they come up to you. They can't help but have a glint in their eyes when you're at first nervous and quiet...But then become a cute babbling little thing. They have the urge to play and toy with you more. Gelato likes to tease you, just to see you flustered. They both enjoy having you over at their apartment, having you scan through their personal works and having little 'critiques' or little workshop days to bounce off ideas each other and see if the three of you can create the ultimate piece to represent 'humanity'. You're too fun to play with, especially when you let your guard down. They stalk you and take pictures of you whether through your window or breaking in. The idea of your disgusted face when you'll find out is just too attractive to resist. They want to make you their permanent specimen, to make horrifying collages of you and make a negative and gruesome collage of you. Depicting their dark desires. Oh, how they wanted to trap the real thing instead of imagining through pictures.

You would meet the rest via Art History for a group project -Formaggio thinking you were cute chattering on about the class's topics for the project and planning out your ideas for it. He probably wouldn't mind a cute little thing to chat up like you. Pesci has a hard time studying, and he's usually drilled by Prosciutto. So he's super grateful to you when you help him out with studying for the class and he finds out that you're very easy to talk to - why hasn't he talk to you sooner? You were a delight! Pesci listens to all of your ramblings with a smile and actually gives you feedback of some kind, so you knew he actually listened. Prosciutto is grateful that you're helping Pesci out, but he's more concerned about how you present yourself to everyone else. Why were you so quiet? So shy? So off from the crowd? He has the urge to help you out presentation wise, it might be the actor in him talking but you were an artist and you needed to exclaim and project your ideas to the world with pride! He'd probably make you into Pesci 2.0 and make you go through social confidence training. They all have their own ways of yanderefication. Such as kidnapping, isolation and gaslighting, and murder kidnapping...Respectively

You liked humanity? The human body? Then one of the professors is someone to talk to, Cioccolata. He teaches the human anatomy and figure drawing class, specializing in drawing and ceramics. Your interest in the human form and enthusiasm has Cioccolata very intrigued by you. And you become friends with the teachers very quickly, so expect a rather close relationship with him. He's more than willing to take you under his wing and show you more techniques and his personal work with the human body - you swear he's salivating while talking about it. And he looks at you like a predator at prey when you do your cute ramblings, analyzing you and wondering when he can pounce. There's also is aid...Well, "aid". He doesn't really do much other than freak people out because he acts kinda like a dog. Secco is a ceramics major and a drawing minor - it's a bit odd why he doesn't major in drawing since he's always following Cioccolata around. He's always buried in reference material. Now...When I say 'reference material', it's usually gore illustrations, anatomy books, and new thing he found out called 'guro hentai'. He's always wearing a mask and a hat, so you really only see his eyes and brows. Secco will recognize you has a friend and pretty much act like a friendly dog when he realizes you two have the same interest in the human body - he has a hard time forming words and he'll appreciate you being patient with him. He also likes to ramble, so you two have a mutual trait. And he'll pretty much love you forever if you give him sugary candy. He'll be in the ceramics room making his creations (it's usually sculptures of human cut open and so on, but he can also do themed bowls and such). He'll lovingly give you a bowl he made with an anatomically correct heart on it to show his love, seeking your praise. Both Cioccolata and Secco agree that you're the perfect person, they're both dark-minded people and it won't be difficult to dive deeper into obsession with you. both staying up late at night and wondering what you would look like cut open. Not to kill you, but just so they can stare into your pretty insides. You were a living piece of art after all.

#jootslat #yandere art school au #yandere la squadra #yandere cioccolata #yandere secco #cw: body horror/gore mentioned #slightly not sfw #also that cioccolata ask that was me hee hoo

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

the best gifts are unexpected

w/c: 1.6k

summary: you sort of end up with two secret santa’s this year

a/n: this is another random idea i had that i actually really love? plus it’s a christmas one and christmas is this week which is insane wow :/ happy reading y’all

━━━ ☆彡*. ｡

“ok, who wants to go first?” betty asks the group and shakes her present around.

everyone agreed to do secret santa at your mini christmas party. it was ned’s idea, which is why you’re all in a circle on his living room carpet with mystery boxes in front of you. you picked names out of a beanie mj was wearing so it would be fair. all you know is that you’re peter’s secret santa. the rest surprisingly stayed secret.

it’s a surprise because some people in the group are terrible at keeping things to themselves.

flash holds his gift bag up in the air before anyone else can answer. “me!” he quickly pulls the wrapped box out and starts ripping the paper off. betty watches on with a proud smile. she tries to cover her mouth, but you already saw. that crosses one pairing off the list. flash gasps when he sees what it is.

she got him a spider-man pop figure. it’s one of his newest suits, too. peter will definitely be blushing if you look over at him right now.

“this is so sick! he’s gonna go under my pillow.” flash grins and taps the clear spot that shows him. “why, so you can say you slept with spider-man?” mj snorts at her own joke. she’s next to you, so you elbow her side. she winces and shoots you a glare. peter smiles to himself.

