#there's a whole garden out there you slimy bastards

[greencheekconure27]

Used the brief moments of no rain to go outside & take a look at my flowers.Now Googling "Can I threaten slugs?".

[golbrocklovely]

it's time to finally post my bridgerton, season 3 part one review.

this is just gonna be the first two episode bc apparently idk how to write a small reaction to anything lol

obvious spoilers (to both part one and the books) if you haven't seen/read them yet

episode one - out of the shadows

before i watched this episode, i ended up seeing the spoilers for it on twitter, which tbh didn't upset me bc when i read something, it's not the same as viewing it. like i'll have an idea in my head of what's to come, but it's never quite the same as the show presents it so, i never feel like i'm spoiled by reading something ahead of time.

as for this episode, what a fantastic way to start off the season. i think overall it was well paced and flowed so quickly. there wasn't a single moment i was bored during this episode.

i guess for this whole review i'm just gonna point out things i like and dislike. keep it simple.

seeing pen in her usual get up was such a good idea to start bc then seeing her transition into her glow up… crazy. literally night and day.

colin being a cocky bastard and so full of himself made my eyes roll MULTIPLE times. but i kinda love it lol

also the idea of him getting off the boat, after months of travel, most likely smelling like actual fucking ass, only to have a bunch of ladies swooning after him is a very funny sight to think of sksks

every single moment pen and colin interact i'm eating it up. idc if it's just the briefest of glances, i'm IN LOVE.

eloise siding with and befriending cressida… i hate it with a fiery passion. something about it feels so slimy, to be friends with the person that has made your ex best friend's life a living hell. and look, i get it. pen is LW, she wrote things about eloise that "ruined her", along with other family drama that has occurred in the seasons. but my whole thing is… eloise will never be ruined. and the reason for it is bc she's a bridgerton. they never are actually ruined. they bounce back. they are one of the highest ranking families in the ton, they're rich and hot, their one daughter is a duchess, they are close with lady danbury and the queen. like???? they won't ever be ruined. unless something catastrophic happens, they will always be fine. so that's why even el being friendly with a gasp poor person didn't do anything to her withstanding. bc if it did, no one would want to court francesca. but clearly she's the diamond of the season.

and not only that, but LW has also written about pen's family, even when her family has far less withstanding. she has so much more to lose when writing of her own family's shortcomings. and on top of that, if she didn't do what she did last season, el would have been assumed to be LW and the queen would have actually fucked up that family's lives. so… while i get being upset at pen, to befriend a person that you both agreed was the absolute fucking worst just feels like a direct attack and not a "well she was the only one that was there for me"

all of colin's flirting at the garden party is both eye roll inducing and hilarious at the same time. and also a twinge bit hot lol

i LOVE how far up his own ass colin is that when he finally talks to pen, and she says "much has certainly changed in that time." he assumes she's talking about what he's wearing and he replies with "a good deal i know, but it was all the rage in paris." bro….. no one CARES about your fit.

i will say tho, the bts of the wardrobe department showing that he wore that greenish kerchief to possibly impress pen was honestly so cute. like… that man really was deeply in love with her without realizing it at all.

pen's sisters are the WORST (but so funny) and their husbands are the best. hands down.

someone pointed it out on twitter that gregory points his bow at colin, almost like he gets hit with an arrow (of love). eros and psyche come THRU

colin saying nothing about his travels to anyone strictly bc he's been told countless times no one cares, only to share them with pen…. GOD I LOVE THIS SEASON

i also really love that literally everyone who actually cares about colin sees thru his shtick. humble that man real fast lmao

controversial opinion (so i'm sorry in advance to anyone that loves francesca and her story) but god… i do not care about her whatsoever. at least in the show, it is very hard to care about her and whatever she's doing. if she had been in last season, even just in the background, maybe i would care a little bit about her. but i honestly just don't give a shit. respectfully, i don't even see how this show is gonna make it to her season in the first place, unless they start condensing seasons together.

that being said, her parts with john are absolutely adorable and i relate to wanting someone that can appreciate quiet like you can. trust and believe that. but knowing what ends up happening to him in the end, i just… can't be bothered to care or want to get attached.

also the mondrich's storyline; i think it could be more entertaining, but it feels kinda flat as of right now. maybe part two things pick up, but currently in the storyline… it's a no from me.

kate and anthony are so hot. holy shit. thank god jonny is gay bc if he wasn't i think i would spending every waking moment thirsting after him lol

pen's reveal feels weirdly… lackluster. i think the only reason i'm not wowed by it completely is just bc she looks so uncomfortable. i get why she's like that, but i kinda feel like it would have been better if she felt even just a little bit confident in herself since it's not the same citrus colors like usual, but then reality crashes back in when she has to flirt with suitors and it just goes horribly wrong.

and i hope we see her in dark green again in part two bc she looks so good in it. what a waste it will be otherwise if all we ever see her in is pastels.

colin losing his train of thought once he sees pen I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT

fran and pen's convo. i live for it. i hope we see more of them as friends in part two and later seasons. also omg pen… my poor baby. i just relate to her so much, it hurts.

i think the reason why i love debling so much, or that i think in some ways he could have been a good suitor is bc he sees pen as capable. everyone else in pen's life doubts her abilities. they don't see her as someone that could be "normal" so to speak. or really, no one else sees her as a woman other than him. at least at first. (i'll go into my explanation later in episode two)

colin being immediately concerned for pen as she runs away YES

the whole "goodnight mr. bridgerton" scene…………….. 10/10 in every way. READ HIS ASS TO FILTH PENELOPE

okay, so the one thing i actually genuinely love about this scene is that in the books, colin is always known as the charming one. and that ends up being something he hates. in this show, instead of charming, he's nice (he's also charming, don't get me wrong. but he's known as being the nice one). he's always nice. always doing something nice for someone else. always being told he's nice. so to have pen call him out and say "the one time you should have been nice, you were just like everyone else instead" god i just KNOW that shook that man to his core. which is why he comes back to her all sad and puppy dog eyed like 'pwease pen i'm swrry'

rae is a queen with her stares. props to that actress haha

colin's speech to her is basically a love confession. and then there's the one in the carriage…. and then we are also getting ANOTHER one (allegedly). i'm not gonna survive this season !!

pen/nic looks GORGEOUS in this dress. i wish she wore it in more than just this scene omg

"i'm gonna ruin lady whistledown"…. hehe yes you are

episode two - how bright the moon

i feel bad for pen every time she has to have an interaction with portia. she's so cold to her, it's so sad to see.

forgot to point it out from the previous episode, but pen losing her customer service voice with colin is honestly the funniest thing to me and also so real of her

the scene of her trying to seduce the men was the awkwardest thing i've ever seen and i literally could not watch it without skipping thru it. she's great in that scene don't get me wrong but the second hand embarrassment is just too much for me to take sksks

her sisters, while the worst, are the funniest. so props to them.

yes, the scene of him with the sex workers is gross bc it's very unlike colin. however…. my god is luke hot. please let me see more of him in roles like that, thank you very much.

also someone pointed it out that you can see his tattoo in that scene and wow you really can. they did a poor job of covering it up lol or at least a hasty one

(this is a side note too, but i could swear on my life that there is another romcom where it's a guy trying to help a girl get a date and on one of the days he tries to help he leaves to go hook up with someone else or before hand is hooking up with someone else. i know it probably exists out that but that whole sequence reminded me of something i can't remember fully)

him remembering the first time they met is adorable and i'm so happy they kept it similar to the books. but i do also love the fact that he thinks she was able to laugh things off with him bc she was charming and not bc she was totally in love with him from the second she saw him lol

the statue of eros and psyche on the table while they talk about how they met YALL AIN'T SLICK I SEE YOU

this whole scene is so flirty and cute omg i love it

i highly recommend on a rewatch to put the english audio descriptors on bc… this scene is a *chefs kiss* when it ends with "rae stares at them sourly… rae follows, casting a sharp look at colin" that queen knows what's going on sksks

him touching her back…. SCANDALOUS. literally when i first saw this i gasped

okay, so the whole part of him teaching her to flirt or whatever was what i was talking about in the previous episode. so many ppl in pen's life don't see her as capable to be a woman. to them, she's a child, navigating the world confused and with her head in the clouds. her sisters have never seen her as competition bc to them, she will be a spinster. el would have never suspected pen to want a husband bc she always assumed that they would both be old maids together, regardless of what pen wanted. colin didn't think she would be able to flirt with him or take his breath away bc he saw how she was at the park (a singular time) and "knew" that she was incapable of being a flirt, which is why he's so taken aback by her "remarkable shade of blue" comment. everyone underestimates her and never suspects her to be an actual woman, when she has been one for quite sometime.

him being stunned into silence THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT BB

parts of this episode, and really the whole of part one, were spoiled to me (thanks so much for that twitter). and i heard ppl saying that colin writes smut in his journal and i'm like… surely that's not the case. and it really wasn't, but i think so many ppl got hung up on the fact he did that and not on the fact that he literally says "yeah i'm having all this sex, but i'm lonely. there's no love here" like… what a sad boy.

colin being angry is so hot, i'm sorry. i'm toxic lol

again, audio descriptor coming in clutch "he curls his fingers inward, softly enfolding hers" BROOOOOOOOO i died when i heard that the first time omg

i love he's like "maybe we should finish this for the day. but also…….. am i gonna see you later" this guy is touch STARVED my lord lol

el caring about pen… my heart hurts

i need it to be known that luke/colin looks so much like nick/kevin jonas to me it's crazy. certain angles make him look exactly like them it's nuts.

colin "praise kink" bridgerton unlocked by just pen saying a few sweet words about his writing… same

them just giggling at a guy mourning the loss of his horse… they are sick and twisted and perfect for one another lmao

el has the loudest mouth in all the ton, my GOD

"inserts himself? inserts himself where?" will never not be funny.

jealous by nick jonas playing…. i know that's right

it's also hilarious to think that colin is literally jealous of her talking to some other guy that he did not decide she should talk to. and then hearing he's calling upon her tomorrow, the face he makes????? omg i'm DYING i love jealous men i'm sorry

angry colin twice in one episode???? fuck i'm in heaven

never did i think in my wildest dreams i'd see pen's sisters fucking their husbands sksksks

the pen and portia scene hurt a lot, imma be honest. i think what's so interesting is how similar they are to one another in a way, but how pen still has hope, while portia doesn't.

and there is one brief moment when she tries to reach out and comfort pen… god, that made me tear up the first time i saw it.

him bribing rae??? thank you sugar daddy haha

also did anyone else notice pen's little smile when he said that?? i'm LOSING IT

omg this kiss scene sent me into literal orbit holy shit

the first time i saw this scene i straight up cried bc i relate to pen so much so... that was fun lol

the emotional range this scene has is fantastic. pen's desperation and plea to colin, her finally admitting to something she truly wants and putting herself out there, and getting it back in return instead of disregarded. and the kiss?????? the score, the movement, the emotion; god an absolute 20/10 i've rewatched it countless times and never get tired of it

and colin being absolutely enamored and in love with her instantly once he kissed her??? ROMANCE IS BACK BABY

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Susie finds the blob's code even more fascinating than what she got from the God Box shard...and also far more frustrating. With the God Box, there was some actual underlying structure beneath all the malware and corruption since, even if it was corroded and out-of-date now, it had originally been something. This stuff on the other hand seemed to be nothing more or less than a heaping pile of junk data that had fallen together just right to turn random bits back on, and yet the whole mess was somehow organized and aware enough to fight back against her prodding. And it's a smart little bugger too. But she's not just any run-of-the-mill hacker, ooooh no, she is President Susana Patrya FUCKING Haltmann and on her father's deleted soul she will find out what makes this slimy bastard Tick!

Anyway, while she's hyperfocused on the programming side of things everyone else is busy fighting against the Abyss blob's physical body as it tries to escape...and against all the Heartless outside the castle trying to get to the potent Dark presence they sense in the lab. Technically, doing this in Radiant Garden was a bad idea given the...Everything about the Kingdom Hearts universe, but most of the equipment they needed for this project was here and already set up and ready to go, the necessary tech that wasn't here was more easily portable than the tech that was (thank you, Haltmann-brand convenience), and Lag really wanted this to get done as soon as possible.

LMAOO I love this!! Susie being completely focused on figuring out the blob, what makes it tick and everything is so in character for her! It's going to give her a hard time, but like she said, she's a Haltmann and she'll figure it out.

And I'm just imagining this blob just throwing everyone around as it tries to escape, screeching and screaming the entire time as it does. And while most of the time, it's pretty unintelligible, there's one thing that's pretty clear.. "Daughter". Could it mean.. Abyssal?

[devils-windchimes]

Pitch Canker Challenge Prompts Part 1: Days 1-10

There are a total of 31 prompts. Due to submission limitations, I can only post 10 at a time. January 1st through 10th.

