#the main thing that held me back was well. astronomy my age old love....

[oflgtfol]

in an alternate universe i would be a geology major instead of an astronomy major

[thecatprince]

Stages and Stars

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Read on AO3

Relationships: Eventual Prinxiety and Eventual Logicality

Warnings: None

Summary:  Roman auditions for a musical, meets a kind stranger and bonds with Logan over books.

Authors Notes: Sorry for the long wait guys. All the support is wonderful though! I hope you like this chapter.

Reblogs > Likes

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Chapter Four - The Library

Roman entered the town theatre hall, butterflies in his stomach. He knew that once he got on stage he would be perfectly fine, but right now he had pre-audition nerves. He held the flier for the audition and a sheet with his details on it. The local theatre company was doing Wicked this spring and Roman wanted nothing more than to be a part of it.

He sat down where instructed by the young lady sitting at a table and looked around. About 20 or so other people were waiting, all with sheets like the flier instructed. There were a couple of women about the same age as Roman, several men who looked a lot older than him and a few other people, young and old. Roman waited patiently until his name was called, nerves building in his stomach.

He always had a decent amount of confidence in his acting, and this was no different. He knew once he got up on stage he would be fine. More than fine, he would be fantastic. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

When his name was called Roman got up and entered the audition room. It was a large room off the hallway, opposite to the main theatre space. In the middle of the room there were three people sitting at a table. The lady in the middle gave him a large grin, the man on the right nodded at him kindly and the woman on the left gave him a small smile. Encouraged by this, Roman handed them his sheet with his details and the pianist his sheet music and then began to sing.

As Roman sang, all of his nerves began to melt away. He always felt the most confident when singing or acting, or just being on stage, and this was no exception. He made his way through the song with minimal mistakes and left the audition room feeling rather exhilarated. The lady at the table in the hallway said the casting list would be up in 7 days and that he would also receive an email letting him know if he got in. Roman left with a smile on his face, his confidence boosted by his performance. In this moment he didn’t care whether or not he got in, or whether he only got ensemble, it was a joy to perform again after the stress of moving.

Roman walked through the town, wrapping his coat around himself more firmly as a chilly breeze swept through. He caught sight of the local library, somewhere he had been meaning to check out ever since he moved here, and thought that now would be the perfect time, as a respite from the cold.

Roman entered the library and was immediately hit with the warmth from the building and the smell of books. It was his favourite smell in the world, and if he could bottle it he would. As it was, he tried to savour the scent as much as he could. He took off his coat and tied it around his waist to avoid overheating, and started to peruse the shelves. Roman could never get enough of books. He had always been an avid reader, devouring books when he was younger as a way to escape the horrors and hardships that plagued the real world. He loved being able to disappear into different worlds, to be able to join in the battles alongside his favourite characters, to watch the journeys of the people in the stories, to believe in the magic of worlds other than his own. Roman’s imagination was his limit and it was fuelled from the stories he read and the plays he performed.

Roman let his finger run across the spines of the books on the shelves. This library had a surprisingly good selection, and he saw a bookshop near the cinema that he would have to check out as soon as he could. He picked out a couple, and then a couple more and more and more. He knew he might not be able to get through them all before they were due to be returned, but he didn’t care, for the more the better. He couldn’t see where he was going over the pile of books he had in his arms and so it was inevitable he would bump into someone. Luckily the man he did bump into was very kind, and helped him pick up the books that had fallen out of his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Roman said for about the fifth time as they picked up all of the books on the ground. The man just smiled.

“There is absolutely nothing to be sorry for. These are a lot of books, I am not surprised you bumped into someone.”

“Still, it was rather rude of me to bump into you and you have my sincerest apologies.”

“It’s cool, but I will accept your apology,” said the man with a chuckle. He extended his hand for Roman to shake. “My name is James.”

“Roman.”

“What a name! It is very nice to meet you Roman. So, I can see you like reading.”

“Yeah! Reading and acting, basically anything that can help tell a story. I love being able disappear into a world other than our own,” Roman said, smiling enthusiastically.

“You like acting?”

“Like is a bit of an understatement. I live for it. There is nothing I love more than the thrill of the stage. Sorry, I don’t know why I am telling you this.”

“No problem. I love acting as well, so I get it. It is very nice to meet a fellow actor. There were some auditions this week for a new show, did you go?”

“Yes I did! I actually just came from an audition. I gave it my best shot and even if I am just ensemble that would be fantastic. I think it is really cool that there is a local theatre community here!”

“I auditioned as well, so maybe you and I will be in a show together.” James handed Roman the last of the books. Roman smiled.

“Looking forward to it!” he said.

The two men stood up, Roman now holding all of the books he had dropped. “Here, take my bag to put the books in. We don’t want you bumping into any more strangers do we?” Roman gave a slight chuckle and took the bag that James had offered him. “Thanks.” James gave Roman a small wave, and Roman watched him go, a smile on his face. Roman turned around to continue down the aisle and almost bumped straight into another person. Except this person was very familiar. “Logan?”

“Oh, Roman, hello.” Logan greeted. “Weren’t you going to an audition?”

“Yeah, I just came back from it. What are you doing here?” Roman asked, then realised that there was really only one main reason to come to a library. Logan gave him an accordingly confused look, evidently thinking the same thought, and gestured to the books on the shelves. “Right, that was a stupid question. Ignore that. Anyway, I didn’t peg you for fiction type, nerd.” Logan gave an amused laugh. “I’m not normally, but I thought I would at least look at the selection. I came here to see what astronomy books the library had. Unfortunately, that particular section is particularly small, but I did find a couple of books I found interesting. I must admit, I am a bit surprised by the amount of books you have there, but you have mentioned an interest in reading in the past. Do you have a bag for those books?”

“Yep.” Roman responded, showing the bag in his hand. He placed the books on the ground and starting putting them in the bag. “Reading has always been my passion. That and acting. I just love being able to escape into another world!”

“Interesting. I love books for the information they are able to convey. Fictional works have never really grabbed my attention in the same way, but it would make sense that someone like you would like them,” Logan stated.

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“Well, you have tendency to be dramatic and over the top and you look and act a bit like you came straight out of a Disney movie. I was merely observing that way you act means that an assumption one may make about you is a love of fiction, specifically fantasy, although I could be wrong,” Logan said calmly, as if the whole matter was simply a case of obvious deduction.

“I mean, you aren’t wrong. I do love fantasy, and Disney is a passion of mine. Have you by any chance read any murder mysteries?”

“No. Why?”

“You are giving me serious Sherlock Holmes vibes at the moment. I have a feeling you would like them. Especially Holmes, but I am sure you would probably like Poirot. Here,” Roman said, walking down the aisle towards the crime and mystery section. Roman picked out a couple of books and handed them to Logan with a smile. Logan took them and read the blurbs of each. “These are some of the best detective novels I have read. The Hound of the Baskervilles, one of the most famous Sherlock Holmes books, which I think you will enjoy. Then we have The Murder On the Orient Express and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, both Hercule Poirot books by Agatha Christie. These are two of her best, although And Then There Were None is said to be her best work, although I prefer these two. Anyway, I think you will enjoy these,” Roman finished, with a smile on his face.