“no, so he can keep me safe at night,” flash says a little too seriously. the circle goes quiet for long enough to be awkward. he puts the box behind him with an eye roll. “whatever. who had me?” betty raises her hand, beaming at her success. flash nods. “nice. thanks.” “you’re very welcome,” she says in a sing song voice.

you can feel someone’s eyes on you. you turn your head, and it happens to be peter’s. he shifts his attention back to ned the second you make eye contact. that’s odd. then again, peter is always odd.

next is ned since you’re going in order. he’s excited to open up the cardboard box until he realizes there’s nothing in it. his face scrunches in confusion. he ends up picks something up and squinting at it.

“it’s a... piece of paper?” he eyes everyone suspiciously. “turn it over, buddy,” mj says under her breath. ned hears her and does. grinning, he holds the paper to his heart. “no way! this is, like, all i ever need!” “what is it?” you furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“a subscription to disney plus!” you direct your smile to mj. you’re impressed. she shrugs and pulls a knee up to her chest. “dude, they have so much star wars stuff on there,” peter chimes in. ned gives his best friend a knowing look. “can you sleep over?” “nerds,” mj mumbles to you. “let them have their moment,” you defend.

betty goes after ned. she’s probably the happiest of all of you to open her gift. she texted everyone her wishlist at least three times, so it has to be something good. based on the way she squeals, it is. it’s this new eyeshadow palette from sephora she’s been wanting.

“oh my god, shut up! i love it!” she carefully puts it down and bounces up on her knees. “whoever got me this, i have to give you a hug.” peter is the one who opens up his arms. she scoots over to him on her knees, practically tackling him. he chuckles and hugs her back. “thank you so much, peter!” “of course.”

you try to laugh along with everyone else, but something stops you. it’s a green monster, and not the grinch. you’re jealous. mj just has to pick up on it. she pats your back, a smirk pulling at her lips. “relax, mrs. parker. it’s nothing.” scowling, you scoot away from her. “don’t call me that.”

“your turn, y/n,” betty chirps, sitting back down next to you. you unenthusiastically sit your heavy present in your lap. everyone watches you slowly peel the wrapping paper off, mj fake yawning. “take your time,” flash comments. “guys, come on,” peter says for you.

you perk up when your gift is finally open. you’d always thought it would be cool to have a record player. no one ever got you one before because you “didn’t need it.” apparently, the music sounds the same as it would in your earbuds. you can actually find out if that’s true now.

plus, you have something else to do during break. lots of record shopping.

“wait, seriously?” you pout at the group and set the record player down in front of you. “i’ve wanted one of these for so long. thank you.” “i got you.” ned smiles and reaches over betty to give you a fist bump. mj goes next.

she gets a book that goes inside the criminal mind from flash. he says his search history probably got him on a few watchlists.

peter is last to open his present from you. you’ve been anxious for him to open it since you added it to your cart. anxious in a good way because you’re positive he’ll like it. he’ll hopefully like you also.

he already knows you’re his secret santa since the rest of the group went. mj scoots back so you can see him while he opens it. you catch a wink from her. peter grins at the bow you put on it and sticks it on his shirt for now. you watch his whole face light up as he finishes unwrapping it.

he’s kind of amazing at photography. he takes it as an elective and practices whenever he has time. you’ve even done little photoshoots on his phone for fun. midtown lets him use a camera with pretty good quality and all the important functions. but, peter’s style is more vintage.

that’s why you got him a polaroid camera. some film for it, too.

“woah, y/n.” peter looks from the box to you. “this is so awesome. it’s a lot cooler than anything i have,” he breathes out a laugh, licking his lips. “i think it’s... my favorite present.” “ever?” you laugh. “ever,” he confirms, reaching for your hand. your heart is thumping in your ears. he squeezes your hand in his. it earns an “aw” from ned and betty in unison.

“thank you isn’t even enough. you have no idea,” peter says for only you to hear. you squeeze his hand back with a small smile. “yes it is. take some good pictures for me.” “i will,” he agrees after a few seconds. something is on his mind. mj moves up again before you can ask what it is, which also makes you drop his hand.

“dessert time,” she announces and rubs her hands together. she’s oblivious to the look of disappointment on your face. flash points at her. “someone get those sugar cookies.” “i’ll go,” ned volunteers, about to stand. peter shoots up from his spot instead. “no, i can do it. you pick a movie to watch later.”

he nudges your shoulder. “y/n, could you help me?” ned makes a face at him. “you know, we need plates and everything,” peter quickly covers up. it’s a good enough explanation for him to focus on logging into disney plus. you take the hint and get to your feet. “yeah, let’s go.”

you follow peter into the kitchen, everyone else giving ned movie suggestions. peter checks behind him to make sure no one is looking. he relaxes after that and leans back against the counter. you stand next to him, closer than usual. he’s not mad about that.

“i feel like we’ve barely talked all night,” peter murmurs and stares down at his feet. you press your lips together. “that’s cuz we haven’t.” “let’s fix that.” he taps your foot with his playfully, getting a laugh out of you. “hey.” “hi,” you say back. “thanks again for the camera. i can’t wait to set it up.” the smile is clear in his voice.