EDIT 03/22/2023: Part 2 here!

Dove and Marge meet! Dove is a fan of Marge, but Marge thinks she's literally too slimy.

Mabel is watering her garden, but there's a giant monster destroying the whole neighborhood.

Pattern's ex-fiancé cheated on him, so he decided to take his frustration out on the canvas by painting a burning wedding arch. That bastard shouldn't have done that to Pat.

Lee is a well-known celebrity in an AU. A director/actor/scriptwriter, something like that? Anyway, he can't really seem to handle this fame thing too well.

Yvan (from my other blog, which sadly needs some upkeep, @mr-gooseyshoes!) saw his favorite coworker Todd getting bullied by some guy on the street. Unluckily for the stranger, Yvan was rather hungry. I don't think that guy survived.

This drawing was an "if I could choose how Samuel would die, how would I do it?" hypothesis. I don't plan on killing him off anytime soon. You will see him again on Day 26.

Chloe torments Quincy in his nightmares, and this just happened to be one of them. They all have the same theme, just different conversations.

Matchh politely asks to enter your home. He wants loose leaf tea, and he seems rather friendly. How could you possibly say no to that adoring face?

Angelo is not convinced that there's something horribly wrong in the city. He thinks all children and teens are annoying, and JJ is no exception. When there's viruses running amok, some guy pointing at a kid with the wrong finger is the least of anyone's worries.

You have wronged Matchh by giving him bagged tea absentmindedly, and it's too late to apologize or turn back. Now he wants a sanguine sample instead.

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1976  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern.  You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius​

[ladygloucester]

Here of all places - Chapter 5

Previously…

Claire stared at her sneakers, soaking in blood. The center of the universe had reduced itself to that precise instant and place, to her feet, standing in a slimy red pool, right after having killed a man on the table. The words still reverberated in her ears like the sound of a blade being sharpened.

“You have killed him. You’re responsible for his death and I will hold you accountable for this.”

When Claire left the elevator, she ran into mayhem. The otherwise quiet and peaceful surgical floor of Helwater was immersed in havoc. A whirlwind of blue and green scrubs fled around, not staying in the same place for more than a few seconds before running to the next one. Completely caught off guard, Claire stood there trying not to be in anyone’s way and at the same time, looking for Joe in the middle of that commotion. His voice suddenly emerged from the myriad of others, barking orders. He was standing in one of the trauma rooms, near a gurney occupied by a painfully young soldier he was examining. His eyes darted to her and a sigh of relief accompanied them.

“Claire! Where were you?“ He inquired before opening a surgical tray and beginning to place a central line in the soldier’s neck.

“What happened?”

“An explosion. One of the barracks in Edinburgh exploded not fifteen minutes ago and we’re taking in the majority of the wounded. Which is an awful lot. Don’t stay there staring. Get ready and run Trauma 5, we’re shorthanded for something like this.”

Claire’s instruction kicked in. This wasn’t different from any day in the ER where she had worked before, except for the magnitude. Car crashes could take a few people to the emergency room at the same time, but from the activity that boiled in the floor, this incident completely overpassed any accident. Stabilizing the patients became essential. Those who came in with a red badge attached to their gurney took priority, and Claire focused on the task of giving them a thread of life to hold on to. The wounds were terrible, worst than anything she had seen, and surprisingly, this helped her to distance herself from the situation, almost surreal in its carnage.

The rhythm was frenetic. She hadn’t finished patching one patient and the next one was already waiting outside the trauma room. Barely a few seconds to change her blood stained gloves and a new body, mangled and damaged, laid in front of her to save. Claire made an effort to ask their names to each and every soldier that came in, a smile and a firm but gentle tone impregnating her voice behind the mask. Some of them were too young to being experiencing that kind of pain, and a pinch in the back of her eyes stung whenever she heard their ages, read from the chart by the nurse.

The succession flew, one after the other, gashes, burns, fractures, concussions, an endless catalogue of each and every wound that a human being could sustain. After the third, Claire lost count of the patients and the hours. Her eyes, always focused on the task, her thoughts always one step ahead to be ready for anything and everything, her hands steady, trustworthy, executing every move with finesse and elegant precision.

For the thousandth time that day, Claire turned around to take off her gloves and replace them with new, sterile ones, but no gurney entered the room. Snapping out of her concentrated mist, her gaze searched for the nurse, that had begun to clean up the room.

“That was the last of them, doctor Beauchamp—”

“No, it was not!”

The resounding voice filled the precarious silence that had spread throughout the surgical floor, bringing along a new wave of commands and wails. In an instant, her room was again filled with the smell of blood and burned flesh. Laying on the gurney, a blonde young man cried through his clenched teeth. His hands hugged his abdomen, as if trying to hold on to the pieces and drops of life that were leaving him inexorably. Under his fingers Claire could sense the extensiveness of his wounds. They couldn’t lose not even a second.

“This is my brother, here.” That voice, again, filled her ears and tore her eyes from the patient. In the threshold, a military officer stood, his hands maroon with the dried fluids. “Save him.”

She wasn’t one to be intimidated by orders like that one, but a shiver danced on her spine with an acute sense of warning.

“Let us work, then,” Claire answered coldly. With the corner of her eye, she saw him slowly retire and disappear. “What’s your name, soldier?”, she asked, wiping the young man’s face and placing the stickers on his chest to connect him to the monitors.

“Alex, I’m— I’m Alex. Christ, this hurts,“ he mumbled.

“I know, Alex. We’re going to fix you, but I need you to let go of your hands, ok?” A hint of terror flashed in his eyes, and Claire smiled. “I got you. I know it’s scary and sudden and you think you shouldn’t be here. But I got you. Just let go and let me take over for you.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, measuring and reflecting. Finally, his hands loosened up and Claire’s confident smile froze when the cardiac monitor began to beep out of control. His arms fell flatly to his sides as his eyes closed, losing consciousness while blood pumped out of his torso.

“Damn it!! He was clamping his own aorta, get us to the OR, stat!”

There was too much blood to see. The artery was completely severed and the extremes were lost in the mess of clotted blood and fluids that came out of the wound. Packing as much gauze as she could, Claire pressed with her whole body on top of the gash and jumped on the gurney while they fled.

“Come one, Alex, don’t do this. Hang on, you bastard. This isn’t it,“ she whispered under her breath, her arms aching with the strength she was using to keep the hemorrhage at bay.

“Claire?”

Joe’s concern drove her out of the never-ending loop she was playing in her head. Suction, clamp, blood transfusion, page Dr. Gowan, head of cardio-thoracics, get him ready for bypass. Control the hemorrhage, another bag of blood, this time in the rapid infuser, where the hell is Gowan, he’s currently in another surgery and can’t make it, he’s coding, bring him back, push epi and atropine, start bypass, ask for a Dacron graft tray, widen the incision, suction, suture, insert the graft, get him out of bypass, bring him back again twice more, the graft won’t hold, the aorta bursts again, trying to get him back on bypass, not enough blood left to pump, time of death 6:13 pm.

His words, piercing through that professional shield she had accustomed herself to, in order to keep the pain away, at an arm’s distance.

You have killed him. You’re responsible for his death and I will hold you accountable for this.

“Claire.”

Unfocused, her gaze tried to fix on the origin of that voice, and a friendly face and a reassuring smile became more defined.

“Joe, I—”

“I know. Please, an aortic dissection? He was dead the minute he entered Helwater, Claire. You’re seasoned enough to know that.” She nodded and sighed. The OR was empty and Joe was staring at her from the threshold. Slowly, she stepped out of the blood, the floor sticky and not willing to let her go entirely, as she stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall near the door.

“I thought we could make it.”

“You know that if the aorta bursts you have barely minutes to fix it. It’s virtually impossible to succeed if the rupture happens outside an OR. I don’t want you to beat yourself about this.”

“I have to inform—“

“Don’t worry. Dr. Gowan has already filled the papers. Claire,“ Joe warned her again when he saw her gaze staring back into the surgery in her mind. She snapped out of it and smiled without too much intention. “Go get a shower. I’ll see you at the party.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the party. Do you think, after all that happened—”

“These people have busted their asses today. Of fifteen patients, there has been only two fatalities. Considering the magnitude of the accident and the wounds the victims sustained, I’m telling you: we all need to unwind.”

There was nobody in the locker room. Everybody had left already, probably going home after the terrible events of the day. Drained, Claire stood under the hot spray of the shower, allowing the water to take it all away: blood, sweat and guilt. Those words still echoed in the back of her mind. A clear order she had failed to fulfill. But Joe was right. There was nothing left for her to do, and she had tried her best to keep Alex alive. His state was beyond help, and slowly she allowed that idea to sink in, expelling the thoughts of incompetence, frustration and self-doubt along the way.

A quick look at her cellphone told her the party would be already over. Near the clock digital display, a small envelope blinked. She had tested her address to Jamie before all hell broke loose, and there it was. A thumbs up emoji as an answer.

Jesus, we are fifteen indeed.

Geillis told her she would invite the few selected people over around six o’clock. It was over nine when she jumped in her car, thinking about her comfy bed and the soft quilts she would tuck herself with. Maybe even a hot cup of tea with those shortbreads she had bought a couple of days before in a nearby bakery. As the plan settled in her mind and her muscles began to relax with the idea, Claire’s car entered her street and pulled up a couple of blocks away. She didn’t need to come closer. When she got out, the reverberation of the music pounded in her ears. The whole street was packed with cars and people roaming outside her small cottage style house.

“Geillis, you’re dead. You’re so dead.“

What was going to be a small soirée for a few close friends, had finally burst into a full sized frat party. But instead of twentysomethings getting drunk and making out, it was full of grown up adults with responsibilities, mortgages and careers. Apparently age was just a number, she thought when she saw one of her fellow surgeons doing a keg stand in the garden.

Music was so loud Claire could feel her eardrums beating. Her eyes searched frantically for Geillis, until she finally saw her blonde head, dancing on top of her coffee table with a bottle of tequila on her hand. Once more, she leaned against the wall and sighed. There was anything but peace in that house. No warm quilts, no soothing tea, no quiet silence before falling asleep. The mayhem they had experienced in the surgical floor of Helwater had turned into a much needed release. She could tell, by the energy in the air, that those people (most of them she didn’t even know) needed it. They needed to dance away the exhaustion, the tears, the worries, the weight of a human life on their hands. So she saw herself presented with two options: she could try to evict them all (and miserably fail), or she could join them.

Throwing her coat and backpack to the floor, Claire dogged the dancers the same way she had dogged gurneys and wheelchairs on her way to Geillis.

“Clairrrre!!!!!”

In the midst of a inebriated hug, Claire stole her bottle of tequila and took a long sip.

“Ye made it! We thought ye wouldna.” Geillis’ accent was thicker when she drank, and by the way she was talking, Claire could tell this wasn’t her first bottle. Willie’s startled (and happy) voice distracted her.

“Claire!! Ye made it! We thought—”

“I wouldna make it, yeah. Apparently that didn’t keep you from turning my house into a rave, Willie.” He had the good sense to at least look apologetic, but Claire offered him the tequila and shrugged. “I told you. I’m not cleaning.”

The air was stingingly cold. Her cheeks were flushed, both the temperature and the tequila responsible for the apple color in them. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. After a few hours dancing and drinking, the smells in her living room were a bit overpowering, in neat contrast with the wintry wind that shook her disarrayed curls in the porch. Her body still swayed with the rhythm of the music, her mind lost in a peaceful bliss where the past was long foregone and the future too far away to be worried about just yet.

“I hope ye got more than one keg, Sassenach. Otherwise I’ll have to drink your salad condiments.”

That airy velvet, rolled around the ‘r’ and low enough to make her bones vibrate with it, reached her inner self, that tiny bit of consciousness she still kept at all times. There he was. Stunningly handsome. Instead of the military uniform he was forced to wear while in the Helwater premises, Jamie was wearing a pair of soft, comfortable dark jeans, a black sweater and a white t-shirt underneath. Leaning against his car, he was staring at her with a smirk that made her belly tingle and awoke a need that had been sleeping during the chaos of the day.

A wide smile got plastered in her face, and he reciprocated tilting his head.

“Och, Sassenach, ye drunk? Booze isna a good fellow to rely on, ye ken? All it’ll give ye is a headache and punch in the gut.”

Claire tried to keep herself upright while descending the stairs, until she reached him and stuck her body against his, placing her hands on top of his shoulders.

“Is that what you’ve come to do? Scold me like a teen girl who sacked his daddy’s wet bar?”

