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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

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conspire | 2 | first date

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

The next morning, your classmates wouldn’t shut up about it.

The rumor of your rendezvous with Shouto had spread like wildfire through the school, and you were assaulted by a wave of questions the second you turned up to modern lit. “Is it true?”, “Is he your boyfriend?”, “How do you know him?”, “Is he a good kisser?”, all blended into a cacophony of sound that nearly bowled you over as you stepped through the door.

You felt your face grow hot under their scrutiny and quickly stuffed yourself into your desk. “Yes, we’re dating. No, I won’t answer other questions about it.”

“Come on,” Miko--the girl in the desk closest to you--begged. “You’re dating Shouto Todoroki, the cutest boy in school, and you won’t even tell us how you know him?”

You wracked your brain for something close to the truth. “We, um, got along really well on that support item project last month. It’s nothing special.”

Miko’s mouth opened to fire off another question, but Mr. Cementoss cut her off with his arrival, launching immediately into his lesson plan. You sent up a silent thank you to whichever patron saint of fake dating had been listening.

The rest of the school day passed much the same way, and you wondered several times if the price of your senior project was perhaps too high.

You’d known that Shouto was something of a celebrity due to his parentage, supreme good looks, and incredible power--even outside the walls of UA--but you hadn’t really thought through how that would affect the people who stood closest to him. Knowing what celebrity looked like and actually experiencing it for yourself were two very different things, you found. You’d never been subjected to attention like this before and you weren’t sure that you liked it.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you’d started to wonder if you shouldn’t just call this whole thing off.

The sight of him that morning, however, immediately robbed you of your resolve.

He’d asked you to meet in front of your dorm mid-morning, and he showed up looking unfairly handsome in well-fitted jeans, a grey scarf, and a dark jacket with a high collar that framed his sharp jaw. He looked good, way too good for this early in the morning. You felt a shiver go through you, and not just because of the cold.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, the corner of his mouth curling. He gestured with something in his hands and you found your eyes drawn to two takeout coffee cups from the cafe just outside the school gates.

Okay, he was a literal angel and forgiven for everything you had been through this week.

“I didn’t know how you liked yours, so I got all the extras,” he said, handing a cup over to you and turning out a pocket to unveil a mound of sugar packets and tiny creamer containers.

You smiled, feeling warm. “Thanks, Shouto. Pretty sure every support engineer has bypassed the need for modifications at this point and just mainlines straight from the coffee pot. Black is perfect.”

He grinned down at you. “Too many late nights?”

You groaned at the tidal wave of memories. “Support items should just build themselves.”

He laughed and gestured you to follow him, leading you out of school grounds and to the nearby train station.

“Where are we going?” you wondered as he ushered you onto the train. He herded you into a corner and stationed himself in front of you, one arm extended to hold the bar over your head. You wondered if it was something like a natural instinct at this point for hero students to assume a protective position, as Shouto’s choice had the effect of shielding you from the rest of the train car.

“I...asked around about you,” he admitted, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ve been told that your interest in quirks and support items doesn’t just end at the classroom door.”

You flushed. You were kind of a nerd, he had your number.

“I’m taking you somewhere I think you might like,” he said. He took a sip of his own coffee, varicolored eyes glinting down at you over the rim of his cup.

You nursed your own coffee as the train rolled into the city, resisting the urge to close your eyes and lean into him. It was something you might do with an actual boyfriend, and as cute as it was that he was taking you out on a real life fake date, you didn’t think he would appreciate you putting the moves on him.

He led you out of the train at the city center and down a few blocks, finally pulling you into a building with a very modern glass facade. You recognized it at once.

“The Support Museum!” you chirped happily, your interest picking up. They had an interactive exhibit going on right now that you and some classmates had talked about coming to see. Your fingers suddenly itched with the need to test out some of the items.

Shouto looked at you from the corner of his eye, a flash of curious blue. “This is okay?”

“Hell yeah,” you intoned, picking up the pace to get in front of him. “If you’re cool with being bored to death for the next six hours while I have a great time, then this is perfect.”

He gave you a dry look. “I care about support items.”

You scoffed. “You have like, one.”

A slow smirk overtook his features. “Maybe you could convince me to add more.”

Something hot flashed through you and you gave yourself a hard pinch through the fabric of your jeans. His tone seemed laced with insinuation, but you knew better than to buy into it. It was just hard when he was looking at you the way he was.

Damn him for having a face like that.

“Careful,” you said, trying to reroute your brain, “you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of wild rambling and weird tangents.”

That soft smile pulled at the edge of his mouth again. “I’m used to it. Midoriya, my best friend, is a lot like that.”

You’d been in the room with Izuku Midoriya before and didn’t doubt it. The boy could certainly give you a run for your money. If he wasn’t equipped with the wildest quirk you’d ever seen, he would have made one hell of a support engineer -- you were probably lucky you didn’t have to compete for grades with a mind like that.

“Treat me like white noise,” you said as he shouldered past you to pay for tickets.

You let out a noise of protest when you noticed what he was doing, but he pressed you back from the ticket counter with a strong arm you couldn’t get around. It seemed only too easy for him to hold you off and pay for tickets at the same time, and it was slightly offensive. Maybe you needed to put in more time in the support course gym.

“I asked you out,” he said by way of explanation after you complained all the way through coat check, only shutting up when you were distracted by the sight of him in a soft tee shirt and blue button up. “I should pay.”

You made a dismissive noise. “It’s not the nineteen thirties anymore, dude. I can pay for my own stuff.”

He turned to you with a wry look. “Are we fighting about money already? Not something I’d thought we’d get to at this stage, to be honest.”

You laughed. “Our first fight as a couple.”

He pinned you with an interested look, something in his gaze growing hot. “Should we kiss and make up?”

Your face instantly went up in flames, like he’d lit you up with his quirk. Jesus Christ, he was a teaser? You’d thought he was just the quiet and thoughtful type -- who knew that he hid an ironic sense of humor underneath all that? This was going to be bad for your health.

“Cute,” you quipped for something to say, marching in front of him quickly so he couldn’t see your face. “Uh, where to first?”

He let you lead the way around the museum, and in minutes you’d pretty much calmed down from the heat of the moment, distracted by the halls filled with the forefront of quirk theory and the corresponding support equipment.

As someone who’d been born without a quirk of their own, the concept had always been fascinating to you, leading you into the support track at UA in your efforts to study quirks and their applications. It was incredible how genetics determined which people had none, and whose ranged from benign improvements like seeing slightly better through fog to more deadly power that roiled just beneath the surface of one’s skin like Shouto.

The deviations in power manifestation stretched the genetics of each human further from one another than they had ever gone before -- sometimes by a full 0.1-0.2% of their DNA structure -- and it was crazy cool. While your speciality was more applied science, you couldn’t deny the biology of it was equally as interesting.

At the rate it was going, people like you could share more genetic similarity with a banana at some point than someone like Shouto. Well, after a couple more millennia of evolution.

Shouto chuckled and you realized with some alarm that you had been babbling all of that out loud.

“Should I be concerned that our children might come out as bananas?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You gave him a sour look. “You know that’s not how it works.”

He flashed you a cheeky grin and followed you easily as you led the way through the other exhibits.

He listened attentively as you oohed and ahhed over the different displays, asking very pointed follow up questions like he was actually interested in what you had to say. You fell into a very involved discussion about most of the displays, and you realized with some surprise that plenty of time had passed without you realizing it, and that you were having an incredibly good time.

Shouto paid for lunch at the museum cafe as well, affecting hearing loss over the sounds of your protests, and kept up the easy conversation all the way through the meal.

After lunch, you two queued up for the interactive exhibit that you’d initially wanted to see, eventually being let into the exhibit hall in a small group. You immediately lit up like a kid on Christmas.

The hall was studded with actual support items that had been developed for the top twenty heros, ranging from real costume pieces that had been retired to replicas of items currently in use, supplied by the same companies as had built them. The items were free for testing with the caveat that the user had to be careful.

You spent a fair amount of time over pieces of Edgeshot’s costume that had been made from strands of his own hair, allowing it to fold and reshape with the changes to his body, and more time over Ryukyu’s size-changing suit that mechanically adapted to her dragon form.

Shouto stopped over a flame-resistant gauntlet from his father’s previous costume.

“Think you can melt it?” you asked with interest. You wondered how fast they’d eject you from the museum if he succeeded.

Shouto shook his head. “My flames are hot but I doubt it.”

You perked up. “How hot?”

“I haven’t actually measured,” he admitted and you groaned.

“Your super cool quirk is totally wasted on you,” you said. “You have to let me do tests.”

His mouth twitched again. “What kind of tests?”

“Anything you’ll let me,” you said. “Temperature gauges, cryogenic structure analysis, body scans when you use both energy sources. I have my theories as to how your quirk is actually scientifically possible but I need more data.”

“Body scans, huh?” he asked.

Of course he’d seized on that one. God, he was such a boy.

“Yes. We’ll get you all strapped up in wires and those little sticky nodules. It’ll be super sexy, trust me.”

He chuckled, and set a hand to one of his father’s boots that was also on display. “Fine, but later. Want to test this out now?”

You leaned in, nodding, and he let a flame grow in his hand, pressing it to the fabric of the boot. The cloth activated instantly, channeling the flame across the surface of the boot in the customary style of Endeavor’s flaming costume.

“Fuck, that’s so cool,” you breathed, leaning over to read the description of how it worked. “You need something just as obnoxiously showy on your costume. You’re letting your own dad upstage you.”

He laughed again and let the flame die down.

You wandered companionably through the rest of the exhibit, thrilled when it ended in an arcade-like simulation of Wash’s quirk that let you rig up and shoot water around at various targets. Shouto immediately targeted you instead.

“You're supposed to be a hero,” you whined, whipping around to aim your water cannon at him in revenge. “How could you target a civilian like this?”

His hero training had clearly paid off, as he was too skilled at dodging to get caught up in any of your attacks. Your time was called without you able to catch him once, but you left the exhibit with your own shirt sticking wetly to your body. You tried not to wince, thinking of the wintry weather that would no doubt invade the confines of your jacket once you made it outside.

Shouto immediately pulled you to the side of the coat check, however, his eyes trailing down your shirt where it clung to you. You tried not to feel self conscious.

“Let me,” he said quietly, placing a hand against your shoulder. Searing warmth washed over your skin under his hand and you tried not to arch up into the pleasant heat. You stood incredibly still, hardly daring to breathe as he passed his hand lightly over your shirt, taking care not to touch you anywhere too scandalous, though some traitorous part of your mind almost wished he would. This close, you could catch the scent of some light cologne, minty and fresh, and the smell of it made your head spin.

It took just under a minute for him to fully dry out your shirt, each second passing like a small eternity.

You were able to gather your wits just enough to laugh about his bright future in steam cleaning as you tucked back into your coat, then followed him to the train back to campus.

It was nearly dark by the time he walked you back to your dorm, the sun dipping low to kiss the horizon, sunset orange fading into the deep blue of an evening sky. You realized that you’d spent all day with him and had hardly noted the time passing -- he was a very, very good date. Some girl in the months after graduation was going to find herself very lucky with him.

The dorm was quiet as you approached, which was unusual for a Saturday evening, and you realized with a growing sense of horror that your classmates must be waiting quietly, watching for your arrival from inside to see what he’d do. Shouto must have realized the same thing almost the same time that you did, as he stepped into your space at the doorway, catching the sleeve of your coat to pull you close to him.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, face dipping close to yours. His features were somehow even more symmetrical up close and it was overwhelming to look at. “I quite liked today, so I thought…”

Your heartbeat kicked up in your chest and the tips of your ears went hot as you panicked, tangling your own fingers in his dark jacket like a lifeline. “Y-yeah,” you answered. “This is g-great.”

He smirked, leaning in even closer to you. You held carefully still as you had in front of the coat check, all the nerves in your body straining with anticipation. Then a hot mouth pressed softly to yours, and every neuron in your brain misfired.

The next thing you registered, your arms were around his neck and he was pressing you gently up against the door, his tongue in your mouth and his large hands on your waist. You arched up into his touch, desperate to get closer, twining your fingers in his soft hair.

He gave a low groan and pressed you harder into the door, a hand coming up to cup your face as he did something absolutely criminal with his tongue. So much for his career as a hero.

A muffled shout came from within your dorm and you jerked apart, panting. Your face flamed in embarrassment.

“Wow,” you said dumbly, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Wow indeed,” he teased, stepping back from you.

You shook yourself as he did. Right, fake dating. The kiss had been hot but it was only for show--and the show had been successfully executed. You had to resist the urge to drag him back for another.

“I’ll text you?” you squeaked out and he agreed, looking weirdly satisfied as he bid you good night.

You watched him for a long moment as he trudged back down the path to campus, heart beating a frantic staccato in your chest.

Shouto Todoroki was the most dangerous boy alive and it finally dawned on you just what you had agreed to for the next few months. You were so absolutely fucked.

#bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #fanfic #todoroki x reader #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto

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oneboxofmatches · 3 years ago

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Hi!!! May I request a HP romantic and friendship matchup on both eras? (Preferably male), thanks in advance! 💞

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, Ravenclaw, and my patronus spirit is swan. Bi Pan Genderfluid girl using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. A friend of mine told me that I (kinda) look like Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 (a Netflix animated series), but the exception is I'm short (5'1.2") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has messy/wavy brunette medium hair, chocolate brown eyes, oriental skin and a small beauty mark on the forehead. My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant and shy at first cause' I dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis, talkative, awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY clumsy, secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over any wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, sarcastic person with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no. 1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), and will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

People thought I'm a demure self-effacing woman that looks "idealistic" or "one of a kind," (due to my protective parents, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, I'm eloquent, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic crybaby filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone, yet I still managed to be stronger than ever, even it's a slow burn process. I can be intimidating, sassy, and a douchebag if I receive ends. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, very indecisive, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive or I might break a belonging due to my carelessness). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic person, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Blunt but the loudest idiotic feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will act like a silent backstabber on people that we loathe, will crack up over your stupid antics before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic who tends to banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment (but gets grumpy if I received sappy or offensive one), still generous and concerned in a subtle way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾 making corniest jokes/puns, ��𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD).

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, eating a lot, cartoons, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and writings, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity and worse scenarios in real life, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some are too hypocritical.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, and oratorical skills...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader). Currently an incoming college freshman, learning how to cook and have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

Thank you so, so much for requesting! I had a lot of fun with this one (as you can tell by some of the really long answers lol) and I hope you enjoy!!

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

CEDRIC DIGGORY

One of the most beautiful things about Cedric is that although he may show some introverted tendencies, he still manages to have a natural gift for connecting to others and allowing them to feel comfortable enough to open up. Really, your initial distance and shyness don't last nearly as long towards Cedric as they would with most other people.

Hearing your laughter brings the widest, cheesiest grin to Cedric’s face. Not only does he adore seeing you happy, but he also recognizes that your anxiety, insecurities, and strong emotions can sometimes cloud up your demeanor. Therefore, it brings him comfort knowing that (for the moment) you’re finding joy. He thrives when you thrive!

However, as much as he loves seeing your more energetic and happier self, it goes without saying that he’s the best comfort for when you’re not having the best day.

Cedric is an excellent listener, so he’ll most likely let you talk without interruption for as long as you need before even saying a word. He wants to make sure he truly understands your current state before acting. He may take a few seconds to process everything after you finish speaking, but then he’ll help you tackle whatever problems you’re facing. He’s especially talented at giving words of affirmation.

Cedric’s listening also comes in handy whenever you talk about your interests! He genuinely loves hearing about the things you’re interested in solely for the fact that you’re interested in them. Side note: you can count on him to be at any music performances, pageants, etc. you may have -- this guy is truly your #1 supporter.

Cedric’s a very good student (though I suspect he’s somewhat of a procrastinator himself), so I can also see you two supporting each other through schoolwork and celebrating each other’s successes.

Like you, Cedric has a strong urge to do the right thing. Talking to him about social issues stirs up a need to help, and I could see you two doing volunteer work together in your spare time.

I like to believe one of Cedric’s biggest love languages is quality time. Don’t get me wrong, this guy loves staying involved and busy. But taking a couple hours to be with you in small ways (even if that means just being in the same room while you scroll through social media) gives him a nice balance.

Overall, this kind boy will be there unwaveringly through the bad times and will laugh just as loud as you through the good!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD

You wanna talk about the best conversations, relentless support, and overall the most wholesome friendship you could ask for? Luna’s your girl.

Being unashamed to be true to yourself is one of the biggest reasons why Luna is so drawn to you. While she’s very friendly and insightful towards everyone she meets, it can get a bit repetitive for her to constantly interact with people who try to shelter their unique characteristics from the world. In her mind, these unique characteristics are what make people so fascinating! Why should anyone hide who they are?

Luna’s creativity is endless, and I can see it blending well with yours. Collaborating on a personal project outside of school (ex: novel, blog, etc.) together is definitely something I could see you two doing.

Speaking of creativity, finding creative solutions to everyday problems (both in school and in life) is your specialty as friends.

Admittedly, Luna isn’t usually drawn to louder individuals. However, the complexity behind your personality makes it easier for her to know you are much more than what meets the eye.

Speaking of, Luna has a difficult time standing up for herself -- whether it’s because she doesn’t feel a need to or she just doesn’t recognize the meaning behind certain phrases. She NEEDS a friend like you to stand up for her sometimes, and I know you wouldn’t hesitate!

Ranting to Luna is therapeutic to say the least. While her aloofness at times may make it seem as if she isn’t fully paying attention, that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s actually catching every word, and once you’re done she’ll leave you with a philosophical solution that may seem borderline insane/irrelevant when you first hear it, but it strangely makes sense.

Overall, the lack of judgment from either of you is what draws you together. As a result, you build a unique bond that couldn’t be broken even if either of you wanted it to.

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

Let’s be honest, it would take you two so long to ask each other out. You were probably already really close friends, but the insecurities and “what if?” questions from both of you delayed an actual relationship.

When you finally started dating, you were both so relieved. You still share a laugh at how almost nothing changed in the way you interacted with each other.

While with mutual friends, Remus sometimes likes to sit back and just watch you, especially when you get really talkative because this is when you become the most expressive. He has the softest smile when you’re actively cracking jokes, discussing something you’re passionate about, or even calling someone out. Sometimes you may be too distracted to notice, but other times you’ll catch him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” (While that same soft smile never leaves his face.)

You both hold really high standards for yourself in terms of school, so expect late-night study/work sessions to be your best bet for quality time.

Though the occasional instance of walking through/lying on the grounds becomes a favorite for both of you.

Remus listens when you’re particularly struggling through anxiety or strong emotions, but he has to consciously stop himself from interrupting because he can’t stand how he feels knowing you’re going through a tough time.

All he wants to do is soothe you during these moments. If you’re comfortable, he’ll hold you while speaking to you in a soft voice. Remus, the intellectual that he is, is also your best chance at finding a reasonable solution. So if you're not in the mood for calming words, he's also a great person to turn to for answers.

As for your ambitions, no matter what you choose to pursue, you already know Remus is going to be your biggest source of support every step of the way. He’s more than happy to help in any way he can!

Overall, Remus appreciates you, and he’s always going to make sure you know it.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

Lily especially connects to you because you manage to be determined, competitive, and intelligent without sacrificing your kindness, which is something she can relate to.

You and Lily are the C.E.O.s of doing the right thing. Neither of you hesitates to back the other up when it comes to confronting someone because you know it’s justified.

As perceptive as Lily is, you never need to tell her when something is bothering you. All it takes is a quick glance before she puts whatever she’s doing on hold to check in with you.

The reverse works as well. Typically, Lily really doesn’t internally struggle too much, and when she does she tries to hide it. You’re one of the only people who can see right through whatever she tries to pull.

The constant banter between you two is unmatched, but you both know it's because you really care about each other.

Overall, you and Lily have each other’s backs through anything, even when the other isn’t actively asking for help.

#matchups #fandom matchups #harry potter matchup #harry potter #cedric diggory #luna lovegood #remus lupin #lily evans #lily potter

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emblemxeno · 4 years ago

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I'm sorry for coming in and going all "yOuR HeAdCaNoNs aRe wRoNg!!!", I don't want to come off like that, but I feel like going Edelgard=racist is a bit of an oversimplification. She absolutely hates the dragons of Fodlan, but it's because they all:

1. Pretend do be humans to manipulate humanity (for safety reasons actually, but she doesn't believe that). Well, all dragons that she knows of (laughs in GD and the two secret saints).

2. Destroyed her empire millenias ago (not really true) and are now trying to stop her from rebuilding it (this is true, but what did she expect? For everyone to just surrender to her greatness?)

3. Obey Rhea, who performed human experiments (Sitri and Byleth). How horrible! She is just as bad as her captors (tbh I don't blame her for this particular point, since it's not based on assumptions, it's the truth and it's shady AF).

4. Rewrote history to make themselves look good. In reality Nemesis was the hero (LMAO, but tbf it's not like she ever met Nemesis to see how wrong she is. It would be interesting to have her interact with him in Feh. And Sothis).

So as you can see she has her reasons to think they are evil (she's wrong on all of them except one and a half, but you know... it's kind of the point. If she was right about everyrhing she would have been the just heroine of the story, not the gray anti-villain).

Which is why I don't believe she would openly antagonize the dragons of other worlds, if they are different from the dragons of Fodlan. Like, dragons who don't hide who they are at all like Nowi, Fae, Xane and Tiki? She would be fine with them. Dragons who live on their own and don't interfere with humanity like the Goldoans? Awesome! She would openly praise Dheginsea and his politics (if she doesn't learn the true reason. She would call him a coward if she found out he just blindly obey a goddess).

The dragons who actually did manipulate the humans (Duma, Grima, Mila. Naga is a maybe) she would hate and berate. The dragons who kept their powers hidden like Ninian, Nils and Corrin (Corrin: I didn't keep them a secret. I didn't know I had them. Edelgard: Sure, pal. You really believe we humans are all stupid and naive, don't you?) she would keep an eye on and expect them to reveal their true evil plans sooner or later.

So in conclusion I want to tell that I think that while Edelgard sure has her faults (she is stubborn, manipulative, hypocritical and with a dangerous "ends justifies the means" actitude) being racist isn't one of them.

She wouldn't hate a dragon and call them evil just for being who they are. She would have a problem with them only if they were dragons and also DARED to oppose her in any way, but tbf it's the same for humans, agarthans, laguz, etc. Can't be racist if you kill every last one of them.

Well starting off, I’d like to say that the posts about Edelgard hating dragons were made in a half-joking sense, like I don’t seriously believe that she would antagonize absolutely every dragon she’d meet, she’s not that evil.

But IMO there’s more to Edelgard’s antagonism than just what the Nabateans did.

For starters, most of what people claim Edelgard hates the Nabateans for only applies to Rhea. Rhea’s the only one who rewrote history, censored/banned items until the current time, etc. Seteth and Flayn went into isolation right after the war of Heroes, the former only coming to the monastery 20 years before the game begins, and the latter arriving only a few months before Byleth. And yet Edelgard still antagonizes them because she’s convinced they’re just like Rhea. It’s also reflected in gameplay where you’re not allowed to bring her or Hubert to Indech’s paralogue because Linhardt says they would make things troublesome.

That and also the fact that Heroes had her Legendary form have an extra effect against both beasts and dragons... yeah, I think there’s a bit more to it than just not liking what the Nabateans did to Fodlan.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #edelgard critical

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onceuponastory · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Back Home - Chapter Five: The Time of My Life

“So I'll tell you something This could be love, because I've had the time of my life No, I never felt this way before Yes I swear, it's the truth And I owe it all to you” - (i’ve had) the time of my life: bill medley and jennifer warnes (aka the song from dirty dancing)

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable…until her sister asks her to show Nick around town…a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? (based on prompt by @orphicodysseywrites)

Tag List: @shinydixon, @baker151910 and @thesundrop. Let me know if you want to be added!

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol

Note: I’m so sorry this chapter took so long! I’ve been super busy during Christmas because I work retail, and when I got home, I was so drained and unmotivated to write something, but here we are! I hope y’all enjoy the emotional roller coaster this chapter will take you on ;) Also, this chapter has some parts told in Nick’s POV for the first and definitely not the last time

Read the other parts / Read this story on Wattpad!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Nick or his character! I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all see the movie if you can, because it’s adorable!

Later That Day

“How about this one?” Nick suggests. I scrunch my nose up. We were both trying to figure out what song to dance to at the wedding. Yes, we’ve left it late, but given everything that’s happened since we got here, can you blame us?

“Absolutely not.” Nick sighs. “What?”

"It’s a fun song! It’ll get people dancing.”

“Nick, even though we both look good, I don’t think dancing to Sexy and I Know It will be a good idea. Unless we want to give our great aunts a heart attack.” Sighing, Nick nods, crossing it off his list. “Now, I have made a playlist for this very occasion, so let me put it on...” I announce, crossing over to my phone.

“Of course you have. Katie’s told me about how many playlists you have Y/N. How many do you have now? Fifty?” Nick teases. Ignoring him, I hit play. Soon, the sounds of Waterloo by ABBA fills the room. Nick gives me a look. “ABBA? Seriously?”

“What do you mean, ‘seriously’ ?!” I ask. “They’re iconic! This song won them Eurovision!”

“That’s true, but no. No ABBA." I roll my eyes.

“No taste.” I shake my head. Ignoring me, Nick hits skip. The Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing starts playing. Nick and I look at each other. My mouth drops open, and he raises an eyebrow. “What?! This song is iconic! This scene is iconic! Patrick Swayze is an incredible dancer in this scene!”

“That’s true. He’s a great dancer. But I’m not that good.”

“I can’t judge that Nick, I’ve never seen you dance.” Nick laughs.

“That’s a good thing. You’ll see at the wedding.”

“Come on! Get some practice! Dance with me.” I urge, holding out my hands. “Please?!”

“Oh, no. Did you hear what I just said?” Ignoring him, I take his hand, gently leading him into the centre of the room. “Y/N. I’d only ever do something like this for you, but I’m telling you that I’m going to stand on your feet and you will regret ever asking me to dance with you.” He sighs, taking my other hand. I start dancing, whilst Nick stands there, awkwardly moving.

“See! This isn’t so bad!” I smile. “I’ve had...the time of my life....” I start singing. Nick laughs. “I get to endure your dancing, and you get to endure my singing. It’s only fair.”

“Guess that’s true. In that case, I should dance properly.” Nick moves closer, places his hand around my waist, and takes my other hand in his. I gasp. Did not expect him to be so close. Nick twirls me under his arm.

“I’veeee, had the time of my lifeeee...” I sing to myself. Nick laughs. “What? I know I’m not that good at singing, but this song is SO good, can you blame me?!”

“You’re not that bad.” Nick smiles, continuing to twirl and dance with me around the room. “Do you even remember the dance from this film?” He asks.

“Kinda? To be honest, all I remember is the lift. You don’t have to lift me by the way.” Nick frowns.

“I think...he dips her like this.” Nick mumbles, and before I can even do anything, he gently but effortlessly dips me. I let out a little squeal, and he quickly pulls me up, asking if I’m okay. Still breathless, I can’t even reply.

“For someone who says he can’t dance, you’re...really good.” I gasp eventually.