“i’m really happy you like it. i thought you would,” you admit, leaning into him slightly. he welcomes it. “i, uh, actually got a little something for you,” he starts and reaches behind him. your heart is beating out of control again. so is his, but you don’t know that. “aw, peter. you did?”

“it’s... it’s kinda stupid. i’m not sure you even want it-“ “i’ll take anything if it’s from you,” you cut off the rambling he’s about to do. he nods and pulls whatever it is out of his pocket. it goes from behind his back to over your heads. you look up and see mistletoe.

peter moves so he’s in front of you. his face is only inches from yours now, your eyes landing on his lips. he takes the same hand he was holding earlier, lacing your fingers together. “can i kiss you?” he checks, his voice soft. you wind an arm around his neck. “please.”

he presses his lips to yours so lightly, your eyes fluttering shut. it’s so sweet and so long overdue. you tug him closer so the kiss deepens. leaning his head forward, he drops the mistletoe and wraps his other arm around your waist. you’re back against the counter with him hovering over you.

your lips move easily against each other’s like it’s natural for you.

“peter and y/n, what’s taking so-“ mj turns her head and sees you two kissing. “oh, okay!” she cheers, betty glancing curiously. “get it, y/n!” ned and flash join in next. they all holler at you while you kiss. it becomes too funny, and you have to pull away so you can both laugh.

giggling, you bring one of your hands down to the bow peter left on his shirt. you pull on it. “i think you’re my favorite present.” “ever?” he repeats what you said earlier and nudges your nose. his lips brush yours in the process. “ever.”

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker fic

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cafeacademia · 4 years ago

Text

Flustered

Fred Weasley x Shy!Reader

Summary: Fred Weasley is intrigued by the shy, sweet witch in his class, but when he finally has an opportunity to speak to her, he realises just how much he adores her.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, that’s it!

Word count: Approx 4300

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A/N: Hi loves, I had been wanting to write something like this for a long time and inspiration struck the other day after @ickle-ronniekins inspired me with her wonderful Freddie fic Tongue Tied 💖

Enjoy! Please let me know if I could improve on writing Fred, I tried my best 😅

Taglist is open!! Please pop me an ask if you’d like to be added 💖

“Stop staring at me.” Ron snapped at his brother as they sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. “I’m not staring at you, I’m staring around you.” Fred countered, George snorting out a short laugh while Harry looked up at them amused, Hermione ignoring the conversation with her head down, fingers idly stirring the spoon in her morning tea as she read the book she had brought to the table.

“What the bloody hell are you looking at then?” Ron asked, dramatically swivelling about on the spot in annoyance. “You’re like this every time we sit here, you are. You stare off into space like ‘Loony’ Lovegood.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Ronald.” Hermione suddenly hissed at him and smacked her book against his arm, perhaps with more force than intended, making the boy recoil and hold his arm away from her, looking rather intimidated as if she had tried to bite him.

And as breakfast went on and Ginny rushed off to her morning duties with Umbridge while the others continued to squabble with one another, Hermione looked up from her book and looked over in the direction that Fred had been staring in and her eyes landed on something that told her that he most certainly hadn’t been doing it to annoy anyone.

“You know Fred, he’s just doing it to bother you, Ron.” Ginny added to the conversation as she pulled up her bag onto her lap and rifled through the contents until she pulled out a paper slip. “Stupid Umbridge has got me doing extra essays this morning.” She grumbled, getting up from her seat. “She better not make me late to potions.” She sighed as George quickly plucked the uneaten piece of toast off his plate and placed it into Ginny’s hands before she had a chance to walk away. “Tell us if she gives you grief, we’ll terrorise her, won’t we George?” Fred smirked over at them both.

“It would be our pleasure.” George replied with a mischievous grin.

And while Fred was reluctant to go all the way to the library and write about a subject that he thought was quite dry, he relented and made his way through the castle.

“Are you allergic to studying?” Angelina had asked in slight annoyance. “Oh terribly, I break out in boils and everything.” Fred teased. “Lovely.” She said under her breath. “Which is why you should kindly allow me to-.”

“You are not copying my notes on talking gargoyles.” Angelina told him pointedly and the Weasley twin pouted across the hall table at her. “A History of Hogwarts is your best bet.” She told him. “But if you keep copying my work, we’re both going to get caught since last time you copied it almost word for word and Binns got mad at me. I don’t want Umbridge on my back.” She scolded him in an amused tone, though she wasn’t actually annoyed at him and perhaps if she didn’t want to actually see Fred go and find a book and do his work the proper way, she would have let him copy from her. But the way Fred saw it, it was a perfectly acceptable reason on Angelina’s part, even if it was a rather large inconvenience to Fred.

Searching through the shelves for a copy of A History of Hogwarts, Fred was becoming more exasperated as he struggled to find what he was looking for, but as he scoured the shelves for the missing book, he peeked his head around the end of a bookcase and his heart fluttered. There you stood, a few rows down with a small pile of books in your arms and he felt himself practically melt on the spot.

It was not very often that Fred found himself in this situation, so captivated by a girl that he felt butterflies in his chest. But half of the problem was that Fred had never actually spoken to you, not properly at least, because as it happened, you were incredibly shy and he was incredibly… Not shy.

