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#also a few of these ideas were sitting in my notes for months lol
slut4lrh · 1 day
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so american ; CL16
pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader
summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver
warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF
note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)
instagram !
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liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others
youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨
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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful
yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us
youruser but…
charles_leclerc im stealing her
yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks
charles_leclerc whats your point ??
friend2 the states miss you come home
friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????
yourbff i feel cheated on
charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️
youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶
yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…
charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me
friend4 you look so happy😁
instagram !
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liked by fan1, fan2, and others
cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!
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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances
fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us
fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco
fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird
fan5 imma steal that dog
fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭
fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk
imessages !
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translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’
translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’
twitter !
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instsgram !
youruser added to the story!
charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!
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charles_leclerc replied to your story
↳ you always do baby
↳ god you’re so cheesy
↳ i hate you
↳ can we go back home i miss leo
↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours
↳ i know i know
↳ i just love him so much
you replied to charles_leclerc’s story
↳ CHARLIE DELETE
↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭
↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??
↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you
↳ why would you joke about that
↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack
↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me
instagram !
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liked by user1, user2, and others
f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.
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user1 she so beautiful oh my god
user2 where’s leo
user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere
user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with
user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser
user6 ooo that could be her fs
user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf
user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass
twitter !
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twitter !
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instagram !
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liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others
charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️
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user1 CHARLES who is THAT
user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️
carlossainz55 whipped
user3 omg is she playing his piano
user4 yes with her feet
youruser love love love you
charles_leclerc chérie💓💓
user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already
user5 who CAREEESSSSS
user6 it’s none of our business
yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD
charles_leclerc are you jealous
instagram !
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liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others
youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol
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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him
youruser wdym
yourbff i hate him
yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him
yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING
youruser you sound jealous
yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend
charles_leclerc FRENCH????????
friend1 miss you 🫶🫶
joris__trouche ❤️
friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu
friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous
charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR
charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE
yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls
charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back
yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me
youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️
charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓
youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭
leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️
youruser he misses you 🥰
imessages !
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443 notes · View notes
quinn-pop · 5 months
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the return of my dedede wedding headcanon
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he likes to keep it lighthearted and sweet; most of why people like having him officiate is because of his charisma. he’s great at handling whatever situation and usually good at ad libbing. and he genuinely loves doing it because well. it’s a party and it’s about people caring for each other, what’s not to love?
(tbh he probably tries to hide how much he cries at weddings but he just really likes love lol)
also! dreamland culture is kinda complicated, being made up of so many species from all over and who knows where, so there are a lot of different wedding traditions and no one way to do it
anyway, silly art
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i just really felt like drawing something soft
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zyafics · 2 months
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brother's rival | rafe cameron (18+)
series: brother’s rival (part one)
pairing: rafe cameron x female reader
summary: you and your brother were born pogues, but once your family made enough to move to figure eight, you became a kook. unfortunately, rafe cameron doesn't welcome pogue-born kooks. and it doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the title of king of kooks from him. so, if your brother is trying to steal something from him, rafe is going to return the favor.
warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, angst
zya's notes: hi!! this is my first fanfic, so yeah. i hope you enjoy! also, i like when the reader stands on business and actually talks back to rafe, and i never read anything like that, so yeah, this is my attempt on that lol
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚
"Do you think Kooks actually enjoy this or is this something they do to uphold their image?" You ask your brother, Dean, who swings his golf club, hitting the ball square in the center, and sends the small circular object flying across the land.
He turns back to face you once the ball settles on the grass. His golf club digging into the ground, his arm pressed against the handle. "It's probably an ego thing."
You snort. "If I had to wear this everyday, it would not be an ego thing."
You glance down at your outfit: a simple tennis skirt and top. Since your family moved to Figure Eight a couple months ago, you were also granted access to the prestigious Country Club that sits on the rich side of the island. You and your brother haven't attended any of the events, due to your status as a Pogue-born Kook, but since the summertime rolled around and there's absolutely nothing to do on Figure Eight in the daylight, you two decided to take a little trip.
To get into the role of Kook, both of you decided to wear what the Kooks normally wear. Trading your Pogue attires for tennis skirts, khaki pants, and polo shirts, the two of you almost look the part.
But you still stand out.
"You're next." Your brother tips his golf club in the direction of where he hits his ball. You groan, stepping up to the tee stand where Dean replaced another golf ball for you to swing (and miss). You don't like golfing, you decided, wanting to trade in the Kook uniforms and stuck-up memberships for surfboards and high waves. Unfortunately, your brother does, and he wants to stay.
Not wanting to embarrass yourself, you try to mimic the stance your brother had a few moments ago. You pull yourself into the position, bending slightly over as the end of the club lines in front of the ball.
"You should bend down lower!" A voice shouts and you roll your eyes, knowing exactly who it belongs to. Your head lifts up to see Rafe approaching you, holding his own golf club with a personal caddy following after him from a safe distance.
From the corner of your eyes, you can see your brother's demeanor completely change. His expression pulled taut, his shoulders stiffen, his jaw locked.
Your brother and Rafe do not have a good relationship. Well, if you could even call it a relationship.
You and Dean moved here a couple of months ago. Born and raised on The Cut, your family finally made and saved enough to move you away from a life of poverty and crime to a nice, suburban home on Figure Eight.
However, it wasn't done without a cold welcome. Most of the Kooks don't like you nor your brother. You don't know if it's because you used to be a Pogue or because Rafe Cameron doesn't like the idea of Pogues moving into Kook territory—and made sure everyone followed along—but either way, it caused your experience on Figure Eight to be an unpleasant one.
For the first month, Rafe would send occasional 'gifts' to your door to remind you and your brother of your place. At parties, he would also make sure to let you and your brother know you're not welcomed. He even made a point to throw the keys of his truck to Dean's face, telling him to go do a beer run, and threw some cash alongside as payment. In the heat of the moment, Dean had enough and lost his shit. He swung at Rafe and Rafe swung back.
You had to pull your brother off of Rafe as the Kook King yelled profanities at your brother, blood dripping down his chin, telling him about how he would get him back.
From that point on, it was nonstop rivalry. Whenever they were in the same vicinity, they would either exchange verbal spats or physical altercations. You had to momentarily stop attending any parties because you couldn't handle the possibility of fights.
You didn't want today to be another one.
Dean steps in front of you as Rafe approaches, making sure to block his view from you. The golf club stands between them. "What do you want, Cameron?"
"Just trying to give your sister some advice." Rafe responds with a cocky smile. He raises his own golf club and places the end of the head against Dean's chest. "I didn't know busboys got to play. Must be why this place is going to shit."
You can see the anger rolling off your brother, his hand clenched around the handle of his golf club, causing his knuckles to grow white. Before he does something that would cause the both of you to get in trouble, you step forward, grabbing his forearm.
"Go away, Rafe." You declare, causing the blond to shift his attention from your glaring brother to you. His blue eyes give you a once-over, lingering a little longer at the cutoff of your skirt, before meeting your gaze. "If you think this place is shit, then find another place to play."
"And let a couple of Pogues kick me out of my Country Club?" He declares, twisting his expression in a manner that looks disgusted at the idea before shaking his head with a click of his tongue. "I don't think so, princess."
You hate the nickname that he gave you. It's always in mocking. Since you and your brother arrived at Figure Eight, according to Rafe, Dean has been slowly encroaching on Rafe's territory. Trying to take the crown of King of Kooks from him. This, in turn, caused Rafe to cast you in a secondary role. A mocking declaration of princess as in you will never be one.
You just roll your eyes at him, but you can't help the flutter of warmth that settles on the bottom of your stomach.
"Fuck off, Cameron." Dean declares, his tone laced with aggression, as he steps forward to place some distance between you and the blond. "This place is huge. I'm sure you can find some place where you don't have to see us."
Rafe hums in thought. "That's the thing," he points to the space you and your brother occupies. "What if I want this spot? I'm sure it won't be a problem for you to move." He glances at you and winks. "She can stay. I'm sure she'll be entertaining."
It doesn't take a second later before your brother swings. His fist delivers a satisfying crack against Rafe's jaw, causing him to stubble back a few steps. But, he quickly regains footing. His expression morphs into a deadly one, coming back around and raising his fist to deliver a punch to your own brother before you pull Dean away—stepping in front of him.
"Enough." You declare, clenching down your jaw, in preparation for the blow that never came. Rafe stopped himself a few inches away from your face. But, you don't let that fear show. "We'll move. You can have your fucking game."
With that, you drag your brother and your things away. You don't bother turning around, but you can feel the heat of Rafe's stare in the back of your head, following your every move, until you disappear from his sight.
“I’m going to grab something to eat.” You say to your brother, who merely hums in acknowledgement. He’s still a bit pissed off that you stepped in between Rafe and him. But, what else were you supposed to do? You are trying to get situated in this new environment, this new place where everything is a hostile territory. You didn’t want any more trouble that came from it. Yeah, you admit, it was a bit short-sighted of you to step in because you could’ve gotten hurt but fuck him, at least you did something more productive than swinging fists. 
You head away from the golf course to the restaurant at the Country Club. You still can't believe you are here. If you had told yourself a year ago that you would’ve be living on Figure Eight, playing golf on the rich side of the island, you would probably laugh and take your drink from you. But, it's true.
You're a Kook.
Well, by classification, but you don't feel like it.
You don't, technically, feel like a Pogue either.
You're just oddly stuck in the middle. You don't know what to make of it. All you want to do is just have fun, live, and not cause any more trouble.
Unfortunately, trouble finds you. As you place your order and wait, leaning against the bar counter and tapping your nails against the granite, a body slides into the space next to you, large and towering. In the corner of your eyes, you catch him playing with the small plastic menu display set on the counter and pick it up with one hand. 
He leans against you, pointing to the menu. “What are we ordering, princess?” 
You turn your head to face Rafe. “I don’t know. What do assholes eat in their free-time?” 
“Well, that depends.” 
“On what?” 
“What you’re offering.” He’s watching you as if you are part of the specials. The heat of his gaze feels like it’s undressing you, that it makes you shift your own, tapping the menu in his hand to draw his attention back. 
“On the menu, Rafe.” 
“Nah.” He abandons the plastic menu on the counter, turning his body completely to face you. His elbow pressed against the counter. “I’m craving something else.” 
You swallow hard, looking over to the waitstaff behind the counter, wondering whenthey’re going to be finished with your burger so you can leave. 
You know Rafe is only messing with you because it gets to your brother. It’s known on the island that Dean is protective of his little sister, sometimes too much, that Rafe takes advantage of this fact. 
Standing here, near Rafe, is dangerous. Not to mention your brother could come over at any time and check up on you, but because, if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t share the same spite and hatred Dean has with the blond. 
You’re not sure if you share any of it. 
You just think all of it is stupid. 
“Speechless now?” He teases, leaning enough where you can catch the scent of his cologne and the woodsy odor from golfing all day. “I never thought I’d see the day.” 
You don’t answer him, deciding that the best thing you can do right now is ignore him. 
That’s proven to be bad advice because, not moments later, you feel rough fingers grab your chin and force you to turn to Rafe. His eyes are piercing, his gaze studying every little detail of your face as you tried yourhardest to remain unfazed by his presence. 
“Ignoring me?” He asks softly, his sight dropping to your lips as he runs the pad of his thumb across the soft plump of your bottom lip. They unconsciously part, just as Rafe’s eyes drift back up to yours. His voice in a mere whisper. “You know I don’t like that.” 
Your heart skips a beat and your legs grow weak, barely able to keep you upright. You fight against the instinct to lean into his hand, to take his thumb that lingers on your entrance, into your mouth and suck, but it’s difficult. 
He chuckles, watching the internal battle you’re having with yourself, lowering to your height. “You want me badly, do you, princess?” 
For a blink of sobriety, you raise your hand to grab his wrist, pulling him off of you, from feeling every little twitch of muscle that changes under his touch, and rolls your eyes. You throw his hand back at him. “You wish.” 
The waiter returns with a box of your food and you thank them with a tip, about to grab the to-go box off the counter when Rafe beats you to it. He grabs a hold of your food and raises it just out of your reach. 
You glare at him. “Give it back, Rafe.” 
“Give me your number.” 
You are taken back by that. “What?” 
“Give me your number.” He repeats, his determination set on his face as he waits for you to answer. “Or, do you want me to beg for it?” 
The sight of Rafe on his knees is not unappealing, but you rather not have another image of him doing something that would return when your hands are between your legs. Instead, you settle on something equally humiliating for him. “Say please.” 
He looks at you, bewildered, and scoffs. “I’m not doing that.” 
“Then you’re not getting my number.” 
“You forget I have your food.” 
“You forget I have money now,” you pull out your credit card. “I can order another one.” 
His jaw clenches, and for the first time, Rafe Cameron is backed into a corner he doesn’t know how to escape from. With a resigned sigh, he says, reluctantly, “please.” 
“I need more enthusiasm.” 
 He cuts a dark look at you. “Don’t push it, princess.” 
You laugh, before holding out your palm. His free hand finds his phone in his back pocket and offers it to you. You easily type the digits, add your contact to his phone and quickly send a text to yourself to remember the number. When you return your phone back to him, he exchanges it for your food. 
When you’re about to head back to your brother, you hear Rafe shout behind you, “I’ll text you.” 
Suppressing a grin, even though he can’t see you, you throw your response over your shoulder. “I might answer.”
{・❥・read part two here }
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midnightsnyx · 8 months
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girl at home | mat barzal | part 1
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pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you're eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.
warnings: mentions of pregnancy & not really edited word count: 1.3k authors note p1: don't mind me starting a new series when i have four other wips on the go :):) i love kid fics and this idea was stuck in my head so i wrote & decided to give it a go and post it. if this does well and you guys are interested, i'll do more. authors note p2: so notes about the series: i gave the readers daughter a name because i hate writing y/d/n lol of course you can change it in your head to something else if you want :) also the last name johnson is just there so i could have a full name but we all know she'll be a barzal also thank u @multifandombabes for giving me the push to post this!! happy reading & let me know what you guys think!
masterpost
In hindsight, you should have realized that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. You did your best to avoid places you knew he would be when he was home, going to visit your grandparents or other family. Anywhere that would give you the opportunity to not be seen by him, because then you’d have to explain your brown haired, green eyed, seven year old. 
You weren’t proud of your choice to keep Nora a secret from Mat but you did what you thought was right when you were eighteen, sitting on the floor of your best friend’s bathroom four weeks after you had said goodbye to Mat and staring at three positive pregnancy tests. He had just left for hockey and you didn’t want to be what held him back and as time went on, it got harder to pick up the phone so a few months after Nora was born, you erased Mathew Barzal from your life. You deleted the photos, phone numbers, social media, with the only reminder being the little girl.
And it worked fine. Until now.
Nora usually didn’t come grocery shopping with you because you always ended up taking three times as long as you normally would. Except, your sitter fell through and your mom couldn’t watch her so you had to bring her along. Which is totally fine until you run into Mat. Who has a girl with him. 
So yeah, everything was fine until now.
It’s kind of comical the way his panicked eyes dart between the three of the girls standing around him. A quick glance at Nora confirms that she’s two seconds away from saying something to Mat which will not go well since the kid has zero filter.
“Hey, you’re that hockey player mama and grandma watch on TV!” she exclaims and you want to melt straight through the floor when Mat looks at you with one eyebrow raised. 
“Yeah?” he asks, kneeling down so he’s at her level.
“Yeah,” she confirms, and then loudly whispers: “I’m not supposed to watch ‘cause some games are past my bedtime but sometimes I’ll sneak out.” 
He offers his hand and smiles. “Well, it’s nice to meet you…” he trails off, clearly hoping she’ll offer her name. You hope she just says her first name instead of announcing her full name which she tends to do lately.
“Nora,” she tells him, shaking his hand and then to your unsurprised horror, she proudly tells him her full name. “Nora Nadia Johnson.” 
He keeps the smile on his face but stiffens and gently drops her hand. 
“Cool name,” he says, still smiling but you can see the tension in his shoulders. 
“Thanks! My first name means light and my middle name-”
She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because you grab her hand, abandon your shopping cart and high tail it out of the store. She grumbles while trying to keep up with your pace and eventually you just pick her up and carry her to the car.
“What did we say about talking to strangers?” you ask while buckling her seatbelt, ignoring her annoyed sighs. 
“He wasn’t a stranger, you watch him on the TV all the time.”
“Have you ever met him?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and she mumbles something under her breath.
“What was that?”
“No,” she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and giving you a look that is so Mathew that you could laugh.
“Well then, he’s a stranger.” 
You leave it at that because she starts talking about the summer camp she’s starting next week. You’re only half listening, trying to get over the shock of seeing Mat and knowing he realizes that he probably has a kid you never told him about. If you were in his shoes, you would be angry so you are expecting him to show up on your doorstep later that evening but he doesn’t. Part of you wonders if the reason he doesn’t come is because of that girl he had with him but you figure if he really wanted answers, he would come regardless. 
What you’re not expecting, is a text from his sister Liana. You still see his family from time to time out in public but after you essentially ghosted Mat, they didn’t really want anything to do with you. When everybody found out you were pregnant, you lied and said it wasn’t Mat’s which nobody really believed but they couldn’t prove it and you’d used your mothers maiden name as Nora’s last name so there were no ties. You were surprised that his family didn’t tell him anyways, but you thought that perhaps they didn’t for the same reason you didn’t.
To give Mat no reason to stay here and instead, pursue his dreams and go play in the NHL. 
So a text from his sister is unexpected. 
Liana: hey, are you free for lunch tmw?
You almost delete it at first and pretend she never messaged you, but you know that there’s no going back now that Mat saw Nora. He’s not stupid. He probably went home and asked his parents about her. So you text her back a reluctant yes and agree on a spot to meet up the next day.
Nora goes to your moms house because you’re unsure if it will just be Liana who shows up, or if anyone else does. You meet up at a Starbucks and aside from the initial tension, it melts almost immediately and the two of you go back to the big sister/little sister relationship you had when you and Mat were dating. Except now, she’s all grown up.
After some catching up, the conversation turns to the reason she asked to see you. She hesitates, picking at her nails - a nervous tick you know she does - before sighing. 
“Look, everybody kind of turned their head with ‘The Nora Situation’ because it was clearly what you wanted, and it was probably what was best for Mat,” she says. “But he knows now, and he’s got questions that we can’t and won’t answer. Dad had to talk him down last night and his girlfriend went back to New York this morning.”
You wince at that, not liking that the reason his girlfriend left is because of Nora but Liana must notice because she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.
“Honestly, she wasn’t very nice. I’m not broken up over it and Mat didn’t seem to be either.” 
Okay, that is interesting. 
“Anyway,” she continues, “this is Mat’s new number.” She slides a small piece of paper across the table and you gingerly take it. “I know you didn’t want to tell him, and I understand but he knows. So give him a chance, okay?”
You manage a nod and let her leave with the final word. All you want to do is take Nora and leave, to get as far away as you can but something inside you stops you from doing it because maybe Liana is right, and you should give Mat a choice. After all, you were the one who decided to take it away from him in the beginning. 
So later that night, after Nora is asleep, you curl up on your couch with the piece of paper and stare at it for a good fifteen minutes. Regardless of whether or not you text him, you will have to deal with this and you’d rather it be on your terms. You reluctantly type his new number in your phone and hesitate, trying to think of what to even say. This isn’t a conversation you were expecting to have with him. You type and delete a dozen messages before deciding on something simple.
To Mathew: Hey, I guess we should talk.
You take a deep breath, and hit send.
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euphorickaeya · 1 year
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THE ALMIGHTY.
buwan’s notes : I’m alive but I’m dead LOL, i don’t think I’ll be posting much on this account, maybe some for a few months here and there but other than that, I’m barely active. I apologize to those who keep asking for updates but I no longer consider myself in the genshin fandom.
I would also want to apologize for this fic, this fic is somewhat cruel, and I don’t want to offend anyone, please do speak to me if it seems I’ve gone too far, but this is merely a more story-based fic than being a fic about the characters being shipped with the god!reader. I wanted to explore the idea of being denied your saving grace when your god is right there, and they know it. It sort of a revenge fic?? Errr idk how to explain HAHA ok enjoy 😭
summary : you refuse to be treated the way you were, when you descended on your lands.
CW : obsession, sagau in general, borderline abuse as a creator, revenge and angst (?).
[no ships, more reader-centric.]
[gender-neutral!creator!reader.]
song recommendation: babooshka - Kate Bush.
part 2
EDIT: I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE TAGLIST..
EDIT #2: SIKE I WROTE IT DOWN LOLS @emperatris-rinaka | @iyhmibyo | @nicebonescomrades
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A cold wind blew over the lands of Liyue, the creator has blessed the ancient lands with their presence, being bombarded with the lavish gifts of forgiveness of the people of Liyue by your feet, as you sat at a public throne.
Your eyes held nothing but resentment and no remorse for those who ask for your blessings, even if they bring a sickly child by your feet, begging and crying for a single blessing for you to heal this sickly child placed on your feet.
You merely spare the family a glance, before staring at your acolyte, Zhongli stared at you with concern, unsure of the thoughts racing through your head.
You made your decision when you had shooed the family, a shocked look on their faces as the hold on their poor kid faltered, almost dropping the frail boy. You could merely scoff as the mother handed the kid to her husband as she ran to your feet, wailing.
“Your grace, please punish me for any wrong-doing my family has done, but please! Heal my boy! He’s done nothing wrong, he’s nothing but a boy!” The mother wailed into your robes.
You felt your face morph into disgust, your eyes swelling in anger, tears starting to form from annoyance and anger. “Don’t pity yourself under my feet, lady.” You spat, pushing the mother with your feet.
The crowds that came to revel in their creator’s stared in disbelief and silent horror as the lady sobbed loudly on your podium, and their god, you, doing nothing to comfort or even give a slice of remorse to the pitiful lady by your feet.
After a few minutes of your unrelenting emotionless gaze on her and her unstopping sobs as her husband held their boy from afar helplessly, the lady raised her head to look at you.
An anger in her eyes, betrayal, anguish met your cold, frozen eyes.
“You’re no god, you’re not our creator, you’re just a mere copy..” the lady whispered spitefully, looking at you with nothing but hatred for your embodiment.
For once, in a long time, you laughed, a smile on your face, not of happiness, but of mockery, a scoffing, bashful smile.
“I’m no god? I’m a mere, copy?” You scoffed at the lady, your eyebrows raised in a mocking way, you stood from your throne, even after being able to sit on the golden seat, it still felt like it stung you, like silver does to a vampire.
It burned and stung, but it did nothing but fuel you even more. “Is this what has come of my empire? Of my beloved world?” You asked, walking slowly up to the lady who gravelled and clutched the hot concrete under her palms.
“If I had known my own children would dictate who I am, I would’ve destroyed this world to bits.” You threw that sentence out recklessly, seeing your acolytes stiffen quickly from your peripheral vision. You couldn’t help but grin at their uncomfortable faces.
“You, a mere lady, who lives on nothing but scraps, gets to tell me, a creator, a celestial being, who I am?” You snarled, your spear appearing to intimidate those who dare to anger you so.
“You’ve got some nerve, you all do!” You pointed to the crowds, who flinched and screamed in fear as you pointed with your spear, the metal shining against the sun.
Your acolytes could only wish that the sun could’ve given you it’s golden rays in a better situation, seeing as you flowed with unrelenting bravery and anger.
“I had to harm myself, to cut my flesh and show my blood, so that I wouldn’t die in this mortal form!” You screamed into the crowd, no longer holding the annoyance and disgust you held for this world.
“If I were a mere mortal with my face, you would’ve called them an imposter, burn them at the stake, like you’ve done with me!” Zhongli could only watch helplessly as your struck fear into his people, unable to stop you, for his loyalty refuses to let him move.
“You’re no people of mine, this world is obsessed with the idea of me, not my being as your creator!” The lady no longer glared at your with angry, but with disdain and anxiousness.
“I refuse to be dictated and be a holy grail for this shitty fucking world. Your people don’t deserve to be blessed with my presence nor my help.” Zhongli’s eyes could only widen, glancing at Ningguang, who was hyperventilating, watching you as you threw your spear away, it dissipating into particles.
“so suffer, suffer as I have, hope that there’s another god who’ll give you the forgiveness I will never give you.” You scoffed, you looked at the father who held his son with a life-threading grip.
Looking at you, his eyes holding a flickering flame of hope, that under all your anger, you would find the kindness to give them the mercy they’re desperately grasping at.
But you merely turned away from him, watching from your peripheral vision as the flame in his eyes extinguished, before his eyes filled, refusing to look away from your retreating figure.
“Zhongli, I want to end my appearance here and now.” You refused to look at the archon that stood by your throne as you walked past. Soon after a while, you had walked into the Liyue palace doors, finally out of public eye.
That is when Zhongli finally moves. Although being the most powerful archon, his knees buckled like that of a weak mortal, the pain and fear of his people weighing down his back.
But how can he save them? not when he knows he’s one of the many people who’s fueled this despicable behaviour in their god.
Their god who was so reverent and kind, only corrupted by it’s own creation.
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sunkissed-zegras · 8 months
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✮ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲, luke hughes
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betty, i'm here on your doorstep and i planned it out for weeks now but it's finally sinkin' in betty, right now is the last time ── yeah, i showed up at your party will you have me? will you love me? will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it? will it patch your broken wings? ── the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you so i showed up at your party
──
♡ ─ word count | 1.5k
♡ ─ summary | a small incident at luke's draft party causes a whole lot of drama you never expected to happen.
♡ ─ warnings | unedited lol, angst!!!!!!!!!!!! so much angst, slightly asshole!luke, let me know if i missed anything.
♡ ─ taglist | tbd
♡ ─ ev's notes | yayaya, my first piece of writing published on tumblr!!! please let me know your thoughts, i'm very open to (respectful) criticism.
ALSO desperately want some hockey (or literally any lol) moots so please send in an ask to become moots!
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You had no idea know why you were here, sitting outside his house.
Well that was a lie ─ you knew why you were here. You didn't know what you would say, not in the slightest. You knew you had to make some kind of plan in your mind before you went in, led completely by adrenaline and impulse.
There were a few familiar cars outside the house. You knew the red Kia was his parents' and the Quinn's gray Ram. Your stomach was filled with slight dread as you thought about how this entire thing happened.
You shook your head to snap out of your thoughts ─ it didn't matter now. You were gonna fix it and get your best friend back, no matter what you had to do.
You knew tonight was Jack's birthday party. Before this whole thing happened, you were invited to the party ─ it wouldn't have been right to not have you all here with them. Well, until the fight.
You took a deep exhale before turning off your car, looking up at the familiar house. You got out of the car and shut the door, walking up to the house. Before you even had gotten on his front porch, the door swung open and you immediately paused, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
You were met with him and suddenly all the memories of the past month came flooding back.
──
THREE WEEKS AGO
──
The loud cheers from everyone around you would've been distressing if not for how happy you felt. You were screaming along with them, cheering.
You knew that Luke would've been drafted to the Devils for a fact but it didn't dissipate the happiness that filled the room. Luke turned to you and you couldn't help but hug him tightly, as the whole room shook with excitement.
For a moment, it just felt like time stopped and it was just you two in the whole world ─ despite the 20 people who were surrounding all of you, it didn't matter. As you let him go, it seemed like you weren't the only one who felt that way as you locked eyes with Luke. He had a true, authentic smile on this face.
Every time he smiled, your heart leapt out of your chest. This time was no different; the same smile you sported on your own lips, playing off each other's emotions, and the heat you could feel rising on your cheeks. Everyone patted and tugged him around in excitement but his eyes were locked on you, your arm perched on his shoulder.
Once the celebrations died down, you set off for a quick drink break in the kitchen. As you turned around from the fridge, drink in hand, you were met with Luke's gaze. Your cheeks glowed, the familiar rush of excitement tingling through your veins. His smile was just as contagious as yours you begun talking.
"You excited?" You spoke. You hadn't talked to Luke the whole night because he was the man of the night. You were happy for him, of course ─ you missed him, though.
"For what?" He was joking of course. He usually hated being the center of the attention but this time it felt different ─ he felt deserving of it.
You rolled your eyes playfully, laughing. "Moving to Jersey, being close to Jack again."
Luke nods, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I missed him. But I don't know, it would feel weird not playing with everyone else. And you not being at every home game." He whispered the last part out, almost sounding ashamed of it.
You felt the smile on your face get brighter and bigger. "Well I'm gonna miss watching you play live, Lukey."
He winced at the silly nickname, but couldn't help but smile as he looked down at you leaning against the kitchen island, comfortably close to him. "You could always come out to Jersey."
"Yeah, maybe."
A still silence hung in the air between the two of you, but it was not uncomfortable. There was a subtle switch in the air as Luke's eyes remained fixed on you. Neither of you spoke, content to soak in each other's company in the warmth of the moment, aware that there was something more to be said but not ready to be said quite yet.
You could almost see his thoughts racing, the wheels turning, trying to decide what to do next. "Y/N?" He asked softly, the smile slowly slipping from his face. He wanted to speak up, to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. He could only let out a whisper, his expression growing more uncertain with each passing moment.
A sense of anxiety crept in but even so, you knew exactly what was about to happen. He leaned in and let his lips brush softly against yours in a quick peck. It didn't feel wrong, not even a little bit — it actually felt perfect. You could tell he had been thinking about this for a while and you'd also contemplated it in the past. However, despite the fact that it felt right, it was wrong — not just wrong, but completely off limits.
"Y/N?" You heard another voice echo in the kitchen and you both whipped your heads.
──
PRESENT
──
Luke folded his arms and averted his gaze from you. You felt your heart crack a bit from his bitter expression. The sound of laughter coming from inside filled you with a sudden sense of clarity and the realization that you could be ruining his night crept in. It was sobering and the thought of how his family would be disappointed, upset with your presence there. It made the guilt and shame that you felt sting all the more.
But you had to. You had to get him back, no matter what.
You opened your mouth to speak but before the words could come out, he started speaking first.
"Why are you here, Y/N?" Your name felt like a curse when he said it, like knives piercing your heart. He always spoke to you with such kindness and care, but now it felt almost spiteful. He looked at you through narrowed eyes, and there was no warmth left in his voice, only cold accusation.
"I wanted to talk to you, Luke." You answered, your eyes moving to look down, shamefully. "Can we talk?"
Luke scoffed; typically a playful sound, but this time it cut like a knife. "Y/N, I just… not now, please." There was hurt in his voice, a sharp contrast from his usual sweet nature. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with unspoken words.
"Luke, I can't stand this! I miss you!" You finally snapped and he looked taken aback. "What did you expect me to do? You just kissed me and─and I had no time to process it when Morgan had walked in!"
"You're blaming me, now? You never told me that Morgan liked you─"
"Luke! You're not listening to me." You sighed loudly, moving closer. "It doesn't matter, I just want to talk to me again. It's not my fault. And─and it doesn't yours, either." You explained anxiously, playing subconsciously with your rings.
Luke licked his lips, his gaze flicking up to the the ceiling in thought before looking back at you.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, Luke, but I really need to.” You paused, feeling your heart rate speed up.
"There's nothing to talk about, Y/N." He said, plainly. "I like─" He paused, his thoughts dying on his tongue. "─liked you."
Your heart broke. Liked? "Luke..."
"We're gonna be leaving for Jersey the day after tomorrow, Y/N." He sighed. "I'll be out of your hair then. You won't have to worry about me."
"Luke, you're my best friend!"