[daphnewritings]

Chapter 12: The Dragon Egg

Summary: Draco is a sneaky little bastard

Warnings: A reminder of that feeling you get when you touch something old and slimy and immediately want to chop your hand off

Word Count: 4.8k

- Chapter 11 / Chapter 13 - 

Before Draco knew it, the Easter holidays had come and passed. Their teachers had decided that it was high time to start preparing them for their exams, despite the fact that they were over two months away. The overload of review work, along with the new spells, potions, constellations, and wizarding world history may have caused a lesser young wizard’s head to spin, but Draco was only feeling a slight strain. He had already advanced past most of the other witches and wizards in his grade besides a select annoying few, so he was more than prepared for the upcoming end of year exams.

This didn’t mean that he wasn’t spending every moment he could studying. Sure, he was proficient. More than proficient, if the teachers of Hogwarts were to be believed. But it wasn’t enough to be good. He had to be the best.

Which is how he found himself often leaving the confines of the Slytherin common room on his own to find solitude away from his friends and the general hubbub. He needed to focus more than ever now if he was to beat those other proficient witches and wizards.

For the most part, his friends didn’t understand his intensity. “Come on, Dray,” Blaise said on the Monday following Easter Sunday, looking over Draco’s shoulder at the array of studying materials spread across the rug in front of Draco’s crisscrossed legs, “you can’t be up studying again. The exams are ages away!” He pulled a random sheaf of parchment that Draco was using as a bookmark out of Draco’s copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and gave it a look before tossing it aside flippantly and throwing himself elegantly down onto the couch behind Draco. “I don’t even know why you’re killing yourself over Herbology anyway. Everyone knows you’re top of our class.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “I may be the top of our class, but that doesn’t say much, Blaise. I can best Slytherin and Ravenclaw, but what about the other first years in other houses? My parents are expecting top marks at the end of this year, not just good ones.” He paused for a moment between memorizing the Devil’s Snare rhyme and the uses of Puffapods to lean his head back against the couch and close his eyes. “And as you well know,” he said quietly, “my weakest subject is Herbology.”

Blaise huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh Dray, of course I know. Your parents aren’t the only ones who expect their child to be the top of the class.” He sat up and said in an undertone, “I’ve just given up on besting you. But you can still count on me being right on your ass in every test, friend.” He ruffled Draco’s hair as he stood up, causing it to spike up at odd angles. Draco glared at his back as he walked away and fervently returned to his memorization.

So now Draco spent most of his free time between classes and after dinner absorbed in his textbooks and notes at a table in the library that was beside a bank of windows that looked out over the towering pines of the Forbidden Forest. Whenever he needed a break, he would sit on the windowsill and let his mind rest as he watched the tops of the trees sway in a breeze, or he would wander the stacks, pulling out books at random. There was one time when he found himself flipping through the pages of a particularly musty book in which someone had actually pinned different types of merpeople scales onto the pages. When he ran his finger over them, they still felt slimy to the touch, a feeling that had him immediately slamming the book shut and sliding it back into its place on the shelf.

He’d washed his hands multiple times after that in an effort to try to erase the feeling.

On one such afternoon halfway through April, Draco once again found himself strolling beside the tall bookcases, not really paying attention to the titles of the books his finger was trailing across when he heard Potter’s unmistakable whisper off to his left.

“Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?”

Draco walked to the end of his row and peaked around the corner. Potter’s back was to him, as was Granger’s. They were both watching Weasley as he stood up and announced, “I’m going to see what section he was in,” before he walked off into the stacks.

Draco saw that their table, much like his own, was also strewn with study materials and stacks of books, Granger’s being the tallest of the three. Potter leaned back in his chair, pushing the rickety thing back onto two legs as he ran his hand through his unruly black hair. It was always all over the place and Draco thought sometimes about what it would take to force it to lie flat. Often, he wondered what would happen if he cursed it off of Potter’s head, an idea that usually made him chuckle to himself.

Draco was in the middle of picturing this perfect scenario in his head when he realized he hadn’t tried to mess with Potter in days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d even thought about tripping Potter in the halls or dropping frog eyes into his pumpkin juice. Wait, Draco thought, when was the last time he tried to pull on over on me?

Weeks.

It had been weeks.

Maybe he really should pull his face out of his books every once in a while. Life was about more than studying for their end of year tests, after all.

And it really wouldn’t do for Potter to think he had gone soft.

When Weasley came back around the corner carrying a teetering pile of books in his arms, Draco quickly pressed himself deeper into the shadows of the bookshelves. It also wouldn’t do for you to get caught snooping before you even figure out what Potter’s up to, now would it? Draco berated himself.

“Dragons!” Granger hissed as the books spilled out of Weasley’s arms.

The front two legs of Potter’s chair slammed against the ground as he pushed through some of the pile to look through the titles. “It makes sense,” he said quietly, “Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, told me so the first time I met him.”

Dragons? Hagrid? A…stone? What were Potter and his friends up to?

“But it’s against our laws,” Weasley said as he precariously propped his own chair up on its hind legs. “Has been since 1709. It’s hard to keep Muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden.”

“But there aren’t any wild dragons in Britain, right?” Potter asked incredulously.

“Of course there are, but the Ministry has set up wards around most cities and towns to turn them around if they get too close. Although, sometimes they’ll get to close to a village in the hills and then the Ministry has to send out a whole battalion to hush them up.

“But if it’s banned,” Granger mused, “then why on Earth is Hagrid researching them?”

Why indeed? Draco thought before he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep himself from snorting as Weasley’s chair tipped a little too far. While Granger and Potter were both laughing at Weasley’s flailing form as he was thrown backwards, Draco slipped back through the shelves, his resolve to once again keep a closer eye on Potter renewed.

He would get to the bottom of this new mystery, no matter what.

>< 

After a whole week of nothing, Draco got the answer he was looking for during breakfast on Wednesday. He’d made it a habit to meander along behind Potter after he finished his breakfast and dinner, sometimes even skipping out on the last few bites of his own meal to follow him out of the Great Hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen Potter’s big white owl drop down in front of him, which was a fairly uncommon occurrence all on its own, but the reaction he had when he read the note he pulled off its leg was what really caught Draco’s eye. Potter had tensed up and immediately shown Granger and Weasley. The trio had hastily abandoned their meals and walked right out of the Great Hall, forcing Draco to do the same and leave behind a freshly buttered muffin.

Oh, the things one does to meddle in their archenemy’s affairs.

In the middle of his mad scramble to follow them, Draco met Theo’s disconcerted gaze across the table. “What?” he asked, shoving his latest homework assignment from McGonagall into his bag without even checking to see if the ink had dried, not that he’d even written a word beyond ‘The’ since he had been so intent on watching Potter and his friends.

“You’re more,” Theo waved his splayed fingers in front of his face, “distracted than usual. What’s – ”

“Cool, yeah, can we talk about this later?” Draco asked, interrupting what he was sure would have been a fascinating comment that he did not have the time for. Potter had just exited the Great Hall and Draco could feel his opportunity to figure out what had been written in that note slipping away.

Theo opened his mouth to say more, but Draco cut him off. “Great, see you later!” And then he was rushing off after Potter, only remembering just before he raced out of the Great Hall that he couldn’t just run up behind him and expect to learn all his secrets.

Slowing down, Draco breathed in deep and then strolled out of the Great Hall, hoping that he was putting off the desired air of nonchalance. When he saw the three Gryffindors with their heads close together, he casually walked closer to them, stopping within earshot of their whispers. Acting like he needed desperately to hunt through his bag for something, he listened while he rummaged.

“I say we just skip Herbology and go straight there,” Weasley said.

“No, Ron, every lesson is important this time of year! You never know what Professor Sprout is going to add to our exam.” Draco had to agree with Granger on that one. “Besides, it’ll be a little suspicious if all three of us skip a class, don’t you think?” she asked the two boys.

“Oh, come off it, ‘Mione! How many times in our lives do you think we’ll get the chance to see a dragon hatch?”

You’ve got to be joking, Draco thought, freezing at Weasley’s last words. There’s absolutely no way.

“We’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what Hagrid’s going to get caught up in when someone finds out what he’s doing – ”

“Shut up!” Potter hissed suddenly.

Without looking up, Draco knew they had finally spotted him just a few feet to their right. He could feel the sly smile that split his face as his eyes flicked up and met Potter’s. Draco could see that his expression was a mix of apprehension and anger since he couldn’t be sure as to how much, if any, Draco had heard of their little discussion.

Don’t worry, Draco thought as he spun on his heel and headed for the stairs that would lead to the upper floors of the castle, I got everything I needed.

Draco barely listened to McGonagall over the next hour and a half. He could barely sit still much less take any notes on the Avifors Spell, which they would be performing in class the following week. How could he, when he had an unobstructed view of the greenhouses out one of the few spare windows in the room and knew he needed to watch for any black cloaked figures racing down toward Hagrid’s dismal looking little hut? Theo and Pansy kept giving him odd looks whenever he would crane his neck about to make sure he wasn’t missing any hidden corners, but he just waved them off.

Once the bell rang, signaling the beginning of morning break, Draco bolted out of the classroom and practically flew down the stairs until he reached the entrance hall. He weaved and pushed his way through the crowd of students coming in through the front doors from their morning lessons. Once Draco had finally freed himself from the tangle of teen and pre-teen limbs, he followed a trail that branched off from the main path that led to the greenhouses towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid’s home.

Once he finally crested the last hill and the small stone house came into view, he braced his hands on his knees. As he gulped down air, he watched as the tail end of Granger’s robe disappeared through the oaf’s door and smiled.

He hadn’t missed anything.

Crouching a bit as he jogged down to the house so he wouldn’t be seen from any of the small, square windows, Draco pressed himself up against its round side and listened to the muffled voices within. When they all suddenly went silent, Draco couldn’t resist standing on his tiptoes to see what was going on.

At the time, when he’d overheard Potter and his friends earlier that morning outside of the Great Hall, the only part of the information that had stuck with him up until now was that it could be used against Potter. Draco hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that he could possibly see a dragon hatch, an event that few ever got to witness. And, though he hated to admit it to himself, and would never, ever say it to anyone else, Weasley was right about this being something that couldn’t be missed.

That thought in itself nearly ruined the sight that was unfolding before his eyes. He persevered, if only to appreciate the tiny, spindly black creature that rolled out across Hagrid’s rough-hewn kitchen table. Its wings, which were tipped with tiny claws and it’s shining black scales that reflect the light of the fire looked straight out of a fairytale. Hagrid, who was facing Draco, thew his hands up in delight as the dragon righted itself and blew a flurry of sparks in his direction, setting his bushy beard alight. Draco couldn’t help feeling the same sort of elation at the existence of this purely magical creature.

As Hagrid was patting the sparks away, he looked away from the baby dragon for only a split second, but that was all it took for him to notice Draco outside the window. Leaping back from the window as Hagrid surged to his feet, Draco turned and pelted back the way he’d come, his mind reeling with what he’d seen.

A real live baby dragon! Draco would have thought that Potter might have caught onto his snooping and was making it all up, if he hadn’t just witnessed the dragon hatching himself. It took him a minute to remember that this was supposed to be something he was going to use against Potter, rather than marvel at alongside him.

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see if he was being pursued. When he saw there wasn’t any black robed figures dashing out of the little house below, he slowed his sprint to a jog, and finally, to a walk. When he reached the top of the hill and looked behind him again, he saw that the door had been thrown open and a person with unruly black hair stood on the threshold, staring after him.

Draco waved jauntily and continued on his way, not bothering to look back to see if Harry had responded in kind.

He had a feeling he didn’t.

>< 

Over the course of the next few days, every time Draco saw the three Gryffindors in the halls or during meals, he always plastered a bright, knowing smile on his face reserved just for them. During Potions two days after the dragon hatched, Draco could feel Potter’s gaze burning a hole through the back of his skull, but he refused to turn around and acknowledge him, which he absolutely knew set Potter on fire.

He barely had to do a thing in Potter’s presence to have his eyes glued on him the entire time they breathed the same air, something that Draco enjoyed immensely.

When he was pulling out his textbook and wand for Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday, Daphne leisurely strolled up to the desk in front of Draco’s and dropped her own textbook onto it with a loud thud. Draco didn’t even pause from what he was doing as he said, bored, “What is it, Daphne?”

“I know something you don’t know,” she trilled, promptly sitting down in her seat and propping her chin up on her two palms.

Draco responded with a noncommittal hum as he reorganized his bag and hung it on the back of his chair, letting her stew in his disinterest. He had figured out, in his past experiences with Daphne, that if you left her alone for long enough when she felt like she had something she could hold over you, that you wouldn’t have to work that hard to get the information out of her when you finally gave her the attention she wanted.

There was also the fact that she could be absolutely insufferable when you gave in too quickly.

When he was finally ready to deal with her, he sat down and arched a dark brow at her. “Well, what is it that you so want to tell me?”