The times when you did speak to each other was always very short and it seemed that you were almost afraid to speak to people you were not so familiar with, but what Fred didn’t know was that you desperately wanted to talk to him.

Fred was always so intriguing to you, he was kind and sweet and extremely funny and he was never afraid to try things out of his comfort zone, or at least he made it look that way and that had you very curious.

And Fred was just as curious about you too, because even though you were very quiet and shy, he had noticed you conveniently looking away from him very quickly and even catching your eyes on him when you had been deep in your head and he wondered what you thought about when you looked at him. He wondered what you thought of him and it was so unusual for him to care or even be curious about what another person thought of him, but when it came to you, there was a strange pull he felt towards you.

Slowly, he feigned interest in a few book spines on the shelves here and there as he moved up the rows until he got closer to you, watching as you stood over a small wooden book trolley stuffed to the very seams with recently returned books while you looked for something and he wondered, perhaps the book he was looking for was there too.

When he approached, his eyes dropped to the books in your arms and he suddenly felt as if it had all meant to be and he made a mental note to thank Angelina later, because there in your arms was a very shabby, old copy of A History of Hogwarts.

“Hey,” The greeting left his lips and you quickly glanced up at him and restrained yourself from checking around you in case he was speaking to someone else. “Hi Fred.” You replied in a soft voice and he felt his chest warm at the sound of your voice. You sounded so sweet and gentle and your calm, warming vibe seemed to elate him even more.

“Would it be alright if I took a few notes from that book?” He asked, pointing at the old volume of A History of Hogwarts. “All of the other copies have been checked out and I need to write about talking gargoyles or Binns will have my head.” He joked and you smiled, glancing down at the book in your arms, pausing for a moment as you noticed another copy of the book in the cart, but you chose to ignore it, perhaps this was a good time to spend a moment with Fred.

“We can’t have that, now can we?” You giggled softly. “We can share it.” You nodded with a little smile and Fred swore he had just seen and heard the most wonderful thing ever, quickly making it his aim to get more smiles and giggles out of you if he could because if it wasn’t the warmest and most lovely thing he’d experienced all day, he didn’t know what was.

You felt elated, though very nervous as you and Fred sat down together at one of the desks between the rows of books. It certainly didn’t help that Fred scooted his seat close to yours so he could easily see the book and the proximity of him, elbows almost touching, made your heart race.

“So, talking gargoyles?” You asked, opening the book and flicking through the pages. “That’s right, don’t suppose you happen to know if there are any around the castle?” He asked. “I would, actually.” You replied with a little smile and Fred looked over at you with curiosity, looking down at you as you flicked over onto a page on the subject. “And what, do you just go around talking to gargoyles and see if they talk back?” Fred asked, quite seriously and you let out a giggle. “No, well perhaps once or twice.” You admitted, rather shyly.

The pair of you talked, not just about Hogwarts and it’s talking gargoyles, but all manner of things and on several occasions, Madam Pince hushed you both with an irritated, harsh shhh, to which Fred just shook his head and chuckled.

“Did you know that there is one in the Transfiguration courtyard?” You asked, looking up at him and the red haired boy looked at you, intrigued. “No, have you spoken to it?” He asked. “Yes, a few times actually. Some of them are very good at listening when you need someone to talk to, but the one outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom is very grumpy and ill mannered.” You informed him and while Fred was quite amused by your information, he was grateful to spend some time getting to know the girl that made his heart warm.

He just couldn’t believe he was using talking gargoyles as a way to flirt with a girl.

He was elated, his heart was practically soaring as he packed the last of his writing supplies into his bag, because you were like a breath of fresh air. Fred was unsure he’d met anyone like you, shy yet so sweet and you seemed to have opened up a little bit around him in that hour he had spent with you, he just hoped he had another opportunity to see you open and warm up to him a bit more because it created a feeling in his chest like he had never felt before.

“Thank you for letting me share that book with you, I hope it wasn’t a bother.” Fred said sweetly to you as he pulled his bag onto the table, slowly packing away his History of Magic book, hoping to have just a little more extra time with you. “Never, Fred, let me know if you want to share another book again.” You told him shyly, unable to look at him, because the invite alone falling from your lips was rather an accident and you felt yourself flush with warmth that you’d even said that.

“Definitely.” He winked at you, though he was unsure you saw.

“See you around, love.” Fred said, smiling down at you as he stood up, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “Bye Fred, good luck with your gargoyles.” You replied, looking over your shoulder at him as he pushed his chair back in and began to walk away.

Walking briskly into the common room with a bounce in his step and an unbeatable smile on his face, Fred walked over to his siblings. “Oi, oi, what’s this?” Fred asked, plucking a piece of paper out of his sister’s hands just as she had taken it back from George. “Umbridge got her in detention with Snape because she made her late to potions again.” George told him. “They’re bloody made for each other.” Fred rolled his eyes, handing the detention slip back to Ginny before dropping himself onto the sofa between his two siblings, Ron and Harry sitting off at the side on a couple of the armchairs.