"No, you're not my damn best friend, Y/N!" Luke shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "You're more than just my best friend and I don't know how you could be so clueless! I never wanted you like a best friend, I liked you, and it's been right in front of your face this whole time but you've too oblivious to notice it." Luke yelled, his frustration and anger boiling over.
You taken aback and felt paralyzed, your mind scrambling to form a coherent response. Your mouth was dry, your heart racing a hundred miles per hour. You desperately wanted to say something, anything, but your words were stuck in your throat. The moment dragged on, as if time had paused just for this.
Luke had never blown up on anyone, especially you. His voice echoed and you could feel everyone from inside was now listening in. This suddenly felt a like a mistake, you shouldn't have come and ruined his night.
Finally, she managed a strangled out reply. "Luke-" she breathed, her voice shaking as she spoke. "I knew that, I-"
"No you didn't." His anger had dissipated, now he just seemed tired. "It doesn't matter now, okay? I'm done with this." He pointed between them.
Again, you opened your mouth to speak only to be met with the slam of the door. You stood there, in the cool March air as you finally let the tears fall.
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aohisworld · 13 days
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MAGNETIC PULSE! 02
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ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ENHYPEN’s new co-ed group starts their first album, MANIFESTO. Aohi makes a mistake that allows Jungwon, to give her a bit of sympathy that she didn’t ask for.
ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ eventual poly!ot7 x added member!oc. (jungwon centric). contains. angst, a little arguing, a smooch, uhm cringe writing lol.
| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: Jungwon chapter yippee yippee!! Also important announcement that my asks are open now, and I’d love to get some interactions :3 don’t be a silent reader! Reblog, comment, send an ask!!
| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun. contains angst and a little bit of bickering/awkward tension.
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✧. ┊ Jungwon was always born to be a leader, unlike Aohi, who just followed the crowd, Jungwon was born to lead it.
When he was picked as the best candidate for ENHYPEN's leader role, he was overjoyed, of course, but a part of him also wondered if he was ready for that role.
Jungwon worked to his limit to make sure ENHYPEN was where they were now. Aohi and Xiulin... he was stumped on what to do, they were suddenly thrust upon his plate when he already had so much.
Jungwon had no idea how to lead the girls, he didn't go through I-LAND with them, nor did they meet long enough to help them....
so, he didn't.
For about a few months, that went excruciatingly slow by the way, Jungwon barely made the effort to even glance Aohi's and Xiulin's way, well, more Aohi's because he respects Xiulin as his elder sister.
At first, it was smooth sailing for Jungwon, it wasn't that hard to ignore Aohi or avoid her, but as time passed on, Jungwon didn't realize her cold attitude would sting, like being out during a snowfall and it got too cold that your hands would freeze, kind of sting.
Jungwon didn't think the glare Aohi would sometimes direct at him would bother him so much. Like, made his stomach turn kind of bother.
For one, it made him feel like he was a bad person. (he doesn't think he is, is he?)
Secondly, he hated to admit that maybe, just maybe he did deserve it, and he wasn't really living up to the leader name.
Jungwon knows Aohi and Xiulin are his group members now, hell, they're making their first album with the girls now!
As a leader, he was supposed to help the girls, especially when he needed to navigate this whole co-ed situation as well, but he didn't, and knowing that left an incredibly sour taste on the boy's tongue.
That's what brought us to Jungwon now, sitting in an empty meeting room, after a weekly... report? Status? whatever it was, had happened. The boy stared straight ahead at the table, seemingly burning a theoretical hole into the furniture.
He sat unmoving for a while, getting lost in his thoughts, you could say he got it from Sunghoon's morning spacing out routine.
It was only until a can was placed in front of his line of sight did his gaze change from the table, to the girl he was exactly thinking about.
"You stare at that spot any longer, you might've actually burnt a hole into the table."
Jungwon didn't respond, glancing up at Aohi's brown orbs, before looking back down at the can on the table. "What's the drink for?" Jungwon nudged towards the drink, as if scared to touch it.
"To drink? What else?" Aohi stated, sitting opposite of Jungwon, in which Jay sat in before her, so Aohi cringed slightly as she felt the warm seat.
Aohi seemed to magically produce another can of warm tea— Jungwon had analyzed, in front of him, opening it with one hand.
"The drink was Xiulin-unnie's." She hums, blowing inside her can to take her first sip, tasting the tea and nodding her head, outwardly approving the flavour.
"Why didn't you give it to her then?" Jungwon hesitantly took the drink off of the table. "Couldn't find her." Aohi shrugged.
Jungwon made no move to open his drink, sitting up in his chair. "Why're you here?" He asks, moving the metal can from one hand to the other, temporarily using it as a handwarmer.
Jungwon didn't seem to like the fact that Aohi was so close without any reasons to be, he had no idea why he was so alert around her either, as if two cats meeting on a territory and intimidating each other.
"Why can't I be? I'm sitting with one of my members, I don't see anything wrong with that." Aohi's eyes narrowed like that of a cat as she willingly made eye contact.
As the two cat-like members stared on, Jungwon could feel that grumbling feeling in his stomach once again as he didn't back down from the intense eye contact Aohi established.
"I didn't say anything was wrong with it, I mean that you don't really like us—"
"I like Ri-ki, so I don't think that I don't like my group members." Aohi's shrugged once again, "You look at us like we're the worst people on earth." Jungwon scoffed, already disliking Aohi's response.
"I don't know why you have to look for a reason for me to be here, I'm being nice—" Aohi grumbled, placing her drink on the table since she was an easily irritable person, and this conversation— is it still even a conversation? could end up firing her up even more.
"With a stare like that?" Jungwon raised his eyebrows, he'd never seen someone who was being nice have a stare that could probably kill.
"Gosh, why do you have to start a fight with me all of the time?!" Aohi stood from her seat, pointing at Jungwon with an accusatory finger.
"Because you have so much against my hyungs and I! You don't even know us," Jungwon stood up from his seat as well, pushing Aohi's finger away with the back of his hand. "You just decided we're not even worth being nice to!"
"Neither do you! I wasn't the first to be rude, it was the hyungs who looked at me and Xiulin-unnie like we were of no hope!" Aohi argued, her words were true, how could the young girl forget?
Xiulin-unnie had to learn everything for herself and Aohi, because Aohi was finishing her studies and had to miss most of their practices.
Aohi was only angry because she cared for her unnie, and a few months in living like that, Xiulin was already extremely exhausted, and Aohi couldn't do much to help her.
Aohi was frustrated, she only wanted the boys to help, not just Ri-ki, all of the boys.
"Well—" "I'm not done!" Jungwon was silenced by Aohi, taken aback by her sudden outburst, even if he wanted to, what Aohi said was true, they truly didn't think they could debut, not so late into ENHYPEN's career at least.
Still, how could Jungwon admit that?
"Xiulin-unnie and I needed help, and we couldn't even confide in our hyungs, much less our leader." Jungwon's throat dried at Aohi's words, not knowing how to respond to that.
In all honesty, he felt like he was slapped with a hot iron pan of truth.
"Sure, Jake-hyung barely tried to help us with our dance practices, but not before pointing out every little wrong thing from us." Aohi poked her finger to Jungwon's chest, hating the way he was silent.
It wasn't like Aohi didn't know that Jungwon was the type to lead, from just meeting him, you could already feel it. That's what makes it worse.
The girls— Aohi, needed someone to follow, because that's all she knew to do, and she hoped that there was a small chance, Jungwon, as the leader, would knock some sense into his group members and allow her and her unnie to have someone to follow.
Apparently it was too much to ask for.
"We didn't even know each other, and we just decided to hate each other... months straight, we'd barely interact, even when we started to record the album.." Aohi frowned, seeing that she'd stunned Jungwon into silence.
Aohi wasn't sure whether to continue after that, only sighing and sitting back down, taking her cup of warm tea, trying to drink the tension away.
Jungwon stayed standing up, thinking. Jungwon knows he was cruel, but he thought he was doing right, he followed his hyungs along as well.
He could remember his Heeseung-hyung telling him that the girls will not gain anything by being in ENHYPEN, that they should let it be for their own good.
Jungwon should've asked what Aohi and Xiulin's thoughts were, if they could really do it, if they were really willing. Maybe then, he could've helped them, give them a place in the group, rather than giving up on them from the start.
"...I'm sorry." Jungwon hesitated, sitting next to Aohi, rubbing the palms of his hands nervously.
"You're only apologizing because I told you—"
"You're right, but I really am sorry, I mean that from the bottom of my heart." Jungwon interrupted her, Aohi turns to Jungwon, looking at him with a skeptical look.
"I was stressed, and I know that it's not an excuse, because you and Xiulin-noona were also under a lot of pressure," Aohi didn't bother to try and intervene with Jungwon's ramblings, he seemed to have a lot to say.
"But let me try and make it up to you, and Xiulin-noona."
Aohi stayed silent for a few moments, thinking, if Jungwon was genuine, and he was serious about treating her and Xiulin like actual members, maybe...
"It's been months, Jungwon.." Aohi replied curtly, turning to the side, as if hesitant to even agree. "Then I'll make up for it for as long as you girls want."
"You—" Aohi tried to start, Jungwon shaking his head at her reply, "I will, as long as you don't look at me like that again. I'll change."
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And change, Jungwon did.
Aohi was taken aback the first time he did something for her, it was an interview, their first interview as a debuted co-ed group.
Aohi sat in one of the dressing rooms, spacing out on a make-up chair as the girls' own stylist worked her magic onto Aohi's newly dyed hair.
Xiulin and Aohi were successfully debuted into the group, despite the boys' hesitance, except Ri-ki and Jungwon, who happily congratulated the two girls.
Aohi remembers how much they had to handle on the first few days, the incorporation of Dark Moon, the making of their first co-ed album, it was a mess, and not to mention they barely had any breaks.
"Aohi-ssi, your make-up is done." Her stylist spoke, ushering her behind to start working on Xiulin next. Aohi stretched her arms in front of her as she sat on the couches, next to Ri-ki.
Ri-ki instantly turned to her, phone in hand to show whatever he was currently laughing at.
While the two teens giggled over whatever was on Ri-ki's screen, Jungwon approached the couch with drinks in hand, just like Aohi did, and for some reason, the leader of ENHYPEN disliked that their youngest was shoulder to shoulder with Aohi.
Without thinking any further, Jungwon pushed the two apart, Aohi looking startled at the sudden intrusion. Aohi looked up, seeing Jungwon looking down at her.
"I got you a drink, you have to stay hydrated." Jungwon took Aohi's hand and placed the cold drink, using his palm to curl her fingers over it.
Aohi's eyebrows just furrowed, glancing at Xiulin, who only stared from the mirror of the stylist chair in shock.
"Thanks, I guess.." Aohi mumbled, placing the drink on the table in front of the couch. Ri-ki didn't seem to notice, or suspect anything as he just returned to bumping shoulders with Aohi and looking at random videos.
Jungwon seemed to bite the inside of his cheek at the unsuccessful attempt at separating the two, wait— why was he even annoyed that they were so close to each other?
"Noona, are you going to drink that?" Ri-ki points to the drink Aohi had recently placed on the table.
"Why, are you thirsty, ki-yah?" Aohi hummed, grabbing the can, wiping the top and popping it open for the youngest to drink.
Jungwon stood behind them, a bit offended as he watched Aohi place the can to Ri-ki's lips, like a big 'screw you!' from Aohi to Jungwon as she gave Ri-ki the first sip of the drink he decided to kindly get for her.
"Good?" Aohi asks Ri-ki, grinning when he nods. "That's really good grape juice." He nods, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
"here, you can have it."
Jungwon could hear his heart crack as he heard that from Aohi's lips, and Aohi heard clearly.
'You aren't gaining my forgiveness that easily..' She thinks, glancing at Jungwon, a slight mischievous smile on her face.
Since then, Jungwon had been... overbearingly kind to Aohi and Xiulin, as in... even sneaking in ordered food for them late at night. Jungwon was really determined to gain Aohi's forgiveness.
Jungwon had already earned Xiulin's respect, it's just Aohi being stubborn.
"Here..." Jungwon huffed, having ran a few floors down and back up to deliver the ordered food to the girls' dorms.
Aohi could only blurt out a small thanks before closing the door in front of their leader's face, stopping him from even saying anything.
Jungwon sat in front of their door for a bit, catching his breath, letting out a sigh before turning around, despite hearing muffled voices behind the door.
"Aohi! That was rude! You know he's still a member, he's stuck with us!" Xiulin whisper-yelled from beside her, opening the door as soon as it was closed. "Sorry, won, she's just hangry, have some with us." The older girl ushered, pulling a turned Jungwon inside.
"Unnie!" Aohi gasped, somewhat stomping her foot from the door and staring up at Jungwon with a frown. "Don't be like that, we ordered enough for an extra person." Xiulin scolded.
"I could've called Ri-ki..." Aohi grumbled, turning around and stomping into the kitchen. "You're not calling the youngest down for some fried chicken, Aohi." Xiulin retorted.
Jungwon stood by the entrance awkwardly, he was the first of the boys to even be in the girls' dorms. "Don't just stand there, go!" Aohi pointed to the living room, chopsticks and plates in her other hand.
Jungwon hesitantly approached the room, looking around curiously at the new environment, before sitting next to Xiulin, on their couch.
"I'm hungry, hurry up!" Xiulin whined from the living room, the TV still turned on, they seemed to be watching a random k-drama, obviously bored but not tired.
"Eung!" Aohi replied, sitting by the table in the middle of their living room as they started to open the food they ordered. Jungwon sat back with his hands on his lap, a bit nervous.
"Loosen up, won." Xiulin looked from behind her, Aohi placing a plate and chopsticks for Jungwon to use. The two girls were silent as they placed the food out.
"Looks so good... I'm literally about to devour everything." Xiulin let out a 'psh!' sound, bumping Aohi's leg with her own and gaining a protest from Aohi.
"I will enjoy this food.." The three recited, Jungwon slowly sliding into the middle of the two girls as they started to eat.
The trio ate silently, an occasional groan or dislike for any event that went on in their k-drama. "She's so fake for going back to her ex.." Aohi spoke, looking at the TV with a furrowed brow.
"Right? Like, if you're going to go back, don't do it in front of the boy who's liked you for forever.." Xiulin scoffed, taking a sip of her cider. Jungwon silently chewed from between them, just listening in.
Jungwon stared down at his plate, swallowing, 'ah... I need some pickled radish..' Jungwon looked for the container around the table, seeing it but... it was being guarded by Aohi.
Jungwon didn't want to ask Aohi, just watching the girl place another cube into her mouth. Xiulin glanced from beside her, seeing Jungwon eye the container.
"Yah, Jungwon wants some, don't finish it all." Xiulin spoke, nudging her head towards Aohi's direction.
Jungwon felt alarmed at the sudden call-out Xiulin made, jumping in his spot, "Ah— no, it's okay!—" Jungwon used his free hand to make a no motion.
Aohi stared at Jungwon, chopsticks in her mouth, before staring back to the TV. The younger boy felt a little awkward as the noise died down between both Aohi and Xiulin.
Aohi then stared down at the container of radishes, there was only five cubes left.. and she really liked the radishes, she glances at Jungwon, who seemed to have a bit of trouble eating the last of his bites, using cider to down it.
Jungwon grabbed the last bite of the boneless bites he was eating, getting ready to chew his way to a finished plate, unknowing to Aohi's gaze at his struggling figure.
In a small moment, Aohi made the decision to pick a cube up from the container with her chopsticks, before turning to Jungwon.. "Eung.." Aohi was feeding him a cube of radish.
Jungwon stopped mid-chew to stare at her like a deer in headlights, Xiulin was too busy being immersed in her digital show to even bother seeing the live-version play out right beside her.
'Did.. did she want to feed me?' Jungwon thought, looking at the radish before looking back up.
Aohi waited with a blank look on her face as Jungwon swallowed his bite, hesitantly coming forward as he used his teeth to bite the radish, so that his lips wouldn't touch her chopsticks.
Jungwon could feel the back of his neck warm slightly, trying to finish his food.
Ever since then, it was even more awkward between Aohi and Jungwon, the leader starting to practically follow the girl around like a cat does to his owner.
Aohi guessed he wasn't that bad, more so tolerable. Aohi didn't mind Jungwon that much, just thought it was a little tiring having to be followed around.
It's been almost eight months since Jungwon promised to change, and Aohi and Jungwon seemed to be... friends? Acquaintances? All the leader knew was that Aohi didn't avoid him anymore.
Aohi was secretly appreciative of Jungwon, he had helped plenty with her and Xiulin with coordinating their first album together, MANIFESTO.
Aohi and Xiulin learnt their roles in the dance pretty quickly, thanks to Ri-ki and Jungwon. Aohi started to find her confidence in being in the group, trying to find her dynamic, trying to fit in.
Aohi thought she was ready, actually. That she was perfectly in the spot she was. That was, until their first performance of their songs.
"Get her and Sunoo off-stage, quickly! Check on her, see if she broke or injured anything!" The staff ran around frantically behind stage, trying to close the lights to cover up the incident on-stage.
It was their first performance of their song, ParadoXXX Invasion, Aohi thought she was going to nail this first performance, she really did.
Aohi lost her footing half-way into the song, tripping onto Sunoo as the two came tumbling down. The lights dimmed as their fans gasped, murmuring at the sudden absence of lights on-stage.
Sunoo held Aohi stable as he winced, feeling a sting from his lower back from where he fell.
Aohi looked at Sunoo with teary eyes, shaking her head as a worried expression washed over her features.
"Sunoo-hyung... I'm so sorry.. I'm sorry- i didn't mean—" Aoihi whispered, wrapping her palm around her mic, just in case it was still on. Aohi didn't want the crowd hearing her lose her composure.
The whole group was ushered off-stage as Aohi couldn't even hold back her tears as she suddenly burst out in worry, and honestly, in fear.
The staff members had no idea how to comfort the overwhelmed girl. Aohi felt vulnerable at this moment, she felt more like Yoon Aohi, the seventeen-year-old girl who was a little too sensitive for her own good.
Xiulin could only usher her away from the eyes of the other members, letting out soft mantras of reassurance as they walked away. Ri-ki and Jungwon looked on in worry, being by Sunoo's side as the medic on seen checked on him.
"Go check if she's okay, I'm okay—" Sunoo grabbed Jungwon's arm, looking at him with a strained smile, knowing Jungwon's conflicted thoughts behind his eyes, of staying with his hyung, or going after Aohi.
Jungwon glanced up one more time from Sunoo to a fading Aohi, through the crowds, the boy could see glimpses of Aohi's face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
In that moment, Jungwon didn't hesitate to follow after her, swerving through different staffs as his hyungs called for him.
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"I'll just leave you here, okay? I'll be right back... just stay here.." Xiulin softly spoke, rubbing Aohi's shoulder for a bit, leaving to go talk with staff.
Jungwon tailed after the girls, approaching the dressing room that Xiulin left. Jungwon stood in front of the door for a bit, hesitating to knock before he did.
Thankfully, he did manage to do it, cracking the door open soon after, entering with as little noise as possible.
Aohi looked up from her make-up stained hands, up at Jungwon. Aohi sniffled as she wondered why Jungwon was there.
Jungwon could feel his heart tighten at Aohi's tear-stained face. Her expression seemed to hurt even worse than all of those glares she shot his way in the past.
Jungwon never wants to see her cry like this again, he wouldn't be able to take it if he did.
"Aohi..." Jungwon calls out softly, approaching the couch as he attempted to sit down, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
Aohi quickly pulled her hand away before Jungwon could even wrap a finger, "Wag mo ako hawakan!— please!" (Don't try to hold me, please.)
Aohi sniffled as she scooted to the side of the couch, making space between her and Jungwon. he didn't know what she was asking of him, not understanding what she said.
Instead, Jungwon sat on the other side of the couch, hoping she just wanted space. Jungwon could feel his stomach spin in worry for Aohi, the last few months, spending time with her made it that way.
Despite Aohi's firm obstacles in the start, trying to push him away, they ended up becoming somewhat close.
"Why're you even here?.." Aohi sobbed.
"I wanted to know if you're okay.." Jungwon frowned, looking at Aohi, itching to bring her into his arms, itching to comfort her.
"Since when did you care?" Aohi spat, she seemed defensive, thoughts racing in her head, she wondered, if Jungwon as the leader, would scold her for being so careless.
Aohi was stressed enough as it was. Jungwon could see that.
"I've always cared, Aohi.. ever since then..." Jungwon whispered, inching closer, freezing when Aohi flinched at his sudden movement.
"Please don't push me away," Jungwon begged. "I'm not here to berate you, or scold you—"
"I don't need your pity!" Aohi cried, a sob following her words. Jungwon held grabbed Aohi's hand as she tried to stand.
"I'm not pitying you, Aohi! I genuinely care for you!" Jungwon begeed once more, keeping Aohi in place, her movements frantic.
Aohi had to admit, Jungwon was pretty strong and she had to scold herself for thinking such things in a situation like this. Aohi tried to pull her hands away from Jungwon when she was pulled into his chest.
Aohi gasped, struggling in his hold as Jungwon held her in place, whispering 'you're okay's and 'relax' in Aohi's ears as she sobbed even more, only grabbing onto his sweatshirt as she cried her teenage heart out into Jungwon's clothes.
"You made a mistake, and that's okay.. it happens.." Jungwon softly comforted the girl in his arms, his hand reaching up to pat the girl's head.
"I just ruined the performance.. I tripped Sunoo-hyung.. I hurt him—" Aohi sobbed out, Jungwon shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Aish... Aohi, you're thinking too much, Sunoo-hyung won't hate you for that."
"It's not just that!" Aohi cried out, Jungwon leans back from his hug, looking down at Aohi, who seemed to stare up at him, her eyes puffy and nose red, Jungwon was convinced he could've been looking at a scared bunny.
"Then what is it? Hm?"
Aohi sniffled for a bit, moving away from her embrace with Jungwon, "I hyped myself up so much for this album... I was so confident, Jungwon," She whimpered, using her arm to wipe her eyes.
"I thought I would be able to do the performance flawlessly. I just embarrassed us, maybe I'm really not meant to be in enhypen, won.."
Jungwon stays quiet at her words, Jungwon is reminded of their starting months, he wonders if he and his hyungs made that mindset for Aohi. Jungwon wonders if he did, he really thought he was cruel.
"Don't say that, you didn't do anything," Jungwon wanted to change those thoughts in the poor girl's head, it was the least he could do.
"You're a hard-working person, Aohi, and you made a mistake but don't think for one second that you don't belong with us because of it."
"...You mean it, won?" Aohi whispered, looking up at the taller boy. Jungwon looked down at her once again, he felt a bit stunned at how Aohi was fine with showing this vulnerable side to her, especially when he's always been avoided by her.
"With everything I have." Jungwon replied, just as soft.
The two continued to keep eye contact with each other, getting lost in each other's gazes. It was quiet in the dressing room, except for the rustling of Jungwon's hand rubbing at Aohi's palm and his rings clinking with hers.
Neither Jungwon or Aohi made an effort to move away from each other, they didn't even bother to notice that, instead of moving away from each other, they inched closer and closer.
"Won?" Aohi whispered, her eyes fluttering softly.
"..Eung?" Jungwon asked, Aohi could feel his breath on her cheek, that's how close they were.
Aohi glanced down at his lips, Jungwon following her actions, dreading for the moment they would touch.
Another minute passes, an inch following.
It was quiet, too quiet.
In a span of a second, Aohi could feel Jungwon close the gap in between them, a soft gasp leaving her lips. His lips were soft, oh so soft.
Jungwon's eyes had fluttered close, he didn't know why he ended up closing the gap, hell, he didn't even register that he was kissing Aohi!
Aohi could've melted from just how soft Jungwon's lips were on hers, it was perfect, so perfect. Aohi wanted it to last forever, the feeling of their lips moving in sync was perfect, like a dream.
but as quickly as a dream ends, it did, Xiulin being the main culprit as she busts into the room.
Aohi and Jungwon jumped away from each other, Aohi fixing her appearance and Jungwon covering the lower half of his face.
"Noona! Are you okay?" RI-ki voiced, his worried figure approaching Aohi as she tried to compose herself.
"Yeah- Yeah, I'm..." Aohi glances at Jungwon, who's forced himself not to even think to turn to look at her. "I'm.. alright.." Aohi finishes her sentence, her voice lowering softly.
"We should get you out of here, the staff gave us the green light.." Xiulin spoke curtly, staring at Jungwon as she rubbed Aohi's shoulder.
Before Aohi could even get a word in, Ri-ki was already ushering her up, softly telling her to move. Xiulin taking over when she reaches the door.
"But, won—" Aohi tried to call for the other member, Ri-ki only blocking her sight. "Go, noona." The youngest pleaded, wanting Aohi to rest.
Aohi didn't say anything further as Xiulin pulled her outside, reaching the car with their stuff in tow, letting the younger girl enter the car first.
"Unnie-" Aohi tried to speak her mind before Xiulin could even scold her, but she was instantly silenced by the way her elder sister just sent a glance her way.
"Aohi, what were you thinking?" Xiulin spoke from her seat, leaning back into her seat.
"Unnie.. it was a mistake, I really didn't mean to trip—" Xiulin made a 'nuh uh' sound, shaking her head as she raised her hand up to stop Aohi from speaking even more.
"Not. That." Xiulin turns to her dongsaeng, a slightly annoyed look on here face. "I mean that... the— you know!" Xiulin motions to her hand, making kissing motions by touching the tips of her fingers together.
Aohi watches the action with her lips ajar, she opened her mouth to try and make a reason, an excuse, on why she did it, why she... kissed Jungwon.
Since nothing came out, she only sighed, looking off to the window, as if deep in thought. There was barely any sunlight left, the night coming to replace the sun.
"I don't know.. Unnie, believe me, I was upset and—" Xiulin clicked her tongue. "I thought you disliked our members? That's all you could ever talk about, remember?"
"I know but-" Aohi sighed, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with the rings. "Jungwon- He's different—" Xiulin suddenly puts her hands up in the air, it's like she's finally noticing the plot of a k-drama.
"Different? Because he was nice? You and I have known him for a few months, batsy!" Xiulin argued. Aohi flinches at her aggressive tone, feeling like a kicked cat on the curb.
"It's the way he's changing! Believe me, I tried to push him away, but he was persistent, and I started to change—" Xiulin huffed in her seat, she truly wonders what was going through Aohi's head.
Xiulin thought of the future of ENHYPEN as quickly as she saw the scene of Aohi and Jungwon. It would cause such an outrage, especially between newly-debuted members and how it would conspire so many rumours.
Xiulin's heart was in the right place, worrying about their careers, but she has to understand that Aohi didn't mean for the kiss to happen.
"Unnie.. you said it yourself, we're stuck with them! Is it so bad to try and change? To want to be on better terms with them?" Aohi reasoned, pleading her older member to understand.
"You call that better terms, Aohi?" Xiulin frustratingly replied. The two girls seemed to struggle with finding a middle ground. "Kissing Jungwon is worse than having something against him."
"I like him, unnie!" — "Is you liking Jungwon worth more than our careers?!"
Aohi stays silent at this, for once her stubbornness flickers out like a flame.
She thinks about the whole situation from Xiulin's eyes. She and her unnie worked to debut after being picked out of their respective groups and now that they are debuting, Aohi could ruin it.
Hell, she should be lucky it was Xiulin and.. maybe Ri-ki? who saw the kiss.. Oh gosh, what about Ri-ki? What will he do?
"I'm sorry, unnie... I didn't know what I was thinking..." Aohi whispered, deciding to back down and agree to Xiulin. Her unnie turns to her, seeing the young girl deflate into her chair with a soft sniffle.
Aohi was obviously upset, feeling dejected. Xiulin could only sigh, "You should stay away from Jungwon off-camera.. You and won will only hurt yourselves if feelings start to form..." Xiulin reaches over to rub her arm on the girl's shoulder, in attempt to comfort her.
Aohi only nods, their conversation ending as their separate manager enters the car, ready to drive them home.
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MUSIC BANK DRESSING ROOM, 8:56 PM—
"Hyung." A voice calls out for him. Jungwon could only squeeze his eyes shut for a few moments. "Look, just- don't tell the others.." He let out a sigh through his nose, looking up at Ri-ki, who seemed visibly upset.
"I don't care about that, you shouldn't of done that to her." The youngest spoke. Jungwon was taken aback at the sudden hostility coming from Ri-ki.
"Ri-ki, what are you talking about?" Jungwon's eyebrows furrowed, looking appalled at the youngest's behaviour.
Ri-ki clenches his fists, biting the inside of his cheek. "You shouldn't of kissed her."
Jungwon wonders why he'd bring this up, he already knew? What does Ri-ki gain from telling him again?
"You don't think I know that? I'm saying not to mention it to the other hyungs, I'll—" Jungwon spoke, trying to pass the conversation as quickly as possible, the leader didn't want to speak about it, his mind jumbled from the big events of today.
"You're going to hurt Aohi-noona, you know that?" Ri-ki replies, and at this point, Jungwon wonders why he cares so much. Sure, their youngest and Aohi has been closest, but to be so defensive about her?
"Ri-ki, drop it please." Jungwon pleaded, Ri-ki flicking his head to the side, as if ticked off. "she doesn't deserve that, you—" Jungwon stopped Ri-ki from saying even more words, words that could hurt both of them.
"I care about Aohi as much as you do, Ri-ki!" Jungwon argued, Ri-ki biting back just as fierce. "I don't just care, Jungwon-hyung!" He yells, and Jungwon is quiet for a few moments, wondering what he meant.
"You're blowing this out of proportion, ki. You know we're just friends." And at this, Ri-ki scoffs. He felt like a little kid being hid away from things he obviously understood.
"Don't bullshit me, please, hyung." Jungwon clenches his jaw, he could feel the tension rise between them.
It was a familiar feeling, one that started to become obvious as months passed, the more both spent time with Aohi.
"You don't think I notice? The way you look at Noona like she showed you the wonders of the world," Ri-ki steps towards Jungwon, and the older boy takes a step back.
"You used to hate her, and now you kiss her like the past just didn't happen?"
"That was months ago! Aohi and I are on better terms!" Jungwon takes this as an opportunity to stand his ground with Ri-ki, he has never seen their youngest be so rebellious, or hell, angry with them.
"Still! I won't let you play with her feelings like that!"
Jungwon is angered at this, Ri-ki doesn't get to put that claim on him, not when he spent months caring for Aohi, not when he's made a habit to glance at Aohi to make sure she's okay, or always asking her if she needs any help.
Not when Jungwon spent so much time caring, not when he started to form feelings, when he started to love her.
"I'm not playing with anyone's feelings, Ri-ki!" Jungwon finally yells, like a cat defending his territory, feeling offended and intimidated.
"You don't get to accuse me of that! Aohi is just as important to me! I get my actions but I won't do it again! So, drop it!"
"No! I'm not dropping it!" Ri-ki keened.
"God, Ri-ki! Why do you care so much?!" Jungwon groaned, "I said I wouldn't do it again, what more could you want?—"
"It's because I have feelings for her!" Ri-ki reveals, his hand instantly reaching up to slap over his lips. It was so shocking that even Jungwon's eyes widened slowly at his words, not expecting to hear that fall from Ri-ki's lips.
Even Ri-ki's surprised that those words came out of his own mouth.
"I.. I like her."
The two stare at each other for a while, before Ri-ki couldn't handle his hyung's gaze, dashing out with a heavy heart, and a twisting stomach.