Logan gave the books consideration. They couldn’t hurt to read, and detective novels were generally rooted in science and logic, two things he loved. He nodded, and Roman gave him an enthusiastic smile. The two checked their books out and walked back home in the cold, carrying their books with them. 

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[smolstrawberrychara]

Klance Au Month - Day 1 - Coffee Shops

This was not supposed to be so long. And I can in no way guarantee I will do prompts everyday, but I definitely want to do some! (rip my other fics)

Lance from Astro:

Keith gets soaked when he goes out for a run in the rain so hits up a coffee shop for shelter. Here he finds a boy claiming to know him and a barista who wants nothing more than for him, and his dripping wet self, to leave. When Keith realises he has no money, the stranger steps in...

Also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626292

Keith had always been impulsive. As a kid that meant punching the little shit who decided to steal his crayon. As a teenager, it was skipping classes when there was something far more interesting happening across town. And as a student, it was going out as soon as he even glimpsed the sun’s rays peeking out between the sheets of grey cloud. Yeah, Keith had calmed down a lot in his old age. Or maybe he’d just learnt to deal with the frequently irritating occurrences of daily life better. That’s what Shiro would say, patting Keith on the back whilst wearing that well-practiced big brother smile that said ‘I’m proud of you,’ that Keith read as ‘please punch me’.

Shiro had introduced Keith to running. At the time, Keith hadn’t been to class in three weeks. Just moped about the house all day like a lonely vampire. But the sun had been shining and Shiro along with it. He’d dragged Keith off the couch and shoved him into some running shoes. Five years later, here Keith was, shorts on, headphones in, hair up. And the sun was shining gloriously for a cool February morning.

That was, when he left.

Now it was pouring like they’d suffered a monthlong a draught. They hadn’t. It had been raining on and off for two weeks now, and every day had been more miserable than the first. So, when Keith spotted the golden rays in the morning, you’d think he’d realise that it would be brief. That objects in motion, stay in motion. Nope. Keith ran out all guns blazing. And now, he was currently dripping wet as if he’d dived into the deep end of the pool, clothes and all.

His feet squelched in his trainers, and every foot fall blasted muddy water up his calves. His skin was covered in a thin membrane of sweat, rain and dirt and his clothes chafed with every slight movement. He huffed down the path, river on his right, houses on his left. He was exactly halfway around his usual route and this seemed to only encourage the storm, wind picking up and sweeping cold tendrils between the now permanent creases off his shirt.

Panting along the path, he finally got out onto the concrete of the quay. Usually it was bustling with tourists and locals alike. Boats lined the canal, rusted tractors lay abandoned above them, kids rolled around the grass and parents yelled at them to keep away from the edge. One day, Keith hoped to see one fall in. Trying not to laugh at the thought, he powered into the main hub. Outdoor seating lay around untouched, shop doors were pulled shut against yellow light and not a soul was in sight on the roads. Keith was weaving around bollards, slowing his pace to avoid slipping on the cobbles, when something caught his eye.

A door swung shut, light bouncing off the shining window. Just beyond, a figure hugged a trench coat tight to their body and slipped away into the silver stripes. Keith looked at the building. It was a modest one, coloured a pale blue with flaking paint and flower boxes full of drooping flowers. White plastic chairs were propped forward against similar tables, water collecting in pools across the surface. The window was steamed up, and the streaks warping the glass were painted with licks of orange from the indoor lights. It looked warm, and the rush of air from the door had the smell of coffee winding up Keith’s nose like smoke. Maybe he could afford to wait out the rain inside?

Keith swung into the café and was immediately assaulted with heat. He shivered on instinct, dragging his feet against the welcome mat as he looked around the room. It was small. White tables and colourful chairs cluttered the space. The counter was painted bright turquoise and held large glass domes filled with pretty pastry’s and delicate cakes. Beyond it was a loud machine, standing sturdy like a bodyguard and squirting out drinks with high-pitched screeches and hisses. Lining the window was a honey coloured table, with tall metal stools standing bright red against it. Keith made a beeline for them, swiping a hand across his face and shaking out his hair. Removing his head phones, he dropped them down on the bench and dug his phone out of his soaked shorts. That can’t have been good for it.

“Sir, you’re dripping.”

Keith jumped at being addressed. Behind him, a thin man glared at him with piercing eyes. Blond hair was sleeked back against his head so tightly that Keith could see every undulation of his scalp. Undulation being a bit of an overstatement to say it was more like his head was perfectly round and there were precisely zero dips in which to undulate with. Everything about him was startling perfect now Keith thought about it. Well-kept nails, creaseless uniform, apron free of any kind of stain.

“Oh, I, uh…” Keith looked down to find a puddle forming. Oops?

The man made a noise. All nose and disregard. Keith watched him raise a single, well-plucked eyebrow before leaving. Keith shuddered. Maybe this was the wrong place to dry off?

He placed his phone on the table and grabbed a few napkins from a pot nearby. Drying off as best he could he sat down.

“Keith?”

He turned to the voice. Behind him, on one of the small square tables, was a boy. He had curly brown hair stuffed under a wooly hat, tanned skin stretched over pointy features and curious blue eyes that narrowed their way towards Keith. Leaning forward, he tilted his head at Keith and pursed his lips. Then they were suddenly splitting into a wide curve and Keith realised it was his turn to speak. He instinctively opened his mouth, waiting to say a name, but it never arrived. He realised too late he had no idea who this person was. He clapped his mouth shut again, dread filling his stomach. The boy seemed about Keith’s age, and did know his name. All evidence pointed to them being at least passing acquaintances. But Keith couldn’t place him anywhere. So, he did the normal thing and just stared.

“It’s me, Lance.” The boy said, raising his eyebrows. Keith continued to stare.

“From astro?”

Astro? Astronomy? Keith took the astronomy module. It was his favourite in fact. He loved stars and the mysterious objects space tried to hide from Earth. He never missed a class. And this person? He took it too? Keith brought the lecture theatre up to the forefront of his mind. Keith liked to sit at the front, near the edge - no-one to block his view and easy to make a quick exit. People rarely sat near him, and to be fair, people rarely turned up to lectures these days. How was Keith supposed to recall him?

“I’m in your tutorial class.”

Ah. The vision changed to a small classroom, whiteboard at the front with a permanent dent in the middle that gathered various conspiracy theories. The course leader, a shrewd rat-like woman with thin rimmed glasses, stood at the front writing equations. There was the guy who only showed up the first day and never again. The girl who always did her make-up before the start – oddly, without a mirror. The two guys who always arrived late. That first day when one of them turned and introduced himself to Keith. Oh. The blob cleared into what resembled a human before it blurred together with reality. Lance. From astro.

“There.” The guy sighed, “nice of you to remember me.”

Keith shrugged. He was beyond politeness these days. It’s not like they’d spoken more than that one time on the first day. Why would Keith remember him? Just as he settled himself back in his seat, Lance was talking again.

“How come you were out running in this?”

