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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years ago

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You Don’t Know My Name II Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You are madly in love with Draco Malfoy but he doesn’t know you exist. Until the sixth year.

A/N: okay, I’ve tried uploading this two times already. Let’s see if it works this time. Also - I hope you enjoy it! It’s just a little something I wrote today. <3

Words: 3.5k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: none

Draco Malfoy doesn’t know who you are.

It’s ironic really. You are a Slytherin after all, a pureblood, and in the same Year as him. You go to the same parties, you share the same common room, and his best friend Blaise helps you study from time to time. Yet, Draco Malfoy doesn’t know you.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s because of your family. Maybe they are too poor or their jobs not as high-ranking enough. Everyone knows the name ‘Lucius Malfoy’. Nobody knows the name of your father. Or is it simply because of you? Do boys like Draco Malfoy don’t look at girls like you?

It’s probably the latter. You come the conclusion one night in the common room when he sits together with his friends after the Second Trial in the Triwizard Tournament. You make yourself comfortable at a table nearby, looking up from your homework from time to time – and then you see it: the look he gives Pansy Parkinson when she tries to make a joke but can’t finish it properly because she’s laughing too hard. He looks at her the same way you gaze up into the night sky – so full of admiration – and he starts joining in her laughter even though no one understands what she’s saying.

It hurts. It hurts so bad, you accidentally bite down on your tongue. However, at the same time it makes sense. How can anyone not fall in love with Pansy? She’s gorgeous with her long brown hair, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, and her skinny, toned figure that stems from all the Quidditch training. When she gazes at Draco, it is crystal clear that she likes him. That she looks up to him. And everyone knows, she’s exactly the type of girl Draco needs. Of course, he doesn’t notice someone like you.

However, you notice him. You noticed him on the first day of Hogwarts, right after they sorted you into Slytherin and sat down next to the blonde boy who congratulated you. The first and only words he ever spoke to you. You fell for Draco right then and there and the feelings linger on until today.

“Why do you even like him that much?”, a friend once asked you. “He’s a bully.”

“He’s not,” you protested. “He cares about his friends.”

She snorted. “He’s only nice to like … four people. The rest of us he ignores. Thank Merlin, we’re in Slytherin and not Gryffindor. Wouldn’t want to switch with Granger when he’s out for blood again.”

You rolled your eyes. Deep down in your heart, you knew back then that she was right. But also saw something else in him. You still do when you watch him on that couch tonight with Blaise, joking about something his father wrote to him in a letter.

Draco Malfoy cares. You are certain of that. He cares about the people he loves, and you believe that he would die for every single one of them in a heartbeat. It’s clear in the way, he casually touches their arms when he tells them a story. Or how his eyes light up when they congratulate him on a good game of Quidditch. Or how he jumps to their defense when a teacher confronts them about forgotten homework, lying on the spot, all so they don’t get in trouble. You don’t argue with your friend when she calls him a bully though. His words can be mean and disgusting and the way he treats muggleborn classmates leaves you speechless every time. There is no excuse. However, you believe there is a reason. Sometimes you wonder if the reason is his father. Or why else does Draco flinch whenever Mr. Malfoy reaches for him?

No, you are convinced that Draco Malfoy cares about his friends. Sadly, they are only a select few. You do not belong to them.

“Draco,” the high-pitched scream brings you back into reality. Draco had pulled Pansy into his lap and she giggles as he tickles her. Blaise wiggles his eyebrows at Theo, both of them sharing knowing glances.

You want to hate Pansy. You really do. But how can you when she has only ever been nice to you? She’s sweet and funny and your favorite partner in Potions because she is – on top of all that – really fucking smart. Pansy Parkinson is not someone you can ever hate. In fact, a part of you wishes her well and hopes that she finds happiness with Draco. She deserves it. They deserve each other.

You close your book and put it into your bag, together with the quill and ink. Maybe studying in the library will cause less distractions.

***

Seasons change and years fly by. Only your feelings for Draco stay the same.

You watch him get together with Pansy and then break up again. It is a nasty sight to see for everyone around them. They fight and scream at each other in the common room, only to kiss and make up a few weeks later. This happens a few times until they finally decide to stay friends. For some magical reason, it works. You guess, they didn’t find happiness in each other after all.

Pansy goes on a few dates with an older Slytherin and Draco finds interest in Astoria. Oddly enough, she’s the younger sister of your friend Daphne. She is shy, clever, and pretty. And now you are subject to long rants about him when she barges into your dorm once again, in desperate needs of advice from her sister. At times you wonder if Daphne knows about your feelings. She sends you sympathetic glances every time Astoria talks about him in front of you and tries to change the conversation when you approach them. You never say a word to her about it though.

Eventually they break up as well but not before the rumor reaches you that she is meant to be his betrothed after school. You swallow when you hear that and try to forget it.

***

It’s the sixth year when something changes. Something about him.

You notice it for the first time in the Hogwarts Express when he makes a comment about jumping off the Astronomy Tower and not finishing school. It is strange enough that even Daphne shoots you a confused glance and raises her eyebrows.

Draco becomes quiet over the next months. You don’t see him around that often anymore. He stays away from his friends, dodges their questions at meals. He doesn’t react when Weasley says something stupid in class and keeps forgetting his homework. His grades plummet and even Professor McGonagall asks him if he’s feeling alright when he can’t answer her questions. He says yes and tells her, he isn’t sleeping well at the moment.

You believe him. The circles underneath his eyes grow darker with every passing day and his skin is paler than usual. Whenever he sits down somewhere, he keeps tapping on the surfaces. Strange, fast rhythms and he chews on his lips as if he is trying to figure out a secret. That behavior stops after the Christmas break. The tapping changes to empty stares. He doesn’t lie to his friends anymore instead he shoves them away and tells them to leave him alone.

You worry. So fucking much that you can’t sleep at night. Your eyes keep searching for him in class and you wish to be brave enough to go up and ask him what’s wrong. Not that you expect any kind of answer. He will probably look at you with confusion before turning his back on you. Who are you, a stranger, to talk to him in that way? No, you aren’t in any position to reach out to him and you keep telling yourself that. Instead, you don’t say a word and lower your gaze when your eyes accidentally lock from across the room.

***

“Did you hear? Potter tried to kill Malfoy.”

Your books crash down on the ground. The Ravenclaw, a boy you know from your Transfiguration class, who had just said this to a friend of his, quickly bends down. “Here, let me help you with that.”

“Thank you,” you mumble distraught as he hands them back to you. “What did you just say?”

The boy frowns. “Let me –”

“No,” you say impatiently. “About Potter.”

“Oh.” The confusion doesn’t vanish from his face. “I thought all the Slytherins knew already.”

“I was in the library the whole day, what happened?” Slowly, you become annoyed. Why was this so hard to get out of him?

“Something went down in Myrtle’s bathroom,” the Ravenclaw explains when he sees the anger flashing in your eyes. “Apparently Potter tried to kill Malfoy. He’s badly hurt and –”

It’s all you need to know. Without another word, you begin to hurry down the hall and then sprint down the stairs.

“Hey!”, you hear the boy call out from behind you. “It’s probably only a rumor!”

***

It’s not a rumor. You know it when you see Blaise and Pansy standing together, whispering, nervously glancing over their shoulders. Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest and a cold fear creeped up inside of you.

Potter tried to kill Malfoy.

What does that even mean? Is he dead? No, then the boy would have worded it differently. Then Narcissa Malfoy would already be here, raising hell. But is he hurt? How badly? Did they transfer him to St. Mungos already?

“He’ll be fine,” Daphne greets you when you barge into your shared dorm. You drop the books on your bed and turn to her. “He’ll be fine,” she repeats.

Slowly, her words fight their way through the fog that clouded your mind. Your breathing calmed down and you closed your eyes for a second.

“Where is he?”

“The hospital wing, he – hey, wait!”, she calls out as you make your way to the door again with long strides.

“What?”, you ask her.

“Where are you going?”

You furrow your brows. “To the hospital.”

“Why?”, she wants to know. The question startles you.

“Because …,” you begin but fail to find the right words.

Daphne lets out a soft sigh and smiles sadly at you. The pity in her eyes makes you want to punch her. “Astoria was there already,” she says. “He’s badly hurt but Madame Pomfrey can fix him up. He’ll be out of the hospital wing by tomorrow.”

You blink.

He’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine and that’s all that matters. He’s also badly hurt. The same rush of panic from before flows through you and you nervously shift from one foot to another.

“Is he alone right now?” You can’t bring yourself to look at Daphne.

“Yes,” she replies.

“I should go.”

“Why? He doesn’t even want his friends there let alone …”, she trails off but you know exactly how the sentence would have ended.

… let alone me.

Because why on earth would he want to see? You have a crush on him for almost seven years now, so what? A few girls probably do and even so – you are a coward. Not once in seven damn years did you try and talk to him. Always too shy, always hiding behind excuses. Instead, you watch him fall in love with other girls from afar. Pathetic.

And now he’s hurt. He’s hurt and alone and he could’ve died – and you would regret not saying anything for years.

Regret. You will regret it.

The realization hit you like a brick wall. You will regret it if you don’t stop acting like this. Pining over him from far away. Merlin, do you really want to spend the remaining time in school this way?

The answer is no.

***

The hospital wing is empty except for the bed Draco lays in.

You had marched out of your dorm with confidence and hope, ignoring Daphne’s pleas for you to just stay with her, but as soon as you push open the doors all of that leaves you. What are you thinking? What are you doing here? You hesitate.

You see him lying at the end of the rows of beds. Close to Madame Pomfreys office. A few candles flicker, dimly illuminating the room. You squint your eyes, trying to see if Draco had notice you coming in. No. He is asleep as far as you can tell.

Slowly and almost on your toes, you walk up to him. His eyes are closed but even while sleeping, he doesn’t look peaceful. The line between his eyebrows is deep and he grips onto the sheets. He’s not in his school uniform anymore, instead he is wearing a black suit. How utterly uncomfortable, you think. You don’t see any wounds on him. Has Madame Pomfrey fixed him up already?

A sigh leaves your mouth, and you lean against the bed behind you, watching him for a while. Even though you are happy to see him alive and mostly well, the feeling of worry doesn’t leave the pit of your stomach. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong. Has been for a while now.

After a few more minutes, you get up and turn around to leave, disappointed about your failed mission. However, you don’t bring yourself to wake him up. Maybe tomorrow, you think, maybe tomorrow before class.

“Y/N.”

At first, you believe you imagined it. Or if it was your name that he said at all. Maybe he had just mumbled something in his sleep and your hopeful brain mistook it for more than it was. Still, you stop and listen.

“Y/N.”

This time it’s louder and very clearly not part of your imagination. Slowly, as if you are dreaming, you turn around.

Draco is awake. His eyes are open and he looks at you, irritated. Your heart begins to pump faster again as you stare at him.

“Why are you here?”, he asks after a few seconds. Good question.

You blink. “Uhm, I …,” you stammer, “I … how are you?”

“Alive,” he replies. He tries to sit up and hisses in pain. You suppress the urge to reach forward and help him. “Doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Right,” you agree and step closer. This is the longest conversation you ever had with Draco. “It does, actually,” you then argue, “I wanted to see how you were doing?”

“Why?”

The question confuses you. “You’re hurt.”

“So?”

“It’s the decent thing to do,” you state matter-of-factly.

“None of my friends came by.” He looks down as he says this, and you realize that this probably hurt way more than any physical wound. Your heart breaks for him.

“Astoria did,” you say in a soft voice.

“Huh,” he scoffs. “Must have been unconscious still.”

There is an awkward pause between the two of you. He stares at his blanket, his fingers playing with the edge of it. “Well, thanks,” he finally mumbles. “I’ll go back to sleep then.”

“Right,” you nod quickly. “Right, of course. You should get some sleep.”

He nods as well.

You turn around and just as you lift your foot to start walking, you realize that you haven’t told him what you came here for in the first place. You set your foot back down and look at him.

“You know my name.” It’s less of a question than you intended.

Draco looks up, taken aback by the question, and frowns. “Of course.”

“Why?”

“We’re in the same year.”

“The last time you spoke to me was in first grade.”

“So?”, he raises an eyebrow and for a second a glance of the old Draco is visible. Only for a second though.

“I just thought …”, you trailed off.

“I know every Slytherins name.” Draco pauses and adds: “Especially from the girls who have crushes on me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and your eyes widen at the statement. Oh fuck. He knows? Not only did he know your name, but he is aware of your feelings for him? You wish for hole to open up beneath you and swallow.

Draco only smirks. A sad, bitter version of his usual smirk. “It was a little obvious.”

“Oh Merlin,” you let out a deep breath. “Oh, this is humiliating.”

“It’s not,” he shakes his head, ��if anything, I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, right,” you bury your face in your hands. “Oh, oh, you probably made fun of me all those years, oh, why am I so stupid, why –”

“Stop it, Y/L/N,” Draco suddenly demands. The sharp tone in his voice made you snap your head at him. “Sorry,” he sighed.

There’s another pause between the two of you. You still wish for the hole to appear. If he knew … all this time … that meant …

“Why didn’t you say anything?”, the words tumble out of your mouth, but you know the answer already.

The look on his face confirms your guess. “I don’t want to lie to you.”

You nod, slowly, trying to swallow down the sharp pain in your chest. You look up to the ceiling and blink a few times. You’ll be damned if you cry in front of Draco Malfoy. “Ouch, well, …”

“It’s not because I don’t think you’re clever or funny or beautiful,” he adds and his words sound sincere. However, you know what a perfect liar he can be.

You force a smile. “Right, no need to console me.”

Draco scoffs. “Do I look like someone who’d say something like that to console another person?”

You give him a half shrug and he looks a little insulted.

“I meant it,” he looks at you and adds after a moment of hesitation: “I noticed you this year.”

“Did you now,” you mumble.

“Yes”, his voice was unusually soft. “You kept looking at me. I don’t know, it was nice to see that someone still cared.”

You look at him and your eyes lock. The pain in his almost cause you to gasp. “I’m worried,” is all that you manage to say.

He smiles. It’s not a smirk. A smile. A sad one, but still. “I can’t tell you.”

Of course, he can’t. “I figured.”

Draco sighs and pulls the blanket up a little higher. “You should go now, Y/N.”

“Right, right.” You feel tears coming up again. Although, you are a little surprised by how well you composed yourself. After almost seven years of yearning, you expected to react a little heavier when he turned you down. You guess, the reaction would come as soon as you are out of eyes and ears. Maybe in your room. Hopefully not in front of Daphne. You can’t deal with a ‘told you so’ tonight. “I, well, I got what I came here for, I guess.”

“Wrong time,” another smile for you. “Maybe when it’s all over we could … go out some time.”

The phrasing of that sentence throws you off more than the suggestion ever could. You furrow your brows. “When it’s all over?”

He tenses up for a second before he replies: “School, I mean.”

The frown stays on your face. “What a weird way to say that.”

Draco doesn’t reply. A strange fear replaces the pain from the rejection. The same fear that creeps up in you whenever you think about is behavior. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Just when you open your mouth, he says: “Promise me something, alright?”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Stay down in your room tonight. No matter what you hear.” He doesn’t look at you.

“Why?”

“Just promise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Draco? Why do you want me –”

“I can’t say,” he hisses, and you flinch. He looks at you, distraught and there it was again – the fear. So clearly visible on his face. His voice softens a little when he speaks again: “Just promise me. Please.”

“Alright. Fine,” you take a step back. What is going on with him? What is happening tonight? Your head feels like it’s spinning.

“Thank you.” He sounds relieved.

You take a step back. And a second one. Suddenly, you want to leave this room. Quickly. “I’ll see you in class then,” you mutter. “Tomorrow.”

“Yes, see you then,” he replies but you are already on your way out. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Draco.” You don’t look back and your steps speed up as you walk towards the wooden door. Just when you are about to close them behind you, do you look at Draco one last time.

He still leans against the bed frame but doesn’t pay his attention to you. Instead, he stares at his arm. You squeeze your eyes as you try to figure out what he was doing – his sleeves are rolled up and he stares at the skin underneath them. Then suddenly, he tilts his arm. Just a little – but far enough for you to see.

You gasp and step back, letting the door fall shut in front of you.

“No”, you whisper to yourself, “no, it’s not real. It’s not real.”

It can’t be real. Because what else, if not a figment of your imagination, can the Dark Mark on his left arm be?

***

A/N: Thank you for reading! <3

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Tag List: @writerdee1701, @zpandaqueen, @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @nobleking, @harpersmariano, @dracos-slut, @destiels-assbutt13, @justmesadgirl, @bbeautyybbx , @dracomalfoyswifey, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @beiahadid, @lavenderblossom12

(also tagging @dracosathenaeum and @musicalmuffindog1410 even though you’re not on my general taglist, but I think you’d like this <3) If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know or use this form! <3

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #astrids fics #Draco malfoy

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heresyourramen · 3 years ago

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Firebird - Choi Yeonjun x (Fem) Reader

Part of the Hamratia Collaboration by @delicatewerewolfsoul and @sleepylixie.

The artist is Choi Yeonjun, Greek god is Apollo and the deadly sin, pride.

Genre: Greek mythology/ ballet school AU, Angst, villain YN.

Word Count: 11 305

Warnings: Mentions of injury, swearing, the word boobs once, backstabbing (because that's showbizz babyyy), Villain YN, the tiktok audio "gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss" comes to mind, and the crippling pressure of never being perfect that is often found in any sport.

Description: Cupid might never be a victor when apposing Apollo in archery but he had still managed to bring the Sun God to his knees with a single of his arrows.

and he will continue to torment him for his prideful claims, for Daphne's heart will forever be pierced by Cupids led arrow.

Yeonjun, a principle dancer at the Laurier School of Ballet, had a lot going for him, he was from a well respected family within the performing arts community and had been granted a scholarship many in the school would envy him for. Sadly he did have one thing that was not going in his favour a rather tragic and unsuccessful love life, riddled with beautiful woman and men, even the lovers of his closest friends.

Until he one day finds himself Infatuated with a prize he could not attain.

A Firebird.

Honestly you could never tell if Yeonjun was actually naïve or just played dumb.

Girls and boys flocked to him and he seemed to fawn over whom ever piqued his interest most but it never lasted longer than a month, or someone cheated on someone or the relationship ended out being a fiery crash of hatred and venomous bouts in hallways with wide eyed audiences. Somehow he always acted as if he had gotten the short end of the stick, for a week forlorn before another beauty of sorts would be the centre of his attention. Sweet melodies would once again come from where ever he worked, a soft tenor promising spring and love and hope.

You steered clear.

If it wasn't an emotional roller-coaster enough being a double major, his affections would seem to be. No, you'd much rather work on your stubborn unsupple hips and relevés you always get scolded for than listen to whatever hot mess he had going on.

And god was it a loud hot mess. Your headphones blasting Dua Lipa wasn't even drowning out the heated argument between Yeonjun and his dance partner, seated in the corner of the massive practice room by the only corner without mirrors and filled with shelves for bags you keep your eyes on anything but the pair. You turn to face Jungkook who stood stretching as well but with none of the concerns of being caught as he watches curiously a humoured smirk on his lips. You had been lucky enough to be paired with the groups teaching assistant, just as well you were sure half the boys in your class couldn't even lift you. He senses your stare and looks down at where your sat opening up your hips his smirk stretching to a full blown smile, great at least someone was enjoying this spectacle. A shame really that the two strongest dancers in the class were paired up together for the showcase that would double as evaluations, it meant none of the other junior dancers would stand a chance at impressing anyone but also it was a shame that they also happened to be exes. You huff a small sigh through your nose as you get up from the floor and remove the headphones to put in your bag and to pull out the black training tutu. Jungkook had suggested it considering the challenge of the chosen dance itself that from the start you get used to how it would affect your movements, when he'd announced that the firebird pas de deux you'd nearly spilt more than half your coffee on him. It was insane, you'd thought, you were much better suited for contemporary styles and the Modern Jazz ensemble but Jungkook was patient and understanding most of the time as well as stern when necessary and since the performance would also affect his station in the school you didn't argue. Your fingers guide it over your stockings and over your leotard before fiddling where it had bent funny or folded. You turn towards the door a scowl set on your face at who ever barged in, you had booked the studio for the next three hours no one was supposed to come watch you clumsily stumble into Jungkook's arms.

A boy stood in the door way, eyes wide as it landed on you, you recognised him from around campus a friend of Yeonjuns and a classmate Seo Changbin. He wasn't all that tall but his black t-shirt was stretched taught over a broad chest and big arms, gaze sharp even hidden under his long dark fringe that swept over his forehead and eyes. His gaze matched yours and the unimpressed frown he wore disappeared for only a moment as it fell on you softening slightly as he held up a hand in a small wave to you and your partner respectfully. You dip your head in a nod as greeting before another angry curse draws his attention and yours to the bickering couple.

"Yeonjun-ah!" his voice was loud and sharp enough to make the two dancers stop.

"We will be late for class AGAIN, if you don't move your annoyingly firm ass NOW!" Yeonjun's eyes flickered to the clock above the doorway his friend had just burst through and cursed under his breath before running towards you and Jungkook to grab his bags leaving his dance partner to angrily stomp her way after him. You sweep past them in a wide arc and into the centre of the room as you test out the silky pointes arching up onto your toes and back down as you wait for Jungkook to plug in his phone to the sound system and start the music. He turns and nods at you and you take a step towards the edge of the room aware of the curious gazes on your figures. You stand ready and as soon as the whirring clarinet starts you start your leaping entrance before a twirling arabesque. One thing you cursed Jungkook for was that he managed to choose a dance that had you constantly moving. The door shut and announced they'd left leaving you to fight your way through the next three hours of strenuous technicalities.