Jungwon seemed to grab at a table behind his back, feeling his knees weaken. His hands reached up to wipe the sweat on his face, the temperature of the room seemed to change as the fighting between the two got worse.
Jungwon repeated Ri-ki's works in his head over and over, as if it was a mantra. Ri-ki liked her, he had feelings for her.
God, what will he do?
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131 notes · View notes
heartshapedconchas · 1 year
Text
everlong
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chapter 1: patrol | ellie williams | 
summary — You knew Ellie Williams. You weren't close with her by any means, but you knew her. You knew that she had been dating Dina for 5 months when you arrived, and you also knew that you were fairly interested in her. One night after a day of patrol together, the two of you talk during a get-together. And not just about the normal trivial things you'd say every now and then to break the almost comfortable silence during patrols. You actually talked.
pairing — ellie williams x reader
warnings — femme-based reader, slight violence? reader is a lesbian, dina & ellie are dating (she doesn’t cheat dw)
word count — 1.8k
author’s note — Hello Hello, I have not written since about middle school so i’m so sorry if this is just horribly written ( ゚д゚) Also I apologize if there are any mistakes/inconsistencies or anything like that. I was raised by an immigrant who’s English wasn’t perfect when he had/taught me so mine isn’t perfect either! So much for Eng being my first language LOL.
7:15 AM. The bright red numbers from your shitty alarm clock burned into your eyes as you decided to actually open them and make an attempt to wake up and start your day. You didn’t just wake up now though, you had been awake for the past hour or so; listening to the sound of Jackson slowly coming to life. Your body is still on its usual sleep-wake cycle from traveling on your own. Before you came across a few people and were welcomed into this community, your sleep wasn’t exactly a priority. Sleep was a luxury, you only got a few hours of sleep so you naturally woke up early even though you didn’t exactly need to. Which of course, was miserable but unfixable so far.
Deciding to actually function, you sit up with a sigh; and internally groan at the feeling of the frigid air compared to the warmth of your bed sheets. “Fuck that,” you mumble to yourself, and wrap one of the blankets around you and stand up. After dressing yourself in the appropriate kind of clothing for the mid-December weather, which was beautiful but fucking miserable, you head out to start your day.
Ellie’s coming with you on your patrol today, which wouldn’t be the first time. You two weren’t usually paired up, but you remember her from a few of your first non-group patrols. Actual conversation never really occurred between the two of you, you said hello when meeting up and all that shit; and talked about how to take out the infected that were in the area. But it was never more than that. Not a big deal though, it didn’t make a huge difference to you. Although, a part of you longed for more. Just a little bit more, even if she just asked you how you were feeling that day or if you had any plans. One time during one of your very first patrols you attempted to shoot and ride at the same time; which evidently failed as you got knocked off by a runner. Ellie took care of the infected that had knocked you off, but she had pulled you to safety before doing that. She was grabbing you by the arm, yanking you behind her. After that, for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about her grabbing you. Her touching you. You replayed that moment in your head over and over again, even after arriving back in Jackson that day.
But Ellie had been with Dina for 5 months at that point. You had just gotten there, you didn’t already want to tarnish your image with the idea that you’re going after a taken woman. That would fucking suck. That and the fact that it's just plain wrong. So you just took those feelings and shoved them deep down inside you so they would never see the light of day.                                          
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“Hey {name}, you signing in? I grabbed Lady from her stable for you already! ” someone else getting ready for a patrol said as they saw you. “Oh, thank you! And uh yeah, just waiting for Ellie. Have you seen her, she's usually the first one here?”
Almost as if on cue, Ellie walked in. Her face was slightly red, and it looked as if she was frowning; her eyebrows furrowed as she mumbled something to herself that you couldn't hear. “Maybe she’s not a morning person,” you thought to yourself, “maybe we have that in common. God, I hope it doesn’t affect her attitude on this patrol, I really don’t feel like dealing with that shit right now.”
You gave her a small wave and a slight smile, and she gave you a nod of acknowledgment as she grabbed Shimmer from her stable.
“You ready? This shouldn’t take too long, this area never really has any infected.” She handed you a map of the route since you’ve never been on it before, and she didn’t want to deal with you getting lost along the way.
As you saddled your horse you took a quick glance over the route, “Hm, yep. Seems easy enough!”
She gave you a small smile, finally. “Alright, let's go then. I just wanna get it done quickly.” And with that, you mounted your horses and headed for the gate to leave.
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 The ride was quiet for the most part, aside from a few comments about the weather or a random animal one of you saw. It was really pretty too, you were kinda upset you had never come along on this route before. No infected to take out and good scenery? It was perfect, completely serene.
There were, however, buildings you had to clear of course. And this one seemed rather large and broken down, it almost looked like some sort of gas station or store like that. All of the entrances were blocked by something so you had to figure out a different point of entry.
“Hey,” Ellie motioned towards an open window with her head, “over here. I’ll boost you up and you can help me get in.”
You silently nodded and jumped off Lady, patting her on the side once before jogging over to said window.
She bends down, links her hands together, and nods up towards the opening, “Okay, up you go.”
Stepping onto her hands, she pushes upwards and you’re able to grab onto the very edge of the window. “Fuck, I think I need a little bit more help—it’s a little too high for me to reach.”
Another touch. This time she grabbed onto your leg to help boost you up more. It wasn’t your lower leg though, it was like—The directly below your ass leg area.
Your breath hitched and you were finally up through the window; standing on what you assumed was some sort of storage unit. After helping Ellie up, you turn on your flashlight and start looking around. There wasn’t much really, you found a few extra bullets and some supplies. Plus an old corpse, which wasn’t too pleasant of course.
“So..” Ellie suddenly interrupted the comfortable silence that you two usually experienced during your patrols, “you coming to that party at the church tonight?” Oh. Oh. That's more than the usual small talk.
“Ah, yeah actually. I planned on at least stopping by if I wasn’t too tired. Why? Did you get ditched by Dina?” You said with a slight laugh.
Ellie bit her lip, almost as if that was partially true, “Mn no, was just wondering.” she shrugged and turned to open another door to see if the room was clear. You raised an eyebrow at her before turning to do the same and see if your room was clear.
It was definitely not clear. As soon as you creaked open the door, a clicker rushed out at you. You stumbled back, grabbing your gun from your leg holster and pointing it at its fungi-overtaken head. But you couldn’t aim steady, so much was happening so fast and you were shaken from being jumped by a fucking clicker.
“{reader}, watch out!” Ellie screamed as she ran towards you and the clicker, who was on top of you now. You were barely able to keep it away from your face, its mouth biting down on air as it failed to reach your skin; loud screeches disorienting you even more.
“Fucking— get it off!” Jesus christ this thing was fucking strong. You weren't weak but you’d have a hard time if you were rushed suddenly like this. Ellie grabbed the clicker off of you and shot it once in the head, and it fell to the floor beside you limply.
“{reader} , {reader} are you okay? You’re not bit are you?!” she said panicked, her voice urgent and unstable; and she kneeled down in front of you so you were face to face. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.” but you winced. Your face felt..wet? Reaching up to your left cheek you touched where it felt damp, and when your hand drew back you found your fingertips smeared with blood. Were you bit? Maybe you don’t feel it when it happens, and that's why there’s always that dramatic moment in the cheesy old zombie apocalypse movies where the side character realizes they’ve been bit later on.
“Shit, it’s just a scratch but you’re bleeding pretty heavy,” she paused for a second, “I have stuff in my bag for that, you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her backpack off and rummaged around in it before finding a package of first aid supplies. She grabbed cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide before she began dousing them in the liquid.
“Alright this is gonna sting a bit.” she leaned in close and started cleaning your cheek. You know how when you would fall and hurt your knee when you were a kid? And your parents would pull out the rubbing alcohol and tell you it wasn’t gonna hurt at all. But it actually ended up burning really badly? That’s what it felt like, the stinging making you flinch and almost whine.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” she looked at you with sympathy and continued cleaning, apologizing sweetly every time you would wince or groan. A minute later she was done, and she threw the used cotton balls to the side. “Alright, you’re all done. Feel better?” She got up after pausing to stare at you for merely a second and grabbed her backpack from the floor. “You okay to continue? I wanna get through this as quickly as possible now, I don't want that happening again.” She laughed a little, before reaching out her hand to help you get up.
The two of you finished the patrol, not finding any other infected aside from a few runners that you took down easily.  It started snowing at some point while you were scavenging for supplies in some small building and hurried out of there before it would get any worse. She didn’t ask any more questions as she did before on your way back through the route, she was quiet and almost nervous. She’d glance at you every few minutes or so, and just as quickly as she would look she would turn away from you.
The entire trip back home, you dreaded that party. Pulling your horses into the stable, Ellie hesitated before finally speaking for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
“So uh… you said you are going to the party tonight, right?” She looked almost hopeful as if she’d be disappointed if you said no.
“Oh, yeah!” You smiled, a bit too awkward for your own liking, “Uh.. see you there?”
She smiled and nodded, before handing Shimmer off to the stable handler. As you watched her walk away, you felt that same anxiety bubble up in your stomach again. The same anxiety you felt when you first saw the girl before you were informed that she was in a committed relationship. It almost made you feel sick to your stomach, it was that kind of excited anxiety that made you so giddy you could jump up and down and scream. But you couldn't. "Man I'm delusional" you mumbled to yourself as you followed Ellie's actions and handed Lady off, "She's just being friendly. No need to get excited."
No need to get excited.
Right?
438 notes · View notes
niki-phoria · 11 months
Note
Please I need Yeon sieun dating head canons.
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pairing: kdrama!sieun x gn!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.7k
warnings: mentions of parental neglect/bullying
includes: reader is booksmart/likes studying, post layout is kinda messy oops, this is my first attempt at writing hcs pls, i am begging for sieun x male reader reqs
a/n: i don't write hcs but i had a few ideas for this so i did my best lol thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))
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⋆。°✩ first meeting
— he’s SO awkward when you first meet
— probably ignores you at first lmao
— sieun doesn’t care much about his peers/other classmates but you catch his eye because of your intelligence
— he still focus more on his studies tho
sieun sits at his usual seat in class, hunched over his desk as he reviews his notes for an upcoming english exam. his hand hovers just above the paper as he skims through the words and makes small mental notes about which parts to continue practicing.
the sudden halted chatter from his classmates catches sieun’s attention. he glances up briefly, setting his pencil aside when he notices his teacher standing in her usual position at the front of the classroom. beside her is an unfamiliar teenager wearing a thin black jacket draped over the school’s button up. 
“class,” the teacher begins, gesturing to you. “this is y/n. they’re a new student here.”
“hello,” you say, bowing to the class. 
“there’s an open spot next to sieun,” she says, gently pushing you towards him. “you can sit there for now.”
sieun lets out a small sigh in annoyance as you shuffle over before sliding into the seat beside him. the mindless chatter of your classmates resumes as the door closes, signaling your teacher’s exit. he reaches over to grab his earbuds once again, reaching up to place one into his ear when a voice interrupts him. “number four is wrong.”
sieun stops in his tracks, glaring in your direction. you had also pulled out a notebook, filled with your own scribbled notes and miscellaneous doodles decorating the corners. “it’s a dependant clause, not independent,” you elaborate before turning back to your own notes. 
despite his better judgment, sieun backtracks to question four. he scoffs slightly when he rereads the question again. you were right. 
“thanks,” he mumbles. 
you simply smile, waving him off with the slight shake of your head. “anytime.”
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⋆。°✩ first date
— you have to ask him out. he will never make the first move
— needs a lot of reassurance. this is his first relationship and he likes you a lot. he doesn’t wanna mess it up. bare with him
— probably started off as a study hangout and turned into a study date ngl
you flip your pen between your fingers as you watch sieun continue to scribble down notes. his apartment remains silent except for the occasional noise of either of you flipping through your textbooks or the incessant noise of sieun’s pencil against the page. 
you set your own pencil aside, ignoring your notes in favour of admiring the boy in front of you. sieun’s fringe is just barely short enough to avoid falling into his eyes. his eyebrows furrow every now and then as his eyes rapidly switch between his notebook and the textbook laid out beside him. his teeth catch his bottom lip between them - a particularly attractive habit you had noticed over the months of getting to know each other. 
siuen pauses when he notices your lack of writing, glancing up at you momentarily. you can’t help the soft smile that spreads across your face when you notice his cheeks heating up slightly. 
“you’re staring,” he says.
“i’m admiring,” you tease. sieun’s writing pauses for a second before resuming, though his blush has spread fully across his face, tinting the skin a light pink. 
a tranquil silence falls over the room once again. it feels so intimate - sitting with sieun in his quiet apartment. your little quirks have made their way into his life despite your young age. a new pair of slides sits at the door, awaiting your arrival. the front pouch of sieun’s backpack has been cleaned out of the usual pencils and highlighters in favour of snacks and packets of gum for you to take at your convenience. he no longer reaches for his left earbud; the small device being reserved for you. 
your feelings for sieun jumble together in a mess of half-finished love letters and detailed confessions deeply confined to your mind. after spending over a month suppressing the urge to tell him, you finally can’t help yourself anymore.
“sieun,” you reach out to take his hand into yours. you smile as he intertwines your fingers together. he stops his studying to look up at you - something he’s never done for anyone else. “i like you.”
his eyes widen in surprise. your breath hitches in your throat and your body tenses. it feels like hours of waiting for his reaction before he finally speaks. 
“i like you too.”
a bright smile spreads across your face, making sieun’s lips quirk upwards into a soft smile of his own. “will you be mine?”
“only if you’ll be mine too,” he smiles as he squeezes your still-intertwined hands.
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⋆。°✩ first kiss
— “i don’t know what to do with my hands”
— has never been kissed before slkdnsl
— probably doesn’t kiss back at first but he’ll get the hang of it
— more of a peck than an actual kiss tbh
— it takes a lot of trust and vulnerability to get to this point with siuen. he’s not used to feeling love or affection so kisses mean a lot to you
you sigh to yourself, dramatically stretching before a yawn escapes you. the noise catches sieun’s attention, making him pause momentarily as he watches you attempt to blink some of the sleepiness out of your eyes. “you should get some rest,” he says. 
you glance at your textbook once more before nodding with another small sigh. “so should you. you’ve been working for even longer than i have.”
“i’m fine.” the words escape sieun’s lips almost instinctively as he continues his studying. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, closing your textbook and shoving it into your backpack in preparation for school the next day. 
“sieun…” you circle around the dining room table so you’re standing behind your boyfriend. you lean down to gently rest your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles. a small sigh of content escapes him as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. “you’re exhausted. come on, let’s go to bed.”
sieun finally relents after a few more seconds, letting his own pencil fall to the side before he stands up. your arm snakes around his waist as you help him tidy up; rhythmically packing up his pencils into the case and sliding each textbook back into its rightful place inside of his bag. 
you set your backpacks beside each other as you guide sieun towards his bedroom. his bed remains in the corner, still perfectly tidied from his morning routine. 
sieun climbs into bed first, sliding underneath the covers before you join him. his arm finds its familiar home around your waist to keep your body closely against his. you bring your hand up to cup sieun’s cheek, brushing your thumb against his soft skin. he smiles as your fingers trail down his face to trace along his jawline before they finally settle underneath his chin. 
sieun’s breath hitches when you brush your thumb against his plump bottom lip. he’s grateful for the darkness covers the blush burning on his cheeks. your voice is quiet when you break the silence. “sieun,” you whisper.
“what is it?”
“can i kiss you?”
his body tenses beside you before he forces himself to relax. sieun can feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. “i’ve… never kissed anybody before.”
“it’s okay.” even in the moonlight he can see you softly smiling at him. “we can take it slow, okay? i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
he knows. sieun has never felt safe with anyone like he does with you. but he nods nevertheless. “please kiss me,” he whispers. 
your hand moves from his chin to cup his cheek once again. after a few seconds you finally lean in, gently pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. 
sieun brings his own hand up to your cheek, hesitantly leaning in and replicating your movements. this one lasts much longer than the first. you can nearly feel all of the love being poured into it. 
you both smile when you finally pull away, pressing a final peck against his lips. you lean in closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of sieun’s neck. you press a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of his neck as you let out a small content sigh, finally letting your eyes flutter closed as you begin to fall asleep. “i love you,” you whisper.
sieun presses a kiss against your forehead. “i love you too.”
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⋆。°✩ general dating hcs
— not a huge fan of pda. he doesn’t like the attention and would rather keep your moments together private
— not very touchy but he likes when you hold his hand/intertwine your arms together (especially if it’s an unconscious thing)
— SO PROTECTIVE. sieun is 100% willing to throw himself between you and any bullies 
— his kisses are short and sweet. kiss him as a reward for a good grade or reassurance and his face will light up
— sometimes if he’s feeling extra confident he’ll kiss you in public
— has moments of insecurity pretty often. siuen was neglected as a kid and bullied as a teenager. he needs to know that you love and care about him for him and not out of sympathy
— he needs reminders to eat/sleep/drink water. falls a little more in love every time you do little things for him
— his love languages are quality time/acts of service. quietly studying together until you get up to make him some food as he reviews your notes for you are some of his fav moments with you
— gets clingy when he’s tired. pull him away from his studying, help him wash up, kiss his forehead, and pull him into your arms and he will MELT
— also pls pls pls play with his hair he’ll fall asleep immediately
323 notes · View notes
commander-rahrah · 6 months
Text
Talking to the Moon: Part II
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6900 (haha.. whoops again) Warnings: suggestive, swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, death, blood drinking, combat
archiveofourown: here
masterlist: here
part I: here
Summary: Set in Act II (pre-Moonrise Towers), Astarion and Tav/Reader wake up in the Last Light Inn after he makes amends. Astarion begins to realize what he is feeling for Tav/Reader is different then anything he has every felt before, and it is a continuous internal battle for him in more ways than one.
Notes: This is still a GN!Reader/Tav in second perspective with no names or y/n. The backstory established in chapter 1 still continues — Reader/Tav is Selûne blessed; noble with only a few specific appearance descriptors used (silver hair/star like freckles). This update is a combination of like 3 little daily headcannon dreams I had while playing the game the first time, and I felt like they all flowed so well together to create what would be a series of moments for Astarion to realize he was indeed falling for Tav before his confession scene that happens after Moonrise towers!
I hope to write more for this specific pairing, as I want to add even more to the confession scene from Astarion. And also the resolution for Reader and Shadowheart. I know how it all ends in my head, but I am loving writing it out and sharing with you all! ♡♡♡
P.S.: I keep slipping little Shadowheart x Karlach moments in... because I love the idea of them being together. But you can take it however you want to LOL.
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Astarion blinked awake, slowly, peacefully. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. He usually bolted awake on instinct after finishing his trance.
But this morning he was greeted by a comfortable silence. Stretching his neck, he smiled as he took in your still sleeping form — hair tousled with sleep. One hand clutching your pillow while the other rested near his own, outstretched. Had you held his hand as you were sleeping? He couldn’t recall once he had fallen into his trance.
As if sensing him looking at you, your eyes fluttered open before your lips curved softly at the sight of him.
It made his half-dead heart flutter.
“You talk in your sleep.” You mumbled with a voice still hoarse and drowsy.
“I do? What did I say?” A knot formed in his stomach as he thought of the possibilities — the damning things he could have said.
“It was mostly muttering. You weren’t very coherent… but you sounded afraid. So I…” You flexed your fingers next to his own hand before trailing off.
You had reached out to comfort him whilst he slept. He swallowed as he looked at both of your hands still stretched out to the middle. Before he pulled it back, intertwining it with his other one laying on chest. “Apologies. I’ve never had a bed partner before… You must have slept terribly.”
“No, not at all. I haven’t sleep this well in months actually.” You said as you stretched your arms over your head, starting to sit up on the soft mattress.
Astarion agreed silently in his head. Not that he would admit it so freely out loud.
The pair of you sat in silence for a moment, your bodies still slightly laid across the mattress as you tried to will yourselves to start the day. Occasionally, he could feel you glance over to him. After mustering up some courage, he looked over at you with his red eyes round and vulnerable.
You studied the features of his face for a moment, before your eyebrows crinkled. “You must be starving. You haven’t fed.”
“No… but I’ll be fine. I’m sure some evil cultist will pull a sword on us and I will get to shred their throat.” He let out his nervous laugh, but the burning in his throat was uncomfortable.
“Astarion. You need but ask—“
“I can’t — I couldn’t.” Not after how he had acted last night. The shame that had ripped through him still lingered, his skin turning hot again as he remembered.
Then you were closing the empty space between, shuffling on your knees across the mattress as you got closer to him. “You need it to survive, you can’t help it that you’re—“
“A monster?” His lips curled, before he flashed his face away from you.
Your voice was quiet, laced with an ache he couldn’t understand. “I don’t think you’re a monster. Have I made you feel like one?”
He thought of your face that fateful night when you learned what he truly was. Surprise had flickered across your face, but never fear or hatred. You had quickly turned the tables as you were then calming him down. As if you hadn’t just woken up to him looming over you, fangs bared like a wild animal.
You hadn’t treated him any differently at all. Perhaps you asked a few curious questions and graced him with some teasing with that sharp tongue of yours. But you had believed him and accepted him as he was. Trusted him.
He wanted to hate you for it. For not seeing him as a wild, dangerous creature. For not just treating him like every other person did when they realized what he truly was.
It would be easier — to hate you.
But he couldn’t. He would never.
“No. You haven’t.”
“Astarion,” You grabbed onto his wrist delicately, your touch featherlight and a bit hesitant. “Feed.”
“Alright, if you insist.”
“I do.” You laid back out onto the bed, stretching out your neck for him. He swallowed, already eyeing your pulse point that was beckoning him closer.
His throat bobbed up and down as he pushed his blankets aside and eliminated the lingering space left between you. His fingertips brushed over the puncture wounds that lingered on your neck now — he had committed to always feeding from the same spot, so to avoid further marking your perfect form. His fingers trailed up your jawline, your cheekbones and into your hairline. “You’re too good to me,” He murmured into your skin, pressing a soft kiss on your neck. Surprised by his own intimacy, he pulled back to look you in the eye. “Are you ready?”
You nodded, fisting the sheet you laid on in preparation.
Astarion moved his body half over yours and sunk his teeth in, piercing through the soft flesh until your hot blood rushed into his mouth. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as the sweet taste flooded all of his senses.
But he had become better at it — not as frantic as his first time. Not as desperate. One of his hands lingered in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist carefully as he pulled himself closer into you. The thin fabric of your nightclothes let him feel your warm, soft skin beneath.
The thundering of your heart was echoing in his ears and down into his own chest. But your shallow breaths were acting as a timer. He needed to stay aware of you, to not push you or your body too far. He became increasingly aware of your hands tightening in the sheets and toes curling as you let out a whimper. Both pain and pleasure intermixed.
He realized that so often while he had fed from you, the lines got blurred. Lately, you both had been buried deep in each other whilst he was sucking and lapping at your neck — bringing you both into bliss for very different reasons. And though those moments with you did bring him into euphoria, something no one else’s touch or body had done in a century, it still brought that familiar tremble. A single thought that spoiled the high and made him wish he could peel off his skin.
He didn’t want to cross that line today, not if he didn’t have to.
With a gasp, he pulled away from your neck. He lingered close to it for a moment, breathing in your scent once more before licking at the punctures to stop any lingering blood from pooling out. Sitting back up, his tongue went over his lips and teeth cleaning up the red stains. “Are you alright?”
Your voice was a gentle whisper, purposefully calm to reassure him. “Yes. Are you?”
“Feeling better already.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth carefully, before asking, “Do you need — would you like me to make you feel better?”
“It’s nothing that my amulet and a strong cup of tea won’t fix.” You gripped the edge of the bed as you sat up, fingers already clasping at the golden amulet glittering off of your neck — it glowed slightly at your touch. The colour slowly returned to your cheeks, and the open puncture marks closed — leaving behind the purple-red bruises from his mouth and small scars from his fangs.
“Right. But I got mine… do you want yours too?” His pale fingers swirled nervously on his own knee.
“Astarion, this isn’t transactional.” You said with a shake of your head.
No, that couldn’t be. Everything had a cost, everything was an exchange. He knew that, he lived by that.
“What?” A bewildering look crossed his face, his head cocked to the side. He was sure he hadn’t heard you right.
But you said firmly, “I don’t expect anything in return. Not ever.”
“Then why in the heavens do you let me do this!?” He asked exasperatedly, his voice a little louder than he intended.
You took a large breath before staring back into his eyes, your stare and voice unwavering. “Because I care about you. And you told me heartbreaking stories of how you spent years eating rats and bugs. Being tortured and cut into. I may not ever truly know what you went through Astarion… but I understand. So every moment that I spend with you, I want to show you the opposite.”
“Someone will take advantage of that you know. Take advantage of you —that goodness you insist on.” Your blood in his stomach turned sour, as he knew that someone was him.
“I know. They have and they will. But I will not change my mind on this. And despite what you think or expect, I will not treat you like a monster or a thing. You are a person, albeit a complicated one, but aren’t we all.”
He blinked at your sudden outburst, mouth open slightly as his mind scrambled for some witty response, some quick line. But he failed too as you continued your admission.
“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Not just the drawings I gave to you when you told me you wished to see your reflection…,” Those charcoal drawings of his face were carefully tucked into the pages of a leather book in his pack. His most prized possession. “One day, when you are ready to hear it I will tell you.”
Astarion remained silent. He was gobsmacked, his eyes wide. He felt like he was still processing, his mind sputtering and his heart thundering from your confessions. You cared for him? You understood him? And there was more to hear? Whenever he was ready… whatever that meant.
The only attachment he had planned for was your bodies intertwining in a false passion. Not that it had been very fake as of late… But everything else.
Astarion was suddenly very out of his element.
“Have a left you speechless, my dear? Maybe I should make unprompted speeches more often.” You smirked, though your face flushed a brilliant shade. He had been silent for too long, so you had tried to make things light and airy.
He slipped back into his usual cadence as his face broke into a grin, a dark chuckle escaping him. “So vicious, darling. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”
He prayed he wasn’t.
• • •
It was a hard few days in the Shadowlands, searching for a way to break the curse and edging ever closer to Moonrise Towers.
It was brutal here, punishing. Each turn more dangerous than the next.
There were no animals for him to feed on, so Astarion sheepishly continued to accept your offers. And there was no exchange as you promised, except quiet gratitude from him and an even more quiet understanding from you.
It was bewildering and mystifying. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why you would choose to do that for him.
He could understand you jumping to the aid and rescue of the Tiefling children, helpless animals, the young couples desperately in love. They were good, they were pure.
But he was none of those things. He was wretched and broken. He craved violence and vengeance. His touch was a curse for you both. And he had used you, manipulated you. And maybe you knew it.
Yet you were still there.
And the cursed lands kept reminding him of that.
Everywhere they looked he seemed to find pairs. Engraved wedding rings enchanted to protect the other. Skeleton couples laid next to each other in their final moments. Like the pair that died on the rooftop, their boney fingers still intertwined. The handwritten poems cataloging the love they held for each other sat next to them, like they had whispered it to each other before their last breaths. 
You had found the poems first, a soft look on your face as you read it to the group — your tender voice breaking as you neared the end of the last poem, their final declaration of love even in death. Astarion had to look away as you finished it, his half-dead heart thumping in his chest as he heard you speak the proclamation. He wouldn't allow his mind to even start to imagine you saying such things to him. 
Lae’zel’s huffs broke the moment, demanding they get a move on and head back to camp already. The group blinked back to reality, before turning on their heels to go.
You walked ahead of him as the group began to backtrack to camp, tucking the book of poems into your pack with a gentle touch.
Astarion’s thoughts had been consumed by you for sometime now. For longer then he had realized. Perhaps from the moment he met you. He sometimes wondered what about you had kept him so captivated. Why he picked you to feed on, or to be the unsuspecting member of his plan.
He could have picked Wyll — he was noble and honorable, prone to jump into the thick of things to save an innocent or a friend. Loyal to a fault. And he was quite handsome too. Like the princes he dreamed to marry when he was a boy.
But no, it was you he was drawn to. His little moon.
He had realized that he ached for something he had never known, and had never before believed truly existed — that it was only invented to be seen in plays or read in prose and poetry. But now he longed for it with you.
When he was cursed to this life of a bloodsucking monster, of a vampire, he quickly realized that he would always feel hungry. That he could have his fill of blood and still be starving. He could drain this merry party dry and still feel that prick in his throat and pang in his belly.
What he didn’t realize was that the curse Cazador bestowed to him was so much more. Not just an endless bloodlust, not just waking nightmares and endless torment. But that he could long and ache for companionship, attachment, love. But that he would never take it for himself. That he would always be both starving and empty.
Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not after the things he’d done, in this life and his old one. Not after what he had become. He didn’t deserve you — someone so good that a literal goddess had blessed you with their power. Someone whose voice turned gentle as their fingers trailed lines of poetry. Someone who would offer themselves up to a monster, just to make them feel whole again.
You deserved someone bright and unbroken. Who could give and receive touch as freely as breathing air. Who knew that true companionship wasn't some fantasy invented for the arts, that love was more then sex and flattery. Who could one day also lay beside you, willing to accept what fate becomes them and turn to bone. Not a half-dead creature like him.
He knew he would cease his foolish plan. He couldn’t use you as bait nor a shield, not anymore. You deserved better than that. What that meant for him… he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps he should confess to his plan too. As a final way to make you understand what a manipulative bastard he truly was. To push you away. It would hurt less than to confess what his heart wished for, but his mind knew he could never have.
The path the group was walking along was overgrown with thorns and vines. A specific darkness plagued the route, and it was barely dulled from the magical glow of the party’s several spells and enchantments. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his red eyes darting around them — searching.
It happened in an instant — the shadows silent and invisible until it was too late. The creatures appeared with a sudden flash, long curling claws slashing into your side — catching you unawares. Your shout of pain alerted the rest of the party, everyone drawing their weapons quickly.
Astarion went to the enchanted daggers at his side, hurling them through the air with easy precision as they found their target. They boomeranged back to him, sliding into his waiting palms. He had gotten rid of one, but there were way more than usual. Wherever they had stumbled into, it was not good.
“Shit!” Karlach swore loudly as more shadows appeared after the ones they downed. Continuing to converge around you, drawn to your huffs of pain and blood. Your blood, the scent that was usually so sweet in his nose but now had dropped an anchor in his stomach. There was too much of it, much too fast.
“Watch out!” Wyll shouted in warning to the vampire, before sending several of his powerful red blasts soaring out of his hands.
With a glance to his side, the rogue twirled around Lae’zel’s strong, cleaving swing with ease before releasing his daggers once again at the creatures advancing on you. But he threw them a moment too late — their clawed strikes sinking deep into you before the magical daggers ripped through them and back into his hands.
The sound of your knees crashing into paved stones made Astarion's teeth chatter. His heart lurched into his throat, your name choking out of him as he screamed. He had never moved so fast — it almost seemed like he had blinked across the battlefield like Gale so often did.
“RAHHHHH!” The booming roar of Karlach echoed in his ears as she raged from seeing you fall. The rest of the party converging on the remaining shadow creatures attempting to surround your unconscious body, moving in sync with each other with a deadly precision.
Knowing that those creatures were being taken care off, Astarion fell to his knees next to you — his pale hands grabbing onto your shoulders. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
You didn’t stir, your head and limbs shaking loosely as he moved you. He dragged your head onto his lap, before unbuckling the holster on his belt. He tipped the the precious red liquid from the healing potion between your lips. He said your name, running his thumb across your face.