“Guess I’m full of surprises.” He grins. As the song draws to a close, Nick continues to hold me close. It was nice...really nice. I could stay like this forever. The music changes in the background behind us, but neither of us notice. “So...” Nick begins. “Which song do you think we should choose?”

“Well, if we pick this one, everyone will expect you to lift me.” He nods.

“We could try if you want?” He asks, dropping his hands to my waist.

“No, no, no, no, no, NICK!” I squeal as he lifts me off of my feet. “I’m ticklish! No!” I start giggling and squirming, so much so that Nick drops me. As I fall, so does he, and he lands on top of me.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice husky. I nod, breathless. He moves some hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes. “Good.” He smiles. His face has never been so close to mine before. I can see little flecks of gold in his eyes. They’re beautiful...like he is. Nick sits up and gently helps me up onto my knees. “Sure you’re okay?” He asks, and I nod again.

“Nick, it’s okay. Honestly. Thanks for today, though.” I smile, scooting over and hugging him. “Sorry you had to endure my singing though.”

“Sorry you had to endure my horrible dancing.” Nick replies. The two of us sit there for what feels like forever, but is probably just a few minutes, holding each other. Reluctantly, I pull apart.

“I better go. Katie wanted me to help finish up some of the stuff for the bachelorette party.” I announce, getting up and picking up my phone. “Bye, Nick.” I give him a small wave before walking out of the room. As soon as I’m out of his eyeshot, I lean against the wall and sigh. What is it with me these days? I had suddenly started to feel an intense desire to stay close to Nick, and spend as much time with him as possible...but gotten way more awkward at the same time. Sighing, I walk upstairs to meet Katie.

It’s probably nothing...right?

~~~

A Few Days Later: The First Night of the Bachelorette Party Weekend - 6 Days til the wedding.

“Okay, so this is the number for the hotel, even though you’re not meant to be texting or calling me....but I won’t tell!” Katie talks to Adam as I carry my suitcase towards the stairs. It’s finally here: the bachelorette party. Katie, the rest of the bridesmaids and I were travelling to a nearby town to go drinking and dancing. To save driving back to Saint Chase in the middle of the night, we were all staying in a local hotel. Sighing, I pull my suitcase towards the stairs, ready to walk down them one step at a time, whilst also trying to keep a hold on my other bags. I stifle a yawn. Since Katie and I were going down early to set up the hotel rooms, it meant we all had to get up super early, and I was nowhere near close to functioning. Not that I was usually, but today was worse.

“Need some help?” Nick asks suddenly, popping up behind me, causing me to jump and almost lose my balance. My suitcase is close to tumbling down the stairs, nearly taking me with it. But Nick holds his hands out and catches it as best as he can.

“Shit, Nick! You need to stop sneaking up on me like that!” I scold. Even though I liked seeing him, I did not like it if it meant a heart attack came along with it.

“Sorry, I just saw you were struggling, and I saw those stairs, so I thought I could help.” He shrugs. I sigh. I mean, he was right. I did need help.

“...Yeah, you’re right.” I nod. “Can you take these?” I ask, passing him most of my bags.

“God, what is IN these things?” Nick asks as he gets increasingly more laden down. “I thought you girls were only going away for the weekend?”

“Yup.” I nod, popping the p. “These bags have our sashes, some balloons, other accessories like the mini veil and tiara, headbands....the photo booth props....” I trail off when I notice Nick looking at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Yeah, bachelorettes are intense. And Katie and I are going down early to set up, so I have to bring everything now. Hence...all this.” I gesture around with my free hand. “And this suitcase has our makeup, outfit changes, and spares, just in case.” Nick still looks horrified.

“We’re just gonna stay here, play some video games and drink some beers.” He states, making me laugh.

“Welcome to the world of the bachelorette party, Nick. Trust me, I was the same when I first started planning. Now...I am the master.” I strike a pose, and Nick laughs. “And besides, if you think this is bad, wait till you see our stuff for the day of the wedding.” Nick’s eyes go wide again, making me laugh. Nick helps me down the stairs with everything, and he and Adam help Katie and I pack the car full of our things.

“Okay, that’s us all loaded up! Bye, handsome.” Katie tells Adam, pulling him into a kiss, whilst Nick and I stand around slightly awkwardly.

“Well, uh...have fun. Be sure to...show me pictures?”

“Only if you show me some from the bachelor party too.” Nick nods. “Well...bye Nick.” I smile, giving him a small wave and walking towards the car.

“Y/N, wait!” He calls, and I turn around. He walks up to me and gently takes my hands in his. I immediately feel shivers up my arms. Nick speaks again, his voice now hushed. “If you have a nightmare again, or if you need someone to talk to, give me a call, alright? Doesn’t matter how early or late it is. I want you to know I’ll always be there for you.” I feel tears rising in my eyes all over again.

“Nick...are you sure?”

“Positive.” He pulls me into a hug before I can even react. “Have a fun weekend.” He whispers, squeezing me so tightly that I swear my heart stops. In a good way, though. Nick and I pull apart, and as I gaze into his blue eyes, I realise that I don’t want to go. Even though I knew I had to support my sister, and I knew I did want to go....a stronger part of me just wanted to stay and hang out with Nick.

“Come on, Y/N!” Katie orders. “We need to go if we’re going to have any chance of setting up before the girls arrive!” Blushing slightly, I turn back to Nick.

“Bye Nick.” I smile. He wishes me goodbye, and I get into the car besides Katie. The two of us wave as we pull out of the driveway, Nick and Adam waving us goodbye as we go. As the house fades out of view, the feeling from before, the desire to stay, returns. I try and ignore it, but it’s intense. “What is wrong with me?!” I think to myself. Whatever it is, I better forget it soon, or I’ll be thinking about Nick for the whole night.

~~~

That Night

Pushing open the door to the karaoke bar, the six of us walk in.

“YAAAAAY! KARAOKE!” Katie calls, slightly tipsy already.

“I cannot believe you’ve talked me into this. I’m not even that drunk or a good singer!” I hiss. I know I’ve already sung in front of Nick, but this was different. I was comfortable with Nick, but there were people here. People who could hear me. People who I don’t know.

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun! And don’t you worry, once you get some more shots in you, you’ll be right up on that stage.” Sam grins. Sam was another member of Katie’s bridal party. Altogether, there was me, Caroline, Sam, Sam’s wife Vanessa, and Katie’s college roommate Brooke. I was so thankful that Katie has such a small bridal party. It makes my life so much easier.

“And besides, you don’t have to be a good singer...to be honest, most people aren’t.” Brooke smiles.

“If you say so....” I mumble. The group of us sit in a booth and order some drinks to get started. I’m going to need a lot more of these to get through this karaoke. If they think I’ll be up on that stage, they have another thing coming.

~~~

Two Hours Later

“Cause tonight for the first time....just about half-past ten....for the first time, in HISTORY....it’s gonna start raining meeeeeen!” I sing into the microphone. The girls cheer from the table. “IT’S RAINING MEN!” Brooke and I both sing/shout into the microphone, our arms around each other.

“I mean we’re gay but yessss!!! Love that!” Vanessa and Sam shout. It turns out it only takes a few more wines to get me up on the stage. Who knew? Brooke and I continue the song and finish to thunderous applause, mostly from the rest of the girls.

“You’re right!! That was so fun!!!!” I grin, jumping up and down. “I’m sorry for doubting youuuuu.” I pull Brooke into a hug, which she returns. The two of us sit back down at the table. “Katie! Katie! Did you see me?!” I ask. “Wasn’t I good?! Can you believe....Nick had the cheek to say I wasn’t that bad. I’m a star in the making.”

“Who’s Nick?” Sam asks.

“Well. He’s Adam’s best man. And he is cute as hell.” I grin. Fumbling with my phone, I open instagram to Nick’s profile. “SEE?!” I exclaim, showing them my phone screen.

“Babeeee, your thumb’s in the way.” Katie tells me, trying to swat it out of the way. I move it, and soon a chorus of ‘awwws’ and ‘wows’ fills the air.

“You’re right, he’s gorgeous!” Brooke nods.

“Right? I wish he could see me now. I’m so hot.” The girls agree. “Wait. Katie...I have an idea.”

~~~

A Few Hours Later

Nick’s POV

Yawning, I put my phone on charge and place it on the nightstand. The boys and I had had a fun night together, but I was exhausted, so I decided to go to bed. As I close the curtains, I hear my phone start buzzing on the nightstand. I pick it up, and a bunch of text notifications from Katie pop up on the screen. Chuckling to myself, I open the texts. If I know anything about Katie, I know she’ll most likely be drunk by this point. A picture of Y/N flashes up on the screen, accompanied by a text saying:

“LOOK HOW GORGEOUSSSSS MY SISTER LOOKS!!!!!!! BET YOU MISS HER, HUH?!” and about a million emojis. I tap on the picture of Y/N, enlarging it. Katie obviously took it whilst she was getting ready, unbeknownst to Y/N. She’s smiling as she applies her makeup, and is looking over at one of the bridesmaids, probably laughing at a joke or something. I smile. She looks so...natural? I’ve been so used to seeing Y/N being fake happy to appease either myself or her sister, and seeing her naturally, with a big smile on her face, not knowing anybody’s watching or taking her photo...she looks beautiful. I mean, she always looks gorgeous, but this time...she looked even more gorgeous. Radiant even. I didn’t even know that was possible. And Katie was right. I do miss her. It was crazy, I’ve only known her for two weeks at this point, but she was quickly becoming someone I cared about, and someone I wanted to see after the wedding. I mean, we had almost kissed...which I initiated...and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished that we had kissed. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting her that quickly.

I scroll down, and notice a video, which Katie has helpfully captioned with “4 u ;)” I hit play. Y/N Is standing by a karaoke machine, wearing a black sequined jumpsuit, a pink maid of honour sash, and a tiara. She looks great.

“This is for youuuu Nick!” She calls, sounding pretty drunk, pointing directly into the camera. The music starts playing, and I start laughing as soon as I recognise it. It’s Dancing Queen by ABBA. Of course. Y/N immediately starts singing and dancing around the stage. She told me earlier on she couldn’t sing, but she was actually pretty good. I find myself softly singing along as she sings. Soon, the song ends, and she takes a bow to thunderous applause from the bar. She comes running up to Katie’s phone. “Were you filmin?” She asks, before looking right into the camera. “NICK! I hope you enjoyed that, even though you have NO TASTE!!! See you on Sunday!” She blows a kiss to the camera, making me smile. “...Oooh is that more champagne?” She asks, immediately walking away, making me laugh. I type out a text to Katie:

“You’re right. She does look gorgeous. Tell her I enjoyed the song. Enjoy the rest of your night girls x” I put my phone back on the nightstand and get into bed. Sighing, I look up at the ceiling. What is it with me? Y/N has been occupying my thoughts ever since she and Katie left, and I have no idea why. “You know why, you idiot.” Part of me tells myself. “It’s because you like her.” No, that can’t be it...can it? I mean, I had almost kissed her. Oh shit. Maybe I did like her. I prop myself up on my elbow and pick up my phone again. I start scrolling through my photos from the past two weeks. Y/N’s in almost every one. I feel butterflies within as I see her face smiling back at me. Oh god. I think I do like her. But there’s no way she feels the same.

~~~

The Next Morning

Y/N’s POV

Groaning, I sit up in bed. My head is starting to pound. Getting out of bed, worming my way around the pairs of heels and accessories left on the floor, I walk into the bathroom, gasping when I see myself in the mirror. My mascara is running, my eyeshadow is smudged, and there is glitter all over my face. Sighing, I get undressed and hop in the shower, letting everything wash away with all the soapy water. Once I’m out, I hear Katie’s voice from the other side of the door, and she frantically knocks.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you in there?!” She asks. I open the door and see her shocked face on the other side.

“What? Do you need to puke?” I ask, standing aside.

“NO! LOOK!” She thrusts her phone at me. I take it and look down at it. It’s displaying her texts to Nick.

“You sent him the video of me singing karaoke?!” I exclaim. Katie frowns.

“You told me to? And no! I don’t mean that!!” She snatches her phone back and scrolls down. “Look what Nick sent!” She orders. Taking the phone back, I read the message.

“You’re right. She does look gorgeous.” I immediately block out the rest of the message. Those words replay in my mind. Nick....thinks I look gorgeous? Katie is staring at me, clearly waiting on my response...but I can’t think of anything to say. My mind and my heart feel like they’re racing at 100 miles per hour. I mean, it’s not like he outright admitted he was in love with me or anything...but in a way...he kind of did? Holy shit. I don’t even know how I feel about him. I mean, we have almost kissed already, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Who am I kidding, of course it means something. It means that I must like him too, or I wouldn’t have almost kissed him. My mind immediately flashes back to the times people thought Nick and I were boyfriend and girlfriend, or telling us we would make a cute couple, how I didn’t want to leave Nick for this weekend...and realisation dawns on me. The reason why I liked being told that, and why I enjoyed being with Nick...is because I wanted it. Do I...like Nick? As in...like, like? ...I think I might?

“Y/N...are you okay?” Katie asks. “You’re kinda spaced out.”

“Yeah, I’m wonderful.” I lie. I feel like my world has been turned upside down, or like the rug has been pulled out from under me, and I might collapse at any moment. Katie raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N...you promised me that if something’s going on, you’d tell me what it was. I can tell something’s up, and I want to know what. Please? You’re my sister. I want to know if something’s bothering you.” She reminds me, and I sigh.

“Fine. We’ll go for some coffee before brunch, and I’ll tell you. Now, will you PLEASE let me get dressed in peace?!”

~~~

Later

I take a sip of my coffee, letting it soothe me and my slowly developing hangover. Katie sits across from me, looking expectantly as she waits on me admitting what’s been going on with me...that I think I have a crush on Nick. Sighing, I meet her gaze...and start telling her everything. How close we’ve grown, how everyone we’ve met thinks we’d be cute together, our almost kiss, how excited I was to see him again, and...how I think I’m falling for him. When I’ve stopped, Katie stares at me silently for what feels like an eternity. I knew she’d need some time to process this...but not this long. “Uh...Katie?” I start, and she immediately cuts me off.

“I KNEW IT!” She gasps, letting out a squeal that makes some of the people in the coffee shop stare. I flush pink, but she doesn’t even notice. “God Y/N, I thought it was going to be something worse than this.” She admits. She sees my pink face and continues. “Y/N. A few days ago, I told you that I’ve seen how happy he makes you, and how it’s like when Adam and I first met. It’s SO OBVIOUS that you like him. Actually...” She giggles, stopping only to take a drink of her coffee. “I didn’t tell you, but last night you were talking about him all the time. Like for the whole night. I think the rest of the girls were too drunk to notice, but I wasn’t. Every five minutes, it was ‘do you think Nick would like this?’ ‘Nick said this...’ ‘Nick said that...’ ‘He’s so cute!’ ‘I want Nick to know how cute I look tonight!’ And now, he does! All thanks to me.” She grins triumphantly. “But seriously Y/N. It’s so obvious. To be honest, I knew that you probably liked him from that first meal in the diner, when you kicked me in the shin.”

“Sorry about that by the way.”

“No, no, don’t be silly! It’s fine. You did that every time I almost spilled your crushes to Grandma. I know you too well. BUT, I did NOT know about this almost kiss though!!!” She squeals again, thankfully quieter this time. “My sister’s getting with the best man!” I quickly shush her.

“No! Nick cannot know. At least, not yet.” She frowns at me. “For one, I have no idea if he even likes me in that way, and second, I am not doing anything to jeopardise your wedding.” Katie scoffs.

“Who cares about my wedding?! My big sister’s finally found the one!”

“Okay, that’s a bit much, I don’t even know if-”

“Oh, please. I have a feeling that he likes you too, and that you two will be happy for many years to come.” She taps the side of her head as if she’s made a breakthrough, before going back to her coffee. “So...when are you gonna tell him?”

“Katie, did you not hear what I just said? I’m not going to. At least not yet. I do want to know if he likes me back, but I don’t want to take away from your wedding.” She reaches over and takes my hand.

“Y/N. As your little sister and the bride, you have my blessing to declare your feelings to Nick before my wedding. Seriously. It’s okay. I just want you to be happy.” I smile.

“Thanks sis.” I sigh. She gets down off her seat and hugs me.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you too.”

“...Oh by the way, when I said ‘who cares about my wedding?’ Yeah, well I still care about it. Even though you have my blessing, please don’t let anything go wrong.” I chuckle.