Yeonjun would've applauded himself for his dress of choice the baggy grey sweatpants he wore over his tights and tight black t shirt he'd been training in had made it possible to switch out his own ballet shoes for some Jordan's easily enough before Changbin could pull him out of the studio by his hair. They managed to slide into the back seats of the lecture hall for music theory just on time.

"What's the dancer that was waiting with Jungkook Sunbae for you two to stop squabbling's name again?" Changbin murmured his gaze transfixed to the page of his notebook as he doodled away trying to force himself into a state of calm.

"Who?" Yeonjun frowned he hadn't cared much for the pair that waited, he was fully distracted by the small mistakes that his partner was making and would cost him his place as top student and his scholarship no doubt. Changbin looked up at him, any ounce of sympathy for his crappy partner and whatever patience he had left dissipated into the stuffy air of the dark lecture hall, how could he have so little care for the people around him daily? He'd seen you in the hallways with either a massive canvas bag or a baggy sweater over a leotard and skirt and always with a tight slicked back bun that emphasized a deadly serious gaze that often rolled back at the sight of them or rather Yeounjun and whomever he had hanging onto him that day.

"Oh you mean Y/N ?" Yeonjun eyes widened innocently, with the realization. Changbin nodded and Yeonjun shrugged his gaze lowering along with his posture as he slid down to slump his tired body into his chair.

"What about her?"

"Well... aren't they in our class? What do you think their presentation will look like? " Changbin inquired curiously as he watched his friend shrug again his eyes still trained at the slideshow the teacher was babbling over.

"Jungkook is the teaching assistant but he'd managed to pair up with a sub-par ballet dancer, poor guy. Her ankles are weak and she's too contemporary, her theatricality is commendable but mostly just makes her routines seem sloppy, why?" Yeonjun said with a small tug at the corner of his lips as he swept the dark black tresses from his eyes that never left their pacing lecturer. Because of this he missed the way Changbins irritated smirk dropped away, his lips pulling into an ugly straight line, an expression that had started showing more recently. He would agree there was room for an improvement, but there was for everyone in their class even the principle beside him. His temper was on a very short leash with his friend as he watched his arrogance grow after every break up. Yeonjun's love life was tragic, truly, and he'd feel bad for his friends pitiful attempts at relationships if he wasn't such a goddamn prick about it. Yeonjun had managed to date many a girl or boy that even his friends had some sort of interest in, always managing it in a way that made it seem he couldn't help himself and Changbin was tired of it, exhausted not even getting a chance. That small little proud smirk was still stuck on his friends face when he inquired once more.

"Are you not in the slightest bit worried that they might manage to out stage you?" Yeonjun had to muffle his loud 'Ha' with a cough as he snickered to himself his friends gaze growing darker as his frown deepened.

"Of course not but its cute that you worry for me 'Bin." Yeonjun answered with a sweet smile and a pat on the shoulder before focusing back on the class.

That would be it, Changbin thought, Yeonjuns own pride would be his downfall.

He'd make sure of it.

"Hi! Y/N, right?" the strange voice announced its presence loudly from beside the studio door, you're startled enough to drop the empty water bottle and your history book. To tired to even worry about it, you simply raise your hands over your eyes and sigh deeply, brushing the few loose strands that had managed to escape from the the gel and hairpins during the the gruelling three hour training session out of your face. One would imagine after two weeks your body would be used to it but alas. Every part of you ached, actually it was a relief not holding that 10 ton excuse of a book and you knew if you didn't open your eyes right away you'd fall asleep right there standing. You let your arms fall to your sides and raise your eyes to the culprit who stood holding your bottle and book a soft concern gracing his dark features.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mind to startle you like that." He apologizes but doesn't make a move to hand you back your belongings.

"It's okay I'm pretty jumpy by nature." You wave him off not even attempting to muster the frustration you probably should have felt.

"Have you been training for the last couple of hours?" Changbins brow furrows and his eyes trail over your figure clad in some sweatpants and your training jumper. You nod slowly and pulling your phone out of your bag to check the time you'd ran over time, since no one had booked the slot for the studio after. Jungkook stepped out of the studio dark hair swept back as he pulled on his own black hoodie.

"Oh Jungkook, just who I'm looking for." Changbin says and he rests a soft hand on your elbow as he gently guides you out of the doorway his other still holding your stuff before falling away as he stands beside you

"Changbin Madame Jeong spoke to me earlier. Are you sure about swapping places?" Jungkook gets straight to the point, his brow furrowing. Changbin couldn't blame him, being evaluated on your dance ability and your ability to choreograph a piece from scratch was completely different.

"It's not like I have much choice, Tzuyu won't be back anytime soon with a torn ACL." Changbin hears your shocked gasp, and turns his head to observe your hand over your mouth and eyes wide at the shocking news. With classes being suspended for the rest of the semester and such a large group few people had known of her injury.

"What's going to happen now?" You ask eyes wide with concern as you look between the older man and your classmate.

"Jeong had suggested Changbin take my place in your performance and I participate in my own years evaluation." Jungkook said with an apologetic expression down at you, your tired features barely even managed a proper frown.

"What?"

"It's still a month and Changbin is one of the best dancers in the group, you'll be fine." Jungkook wore a guilty expression as he scratched the back of his head as he watched your shoulders hunch over, folding in on yourself as you start to slowly loose hope.

"Hey! Don't do that, you know I'll even come help out if you need me!" he grabs you by your shoulders and force you to look at him, he doesn't break the stare down until you nod. You were furious, not only was this inconvenient but it would effect the outcome of the rest of your studies at this school. But you couldn't even muster any of the energy you needed to be upset about it after a gruelling session.

"Whatever," You shake Jungkooks hands off your shoulders and take your stuff from Changbin who'd been watching the exchange with a nervous nibble at his plump bottom lip.

"We're doing Firebird, I'm sure Jungkook will inform you of how atrocious I am." You turn on your heal and walk away because honestly, fuck that shit.

"Hey I think we got off on the wrong foot I'm Cha-" Changbin stood leaning behind the studio door waiting for you to show up. You had contemplated not showing, because who cares at this point? Not Jungkook, not Changbin and certainly not that piece of work director Jeong.

"I know who you are, don't worry." You interrupt him as you fiddle with a hair pin that was practically indented into your skull with the way you had furiously stabbed it into the bun. Changbin to his credit musters the decency to look guilty.

"This isn't ideal for either of us but I have faith in us." Changbin says softly and you nearly bark a laugh in his face, you instead settle for a scoff. Yeah, sure he'd be fine he was a top student, technically near perfect almost better than Yeonjun only lacking the physical stature that would be needed to accommodate taller partners, where you're bottom tier at least in ballet, a charity case and no doubt a relief to be rid off, Jungkook was probably ecstatic knowing you weren't his responsibility anymore.

"Yeah, we'll see how you feel after the next three hours buddy." You pat him on his shoulder before brushing past him into the studio at 12 sharp. Changbin with a frustrated glower follow you, you weren't going to make this easy.

He steps in to the sound of Yeonjun's ex yelling at his friend and he can't help but feel a little better about this mess, he doubted you'd snap at him like that.

Your judgement was obvious, your face like an open book as you observed the pair going at each other. But it wasn't just disapproval, it was a corner of a lip tilted in a smile laced with pity. Changbin just wasn't sure if it was for Yeonjun or his partner.

He guessed it was the latter rather, by his past experience of being pinned with a scrutinious stare every time he was with his friend. You weren't part of the plan in anyway, in fact he really was praying to what ever immortal beings existed in the realms of the heavens the two of you would perform a passable performance at least, but there was always another way to throw Yeonjun of his game.

Love.

His ex was playing a big role in her reluctance to cooperate and he didn't even have to do much about it, in fact Changbin didn't have to do anything about it but that wouldn't be enough. It wasn't Yeonjuns first challenging partner, he'd manage, highly stressed but he'd still do his best.

"Changbin?" Your voice breaks his stare from the pair as they train through their rendition of Apollo and one of the muses dance and he notes that you're already in the black tutu over your not so traditional leotard. It wouldn't be a problem if the zip that ran down it's front was done up like most other students wore it. He swallowed hard, he didn't blame you, he'd heard that leotards were constricting, he just didn't realize it would do a better job than a push up bra.

"If you're done could we possibly get them out of here?" He doesn't miss the small smile that graces your features before turning around to face the mirrors and finish your stretching. Changbin clears his throat as he quickly changes out of his sneakers.

"Yeonjun, times up!" His voice booms over the music and shocks you enough to come up from the back bend you'd been stretching in, unwinding a supple arch until you're stood straight again, only to be met with a different sharp gaze from under black strands. Yeonjuns dark eyes are trailing over your torso as he makes his way over towards his bag, you keep your face straight as your fingers find the zip on your front, you taunt him a small drag down, his tongue sliding over his full bottom lip, before zipping it all the way up. You keep yourself from laughing at the way the softest pink dusts his cheeks and his eyes divert as you pass him, you'd think they'd never seen a pair of boobs before the way these boys were acting.

"You ready?" Changbin calls over, his brow raised. He hadn't missed the brief exchange and you meet his gaze.

"I am, but do you know the choreography?" Your brows raise and Changbin gives you a smug little smirk as answer and starts the music.

"ohmygod you're worse than Jungkook!" You babble. You swear you can hear your hips breaking as Changbin pushes down through his arms keeping your knees on the worn hardwood floor. Solid, warm muscle is pressing into your back as he leans over you.

"Stop complaining it's only a few more seconds." He huffs out, but when you tilt your head up you're met with a grin through your watery eyes. The timer goes off and you suck in a deep breath as Changbin lets you relax out of the pose. The session had been hard, he'd managed to point out technicalities that Jungkook had managed to miss or rather chose to ignore when he suggested cooldown your legs nearly gave out, it was outrageous the best modern dance program at a fucking ballet school. You weren't built for this. You lie back with a huff and watch as Changbin sets another timer.

"More?" This was crazy and he shakes his head with playful grin.

"It's only helping you." He points out and takes your now sweatpants clad legs and straighten them out for you before taking one ankle and pushing it up and towards your chest. This isn't nearly as difficult but it was uncomfortable. His arm that wasn't holding your leg was pushing your hips down to assure it from lifting and although he was sat kneeling between your legs he was still half hanging over your face. Sharp cologne, mixed with sweat was filling your airways and a thin silver chain dangled from around his neck as his he watched you. You clear your throat and head of all of your inappropriate thoughts.

"How'd you know the choreography?" You ask softly but jot your chin out just a little to assert yourself more.

Changbin smiles down at you. The last three hours had been the most time he'd spent with you, in the last two years and he couldn't help himself, he enjoyed your company. Your confidence, your focus and drive. Your being aware of yourself, wo you are and your bold assertion of it had made him more comfortable than intimidated.

"Jungkook and I ran through it last night after you threw a temper tantrum and ran off." He watches your eyes roll dramatically ready to snap back at him with something sarcastic or mean but he doesn't give you the chance too.

"I'm also pretty familiar with it, I've done parts of it before." Your mouth closes and brows knit in a frown at the interruption and he chuckles at the expression. His fingers trail along your calve softly as he sits back and releases his grip on your ankle to do the same with the other one. But when he leans back over you his face is serious, brows drawn pensively together and lips in an angry line. You leave it, to tired to pry.

"Y/n... I- what would you do if I made a proposition?" His sharp stare flicks from where it was staring at the floor and to your face and you squirm slightly.

"Depends, what's in it for me?" Your voice is low as each of you regard the other with hesitancy.

"An A+." Changbin answered and you laughed.

"You're funny."

"Y/N. I'm serious." You settle down and he pins you with a determined stir.

"I want to beat Yeoujun. I want his scholarship, and I want principle." Your eyes widen at that. You didn't have much against Yeonjun besides the fact that he was annoying and reeked of talent but did nothing with it.

"That's a little harsh isn't it? I get principle but the scholarship? Aren't you guys friends?" You inquire curiously and Changbin lowers his head to avoid your gaze. When he looks back up his tongue is stuck in his cheek as he grins.

"You'd think? Either way he sure as hell doesn't fucking act like it." He says it with a little bitter chuckle. The two of you sit in that loaded silence, filled with secrets, and revenge and jealousy for a moment just staring at the other.

"What do you say?" He's leaning closer and his words just above a whisper as he continues to regard you a moment longer, eyes flickering over your face trying to read your expression the tension was palpable if you stuck out the tip of your tongue you'd taste it and Changbins lips.

The glass doors click open.

"Am I interrupting something?" A familiar voice calls and dripping with smugness. Changbin watches as you roll you eyes and sits back with a little smile as he lets go of your leg and ankle. Yup, definitely the right candidate.

You sit up from the floor and look over at the door where Yeonjun is leaning a little grin on his face as he takes in the sight of the two of you, Changbin idly resting in between your thighs.

"It's called stretching, I'm sure you've heard of it before. You know, being a ballet dancer and all?" Changbin retorts and helps you to stand. His hand rests softly in the small of your back and gives it a soft pat to nudge you towards your bags. You zip the leotard down again, so you can breathe and fiddle your phone out of your bag to check the time and slip your feet into your sneakers. You still had 20 minutes of your session left, how rude.

"She joining us?"

"I can hear you." You voice is sharp as you basically rip your bag off the ground and walk towards them. You pause beside Changbin shifting your weight to one side as you cross your arms over your chest and let your eyes wander over Yeonjun's figure, tall and strong and delicate features, gender envy if you've ever seen it. God he was perfect, so hopelessly beautiful and and torturously seductive, strong figure dressed in a white shirt taught across his chest and sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.

"I'll do it." You turn your head and face Changbin who tries his best to hide his panic.

"What? Join us for dinner?" Yeonjun scoffed.

"Oh, how lovely I've been upgraded from object to person worth addressing directly. No, I would rather not join. " You retort and turn to face Changbin and soften your features in a smile as you let your hand rest on the tan skin of his bicep. The same one that had effortlessly lifted you into the hair for two hours as if you were air.

"I'll text you."

Yeonjun watches you with an aghast smile as you push past and waltz out of the doors.

"Quite the partner you got there." Changbin had been watching your figure through the glass doors and smiled to himself.

"Sure is."

The door clicked shut behind them and Changbin tossed the hood of his black hoodie over his still slightly damp hair as they made their way out of the building.

"How's your training going?" Changbin inquired out of courtesy. Yeonjun had been breezing through the almost abandoned school hallways beside him almost without a worry.

"I think she'll claw my eyes out, maybe it'll be a good thing, then I can't see all the mistakes she's making." Yeonjun huffed his arms that he'd stretched up and above over his head flopping to his sides on frustration and Changbin laughed a little at that.

"How about you?"

"It's only been a day, but she's really not as bad as you make her seem. I've never met someone who works so hard in something she won't need." Changbin shoved his hands into his pockets as they make their way across the parking lot.

It was true. Despite your complaints about stretching, you'd let him run you through every part of the routine without any reluctance. Everytime he stopped and restarted, picking at a millisecond misstep, a finger a touch out of place, or an arm not soft enough, you'd let him do so without even so much as slight glimpse of reluctance. You'd take the critisism and focus on improving every single time, Jungkook had also managed to pick a character that suited your theatricality Yeonjun had previously criticised you for. You had even managed a lack of reaction at his fumbling in the different lifts, patiently letting him get used to it.

"That doesn't always make you good." Yeonjin pointed out as Changbin unlocked his car. Changbin had to keep himself from trying to rip his driver side door off at the sudden comment. Instead he takes a moment to pause as he leans against the car roof.

"What? Was that a little harsh?" Yeonjun said in a rather insincere tone from across the car roof.

"Get in the car." Changbin grumbles in answer.

"Forget about the evaluation for a second." Changbin mumbles through a mouthful of burger. It wasn't the best dietary choice but it had been a while he'd worked so hard for such a long duration of time, not because he had to make up for what you lacked but because your determination to do well fuelled him to do the same. Yeonjin was eating away at a plate of fries and looked up at his friend curiously.

"What do you think of YN?" Yeonjun pauses slightly.

There was no denying it, there wasn't many dancer's like you at Laurier, there was actually no other dancers like you. You were an enigma. Few would suffer through years of dance programs that weren't related to their focus, or even suffer through entrance exams in forms that weren't trained just to follow their dreams. Besides that, you held a seductive air, it was part of your muscular, curvier build that many of the female ballet dancer's lacked. You were stronger, your leaps and jumps far higher than most of the female student body and closely matching some of the boys in the classes best even. Your eyes were definitely what had caught Yeonjun's attention but not because they were a particular colour. Rather it was the firey emotion that constantly burned in them. You were passionate. Whenever his eyes met your sharp gaze he saw flames burn, gold and warm. And he'd be lying if he didn't say he envied it, just a little.

"She's pretty."

Changbins brow raises as if implying, that's all?He knew Yeonjun to well and there was clearly more to the loaded statement.

"Fine, she's more than pretty, but does that really matter? Let's be honest neither of us have been big on locker room talk 'bin." Yeonjun says pointedly and Changbin nods pensively gazing up at the ugly florescent lighting in the dingy diner. He guessed that's maybe why Yeonjun had swiped Felix out of his grasp in an instant. Because Yeonjun never cared much to discuss whom his friends might be interested in. Either way, Changbin doesn't see Felix around anymore unless he passes by a room scheduled for the younger groups ballet sessions.

"I guess you're right. I'm just asking, because I like her shitty attitude and I know most of the girls are stuck up but her words have a bite to it that I think makes her different." Changbin says out loud and steals a fry from his friend who looks him on affronted. But the words are heavy on his ears. Yes the bite, fire. Yeonjun thought, fire that burns red and angry.

"You have the weirdest taste."

"Yah, we have the same taste so don't go around insulting me just yet." Changbin said and tossed a piece of lettuce at Yeonjun but it fell short next to his plate instead.

"Yeah well, you're on your own this time." Yeonjun scoffed and wore half smirk as he picked up the glass of ice water.

"Are you sure?" Changbin said softly his sharp chin resting on his hands as he stared at his friend, eyes narrowed. Yeonjun didn't like it. Like he knew that it was a desperate dismissal of obvious attraction. His critique of your horrible technique and inexperience was something he's used to brush off his crush in his first year at the school because how could you ever be what he wanted ? You sucked and had no friends, in all honesty you were extremely bad then and he couldn't help but wonder how the fuck you made it all the way to third year evaluation.

"I think you're lying." Changbin said with a tiny smirk one that most definitely had the devil hiding behind it.

"I don't think you just happened to remember her name Yeonjun." Changbin said and chuckled as he pulled his wallet out and dug out some cash that he put on the table to cover their dinner.

"You're delusional." Yeonjun hissed and shot him a glare as he collected his bag and hoodie. Changbin was halfway to the door when he turned to face his friend again.

"And you're a terrible liar."

The atelier was empty except for the three of you. The blonde was tall and lanky, built like a dancer himself but here you were, at a fashion school. When Changbin said he knew someone who could help with costumes you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him to drag you halfway across the city in a really nice car on a Saturday morning, picking you up with a bag filled with a white tutu in your size and some craft items to take you out to a completely different art school.

"Changbin, I hate you."

"Come on! Hyunjin you have a costume design practical next semester and all you have to do is decorate a to and spray paint a white tutu red." Changbin tried to reason but the tall, handsome man remained unimpressed.

"I hate you." Hyunjin seems to stand his ground as he stares down his shorter friend, you bite down on your lip at the exchange and your eyes widen slightly as his glare lands on you.

"But I'll do it. Only since I'm poor and you're paying rich boy." Hyunjin held up a finger before dramatically sweeping long blonde hair out of his face. You feel a sigh of relief pass through your lips for some reason.

"Also your partner is stunning." Hyunjin said with a vapid flap of his one hand in the direction where you sat. You raise your brows and smile as Changbin shoots you a quick pained glare, "You'll have to give me her number so I can use her as a model in the future for a few projects."

You sit up a little straighter at the sound of that, Chin tilting up proudly. It wasn't that you were insecure, that wasn't the case at all. It was just that you were constantly in an environment were the bone thin and light ballet dancer was the beauty ideal and you didn't match it. It was nice, getting out and being reminded that you're most definetly an enviable beauty for some.

"We'll do fittings at your school next week." Hyunjin huffed as he pulled out the things Changbin had brought along.

"Really?" Hyunjin holds up a black t shirt and Changbin shrugs.

"You're supposed to be a prince, I can't just make you un upgraded t-shirt!"

"I would like to state for the record, that I said that too." You raise your hand and Hyunjin slaps Changbin over the back of the head and you snicker that you hide behind a cough.

"Why won't you listen to her? You're a real piece of work." Hyunjin shakes his head and lets out a frustrated huff before pulling the measuring tape around his neck and using a finger to tell Changbin to turn.

"It won't do, I'll make you a proper coat." Hyunjin started taking Changbins measurements, wen he said a number out loud you jumped realizing he was expecting you to write it down for him. You scramble and make your way over to the book on the table beside them writing down the numbers for him.