You didn’t stir.
“Darling?”
His red eyes studied you, your face looking lack luster and eyes remaining closed. Your hands laying limply at your side, unmoving. He couldn’t hear the familiar thrum of your heart.
No, no, no, no.
“Astarion?!” Gale shouted, his voice exhausted and strained as he split his concentration just enough to check on you two.
The world tilted as the wizard instead shouted for you. But you couldn’t respond... because you were —
“You can’t die, dammit!”
Suddenly, you were all bathed in a golden light for a moment as Shadowheart brought down a thunderous strike of radiant energy, defeating the remaining shadow creatures as they shrieked in pain. Then the sound of thudding metal and footsteps as the party surged forward to you, panting for breath.
Wyll’s eyes went wide with worry as he saw you unmoving, his hand covering his mouth,“ Are they—?”
Astarion looked up at his party with bleary eyes, his hands trembling as he held your face on his lap. “They won’t wake up. I tried, I gave them a potion and they—“
“Oh gods.” The Blade choked out, his face immediately crumpling.
Gale shook his head, immediately dumping the contents of his side satchel onto the dirt. Scrambling through them, “No, no, we can do more! I’ll have a scroll or, or — Shadowheart!!”
The cleric had remained in the back, her face half covered in shadow. Her nostrils flared as she looked down at you. But she made no move forward.
Astarion’s red eyes pierced through her, before narrowing, “Bring them back.”
She didn’t move, her face blank. “My goddess will not allow it.”
“Princess! What are you talking about?” Karlach tried to grab her hand, but Shadowheart pulled away. “It’s Giggles!
Her black braid swayed back and forth as she shook her head, taking one step back. “She is Shar’s enemy. She is my enemy.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your goddess.” The vampire spat, his lips curling, “Bring. Them. Back.”
“I—" A moment of hesitation as her voice shook and her eyebrows furrowed.
Gale let out a shaky breath, his fingers pushing back his long hair. His brown eyes were shining with fear. “I have no scroll, I—“
“We are running out of time!” Lae’zel finally spoke out, glaring at Shadowheart. “Do something now, istik.”
Astarion voice was deadly, his fangs baring as he shout out. “If you don’t do this. If you let them die— I will hunt you down and become your worst nightmare. I will fucking haunt you! BRING. THEM. BACK.”
“Shadowheart, please.” Karlach whispered, finally getting ahold of the half-elf’s hand.
Conflict flickered across her face, before she stepped forward. She crouched next to you, bowing her head as her hands began to glow with golden light. Her small hands rested on your unmoving chest, before the light disappeared into you.
A loud gasp escaped you as come back to life. Your hands finding purchase in the dirt as your eyes snapped open wide with fear and uncertainty.
Astarion let out a loud breath, tipping his head back with a silent thank you to anything that was listening.
The sigh of relief echoed throughout the entire party. Minus the dark haired cleric, who stood up quietly. Her throat bobbed as a hard to read look crossed her face and she backed away.
“I— what, what happened?” You asked groggily, your eyebrows meeting in the middle from confusion.
“You scared us Giggles.” Karlach sniffed, “Thought we’d lost you for a second there…”
“I… I was gone?” You craned your neck, looking up at Astarion, alarm etching every feature of your face.
He opened his mouth, but no words could come out. Fear and panic still held a tight grasp around his throat.
“For but a moment.” Gale stepped forward, his voice practiced but reassuring. “Shadowheart brought you back.”
Your bottom lip wobbled as you fought instant tears, before you croaked out, “Thank you.”
A quiet grunt is all you got in reply from her.
You sat up gingerly, Astarion grabbing your elbow to steady you. Your blood and the strange ichor from the shadowy creatures was clingy to your clothes. You were shivering — a combination of the cold and from the knowledge that just mere moments ago you had been dead. The vampire had undone the clasp of his cloak and was wrapping it around you before you could say no.
“I think it’s best we head to camp. We will take the paths we know.” Gale spoke up first, gathering the contents of his satchel that he had spilled across the ground.
Karlach took your pack from you, slinging it across her back with ease. “Fangs, help me get them up.”
He rushed to his feet, gently pulling you up with him. You swayed for a moment, but your fingers tightly found his forearm to keep you steady. “Thank you,” You breathed.
Him and Karlach slowed their pace to match your weak steps as you walked between their sides, both of their arms wrapped around your waist. Gale was leading the way with Wyll at his side, his staff a shining beacon as the two kept their heads on a constant swivel. Lae’zel brought up the rear, her sword remained out as her eyes narrowed on the huddled form of Shadowheart. The cleric’s arms were hugging herself as she kept her eyes on her boots.
Astarion couldn’t help but count your heartbeats, the rhythm now steady and thumping like normal. He needed to recommit the sound to memory. If only to drown out the reoccurring one of hearing it stop.
• • •
You were much quieter than usual, the lute you would strum by the campfire abandoned. Your eyes were blank as you stared into the flames, licking and dancing across the logs. You were miles away, your half-full dinner plate forgotten at your feet and now licked clean by the camp dog and owlbear.
Shadowheart and Karlach had almost immediately retired to the latter’s tent — still in there now, speaking in hushed whispers that even Astarion’s elven ears could not pick up. Lae’zel was sitting on her perpetual watch, her sword balanced across her knee as she polished it. Wyll sat closest to the fire, using the warm light to inspect a map of Moonrise Towers you had found today — making marks and notes, strategizing the best way to rescue the lost Tieflings and his father. Gale was dutifully at your side, sharing the log bench and reading quietly — his mage hand holding the book up for him and turning the pages.
Astarion watched from a far, sitting at his own tent. He was not interested in feigning conversation. But he wasn’t interested in his own activities either — the book he had open on his lap had been on the same page since he first sat down. Instead, he was watching you carefully.
The scene from earlier in the day was repeating in his mind, he couldn’t shut it out. Not just the sound of your heart stopping, or the scent of your life blood draining out of you. But how you had clutched to him as you journeyed back to camp. That the trembling in your lip would stop when he looked over to give you reassurance.
You had slipped into a deep shock when you arrived in the familiar comforts of camp, almost instantly dissociating once you breached your group’s makeshift home. Gale had swooped in then, his mother-hen behavior taking over as he ordered you to change while he cooked.
So, the vampire had slipped away. Disappointed to no longer be needed. Wishing he too could dissociate or play healer or anything, something to just stop his racing thoughts and pained heart.
His pointed ears perked as you spoke.
“I’m going to go for a walk along the river.” You said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had been settled around the camp for hours. You braced your hands on your knees as you stood up from the bench.
“Do you need company?” Gale asked from your side, already starting to stand up to join you.
“I’m okay, just going to the dock… to collect my thoughts.” You didn’t notice the hurt in the wizard’s eyes as you rejected him. No, your eyes were searching around the camp, looking for something. Someone.
They settled on Astarion.
He raised a single white eyebrow, your eyes never straying from his. A silent invitation, maybe? To join you on the dock.
You gave the smallest indication, a tilt of your head that anyone else would have missed. Then you were off, heading across the camp before turning toward the tree line closest to the river.
He waited for a moment, as to not make it obvious. Perhaps to spare Gale’s feelings, that you had silently asked him to go, and not the wizard.
“Off to get lucky?” Wyll asked as the vampire marched by.
“Wh—what?” He stuttered, steps faltering as he turned to look at his companion still sat on the dirt by the fire.
“Gonna try your luck with a hunt?” The warlock rephrased, looking up from his stacks of maps and parchment.
“Oh. Yes. That’s it, ‘hunting’.” He waved his hands and did a funny little bow, before turning on his heel. When had he become such a terrible liar?
With a practiced lazy grin, he bid the rest of his companions a quick farewell before following the trail into the tree line as you did.
The docks weren’t far from camp. A few minutes journey down a well-walked dirt path through the sparse woods led him to the quiet river.
You were already sat on the wooden dock, your boots half hazardously tossed behind you and your feet hanging in the water. Your head was tipped back, arms stretched behind you as you seemingly basked in the silence. Astarion made purposeful loud steps, causing the wood planks to creak. To announce himself, to avoid startling you.
You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Instead you merely opened your mouth to speak, “Hello, Astarion.”
Oh, how he loved it when you said his name like that. Like you had been waiting for only him.
“Darling.” He drawled from behind, standing carefully next to you.
You turned your face so you were now looking up at him instead of the dark sky, “Thank you for knowing I wanted you here. I didn’t want to announce it.“
A smirk quirked his lips, “Good, I can still read you then.”
You looked at him quizzically, “Have you been having difficulty doing that lately?”
“You…, He cleared his throat, “You have been keeping me on my toes, yes.”
A cheeky smile spread across your face, your eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, you must hate that.”
Yes, he did. He rolled his red eyes at you, “I certainly haven’t been bored since I met you.”
You both let out chuckles, before you patted the spot next to you on the dock. “Sit with me?”
He joined you, removing his own boots and rolling up his pants to sink his legs in the water. But then he paused, his pale feet hovering above the blue water. “What creatures lurk in this river, do we know?”
“Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat.”
Astarion huffed before placing his feet in. He hissed from the cold temperature, but after a moment it felt refreshing on his tired and sore feet. A relaxed sigh escaped him, and his shoulders lowered slightly.
You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Then he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but was careful to not get caught. “How are you feeling?”
You blinked at the question. “I— I’m not sure how to answer that. Okay, I think. Are you?”
“You scared me today.” He admitted without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your fingers kneading the flesh of your thighs.
“I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to… Just never do that again, ok? I know you did nothing wrong and you were just standing there but don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again.”
Your brows met in the middle, your mouth turning into a frown. “The path we are on is a dangerous one, Astarion… I can’t—“
“No. Nothing can happen to you. I won’t allow it.” His voice cracked, so he swallowed some of the emotion down. “So stay at the back, behind me, I don’t know. But I will not witness what I did today again, you understand me?”
“Okay,” You submitted with a nod, “It’s all still very hazy for me…”
“It was terrifying. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.” He chewed his inner lip, surprised at the confession that had just hurled out him.
A haggard breath left you, before you abruptly stood up. You started to fumble with the buckle of your pants, staring out into the river as you took it off and tossed it behind you.
He watched you with confusion, “What in the hells are you doing?”
“I want to, I don’t know, feel alive. I need to reset. I can’t get the feeling I had when I came back out of my chest.” Astarion knew that feeling, had felt that feeling. And it still resurfaced sometimes.
You peeled off your shirt next, then your trousers, the clothes falling in a small pile at your feet — until you were suddenly stark naked standing on the edge of the dock.
Astarion did his best to hide his awe at you, standing confidently above him — completely nude and bathed in the dim evening light. You stood there for a moment, your chest rising and falling as you took quick breaths. “Well?”
With a sudden leap you jumped into the water, a joyful yelp escaping you as you splashed into it.
“Have you gone mad?!” He asked after you, holding his hands up in defense of the cold water that splashed from your movements.
“Yes! Join me in my madness.” You said with a loud laugh, the musical sound ringing in his ears. You threw your head back, your bare chest exposed as you flopped backwards and began to float in the water.
He looked at you like you were demented. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Astarion, come in. There are no ghouls or creatures. It’s nice.”
He set his jaw, his words coming through his gritted teeth. “I can’t — I haven’t swam in two hundred years.”
“Oh.” You realized, before standing in the water to show him, “It’s like the baths we took near the grove. You can touch the bottom, I’ll help you.”
His red eyes couldn’t resist roaming your wet figure, backlit in the evening light in front of him. Then he snapped his eyes away, turning his nose up, “You’re intolerable.”
“You love it. Now get that stubborn, pale ass in here.”
The vampire huffed as he stood up, “Hmmph, it’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know. Or everyone would reconsider why they condone your behavior.”
You flashed him a smile, before turning around and dunking your head into the water — giving him privacy to undress.
The vampire slid off his clothes, carefully piling them next to yours before staring down into the dark blue water.
Fun. That’s what you were searching for. Just a moment, a thrill. It wasn’t a distraction like what he had tried to do in the Last Light Inn. It was.. an escape. He could do that for you. It was probably one of the few things he could afford you.
“Oh hells,” He hissed through his teeth before jumping in after you.
Even as a cold-blooded creature, the water was a shock to his whole system. He felt goosebumps cover all of his flesh, his muscles drawing taught from shock. But as he surfaced and saw the delight flickering in your eyes, he instantly warmed. “Are you happy now, you wretched little thing?”
You didn’t reply, instead grinning and nodding childishly.
“Good.” He smiled back, “Now, what?” His feet could indeed reach the bottom, he stood in it, the water gently moving over his shoulders and collarbones in the lazy current. It was nice, but foreign — a sensation he was still trying to grow used to after all this time.
You bit your lip and shrugged, beginning to swim in a slow circle around him. Before sending a large splash of water over him.
“My hair!” He cried out, before his eyes narrowed and settled on you. “You minx, you’ll pay for that.”
Another laugh escaped you as you tried to outmaneuver him, your wet arm slipping through his hand as he tried to grab you. So he instead launched a counter wave back at you, splashing water across the back of your head.
“Muahaha!” The vampire let out, his grin spreading across all of his features.
Your smile was contagious, addicting. He could feel strain on his face from his own smile as he laughed with you, the longest a genuine one had been plastered on his face for centuries. The two you played in the shallow river, splashing and shrieking like children. It was liberating, he had never felt more free. Not even the day when he had realized he hadn’t perished from the sun’s attention. This was somehow better.
His wet, pale hand caught your wrist as you went to slide past him in your game of chase. You swallowed slowly, your plump mouth hanging open slightly as he tugged your closer to him — drawing you nearer until you were face to face.
Your eyes were hooded, staring at his mouth. But not possessively, not with the hunger and objectification he was used to. But with longing? How long had you been looking at him like this?
He tilted his head forward, meeting you halfway as yours lips pressed into his carefully. A soft groan escaped you as you felt him kiss you back.
His pale fingers grabbed your naked waist, pulling you into him so your bodies were flush — your chest cold and hard from the water pressed into his own. His fingertips dug into your fleshy side as you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth to him. Your hands trailed up chest, your fingers tips playing with the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck and moving into his hair. Your touch gentle yet firm — it was maddening.
It had been sometime since you’d touched each other like this, but there was something different tonight. Arousal was flooding through him, his lower belly tightening and warming as he hardened against your thigh. Gods, did he want you right now. And not to perform, not his almost ritualistic routine for Cazador’s prey. He just wanted you, needed you for only himself.
As he felt you push into him more, a low moan escaped him.
But then he felt a familiar shiver travel up his spine, disgust — not at you, or him. But at the tainted act. Haunting memories of back alleys and side rooms flooded through him.
Gods dammit.
He had wanted this — to kiss you, to be with you. To indulge for just a moment in you, even though he knew he could never truly have you. A temporary bliss to sate his thoughts of you, his need for you.
Loathing burned through him for ruining the moment. So, instead he tensed his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued. He could persist, he insisted to himself as his hold on your waist tightened.
You two had barely kissed twice more before you pulled away, completely breathless. You caught your breath, before looking up into his eyes, “I don’t want to go any further tonight, I’m sorry.”
He froze, before his fingers immediately left your waist. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no! You’re wonderful. Just… a lot happened today, and I’m still overwhelmed I think. I hope you understand.”
He understood more than he could bare to say. “Of course.”
He’d never thought to just ask to stop. He never had the choice, the free will to. If he stopped he would have no prey for his master. Then he would be punished. And the punishment that Cazador would doll out for him was a much worse abuse then enduring the practiced torture he did with his victims. So he had just done it…
But you had asked. You had listened to yourself, and your wants and had stopped. You were vulnerable and honest in a moment of passion. You trusted him to listen.
You trusted him.
“And don’t apologize. Not for that.”
You pecked him on the cheek — your lips incredibly soft, it was only a puff of air across his skin. “We should probably head back — the others might be worried.”
He blinked back to reality, nodding along as different thoughts and memories flooded him. “The others, right.”
You both got dressed quietly, your clothes sticking to your damp skin and hair. You began to walk back towards the forest line, the dirt path leading back to camp looming in front of you.
Astarion glanced over at you, but blinked as he had realized he caught you staring at him. Your cheeks flushed brightly, before you ducked your head.
“Gale told me about what you did for me today.” You said quietly as you walked, your eyes fixed on the trail and hands twirling nervously at your side.
His steps slowed behind you, “Oh.”
You turned to face him, your eyes soft yet wide, “Shadowheart may have cast the spell. But you… you’re the reason why I’m here. Thank you for fighting for me.”
His heart thudded, as he felt an overwhelming urge to go to you. To hold you like he had in the river. His fingers twitched at his side as he instead swallowed and spoke, “Of course. You would have done the same.”
The sounds of the camp began to trickle down the trail, soft chatter by the fire could be heard from here. Surely meaning that any thing said between you now could also be overheard. You seemed to realize this as well as you turned back to him one last time.
“Astarion,” You called back. Every time you said his name, it was like a piece of him that he had long forgotten about came back to life. “I’m very glad I met you.”
He thought of all the moments that led to this one. Dying in that dirty, dark alley. Clawing his way out of his own grave. Two hundred years of misery, and begging, and torture. To the nautiloid and the god damn worm slithering in his head. And then to you — under him with his knife to your throat on the cliffside, flushed and dancing at the Tiefling party, sleeping soundly next to him in the inn. And to now, staring at him with your soft eyes and smile, your sweet laughs and touch still echoing in his ears and across his skin.
Maybe the gods had answered his calls after all — if he had been fated to meet you along.
“So am I,” He smiled back.
Continue to part III here!
117 notes · View notes
stormberry-12 · 1 year
Note
Heyy,I love your writing! May I request a JJ fic inspired by the ‘Work Song’ by Hozier?
time comes around ~ jj maybank x reader
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notes: thank you so much for the request and I'm so sorry it took soooo long. it gave me so much to work with and it ended up being super long lol, i hope it turned out okay I kinda just went with what the lyrics reminded me of.
you also don't really have to read all of them if you don't want, their all just blurbs off JJ and Y/n's life together. ❤
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader (jj pov)
warnings: making out, jj's dad being a dick, mentions of jj's good ol' gun, language. (not very well edited)
youtube
(i recommend listening while you read>>>>)
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Boys workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat
"Jayj!" she giggled, dropping her fork on the table and staring at me.
"What?!?" I laughed in mock offense, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair.
"You haven't even touched your food," y/n complained, her pretty eyes squinting at me in confusion.
"I-"
"You love food." she interrupted me, a smile playing on her lips, "Probably more than you love anything else in the world, now eat!"
"Not as much as I love you," I whisper, she looks down at her plate with a smile and a blush. "I don't want to eat... I just want to watch you,"
"That sounds creepy when you say it like that, stop!" she choked on her food and I fell into a fit of laughter that squeezed my lungs, making it hard to breathe. She made it hard to breathe.
There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She give me toothaches just from kissin' me
I hummed into her lips, they were sweet, soft, and warm. I tapped her thighs signaling for her to jump up, she wrapped her legs around my waist, hands in my hair.
Her back hit the wall and I slid my hands up her waist. She hummed into my mouth and we broke away panting.
"Missed you too-"
"Shut up." she said and I laughed, leaning my forehead against hers. I was so glad it was finally summer, her family would stay at their beach house for the next few months and we would spend every day together. Love only growing.
When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her
Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib
I woke up with the sun shining through the curtain, y/n was laying on top of me, her arms and body heavy like they were sheltering me from a storm. In this case, the storm was my dad.
She shifted on top of me, rubbing her eyes from sleep.
"Morning," she whispered.
"Mornin'," I said back, shifting our position and sitting up, pulling her into my lap.
"I'm so sorry," she rubbed patterns into my bicep, "I had no idea... do- do you want to talk about it?"
I looked down at her beautiful face and shrugged my shoulders. She looked up at me and I wrapped my arms around her tighter.
"He has no right to do that-" her fingertips ghosted over the scar on my cheek that she had patched up the night before. After I had come knocking away on her window way past midnight.
I felt a pain in my chest, "I'm sorry I bothered you with this, I'm so sorry-" I buried my face in her neck so she wouldn't see me cry.
"Oh Jayj..."
A sob broke my lips and my shoulders shook, god I was being such a baby.
She turned to face me, still sitting in my lap, holding the sides of my face with her hands. Her eyes were watering as she kissed each tear that fell from my face before wiping it away.
"You could never bother me," she said, voice more stern. I silently thanked her.
God, how did I get so lucky.
And I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did
"Y/n-" I said sitting on the couch, running a hand through my hair, "I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry-"
She just watched me from the other side of the chateau, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was unreadable, eyes stone cold.
I had just pulled a gun out at the kegger, I was so stupid.
And not only did I put it up against Topper's head at some point but I fired it into the air. I let my anger get the best of me, it could cost me my freedom, my friends, or even y/n.
I hoped she wouldn't- oh god.
"Please don't dump me!" I squeaked out.
"Dump you?" she laughed shaking her head.
"I'm being serious, why are you laughing?!?!" I panicked standing up and bringing my hands to my head.
"Cuz your funny," she walked towards the back door and left the chateau. I followed her out back, she was walking to where the rest of the pogues were eating around a fire.
I sat down beside her and grabbed a hot dog and a roasting stick.
"So, we all sorted out?" Pope asked, raising his eyebrows at our sudden appearance.
"Did she give you shit?"
John B chuckled and I flipped him off, "No, actually..."
"Damn!" Kie said. "Your lucky JJ, not many people can put up with your shenanigans-"
The conversation shifted to something royal merchant related, I ate my hot dog and snuck glances at y/n. She was wiping sticky marshmallows off her finger, but it just kept spreading all over her clothes. I looked down and my plate and smiled.
Kie was right, y/n was the only one that could deal with me. But I was also the only one that could deal with her.
We couldn't live without each other.
When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her
When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her
My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
"Hey, y/n!" Rafe called from across the boneyard, "Your not still seeing that dirty pogue are you?"
"I'm sorry?" she said taking a sip of her beer.
Ward Cameron's evil spawn got closer and eyed me up and down, "Honestly, I can't believe you guys are still hanging on, normally JJ would have moved on to a new bitch by now-"
"Ohhhh shittttt," Kelce and Topper called from behind him.
I stood up lighting fast but y/n grabbed my arm to stop me, "How dare you!" she shamed him.
y/n knew I had a past on the island, I had slept around with a lot of girls. I made a promise to her and myself that I was done with that shit, and it was working out for the best.
y/n tossed the rest of her beer on the back of Rafe's shirt as he walked away, he whirled around fuming.
"Try us, I dare you," John B said, he and Pope were now beside me, and Rafe backed off.
Y/n was still holding my hand, rubbing her thumb over my palm.
Yeah, Rafe, try us, I dare you.
When I was kissing on my baby And she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamp light I was free Heaven and hell were words to me
The sun from the hot day was setting behind the sky and the soft glow of the street lights began to shine. The breeze was warm and the ocean was crisp.
I dusted the sand off my board, "One more go before dark?" I asked her.
She nodded slowly, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and following me toward the water. "I'm still not so good at this Jayj," she said fidgeting with her fingers.
"No, you're doing great!" I encouraged, pushing the board into her hands, "Go on, I'm right behind you."
We joined the rest of the pogues in the water, I watched as y/n got up on her board and rode a wave all the way down. Pride rushed through me as the pogues broke out in cheers.
"LET'S GO BABY!!"
She laughed and sat down on my board paddling over to me, "I'm so fucking proud of you right now!" I said pulling her off the board and into my arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Nice one squirt!" John B ruffled her hair and Kie said something about celebratory french fries on her.
I kissed her sweetly and looked into her eyes, "Your fearless, you know that?"
She just grinned at me, but I only spoke the truth, she was.
Love felt so wonderful.
When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you y/n," I slurred drunkenly, but it was most definitely true. Drunk words, sobber thoughts.
She giggled and buried her face in my neck.
"I'm serious!" I complained.
"Same." Y/n said, sounding just as deadly serious as I was. We locked eye contact, her gaze reaching mine.
"What if you die before y/n? Like when you're a Grandpa and all your smoking comes to bite you in the ass?" John B countered jokingly.
"Well you know, like when I die, I'll probably get buried and shit-" I felt myself start to ramble, "but then Imma be all badass, and dig my way out!"
"What the fuck?" Y/n cackled, tears brimming her eyes from laughing so hard. Kie choked on her beer and Pope gave her a few good hard slaps on the back.
"Yeah, and then I'll come to find you," I said confidently. "NO GRAVE CAN HOLD ME DOWN!!!"
The pogues broke into laughter and I held Y/n's body tighter, I would never let her go. After all we had been through together, the ups and the downs, I knew at that moment it would always be her.
When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her
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254 notes · View notes
cheshiresense · 1 year
Text
Anon:
Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)
Character or Ship: Hadrian from CLV, I love Hadrian/Orion but that might not work here so it's totally up to you!
AU/Trope: I'd love to see an AU where instead of the CLV dimension, Hadrian is sent to a universe still with BWL!Neville but more similar to canon. Maybe with Slytherin!Hadrian and Hadrian taking some of the other Slytherins under his wing? I just really like the idea of a world where the "good guys" win and instead of (or in addition to) Orion it's the Slytherins who need Hadrian in their corner. Doesn't have to be all of them, whoever you prefer writing is fine. I am also down for bashing if you need to work that in. Thank you!
Tags: CLV AU, Slytherin!Hadrian, Canonical Prejudices, Draco Malfoy Bashing, kind of?, tbh this is more or less how I see him in canon lol but I know he's a fan favourite so fair warning, he's not the CLV version here, at least not yet.
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Author's Notes: Hello, it's been a while since I've worked on these. I think I mentioned before that my tumblr inbox got glitchy so I actually couldn't find the other 6 requests from the last batch of 10 you guys sent in for 5+ Headcanons. So I set up an airtable form instead and got someone to test it, and this was the one they sent. It works, so in the future, I'll toss out a new post with the form link for more requests, and maybe I'll get through them in a timely manner lol.
If you're not in the UraIchi server, then you might've noticed that I've sort of been MIA on the writing front for a while now, the last time I wrote and posted something was like back in May last year, and honestly I've been kind of tired and burnt out ever since, and real life is kicking my ass a bit, so when I do have spare time, all I feel like doing is reading fics or webnovels and sleeping. But the winter hols were a nice break for me, and I've started on a couple new fic ideas and added to some wips on and off over the past few months, so I'm slowly getting back into it, and this 5+ Headcanons prompt was one of the things I've been working on. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into posting fics soon.
ANYWAY, on to the stuff you actually care about: Slytherin!Hadrian, so basically amp up the hardened war vet and dial down the friendship magic XD Way back when I first started CLV, I did consider Slytherin for his House but it felt like everybody did that, plus the politics I would have to get into gave me a headache and I felt like I couldn't do it justice anyway, so I went with Hufflepuff. Slytherin does give me more options to play with a powerful Hadrian who has less morals about flinging that around to get what he wants though since he would be viewed as a halfblood at best and he'd need that currency to make sure nobody messes with him, especially if this universe is more canon than CLV (lbr, almost everybody is at least 50% nicer in CLV lol). So okay, let's give this a spin.
(AO3 Link Here -- I’ll add this to the collection fic on my AO3 to make it a round 15 but this one will be the last for that. If I do more, I’ll start a new fic.)
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1.
Hadrian ends up being a Hatstall. He sits on the stool for a full seven minutes as the Sorting Hat sifts through his bloodstained memories with a silence so grim Hadrian is tempted to comfort it. Then it proceeds to send back memories of its own, the major points of recent Hogwarts history that would best help Hadrian fit in - Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; an image of Hadrian's counterpart and an entire family still alive; Quirrell vanquished in first year, a basilisk slain and a diary that bled itself to death in the second, Remus teaching in the third but no Pettigrew in sight; Neville at odds with Potter, Gryffindors at odds with Slytherins, and Death Eater children who hadn't managed to come out of the last war as financially and politically secure as families like the Malfoys, subtly shunned for their parents' sins, while children from the Light side, the winning side, with parents who'd openly defied Voldemort, can do almost no wrong. On the surface, everything looks bright and happy. Beneath it, malcontent and despair bubbles and brews with hardly anyone the wiser, and those who are, are glad to look away.
The Sorting Hat offers no opinions of its own after it is done, only continuing on to extol the virtues of all four Houses while making an argument for why Hadrian would be perfectly suited for each of them in equal measure, before finally leaving the decision in Hadrian's hands.
"Even I cannot be certain where you would do the most good," the Sorting Hat tells him. "Nor do I know which House would do you the most good. There are many children in this school who could use a helping hand such as yours, and likewise, you too would benefit from the same. Who am I to decide which is more important? Perhaps it is most accurate to say that no matter where you end up, who you will help, and who you will allow to help you, a new future will unfold, one made possible only by your existence. Yours is a fate that demands change, Mr. Evans, for better or for worse. But when peril looms on the distant horizon, when our society insists on blind stagnancy, and its people have long stood divided, change is exactly what this world needs. Thus, I leave the choice to you. Where do you wish to go?"
Hadrian says nothing - thinks nothing - for a long deafening minute. The mounting whispers in the Great Hall are easy enough to tune out, and within the confines of his mind, the Hat too remains patiently silent.
The truth of it is - Hadrian is tired. Even now, in this moment, in this place, one year and an entire dimension and seven years away, he still feels like he does on most days— as if he's just walked off a battlefield at the end of one of those kinds of days that can break a man even when you think there's nothing left to break, yet still hyper-alert for the next enemy, the next fight, the next death, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else. On all the rest, of course, it feels as if he never left the battlefield at all.
He is tired, and he honestly doesn't feel like he's capable of helping anyone, not children, not the reflections of his loved ones, and certainly not an entire world that's rapidly revealing itself to be as stuck on a one-way train to hell as his original world had been.
He doesn't want to be a hero, doesn't know how to be one even after all these years, even when other people had always so desperately wanted him to be. A hero, until he'd proven unable to meet their expectations, and then he'd been their villain, right up until they'd needed a hero to stand in front of them again, and round and round and round they'd gone.
The only thing he could never be was just Harry, just himself, and now even Harry Potter is no longer his to claim.
But maybe that's not so bad, not when Harry Potter has always been more story than reality, a patchwork fairytale portrait of a boy, a man, a weapon, a sacrifice, stitched together by every hand except his own.
Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.
Gryffindor feels too much like repeating history, and Hadrian would rather not be forced to stare at the majority of those long dead to him day in and day out. Hufflepuff is too prone to crowding together for his liking, persistently eager to be friends with their own members even if they're quick to turn on those who aren't, and Hadrian doesn't think he can bear the overenthusiastic socializing that would require.
 Ravenclaw might be best, a House where even the most introverted can find a home if they have a thirst for knowledge, but at the same time, for a lot of them, once they latch on to a question unanswered or an opinion that doesn't fit their worldview, they won't let go until the question is exhausted or the opinion has conformed to what they consider acceptable, and Hadrian has too many secrets and no more patience to be what others what him to be to fit in with those sorts of people anymore. Besides, he's never quite forgiven that House as a whole. Marietta Edgecombe had been Ravenclaw. Quirrell and Lockhart and Trelawney had been Ravenclaws. Every single one of Luna's bullies had been Ravenclaws. He'd worked with members of that House over the years, taught them back when the DA had been up and running, and even been friendly with some of them beyond just Luna, but generally speaking, he has no positive emotions regarding Ravenclaw. He knows that he isn't being entirely fair, because Voldemort had been from Slytherin, and Pettigrew had been from Gryffindor, and the worst of the lot who'd spearheaded the damaging gossip and baseless accusations incriminating him - first for the Heir of Slytherin debacle in second year, and then the Cup nonsense in fourth year - had all been from Hufflepuff, but still, Ravenclaw simply stands out as that one House that holds no appeal for him.