“I won’t. I promise.”

~~~

The Next Day: Sunday - 5 Days til the Wedding

Nick’s POV

Adam’s practically bouncing on his heels as the two of us wait on Katie and Y/N coming back from the bachelorette party. It was cute, though. I had seen his relationship with Katie grow over the years, and was honoured they asked me to be part of their special day. It was so clear how much they loved each other.

“Dude, calm down.” I smile. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Sorry.” He blushes. “I’ve just been missing Katie, and it’s so close to the wedding now, I’m just...I’m excited to be her husband! I’ll try and calm down.” I smile.

“It’s okay. I just don’t want Katie to come home and find out her fiancé got so excited I had to scrape his body off of the ceiling.” Adam and I laugh.

“So...how about you and Y/N, huh? You excited to see her again?” I nod. Of course I was. “And then you two can finally have that talk.” I frown, looking at him. Did he...did he know? “Oh please, Nick. I’ve seen the way you talk about her. You don’t make it very subtle. You like her, don’t you?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Not as a friend, as in...that way.”

“How did you know?” I ask, not even trying to deny it. He chuckles.

“It’s pretty obvious dude. Both Katie and I have noticed.” Before I can even say anything, he holds his hands up, stopping me. “Don’t worry. Katie and I don’t mind if you and Y/N get together. We just want you both to be happy.” I stand there in silence for a while, not knowing what to say. I mean, he was right, of course...and he gave me his blessing to be with Y/N if it came to that, so what was the issue? Well, of course, she might not like me back...but it was worth a try. “Are you going to talk to her?” Adam asks, looking at me expectantly.

“...I guess?” I say before even thinking about it. Adam grins and pulls me into a hug.

“Good luck.” He smiles. Yeah, what could possibly go wrong? Oh right, everything. Soon after, we hear a car pulling up to the house, and we open the door to see the girls getting out and unloading their suitcases and bags. My stomach twists into knots. Katie and Adam spot each other and immediately run into each other’s arms. Walking past them, Y/N walks into the house, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Nick.” She smiles softly. The sun behind her illuminates her hair, backlighting her in a golden glow. God, she’s gorgeous.

“Uh...Hi!” I gasp, quickly realising I hadn’t replied to her. The two of us stand awkwardly silent for a few moments.

“WELL uh, I think I’m going to take these upstairs.” Y/N suddenly announces, making her way towards the stairs.

“Need a hand?”

“No! I mean uh...no, I’ll be fine. Thanks Nick.” She walks upstairs, leaving me frowning in the hallway. Why is she being so weird? You don’t think she...oh no. Does she know? Does she know that I think I like her? Does she not feel the same? Oh god, she doesn’t. That’s why she’s so awkward around me. Well, more so than usual. Katie walks into the house and gives me a hug. She winks at me as she also heads upstairs, confusing me even more. What is going on with those two? Sighing, I decide to make us all some tea. As I sit in the living room, drinking my cup, Y/N comes and sits beside me on the couch. “Oh! Thanks, Nick.” She smiles, taking a cup of tea. “So...did you have a nice weekend without us?” She asks. No. I missed you too much. I want to say, but instead, I say:

“Yeah! It was good. We just played some video games.” I immediately curse myself for saying I had a good weekend without her. Now she’ll think I hate her. However, Y/N smiles at that.

“That’s good. Katie told me you saw my karaoke video. Did you like it?”

“Yeah, I did. You know, you told me you couldn’t sing, but you’re good.” She laughs.

“I don’t think so, but thanks Nick.” She smiles. She glances up as Katie and Adam walk into the room. “I need to talk to you later.” She whispers, before greeting them both. My stomach starts twisting again. Oh god, she’s going to tell me that she doesn’t feel the same, isn’t she? Dammit. Why do I always fall too hard for a girl then end up disappointed? Katie and Adam continue talking to us both, too caught up in the excitement of seeing each other again even to notice how silent Y/N and I are. The atmosphere is shattered by the sound of a car pulling up outside. The four of us look at each other, clearly confused. Nobody else is meant to be staying here now, just us four...so who’s that?

“Did one of your groomsmen forget something?” Y/N asks. Adam and I shake our heads. “And it’s not one of us, because they’re staying in the local hotel, right, Katie?” Katie huffs.

“It better not be one of them, because I TOLD THEM this house didn’t have enough room for anyone other than us.” A knock sounds at the door. Huffing again, Katie gets up. “Let me handle this.” She sighs. “If it’s our flower vendors, I swear to god, I told them to deliver stuff to the VENUE, NOT HERE.” We hear her voice disappearing down the hallway, and the three of us go back to our tea, expecting Katie to reappear moments later with a quick explanation. Sure enough, we soon hear: “What are YOU doing here?!” Y/N places her cup down and gets up.

“I’ll help her deal with this. Don’t want any issues, like last time.” She gives me a knowing look, and I chuckle lightly. Adam and I go back to scrolling through our phones and drinking tea, until the sound of “Oh, my GOD!” cuts through the air. Frowning, Adam and I look at each other. That was Y/N’s voice. The two of us get up and walk towards the front door. A man stands in the doorway, looking at Y/N and Katie. He hasn’t noticed us yet. Y/N is holding Katie’s hand, clearly squeezing it for dear life, but neither of them says anything. Either to us, the man or each other. Their faces are pale. The man looks over at Adam and I.

“Ah! Hello there! Now, which of you is the groom?” He asks.

“Um, I am?” Adam frowns. The man smiles.

“I see! Wonderful to meet you!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but who are you? Can we help you?” I ask. The man chuckles.

“Of course! Where are my manners?!” He asks. “I’m Robert Miller.” He gestures over at the girls, still ghostly pale. “And these two lovely ladies...are my daughters.”

#nick x reader #the broken hearts gallery #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery fanfic #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery fic #nick fanfiction #nick fanfic #nick x y/n #coming back home fic #coming back home #fanfiction #fanfic

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manychocolatefactories · 4 years ago

Text

CatCF Dark Chocolate: Part 2, the tour

Willy Wonka and his factory:

For the Factory in this version, I wanted to give a feeling of the factories of the 19th century. Something between a place where a mad scientist would work and a steampunk fantasy. Willy Wonka himself is based on Jules Vernes.

Willy Wonka himself is a man with an "impressive beard", a solemn but kind air on his face, and an overall feeling of knowledge and wisdom. Wearing a thick and tight jacket, a black top hat and a dark green coat, his appearance actually gives mixed signals: his short hair is fluffy and shaggy, like a man of free spirit, of amusement and not much care, but his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and cut, like any serious and respectable man. His hair is brown, chocolate-colored, but with touches of white and gray here and there. His eyes are kind and twinkling, but his mouth is a harsh thin line. He is the kind of man that will say the most extravagant things perfectly seriously, but treat serious and common business as a joke. Don't think however that is an extravagant or funny man. Again, he rather gives the feeling of a kind mad scientist.

As for the Factory itself, actually the locals, the people of the town over which the Factory looms, dislike it. Sure, the Factory is admired by people wordlwide - tourists come to see it, painters come to paint it, it is a landmark admired in foreign countries. But the locals do not like it at all. It is a tall, dark, cold and stern building, with no color of beauty, only locked doors, metallic fences, thick walls and high chimneys. The Factory does not employ anyone of the town, in fact no one ever saw the Factory workers arrive or leave. Wonka himself has never left his factory for decades now. Couple that with strange white silhouettes seen at the windows, and the ramblings of the local homeless man who apparently hates the Factory and keeps insulting it, and quickly a bad reputation was built for it. Adults believe Wonka is trying to hide a shameful secret, the kids tell tales of "the haunted chocolate factory"...

In fact, I wanted an air of creepiness for the Factory. I took back the original idea of Dahl that all the workers are regular humans dressed in white, and I pushed it a little further: they are basically so covered in white you can hardly see them anymore. They have white blouses and jackets, white gloves, white masks, white caps, white helmets... After each kid's demise, a mysterious poem is recitated (like in Dahl's original drafts), mysterious voices that could be eithe the worker's or something else... In fact, with each kid demise there is an element of sppokiness which may be the kid hallucinating out of fear, or not (Augustus in the river thinks something is tying to catch him or drag him down ; Wilbur and Rice in the dark hear and feel creepy things...). And Wonka himself keeps making ominous references to "selling your soul to the devil"...

But in truth the Factory isn't a death trap at all. Behind the scenes, the workers are just normal people with their own life and their usual office routines, and who happent to leave very discreetly the Factory. The Factory is also based a lot on the Menier chocolate factory, which is the "real-life" Wonka factory. I may speak more about it one day.

Anyway... now let's go on with the tour!

# The Labyrinth. Behind each entrance, before each exit of the Factory, is a labyrinth, a maze Wonka designed after the works of Penrose and Möbius. Only he and his workers know the way out of them. This is merely a security measure.

# The Edible Garden. For this garden, I wanted to insist on the idea of it being fake and artificial - Wonka didn't try to create a perfect replica of a landscape. This room doesn't even have any real sense in the Factory, it is merely a piece of art he created so that he could come in here to relax and mediate. There are no windows, all the lights come from spots on the far-away ceiling and the ground is grey stone (because Wonka is revolted at the idea of making grass out of candy, it would be too dirty). There are trees of hard caramel and mint candies, orchards where the fruits are made of gummy, lollipops shaped like flowers and numerous sculptures of sugar - none of this is to be eaten however. At the back of the garden, there is the Chocolate River. The River serves a double use: on one side, it is merely an aesthetic addition to the Edible Garden. On the other, it is a source of energy for the Factory - it used to be a water mill, and Wonka kept the ancient structures but replaced water with chocolate. As such, the production of chocolate actually helps create energy back - and the river ends with a series of different pipes, each one leading to a different room where the chocolate will be used.

This is where Augustus Pottle meets his demise. The competitive glutton tried to empty the river of its content, and fell into it. Sucked up by one of the glass pipes, he did a long travel through the tubes and pipes of the factory, which crushed and reshaped his fat into a cylindric body - before he fell into one of the boiling vats. There, the heat was enough to have all his fat melt, like in a super-intense sauna. Hopefully, he was rescued before being boiled alive - but Augustus left the factory as a mass of sagging, extra-skin, his wrinkled folds dragging on the ground, like a skeleton wearing a bride's dress made of human flesh.

# At the back of the Edible Garden, there is a long hallway that passes by a balcony. Said balcony allows one to see the "Mosaic room", a place where Wonka makes mosaics out of pralines - and since the room is really vast, he can make giant mosaics.

# The Vanilla Fudge Mountain. While it looks like a miniature mountain kept inside a giant room, this titanic hunk of vanilla fudge is actually a fragment taken out of the Honeylaya mountain range (located somewhere between the great Black Thunder chocolate mines, and the sugar marshes of the Sea of Marmelade). [References to the Himalaya, the Black Thunder coal mines, the Black Thunder chocolate bars, the Sea of Marmara and salt marshes ]. This room is basically a copy-cut of Dahl's deleted chapter of the same name, with workers breaking down the mountain, piling the fudge in wagons and then sending it to the Cutting and Pounding Room.

This is where Wilbur and Rice meet their demise. Unruly, and tired of having all their pranks and "fun" sabotaged by Wonka and Bertie Upside, they decide to ride the wagons. Of course, they are sent down the Cutting and Pounding Room - hopefully for them, Wonka has installed an intelligent wire strainer/net that can catch all impurities detected, to clean the fudge. So the kids are saved, right? Well the thing is that, while waiting on the wire strainer for someone to save them, the kids, bored and gluttonous, ended up eating all the fudge that fell down around them. They ate so much of it, that the machine ended up identifying them as "fudge" instead of "impurity" (since they were basically 80 percent fudge after their gorging Xp). So they where sent down in the Room, thrown on a conveyor belt... ready to be pound and cut into slices. The workers realized this of course and stopped the conveyor belt before the knifes - but the kids still got pounded. Wilbur, who was lying on his side when he got pounded, became tall and thin ; while Tommy, who was standing up, got pounded on the head and became small and large. In fact, when they got out of the Factory, their angry parents ended up mistaking one for another and going home with the wrong boy.

# After the Vanilla Fudge Mountain, the tour goes by another hallway, this one with numerous tall and colorful windows - stained glass made of sugar. Each window illustrates a famous chocolatier or candy-maker, but in the style of saints in churches. You have Philippe Suchard (the grandfather of Milka), Henry Isaac Rowntree (the maker of the Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums), the Menier family (the biggest chocolatiers of 19th century and first half of 20th century Europe, and distant relatives of Wonka) ; the Murrie family (creators of Hersheys) and the Mars famly (bheind the Mars bars, the M&Ms, the Snickers and the Milky Ways). "All families" Wonla notes with an air of sadness. Indeed, Wonka always wanted a family - or rather at this point in his life he regrets to not have a family and an heir, isolated that he is in his factory.

# Inventing Room number 3. There are numerous "Inventing Rooms" in the Factory, dedicated to developping, inventing, testing, studying products or just do crash tests. The number 3 is clustered with huge, squat and heavy dark machines, with vats, cauldrons and ovens, and all sorts of other structures dragon-like due to the steam and fire they spill out. It quite a grim and sinister place, but it is also where Wonka tests his most fantastic inventions, like the Rainbow Drops, the Luminous Lollies or the Three-Course Meal Gum.

As you guess, this is where Violet Beauregard will meet her demise. I set myself a rule to avoid all blueberry transformations when dealing with the demises of the Violets, so here I rather use the tomato soup: after chewing (not only did Violet took the gum due to her "talent" but also because she misheard Wonka and thought it was a "tasting" room), her face becomes red and chubby, her skin smooth and glossy, her cheeks puff out, her nose bulges, her forehead bloats, her throat becomes big, her lips thick and her ears thin, pointy, green. Result? Her face looks like a mass of tomatoes. Tomatoes for cheeks, a tomato for a forehead, tomatoes instead of eyelids, a tomato for a nose and two for the lips... Think of the Arcimboldo paintings, how he made faces out of flowers and vegetables. It is the same thing here. And while her parent is furious at first, they end up actually realizing it might be for the better - because now she is truly unique and attention-attracting, and that's what her parents always wanted...

# Follows a long hallway with a series of different rooms: two are taken from the original book, the Fizzy Lifting Drinks and the Squares that Look Round. One I changed slightly: the Chocolate Milk Room, where Wonka keeps special cows that have a chocolate-flavored milk.

# The Heating Room. A room taken from Dahl's deleted chapter "The Warming Candy Room".

This Heating Room looks like the negine room of a submarine or a freighter, filled with turbines, pistons, pipes, wheels and pressure gauges. This is where Wonka creates all of his heat-related products: hot ice-creams to fight chilling days, hot ice-cubes to give back warmth to a cold drink, and finally the warming candies (see the original deleted chapter). Marvin Prune, absolutely outraged by what he perceives as Wonka breaking all laws of science and physics, tries to prove that he is a quack by stuffing himself with handfuls of warming candies. Which results in him over-heating: he becomes red, sweaty, thirsty, removes all of his clothes (save for his underwears) and screams to death.

Wonka will have him put in the freezer, and also covered regularly in water, to avoid him drying up to death or combust. But even as he is leaving the factory, he is still red, sweaty, steamy and in underwears - the falling snow melting as it touches him.

# The Nut Room. Another classic piece of the original factory that I wanted to reinvent. Basically, here the kids do not visit the Nut Room proper, but the Under-Nut Room, or Sub-Nut Room. You've got the Nut Room where the white-clad workers separate good nuts from bad nuts Then the "bad" batch is then in this under-room, where trained squirrels will sniff out any potential "good nut" the workers may have missed. All the nuts are on a conveyor belt, that is getting then thrown down a chute.

Of course, Elvira Salt meets her demise here by trying to take one of the squirrels by force, resulting in a squirrel attack. However, the squirrels do not push her down the chute. Rather, she climbs on the conveyor belt to avoid them and has her fur stuck in the belt. She could have escaped if she had let go of it, but she refused to let it go, so she fell down the chute... and Wonka cannot remember if this particular chute leads to the compost vat he uses to grow his fruits, vegetales and berries - or to the furnace...

But don't worry, she actually falls down in the compost. Elvira will leave the factory extremely dirty, unbearably stinky, so much not even an entire week of baths and showers can remove it, and probably with one or two diseases, but alive.

# The Television Room. I did not had time to clearly prepare this one, but it will be where Michael (Mike) T-V meets his demise. Discovering he can go inside television, he is more happy to oblige, and is absolutely thrilled to be in his favorite shows. But as soon as he leaves the television, he realizes that he is now as small as a television character! No bigger than the screen! He will be sent back to his home, now only able to play with his toys and figurines, the only things at his doll-like size.

# The Molding Room

This room is also taken back from Dahl's original draft. Basically, it is where Wonka creates many of his chocolate sculptures - he has an entire zoo of chocolate animals, and very recently created a machine able to form men, women and children out of chocolate. And this is also where Bertie Upside will meet his demise.

You may be wondering: Bertie? What has he done wrong? He is kind, gentle, generous, perfect. He helped Charlie on numerous occasions, he stopped the mischief of the brats... Isn't he a good kid?

HE IS NOT. Grandpa Georges was right all along: if he appears better than the others, it means that he twice as worse.

Bertie Upside truly has a heart of gold. Which means a heart of cold and hard metal, not of flesh.

Bertie Upside is a psychopath, a sociopath, an evil little boy. Sure he knows how to put on a nice and gentle facade, but it is just manipulation. If he is orphaned, it is because he killed his own parents, and now that he is left alone with Charlie (Wonka being busy elsewhere), Bertie will try to kill him, just for fun, by putting him in the "Chocolate Boy" mould so that he would be smothered in a chocolate statue.

However (I have to admit this part is a bit blurry), Charlie will resist and Bertie will end up thrown inside another moulding machine... A piñata-creating machine. When Bertie will get out of the machine, he will still be a living boy... but now with a flesh as fragile as papier-mâché, and insides filled with candies. Now he is really a sweet kid inside as he is outside. And he will have to be really gentle... if he doesn't want to break.

And of course after that Charlie gets the factory, as it turns out that Wonka was looking for an heir with this tour. Happy end!

Now, as I mentionned a poem forms itself through the story, rhymes being added after each kid's demise (an idea originally taken from Dahl's first drafts of the story). It goes like this:

"Nine little children, in the garden they went,

But one fell, and then they were eight."

"Eight little children, an unruly mix,

Two rode to Chicago, and then they were six."

"Six little children went into a room as busy as a hive,

But one did not listen carefully, and then they were five."

"Five little children, less and less at every door,

One had a fever and then they were four."

"Four little children saw squirrels down the tree,

One fell down the squirrel hole, and then they were three."

"Three little children, and none are new,

One went to play and then they were two."

"Two little children, we are soon to be done,

One got his trickandtreat, and then there was one."

"One little children, everything he won,

He lived ever happily, and now we are done."

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #willy wonka #wonka factory #tour #dark chocolate #demise #veruca salt #augustus gloop #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #charlie bucket #bertie upside #marvin prune #tommy troutbeck #wilbur rice

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megalony · 4 years ago

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Hidden truths

This is a new murderer! Ben Hardy series I am going to be working on, based off the request from the lovely @virginievezzoso. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always lovely.

(I’ve changed the name of this series from Deadly Obsession to Hidden Truths).

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben finds himself falling for (Y/n) who is rather reluctant to be around him but not because he is a murderer. (Y/n) is a prostitute and she doesn’t want Ben to find out in fear of what he would do and what his reaction would be. But he just can’t seem to stay away from her.

Enjoy.

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

The moon was pink.

Despite the beautiful fuchsia colouring of the usually milky white moon, (Y/n) thought it looked like a bad omen looming over her, especially with the moon being so close and bright like it was. (Y/n) felt like she was under some kind of trance, the further up the street she walked, the closer she seemed to get to the moon until it felt like the moon was right across the street from her and she could reach out and touch it.

(Y/n) hated walking down this street at night, it felt like she was surrounded by danger at every corner but she knew there was only one reason she hated walking down here despite having to do this walk every day.

The club.

When the night was dark like this and the moon was looming like it was it cast a glow onto the club that looked dangerous in her eyes. When the lights were turned out and all the doors and windows were closed it looked terrifying to (Y/n), especially now with the moon shining on it making the white building look pink. In her mind it should be black to match the aura it gave off to her because she knew what kind of people came in and out of that club and she didn't want to be around them.

Men went in to punch each other and to break punching bags, other men went in and out to do dodgy dealings and carried guns in the waistband of their jeans or tucked into their belts.

Other men went in with the fear of God in their eyes and never came out again. Some men came out of that club and went into the world and then by the end of the day, there was one less person in the world. (Y/n) wasn't stupid, she knew what kind of people went in and out of that club and it worried her to be so close to that place on a daily basis.

Her job wasn't the best and it was far from nice or normal but it was nowhere near what went on in that club and that club made her feel like a duchess who should fear for her life being near such a place.

As (Y/n) walked down the street she tucked her coat tighter around her frame and pulled her arms closer to her chest. Another twenty minutes and she would be home. (Y/n) never minded walking home at night, no matter the time or the dodgy street or the few people walking around town. But the club always unsettled her like nothing else in the world.

(Y/n) tipped her head down to look at her feet as she walked over the uneven pavement but she suddenly found herself slowing down when she heard the distinct noise of a door snapping shut. She didn't want to look, she didn't want to see who it was who was walking out of that god forsaken club that should be closed since it was one in the morning. But (Y/n) couldn't help herself, she just had to have a sneak peak at who would be leaving that place this late into the night- or this early into the morning.

She had seen the people coming and going and no one else left after eleven so she figured that eleven was the closing time and it seemed to be eight in the morning that it opened.

She didn't know who that was who was leaving.

The stranger was tall, he was very tall in fact, and he had short hair that must be blond but it was baby pink due to the casting of the moonlight that hit him like a spotlight. He had a nose that rounded at the end but the bridge of his nose was crooked and had a bump in the middle, presumably from being broken one too many times. He had very dark eyes that were darker because of the lack of lighting in the street and his shoulders were very broad and strained against his jacket along with the muscles on his arms.

He had a chain containing over ten different keys connecting to a chain that linked to his dark blue jeans which he was using to lock up the front door. But what made (Y/n) freeze in her tracks was seeing the very tip of the handle of a gun sticking out the back of his jeans between his hips.

The moment he turned round their eyes locked and he seemed just as surprised and confused as (Y/n) did.

They seemed to stand and stare at one another for what felt like hours but it was barely even a minute before he started walking towards her. (Y/n) wanted to run, she had the right mind to start walking and then gradually speed up into a run to get home and away from the stranger coming out of the place she dreaded. But (Y/n) couldn't do anything, her feet were glued to the pavement and her eyes were glued to the stranger advancing towards her like it was his mission in life to capture her.

"Are you okay? It's pretty late to be roaming around these streets, love."

Ben pushed his hands into his jean pockets as his head ticked to the side. His dark green eyes analysed the girl in front of him who he'd never seen before and who shouldn't really be out this late in this area of town. Ben tried to keep the club looking and seeming legitimate even in an area like this because he couldn't afford being in trouble with the law but he knew how dangerous this area was. Especially when his men were roaming the streets.

He could hurt a man, he could kill a man and Ben could do unspeakable crimes and get away with them all, but hurting or intimidating a woman was something he rarely ever did. He didn't allow his men to do it either so on a night like this with a rather timid girl walking around at one in the morning, he felt he should at least make sure she was okay.

"It's pretty late to be closing up a boxing club." (Y/n) felt like her words were confident but they didn't sound it. She sounded meek and shy and innocent which wasn't what she wanted to sound or feel like but he was off-putting. There was something about this man that made him seem like a predator, he had a sharks grin and he came out of a dodgy business, he was screaming danger but (Y/n) couldn't move away.

"Ah, the club shut at eleven, doesn't mean the boss can't stay behind and sort a few things out. Where are you heading this early in the morning, this isn't the best area to be in."

The moment the word boss slipped through Ben's lips he noticed the girl in front of him change. Her eyes widened and her lips parted but no words and not even a proper breath escaped those ruby red lips. She looked like he had just told her he had risen from the dead and that gave a rather big signal to Ben that this girl knew what kind of business he ran.

"I- I'm going home." (Y/n) wanted to tell him that she knew this wasn't the best area because she worked here and she walked here and back home again every day but she bit down on her tongue and kept quiet. No need to give him extra information about herself in case he was one of the bad kinds of people at that club since he owned it.

"No need to look so worried, love. The business may be... dangerous, but I ain't." Ben tried to choose his words carefully, he didn't want to scare her because there was something about her that was reigning him in. But at the same time, he didn't want to give the wrong impression to her.

"I doubt that."

(Y/n) tried to smile but she couldn't and she tried to swallow her nerves but felt like her throat was as dry as the desert and about to tighten up until she couldn't breathe. Her eyes stayed solely on the man in front of her as she took a step back to try and quietly tell him she was going to go home now but when she took two steps back, her heel caught on the uneven pavement. A gasp escaped (Y/n)'s lips but she didn't hit the concrete like she imagined she would, a hand held tightly onto her elbow and an arm swerved around her waist and pulled her forwards rather than letting her drop backwards.

The smile that (Y/n) was faced with when she was pulled into the man's chest was one that sent her mixed messages. He reminded her vividly of a shark baring its teeth to its prey but at the same time, there was something so different, so reassuring about that smile. But she couldn't be close to him, she couldn't trust a man who ran a business like that.

(Y/n)'s job was far from normal and it wasn't legitimate or fashionable or a high society job. Being a prostitute wasn't high up on anybody's list but it was what she did and (Y/n) knew pleasuring people was far more ideal and desirable than killing people. She was at the top of the world compared to Ben who was as close to Hell on Earth as he could manage.

"Careful love, nearly had an accident."

"Thank you." (Y/n)'s voice shook as she slowly pulled herself out of his grip and took a step away, rubbing at her arms for some sense of comfort and security. "I'll be going now." (Y/n) took another careful step away, watching how the stranger watched her as if making sure she wasn't going to fall. Why wasn't he acting or seeming as dangerous as he actually was? He should be fierce, scary, frightening, horrifying even, but he wasn't.

"I'm Ben, by the way."

No names. (Y/n) never wanted names from any of her clients or the people she knew from her line of work. Names complicated matters and she wanted her life as simple as she could get it. But he wasn't talking to her because of her work or even because of his own. He was talking to her because he had seen her out in the street and wanted to make sure she was okay. Giving him her name would cause no harm if she didn't intend to talk to or see him again, would it?

"(Y/n)."

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

"We must stop meeting like this." The smile on Ben's face was crooked up at one side and with his head titled at an angle, it looked like he had leaned his head to the right and tipped his smile to the side like gravity.

'We must stop meeting altogether.'

(Y/n) bit her tongue so those words didn't rattle past her lips, she didn't want to be rude to him because he was giving her no cause for concern and no cause to be rude or cruel to him. Nor did (Y/n) know what he would do if she was rude or ignorant to him, he could walk away or he could put his battered knuckles to use against her. She didn't know Ben at all, she knew his name and where he worked but she knew nothing else about him.

This was the third time they had met each other out in the street close b the club and (Y/n) wondered how they had never come across one another before now. She liked it better when she didn't know who he was and the club was just an illusive place she never entered. Now it was a place she found herself looking at more and more, worried who would walk out and who was going to walk in and never come out again.

"Where are you heading?"

Ben kept one hand stuffed into the pocket of his jeans whilst his other hand rubbed against his jaw and lower lip. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her appearance and take her in like he wanted her imprinted on his memory. She was wearing a navy blue jumpsuit and a thin black jacket with the collar pulled up to fight against the shallow but cold breeze in the air, and her hair was neatly pinned up at the back of her head with a few strands hanging loose.

"Home... what about you?" (Y/n) truly didn't know why she was making conversation with this man that she barely knew but whose reputation proceeded him, and it was not a good one.

But the way he was looking at her caused (Y/n) to shiver under her jacket, it was as if he was about to pounce and devour her and it made all of her nerve-ends spark and set alight. She had no reason to talk to him and he had no reason to want to talk to her either but here they were at five in the afternoon, making conversation in the street.

"I think I'll go for a drink, fancy joining me?"

There was something about the way that Ben bit down on the corner of his lip and rubbed at his jaw with his index finger that made (Y/n) hold her breath. It was like he was trying to enchant her or cast her under a spell so she would agree and join him- and it felt like it was working.

She knew she shouldn't.

He wasn't the kind of person (Y/n) should be getting involved with or even talking to. She was no saint herself but she was nothing compared to what went on in that club and if Ben was the boss then he had to know all the ins and outs of that place and what went on. Nor did (Y/n) really think he would have the best kind of reaction if he got to know her and then found out that she was a prostitute. Surely he wasn't the kind of man that went to prostitutes or wanted to hang out or even date one.