"Thank you for being such a wonderful assistant." Hyunjin says and his warm smile has your own lips tugging upwards.

"Anytime." you assure him and he surprises you as he takes your hand and plants a soft kiss on your knuckles before turning to face his friend.

"You. If you ever try to bring me a t-shirt and think you're overthrowing a prince with it again, I will choke you." Hyunjin scolds and you raise a brow at the title curiously.

"Prince?"

"Yes, its a nickname we gave Yeonjun since he has everything." Hyunjin explained.

"Everything?" You push and Hyunjin looks over at Changbin who gives a nod of encouragement.

"Yeonjuns always been a talented dancer and well, his family is pretty well off being some of the largest investors in the art community but he also has that wonderful scholarship that his dads company has at the school."

"It's his fathers company?" That was news to you, probably because you didn't have any friends to gossip with at the school.

"And everyone's okay with it?" You ask, your face unable to hide your obvious disgust.

"Well whats anyone going to do about it? Talk to Jeong? He's her prodigy." Hyunjin reasoned.

"But the students...", You try to reason and Changbins shake of his head shuts you up.

"Don't care, everyone wants to be his friend, fuck him or already has."

"On that solemn note, please leave so I can offer up my free time to this nightmare of a project." Hyunjin shoo's the two of you out.

Once you're buckled in the seat of the passenger side of Changbins car you wait patiently as he fiddles with the buttons on the stereo.

"What's your plans for today?" Changbin asks and you shrug.

"I don't have any, unless you want to train. In which case I'm fully booked." You can't help your smile as he cackles brightly.

"Wanna do something? I mean we haven't really had time to discuss any of our uh, approaches?" Changbin struggles to fine a subtle way to say revenge plot and this time its your turn to laugh.

"What did you have in mind?" Changbin grins and starts his car as an answer.

"Changbin I can't afford anything on this menu." You hiss with wide eyes and he waves you off, as if you weren't struggling to do the maths that would keep you from compromising your already strictly ramen noodle diet.

"It's my treat then." You can't help the grimace, what was it with these super rich art school kids. You sit back in the to nice chair and stare at his eyes wandering the menu.

"Why me?" His brows dip in question. "Why did you ask me to help you with the Yeonjun issue?"

An acknowledging nod signals his understanding but he's still quiet for a moment to long.

"Your a bit of an odd case. You seem to severely dislike him and well you are something he can't have."

"Please continue." He puts his menu down on the white table cloth gently before resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

"The Choi's, as lovely and charitable as they are, expect perfection perhaps not from everyone but definitely from their son." You sit upright in your seat, curiosity piqued.

"You aren't exactly what is considered to be daughter-in-law material and that's not because you aren't pretty enough because lets be honest you're gorgeous. It's simply because you aren't part of the family's close friends, specifically one of the shining stars." You can't help the blush tinting your cheeks at the compliment mid explanation and Changbin notices despite the extremely soft lighting casting a glow on everything, enough to give you a small smile and a coy head tilt.

"Yeonjun doesn't have a lot of options but his romantic escapades," Changbin breathes out a humourless chuckle, "Let's just say, that's how he rebels."

"That still doesn't explain my unattainability?" You raise a brow and sit back in your seat again.

Changbin reaches over the table, careful of the vase filled with bright orange flowers and takes one of your hands softly in his own, the action was odd but not enough to alarm you.

Yet.

"Yeonjun always wants to be the best and for a while, actually, too long he has been." Changbins eyes are trained on your hand, having turned it over so he could trace the folds and lines of your palm with his fingers.

"Y/N, it takes one simple challenge. A suggestion that he might not be the best and his pride would rule him. He'd be so focused on proving everyone that his station is deserved, that he is in fact the best, that he'd be to blind to see his own downfall coming."

"He assumes that everyone has placed him on the same pedestal that he had placed himself on his entire life, so that the idea of someone not doing so doesn't exist to him."

Changbin looks up from your hand dark glare trained on your face.

"You don't like him, and he can't believe it."

"You like me more, would rather be partnered with anyone but him?"

You nod slowly to confirm that Changbins observation is correct.

"He can't have that. He'll become obsessed with proving that you're wrong in doing so." Changbins gaze is back on your palm, his soft tracing sending a ghost of shivers down your spine.

"So not only aren't you what his parents expect but you also seem to have a solid dislike for him. It wasn't the plan, honestly." Changbin looks up at you hand squeezing yours now as if it would convey his promise as truthful.

"But it sure is convenient." You say lowly and he nods, suddenly not so sure about how good of an idea it was asking for help. He wasn't sure if the blank mask you wore could because of inner turmoil, for all he knew his explanation could have completely changed your mind in helping him out. He lets go of your hand, sliding his own back slowly his eyes fixed on your face waiting for your next reaction. What it would be, what he was waiting for he didn't know but it certainly wasn't what he had expected.

The soft chuckle wasn't unwelcome but it was definitely confusing.

"Wow, how does that saying go? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Yeonjun took that pretty seriously, huh?" Changbin doesn't fail to see the irony.

"Don't get me wrong, we were friends and in some twisted way I'm sure we still are."

"But?"

"But I'm tired of losing to him." Changbin slinks back into his seat hands off the table and falling helplessly to his lap.

You encourage him to continue by pouring water from the jug on the table into his glass as if its a stiff drink, like the one he seems to need.

"There was this one guy. Fuck, was it bad. He's sweet and his cheeks would squish up and make it impossible to count the freckles that was all over his cheeks and nose. I wasn't even crushing, I practically skipped that whole step and boy did I make it obvious." He was sitting back up and he wore a half assed grin one that held more than its fair share of sadness.

"No one missed it, so either Yeonjun was impossibly blind or clearly was trying to make a point." Changbin resorted to finally reaching for his glass of water but simply opted for staring at the droplets running down the side of the glass.

"So he swooped in, charmed the living daylights out of him before I could blink, promptly broke his heart and now Felix doesn't speak to any of us anymore."

"Felix? As in Felix Lee?" The description Changbin had given wasn't terribly subtle, but it was still somewhat of a surprise.

"Yeah and unfortunately my friend didn't just betray me he broke my heart without even thinking about it twice or having the decency of asking if my puppy dog eyes meant something."

The revenge plot was starting to make sense and as much as you didn't like Yeonjun, Changbin might've let it slip that his opinion of your ballet abilities wasn't the highest. Of course sticks and stones, but you couldn't help growing fond of Changbin a bit of a Dark cloud that hid a bundle of charm and softness that had seeped past your cold exterior. Dammit you'd even consider him a friend, your first at Laurier.

He was still clearly worried that whatever it was he was planning you'd say no too, weary glances from his hands on his glass to you. You offer him a small grin to soothe his worries.

"Oh don't worry, you still have me in your corner Binnie." You say gently before sitting forward. "Now, what's the plan exactly?"

Yeonjun watched as your hair followed with your twirls, the red and gold feathers bouncing along with the tutu as you playfully one two stepped into a pirouette with a big smile, your eyes alight with joy as you giggled. The pretty glimmering costume sparkled brightly and he couldn't help but think that your smile seemed blinding in comparison. He'd never seen it before, such happiness coming from you while doing ballet. Granted, you were doing a terrible job at practicing proper technique or steps but the freely stepping to releve and the flowing of your arms with the glittering feather arm bands made you truly seem like a firebird, free and joyous and beautiful.

Changbin was right the character suited you and perhaps he had maybe judged your talents as a dancer too harshly.

Your playful twirls excited grins and entertained light hearted chuckles from your audience, Hyunjin even going so far as to give you applause for your impromptu show.

"Okay, okay. Come here pretty girl so we can check that the feathers don't come off or it gets in the way." Changbin stood up his coat black coat with the golden embellishments and lapels open over his white t shirt and he held out his hand for you to except. With a playful tug he pulled you into his chest where you giggled softly. Changbin held you in a couple of releve twirls before the two of you got serious as the two of you turned serious and he manoeuvred around the costume you to lift you as previously practiced.

Jealousy, it bubbled up inside of Yeonjun like a black sticky tar at the sight of you and one of his closest friends so comfortable with each other, in synchronization as if you two had known each other for years and not only two or three weeks.

This crush, or at least the acknowledgement was becoming dangerous. He was starting to fall back into his regular patterns, the ones he knew all to well. Looking for a specific head of hair in a crowd, a black zipped down leotard, eyes that burned with hellfire, without even thinking about it, second nature almost. He was on a downhill drop to being absolutely infatuated and this new version of you, free and happy it was only stoking the hearth in his heart. It wasn't helping his cause.

For once he felt like he'd lost to Changbin.

Be it because he knew you so well, or because he had the burden of being your partner or perhaps because he was the one to witness your joy or perhaps instigate it.

He'd never really been sure what incited your icy exterior and furious glares in his direction. He'd avoided you for most years but now he was wondering if rather it was the other way around and why it was bothering him that you would.

He'd never considered himself to be narcissistic and yet, what would force you of all people to stay so far away from him? Few who weren't exes and even then few of those actively tried to avoid Yeonjun in the way he was quickly piecing together that you had. Finally it would seem you were in arms reach, not so far away. Changbin was his link to you now, he might just have a shot at pulling you closer, pulling you towards him, the same way you had started pulling him towards you.

The night had started off wild,with too many beers and too many soju bottles littering the countertop of Wooyoungs apartment when the three of them left. That it was crazy getting more when they met up with a few other s but he didn't realize it would result in this.

"Yeonjun whats your deal man?" Wooyoung said bright smile and cheerful giggle following after as he slung an arm over his much taller friends shoulders and pulled him into a hug, never scared of affection but it was too much. It was a lot with the buzz and the loud music and the smoke filled air.

"I don't have a deal." Yeonjun grumbled but didn't even try to shove his friend off of him.

"He's just mad that my dance partner doesn't like him." Changbin said with a teasing lilt but that obnoxious little smirk was rubbing him wrong. This time he did shove Wooyoungs arm off of him as he stepped closer and peered down at Changbin, bare of the grin he'd previously worn. He wasn't tilting his head back to meet Yeonjuns stare no instead e simply looked up through his lashes his dark glare daring Yeonjun to do what he so desperately wanted too, knowingly.

"Admit it, you're jealous." Changbin said softly the same smirk growing as he knew his words hit true to their mark. He could tell by the way Yeonjun stiffened.

"You can't have her, she doesn't want you." His words were barely a whisper but the way Yeonjuns anger was zeroing in on his friend, blocked out all other sounds, "And nothing you do will change her mind."

"Because she doesn't care and guess what? You aren't as fucking great as you think you are." Yeonjun shoved Changbin back and was ready to swing when someone pulled him back to no avail as he stepped closer to Changbin who promptly stopped him from landing any hits as he took a hold of his wrists before both of them were promptly ripped apart.

"Go cool off!" Wooyoung practically pushed Yeonjun into one of their other friends who was standing behind him as he pulled him away from Changbin who was steadied with a firm hand on Wooyoungs chest .

"Go!" Wooyoung voiced again, louder and Yeonjun ripped himself away as he shoved his way through the thick crowd.

This place had been playing tricks on his mind since he got here, what had brought Changbin to suggesting this place from their usual spots?

The energy was strange here, it was something other from just dancing in the air. No here, the thickness of lust and sex seemed to hang in the air. It was starting to make him act up in ways he never would've dreamed of.

Yeonjun swept the cold water over his face. This was outrageous he'd never even thought of picking a fight with Changbin at least not physically. He breathed out sigh before sweeping the damp black tresses and back out of his face he straightened only to be met by the sight of you. He must be really drunk to be hallucinating now. He blinked hard and realized that it wasn't a hallucination. A bright yellow fish darted across his vision and his brain caught up with his vision. The men's room was separated from the women's by a bright fish tank, one that stretched its length glowing bright and filled with an array of both large and small colourful fish.

You haven't noticed him, eyes trained on the small compact in your hand as you reapplied the lipstick shade you had selected to wear for the evening.

It wasn't love at first sight. No, he'd seen you before, on numerous different occasions but now...

The sight of you sobered him up more than the cool water ever could, hair that was usually pulled back now framing your face, figure graced in a short white dress , with a generous neckline much like that leotard you favoured, the golden lighting above the individual sinks lighting up your skin made you glow.

It definitely wasn't love but something had changed, maybe it was him finally admitting his pining for you.

Your eyes caught his as soon as you snapped the compact shut, not a hint of surprise dawning on your features.

Instead you hold his stare as you put everything back into your small clutch a ghost of a smile on your face as you step back from the glass and walk away, only breaking the silent battle when the door hides your figure.

Yeonjun darts out of the bathroom and immediately seeks the figment of his imagination his head must of conjured because it was impossible, that you'd appear here, in the midst of all his way to high strung out emotions. He caught a glance of your figure sashaying through the crowds that seemed to move aside at the meer sense of your presence, everyone making space for you as you pass, to afraid to even graze themselves against you. Yeonjun squeezes through the gyrating figures, tall long body squeezed out and pushed out of the way, his idea to follow in your wake becoming exceptionally difficult with each surge of the bass and bright flare of light. White strobes creating stop motion images of the people dancing around him.

As he finally escapes the dancefloor he spots your figure leaning up against the bar, Changbin leaning over it as he whispers something in your ear that tempts a beautiful grin to your lips. Yeonjun immediately pushes away the ugly head of anger that threatened to instigate another fight and plastered on a smirk before sliding in beside the pair of you.

It was strange seeing him through the fish tank damp black strands hanging over his heavy lidded eyes and pouty lips parted aghast. You'd never seen him in anything other than sweats or dance clothes, you would be lying if you didn't say the white muscle tank didn't look good on him, long lean arms, toned enough that as he leaned against the sink you could see the way the muscles in his shoulders moved and now you could see he had paired it with some black jeans that came up high enough to accentuate his enviably tiny waist.

"Changbin, sorry for interrupting but I'd like to invite Y/N to the dancefloor?" His eyes stayed glued to your face and you dared a glance towards Changbins whos dark analytical gaze encouraged you to play the game.

"And why would I dance with you?" You tease, acting coy as you fiddle a strand of hair around your index finger he bites as he leans closer with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Well I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of being partners and well it might be best in a space you'd be comfortable." He leans back with a grin one that so obviously says he's proud of his little insult.

"Is that so?" You barely keep the snappiness out of your tone as you glare him down. Yeonjun tries to suppress the chills the look is giving him. You hand your purse over to Changbin and walk past him a shove at his shoulder, your heels making you tall enough to dare the push without it seeming pathetic. Yeonjun chuckles incredulous before turning on his heels to catch up with your long strides, by the time he's close enough to reach you he realizes you've managed to find people that seem to be your own friends judging by their friendly smiles and the way they made space for you the song the DJ was currently playing resembled dance hall and all though he was aware that his mind severely undersold your dancing abilities he wasn't expecting the sight in front of him. With not a single care for the shortness of the dress or the vulgarity of the moves your hips seemed to lead your body in a seductive rhythm that had Yeonjun staring even if he was sure it was inappropriately. Every time you caught his eyes, your grin told him he'd lost. He didn't even stand a chance to start with. He would've had better luck in the dance studio.

It felt good, a different kind of thrill. Shutting him up even if it was for just a little while, especially after you heard what his opinion was of your dancing ability.

He trailed you back to the bar and with a defeated smile watched you order a drink.

"I have severely underestimated you, I apologize." Yeonjun says with that same small grin and a shake of his head and you beam.

"Apology accepted." You chuckle and brush your hair out of your face as you watch him.

"I really messed up." Yeonjun bites down on his bottom lip and you force your eyes away from his plump pouty lips to his eyes.

"Yes you did." You agree and he chuckles brightly and loudly.

"I meant," He steps closer, leaning down lips brushing up against your ear as he lowers his voice,"If I had just been honest with myself, you might have been doing those moves on me." He pulls back and your head is a whirlwind of thoughts. Honest with himself? What was that supposed to mean? Either way it didn't matter, your stomach and well other parts of your body were fluttering dangerously at the implications of his words. Your drink arrives and so does Changbin who saddles up to your side comfortably, his arm wrapping around your waist and you let him so you can lean into his strong body and take some pressure of your feet in their heels. Yeonjuns gaze darkens.

"I'm happy we came, this place is way cooler than the uptight clubs we always go to." Changbin announces and Yeonjuns brow dips, he didn't think this place was all that great but judging by the sweat that was dotting his friends forehead, the music and his chosen partners were the reasons behind his high praise.

Your butterflies still hadn't calmed and the alcohol made you dare the chance.

"You finally ready to be my dance partner properly?" You shoot a grin in Yeonjuns direction, one he missed because he was busy staring at Changbins arm around your waist.

"Yeonjun?" You call and it finally seems to click you were talking to him.

"Of course." He dares a grin and bows slightly as he offers his hand formally, you scoff and with a roll of your eyes take the hand offered. He laces his fingers through yours and pulls you away from Changbin's grip only letting go to hold your hands up so you could spin.

One thing you realized, Yeonjun was a sore loser. He'd stepped into your space as the songs continued to switch through the mix list, this only resulted in him proving his own ability to follow a beat in time with your movements. Pressed closer together the air only got stickier, and you could feel the cold drops of sweat running down your spine as time was lost to you and apparently all form of rational thought too. It was only when a tender but heavy kiss found the back of your neck that you realized, you were dancing with the enemy in a way that could possibly have you arrested for public indecency. You took a step away and turned steeling your gaze so you didn't look like the deer in headlights you had suddenly become.

Because as much as shutting Yeonjun up was fun this was making you want to find out if there was other ways to have fun with him, you couldn't promise yourself you wouldn't end up in a more compromising position with him and that was definitely not the plan. You eye him for a moment his surprised expression, hair hangning in his eyes or matted against his forehead, in a similar manner to how the white tank was sticking to his chest hand reaching out to grab your hand again. You press past a couple and dissapear back to the bathroom.

So this was how people got swept up in the hurricane Yeonjun was. Distracted by the pretty lashes, sharp eyes that devoured you whole and those terribly soft lips. Ghosts of his fingers ran over your body, everywhere he had dared to touch so surely, the spot on the back of your neck burning at the memory of the kisses weight. You dared a look into the floor length mirror parallel to the door you'd rushed through. He'd left you a mess, sticky with sweat and smudged mascara around your eyes, breathless and hair messy. You couldn't help but wonder what power it is he possessed to so easily dishevel your appearance. You purposefully rub at the dark circles under your eyes and dare to pat some cold water to your neck to collect yourself before entering the fray again. It wasn't hard to find him, your body now drawing towards him like a magnet as if he was the sun, tugging you into his atmosphere, but the body plastered to him quickly stops you. Life had a lovely way of reminding you why you'd avoided the beauty, his gravitational pull always seemed to have room for more. With a scoff and a reality check you press your way towards the man that still had your bag. Changbin was stuck in a booth with some other friends your purse on the table in front, whomever he'd been dancing with earlier nowhere to be seen.

"I'm leaving." Changbin shoots up as you grab your purse.

"I'll come with you." He insists and just as you're ready to politely decline a voice interrupts.

"Y/N?" Yeonjun is beside you a hand on your shoulder, brows furrowed as if concerned but a quick peak over his shoulder makes you aware the guy he'd found wasn't hanging to far off . You shrug of his hand and fix your eyes on Changbin.

"That'd be great." Changbin follows after you, hand on the small of your back as the pair of you trail towards the exit leaving Yeonjun to watch after with an empty pang in his chest. He tried to will his feet to move after you but it didn't instead, he stood glued eyes following over the crowd as Changbin accompanied you out the door with his arm around your shoulder and you tucked into his side.

Yeonjun had been left to observe you from far away for the final week before the showcase, in passing when you came in to the studio with Changbin after his own practice slot. You didn't acknowledge his presence, instead focusing on the music or your practice tutu or your pointes instead of him.

But he chalked it down to you simply trying to focus on what was to come.

When he finally did get to see you it was minutes before your peformance, dressed in gold and red. Hair slicked back and a headband of red and gold feathers over it, even with the light from the stage you glowed, shimmered with beauty and charm as you warmed up, smiling at the stage hands that passed you. He came up beside you and for the first time in a week your eyes fell on him.

"YN, I just wanted to say goodluck and well I was wondering if when we could go dancing together again?" Yeonjun was leaning up against the bar you were busy stretching on.

You laugh soft enough to not bother the other performance but still full and hearty, Yeonjun raises a brow he hadn't said anything funny.

"Sorry its just, well you must be blind." Yeonjun takes a step back as he watches her lips quirk upwards. It was just the two of them and the stage hands, Changbin was in the other wing waiting for the curtains for the rendition of the dance of the snowflakes to end. No one to witness the mask that seemed to fall away from the beautifully painted face.

"You know at first I was jealous of you. Perfect, you. With the perfect scholarship, not that you need it because of your daddy. Then I was angry because how could you waste time like that and still be so good. Well now...", Firey eyes ringed with read eyeshadow and golden flakes, disdainfully drags over his figure from head to toe.

"Now I'm just disappointed."

"Yeonjun I hate you, but not because you ever even had the chance to break my heart because lets be honest I'm not half as dumb as you think." You stop stretching as you step closer towards him where he was now frozen in place.

"No, I hate you because you have everything, all that you'd need to be the best but you're to distracted to ever reach your full potential."