“Where have you been anyway?” Ginny asked as Fred playfully nudged her away from him on the sofa so he could have a bit more space. “Studying.” He replied with a grin.

“You, voluntarily studying? And why the bloody hell are you so happy about it?” Ron interrogated him. “Oh shove off, can’t a man be happy about talking gargoyles?” Fred asked, Ron and Ginny giggling between themselves. “Talking gargoyles? That’s what’s making you smile like you’ve just won the quidditch world cup?”

“No Ronald,” Hermione countered as she approached the group from behind, circling around the sofa and perching herself on the arm next to George. “It wasn’t the gargoyles, it was a girl.” She announced, while Fred gave her a look of cutting disappointment.

“Ooh a girl, who is it Freddie? C’mon I won’t tell anyone.” George urged, leaning in close to his twin in an effort to get him to whisper it to him. “Yeah, I bet that’s who he’s been staring at all those breakfasts and dinners too.” Ron added. “Well, who is it?” Ginny asked, imitating her brother and leaning in against Fred, looking up at him with intrigue.

“Oi piss off you lot, all we did was bloody study, that’s all.” Fred told them pointedly. “Who is it though?” Ron asked, leaning over himself and prodding Fred’s leg. “None of your bloody business.” Fred chuckled, shoving Ron back and playfully pushing his siblings away from him.

Soon after, Fred and George returned to their dormitory together and Fred knew that George would probably try and pry it out of him somehow. “So what actually happened?” George asked, now that the two were alone in the boys dormitory and they were luckily the only two in the room. “We shared a book, we joked a fair bit and did you know that there’s a talking gargoyle outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom?” He asked.

“No?” George replied questioningly.

“No wonder, apparently he’s a right git.”

“Is that what you talked about the whole time? Grumpy gargoyles?” George asked. “Not exactly.” Fred replied, but now that George had said that and made him think back on the conversation, Fred wished he had spent more time chatting about other things and he knew he’d have to try his best to get another conversation with you soon.

“Well at least tell me what she’s like.” George said, sitting himself down on the edge of his bed, looking across at his brother while Fred took in a deep breath and grinned to himself, telling his twin about you.

After that day in the library, Fred took every opportunity he had to chat to you. He’d round on you when your classes together finished so he could swoop in front of you with that cocky smirk that seemed to send butterflies through you and make you even more shy and giggly, he would purposely sit next to you in class, assuming Umbridge wasn’t around to control the seating patterns.

He tried his best to get smiles out of you and he was always passing you notes in classes and pressing them into your hands when he passed you in the hallways.

He was sweet and kind and day by day, Fred managed to get you more and more out of your shell.

You were well and truly falling for Fred Weasley. And he was falling for you too.

“And why exactly did you need to bring me into all of this?” You questioned, feeling a shiver creep across your skin and the Weasley twin gave you a mischievous little smirk. “It’s no fun without someone else and George is serving detention with Filch since he got caught putting stink pellets under Umbridge’s chair before class as payback for Ginny getting detention.” He explained with a proud smile, watching as you laughed, bowing your head, a bit too shy to look him in the eyes.

It was a week later that Fred came hurtling down the corridor with a huge grin plastered on his face and you looked up to see him absolutely legging it towards you and you had half the mind to brace yourself as he approached.

“Bloody hell, Fred what’s-.”

“Shh, quick.” He hushed you, gently but firmly grabbing your shoulders before he pulled you off behind a statue and winked at you as he opened the entrance to a secret passageway and pulled you in with him.

“Fred?” You asked in a quiet voice, a little confused as to why you had been dragged into a freezing cold stone walled passageway. “Might’ve just set off a bunch of exploding flowers in Umbridge’s office.” He sniggered, to which, you couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s furious, bet she knows it was me too.” He laughed under his breath. “Serves her right.” Fred chuckled and his heart warmed when he heard your soft laughter join his.

Fred wanted to kiss you, he felt the urge, the way nearly every single part of him screamed at him to do it, and yet he restrained himself, his warm touch gently tracing down your arms to your hands and taking them into his with a gentle grasp. He wanted to kiss you, but the moment wasn’t right and he pulled himself out of the warm, hazy feeling that had washed over him and back into his confident, louder than life demeanor, giving you a big grin.

It was then that Fred realised how close to you he was and the sound of your laugh, sweet and gentle, relaxed him. Your presence, warmth and beautiful smile relaxed him.

Looking up at him, your eyes met and the way he looked at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, his grin slowly turning into a smirk as he held your gaze, you felt butterflies rush through you and you were sure that Fred, with his proud smile and warm eyes, could see the way he affected you and the very thought made your heart flutter.

“C’mon, let’s get going before anyone misses us.” Fred said, gently tugging you, your hand still in his as he reached out to open the entrance of the passageway.

It was finally the weekend and a particularly chilly Saturday morning at that. Everyone had woken up to the first snow of the year and the castle was practically buzzing with excitement and even though Umbridge had made strict instructions that snowball fights were prohibited, Fred and George had spent the best part of an hour after breakfast having a snowball fight and pelting anyone that walked close enough to them with snowballs.