Keith let out a growl, “well it wasn’t like this when I left.”

The boy snickered behind him and Keith found himself turning toward the noise despite himself. Lance’s nose was wrinkled with the effort, eyes crinkling at the sides as he hid it in the table.

“Fair.” He said, “guess some of us would check the forecast first though.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “like you can’t just look out the window.”

The words were more for himself than anyone else, he wasn’t planning on starting a conversation, hadn’t planned to see anyone he knew. So, he was already looking back at the rain dripping down the glass when Lance snorted.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mused when Keith regarded him again. He shook his head, trying to hide his smile behind a hand, “you’re just- not what I expected.”

“Excuse me?”

Expected? What was Lance doing getting expectations of him? They just met.

“No, no! I didn’t mean, like not in a bad way. I just…”

He bit his lip, face the faintest tint of red. Keith found it irritating. People always made some kind of assumption when they met him. He used to play to it – if people thought he was a bad kid then he was going to be a bad kid. He remembered Shiro’s sigh, the lines in his brow that were verging on permanent, the sadness in his voice when he said ‘why is this the one thing you won’t rebel against?’ It stuck with Keith. It was such a strange thing to say. Keith always misbehaved. He refused to be told how to be - where to sit in the dinner hall, how to dress properly to impress foster parents, when to smile even when you didn’t mean it. He rebelled against everything.

And that’s when he realised what Shiro meant. People were always telling him he was no good. They didn’t even know him, and yet he was labelled a ‘difficult’ child. Not a kid for ‘first timers’. He would struggle through school, make trouble in the workplace and never amount to anything. But that wasn’t true. Keith was smart. He believed in rules – when they were fair. And he knew that smiling didn’t make you okay, just fooled other people into thinking you were. Shiro made a damn good point. Keith was just toeing the line. So, he quit lying. And

did what he wanted. Like a true rebel, he went to class, studied hard, smiled at Shiro’s lame jokes and let the words of others run off his back like water.

But above all, he refused to acknowledge anyone who paid him, or anyone else, that treatment. Which now meant Lance. He turned to the window.

“I meant I thought you were smart!”

And now he thought Keith was dumb?

“No wait! That didn’t come out right! I meant…”

Lance sounded kind of desperate. Shame. Keith wasn’t going to turn around. He sighed, flicking a menu over on the table.

“Sorry.”

It was the tiniest noise. More like a whimper. It didn’t really match the rest of their conversation. Keith dared a glance back. Lance was frowning down at his notebook, eyebrows in a furrow like he was cursing the thing. That was different. No-one ever used to apologise. Well, they never meant it. They never looked that upset about it, like it hurt them to hurt someone else. Keith opened his mouth to speak.

“You gonna order anything?”

Keith glanced up to find smooth head looming. He looked as if Keith was a grave inconvenience, a stain on his perfect coffee-shop world.

“If you don’t order anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Keith breathed through the irritation, squeezing his hands into fists. The waiter had a fair point, but he didn’t have to make it with such disdain. Keith was still a customer, he just hadn’t bought anything yet.

“Alright,” Keith mumbled, stepping up to reach into his back pocket. His hand slid against his ass, and then straight down to his thigh. Crap. These were his running shorts. He had no money.

Keith looked at the waiter. The waiter looked at Keith. Keith looked at the window. The rain threw itself against the glass like it was going to attack him. He shuddered.

“I’ll buy.”

Keith spun around. Lance was leaning against the back of his chair, fixing the waiter with a face dripping with raw, smug energy. His card sat between two slender fingers and he twirled it in the air.

The waiter sighed, clearly uncaring for the whole ordeal. Keith on the other hand, was still in shock.

“No, no, it’s alright.” He said firmly, gathering up his few belongings, “I’ll just go.”

“No.” Lance interrupted, “I’ll buy.”

His eyes were resolute, daring Keith to argue. Keith took the bait.

“No. I don’t want to owe you.”

“And you won’t.” Lance said lightly, following the waiter to the counter. “It’s an apology, for speaking with my foot in my mouth.”

He stopped to look up at the chalk board. Drinks were written in curly white lettering, with pastel coloured sketches drawn next to them.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.”

Fingers clicked across the till.

“With marshmallows and cream?” The clerk asked in a bored voice.

Lance turned to face Keith then, elbows leaning back on the counter. He poured his gaze over Keith, right from his head down to his toes. Keith felt exposed, stomach swooping at the glint in Lance’s eye. Too busy fighting the heat spreading through his body, he didn’t get the chance to interrupt when Lance was speaking again.

“Oh yeah. Add extra sprinkles too, I want it extra festive.”

Keith let his mouth fall slack. Where the hell did he get that idea from? For one, Keith drank coffee. Black. And he didn’t do all the fancy stuff. He wanted a plain and simple drink and he did not want to draw attention. Lance on the other hand, drew all of Keith’s. He had a huge grin plastered across his face as he threw his head back laughing. Round-head rolled his eyes, dialling up the order and sparing Lance one of his disdainful glares.

“I’ll bring it to your table.”

“Thanks, Lotor!”

Then Lance was flouncing back to his seat and Keith was still standing next to his own chair. What had just happened?

“You didn’t need to apologise.” Keith rushed. Lance looked up at him, blankly. Then a smirk pulled against his lip.

“So, you already forgave me?”

“No?”

Had Keith forgiven him? He couldn’t really remember what he was apologising for now. The whole… event, had him a little bit lost.

“So, then you’ll need a drink.” Lance said solemnly.

“No, wait.”

Lance grinned. Keith struggled. With this conversation, with this person, this whole situation.

“Take a seat, Keith.”

The chair opposite Lance moved out on his own, like a ghost. Keith approached with caution. He did not sit, but Lance shifted when he arrived, that same grin plastered on his thin lips.

“Come on, sit with me.” He crowed, swaying side to side.

Keith eyed the seat cautiously.

“Look, I really didn’t mean to offend you.”

He was looking down at his book again, pen drawing absent circles in the margin of his work.

“I was hoping we could be friends.”

Keith sighed. He shouldn’t sit down, shouldn’t be indulging in this. But despite that fact, Keith flopped down. Lance perked up then, shoulders bouncing. But before he could speak, Keith interrupted him “I get it. You didn’t mean to offend me. But I still can’t accept your drink.”

Lance considered this for a second. “Okay. How about, in exchange for the drink, you help me with my astro coursework?”

He tapped his pen against his notebook and Keith saw that there was also a textbook lying open above it. There were several papers strewn across the table and pens hiding between layers. Lance himself had pen marks all over his fingers and grey loops below his eyes.

“Fine.”

That was enough for another one of those blinding grins. Lance seemed abundant with them.

“So, how come you recognised me?” Keith asked, wanting a distraction from the radiance.

Lance gave a little wiggle and Keith could tell he’d stepped on a landmine. With eyebrows bouncing he sent Keith a mischievous grin, ‘oh, I never forget a good-looking face.”

Keith nearly choked. Was he being flirted with right now? By a strange boy who shone too brightly for a coffee shop? A strange boy he in fact knew and had somehow missed in the however many weeks they’d been studying that course?