"I don't need this, I'm a modern dancer, to contemporary for the genre anyway. I don't give a fuck about Jeong." Yeonjun sucks in a breath not at the crass words but rather the quotation of his own critique of your abilities, "... but you, you're her little prodigy and you have to do well, you have a scholarship and a family name that you need to maintain. My inability to be perfect means nothing. " You brush an invisible dust particle off his exposed shoulder before continuing.

"Your imperfections though, every single little mistake, every little misstep everyone out there will be looking for exactly that, they're waiting for your downfall and me?" You look up at him blazing eyes staring at him from behind bright red eyeshadow, "well, I'm praying for it."

Even if Yeonjun wasn't speechless he wouldn't have been able to actually retaliate because a 30 second call was made for your stage. Your grin didn't falter in fact it grew to the big stage smile every dancer wore while performing as you turned away from his figure as the pair on stage passed by you at the entrance of the wing you were waiting in. The lights on the stage lit up as Changbin entered the stage, the black velveten coat and golden decorations glimmered under the light bright and bold, but it casted a bright glow around your figure, lighting up the red and gold feathers of your tutu in a warm light only growing brighter as you started your dance onto the stage. Yeonjun eyes were glued to you, the performance that of which was visible from where he stood taking his breath away. It might've been the lack of oxygen or perhaps it was shock, the fogginess that clouded the edges of his vision as his eyes followed the soft movements of your arms, the bounce of the tutu as you leaped through the air, even the arch of your spine as Changbin hoisted you up and over his head, held you in his arms time and time again as the battle of freedom between the firebird an he prince commenced. He saw the pretty picture of sorrow and torment as the Firebird fought to break free and the prince with his own battle of caging the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in and ultimately be the cause of its death. The longing on the prince's face as she disappears and leaves him with only a single mark of her, a red feather.

It's only then he feels the insistent tug of his partner at his arm, trying to pull him closer towards the exit of the wing for his own performance. Yeonjun tried to force himself to focus but his eyes landed on the pair a moment before walking onto the stage. Your body was being squeezed in a joyous hug, Changbin cheering silently as he spun you around, your own smile was bright, big and effervescent. Blinding just like the stage lights that obscured the audience, even the front row he knew was reserved for lecturers and special guests. He could only hear the blood rushing in his ears that's probably why he missed the first few counts. He was behind now, muscle memory kicking in but never being enough to chase the fog far enough to catch up but only to make him more aware of the battle he was fighting to get back on beat. His body wouldn't let him, it was like there was a really strange weight keeping his legs and arms from moving right, but his head seemed to be floating, miles away from here. Off in the wings where you had been smiling, happy in someone else's arms. Smiling as your lips move, your eyes on fire as his world falls apart a little, by little as you utter those words, those prayers , those hopes of imperfections coming true with every note and every misstep and every delayed catch of his partners hand, he can feel it. The stuffy auditorium, how it was starting to suffocate him, the bitter taste of disappointment, of failure on the tip of his tongue as the shallow breaths passed over his dry lips and he inhaled the small particles of dust that everyone could see in the bright lights that was shining on every mistake he made.

As those curtains closed and the lack luster applause was still fuzzy to his ears, blood still rushing through it. He realized you'd wished his worse fears upon him, that they'd come true .

That those velveteen curtains blocking out the stage lights, was like the sun disappearing, that you'd burned so bright for the brief moment he'd set his sights on you. So bright he didn't realize how dark it would be when his downfall came.

#hamartia #hamartia the collab #kpop imagines #choi yeonjun #txt #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #txt imagines #seo changbin #jeon jungkook #jung wooyoung

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milkybonezz · 3 years ago

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Hey human !

First of all : may i ask what are your pronouns ?

Then : can you write something like a bully scene, where the Bowers gang is really sadistic ? (Like with an oc or a character that already exist, any gender any age any tw (like blood, violence, slurs) you can be as inventive as you want !)

I saw your fic, and you're good with sadistic stuffs, and since you take ship requests, i assumed you would agree. (But if you don't want to, it's totally fine)

heyyyyy! so sorry for the delay this has been rotting in my drafts for months

I use she/her pronouns but they/them also works fine for me

Fic rating: DDDNE (Dead Dove Do Not Eat) Very very triggering stuff in here

(Sorry if your name is Charlie btw!)

Read at your own risk

Wherever they were. She seemed to be. For some ungodly reason Charlie, a girl in the same grade as the four boys. Who hadn’t payed all that much attention to them before they had hit the tenth grade, was absolutely infatuated with the gang, more specifically she had taken an incredible liking to Henry. This feeling, unfortunately for her, was not at all mutual.

He could always feel her eyes on him and frankly, it was fucking infuriating. Every waking hour was spent looking over his shoulder for her. Henry hated feeling like prey in place of being the predator, she was relentless. Often she would loiter by his locker and talk at him until Belch arrived to scare her away. Henry was unwilling to pull his knife in school in case it was confiscated, so he relied on his heavier set friend to keep them apart.

She took a bit of an interest in Patrick too, which he absolutely adored. It was a bit of a game of cat and mouse. She would follow Henry around for a week or so, then Patrick would slip into her room at night and litter the floor with the remains of small animals to try and ward her off.

This tactic did not work in the slightest.

Charlie’s infatuation only seemed to grow by the day. Eventually, her stalking and lurking changed and day in, day out, she would be stood by Henry’s locker every morning and he would reluctantly go through the motions of small talk. It was stiff and far from natural. It was moreso this girl getting lippy with him every single day. Her poor attempts at flirting had began to irk him a little too much.

Each day, he would scowl, call her a slut and slap her around a little bit. Making snide comments about what she wore or how her hair was styled. Nothing seemed to deter her. That was one thing he oddly admired about her, her unwavering desire to get in his pants.

“Morning Henry~” she would chirp. Face pressed against the warped metal of his locker. Small dents littered across the steel from where he had taken his frustrations out “Ah, I see you’re still alive… Cockbiter” he hissed, more than pissed. These comments always earned some titters from the others. Patrick would cock a brow and smirk until she started stuttering and fumbling with her words. And she did, every day. Like clockwork.

Charlie didn’t take all that much interest in Reg, this was a fact that wounded him to a degree. The other three received a lot of attention from her. Unsolicited, sure. But it was still attention that he felt deprived of.

A time came when insulting her became too tiresome, and new plan was hatched.

“No, Hockstetter that’s stupid” Vic hissed, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. All of them were crammed into the back of Reg’s car, having discussed this plan briefly over the phone the night before.

“Whaaaat, I can totally get her to follow me” Pat hummed in response, a smirk on his lips “Then fucking go asshole… We don’t got time for this” Henry responded, leaning back in his chair. Anger radiating off of him. Reg and Vic could both feel it.

Patrick Hockstetter all but leapt out of the car, making his way into school quickly. The other three clamouring out of the car soon after. Henry moved quickly, opening the trunk of Belch’s car and pulling out all the stuff they had gathered. Patrick had requested they bring a hatchet, which was unnerving. They rushed down into the woods, waiting at the spot near to the river that rhymes had discussed, a clearing that was deep in the midst of thick trees. A mile an a half away from the school.

Patrick kept moving, slipping through the crowds of people that were trudging through the school hallways until he was face to face with Charlie. She looked up to him, confused “Where’s Henry?” she hummed her eyes locking into his, he grabbed his crotch and rolled his hips into his hand gently. Unable to contain his excitement. “I’ll show you if you really wanna know” he chuckled, bending down to whisper in her ear as her eyes trailed to his crotch “If you’re a good girl I’ll let you suck it” he purred.

She flushed a deep red, staying stationary for a moment before moving to follow him “Where are we going?” she inquired

“You ask too many questions.” Was Pat’s response “Just follow me pretty girl, got something reeeeal nice for you to see”

Charlie followed obediently, the thought of her parasocial relationship becoming an established one was something she simply could not pass up. In her lust-induced stupor, she failed to realise just how far into the woods Patrick had led her until it was too late for her to turn and flee. On all sides of her there was a boy, double her size and strength. Possibly even triple on account of Belch who was stood the furthest from her.

At first, she found this display attractive. Four young men surrounding her in the woods, all of them clearly had something planned.

“Charlie, baby” Henry smirked, approaching her slowly. His knife was drawn but blade was still retracted. Charlie took a few steps back, having heard the stories of Henry’s relentless blade. But she only made it about half a foot before her back hit Patrick’s chest. She was stuck completely. “You made it!” Henry snarled teasingly, flicking out his blade just in front of her eye. She flinched, expecting the steel to pierce her and make her blind. But it was an inch or so away, glinting in the sun.

“I- I- I was just-“ she began to explain, but she was cut off by Henry “You you you” he teased “Speak properly you little slut” he hissed, blade now ghosting her skin “What were you doing? Following me home again?” He snarled

“No no I was- Patrick told me” she babbled, face drained of all it’s colour. Quaking in terror. This terror was amplified when Patrick wrapped his hands around her chest. This, to a stranger could have appeared like a sort of strange hug if not for the switchblade that was being pushed into her face, a shaky line drawing from the apple of her cheek to her jawbone. Both of them were cooing mockingly as her lip quivered. Patrick pressing his crotch against her ass.

“You two” Henry growled “get over here and make yourselves useful. Hold the pretty lady down for me.” Their eyes widened, and they looked to each other for some sort of reassurance before they trudged over “Get her legs, she needs to learn to behave herself” Henry hummed, earning a cackle from Patrick.

Belch and Vic did as he asked, neither of them particularly fond of this idea. “Get her clothes off Patrick” This was a request he was more than happy to fulfil. He practically tore her shirt from her body which made her shriek in terror. Henry dragged his knife across her midriff. Slashing her up until her blood began to run off of her half naked body and pool around her in the mud.

Henry leaned over her and sliced her bra off, leaving her weeping and desperately trying to cover herself. This was stopped by Patrick who, after stripping her of everything on her bottom half, pinned her hands firmly above her head.

Charlie’s breath hitched, she writhed under Henry. Tears streaming down her cheeks. He didn’t give her a lot of time to acknowledge what was happening, she saw him fumbling to get his belt off and the sick look on his face. But she didn’t really understand what was happening to her until she felt it.

It was a grating sensation in her lower half. Nowhere near how she had imagined it.

Charlie kept her eyes on his, screaming in agony at all the friction. “Shut your mouth stupid whore” Henry growled, hips still snapping ip to meet hers “This is what you wanted isn’t it? Hm?” His tone was condescending and his thrusts were harsh and uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but cry and scram harder, still trying to free herself from Pat’s grip. “Say it. Fucking retard” Henry hissed again.

She screamed in response. It prompted a stern look towards Belch “Break her jaw” he huffed, the larger boy’s eyes widened again “What?” Belch hummed, somewhat in shock at the fact he was even holding her down. “Are you deaf, fatass? Break her fucking jaw. My dick’s goin’ limp”

He didn’t want to. God no. But he did it anyway. Drew his fist back and let the frustration of being ignored flow through him.

It connected with a sickening crunch.

“Now what I want you to do little princess, is stay still and enjoy it… Okay?” Henry growled, rolling his hips into her, not showing a lot of guilt despite all the anguish she was feeling. She couldn’t talk, not well anyway. All she could do was babble out “Stop it, please stop” and “I’m sorry” every once in a while.

He didn’t.

Luckily for Charlie, Henry was easy to satisfy. No longer than three minutes after he had started, he was finished. He came in her, seeing no reason why he should have pulled out. She was going to die anyway. Henry pulled up his boxers and jeans, buckling his belt up.

“Leave her with me” Patrick smirked, picking up the hatchet that had been left for him “I got it from here” Charlie screamed, but Patrick had planned for this. She was gagged now. Lying flat on her back in the middle of the woods, Patrick dragging the blade of a hatchet across her midriff to torture her.

Eventually a blow was made, the blade sunk into her shin, splintering the bone and exiting on the other side at her calf. She wailed in agony, hours of blood flowing from her now amputated stub. He did the same on the other side, getting her right at the knee joint “Now you can’t run away from me, sweet girl” he purred, curling some of her hair around his finger. He was hard, she could see that.

Patrick unbuckled his pants and got to work. Unlike Henry he was a lot harder to please. Charlie could feel herself dying, she was losing a lot of blood. Everything was spinning, darkening too. This was really it. Patrick didn’t care all that much to him, she was just a hole. Dead or alive. He fucked her until he was finished, mutilating her as he went. As soon as he was done he pulled his pants back up and started to hack her up. Starting with her head and ending with what remained of her torso; he then divided her corpse up. Half to be scattered throughout the forest and the other half to go in his fridge.

Patrick Hockstetter was a smart boy. He bashed her head up a bit so that if she was ever found no one would know who she was.

He took his time with her. Arranging what he had kept in the fridge nicely before he shut it and headed back to his boys.

More nonchalant than he had ever been.

#bowers gang #reginald huggins #belch huggins #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #vic criss #it 2017 #victor criss

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years ago

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Hi! I love your writing! Can you maybe write companions reacting to Shaun calling them mom/dad, maybe when theyre in trouble (like raiders attacking their settlement/home)? Have a good day!

Cait:

“Yeah! Get them mama!”

Had she not been any better with her reflexes, the little boy’s words may have ended up landing her missing a few teeth. There just so happened to be a raider dumb enough to try to break into your little home, so naturally..Cait goes in for the swinging once she made sure they didn’t have a gun on them.

With one final swift punch to the invaders head, Cait seized victory once again- and yet..all she could think about was the way that the child calling her that made her feel. She probably wouldn’t even outwardly acknowledge it- but once it was just the two of you in your own privacy, she’d confess that she was terrified.

Curie:

“Hey mom, do you need any help with the labs today? It looks really neat- I bet you could teach me all kinds of stuff.”

The second she heard what the little boy said, her heart swelled 10x in size just from pure joy. “Well of course you can, just make sure to wear the proper safety equipment, sweetheart.” She’d respond, giving Shaun a pair of safety glasses and wearing one of the sweetest, most proudest grins ever imaginable upon her face.

Danse:

Even though he wasn’t really a light sleeper, Danse had the ability to wake up as soon as someone entered the room. This was of course true when your son nudged the door open, his blanket slung messily over his shoulder and his eyes wide.

Once he realized who it was, Danse relaxed the slightest bit. “What’s wrong, Shaun?” He’d ask with a voice ladened with a hefty sleepiness.

“I-I’m scared, Dad. I had a nightmare and it- it just seemed..*sniffle*..it seemed so real.”

Suddenly the sleep would be knocked right of Paladin when his mind caught on to what the small child just said. Him? Dad?

Blinking away the shock, Danse tilted his head toward your peacefully sleeping body. “Here, come see son.” He’d urge with a yawn, waiting for the little boy to climb between you and him. Once snug, he’d then wrap his arm around the both of you.

Just when had he become so lucky?

Deacon:

“You’re really the best, Dad.”

Upon hearing such a bold assertion from the child, Deacon would stand in pause for just a mere moment. Chills would race up and down his spine as he stared down at the wondrously kind eyes lovingly peering back up at him. As much as he desired to keep looking back, a smirk would ghost his lips- thankfully he was able to concoct a little bullshit response on the fly.

“Yeah, ya ain’t too bad yourself either kiddo. You take after your dad.” He’d affectionately tease back, patting the child on the shoulder.

Gage:

If there was one thing that kids were, Gage learned that they were inquisitive little shits. Your own child was a testament to that statement. Just when Gage thought he could relax, up comes Shaun with an array of questions ready to shoot.

“Pa, why do you wear an eyepatch? Did something happen or are you just saving that eye’s strength?”

Gage coughed whenever he realized what Shaun used as his opener. Nuka-cola spurted from the raider’s nose, causing him to sputter as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Come again?” He’d ask with one huge green eye, trying not to cough a lung up in the process.

He was happy though, even if he might’ve killed himself choking on nuka-cola.

Hancock:

It was honestly alerting to see how shocked he was that this happened. He knew goodneighbor was no place for his son but..he never expected this to happen. While down at the third rail, some deranged man came down demanding money- pulling out a gun as he spoke.

“Papa, please...are we going to be okay?” Shaun’s terrified eyes bore straight into the ghoul’s very soul, making his heart break despite how happy he should’ve felt after hearing those words.

Putting a hand atop the boy’s shoulder, Hancock made sure to keep both of their bodies below the table. “Of course we are kiddo, you just sit here and don’t make a sound.”

And with that, Hancock would spring up and shoot his way to safety- he had to. His son was there after all.

Macready:

Having two little boys in the house was already bad enough. Having two of them similar in age and just as troublesome as each other? Whew, it was an understatement to say that you and Mac had your plates full.

Luckily with his experience, things weren’t entirely hectic. Just like now..

You had managed to come home right on time to catch Mac mid-scolding. His hat nearly falling from his head as he cashed his gaze down at the pouting children in front of him .

“I don’t care how much fun it is, you two can’t go around spooking the neighbors. That’s the best way to get shot, for fu-..for Pete’s sake.” You couldn’t barely hold in your chuckle at your lover’s choice of words, since when had he become so dramatic?

“Sheesh, chill dad..” Shaun spoke, dismissing his adoptive father with a wave of his hand before he and Duncan promptly ran off- leaving a completely dumbfounded Mac to sit and process what just happened.

Did his two sons really just dismiss him like that? Did Shaun...did Shaun just call him dad?

Maxson:

It was all Maxson had wanted. This feeling of belonging..it was amazing. It was something that even the brotherhood and all it’s devoted members couldn’t provide him.

“Hey Dad, you alright?” Shaun’s little voice pierced through Arthur in a way that wasn’t at all painful, yet somehow hit him like a freight train.

It was then that Maxson realized he had been staring, jaw hanging. “W-what? No, I mean..yes, yes I’m alright Shaun. Is everything okay?” Real smooth, don’t worry, Arthur promptly begins to beat himself up over it.

Though confused, Arthur was so, so very happy.

Nick:

“Da, are you coming or what?”

Immediately, Nick assumed he had overheated. Surely there was no possible way Shaun was calling him...no. Blinking a few times, one could even hear the low whir of his servos fire up as he tried to process what just happened. Once he finally realized that yes, that was indeed reality- a huge smile would grace the synth’s face in response. In an attempt not to “lose his cool”, Nick would just simply nod and follow along- replaying the entire thing in his head over and over again.

Old Longfellow:

He had expected “Grandpa” before he got a “dad” out of the little boy, if he even got that! Honestly he didn’t expect much, he loved the kid but..come on, he’s some old man kissing up on the child’s mama/papa. With that being said, for the first time in quite a while, joy like sparklers- erupted all throughout the old man’s body whenever Shaun tugged his coat one rainy day and-

“Can I please come with you, pa? I’ll need to learn how to fix those condensers up one day anyways!”

Piper:

Piper, of all people, didn’t really think she’d be so happy being so..so domestic. Not a single article written, not a single story hunted down for the day or anything- just family time. Just you, her, Nat, and Shaun.

Much like your day, the night also consisted of this calmness. Only coming to an end whenever it was officially bed time.

“I love you ma, good night.” Shaun sleepily muttered, turning around in the process so he could get comfortable and ready to sleep.

That was probably for the best, for as soon as she heard those magical little words, Piper’s eyes welled with tears without warning- only spilling whenever she was back in the comfort of her own room with you at her side.

Preston:

“Pa, are you sure you and mom won’t be gone for too long?”

The words stopped Preston dead in his tracks. Yes, it was his duty as your lieutenant- and your own as General, to respond to distress calls whenever they were made..so that unfortunately left your poor son in the care of your other companions more often than you’d like- more so, more than Preston would care for.

It was things like this that made him consider retiring all together.

Turning around, Preston would kneel down in front of the child, happiness shining in a luminous way within his dark eyes. “I..I promise you that we’ll be back before you even miss us, son.”

“Impossible, I miss you and mama already.”

Sturges:

“Dad, I’m scared..”

The very second he heard the little boy trembling in his arms whisper, the synth man felt cold fear flow through his veins. Raiders, always fucking raiders.

It was normal at this point for them to show up every now and then, usually you’d just chase them off with your flashy guns and whatnot- and you were doing that- but while you were out being the hero, it was Sturges prime duty to ensure shaun’s safety. As such, he’d take the little boy to their usual hiding spot and try to get him to be quiet...but that? That was enough to make him want to personally go out there and rip a raiders head off. How dare they scare his..his son?

“Shhh, I’ve gotcha little buddy..you just hang in tight.”

X6-88:

(I honestly don’t see how this could happen with Shaun in particular- even with the whole au I use with Maxson and Shaun dynamics- Shaun would still know X6 as that cool dude that teleported him back and forth.)

-sorry this took so long, hope you liked it.

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splat-dragon · 3 years ago

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Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows that the captain lied

Prompts:

Image: Foggy Forest Leonard Cohen - Everybody Knows

@red-dead-rodeo

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded

Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed

Ain’t nothin’ fair, he’ll tell you that.

Those that hold power - they like to say they were lucky. That anyone else could be them if only the dice had rolled that little bit more, they’d tried a little harder, if, if, if. Which was total bullshit, of course. Luck didn’t work that way - luck could be bribed, could be bought, could be won.

The dice were weighted. The ones who won, who were rich, who came out alive, they loaded the dice, did something to turn things in their favor. Bribed, prepared, did something - there was no such as luck, he knew that now.

Everybody knows the war is over

Everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed

Their fight is over, he won’t tell you that.