That really only leaves one place he can go though, and Hadrian finds that he minds that a lot less than he once would've. Slytherin will have its own problems, him being a halfblood at best with a very obvious muggle surname, but Slytherins also respect power, and most of them have the sense to back off if they realize they're picking a fight with an opponent they can't beat. And once that's dealt with, Hadrian will most likely be avoided and left to his own devices, with only the occasional curse to his back to worry about. From a bunch of schoolchildren, that's a negligible issue.
In his head, the Sorting Hat chuckles. "Very well then. If you're sure, better be-"
"SLYTHERIN!"
But Mr. Evans," the Sorting Hat says in the seconds before it's removed from Hadrian's head. It sounds thoroughly amused. "Do not be so quick to underestimate your own heart."
And with that last ominous statement imparted to haunt him, Hadrian stands to lacklustre applause and makes his way to his new House as his tie settles into green and silver stripes.
The briefest of glances over the stretch of the Slytherin table tells him that none of the students seated where most of the fourth-years are gathered have moved to make room for him. That's fine. Hadrian would rather not be boxed in anyway. He takes a seat at the end of the table, smiles at the suspicious first-years around him, and then waits for Dumbledore's opening speech to finish so they can start the feast.
Fifteen minutes later, one treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice is all he can manage. He sips at some water for the rest of dinner even as he wishes it was something a lot more alcoholic. He speaks to no one, and no one tries to speak to him, although plenty of prying eyes and sneers of disdain find their way to him throughout the meal.
It makes him feel, Hadrian thinks with some humour, almost nostalgic.
Near the end of the evening, he thinks about going over to the Gryffindor table to find Neville, Ron, and Hermione. But he's in Slytherin now, so he doesn't know how they'll react, and after another moment of contemplation, he decides against it. Not much can embarrass him anymore, but he'd still rather not be put on the spot if the Golden Trio rejects his overture of friendship. It won't help his reputation in Slytherin either if he ends up making a spectacle of himself like that. There's plenty of time tomorrow to see how they'll feel about maintaining ties with a Slytherin without too big of an audience watching, and if they're against it, then, well, it's not as if Hadrian hasn't been living as a recluse over the better part of the past year anyway. He sees no problem carrying on exactly as he has.
Fate sent him here against his explicit permission but she sure as shit can't make him dance.
-0-0-0-
2.
Hadrian ends up shuffled into a dorm room with five very familiar Slytherins - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He gets the remaining bed that's presumably been empty since the others' first year, and a very pointed silence coalesces at his back as he starts unpacking his clothes into his wardrobe.
He ignores it. Instead, he absently begins a count of how long it will take for someone - he's betting Draco - to put their foot in their mouth first. He casts a glance at the floor-to-ceiling window next to his nightstand; like the Gryffindor dorms, the room is circular so everyone has a view to the outside, but here, instead of winds and open skies, it's lake water that shimmers against the glass, with the shadows of passing aquatic life flickering by. It's not bad, just different; the ambience of it is almost soothing.
Someone clears their throat behind him. Hadrian hangs up his winter cloak before moving on to his books. They each get a desk too, complete with a mini bookcase, which the Gryffindor dorms don't have. They have to do their homework on their beds or in the common room. How unfair. But at least Hadrian gets to benefit from it now.
Someone clears their throat again, louder this time. Hadrian smothers a twist of a smirk and bends over his trunk again to fish out his towels and toiletries. His more personal belongings can remain inside, although he'll have to ward everything to the nines anyway.
A displeased noise that comes out gilded with that distinctly familiar Dudley-esque whine of a child who's been spoiled since birth and has never known hardship reaches his ears, and then finally-
"Are you deaf, Evans?!" Draco demands, and oh, look at that, Hadrian wins the bet.
He straightens and turns, idly fiddling with a packet of quills as his gaze falls on the blond standing puffed up and bristling by the bed opposite Hadrian's on the other side of the dorm. He looks him over, looks at Crabbe and Goyle bracketing him with twin expressions of oafish scorn, looks at Zabini standing a ways away, watching the whole room with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, looks at Nott who doesn't look at anyone at all.
His attention returns to Draco, considering him for a moment longer before asking mildly, "Did you say something?"
Draco's cheeks flush pink even as he draws himself up and snaps, "You should at least have enough manners to introduce yourself!" His face narrows into a sneer, and Hadrian can almost predict his next words. "But I suppose even that might be too difficult for a mudblood to learn."
For a second, Hadrian wonders if he should tell him he's a halfblood. Then again, it doesn't really matter, and also some people consider halfbloods to be mudbloods too. And now that he thinks about it, the person he is in this world might actually be a muggleborn. But he was homeschooled so at least one of his fictional parents had to have known magic, right? Then again, they could've just been related to a witch or wizard but were muggles themselves. Who knows. Certainly not him since Fate couldn't be bothered to inform him.
"Evans, are you listening to me?!"
Hadrian blinks out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening, what is it?"
Draco glares. His features are so… pointy at this age that the expression doesn't really carry the impact he's probably going for, but Hadrian figures it would be unnecessarily mean to mention it, so he doesn't. Instead, he quickly reviews everything Draco has said, and there wasn't actually a question anywhere in there, as far as Hadrian can tell, but maybe Draco really does want an introduction. Seems like a waste of breath though.
"Is there a point to introducing myself?" He asks. "Everybody heard my name at the Sorting. You even just used it so it's not like you don't know."
Draco splutters as if that wasn't what he expected Hadrian to say. He recovers after a moment and opts to glower harder instead, as if that would hide the way the pink in his cheeks is slowly turning red. Poor bastard. That's what you get when you have a pale complexion and fluster easily.
"Are you actually a mudblood then?" He demands contemptuously.
Hadrian honestly doesn't know, but he can't say that, so he volleys back, "Does Slytherin accept muggleborns?"
He knows they take halfbloods, but he can't remember any muggleborns in Slytherin, although if there are any, he doubts they would be willing to broadcast it, even if it means inventing a magical parent in their family tree.
"Of course not!" Draco refutes, sounding scandalized.
Hadrian can't tell if that's actually true, or if that's just Draco's own belief, but it does make things easier. "Then…" He shrugs. "If you already know, why are you asking?"
A beat of silence passes, then two. The red deepens in Draco's face as he hisses dramatically, "Are you mocking me?"
Hadrian suppresses a sigh. He probably is being too flippant for someone as high-strung as Draco, but it's still a far sight from mockery. He can definitely do better if he wants to taunt someone. Had his world's Draco been this easily riled up? They hadn't even really gotten into any exchange of insults yet. "I wouldn't say I'm-"
He stops.
Across the room, Draco has pulled out his wand, and when he realizes that Hadrian's broken off mid-sentence, the flush recedes from his face, and a triumphant smirk instantly takes its place instead.
"Since you've been sorted into Slytherin," Draco announces, raising his wand with a ridiculously showy flourish that makes Hadrian twitch with the desire to correct his posture. "You should know your place. Mouthing off to your betters is a good way to get cursed around here, especially when you're in the presence of someone like me." He sneers down his nose even as his chin tips up, all peacock proud. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Even the likes of your kind should've heard of my family." He looks smug, as if a mere surname can protect him from anything when it comes down to it. "You'll be staying here for the next four years, Evans, and I guarantee you'll have a miserable time of it if you get on my bad side. But today's your first day at Hogwarts, so I can be generous. If you apologize, I'll let you go just this once."
An expectant hush falls as Draco finishes his little speech. Hadrian doesn't say anything right away, still turning over the packet of quills in his hands, still waiting. When nothing happens after a good five seconds tick by, and the silence gradually becomes strained, Hadrian finally nods at Draco's wand, "So are you going to use that or not?"
The stunned look of outrage on Draco's face is gold.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Evans!" Draco snarls, jabbing out with his wand. "Oscausi!"
Hadrian has time to arch an eyebrow at the choice of a pseudo-silencing charm before he's flipping a quill into the fingers of his left hand. A swipe of his thumb leaves a chain of runes glittering along its shaft, and then he brings it up, catches the oncoming spell with the tip, and swats it aside with a flick of his wrist, all in one fluid motion. His right hand doesn't stay still either as his wand slides neatly into his palm, and a single wordless modified Expelliarmus darts out and attaches itself to Draco's wand.
The white light of the Mouth-Sealing Charm is sent soaring across the room, shattering against the door in a shower of harmless sparks, and in the heavy silence that follows, Hadrian smiles.
He thinks it's a very bland smile, if he does say so himself. At the very least, he's careful to not look too intimidating or too unhinged, the way he can sometimes get, if some of his dead friends were to be believed, back during the war. Nevertheless, it still makes Draco blanch white, makes Crabbe and Goyle shrink back, makes Zabini lean further back into a convenient shadow and Nott go utterly still from where he's sitting on his bed.
Hadrian glances down at the remains of his writing utensil, most of the barbs now burnt black. It was a regular quill after all, not exactly made to withstand so much magic. He looks back up, at Draco who has a white-knuckled grip on his wand, and with his own wand, he gives the other's a tug, just enough to make Draco's eyes go wide with something like panic, but not enough to actually disarm him and - considering the sheer amount of honed intent in the charm that even Draco can undoubtedly sense - most likely bend the wand's allegiance.
Hadrian holds it for a moment longer, and then lets go. Draco staggers back a step, jerking his wand down and reflexively pressing it into his chest as if he's trying to protect it, or maybe assure himself that it still belongs to him.
Hadrian tucks his wand back up his sleeve before stooping down to pick up the rest of the quills he'd dropped. The burnt one goes in the bin by his desk.
Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.
"That took you almost five seconds," He begins almost conversationally as he opens a drawer to stash his remaining quills away. "From when you decided to fire that spell to actually firing it. And that's not even counting all the time you wasted saying the stuff before that, after you already took out your wand. It's stupid. When you draw with the intent to harm, you shouldn't give any warning at all. And the spell itself was slow. You should work on that."
He pauses, and there's still no response, which he supposes makes sense. He doubts anybody here wants to listen to him preach. He should just wrap things up since the plan is moving along so neatly.
"Anyway, this is pretty unfortunate," He switches gears and smiles again, as fit-for-public-polite as he knows how to be. It doesn't seem to make anyone feel better, but he also doesn't feel like he was that heavy-handed earlier, was he? Ah well, can't change anything now, and it's still in line with what he wants so it doesn't matter.
"I wasn't really expecting to make any friends since I know the average Slytherin's views on blood isn't exactly in my favour," He continues in light tones. "But I was hoping that we could at least remain on civil terms and get along as schoolmates, if only because we'll be living together for the rest of our time at Hogwarts. Since that doesn't seem to be possible anymore though, how about we just go with the simplest solution?"
Hadrian surveys the room and smiles some more. "You ignore me and I’ll ignore you. You attack me and I'll retaliate. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Everybody just needs to mind their own business, and there won't be any problems. That's fair enough, don't you think?"
His gaze settles once more on Draco. "Since you're the only one who's said anything so far, I'll assume you speak for everyone in this dorm. Draco Malfoy, right? So then, do we understand each other now?"
Across from him, Draco shivers imperceptibly like a rabbit caught at the wrong end of a predator's line of sight, but he also swallows and nods and gingerly puts his wand away. It looks like it costs him, but - at least for now - he seems both too shocked and too afraid to try anything else.
"Great!" Hadrian says cheerfully before cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right, one more thing."
He lets his smile fall away. Lets his expression smooth over into marble. And then he lets his magic flare, lets the pressure of it roll across the room like the black merciless depths of a storm-tossed ocean, lets it eclipse them all like death come to call, and then he brings it crashing down, not most of it, not even half, because he hasn't forgotten that these are children, that they're still young, and they can learn, they can be better, and Hadrian doesn't actually want to traumatize them permanently.
But he also remembers Draco - his world's Draco - telling him once, in a fit of aggravated exasperation during one of those times when they'd devolved into insulting each other's House traits yet again because they still hadn't understood what made the other tick, but they had also reached a point in their friendship where they'd started trying to, and kept trying.
"Slytherins respect power," Draco had said, not for the first time, but then he'd also added, for the first time, and haltingly as if he hadn't known why he'd had to explain it at all, "How else are you going to know they're worth your time? Or I guess worth befriending, in your Gryffindor terms."
"You don't decide whether or not to make friends based on how powerful someone is."
"Slytherins don't have friends. I only said friend because you're a Gryffindor and you don't understand anything else."
"Fine, you don't decide whether or not to associate with every single person you come across in your life based on how powerful they are either."
"Why not?"
"Why would you??"
"How else would you know they're strong enough to stand with you? Or competent enough to protect themselves? Power is a good starting line. If they're powerful enough, then they won't be afraid to face your enemies with you, and you can trust them to be capable of keeping themselves safe without having to keep an eye on them every minute of the day. Only brainless Gryffindors prefer doing things like throwing themselves in the line of fire and dying dramatically for each other and calling that a win. Let me tell you something, Potter - it's not a victory when you're forced to suffer a loss. You haven't won anything if you're not around to enjoy the aftermath. So the best allies must be ones who are powerful enough to not only achieve their goals but also survive them."
"…"
"Well, I will grudgingly admit that I didn't put quite that much thought into it when I was younger, but who did? …It's what I believe now though. Did I finally get it through your thick skull this time, Potter?"
After that particular conversation, Hadrian had understood a little better, even if he hadn't entirely agreed with it all. But he hadn't forgotten a single word, and Draco was right— as they are, these kids definitely aren't thinking that deeply, but Hadrian thinks that the core of it at least is the same. Slytherins respect power. And he has power in spades, so at the very least, he can make them respect him.
Of course, if that also happens to make them afraid of him, then, well, he was never aiming to be their friend or even ally anyway. So long as they leave him alone, it's fine.
He brings his magic to bear, allows the weight of it to fall and fall and fall, and he watches dispassionately as Draco goes grey, as Crabbe and Goyle's knees buckle, as Zabini flinches back like he wants to melt into the walls, as Nott curls into himself and may or may not have stopped breathing.
Hadrian catches Draco's eye, and doesn't let him look away. "I have no betters. Do I make myself clear?"
He'd spent half his life being beaten down by the Dursleys, told over and over that he was worth nothing, that he didn’t deserve food or clothes or kindness, that he was a waste of space and better off dead. He'd spent a good chunk of his Hogwarts career obliviously dancing to Dumbledore's tune, and then some more of it knowingly dancing to it because what else could he do with a target on his back. He'd spent over twenty years shackled to Voldemort, to his parents' legacy, to a war that had loved him a whole lot more than he'd ever loved it. And he'd been Fate's everything since before he'd ever even been born.
Some days, he wonders if he even knows what freedom is anymore. Or if he's ever known at all.
But one thing he is sure of is that he will never passively tolerate anyone controlling what he can or cannot do ever again.
Draco whimpers something like agreement, like deference, like surrender, and- that's enough. Hadrian reels it all back, all his magic hidden away again, and in the dizzying wake of its abrupt disappearance, Draco collapses, barely catching himself and his dignity with the edge of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle do crash to the ground, while Zabini has to steady himself against his nightstand, and Nott sways like he might faint.
Too much, Hadrian thinks distantly, and tries to feel bad about it because he really hadn't meant to go that far, but his lines in the sand have also long since blurred away beneath a tide of blood and corpses.
Mostly, he just feels tired, and it has nothing to do with his displays of magic tonight.
He breathes. Turns. Grabs a towel and his underwear and pyjamas and pretends everything's fine. It is fine, now. He's gotten what he wanted. "It's getting late. I'll shower first. Won't be long."
And then he's exiting stage right, straight into the bathroom, and it's a relief to close the door behind him.
Of course, that sentiment is one that's shared by probably every single person in the room.
-0-0-0-
3.
Theo is awake before anyone else the next morning. Or at least he thinks he is because he usually is. But everybody's curtains are drawn, and after last night, he doubts anyone was able to sleep right away, if at all, with the exception of their new roommate.
Hadrian Evans. Great Merlin, where had this person even come from? Even just the memory of his magic - vast and endless and utterly uncompromising - pressing down on them like the sky had fallen on their heads, makes his hands want to shake all over again. For a long, suspended, suffocating moment that could've lasted an eternity, Theo could've sworn he was going to die last night. And the most terrifying thing is that he is absolutely certain that Evans hadn't even been trying that hard.
Evans had radiated enough raw power to force all of them to their knees if he'd really wanted to. But he'd held back. He'd only given them a glimpse, just enough to warn them off. The rest of his magic had been out of reach, but present. It was there, reined in and waiting, but the shape of it and the depth of it had felt… unfathomable, as if it had no limits.
And that doesn't even account for the spellwork he had done. Theo had recognized the Disarming Charm, but last he checked, the average Expelliarmus only deprived a wizard of their wand. A more powerful one might send the target flying and even knock them out, but he's never heard of one that can… threaten to disarm your opponent at your leisure and - if Theo wasn't mistaken - force the wand to forsake its owner. Everybody knows that that's always a possibility in a real duel; if you win and take your opponent's wand, then that wand might not work for its owner anymore. But most of the time, you have to mean it, you have to set out with the intent to do it, the buildup of magic in the duel itself gives that intent a foundation, and there has to be an actual possibly life-threatening conflict of interest between the parties too, a real enmity that even last night - however excessive the exchange - shouldn't have qualified. Squabbles between students just don't count. If it did, with the Disarming Charm being taught in school, there would be a lot more students in need of new wands. The only way Theo can rationalize it happening anyway is that Evans must've been strong enough to compel the wand itself to leave its owner.
Pity he hadn't gone through with it in the end. Evans is powerful, but he's also… Theo is hesitant to call him soft, but if it had been Malfoy, if it had been Blaise or even himself or pretty much any other Slytherin, they would've done it. He's unsure of why Evans hadn't.
And then there had been the thing with the quill. Theo can't even explain that, and he'd mulled it over for half the night. He has the… incidental fortune of occupying the bed closest to Evans', so as soon as Evans had ducked into the bathroom last night, and the others had been distracted with pulling themselves together and possibly trying not to wet themselves, Theo had chanced a swift peek into Evans' wastebasket.
It really had looked just like any other regular quill, one that'd been burnt completely black and missing most of its barbs, but it had been a quill. He'd been tempted to open Evans' desk drawer to check the other quills, but - with Evans' ultimatum still ringing in his ears - he hadn't been that suicidal, so he'd refrained. But from what he could recall, the pack it had come from had looked just like the mass-produced writing utensils one could find in any stationery shop in Diagon Alley.
Whatever he'd done though, he had made it look like child's play. A quill and a Disarming Charm, so fast that Theo could've blinked and missed it. Could someone like that really have remained in obscurity all this time? Evans had apparently been homeschooled up until now, and they haven't even attended their first class yet, but by anyone's definition, after last night, he can't claim to be anything less than a prodigy.
It's… unbelievable. And not even because of any of the blood purity ideals that Malfoy likes to preach about. Theo doesn't think much of muggleborns or halfbloods, but he also doesn't think much of most purebloods, so he's fairly certain it's not high society prejudices that's driving his disbelief. It's just… He's never met anyone - not even his father, and Merlin knows Theo's been afraid of him for as long as he can remember - as effortlessly powerful as Evans had shown himself to be, and he doesn't understand how nobody has heard even a whisper of a rumour of this boy before he'd arrived at Hogwarts.
Someone like him shouldn't exist. Or perhaps there has been one, and that had been how the Dark Lord had made so many people bow at his feet or cower in their homes, but Theo had never met him in person, and so all he has is Evans' example to draw from. And not a single witch or wizard whom Theo's ever met could compare.
Has Evans just been hiding himself? Maybe his family hid him before they deemed him ready to face the rest of the world, and he's certainly proven that he can hide it when he wants to. But what kind of family can bring up this kind of wizard? Evans is only fourteen. None of them had thought him anything special before he'd revealed exactly how wrong they were. And he probably wouldn't have done even that much if Malfoy hadn't immediately taken a go at him, always so obsessed with making sure everyone knows he sits at the top of the food chain.
Well, he certainly doesn't anymore, and if Theo hadn't been caught up in the confrontation last night just like everyone else, he would've been tempted to applaud the spectacle of Malfoy being taken down a peg or ten. Before Evans' arrival, Theo was the one Malfoy liked to take jabs at every few days, and it was only partly because he'd had a halfblood mother. The Notts could've been said to be respectably rich once upon a time, but after the war had ended, with his father's political clout being almost nonexistent and most of their extended relatives either dead or in Azkaban, they'd been easy pickings for the Aurors. His father had escaped prison time with the Imperius excuse and some bribes, but that hadn't prevented multiple raids on their home and a hefty list of fines that had left their vaults near-depleted. And what little fortune they have left is reserved almost entirely for Theo's father's alchemy obsession that's more often focused on illegal research topics than not, as well as his black market dealings, although neither of those at least is widely known, or who knows if they would even have their ancestral manor left after the Aurors were done with them?
Malfoy loved reminding him of almost every one of those things as often as he could, and the most absurd thing is that - more than being born from a halfblood mother or poverty or loss of prestige - Theo's pretty sure Malfoy's biggest reason for disliking Theo is because Theo had refused to follow him around like Crabbe and Goyle back in first year.
So here they are now, and after three years, Theo had more or less become inured, not to mention it wasn't as if Malfoy only bullied him, or even bullied him the most - nobody could top that list while Potter and Weasley were around to fight for first place on it - but it had still been annoying and stressful because Theo was the only one who had to share a dorm with him. Considering the Malfoys' standing in society however, all he could ever do was stay silent and bear with it.
Admittedly, he'd been a little happy when Evans had been sorted into Slytherin, because between Theo and an unknown halfblood-at-best with no allies and no significant family background to speak of, the perfect prey in every way, Malfoy would definitely enjoy targeting the latter more, and even if the blond ponce still came after Theo, it would at least take some of the pressure off of him.
Now… well. That will still probably pick back up sooner or later, but Theo resents it less when he thinks about how it will take at least a few weeks before Malfoy will be able to strut around again after last night's humiliation. And also…
He thinks again of last night, of how Evans had basically smacked Malfoy down like he was nothing more than an unruly upstart getting above himself, and of that quiet oath too - I have no betters - and it hadn't even been pride or arrogance or superiority, only stone-cold certain fact.
He thinks of the fear he'd felt, but behind that, beneath that, more than that, there had also been nothing less than a breathless, heady, wondrous sense of reverence that had settled itself behind his ribcage, in his lungs, in the sudden hungry swell of curiosity that he'd just barely managed to lock behind his teeth, and it had only grown stronger after a night of fitful sleep.
He wants to see that magic again. He wants to know what else Evans can do.
And most importantly, he wants to know if he can do it too.
-0-
Ten minutes later, Theo hears Evans pull his bed curtains back. Very cautiously, he twitches his own curtains open half an inch to watch Evans get up, stretching languidly and scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair before gathering up his toiletries and a change of clothes. Like this, he looks completely normal, nothing at all like someone who could flatten all five of his roommates with a thoughtless flex of his magic. Even his eyes are just green now, no longer glowing like the light of a Killing Curse.
Of course, then Evans waves a hand at his window curtains, which obediently sweep open in response, and… yes, why not? Wandless magic seems par for the course for Evans, even if Theo has only ever heard of a handful of seventh-years capable of some very basic wandless spells if they concentrate hard enough.
Evans leaves for the bathroom as if casual uses of wandless magic is an everyday occurrence for him, and only after the door has closed does Theo let himself relax.
Evans had never even glanced over, but somehow, Theo thinks the other boy had known he was being watched anyway. But he'd said nothing, hadn't even given any indication that he'd noticed, let alone minded. Theo still isn't sure why he'd let Malfoy off so easily yesterday - because on hindsight, when it came down to it, all Evans had really done was scare them and scare Malfoy most of all; despite the verbal abuse and even the Dark charm Malfoy had shot at him, Evans hadn't actually hurt any of them in return - and Theo doesn't get it but maybe part of it is just because Evans doesn't take offence easily.
It seems unwise to Theo to not at least dole out some injuries as a reminder when that offence had been as insolent as Malfoy's, but perhaps Evans has his own measure of such things. Besides, Malfoy's known to say worse. Theo's looking forward to what happens if Malfoy forgets himself and says something even more loathsome. It's not impossible. Malfoy has been unchallenged since he came to Hogwarts. He's used to saying and doing whatever he wants, even to the upper years and those outside his own House. Most people ignore him when they can and indulge him when they can't, or otherwise manage or placate him with their own methods, but the one thing no one has ever done is tell him no, tell him to stop and make it stick. Potter and Weasley tend to give as good as they get, what with how short their tempers are, but they're louder and more obvious about it, so they get caught more often, which just makes them even angrier, so it never actually feels like they win, even when Malfoy doesn't either. Certainly, no amount of lectures or point loss has managed to deflate his ego.
But now there's Hadrian Evans. Theo doesn't need a second demonstration to know that Malfoy is outclassed in every way, but funnily enough, Malfoy himself might need it.
Theo eyes the bathroom door for a moment longer before finally getting up himself. He's barely set his feet on the rug before Blaise - in the bed on Theo's other side - also whips open his curtains, looking far more alert than he ever has this early in the morning.
For several seconds, they stare at each other in silence. And then - because he isn't sure if the other three boys in the room are awake yet - Theo pitches his voice even lower than usual and says, "He said Malfoy spoke for us."
Blaise blinks twice, and then something like distaste curves up at one corner of his mouth. "I heard."
Theo nods. They're on the same page then. Neither of them is particularly keen on this opinion that Evans has regrettably formed, Theo because of obvious reasons, and Blaise because he's Blaise.
Blaise has always been strange. He's the type who gets along with everyone and gets along with no one. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone - biased Gryffindors aside - who would say a bad word about him, but they'd probably have to think a while if you asked them to describe something of personal significance about him too. It's not that he's average - he's never failed a class, and he's especially good at Potions - but for all that he can carry a conversation in a way that makes everyone feel comfortable and included, and he could probably talk rings around a politician without making them feel stupid, he also never lets anyone close enough to actually get to know him. He's approachable, but only when he wants you to approach him. He's generous with his smiles, but sometimes, it feels a little like he's laughing at you. He might say something condescending or spiteful to you one day, but he has the kind of charisma that makes you forget that the very next. People might call him friend and invite him over for a chat or a game of chess, but most don't make any attempts to go beyond that. And if you know what to look for, as Theo has learned to do, you would realize - Blaise views the world like it's one big boring joke, and his estimation of most of the people in it is probably somewhere around the level of dancing clowns.
Theo doesn't mind. The two of them aren't friends either. They're also not enemies though, and occasionally, they can be allies, but only when Blaise feels like it. Sometimes, the other boy will distract Malfoy from messing up Theo's potion in class or launching yet another diatribe on all of Theo's deficiencies, but Theo will never ask him to because he has nothing to repay Blaise with.
It works for them. Blaise does what Blaise wants, and even Malfoy can't control him. Theo is secretly envious of that— with the Zabinis' seat of power in Italy, it means they don't have that much clout in Britain, and yet nobody messes with Blaise, not even the few who don't buy into Blaise's charm or simply hate him because he's a Slytherin. Not even Malfoy messes with him, and even Theo can't tell if it's Malfoy's self-preservation instincts kicking in to ensure that he isn't about to go insulting someone with a black widow mother like Blaise's, or if Malfoy genuinely hasn't noticed that Blaise doesn't respect him at all no matter how pleasant his words can be. Honestly, when it comes to Malfoy, there's a decent chance of either option being true.
With all that in mind though, it's not a surprise that Blaise isn't pleased with being slotted in as one of Malfoy's lackeys, especially by someone as impressive - or, as Blaise might put it, entertaining - as Hadrian Evans has swiftly proved himself to be.
"It's fine," Blaise says next, rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. He's already regained his typical lazy slouch, as if he hadn't been just as terrified as the rest of them last night. His eyes slide to the bathroom, then away, unreadable but more focused than Theo's ever seen them. "We live in the same dorm, and we'll attend at least most of the same classes. He'll see soon enough that we don't share the same opinions as Malfoy."
Theo watches him dig into his wardrobe. "And then?"
"Then?" Blaise tips a more familiar look of knowing amusement at him. "Then you do what you want, and I'll do what I want, and at the very least, we'll have the good sense to not throw ourselves straight onto a hippogriff's talons like dear Draco."
Theo smothers a snort and rises to his feet. Neither he nor Blaise take Care of Magical Creatures, but everybody had heard of Malfoy's idiocy last year. The phrase "my father will hear about this!" had reached a record high by winter's end. Not much had come of it, not when Hagrid had had the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore championing him. Even Lucius Malfoy would - and had, more than once over the years - find it difficult to contend with the British wizarding world's vaunted war heroes when they join forces. In the end, Hagrid could continue teaching so long as he did it alongside a second professor hired by the school, and even the hippogriff got to live. Malfoy had not been happy, and he'd made sure everybody knew it too, but at least he'd also whined less about it once Slytherin House had learned to snigger about it where he wouldn't hear.
But 'throwing oneself onto a hippogriff's talons' had become rather popular vernacular ever since, subtle enough that even Malfoy couldn't call anyone out on using it without embarrassing himself, but funny to everyone who understood, and nobody could even say who'd started the phrase. Theo's money would be on Blaise though.
The bathroom is spelled so that nobody outside can hear anything when the door is shut, but they can hear the lock click open just fine, and almost in tandem, he and Blaise both immerse themselves in picking out their outfits for the day as if it's a task that requires every last bit of their attention.
Evans walks out. True to his word, he ignores them completely, neither greeting them nor sparing them a glance as he moves back to his section of the dorm. Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye as the boy folds his pyjamas away before proceeding to pack his bag. He catches a glimpse of an Ancient Runes textbook, and his mind abruptly flashes back to the quill. But… that can't be right.
Evans shuts his bag, pulls on his robes, and toes on his shoes. Like this, there's something vaguely familiar about him that Theo can't place right away, and the thought is gone again as Evans slings his bag over his shoulder and strides for the door.
He still doesn't look at any of them, and he's gone from the room a moment later. They might as well have been empty air.
Theo's fingers tighten around the shirt he's holding. Somehow, he-
-doesn't like it.
-0-
Malfoy gets up two minutes after Evans is gone, moving around with an exaggeratedly unaffected sort of poise that makes Theo want to roll his eyes. At least the blond doesn't try to make conversation until Crabbe and Goyle wake up as well.
Evans aside, Theo is the first out of the room, as per usual, although this time, Blaise accompanies him up to the common room and out of the Dungeon. It takes no time at all to arrive at the Great Hall, and this early, most of the four House tables are still empty of students, although more and more are gradually drifting in in groups of threes and fours.
Unlike the other Houses who like cramming into whatever space they see, Slytherins are more political about it. The end seats are left to the outcasts or first-years who don't know better yet, while the midway point of the table is typically reserved for the most influential students, such as those with the best grades or the largest range of social connections or the strongest family background, or some combination of the three. And everybody else arranges themselves between the two extremes accordingly. The only time that changes - from what Theo has heard - is when someone is so magically powerful that they can overwhelm everyone else. Then it doesn't matter what grades or connections or background they have because magic is respected most of all, although they would usually have some qualifications in those other areas. But either way, they would be given reigning place of pride in the middle with their chosen followers around them, and everybody else would sit where they're told to sit, regardless of their accomplishments.