“Clearly I do.”

Lance’s brows froze in their strange hooks and Keith realised with striking alarm that he’d said that out loud. Oh god. Keith really was too well adjusted to life alone. Maybe he should listen to Shiro more and make some friends? Lance’s face was still frozen on his and Keith pulled at his shirt. Curse the heating in this place. He really shouldn’t have sat down. He glanced back to the window. Was rain really that bad?

“Hot chocolate.”

Keith jolted as a cup and saucer landed on the table with a loud clink.  Liquid swished out the side as the tidal wave settled, swirl of cream sloshing above. A light dusting of cocoa covered the top, pink marshmallows cut into the shape of hearts thrown haphazardly across the drink. The waiter levelled them with a look.

“With extra festive.”

“Thank you so very much.” Lance said through a giggle. The waiter rolled his eyes, sweeping back to his post at the counter. Keith stared at the drink. Then he stared back up at Lance. The boy was just sparkling eyes above two hands that covered his entire face all the way up to his spiky nose. Keith shook his head fighting off a smirk. He picked up the drink, lifted it to his lips and stared right into Lance’s glistening eyes as he took a sip.

Lance snorted.

“Perfectly matches your aesthetic.”

Keith shrugged, now losing the fight against his lips. “I dunno, I think it’s a bit understated.”

“You’re right.’ Lance said, poking his pen into Keith’s face, ‘it’s just not enough. Shall I call Lotor back and get him to bring us some glitter.”

Keith shook his head. “I’m thinking sparklers.”

Lance burst out laughing. He was all teeth and no eyes and Keith found the noise buzzing in his chest too. He quickly swigged his drink before it could be set free. The taste wasn’t bad either, if he was being honest. Sweet and creamy, tickling his lip as he drank. He was quite content until, one of the marshmallows rolled off and hit him in the eye. Keith frowned, glanced up and saw Lance pretending to read his textbook whilst barely containing more giggles. Keith shook his head but couldn’t shake the warmth in his cheeks.

“So, I’m confused on Quasars.”

Keith frowned, putting down his drink.

“Who isn’t?” He said, shuffling around to get a look at what Lance was reading. After a moment of no more words, Keith looked up and found Lance staring.

“What?”

“Oh!” Lance whipped back around to his book, “It’s just, uh, it’s nice.”

“What?”

“Hearing you say that.”

“What, ‘who isn’t’?”

Lance nodded, still not meeting Keith’s eye.

“Yeah. Guess I thought I was the only one.”

Keith didn’t tend to speak to the people in his class. That’s how he didn’t know Lance. He just kept to himself. But that meant he was privy to his course mate’s conversations. Namely, that nearly every topic they’d covered since the start of term had at least somebody complaining. To Keith, it was a given that absolutely no-one truly knew what they were doing on their degree.

Lance wasn’t Keith though. Lance didn’t just talk to strangers, he went out of his way to make friends with them. Those kinds of people always eluded Keith. Shiro was the same – he took in Keith, and from their first meeting, Keith had been convinced he was some kind of next level angel. But whilst Shiro was adept at caring for others, Keith discovered over time he struggled letting other people look after him. It was something Keith hadn’t had much of an issue with – once someone was actually willing to do it, he liked being looked after. But not everyone was Keith. And just because they weren’t Keith, that didn’t make them perfect. Or evil. And with the words Lance just spoke, it occurred to Keith, that he might have misjudged him. The thought made his stomach twist in a guilt he immediately wanted to fix it.  

“Trust me you’re not.” He said firmly. “Everyone struggles, you’re doing fine.”

Lance looked up at him then, lips parted as his pen fell to the paper in a dull thud. Keith immediately wanted to claw the words back. He should have thought more before speaking. They were far more intense out loud. Almost threateningly so. Keith scraped the barrel for some sort of distraction. Steer them away from his creepy intenseness. “Why-uh, why’d you think that?”

Lance’s stare held a second longer – a second that burned itself straight through Keith. Then he was reclaiming his pen and speaking again with a sigh, “my housemates. They just- they get it all, y’know? One lecture and they’re good to go.”

“I feel dead after half an hour.” Keith said honestly.

There were those who seemed to absorb everything, regurgitating hours later and sweeping through their exams. But Keith was not one of them. And even then, he had a suspicion he only saw what they wanted him to see – not the hours they studied the night before. Maybe even years– some people were that dedicated after all.

Lance let out a short laugh. ‘Me too. Alfor opens his mouth and I’m just dead.”

Keith snickered and soon they were discussing the ins and outs of all their lecturers. It was fun. Keith found talking to Shiro about his disdain for academics was like bouncing water balloons off a concrete wall. He was never impressed. Lance, on the other hand, became invested. His enthusiasm grew with his pitch, hands thrown around in fury as he recalled a particularly awful lecture that wouldn’t have been out of place playing in the back of a hearse. Keith had said as much and Lance had laughed so hard, he spat coffee everywhere. The waiter, Lotor, as Lance called him, was far from enthusiastic about their patronage. He wiped up the spill with a huff, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. As soon as he was gone, Lance fell apart laughing telling Keith about the time he put glue in Lotor’s hair at primary school and the other was yet to forgive him. Lance had zero regrets and Keith would probably commit the same crime now.

The more they talked the more Keith found himself watching Lance’s mouth. He noticed now, how animated it was. It could go from a small ‘o’ to a wide-open grin in a blink of an eye. His teeth were bright white, lined up like crooked little houses along his gums. Then there were his lips. They were pink and looked soft and every so often Lance ran his tongue along them. Keith wanted to do that too. The thought surprised him, and he quickly found somewhere else to look. He could blame the warm café for his reddening cheeks.

Keith hadn’t kept track of time, he hadn’t felt the need when he was happily filling the moment. That was until he heard the door chime and noticed they were the last guests in the café. Must have been a long moment.

Lotor appeared at Lance’s back, a looming vampire.

“Five minute ‘til closing.” He said curtly. Lance jumped at the proximity.

“Jesus,” he breathed, holding a hand to his heart, “does he even have footsteps?”

Keith shook his head, looking out the window. “Wheels for feet.”

Lance laughed beside him. It was a nice sound, loud without even trying. It was like it burst out from nowhere to set the room alight. The more Keith heard it, the more he wanted to hear it. He was stuck in a vicious cycle that he didn’t particularly want to leave.

“Which way you heading?” Lance asked, shuffling his belongings together. The rain was still trailing down the windows and the wind rattled the windows, demanding its next victim. Keith sighed, as he got to his feet.

“Penny Road.”

“Oh! I’m just by the roundabout!’

Maybe he didn’t have to leave quite yet?

“I, uh…” Lance continued, talking to the ground. He was rubbing his neck, now fully dressed in his navy blue rain coat and backpack swung over one shoulder. “I’ve got an umbrella.”

He looked up with a smile. A bashful one this time, with pink cheeks. Keith didn’t know what to make of it. The expression was so different to his previous ones. It made him want to lean forward and squish it. But that would be inappropriate, so Keith focused firmly on the words

“Good for you?”