In (Y/n)'s mind there was only one way that this could end, and that was in disaster.

But she hadn't been out for a drink for a while now and if she did do this then maybe if they bumped into one another again he wouldn't try and talk to her. Maybe this would stop them from meeting or talking because the first night they met it was Ben who struck up a conversation and wanted to pursue it. The second time they met the other day he was still the one trying to talk to (Y/n) and now it was the same. As much as (Y/n) found him intriguing, she also found him intimidating and too risky to get to know or get along with but for some reason, he wanted to get to know her.

"Okay." (Y/n) pressed her lips together and bit down on her bottom lip to try and stop herself from smiling because somehow she felt that she shouldn't even though he was grinning at her rather deviously.

Another shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine and her back tensed up when she felt Ben's hand rest lightly on her lower back. He meant nothing out of order by the movement but (Y/n) knew better than to get too close to anyone or let anyone be this close or touch her. Ben felt her tense when he rested his hand on her back but when she didn't pull away or snap at him or even look worriedly at him, he didn't pull away. He moved his other hand and gestured for them to start walking but his eyes stayed solely focused on (Y/n). He watched the way she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear so gently and slowly like she was trying to calm down nerves that were raging a storm inside of her. He noticed the way she was very light on her feet and the small heels on her shoes barely made a noise on the uneven pavement they walked on.

He saw how she seemed to hold the strap of her bag on her shoulder very tightly, but the more they walked, the looser her grip became. Ben liked the smile she had as she stared down at her feet as they advanced down the street. She smiled so shyly and innocently and was keeping her eyes on the floor rather than looking up or even glancing up at him. There was something so intriguing about (Y/n) and it was drawing Ben to her.

He couldn't seem to want to stay away.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #murderer! ben #hidden truths

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goggles-mcgee · 5 years ago

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So apple flipped the table when she and raven talked can we see that conversation and then the fight with dexter afterwards please im so intrested

She almost flipped the table but yeah of course!!

~♤~♡~◇~♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧~◇~♡~♤~

Raven took a deep breath to calm herself as they neared The Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe, she was grateful that Dexter was there and was holding her hand the entire time but with Darling and Daring there as well, and all three of them with their swords, it really wasn't helping her nerves. Which was ridiculous, she shouldn't be nervous to see Apple and yet...she was...she really was. When she had first woken up she hadn't even thought about the fact she had been poisoned with the sleep like death, but when she admitted she didn't remember much other than taking a bite out of the tart that was given to her. Apparently someone left it in the kitchen and they had seen her name on a tag before it had fallen and had gotten lost somewhere during the lunch rush, she was surprised but well, apple tarts were her favorite dessert and somehow someone had known. It wasn't something she liked to admit due to her story but she had felt her cheeks flush and a happy smile slip onto his lips and she had eagerly gotten a forkful and that was all she remembered, after that it was all dark.

That was something she hated, people kept asking her what it was like to be under that enchanted sleep, Blondie kept asking if she dreamed and Raven honestly would rather forget the experience altogether. She didn't dream...it had felt as though she had stopped existing...it was one of the hardest things to experience and she wouldn't wish it to happen to anyone. Briar asked and she was the only one besides Holly and Poppy that Raven had told the truth to. She hadn't even told Dexter or her own mother what it felt like. Then there was the matter of who poisoned her...she just couldn't wrap her head around it, yeah they got into a fight but Raven thought her and Apple were hexcellent friends. Raven had been annoyed at Apple's actions lately, but she chalked it up to Apple's mom putting pressure on her, she never thought Apple would try to make her hate her the way she did. The sad part? Raven didn't hate Apple despite what she had done, she felt bad for her. Which is why she agreed to this lunch in the first place.

She agreed with her mother to let Dex take her and tried to limit it to only him but her mother and surprisingly the Charming siblings argued she needed them all. It had befuddled her so much that she just agreed to the extra "security" and here they were. The Charming Siblings were talking amongst themselves but you could tell they were alert, especially Dexter, she could feel how tense he was the closer they got to the door.

As soon as the reached it Daring opened the door with a flourish and bowed to Raven as he motioned her inside with a wink. She rolled her eyes but stepped in and immediately zeroed in on Apple sitting near the back. It wasn't hard to find her, everyone else in the shop seemed to sit everywhere else but near her and the sight made Raven's heart clench. She ignored the looks and the whispers and she briskly walked up to Apple's table, she gave the girl a small smile as she took the seat across from her. Dexter didn't sit but he stood near her, Daring and Darling stood closer to the door though Darling was closer but Raven noticed neither was looking at them. It was almost like they couldn't make themselves look at Apple.

"Thanks for coming finally. I ordered your usual tea." Apple's voice was full of honey that promised the presence of wasps but Raven tried not to let it get to her.

"Thanks for inviting me Apple." Raven replied politely as she grabbed the cup in front of her, she was going to take a drink to calm her nerves but Dexter stopped her and gently grabbed the cup from her but she could see how much he was holding himself back. From what? She didn't know but she frowned and was about to ask him what he was doing but when she looked up she saw he was glaring straight at Apple who let out a wry chuckle.

"I didn't poison it Dexter." She said with a roll of her eyes and it made Raven's stomach drop, more so when Apple looked at her. "Did you really have to bring the bodyguards?"

"It wasn't her choice." Dexter grit out, Raven had never seen him so serious or wound up. "And forgive me for not believing you Poison Apple."

Raven felt dizzy as she watched the two. Especially when she heard Apple growl, Apple never growled.

"Don't call me that!"

"It's the name you earned." Who knew Dexter could be so cold...

"Stop." Raven pleaded as she grabbed Dexter's hand. "If you're....worried that she's...done something can you get me a new pot of tea or something. Just please...I want you two to stop."

Dexter softened, if only a bit but motioned for Daring to get her her drink. Raven had to calm herself from doing something foolish like yelling, she knew he meant well but she wasn't made of glass. He didn't have to stand there like a suit of armor, she would actually have been less frustrated if he had sat down next to her. She knew he didn't trust Apple but this...this was madness! And not the good kind!

"Shut up with that goodey goodey talk Queen." Raven felt as though she was slapped when she realized that Apple had said it and was glaring at her with such hatred...what did she do to deserve that??? They were friends...they had been friends...hadn't they? "Don't act like you're some saint. This is all your fault."

"My faul.....Apple. I didn't do anything to you!" Raven had already been frustrated she felt desperate to get Apple to see her mistakes.

"Exactly! If you had just stuck to our story I would still have EVERYTHING. You. Took. Everything!" Apple yelled as she slowly stood up, pushing the table towards Raven when she did. Raven did the same only so she didn't have to feel the press of the table, she felt Dexter behind her, his hand laid on the small of her back and she took comfort in the warmth.

"You....You can't be serious. Apple. You did this to yourself!" Raven yelled back.

Raven watched as apple grabbed the corner of the table, her eyes on fire as she glared at Raven with clenched teeth. "NO I DIDN'T! I DID NOT! I DID WHAT WAS NECESSARY FOR MY HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND YOU RUINED IT YOU WITCH!"

It was like everything had gone in slow motion, she had braced herself to be hit with the table once Apple flipped it but it didn't happen, Apple had barely tipped it when Raven had heard a SHINK! and saw the glare of the sun bouncing off Dexter's sword which was pointed right at Apple. The air was tight as everyone held their breaths, waiting to see what would happen. Raven watched as Apple looked at the sword and then Dexter, she watched those blue eyes go through a storm of emotions, hate, fury, confusion, hurt, fear....and back at hate. Apple huffed and set the table down loudly and stalked out of the shop, the clicking of her heels sounding ominous as she did so.

"Are you alright?" Dexter asked as he quickly put his sword away and cradled Raven's face. The gesture was sweet but all Raven tasted was bitterness. She stepped back and frowned.

"Why would you do that? Did you see Apple's face?"

Dexter frowned and scrunched his nose. "She was going to flip that table at you! You know she was!"

"And if she was? I could have stopped it! Or we could have talked to her instead of raising our weapons first!"

"Talk to...Raven. Poison Apple has shown she's more prone to action that words!"

"Don't call her that! That's what riled her up! If we just talked maybe I could have talked some sense into her!" Raven's throat felt raw but if she didn't say this now, she had a feeling she wouldn't have said it at all.

"Sense? Raven she has none! Briar tried okay, and it did nothing. She doesn't feel bad about poisoning you, she doesn't feel bad about all the stunts she pulled trying to make you look bad. She doesn't care. I don't think you talking with her would have made a difference." Towards the end his voice got softer, he wasn't yelling anymore but you could tell Dexter was still mad and anxious. He kept running his fingers through his hair so it looked more unkempt than usual.

"Well I don't know that. Because you wouldn't let me try. You guys are great and I love having you around but enough is enough. Stop treating me as though I'm made of glass. I'm not! I want a boyfriend Dex. Not a babysitter."

"I know you're not Raven, but Poison Apple still poisoned you. You were gone for a little over a month, nearing two. So I'm sorry if we care about your wellbeing since you don't seem to." Dexter huffed out, his nostrils flaring like a bull that just saw red.

Raven didn't say anything, because she knew if she did she would say something really hurtful, she was so frustrated and her magic was bubbling in response. "You think. I want to go back to that. To sleep? Because I don't. I wouldn't wish that upon any not even Apple. You think I'm not scared of it happening again?"

Her magic was pulling and pushing her at the same time, she needed to calm down but she just couldn't. She took a step back from Dexter and more towards the kitchen door. "I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE......I thought....I was slowly being convinced that I didn't exist...so don't you dare tell me I don't care. I'm terrified that this? All of this is some dream and I'm still in that glass coffin! So forgive me if I just want to make sense of it ALL."

She was crying but she didn't care, her throat hurt but she didn't care, but after the final word she did care. It all flooded back into her and her magic exploded the lights around her. Raven felt like she was 6 years old all over again and with one last look at Dexter and giving a soft sorry to everyone else she fled out the back door and ignored the call of her name.

She needed to see Maddie and Cerise.

#ever after high #ever after high au #poison apple au #evil white au #evil apple white #eah evil queen #eah snow white #dexter charming x raven queen #dexter charming #raven queen #darling charming #daring charming #the wonderland haberdashery and tea shoppe

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mortuarybees · 5 years ago

Note

oh I just sent you an ask and then realized that you answered my question in a previous ask, so ignore me. (Though I do have another question about them getting married or at least choosing to be committed to each other forever). Thank you for this AU though!

THIS GOT LONG I’M SORRY. The chef suggests that this be paired with Mitski’s cover of Let’s Get Married, which actually invented the institution of marriage.

It looks like this:

It’s a balmy Sunday in April, 2014, and Aziraphale’s hands are clasped before him, forehead pressed to his knuckles. He’s nervous; he shouldn’t be, he knows, but he is. The pew is hard and uncomfortable, unforgiving–Crowley would laugh at that, and even as he smiles, the thought makes his stomach clench.

The service ended a while ago, but he likes to remain, reading through the echoing chatter until everyone has gone and he can have a word alone with Her. Praying in a room full of others feels obscene and vulnerable, like leaving the front door open for the neighbors to peak in.

Please, please, please, he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, praying, knows that if today is the day, he needs to go home before Crowley gets irritable and worried, but he wants to feel certain, the way Crowley had been.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale likes gold. Loves gold; he grew up in an ancient and wealthy family, with so much money they’re casual about it, crystals dripping from chandeliers and fine tableware so old it belongs in a museum, and he won’t admit it–not now, especially–but he misses the elegance, the luxuries, misses a wardrobe full of Harris tweed and Burberry and Liberty’s. He likes gold, he would want gold, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but give him what he wants.)

It’s been a long time, Aziraphale thinks. He’s getting older–I’m getting older–he only gets one life. He’s the restless kind, what if he says no?

He asked first, he reminds himself, and then counters it by pointing out that last time, it didn’t mean much, to him. No, that isn’t fair, it meant something, but it wasn’t binding.

He doesn’t need to bind himself to you, he tells himself. He’s committed in every way he can. He’s never been the restless sort when it comes to us.

I’m overthinking this, he thinks, bemused, and as if God agrees with him, he hears the door behind him open, and Crowley’s relieved voice boom, echoing in the empty church and certainly disturbing the bad-humored priest, “Christ, there you are. I thought maybe the Rapture came and the rest of London was too godless to notice.”

Thank you, he prays. Amen. He turns around and smiles. “Crowley, dear. Would you like to sit?”

“Best not,” Crowley says, stopping at the end of the pew Aziraphale occupies. “Surprised I haven’t burst into flames yet, don’t want to push my luck getting comfortable.” He looks around and points at a painting of Saint Sebastian, posed in a rather un-agonized manner. “That why you come here all the time? An excuse to gawk at younger men?”

“Crowley,” he scolds, getting to his feet. He ducks his head to hide his smile and puts his hands in his pockets, toying with the small velvet box inside. “Please, dear, keep from blaspheming inside the church. Besides, you’re far better looking.”

“Damn right,” Crowley huffs, and he takes his arm possessively when he exits the pew, pulling tight against his side. He looks beautiful in the mid-morning light, hazy and soft, hair loose around his face, the stained glass painting colors on his pale face when he squints up at it as they leave. The face of John is mirrored perfectly in the lenses of his dark glasses for just a moment, and Aziraphale wishes he’d ever really tried his hand at art, just to immortalize in rich oil paint the rainbow of light on his face, the Beloved Disciple in his eyes, the swipes of glitter across his cheekbones, the black lace top under his leather jacket, pierced a million times over with all manner of pins over the years; he thinks if he wasn’t at peace before, this picture does it.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he murmurs when it’s ended, when Crowley tilts his chin down, curls his lip against whatever blasphemy he was certainly thinking and it’s just him again. Just them, and God as far away as She always feels.

“I was kidding, angel,” he says, thumb stroking a reassuring line down his coat sleeve. “Ogle some guy all–” he gestures, quite theatrically– “shot up with arrows if you like. He’s dead, I’m not. I win.”

(It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and Crowley and Aziraphale arrived in London six months prior, alone and uncertain, refugees on a foreign shore. They both grew up in rural villages–wildly different experiences; Aziraphale’s family had an estate and he attended some posh boarding school on the moors, Crowley slept on a bus bench on more than one occasion–and the city is new and frightening and exciting. It seemed like the place for two young queer men to go, newly anointed adults forging a life together.

Aziraphale likes it, Crowley knows he does, he likes the museums, he likes the beautiful old buildings and the British Library, he likes taking walks in the park, and he likes having a home of their own, a home with Crowley. He tells him everyday, a comment here or there with a soft smile. But he’s wounded and mourning; he misses his family, and his new way of life is a bit of a shock. He won’t admit that it hurts, just sniffs and insists he knew it was coming, but Crowley knows him better that that. He loves London, but he can’t help but see the life he’s lost in every crevice of the life he’s found.

Crowley doesn’t believe in divine providence, but if he did, this would be the surest evidence of it: on his way home to their shithole of a flat with his first paycheck in his pocket, he passes the window of an antiques store, and sees it in the window. It catches the afternoon light perfectly and shines gold against the black velvet display; it’s a clunky old-fashioned sort of ring, with angel wings forming the band. Crowley has been thinking hard about this for years now, and it’s absolutely perfect.)

The sunlight outside comes weakly through the clouds, pale but just bright enough to avoid dreariness. Crowley relaxes once they step from the church steps and onto the sidewalk; his first boyfriend broke up with him with a vague and plausibly-deniable note in a cheap bible left on Crowley’s front porch when he returned home from a summer church camp, and Aziraphale thinks he’s always been afraid in the back of his mind that Aziraphale is going to come home from church someday and do the same thing, though he’s never said as much.

“I brought the rolled oats for the ducks,” Crowley says. “Figured we ought to stop in, since we missed last week. Otherwise they might mutiny.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale says, and that had been his plan, but it’s all becoming so terribly real and sudden, isn’t it? He could wait just a little longer–

No, he can’t. They’ve waited long enough.

(It looks like this:

Crowley, ever-charming, talks the proprietor of the antiques shop into setting the ring aside for him. She’s suspicious of him, with his sibilant S and the pins on his leather jacket, but he’s wearing his work uniform, a perfectly respectable red polo shirt and black slacks, and he gives her a down payment and a long and terribly touching story about his college sweetheart that’s mostly true, apart from the gender of the lover in question.

The truth is, there are some things which can be easily done without, and some things that can’t. Aziraphale prefers fancy vintages from significant years and miraculous rains in the French countryside, but a £5 bottle from Sainsbury’s won’t ruin New Years. They can buy store brand cereal, the eggs discounted because one of them has been cracked, they can throw Aziraphale’s fancy embroidered throw over the pullout and hang richly dyed moth-eaten curtains from the theater department’s dumpster and pretend it’s the Hotel d’Alsace. But there are some things that must be done right, some things that cannot be done without, and he’s convinced that this is one of them. He could as easily propose with a plastic ring from the coin machine at their favorite bar, but Aziraphale is going to love this ring; even if he says no, pats Crowley on the cheek and says, “How romantic of you dear boy, but that’s not really what’s done, is it?” he’s still going to love it.

He’s secretive and vague about the extra hours and side gigs he takes on to make the payments. Aziraphale notices, he knows he does, he knows him too well not to, and he’s curious and a little alarmed, but he felt bad enough lying about where part of his first paycheck went without having to do it again every month when he stops in to make a payment on the ring.

It takes six months, but she finally hands it over, along with a comment about how she’s thought about it and she thinks it’s really rather noble, what he’s doing, and he best keep to it, best not break this poor girl’s heart, she’s read about people like him, giving it a go with nice girls for a couple years and then skipping out, sticking them with kids and a broken life. He rolls his eyes and says he’ll pass the message along to his boyfriend after he proposes, and saunters out, a skip in his step. It’s perfect; he’ll still wear it every day and admire it on his hand the way Crowley admires it now in the sun, and even if he says no–well, that would be a fine consolation prize.)

There is a bench they’ve been coming to for fifteen years now, so habitually the ducks flock to them when they arrive, flicking oats into the water. Crowley is catching him up on the fight he missed while he was out (the walls are thin and the neighbors provide endless entertainment with their incessant and bafflingly banal bickering; it’s a proper extended universe, their family disputes, and the mother-in-law is visiting, so it’s been an exciting weekend), and Aziraphale is trying to listen, he really is, even though he insists eavesdropping and gossiping aren’t especially neighborly–“oh, come off it, angel, you know they’ve got their ears pressed to the wall when we fight, not to mention when we–” “Crowley!”–but he cant focus on anything but the weight in his pocket.

He’s been putting money away for a year now, ever since legislation to legalize it was introduced last July. He’d known it would take some time to pass, but if they were willing to propose it, it would be soon.

“Alright, what’ve you got squirreled away, huh?” Crowley demands, the dozenth time in a few short minutes his hand has gone to his pocket to ensure it’s still there. “I’m hungry. Was so worried you’d gone off and joined some cultish offshoot I couldn’t eat. Well, a more cultish offshoot. Is the Catholic church an offshoot? Suppose it must be, not like Jesus named a pope–”

“It’s not food, dear,” Aziraphale says, sighing. “And he did, he gave Saint Peter the keys to Heaven and he was bishop of Rome. Blasphemous old serpent.”

“I’m sure they all say that,” Crowley says, waving a hand. He eyes him curiously, flicking a rolled oat so it hits a duck in the head. “What is it then?”

Aziraphale’s heart thuds chaotically in his chest. “Crowley, dearest,” he says, turning to face him. He takes his hand in his, desperate for the anchor, the reassurance. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley says, looking alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“You love me,” Aziraphale repeats, both wishing desperately he could see Crowley’s eyes, search them, and desperately glad that he can’t. Crowley’s bare eyes are so terribly expressive, the sight of them so intimate, he couldn’t bear it.

“‘Course I do,” he says, with conviction. “More than anything. What’s this about?”

“Crowley, my love,” he says hoarsely, and he kneels on one knee, still clinging to his hand.

(It looks like this:

It’s October in 2000, and it’s been raining like the coming of the second flood for days. Crowley stands at the window, biting his lip and scowling at it, sick of it and about to start refreshing himself on the principles of chaos magic in a bid to end it.

“Crowley, dear, you’re making me nervous,” Aziraphale grumbles from the sofa. He loves a nice rainy day, loves curling up against Crowley with a cup of tea and a book or one of those awful television shows with the flouncy costumes and overwrought acting, but even he is growing tired of being stuck inside all day and getting soaked to the bone on his way to work. “Come sit down, would you?”

“I’m busy,” Crowley mutters.

“You don’t look busy,” Aziraphale says. “It looks like you think you can scowl the rain into submission.”

“Works on the plants,” Crowley tells him, and he knows Aziraphale is rolling his eyes without having to look. He’s half a mind to do away with his idea all together, just do it right here in their cramped little studio, when quite suddenly, the rain lets up to a light mist. He stares at it, jaw slack, for several long moments. When it doesn’t start pick up again, he shouts, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?” Aziraphale frowns. “In this?”

“It’s just misting and we haven’t gone out properly in days,” Crowley says eagerly. “C'mon, get dressed, I want to go to the park.” He won’t have time to get dressed properly, doesn’t want to risk the return of the storm–which is a crying shame, he had such an outfit planned–but he yanks the pants he knows make his ass look the best out of their dresser and a deep purple blouse with lace around the cuffs Aziraphale once said made him look very royal, stripping out of his pajamas and hopping into them as quickly as he can.

“The park?” Aziraphale puts his book aside. “Well, I suppose I would rather fancy a stroll, stretch my legs–”

“Excellent!” Crowley throws him a horrible pair of houndstooth slacks and the first button down he sees. “Get dressed.”

“Crowley–”

“Dressed!”

“These don’t even match!”

“I don’t care! Get dressed!” He darts to their vanity, staring wild-eyed at his reflection. Eyeliner is smudged raccoon-like around his eyes, but his sunglasses will cover that. He picks up a brush and yanks it violently through his hair. His eyes dart to Aziraphale, taking his sweet time picking out a new button down. “Dressed! Dressed, c'mon!”

“I’m getting there,” he mutters, waving lazily at him. “What do you think, green or white, dear?”

“You look best in blue,” Crowley tells him. He pulls his hair back, then lets it fall again, then pulls the front back and secures it a few pins and a comb he knows Aziraphale likes. He spins around to see Aziraphale quite leisurely buttoning up his shirt. “If you don’t hurry, I’m leaving without you.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, but his fingers quicken, and he sits down to tie his oxfords. Crowley hurries to join him, shoving his feet in his boots and lacing them up as quickly as he can. The moment they’re both done, he yanks him up, hauling him to the door, shrugging his leather jacket on and tossing Aziraphale his blazer. “Wait, I’ve got to get my bag–”

“You don’t need your bag,” Crowley insists, and reaches into his pocket to make sure the ring is there.

Aziraphale frets the whole way to the park about how it’s bound to start pouring again any moment, and Crowley rushed him so much he forgot to bring an umbrella, they’re going to get drenched, they forgot bread for the ducks–unaware as they were that one ought not feed a duck bread, for its own sake–and St. James’ Park is positively sodden and it’ll take ages for his wool socks to dry out. Crowley doesn’t care; he links their arms and slogs bravely on to their usual spot, grateful that the heavy rain has cleared it out. The only other people around are a mother and child, some ways off, enjoying the brief respite.

“Angel, I’ve got something to ask you,” he says urgently, and he wrenches his sunglasses off–wait, he forgot, the eyeliner–he slides them back on, then takes them off again; he knows how Aziraphale likes to see his eyes.

“Yes?” Aziraphale looks confused and alarmed, he doesn’t like surprises or irregular reactions. He jumps to the worst every time, starts overthinking every twitch of Crowley’s face, and Crowley loves him, the anxious prat.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you love me?”

“I love you more than words can say, darling, what’s going on?” His eyes search Crowley’s face, his brow furrowed.

“Do you–” he swallows hard. They’ve never talked about this, not really. “You don’t think this is–y'know, a sin, right?” It feels so awkward in his mouth, his tone not weighty enough. The truth is, he’s never really seen what all the fuss was about, why so many other queer people struggled so much to reconcile their lives with the Church. The Church rejected him, so he rejected the Church, and he hasn’t looked back. But it means something to Aziraphale. He doesn’t know if he struggles with it still, but it means something to him. It means a lot to him.

“Oh, Crowley, dear,” he says, his eyes clearing. He touches his cheek, so gently Crowley could scream. “Of course not. This could never be a sin, I’ve been reading–”

Crowley can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Of course you have,” he says, beaming at him. “Of course you have. What have you been reading, angel?”

“Well, Montefiore’s ‘Jesus, the Revelation of God’ points out that Christ’s early life–”

“Flaming homosexual, Jesus was, then?” Crowley asks, unable to smother his unhinged grin, and Aziraphale isn’t sure what he’s so giddy about, but it seems like he can’t help but smile back, a little uncertainly.

“There was John, of course, the Beloved Disciple, and there’s a rather interesting idea about the Wedding at Cana, which is of course in some ideas thought of as a symbolic marriage of Christ to the church, and some–there’s this beautiful German print, of Jesus and John at the wedding, I’ll have to show you–some have suggested that it’s also a more literal marriage between Jesus and John–”

“Christ, angel, you’ll marry me, won’t you?” Crowley breathes, and he kneels.

Aziraphale blinks at him, brow furrowed, his mind clearly trying to catch up to this sudden switch in the topic of conversation. It’s always hard to interrupt one of his rambling little speeches, he gets so invested in them, but Crowley will just have to make it up to him later, let him lecture above him well into the night about apocryphal writings and stained glass and this print or that; right now, he just need to be engaged to this ridiculous man. “Er, what?”

“Marry me,” he says. He had a whole proposal planned, but he’s forgotten it, and it was stupid, anyway. “Marry me, I–” he fumbles in his pocket, pulls the ring out of the little felt bag the proprietor put it in and holds it up like an offering. “I have a ring. Will you marry me, Aziraphale?”

“Are you–” Aziraphale’s eyes are getting wide, his breath coming fast. “Crowley, you’re not joking about this, are you?”

“Why the fuck would I joke about this?” Crowley snaps. “Look, see, I got a ring and everything. Do you like it?”

“Crowley–” Aziraphale gasps, a wet and rough sound. “I–I suppose it would be legal, technically, but I–Crowley, you know how I feel about, about–what do you mean–”

“It’s not legal, I know, but neither is buggery, technically, just can’t be prosecuted, but that’s never stopped us,” he says. He knows, he knows how Aziraphale feels about playing to his assigned gender, even when it’s convenient. “Look, it’s not like Jesus and John had a marriage license, is it?”

And Aziraphale starts crying.)

“Angel,” Crowley says, staring down at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale releases his hand to pull the small velvet box out of his pocket, opens it carefully, precisely, and holds it out to him. “Crowley, my dearest, will you marry me?”

“We’re already married, angel,” Crowley whispers, and as if unconsciously, his thumb strokes the tattoo on his left ring finger.

“Well, certainly,” he says. “But it’s legal now, and I know that what the state has to say doesn’t matter much, but you know–well, you remember how it can be, without something legal. Something on paper,. And you don’t have a ring.”

“I have better than a ring,” Crowley says, but his eyes are glittering, fixed on the little black ring in the box, a band of silver around it.

Aziraphale swallows hard. “Crowley, I would really quite like to marry you, officially, dear, if you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll–I swear to somebody, angel, you’re the stupidest genius I’ve ever met,” he swears. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot, I–what the fuck does the ring say, Aziraphale?”

He smiles, can’t help but be pleased that he’s noticed. On the inside, in his own hand writing, is You Make Me Live, Dearest, in deference to the song Crowley has, on many occasions, blasted so loud their neighbors have pounded on the wall, practically shouting the lyrics at Aziraphale, hauling him, laughing, into terrible dancing that usually ends up knocking something over. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, and sings very quietly, and off-key, voice wavering (he hasn’t sang since his second puberty; he had a lovely voice, before, he was in a choir, but he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it since), “Oh, you make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me–”

Crowley grabs him by his lapels and hauls him up into a hungry kiss, passersby be damned.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale is crying, his face in his hands, and Crowley is frozen on his knees, all his giddy joy slowly leaving him, a hollow humiliation replacing it.

“Angel,” he says, hating how his voice cracks. “Angel, I’m sorry, you don’t have to say yes–you can keep the ring, I want you to have the ring–I won’t–I won’t leave, if you say no–unless you want me to, obviously–” Shit, shit, shit, he didn’t fuck up that bad, did he–

Aziraphale drops his hands, startled, and stares at him. “Why on earth would I want that?” he asks, and he goes to his knees on the wet concrete, pulling the ridiculous handkerchief that matches his ridiculous bow tie from his breast pocket, dabs at his eyes, wipes his nose, and puts it in his pocket with a deep breath. “I never–I never thought this would be possible, the way I wanted it,” he says at last. “I never even–considered it, really, I wished, perhaps, but I never–” he stops, and he stares at Crowley with such warmth and love it settles him, a little. He’s not going to turn him out, and that’s really all that matters.