Someone like that hasn't come along in fifty years though, not since the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts.
So it's jarring to see Evans seated at the very end, furthest away from the High Table, with a book open in front of him and a steaming mug in one hand, but Theo supposes it shouldn't be. He's newly transferred in, and a halfblood besides, so he probably doesn't know about the traditional seating arrangement, and since it's still just the second day of school, it's not as if anybody else outside their dorm knows that Evans is anything but the unfortunate fourth-year with a muggle surname sorted into Slytherin, so he really can be considered an outcast.
Theo exchanges a look with Blaise before tentatively taking a seat at their usual spot a few feet away from the halfway point of the table. It doesn't feel right to… go over Evans' head like this, but it's not like they can really do anything about it at the moment. Theo in particular is technically sitting above his station, but his family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how far it's fallen, and he gets decent grades in almost every class. He's also on friendly terms with Blaise, and the fact that he shares a dorm with Malfoy is a double-edged sword. Malfoy has the status to sit near the middle ever since he was a first-year, and it wouldn't look very good for him if he's seen completely spurning a Nott in his generation. So Theo is largely left alone so long as he looks like he's nominally part of Malfoy's group during mealtimes.
Theo spends the next five minutes sneaking sidelong glances down the table. Blaise does the same, and neither of them is obvious about it so nobody comes up to ask them any questions. Other Slytherins begin filing in, and more than one wrinkles their nose or sneers when they pass Evans, as if they've smelled something repulsive.
Theo has to make an effort not to wince every time it happens. Blaise watches with a shallow smirk hitched across his face and something cold and callous and thoroughly amused in his eyes.
By the time Malfoy - with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him - sits down across from them, about half the table is full, plates of breakfast have started appearing, and Evans still hasn't looked up from his reading.
Malfoy - much less subtle - shoots something sulky and resentful with just a dash of fear down the table and mutters, "Doesn't even know how to sit properly."
Theo really does roll his eyes this time, although he makes sure to do it down at his scone. Before anyone can say anything else though, Evans unexpectedly straightens, his attention finally lifting from his book. Malfoy immediately stiffens as well like he thinks Evans had heard him from all the way down the table, which Theo wouldn't put past Evans's ability but also doesn't think that Evans thinks that Malfoy is worth that effort to eavesdrop on.
Evans looks around, but not at any of the Slytherins. He cranes his head over one shoulder, seems to catch sight of whatever he's looking for, and gets up, shutting his book and tossing it back in his bag. Then he's making his way across the Hall, past the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, straight over to the Gryffindor table that's only partially filled at the moment but is also hosting the Golden Trio, who had just come down for breakfast.
 Evans stops a few feet away, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger turn to face him. What Theo can see of their expressions indicate that they're surprised and a little wary, but they also seem like they know each other. They converse about something, Weasley makes some exaggerated hand gestures, Granger smacks him, and then Evans says something else that makes the Gryffindors burst into laughter, startled but bright.
And then Evans moves forward and-
-sits down.
At the Gryffindor table.
Longbottom and Granger are smiling, and even Weasley - with his hatred for everything Slytherin - seems fine with it, going back to plating more food for himself while passing some sausages over to Evans.
In Theo's peripheral, Malfoy's face has lost so much colour that he could pass for a ghost. Theo can't tell if he's just that offended or if he's actually managed to comprehend the fact that he's already alienated possibly the most magically powerful student at Hogwarts from Slytherin House, to the point where that student doesn't even want to eat at the same table as them, and classes haven't even started yet.
Theo can't tell, nor does he care, but if he'd ever needed any more reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, this would be it.
He averts his gaze from Evans, even if the mere thought of him preferring a bunch of Gryffindors - and those Gryffindors at that; the only ones worse would be Potter's lot - over his own House is… grating. But staring isn't going to win Theo any favours and might just tick Evans off. Besides, there are plenty of others who have noticed a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindors, and they're staring enough for ten of him.
He starts on his breakfast. School has just begun. There's plenty more time in the future to observe Hadrian Evans.
-0-0-0-
4.
Within the space of a week, Theo is cautiously pleased to find that he shares all nine classes with Evans. The core subjects are mandatory of course, but in addition to Ancient Runes, Evans also takes Arithmancy, both of which Theo is also studying, and after three weeks, he gets a slightly more detailed picture of what Evans is capable of.
In class, Evans doesn't stand out, or at least not in a way most people would notice. He doesn't take the initiative to answer questions posed by the teachers, and his spells and potions aren't particularly dazzling when they're assigned practical classwork.
But every time a professor calls on him, Evans always answers correctly. Every time they have to practice a new spell, Evans doesn't clamour to be the first to show off, and he isn't the one who produces it with the most eye-catching burst of magic, but when he's asked to show his progress, he always does it exactly the way the teacher demonstrated it at the beginning of class. Even in Potions, all he does is work discreetly in the back corner on the Slytherin side of the room. He never finishes early, but he also never finishes late, never failing to turn in a textbook-perfect potion ten minutes before class ends, and a couple times, Theo catches Snape watching Evans with an inscrutable expression after the boy quietly hands in yet another flawless potion.
After three weeks, Theo can conclude that while Evans doesn't deliberately dumb himself down, and in fact is performing spectacularly across the board, he does it in such a reserved, inconspicuous manner that even most of the professors probably aren't going to notice until they've graded a good few months' worth of homework and tests.
He does it for every subject. Every single one, except Ancient Runes, and Theo is convinced that that's less because Evans didn't try, and more that… well, some brilliance just can't be hidden.
In the third week, when Babbling hands back their first assignment - Acceptables and Poors all around of course; some days, Theo isn't sure if he wants to strangle Babbling or himself, just to put himself out of the misery that is attempting to understand anything their Runes professor says - she holds Evans back at the end of class, and half the students snicker like they think he's in trouble or did so badly that even Babbling can't stand it, and it's the best joke they've ever seen. But two days later, some papers that Evans has left out on his desk while he's off doing something else, probably with his Gryffindor buddies, catch Theo's eye while he's on his way to his own desk. More specifically, the symbol of the Department of Magical Education stamped on them catches Theo's eye, and after some very hasty and very undignified neck-straining and squinting from a prudent five feet away, he more or less understands.
Babbling hadn't held Evans back because he was doing badly. Babbling had held him back because he was doing so good he would be sitting his Ancient Runes O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams on the twenty-third of October.
Three minutes after that revelation, Theo's still sitting somewhat dazed in his chair when Malfoy returns, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. The blond also spots the papers on Evans' desk and - after suffering day after day of, in Malfoy's increasingly belligerent opinion, being disgraced by Evans due to all the time he was spending with Gryffindors, and even three of the ones Malfoy hates most - practically lights up with a malicious sort of glee at the opportunity to get a little revenge.
He seems to have already forgotten that first night's lesson, and it hasn't even been a month yet. Sometimes, Theo is honestly baffled by Malfoy's Sorting into Slytherin. What ambition is there in a boy whose solution to everything in life is to fall back on his father and surname and family money? What cunning is there to speak of when he so often acts without even considering the option of leaving himself a way out, just in case his taunts and schemes backfire on him one day?
Or perhaps the real mystery is how he's managed to go this long without anyone telling him that the world won't always bend to his demands.
"O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams?" Malfoy says loudly as he wanders over to read the papers. He scoffs. "No matter how much magic he has, there's no way that's possible. He's just a fourth-year. And a halfblood! I bet he paid Babbling to sign him up for them. Everybody knows she's not all there so Evans wouldn't even have to pay her a lot to persuade her."
Theo flicks a glance at Blaise, who'd brought up the rear, a few seconds behind Malfoy, and had entered on near-inaudible footsteps in time to witness this latest snowballing disaster. The taller boy's lip curls, and his next words come out in such a nonchalant drawl that it takes a moment for Malfoy to register the bite of them, "Why would he do that though? He's not you."
Malfoy flushes an unflattering shade of red. "Zabini! That's not funny!"
Blaise's insults are always taken as jokes. Theo thinks that's the only way Malfoy can weather them, because he doesn't truly dare to cross Blaise, so even if he does know better, he still has to feign ignorance.
"It can't be possible," Malfoy repeats, turning back to the papers. "Otherwise, why hasn't he said anything about it? If it were me, I'd let everyone know! Obviously, he knows he'll fail, so he doesn't dare to spread it around."
Theo tries to wrap his mind around that logic, fails, and gives it up as a bad job.
"Then, why is he taking them?" Crabbe suddenly pipes up, blinking with a befuddled air in Malfoy's direction.
Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Crabbe, it's to impress the Boy Who Lived. You've seen how Evans is constantly fawning over Longbottom." And there's the jealousy leaking into his voice even as it strengthens as if he's gaining confidence in his conjecture the longer he speaks. "He's still just a vulgar halfblood with subpar upbringing after all. He needs political connections if he wants to make anything of himself in our world. And Longbottom's a soft touch, and an idiot besides at everything that isn't digging in the dirt. Just trying to take the exams is probably enough to make him think Evans is a genius."
He takes another step forward, almost hovering over the desk now, childish spite tarnishing his features. "Let's see what the rest of Slytherin thinks of this. We are in the same House so Evans should look for support from real purebloods. I'll help him out."
Malfoy reaches out, and Theo goes still, staring, avid and unblinking.
(Greedy.)
Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.
Malfoy's hand lands on the papers, and it's as if a miniature explosion takes place. There's no warning as the desk ignites with enough interlocked, interwoven, bloody intricate runes to send anyone reeling. It blankets the entire desk in layers of circles and lines and eye-watering spirals, before even those disappear in a blaze of brilliant silver light that pulses once before bursting outward and knocking Malfoy clean off his feet.
Malfoy screams as he's sent flying across the room in a tangle of flailing limbs and flapping robes. Coincidentally - or not? - he lands on his bed in a graceless upside-down heap, the bag he's still wearing smacks him in the face, and the momentum tumbles him straight over the far side of his bed and onto the floor with a final muffled thump that cuts Malfoy's shriek to a yelp.
The light disappears, along with the runes. The room goes eerily quiet, and for a long moment, nobody moves.
It's Blaise who reacts first.
He laughs.
It's enough to snap Malfoy out of his stupor. The blond scrambles to right himself, pushing to his feet, fury and humiliation writ large across his face as he opens his mouth to shout, "Shut up, Zabini! Wait until my father hears about this! Evans will regret-"
There's a clatter. The door opens.
Malfoy shuts up so fast Theo wouldn't be surprised if he bit his tongue.
Evans steps inside, and then stops. He looks around, looks at his desk, looks at a still dishevelled and increasingly pallid Malfoy, and then he shuts the door behind him and heaves a very deep sigh.
"Seriously?" He asks in rhetorical tones. "I just went to borrow a library book. I couldn't have been gone for more than thirty minutes."
Nobody says anything. Evans sighs again before striding over to his desk. He raises a hand and combs his fingers through the air— or perhaps something only he could see, and that's proven correct as a runic array shimmers into existence, swirling together before reshaping itself into-
-a memory.
Specifically, it's a replay of everything Malfoy had said and done as soon as he'd gotten within three feet of Evans' belongings, complete with sound and colour. It's basically a pensieve without the pensieve or the removal of memories to supply it.
Theo wants so badly that his teeth ache with the leashed desire to ask a million questions immediately.
Patience, he reminds himself.
"Hm," Evans says once the memory's run its course, and the runes wisp away once more. Theo is both surprised and not when the other boy proceeds to pull out his chair, sit down, and dig out his library book, clearly intent to continue his work.
Behind him, Malfoy seethes, and before he can think better of it, or he simply doesn't think, he barks out, "Do you think you can treat me this way, Evans? Do you know who my father is? When I tell him about this-"
"Tell him then," Evans interjects, leaning back to slant a cool look at Malfoy. "Tell him you tried to steal my things, and my wards tossed you onto your bed, and the only thing it really bruised was your ego. Or you can lie and make up something that would make you more of a victim, and big bad mudblood Hadrian Evans bullied you terribly. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?" He huffs a laugh, and as far as Theo can tell, the thread of mirth that laces the sound is astonishingly sincere. "Malfoy, I don't actually care. I don't need Hogwarts."
He really doesn't. Worse comes to worst, which other school would be daft enough to not scoop him up if they see what he can do with runes? And that's not even getting into everything else he can do. Any school would accept him in a heartbeat and then laugh themselves to tears if Lucius Malfoy actually managed to get him ejected from Britain's sphere of influence on some trumped up charges just because his son went crying to him. Besides, since Evans had been previously homeschooled, he could always just return to that as well.
Malfoy opens his mouth, then closes it, and he does that a couple times, eyes wide in his face like he's never met anyone who has stonewalled him this way, who has challenged his authority so directly, more than once, and yet remains utterly unintimidated and untouchable.
Evidently, he never has.
Evans regards him for a few seconds more before sighing once more. "I thought I was clear enough that first night, but apparently not. When I say 'attack', I don't just mean with a wand. All my things are off-limits unless I say otherwise, so if I were you, I would keep my hands to myself. You don't want to know what my wards will do to you if they sense intentions worse than just petty theft. I hope you won't forget again."
He holds Malfoy's faltering gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his books and papers. Malfoy stumbles back a step as if he's been physically released, and he looks like he wants to pitch a temper tantrum but also doesn't dare. In the end, he storms out of the room without even straightening his robes or smoothing back his hair, and nobody tries to stop him or go after him, not even Crabbe or Goyle, who've both retreated to their beds, shoulders hunched, almost bowed, angled almost in Evans' direction.
Evans is already poring over his library book though, quill in one hand, inkwell set out, fresh parchment beside it. It's clear he's done interacting with the lot of them.
Theo almost lets it go, as he has every other time he wants to speak to Evans, to ask him questions, to know. He's already biting his tongue and swallowing down the words and opening his bag to fish out his homework.
Except-
It's been three weeks. Theo can be patient when he has to be, but more and more, it's… starting to feel like he doesn't have to be. He's had an entire childhood's worth of practice at dissecting emotions, at looking at a person's face and words and actions and taking all of them into account to figure out how they really feel, if they're angry at him or upset with him, if they're about to lash out even when they're smiling, or if there's still time to appease them even if they look like they're about to go for their wand.
Evans is harder to read than most, but at the very least, Theo can tell that he doesn't get angry often. In fact, there's only ever been that one time, that first night, and even for most of that incident, Evans had only acted to secure his own safety in their dorm once it became clear that Malfoy wasn't going to leave him alone otherwise. None of it had been driven by rage, not even when he'd nearly drowned them in the undertow of his magic over that particular handful of words Malfoy had jeered at him. And ever since then, Evans hasn't done anything except go about his business while ignoring theirs. That went for the rest of Slytherin too, and even some students in other Houses who don't like the fact that he's a Slytherin. Sometimes, they make snide remarks, usually behind his back, sometimes within his hearing range, and to a man, every student in their House has openly shunned him since he went to sit with the Golden Trio that first breakfast, but Evans has never given them a second glance, or really even a first glance, not out of anger or embarrassment or distress, and certainly not out of any desire for them to accept him, which just seems to offend them even more. But Evans is simply… indifferent to it all.
 Most importantly, as much as Theo has been able to conclude, Evans isn't prone to violence. He always seems calm and easygoing when he's with the Golden Trio, and quiet the rest of the time. And from the very beginning, he's never done anything to harm any fellow Slytherins, not even Malfoy. Even his wards seem to have some kind of function worked into them that would rate the level of threat first and only respond with the same degree of damage.
Actually, not the same— if Malfoy had been caught taking another Slytherin's documents without permission, important or not, it wouldn't be too much even if they cursed his hands in return. They probably wouldn't, because it's Malfoy, and people are used to being more lenient with him, but normally, even Malfoy wouldn't do something that gauche anyway. No matter how much they've spoiled him, his parents have at least taught him pureblood etiquette. He's never even tried to rifle through Theo's belongings.
 Admittedly, Theo had committed a slight faux pas as well when his curiosity had prompted him to read those Ministry forms, even if they were laid out on Evans' desk - unintentionally seeing them in passing was fine but the polite thing to do would've been to keep walking - but at least he hadn't been stupid enough to get too close, let alone put a single finger on them. Malfoy really only has his own poor impulse control to blame for going too far yet again, and Theo has every right to judge him for it.
 Although since it was Evans, Malfoy had probably categorized him as someone who doesn't deserve a pureblood's courtesy.
Even then though, Evans hadn't retaliated with anything more than the ward equivalent of a watered down Knockback Jinx, which is basically a common prank amongst rowdier students. Malfoy's pride had - once again - been hurt, but nothing else, even when it would've been Evans' right. And he hadn't gotten angry this time either.
Of course, Theo isn't foolish enough to think Evans isn't capable of violence when he wants to be. If he's pushed far enough, Theo is certain that the other boy could and would inflict some significant damage that would at least end with a visit to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it was his magic, the relentless weight of it that said it wouldn't hesitate to crush them if they proved themselves a real threat. Or perhaps it was Evans himself, who looks at Malfoy after each stunt like he's putting up with a recalcitrant child that he has to go easy on because said child is too young to know better, except the detachment in his gaze also says that he's weighing Malfoy's age on a scale and waiting for the day his youth will no longer be able to compensate for his actions.
Frankly, Theo hopes that day will come soon. But that's his pettiness talking, and Malfoy in general is none of his concern. What Theo really wants is to learn all those things for himself. Well, not all, he's more than self-aware enough to know he's nowhere near as powerful as Evans, but some of those things - the spellwork, the runes - surely those things can be taught to others even if they don't have incredible amounts of magic? Even if it's slow-going and difficult, Theo isn't afraid to work for it.
So long as he learns even just a little of what Evans knows - and he clearly knows so much, knows the things that can actually be useful in real life - then perhaps, one day, maybe even before he graduates Hogwarts… escaping his father won't be a fool's hope anymore. And if there's a chance that he can do that, then no matter how exorbitant the price Evans names, Theo would be willing to pay it, even if it takes him the rest of his life to honour the debt.
But nothing's going to happen if they're not even on speaking terms. It's been three weeks. Already three weeks. Only three weeks. Maybe it really is still too soon, but at the very least, Theo doesn't think Evans will do anything worse than say no.
 At his back, he can feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn around.
 "Is that-" His voice doesn't crack, thankfully, but it comes out croakier than normal, giving away his nervousness. He bites back the urge to hex himself and tries again. "Is that taught by the time we graduate?"
 Evans… doesn't react, doesn't even look up. For several tense and increasingly awkward seconds, Theo thinks maybe the other boy will just continue ignoring him, or maybe he even thinks Theo is speaking to one of the others, not him.
 But then he writes something down and flips a page of his book, and then he raises his head and shifts away from his desk to face Theo.
 It's a little daunting, to suddenly have that piercing bright green regard aimed straight at him, but there's also no hostility that Theo can see, and that settles some of his nerves.
 Evans looks at him, then frowns, then asks in return, blunt, but amazingly, willingly enough, "You mean the wards?"
 Theo nods carefully, making sure he doesn't look too eager or too demanding. Masters of their trades are always rightfully reticent about their knowledge and skills to anyone who isn't their own mentor or apprentice, unless they're a teacher. Evans may not be a master signed and sealed and authorized to practice, but nobody who can write the exams at fourteen can be considered an amateur.
 Evans shrugs. "I haven't exactly flipped through the Ancient Runes syllabus of every year so I can't really say. If it continues at the same pace as third-year and fourth-year though, then probably not. You'd maybe get to the point of basic wards, but not much more than that. Compound wards like these-" He raps his knuckles against his own desk. "-put crudely, requires the use of runic coils to weave together multiple basic arrays, on multiple levels, in varying sequential order depending on how multifaceted you want the wards to be. It's not that difficult once you start getting some practice in, but from what I hear, you guys don't even begin practical work until after your O.W.L., which… I don't really get, but maybe Hogwarts is big on theoretical learning. But yeah, at that rate, I don't see how you could be constructing something like this by graduation."
 Theo's head is spinning. He didn't understand… anything in that summary except perhaps a general idea of "basic arrays". It's rare for him to feel so stupid.
 Evans is still watching him, and he doesn't seem impatient for their exchange to be over, or irritated that it's taking place at all. He looks like he's waiting for Theo to reply, so Theo hurries on to keep the conversation afloat.
 "So you didn't learn Runes following the Hogwarts curriculum when you were homeschooled," He surmises. "Does that mean the standards here fall short of the international schools?"
 It wouldn't be the first time. Britain's educational requirements have been growing more and more lenient for years. Correspondingly, their elective options have also been reduced to four due to budget cuts and lack of interest in anything harder than petting animals and making up death predictions. Every year, more second-years choose to sign up for Care and Divination than they do Arithmancy or Runes. It's one reason why the number of incoming students has been gradually declining and consists of more muggleborns than purebloods. Foreign schools are strict about accepting any children outside of their designated countries, but those in Great Britain and Ireland who want better for their kids and can afford the higher prices tend to prefer sending them to one international school or another instead of Hogwarts.
 But Evans shakes his head. "I wouldn't know that either. I didn't really follow any official curriculum when I was learning." He pauses a beat, like he's thinking about how much to reveal, or even why he's revealing anything, but then he seems to decide it doesn't much matter. "The person who taught me was a bit… unconventional about it. He was a very good teacher, but he wasn't actually a teacher with the degree and whatever else you need to be a Ministry-approved professor, so he didn't really care about following some checklist of what a student attending a magical school was supposed to learn. Plus he was kind of a genius at runes. Ward-cracking and disassembly in particular since that's what he majored in - he was a Curse-Breaker - but he was pretty good at almost everything else too, which meant he found the basic stuff pretty boring. So when he taught me, and he realized I didn't have any trouble getting the foundations down, and I could mostly keep up even when he skipped ahead to more advanced stuff, he basically ended up just jumping between the subjects he liked most, filled in any gaps along the way, and gave me free rein to research whatever I found interesting. And whatever topic I picked was the one he lectured on, or helped me look up if it was one of the few areas he didn't know much about."
 His expression turns wry, if only for a moment. "Apparently though, according to Babbling, that means there's nothing left for Hogwarts to teach me. But I don't know how I would compare to students in other schools."
 He finishes and falls silent. It's the most he's said since that first night, and it's clear as day that whoever this Curse-Breaker tutor was, Evans respects him a great deal, great enough to ramble on about him to a roomful of near-strangers, and considering what he'd had a hand in molding Evans into, he deserves every bit of that respect too.
 Theo envies it. He is oft a creature of envy, and it hollows him out a little more every time it rears its head, but he's resigned to it. He wonders why Hogwarts can't have a teacher like Evans' instead of the whimsical mess that is Babbling, who can never get through a single class without her train of thought wandering away like an untrained dog off its leash.
 "Then," Theo continues, carefully neutral, carefully watching for any signs of displeasure on Evans' face. "Once you pass your exams, will you simply have an extra study period slot? Or will you be required to attend another elective?"
 Evans blinks at him. "The first, I think. I might see if it's possible to take an owl-distance university course or something, but spare time in my day isn't bad either."
 "Then," Theo forges on, watching as Evans's mouth twists a little, like he knows that this is what Theo has been aiming for from the beginning. Theo can't tell if he disapproves though - he doesn't think so - and it's too late to divert his course anyway. "What do you think about tutoring?"
 Evans cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything for several anxiety-inducing seconds, just scrutinizing Theo with a face blank enough to rival Snape's when he bothers to stop sneering. The quill in Evans' hand taps-taps-taps against his desk before the boy swings around in his chair completely to face Theo.
 "Tutoring," He repeats. "You want me to tutor you in Ancient Runes?"
 And at least he doesn't sound derisive, nor does he put any particular emphasis on any part of that question. It does make it harder for Theo to gauge how he should respond though.
 "Yes," He confirms, because straightforward seems to be what Evans prefers. He thinks, briefly, of including Blaise, but he doesn't actually know if Blaise would like tutoring as well, and even if he does, Blaise can ask for himself. Theo isn't that charitable, and Blaise might even take offense if he tries to be.
 "I can compensate you for your time," He adds, because he's poor by pureblood standards, but not so poor that he can't afford decent education, especially with the nest egg he's been secretly building on the side since he turned eight and realized his inheritance was only going to get smaller at the rate his father was drawing from it for his… extracurriculars. His seven years at Hogwarts at least have already been paid for, robes and supplies and even some pocket money included, because even Silas Nott isn't going to let his son go into public at even more of a disadvantage than he already is. So as long as Evans doesn't ask for a huge sum of money, or even if he does, and he's willing to take part of that payment in favours, then Theo should have enough from his own funds to cover the cost.
 Evans leans back in his seat and doesn't say anything about payment. Instead, he looks almost puzzled as he asks, "Why do you need tutoring though? Even if you want to learn stuff like this," He motions at his desk. "I wouldn't be able to even start teaching you how until you got at least the basics down, and that's what Hogwarts teaches, so is there any point in getting more of the same lessons from me?"
 For a moment, even Theo can't come up with a way to say 'yes, because Babbling can't teach worth a damn, and I don't actually know how I passed last year but I definitely won't this year with the way her lectures keep getting lost somewhere between class and Atlantis every bloody week' but in more polite terms, if only because Evans might not appreciate anyone badmouthing her since she's obviously the one vouching for Evans' qualifications in order to let him take his exams so early.
 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.
 "Have you seen the way Babbling teaches?" The other boy enquires in his usual lackadaisical tone, just aggrieved enough to sound invested, but mild enough to leech the provocation out of it. It also gives Blaise a foot in through the door, drawing Evans' attention to him without making it seem as if he's interrupting.
 Theo glances behind him at where Blaise is now lounging in his own desk chair, emptying his bag of textbooks and papers even as he glances over to meet Evans' gaze, and his expression has eased into an invitation to commiserate over Babbling's questionable teaching methods. All of it is designed to look casual and cordial, to keep this fragile first exchange lighthearted, if also full of a resigned sort of exasperation, funnelled together in order to lower Evans' guard.
 And it seems to work too, like it does with everyone Blaise turns his charms on. At the very least, the way Evans' mouth quirks in response looks reflexive enough to be genuine.
 "That's fair," Evans concedes, a wry sort of humour suffusing his voice. "She's not the best at… staying on topic."
 Theo has to suppress a snort, but something of it must show on his face anyway because Evans' eyes snap back to him, and a moment later, a quicksilver grin flits across the other's face, bright in a way that lights up his whole face, and perhaps Blaise will have to try harder after all because Theo realizes that this is what genuine looks like on Evans.
 "Okay, I get why you might want a tutor," Evans acknowledges. "But isn't there anyone better for that?"
 Theo blinks at him. "Better than someone who's ready to take his exams in a month?"
 Evans' eyebrows go up briefly, and something in his eyes sharpens. "No. Better than someone who's a halfblood orphan in Slytherin, stuck in a one-sided grudge-match with a pureblood brat who has all the maturity of a toddler and isn't going to be very happy if his friend starts hanging around the guy he wants to curse into the Hospital Wing."
 Orphan? is Theo's first thought, followed by, I wish Malfoy was around to hear that. But all of it is superseded by a defiance that bursts out of him before he can curb it, "We're not friends."
 Evans waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Slytherins don't have friends. What I mean is-"
 "No," Theo says, wincing internally at how he'd cut Evans off mid-sentence. "I mean, we aren't friends. Normally, we aren't even civil acquaintances most days."
 Evans eyes him for a long moment like he can hear all the things Theo isn't saying. Theo's pretty sure Evans doesn't know about his family's circumstances - How would he? Why would he even care to look it up? - but he seems to be able to glean at least the gist of it in a single glance because he seems to accept it easily enough, and the next thing he says is, "Alright, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still not going to be happy about it."
 "Good," Theo says, once again before he can stop himself, and with more relish than he should convey. Even if he's often thought that anything that made Malfoy unhappy was a good thing, he's certainly never expressed it out loud. He doesn't know what's come over him, only that there's something about the way Evans is watching him, patient and without judgement, that makes him… bolder than he normally would be.
 And since he's already opened his mouth, he might as well keep going.
 "So long as you're willing, I don't mind what other people might say," Theo says as firmly as he knows how to be. "I need to raise my grades for Ancient Runes before I take my OWLs next year or I'm never going to pass. I would appreciate any tutoring you can spare the time for." He hesitates, but only for a beat. "If you want, in addition to monetary compensation, I can also snub Malfoy at dinner somehow. And you would know it wouldn't just be some show we put on either. Malfoy doesn't have it in him to be humiliated in public, even as a stunt."
 It's far more outspoken and far more audacious than Theo is accustomed to being, and he can feel Blaise's eyes on him again. But he gets the impression that if he doesn't put his cards on the table - that he really does want to learn from Evans, that it's his main motivation, even if it isn't the only one - then Evans might think Theo is playing some kind of trick on him, possibly on Malfoy's orders, and that's the last thing Theo wants him to believe.
 Besides, this is also an opportunity. Theo had been resigned to living under Malfoy's temperamental rule for the duration of his Hogwarts career. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be doing more of the same as an adult, after all. Considering the difference in their social status, Theo would still have to bow his head, and jump when told to jump, and remain courteously - or at least forbearingly - deferential in front of Malfoy whenever they see each other. At least this more childish version at school is giving him plenty of practice for the future.
 But now, there is Hadrian Evans, whose existence no one had expected and no one thus far can control, who isn't afraid of Malfoy, whom Malfoy is afraid of instead, and Theo honestly can't see that changing. Of course, the real world is very different from some squabbles between teenagers, and Theo has only known Evans for less than a month. But… call it instinct. Even if one day the Malfoy family can really make it so that Evans can no longer live well in Britain, Theo gets the sense that the other boy would rather up and move to a different country than ever submit to anyone.
 People with inborn power like Evans won't bow. They don't know how to.
 And if Theo can get even a fraction of that protection that openly siding with Evans might earn him, then the choice is obvious. He's long known that he isn't powerful enough or ambitious enough or even brave enough to stand on his own. That in order to thrive, or even to simply live a satisfactory life, it would be best to choose someone's shadow to settle in. Preferably, that someone would be willing enough to leave Theo alone most of the time and wouldn't ask too much of him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to get that from his father or Malfoy.
 Then, there's no point clinging to either of them. Before, there had been no other choices, and between his father and Malfoy, Malfoy was the better bet, though it wasn't as if the blond ponce could've gotten him out from under Silas Nott's thumb either. But at least being - loosely - affiliated with Malfoy would, in the future, offer Theo some protection from his father's obsessive tendencies. It wouldn't do for one of Malfoy's circle of acquaintances to disappear under mysterious circumstances after all.
 Now there's a new player on the field. Of course, Evans probably doesn't see himself as one, and wouldn't care even if he knew. But that doesn't change the fact that his shadow casts a long and looming line, and somehow, it feels more like a refuge than anyone else's Theo has ever come across. Evans might not be willing to protect him, if only because he would have to make himself known to do so, and if there's one thing Evans has shown over the past few weeks, it's that he much prefers staying in the background. But even if he isn't willing to protect Theo, at the very least, he can teach Theo how to protect himself. So, Theo might as well take his chances with Evans, and the first step in doing that is to make it very clear to all and sundry that he's throwing his lot in with the halfblood Slytherin transfer.
 He hadn't quite been prepared to go this far when he'd first decided to speak to Evans today, but doing things by half measures doesn't bode well for him either. Prevaricating or at least being vaguer about his intentions might leave him an extra hand to play, a way to retreat in case associating with Evans becomes too dangerous one day, but no one likes a fence-sitter.