Lance blinked at him, before a more familiar expression tucked himself against his cheeks, “I meant we could share it.”

“Oh.” Keith’s cheeks burned hotter than coals. He ducked his head before it could be seen and stepped towards the door. “Sure. I’d uh, I’d like that.”

Lance’s feet tapped along the wood until he was at his side again, grabbing a brightly coloured umbrella from the bucket by the door before swooshing it open. Keith grimaced as he was hit with cold air and icy blades.

“Might be a bit windy for that.”

Lance laughed, “nah, it’ll be fine when we’re away from the river.”

Lance was right. It was fine once they were walking along the streets lined with painted town houses. Keith couldn’t help noticing how snugly the two of them fitted beneath the bright fabric dome. He also couldn’t help noticing his urge to link his arm with Lance’s. He told himself it was to just to keep the heavy umbrella steady but that was a lie.

Not too much later they arrived at Keith’s door, startling red against the black and whites of the rest of the street. Keith felt a little smug about bagging this one. It was the best house, even with the cracks in its cobble stone path and the overgrown bushes lining the street and most of the garden. The rain had died down a little, pattering rhythmically against the umbrella like a tent and Keith lingered beside Lance. The peaks of the clouds above were dyed a deep orange where the sun was finally cutting through the grey as if giving its last cry of the day before it sunk down for bed.

“Well, this was a nice way to end a date.”

Keith felt his stomach jump, throwing the breath from his lungs. “Date?”

“Uhh, I mean…” Lance’s face was so bright it was matching Keith’s door. He blinked widely before looking at the ground and mouthing many words but saying very few. “It doesn’t have to be, I just uhh, I thought it would be nice, but I mean-“

“Well, in that case...”

Keith leant in close, right up to Lance’s freckles. He pressed a kiss to a flaming cheek, smiling at how it was warm like a mug of hot chocolate.

“See you in class.” He whispered, before peeking up at Lance’s face. It was red with fluster, blue eyes wide and gleaming as his mouth wobbled into something that resembled a smile. Keith returned the favour, before pulling the umbrella down and letting the rain ping off it. “Lance.”

[rainbowplaidvirgil]

Cinnamon Cookies - Chapter one

Prologue Chapter one

Read me on ao3

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past abuse, sympathetic deceit

Taglist because apparently were doing that now [lmk if you want to be added]: @bunny222

It had been a week since Virgil and Dee had begun living with Patton, and things seemed to have been going smoothly. Patton, as well as their foster brother Thomas, had seem to have been adjusting to the strange habits of the Mallory children. Patton had almost gotten the hang of translating Dee’s strange speech on his own, and didn’t seem to mind Virgil’s general nocturnality and reclusiveness. Virgil was suspicious, but begrudgingly happy.

Of course, now it was time for the two to start school again, which Virgil was very much fighting.

“Now kiddo,” Patton reasoned, “don’t you want to make some friends? Get some fresh air, some sunshine?”

“All of those things sound horrible,” he groaned, taking his head out from under the pillow and looking over at Patton. He was standing just outside the doorway, not making any moves to step in the room, which Virgil appreciated.

Patton sighed. “Virgil, please? I doubt it’s going to be as bad as you think it will.”

“I doubt that.”

The older man pursed his lips. “If you go to school today I’ll make those cookies you like.”

Virgil considered. He did enjoy the cookies, they tasted like home and brought up memories of times when things were… better. But were they special enough to motivate him to go to school? He glanced at his foster father through haphazard strands of unbrushed purple hair. The poor man looked so hopeful. Virgil kind of didn't want to crush that quite yet. He was the nicest foster parent the twins had had for a long time, and the teen was kind of scared of ruining that.

“Fine.”

“Great! Be ready in a half hour and I’ll drive the three of you to school!” he sauntered off cheerily, whistling to himself. How the heck was that guy so damn happy all the time?

Virgil went and closed his door, digging through the bags of clothes Patton had gone out and bought them as a celebration of becoming “part of the family.” He pulled out jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy, throwing his old, oversized hoodie on top. He rarely took the hoodie off. It comforted him, like a warm hug without all the suffocation of human interaction.

Virgil wandered downstairs in order to grab some breakfast, sunlight streaming into his face from the large windows in the hallway. Virgil liked to keep his room dark, so stepping out in the mornings was always a little blinding. On the dining room table, he noticed two backpacks. Weird, he didn’t remember picking one out, but it seemed to be exactly in his taste.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I couldn’t pick one out for you. Patton thought it would be a despicable gesture,” again, another voice from behind him, causing Virgil to whip around, fight or flight reflex sending all sorts of alarm bells to his brain. Oh, right, just Dee.

“Thanks bro,” he held a fist out for a fist bump, and as they did, Thomas came down the stairs, laughing and smiling brightly.

“Gooood morning you two,” he greeted. Thomas much more mirrored Patton than the other two did. He dressed in mainly colorful clothing, cartoon t-shirts. Dee was dressed similarly to vigil, a black overcoat and yellow shirt underneath, “are you guys ready for the first day of school?”

“Not at all,” Dee said.

Thomas tilted his head, taking a second to remember that Dee spoke in opposites.

“So… that… means yes, right?” he turned to Virgil for confirmation, and Virgil nodded.

“Alright kids, are we almost ready to go,” Patton came down the stairs next, car keys in hand. All three kids made various noises of agreement, and the fatherly man with grey streak in his hair grinned widely.

“Alright! Let’s go,” he bounced out of the house, and all three teens followed, pilining into Patton’s… Jeep? Somehow, the fact that patton owned a Jeep and not like, a toyota prius or whatever dads drove surprised Virgil.

The ride to school was relatively uneventful. Virgil and Dee stayed quiet, for the most part, and Patton and Thomas rambled to them excitedly about all of the new people they were going to meet and make friends with. Virgil doubted they’d actually make friends, it wasn't like he and Dee were the warmest people ever. Besides, they never stayed in the same school for long.

They pulled up to the school, a moderately sized older building that didn't look too intimidating on the outside. Jumped out of the front seat, and the twins clambered out of the back seat of the Jeep. It was only 7:45, so they had fifteen minutes to find their lockers and get their schedules. Lovely.

“I’ll bring you guys to the office so you can get all that stuff,” Thomas said, before power walking ahead of them. Thomas seemed to know the twists and turns of that school pretty well, and Virgil couldn't help but wonder how long Thomas had been staying with Patton. It was only October, not that far into the school year. Thomas shouldn't know these hallways nearly as well as he did. He didn't have much time to ponder this, however, as they were already at the main office. The twins and their foster brother walked in. It seemed to be pretty quiet, save for one other boy arguing with one of the administration. Was… that guy wearing a necktie? But he seemed to be Virgil’s age. That was. Strange. But hey, who was he to judge.  

While Virgil was busy watching the stranger, who was apparently arguing that he just “ had to be in astronomy” Dee and Thomas got their schedules. He was pulled from his contemplation when Dee poked him with the box of a combination lock.