And they've lost. The dice have landed at his feet, a pair of ones peering back at him, and damned them all. They’ve fought - and they’ll keep fighting - but they’ve won some battles and lost so many others, and they keep losing, and the war was lost, he knows it, he won't tell you that but he can see what's in front of his eyes, they call him blind but he can see as well as any other man.

The fight was fixed. He had an army twenty strong - and an army he is afraid to lose. Family, he calls them, and sometimes they are even more than that. The army - a true army, and all those others he fought, they didn’t care, had countless at their disposal, warm bodies that were replaced before they cooled on the dirt. When one of his falls - and they do, eventually, inevitably - they are buried, and mourned, and their loss felt dearly, and he has no one to replace them with.

Though they have something to fight for - freedom, family, fortune - they only have so much. So much ammo, so much supplies, so many people.

The war is over, but they’ll keep fighting.

They have no other choice.

The poor stay poor, the rich get rich

That’s how it goes

Everybody knows

Things ain’t fair, he’ll tell you that.

They’d been Robin Hoods, once upon a time. When they could afford to be. When it had been safe to be. Before he’d realized the futility of it all. Of stealing from the rich to give to the poor - the money only poured from the poors’ hands, gone quick as it was given, spent on cheap boots that would go bare before the year was out, on so much food that would mold as they had nowhere to store it. And the rich would curse, and cry, and call for their necks, but it would change nothing, they’d have their money back and more in a weeks’ time.

And they were the poor now, the needy, the hungry and thirsty and desperate.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking

Everybody knows that the captain lied

He’s slipping, he won’t tell you that.

Folk are bailing, running, scattering like rats from a sinking ship, leaving him behind. People he’d once called family, trusted them to be behind him always. But blood is up to his ankles and water is nearing his nose and though he manages to keep above water he never can catch up to them.

He tries to be who he used to be - had he used this word? or that one? But the speeches he can find don’t read like him, he can hardly remember writing them like through a thick fog, and the speeches he give don’t hold their attention anymore and he knows he’s lying, pretty words that wilt before they leave his mouth, that crumble to dust in his family’s ears, and they know it but he has to say something or the rest will trickle through his fingers as so many grains of sand, every morning he wakes up and someone else is gone and he can’t lose them too.

Everybody got this broken feeling

Like their father or their dog just died

Things have changed, he’ll tell you that.

They used to be family, tighter than blood can bind. Just a look and they’d be riding out together, gun to gun, side by side, not a question needed. But now a single word can spark an argument, even a glance and they’ll be at each other’s throats, Charles and Arthur having to break up more fights than he can ever remember them having to do so before. And where before a drink shared between brothers or sisters could mend the bond as well as any needle and thread, resentment festers and grows with every argument, with every word, with every breath they continue to draw.

He read in a book once, a place described as ‘a graveyard full of ghosts who don’t yet know they’re dead.’ and on some days, his lucid days, his honest days, he looks at their faces: the sad ones, the hangdog ones, the black eyes, the sleepless ones, the bloodshot ones and tearstained ones, and thinks that Beaver Hollow could well be that graveyard.

Everybody talking to their pockets

Everybody wants a box of chocolates

And a long-stem rose

Everybody knows

They’re struggling, he won’t tell you that.

Someone burned the ledger, smashed the tithing box, and though Micah and Joe and Cleet had dug through everything, had turned the camp upside down, Dutch had even checked their stash just in case it had gotten added to it somehow, the money that had been inside was gone.

Dutch doesn’t know who, but he’s sure it’s one of the people who left - taking the money Micah and Arthur and everyone else worked so hard to contribute, the supplies as well, to fund their new life, to start out on a high note, to begin with weighted dice and a cushion, to not have to begin again and to leech off other’s hard work.

When Micah shows up with his guns newly engraved only a few days later, Dutch has already forgotten.

Everybody knows that you love me baby

Everybody knows that you really do

Everybody knows that you've been faithful

Oh, give or take a night or two

Everybody knows you've been discreet

But there were so many people you just had to meet

Without your clothes

Everybody knows

There’s a rat in the gang, he’ll tell you that.

He’s not sure who - it could be anyone, he thinks, though some days he has his suspicions of some people more than others; some days he’s positive he knows who it is and others he hasn’t the faintest clue, more often than not he’s positive he knows it’s not Micah and then some days, his honest days, he thinks “Maybe…?” but those days are becoming fewer and far between, and maybe it’s one of the girls but they haven’t left the gang in ages and Javier is always on guard so maybe it’s one of the girls and Javier is in on it, or maybe it’s Javier himself? Or maybe it’s Arthur, some days he’s certain, the man has always been faithful, loyal, sometimes too much so, willing to throw himself down on a spike-pit if it would help the gang, but people change - Dutch would know, after all, Hosea had changed towards the end, he’d lost faith and become a coward (and on his honest days he’s horrified at those thoughts) - and the man is so rarely in camp, “Around” he always says when Dutch asks, gets frustrated when he’s pressed, has taken up with Smith and is fighting the wrong war.

Everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it's now or never

Everybody knows that it's me or you

And everybody knows that you live forever

When you've done a line or two

John was dying, he won’t tell you that.

He was sprawled on the tracks, silhouetted with blood, and he was so far gone when he found him that he’d been gasping ‘Pa,’ not ‘Dutch,’ and he hadn’t had the heart to put him down or watch him die so he’d turned The Count and ridden back - it had hurt, to leave him to rot, but his family needed the money more and they could always go back to bury him later.

If they left the money it’d be long gone, while an outlaw’s corpse would be untouched.

Sometimes you have to be a leader, not a father.

Everybody knows the deal is rotten

Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton

For your ribbons and bows

And everybody knows

Jack’s an orphan, he won’t tell you that.

Abigail… well, he hates to leave her behind, but he ain’t gonna risk the safety of the gang for a woman. One, he thinks, might be a rat - because how was it she survived being captured by the Pinkertons in Saint Denis when Hosea had been killed? She’d not been discreet in her distaste, in her distrust, in her want to leave with their boy.

And they’d be retrieving a body, besides. The Pinkertons didn’t show their captives any kindnesses - even women. Knowing Abigail, they’d have done away with her quickly, and it might have even been a mercy.

And he wasn't going to risk his family to retrieve a corpse.

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming

Everybody knows that it's moving fast

Everybody knows that the naked man and woman

Are just a shining artifact of the past

Everybody knows the scene is dead

But there's gonna be a meter on your bed

That will disclose

What everybody knows

His boys are traitors, he’ll tell you that.

Arthur’s talked to the Pinkertons - he says he did so while saving Abigail, but can he really trust his word anymore? And John’s alive, swearing Dutch left him behind but he’d been dying, he hadn’t had a choice, can’t he see that? And they’re pointing their guns at their family, breaking the number one rule of the gang, and he wants to tell them to put their damn guns down, to leave, he doesn’t want to kill his boys but they have a rule about traitors, they have laws for a reason, and as much as he hates it his boys aren’t exceptions to them.

And everybody knows that you're in trouble

Everybody knows what you've been through

From the bloody cross on top of Calvary

To the beach of Malibu

Everybody knows it's coming apart

Take one last look at this Sacred Heart

Before it blows

Everybody knows

His baby boy is dying, he doesn’t want to tell you that.

But there’s no denying it. His fingers crunch beneath his boot, and he’s been around death his whole life, knows that look in his eyes, the fading, the dulling, the greying that’s already starting but won’t become obvious for another hour or more. The yellow tinge that’s already starting under his paper-pale skin, and his breathing, his breathing is worse than ever, that gurgling rasp as his body forces him to breathe against his will.

“Oh, Dutch…”

and his voice is unrecognizable, the rasp of a breath over failing vocal cords, and his baby boy is dying, and he remembers when he was only twelve with ruddy cheeks and scuffed knees, scared and suspicious and too small, sure that there was a catch when they put food in his hands and a blanket around his shoulders. His hair is the same - as dirty as it had been then, and god his face is as skinny as it had been back then, starving and curling around the bowl as though they’d pull it away from him, his eyes sunken in his face as he’d had to resort to stealing sips from horse troughs before being chased away and he can’t look at Arthur without seeing that little boy, and what has he done?

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years ago

Note

The boys and mc high school/college au go!

Ooooh, college au! It took forever for for me to get this all typed out and decided. Ok… so…

Classic- Classic is the one chilling around in the study/ tutoring circle, kicked back, seeming like he’s asleep and somehow not falling or tipping from the chair that’s only on two legs, getting credit for being there, but not participating... That is, until someone says something so incredibly stupid with such confidence, insisting that they’re right, and anyone who thinks differently is stupid, that he can’t help but cut in, laughing loudly and looking up. “ya really think that’s how it works? you’re gonna make these poor kids fail their tests if they believe ya!” He then proceeds to school them, the other people taking notes so they can pass their classes- no one’s ever been able to explain quantum physics so understandably before!! How he met MC? He met them when he started going to the study/ tutoring circle because it was an easy credit- a credit that he’s already earned by now, and can’t duplicate. One day he’ll be able to play it cool enough without his soul trying to beat out of his ribcage to ask if they want some one on one tutoring, since they’re there for the help, not the credit.

Creampuff- He is the sweetest boy around! Somehow, even on a campus this big, everyone knows who he is. He doesn’t stay inside the normal clique circles, either, being friends with everyone! “FRIEND GROUPS SHOULD INCLUDE EVERYONE YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH, AND I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE!” He’s Homecoming and Prom King, and takes any duties he has from the roles very seriously, fulfilling them all with the utmost passion. There isn’t a single person around that could hate him, and the teachers all love him as well. His grade point average is about an A- to B+ range. He’s not a genius, but he works hard and never shies away from extra credit and working hard to make it. He doesn’t seem to sleep? He is always doing something, working on some project for some class of club that he’s in, or spending time doing activities with friends... How he met MC? They were working on a project for a club that they were both in, and built a good friendship on their time spent together and the interactions they had there. They have lunch together in the cafeteria most days.

Red- He sits in the back of class, looking like the bad boy that no one wants to approach, but that also the one that people swoon over, giving out winks and smirks, flirting indiscriminately. He never does any work in class, and seems to never really care about it, but somehow- always gets amazing grades on tests...? And his grades in class aren’t anything to sneeze at, either, despite homework counting as a part of the grade...? The teachers like him because he really gets their subjects, and does really well, but he tries not to let anyone know, because, y’know... that bad boy image would be ruined... How he met MC? They had a class together, but MC was having trouble. Red sent every bit of flirting their way, but MC was having none of it. Finally, Red offered to help them with the homework, but MC told him they didn’t need to fail because Red wanted to flirt. “ah, sweetheart, y’re makin’ me feel bad- ya think i’d ever offer ta help if i didn’t know th’ answer? i don’t ever offer ta help anyone- y’re a special case. *wink*” He then taught them how to do the problem, telling them to pull up the answer online and check it while he kicked back. After finding out that MC liked the nerdier, actual “him”, side of him, he made it a habit to show it to them often, sitting next to them and explaining things through class, starting to ignore the rest of the people who usually flirted with him, liking the acceptance that MC gave him and how nice it felt to actually be himself.

Edge- Who knew that you still need gym credits in college?! Edge did, that’s for damn sure. He loves it because it helps him find a better way to deal with his frustration and anger. He also loves to untangle to puzzles that seem impossible. He’s seemingly on track to become a psychologist, a criminal detective, a lawyer, and an agent at some governmental agency that only has letters on their building... He tried to get into the medical field, but he can’t handle the disgusting nature of that science. He can handle things like gunshots, stab wounds, even road rash and compound fractures- but as soon as the body is cut open and he can see inside of it, he’s fighting not to faint. “IT’S NOT THAT I HAVE A WEAK STOMACH! IT’S ALL THAT- VISCERA! THERE’S SO MUCH OF IT AND SUCH WEIRD, UNNATURAL SEEMING COLORS! SHUT UP!” How he met MC? P.E. He has become known as one of the gods of P.E., and is often mistaken as a teacher. They were doing track and field activities, and MC was staring at him. When Edge demanded what they wanted and why they were staring at him, and MC answered by getting flustered and asking if he could show them how to do it that way, since he was so good at it, at it was amazing to see him do it! He gets all flushed and agrees, feeling flattered that they recognized his greatness.

Blue- He is on the Cheer squad, leader of the Pep squad, and leader of the track and field team! He is super athletic, and is very friendly with everyone! He ends the day with little energy from how much he does- people think that cheer and pep are just dancing around, but it’s hard work! There’s lots of flexibility training, and strength training, otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to do all the gymnastic type moves and lifting of whole other people they do! And then he has homework after all of that, and hanging out with his friends... But, luckily, he’s really smart- on most things. For everything else, there’s his brother, who he pesters to do homework with him as a way of learning, and getting him to do his own homework. How he met MC? During a pep rally, they did something with audience participation, Blue was picking the person that he’d be partnered with, and grabbed MC when he saw them. He was instantly enamored and at the end, he asked them for their number. He sits with them and Creampuff at lunch every day he doesn’t have to go to a practice at lunch time.

Stretch- He’s the guy chilling in the library, kicked up and napping behind the desk or reading, and the bookstore, kicked back behind the counter and napping or reading, and the student café, never with any food from the café, but either kicked back and napping or drinking honey. He’s never really seen in any classes except the one he PAs (professor’s assistant) for, and no one can really tell if he’s actually a student...? Except that he’s a PA, so... that means he has to be... right...? He comes into the class, points at the board and tells everyone to write it down, then turns on a prerecorded lecture or an educational video on the subject and chills at the professor’s desk, napping, drinking honey, or reading. How he met MC? MC went to pick up their books for their classes at the bookstore. He wasn’t even paying attention, reading some book, or something. When they brought up the book list, he didn’t even look at it, just told them what section was where. When they brought up their huge stack of books, he started ringing them up, but refused to sell them some of them without even looking at them. “ya don’t need that book. or that one. ya can get that one in the library. this one is garbage. yeah, i know the list has it on there, but ya don’t need it. ... what’s your major? yeah, ya don’t need that one...” MC left with about a fourth of the book list, and then, when they were able to go to the library to get the ones he’d said were there- he was there, too! MC was concerned that he was following them, but, he did work there, apparently... Halfway through the first semester, MC realized that Stretch saved them a bunch of money, and steered them right on all the unused books that had been added to the list.

Black- He’s the head of the ROTC (reserve officers training class). He wears his uniform every day, and, somehow, it’s always perfectly cleaned and pressed. He’s top of the sharp shooting team. Other students think that he’s a hard ass, or a recruitment officer... the few people he spends time with know how clever he is. He gets annoyed that the only people who get his sense of humor are his brother and some of the teachers. “YOU SEE, IT’S A JOKE ABOUT SCENT, BECAUSE MINT IS A SCENT, BUT ALSO, THE CHEMICAL COMPOUND FOR MINT IS THE MIRROR IMAGE OF THE CHEMICAL COMPOUND FOR DECAY, SO... FINE! YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY HUMOR, ANYWAY!” How he met MC? Black was ‘policing’ a party (making sure nothing got out of hand, no minors drank, as other students would say; no fun was had). MC was dragged there by a friend. They were doing their best to have fun, saw that everyone was avoiding Black, and walked up to where it looked like he was telling off a couple of people, but when they got closer they realized that he was telling a joke... if you could call that a joke...? Everyone listening just made confused face, MC, too, and when he started trying to explain the joke, everyone else just left. Black assumed that they’d be there to make fun of him, too, but when they asked him to repeat the explanation, and then the joke, even though they had to make sure what the punchline was supposed to be, they laughed. He looked stunned, but he fell in love when MC brushed off everyone else, telling him that they just weren’t smart enough to understand his joke, and too lazy to put in the work to understand it.

Mutt- He’s the one who everyone mistakes for goth. He’s not goth, he wears brown and orange, too, for stars sake... But apparently, wearing dark colors, regardless of the colors, along with having a lot of bone stuff, again, regardless of it being him, a skeleton, wearing a collar, and being a loner, who sits in the back and doesn’t appear to care about school or anything else, has put the label on him. He likes to not be surrounded by people, but... goth kids seem to flock to him...? He has no idea why... But, if he’s constantly getting lucky because some goths want to worship the symbol of death- he isn’t complaining. How he met MC? He’s one of their classes- not that they know. They’re too focused on actually learning and passing class, he’s in the back, snoozing and checking them out. They met him, because they were hanging out with Black. When he explained that they had a class together, MC was a bit confused, but after a minute, realized that they had seen his name on the roster. After that, Mutt sits next to them every day in class, flustering them beyond compare, and a bit confused why they haven’t decided to or accepted his offer to, jump his bones- nyeh heh. “bet i could get away with makin’ ya come in class. nyeh heh heh, aww, that look’s so cute on your face. so, what d’ya say? ready for me ta climb under the desk? naw, no one will find out. how d’i know? done it b’fore. never been caught, yet. nyeh heh heh.”

Axe- He’s the guy that was headed for greatness, somehow going to be top of his class and going to the highest ranking finishing college, for two separate fields- and then he had a burn out, and can’t be bothered to do much of anything. He almost seems like he doesn’t care about anything, anymore, including about if he ever graduates. His amazing double degree is long gone, and now his main hope of graduating is general studies. He works as a student janitor, and is usually hanging around in the halls, doing... something? He mostly sleeps through classes, and is a bit snappy to people who ask him questions, but those who he will actually spend time with know that he’s not so bad, under all the disillusionment. How he met MC? He mopped the floor, and had put a caution sign, not in the middle of the floor, but off to the side. MC was hurrying past and slid across the floor, and straight onto their ass with a yelp of pain. “heh. don’t ya watch where you’re going’? get inta too much of a rush, you’ll be dead before ya know it. heh heh.” When MC pulled themself up and brushed themself off, not even caring that he was chuckling at them, then joked about making an ass of themself, and not being sore about being the butt of the joke, he decided that they may deserve... more than the biting rudeness that he’d given at first, and will often see them walking around, always sparing a bit of conversation for them as he ‘just happens’ to be headed the same way.

Bun- He is in the Culinary classes and clubs, and in the gardening classes and clubs. He wants to be able to make his food from garden to table! He started a preserving club, and is the head of it, Axe is in it, too, but it has only a couple other members. He also took a place in the sewing arts club, and has made quilts and clothes that have won awards in the state and county fairs. He is surrounded by people in his clubs and classes who adore him. He was shy about his towering stature, thick glasses, and braces when he first came to the school, but the way his clubmates flocked to him when they got to know him made him realize that there’s nothing to be nervous about. How he met MC? He was out gardening, with the gardening club, when one of MC’s folders had fallen from their hands onto the ground, thus sending papers flying in the breeze. One flew right to him and hit him in the face. He pulled it down to see MC running up to him, begging him to hold it. He did, standing when they arrived, watching the look on their face get more and more surprised the more he stood. “Here’s Your Paper. I Didn’t Mean To Scare You Or Anything... Oh- I- I Didn’t? A- A Hug- Just Because I’m Taller Than You...? O-OK!”

Dusty- He’s the one that is always called to the dean’s office when anything happens. He’s usually in the counseling office or dean’s office, but he is just as often in the computer lab or hidden in the library. It’s not that he has any reason to be in those places, but he likes to be away from people, and those are the places that people come the least. He was doing amazingly well in his major, but then tragedy struck and his brother died... He blames himself, and can’t get past his guilt. His teachers and counselor want him to get help, but he stubbornly refuses, insisting that he’s ok. He doesn’t even like spending a lot of time with his “cousins”, since a few of them remind him too much of his brother. How he met MC? He was sitting in the back of the library, just so happening to be in front of a book MC needed to get. The fact that MC sat down next to him, not just leaving and avoiding him, while even his own cousins would do that, made him more defensive. But, the way that they just sat there, filling the silence, talking about everything and nothing, refusing to leave him there alone, forced him to think that maybe- maybe there was still some good out there...

MC- MC is a normal student, who ran across all of the skeleton boys. They were good in some things, not so much in others, but their good nature and friendliness drew the skeletons to them- as well as the soul compatibility. Their ability to distance themself from others’ actions and take some teasing and jokes at their expense in stride really made some of the more difficult skeletons take notice. With the boys- They were glad when Classic finally managed to ask if they wanted private tutoring- they did, they needed more help than the adhd scatter of the study group. They love seeing Creampuff every day that he comes to lunch, because he’s such a ray of sunshine! When MC finally realizes that Red has stopped flirting with anyone but them, they actually say yes to going on a date with him, and have a great time. They are so glad to have Edge in their gym class, and hope that they stay in the same gym class all through college; it’s amazing to watch him exorcise, like a statue of the perfect Olympian come to life. They had no idea that Blue was interested in them when they met, and text him every day, though they do have more of an understanding on their interest in each other. MC was very irritated with Stretch in the beginning, but after the experience with books that first semester, they always go to him when a new book list comes out to make sure that they have only the books that they need and none of the extra bullshit. Despite Black having to explain most of his jokes, MC likes hanging out with him, and feels like it makes them smarter while they’re doing it, since he’s always explaining stuff! Mutt is a crazy thing they’ve got to live through at first, but then, when he relaxes back and chills out a bit, is fun to learn how to flirt with, and he’s only too glad to teach them. Axe really appeals to MC’s dark humor side, and they love trading jokes with him on the way to classes. They hope he manages to regain determination soon, and get his plans back together. MC thinks that Bun is the sweetest person around, anywhere! And loves spending time with him whenever they can. When MC found Dusty, they were concerned that if they left him there, he was going to commit suicide, so they just- didn’t leave. If staying there and showing interest, or even just making it so that the quiet didn’t fill his skull with the troubled thought that would lead him that way, it was easy to do.