She was practically bouncing out of her seat, waiting for him to settle down. “I overheard Hemione Granger talking to Parvati Patil about how Ron Weasley is now mysteriously locked away in the Hospital Wing with an unexplainable bite on his hand,” she said, all in a rush.

And occasionally she would bring him tidbits of information that were actually useful, like today.

“Oh?” he asked, burying his increasing interest so it wouldn’t show on his face and give away how much he needed to know more right now. “And what did Granger have to say about this mysterious bite?”

Daphne shrugged. “Nothing. She made it sound like it was just some Herbology lesson that had gone wrong. You know how some of Sprout’s plants can be.”

Indeed, he did. He had accidentally stumbled too close to the Venomous Tentacula and could’ve sworn he saw his very short life flash before his eyes.

But Draco was pretty sure that he knew exactly how Weasley had gotten that bite, and it definitely was not from one of Sprout’s vicious plants.

“You know something about it, don’t you?” she needled.

Draco shrugged, flipping open his book as Quirrell walked in, turban slightly askew as always. “I might.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined pitifully, “just tell me.”

He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper, making her bend towards him so she could catch his words as Quirrell started the class. “Daphne, dearest, if I wanted every single person in the school to know my business, then I would tell you. When I need that to happen, trust me, I’ll let you know.” He leaned back, satisfied with the offended look on her face and started to take notes on Quirrell’s latest lesson on vampires.

After class, Draco headed straight for the Hospital Wing. He knocked on the one of the cherry double doors and waited a few seconds for Madam Pomfrey, who pulled the door open with a quizzical look on her face. “Hello,” Draco started with a pleasant smile, “I was wondering if I could visit Wease – I mean Ron. It will only take a moment.”

“No, I don’t think that wise, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Weasley is very sick and needs his rest.” She started to close to door but Draco threw his arm out, bracing it open. Madam Pomfrey stared at the offending hand and then looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

Draco half thought he had, but retracted his hand and tried again. “Please, Madam Pomfrey, I really think Ron would benefit from my presence. See, we’re good friends and I just really wanted him to know that I’m thinking about him in his time of need.” He could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, but the door was still open, so he still had a shot. Deciding on a different track, Draco threw his hands up as if he were finally giving in and said, “Honestly, Madam Pomfrey, I just need to borrow one of Weasley’s books. I accidentally spilled a bit of practice potion all over my Potions textbook and none of my friends will let me borrow theirs.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded sagely. “Ah, see young Mr. Malfoy, I can always tell when one of you young witches or wizards is trying to put one over on me.” She sat back on her heels and considered him for a moment before she waved him inside. “You better be in and out in a tick, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t have all day to sit around waiting while my patients mess about with their visitors.”

With that she turned and bustled off into her office. Draco waited until her door closed before he strolled down to the only bed with curtains drawn around it. He grasped one edge of the blue and white striped fabric and pushed it aside. Weasley looked over as the curtains swished back into place behind Draco and groaned.

“Go away, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled. “Now why would I do that?”

“Can’t you see I’m already in enough pain?” he groused, waving his bandaged left hand around. “I don’t need you to add to it.”

“Even if I know how you got that bite?” he asked. The color started to drain from Ron’s face as Malfoy leaned in closer and whispered, “Should I go knock on Madam Pomfrey’s door then? Tell her what I know?” Ron just stared at him with his mouth slightly open like a dying fish.

“I could, you know,” Draco said, straightening up and brushing his hands down the front of his robes. “It certainly wouldn’t be any skin off my back.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“What?”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” Ron asked again. “Why haven’t you set Hermione, Harry, and me all up with a lifetime of detention and gotten Hagrid fired?”

Draco paused, considering his question. He wasn’t an idiot to ask him about it, considering that Draco couldn’t quite nail down his reasoning himself. It was why he had started this after all, right? To catch Potter doing something that would land him in trouble?

“Maybe I just like watching the lot of you squirm,” Draco said at last while he flipped through the books on Weasley’s bedside table. Once he found Ron’s copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, he tucked it under his arm and turned to leave. “Let me know when you figure out how to deal with your little problem,” Draco threw over his shoulder.

“Oh, don’t worry, Malfoy,” Ron called after him as the curtains swung shut. “We will.”

Draco rolled his eyes as he strolled down the center of the row of empty beds. Nodding to Madam Pomfrey as he let himself out, he shoved the extra textbook he didn’t need into his bag and headed for dinner.

Later on, when he was back in the Slytherin common room and tucked away in his own little corner away from his friends, he pulled out McGonagall’s latest assignment on undoing the effects of the Avifors Spell and changing their blackbirds back into inkpots. When he settled back into his chair, quill in hand, he accidentally knocked over his bookbag and sent the contents tumbling out onto the floor. Muttering darkly about his own clumsiness, he noticed something he hadn’t before about the book he’d taken from Weasley.

There was a bit of parchment sticking out at an odd angle. Bending to pick it up, he leafed through the pages until a folded note fell out into his lap. Flipping it open, he read it through once. And then twice.

And smiled.

>< 

On Saturday night, Draco waited until the only sounds he could hear from the boys sleeping around him were soft snores. Throwing back his sheets, he peeked out through the curtains around his bed and looked around to make sure that all the boys were indeed asleep. Satisfied with what he saw, he swung his legs off the bed and grabbed the sneakers waiting in front of his dresser. As he stepped out into the near darkness, he almost stumbled over Theo’s shoes, which had been kicked off haphazardly earlier that evening when he’d been getting ready for bed. With muffled curses, Draco slowly tiptoed around the room, going from bedpost to bedpost until he was in the open space leading to the door.

Reaching it, he slowly pushed it open and slipped out into the stairwell beyond. Bending down to yank his shoes on, he quickly tied his laces and raced up the many flights of stairs until he reached the common room above. By the light of the dying embers in the fireplaces, Draco took a quick peek around to make sure that the rest of House Slytherin was tucked away in their beds for the night and then continued his ascent.

Draco touched his palm lightly to the stone of the doorway that led out into the rest of the castle. Once the door opened enough to allow his slim frame to slip past, he stepped out into the darkness of the hall. He let the door close softly behind him and took a deep breath. Draco hadn’t planned much past escaping the Slytherin dorm, but now that he found himself outside of it in the middle of the night, he was arrested with exhilaration.

The whole castle was his to explore right now. He could go anywhere he wished, as long as it wasn’t blocked by an unknown password.

Was it really worth it to waste this newfound freedom on stalking Potter up the tallest tower to catch him with a young dragon?

Duh.

Though, if Draco was being honest, he’d fully expected Theo to notice how quiet he was being all night and ask what was going on, and then try to stop him when Draco inevitably told him.

He tried not to be disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to share this with Theo, but shook the feeling off when he remembered how weird he had been acting for the past week or so, ricocheting between hanging on Draco’s stories as he usually did and pointedly not listening to him at all.

Once this Potter situation was dealt with, Draco would worry about Theo’s mood swings. He certainly didn’t have the time now. He was just standing there in the middle of the deserted, darkened hall like a fool. He needed to move.

Sliding along the walls and around the dim pools of light offered by the torches burning down to their cinders in their brackets above him, Draco made his way slowly through the lower parts of the castle. He had to wait in the shadows for a few minutes once he reached the entrance hall, since Peeves had decided that now was the best time to play wall tennis. He soon grew bored and floated off and Draco waited a few more minutes before slipping up the staircase to the upper floors of the castle.

If he had been paying attention to anything besides his own actions, he would have seen the front doors silently opening and closing on their own as he turned the corner and headed up the stairs. But as it was, Draco was too absorbed in his own mission to notice anything as out of the ordinary as that.

Draco’s journey through the upper floors of the castle were much more tenuous than his time traversing the network of hallways below ground level. More than once he had to quickly and quietly leap behind a suit of armor or into a shadowed alcove to avoid detection by a ghost or Filch. But he didn’t let that stop him. He was determined to reach the tallest tower before Potter and Granger to catch them before they could send the dragon away with Weasley’s brother.

In fact, he was so determined that he didn’t notice the quiet footsteps coming up behind him as he crossed too close to a pool of light. When a hand came down on his shoulder and yanked him around midstride, no one was more surprised than him. Except for, perhaps, Professor McGonagall, who’s lamp was currently sparking to life just in front of his face.

 < Chapter 11 / Chapter 13 >

[shookykookie]

Ruby Red

Pairing: You/Yoongi 

Genre: smut (gang!au) 

Word Count: 6,552

Warning: oral, fingering, aggressive use of the work fuck 

Summary: You’ve been involved with Bangtan gang for a short while now, and they need you to steal a massive ruby. Maybe your heart will get stolen along the way...

A/N: Hi  this is the first BTS drabble I’ve ever done, sorry if it sucks. My sister got me addicted and I’m suffering, so enjoy suffering with me. I was considering writing a Part II, if not a Part III as well. Let me know what you think! I’m always trying to improve. 

You slip into the tight dress with a sigh. You’d been waiting months to bust out this dress for something special, but seducing a mobster was not exactly what you'd had in mind.

When it had been explained to you, the whole thing had seemed normal; just another rival takedown for Bangtan. There were too many shady, slimy bastards crawling around the city, just waiting to take down the newly established empire. Sure, you helped Bangtan infiltrate drug rings, spy on pimps, and eliminate threats, but that’s just what you did. You were good in the field, and all seven of them knew it. That’s why when Namjoon had specifically said, ‘We all need to look our best’, quirking one of those coy eyebrows at you specifically, you knew you were in for it.

All eight of you had gathered around the table in their compound when he’d dropped the news on you.

“What,” you asked. “Exactly are we doing?”

“Not we, sweetheart,” Namjoon said, a devilish smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “You.”

Namjoon was the proud leader of the infamous Bangtan, and anytime he gave instructions, you buckled down and listened. He’d begun to grow softer around you, less intimidating, once you’d saved their asses enough times. He had begun to treat you more like he did the others: as a friend. Despite that, you were still smart enough to be mildly afraid of the power he wielded.

Next to him sat Seokjin, his right-hand man. When money passed through their hands, and whole hell lot of money did, Seokjin oversaw it. The education he’d gotten served him well, and his intelligence was almost as intimidating as his broad-shouldered form. His carefully watching eyes didn’t miss anything, and in that moment, they had been trained on you.

Beside Seokjin were Jimin and Taehyung. The two of them, master exporters, handled drugs and weapons respectively. They were an excellent team, both around the same age, and infamously didn’t take shit from anyone, except maybe you. They were also both horrendously charming. Shoulder to shoulder at the table, they had snickered conspiratorially when Namjoon spoke, a bad sign.

Further down the table was Jungkook. The newest addition to Bangtan, besides you, had been relatively quiet. In all likelihood, the two of you would be paired up, as you often were, but he hadn’t sidled up to sit next to you as he normally did. It made your breath hitch in your chest.

Hoseok had taken up next to Jungkook instead, twiddling his rings round his fingers as he contemplated you. He typically had a smile on his face, but his business smugness had come down over his bright features. It was the face he used when he was negotiating with other gangs, drug lords, and criminals.

Most frightening of all, Yoongi had taken the chair next to you. Just his presence beside you made your hands tremble slightly. You weren’t afraid of most convicted felons, but you were definitely afraid of Yoongi. His hard, flinty eyes were ones you had a hard time meeting and his languid figure next to you felt like a predator’s, just waiting to spring on you and sink in his claws. The heat radiating off of him was nearly palpable, and the slow rise and fall of his chest sent waves of it out to brush against your skin. It didn’t matter that you’d saved his life once, and that’s what had tangled you in their web… he still made you squirm in your seat.

“Well,” you said nervously. “What am I doing?”  

Hoseok leaned forward on his elbows, shirtsleeves rolled up. “Have you ever heard of Satan’s Heart?”

Your brows furrowed. “Can’t say I have...”

“It’s a jewel, a ruby to be exact,” Hoseok said.

Jimin smiled. “A really big one.”

“What about this… Satan’s Heart?” you said. Hoseok’s gaze shifted towards Seokjin.

“It’s worth an exceptional amount of money,” he said.

“How much?”

Seokjin didn’t blink. “About $500 million.”

You choked on your own spit. “For a ruby?”

Tae laughed. “Again, it’s a really big one.”

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the tabletop, and each plunk of his fingertip against the wood was sending goosebumps shooting up your spine. You took a deep breath and waited for someone to speak. When no one did, you had to take another steadying breath before asking, “So what am I supposed to do about this very expensive, very big ruby?”

Namjoon tilted his head. “We think we know who has it.”

“And…?”

“And we want to steal it.”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “What am I, specifically, expected to do about that?”

Yoongi shifted forward and you tried not to flinch back as he grew infinitesimally closer, his warm breath tickling in your ear. “You seemed like the best distraction.”