“I just thought, I know you wouldn’t want to do it…officially, so it might not be legal, but maybe–you and me, we could say some vows,” he says. “If you wanted. If you don’t, that’s fine,” and his voice, the goddamn traitor, cracks again on the word.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t said yes, have I?” Aziraphale says, and he smiles, a watery thing, puts his hand on Crowley’s wrist. “Yes, darling, I’d love nothing more than to marry you, I really wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, and a smile begins to form. “Oh. That’s–great, then.”

“You ridiculous thing,” Aziraphale says, beaming, and he throws his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He can feel his lashes flutter against the soft skin there, the slide of warm tears, his breath ghosting across the fine hairs, and he shivers.

“Hey,” he says, nudging him. “Hey. Did you see the ring?”

Aziraphale laughs, leaning back onto his haunches, and wipes at his eyes. “The ring?”

“Yeah, the ring,” Crowley says, waving it about. He thinks it looks even more impressive in the washed-out grey light, shining like a second sun.

“Crowley,” he whispers, seeming to really truly notice it for the first time. “Where–where did you get this?” His hands hover around it, reverent, as if he’s afraid to touch it.

“An antiques shop,” he says proudly. “Give me your hand.”

“How did you afford it?” he asks wonderingly, and he lets Crowley take his hand in his, slide it onto his finger, smiles at his little sigh of relief when it fits.

“Saved up,” he says. “That’s, er. What I’ve been doing, going out.”

“I was curious,” Aziraphale says, and his eyes well up again. “Oh, darling, all this time, you’ve been working?”

“Wanted you to have the best,” he says. “Look, see, they’re angel wings.” He runs a finger around the band, beaming at it. “You like it?”

“Crowley, my dear, I love it more than I can say,” he says fervently, and he puts a hand on his cheek again, leans in to give him a chaste, brief kiss. “Let’s go home,” he suggests. “I’ll thank you properly.”

Crowley leaps to his feet, bringing Aziraphale with him, and they don’t quite run to the bus stop, but it’s a very close thing, giggling like drunk teenagers sneaking out late, laughter peeling through the park when Crowley’s poorly laced boots send them tumbling, arms linked, into the grass.)

It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and it’s 2014, and they run home from the bus stop in a sudden downpour of rain, having forgotten umbrellas, absent-minded and distracted by more important things. A leather jacket is shed onto the floor, a tweed coat thrown in the vague direction of a coat rack; Crowley throws Aziraphale’s suspenders off his shoulders with pleased gusto, a tie, belt, shirts, hit the floor with abandon, sunglasses are placed very delicately somewhere safe. Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s binder insistently, in 2000, yanks his white undershirt over his head in 2014; oxfords and combat boots are tossed and hit the walls and floor; they stumble over their pants as they try to take them off without stopping, without taking their hands off each other for even a moment, and the old bed creaks when they tumble onto it. The headboard cracks against the wall, knocks the crucifix loose, and the thud is followed by shaking laughter overtaken by gasps, and cries, and fervent declarations, hands clasped, mouths sliding inelegantly together. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you; and they’re both thinking with desperate and delighted devotion, my husband, my husband, my husband.

#Sorry This Is So Long #i got carried away #look i had to fit in two proposals #thank you for asking im love human au #henry speaks #ineffable husbands #good omens #human au #Anonymous #can you tell i was raised protestant and very much not catholic #apologies to my catholic friends for any errors on that front #hi im henry a gay christian and very emotional about it #henry writes

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years ago

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Crush

Summary: It’s 5th year, Professor Flitwick had the idea, in tandem with Madam Sprout, to do something different for that year’s Valentine’s Day. Something extra aside than just a ball. Professor Burbagge had suggested a karaoke list for the students and teachers alike. When the announcement was made that it would be a thing, one Katherine Tanner thought it was the most detestable idea she’d ever heard. Pairing: Sev x OC

Saturday...finally. The weekend, time to rest and get ready for another week of school work and lessons. But also a set timer for the Valentine’s Day ball that would surely be happening at the end of the week.

Katherine made her way to where Severus, her best friend since first year and secret crush, was sitting at the Slytherin table a few minutes before morning announcements were said.

“Good morning Severus,” she said with a kind grin as she sat down next to him.

“Morning,” he said with a small kind grin, “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have all week you?” She asked.

“About same...until I remembered what this coming weekend will bring about,” he said with a sneer.

She nodded half heartedly at this. She wasn’t opposed to the ins and outs of the general idea of what happens on the day. And didn’t think the Valentine’s day was a bad idea...especially if it gave her the chance to ask out who she had in mind.

Sadly for her though, two professors were about to dig her grave.

“Good morning students!” Professor Dumbledore said jovially, “As you all know this upcoming weekend is the Saint Valentine’s Day ball, please remember that semi-formal attire is expected from all participating. Two of your professors have decided on adding activities to the already set festivities. Professors Flitwick, Sprout and Burbbage please.”

The three teachers stood giving the Headmaster their thanks and announced that instead of magical band coming to play for them, karaoke shall be the music entertainment supplied additional to the magical jukebox that will be provided.

Despite the pureblood Slytherin’s reactions to the idea, most of the school seemed to like the idea of something new to try that wasn’t part of the norm.

Katherine could practically hear Lily Evans squealing in delight at this and could have groaned as she saw a small smile appear on Sev’s face as he turned to look at her. Katherine felt her heart drop to her stomach at that but shook her head and focused on not tearing up. She’s had quick developing crush on Sev since the beginning of third year, she’d hoped he'd see her in the same light. Despite knowing he seemed to only have eyes for Evans.

She came to some when she saw breakfast appear on their plates and table.

Severus spoke at her as she focused on eating her her breakfast.

She caught a word here and there but remained deep in thought. She thought of the constellations and their names, she thought of what hand movements belong with what spell. Anything to keep from thinking about the elephant in the room.

“Kate?” She came to as Severus called her a worried look on his face.

“Yes?” She said quietly.

“Are you alright?” He asked worriedly, “You seemed far away.”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a shaky grin, “I’m fine.”

With that she took one last drink of her pumpkin juice before rushing out without another explanation.

Despite being in another house, Kate had found comfort under the wing of the head of Gryffindor Professor McGonnagall. It hadn't taken long for her to convince the professor of who was picking on Severus. She had argued that a school is a space for learning and exploring. And while the slytherin stereotype did not afford them much of anything regarding a neutral standing, the very idea of being bullied for being in Slytherin the moment they are sorted as first years is as traumatizing as it is abusive.

Needless to say the professor found this brave and found it a valid reason to be more involved with students from other houses if need be. It wasn't until the end of their third year that some students had come to her with complaints of being jinxed from nowhere and laughing that follows it. The professor had taken matters into her own hands when the headmaster wouldn’t do anything. Give came to shove and the professor discovered something that led to not only James Potter but his entire crew being put in detention after Pettigrew ratted them out. Rumor had it around school that Mr. Potter the elder was non too pleased to find his son had stolen, or “borrowed” as Kate was sure James had put it, his heirloom invisibility cloak.

“Miss Tanner?” Professor McGonnagall said as she walked into her office to find Kate sitting on the chair opposite the teacher’s desk.

Kate looked at her and gave her a small smile.

“Oh dear,” the older woman said tenderly.

With a wave of her wand the professor cleared the desk before transfiguring it into a small round table and asking a house elf to bring tea and all the fixings with some biscuits.

“You my dear will have to tell him,” the teacher said after taking her seat opposite Kate.

Kate nodded and said, “I wanted to be cliche and do it at the ball.”

Minerva grinned softly in understanding and said, “Your young still lass. This is just a passing fancy...it’ll pass.”

“I want to say I understand, I want to agree.” Kate said sadly, “But...it feels like all I've known is slipping away. I’ve known him since first year ma’am. And for four years I've been his friend and in that time he’s somehow managed to have me following him around like a lovesick pup.”

Minerva felt for the young lass and wanted to give her comfort, but sometimes heartbreak is inevitable.

“There is high possibility he’ll unwittingly break Professor,” Kate said feeling like she’s about to cry, “But I’m sick and tired of having him there but not. I’m tired of almost telling him only to have him stare at Lily Evans like she walk on water. I understand she’s one of your ma’am, but she acts like she deserves all she’s getting and more for knowing and achieving the same things I have in the same amount of time.”

Minerva let the girl talk, it wasn’t too often that she got this side of the mirror between students who have similar if not equal achievements in school.

“The only reason she’s getting more notoriety and roses and rainbows thrown her way is because she’s a riotous lion who can do no wrong,” Kate raged tears of pain and anger running down her face and she went on, “What they don’t see is that she is cold, self-centered, attention seeking, dismissive and vindictive. Especially if she doesn't get what she wants how she wants in the manner of which she wants it.”

This was and wasn’t news to Minerva. Ever since discovering the ins and outs of what had been the torrent of attacks by the so called Marauders. Not only that, she’d taken the precautionary measure to do a little digging on Mr. Snape. The discoveries she made may as well be the very thing to aid magical children muggleborn or not so they do not grow in such environments...Dumbledore or not.

“To Sev, she is on this unbeatable pedestal that no one can reach no matter what,” she said with a defeated sniff, “So much so that he cannot see that her love for him is that of a sibling’s. Or worse, that she will discard him as soon as he shows his supposed true Slytherin colors and fall pray to the dark arts as they think he will. Have they ever thought that without studying them, grey areas would’ve never been found? Or that some would be too dangerous for the general public? I’ve learned that magic is never truly dark or light...its the intent and emotion that judge how a witch or wizard use their magic.”

Minerva stared at Kate in awe at what she’d said and how she’d said it. She could see the truth in Kate’s words, she also knew that the young woman is right. Without those willing to study the dark arts, understanding would not be gathered. After all this is how cures or antidotes are created, this is how one understands what a spell or jinx does.

“What will you do?” Minerva asked the silently crying girl.

“I’ll sing him a song,” Kate said with a small smile, “And probably go with Reg and Remus. I’m not shooting for a happy ending ma’am...I know that is impossible.”

~Time Skip~

The weekend after that went by slowly for Kate, Severus tried to get her to talk to him to tell him what was bothering her all the while getting looks from both Remus and Regulus.

Severus did not understand what these looks meant nor how they had anything to do with Kate. This drove him to ask Lily and Alice what was wrong with his second best friend.

Lily said that it was most likely Kate’s time of the month and didn’t go any deeper into it bar from opening the conversation to something else. While Alice pulled him aside before going into dinner Sunday evening.

“Have you ever thought that Kay may like you?” She asked gently in a hushed tone.

The look on his face told her in no uncertain terms that no he had not.

“What makes you say that? She’s my best friend,” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Only second to Lily though,” Alice said trying to see where it is fell in relation to her friend.

Alice had known of Kate’s crush for Sev for a while now, had even spoken to her at length of it. She never thought Sev would be so blind to Kate’s attentions to block out the very idea that she could be better for him than Lily.

“It’s different with Lily,” he said emphatically, “She gorgeous, smart, talented and–”

“And everything Kat is,” Regulus finished for him.

Regulus Black while young, has seen more than he’ll ever care to admit. Affording him the knowledge necessary to garner what he wants, like a true slytherin. In this case, he just wanted the one he saw as his sister to be happy with his house brother. Sev may not see how Lily uses his natural gift in Potions but the tight knit group of friends do.

Severus glared at Regulus. He knew Kate was good...just not like his Lily.

Regulus rolled his eyes at him practically hearing the thought and pulled him to their table to wait for dinner.

“So I’m not good enough,” Kate said from a hidden alcove.

Alice’s gaze softened as she approached.

“I’m not...” Kate stopped and breathed deeply swallowing her tears, “I’m not pretty enough, smart enough or talented enough to garner his attention. Is that it? Alice is that really it? That I’m not enough.”

Regulus stepped out having settled Severus in their spot Remus not too far behind him.

The boys shared a look hating how Severus was breaking down their friend bit by bit and didn't even seem to not only know it but care.

Alice pulled Kate into a hug and said, “We don’t have to have dinner here tonight Kay, let’s go to the kitchens a pick something from there yea?”

“I have to stay with him,” Regulus said nodding in the direction of the great hall, “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him.”

Remus nodded mutely and watched Alice practically drag Kate away from the hall.

“Do you think he’ll ever piece everything together?” Remus asked.

“He’s too far gone over Evans to see his own bloody feet as he walks when it comes to her so no,” Reg said anger clear in his voice as he answered, “To him Kat is a good friend a second best friend...But as Alice has said, only second to Evans.”

“Ever since James has been in detention and all he’s done to Sev over the years came out, she’s been acting as if Sev’s just popped up from wherever she though he was,” Remus said with a hum.

“Like he realized that Slytherins are pure evil and all bad,” Regulus said with a scoff, “What you lions don’t seem to realize is that good or evil, us snakes stick together and help each other out when we can instead of breaking each other for being different. Not to mention he’s acting like she hung the moon and stars affording her a love sick pup that would do anything for her.”

Remus nodded at that knowing that there is truth behind the words.

“We should head back before we’re missed,” Regulus said.

“I’ll keep you included on the ins and outs of Lily,” Remus said weakly.

“No need,” Regulus said with a sad grin, “There’s nothing to be done with the information that would end in a favorable manner for either party. Sev wouldn’t believe it if the information was proof that Evans is the worst form of hellcat and the back lash would probably be against Kat. For things she’s never been or felt in relation to Evans.”

“Kay’s never been envious or jealous of Lily,” Remus said, “What annoys her is that she’s not getting the same or equal treatment for her achievements as Lily.”

Regulus walked away with a nod over his shoulder at Remus.

In the kitchens, Alice held a sobbing Kate as the information sunk in.

“What am I supposed to do Alice?” She asked as she calmed, “I can’t keep going on like this.”

“I agree, but none of the boys our year seem to know their heads from their dicks,” Alice said nonchalantly.

This caused both girls to laugh and for Katherine to say, “Except for Frank?”

Alice blushed at this making her break into a fit of giggles.

The duo spent a while there just enjoying their time together and talking before it was time for them to go back to their respective houses.

The week went on cold when it came to her relationship with Severus. Kate managed to get herself together enough to pretend she wasn't hurting and approached him as she usually did only to have him get pulled away by Lily. Remus and Alice both said she was hoping, or “hoping”, Severus would ask her to the ball.

Kate rolled her eyes at that and continued on with her week as usual despite Remus telling her that Sev had been trying to talk to her...Lily apparently had good, or rather bad, timing.

She wanted to believe that she really did. But all Severus had done and said when it came to Lily Evans told her otherwise.

It was the day before Valentines Day, and the ball, meaning last minute shopping, tissues, chocolate, and spelling her preferred crying spot after the whole event that is Valentine’s Day.

She’d woken up that morning semi-hopeful that it would be tolerable at the very least. Sadly that would not be the case...

As soon as she stepped into the great hall for breakfast, owls and folded notes were flying from one end of the hall to the other. She saw a few girls crying either in happiness or heart break, she saw cheering as well as shy blushing declarations and worst of all the kissy and affectionate couples celebrating their love. She spotted Severus and was about to join him when Lily stood from her table and pulled him to sit next to her.

Kate sat at the end of her house’s table closest to the great hall’s doors ready to bolt if the occasion called for hoping to not receive anything, yet a small part of her did. She ‘read’ the book she’d brought with her staring at the card she’d made for Sev as if giving it to him was no longer an option. She tucked it between the pages and read on as if nothing was happening. She forced herself to eat and go over the lyrics of the song that she’d chosen earlier that week.

She snuck a peek at him and saw the look he was gracing Lily with. Such devotion and love, it ate at her. A tear fell on the page she’d been reading. She knew this would happen, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt all the same.

The day seemed to drag on as lessons were half given due to the buzz that seemed to have pretty much everyone feeling alive through out the castle. Severus looked like he would approach her on a couple of occasions but all Evans had to do is walk by and it was like someone had obliviated her from his mind. Since afternoon classes were canceled for the ball, this gave Kate time to go over her lyrics in more detail than she had that morning.

Kate went over her plan for the ball was to go in sing her piece and leave. There was no point in prolonging the agony. And being her mother’s daughter, she’d wear black. She always looked beautiful in black, or so people had informed her. Plus, when one has the opportunity to be extra you don’t pass it up.

~Time Skip~

Kate remained close to Minerva once inside the great hall. To her great relief, the hall itself had been tastefully decorated. The golden hue brought in with the warmth of the seemed to pop with he red sashes that horizontally lined the walls and the hearts that took over half of the amount of normally floating candles. All in all, the combination of hearts and candles made the hall look warm, inviting and romantic.

“I was in charge of decorating this year,” Professor McGonnagall said with a satisfied grin, “The plans Professor Dumbledore had are not for human eyes.”

“Oh?” Kate said with a small smile.

“The red was too much even for my eyes,” she said with a chuckle.

Kate breathed a laugh and shook her head.

She didn’t know when it was that the singing would start, she was coming the minutes hoping that she didn’t bolt before hand. It’s been close to two hours now, night had fallen and all this may or may have anything to do with the fact of how Severus did and didn’t react to her when he saw her at the great hall’s entrance.

“Did he really do and say what I heard?” The professor asked her quietly as she kept an eye on the crowd.

“He did,” Kate said her voice small, “He saw me and it was like he was seeing me for the first time. He looked at me and it was...it was so tender and sweet. He’d said I looked beautiful.”

Minerva saw the small smile on Kate’s face and would have shaken her head at how star struck she looked; but let her continue.

“He’d said I looked beautiful, he then took my hand and kissed it like a proper gentleman,” Kate swooned as she saw him dance with Lily a dreamy look on his face, “We were talking before he said ‘look at how beautiful’, I thought I was referring to me but then I turned to see Evans looking resplendent in her dress. He then turned to me and said that he was escorting ‘the most beautiful lass he’d ever had the honour of laying his eyes on’.”

Minerva put a supportive hand on her shoulder and was about to say something when...

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Dumbledore called out jovially, “I’m here to announce the first group to sing either in groups, duets or solos.”

Kate draws a breath and was ready to bolt when...

“Don’t worry lass,” Minerva said, “I’m here as are your friends. There is no shame in leaving if it becomes too much.”

Kate nodded as she heard her name called out.

She spotted Severus’ look of astonishment at this along with his searching gaze. She deliberately kept to herself not wanting to lose her footing at seeing him.

“The groups will go first followed by the duet,” Professor Dumbledore said, “For the first wave. Everyone find your places and your partners. The first will be called in fifteen minutes.”

The music was returned to its original volume and couples went back to dancing. Kate sighed and focused on her breathing, there is no point in getting overtly nervous before she got on stage.

Minerva hid a grin as she saw Remus approach them.

“Kat?” he said a soft blush on her cheeks.

Kate looked at Remus eyes wide, “Yes?”

“Would you like to dance?” He asked a soft grin on his handsome face.

She nodded and took Remus’ hand where he led them to a corner of the dance floor.

Together they danced and for once Kate felt ok. Not something huge but ok, enough to at least do what she’s set out to do and finally move on from this crush. A few minutes before the first set was due up, Reg to her for a spin doing all he could to make her laugh and distract her not only from the obvious elephant in the room but also baring her soul in front of the entire, almost entire, school body.

When the time came for the first group, she’d been impressed with how they sang “Light My Fire” by The Doors. She could see their respective dates swoon and one nearly faint causing her to laugh in delight. Kate while not into super public or overstated displays of affection, could see the appeal of your significant other do such a thing. It looked nice to see that he was happy with her...it had to feel nice from her end too.

The following was a duet, this one was even bolder that what she had planned. This duet was singing to each other via Elvis. Kate felt tears building as magic seemed to radiate from the stage from the heartfelt words the couple was singing to each other.

Kate was surrounded by her friends when all too soon her name was called for her to sing her set.

She met supportive grins and smiles from her friends as she went wait for the person ahead of her to finish up. She caught Professor McGonnagall’s eyes and reassuring grin making her feel a little bit better. Her gaze shifted over the hall looking for the object of her affection and her heart broke as she spotted them in the middle of the floor leisurely kissing to the soft swing of Elvis.

‘Can’t help falling in love with you indeed,’ she thought her head spinning at the realization that Evans like always...had won.

With this in mind she swallowed her tears and put on her big girl bra and got on stage when called. She ignored the surprised look on Severus’ face as the music started and she began to sing.

I got a girl crush Hate to admit it but I got a heart rush Ain't slowing down I got it real bad Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh She's giving you now

Kate focused on the lull of the song, pretending the hall was empty but her and a darkened room.

I want to taste her lips Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself In a bottle of her perfume I want her long blonde hair I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then You'd want me just as much I got a girl crush I got a girl crush

Kate changed a look and saw Sev’s astounded expression. Whether they are at what she’s singing, to whom, or the meaning behind the song she didn’t know. It was...bittersweet to know that she did indeed still have somewhat of an effect on him.

I don't get no sleep I don't get no peace Thinking about her Under your bed sheets The way that she's whispering The way that she's pulling you in Lord knows I've tried, I can't get her off my mind

Kate drew a final breath as the last chords of the song echoed through the hall before being engulfed in a sea of applause. She smiled at her crowd and bowed before getting off stage.

Once off, she was met with a nearly frantic Severus.

“Why,” he said clearly not knowing how to feel, “Why didn’t you say something? Anything!?”

Kate looked over his shoulder and saw a smirking Lily.

“Because I’m only second best to Lily Evans,” Kate said simply, “Tell her she won.”

//00//00//00//

A/N: Like and reblog if you liked the first part!! Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Tag List: @disneymarina @hoefordarkness @thebeautyofdisorder @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @toooftenobsessed @smailaway @lady-sigyn, @therealcountdracula1931 @lokiisbrucebanner @197863451 @always-severus-stan @miranak @nanasoo @thehallowsden @the-life-and-times-of-a-nerd

#severus snape #lily evans #minerva mcgonagall #one-sided crush #Minerva is good cat momma

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gothic-safari-clown · 4 years ago

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART FIVE: LIBERATION

Story Summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Trigger Warning: Mention of suicidal thoughts, blood, stalking, assault, and explicit language

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Word count: 5414

When her alarm sounded on the morning after her weekend, Elianna was under no circumstances ready to wake up. Vaguely ominous dreams had plagued her for the third night in a row, and although she couldn’t recall a single detail, they had left a looming sense of foreboding hanging over her head.

Unhungry, she decided to skip breakfast and took advantage of the extra time that the decision bought her after getting ready to pick up a coffee from the shop down the street from her apartment on her way to work.

The uneasy feeling redoubled as she parked in her spot and shut off the car. “Something bad is going to happen today,” she said aloud to herself. “But at least I can be ready for it.”

She picked up her week’s schedule from the front desk, and one glance over it told her exactly where the trouble would come from. Her first session of the day was with Zsasz, right in the morning. She sighed when she saw it and shook her head, thanking the receptionist begrudgingly, and made her way up to her office.

Upon arriving, El retrieved her notes from the other day to look over them and compare them to the pre-existing information in Zsasz’s file. A knock on the door caught her attention, and she looked up at it, lifting herself out of her seat with a sigh. Opening the door, she found Jonathan on the other side and let herself relax.

“Good morning, love, come on in,” she welcomed distractedly and stepped aside to let him in. Looking at his face, he seemed as tired as she felt. “You look terrible, Jonathan, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not much,” he admitted as she returned to her seat, and he settled into the guest seat opposite her. He cast a weary look around her still bare office. “Knowing you, I thought you would have decorated a little more already.”

“Hm?” El asked distractedly, looking back up from her notes. “Oh, yeah, I just haven’t thought about it much, I guess.” She looked around at the naked walls for herself. “Although now that I am, I suppose I’ll bring some stuff tomorrow. Care to help me?” She leaned her weight upon her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on the lattice of her fingers.

“Do I have a choice?” He cocked an eyebrow, to which El smiled in response, absentmindedly noticing once again the way the light would catch in his eyes with the slightest shift of his head.

“Of course you do, but if you loved me, you would anyway.” She gave a wide, innocent smile and blinked sweetly at him, earning an eye roll and a tiny smile in response.

“Oh, and who says that I do?” he challenged.

“Well, there’s me, of course,” El began, counting off on her fingers, “and the fact that you made extra sure that the warden would read my application so that I would have to come here and work with you. So there you have two pretty solid sources, but I’m sure that I could think of more if that isn’t enough.”

“Alright, alright, you’ve got me, you win,” he replied tiredly, raising his hand for her to stop, to which Elianna chuckled softly, before finding her attention back on Zsasz’s file. “What are you so distracted by?”

“Ugh, just my first session this morning.” She sighed, shaking her head and beginning to gather everything she would need into her briefcase; she had fifteen minutes, and she liked to be early to things. “Have you ever worked with Victor Zsasz?” El asked her friend as she stood, to which he shook his head and stood with her. “Well, wish me luck and hope that I don’t get killed next time he decides to escape.” She opened the door for Jonathan to leave first and followed him into the hallway.

“Well, I don’t have any appointments scheduled until this afternoon. Want some company?”

“Please.” The pair started down the hallway to the stairs. “So how’s…our mutual friend? Is he the reason you didn’t sleep well?” El inquired, looking to change the subject.

“Mostly. I also had some paperwork to finish before the weekend was over, and that took a while.” They chatted about Jonathan’s disorganized work habits as they followed the stairwell to the third floor.

Waiting for them were the same three guards from the day before. Once again, one posted himself at the glass—now joined by Jonathan—and the original two accompanied Elianna inside.

“Good morning, Victor. Sleep well?” She asked politely as she took her seat and once again removed her notepad and pen from her briefcase along with her trusty voice recorder.

“Like a rock, doctor. That’s the upside of a padded room; you can get comfortable anywhere.” Oh, that voice. Once again, El found herself fighting off a shiver.

“Why don’t we pick up where we left off a few days ago?” El suggested amicably and made a small note when she didn’t receive an answer. “How about you tell me what made you begin liberating people?” Immediately, Zsasz’s mood shifted; he clearly loved to talk about himself. Narcissistic??? El scribbled in her notes as he began to speak.

“One might say that I had it all,” he mused. Oh, dear, thought Elianna, he’s rehearsed this too. “Wealth. Family.” The word fell to the table and dripped with sarcasm. “Until one fateful day, my dear, sainted parents died in a boating accident. Consumed with grief, I soon gambled all that wealth away, and made my solemn way to Gotham Bridge.” The lilting of his voice reminded El of a dramatic narration over a soap opera. “As I prepared for the plunge, I was confronted by a homeless gentleman with a knife, who demanded I give him all of my money. Of course, I had none left, but he simply wouldn’t believe me. A struggle ensued, and I ended up with the knife.” The memory makes Zsasz smile dreamily. “I stared that man in the eyes and saw the meaninglessness of life. The desperation, the hatred, and the hardship that I felt in myself, and I realized something…significant: it’s all for nothing. You could say, in a way, I owe my existence to that man. With that first kill, I became what I am today.”

“I see. May I ask you a question, Victor?” El looked up from the diligent notes she had been taking during his story.

“Isn’t that what you’re here for, doctor?”

“Well, your work liberating people gives you a purpose of sorts, doesn’t it?” Zsasz remained silent, but his eyes narrowed, and his smile faltered slightly. “To your mind, it gives your life meaning. In which case, life can’t be meaningless. In fact, I could argue that my purpose is to tell you this now, couldn’t I?” She hadn’t meant to get philosophical, yet there she was anyway.

“Very well spoken, Doctor Montgomery,” the criminal’s wide grin picked back up, and something in his voice had changed. Once again, the feeling of impending danger spiked, and El rose to her feet slowly in preparation to make for the door. “However, if that’s the case, then that would mean that your purpose has been served, wouldn’t it?” Suddenly, Zsasz lunged over the table, cuffs flung to the floor, and El heard one of the guards shout ‘he’s got a knife!’ and on instinct, her arm flew up to cover her face as she stumbled backward. A slicing pain rippled through her forearm near her elbow before the guards had a chance to catch him, and at the moment, she found herself stupidly upset about her now ruined yellow shirt before kicking herself mentally. That isn’t even close to important right now!

Forcing herself back to the situation at hand, Elianna fumbled to open the door behind her as her escorts surged forward to subdue the enraged Victor Zsasz. An alarm suddenly blared through the asylum when the outside guard pressed the emergency button beside the door, the sudden noise making Elianna flinch hard.

When she finally managed to wrench the door into swinging open towards her, El practically fell through it, and Jonathan was already there half supporting and half dragging her into the hallway as the third guard rushed past them into the room to help his peers. “What the hell happened?” She demanded, defensively angry. “Why weren’t his damn cuffs secured?” El felt herself trembling as her mind raced, gradually realizing that she had been in danger from the second she entered the room. Was it his sadistic enjoyment of suspense, or his desire to talk about himself that had kept her safe for that long?

“I don’t know, whoever brought him in must be helping him,” Jonathan explained breathlessly, raising the redhead’s arm to look at the gash. “This looks bad, come with me,” he did a good job of hiding the distress in his voice for his friend’s sake but kept a firm grip around her shoulders as he escorted her to the infirmary.