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Three)

Previous chapter here

Warnings: language, some suggestive sexuality, and some good old angst

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue Thanks for the support!

Notes: Hope you enjoy this, and apologies for my poor spelling and grammar.

Chapter Fifteen: Part Three

She woke up earlier than him.

It was half six when she stepped into the shower having given up on her sleep. It had been a hot, rather uncomfortable night and the aircon barely broke a chill through the suite.

It was taking some getting used to, this sharing a bed, especially with someone who insisted on snuggling into the back of her. Sarah wasn’t much of a cuddler and Chris knew this. She would much rather wrap herself up in blankets and drift off to sleep but it didn’t stop him from slowly inching his body towards her throughout the night. It was a case of putting up with it for fear of falling off the end and breaking something.

She barely moved under the shower head except to allow the water to rain down on her skin and hopefully liven her up for the day. She was anxious, more anxious than she anticipated she would be. She was always able to keep her cool under test conditions, probably why she became a nurse in the first place, but something about this particular exam was hitting differently and she wasn’t sure why.

She eventually got dressed and went back into the bedroom to sort her hair. He would be annoyed she’d woken up before him now that he had decided he was single-handedly responsible for all her breakfast needs that week. Admittedly, though, it felt nice being looked after in this way. Really, really nice. It was like having her own PA.

He was sleeping flat on his stomach, one leg poking out from underneath the covers. He had wrapped his arms around a pillow and his low snore was rumbling through the warm air in the room. It was confusing how anyone could find that position comfortable and not wake up having lost all feeling down one side of his body. His back muscles were relaxed but still resembled something Michelangelo could only dream of painting. He was, in all honesty, a ridiculous specimen of a man. A man that told her he wanted her to get some good rest and sleep as much as possible. Who had closed her textbooks, ran her a hot bath, and climbed in behind her to massage her shoulders. Potential lingered in the air last night but he was going to stick to his word and not get in the way of her work. He told her he was glad he was with her and happily settled for stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Her head was lying on his chest but when she felt his heartbeat settle and his arms loosen around her, she softly rolled away from him like he knew she inevitably would.

At various times, they found themselves getting into a very comfortable and, dare she say it, enjoyable routine. It was surprisingly easy to do so when the door was locked. He had used the hotel gym to give her some peace for a few hours each morning. He had kept her fed and hydrated when she would have most likely forgotten both having had her nose stuck in her books for hours on end. He had watched daytime television in the bedroom and failed to hide his tears when a charity had rebuilt an elderly man’s home following a flood. When she asked, he had helped to test her using the notes she’d prepped for the exam. He read scripts as soon as they had landed in his inbox. His team was politely shocked at his new-found efficiency.

When they weren’t fooling around on the sofa in the evenings, she had taken a break to read over some lines with him. While at first he was very kind and promising with his notes, especially with some kissing scenes he’d invented, they both knew she was definitely not suited for a life in front of the camera.

“Don’t overthink it too much. Just go with your instincts.” he encouraged her to continue reading with him for fun but she had given up when he had fallen into a fit of laughter as she attempted to arrest him.

“Yeh, no, my brain doesn’t really work like that.” she responded, holding up her hands in defeat.

“Please? I’m sorry, I promise I won’t laugh.” he pleaded. “Again.”

It was easy to get used to having him around but she finally realised how and why women fell for him hard. There was something very childlike about him, something innocent even if he was anything but when they dimmed the lights. He was gentler and quieter than she knew him to be, less sure of himself at times than perhaps the impression he wilfully gave away to the public. She heard the criticisms he levelled at himself when reading his lines out loud and saw first-hand the pressure he placed upon himself where his career was concerned. But for every committed step them took forwards as they learned more about each other, even after all these years, something started to pull her back.

“Hey...”

She was broken from her contemplation by his groggy drawl. He turned on to his side and laid his hand in the space she had previously occupied. One eye had yet to open and his hair was pointing in all different directions.

“It’s far too early to get up, y’know.” He stretched his arm out to connect with her leg curled up underneath her as she looked back at him. “Oh shit. I forgot. Is it really this morning already?”

She stayed looking at him from where she was sat before nodding. “I should only be a couple of hours but I’ll swing by that bakery down the street and pick us up something nice for lunch. They do those almond croissants you like.”

He sighed, taking her in and smiling. She’d tied her hair in a side plait and was wearing a slightly fluffy striped sweater that he wanted to run his hands over. “Yeh, that sounds really nice, Bernette.” He didn’t miss a beat. “I could meet you afterwards? We could go for a walk through the Park?”

“I might just want to come home and cry.”

“Hey now, you’re gonna ace this test. I can feel it.” He was fully awake now, purposeful in his movements towards her to help put her mind at ease. “if I was your patient, I would be ecstatic to have you working on me.”

She chuckled to herself. He was always so confident expressing himself. She was jealous of that. She wished she could be as confident and as sure of herself, like the rest of the family were. It was one thing in her that stood out in stark contrast.

“What have you eaten? I didn’t hear any room service.” He probed, a serious look now glazing over his features.

“Oh it’s fine, I’ll grab something on the way. I’m not all that hungry to tell you the truth.” She tried to brush off his protests but it only served to make him more concerned.

“You’ve got time yet, let me order something up.” He made for the phone but was stopped as she got up from the bed. “You need to eat something, Sarah. You’re gonna be sat there for hours. I don’t want you passing out.”

“Alright, thank you, Dad!” she laughed. “It’s fine! This is not my first exam. I know what it’s like and I promise you I will get something from Starbucks on somewhere else on the way.”

“You’re going now?!”

“Yeh, I could do with a walk to clear my hear. I always found that helpful when back in school.” She was talking from the lounge as she tried to locate her boots. Something else Shanna had chucked into her suitcase without her realising, but she wasn’t as annoyed with this one.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll come with you.”

She re-entered the bedroom to find him rifling through his bag for new clothes. “Why?”

“Because I wanna support my girlfriend! Jesus!” He was sharper than he had intended but carried on with his search for fresh boxers, throwing out some old stuff in haste like he was searching for long lost buried treasure.

She just looked at him. He’d never used that word before. They’d never talked about it. He acknowledged her silence and stopped to look at her, jeans in hand. He saw her awkward stance and instantly felt like shit. This was not the morning to lay this on her. He knew the very next words out of his mouth would determine how they moved forward.

He paused before chucking his jeans on the chair in front of him. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she responded but she wasn’t sure it was.

“If you wanna head off, that’s totally cool. I’ll be here if you need me. Just text me when you’re done, yeh?”

She nodded at him, offered him as reassuring a smile as she could manage before leaving the bedroom to gather her things. He didn’t follow her; she heard the bed creak slightly so he must have chosen to stay put instead. It was probably for the best. She didn’t want the image of his pitiful face to be her last memory before sitting in silence for 90 minutes, trying in vain to concentrate as hard as she could.

The test went about as well as expected, if what she had expected was to doubt her basic entry-level abilities. She was one of seven that morning, six if you discount the gentleman that walked out fifteen minutes after he sat down.

It was multiple choice. It really shouldn’t have been that difficult. The answer was hiding in plain sight after all. She was reminded of something her tutor once told her and her graduating class before they left the relative comfort of their college:

“There will always be someone who knows more than we do.”

He didn’t mean it in a disparaging way - at least she didn’t think he did - but more that you go from being one of the best in your class to being surrounded by people who are equally as bright and as intuitive as you may be, and who will all have had different experiences. He wanted to say that sometimes, there is no one right answer. It was more than passing a test and qualifying; you have to adapt. You had to soak everything up like a sponge or else you risk becoming redundant in the very profession you devoted your life to. No wonder Medicine had the highest quit ratio. Boy, had she been naive.

Shanna 11.41am: OK OK I kno ur probably still super busy bt i’m dying to kno how it went?? Txt me when you get a sec babe xxxxx

She smiled down at her phone before typing a series of vomiting emojis. That should just about sum up her feelings. Scanning her phone again, she found a couple of messages from Audrey but none from Chris. She was surprised but would be lying if she didn’t admit to being relieved.

She meandered down the street towards the subway, thoughts swaying between reliving stupid mistakes she had convinced herself she had made, to what kind of mood Chris might be in. She texted him that she was finished and heading back like she promised she would, then the train was bang on time so she didn’t even have the luxury of blaming delays. Her legs weighed like lead as she approached the suite doorway, her lack of sleep the night before finally catching up with her.

Everything was deathly quiet when she entered. She paused after shutting the door behind her but still couldn’t hear anything. Certainly no trace of another person being present. Confused, she walked into the bedroom and found a note left on the comforter. He’d gone to the gym and told her to message him when she got back. This might give her the excuse she’d been seeking to grab five minutes alone.

She flopped on to the bed and turned to the side to catch the pile of notes and textbooks he’d shoved there the night before. So much promise contained in those few pages. So much knowledge that it felt like she had no business attempting to absorb it for her own personal gain. Many highly accomplished physicians and scientists had bound their entire lives to the duty of finding answers to the human body’s potential for extreme trauma. What exactly would a young, angst-ridden girl from Michigan bring to the table?

The door went a few moments later and she realised she had closed her eyes. She was lying on her back with her legs hanging off the end of the bed as he walked in, slightly sweaty but nevertheless a sight for sore eyes. Seeing him in this state was the nicest thing that had happened to her all day and she regretted their tense conversation earlier.

“Dude...” he muttered as he dropped his towel on the chair by the door and joined her on the bed. He flopped down alongside her with a heavy sigh.

“Good workout?” she finally offered.

“Yeh, all good. Nothing too strenuous.” He replied like it was the most normal conversation in the world. “Good exam?”

“Oh yeh, same.” she replied just as casual as him before they both fell into a fit of giggles.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked after they had both calmed down.

She took a deep breath. “Not really.”

“You want me to guess?”

“Chris...”

“What?” his voice was a little whinier than he would have liked at this particular time. “I know you. You’re writing yourself off before you know what’s happened.”

“Who said I was writing myself off?” She pushed back. “It’s normal to feel like this. It’s just...nerves or whatever.”

“Yeh, well, there’s no point worrying about something twice.”

She didn’t want to talk about this right now. She was silently hoping he would make a move on her after refraining from touching her the night before when she was definitely in the mood for him. “It’s just...it’s hard to explain.” She got up from the bed and shuffled into the bathroom to remove what little make-up she had put on that morning.

“Try and tell me about it. What was it like? How many questions were there? How many people turned up?”

She threw the face wipe in the bin and ran the tap water to wash her hands. She knew he wasn’t going to budge from his trajectory. She knew he wasn’t going to stop picking at her to talk about it. She leaned her hands on the marble top and took a deep breath.

“It was harder than I imagined it would be. I think I just froze. Like, basic stuff I do day in and day out just wasn’t coming to me.”

“If doing auditions has taught me anything it’s that you always think you’ve done worse than you have. It’s just natural. The brain works in strange ways sometimes. It can trick you.” he reasoned, finally moving into the bathroom but not daring to reach out to her. He settled for backing up against the wall inside the doorway.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be a good result, thought.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” He spoke softly, comfortingly. “You’re so smart and so capable of doing this. You just gotta believe in yourself.”

She nodded in acceptable of what he was trying to say and looked at him face-on. His brow was defined with those worry lines again which made feel a little crap, but he still had a boyish shine about him, no doubt because of the glow from his workout. She would have been a heaving red mess.

“What are you thnking about?” he asked.

She continued studying him, trying to arrange her thoughts. “Is this all there is to life?” she asked after another moment had passed. “You find something you like to do and that’s it, you just coast for 40 years?”

He contemplated her question for a second. “Yeh. Pretty much.”

Sarah huffed out a laugh, not fully appreciating his brutal honest at this moment in time.

“But not everyone is lucky to even get that far.” He moved into the bathroom to stand closer to her. “People can go years with no real clue of what it is they wanna do. You’re one of the lucky ones, Sarah. You figured it out when you were young, you did what you had to do and now you’re doing it for real. That’s less common that you think.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate what he was trying to do, it’s just that often she had multiple anxieties convincing her of the opposite. It’s easy for him to say this, he’s already at the top of his game. He doesn’t have to other with the real world if he doesn’t want to. Most people don’t have the financial luxury of stopping to retrain as something different and Chris had always alluded to quitting acting while he was still young in order to take up something else, like carpentry or simply staying behind the scenes. He always figured he would stop when he had his first child but the reality for everyone else couldn’t afford them that same privilege.

“You are where you’re supposed to be.” He continued. “I don’t believe there is anyone better qualified at what it is they do than you. I believe that and I believe that you know that, too, deep down. You just gotta find the other stuff that keeps you happy in the meantime. Whatever it is that keeps you going.”

“What makes you happy?”

He smiled at her. “Well...what you see if what you get. Family, football, beer. Not necessarily in that order.” He was glad she was smiling again. “Spending time with the people I love. Recognising that I love them and that they love me back and that that love is wonderful.”

“You’re so lucky you don’t second guess yourself all the time.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” he impressed. “It’s just that I learned some things a few years ago that helped me now. Like taking a deep breath and letting it wash over you. It’s natural to feel doubt but it’s what happens afterwards that really matters. It’s how we choose to perceive the things that happen to us, and how we move forward.”

“Anything has gotta be easier than feeling like this.”

“It’s not always a good thing. Sometimes you have to wait for other people to catch up.” He leaned onto the counter next to her, the mirror in front of them spotlighting them both and making them both appear a little pathetic in their current gait.

“I should start packing.” She whispered after a few more silent moments had passed by.

Neither of them made the effort to move but check-out was 2pm at the latest if Chris had bought it and she was almost certain he had. She would eventually need to make her way to the station and presumably Chris would simply head home in his car. Back to Boston. Back to reality.

“We still have some time. We could order up some lunch if you want to? I’m not entirely convinced you ate anything this morning.”

She watched him in the mirror as he turned to face her, a sterner look in his eyes. He was pretty certain he could read her face this time and her lip-bite told him he was right.

“Or we could do something else with the little time we have left.” He reached out his hand to touch hers, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She didn’t more away so he chanced his arm and pulled her closer to him before kissing the inside of her palm and wrist. “It was so hard last night.”

She smirked at him before it dawned on him. “I mean...you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes. “It was hard for me to lie so close to you and not touch you. I really meant what I said, about you getting a good night’s rest but fuck me, it was difficult.”

“I know. It was hard for me, too.”

“We don’t get this kind of time together,” he looked down at her hands, held tightly in his. “And I’ve really, really enjoyed myself. I feel more normal around you. I can’t explain it.”

“It’s OK. You don’t need to say anything.”

This was the type of conversation Sarah would ordinarily run a mile from had it been with anyone else. Chris seemed to understand as well as he stopped himself from talking some more. She was being held in place by the literal limited space around her as he planted himself in her way. He looked down at her causing her to freeze up and, mentally, she began checking if she could feel her feet.

She slowly ran her hands up and down his arms in an attempt to sooth him. She saw him glance down at her lips and she hoped he would end the silence by kissing her but there was no such luck. He was trying to figure something out but what, she didn’t know. He was waiting for her next move.

“I don’t think we’ve thought this much about what happens, when...” he paused, gauging her for a response or an indication that she was OK with what he was about to say. Perhaps even anticipating it in some way. “Sarah, I have these feelings for you and they’re getting stronger and these past few days have told me that I’m right. Do you know what I mean?”

She did know. She didn’t much want to know, but she did. “Let’s pause this and figure it out another time, yeh?” He hands rubbed up to the rest of his shoulders. “Let’s just enjoy this while it lasts. There’ll be another time for talking.”

He wasn’t convinced but assuaged enough to kiss her again, a little harder this time. His hand slipped into her hair to hold her to him and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. They had time.

She should have known he would have had the idea to drive them both back home. Yes, there was no need for her to sit on a busy commuter train for three hours but still. She did almost say yes but she would feel awkward asking him to drop her off blocks away from her home and he would inevitably disagree and they’d argue. Not argue per se. They never really argued, but it would become a thing and she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him a third time that day.

They were in happy moods by the time they checked out. All ideas of having a more serious conversation had evaporated quickly after she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He had them both naked in record time even for him, and she made a point to memorise his face and the rush of red through his skin when she watched him cum hard underneath her.

She’d bought him a coffee from the cafe bar inside the reception and he’d thanked her with a gentle peck on the lips before slipping away via the underground garage, ball cap pulled down low over his eyes. She felt the light bruises form on her thighs and smiled to herself at the memory of where his hands had been when she walked into the apartment to find Shanna in tears. She froze on the spot.

“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” Finally finding her voice when registering the scene in front of her. Sarah dropped her bags and ran to the couch to wrap an arm around her friend. “Why are you crying?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Sorry, I’m...” Shanna tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s stupid really. I don’t even know what I’m crying.”

“Well, it’s not stupid. It’s obviously something because it’s made you upset.” She pulled her hand inside the sleeve of her hoodie and used it to wipe away her tears. “Do you wanna talk about it? Is it something I can help with?”

“Not really.” This wasn’t the feisty Shan Sarah knew. “Turns out Robbie wasn’t interested in me after all because he’s asked somebody else out. I should have known really. He definitely wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“Oh love,” Sarah empathised.

“It’s not even like I was really all that bothered about him, honestly.” She continued. “It’s just, it’s been a while since someone decent asked me out on a date, y’know? Someone smart who had potential. Normally, they have to be drunk to even approach me and they just end up being dickheads. All of them.”

Knowing Shanna as well as she did, she knew Shanna wouldn’t appreciate an empty platitude. “I think it happens to the best of us. You should hear some of the tales Audrey has. She’s experienced some crazy shit.”

“Yeh? How did she meet Michael?”

“She didn’t make it easy for him that’s for sure!” she chuckled and felt relief at the grin now showing on Shan’s face. “The way she tells it, she stopped looking. Just stopped going to bars and clubs, spent more time doing the things she enjoyed and more time with her friends and family. Randomly met him at a march in the city, can you believe that? He wasn’t even supposed to be there but his brother dragged him along apparently.”

“I think she was right to concentrate on her friends and family. I should take a leaf out of her book. At least you can count on them to keep you sane.”

A sense of unease found its way into Sarah’s head. “Yeh, definitely. You never know when a good thing will strike and maybe this shows you that you know what you don’t want anymore. That’s gotta be a positive thing, right?”

“Yeh, it just feels a bit crap but I’ll probably feel better in the morning.” Shanna got up from the couch and Sarah sense it was more so to hide a few more tears. “I got some wine earlier, do you fancy a glass?”

“Uh yeh sounds good. I’ll just go and sort my stuff out.”

“Oh fucking hell!” Shanna smacked her hand to her face. “I’m so sorry! How did it go?”

Sarah held her bag loosely in her hand, her attempt at making a quick getaway to her room without discussing the exam a failure. “Oh, it was what it was. I won’t find out for a little while so no point worrying about it twice, right?”

“Huh, you sound just like Chris.” Shanna said before walking back into the kitchen. “I’m sure you did great, though. You always do.”

“Thanks.” She carried on to her room to dump her stuff. She would sort it out tomorrow. Right now, she figured Shan would want to get a little bit drunk and Sarah was on a late tomorrow anyway, so...it wouldn’t do them any harm.

“Hey, Sarah?” Shan called from the kitchen.

“Yeh?”

“Who did you have coffee with?”

Confusion set in as Sarah tried to figure out what Shanna was talking about. She peered her head round the door. “What?”

“Coffee today?” Shanna responded, holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “This dropped out of your coat, I think. Coffee for two?”

Confusion quickly turned into full-blown panic as she realised what she had done. Fuck. “Oh, um, I just...” She stumbled over herself and felt her skin redden and get hotter. She must have looked a sight. “Um...it wasn’t...”

“Hey, listen, you don’t need to explain anything.”

“Oh no that’s not what it is-”

“-At least one of us is having better luck in the romance department.”

“Shan, it’s not-”

“-I’m so glad you and Greg are getting on well.” Shanna handed over the receipt to Sarah before regarding what must have looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “I mean that. He seems nice and you absolutely deserve to have some fun for a change. I know I haven’t been very supportive of this whole thing with Charlotte but I worry about you a little bit sometimes. After everything that’s happened, I guess I just didn’t wanna see you hurt again.”

Sarah was frozen to the spot. Numb. Shanna had put two and two together and thought the best of her friend. Sarah didn’t deserve that.

“He seems like he’s being really supportive right now and being the person that I should perhaps be. I will try to be better, I promise.” Shanna apologised.

Sarah looked down at the slip of paper in her hand and then to the floor, a little bit of feeling starting to return to her legs. “Shan,” she started quietly, so quietly that she missed it entirely and when she looked back up, Shanna was walking back into the kitchen.

“I mean it. You’ve always been amazing to me. Picking me up when I need it and looking after me. Everyone says I take you for granted sometimes and they’re absolutely right so I just wanted to say that I will back you up 100% from now on. No excuses. You and me against the world, right?”

Shanna flashed her a broad and hopeful grin and all Sarah could do was return a limp version in response.

“Let’s get that wine opened and you can tell me all about it.”