 In Slytherin, every decision is a power play, whether it seems like it or not. An insignificant word or action might result in large consequences that aren't always obvious until the waves and ripples have settled. And Theo's never been much of a gambler, preferring safety over potential riches. But the things he can learn from Evans are too tempting to pass over. Put in plain terms, he's technically using Evans as a means to an end, which no one in Slytherin wouldn't approve of, but for a good chunk of this House, Evans' blood would definitely outweigh any usefulness he might have, especially since he hasn't publicly proven himself in any way at all. And the way he spends all his free time with Gryffindors hardly helps.
 Still, it's a risk Theo's willing to take. And now the Quaffle is in Evans' hands, and all that's left is to wait for his answer.
 Of course, if Evans says no, then Theo can only hope Blaise is feeling magnanimous today and won't go spreading this little story around. Then again, there's Crabbe and Goyle too, and they'll definitely tell Malfoy, so it will get out either way.
 Such is Slytherin, where the only shared secret you can trust to remain a secret is when all other parties are dead.
 In front of him, Evans only raises his eyebrows for a moment before amusement quirks one corner of his mouth. "Well you don't have to go that far."
 Theo can't tell if the other boy understands the implications of publicly cutting ties with Malfoy, but he's relieved to hear it anyway. He'd do it if it's a condition Evans sets, if only to alleviate any concerns Evans might have of being played, but it's not as if he wants to do it. He would happily see Malfoy humiliated any day of the week, but Theo is at heart an introverted person. Open confrontation of any kind will always make him uncomfortable.
 Evans studies him for a while longer as if weighing his sincerity. Eventually, he says, "I'm not opposed to tutoring. Actually, I'm already doing that for Hermione every Wednesday and Saturday. Adding one more doesn't make much of a difference. It's just that I don't love tutoring so much that I want to do it more than twice a week. So," He smiles, and this time, his expression is one of a sharp sort of curiosity. "If you want me to tutor you, then you'll have to be okay with Hermione. And I don't just mean tolerating her presence enough to sit at the same table as her. I mean if you say one bad word about her blood, I'll take that as an attack on me and react accordingly. Understand?"
 Theo blinks once, twice, digesting that ultimatum with something like disbelief because- "Is that all?" And then, because it couldn't possibly be that easy, he hastily tacks on, "How much would you like to be paid?"
 Evans blinks back at him, looking like he's re-evaluating Theo on the spot. Then he makes a dismissive gesture and says, "I'm not short on money. Also I don't make Hermione pay so it wouldn't be fair if I made you pay." He sits back with a finality that starts bringing an end to their conversation. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, 4-6pm in the library. I know we share all the same classes so that shouldn't be a problem for you. Showing up isn't mandatory, you can just come whenever you want, and I'll tutor you in whatever you need help with. My only condition is that you treat Hermione with basic respect. Of course," His mouth twists into a strange smile. "That goes for her too. And her friends if they happen to stop by."
 Theo has to suppress a grimace at that, but it's mostly out of reflexive distaste. Even if Weasley starts flinging insults, he's sure he's heard worse than anything a Gryffindor could come up with, and his tolerance is high, so it doesn't much matter whether Evans can prevent it or not. Actually, it's already pretty novel that he would try at all. This is by far the easiest and weirdest deal Theo has ever been offered, which only makes him that much more suspicious, but Evans also adds no other terms, so Theo is forced to conclude that this really is all Evans wants from him.
 The sheer unfairness of what each party is bringing to the table is jarring. Does Evans not understand what's happening here or is he seriously willing to offer up his time and knowledge on a silver platter at basically no cost?
 Part of Theo wants to ask again, to make sure Evans really doesn't want anything else, but since they've come to this point, even if Evans were to ask for something in the future, Theo would have no obligation to give it. It's admittedly somewhat uncomfortable, to receive so much in exchange for giving back so little when he wasn't even the one manipulating Evans towards this outcome, but at the same time, wouldn't he just be stupid if he keeps pushing the issue? Complaining about not having to spend any money or owe any favours seems rather counterproductive, and even though Theo is willing to pay for a chance like this, that doesn't mean he wants to if he doesn't have to. Of course, he supposes it isn't very honourable of him to not at least insist on some form of compensation, but that's why Theo isn't a Gryffindor.
 So then.
 "Very well, I agree to your terms," Theo says, letting himself relax a bit more when Evans' expression doesn't change. And because even a Slytherin should acknowledge genuine goodwill, he shoves past his own discomfort and manages, if a bit stiffly, "Thank you, Evans."
 Evans makes a face that's something left of embarrassed. "It's just tutoring, you don't have to be so formal. Besides, you're still the one who's going to have to put up with Malfoy pitching a fit once he finds out."
 Theo almost shrugs. That's not anything new. He might have to field some curses hurled his way once other Slytherins realize he's no longer under Malfoy's "protection" and is seen spending time with a halfblood, but it's not as if he has no way of protecting himself from most spells that a student can get away with using in public at Hogwarts. He already has a few family wards set up around his bed too, so Malfoy can't get to him while he's asleep, and the only time he spends in the Common Room is when he's crossing it to leave the Dungeon or return to his dorm, so his Housemates aren't likely to be able to corner him there either. So long as he's careful, he'll be fine.
 Blaise's voice cuts into his thoughts, speaking this time with the lightest touch of concern seeping out from behind a thin veil of indifference that would've fooled even Theo if Theo didn't know the way Blaise can change his approach like he's changing clothes depending on his assessment of the person he's talking to. "You sure you don't need to ask Granger first before letting a Slytherin join your tutoring sessions? She might not be too happy to have Theo there. And her friends definitely won't."
 Evans' attention shifts again, and as with Theo, his gaze is neither friendly nor hostile, but it's different all the same in a way Theo can't quite name. "Is that my problem?"
 The room is quiet for a beat.
 Evans smiles, careless, casual. "I'm the one doing the teaching. Who I teach should be up to me, shouldn't it?"
 Blaise stares, unblinking, hands finally gone still. "Aren't those Gryffindors your friends though?"
 "Sure," Evans agrees. "Still doesn't mean they get to tell me what to do just because they're biased against Slytherins." He shakes his head. "I doubt it'll be much of a problem though. Like you said, they're my friends, and aren't I a Slytherin too?"
 Nobody says what Theo is certain they're all thinking— that in many ways, Evans isn't anything like your average Slytherin.
 (And in others, Evans is the very epitome of one, but the Golden Trio probably doesn't know that, do they?)
 "Are you saying other Slytherins are welcome in your tutoring sessions then?" Blaise says next, and it's the most straightforward Theo has ever seen him, skipping at least three prevarications and five backhanded compliments that Theo could've sworn Blaise would normally include just because he doesn't know any other way to speak. Apparently not.
 Except Evans' response is to huff a breath that sounds like laughter, except not in any way they've heard before, not as amicable, and Theo sees Blaise's smile grow a little fixed.
 If they were in the business of distributing vices, then excessive hubris would undoubtedly go to Malfoy, but only because Blaise doesn't have the same reckless self-defeating habit of flaunting what he has everywhere and retaliating like a rabid lapdog the moment he feels slighted, the latter of which is helped along by the fact that he doesn't hold many people in high enough esteem for them to offend him. After all, you wouldn't get mad if a ghost or a goblin or even a house-elf - as unlikely as that is - is rude to you, would you? At most, you'd punish the latter and move along with your day. And for those who do register enough as people in Blaise's eyes, well, Blaise far prefers retaliating when the other party least expects it.
 It's the same now, in the way Blaise blinks twice rapidly but doesn't otherwise react. Of course, since this is Evans, he won't be able to retaliate later either, not with any kind of success, so it's doubly impressive that the other boy manages to keep his pride nailed down and tucked away.
 "You know," Evans says lazily, mirth or perhaps mockery gleaming in his eyes. "You could just ask. Take a leaf out of Theo's book; it wastes less time."
 Because even Blaise's straightforwardness needs to take a stroll or two around the block first, and apparently, Evans had caught onto that possibly since the first time Blaise had opened his mouth since this conversation began.
 Blaise's lips thin, but after a moment of no doubt weighing the pros and cons, he shrugs gracefully like it doesn't sting and asks, "Then, may I join your tutoring sessions, Evans? I would also appreciate some assistance with my Ancient Runes studies. Of course, I will abide by the terms you've set as well."
 Theo listens and wonders just how much self-control those three sentences took. Before today, he hadn't even known Blaise was capable of it, and the fact that he is, for this, actually says a lot more about his regard for Evans than Theo had realized even just a minute ago.
 At least Evans doesn't make it harder for Blaise than that.
 "Sure," The other boy acquiesces with the air of a predator sitting back on its haunches. "On your own head though."
 At this, a trace of a smirk - his real one, beatific in its cruelty, instead of his regular fit-for-public one - cuts across Blaise's face for the span of a heartbeat. "No problem."
 Evans levels another long look at him before shaking his head with another twist of a smile. "Okay then. We're all good now?" He looks from Blaise to Theo and even spares half a glance in Crabbe and Goyle's direction before nodding, satisfied. "Fantastic. Back to work for me."
 He spins back around to face his desk, reaching for his quill, and the rest of the day passes as usual, without another word traded between them, even when they all get up for dinner. Malfoy comes back shortly before that, stalking over to his section of the dorm with the mulish single-minded intensity of someone unwilling to even acknowledge Evans' existence, although that probably won't last once he finds out what Theo and Blaise have agreed to.
 Later, in private, Theo remarks to Blaise, "I didn't expect you to care so much about your Ancient Runes grades."
 Blaise slants an indecipherable look at him even as a shallow smile stretches the width of his mouth. "Who wouldn't care about their grades when someone's offering to help raise them for free?"
 It's a rhetorical question and answers approximately nothing, but Theo wasn't expecting anything of substance anyway.
 Besides, when it comes down to it, he supposes it's not so surprising that Blaise can also see which way the wind is blowing, hard enough to tell anyone with decent enough instincts that a major shift in power is imminent.
 And no one likes a fence-sitter.
 -0-0-0-
 5.
 Hadrian would like it to be known that he isn't quite sure how he's gotten to this point in his life.
 Well, that's a lie, he sort of knows, or at least he can pinpoint all the decisions that got him from Point A to Point B, but he supposes he just wasn't expecting a couple Slytherins whom he'd always assumed - even back in his original world - were just Malfoy's lackeys in school, to commit, and commit hard. They hadn't even participated in the war on either side, as far as he was aware— Nott had died relatively early on under mysterious circumstances, and Zabini had by all accounts returned to his home country. To Hadrian, they'd been little more than faces in the background that he'd never even exchanged five words with in total before coming to this world.
 But within the first week after they've asked to join his tutoring sessions, Nott and Zabini - Slytherin/Pureblood Rule Number Who-Knows-What: you can't use someone else's first name until you're invited to - make it really fucking obvious who they're… supporting? Have sided with? Because Slytherin is a nest of brewing factions and shifting alliances and political doublespeak and even a couple blood feuds, and this is precisely why Hadrian doesn't want anything to do with this House.
 Except apparently, agreeing to tutor Nott and Zabini means he's… joined the power struggle? Formed his own faction? Decided to vie for in-House supremacy and possible world domination? Who knows because Hadrian sure doesn't, and he's determined not to know, because surely if he just continues doing his own thing, it'll become clear sooner or later to all and sundry that he has no interest in fighting a bunch of schoolchildren over whatever they think he wants to fight for.
 It's just that he can't quite do that either, because not even three weeks after Nott and Zabini start joining him in the library every Wednesday and Saturday with a wary but accepting Hermione, something that translates to them moving their seats to sit with him in class and - when they can make it look natural, if still deliberate - walking with him in the hallways, the displeasure and animosity in Slytherin House reaches breaking point.
 It's not as if Hadrian hasn't already been the target of multiple hexes and curses from his own Housemates. He's a halfblood who hangs out with Gryffindors— it's to be expected. But so far, the spells have always been in the realm of reasonable, ones that might make him trip down the stairs or rip his bag or screw up his potion, and he's been able to block or avoid them all, so he'd figured it wasn't that big a deal. He'd put the fear of a Horntail in Malfoy early on because he has to live with the berk, and he doesn't much feel like returning after a long day of classes just to have to butt heads with him every single time. But he basically has no intersections with the rest of the House, so he just hasn't bothered paying attention to any of them.
 Then, perhaps rather suddenly, Nott and Zabini are there, not so much orbiting him as they do hover from afar. But they join his tutoring sessions, and they're serious about learning from him, listening earnestly and asking questions and even checking out the books he recommends they read if they have time. There are holes in even the most simple of their fundamental knowledge of Runes - Babbling, read a how-to book on teaching for Merlin's sake - so Hadrian has to more or less start from the ground up, as he had with Hermione, but both of them quickly prove themselves more than intelligent enough to keep up, and they're startling enthusiastic - by Slytherin standards - about everything he teaches them. Nott is more obvious - more ravenous - about it, but even Zabini - who likes to pretend he's only there for the novelty of it or something and therefore tends to play up a laidback sort of indifference - never fails to complete the optional exercises Hadrian writes up for them once a week.
 And outside of the tutoring sessions, it's like they've decided that being tutored by him means that he's now their new Malfoy or something. Not that Malfoy was their Malfoy before, if Hadrian had understood Nott correctly, but they'd at least acted like they were part of Malfoy's groupies. Now they've done a one-eighty, and it's not as if they follow him around all the time the way Crabbe and Goyle do with Malfoy, honestly if you don't count classroom and dorm room, they're not even around him half the time, especially Zabini, but when they are around, when they move their cauldrons next to his in Potions class despite working separately, when they go down to breakfast with him despite splitting off at the entrance, when they trail behind him back to the Slytherin Dungeon after a tutoring session, they're so damn conspicuous about it that they might as well be waving neon-bright signs above their heads.
 In contrast, they don't even sit next Malfoy during mealtimes anymore, much to the blond's increasing red-faced ire that vaguely resembles a Silenced teakettle on the brink of boiling over. But now they sit at the end of the Slytherin table, which Hadrian has gradually gathered that that's not a good thing, but he doesn't know how to fix it either, and neither Nott nor Zabini seems to mind.
 They also talk to him now, not often, not just in private, and not just about Runes, although that does still take up the majority of their conversation topics, if only because they don't know each other that well yet. But in their dorm or in class or in the library or in the halls, sometimes, Nott would say something completely normal, like whether or not he owns an owl or if he's noticed Snape's increasingly intent attention on him or if he's found the secret passageway connecting the Dungeons to the sixth floor yet because climbing six flights of moving stairs isn't what anyone would call a good time. Zabini on the other hand prefers sharing obscure gossip that even most of Slytherin isn't aware of, sordid little secrets like whose parent has a mistress (or three) on the side that will very likely cause an inheritance problem down the road, who killed a cousin over the summer due to jealousy but has done a decent enough job of covering it up as an accident because said cousin had been the heir apparent, and even who had to go to Pomfrey for an Abortion Charm just last week but will likely have to break her betrothal contract - and consequently have her magic bound, as per the terms of said contract - in the future anyway because there's no hiding the loss of her virginity from the olde family magicks no matter how frantically she searches for a way.
 To the former, Hadrian responds the way he would if Neville or Ron or Hermione were to ask him similar questions. To the latter, he says, "You have serious issues, Zabini."
 Nott never smiles, but his body language is a little less closed off and his eyes look a little less hunted with every random conversation they have. Zabini is almost always smiling, and in response to Hadrian's incredulity, he only laughs like it's the grandest joke he's ever heard.
 They grow on him, is the thing. One's probably abused at home, and the other is honestly half a psychopath already, and Hadrian shouldn't care but he's always had a bit of a soft spot for broken people, people who don't quite fit in no matter how well they fake it, people who remind him of himself. And the war he'd survived had only served to destroy what little compunctions he'd ever had about getting too close to dangerous things.
 So they grow on him, day by day, and half a month in, the other Slytherins apparently can't handle it anymore.
 Hadrian's just coming back from dinner. Nott and Zabini are with him, having joined him once he'd bid Neville, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. They're halfway across the common room when Hadrian catches movement in his peripheral, and he has half a second to decide what to do, to abort the reflex to go for his wand, to cancel the shield ward sparking at his fingertips, to pivot around on the spot and abruptly swing himself right into Nott's personal space, which means Nott immediately puts on the brakes, and - behind him - Zabini has to do the same.
 Hadrian senses more than feels the curse that grazes the back of his robes and splashes against the far wall between a pair of suspiciously empty armchairs in an area that's normally a popular hangout spot. There's no sound, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way it oozes a sickly viscous purple that puddles to the ground and eats straight through the carpet before finally evaporating into nothing.
 He doesn't turn his head, doesn't challenge anyone into a duel the way his hands are itching to do. Instead, even before the spell disappears, he's already asking, "Did you copy down the Potions assignment from today? I just remembered I forgot."
 In front of him, Nott's turned three shades whiter, and he's already pale-skinned to begin with, so he obviously recognizes the spell. Zabini clearly does as well if the way he's gone gargoyle-still is anything to go by.
 If they'd continued walking, that curse would've hit Nott right in the ribcage. His left ribcage.
 A beat of silence passes. Then Nott takes a breath and answers in a voice that doesn't waver but is even more inflectionless than usual. "Yes, I wrote it down. I can show you."
 "Cool, thanks, let's go."
 Nobody else speaks, nobody even moves, as Hadrian leads the way back to their dorm.
 Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't back yet so they have the room to themselves. As soon as the door is shut, Nott almost slumps onto his bed, hands shaking. Zabini pulls out his chair to sit, a smile hooked at one corner of his mouth, but absolutely nothing about the rest of him says amusement.
 (Slytherins don't have friends, and Zabini doesn't seem to know how to have friends, but Nott's probably the closest to one that his disposition will ever allow.)
 Hadrian looks from Nott to Zabini and back, and then he asks, "Who was that boy? The one surrounded by that group by the fireplace."
 The one who'd fired the spell. Don't think just because a bunch of students were arranged in front of him that Hadrian had missed the way his arm had moved, the jab of a wand, the blossom of light at its tip before the curse had flown across the room. Did they think he was blind?
 Nott blinks up at him, features still pinched. It's Zabini who answers, soft as silk, "Malcolm Avery, seventh-year."
 Hadrian takes a moment to digest that, to press that face into his memory before filing it away for later. He focuses on his roommates again instead and presses on, "Has this sort of thing happened before?"
 Because even if they're spending time with him, Nott's an old pureblood name, isn't it? And Zabini is Zabini, and everybody's heard of his mother. Even if they're shunned a bit, jeered at a bit, even hexed a bit, any serious assaults should only be aimed at Hadrian, right?
 Well, apparently not. That curse earlier had been a much Darker cousin of the Bone-Vanishing Spell, a variation on the more public-friendly Bone-Breaking Curse. If Hadrian hadn't seen it coming, if he hadn't stopped Nott in time, that thing would've not only shattered the left half of Nott's ribcage but also stabbed the resulting fragments directly into the nearest organs before dissolving into the bloodstream as a lethal poison— in this case, it would've been the heart and a lung. Nott would've been dead in under a minute, drowning in his own blood in extreme pain, and it's a tossup if even Hadrian would've been able to save him.
 Zabini - unsurprisingly - shakes his head. For all that he doesn't have an old bloodline to rooted in Britain, he still has enough family clout to grant him a strong backing. And that's not counting his own means of protecting himself. Hadrian had actually gotten the feeling very early on, from the moment they'd had their first conversation, and he'd only been proven right as they'd gotten to know each other a little better— Zabini has all the best traits of a quintessential Slytherin. And thereby also all of the worst. Magic-wise, Hadrian can overpower him in a second, but that's why Zabini knows not to make an enemy of him, knows how to bend and stretch and profit while he's at it. He doesn't need anyone to protect him.
 Nott on the other hand doesn't reply right away, and when he does, it's an evasive, "Spells like that would be an instant expulsion from Hogwarts, especially coming from a Slytherin, and from a seventh-year, they'd go straight to Azkaban. There are portraits all over the school. I'm not stupid enough to wander into places where there aren't any."
 Hadrian aims a flat look at him. "That's not what I asked."
 Nott purses his lips and stares at his lap. Hadrian waits him out.
 "…They've tried cornering me," Nott finally admits, grudgingly, almost resentfully. "There's no avoiding a couple areas with no portraits. But they never used a curse this Dark before, and I've always been able to slip away."
 Hadrian swallows the first three things he wants to say, to shout, because at his core, he likes to think he has a long fuse, but when someone crosses his line in the sand, his temper has always been explosive and violent, which won't help here.
 Besides, hadn't he more or less told these two to handle the consequences of letting him tutor them on their own? Even if they weren't Slytherins and actually had the mind to reach out for help, they probably wouldn't have come to him after what he'd said, so he has no one to blame but himself and the fact that he'd underestimated just how deep some Slytherins' senseless hatred runs.
 So he breathes through his first instinct, his second, his third, and then he pushes off the desk he'd been leaning on in favour of pulling out parchment and ink and the appropriate books.
 "Alright, come here," He beckons, spreading everything out on his desk. "I'm gonna teach you a Fourfold Rebounder Ward so you can wear it on you from now on. The variation I'm thinking of has a chameleon element, so it'll be both strong enough to deflect a curse on the level of the one from earlier and also camouflage it when it's bounced back at whoever attacked you. It's based off of intent too, so it won't act up in a scuffle or a practice duel or something, the other person has to really want to harm you with deadly intent, so keep your guard up for other stuff, and honestly, this should just be for emergencies, you should still try to dodge it because it's not good to grow overly dependent on stuff like this. I'm confident the runes won't fail when I'm the one making it but your reflexes will get rusty if you get lazy. It's a bit- okay, a lot more difficult than anything you're learning right now, but I'll do most of the work, you just watch and provide the magic at the end, and once your foundation is a bit more stable and we can move ahead to more interesting things, I'll come back to this first so you'll be able to learn how to do this yourselves one day."
 A long silence follows. Hadrian looks up. Neither of his roommates has moved. "What's wrong?"
 Another few seconds tick by. It's Zabini who gets up first, an odd smile on his face, one that Hadrian's never seen before. But all he says is, "Nothing's wrong. I was just hoping if we waited a bit, Malfoy will get back in time to see what we're doing and finally keel over from high blood pressure."
 Hadrian snorts with laughter. "Get over here. If that really happened, we'd be the ones who'd have to waste time carrying him up to the Hospital Wing."
 Zabini's expression says that that wouldn't be his problem but he only smirks and saunters over to Hadrian's desk with his chair. When they both turn to look, Nott is already on his feet as well. He doesn't say anything, but he looks steadier, and he's watching Hadrian with a strange gleam in his eyes that makes them look almost feverish.
 They settle down around him, eager - by Slytherin standards - to learn in a way that reminds Hadrian exactly why he likes to teach.
 He gets to work, explaining each step even though he knows most of it is going over their heads. That's fine though; for now, these wards just need to protect them properly, and in the future, he'll teach them how to protect themselves.
 -0-
 Of course, things aren't over just like that, because Hadrian's temper is an explosive and violent beast, and the only things that's changed from when he was still a teenager is the fact that he's gotten a lot sneakier about it as an adult.
 They aren't friends. But Nott and Zabini are his roommates and his students and kids that he's starting to genuinely care about, and nobody gets to walk away scot-free after fucking with the people under Hadrian's care so long as he's still alive to do something about it.
 Malcolm Avery is seventeen anyway. That's an adult by any magical community's measure, which means Hadrian doesn't have to hold back.
 It takes a week. A week of slipping out after curfew and eavesdropping on conversations, of finding out what the seventh-year's next practical Potions class will be working on and scanning all of Avery's belongings to see what Dark spells he's been mucking about with, and finally of filching Avery's cauldron for an afternoon while he's in class and replacing it before he returns to his dorm.
 When it happens, Hadrian isn't even in school. Even if he were, it wouldn't matter because he'd made sure to time everything just right, and all the fourth-years - and most of the rest of the student body too - are already in the Great Hall waiting for lunch to be served. Seventh-year Potions is in the morning block, and Avery always goes overtime when there's a practical.
 Hadrian isn't even in school, sitting his Ancient Runes exams at the Ministry all day instead, but he certainly hears all about it when he gets back that evening.
 A few minutes before noon, a silver doe Patronus comes bounding up from the dungeons with an urgent summons for Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Nobody hears what is said, but the three staff members rush off even as the food begins to appear, and nobody hears from them again until half an hour later when whispers start going around about Healers from St. Mungo's being called and one Malcolm Avery being carried out the front doors on a stretcher because his condition is too unstable to be transported through the Floo. The professors don't really tell them anything except that there was a Potions accident, but - as these things do because the rumour mill at Hogwarts is healthier than ever, and there'd still been a few other seventh-years in class with Avery at the time - everyone more or less knows what happened anyway by the time afternoon classes start. Potions is cancelled for the rest of the day, because no one else was injured but Snape was too busy furiously documenting what had happened after running multiple diagnostic spells over the remains of Avery's cauldron to teach. Also, he has to submit said documentation and a Pensieve memory to the Aurors investigating the accident, which doesn't exactly say great things about his mood, so nobody's unhappy about being able to give Potions a miss.
 Apparently, Avery had been using his cauldron to make other potions - banned potions - in his dorm room. His roommates had been willing enough to keep mum and even give him a hand, and the book he'd been learning from had been found in his trunk. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to make anything too terrible yet, and his failed attempts hadn't managed to kill anyone, but he also hadn't cleaned his cauldron properly, and so there'd been a mess of residue potion and Dark magic clinging to the metal. Coincidentally, it had ended up reacting quite badly to the potion that the seventh-years were to work on that day, and the end result was a magnificent explosion that Snape had barely managed to protect himself and the other students from in the nick of time. There'd been no helping Avery who'd been standing right next to the unholy concoction.
 In the aftermath, the explosion had caused bad enough burns to disfigure Avery, but time and Healers would fix most if not all of that. Far more serious had been the potion damage to his body— the liquid had seeped right through his skin and disintegrated the majority of his left ribcage, and then it had gone on to chew even further, straight into his heart and left lung, an insidious venom that had dissolved into his bloodstream and sent him into convulsions that had wrung scream after agonized scream out of him until Pomfrey had deemed it safe enough to knock him out, although even then, his body wouldn't stop seizing from the pain.
 He'd still been alive when he'd been rushed out of the castle. Word has it that he's still alive now in St. Mungo's, except the Healers have no idea how to even begin treating him. Mixing multiple failed attempts at Dark potions, most of which even Avery's own roommates couldn't list all the names of or in which order he'd made them, together with one N.E.W.T.-level potion but in an explosion that had caused the maximum amount of entropy in the magic imbued into it— Merlin himself wouldn't be able to fix it with just a wave of his wand.
 By dinnertime, everybody is talking about it, and the professors have given up trying to stop them.
 (In truth, the outcome probably wouldn't have been quite so serious if Hadrian hadn't added a spell to amplify the toxicity and volatility of the residue in the cauldron, as well as several looping single-use runes to hide the volcanic buildup and also bind the whole thing to Avery alone so that it wouldn't have hurt anyone else even if Snape hadn't reacted in time. Without Hadrian's interference, it would've still exploded sooner or later, but Snape might've seen the danger signs in time to evacuate everyone from the classroom, and even if he didn't, the effects of the potion on Avery probably wouldn't have been so terrible.
 But then, that wouldn't have been enough. After all, lessons like these should stick.
 Avery will live, but he sure won't enjoy it.)
 It's almost ten by the time Hadrian gets back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Snape drops him off at the entrance before sweeping off to his own office in a dramatic billow of irritably flapping robes. He'd been at the Ministry for half the day just to piece together what had happened for them, but as Hadrian had ensured, the Potions master had been cleared of any negligence in the matter. The potion had very obviously shown no signs of exploding - three other experts had verified - and students are expected to take care of their own cauldrons from third-year onwards without the professor having to do weekly checks. Snape had been released by dinnertime, but he'd apparently decided to simply eat in the Ministry cafeteria and return with his student and Babbling, so here they are.
 Except-
 Just before Snape makes to leave, he turns and pins Hadrian with a long appraising look, clinical and penetrating. Hadrian stares back serenely, and maybe the fact that his mind is a steel trap wrapped around a battlefield would be highly suspect to anyone looking in, but he also doesn't feel so much as a brush of Legilimency from Snape whatsoever. The professor really is just looking at him.
 It's a strange new world.
 In the end, Snape doesn't say anything before walking off, and Hadrian is left to blink after him before letting himself into the common room.
 Everything goes eerily silent the moment everyone realizes he's back. Even if he hadn't said anything, someone - let's be real, it's Malfoy - had spread the news of Hadrian taking his Ancient Runes exams early, so pretty much everyone had known where he'd gone today. It was never a secret though so Hadrian hadn't cared, except when he steps into the room, it's very obvious that everybody is focused on him, and just as obvious that nobody is willing to make eye-contact with him.
 The younger students should've already retired for the night. At least everybody still in the common room, studying or playing chess or chatting with each other like any standard evening, are fifth-years and up, so most of these students had probably known - or had been told after the fact - exactly what that curse would've done to Theo Nott that day, and exactly who had been the one to attack him.
 And everybody knows what had happened to Avery today. More specifically, they know that what had happened to him today had been an almost perfect mirror of what he'd wanted to do to Nott one week ago. Nobody here believes in coincidences, and there's only so many people who would've had the motivation to orchestrate the entire accident down to the smallest detail.
 Most of them have known Nott and Zabini for at least a few years. Perhaps they're not on speaking terms, but they'd still been Housemates for a while. Something like this isn't really Nott's style, and while it is Zabini's, neither of them has the ability.
 The only real unknown is Hadrian Evans, and if they still can't put the pieces together at this point, they might as well sell their brains.
 The area by the fireplace, normally always occupied by Avery's group at this time, is empty today. Avery's at St. Mungo's, his roommates are in overnight lockup at the Ministry, and any who aren't but were part of Avery's faction are probably hiding up in their rooms. Nobody else has taken their seats, not even the students who usually do when Avery hasn't claimed it for the day.
 Hadrian walks towards the doorway leading to the boys' dormitory, and no one stops him. It feels like the entire room is holding their breaths. Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves until Hadrian is out of earshot.
 The dorm is likewise very quiet when Hadrian enters. Malfoy's bed curtains are already drawn, as are Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Zabini's are open, and he's lazing against the headboard with a book in his hands while Nott is still at his desk doing homework.
 They both look up as soon as the door swings open. Zabini stays on his bed but Nott even stands up as Hadrian shuts the door behind him. His whole frame is tense with a restless sort of energy, and he's staring at Hadrian with shining eyes. They both are, although in different ways. Zabini looks equal parts ecstatic and hungry, while Nott just looks the kind of deeply confused and deeply grateful that makes Hadrian want to set fire to someone, preferably whoever stitched this very expression into Nott's range of emotions out of the pieces they'd torn from him.
 Nobody says anything right away. Hadrian squints at them as he makes his way to his own bed, feeling vaguely perturbed, because he hadn't truly expected them to not connect what happened to Avery back to him, but he hadn't thought they would be so fixated on it either. Maybe a roundabout tactful thank-you from Nott, an offer of a favour at most. But not… this, whatever this is.
 He laments the fact that these two aren't more stupid when it comes to this sort of thing. Ron would be oblivious. Hermione would be determinedly oblivious. Neville… would actually react a bit like Nott, Ginny would react a lot like Zabini, Luna wouldn't react at all but she'd be extra cuddly for a few days, and gods, Hadrian needs saner friends.
 Not that these two are friends of course.