As soon as they walked in, a nurse was there to greet them, having been informed of the situation.

“Is it bad?” El asked the nurse, who shook her head.

“It’s a shallow cut, nothing to worry over. I’m going to clean and bandage it, and you should be good to go.”

“He went straight for your throat.” Jonathan recounted. “If you hadn’t thrown your arm up so quickly-” he shook his head, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t want to think about it,” El closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “At least we know I have good reflexes,” she added quietly in an attempt to lighten the mood and earned a smile from the nurse as she began wrapping a bandage around the wound. When she finished, she handed El a spare roll.

“You’ll want to take this one off before you shower and rewrap it afterward to be safe, but it should be alright in a few days.”

“He’ll be assigned a different doctor by tomorrow,” Jonathan commented as El stood, and she looked at him sharply.

“What? No!” she exclaimed, her adrenaline still pumping, and Jonathan looked at her as though she should be admitted. “I want to keep working with him; I can’t just let my first major case go like that!”

“Absolutely not,” he argued firmly, keeping his voice steady.

“We can have extra security next time, and have them double-check the-”

“No!” El stopped in surprise. He had never snapped at her like that before. He sighed exasperatedly. “Look, it isn’t up to me, the administration won’t reassign you to his case, but even if it were, there’s not a chance that I’d let you back into a room with him.” El stared him down defiantly, but upon seeing his resolve, she gave in.

“Fine.” She conceded begrudgingly. “I’ll just find another way to prove myself.” Jonathan nodded in response.

“That’s much better, and you will. Now come on, you’ll have to make a statement and fill out a report.” El nodded, and they made for the warden’s office together. Unfortunately, the pair needed to pass through the corridor in which the session had been held. It seemed that Zsasz had put up quite a fight; he had only then been successfully subdued and was being escorted back to his cell surrounded by guards (several of whom looked worse for wear) with three pairs of cuffs securing his wrists. A small crowd had gathered in the hall of people curious about the disturbance, forcing Elianna and Jonathan to stop as the twisted parade passed.

Zsasz caught sight of Elianna as he was marched through and grinned at her, forever unblinking. “Leave your door unlocked for me.” He taunted, earning a hard shove from the guard nearest to him. Jonathan stared the criminal down and put his arm around El’s shoulders protectively, pushing through the crowd and pulling her back into motion.

“You’re not going home.” His tone of voice left no room for protest.

“Fine, but I need to get some things first.”

“Then we’ll take tomorrow off and buy you whatever you need, but you can’t go back to your apartment for a while.”

“Jesus, fine,” El said exasperatedly. “When did you get so protective anyway? You’ve never been like this before.”

“When the only person I give a damn about was almost killed in front of me for the second time, now stop arguing and just keep walking.” Despite her displeasure of being chastised, El smiled to herself. She had gotten him to admit it openly when she wasn’t even trying. That in itself registered as a small victory in her mind.

Without another word, she did her best to match her pace to his much longer legs, clinging to his forearm in an attempt not to fall behind.

“Welcome to Gotham,” she muttered to herself and shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Gotham badly needed saving from itself; that much was clear to her. Only one question remained: who was going to do it?

.xXx.

Despite Jonathan’s insistence that she was to drive straight to his apartment when they left work, Elianna made an executive decision to go and get what she needed from her place first; she couldn’t let Jonathan buy her all new things when she could just get what she needed in ten minutes. She was sure that Zsasz would be heavily guarded that night, and she would call Jonathan while she packed to justify her actions.

“Jonathan? Don’t be angry; I’m just packing a few things, I promise I’ll be in and out.” There was an angry sigh in her receiver as she unlocked the door.

“Check every room first.” He instructed, knowing that he couldn’t convince his friend to get right back in her car.

“Yes, boss,” she replied sarcastically but did so anyway, thoroughly checking every nook and cranny. “All clear, everything is fine.”

“Stay on the phone while you pack, put me on speaker.”

They stayed on the phone, and in just a few minutes, she had everything she needed to stay with Jonathan for a week and was locking her front door as she left. See, love? Everything is fine.

“I’m on my way to the car now. I’ll be there soon.” She assured Jonathan. Satisfied that everything had gone smoothly with no further need of his supervision, he wished her a safe drive there before they hung up.

Once outside, she held her pepper spray firmly in one hand and her car keys in the other. It was dark out now, and even in the chaos of Gotham, the darkness drew out more crazies than the daytime. Once her keys were securely in her right hand, she returned her attention forward, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she breathed to herself and ducked behind a car. What she had seen was the distinct and unmistakable figure of Victor Zsasz turning from the sidewalk and into the parking lot, moving directly toward her building. A hundred questions hurtled through her brain: How had he escaped so quickly? Was his escape route in his cell somehow? How could he have gotten away from Arkham without being spotted? How had he learned where she lived? How many people were helping him on the inside, and who were they?

It was too late for her to do anything about it now, but God help her, she would track down whoever was responsible for this monumental screw up first thing in the morning, and she would make them sorry. But first, she needed to focus on avoiding the unthinkable.

Swallowing hard, she did her best to shove down her terror and quiet her breathing as she peeked up through the windows of the car she had hidden behind to track Zsasz’s progress. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, and for some reason, all she could think of was that goddamned Poe story. At that moment, she abandoned her atheism and begged desperately to God or anyone listening that he couldn’t hear the wet thumping of her heart over the echoing sound of his careless footsteps.

Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! —no, no! They heard!—They suspected!—They knew! Again! Hark! Louder!

Louder!

As the solitary figure steadily approached the alligator green sedan that Elianna had found herself crouched behind, she slowly crept around toward the front of the car opposite him so as not to be seen. He passed the rear bumper close enough that she could hear him humming contentedly and breathing in the “fresh” Gotham air as though he were on a simple, pleasant stroll, and not on his way to construct his most recent gruesome crime scene.

I should have listened to Jonathan.

When El finally made it to the opposite side of the car, and Zsasz seemed a safe enough distance away, her heart leaped at the thought that she was in the clear—freedom! Safety!—and she was just standing up to break for her car, only a little further down the row, when her bag—my fucking duffle bag!—swung off of her shoulder and down her arm, swinging hard into that ghastly green car.

In slow motion, she watched the contact, unable to move to stop it, and jumped as the car alarm went off. Her head snapped back up just in time to see Zsasz spin around to observe the sudden disturbance. The fear rolling off of El was palpable as she watched in real-time Victor’s recognition of her face, his target, his victim, his newest zombie. His bald head turned almost skeletal as his grin built slowly, steadily transforming into the most horrifying thing that Elianna had ever seen.

“Doctor Montgomery! Is this a bad time?” He had already begun strolling toward her, to which El began walking backward shakily. “I’d like very much to discuss my philosophy with you.” The gash on her arm was throbbing, a reminder that she hadn’t escaped her last encounter with Zsasz unscathed. And here she had no guards.

“You see, since you obviously didn’t meet your death in that dismal room,” here he paused to laugh, “the universe is off balance!” He declared grandiosely, spreading his arms wide and tipping his head back as he continued. “How can things function properly if I allow a zombie to escape her fate?” His words filled El with heavy dread, rendering her muscles useless as he came closer and closer despite the screaming need to move, to do something!

She couldn’t help taking a mental picture of the moment as he continued steadily toward her. The tableau was almost cinematic: the dingy, yellow street lamp between them hummed loudly as it strained to stay on, and the resulting shadows were starkly black against the pavement, so sharp it was as though they had been stenciled on the ground; to say nothing of the man—the beast—that came toward her, almost Lovecraftian.

Thin, and stretched up tall compared to her small frame, the skin stretched tight against the sharp bones of the face beneath it, the bald head and teeth prominently displayed in a deranged grin reflecting the sickly yellow light, reminding El of how horribly insane the creature approaching her really was. Not to mention the scars—oh God, the scars!

The slim, raised tallies that marred his skin seemed ironically countless, and they almost glowed in the light of the bright moon and the stale light from the street lamp, and those eyes just continued to stare, as unblinking as ever.

Elianna processed all of this at once and was suddenly struck with the realization that if she didn’t act right then, she would be reduced to nothing but another of those haunting, alien marks; a trophy.

The thought hit her hard enough to release her from her stupor—just in time!—and raise her arm, releasing a stream of pepper spray into what was hopefully the direction of those too-big eyes as she turned on her heel and sprinted as fast as she could toward her car.

The wild laughter from behind her told her instantly that she had fully missed her target, and she pushed herself faster. Something struck her in the back of the knee, and she didn’t have time to wonder what it was as her head hit the ground hard, her hands scraping against the asphalt when she was sent sprawling. She groaned at the burning in her forehead, and something warm dripped down her face. If I can just get to my car, was her only thought as the pumping adrenaline took over, compelling her to start to her feet.

A cold hand wrapped around her ankle, and without thinking, she kicked out hard with her other foot. Something that felt like a nose cracked under her heel, accompanied by a sharp grunt of pain and the hand loosened, so she struck again, earning her a cry of agony and a free leg. Elianna scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, not bothering to look behind at the damage she had dealt, focusing all of her energy on stumbling to her car. Get to Jonathan’s now.

Suddenly, a large, black mass swooped over her head, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground hard and another cry of pain from Zsasz. El risked a glance behind to see a figure shrouded in black yanking Zsasz to his feet, and that was good enough for her. She finally fumbled her way into her car. She didn’t know who the hell that was, and she didn’t care to know. She peeled out of the parking lot, wiping at the blood dripping into her eye.

She checked her reflection in the visor mirror at a stoplight to assess the damage. As was to be expected, she was bleeding profusely where her head had connected with the asphalt. She tried not to worry too much; head wounds always bleed more than seems necessary. Even so, looking at her reflection made her lightheaded, the sight of asphalt sticking in her skin, and her hair matted with blood. She slammed the visor shut, and when the light turned green, she drove as quickly as she could to Jonathan’s apartment.

I almost died twice today.

As soon as she parked, Elianna snatched up her bag from the passenger seat, and for reasons that she didn’t quite understand, locked the car eight times before running into the building and then the elevator as fast as she could. Once inside, she pressed the button for her desired floor and then jammed the 'close door’ button frantically, bouncing anxiously as it made its slow ascent—can’t they make these things any faster?

As soon as the doors opened enough for her to slip through, she sprinted down the hallway, miraculously keeping from tumbling over on the way. She needed to get to Jonathan’s door now, every second that passed inciting more paranoia of some fresh horror presenting itself.

By the time she made it to the right door (a ten second run from the elevator), there were tears in her eyes, and she knocked frantically, needing for him to open the door right this damn second, Jonathan Crane!

Luckily, he seems to respond to the urgent knocking and flings open the door in seconds, the confusion written on his face quickly replaced by shock as he ushered her inside.

“Elianna, what the hell happened?”

“You were right,” she breathed, shutting the door quickly behind her and locking it. “You were right. I-if I hadn’t been on the way t-to the car already….” A tear slipped out of her eye and down her cheek as she finally began to process that had happened.

“Okay, okay, come on,” Jonathan took her bag and her purse from her and set them on the floor. “Bathroom, come with me.” He led his still trembling friend into the bathroom and helped her onto the countertop to get a better look at her head, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Just don’t let me die, okay?” Elianna hadn’t even meant to speak, and nearly didn’t recognize the meek voice as her own.

“Not a chance, just hold still,” he replied as gently as he could, using a sterilized wipe from the first aid kit beneath his sink to carefully brush out the bits of asphalt from her bloodied flesh. Her eyes closed in pain when he moved on to cleaning off the mostly dried blood. “Okay, it isn’t as big as it looks,” he reassured her when he could finally see clearly; he was able to cover the source of the bleeding with a large bandaid. “There, you’re okay.” He concluded the treatment by gently dabbing antibacterial goop onto the divots left by the asphalt down her cheek.

She dropped her freshly clean forehead onto his shoulder when he finished. The light was so bright, and unsurprisingly, her head was killing her. Oh my god, if I had hit much harder, it might have.

“El?” He asked, resting his hand on the back of her head, worried that she had fallen unconscious.

“Lights.” Quickly catching on, he helped her off the counter and guided her back into the living room. She laid on the couch with her eyes shut tight as he went back into the bathroom and proceeded to make far more noise rattling about in the medicine cabinet than seemed necessary.

“You can have Tylenol.” She opened her eyes and sat up to look at the two little pills offered to her in his palm.

“Tylenol? Are you f-” El cut her off and forced a deep breath, taking the medicine from him. “It’s better than nothing. Thank you.” She didn’t even wait for water before she took them.

Jonathan sat on the couch by her head and guided her back into a horizontal position, guiding her head gently onto his lap, knowing that she found the intimacy comforting (regardless of his lack of understanding for it), while she closed her eyes again.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I know.”

After a minute, he turned on the television with the volume low and began to run his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and El risked a look at the screen just in time to see Zsasz’s mugshot on the news. The sight made her nauseous, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.

Almost immediately, she began to sweat. Her anxiety quickly rocketed almost out of control, and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe as her chest tightened painfully. “C-can you feel yourself going into shock?” She asked meekly. She had meant it to come off as a joke, but unable to achieve that goal, she realized that it was a genuine concern.

“Deep breaths,” Jonathan replied calmly. “Put your feet on the armrest; you need to elevate your legs.” She did so without arguing, doing her best to keep her breathing deep and steady. “You know, you should consider yourself lucky, El.”

The statement hit her hard enough to make her forget her anxiety immediately, and she took a long, shaky breath before sitting up, swinging her feet to the floor so that she was sitting next to him properly.

“How. Could this possibly. Be lucky?” She asked slowly, doing her best to remain calm. “I have been attacked, threatened, slashed, bandaged, stalked, and practically bled out all today.” She had started slowly but found herself steadily speaking faster and louder. “I think most people-no actually, everyone on Earth would not consider that lucky, except for you. So why the hell are you smiling right now, Jonathan Crane? Do you think this is funny? I could have died tonight!”

“Of course, I don’t think it’s funny that you were attacked again. I just forgot how entertaining it is when you get angry.” For a moment, El stared at Jonathan, baffled by what he was saying, before hitting him with a throw pillow, to which he looked almost offended.

“It’s not entertaining, you bastard. Not now, in this circumstance!” She swung the pillow at him again, and he jumped up, ducking out of the way when she threw it at him instead.

“No, El, look,” he raised his hands in surrender, doing his best to backtrack and catching the next pillow that was flung at him. “You managed to escape Zsasz twice. Both times, on sheer dumb luck. Before today his mortality rate was 100%, so yes, that’s what I call lucky-don’t you dare throw that at me.”

El froze her with her arm up, ready to hurl another pillow at his face. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She reluctantly dropped the pillow back onto the couch, and he relaxed.

“Fine. But you’re making dinner all week, and tomorrow you’re going to find out who let him escape so that I can shatter their kneecaps. What?” She asked in response to the puzzled look on his face.

“Weren’t you going into shock a minute ago? How are you fine right now?” He put the back of his hand on her forehead as though to check her temperature, to which she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away.

“Through denial, all things are possible, love.” She paused for a beat before adding, “if I say that out loud, do I stop being in denial?” More to herself than to him. Another pause and then, “can we have pancakes for dinner?”

Jonathan stared down at his friend, a little impressed by her sudden resolve, before conceding and walking toward the kitchen.

“As long as you make that hot chocolate that I like.”

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #attraction to the insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 5

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beepbeeprichiellc · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! If you could write anymore of the best friend’s brother au with Stan and Eddie as brothers I would love to read it!!!

Yes I can. Part One.

Richie had never seen someone so pissed off in his life.

Sure there was that one time he had stolen Wentworth’s keys to take Betty Ripson to make out point, which ended with the loss of his virginity but even then there was a glimmer of knowing amusement in his father’s eyes when amidst the scorning. Now though-he knew that what honest and true annoyance looked like as Stan shot him the dirtiest look ever known to man. Mrs. Uris was cooing about having someone other than Mike over, practically fawning over the fact that Stan had more than one friend-not that the woman knew that Mike wasn’t exactly Stan’s ‘friend’-and asking him all about himself. Richie was in love with this, giving him something other than Stan’s annoyance to keep his attention.

Not that Eddie was giving Mrs. Uris a run for her money.

All he was doing was sitting there, in a school hodie and the same pair of sweats that had nearly given Richie an aneurysm earlier. Looking closer Richie realized that Eddie was an angel in disguise, his features soft and tangible, his voice like bells and every time he looked in Richie’s direction the air in the trashmouths lungs vanished. This was probably apparent to everyone except the parents, giving that Stan constantly growled out his answers and Eddie smirked when he did so.

“Yeah, my dad is a dentist and my mom stays at home. Although she has become quite a master of needle point here lately.”

“A dentist, that’s pretty neat.” Mrs. Uris replied, apparently fascinated with every word Richie spoke. “That must be why you are so polite, dentists always have polite kids.”

“How many dentist kids do you know there Andrea?” Mr. Uris asked, chuckling to himself. “Do you go around grading childrens politeness based on their parents occupation?”

Eddie snorted, nearly choking on his food in the process. “Sorry,” He sputtered out. “Went down the wrong tube.”

“Right,” Stan nipped, “And I’m Johnny Depp.”

“I didn’t know the Depp man was Jewish.” Richie playfully pointed out, earning a small chuckle from Eddie, causing the trashmouth’s heart to skip a beat. “You’d think they’d advertise that.”

“Anyways,” Mrs. Uris ushered, trying to keep her son form jumping from his chair and strangling Richie. “What are your hobbies Richie? Do you play any sports?”

“Oh god no.” He chuckled, earning an unimpressed look from Eddie. “I mean no offense but I’m not the most graceful person in the world.”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen Stan play any sport? It’s like watching a newborn calf walk.” Eddie laughed at his own joke, forcing Stan to toss his roll right into his chest. “Hey now, the truth hurts Stanley.”

“Now boys.” Mr. Uris warned, making both children halt their actions and mutter an apology under their breath. “Eddie her is on the track team at Saint Ann’s, they are expecting him to take state.” It was a brag, no doubt about it making Mr. Uris’s chest puff out and his wife smile. “Stan is set for an academic scholarship so both of the boys are looking at only the best colleges. A good extra curricular activity is good for you Richie, you should look into taking up something even if it’s like the chess team.”

“Richie is in the drama club.” Stan blurted, making Richie’s ears burn. “The president even, I think.”

“Wow.” Eddie whistled, coming to Richie’s defense. “That’s about as cool as Stan’s bird club.”

“Alright you know what Kasbrak?” Stan shot back, pointing his fork right at his brother. “If you wanna go there we can go there, remember that I have pictures of you with that stupid fanny pack on. Want me to bring those bad boys out?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Eddie hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Stan licked his lips. “Try me big boy.”

“Kasbrak?” Richie asked, the name sparking a memory in his brain. “Wait, are you related to Crazy Kaspbrak that lives down on 2nd?” The entire room went tense, making Richie realize his mistake immediately. The Uris’s became fascinated by their plates as Stan shoved his fork into Richie’s thigh. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to-”

“I didn’t know Sonia had a nickname.” Eddie chuckled, his face twisting into an unreadable emotion. “Why didn't’ you tell me Stan?”

“It wasn’t something I thought you would be impressed with.” Stan quipped, staring down an already shrinking Richie. “It’s just a dumb name some kids gave her Eddie, no one thinks-”

“It’s fine.” Eddie cut, shaking his head. When his brother tried to speak again, he would have none of it. “Stan, it’s fine, really.” Looking at Richie he continued, “Sonia is my mother, although she’s nothing more than a birther to me.”

“Eddie…” Mr. Uris whispered softly, reaching out to his adoptive son but faltering when the phone began to ring from the kitchen. For a moment it looked like he was going to ignore it, but politeness won over as he pulled from the table and disappeared from the room. His voice still carried, the moment the person on the other line spoke, all politeness vanished. “I told you not to call here again.” Pause, “No, he doesn’t want to-”

Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes and excusing himself to go to Mr. Uris aid. His voice was much louder, much sharper and borderline pissy. “I told you not to call here again Sonia.” The name like venom to the dinner table. Stan looked sympathetic to Richie for the first time since his arrival, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “I don’t care what your therapist says, stop trying to contact me. You know what the judge said, I don’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore.” A very long pause, followed by. “Call here again and I’ll call the cops.” The slam of the phone caused everyone to flinch, their eyes advertising Eddie as he walked into the room. Eddie cleared his throat, making the parents look up. “Can I please be excused from dinner? I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Eddie, are you okay?” Mrs. Uris soothed, her eyes soft and inviting.

“I’m fine.” He assured, “Just tired.”

“Alright.” She replied, obviously unconvinced. “Goodnight son.”

“Goodnight.” His eyes lifted once more to meet Richie’s and a shiver ran down the trasmouths spine, settling down at the pace of his hip making him buzz. Once gone conversation lagged until it was over, and Richie was relieved when he and Stan could go back to their homework, although Richie’s mind kept wandering to the room next to Stan’s, ACDC blaring form it’s walls.

It was well past midnight before Richie realized Stan had actually passed out sitting upright. His mouth hung open, a deep breath coming from his lips. It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t impressed-because he was-it was that he knew how pissed he was going to be when he woke so to make sure he didn’t kink up his neck too bad, Richie literally tucked him. Once that was done he picked up the books and paper, careful not to disturb other things that Stan himself had organized. With a need for a cigarette making him itch.

Knowing that he had to be sneay, Richie chose the backyard for his secret smoke, careful not to make a single creek aas he snuck out. It was a relief, feeling the nicotine touch his lungs and he thanked every deity for whoever invented the damn cancer sticks. It was calm out here, Derry was fast asleep as well as it’s residences. A sweet release that only a cool night could bring and an easy feeling that a good breath provided. Richie was at peace.

“You know those things kill right?”

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin, obviously not expecting the sudden voice. It was Eddie, sitting on the porch swing, silently swaying to and fro. How in the hell Richie hadn’t noticed him was beyond him but there he was, in all his angelic glory. “Fuck, I didn’t know anyone was awake. I’m not-uh-this isn’t-”

“Calm down, I don’t care that you smoke.” Eddie reassured, waving away Richie’s fear of being outed. “Did mean to scare you, sorry about that.” He didn’t sound one bit sorry, his smirk an indication of his amusement. “What are you doing up? Isn’t Stan’s bedtime like nine o’clock?”

Richie chuckled, “Yeah, he straight up passed out while writing. Not a night owl is he?”

“Never has been.” Eddie nodded, “Does have a tendency of waking up early though. It’s super annoying.”

“Hmm.” He hummed in response, taking in the last drag before flicking the bud onto the ground and stomping on it. “And what about you? What are you doing awake this late?”

“I don’t sleep much.” Eddie shrugged, crossing his legs. “Come out for fresh air when I’ve got a got alot on my my mind.”

“What what do you have on your pretty little mind Eds?” The nickname just slipped out, tumbling down his front before falling between them with no grace whatsoever. He thought about taking it back but it stuck with him, Eds. His Eds.

“That’s not my name.” Eddie corrected, rolling his eyes. “Eddie already is a nickname dumbass.”

“I like it.” He admitted. “And that’s not really an answer.”

Eddie sat there for a moment, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips. “I’ll tell you what,” He sange, standing from the swing and strolling towards where Richie stood. “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind if you take a walk with me.”

“A walk?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hmm.” Eddie passed by him, turning so that he was walking towards the gate backwards, his sparkling eyes inviting the trashmouth to join in the sins that the night held. “So it is.”

“Wait, what are you-”

“Come on Richie, where is your sense of fun?” Eddie playfully jested, licing his lips and pushing open the exit with his hip.

Richie knew Stan’s rule.

Knew what he had promised.

But those eyes, that smirk, it called to him in a way that couldn’t be ignored. It was an invitation, a sudden need to fulfill any of Eddie’s request that made Richie want to run head first through that gate. Somewhere deep down he knew that it would only cause his best friend to scold him in the morning but that was hours away, which right at that moment felt like a century. There was no use in arguing, which is why Richie followed, his heart leading him out into the streets and into the unknown.

Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, Richie thought, you are going to be the death of me.

#it #it au #requested #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kasbrak #best friend stan #best friends sibling au

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kpopchangedme · 6 years ago

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Saint-Agnès de Roma | Mark Tuan

A scholarship student like you has no business hanging out with the cool, filthy rich, teens of your private Academy... But somehow you still end up playing a naughty game with that one guy…

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

Protagonists: Mark Tuan & You

Word count: 8.2k

Lysandre’ note: FINALLY POSTING A NEW FIC. Trying to see if my shadowban is gone for ever and ever and ever. :’D I’m excited (can’t you tell?) and hope you like this.

Snippet: “You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now. He smiled, face glowing, illuminated only by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. Mark had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky. “Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?””

It was the long weekend of Thanksgiving, which for the rest of the students of the country, meant enjoying great food with their loving families. To the students of Saint-Agnès de Roma however, it was merely an opportunity to leave the dormitory and go wild for four days straight. If Jackson – the youngest son of the Wang family, and occasionally your best friend – was the one telling this story, he’d probably put it that way: Thanksgiving was the Saint-Agnès get-fucked Holiday. For all those ridiculously rich teenagers that long weekend meant; ski trips to the Rocky Mountains, manors deserted of any parental figures, countless parties and even shopping sprees to London or Paris.

You couldn’t care less about all that.

For you, every year, holidays only meant having the girl’s senior dormitory all to yourself. For a few nights only, you wouldn’t be woken up by your roommate’s grinding her teeth, your studies wouldn’t be delayed by some jock disrupting the peace and quiet of the library. Thankfully, they were only a few students that stayed over during the rare weekends of freedom: the ones with family issues so bad they’d rather be here than home, and the ones with an official school punishment.

You were neither; the exception, the scholarship peasant, there merely to make others feel better about themselves.

This year’s get-fucked Holiday however, you had agreed to do something quite unorthodoxy.

Soothing imaginary wrinkles on your skirt, you breathed in slowly to gather courage as you neared the Wang’s mansion. You were beginning to wonder why you accepted to come in the first place. You shouldn’t have given in to your best friend’s plea, him begging didn’t make you special in any way. Jackson had always been extra like that. He was a social butterfly and he was ‘close’ with everyone and their mothers. You guys were polar opposites and there were days where you were convinced Jackson believed himself to be the center of the universe, which was only partially right.

Still, even with his amazing social skills, sometimes it seemed that Jackson couldn’t understand the most basic things about humans in society: Birds of a feather flock together.

No matter how hard he’d try, his friends would never accept you.

It wasn’t true that finally joining one of his little ‘get-togethers’ would suddenly make you fit in with the cool crowd. Besides, it’s not like you even wanted those rich brats to like you. You’d gone through Middle School and most of High School invisible. You could endure what was left of Senior year being known as "that kid”. It wouldn’t kill you and you’d much rather spend your Friday night alone at the dorm, binging the latest tv show on Netflix, than with all of them.

Unfortunately, Jackson would never forgive you if you bailed out now. He freaked out when you tried to refuse his invitation for the hundredth time. He kept insisting tonight was going to be the ‘greatest night of your life’. Unfortunately, if all the invitations to his previous parties were anything to go by, you bet you’d still hear this argument to try to convince you to come to the next one too… And all the ones after that.

Jackson couldn’t stand the idea of people staying on the sidelines, and you knew why. He was just as righteous and idealistic as his father, Mr. Wang – probably the only billionaire in the world who always insisted to be called by his first name.

Ruiju Wang was one of the biggest benefactors of, not only the Middle School of Sacred Heart and its big sister’s Saint-Agnès de Roma Academy but also of the local orphanage. That was the only reason a kid like you got to meet a golden spoon heir like Jackson in the first place. You being a big bookworm and nerd was only coincidental, and Ruiju, seeing your potential, offered to the Sisters of the orphanage to sponsor your studies in the top schools of the area. You had always been thankful, graduating from Saint-Agnès Academy, despite your unfortunate background, guaranteed you’d get into one of the best universities of the world.

Thanks to the Wang’s gigantic fortune – mostly made in the late 70s by grandma Zhou, who Jackson once told you built a highly illegal traffic ring of tobacco and opium in British controlled Hong Kong – you now had a promising future. Perhaps that’s why you hated to disappoint your best friend. A future was a gift most orphans of the world would kill for.