They had explained the rest of the details in a whirlwind of information. The man in possession of Satan’s Heart, Kwon Junseung, was said to be attending a party that Friday. He was a top-notch smuggler king, a pirate lord of this day and age. Jungkook had overheard that he always came by himself to events, but didn’t stay lonely long. That, unfortunately, was where you came in.

After the dress, you deck yourself out to the nines in gold jewelry: gold rings, gold earrings, gold bangles, and a gold body chain that looped around your neck. There was so much jewelry on you that when you walked, you jingled lightly. Facing yourself in the mirror, you take a deep breath and prepped for the mission ahead.

“You can do this,” you mutter. “For Bangtan.”

They eight of you had planned to meet at the gig, so you rode alone in the back of the Uber. You could feel the driver’s curious, hungry eyes on you, almost as if he were in the backseat with you, breathing down your neck. The outfit was certainly working, perhaps too well. When the sleek black car pulls up the drive, alongside much more expensive cars, your heart jumps in your throat. The mansion sprawls out before you like a labyrinth, columns jutting up like skyscrapers into the endless black sky. The thick hedges wall everything in, and you can’t even see into the sprawling grounds that are sure to lie behind the house, panning out like the expanse of Versailles. You fear getting lost in it, in the alluring draw of the night. The panic begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You got out of the car and paid quickly.

The piece hisses to life in your left ear. “Any sign of Junseung?” Namjoon asks. As casually as you can, you brush a finger across the small gadget and ensure it’s undetectable.

“Not at the poker tables,” Jungkook says.

“Pool is clear,” Hoseok seconds.

“Garden is clear too,” Jin says.

“Bathroom, clear,” Jimin chimes in, laughing to himself.

“The bar is a zoo, but I don't see him,” Yoongi grumbles.

“Tae, what's the status of his car?” Namjoon asks.

“It's en route,” Taehyung says. “Y/N, where are you at?”

You take a steadying breath. “Just got here. Walking up the stairs now.”

The long slit up the thigh of your dress makes it easy to traverse the stairs in heels, and god damn are you grateful. The last thing you need to do is to fall down the stairs and break an ankle. The mission relies on you, revolves around your success.

“Head towards the bar,” Namjoon instructs. “Junseung’s a drinker. He’ll show up.”

Yoongi growls. “He better…” The sound of it, right in your ear, makes you swallow thickly. You shove all thoughts aside and focus on taking the stairs one at a time.

The front doors are held open for you by two well-dressed men, revealing a mobsters’ wonderland. The illusion of elegance is laid on thick; everyone wears designer tuxes and gowns, the gambling tables are dealing in high figures, the liquor is expensive and vintage. Despite this, you know the people are all filthy criminals. You take it all in. From a passing waiter’s tray, you nix a glass of champagne and begin to sip it slowly, watching the circling partygoers over the crystal rim. You are going to need some liquid courage to get through this.

The piece hums in your ear.

“He’s here.”

With careful eyes, you watch as the door swings open, then down your glass of champagne, and it tingles all the way down. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest, you fear someone might hear it over the orchestral music. The thud of it roars in your ears, but not loudly enough to drown out the earpiece.

“Converge around the bar. Be subtle,” Namjoon says.

Kwon Junseung, mobster extraordinaire, strides in wearing a crisp navy suit. The people part for him, but he strides past without noticing their averted gazes. When he passes by, you turn your back to give him an extraordinary view of the open back of your dress, and your perked-up ass. His eyes on you are as hot as coals, and you even catch a glance of him staring before his gaze flits away. Junseung isn’t embarrassed even a bit by being caught looking. He continues on towards the bar in the next room, where Yoongi sits waiting.

“Y/N, once everyone is in, make your move. ”

“Done and done.”

One by one, they file past you, trying their very hardest not to acknowledge each other.

“My, my doesn’t everyone look nice…” Jimin says humorously, walking by. Taehyung follows, snickers slightly when he catches sight of you. His gaze drags over you slowly, and you roll your eyes.

“Damn Y/N, where’d you find that dress?” Tae asks. He adjusts the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket with a flourish and continues on his way.

“How’d I know it’d be red?” Kookie follows up. He barely glances at you, but you can sense the sweet smile on his lips. You smile back.

“I look good in red,” you say.

“You most certainly do,” Jin echoes. Hoseok only raises a brow when he goes by. Namjoon is the last to enter, all seriousness.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” he murmurs. You take this as your cue, and once the doorway is empty, you square your shoulders and begin. With loosely swaying hips and long strides that accentuate your exposed thigh, you saunter in. The room is full of people, all of them dangerous, but you smirk as if you are the most dangerous of all. Your empty champagne glass dangles from your fingers, and you pretend to look around in boredom. Once you spot all seven members’ stakeouts, planted strategically around the large space, you make way for the bar. Junseung isn’t yet ordering a drink; he’d stopped to speak with a couple of other dark-suited men, and they have their heads bent together. Yoongi is comfortably situated at the center of the bar, and you stride in nearby. Heads turn as you do.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” you ask sweetly. With one look at your neckline, the bartender hastens to obey. Once the drink is in your hand, you make pointed glances over your shoulder at Junseung, waiting for the prey to crawl into your lap.

With a big swallow of your drink, you finally speak. “You look nice,” you say to Yoongi.

“You too. The necklace was a nice touch,” he says. It’s odd, being close enough to hear him over the wire and beside you. You try not to shift on the barstool too much; you should be worried about Junseung, not Yoongi.

“I hope it’s enough,” you say quietly. He lays his hands flat on the bar, long fingers stretching towards you in a silent gesture, and you try not to look at them.

“Every man in this room wants to unwrap you from that tight little number. If this bastard doesn’t take the bait, he’s a fool.”

His fingers brush along the back of your hand. Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget all about what you’re supposed to be doing. You and Yoongi are frozen in time, if only for a second. The tempting thought of reaching out and grabbing his hand crosses your mind. The even more tempting thought of bringing those long fingers to your open mouth-

Yoongi shakes his head. His hands move off the bar, away from you. He bottoms the gin and tonic and signals for the bartender to pour another.

“You alright there?” he asks, gaze flickering towards you. Yoongi makes a brief second of eye contact with you.

“Fine,” you say. “Just nervous.”

“Don’t get sloppy,” Namjoon orders over the mic. The sound of him back in your head makes you jump. You’d forgotten he could hear everything. “We need you. Both of you.”

“I wouldn’t leave Y/N on her own to deal with that creep,” Yoongi hisses. “I can handle a drink.”

“And I can handle Mr. Kwon,” you reply. Saying it aloud makes you more sure. Of course you can handle him. Yoongi huffs a sigh and sips at his drink. Then suddenly, he freezes, his glass suspended halfway to his mouth.

“He’s seen you,” Yoongi whispers.

“Of course he has,” you mutter, taking a pointed sip. “I wanted him to.”

You feel him approach more than you see him. His is a tangible presence, one that makes the air feel thick as you suck in a calming breath. He slides right up to the bar, as slippery as an eel, and takes the open spot next to you, just as you anticipated.

“Bourbon.”

The bartender averts his gaze from Junseung’s and pours fast. The amber liquid rolls in the glass as he swirls it, and then he takes an impressive gulp. He doesn’t flinch. For half a second, you think he isn’t going to acknowledge you.

Until, of course, he does. His gaze falls back on you as easily as the bourbon ran down his throat. His small smile feels like a knife at your neck.

“You know what I love about parties?” Junseung asks.

“The booze?” you suggest. He gives a small laugh, then shakes his head. His dark eyes are swallowing you whole.

“No,” he says. “The people.”

You lean over the bar a tiny bit further, and nudge your breasts up a bit higher. “It’s so funny you should say that. I’m here for the people too.”

Junseung appraises this with raised eyebrows. “What’s a girl like you doing here?” he asks. It feels cheap, like it’s out of a shitty action movie. He even props one elbow on the bar to give off an impression of casual disinterest. The situation is almost more than you can bear, even now. Yoongi on your other side, scoffs under his breath.

Teasingly, you smile at Junseung, flashing your teeth. “What kind of girl am I, hm?”

Junseung leans in. “I have a few guesses.”

With a sip of your drink and a gratuitous slide of your tongue across your lips, you pause. “Really? I’d like to hear them. I just love games.”

“Is that so?” he asks. “What kind of games?”

You smirk and twirl a finger in your hair, curling a strand around your finger. As salaciously as you can, you lean in, breasts puffed out on display. “All sorts of games.”

Junseung hums in approval. “Well I have a suggestion for you,” he says. “Let’s play a little game.”

You tilt your head. “I’m intrigued.”

“How about a little name game?” he says. “Since you undoubtedly know who I am, I’d like to know yours.”

You chuckle at his confidence. “And why are you so sure I know who you are?”

“Can you tell me you do not?” he asks. To avoid replying, you finish your drink.

“So you’re going to guess my name?”

Junseung nods. Already he has grown closer. His hand, when it lowers on the small of your back, is ice cold. “Let me buy you a drink. And then I’ll guess.”

The ear piece buzzes to life. “What a fucking prick.” It’s Yoongi. He’s gone rock solid on your other side and is clutching at his drink with white knuckles. Again, with those fingers...

“He runs the sex trafficking up north,” Namjoon says. “Of course he’s a prick.”

You clear your throat and try to silence all the conflicting voices. “What happens if you guess wrong?” you ask.

Junseung shakes his head. “I won’t guess wrong.”

“Well what happens if you guess right?”

Junseung taps a finger on his lip, then breaks into another grin, this one bordering on monstrous. “Then we play a different sort of game.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Yoongi snarls. You ignore.

He hands you another drink. You hold it, feel the cold condensation on your palm and try to use it to anchor yourself. You do not take a sip.

“Start guessing.”

He contemplates for a few seconds, sipping at his drink. “You have to give me a few tries…”

You shrug and accept this. “Fine. But not too many.”

“Of course,” he says. “It has to be a beautiful name… Beautiful, like you.”

Yoongi hisses into the earpiece and your shoulders tense at the sound, but you try not to give yourself away. Junseung continues.

“It also has to be alluring… mysterious perhaps?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, letting them cast shadows across your accentuated cheekbones. “These aren’t guesses…”

Junseung heaves a heavy sigh. “I suppose I’m just not sure… Won’t you tell me, sweetheart?”

His hand, still cold, slide across the bare skin of your back. Begrudgingly, you let him and try not to fidget under his touch. It feels like seaweed dragging across your skin: utterly gross.

“What will you give me if I tell you?” you say, quirking a brow. His hand pauses.

“Everything.”

You smirk. “Is that a promise?”

Junseung smiles back. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

With an air of utter confidence, he tosses back his drink, and your smile grows. “I think I’d like that.”

“Y/N, I don’t like this. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Yoongi mutters.

“My name is Y/N,” you say. Yoongi slams his drink against the bar; Junseung spares him only the briefest of glances before his attention is back to me.

“Well, Y/N, my name is Junseung,” he replies.

“I know.”

“Forget it Y/N, we can get the jewel without this --”

“Are you alright?” you ask Junseung.

Junseung wipes at his forehead with his sleeve. He’s grown a bit sweaty, and a few beads of perspiration have gathered on his upper lip. “It’s grown a bit hot in here.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t noticed,” you say dismissively. He shakes his head and draws the charm back, gathers it around him like a coat.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Junseung suggest. “What do you say?”

“Y/N wait--”

As quick as a flash, you pull the piece from you ear. “I’d love to.” Junseung offers you his arm, and you take it, draping yours over his with a hum. When you pass by Yoongi, your hand flashes out and drops the earpiece right into his drink. Junseung doesn’t notice a thing. He’s too busy wiping away his sweat and pulling at his necktie to loosen it.

The shocked looks the Bangtan boys give you as you walk out are slightly invigorating, slightly terrifying. You’re all on your own. When Junseung takes you to his private car and shoves you in the backseat, you brace yourself. The hardest part has yet to come.

The minute your ass hits the backseat, his hand slides its way up your thigh. His hands are rough and cold, and for a second your eyes flash to the driver, but the partition has been pulled up; you are totally stranded with Junseung. When his bourbon-reeking mouth comes down to great yours, you squeeze your eyes tight fiercely, but kiss him back with as much fervor as you can muster. Then he places open-mouthed kisses on your neck, collarbones, and lips. His clutching hands seek out your waist and his slobbery tongue laves at the bare skin behind your ear. The affection he’s desperately trying to give to you is the exact opposite of what you want. He’s rough, but he’s also growing fumbling, slow. For all the world, you wish his hands, his mouth, his growing bulge, were someone else’s...  

Thankfully, the ride is short, and soon you are pulling up to Junseung’s estate. The gates slide open to let the car pass. It rolls up to the front door to let you both out, and by then, Junseung is trying to collect himself.