Shanna disappeared into the kitchen again. If she had stayed a second longer she would have seen tears form in Sarah’s eyes at the knowledge that she screwed everything up. She and Chris had diverted a conversation on the promise of having it another time but that was never going to happen. Not now.

How could it?

#Chris Evans #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #evans fic #chris evans fic #fanfiction

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years ago

Note

Can I have Kylo for fluff alphabet please? Thank you!

All of them?! I mean if you ~insist~

(Alphabet prompt here)

Kylo x Reader Fluff ABCs 💜

Activities: Free time is scarce, so he’ll mostly visit you at night when the two of you can curl up in bed, watch the stars, and talk about anything and everything. Technically it’s always night in space, but when he’s with you the black seems to dim a little, and the stars shine brighter. It’s the best sort of night, the ones that make you think there are as many possibilities as there are planets in the sky.

Beauty: Kylo LOVES your smile. You smile so easily, whereas he can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled in the pas year- each time because of you. And he still has to remind himself how to breathe anytime he makes you smile.

Comfort: He’s excellent at holding you close and just letting you cry it out, running his fingers through your hair, and keeping his lips pressed to the top of your head so you know he’s there. Sometimes he’ll tell stories- the same ones his mother told him, about adventures in space and good defeating evil and how hope makes the universe turn. He doesn’t know if he believes in those old stories anymore- but he knows you do.

Dreams: Somewhere quiet, somewhere far away from any war or light side and dark side and Jedis and metal monstrosities that destroy planets on a whim. It’d be a simple house- maybe in a forest, set away from a tiny village- with just enough space for the two of you and maybe... maybe a child. The three of you would lie in the tall grass- a little boy or girl tugging on his mother’s clothes and giggling at the feeling of the dirt beneath his feet- and tell new stories. Because now he doesn’t need those old stories telling him about light and hope- he has his own, sitting right in front of him.

Equal: Kylo is not used to someone standing up to him and calling him on his bullshit. Kylo cannot remember the last time someone called him “Ky” without having a rather vicious meeting with the glowing end of his lightsaber. Kylo definitely isn’t used to someone being in his personal space- a touch on his arm, holding hands, a leg wrapped around his when the two of you are in bed. He might a six-foot-something menace in all black and a scary sword, but you have an infinite amount of little ways of telling him that he is not the boss of you. Period.

Fight: Fighting is loud- there’s a good amount of yelling and stomping around. Most of it stems from insecurities: he can’t get it out of his head that you aren’t going to drop him on a whim someday when you realize how broken he is; you hate that he’s constantly diving headfirst into a war where you can’t do anything to protect him. One night, after a particularly horrible bout, you voice the idea that the insecurities get smaller when the trust gets bigger. So now, any argument, big or small, is only over when the two of you can look at each other and honestly say, “I trust you.”

Gratitude: He knows you’re doing... something, but he doesn’t really realize how much until one day he’s sitting with you, your fingers intertwined, laughing at something ridiculously stupid and only funny to the two of you, and he’s looking at you and how your eyes sparkle when you laugh and he notices he hasn’t heard any of the voices in his head since you started giggling. He’ll tell you later- he wants to hear your laugh for just a little bit longer.

Honesty: Kylo definitely keeps secrets- mostly his fears. He’s scared you’ll leave him, that one day you’ll walk away and won’t come back. He wants a future with you- not just a future, but an endgame- and every day it seems less and less likely. He worries he isn’t what you deserve. He’s scared he’ll hurt you accidentally; he’s terrified he’ll hurt you intentionally. He’s never told you any of this, but the funny thing is- you kind of already know.

Inspiration: You’ve changed him for the better, and keep doing so every day. Much like the realization from Gratitude, he won’t quite know the extent of it until one day it smacks him in the face and he finally thinks, oh.

Jealousy: Yes, and it’s something the two of you have to work on. Constantly. To his credit, he went from hunting down one of your work friends in the middle of the night after he gave you a hug in the mess hall to (occasionally) haltingly and frustratingly voicing his feelings. It’s progress, and you’re willing to stick by him for however long it takes.

Kiss: Your first kiss was incredibly tentative, soft, and barely there. You weren’t quite sure it even had happened, except Kylo’s look of absolute shock clued you in that it very much did. Then about five seconds later you realized that was probably Kylo’s first kiss. Ever. He doesn’t really get it at first- he’s stiff and awkward and at one point frustratingly blurted out ‘but what do I do with my hands.’ He’s much better now. Practice makes perfect after all, and let’s be real, kissing this man is a hardship you are more than willing to bear.

Love Confession: He wanders into your room one night, antsy and agitated and very thrown off by... something. You don’t know what, because he refuses to tell you- just paces your room clenching and unclenching his fists while you desperately try to figure out what’s wrong. Eventually, he faces you, bewildered, looks you dead in the eye, and says I love you- which spirals you into a cacophony of relief, giddiness, happiness, and laughter all in about five second’s time. While he’s looking put out from you laughing at him, you kiss him on the lips once... twice... and say, I know.

Marriage: He thinks he’d like to marry you someday. It’d be simple- you’d carry a bouquet of wildflowers, maybe with some braided in your hair as well. The rings would both be a beautiful smoky grey, and yours has a small piece of his kyber crystal set in the center. He doesn’t know who would be there... Hux? The two of you are friends. The people you work with... well, they don’t know about you. He knows it’s impossible, but he always pictures his mother there too, to give you away.

Nicknames: Kylo isn’t really one for nicknames. You call him Ky, love, babe when you want to get a rise out of him- but every so often, in the dead of night, when you’re half asleep and not quite sure if you’re dreaming it, he’ll pull you close and whisper my queen before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

On Cloud Nine: Nobody knows. Not a single soul. Have you seen that man’s poker face? Hux and Phasma can guess something is up, but that something being ‘Kylo Ren in love’ is so far out of the realm of possibility that it doesn’t even make the top 101 Things That Might Be Going On With Ren. You think it’s hilarious, and also kind of sweet- he saves that side of himself for you and you only.

PDA: See the above. PDA is not a thing with him, for a multitude of reasons: he has an image to maintain, he doesn't want you to get hurt if potentially being used against him, he simply doesn’t know how to initiate such things. You respect his want for privacy- you don’t want to be rumor mill fodder either. But on the very few occasions you find yourselves out and alone together, you’ll give him a peck on the mask where his cheek would be. That’s enough for you.

Quirk: I don’t know if the Force counts as a quirk, but it definitely makes you laugh when he decides to do stupid party tricks in an effort to cheer you up (think Aang and his marble trick in A:TLA 😂). In the back of your mind, you can’t help but imagine him doing the same innocent magic tricks to the delight of your son or daughter someday.

Romantic: He’s romantic while having no sense of traditional romance. If you mention a favorite flower, there’ll be a vase of them in your room the next day. When you tease him for doing something sweet, he just looks baffled. “You said you liked these. So I procured some. You’re welcome?” The fact that he doesn’t get how much his gestures actually mean makes them that much sweeter.

Support: Kylo thinks you could probably end this whole war single-handed if they plopped you down in the middle of the battlefield. Not that he’d ever test that theory. But if someone has the capability of making him start thinking of things like a future, they have more power in their fist than he does with the entirety of the Force.

Thrill: Considering this is all still fairly new to Kylo, even something like kissing the back of his hand sends him into shutdown mode for a second or two. You’re taking it slow. It took him a whole two months to even get used to the idea of holding hands on the regular.

Understanding: Kylo worries this is an area he’s lacking in. What he doesn’t know is that he instinctively knows when you need a hug, picks up on your moods before you even know what that mood is, and often knows what you’re thinking before you say it. He doesn’t think highly enough of himself to say that he knows someone as wonderful as you so intimately, but the truth is he’s pretty much got you on lock.

Value: You are everything. If he knew there would be no repercussions, and you’d be safe, he would drop everything and move to that little house in the forest with you, War, Skywalkers, and Snoke be damned. At some point, he stopped fighting this war to rid himself of his past and started fighting it so that you and he might have a future.

Wild Card: You have a tendency to pull hair whenever you get really frustrated, so Kylo offered to let you play with his instead- obviously, you are infinitely more careful with him than you are yourself. This eventually morphed into you being able to craft Disney-princess-worthy braids and updos with his hair. Sometimes he’ll let you tuck a flower in it if he really wants to see you laugh.

XOXO: This poor man is touch s t a r v e d. The second you start being physically affectionate with him, he never wants you to stop- laying by his side, holding your hand, playing with his hair, wrapping himself around you. Not that anyone outside of the two of you would have any idea.

Yearning: You aren’t a Force user, but you’re connected to the point where when he’s away on a mission, he can send you a thought or a feeling to let you know he’s thinking of you. More than once you’ve felt the slight sensation of his fingers on your cheek or him walking beside you, even though he’s lightyears away.

Zeal: if you and Luke Skywalker were standing side by side, and he could only reach one of you, he’d grab you by the hand, start running, and never let go.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fluff #abcs #abcs of kylo ren #kylo ren headcanons #kylo ren imagine #request #star wars request #star wars fluff

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primeemeraldheiress · 5 years ago

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Brönte's Forgotten Child

(You did say to keep it coming)

Her mother loved Emma. Those first lines were everything she ever wanted to be

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy disposition... and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

She wanted that.

The life of the socialites. Of Gotham’s beloved children that seemed inhuman for their beauty.

They garbed themselves in riches that she couldn’t attain, couldn’t even afford to dream.

So she tripped.

She tripped hard.

She disconnected herself from the world and it’s cursed reality and pretended she was Emma Woodhouse being cathered and pampered instead of Catherine Todd laying on her own vomit in her run down little apartment in Crime Alley, new bruised eye from her Mr. Darcy, and her daughter trying to clean her up.

Her daughter.

Her Jane.

Catherine never wanted children.

But just like everything that involved Willis she either had to accept it or get bruised.

“All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.”

Jane Petra Todd was every bit of Sheila and every bit of Willis.

Willful, stubborn, obstinate, tenacious, dangerous, cunning little devil child with a heart too damn soft for this world.

She had come to her as a little girl with a profound scowl and pretty bows in her hair.

Her mother had ran away from a lawsuit after a botched abortion.

Talk about a contraceptive method.

Catherine never wanted children.

She especially never wanted a girl.

If push ever came to shove (which it did most days with Willis drunk off his ass), she wanted a boy.

A strong, self-sufficient boy.

One she would make sure to raise right, away from the influence of her poisonous father.

Away from Crime Alley.

Away from this Hell.

He would be chivalrous and educated and well read and well spoken. He would be every bit the gentleman that managed to break through Elizabeth’s wall.

She always did like the name Jason.

“You — you strange — you almost unearthly thing! — I love as my own flesh. You — poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are”

Instead she got a Jane.

Soft, brittle, little Jane withe dark hair that fell in curls and bright blue eyes that made the Gotham sky seem dull.

Catherine never wanted children.

But she loved her Jane.

“I knew, you would do me good, in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you”

Catherine always knew she would die with a needle in her arm.

Rehab never worked.

It didn’t matter how many times she tried.

How many books she read.

What words Elizabeth, or Emma, or Jane, or anyone said to her.

Willis would always show up with a little white powder and once again she was lost.

Jane always forgave her.

Looked after her.

Cleaned her.

Tucked her into bed.

Made sure she drank water.

Soft, brittle, little Jane who cried because kids made fun of her name. Stupid, selfish Catherine who took her into her arms and showed her the miracle that was Jane Austen.

Catherine always knew she would die with a needle in her arm.

She thought everything would be cold and dark.

Instead it was warm and bright.

The image of her sitting on the couch, little Gothamite princess in her arms, reading at loud:

“I desired more...than was within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn't help it: the restlessness is in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.”

Daddy dearest died not too long after, a job with Two-Face gone wrong.

She was officially an orphan, and ran away before CPS came for her.

Jane wouldn’t be caught dead in foster care.

She barely survived her family.

She wouldn’t survive another one like that.

She was better off alone anyways.

Soft, brittle, little Jane died the day she found Catherine overdosed on the bathroom floor.

Feral, menacing, savage Jay was born that same day.

She always did hate her name anyways.

“I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.”

These glimpses of who she once was, of the life she left behind haunted her day and night.

Nagging, bugging, exhausting swarm of bees, that never fell silent, not even in her sleep.

Nightmares of mother, and ma.

Dreams of father and pa.

Ironic that two men so different could be the same.

Violent, and proud with their heads shoved so far up their asses they could never see how they hurt everyone around them….or was it that they didn’t care?

“Am I hideous, Jane?

“Very, sir: you always were, you know.”

She always hated her name.

Catherine appeased the hatred for a while, reminding her that Austen was an unbreakable woman. An unstoppable cyclone who wouldn’t budge at the circumstances.

Who wouldn’t budge, who wouldn’t bend, who didn’t just survive but THRIVE.

Then again, fate always seemed to like to play jokes on her. God (if there was one) always found her pain very amusing.

She wasn’t Jane Austen.

She was Jane Eyre.

“I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing.”

She was the ghost that haunted Wayne Manor.

The failed Robin. The wayward child. The lost daughter. The absolute scourge of evil.

The cursed mark upon Batman’s perfect record. The problem child of Bruce Wayne.

The fucking blemish upon the family name.

Her catastrophe etched on the walls of the place she once called home.

Her debacle immortalized in the cave that saw her grow.

Her fucking name forgotten, erased letter by letter and tossed in the air.

She lived now in the attic; Edward Rochester’s best kept secret, and burning shame.

Her screams and cries were ignored as they resonated in the halls. Her calls of justice silenced once for all.

“Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned”

He locked her in the attic, let her memory haunt the place.

He locked her in the attic, let her memory fade.

He locked her in the attic, let her name never be displayed.

He locked her in the attic, let her go fucking insane.

“Remorse is the poison of life.”

Jane always hated her name, Bruce never once called her “Jay”

One more reason to hate him.

And hate everything he built after her.

The life that blossomed above her grave, flowers nourished by her corpse.

She hated him.

She hated all of them.

She hated Gotham, and her villains, hated her crime and her corruption.

But most of all she hated herself.

She hated her lack-luster hair, and the single white stripe on it, her dead eyes, with green specks bleeding through the blue. Hated her scars, covered by a million tattoos.

She hated herself.

Because despite it all.

She couldn't hate him too.

“I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me.”

----------------------------------------

Em here:

Excuse me?

Excuse me, where the fuck have you been hiding?!

This god damn knock-my-fucking-socks-off-amazing!

Is there an AO3 account out there I'm missing?! Holy shit!

I need more of your writing, do you hear me? MORE!

#Jason Todd #Female Jason Todd #Angst #Catherine Todd #Gratuitous Lit References #JaneAnon #phyrric-victory2427 #submission

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shanklin · 4 years ago

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The Gargoyle (5/?)

Filbrick angers a witch, gets cursed and gains two sons. One is special and has twelve fingers. The other is a gargoyle.

Chapter Summary: Shermie really shouldn't be keeping a baby gargoyle in his backpack like this, but at least he knows how to use a book correctly.

Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4]

Read it on Ao3

Wordcount: 1775

Author’s Note: Apologies in advance to any librarians reading this. Your profession is a noble one and didn’t deserve to be slandered like this.

5. The Glass Shard Beach Public Library

The moment the pawn shop is out of sight, Shermie stops running and sighs in relief. Now he has a whole day to come up with a plan of what to do next.

Something hard gives him a sharp jab on his spine making him jump. Shermie hides in a street corner and opens his backpack slightly. A single glowing eye stares back at him.

The poor thing. It looks like the marble Shermie used to replace the lost eye with only works for aesthetic purposes. Shermie should really go back and look for the real eye, but if his father sees him still lurking around the house things might get even worse. He bites down hard on his lip and decides against going back. “Sorry, I can’t let you out yet. I promise I’ll make it up to you, but first we need to go to the second scariest place in the whole of Glass Shard Beach. The Library.”

The scariest place of course being Pa’s workshop Shermie has been forbidden to enter since he can remember. The Glass Shard Public Library is located right at the outskirts of town next to the various lead paint factories pumping their waste into the ocean and everyone with just a hint of common sense stays clear of the building. Smog from the factories is perpetually surrounding the rundown stone building and if any plants ever tried to grow near it they have long since perished. The moment Shermie sets a foot on the property and passes the library sign, it’s as if time suddenly stands still. All sounds from the streets and the factories fade away and not even the wind dares to enter. Near the roof a crow caws and settles down on some weathered down and broken stone formations protruding from the side of the building. It must’ve once been a beautiful building, but through years of pollution and neglect it became a perfect candidate for a prop in a horror movie, almost cliche in its appearance.

Shermie gulps and clutches the backpack closer to his body. He took it off to better comfort the creature during their travel, but now he’s the one who uses the little guy's presence as a safety blanket. How glad he is that he didn’t have to come here all on his own. Usually, whenever he’s forced to enter the building for schoolwork, he’s accompanied by a couple of schoolmates and they’re in and out as fast as they can. However this time he isn’t sure how long it’ll take to find what he needs, so he needs every bit of courage he can muster to go through with this. The library really gives him the creeps. He just knows there's something foul and rotten hidden inside, besides the old librarian of course. The door creaks open and Shermie is hit with a shower of dust falling from the ceiling and making him cough. “H-Hello? Anyone there?”

The question echoes through the empty entrance hall. Nothing but a flicker of the ugly yellow light bulbs that barely provide any light replies. Looks like he’s safe.

The creature whines and protests again. Shermie hushes it. “It won’t be long now. Just stay quiet for a little longer.”

He tiptoes through the entrance hall, reluctant to lower his guard, and reaches for the door handle to open the way to the actual library part, when his arm is suddenly grabbed and pulled away.

Shermie shakes his wrist free and stumbles back in shock. The figure of the old librarian hovers above him. She’s a creepy witch of a woman with thin greasy hair and sunken eyes. “I- I’m just looking for some books.”

Shermie is just stating the obvious, but the woman makes him feel like he's protruding on her personal space. She scowls and lifts one boney finger up to points at something behind him. He won't fall for that. No way he’s taking his eyes off the unsettling woman for even a second.

It was the wrong decision. The woman takes one step closer to Shermie, who is backed against a wall, and grabs his face, forcing him to turn around. “Read the signs, you brat.” A pungent vinegar like smell hits Shermie as she croaks out the words and he has to stop himself from puking. This was a bad idea.

He should just run, but instead he’s frozen in place looking at the sign with various crossed out forbidden things on it. No food and drinks, no talking and no bags. “I can’t have you troublemakers steal my precious books. Put your bag in one of the lockers, before you enter.” She snarls and nods in the direction of some rusted and unsafe looking lockers.

Of course. Shermie feels stupid for forgetting the rules of this place.

“Yes, right away, ma’am. Sorry.” The librarian lets out a curse under her breath and sits down behind her wooden desk, giving Shermie an opportunity to put some space between them. He places the bag with the precious cargo inside the cleanest looking compartment and whispers some apologies to the creature when the woman isn’t looking. He feels awful locking it up and leaving it without protection near the creepy woman and promises he’ll be quick.

There’s no time to lose. Any minute now the creature could decide it has enough of sitting around in a bag and could escape. As soon as the old hag is out of sight, Shermie dashes through the empty library in search of a book that could help him with the creature. There must be at least one book about fantastical creatures somewhere around here. Shermie considers looking in the nonfiction biology section first, since the creature is real after all and currently living in his backpack, but what kind of scientist would seriously study and write about the paranormal? They’d be laughed at for sure or their work would land in the fantasy sections.. Shermie rushes through rows upon rows of fictional works, but none of the books are even close to what he’s looking for. He stops to look around and catch his breath. For a public library with practically no government funding or visitors it sure is much bigger than you would expect from its rotting exterior. “No running in the library!” The librarian's voice zishes into his ear much too close to comfort, making Shermie jump a foot up into the air. Shermie swirls around ready to defend himself in case she tries to touch him again. “What’re you looking for so urgently, boy?” “A book about supernatural creatures or monsters or something. I’m ehm trying to write a story?” Shermie wants nothing less than to ask the woman for help, but this is the quickest way to find what he needs and escape this place. The woman looks entirely unimpressed with his explaination and Shermie feels someone foolish to have given it at all, but without another comment she orders him to follow and guides them through rows of dustier and dustier bookshelves to the very back of the library. Shermie wishes he’d bought a flashlight. The corridor he was led to is small and almost completely dark. The light from the dirtied up windows near the ceiling refuses to enter the section and the nearest electrical light source is a sad dimly glowing lightbulb two rows behind them. Shermie waits for the librarian to go on, but she stopped moving and with dread he realises she’s watching him like a predator would their next meal. Shermie backs away, but the woman is quicker, grabs his face again and squeezes down too hard to be anywhere near friendly. “You’re the pawn shop owner’s son, aren’t you?” She knows his father. Things never turn out well for Shermie when his father gets involved. “Y-yes.” He stutters out and instantly regrets not lying. The hag’s eyes light up and she gives him a nasty smile.