Perhaps that’s also why you made it to his giant wooden front door, Friday of this Thanksgiving Holiday. Your finger hovered for a short second over the doorbell, still hesitating to join the party. But even so, your choice had already been made, you promised Jackson...

Seconds later, you were already following your very excited friend through the maze of corridors. It seemed you were heading to the East living room where you had already been countless times for the Wang’s charity events. It was an isolated part of the house, as opposed to where the rooms of the three living servants – but they called them employees – were. Ruiju and Sophia Wang had left for Australia to visit their eldest son and his family. Jackson opted out, favouring this little get together instead.

“I am sooooo glad you came y/n! You are not going to regret this!”

You could only lie through your teeth, this would be your first party ever and you didn’t belong here at all. If it was anything close to what you heard from rumours at school or seen in 90s teen movies, you’d flee without hesitation.

“TA-DAH!”

Jackson threw the doors of the living room open in front of you, spreading his arms widely. The small group of partygoers inside turned to stare at your entrance, as though you dramatically interrupted the most serious talk ever. He wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a small gathering, there was only around ten people, and you knew all of them from school.

“Wow, isn’t this a sight to behold.” Salome – head of the Senior’s Girl Dormitory, Captain of the Girl’s Lacrosse team and second-best student of Saint-Agnès – giggled, staring at you up and down. She was the devil incarnate and you threw an accusing glare at Jackson, who had conveniently not mentioned her being here. She hated you for always placing first despite lacking the help of expensive private tutors and made sure your life was hellish because of it. “How’d you manage to leave school y/n? I bet your convent strongly opposed.”

“I took the bus.” You answered sarcastically, choosing to ignore her last insinuation. You weren’t a nun, and you took the glass of colourful punch Jackson was already handing you as if to prove it.

You drank the cold alcoholized juice, walking closer to the group. It tasted like what you always imagined a vacation to the Caribbean would; sugary, with too much stuff going on, but overall enjoyable. Tonight would be your first time really drinking alcohol, but you were determined to try to blend in and that clearly meant boozing. A lot.

“I didn’t know public transportation served this neighbourhood,” Salome mused, frowning in disapproval.

It didn’t. You always had to walk 30 minutes after the nearest bus stop to make it to the Wang’s.

“Anyway, I’m glad you could join us.” A dangerous smile stretched her lips and you swear you saw Mark Tuan – descending of a long lineage of Saint Agnès alumnae and infamous serial-dater – squeeze her shoulder to ease her. It looked like these two were on again, his right arm was stretched to enclose her against his chest, as if afraid she’d dare breathe if he’d let go for a second.

“Everyone, this is my best friend y/n, she goes to Saint-Agnès too.” Jackson beamed as you carefully sat at the last empty spot of their circle. In front of you, Salome exchanged a long look with her friend Marissa – a total bitch from a new money family. The others all smiled and nodded, nonchalant at best. You had known most of them for years although you’d never spoken, and you were pretty sure they also already knew who you were. “Be nice, she’ll join our game! Where were we?”

“Katy was about to tell us about the weirdest place she has ever woken up in!” Salome laughed and Katy’s boyfriend Luis – the grandnephew of the Tsar of Bulgaria, or whatever – groaned, embarrassed for her.

“Come on, tell us!” Someone else’s pressed on, impatient. “It can’t be bad enough for you to strip.”

Immediately it clicked, and your gaze widened, staring at the pile of abandoned socks in the middle of the circle. Apparently, even filthy rich teenagers had nothing better to do than playing dumb games at parties. Still, you were glad their attention had left you completely.

Truth or Strip was sort of a legendary game at Saint-Agnès de Roma, and, as far as you knew, it was the first time an outsider was witnessing the closed circle of cool kids playing it for real. Maybe your luck just turned, this was a great behavioural observation opportunity.

“I once woke up in a…” Katy paused for effect and Luis tilted his head, frowning in anticipation. “... Gentlemen’s Club in Miami!”

“Boooo!” Marissa exclaimed as soon as the confession left her mouth. “Who hasn’t?”

You laughed as everyone did, certain 99,9% of the world’s population had never even set foot in that sort of exclusive place.

“BUT,” Katy raised a finger to defend herself, “the night actually started in Los Angeles!”

Impressed clapping followed, and you smiled in your glass as their sick oversharing game moved on. Apparently, you were as invisible here as you were in school, which was a relief, even if you promised Jackson to make friends. Everybody got drunker by the minute and almost an hour later, they were still playing the game.

Jinyoung Park – of Park Films, by far the largest movie production company in Asia – lost his shirt in a very gentlemanly manner, refusing to give away the name of his first conquest. Mark Tuan lost his too, refusing to share the weirdest place where he ever had sex. Chao-Xing – daughter of a Chinese real estate mogul, rumoured to own more than a third of Vancouver – took off her tights to keep the phone number of Justin Bieber her dirty little secret. Hyunwoo Son – of the South Korean ambassador’s family – gave up his (rather outdated) Ralph Lauren’ Polo to avoid spilling the tea on the craziest thing he used his diplomatic immunity for.

Everyone kept losing pieces of clothing except you, and you were starting to feel the dangerous buzz of the alcohol through your veins. So far it was all fun and games, perhaps it really was a great thing you’d come to this party.

Looking at them making fools of themselves felt surreal and oddly satisfying.

Studying these people in their own habitat could be great for your plan of pursuing an Anthropology Major. It made you feel like your very own Jane Goodall in the Kenya jungle, learning how to interact with primates.

“Jackson!” Jaebum Im – rumoured to be the secret love child of a top actress and one of Hyundai’s already married chairmen – slapped a hand on the built shoulder of your close friend, ready to get him to confess some horrible deeds. “Who’s your first love?” There was a collective roll of eyes at the easy question, but it caught your attention. “Truth or Strip!”

“Y/n,” Jackson answered immediately, not embarrassed the least by it and you blushed when everyone looked at you. Your friend was way too honest at this game, he only lost a single sock so far. He bluntly answered almost everything.

“What!?” Marissa – both of them infamously dated for a year during your time at Sacred Heart’ Middle School – sneered, staring dagger at you. “When?”

“My family sent me at least a day per week at her place when we were young, so we got really close.”

“Your parents sent you to... a-an orphanage?” Her mouth dropped, clearly horrified by the idea. “Is that even legal?”

“Yes.” You replied before Jackson could get offended for you, grinning at her unemotionally. “We used to play together every weekend since we were 8 years old.”

“Well well…” Salome, who seemed to have forgotten your existence until then, smiled diabolically. Perhaps she really had forgotten, everyone was pretty drunk by then. After all, the party was already going on a full swing when you joined. “Looks like we haven’t played with you yet… What should we ask y/n?”

“It’s not how the game works.” Youngjae Choi – golden son of one of the teachers, Mrs. Choi, and main soloist of the Saint-Agnès choir – cut in, trying to stop her. Half of an official nerd himself, he was already too familiar with her dirty shenanigans. Lord knows what he was doing here tonight, maybe your common friend forcefully dragged him too. “It’s Jackson’s turn to ask!”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, miffed. “But it has to be y/n since she hasn’t played yet.”

“Y/n…” Jackson frowned, seemingly unable to think of a question invasive enough to satisfy the vultures, but still soft as to not make you regret you’d come. “Um…” Also, he already knew everything about you. Growing up in a Catholic orphanage wasn’t exactly the most propitious background for nurturing some dark and wild secret.

“Come on…” Another one sighed.

“Are you still a virgin?” Jaebum asked curious, earning himself a warning glare from the host.

“It’s too obvious she is,” Katy giggled, turning his more innocent question into something displeasing. As though being a virgin was nasty and shameful, you clenched your jaw. “Has she even ever been kissed to begin with?” From the corner of your eyes, you spotted Tuan straightening, probably ready to join in and make fun of you.

“Give me a second, I’ll think of something.” Jackson – your actual first kiss, by the way – ignored them, but you felt your face warm up.

Ultimately, the impending question didn’t matter, because you knew just the way to remain in control of their game, stay ahead and not give them the pleasure of embarrassing you. It’s the only advantage to being picked on often, you learn to understand the rules better than the ones making them. It’s like chess, if you’re always a move ahead, they can never truly get to you.

To survive tonight and fit it, you’d have to channel your inner Jane Goodall; think like a primate; become a primate.

It was a good thing you were done with your second drink. Already, your mind was numb in the most perfect way, you felt courageous and unbeatable. You were going to show them – those rich brats – show them you weren’t scared of anything. You could be fun. You could play and act dumb too. You could misbehave just like them.

Just as Jackson was opening his mouth to ask something, you started to pull at your dark t-shirt, riding it up and out of your suede skirt. The room automatically fell silent, everything stood still. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the stereo in the background, playing the dirty pop of the Hit 40. All the other girls only had stripped off their socks, tights or blazers so far, not wanting to take off anything more substantial, but you weren’t like others.

You’d rather expose yourself before they’d try to expose you.

After you threw your t-shirt on the pile of already stripped clothes, you sat there in silence as the boys cooed, highly conscious of your bra and mini skirt. Thank God you were tipsy enough to still act confident. Like another – primate you.

“What the heck?!” Jackson yelped, gaze crazy wide as he looked anywhere else but your exposed skin. “I haven’t asked my question!”

You shrugged, playing cool, “My answer is Strip.” Turning to Salome, you mimicked her earlier smirk. Right now, she looked like she had swallowed something nasty.

See? Virgins can be so much fun.

“Awesome...” Jaebum clicked his tongue, clearly entertained. “Looks like it’s your turn now, brainiac.” The boy’ Lacrosse captain handed you a third colourful drink, eyes dangerously lingering on the curve of your boobs.

By your standards, Im was the most handsome guy at the Academy, not that you’d ever tell anyone. He appeared out of nowhere at Saint-Agnès in 10th grade. According to the rumours, he earned himself this one-way trip by stealing his dad’s favourite sports car and crashing it into the Han River. His father was said to have sent him to Catholic boarding school only because his mother cried and begged for it not to be Military Academy. Jaebum was a ‘no comment’ type of guy, so nobody ever got to the bottom of his story. If it was true, you had to admit his mom horridly failed him. You were pretty sure Saint-Agnès’ Reverend Mother was scarier than any drill inspector could ever dream to be.

Accepting the drink, you blushed for everyone to see. It felt as though Jaebum’s eyes were fire on your neckline, as though it were his fingers and not simply his gaze that was on you. You didn’t feel exposed, you felt seen. Every single guy in the room – except Jackson – had his eyes glued to you and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

“Let’s stop now.” The host gloomily stared away. You knew him enough to be aware he thought he was responsible for letting his schoolmates corrupt you.

“Yes, let’s play another game.” Salome agreed all too eager, having recovered from your little stunt. You smiled widely as you took another big sip of the tropical punch, aware she was fuming.

“The Knot?” Marissa suggested.

“Strip Pong,” Luis replied, running his hand up and down Katy’s thigh.

You rolled your eyes as the ideas kept coming, all games you had no clue how to play and clearly involving losing more clothes and dignity. Mark Tuan snorted at your dramatic gesture, catching your attention.

He was also childhood best friends with Jackson, but you never hung out together after you entered High School. Jackson was the only one who kept publicly addressing you, whereas that jerk played the other kids’ scheme, the invisibility one. Mark offered you one of his legendary lopsided grins as you held his gaze. You quirked a brow in distaste for him to see, a part of you wanted that almighty guy to know he had no effect on you whatsoever. Not anymore anyway, you were way past that naive 11 years old phase where you thought he was kinda cute. Nowadays you weren’t one of his fangirls, dying for him to notice her.

Coming from alumni and rich – you-have-no-idea-how-rich – kind of family, Mark Tuan stood at the very top of Saint-Agnès eligible bachelor hierarchy, the type you bet student’ parents slyly mentioned at family suppers: “Are you friend with the Tuan kid? I hear he’s as beautiful as his mother. She was a Miss Universe in the late 80s.”: “Isn’t the oldest son of the Tuans in your class? He’s old money, they left Mainland China many generations back.” or perhaps even: “He’s worth 20 billion at the very least. Please, do shag him and get knocked up”.

You, however, had no parents shoving you his way. Mark Tuan had been the quiet and hard to get close with type even in Middle School, and of course, it took a Jackson Wang to break down his walls. But he wasn’t the shy kid following you two around anymore. Now Mark had found his own species and returned to the wild. Like all of them, he was all about Gucci tees, yachts, drugs, fun and whatever. You definitely hadn’t seen him at Sunday mass in a while.

From what you heard, he had become as superficial as these other rich jerks, going through girls as models go through clothes. Curiously, Salome always seemed to find a way to pull him back somehow. Why even bother? These two started dating on and off between Middle and High School and never stopped. The same summer you and Jackson had a fling. Why did Tuan like the she-devil though? Even Jackson didn’t have any clue, nor could justify his friend taste for the dark side.

Filthy rich players like Tuan weren’t a ‘catch’, they were the poison of modern society. They thought they could get away with anything.

“Suck and Blow.” Salome decided on the game Authority herself, unaware her very shirtless boyfriend was still checking you out. And boy was that a sight, even you had to admit it. He might’ve grown up to be a piece of shit, but Mark had become one damn good looking turd.

Once everyone agreed, you all stood and – Thank God – got dressed. You picked up your own t-shirt from the pile to put it on, relieved. Sure, you were confident, but you didn’t want to chill with them half-naked all night either. Done, the party spread in a circle again and, sensing your confusion, Youngjae pulled you by the wrist to his right. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, not as subtle as he intended to: “We just pass a card around with our mouths without dropping it. It’s about timing, the pair that drops it has to deal with a punishment.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting.” You grimaced and he shrugged, apparently already familiar with the game. You didn’t peg him for the type to come to these parties often, but perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps the choir sweetheart had a secret thing for booze and dirty games… How intriguing, you turned to consider him anew. “Are you good at this?”

“I...” Youngjae hesitated a second too long, doubt shading his features, “am really, really bad.” He confessed like a sin, making you laugh. He was cute in a ‘pure guy’ kind of way, you were familiar through Jackson and often shared a table to study quietly at the library. Youngjae was also in Saint-Agnès’ top 5 and didn’t come from a particularly wealthy family, thereby an ally. Jackson once told you that Youngjae attending the Academy was in his mother’s teaching contract. His financial background made him comfortable and relatable somehow. At least you had someone like him here with you tonight. Jackson was way too busy hosting to notice you didn’t know where to put yourself.

“What’s the punishment?”

“Well, obviously, there’s a risk you’ll… kiss, by accident.” He cleared his throat, accidentally adorable. They were far worse fates than sharing a kiss with him, you decided. “And if you drop the card, the usual pun-”

“Have you never played, y/n?” Tuan, who somehow had appeared to your own right chuckled, amused by how clueless you were. “Cute.” You gulped, staring in his almond eyes, he was about the same height as you now. In your Middle School friendship years, he’d been shorter by many centimetres, never managing to grow fast enough to catch up to you. “Don’t worry.” Mark plucked his lips your way and winked, gaze dropping in your neckline. “I’m good enough at this for us two.” If you were reminiscing of young innocent feelings, his douchebag attitude definitely brought you back down to the present.

Strong of your alcohol confidence, you feigned to look over your shoulder in confusion. “Are you talking to me?” You pressed your chest with both hands like honoured to be blessed by his recognition. “Can you really see me?” Tuan blinked, taken aback and Youngjae snorted to your left. He was always a great public, easygoing and always laughing at your stupid jokes.

“Of course, y/n. Your bra was kinda hard to miss earlier.”

Having recovered, Mark’s rude tongue darted through his parted lips to taunt you and your face warmed treacherously. It had been forever since you two last spoke or stood this close. The way Mark was looking at you now felt unsafe, predaceous. You almost took a step away instinctively, but that wouldn’t have been a very ‘primate y/n’ thing to do so you held back.

“Good girl gone bad... I’m all here for you.”

Instead, at that, you rolled your shoulders and exchanged a glance with Youngjae.

“Well, you must not know a lot of good girls, Mark… We’re the very best at being bad.”

Youngjae immediately coughed and the player’s brows shot up, a new glimmer in his eyes. What the fuck was primate y/n doing, flirting? Why would you ever say something like that? Jesus.

“Well, colour me intrigued.” Mark exhaled before taking a sip of his cup and you stared, trying not to hate yourself for saying shit like that aloud. “Then a good girl like you probably has a few bad tricks to teach me.”

You were about to reply with something – hopefully clever – for him to sod off, when Jackson announced the start of the game, standing on the other side of the circle. Your jaw dropped, realizing it meant you’d play between Youngjae and Mark. You’d sooner eat a live spider than kiss that jerk. Oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jackson winked at you, taking out a credit card from his wallet. (Lord knows where it had been!) Without wasting a second more, he put it on his mouth, sucked air and lowered to Salome to his right, passing her the card.

The game had started. Suck. Blow. Suck. Blow.

Pretty simple and self-explanatory. You tried to concentrate on watching the others play with ease to prepare yourself. If you mastered the technique, there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, you suspected it was a lot harder than it looked though and you peeked at Tuan, nervous. In a matter of seconds, it was your turn and Youngjae lowered himself above you, brows furrowed in concentration. You sucked the card successfully, disgusted at the sensation of wetness on your lips. Dreading the next exchange, you turned to the man to your right, not without a certain sense of responsibility. You were usually good at games and you could own this one too. Tuan’s face drew nearer, and you stilled, trying to make it easier for him. You passed the card without any difficulties. Thank God, you sighed, watching it make its way faster and faster around the circle.

You would get herpes because of this stupid party game. Ew.

You lacked time to dwell on that new disgusting realization before it was your turn again. Clearly, the unspoken rule was to accelerate to make things harder. No one had dropped the card yet. Youngjae chuckled gladly when he successfully passed it to you once more and you tried to ignore the dirty wetness from all the other players this time. This time, Mark wrapped his hand around your neck to stabilize himself when you turned to him. Other players had done it too and it made the exchange easier, so you tried not to think much of it. Like you did earlier, when you felt him suck, you blew to let the card go. Only this time, to your absolute horror…

The card fell.

You barely managed to retreat away from Mark’s plucked lips in a panic to avoid any skin contact. Drunkenly stumbling backwards, you hit Youngjae who held you up with strong hands. The small gathering collectively laughed at the fail and Mark winced, falsely apologetic.

“Gee!” He snapped his fingers like a 30s cartoon character who just made a blunder. You stared, bewildered as he bent to pick up the credit card, tossing it to Jackson under a thunder of woos. Mark lost on purpose. You were almost sure of it. Next, to the awfully serious host, Salome was livid, looking like she was about to murder you on the spot.

“Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Bambam – a 2nd generation heir from Thailand, newly transferred after being successively kicked out of his four previous boarding schools in Asia (and very proud of it) – announced your punishment.

Unfortunately, you knew how to play that game.

“W-What?!” You gasped in dismay, desperately turning to Youngjae for help as Mark shrugged at you, smirking.

Seven Minutes in Heaven?! More like: your own personal Hell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Salome crossed her arms in front of her petite frame, head about to burst. “She obviously dropped it on purpose!” Your mouth opened in befuddlement. It was the stupidest accusation in the history of mankind. “Mark.” She warned, and the young man shrugged again, unbothered by her dirty glare.

“Rules are rules.” He said with a laugh.

“It’ll be the most boring seven minutes of your life, Mark!” She snapped, lacing venom in her words and the others self-conceited asstwats stifled their laughs.

“Excuse me?” Insulted, you narrowed your eyes at the brunette. Alcohol was apparently making you forget that these rich brats’ opinion of you couldn’t matter less. Boring? Why was she taking her anger out on you? You weren’t the one who failed the game and it’s not like you were trying to seduce her disgusting boyfriend.

“Please y/n, everyone knows you’re frigid.” Spiteful, Salome snickered, but no one found her funny this time. Jaebum even took an instinctive step between you two. Wait… Was she jealous, of you? The thought made you secretly ecstatic. Jeez, she should keep Mark Tuan on a leash if she cared that much. It’s not like he wasn’t running around giving it to anybody in the first place.

“Sally, don’t–” Even he tried to stop her, but she cut him off.

“I mean, isn’t she saving herself to take the veil or something?”

Your jaw clenched at that one last insult. You were aware of your prudish reputation, an overly Catholic childhood tends to stick to anyone, but you hated it. Salome regularly used that to publicly ridicule you. This time was different though, and she was either too drunk or stupid – or both – to realize that. She had just shown you her entire hand.

You smiled, she’d given you leverage, the upper hand, something invaluable you never had before. Now you knew her weakness.

“Jackson?” The summoned boy winced at your call, apparently dying a thousand deaths. It was too late now, you were worked up and he recognized that expression on your face. There was no point trying to stop you. “Where’s the closet?” You asked, as if there was some sort of unholy place specially dedicated to playing that game.

“W-What?” He couldn’t have looked more alarmed

“Tuan and I obviously need a heaven.” You pressed on, rolling your eyes. You should’ve stopped, but you were getting way too defiant.

“We do?” Mark whispered for only you to hear, slight panic now showing.

“Rules are rules.” Primate y/n replied to him sarcastically.

You wouldn’t have played Seven Minutes in Heaven with that asshole just to abide by the rules of this stupid party, but if it made Salome lose her mind... Then it was the only reason you needed to be willing. You’d do almost anything to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Youngjae pulled at your elbow, mouthing a very clear ‘don’t’ as a warning, probably thinking you had a death wish. There was no way she’d let you live when she got back to the dormitory after the Holidays. Too bad for her, the she-devil was already making your life a living Hell. You grinned at Tuan, trying to look convincing. You didn’t see him anymore, he wasn’t that former childhood friend nor the school’s hottest manwhore.

Now he was it, your own personal vendetta.

“A closet?” Jackson breathed out, mind completely blank. You bet if it was anyone else playing, he’d laugh and cheer, turning into his usual overdramatic bubbly self. Right now, he looked nothing but dejected.

“To show Tuan a not-so-boring time.” You enlightened, seriously exasperated. This time everyone else came alive to guide you two. Mark, who followed with heavy feet, clearly had a change of heart, but you didn’t care. He was the one who dropped the card. He didn’t have to do it for laughs, to bluff like that. What an ass.

‘We’re still young and they aren’t all that bad. You need to learn to have fun y/n!’

That’s what Jackson had said to convince you to come. I’m trying, you thought, I’m being; not boring. You bet now he was regretting ever inviting you.

You had to enter a guestroom to find an actual closet and it was empty and surely uncomfortable, like pretty much anything in the Wang’s gigantic mansion. Still, in a daze, you stepped it, followed closely by Mark. As soon as the door closed behind, you heard a chair being dragged to block it.

Now if either of you wanted to make a run for it, you couldn't. Great….

“Why’d you do that for?” You immediately ushered and hit his arm, freaking out at the dramatic shift of atmosphere. Before, you were sure he lost on purpose and he must have had intricate ulterior motives. There was no way one of the biggest playboys of the Academy did that just to earn himself seven minutes in the dark with your nerdy ass.

“Weren’t you begging for this to happen just now?” Mark drew nearer and you backed away until you couldn’t escape anymore. His arms found the wall on each side of your head. That proud asshole didn’t seem half as reluctant at the thought of you now that nobody could see him. This situation felt awfully intimate... Even though Salome was probably counting the seconds until she could open the doors.

“Besides, I haven’t done anything yet.” His whisper made you shiver as his breath fawned over your face.

You exhaled anxiously, staring back at him, oscillating. “Your girlfriend is going to kill me.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have drunk that much. Sure, you told Jackson you would try to fit in, but right now, with Mark, locked in this closet... It felt as though you had succeeded at becoming an entirely different person and you wondered if you’d find yourself back once the door reopened.

Jane Goodall did struggle after she left the primates to their jungle and returned to her own reality.

“Who?” He questioned innocently, “When I’ll date for real I won’t play around.” Mark’s right hand found your hip bone in the semi-darkness, thumb brushing your stomach through the fabric. You stilled, not knowing how to react to that. “Sally’s just a little intense,” he glanced down at your lips, “sorry she’s being hard on you.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” The last world barely left your throat. From this close, this turd… He smelled kind of nice. Dammit.

“So… Are you really a good girl?” Mark hummed softly, leaning closer, voice deeper than the freaking Pacific ocean. Betraying goosebumps immediately spread on your skin. Right, you closed both eyes in defeat. That was why he made sure to lose the game. He knew it would turn out like this. “I bet it’s true...”

Mark's tongue darted out, catching the light and your eyes dropped on his lips. It was unfair. You weren’t prepared to face that kind of threat tonight. He was getting all predacious again and you were an easy prey. Sure, you hated the guy… When sober, collected, in control of yourself… Apparently, being pressed against a hot torso in the secrecy of a closet can change one’s perspective. You were almost trembling, blood boiling, body turned to stone; trapped.

“That you’re good at being bad.” Mark let out a weird small exhale, almost inaudible, tilting his head to the side.

Oh God, he was going to make this happen.

You had kissed boys before – OK fine, mostly Jackson and only when you were about twelve – but you had never made out in a dark closed space with anyone and surely that was bound to be sinful. Just being this close with Mark was surreal, electrifying, completely wrong. Did all guys smell like that? Jesus.

You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now.

His thumb pressed that spot on your hip and you inhaled sharply in apprehension, almost a purr. How humiliating, you’d never even made a sound like that. That jerk’s touch was more inhibiting than alcohol. Primate y/n was a traitor. Hopefully, you’d remember not to ever trust her again tomorrow morning, when you’d sobered up. Mark must have heard it because he smiled, face glowing, illuminated by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. He always had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky.

“Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his erratic breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?”

Mark wasn’t that much of a talker in Middle School, this new him was the worst. He chuckled silently, unaware of your thoughts and a resolve birthed in your chest at his amusement. You weren’t about to let that guy boast later to the whole school about how inexperienced you were. Especially not to his bitchy non-girlfriend. Strong of determination and anticipation, you put your own hands around his hips, unsure where else they should go. You weren’t going to freak out. You weren’t going to be boring. You might as well go all out if primate you were about to do this to herself.

“No,” you lied, almost convincing your drunk self. “it’s not.”

“I’m gonna kiss you...” Mark announced with his alpha tone, not buying the lie. Although his statement should have sounded awkward, it made you shiver at the suspense. Through the tip of your fingers on his shirt, you felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. Was he nervous? Surely not, you bet he’d kissed a thousand girls in dark closets.

“Well…” You faked confidence again, acutely conscious of how hot he was now– in every possible way… Even if he was a disgusting manwhore. “Is it coming today or...”

Mark was still baring his toothy grin when your noses brushed. You’re the one who met his lips in the middle, surprisingly tilting your head to help.

He tasted of Caribbean punch, a mix between warm nights, fresh fruits and bonfire. It was addictive, not half-bad. Instantly, Mark’s kiss became insistent, his mouth opened against yours, adding pressure and you obeyed, too dazed to do anything or have second thoughts.

He was trapping you against the wall roughly, ravaging you. He had absolutely no mercy and you were pushing back with all your might to survive, hips, lips and hands all over. This wasn’t about the reality outside at all, any thought of the others completely vanished the second Mark slid his hand under your shirt. You let him do it, skin awaken by the touch, discovering a thousand new nerves on your body.

Yes, you had become another y/n.

That was the only explanation. A y/n that makes out in dark rooms with cool kids and grinds into them shamelessly, but just for seven minutes.

Seven extremely messy minutes.

Mark groaned in your mouth, skilled fingers caressing your stomach softly and you curved against him, craving more, possessed. Your skin was buzzing, like screaming, begging to feel him more. His left hand hiked up your body in a hurry, climbing under your t-shirt in your back and you prayed the door wouldn’t shed light on this scene. It would be terribly embarrassing; you were letting him put both of his hands up your shirt. Mark pressed his leg between yours that opened automatically, and your fingers entangled themselves in his hair, almost for support. He never broke the kiss. He too, probably knew better than to waste any second of whatever shared craziness this moment was.

“So good,” Mark grunted, words shaking to escape his throat and you opened your eyes in amazement, “but so bad.”

Shared hysteria. That was what this was.

You both weren’t done though. He adventured his left hand on the fabric of your bra and you froze briefly. Mark must have felt your hesitation because he kept it there. He didn’t push it further nor did he take it away and it felt weird. Like your heart was about to burst through your left breast for him to hold. Sometimes you dreamed of being touched like that, but it was even better than what you imagined, overpowering.

Even if it was by Mark Tuan, or perhaps even more frighteningly; because it was him. This was all Primate y/n’s doing, anyway, not yours.

The Reverend Mother would’ve had a heart attack if she knew where you were and with whom. Your head was spinning, imagination taking this even further. This deserved at least a thousand Hail Marys, a plethora of Rosaries.

“Fuck,” He whispered in your mouth, the sound like thunder. “Who knew.”

Not you.

You had no idea you were so easy, such a whore. He resumed kissing you as though this was perfectly normal, but perhaps he just couldn’t stop either. You could feel him through his pants, the bad boy wasn’t so unphased by you. This was so new, everything was exhilarating. Mark rocked between your legs, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. You were enjoying every second of this, you were right; Seven Minutes in Heaven with Mark Tuan was your own personal Hell. Whatever this was would haunt you later on for sure. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the touch of his hand. But you were shameless, you took it all. You didn’t have any second to waste before reality hit. Mark pushed against you again and you pressed closer involuntarily, wondering if he was doing it on purpose.