“W-what do you say we g-go in?” he hiccups. You wipe your hands down the front of your dress to straighten the growing wrinkles, and flip a curl over your shoulder.

“Well I wasn’t planning on staying in the car…”

Junseung stumbles a bit when he gets out of the vehicle, and though the driver goes to reach for him with wary eyes, you fling yourself at him and begin to walk inside. As fast as possible, you tail it out of the driver’s sight.

“C’mon big boy,” you sigh. “Let’s do this.”

When you get back to the Bangtan compound, it’s nearly 4 in the morning. You carry not only your purse, but also a heavy briefcase, and it weighs so much that you nearly have to carry it with both hands. It makes getting inside a real pain in the ass, especially when wearing heels. The shoes clack on the ground as an announcement of your return, but nobody calls out to you. With a sigh, you accept no one's home; they’re probably all out looking for you after you disappeared. You were in trouble. Big trouble.

You march straight to the table and dump the briefcase there. All the energy drains out of you, and once you kick off the heels, you just heave yourself onto the table and let your upper half rest against the cool tabletop. For a few seconds, you just lie there and bask in the silence.

“Y/N.”

You shoot upright. Right there behind you, lingering in the shadows, is Yoongi. He’s watching you with those dark eyes. How did you not see him?

“Y-yoongi! I didn’t know anyone was home!” you stammer. Your mouth goes as dry as bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud. His heavy footfalls echo in the empty space. The gap between you closes and he steps closer, closer, closer...

“Did you fuck him?”

Your mouth opens and closes several times, but you can’t seem to find words. At his sides, his hands curl into fists.

“Y/N,” he grinds out. “I asked you a question.”

Your thighs clench. His voice is dangerously low, and it comes out as more of a growl, one that reverberates in his chest. Those pale hands whip out. One takes hold of your chin, the other locks itself into your hair, and the veins in his arm bulge. Weakly, you let out a groan.

He raises your face to meet his, and you find yourself eye to eye. “Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

His hands are on you, his gorgeous hands with those long fingers--

“What if I did?” you say. Your voice sounds so soft, and you hate it. You aren’t soft, and he certainly isn’t either. You can feel every inch of his rigid body against you, especially the conspicuous hard length pressed into your hip.

“Do you realize what you did back there? Throwing your earpiece into my drink? What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he hisses. His grip on your hair grows tighter and he yanks slightly to expose your throat to him. It only takes you a few seconds to decide what you’re going to do.

“I… I’ve been bad, haven’t I?”

Yoongi freezes. Even his breath seems to halt in his heaving chest. When he steps away, dropping his hands from you, you’re certain you’ve made a mistake.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“Bend back over the table.”

You blink at Yoongi. “W-what?”

“Bend over the table. Right now.”

Meekly, you do as commanded and drop your upper half onto the table next to the unopened briefcase. Your nipples start to harden against the silkiness of your dress. Laying there on the table, you realize all of Junseung’s manipulative touches didn’t have you even half as wet as Yoongi’s hands did.

“Yoongi, I--”

“Don’t say a word. Bad girls don’t get to talk.”

A resounding slap fills the air. You gasp aloud as the pain comes to you.

“Did you just… spank me?”

Another slap comes down on the same spot and you squeal.

“I just told you to be quiet.”

Your teeth gnaw at your lower lip. The next slap comes, and then the next. You reach out for something to steady you, but your fingernails claw uselessly at the smooth table. Then his hands begin to smooth over the sore spots.

“Teasing me all night in this red dress,” he chastises. “You know I love red.”

“I didn’t mean--” He spanks you again, harder, and you can’t stop the groan that spills past your lips.

“When are you going to learn what quiet means? I know you’re not stupid,” he barks. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nod. It takes you a second to admit it, but yes, you are enjoying it. You want more.

“You should’ve listened to me, Y/N. You didn’t have to fuck that creepy bastard, but you wanted him, didn’t you?” Yoongi continues.

“No, I didn’t want him,” you say quietly. When you don’t get admonished, you press on. “I don’t want him, I want you.”

Yoongi leans over, and his hard on pushes against the back of your thigh. His voice is deadly calm in your ear. “Oh really? Then why’d you fuck him?”

You try to stand, but Yoongi doesn’t allow that. He keeps you shoved firmly up against the table with a hand on the back of your neck. His hands comes down on your ass once more.

“Please, I--”

“I can’t tell you how much I want to take you across this table. I’ve thought about it before, you know. All the time. Having you right as you are now. Bent over, all worked up and messy because of me.”

His words sent warmth shooting straight to your core, and you groan. One of those delicious hands slides down your back, on a path directly to your heat. You squirm to try and get him there faster, but he’s intent on going torturously slow.

“Junseung couldn’t fuck you like I could. He may have big jewels, but I bet I have something much bigger.”

“Yoongi…”

“That’s right, moan my name. Just wait. I’ll have you screaming my name before the night is over.”

With one knee, he nudges your legs apart. He lifts up your dress and it gathers at your hips, red material spilling around your waist on the table. Yoongi lets out a long groan at the sight of your underwear.

“Black lace? You’re trying to kill me, Y/N.”

His fingers stroke the fabric, and you perk your ass up just a bit, slowly beginning to grind back against him. You need more.

His fingers tug your panties to the side and expose you to the cool air, making you hiss. A single one of his fingers begins to swirl at your entrance, in slow deliberate circles. You can’t help the absolutely filthy noises that start to slip past your lips once he brushes your clit.

“You’re so wet,” he notes. “Is that all for me?”

You nod vigorously. You’d say or do anything to get some relief.

“So eager already… He must not have been that good,” Yoongi says. The hand that isn’t teasing your core begins to rub slow circles into the exposed skin of your lower back. His touch is so comforting, yet so electric after Junseung.

“Did he cum in you?”

“Huh?”

“I hope you were smart enough to use a condom. Who knows what kind of disgusting diseases he’s carrying,” Yoongi says. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Yoongi flicks his finger more insistently against your clit.

“I-I didn’t fuck him!” you cry out. Yoongi halts.

“What was that?”

“I said I didn’t fuck him.”

Yoongi gawked at you over your shoulder. “You… you didn’t?”

He releases you, hands falling away. With hesitation, you rise, and run one hand across your sore ass. “No, I’d never fuck that guy.”

Yoongi’s brows furrow together. “Then why were you gone so long?”

“I was robbing him blind while he was passed out.”

Yoongi gapes at you in disbelief. “You didn’t have sex with Junseung?”

You shake your head. “No. He passed out the minute I got him to his bedroom.”

“But… how?”

“He tried to slip something in my drink,” you say. “So I switched our drinks.”

Yoongi is staring, clearly in shock, but luckily that doesn’t last long. “You… you’re something else, Y/N.”

Color rises to your cheeks. “All part of the job.”

He leans in, almost hesitant. His breath fans across your face, smelling faintly of liquor but more strongly of desire. When his mouth meets yours, you part your lips to welcome him. The kisses begin slowly, but speed up before you know it, and then his tongue is probing your mouth. His hands have returned to your ass and are pressing you against him firmly, just as your arms have wrapped around his neck to drag him closer.

“Where were we?” Yoongi whispers against your lips. His fingers are slide down the front of your panties. Finally, you find yourself able to meet his gaze once he’s knuckle deep in your pussy.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sigh. “Yoongi, please more.”

He chuckles. “You want more?”

He adds another finger. You writhe against his hand as he pumps them slowly, thumb delicately brushing your bundle of nerves. He curls his fingers upwards and you gasp out his name again.

“Yoongi yes, don’t stop!” you beg. The slow, torturous assault continues. Your hips lift to meet his hand, urging him to go faster. He keeps his steady pace, smirk growing with each of your whining pants.

“So eager, are we?” he asks. You nod, chest heaving.

“I want you so bad. So fucking bad.”

He pumps his fingers faster, curves them just right and the knot in your stomach constricts.

“Look at you, ready to come around my fingers,” he says. “It’s even better than I imagined.” “It feels better than I imagined,” you pant. You’re grinding down against his thrusting fingers, and you can feel yourself slipping towards that familiar precipice.

“Show me how good it feels, baby,” Yoongi encourages. “Come all over my hand.”

Somehow, his fingers seem to pump faster, and he’s hitting just the right spot inside you. Within a minute, you’re clenching around his digits. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over. Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi…  He rides you through it, and doesn’t stop until you can hardly bear the sensitivity. Then slips his fingers out.

“That was fucking hot,” he mutters.

When you look up with hooded lids, you see he’s palming himself through his suit pants. Your legs are already weak, so you drop to your knees before him The look of pleasant surprise that crosses his face is a sight to behold.

“You don’t have to,” he starts, but you stop him with a hand on his belt.

“I want to,” you say. He lets you continue with appreciative eyes. You unbuckle it and unzip his pants, yanking them down to expose his dark boxers and the straining erection they conceal. With one hand, you reach out and give it a squeeze.

He throws his head back, and you lose sight of his face. You gently caresses it a few times before ridding him of the last layer. You want those dark eyes back on you, want them to see when you pull down his boxers and put the tip on your tongue.

“Take your shirt off,” you say. His gaze snaps back to you. Your tongue flicks out and gives the head a little kitten lick. He moans softly, but begins to tear open the buttons on the shirt. When he tosses the button up to the side, he’s completely naked before you.

“This seems a bit unfair,” he says. “You’re still dressed.”

You draw the head into your mouth and roll your tongue across the slit, then release it. “Mhm, but I’m about to suck your cock, aren’t I?”

“You’re such a brat.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes as you take all of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair to pull it out of your face, fingers lacing through your curls. The salty precum slides across your tongue and you swallow around his length. He doesn’t pull on your hair, at least not yet. His abs clench, as do his thighs.

Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob up and down. Each time the tip hits the back of your mouth, he grunts. Soon, his hips are thrusting forward to meet you.

“You look so good,” he muses, jaw clenched. “Those pretty lips sucking my dick.”

You beam at the appraisal, and take more of him, letting him fuck into your throat. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let that stop you. If anything, it spurs you on. Looking up at him, blurry through your watering eyes, is indescribable.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you.”

He thrusts deeper into your throat, and you gag. You try to relax as the thrusts keep coming.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

His hips begin to stutter and he hisses through his teeth. One of your hands slips up his thigh to cup his balls. You roll them around in your palm, and his hands tighten in your hair. He’s close, and you both know it.

He pulls away, and his length falls from your mouth with a pop. Blinking through your tears, you try and scoot forward, open mouthed.

“No,” he pushes you back.  “I don’t want to come in your mouth. At least not right now.”

“Why not?” you pout, puffing your lips out at him in protest. He takes hold of your chin once more, gripping it between forefinger and thumb. Your eyes are locked once more; you could get used to this.

“Because I want to come inside you.”

He pulls you up off your knees. Both of you fumble backwards towards the tabletop, eager to get at each other.

“I’ve been waiting all night for this,” you whisper. Yoongi yanks your panties down your legs, and they dangle limply around your ankles. You kick them off and scoot backwards onto the table. Your legs hook around his thin waist, drawing him in, and he staggers forward. He chuckles at your eagerness, but tugs one strap off your shoulder to expose your breasts to him.

“Me too.” He drops his mouth to your nipple. He rolls the bud between his teeth and you uselessly thrust your hips up into the air.

“Hurry up, Yoongi, we haven’t got all night--”

There’s a noise further down the hall and both of you still.

“Shit, is that--?”

“Yoongi? Y/N? You guys home?”

Panic wells in your chest. Jungkook.

Yoongi, without another word, scrambles to gather up his clothes. He snags his shirt, pants, and boxers and takes off down the hall, leaving you a rumpled mess on the table. With a disappointed mewl, you clamber down off the table. Just before Jungkook walks in, you straighten your dress to cover yourself.

Jungkook strides in. “Y/N, you’re alright! We were all so worried.”

“Oh hey! Uh, yeah I’m… doing great.” It’s hard to look him in the eyes. Is mascara running down your face? Is your lipstick everywhere? You probably definitely look like you just came.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Everything go okay?”

You nod. Hastily, you cross your arms over your chest to cover your pert nipples. “Yeah, yeah totally. Got this brief case right here, with the--”

Yoongi ambles back in, looking completely unaffected. His suit has returned to its normal state, if a little more wrinkled than before. Yoongi barely gives you a sideways glance. “Jungkook. You’re back.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow and he places his hands on his hips. “How long have you been home?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I knew she’d come back here. I told you she would.”

Jungkook stares him down for a few brief more seconds. “Y/N, did you just get here?”

You scratch at the back of your neck. “Yep. Yep, just got here.”

Jungkook’s attention flips back to Yoongi. That’s when, to your horror, you spot your black panties right near the table leg next to Jungkook’s shoe. He hasn’t seen them yet, but Yoongi definitely has. He smiles, all gums.