And as the morning went on and George decided to part ways with his brother in search of some extra layers of warmth, Fred continued to walk further into the grounds, his heart lifting when he saw you in the near distance and he picked up the pace to catch up with you.

“Mornin’.” Fred’s smooth, deep voice caught your attention and you looked up to see him walking alongside you, having caught up from behind and you smiled sweetly at him. “Mind if I join you for a walk?” Fred asked and you quickly glanced up at him, giving him that sweet smile that he loved to see so much and nodding before you looked away again. “I’d like that.” You said, Fred relaxing as he stayed at your pace, a comfortable silence falling between you as you walked, the only sound that could be heard was the soft crunch of snow beneath your steps as you both walked down the hill towards the edge of the lake.

“Not likely, Umbridge really would have my head.” Fred laughed. “But I reckon we can get away with something.” He winked at you, grinning and you wondered what he and George might think up.

The two of you walked along the edge of the lake, most of the middle of the body of water was frozen over, but the gently lapping shores of the lake were still free, at least until the temperature dropped even more in the coming weeks before Christmas. “It always feels more magical around Christmas time, don’t you think?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at Hogwarts, sitting proudly up on the rocks. The roofs were blanketed with fresh snow from the early morning flurry, it was as if everything was suddenly quiet and still and despite the excitement that filled the castle, there was an air of calmness that came with the first snow.

“Definitely.” Fred agreed. “Reckon they’ll put the tree up soon?” He asked.

“I hope so.” You replied, smiling up at him.

“What are you putting on the tree this year? More exploding baubles?” You asked, referencing the previous year when he and George had made some very pretty baubles that exploded when people walked a bit too close to them, causing half of the hall to shriek at the sudden chain of mini explosions like tiny fireworks and the other half to collapse into laughter.

As you walked a bit further through the grounds, a soft flurry of snow began to fall and the temperature seemed to drop a bit and you shivered as the chill rushed through you.

Without a word, Fred smiled at you, slowly putting his arm around you and you gladly leaned into his side.

Your heart sped up and you could barely look at Fred as you stopped near the forest edge, looking out across the lake with his arm around you. You had never expected to be this close to Fred, especially when you had considered yourself far too shy to even speak to him, let alone take walks with you tucked against his side.

A comfortable silence lingered between you for a moment as Fred slowly reached up, his warm fingers brushing against your cheek and he leaned in, pausing for a moment as his lips barely brushed against yours, his smile widening when he felt you lean into him, hands slowly trailing up his chest to rest on his shoulders and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes sliding shut as you leaned into him.

“I reckon this is more magical than a snowy Hogwarts.” Fred broke the silence, his voice low as he looked over at you. “What is, Fred?” You asked, unsure of what he was referencing.

“Out here, with you.” He admitted and you almost felt as if you needed to check if you were imagining all of this. “With me?” You asked, glancing up at him and meeting the warmest, sweetest look in his eyes and you practically melted on the spot.

Fred Weasley was capturing your heart and you were more than happy to allow him.

“Of course with you, silly.” He chuckled. “There’s something special about you, love.” Fred admitted, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to tell you how he felt, that being around you seemed to halt the entire world, as if everything you did just made his heart melt and gave him butterflies and not to mention, he felt calm around you and it was wonderful.

And as you parted, you could barely share his gaze until Fred lifted your chin with his fingers, his warm smile capturing you and you couldn’t look away, not when he looked at you so lovingly.

The kiss was slow and gentle and the moment was peaceful with not a single sound disturbing the moment you shared together. Your lips were sweet against his, tentative yet loving, shy yet warming and Fred swore he had never felt so wonderful.

Gently, he pulled you closer against his chest, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly and the loving haze he had felt before in the secret passageway, that he felt every time he looked at you, lingered between you both.

“Fancy going back in for a cup of hot chocolate, love?” Fred asked after a moment. “I’d love one.” You nodded, smiling up at him and the twin grinned at you.

Slowly, Fred guided you back along the side of the lake, your hand in his with you against his side. And while you shared a silence between you, you looked up to find his gaze and the way you looked at each other said everything you needed to know.

You were well and truly in love with Fred Weasley.

Fred walked you slowly back to the castle, the pair of you enjoying each other’s company out in the snow, and it was almost strange to see Fred so quiet, yet his smile was wide and beaming as if he had just, as Ron had put it, won the world quidditch cup.

“I knew it.” Hermione whispered, somewhat triumphantly as she watched you and Fred settle down at a table near them in the great hall. “Knew what?” Ron asked. “The girl Fred’s with, Ron. She’s in some of our classes.” George explained. “Gotta say, they were spending a lot of time sitting together recently.” He shrugged. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you say anything?” Ron hissed at him. “I’d never snitch on my twin.” George said teasingly.

“Thank Merlin for talking gargoyles, ey?” Fred said as he watched you take a sip of your hot chocolate, swirled high with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Glad there was only one copy of that book that day too.” He said, lifting his own mug in his hands and taking a small sip as he listened to you giggle in response.