The direct friction on your tights and panties was going to make you lose your damn mind. You slid one of your own hands under his shirt to feel the abs you spotted earlier during the Strip or Truth game. You ran your nails on his body, and he moaned.

Mark Tuan, actually moaned while making out with you.

You stilled for a heartbeat, unsure if this was supposed to be good or not until he bit your lips, rolling it between his teeth. And you came alive again, because... Jesus. That was unexpected. And Lord, that felt like Heaven. Your hands slid to his back to pull him closer and Mark obliged, fingers caressing the curve of your boobs endlessly, every bit of skin not covered by your bra. In the moment, you wanted to ask him to touch you under the fabric, wanted to know if you would break, but your mouth was too busy being full of him.

As though he heard your thoughts, or unable to refrain from it anymore, Mark’s left hand finally slipped under your bra to touch your breast. He brushed your nipple, causing you to make another embarrassing inhuman sound, something low that he swallowed and kept to himself. Thankfully, Mark only became more eager after that. He used his other hand to press you harder on him through his pants, rolling his hips forward. Your whole body was ablaze, alive in a way it had never been before, and surprisingly Mark seemed as equally taken. His kisses were messy, his breathing on your face heavy as if he was running a marathon. According to your heart rate, you certainly were too.

Mark mumbled unintelligibly, something about his will failing and doing this sooner, as he slipped his free hand to where your thighs met. Before you could process what he said, he touched that forbidden place through your tights and panties, even just like that it felt overwhelming and dangerous. Instantly, you fidgeted and dug your nails in his skin. He hissed and stilled too, but you pulled at him, undecided on what you wanted to do next. Reality was still waiting outside that door.

“Mark…” He seemed to recognized the call for whatever it truly was, and his fingers started to move cautiously on the fabric.

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, do we?” Mark’s head dropped in the crook of your neck to suck on your skin. Your whole body was humming at his touch, like wanting to be heard, to scream for the world to know.

Right. Reality. You covered your mouth with your hand, flustered. If you were still logical, sober and calm, you’d push him away, ask him to stop, but you didn’t want that. You wanted Mark to keep going, keep that up for an eternity, nothing else mattered. “Mark, this is s-so…”

Summoned, he grunted on your neck pleased you kept calling his name. “Good,” he asked, lips now brushing yours “being bad?”

Reprobate. Wrong. Lewd. Vile. Immoral. His fingers were still rubbing you, and you sighed, clinging to him, unable to say anything else. Perfect. Mind-blowing. Addictive. Perfectly right.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Hot.

“Me?” Hot. “Have you lost your mind?” You giggled and he joined, complicit.

“Yeah,” Mark’ hands abandoned their dirty deeds to cup your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss, “long ago.”

“When?” Seeing your frown, he grinned way too largely again. He was just about to answer when reality interrupted.

“ONE MINUTE!” Someone loud – very Bambam-esque – hit the door and you both jerked away, startled.

How many bases did you two run anyway? Suddenly, you wished you knew baseball enough to get the sexy metaphors. Was that only the first base? This felt like way more.

“Fuck,” Mark swore again, exhaling loudly. “Y/n, that was… so hot.” That word again. It was the first time someone used it to describe something about you. Then again, tonight felt like a night full of ‘firsts’. Mark reached for your skirt that had riled up your hips and pulled it downwards, hiding how far your game had gone. The fact that it was his first move gave away how accustomed he was to that kind of heated make-out sessions and you shook your head from side to side, remembering who you were with and why. Right. He was the player of Saint-Agnès de Roma, a manwhore… Surely that was why.

“Did you drop the card on purpose?” You asked hurriedly while he was making sure your t-shirt was back to its original place.

He blinked, staring at you for a long second like you were a dimwit. “Yes.”

“Why?” You were determined to leave this place with a clear answer.

“Well, y/n,” Mark murmured, pressing his lips on yours and running his tongue at the edge of them one last time, “I don’t think I could make myself any more obvious.”

“W-What?”

“TIME’S UP!” Someone yelled – yep, it was Bambam – letting the too cruel light shine on the scene inside the closet.

Thankfully, Mark was standing at a safe distance when the door opened. Still, he must have looked guilty somehow, because Jaebum applauded, impressed.

“Jesus Christ,” Jackson swore – a very rare occurrence – when he saw your ruffled hair and swollen lips.

Another day, you’d feel like hiding away, but, probably because of the rush of oxytocin and all that Caribbean Punch, tonight, primate you just shrugged it off. Your mind was caught up elsewhere, up in the clouds. No wonder that jerk was so popular with girls.

After those Seven Minutes in Heaven, you had learned three new things:

One, Mark Tuan could Jedi trick you into doing absolutely anything.

Two, you could make him lose his mind...

And three…

You sneaked a look his way while getting pulled by Jackson out of the (blessed) closet. Mark was strangely silent, letting his friends tease him without much reaction. He met your gaze and you misstepped, almost falling on the Wang’s luxurious carpet. Jackson caught you in extremis and your clumsiness made Mark snort, struggling to conceal his inhuman grin. There he was, making fun of you again.

And three... Tonight was obviously going to become a regular thing between you two.

And you weren’t the one making the rules.

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

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doves-wing · 5 years ago

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Warriors Song Post

what up here’s a bunch of songs that i connect to warriors in some fuckin way. this took way too long and i’ll add more later because i couldn’t everyone in the tags lol

People in my Head by Oceans on Mars: Goosefeather - If the title wasn’t obvious enough as to why it fits him, the song is about hearing voices and going mad because of it. If that doesn’t fit Goosefeather, what does?

Twisted by MISSIO: Darktail - The whole song is about a bad guy with fucked up thoughts and how his dad was a shit but had a good mom.

Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea by MISSIO: Bluestar - The song is about addiction and depression. And well, Bluestar has depression so there we go already but it uses the specific metaphor of drowining which is strongly connected to Bluestar’s character, so it fits even better!

Everybody Gets High by MISSIO: Sol - It’s his tragic backstory. I mean if this was a human AU this would just be his backstory. Sol is an evil gay, makes sense if he had a homophobic upbringing which led him to drugs and eventually running away. Makes sense to me at least.

Kamikazee by MISSIO: Sol - This is a song about greed, desire, and dark hearts. Who has all three? That’s right, it’s Sol baby! The boy desires all the nice things in life and will not stop at anything to get them.

Best Friends by Grandson: The Kin - So I’m kinda cheating with this one as it isn’t a singular characer but my post, my rules. I feel as if this fits best when Needletail and the other apprentices joined The Kin. Thinking they’re so cool and shit.

Kiss Bang by Grandson: Leafpool/Crowfeather/Nightcloud - Okay again not a singular character but my post, my rules. Basically this song represents Crowfeather’s relationship with the two of them. In short: a fucking mess

Things Change by Grandson: Crowfeather - I’d say this is specifically about Leafpool soon after the badger attack, but could still work for him and Feathertail. Either way, this guy is dumb angst monster lmao

Saint Bernard by Lincoln: Mapleshade - This is a song about one-sided love and how the singer won’t be going to heaven. Also it’s fucking scary so Mapleshade :)

Hellbent by Mystery Skulls: Ashfur - It’s him about Squirrelflight. He does not care that she is in a relationship. All he cares is that the relationship she’s in, isn’t with him. All he wants is her and he truly won’t stop at anything to have her.

The Wolf by SIAMES: Tigerclaw - This is another song that’s about addiction but it has a strong theme about being out of your mind, and well, if you kill people I don’t think your sane. And in a way, Tigerclaw could’ve been addicted to killing. Either way many of this song’s lyrics (and especially the chorus) remind me of him so he gets this masterpiece of a song to himself.

Same Old Forest by Nathan Sharp: Firestar - This fits Firepaw/Rusty specifically but hey I prefer using the most recent names of a character in the title. Anyway though, this song is all about beginnings and wanting to be something (while also being a protaganist) and who could fit better than Firepaw? I mean one of the lyrics is literally: “Because compared to every child you know, you’re something else”. Tell me it isn’t about Firepaw.

Far Away by Nathan Sharp: Spottedleaf - This is a song sung by a female about the character from the previous song on this list, who knows that the character is destined for greatness. Tell me it isn’t sung by Spottedleaf.

Time to Go by Nathan Sharp: Yellowfang - Yellowfang is the grumpy grandma we all know and love. If you know her and then listen to this song and say she didn’t sing it you’re so wrong it’s unbelievable. Did her savior just wake up? Yes. Is she going to push him out and force him to save the world now? Yes.

Drowning by Nathan Sharp: Bluestar - Look at the title. Okay but the song is about losing everything in your life and well, the water metaphors :}

Shell by Nathan Sharp: Bluestar (w/ Firestar) - I think this fits really well for Bluestar and Firestar’s relationship. Bluestar after having been almost murdered by her trusted deputy, Tigerclaw, has lost faith in everything. Fireheart is desperately trying to keep her what remains of her, alive. The chorus speaks for itself, she is a shell, almost entirely withered away. Just, it’s mostly Bluestar but the way the lyrics go it sounds as if someone is speaking to another character about Bluestar, which in this case is probably Tigerclaw and Firestar.

The Evil King by Nathan Sharp: Tigerclaw & Firestar - This is their final battle in song form. At the end it becomes a duet, but for the majority it’s Tigerclaw monologuing about why he should and deserves to win. How Firestar should’ve never come to the forest, as he was meant to rule the forest as his father did before him, unfortuneately this is a YA novel which means that evil can never win.

Unaligned by Nathan Sharp: Ivypool - I imagine this is when she’s starting to realize that the Dark Forest isn’t good. That it’s full of evil cats, but because she’s only started to realize this their abusive teachings are still in her head, thus “You took me in, showed me love when I had nowhere to run” is a lyric. She’s done bad things by joining them, she doesn’t know if she can be good but she knows she doesn’t want to be bad.

Dead Silence by Nathan Sharp: Mothwing - Mothwing can’t get it out of her head that she is the daughter of Tigerclaw. The worst cat in the history of the Clans yet she chose to be a medicine cat, a peaceful cat who does no harm. Her intrusive thoughts won’t stop reminding her of how brutal her family as been. Her father first and then her brother, Hawkfrost, second. Maybe she is destined to be a violent monster, she knows it isn’t true but those evil thoughts say otherwise, and she can’t ignore them any longer.

Epcoh (TLT Remix) by Salvonic: Hollyleaf - After she ran away from the gathering, she had a lot of time to think about everything. She had time to regret her actions and came back to apologize, and hope that she would be accepeted. Just about everything in this song fits her and someone needs to make a map for her with this song because it fits her so fucking well it’s insane.

Terrible Things by Brick + Mortar: Ivypool - She sees no difference between her and her sister, Dovewing, yet her sister is consistently praised more than her and gets more attention. Ivypool then joins the Dark Forest as they claimed to have seen in her, what her Clanmates saw in Dovewing. Instead of dreaming, she fought hard to get the attention and mild praise of a few dead cats. She murdered cats for them and all she got in return was a free t-shirt.

Burn The House Down by AJR: Squirrelflight - Honestly this just gives me some lighthearted Squirrelflight vibes. More so when she was still an apprentice and wanted to be treated with the same amount as respect as a warrior but she tried to gain their respect in ridiculous ways, such as joining Brambleclaw on the journey to the Sundrown place, for instance.

G-G-Ghost by Steven Universe: Fallen Leaves - He’s just a ghost boy who wants someone to notice him!

Noticed by MandoPony: Sol - This theatre gay just wants someone to pay attention to him! And if you do look away, he might have to kill you. M i g h t

Nothing Personal by Night Riots: Darktail - He came to erase the Clans. He will wash away their history, he will make himself the leader of his own group and lead them with an iron fist, his ideology is correct. To the members of his group he is a shining star, a beacon of light and truth.

Contagious by Night Riots: Shadowpaw - This is more speculative but it seems to me that he could definitely start to think that he is bad, wrong. Because of the voice in his head. He is plagued with lies, just by existing he has broken the code. He has to remind himself, it isn’t his fault that he is shunned, looked down upon. But everything is wearing him down. Reminding yourself that it isn’t wrong to exist is tiring.

On the Line by Night Riots: Tawnypelt - Tawnypelt is the type to give all she has for her Clan. Sometimes she gets nervous but she fights through it because her Clan is what matters most.

She Wants Me Dead by CAZZETTE: Crowfeather - This is just every female in Crowfeather’s life at him.

Bet on You by The Man Who: Mistystar - Back when Mistystar was known as Mistyfoot, she crtiticized her leader, Leaopardstar harshly. The latter did let her brother be murdered. Though Leopardstar would’ve risked her own life, among everyone in her clan’s life, had she tried to stop it from happening. Leopardstar made many mistakes throughout her life but Mistyfoot always came back to her, in the end she knew Leopardstar was only doing the best she could.

Choke by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME: Darktail - Only he would say the most fucked up things while having a genuine smile on his face and making it sound nice. He only cares for himself, and a distorted love for his mother, painting her as this perfect being who was ruined by his father. I have no doubt that he would do all the things in this songs, given he were able to of course.

Crossing a Line by Mike Shinoda: Leafpool & Squirrelflight - This is all about the truth of Holly/Jay/Lion and how they want to tell them, but don’t know how, and just that whole mess is this song.

Play with Fire by Sam Tinnesz: Brokenstar - He is one of the most evil characters in the series, using child soldiers will do that though. He takes pleasure from seeing cats die, especially kits. He enjoys watching others suffer, especially if he can gain something by it. He forced WindClan out of the Clan territories because he wanted the extra hunting land.

Monster (Under my Bed) by Call Me Karizma: Tigerclaw - After his father left, Tigerkit felt alone. His sisters were dead, and his mother was heartbroken. He looked for friends in the shadows, hoping that they’d take form and want to play. It took some time but they took form in the shape of a cat. She was a transparent tortoiseshell, claiming to be of ThunderClan’s past. It didn’t matter to Tigerkit though, she promised to make him the strongest cat in the forest, in all of the Clan’s history even. That’s what mattered to Tigerkit. He wanted to be strong enough to take down any of his enemies and most importantly, his father.

Wolves (You Got Me) by DREAMERS: Fire/Raven - Firepaw is the new apprentice and oh no there’s a cute anxious boy. “Guess we’ll fall in love” they said, and then they did. Firepaw learned how to hunt, and fight. Though it was a bit harder because he was absolutely smitten with Ravenpaw.

Our Song by Vinyl Theatre: Sandstar (w/ Clan) - (Med-Cat!Fire AU) This happens before the battle with BloodClan, when they’re still preparing.

High Hopes by Panic! At The Disco: Hollyleaf - (Wind!Holly AU) - This is her coming home after leaving the tunnels and rescuing Dovewing, and Ivypool. She is welcomed back warmly by her mother, brother, and best friend (Heathertail)

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damienthepious · 6 years ago

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yeah i already posted a link but i figured i should post the actual thing to tumblr too so......

When the Reckoning Arrives (Chapter 3)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ao3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Summary: There are, inevitably, consequences for being too complacent while having a highly illegal affair with an enemy combatant.

Chapter 3: The chapter during which Sir Damien is alone, Rilla has an awkward conversation, and Arum makes his presence known.]

The cell in which Sir Damien is sealed is clean, with a simple straw bed and a high, small window to let in the light.

Damien steps towards the bed, but now that he is alone, his legs have begun to shake so badly that he wobbles, and then he goes down to his knees, the cool stone bruising his flesh. The tears he had fought off while facing the Queen rush back, choking him, and he reaches forward and pulls himself to the bed until he can rest his forehead on the rough blanket while the worst of it passes over him.

“Oh Saint Damien,” he gasps, “it has all gone so wrong. How could I have been so careless, so foolish-”

Damien feels a coolness like a pool of ink spilling through him. He hears no voice, but he has memory. Be calm.

Be calm.

Damien inhales, shaky but careful and slow, and when the breath hisses back out of him, it is steady. So is he.

“My carelessness has endangered those I love, my Saint,” he murmurs, “and for that I beg your forgiveness. I beg for your steadying hand on the tiller of my life, but even if it is my fate to fall for this folly… I beg you, Saint Damien, please protect them. Please, protect my Rilla. My Amaryllis, herbalist of healing hands, with brilliance beyond compare and patience eternal… she should not suffer for my sake. She should not suffer at all, but certainly not for me. Not for my mistakes.”

Damien pauses, feeling the rhythm of his inhale, exhale, inhale as the waves on a shore, as the breath of the sea itself.

“I do not know… I do not know if you will heed a prayer for the sake of a monster, Saint Damien. You have done so once before, but I know not if your answer and your aid were given for his sake, or for my own. But you already know my heart, my Saint, better than I myself do at times, and you would know this prayer was within me even if I did not speak it. If you will, Saint Damien, I beg you to protect Lord Arum. I beg you to grant him some measure of your tranquility, some measure of your grace. I fear that Rilla will be found out as I have, but Arum- I fear he will act recklessly when he learns what has happened to me.”

Damien hears, distantly, the noises of the marketplace down below. He is too high for anything distinct to reach him, but the gentle cacophony of his home- with his eyes closed, he could almost pretend to be somewhere else. Resting in the barracks, perhaps.

He thinks of the people of this city. He thinks of their safety, their happiness. He thinks of what threatens them.

He thinks, at length, on the concept of Exile.

“Is this… oh, but that is a mad thought, isn’t it?” He pauses. “Oh, my Saint… is this newest test a part of your will as well? Was it your will, for my falsehoods by omission to out this way? Because… I have considered, on occasion, that Rilla and I must not be the only ones to have seen something… more, in a monster. To look deeper than the surface, to look in their eyes and see that spark. To see the soul… to see…”

A bell rings down below, and a laugh carries up to him like the fluttering of dove wings.

“If there are others like us, Saint Damien, they must be suffering, mustn’t they? Suffering, as I suffered, in trying to understand how the things they had been taught since lullabies in the cradle could all be… wrong. If they could only know- if they could know that they are not alone-”

He remembers the story Rilla told him, the ghosts of the monster and the man deep beneath the edge of the world, echoing their final moments of love and fear into eternity. Fossilized love, proof that they are not the first. His arms ache with the desire to hold his loves, to be assured of their safety, and he blinks tears back again.

“We must not be alone, in our love and understanding,” he says, more certain. He looks up, drinking in the honeyed light drifting in the small window, the soft clamor from the square below. “If… if I am to die… I will at least speak my heart. Yes, I believe that is the right thing. I will speak my heart, speak the truth, and give my words to those who need them. They must know they are not alone.”

“You aren’t just going to leave the poor pretty thing to rot, are you sweets?”

“Shut up, you. Go home, I’m trying to work.”

“You know they’re going to kill him, don’t you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of my business. Nor yours. Go home.”

“You don’t feel even a little bitty, teeny tiny bit bad for them?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. My duty is clear, regardless of the trouble those idiots have gotten themselves in.”

“If you say so, my big strong brave knight. But I just want to make sure that you’re sure.”

A pause, the soft noise of a kiss on a cheek.

“Just... be careful today. For me?”

“… Fine. But you had better do the same.”

“It’s a deal, sweets.”

Rilla follows Damien’s metaphorical footsteps into the Citadel with her jaw clenched and her head held high, but the fight she is expecting does not arrive. No spears halt her, no guards come running to shout her down.

There are whispers, though. As she lets her steady stride carry her towards the center of the city, she certainly notices that. Whispers, and stares, crawling up her spine. It reminds her of the first time she reentered the Citadel after her exile was lifted; a gossipy, syrupy hunger that clings to her heels.

It’s impossible to tell how much anyone knows, and it would be pointless to speculate- so she doesn’t. She keeps moving.

Rilla feels an odd mixture of relief and annoyance when she sees Sir Caroline outside the entrance to the building that houses the dungeon, leaning against the wall and unabashedly watching Rilla approach.

“I don’t suppose I even need to ask what you are doing here, herbalist,” she says dryly.

“Where is he?” Rilla presses a hand to the bag at her hip to keep it from swinging wildly as she skids to a stop. “I need to talk to him.”

“Not just yet, I don’t think,” Caroline says. “You are to follow me.”

“And why would I do that?” Rilla asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because the Queen thought that you might just happen to drop by, and she has requested your presence.”

Rilla only barely contains the urge to sneer. “Requested? So I can decline, then?”

Caroline takes Rilla’s arm as if she’s escorting her through a fair and drags her back in the other direction. “No you may not.”

“Hey, ouch!” Her feet catch on the stone ground as she’s pulled into motion, and she glares at Caroline but doesn’t bother to try to pull away. Caroline could probably lift her with one hand if need be; it’s not like Rilla is going to be able to fight her off. “Funny definition of the word ‘request,’ then, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care.”

“If the Queen wanted me, why wasn’t I stopped coming into the city like Damien was?”

“Because you aren’t under arrest for treason,” Caroline barks, and then she says, in a voice almost too quiet to hear over their own footsteps, “not yet, anyway, and not at all if you just stay quiet and smart about it.”

Rilla frowns, but she feels one layer of the tension in her body ease. “You didn’t tell them,” she says, a statement of fact rather than a question.

“I said it was none of my business, and I meant it,” she says, scoffing. “Now shut up and come along. I don’t know exactly what the Queen intends to say to you, but the quicker you get it over with the better, I imagine.”

Rilla opens her mouth to protest automatically, but that actually makes a fair bit of sense. The quicker the Queen is done with her the quicker she can talk to Damien, regardless of whether she’ll be doing it through the bars or while shoved into a cell next to him.

The guards they pass on the way seem tense, to Rilla’s eyes. Flighty, maybe. Well, the Citadel’s tied-for-best knight being arrested for treason would do that, Rilla reasons.

Surprisingly, Caroline doesn’t drag her to the Queen’s usual audience chamber. They ascend, instead, towards her personal chambers, and Rilla feels an oddly specific twinge of worry. The Queen has no way of knowing that this was the last place she spent time with Damien before he met Arum... that this is the place where Damien met Arum, in fact. She couldn’t possibly know that, but the correlation still punts Rilla’s pulse up a bit higher than she’s happy with.

There are two guards on both sides of the door, which is excessive to the point that even Sir Caroline’s frown deepens at the sight. There’s no way, Rilla thinks, that they consider her that much of a threat.

The Queen herself looks somehow both impeccable and exhausted at the same time when they enter, something like an extra tension in the straightness of her spine giving her away.

“Thank you, Sir Caroline,” Mira says primly. Caroline nods and slips back out without another word, which Rilla is fairly certain isn’t the proper protocol for leaving the Queen. Mira’s brow creases for a moment, but she doesn’t comment. Instead she turns, and stares at Rilla for a long, silent moment before she gestures to the balcony. “Would you join me?” she asks. “I think I could do with a touch of fresh air.”

“Sure,” Rilla says with a shrug. She’s wary, but too curious to do anything but play along. “Why not?”

The Queen’s smile flickers on for half a heartbeat, and then it’s gone again, and she drifts outside with Rilla following behind.

It’s hot out there, of course, but they are on the lee side of the tower, and high enough that uneven, stuttered gusts keep buffeting the worst of the heat away. Mira leans on the railing and looks down over the city, and Rilla is just about as uncomfortable as she has ever been in her life. She opens her mouth to start asking about Damien, but the Queen speaks a moment before her.

“I hope you understand that I do not in any way enjoy ruling on cases of treason,” she murmurs, still looking at the city instead of Rilla, her scarf rippling softly around her tired face.

Rilla clenches her jaw. “I think you’d have to be pretty damn cruel to enjoy something like that, so. Yeah, obviously.”

“I endeavor not to be cruel,” Mira says, even more quietly. “However, with so many lives on the line… cruelty to one can on occasion be the only measure of protection for others.”

“Are you going to get to the point eventually?” Rilla snaps.

“Of course,” Mira sighs. “This must be difficult for you, Amaryllis. Discovering that Sir Damien has betrayed his oaths, and betrayed our Citadel.” She pauses. “And that he has betrayed you, as well.”

Rilla feels herself go rigid, and she can see Mira glancing at her sidelong. “What do you expect me to say to that?” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. “Damien- Damien wouldn’t-”

“He admitted it.” Queen Mira drums her fingers thoughtfully off the stone railing. “Insisted that he loves this monster. Insisted that the thing loves him.”

Rilla digs her nails hard into her own biceps to keep from flinching at Arum being called a thing.

“That was the main issue, of course, so I didn’t stop during our… interview to question the very obvious in retrospect.”

“The… the obvious?”

“Sir Damien said very much, this morning, when we spoke. We discussed the creature, we mentioned Fort Terminus and the fear monster, we even spoke on the nature of the monsters themselves. One subject, however, was lacking in the discussion, and I did not realize it until he had been taken to his cell.”

Rilla has a suspicion. She does not give it a voice. She stands on the Queen’s balcony and she tries to keep her expression from becoming a glare.

Mira glances towards her again, tilting her head. “Sir Damien neglected to mention you at all, Amaryllis.”

“H… huh.” That is all that Rilla trusts herself to say.

“I find that curious. Do you not?” She pauses, long enough that it becomes clear that Rilla isn’t going to comment further. “I have never heard him discuss love without your name coming up in approximately every other sentence. I have barely heard him discuss anything without your name hovering in the wings. And yet, his morning was spent in defense of his love, and this- creature seems to have superseded you entirely. Why would that be?”

Rilla is fighting the mad urge to bolt from the balcony. “Am I being interrogated now?” she says instead, hoping that she doesn’t sound too breathless, too panicked. She isn’t even sure what she should do. Caroline told her to stay smart and stay quiet, and oh does that grate against her, mostly because that had been Rilla’s plan in the first place and now if she does it’ll be too much like doing as she’s told. The alternative is to throw herself to the wolves, though, and if Damien has put himself in more trouble to keep Rilla out of it-

“I merely want to know the full scope of this… whatever, precisely, this is.” The expression on Mira’s face is approaching a grimace. “If this enchantment upon Damien has caused him to forget you in exchange for this monster, somehow- I thought, perhaps, you may have some insight.”

So. That’s what the Queen thinks Arum has done. The idea is so repulsive that Rilla isn’t sure she’s kept the disgust from showing in her expression, and she lifts a hand to hide her mouth just in case. “Damien still loves me,” she says, because a truth is much easier to say than a lie. “He loves me.”

“He says,” the Queen murmurs pointedly, “that he loves this monster.”

“He loves me,” Rilla says again, and it’s an addendum, not a denial. “Are you going to have him executed?”

Mira doesn’t flinch. “You understand that he has admitted, outright, to treason.”

Idiot, Rilla thinks, with a fierce sort of love. “He- no, you know what? I don’t need to talk to you. I want to talk to him. If you’re going to kill him already it doesn’t matter what I say, so if you don’t mind terribly I would like to spend the last few hours Damien has with him, not with you.”

And, if Rilla can get in decent distance of the bars, she has at least three ways in her bag to get him out. The difficult part will be convincing him to leave.

“Well,” Mira says, her eyes cooler than they had been. “I suppose I have no reason to keep you, do I? I have no evidence that you are involved with Sir Damien’s treason, and so I have no call to detain you. I cannot allow you to speak with the traitor unsupervised, but-”

A creature lands on the Queen’s balcony with a whump a few feet to their left, leathery wings slapping against the stone railing as it clumsily keeps itself from falling. It looks like a mess, a hodgepodge of bits from different animals including the head of a parrot, the body of an enormous frog, and bat wings, large as well but too small to make sense supporting its weight.

Rilla recognizes Arum’s handiwork, quicker and shoddier than usual, an old prototype revised and reconstituted, and her heart drops like a stone down a well. The creature’s head wobbles on its neck, wavering until its eyes focus on Mira. Then, the beak creaks open, and a voice falls out.

Arum’s voice.

“Hello, Queen Mira of the Second Citadel.”

Rilla’s pulse pounds, and she knows that her face is giving her away, though thankfully Mira is too busy looking at Arum’s monster-parrot.

“I am Lord Arum, though I suspect you already know that much, at least. It is in your best interest, human, to let my construct deliver this message to its conclusion. You have taken and threatened what is mine, and I will not let that stand. At sunset, today, you will clear the western gate of your Citadel of meddling civilians, and you shall release ho-” a pause, a crackling noise while the creature readjusts its limbs on the railing. “You shall release Sir Damien and the herbalist Amaryllis, unharmed. You will let them free, and you will not pursue them.”

Rilla doesn’t bother to hide the wince, this time, and Mira graces her with a scathingly disappointed look. So much for playing things smart. Thank you for that, Arum.

“If you do not deliver what is mine, if either of them are injured, if I even so much as smell a hint of deception- well, then I cannot be held responsible for what happens to your Citadel’s second greatest champion.”

The creature pauses, and Rilla closes her eyes in utter, utter despair. Angelo. Damn, damn, a thousand times damn that knight-child. If this was his idea of a not stupid plan-

“Yes. I’m sure you understand, now. Would you care to prove your position, little knight?”

Angelo’s voice, too brief and not quite scared enough, though Mira seems convinced judging by the way her face pales. “What- ah- I am captured, my Queen!”

Another crackling. Rilla imagines Arum yanking the echoing creature away from Angelo in irritation. “That is quite enough of that. So. The stakes are clear, are they not? Even humans must understand something as simple as a hostage exchange. Amaryllis and Sir Damien will be granted freedom at sunset, or Sir Angelo dies. Do not disappoint me.”

The creature’s beak closes, and then it squawks in a much more animal way before its eyes roll back and it collapses entirely. Rilla frowns, but Arum was probably in too much of a hurry creating this thing to bother keeping it alive after its purpose was served.

Rilla can hear the guards bursting in through the door back inside; they must have heard the construct's death rattle. A little late to the party, Rilla thinks wryly. Wouldn't have done much good if that construct was any actual threat.

“Not a threat,” Mira mutters, as if reading Rilla's mind. She stares at the body of the messenger for one deep, measured breath before her eyes raise towards Rilla. “Not a threat indeed.”

#elle's fanfic #tpp #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #part 3 of.... four? maybe five maybe #check ao3 for more specific tags #the formatting of this will probably break on mobile so..... sorry about that this site is garbo #when the reckoning arrives

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