“Hey, sunshine boy,” Dee’s words pulled Virgil away from his contemplation, “Please, continue staring at this person that we totally know.”

The boy with the necktie looked over at Virgil, raising an eyebrow at him, and the teen had half a mind whack an elbow into Dee’s ribs, but restrained himself. He settled for mumbling and “I hate you” instead.

“I’m sorry, is there an issue,” the other teen said, placing a hand on his hip, and a a weight started bearing down on Virgil’s chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

“Virge, buddy, you okay there?”  Thomas asked and poked his cheek, and Virgil leapt back, trying to find a wall, something, to grab onto and ground himself.

“Virgil?” Dee.

“Virge dude, sorry-” Thomas.

He finally made contact with a wall, hands running against cold paint. The walls were bright blue. The necktie that the boy was wearing was dark blue. He rubbed his thumb over the wall. Closing his eyes and imagining water, a shower, it all washing away, the bad memories being pushed away by warm water and down the drain. He could almost feel the water running down his face, funnily enough. Oh, wait, no. Those. Those were tears. Those were most definitely tears. Virgil’s breaths came quick and laboured. The grounding wasn’t working, he still felt like he was floating off, that something was going to happen to him, that someone was going to hurt hi - something just touched his shoulder.

Almost instantly, he leapt to the side, eyes snapping open wide. The boy with the blue necktie was standing near him, hand still hanging in the air, Dee had seemed to try and wedge himself in between Virgil and the other boy. He couldn't see Thomas.

A new voice entered the conversation.

“Would- should he go see the counselor?” A short person with bright hair, the one Logan was arguing with before, asked.

Virgil really did not want to go see a counselor, not on the first day.

“Yes,” Dee answered for him.

“Okay, uh, I’ll go ge-”

“Actually,” Thomas cut off mercifully, “he means no. He uh. Speaks in opposites.”

“...Okay.”

Virgil had begun to ground himself, focus on the feeling of his feet on the floor. The feeling of Dee’s body heat as his twin pressed against him. He was here, in the main office of a new school. The floors did not creak ominously here, and the sunlight filled the room, it didn’t creep its way in between holes in the blinds. He was fine. Dee was here, beside him, unharmed. He gripped his twin’s arm, and Dee didn’t say anything, but he did look over at Virgil with an understanding look. The anxiety still pressed heavy against his chest, and the tears the still streamed down his cheeks, but he didn’t feel like he was back in that room anymore.

“I- uh-” a different voice now. Oh. It was the boy with the necktie. “I… apologize. I was not aware that my actions would cause… such an outburst.”

“U-uh….” Virgil trailed off. “Apology- apology accepted, I guess.” he breathed out.

The morning bell went off, startling Virgil a bit. Was it time for class already? Damn. He looked at the schedule that Thomas had handed him at some point. He had creative writing first. Right, creative writing, that was fine. He could do that.

“Uh… Perhaps I could walk you to your first class. To make up for scaring. That is how being nice works, I think.” It was the boy with the necktie.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” he shrugged, glancing over at Dee, who almost seemed to be growling. It was a bit funny.

“What class do you have first?”

“Creative writing.”

“Oh. As do I, unfortunately,” the taller boy pulled a sour face.

“Don’t like creative writing, huh?”

“Not in particular. Uh- may I ask your name.”

“Virgil. Or Virge. Whichever one works.” he said.

“Well, it is… acceptable to meet you, Virgil. My name is Logan.”

[inwintersolitude]

- April 15th 2019 -

Do you enjoy watching birth vlogs? I've never watched one. And considering my strong aversion to pregnancy and childbirth, nor would I ever want to watch one.

Would you rather paint on canvas or wood? I'm not a painter, so I don't really have a preference.

What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? None? Thankfully I can't think of any.

Do you miss someone? Yes but he'll be home soon.

If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? I don't really have an allergies that bother me that much. Just some allergies to certain types of antibiotics, it's not a big deal.

Do you know anyone else with your name? Yes, but she spells it differently.

Have you felt like the main character in a book was you? No.

Which country's flag is your favorite? I don't really have a favorite.

What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Depends on which country in Africa... there are so many, and some are very safe and others are definitely not.

Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? Vermont. But that would be impractical.

Have you ever hiked a mountain? Just a few small ones.

Who seems like they have the perfect life? Nobody has a perfect life. I don't care how pristine and glorious your Instagram profile looks, you can't fool me. Everyone has their struggles.

Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? I probably have at some point. But overall, I'd rather not create further reminders of bad times.

Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? If people want to do that, then sure.

What time zone are you in? Eastern Standard.

Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No, that's too personal of a thing for me to post.

^Why or why not? ^

Do you like dark blue jeggings or light blue jeggings better? I don't wear jeggings.

What color is the rim of your whiteboard? I don't have a whiteboard.

Do you have trouble staying organized? Occasionally. It depends.

What was the last thing you cried about? I don't remember. Probably frustration with my medical issues.

Have you ever held a newborn baby? No.

Do you know anyone who has twins? I used to.

Would you rather look older or younger than your age? I already look younger than my age, and it's a curse in disguise. People love to say "oh you'll appreciate it someday” but gee thanks for telling me that, when everyone who doesn't already know me assumes I'm 5-10 years younger than I really am, and treats me as such. No 29-year-old woman wants to be treated like a college kid.

Where do you buy calendars from? I just use my dot grid journal and I make my own calendars and to-do lists in there.

Do you shop at the dollar store often? No, I haven't been to one in like 5 years.

What does your name rhyme with? Jelly.

Are you following in the career path of any family members? No, I was the first person in my family to go into aviation.

Have you ever met anyone who talks like a robot? No?

What is your favorite country in Europe? England is the only European country I've been to so far, and I loved it there. I'd also like to go to Ireland and the Netherlands.

Name something unique about your town. George Washington lived here as a young adult.

Who does all the chores in your home? My husband and I.

Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? No.

What is your best kept secret (or one big secret you have right now)? I don't really have any big secrets.

Do you have anyone you can tell your secrets to? Yes.

^If so, who? My husband.

Who was that best friend you ever had? My husband, he's my best friend. Or if we're talking about just platonic friends, then either Hillary or Matt.

Do people appreciate you and accept you for who you are? They'd better.  >:-P

What color is your laptop? My main laptop is silver, and my gaming laptop is black.

What class would you like to repeat over again just for fun? Astronomy, or Instrument Pilot Flight.

What are five careers you think you'd be good at? I already know I'm good at airport operations. Four others I think I'd be good at are aerospace engineering, accounting, web development, and maybe aerial photography.

Are you thriving in your life right now? I'm doing the best I can, considering my medical stuff I'm dealing with.

Who do you have moral support from? My husband, definitely. Also my parents and grandparents.

Who encourages you to go after your dreams? ^ all of those wonderful people. :-)

Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Whaaat the fuck, no.

Are the police criminals in your town? No.

List all the antiques you have in your room: Just in my bedroom? I have some heirloom jewelry, some of which is quite old. I think that's all the antiques in my bedroom, the rest are elsewhere in the house.