“So Y/N,” Jungkook says. “Did you find out if he has Satan’s Heart?”

Your gaze flicks away from Yoongi and back to Jungkook. With all your might, you will your underwear to dissipate into the floor. “What now?”

“Satan’s Heart. Did he have it?”

Jungkook is staring into your damn soul, and you hope he isn’t seeing the image of you on your knees in front of his friend.

“The jewel! Right, right,” you mutter. “In the briefcase.”

Jungkook turns away, and when he does, you reach out to pick up your fallen panties. Unfortunately, Yoongi beats you to it. He grips them in his pale fingers, and before slipping them into his coat pocket, he brings them to his nose and inhales deeply.

When Jungkook turns back to you, you’re gawking at Yoongi, jaw hanging agape “Well, are you going to open it?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, snapping your lips into a thin line. “Of course.”

When you put in the combination on the locked briefcase, your fingers shake, and it takes you a couple tries. Finally, the lid pops open.

Jungkook whistles. “Shit, Y/N.”

Yoongi strides forward, and when he does, refractions of red light dance across his smug face.

Inside the briefcase is Satan’s Heart, the massive ruby. Alongside it are several diamond encrusted Rolex watches and a couple thousands of dollars you helped yourself to from Junseung’s personal storage.

“You’re incredible,” Yoongi breathes. You watch with wide eyes as he lifts the hefty jewel in his left hand; his right hand slips into his coat pocket to toy with your underwear.

A blush has spread across your face, redder than the ruby.

“How’d you manage this, Y/N?” Jungkook shakes his head. Dark strands of his hair fall into his face. He quirks a brow. “You must have been pretty convincing…”

Yoongi laughs. “Oh trust me, she can be very convincing…”

His long fingers enclose Satan’s Heart, the ruby worth millions, but he has eyes only for you.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 3: on evolution

Thursday, June 21st, 1990

“Hey, Red!”

I grit my teeth as I try my hardest not to slam the filter basket into the espresso machine before turning around. Another yuppie asshole, stinking of cologne and money, leaning on the counter like he owns it, right in my face. He’s so close that I have to keep myself from recoiling in surprise. His impeccably pressed blue dress shirt has one of those white collars. As if there could be any doubt.

“Hiya, gorgeous, how about a refill?” he fixes me with a flirtatious smile, all perfect white teeth and empty blue eyes.

“Sure thing, sir,” I reply with what I hope is a convincing smile and take his cup. He puffs his chest out a little at the “sir.” I don’t know why but I half expect him to pound it like a gorilla.

“How long have you been working here?” He blatantly eyes me up and down. “Can’t be very long? I think I would have noticed a gorgeous thing like you.”

Thing. Figures.

“Only a couple months, and only part-time,” I keep my voice neutral, but his sliminess is saturating all my senses, tuning out the chatter of the other customers, the clank of dishes, the smell of coffee. I hand him his cup.

“How about you give me your phone number too, baby?”

“Oh, uh,” I try for a natural laugh, “no, I’m taken.”

He takes the cup with one hand and grabs hold of my hand with his other one, lacing his fingers into mine before I can pull away. “I don’t see a ring,” he says in a low, unctuous voice, “so I don’t see a problem.”

“No, really, I –” I stammer as I rack my brain to try to find a way out of this interaction without pissing him off. He may be slime, but he’s paying customer slime and I’m on the clock. I’m still fumbling for words when the ding of the cafe doorbell and the thud of approaching boots cut through my thickening fog of anxiety.

“Hey bud, you wanna tell me why you’re bothering my woman?” comes a menacing voice from a tall figure who’s just materialized behind the asshole. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to laugh.

The jerk’s mouth falls open as turns around and finds himself looking squarely at Chris’s black-clad chest before he looks up. He releases my hand like he’s been electrocuted and puts his own hands up defensively. “Hey, brother, it’s cool, didn’t mean anything by it, you know how it is…”

“I’m not sure I do, maybe you can tell me.” Chris’s voice is a little softer now, a little lower, but somehow that makes it all the more intimidating as he folds his arms across his chest and scowls down at the yuppie.

“Come on, man, you’ve just got a really hot piece here, can’t be helped!” He attempts a smile, and something in his contorted face reminds me of the evolutionary origin of the primate smile. Show your fangs, clenched together, submissive, unthreatening.

Chris leans in further and says, quietly, “I’m thinking unless you want to be my next ritualistic sacrifice, it can.”

Ok, that’s it, I’m finished. I whirl around and wipe up the bar, letting my hair fall in front of my face so neither of them can see me laughing in the mirror. Unfortunately, that means I miss watching the asshole skitter towards the door, but when the bell dings I turn back around to see Satan himself grinning at me.

“Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Crowley?”

“A simple thank you works, Cora.”

“So that’s a yes then. You cost me a customer.” I glower at him as I grab the coffee pot and make my way out from behind the bar.

“I’m thinking that’s one you won’t miss.”

“I won’t, but my boss will,” I stick my tongue out at him. “And thanks. But really. Your woman??”

“Hey, it got rid of him, didn’t it?”

“Still. You didn’t have to John Wayne the shit out of the situation. I could have handled it, you know.”

“Oh, believe me, I know, I’ve witnessed it. He just seemed like the type who wouldn’t get the hint unless he knew you were someone else’s territory.” He lowers his eyes to his boots like he’s ashamed to even admit that the type exists, but we both know he’s got it pegged.

“Well, at least we’ve evolved past territorial pissing.”

“Maybe you have, Smokey…” he looks up slowly with an evil grin.

“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose with a laugh. “What brings you in?”

“Apart from the usual terrorizing of the bastards?”

“Obviously.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still coming to our show on Saturday! You’re not working, right?” This is the third time in the two weeks since we met that he’s stopped by the cafe to remind me about his show. Considering that I only work here part-time, that’s a pretty impressive stalking record. Even I have to admit that the boyish eagerness is adorable.

“Not working. No lab. I’ll be there. My friend Lucy’s coming too, is that cool?”

“Is that cool??” he echoes as he pulls me into a hug that lifts me off my feet and sloshes out some coffee from the pot.

“Oh shit, let me help,” he says, setting me down and grabbing the rag from the pocket of my apron and bending down to wipe up the floor and the toe of my boot.

“You’ve done enough, I think. And you’d better let me get back to the rest of my non-predatory customers.” I raise my eyebrows and nod down the wall of dark, heavy wooden booths. He lightly takes hold of my shoulders and steers me around to face them, walking me awkwardly down the narrow row.

“I’ll see you Saturday, baby bear,” he grins in my ear before letting go and backing out of the cafe.

My nearest booth of customers is a pair of girls about my age, and from the looks on their faces they’d been watching the whole confrontation. “How are we doing over here, ladies, anyone need anything? More coffee?”

“Was that Chris Cornell??” One of them asks with wide eyes.

“That’s him.”

“He’s your boyfriend??” her friend squeals.

“No, definitely not,” I shake my head with a chuckle as I top off their mugs. “Just a friend. Can I get you anything else?”

***

Friday, June 22nd, 1990

“So, what video am I picking up?” I ask over the phone, wary of the response. Tonight’s our standing bi-monthly movie night, which is something of an odd tradition because although Cora is my best friend in this world, we can’t agree on movies to save our lives. We end up alternating in order to keep the peace, which means half of the movies are romance or comedy (my pick) and the other half are…

“John Carpenter’s The Thing?”

“No way. We did that already, I am not watching that thing with the dogs again.”

“They’re puppets, Luce!”

“It’s no, Cor.”

“I’m assuming The Wrath of Khan is still off the table?”

“As long as it still has ear-invading alien bugs…”

We go back and forth a few more rounds until she gets me to settle on The Empire Strikes Back. At least Harrison Ford’s not bad to look at. And it will be easier to find in the store than some of the more obscure ones she’s come up with in the past.

It’s a little after 4:30 when I hang up, which gives me enough time to get the last of these invoices sent out. The hallway in front of my desk is actually pretty quiet, for once. I’ve been in this job for two years now, ever since I graduated, and I honestly think my supervisor Greta gave me her old desk in the front of the station so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone anymore. Everyone treats me like a receptionist, constantly asking me questions and calling me “Excuse me, Miss?” I don’t mind too much, I guess – I actually like people, unlike Greta The Disgruntled – but it makes it a little harder to get everything done. I’m just getting down to it when I hear my name echo down the hall. Jake is jogging towards my desk with a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Jake! Done for the day?” I ask as he comes to a halt at the counter above my desk.

“Nearly. I just needed a quick breath of fresh air, seeing as I’m now in the sea of paperwork portion of the program.” he scrunches his eyes shut and then widens them with a zoned out look, as if trying to refocus.

“Oh, well then, welcome to my native habitat.” I wave a hand over the pile of papers and brightly colored sticky notes spread across my desk.

He props his elbows on the counter and rests his chin on his hands. “I like it here. The locals, anyway.”

Don’t ask me why, but talking to Jake got so much easier over the last week or so. I used to be a nervous wreck whenever he’d come by to say hello. One time I spilled a bottle of White-Out in my lap and ruined my skirt just because he waved. In my defense, he’s like, ridiculously, superfluously good-looking. He’s tall, dark, and handsome, just the perfect cliche. But last week we started chatting more, and he seems so much less intimidating now that I know what a sweetheart he is. It’s been refreshing to make a new friend, and I really don’t know what I was so worked up about.

“So, save any lives lately?”

“Today was pretty boring, thankfully,” he knocks gently on the press board of my desk, “just an anaphylactic toddler.”

“Poor thing!”

“Nah, she’s okay now. Just a strawberry-free life from now on.”

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty terrible to me.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he concedes, straightening up and ruffling up his hair a little. ““How was your day?”

“Compared to a lifesaving day in the pediatric ward, I’d say it was absolutely riveting,” I tease, patting the ream of paper piled up in my outbox.

“And what are you up to tonight?”

“Movie night with my friend. It’s a tradition.”

“Lucky friend,” he smiles, “whatcha watchin?”

“Star Wars. She picked it out,” I add hastily. Jake’s bright green eyes light up even more, if that’s possible.

“Oh, which one?”

“Don’t you start too! Empire.”

“Hmm. More of a Jedi fan myself. Empire’s so dark, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.” Is he blushing?

“Me too! Cora says it’s all just a little too perfect, but what does she know, she likes the weirdest stuff.”

“Cora? That your friend?”

“That’s her.” I point to a picture of the two of us on my desk, and he cranes over the counter to get a closer look. It’s a somewhat blurry, lopsided, sun-spotted photo we took of ourselves at the Japanese garden at the Arboretum in March, when the cherry blossoms were going insane. I took a whole bunch just in case none turned out, which was wise, because this is the only one where we’re even remotely both in frame, and Cora’s grumpy expression is the perfect barometer of how many pictures I’ve made her take before that one. But she’s a faker, because she’s got the same photo up on the cork board in her room.

“That picture is sickeningly adorable, you know that?” Jake beams, straightening back up. “Well, what are you up to tomorrow night then?”

“Oh, uh, tomorrow’s the Soundgarden show.” Why is he so interested in all of my evening plans all of a sudden?

“Hmmm. Busy lady. Well maybe –” Greta’s squawky fishwife voice, saying something indistinguishable but clearly annoyed, suddenly booms off the linoleum from goodness knows where, making us both jump and then laugh. “Better let you get back to it before the boss lady catches you slacking,” he teases with a smile, patting the counter a couple times with his hand before he darts around the corner.

Did he – was that – was Jake just trying to ask me out? No way, I’m imagining things.

But what if he was? I mean, I’ve been crushing on him since he started his residency here last summer. He’s so kind, and funny, and thoughtful, and… expected. He’s everything I’ve always been told I wanted. Daughter of a doctor, I always figured that would be my life eventually too. So why don’t I feel more excited that he’s finally noticed me?

…Why haven’t I run into Jeff again?

Jesus, it’s almost 5, I’ve got to finish this paperwork and get out of here.

***

June 21st. Which makes it three months and two days. My life’s changed so much since that message from Xana that it’s barely recognizable. And I don’t even have time to figure it out, because we’re still in this fucking contract, promoting the album, as though in the minds of the record company, nothing’s happened. And I guess for them, that’s true. They’ve got whatever new thing coming down the back end to fill the void. And Andy’s words are still reaching new people, just like he always wanted, but he’s not here to see it. What about our void?