“And how is your mother? Did her pregnancy go well?” Memories of his mother acting off and secretly crying over his brother’s crib enter his mind and he squeaks out a high-pitched “She’s fine.” This causes the librarian to smile even wider, displaying all of her few remaining yellow brownish teeth and giving him another dose of that disgusting vinegar like smell. “The book you’re looking for is somewhere around here. Look for it yourself.” She says and finally lets him go, disappearing into the direction of the entrance hall. Shermie shudders and needs a moment to gather his wit’s. He’s never ever coming back here after this. The search for the book he needs is difficult. It’s too dark to see most book titles and he’s constantly on edge looking over his shoulder scared the librarian might’ve returned. Finally, after what feels like hours but couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, he finds something useful right at the very end of the corridor. A book about various myths and legends that includes enough descriptions of monsters that Shermie is hopeful he might find a clue about his little friend in there. He turns to leave, but his eyes catch a glimpse of a narrow wooden door in between two ramshackle book shelves. The door sticks out from its surroundings, looking far better maintained than any other part of the library. Shermie carefully runs his fingers over the wood. No dust at all. It must be used pretty frequently. Shermie knows he should just leave, but his curiosity takes over and he quickly checks his surroundings before reaching for the door handle. The moment his hand touches the metal a terrified screech echos through the library hall. The creature!

All need to explore forgotten, Shermie sprints through the library chastising himself for taking so long and endangering his little friend. He rams the door to the entrance hall open, almost breaking it in the process and is met with the sight of the librarian holding his little friend up by one leg and grinning menacingly, a mad glint in her eyes. His friend has been through enough already! The hag turns to face Shermie and Shermie raises the book in his hands up and charges at her.

“Let my friend go, you witch!” He screams and, before she can react, smashes the book over her head causing her to let go of the creature and collapse onto the floor holding her head.

Shermie pays her no mind, stuffs the book into his backpack lying on the floor and gathers the creature into his arms, running as fast as he can away from the library.

#Gravity Falls #Gargrunkle #Stanley Pines #Shermie Pines #Gravity Falls AU #The Gargoyle Fic

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blurrypetals · 4 years ago

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Queen of Air and Darkness by Cassandra Clare - blurrypetals review

originally posted dec. 9, 2018 - ★★★★★

A-T. L-A-S-T.

I am so absolutely overwhelmed by everything that I've experienced in the last few days while listening to this. As Cassandra Clare's longest book to date, a whole dang fuckin' lot happens in this book. To sort my way through this review, the following paragraphs are gonna be chock full of a whole dang fuckin' lot of untagged spoilers, so continue at your own risk. I do think you're doing yourself a huge disservice if you do read this review before you've read the book, though. It's also incredibly likely I'll drop a spoiler or two on every Shadowhunters book so, if you're here and you have not, for some reason, read The Mortal Instruments, The Infernal Devices, the other two books in The Dark Artifices trilogy, and all of the short stories in The Bane Chronicles, Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, and Ghosts of the Shadow Market, I implore you to amend that, to go and read those fourteen books and this fifteenth book before reading this review, just in case I ruin anything for you by accident. Okay, now that's out of the way, let's talk about sequels and how to finish a grand, epic fantasy story. It was difficult for me to not compare this book to three other books. The first two are, of course, Cassandra Clare's other finales, City of Heavenly Fire and Clockwork Princess. This handily bowls City of Heavenly Fire straight under the table because, even though City of Heavenly Fire is still a 5-star book, it's the weakest of The Mortal Instruments hexalogy and, other than perhaps The Bane Chronicles, it's also maybe the weakest in The Shadowhunter Chronicles in its current entirety. Clockwork Princess, by contrast, however, is, in my opinion, the best of the entire series. As a finale, Queen of Air and Darkness here sits comfortably as the second best Shadowhunters finale yet. So much happens in this book. It's split into three different parts which could have easily been split into three shorter books with near-perfect three act structures in place for each of them, making this book a nine act book with two "false" climaxes that would have made for quite the cliffhangers if they had been split up for any reason. The first act deals with the aftermath of Livia's death and, because it has a lot of rising action, it's actually a little frustrating in some ways, even if it was frustrating in an incredibly enjoyable way. One of my absolute favorite scenes in the whole book is Julian running to Magnus for help in the middle of the night because it so perfectly mirrors the scene in Clockwork Prince when another blue eyed boy named Will Herondale was at the end of his rope, desperate not to love a girl he was cursed not to be with. I loved the contrast between a Herondale's plea for salvation and a Blackthorn's last hope to avoid damnation, separated by a hundred years yet tied by the same plight and the same warlock's magic. Emotionless-Julian was a really compelling read, even if I was almost as angry and frustrated with him and Magnus as Emma was. I loved to hate how cold and calculating he became without his love and compassion around to guide his moral compass. I hated his betrayal of Emma so fucking much it hurt but I've always loved Julian's ruses, schemes, and plans, and his dealings with the Seelie Queen, the Black Volume, and a skilled calligrapher and wizard called OfficeMax. Damn. So fucking good. Also, speaking of Julian's plans and schemes, his war council and Livia's Watch is one of the most satisfying scenes in The Shadowhunter Chronicles as it currently exists; I'm so proud of my son. He is so great. Hot diggity. Speaking of reminders from past stories, we get the entire cast of The Mortal Instruments during a lot of this book. I was really excited anytime we ran into anyone from The Mortal Instruments, especially the part when Julian and Emma ended up being thrown in the same Unseelie prison as Jace and Clary were and that was Jace and Clary's first appearance in the whole novel. It could have easily gotten overwhelming; I was, in fact, rather worried that Jace and Clary would steal the spotlight for a good spell in the final act of the book, but they didn't, since Emma and Julian were, eh...too big to ignore, and the book even ends with the long-awaited Bane-Lightwood wedding of the centuries, but the story proper closes on Julian and Emma on the beach together. Even though The Wicked Powers is still yet to come, this book felt like a huge culmination of all fourteen of the prior books in a huge way. We had Jem and Tessa from The Infernal Devices, we had Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus from The Mortal Instruments, and we had Emma, the Blackthorns, and all their friends and allies from this series and it felt huge. I also felt the weight of what's to come in a super hardcore manner when it came to Kit and Ty, Dru and Jaime, and, of course, Ash. I genuinely feel as though I can't wait any longer to see how Kit and Ty's stories turn out. I'm especially pleased by the fact that Jem and Tessa decided to adopt Kit and that Kit will have the family he's longed for his whole life and, not only will he have two capable people parenting him through the rest of his adolescence, but he'll also have that younger sibling he's been longing for, someone he can teach and take care of in the way he wasn't when he was small. I really hope at least one of the two forthcoming Ghosts of the Shadow Market stories focuses on Kit and his new life and new home with Jem, Tessa, and hopefully their new precious tiny one. Thoughts of the future of The Shadowhunter Chronicles in Drusilla, Kit, Ty, and, specifically, Ash, bring me back around to the second section of the book, which is the most absolutely bananas thing Cassandra Clare has ever written but is also actually incredibly compelling. I fucking loved the alternate universe stuff, everything to do with the exciting return of not-Jace, the introduction of alterna-Livia, other-Cameron, and living-Raphael (especially the part where he begged Emma and Julian to tell Magnus and Alec to rename Rafael; I was in tears laughing about all of that biz), and the temporary absence of emotionless-Julian and how he and Emma ended up healing so much of their relationship there. I also am so totally down with not-Jace being the main villain of The Wicked Powers, or at least a main villain. I am really impressed with Cassie—which, when am I not, honestly?—in the way that second section of the book was written. It felt like a huge love letter to me as a longtime and dedicated fan of The Shadowhunter Chronicles in general because we got to see these, for lack of a better term, a fanfiction AU turned canon that doesn't read like a fanfiction in the least bit because it remains relevant, interesting, tense, and important the whole way through, even though it's literally a gigantic non-sequitur that some could argue is "pointless." I am not one who would argue that, though, because I loved it so damn much. It gave me what is probably my favorite Emma and Julian scene in all of The Dark Artifices, just after they return to the resistance stronghold. You know the scene. Okay, rapid fire because I could honestly go on forever about this book; I pinned 108 different clips throughout this book, which is the most pins or post-its I've ever put in one single book before. I adored the fact that Simon gave Julian his iron Lord Montgomery figurine before he and Emma left Idris. Michael Wayland's ghost showing up for Robert Lightwood's funeral fucked me up in a super hardcore way and the fact that Kit was the only one who could see him or even sense his presence really got to me and I really teared up because Bitter of Tongue from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy absolutely wrecked me and this poked at that wound. Everything in regards to Mark, Cristina, and Kieran was incredibly sweet, sex positive, loving, trusting, and healthy and I just...gah they are perfect. A most excellent thruple, one for the ages. A great many of my pins have something to do with Kit growing into his inborn Herondale talent of being a master in snark (think candy gram and "Alas, poor Yorick,"). Everyone in the alternate realm being grossed out by endarkened-Emma's and endarkened-Julian's PDA was hilarious. Julian realizing art requires pain and morality about snapped my sad tiny bird heart clean in half. Feline death on a massive scale. Anytime Jace's more playful, youthful side showed because he's a happy boi now was delightful, especially the parts where he wanted to get to hold the mortal sword and when he declared, "We're the bait!" Magnus hallucinating was great, but my favorite hallucination was when he was flirting with a vase like it was Alec and then very seriously offering to buy it from the Institute. I also loved it when Magnus called Clary "biscuit". It made my heart all soft and nostalgic. Julian's smile at Emma when he got his emotions back tot me emotional, dammit! Caterina meeting Kit for the first time made my heart feel like it was too large for my body. Jace using finger guns, because finger guns are always hilarious. Dru realizing she was looking at the face of a parent when she looked at Julian. Kit responding to being called "Herondale," when Magnus said, "Stay away from my children, Herondale." Emma telling Diana that she showed her the kind of woman she wanted to be. Emma's terrible pun about Manuel being tied up. "Ragnor Lives." An old lady accidentally complimenting Julian on being tall. Emma and Julian deciding to go to the other at the exact same time. Alec would look better on the money. Mark trying (and failing) to make balloon animals and accidentally making them all snakes. That's not even a third of them all. Near the beginning of the review, I said I was having a difficult time avoiding comparing this book to three other books, two of which were past Shadowhunters books. The third book, however, is Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas, which is another very long final book in a series, one that somehow managed to get voted as the best YA fantasy of 2018 and, because of that slap in the face, I couldn't help but wonder how this book, technically the fifteenth in a series, managed to feel fresh, new, fun, and lovable from minute one to hour thirty of the audiobook even though this is the fifteenth time I've experienced a book in The Shadowhunter Chronicles for the first time and I've never come close to feeling the same sort of apathy or anger as I do for Sarah J. Maas and Throne of Glass. This is how you end a series. This is how you end one part of your series. This is how it's done. Take notes, everyone else. Get on Cassie's level.

#queen of air and darkness #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #2018 #goodreads mirror #blurrypetals

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 years ago

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Written In The Stars XV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Tumblr malfunction as I was editing this and everything went to shit. But I hope it works now! Also, @omiwashere for some reason your url doesn’t appear to me as on option so i can’t tag you at all, perhaps you have another url?

Words: 3,252

Warnings: Bit of unicorn blood, bit of violence

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Fifteen: The Creature in the Forest.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry lamented, "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

On Saturday, the three kids -Harry, Mel, and Hermione- went to Hagrid's hut to take his 'little baby' away.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed as they disappeared under the cloak with Norbert beside them, "Mummy will never forget you!"

"Mummy," Mel shook her head, "why a dragon, why not another sweet, black puppy?"

They walked in complete darkness, voices catching their attention.

"Detention!" McGonagall shouted, "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you –"

"You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!"

Mel had to cover her mouth so she wouldn't laugh. She was beaming, Malfoy finally getting what he deserved!

They waited at the top of the astronomy tower. About ten minutes later, four brooms appeared in the night sky.

It was fast and easy: Charlie's friends were nice, they took Norbert as if it was an everyday thing, and they flew, they went further... until they were completely gone.

They were downstairs when Mel realized something important was missing. Before she could warn her friends, a voice came from a dark corner:

"Well, well, well," Filch whispered, able to see them since they forgot Harry's cloak back in the tower. "we are in trouble."

Mel was silent. She was weighing her options, what could she do to get everyone out of trouble.

She was a Dumbledore! Somewhere inside that pea-brain she had the social skills to make their way out of this mess.

"Harry!" Neville appeared next to McGonagall, "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag–"

Harry shook his head violently next to her, Professor McGonagall saw him.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

Mel closed her eyes, breathing heavily. This was it, if she didn't give a proper explanation, they'd be doomed.

But what could possibly explain the situation that didn't give them away?

Draco was found and he was telling stories about a dragon and Harry... they didn't get along with Malfoy, all the teachers knew that...

Mel took a moment to control her voice and then, in a very serious tone she answered:

"We lied."

Harry looked at her, Mel avoided his eyes afraid that it might give them away.

"You lied?" McGonagall asked harshly, "About what?"

Mel shook her head taking her time, she added:

"We wanted to teach Malfoy a lesson."

Her Professor nodded once.

"I see. I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on,' said Professor McGonagall to Mel's relief, "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

"No, Professor," Mel added in panic, watching Neville's disappointed face, "Neville wasn't supposed to hear it... but that doesn't excuse us"

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall, "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. Miss Dumbledore, you've been spending your time with the Weasley boys, I should've guessed something was going on. All five of you will receive detentions – yes, you too, Mr Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous – and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall.

"Professor – please –"

"You can't –"

Mel put a hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking her head frantically.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Next morning was a nightmare, students were insulting her and every single one of her friends except for Ron. All of them were quieter, ashamed of what had happened, but she kept her head high.

She answered every question in class, worked hard to be the head of her year, she wasn't going to feel ashamed about helping Hagrid.

People weren't happy about that either, how dare she be so loud and know-it-all after losing so many points? Mel had to make her way out of her bad reputation soon.

Fred and George weren't bad to her, but they weren't acting as friendly as before. They were impressed about her skill with spells, but they also avoided her in public places. She didn't mind, that way she could focus on gaining more points.

Someone was definitely not avoiding her though, now that she'd helped Slytherin to go back on its first place. As a matter of fact, he seemed excited about their friendship now more than ever.

"Morning, Miss," Erick sat next to her during the morning break, "how's life going when you're one of the most hated people at school?"

"Could be worse," She said shortly, "Harry's miserable as well as Hermione and Neville. I'm not. I owe nothing to the rest of the students."

"Slytherin is beyond happy right now," He replied gleefully, "particularly Malfoy. If it wasn't for your major faux pas they'd be terribly mad at him, but he keeps saying it was thanks to him that you lost all those points... It isn't true is it?"

"He got caught before he could actually find us," Mel replied with annoyance, "Could you leave? If you're only here to brag about Slytherin's victory you can do that another time, I'm not in the mood."

"Calm down, I'm just teasing," He rolled his eyes.

"You never talk to me, but now suddenly you're so talkative," She snarled, "Sorry if I confused your friendly teasing with being an idiot."

"Well yes, you're forgiven," He chuckled. When he noticed Mel wasn't amused, he added, "I'm just seizing the opportunity to openly talk to a friend, it'll go away as soon as you save five kittens from the whomping willow or some bizarre adventure of sorts. I know you have a luck for that."

"Well I wish I had the luck to be left alone when I want to," She replied, "just go away!"

He stood up, as he started to walk away he added:

"I'll stop talking to you until things get better. Or I'll just stop talking to you altogether, who knows?" Erick said it carelessly, but his fists were clenched.

Mel didn't answer, she didn't know what she wanted.

Through the course of a month, Mel won thirty points for Gryffindor. It wasn't enough but she was doing her part, she would keep on working at least until they reached the third place.

Quirrell had given up and Snape was one step closer to get what he wanted. She had promised she wouldn't mingle in foreign matters, she needed to win more points for her house. So she decided to stay out of it.

Harry thought the same, he forced himself to forget about the subject and kept on studying. The only person that seemed disappointed was Ron, who couldn't wait to have another adventure.

Harry, Mel, Hermione, and Neville got a note during breakfast:

'Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall.

Prof. M. McGonagall'

"Brilliant," Mel groaned, angrily biting her turkey sandwich.

"Follow me," said Filch once they were gathered outside, "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh? Oh yes ... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me ... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out ... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed ... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

Mel had a lot of opinions about all that, but she decided to keep it to herself, she was already drowning in troubles.

Their detention consisted of something easy: Hagrid would take them to the forbidden forest, yet she didn't have any idea as to why. Malfoy tried to refuse, it was fun to see his little cold eyes filled with horror.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy.

"There's nothin' that lives in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," squeaked Malfoy.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, Mel an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practise now – that's it – an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

The groups parted ways, Neville firmly holding Mel's sleeve as they walked through the narrow trees.

"I shouldn't be here," Malfoy spat, "I should've shown them the letter and I'd be out of trouble-"

"You don't have the letter anymore. Even if you did, it would look like you made it up to get out of your punishment," Mel replied calmly, "stop whining"

"I suppose you must feel quite at home surrounded by beasts"

"Yes, and a rat like you must be terrified, you could be attacked at any moment," She rolled her eyes, "shut up, you'll attract the werewolves you love so dearly..."

Malfoy for the first time ever listened to her and stayed quiet. Neville was starting to hurt her arm, she gently asked him to stop and stepped away, shivering.

They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when Malfoy decided to scare Neville, sneaking up and jumping on his back. Neville got so scared that he shot red sparks into the air.

"You should've seen your face!" Draco cackled.

"Stupid!" Mel clenched her fists, "Hagrid is gonna get mad! We shouldn't be causing fuss while we're doing this, we won't find anything this way!"

"Who said I wanted to find it?" He frowned, "That's not my job, he's taking advantage of us"

"The same way you take advantage of Crabbe and Goyle cause they're big and can protect you," Mel snapped.

Malfoy barely reacted, shrugging.

"They're too stupid to make it through school on their own."

Mel was too angry to reply, she spent the next five minutes calming Neville and once Hagrid found them he was indeed upset about Malfoy's behavior, he changed the groups for Neville's sake.

Now Harry was coming with them. The blond kid remained quiet now, probably tired or pissed about was wasting his time. Harry and Mel didn't talk much either, they didn't want to disturb the creatures.

The unicorn's blood guided them to a clearing: The creature laid dead shining under the moonlight, one could imagine it was sleeping if it wasn't for the pool of blood surrounding its body.

Mel and Harry approached when a cloaked figure appeared crawling over to the animal, drinking the blood from its wound.

Malfoy let out a high, terrified scream as he ran away with Fang beside him, Mel and Harry stood there, terrified. Harry yelped in pain, a hand on his forehead.

He stumbled back and fell to his knees, only then Mel found herself capable to move, kneeling next to the boy and trying to uncover his face.

"What's wrong?" She yelled, hands cold as ice when she touched him.

The sound of hooves approaching and a tall figure jumping above them distracted her... a centaur. Mel watched as he scared the creature away, protecting them from whatever it was that thing.

"Harry," She stammered, looking back at the boy, "l-let me see!"

Harry looked up as the centaur got closer, helping them to their feet.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes – thank you – what was that?"

The centaur was staring at Harry's scar, she would've said something if he hadn't just saved their lives.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe at this time – especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way," Then he looked over to Mel, icy blue eyes reading her carefully, "You vibrate. What's your name?"

It was a really odd thing to say, but Mel assumed centaurs were strange like that.

"Mel Dumbledore," She stretched out her hand, but the centaur didn't take it.

He nodded, "My name is Firenze."

He kneeled so they could climb over on his back.

Once they were seated, galloping echoed through the trees and soon enough two more centaurs appeared in front of them.

"Firenze!" One thundered. "What are you doing? You have humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realise who these are?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The girl is Dumbledore's descendant. The quicker they leave this Forest, the better"

"What have you been telling him? Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

"I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," The second centaur spoke up.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our Forest!"

Firenze reared on to his hind legs, Mel had to hold onto Harry's waist and he grabbed Firenze's shoulders.

"Do you not see that unicorn? Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this Forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

Firenze then galloped away.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze did not answer, he kept going and spoke only to make sure Harry and Mel kept their heads low to avoid hanging branches. Her mind was starting to divert when he spoke up.

"Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, "We've only used the horn and tail-hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

"But who'd be that desperate? If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who –"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

Mel didn't have to think, there was only one man who was capable of such horrors.

"Voldemort," She said in certainty.

"Harry! Mel! Are you all right?"

Hermione was running towards them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," said Harry, with a dry voice, "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry and Mel slid off his back.

"Thank you," Mel replied, "I hope we didn't get you in trouble for this"

"Don't worry about me, young Dumbledore. Worry about the dangers that might reach you," Without explaining, he turned to Harry, "Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

Harry was very agitated when they returned to the common room, he paced up and down as he told Ron and Hermione what happened in the forest, -with few interventions from Mel- he was sure he'd figured things out.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort ... and Voldemort's waiting in the Forest ... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich ..."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a whisper.

But Harry was in his own head.

"Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done ... Bane was furious ... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen ... They must show that Voldemort's coming back ... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me ... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"Not saying the name it's silly," Mel countered, sitting still in her place.

"-So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone, then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off ... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

"Don't say that!" This time, it was Mel who reacted to what Harry said, "You won't die, think about a second where you're standing."

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of," Hermione agreed, "With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

"Maybe with humans it is," Mel shifted uncomfortably on her place, "but we don't know how it works with other creatures, who knows, they might perceive things differently."

"What do you mean?" Asked Harry uneasy.

Mel stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, it was the first time in weeks that didn't feel awkward to have contact with him.

"It means we know nothing... but we'll figure it out."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere

#twoidiots writing #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #rubeus hagrid #ron weasley #minerva mcgonagall #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #WITT fic

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