What Bratz doll resembles you the most? I know nothing about Bratz dolls, other than the fact they're for children and I think it's funny that I keep seeing survey questions about them, haha.

Do you have a walk-in closet? Yes.

What was the last thing you ate? A tarragon chicken salad wrap.

What would you do to save money for your wedding? I'm already married.

Have you ever been manipulated, lied to, abused, or controlled? Lied to, yes. Manipulated, probably at some point. I've never been abused or controlled.

Are you against plagiarism? Yes.

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

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2.1

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2.2

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3.1

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3.2

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4.1

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4.2

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5.1

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5.2

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6.1

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6.2

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7.1

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7.2

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8.1

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8.2

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9.1

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9.2

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10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

[thelovelypatronus]

TRIGGER WARNING: NON-CON, SEXUAL ASSAULT, KIDNAPPING, STALKING

The first time he had seen her was September 1, 1992. He’d remember that day forever. Long after he was rotting in Azkaban. He would remember that date until he was on his deathbed. She had burrowed that far beneath his skin. The first thing he had noticed that day was her hair. Fiery, red, straight, and softer looking than anything he had ever imagined. Granted he was only 12 at the time, but at that moment, he knew exactly what he wanted… her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know her name, or that she had no idea he even existed.

He had watched as she walked up to the stool, sat down, and put the sorting hat on. All with the confidence of a woman twice her age. She’d be a lion, of that he was sure. He had been right, of course. She was on the other side of the great Hall and a whole world away from him. It was okay though, he’d get to her.

Three years later found Blaise Zabini a little more unhinged. A little less controlled, and a lot more attached to her. He was now 15, in his fifth year, and convinced that Ginny Weasley was his soulmate. She had grown into a beautiful young woman. A woman he would be proud to have on his arm. She was a part of the sacred 28, after all, and that alone would lead to his mother’s approval of his chosen future wife. She was everything he wanted in a mate. Brave, Fierce, Loyal, Powerful, Beautiful, and most important of all, a Pureblood. The dark lord would also approve, once he convinced her to abandon the ways of her blood traitor family.. It was all too perfect, he had never been prouder of himself for devising such a plan.

Sixth year found Blaise slowly but surely, losing his mind. The love of his life was dating a half-blood. A Half-blood! How could she do that to him? Bloody Dean Thomas, that poor excuse for a wizard. How could she do this to him?! Did she not care about his heart? His love? His feelings for her? He’d remedy this.

He waited for Dean inside an alcove a few meters down from the entrance to the Gryffindor common room on a cold October night. He had seen the boy studying in the library and knew in his very bones that he would be late coming back and would be alone. That made it easy as pie for Blaise to come up behind him, shove a wand to his back, and mutter “Imperio”.

Blaise instructed him on what to do and Dean had no choice but to comply.

“Some Gryffindor you are. Not even enough mental power to throw off a low level imperio? I’ll never know what she sees in you. No matter, you are to find Ginny Weasley, you are to break her heart. You are to break it off and you are to never speak to her again. Nod if you understand.” Blaise finished.

Dean nodded, walked off to the common room and promptly broke it off with Ginny in such a manner that Seamus Finnigan had to accompany him to the hospital wing for treatment. It seemed that Dean had developed a nasty case of Bat Bogeys and “Finite” had no effect on the spell whatsoever.

Granted they had never spoken a word to each… but Ginny must have felt his presence in her mind, right? She must have known how much he loved her, how much he was willing to do to get to her. He had been trained in the highest level of legilimency, upon the Dark Lord’s orders. None of his other followers had the skills that Blaise possessed. He had searched her mind thoroughly to find any trace that she had thought about him, all while leaving the barest of traces. She must have been playing coy, teasing him, luring him in. Yes, that was it. He’d bide his time until the perfect moment, then he’d whisk her away from these undeserving mudbloods and blood traitors. She’d thank him, she’d cry tears of joy. Finally she’d admit that she loved him just as much as he loved her.

He was ready and willing to wait. All would fall into place once the Dark Lord won. The new world order would be the perfect starting point for his happily ever after. He was content with waiting. Perfectly fine with watching from afar and using his thoughts to sate the hunger that was quickly burning him up…Until the time came for him to claim what was his.

The night that Gryffindor won the quidditch championship was the night that all of his carefully laid plans came tumbling down.

He had watched her play, his eyes wide and loving the whole time. She was spectacular, the moment she had won the game had added yet another thing he loved about her to his list. He didn’t even care that they had beaten Slytherin. That was his girl and he was proud of her. He had disillusioned himself and snuck into the Gryffindor common room to watch the celebration of her win. At least this way he would be close to her. Maybe close enough to smell her. Feel her. Hear her.

It was all fun and jokes until Harry fucking Potter had shown up. It had taken less than a second for her to launch herself into his arms and snog him senseless. The room erupted in applause and wolf whistles. Blaise’s mind erupted in hell fire, screams, and immeasurable anger. Potter was going to fucking die. Whether by his hand or Voldemort’s, it mattered not. The Boy-who-wouldn’t-die would finally be no more. On that note, Blaise vowed to merlin that he’d get Ginny tomorrow night. He would remove her from this place of lust and confusion to a place which would allow her to clear her mind and realize what she truly wanted; Him.

The next night found Blaise waiting patiently, disillusioned of course, for Ginny. Hiding next to the astronomy tower where he knew she was always the last to leave alone. It’d be easy to take the girl and port key away with her. The Dark Lord supplied him with an illegal and untraceable portkey.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Blaise spotted a shock of red hair and reveled in how well his plan was working out. They were alone in the hall, not a soul in sight. Yes, this had worked out well indeed. Blaise grabbed her by the arm, activated the portkey, and disappeared before Ginny even had a chance to gasp. On the other side of the castle, high in Gryffindor tower, a boy laid awake staring at an old piece of parchment. A secret map that allowed him to watch as the love of his life walked back from her astrology class. Just because he could not walk her back to the tower (due to the curfew) did not mean he could not make sure that she got back okay. These were dangerous times and being the girlfriend of Harry Potter was a dangerous title. He watched as she made it down the stairs, smiling to himself as he imagined snogging her the second she got back to the common room. His smile disappeared as he watched her literally pop out of existence. The map never lies. Unless she had gone into the room of requirement, which was 3 floors below her. She was no longer in the castle, Harry began to panic.

Harry was not known to rationally plan out his next move when his friends were in trouble. Instead he would hastily charge forward into the haze to save those he held dear. Rationalizing and planning was Hermione’s area of expertise. Harry was known for his run off half-cocked hero complex. Not thinking to inform anyone of what was happening, He grabbed his cloak and ran to the tower he had last seen Ginny’s name. She was gone but there was a heavy aura of recently used magic in air. Apparating was impossible inside of Hogwarts. A thought was niggling at Harry’s mind. Something he should have realized before, all of those looks he had seen Zabini giving her, all those times he seemed to be just lurking in the background. He pulled the map to try and look for the Slytherin but there was no sign of him. It had to have been a portkey. \

Harry prepared to run out of the castle and beyond the anti-apparition wards, but before doing so, he cast a patronus to Hermione to inform her of what was happening so she would be able to send help. With the warning sent and no time left to waste, Harry ran as fast as his legs could carry him. His lungs were burning and his legs were numb but he continued to push himself forward. He pushed until he was a few feet from the main gate of Hogwarts, finally feeling the wards lift, he followed the barest trace of magic that was left over from the port key. He turned on his heel, feeling the familiar push and compression of apparition.