“And I’m glad I never pointed out the other copy of the book in the library.” You added, Fred looking at you with surprise and amusement as he let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re bloody sneaky, you are.” He chuckled, hugging you to his side as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“What do you say, darling?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Would you do me the honour of going out on a date with me?” Fred asked, his thumb gently soothing over your cheek as his eyes met yours.

Butterflies bloomed in your chest, an uncontrollable smile forming on your lips as you looked up at him. “Absolutely, Fred.” You replied with a little nod and Fred leaned in, his lips gently capturing yours in a loving, tender kiss.

And as he parted from you, beaming at you with the brightest smile you’d ever seen, Fred knew he was in love, just as you were with him.

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reminisce05-20 · 4 years ago

Text

Dazai - The Book - Double Black

Dazai couldn't remember being a child, one of elementary age. He had only started to remember when he was around 14, which was when he first met Mori.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should be searching for answers, of who his parents could've been or where he came from, but he had easily moved on. Perhaps too easily, but he had no regrets. After all, the past didn't define him. He could write his own story from the present.

Only after words started to be written on his pale skin did he start to wonder who he really was.

Long sleeves could suffice, but just in case, Dazai wrapped bandages around his arms. Then his torso. Then up to his neck and finally his eye to give the air of an injury. The words hadn't spread quite that much, but it made his stomach crawl whenever he saw the squiggly lines all over his body. It was simply a precaution in case more words suddenly appeared.

Dazai soon met Chuuya, who was loud and angry and short, which made it even funnier when Dazai riled him up. Chuuya insisted that he was still young and growing. For the first time, Dazai wanted to laugh at the words he had seen yesterday on his elbow. Chuuya will never grow.

Although the words brought occasional joy, when he was 18, he saw words on the back of his left arm that said, Sakunosuke Oda will die. Sakunosuke couldn't die. His ability allowed him to see things moments before they actually happened, and Sakunosuke wasn't dumb. He would be fine.

He never had allowed the words on his arms and body to ever affect him. Words, in general, had never affected him since Dazai believed actions could speak much more.

"Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit wonderful."

For once, he took the words to heart.

Once, long ago when he was still young, not in the Detective Agency nor even the Mafia, Dazai had written something on his arm, something that tattooed itself to his arm for just a second before it burned away with terrible pain.

Dazai experimented. His ability, "No Longer Human", obviously canceled out abilities with no exception. The words were things to happen, things that were happening, and things that had happened. The timing for when the events actually took place differed, from as small as a minute to as long as a year. Dazai couldn't change events that were going to happen or create an entirely new one. It was probably a strange mix of the words and his ability.

Dazai had considered going to the President to inform him of the words. He was fairly sure that everyone else in the agency believed the bandages to be a fashion choice, excluding Ranpo and the President. He walked in front of the office door for a few minutes, pacing, before walking back to his desk. Perhaps the talk could be moved to another time.

The words were often too ugly to be shown to others.

Dazai was good at planning things, which made it entirely his fault that he hadn't prepared ahead for this.

A few days ago words had appeared on his collarbone, ones that said, "Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed." If Chuuya was going to showcase his powers, Dazai would no doubt be sent along unless Chuuya had managed to somehow subdue his powers effectively. Sure enough, he was sent to settle a dispute that would benefit both the Mafia and the Agency. It was always nice, seeing the top of Chuuya's hat, showing that he had indeed not grown a single bit.

He had misinterpreted the "secrets" on his arm. Dazai had expected it to be Chuuya's secrets, of how he stayed so short all the time.

In Arahabaki form, Chuuya had never attacked Dazai, at least not to kill. He had to have some semblance of control to not kill the only person that could bring him back, even if Chuuya hated him. But this time, right after defeating the enemy, Chuuya turned on him in an instant, giving Dazai no time to nullify his ability.

It would have been fine. Dazai only took a few hard hits before he tapped Chuuya on the head, nullifying his ability. They both staggered for a moment before Dazai laughed.

"Well, that was awfully close wasn't it, Chuuya?"

Chuuya huffed, angry but too tired to anything about it.

"Only if you had touched me a little earlier maybe you - hey what's that on your arm?"

Dazai froze before he looked at his left arm, bandages slightly unraveled, revealing the inky text on his arm.

"Some tattoo shit? Or maybe weird scars..."

Chuuya took a step forward while Dazai hurriedly rebandaged his arm with a hopefully winning grin.

"How observant of you."

Chuuya scowled for a second before staring at Dazai.

"Seriously, was it just some weirdo tattoo? Show me what you have written there."

Dazai made a mental note to seriously work out and train with Kunikida. Then again, it probably wouldn't bring him near Chuuya's level for a long time. Even after using Arahabaki, Chuuya stomped forward, grabbing his arm and unwrapping the bandage with unreasonable strength and speed. His control must have actually been getting better. Or maybe they had just defeated the enemy faster today.

"What the - what the heck is this Dazai?"

He didn't have the strength to stand properly, staggering a little bit while unsuccessfully trying to get out of Chuuya's iron grip.

"An occult tattoo I got when I was 14. It says 'fuck off Chuuya'."