I guess that’s what tonight’s about. A bunch of us are meeting out at Discovery Park, just a typical bonfire type deal, but we’ve all got this in common. This… loss. Me and Stone, Bruce, Greg, Chris, Kevin. A club no one wants to be a part of, but everyone seems to need. I don’t even have the words to make sense out of it, and I fucking hope no one tries. Just as I’m tossing the bundle of firewood and the case of shitty, cheap beer in the trunk of my car, a little Corolla rumbles into the parking lot and scatters my thoughts about Andy. It’s so ancient that it’s hard to tell what color it’s supposed to be, but I’ll settle on blue only out of charity. It’s old enough that it never even had a passenger side mirror, and the rear bumper appears to be held on by sheer willpower. The engine shuts off and that gorgeous girl from the hallway last week steps out.

“Hey, Lucy?” I call out.

Her face breaks into this warm, radiant smile as soon as she spots me, like she’s known me forever, before her shyness takes over again and her cheeks flush a little. “Hey, Jeff.”

“Hi,” I grin back, blissfully forgetting about it all, for now. “Whatcha up to?”

She waves a bag from the video store excitedly. “Movie night! Not for a while, though, Cora -- that’s my friend on your hall -- she usually doesn’t get back from the lab until around 8, and that’s on a good day.”

“Even on a Friday?” I wrinkle my forehead. What’s so fucking important?

Lucy seems to read my mind. “I know, I know. You have to love her for it, though, we need people like her to save the world. She’s a mad scientist, you know that, right?”

I chuckle a little. “No, I actually don’t know her at all. I run into that guy of hers occasionally. He’s… interesting.” My Great Plains manners are asserting themselves. I honestly can’t stand the guy, but I’m not about to say that to this friend of his.

“That’s a word for what he is,” she mumbles through her teeth to the pavement, and I feel another surge of warmth for her.

“So movie night is just you girls, I take it?”

“By definition. Where are you off to, with your firewood?”

“Oh, uh, a bonfire thing. Up at Discovery Park.” I shut the trunk and lean on it, hoping she doesn’t ask me anymore about it. Talking to her is just… comfortable, easy, and there’s not enough of that in my life right now.

“What’s the occasion?” Shit. But it’s not like she could have known. I look over her face, all open and sweet, and try to find a way to say it out loud.

“Uhm, there isn’t one, really, it’s just… a bunch of us… uhm… we… we lost a friend. Little while back…” I blink fiercely to try to stop the stinging in my eyes.

She hops up on the trunk of my car and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Jeff. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” I swallow hard to push down the lump in my throat as she rubs her hand up and down my arm briefly before dropping it to her lap.  

I glance over at her, expecting to see the usual pitying expression, but she’s just watching me carefully, with serene blue eyes. A wisp of blonde hair is blowing in her face and she tries, unsuccessfully, to keep it looped behind her ear. I don’t know how she’s doing it, but it’s like she’s lending me some of her calm, wrapping me up in it and making it easier to breathe.

“So, uh, you work at the hospital?” I sniff, trying to regain some composure.

“How’d you – oh, I’m a ditz, my badge,” she giggles, toying with the Harborview photo ID around her neck.

I gently lift it from her fingers and inspect the photo. It’s a good one, although I’m sure this girl couldn’t take a bad picture if she tried. “Wow, your hair used to be so long.”

“Mmhmm, even longer than yours. Although I wish I’d thought to wear hats more often, I bet they cut down on the maintenance.” Her eyes linger on the oversized blue striped beanie I’ve got on tonight as a small smile plays on her lips. I pull the hat off and set it on her head, pretending to judge her like a critic evaluating a painting.

“Well? Am I pulling it off?” she giggles.

“Unfairly well, actually. Gimme that back,” I say as I snatch it off her head and arrange it back on my much scruffier head.

“So what do you do at this hospital of yours?”

“I’m a medical biller. It’s a fast-paced and exciting world.” She adopts a monotone, but she can’t keep a straight face for long before that nervous giggle bubbles back up.

“That’s right, you told me that. Living the dream. What’s your real dream?”

“It’s not important, it’s nowhere near as cool as yours.”

“Oh come on, what does that have to do with anything?”

She blushes furiously and looks down at the ground. “I just think it’s so cool, you know, that you’re a musician. I wish I was more creative.”

“I mean it, what is your big dream?” I don’t mean to hassle her, but it’s not just small talk now. I am just genuinely curious about what she wants for her life. And I just met her, what the hell?

“I want to…” Jesus, she’s almost cringing, “…be a mental health counselor?” her voice rises up, asking rather than telling.

It takes me a second to realize that the reason she’s cringing is that I’m gaping at her, and I try to pull my face back together. “Sorry,” I say, inadvertently laughing a little, “it’s just… it’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! What are you waiting for, you should totally do that!”

She beams at me and adds, “I just don’t know how good I’d be at it, but like, I grew up in this tiny little town, and… there just weren’t a lot of mental health services, well there wasn’t much of anything, and…” her voice trails off as she notices me grinning back. “Ha, what??” that nervous laugh again.

“It’s nothing, heh, I just, uh… I grew up in a town of like 700 people, so I sort of know the feeling.”

“You did?? Where?”

“The absolute fuckin’ Middle of Nowhere, Montana. The booming metropolis of Big Sandy.”

“Whoa, Montana! You’re a long ways from home.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She grins at me again and fidgets with that one golden wisp of hair. “Where’s your little town?”

“Brewster, it’s in Washington, a ways east of here. I mean, I guess everything is, unless you live in an island in the freaking ocean, obviously, well, I mean there’s West Seattle, obviously, but, no, you know what I mean, right?”

“Right,” how is it possible for someone to be so irresistibly cute when they just ramble on about nothing?

“Well, I should let you get going, I don’t want to keep you,” she says, patting the trunk under us and jumping back down to the ground. No, really, you can keep me.

“Yeah… yeah. Well, we’ll see each other around?” I don’t even care how desperate my voice sounds, I just want it to be true.

“Yeah, definitely,” she says with another subtle flush on her cheeks. She gives an awkward little wave and darts across the parking lot and into the building.

Definitely.

[tobeyouthful]

Fuck Your Money | One shot.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Words: 1707 Genre: angst A/N: lots of swearing in this one :’) 3rd fic in festa series! You were left without a good reason and heartbroken. So logically, your only thought was: Fuck you. 

Three months, twelve days, eighteen hours… You had been single for three months, twelve days, and eighteen hours. You dated Hoseok for a year and a month before he dumped you, and it wasn’t even for a good reason. It was a dumb fight to him but an important one to you. You had just wanted to spend more quality time with him, all he was doing was focusing on his job and ignoring you. Even when you wanted to go on coffee dates it was like you were asking for a whole week off of work and taking away his precious smartphone. It was painful and just… Too much. You had just asked him to try and make some time for a couple dates, he had gone off on you worse than any other fight. He even broke your phone. Yours. Not his, yours. Before handing you a wad of cash, he broke your damn heart and told you to leave. For a couple days, you thought you two still might be together so you gave him two days to cool off before going to visit him at the bar he frequented after work. That’s when you saw him with his damn secretary. She was grinding up against him as they danced and when he spotted you he moved away from her like she was acid. You haven’t seen or heard from him since and you were happy about it. Fuck his job, fuck the girl, and fuck him. The loud banging on your apartment door startled you, it rendered you mute and numb because who the fuck would knock on your door at – you looked over at your clock and saw it read 4:12 AM – four in the morning?! You stood and grabbed the small pocket knife from your bedside table before slowly making your way to the door. “Open up! I know you’re in there!” Jung Hoseok. The only fucking guy you didn’t want to talk to. “Fuck..” you muttered before throwing the door open right as he lifted a hand to knock once more. “What the fuck do you want?” you hissed. He pushed passed you and it took everything in you not to shove him away from you. You quietly shut the door before placing your arms at your sides and turning to face him completely. It had been three months since you last saw him and you didn’t want to see him like this, not with hatred still in your heart. “You’re drunk, I can smell the booze all the way here.” “Well I was drinking because I was thinking about you. I miss you and I need you back-“ “Oh no no no,” you waved your right hand around and chuckled softly. You weren’t going to fall for that. Not again. He pulled that shit after the first few months you dated and “broke up”. You were like a love-sick teenager who wanted to keep her high school boyfriend from cheating on her with the hotter cheerleader who could sing and dance better than you. You were not weak anymore. “Y/N, please don’t do that, we need to talk, I miss you , I always have. I fucked up and I was stupid.” Your eyebrows raised and you began to full belly laugh at his ridiculous intoxicated statements. He missed you? He knew he fucked up? Oh how you wish he actually meant all of that. He was as sleazy as the rest of them. A large, heaping pile of shit. And somehow it was in your house, in the middle of your floor, making everything smell horribly. You waved your hand some more before smiling; a sickly, sweet grin that would make anyone feel nauseous. “How about you stop bullshitting me and leave? I’m not fucking stupid. I was once before but not anymore and I won’t fall for your bull.” You pointed to the door in a silent order for him to leave but he just shook his head and let his head fall to his chest. You knew you were being unreasonable too but he left you without a word! All because you wanted to spend more time with him!! After approximately five minutes of you standing there with your finger pointing at the door he finally spoke. “I never should have done what I did. With Jisoo of all people… Not like she was lasting anyway, I fired her the next day,” he said miserably. “My job means money coming into the house, going into my pocket, going into your pocket. I am able to provide you with a comfortable lifestyle without you having to work at that shit hole you call a job. I hate you working there, your boss is a pervert, and he tried to kiss you at Christmas! I was hoping that I could find a place you at my workplace if you so desperately wanted a job still.” Of course, this came at a shock since who the hell would have known he felt this way? Coming from the King of Sunshine and hiding things away in his heart. He was an enigma and finally you were able to break through his bubble with the pin you had rose up a year ago. “You wanted to continue having dates and I couldn’t do that if I was supposed to be taking in more and more and more money for is. You think the mortgaged is paid off on the house yet? Hell no… But I was so close before we broke up. After that it was like a fucking shit show for me and I ran late on all the bills for a month,” he let out a miserable bark of laughter after finishing his tirade. “In my mind, if I couldn’t provide then how the fuck was I going to keep you around any longer?” That last statement had you fuming and you stomped up to him like a child and slammed your fists against his solid chest hard, not once, not twice, but four times. “You left me because of that?! You left me to go dance with that girl because you thought I was here only for your money?!” you screamed and lifted your hand to slap him across his face but luckily he caught your wrist in time. “I was left behind as your mistress as you became married to your fucking desk, pen, and papers, all because you thought I wanted a little cash in my pocket! You are so deluded to think I could ever, ever, want you for only money! I spent a year with you because I was in love with you, in love with your personality and your spontaneity, not the amount of dough you rolled in every fucking week! We bought a goddamn house together, we were talking about marriage, about kids, and instead you broke up with for a ridiculously ignorant reason! “I was trying to marry you, carry your children, get closer to you and you threw me away! All I wanted was for you to see me again. I would wear provocative clothes to bed to make you touch me again, I would call you at work to tell you have a good day so you wouldn’t forget I was there. When I found you at the bar with your fucking secretary – and let me tell you how embarrassing that was, how fucking cliché to be exact – I knew I had lost. I lost to your job, to her, to everything. I couldn’t compete. I love you, not the amount of money you make in a year.” It had to be a little longer than a month since you had allowed yourself to cry over Jung Hoseok and here you were, four in the morning, sobbing hysterically over the man you couldn’t possibly get over. He was just as stunned at your outburst. You were a relatively quiet girl, crying and yelling weren’t really your style. “I want you to come back home with me,” he whispered. Now it was your turn to laugh miserably. “Why? Why would I allow you the pleasure of having your little arm candy again? I was nothing more than that, right? You didn’t give a shit who it was, as long as you could show your bosses that you were fucking someone that night!” “That’s not how it is!” he yelled. “It was never like that! I hated bringing you to those fucking parties, hated having you get dressed up in front of those fucking slimy bastards, I hated it! I would have rather come home and seen you in your goddamn sweats than have them see you the way only I wanted to see you!” He was heated now as well and you wondered if he was beginning to sober up now. “For godsakes just come home! I can’t stand this, I can’t go on without you, please, Y/N. I fucking can’t live without you, you’re the only goddamn rock in my life and I am going crazy without you,” he whispered. Oh how weak you were to him. The King of Sunshine was a true nickname for him. But he did have his flaws and you knew you’d be able to weed those out of all the beautiful flowers in his mind garden. “Okay.” “What – okay? Really?” His face lit up and even as you cried you smiled and nodded. You were wrapped up in the familiar embrace and cradled as he whispered promises in your ear, your own hands coming up to wrap around his waist. You need him more than  you wanted to let on (you guessed he already knew). “Don’t ever assume I want your money again, got it?” you whispered as you finally pulled away from the hug. An affirmative head bob, a tall glass of water, and a comfy bed later, you were both tucked in and passed out. In the recesses of your mind, you could only pray that everything would stay perfect like you hoped – but perfection was fake and things always went wrong. You’d work through them again if they did happen to pop back up, you were absolutely sure of that.