The first thing that Harry noticed was the smell. It was putrid, like a dozen rotting corpses. Looking around he noticed that he was knee deep in mud. He was standing in the middle of a swamp and there were at least 3 different kinds of wards bearing down on him. All of them powerful, all of them time consuming to break apart. He needed help. Realizing he had to warn the others of the wards, sent another patronus with his location and the warning. He prayed they’d get there soon, while he sat and stared at the cabin off in the distance. One dim light flickering in the distance, indicating where Ginny was being held. While Harry waited for help, he plotted how he was going to make the kidnapper pay.

Meanwhile, Blaise had Ginny bound to a rickety old chair in a dilapidated one room cabin. There was no other furniture in the room and no heating either. The cold stole her breath and caused her to shiver every few minutes. He had seized her wand, forced her down and bound her extremities and cast a silencing spell. He knew damn well that she was skilled in wandless magic. He would take no chances. She was glaring daggers at him while he rambled about what had led them to this very moment.

“Have you really never known? Come now, do not take me for a fool, Ginevra. You must have known. You must have felt my presence in your head. I made sure to leave footprints all those times I went exploring. You do have quite the fascinating mind. Worry not, I will teach you occlumency. No wife of mine should ever be so weak in the defenses of her mind.” Blaise rattled on. The more he talked the more livid she became. She could feel her unchanneled energy ready to burst. Her fingers were scraping at the aged wood. Her hair was sparking at the ends. Blaise paid no mind. He had a story to tell and tell it he would.

Mr. Weasley had arrived, Bill right behind him. After explaining what had happened the three men got to work. It would take at least half an hour,even with Bill’s curse breaking experience. Harry was starting to panic. So many things could happen in the space of 30 minutes. Hell, it would take less than a second to cast an Avada. But there were things much worse than death, things he knew could make a person wish for death. He chose to leave those thoughts alone. He was already at his nerves end. Those thoughts would only serve to unhinge his mind further. 10 minutes had passed. The men continued to work in strained silence.

She refused to look at him. She refused to acknowledge him. She refused to give him any indication that she knew or cared what he was saying. She was quietly praying, hoping, wishing, for someone to rescue her. The longer she sat there and let him talk, the longer she had to survive. She didn’t know, she couldn’t have known, that the longer he talked the worse his thoughts had become. He had now firmly convinced himself that the only way she would figure out how much she loved him, was to show her how much he loved her first.

He banished her clothes, leaving her naked and only covered by the tight ropes that bound her. She was terrified, Ginny wished for death rather than what she knew was about to happen to her. She would welcome death before she welcomed the violation of her body and the theft of her innocence.

“If you won’t admit your feelings, Genevra. I’ll make you admit your attraction. I know you’ve wondered about me before. I know you’ve admired my body, I’ve seen your mind. I’ve seen your wants. You might have deluded yourself into believing that Potter is what you want, but I know better and I’ll prove it to you.”He finished.

Blaise moved closer now. Reaching out, he lowered the ropes that covered her breasts. He reached for the right one first, roughly squeezing it and causing Ginny to whimper. He mistook it as a moan of pleasure instead of the whimper of pain and humiliation that it was. Spurred by the sounds she was making, he moved to the nipple. He pinched hard causing Ginny to stiffen and try to kick out with her legs. It was no good, she was bound tight. He reached over and grabbed her left breast with his other hand. He roughly massaged them, thinking he was giving her pleasure. Giving Ginny the thing she needed to finally realize how in love she was with him.

It hurt so bad. He was so rough, his hands were so calloused, he squeezed her so hard. Tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes. Ginny was beginning to feel where bruises were sure to form. She refused to show any outward sign of pain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She retreated inward, into her mind for a safe space to hide in. His hands started to travel slowly downward. Hurrying to hide in a place she had not thought of since first year. A place she had forgotten existed, a place she used to hide when all was dark and scary in the world outside.There was no way he could hurt her in here.

Blaise was salivating. She was so beautiful, more so than he had ever imagined. Her curves, her skin tone, the freckles that peppered her body like the sprinkles on a sundae. She looked absolutely delectable and he was finding it hard to control himself. He promised he wouldn’t take her until she accepted him, until she admitted her love for him. He looked up into her eyes and knew right then that it would never happen. Her eyes were glazed, body relaxed, her mind blank. She was hiding from him, there was only one way to get her back and that way was straining at his trousers and throbbing with the need for friction. He was quickly losing the battle with his self control.

They had finally broken through the wards. The three men apparated directly to the cabin. Harry taking the front door while Arthur and Bill took the back. On the count of three, they blasted apart the doors from either side and rushed in. The second Harry’s eyes adjusted to the dim light he had lost whatever semblance of self control he had.

“Get her out of here!” He roared at the Weasleys. He was clutching his wand so hard his knuckles had turned white. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the men snuck behind a distracted and half naked Blaise Zabini. Bill Wrapped his sister in his cloak and they apparated away leaving Harry alone with the soon dead man.

Blaise would die tonight, of that Harry was certain. Pain was on the menu and he had more than enough to go around. Harry aimed his wand before Balise had a chance to react. He sent a powerful red curse at the dark skinned man in front of him. Blaise crumpled to the floor, the pain so excruciating that no sound could escape his lips.

“Do you like that, you sick fuck? Do you like hurting innocent girls? You do don’t you.” Harry was twisting his wand now, burying the curse deeper in the thrashing mans side. There was blood everywhere now. It was coming out of Blaise’s ears, eyes, and flowing from the gash over his left hip where Harry had struck him. Zabini’s blood was  soaking through the floorboards, staining the house with the same sickness that had taken its owner.

“You’ll never have her, Potter. She’ll always want me, you’ll see that soon enough. You can kill me if you want, but I have already left my mark on her.” He finished his rant and started laughing.

A dark, insane laugh. One that Harry had heard before. It was the same laugh Voldemort used. A laugh that held no mirth, no humor, no emotion behind it. Blaise was just as sick as his precious Lord and because of that, Harry decided he needed to be euthanized if only to spare the world another maniac. Harry aimed his wand, this time at Blaise’s head. With a final shouted Diffindo, he watched as the man’s head exploded. Fragments of skull and brain matter covered the walls of the cabin. Harry watched as a piece of skull slid down the window and landed on the sill.

He had never killed someone, yes he had had seen death, but at his own hand? Never. It was unthinkable, but Harry had done it. He would do it all over again if it meant stopping the monster before he would have taken Ginny’s virginity. What Harry did not know, was that he was going to have a much harder time getting Ginny back. Harry apparated to the burrow, leaving Blaise’s body exactly where it belonged. In a house as dilapidated as the deceased man’s mind.