"It literally says 'Sakunosuke Oda will die'. I've heard of that name before... who was that again?"

Out of all the sentences Chuuya could have seen, it had to be that one. Why not the one about Atsushi dropping his ice cream, or maybe the one about Chuuya's height? They could have laughed over that.

"This actually happened didn't it Dazai? Like, a few years ago?"

At this point, Dazai simply didn't care enough to wrench his wrist away from Chuuya. He had wanted to tell someone about this for so long. Chuuya and he didn't have the best relationship, but they could certainly trust each other. After all, they had been partners, right?

"It tells me things that are going to happen. Well, at the time of course. This already happened a while ago."

Chuuya simply stared, unsure of what to believe.

"I tried changing history once. It hurt really bad, I think it's got something to do with my goddamn ability, I hate seeing the words every day and having to bandage them - "

"Um... Dazai, calm down."

He hadn't realized he was breathing so heavily. His chest felt like it was burning.

It felt like it was burning just like when he was young - why was it like this when he hadn't written anything down on his skin?

"Dazai, what's going on?"

Dazai turned away from Chuuya before throwing his jacket off, then his vest, then his shirt to reveal the mass of bandages covering every inch of his skin.

"What the fuck Dazai, stop stripping in front of me - "

Dazai for once ignored Chuuya instead of sending back an angry retort. He unwrapped the bandages, not caring if Chuuya saw the words or not since the pain was burning as if he was dying and he wanted it to just stop. Stop stop stop.

The bandages were off to show the mass of writing on his back and arms and stomach and even up to his neck. Chuuya's breathing became softer, more confused and curious.

Chuuya will never grow.

Dazai will trip and fall on the doormat before meeting Akutagawa for the first time.

Sakunosuke Oda will die.

Atsushi will drop the ice cream Dazai bought for him and will be horrified.

More evil will soon come in Yokohama.

Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed.

Chuuya simply stared, dumbfounded, trying to read everything written on Dazai's back. Dazai on the other hand, looked down at the center of his chest to see just a few words.

Yokohama's Page - By Osamu Dazai.

The words were a gleaming gold, burning his skin before suddenly cooling into the familiar black, only a small golden border on the edges of each letter. Chuuya had now walked in front of him, kneeling, reading the words that had just appeared.

"So. You're some special shit."

Dazai let out a flat laugh. Indeed he was.

"It says 'More evil will soon come in Yokohama'. Right, Dazai?"

Dazai nodded blindly. He couldn't remember that one, but maybe it was because it was on his back. It was hard to read from a mirror.

"You should tell your agency this. Have you told them?"

Dazai's silence was the same as a confirmation. Chuuya mumbled something about how he always had to make his life worse, although Dazai knew that it was halfhearted.

After Dazai put on every single one of his bandages, thoroughly covering every inch of skin along with his other clothes, Chuuya and he walked in silence for a little. Usually, they would've been arguing all the way back, making the silence feel even worse.

"Oy. Dazai."

Chuuya growled when Dazai didn't make any move to answer before sighing and backing down. Dazai blinked, seeing that for the first time, Chuuya had backed down from an argument.

"We were partners before. Are we still partners?"

Dazai smiled.

"If we're partners, I'll be annoying you all day! I think that'd be pretty nice ~ "

"Well fuck you too!"

It was nice, feeling the usual annoyance flowing through Chuuya, the same remarks they always passed forth to each other.

"So you're saying we are partners, Dazai."

Dazai's eyes narrowed. What was with Chuuya being overly... nice all of a sudden? Being so calm?

Chuuya, catching Dazai's eyes screeched again before kicking over a trash can.

"I'm saying I can help you with this goddamn book shit! Words! Partners! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Dazai stared as Chuuya knocked over a few more trash cans while screaming about how utterly dumb Dazai could be for someone that was supposed to be so smart, so crafty, and so manipulative.

The familiar tickle of more words caused Dazai to flinch, hand moving toward his neck where the words seemed to be. Chuuya, who was done with his little fit, stopped for a second before walking over, no doubt intrigued. Dazai tugged the bandages down a little bit while Chuuya read the words out loud.

"Fyodor Dostoevsky is looking for another part of the book in Yokohama."

Dazai's eyes widened when he heard the name, and Chuuya no doubt understood that this man was someone dangerous if they could elicit such a reaction from Dazai. They looked at each other, understanding passing through their eyes.

"Well, I guess we're partners again Chuuya!"

"Only because I fucking have to!"

Dazai supposed that he would also have to tell the Agency about this. And as more people knew, the news would inevitably spread to the Mafia too. He only had to make sure that Fyodor didn't receive the information, and that was if Fyodor didn't already know about him.

"Fucking Dazai."

Chuuya grabbed Dazai's hair and pulled, forcing Dazai to yelp while batting Chuuya's hands away.

"We're going to crush this bastard Fyodor."

Dazai laughed at the sheer amount of determination in Chuuya's name, laughing like he never had ever before.

Indeed, Double Black would crush the enemy like they always did.

___________________________

Kind of an abrupt end, but you get the idea :>

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