 He manages to get through a shower, brush his teeth, and climb into a bed before Nott is suddenly at his side, eyes still shining with something Hadrian really doesn't want to put a name to. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into any heartfelt speeches that would probably embarrass everyone within hearing range. Not so thankfully, he honest-to-fucking-Merlin bows, all archaic and meaningful in every way Hadrian has never learned and so doesn't understand, but even he can sense the weight and deference behind every word as Nott murmurs, "All of mine is yours, until the end of days. I would be honoured if you would call me Theo."
 "Jesus fucking Christ," Hadrian mutters, because sometimes wizarding swears just don't have enough oomph to encompass the never-ending circus trainwreck that is his life. He scrubs a hand over his face, peeks at Nott - at Theo - who's still halfway bent over, and of course, it's just his luck that he has no idea how to respond in the proper pureblood way.
 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.
 "I'm a halfblood, I don't know how to respond appropriately," He says bluntly because he doesn't know what else to do. But he also flicks a Silencing Ward at Malfoy's bed, then at Crabbe's and Goyle's as well because you can never be too careful, and then he leans over and hauls Theo upright and catches his gaze and holds it, "I'll call you Theo if you call me Hadrian. One day, you'll be strong enough to take care of your enemies on your own, and you won't need anyone else to do it for you if you don't want them to, but until then, if all of you is mine, then your enemies are too, so I'll deal with them if it turns out that they still haven't learned after today. That makes us allies from now on though, which means we're equals, and that means you never, ever bow to anyone again. Not me, and not anybody else either. Understand?"
 Theo stares again, wide-eyed and lost and so terribly young, and sometimes, Hadrian wonders what it says about just how messed up the world is when broken kids can be bought so easily.
 Finally, almost dazedly, Theo gives some semblance of a nod.
 "Hadrian," He says, and something about him straightens, grows steel, settles.
 "Hadrian," He repeats and dips his head, not a bow, but respectful all the same, and his eyes are still bright with that unnamed creature, but at least he looks at Hadrian head-on. "Thank you. Goodnight."
 Hadrian sighs and figures that this is about the best he's going to get tonight. Maybe it'll dial back to normal in a few days. "Goodnight, Theo."
 Theo smiles, tiny, crooked, a little awkward. It's the first one Hadrian has ever seen from him, and that at least he can't be upset about.
 They can finally go to sleep though. Theo returns to his own bed, Zabini is still watching them both from his bed like they're his new favourite show, and Hadrian resolutely pretends he doesn't see anything else as he takes down the Silencing Wards before drawing his curtains, rolling over, and promptly making a sincere attempt at smothering himself with a pillow.
 His life.
-0-0-0-
End Notes: Ok wow so this got hella long and I didn't really get to all the stuff anon wanted whoops. Theo just… wouldn't stop thinking lmao, and also this AU has the potential to get so big so I ended up cramming in worldbuilding wherever I could. So unfortunately all you get is sort of a starting snapshot of where this is going and how Hadrian is going to turn out and a shitload of Theo's character. I kind of wanted to do him and Blaise's POV but I could only fit Theo, and I feel like getting Blaise through Theo's POV actually added to his character just as much as a personal POV would've. Anyway, those two are basically blank slates in canon so ofc I would pick them to write lolol.
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avianyuh · 6 months
Note
Hello 🤗🤗 can I pls make two requests for BTS?
(1)when reader, who is their crush keeps playing with yeontan or bam and pays less attention to them they get jealous?
(2)The members and their crush go on a picnic in a flower field and she makes them a flower crown and gives it to them? Thank you 😊❤️
🧚‍♂️Request; BTS scenarios where they get jealous because their crush pays more attention to Yeontan or Bam 🧚‍♂️
{A/N: AGGGHH this makes me so happy! thank you so much for requesting. *internet hugs*
the second request I'll make into another post. btw i loved these ideas and they've been so fun to write.
Additional Notes
3 things;
*for yoongi, I included Holly, cuz I thought it would make more sense for the reader to play with yoongi's dog and for hoseok, I included mickey. but the rest of the members alternate between yeontan and bam :) *
*also, I know BigHit is technically HYBE now, but I noticed BigHit is still used for copyright and for example, the TXT youtube channel is called TXTBighit, so I just decided to go with BigHit lol*
For Anon; I hope you liked this! And I will get the second prompt out ASAP. btw thank you for being my first request in like idek how long, you've made me so happy by requesting because it shows that people do read my writing🥺🫶
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{Prompt/Descriptions} Scenarios on how you meet are different for all members, but most scenarios revolve around you working at and meeting through BigHit, just to give a little background to how long the members have known the reader for.
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Jin
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Seokjin sat on the couch in Jungkook's apartment as he watched as you played with Bam. He couldn't help but smile to himself. He found it amusing how Bam could basically tower over you if he stood up to play with you. He watched as you laughed and threw the tennis ball back and forth between you, Bam and Jungkook, who had invited everyone over to his apartment a few hours ago. Seokjin also noticed how you kept dropping the ball. You're catch and aim completely off. Yet again, he couldn't help but smile to himself, he thought you were so cute trying to act all athletic even though you had told him many times before that you had horrible hand-eye coordination.
Jin tried to get your attention, but he didn't want to ruin the fun, afraid he might make you mad. So he called out to you, "Y/n, I think Bam can catch the ball better than you", he said laughing. You turned around and playfully stuck out your tongue at him in a mocking tone before surrendering the tennis ball to Bam and moving to sit down next to Jin.
"Like you could do any better", Y/n said, playfully nudging Jin in the shoulder. He scoffed and lightly nudged you back. He could feel the nerves building up inside of him. He had been waiting for the right moment to ask you out for months...maybe now was the right time. He reasoned with himself, Y/n DID stop playing with Bam, who you really love, just to come and sit down next to him and talk. Plus, all of the playful banter between the two of you, maybe now was the time.
Jin cleared his throat and turned to face you. You looked at him, a smile on your face. He took a deep breathe in and started, "So uh, Y/n...what're you doing tomorrow, anything planned?", he would start out casual. He studied Y/n's face as she quickly looked up, mentally scanning her built-in mind calendar.
"Nope", Y/n responded, "Free as can be, why?", Y/n asked. Suddenly, Seokjin panicked, Crap, what if she doesn't want to go out with me, then I've ruined the friendship...He just had to do it
"I uh, I was wondering if...-", but before Jin could finish, Bam came jumping onto the couch, ball in his mouth and tail wagging, ready for another round of fetch.
Y/n immediately shifted her gaze from Jin to Bam and Jin simultaneously felt his heart sink and his nerves settle at the same time. But he had to admit, he was more disappointed than anything. So with a sudden stroke of confidence, Jin grabbed the tennis ball from Bam and threw it on the other side of the room, giving him just enough time to blab out, "Listenmaybeyouwantogo...outwith...me?",
Jin winced and prepared for rejection as Y/n looked at him on shock, but before he could fully look back at Y/n, he felt her lips on his cheek as Y/n whispered, "Of course", as she got up to play with Bam again.
Yoongi
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Yoongi, despite his 'cold' (not really but for the sake of his image let's just go with cold hahah), exterior, was quite a softy when it came to you. From the moment he met you he had developed feelings for you. You two would constantly text and facetime late into the early morning and he spent a lot of his free time with you. Though the members teased him for being smitten with you and basically being in an unofficial relationship, Yoongi just couldn't bring himself to confess his feelings for you. He was afraid that the feelings he had for you were one sided and that by confessing he would lose you if you didn't feel the same way. Or worse, the two of you would date and break up, hence ruining the entire relationship and never seeing you again. In a way, Yoongi felt like it was better to just keep things as they were, confusing.
One of your favorite things to do was to spend your free time at Yoongi's apartment, not only to see Yoongi, but also to see Holly. Min Holly loved you and you loved him too.
Not to mention, Yoongi appreciated that when his brother was unavailable to watch Holly, you would readily volunteer when Yoongi had to leave for long periods of time.
But currently, Yoongi was home and you were laying on the carpet, playing with Holly. Well, actually, you were cuddling with Holly and little did you know, Yoongi was sitting on the couch watching you intently.
That's it, he thought to himself, I need to just tell her how I feel.
How could he do any better than you?
To Yoongi, you were everything he ever wanted. Because you met through BigHit, not only did you respect and understand his work, but you also had an appreciation for music. You both got along so well and Holly loved you. And he did too. What more could he want in a partner?
So he started speaking, "Y/n, do you think two people who are friends can go from a friendship to a romance?", he paused as you hummed in response, too focused on rubbing Holly's head to look up. " You know, without ruining a friendship?"
You hummed again, still not looking up at Yoongi. Instead, you let out a giggle as Holly rolled onto his back, expecting a belly rub.
Okay, now Yoongi was getting a little jealous. I mean, Y/n wasn't even listening, here he is on the verge of pouring his heart out and she's more focused on Holly? , he thought to himself.
So he pulled out his commander tactics. He snapped his fingers and Holly immediately lifted his head out of y/n's lap, looking up at Yoongi.
Yoongi gave a little twirl of his finger and there Holly went into the other room. Y/n looked up confused. "Yoongi, what was that for? He was comfortable", Y/n whined, getting up and moving to the couch.
"Listen, Y/n, I have to ask you...because it's been on my mind for awhile and I need your full attention.", he sighed. Yoongi noticed that Y/n looked nervous, he realized his tone of voice was a little too serious.
Alright, enough stalling. Well here goes nothing
"Do you think we'd have any chance as a couple?", Yoongi asked looking down at his feet, too nervous to look you in the eyes.
However that immediately changed when he heard an exasperated yes as you flung yourself onto Yoongi.
"God what took you so long!", Y/n said as Yoongi laughed.
What did take him so long?, he thought.
Hoseok
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Hoseok had actually brought you home one weekend to meet Mickey. For as long as the two of you had been friends, you had never met Mickey before. But because Mickey lived with Hobi's family, that meant you would be meeting everyone.
Of course, when the two of you had arrived at Hobi's parents house, Mickey and you had your first introduction. Hoseok watched as you bent down to rub Mickey's head, and you offhandedly expressed how soft he was which made Hoseok smile.
Hoseok led you through the house as he introduced you to his parents who were so kind to you and his sister too. You remember making a mental note of the fact that you could definitely tell where Hoseok got his positive energy from, because his family was just so warm and welcoming.
And they treated you so kind when you were just a friend too, nothing special, right?
Well that's what you thought. What you didn't know was that Hoseok had been wanting to confess his feelings for you for quite some time. He had no intentions of doing it on this trip back home. He was just hoping his family didn't drop any hints as he had blabbed to his sister quite a few times in the past, going on and on about how cool you were and how beautiful you are and blah,blah,blah.
It was actually Jiwoo who had pointed out to Hobi that he most likely had a crush on Y/n. So as everyone settled down in the living room and Y/n settled next to Mickey and began to pet him, Hobi noticed that Mickey looked so relaxed with you and he couldn't help but get excited at the thought of bringing you home with him annually. You had been getting along well with his parents and sister and especially Mickey.
But as he turned to speak to you, he noticed how most of your attention was on Mickey. Though Hoseok did want to talk to you, he felt like Mickey deserved some Y/n love. {A/N; LMAO, I don't know why that line is so funny to me...anyways back to the story}
But by the end of the weekend, the duration of your stay before you and Hoseok went back to your respective jobs, he realized just how preoccupied with Mickey you had been all weekend.
Hobi sat down next to you, asking if your bags were packed and you turned to face him. "Yep", you said smiling. "Hobi, I really have to say, your family was so nice to me, I mean, the way they treated me and especially considering that I'm nothing special too, I really have to thank them before we leave."
Hoseok was touched by your consideration for his family but before you could fully stand up from your seat, he lightly pulled you back to the seat by your arm. "Y/n, actually",Hobi laughed before continuing, "I actually have a bit of a confession. I kind of view you as more than a friend...I want to be with you"
You looked at Hoseok for a minute without saying anything. You studied his face, trying to see if he was joking as the two of you often liked to joke around. But all you could detect from him was...nerves?
"Are you serious? You're not playing with me right", Y/n said, moving closer. Hobi shook his head from side to side, signaling no, he was 100% serious.
"I want to be with you too Hobi, what made you realize?", you asked taking his hands in yours as you faced each other.
"Actually, Mickey made me realize", he laughed as he looked at your confused face. "You were paying so much attention to Mickey and I loved it but at the same time, I wished you had been giving me that attention instead."
You laughed as you leaned into his embrace.
Namjoon
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You and Namjoon had been invited over to Jungkook's apartment to have dinner. However, what you didn't know was that Namjoon and Jungkook has set up a ploy to get you and Namjoon in the same room.
You see, Y/n and Namjoon had a lot of chemistry. The thing was, all of it was at work, where there really wasn't anytime for flirting. They never really saw each other outside of the studio. And Namjoon had never really mustered up the courage to ask Y/n out so when he mentioned to Jungkook one time that he thought Y/n was cute, Jungkook immediately wanted to help out his hyung.
So there you were, you and Namjoon sitting across from each other as Jungkook tried to hide his growing smirk. The plan was working out perfectly. The two of you were all fired up, talking about your favorite books and albums, just like in the studio expect instead a of professional environment, it was personal now.
After the three of you had finished eating, Jungkook had 'stepped out' to accept a phone call, leaving the two to you alone, which wasn't a problem as the two of you continued the flirtatious banter. However, when Jungkook has opened up the door to his bedroom to take his 'phone call', Bam had wandered out of the door and right over to you and Namjoon.
Namjoon was in the middle of discussing a TV show you had both recently watched when you suddenly turned away and looked over at Bam with adoring eyes.
"Aww!, Namjoon isn't he adorable?", you said, sliding off of your chair and getting on your knees to pet Bam.
Namjoon stared at the dog, feeling like he just got cock blocked {A/N #2; SORRY I HAD TO PUT THAT IN}
Namjoon got up, excusing himself for a minute. Y/n smiled up at him and then turned her attention back to Bam who was now wagging his tail frantically.
Namjoon stomped down the whole to Jungkook's bedroom where he found Jungkook siting at his desk watching something on his phone.
Jungkook turned to him and asked how it was going, another smirk on his face.
"You better go in the living room and get Bam back in here, she's more interested in him than me at the moment and we had a breakthrough.", Namjoon stated firmly. Jungkook couldn't help but laugh as he got up and walked towards the entrance of the door to his bedroom.
"Bam, come here!", Jungkook called out as Namjoon stood watching with his arms crossed. Bam came running into the room and Namjoon walked out, giving Jungkook a thumbs up before heading back to Y/n.
Finally some alone time, he thought.
Jimin
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{Sorry guys, I don't mean to bring astrology into this but it fits the idea I had so roll with it 🥸)
Jimin had actaully met you through Taehyung at his house during a small party Taehyung had been hosting.
Now becuase Jimin is a libra. And one of the things that everyone knows about libra's is that they live to flirt, they also fall fast and hard. So the same night Jimin; known worldwide for being a huge flirt, had met you, he was planning on trying to come up with a way to ask you out .
You two had been talking all night, the only problem was that you kept getting distracted by Yeontan the adorable Pomeranian who also wanted Y/n's full attention.
As the night progressed and Y/n became preoccupied with giving Yeontan treats, Taehyung had pulled Jimin over and jokingly told Jimin that he had competition, pointing to Yeontan.
Jimin facepalmed, finding it hard to believe that he was losing your affections to a DOG.
Jimin shoved Taehyung and made his way back over to you. Sitting back down and trying to pet Yeontan, and obviously trying to get on your radar too. Suddenly an idea came to him.
"Yeontan, it's Uncle Jiminie", Jimin said petting Yeontan on the top of his head. Yeontan looked over at him for a second before looking back at Y/n.
Y/n laughed as she looked up at Jimin, asking him if he wanted to maybe get a drink or something one time, to you know...talking about Yeontan.
Jimin smiled and agreed, somewhat relieved that he didn't have to make the first move after all, and overly ecstatic about the fact that the feelings were mutual.
Taehyung
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You and Taehyung had actually gotten close because you not only lived in his building, but actually walked Yeontan for him when he was away busy with his schedule.
You lived a few apartments down from each other, and frequently came home at the same time, so after a few months of faint smiles and glances at each other, Taehyung struck up conversation first. Complimenting your outfit, well, mainly your long coat as it was the middle of winter and you were in as many layers as possible.
You blushed, not expecting him to have said anything at all considering your history of silent exchanges. You muttered a quite thank you in response before turning the key into your lock. Before you could fully open your door though, you felt someone's hand on your shoulder.
You turned around startled but calmed down immediately upon the realization that it was just Taehyung.
He apologized for starling you before he started speaking again, "Listen, I've actually been looking for someone to look after my dog Yeontan for the few times I have to go out of town, but I haven't found anyone I can trust with him. I see you everyday and you're only down the hall, would you be interested in maybe watching him a few times?", he finished asking as he looked down at you committed to getting a yes.
You don't know why you agreed, I mean, you didn't know him THAT well, you were just neighbors, maybe it was his sultry deep voice that lured you in, but you found yourself agreeing.
Taehyung cheered excitedly and asked for your phone number so he could reach you when he needed, and after that day, you two become inseparable.
Tae had really grown to appreciate you and you felt the same way, however, Taehyung had other feelings brewing too.
Taehyung didn't want to admit it but he had developed a bit of a crush on you...
So when he had you over to watch a movie one day, he decided to make his move. However, the one guy that brought them together in the first place seemed to be the one delaying any romance at the current moment.
Yeontan sat nuzzled between Y/n and Taehyung.
Tae tried to slide his arm around your shoulders, but because he wasn't sitting as close to you as he'd have liked, the classic arm over shoulder trick didn't have its desired effect on you since you barely even noticed.
Eventually Taehyng couldn't take it and decided to pretend to throw something in the other direction off the couch and Yeontan bounced off.
Y/n looked at Taehyung confused before looking at Taehyung's arm behind her and noticing the awkward position his arm was in.
"Ohhhhh", Y/n smirked as she scooted closer to Taehyung. "That's why you told Yeontan to scram.", Y/n laughed as Taehyung's face turned bright red.
He didn't think Y/n would catch on so quickly.
Jungkook
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Jungkook had met you through BigHit and you quickly became friends. What was funny about your relationship was that Y/n actually liked Jungkook first.
Though they were friends and spent a lot of time together, Y/n was too shy to ever bring up any feelings. Jungkook had a lot of women interested in him and though he never really expressed interest in any of them, he would play along just so he didn't make anyone feel awkward. Of course, Y/n had to pretend like she didn't care even though she knew his 'advances with the women weren't genuine, she still didn't like having to watching it.
What ended up happening was that one day while Jungkook was having a conversation with Namjoon, he ended up spilling the fact that he was looking for a particular partner and as he was describing this person, Joon pointed out that Kook basically described you.
Hence Jk's crush was born. Or shall we say, his crush was unearthed
Sooooo, when Jungkook invited you out for a walk with Bam one day, you two were walking and having fun as the two of you usually do. You happened to be holding Bam's leash, and JK was ready to profess his love for you. He had a whole speech prepared in his head and everything.
But before he could even do that, Bam started running and you, due to holding the leash, was now being sent all over the place as Bam sent Y/n running with him.
Yes, Bam had ruined Jungkook's confession.
So Jungkook, being all sporty, caught up to the two of you easily and took Bam's leash. You laughed as you kneeled over, trying to catch your breathe. Jungkook teased you about your lack of athleticism and you pushed him over. Now the both of you were laughing.
In the midst of all of that, Jungkook just blurted it out. "I like you".
You stopped laughing and stood up straight, giving him a confused look. "What?", you asked. Y/n was nervous, what'd he mean that he likes me?
"I uh, like you, like, uh, like,like you, y- you know", Jungkook's eyes were darting back and forth from you and Bam who was staring up at his owner adoringly.
Man, if only dogs could talk, cuz this is awkward, Jungkook thought to himself.
"Well, I um, like,like,you", Y/n said looking down.
"Good", he said.
"Yep", Y/n said as they continued walking.
Kook couldn't wait to tell Namjoon. He was in love.
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beautifulfuckup99 · 7 months
Note
Do you only do BTS? Because I would love a plus-size doc, why choose with Namjoon, Bangchan and Seongwha 🫠🫠🫠
For you, babes, I'm gonna make it a preference of sorts. Hope you like it!
Title: My Girl
Warning(s): Body image issues, hints of ED: Count!ng Calor!es, nut also all-around fluff...
Author's Note: I'm sure this isn't what was wanted, but trust me, it's needed. Lol.
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Namjoon:
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Breathing in through your nose filled your lungs with the fresh pine scented air of the park you and Namjoon had walked to for a random, mid-day picnic. The scenery was a calm and quiet one. Ducks floating on by in the pond right in front of you, birds flying through the sky over you, and not a single person in sight. You two had gone far enough into the field of the park that you were basically alone. With a soft sigh of contentment, Namjoon set his book down. "I could sleep here." He notes, voice as deep as the body of water in front of you. You eye your boyfriend as he fixes his beanie before laying back, head going to your thighs. You instantly stiffen in slight embarrassment. You could never help it. You knew your body and you knew how it looked. And you knew your handsome boyfriend could always find better. And you knew this angle wasn't flattering at all. "Joonie..." You mutter as you cover his face with your hand as he tries looking up at you. "What?" He chuckles. "Stop that, Y/N. I wanna see you." He smiles as he moves his face from under your palm to smirk up at you before nuzzling more into your thighs. "Like my own personal pillow." He teases and you swat lightly at his broad shoulder. "What? You are!" He laughs. "Not funny. My fat thighs aren't your pillows." You snort and he turns his head to kiss your bare thigh that was only on display because Namjoon begged you to wear a sundress he'd bought for you weeks ago as a 'just because' present. "Yes, they are. I have commanded it..." He smirks. "And don't call them fat." He says as he gives you a look. "I love your thighs, baby." He adds softly, turning his head to kiss your bare skin again, making you blush harder and swat lightly at his arm as he laughs before looking up at you. "Let's start packing up." You say gently after a bit of resting in the silence. Namjoon playfully groans before sitting up to start putting the leftovers back in the basket. You collect the books to put back in your bag but pause whenyou're overcome with the urge to peak in on what Namjoon had been reading these past few days. He must be learning something new because he's been damn near obsessed with this book. You skim the pages for context clues as to what his nose has been buried in and pause as you spot a sentence that has been highlighted. 'The skill of observing is just that: Instead of focusing on the body, have them focus on everything and anything else around them. Mindful breathing is wonderful in that you can do it anytime, anywhere. Focus your attention completely on the new of life, thereby reducing the focus on negative thoughts they may have. And show patience when those thoughts occur anyway'. You blink a bit, slightly confused until you see Namjoon's usual scribbled handwriting next to that paragraph in particular. Little phrases shaped as ideas written a pen, saying things like 'More dates?', 'More traveling?', 'Nature. She likes nature...', 'Quiet. Give her quiet.'. You feel your heartbeat quicken as you silently flip to the front cover of the book since Namjoon had taken off the sleeve of the book. The title is called "Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy: Loving Insecurities". You slowly look over at your boyfriend who was folding up the blanket you two had been laying on, none the wiser to your findings. Your boyfriend who you've only had the honor of calling your boyfriend for 5 months. Your boyfriend who's decided to spend his time off reading up on how to love you better. You slowly walk over to him as he speaks softly about getting ice cream and place a hand on his shoulder to pull him down to your level, kissing his lips softly. He's surprised, but quickly kisses back. You pull away slowly and smile. "I'd love ice cream." You say gently as you stroke his soft skin with the pad of your thumb. He smiles bashfully and nods. "Then let's go..." He says as he finishes packing up.
Bangchan:
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"Oh, that's so pretty..." You say as you hold your boyfriend's hand as you stare up at the window display that showed a mannequin wearing a beautiful red, thinned-strapped, sweetheart-lined dress. Going out was a rarity with how busy you two had been lately, but you were enjoying this peaceful moment of mindlessly window shopping. And you knew even though Bangchan would rather be resting lazily at home, he was allowing himself to be dragged around all for your happiness. "Wanna head inside?" The five-foot-seven Korean man asks softly, and it makes you eye the rest of the store. "Nah. Nothing there would fit me. God, if I had that body type..." You sigh as you eye the mannequin, making Bangchan nudge you playfully. "You wanna be headless and plastic?" He asks as he eyes you oddly and you laugh softly. "Yup. The embodiment of beauty." You play along before you continue walking, pulling him along effortlessly. "Well, I for one, like how you are now." He states simply and you chuckle a bit. "Yeah, yeah." You mutter. "What? It's true." He defends lightly as he softly swings your entwined hands back and forth as you two walk through the shopping center. "Okay, sure. Cause it's not like you're my boyfriend who'll be in the doghouse if you say otherwise..." You tease and he laughs softly before kissing your hand tenderly. A full week goes by and as you lay in bed, one night, scrolling through your phone, Bangchan walks into the bedroom of your cozy loft. "Mail." He says as casually as he can master, which for him is an average tone. You look up from your phone and see the box he'd laid out on the edge of the bed for you. "And... What's this?" You ask as you slowly sit up, watching as your boyfriend gets more comfortable on his side of the bed. He gives a slight shrug before watching you the way a child watches their parent open a gift from them. His eyes giving away his emotion like always. The excitement was clear in those eyes. You hum and grab some scissors from your nightstand. You open the box and freeze as you see the same dress that you had stared at through the shop window that day, only it was your size. "How...?" You stop your questioning and look at your boyfriend in shock. "You are the embodiment of beauty, babe." He says in a soft voice as he watches you closely. You feel your face heat up and turn back to the box. You pull the dress out and see it's the exact same one, just as perfect as when you spotted it that day. "How did you even find this?" You ask in awe as you scrunch your nose in pure delighted confusion. You hadn't been able to get this damn clothing item off your mind since that day, and now here it was. Right in front of you, in your grasp and it looked even more beautiful in person. The plus size sections here in Korea weren't as... widely selective as they were in the US. You'd gotten used to seeing a gorgeous clothing item in a store and putting it back on the rack when you saw it wasn't in your size. "I ordered it online. I wasn't gonna watch you give up something you want badly because the store doesn't have your size. That's dumb." He shrugs as you set the dress down and move over to hug and kiss him while he playfully groans like it's killing him. But you see the tips of his ears turn pink at your affection. "You're amazing..." You whisper with a giggle before kissing his lips firmly as he laughs. "Well? What are you waiting for? Try it on!" He says and you giggle excitedly before jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom with the dress in your tight grasp.
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Running out of space, but I will be posting part 2! So, if you're a Seongwha stan, then... Stay tuned!
92 notes · View notes
tqmies · 1 year
Text
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Description. Now armed with a new support system, you're ready for anything that'll be thrown at you. That is, until your world starts to shift out of order. And unfortunately, Taehyun is taking this way harder than you.
Pairings. Kang Taehyun x Female Reader
Genre. Angst, Fluff Kinda, Comfort. (This is a self ranting again lol.)
Warnings. Pregnancy (Not MC), Everyone's an emotional wreck, Taehyun's pushing everyone away, MC is confused half the time.
Word count. 6.7K (Why do I keep doing this?!)
Note. This is Part 2 of Free Somebody. I don't recommend reading this a stand alone, as you'll be very confused. Also this is once again based on real events, and I tried to convey my thought process as best as I could but.. LMAO. Some things end up unresolved but that is real life so, bear with me and enjoy.
IN THE FEW MONTHS YOU SPENT TOGETHER, YOU FIGURED OUT KANG TAEHYUN WAS HARD TO READ. Not that you held it against him or anything, but he kept you at a sizable distance and rarely shared his emotions with you.
It felt kind of embarrassing at first, seeing as you opened yourself to him so early on. Sure, it wasn't on purpose but it still happened.
So for him to call for you in such a frantic mood, said a lot about the his state of thinking right now, and you didn't know what to make of it.
Meanwhile, Taehyun felt like his world spinning out of control. All of this was happening, too much too fast.
You stood by his door, him having called you a couple minutes prior. He was scared, and he didn't want to be alone right now. Sure, the two of you weren't suddenly the best of friends. But right now, he just needed a set of ears to listen, and you were fine to oblige.
One of the perks of not being super close was that you wouldn't judge him for his reactions. You didn't expect him to hold it together or be something he's not. No, you caught the rawest sides of him, as he had seen yours. He had tried his best to keep you at arms-length when concerning his emotions, but right now was different. You knew when he pushed his pride aside to pick up the phone and call you, that this was a big deal. Though, didn't that just mean you were closer than you thought?
"I feel sick." Taehyun mutters, motioning for you to enter his room.
"What's wrong?" You question, noting the silence in the apartment. "And where are your roommates?"
His face goes pale at that. They were the last thing he wanted to talk about right now, or for lack of better words, one of them.
"I don't know what to do." Taehyun says, not looking up. His minds fleshing out a million thoughts and solutions, all written neatly side by side. Something of a white board in a science class, formulas drawn all across the expanse, but instead of equations it was just his bleeding problems.
"About what?" You say, growing anxious at the lack of explanation. He was clearly bothered by something, but his resistance in remaining secret was off putting.
"I'm supposed to be the rational one, the problem solver, but I have no idea what to do." He sighs, staring down at his hands.
"That's normal." You respond, moving to sit on the chair by his desk. Trying to collect your thoughts on what would be best to say next, though first you'd like to know what's shaken him up like this.
"Sakura's pregnant." He blurts out, your head whipping around to meet his. He almost flinches back as he said it, not expecting to be so transparent with you. Taehyun also knew it was none of his business to share, but he couldn't help it. It was like you had suddenly turned into a magnet that pried all this information out of him.
He felt his resolve slipping away and he hated it. For once he felt like he couldn't tighten his grip on his emotions.
"What?!" You whisper-yell, dumbstruck. "How do you-"
"I saw the test in the trash." Taehyun reveals. "Beomgyu's the father."
You run your hands through your hair. "This can't be happening." Taehyun had just dropped a huge bomb on you and was talking like he was discussing his lunch plans. One would think, how is he so collected? But you knew better, by the slight shake of his hands and his drawn out breathes, he was scared.
"Are you sure its her's?" You ask, maybe this was a misunderstanding.
"Soobin hasn't been with a girl in months. And he'd never be stupid enough to trash a positive test. Plus Beomgyu's straight in love with Sakura, it's not possible to think he would cheat." Taehyun says, recalling how he saw the stick sitting upright in the bin.
The words entering your head as you think. There could be another explanation right? Taehyun wasn't even fully sure, how could he be reacting like this?
"This is my fault. I led her straight to him. I never thought they'd be so reckless." He confessed, the words coming straight from his heart.
"Are you serious? They're adults Taehyun! This was their responsibility ok?" You speak, still a bit shaken by the news.
Your best friend was pregnant? How far along was she? When did she find out? What was she going to do now?
"But she's not ready for a baby, much less with Beomgyu."
This was truly a terrifying situation.
"Do you think she has a plan?" You ask, chewing your nail.
"I doubt she has one. Probably hasn't thought it through that far."
"We're not even sure that's what's going on." You attempt, trying to clear his thoughts.
Though you found it kind of hard to understand Taehyuns worry, it was a baby. This was not the end of the world, it wasn't even happening to him. Sure, things would change. But change is good, right?
Though, you'e determined to be there for him. So you try to comfort him the best way you know how. By distracting him.
You clap your hands together. "Okay, why don't we do something?"
"What?" He groans, not believing you had just said that.
"Lets watch a movie, something to take your mind off of things."
"I don't need to take my mind off of things." Taehyun maintains. "I need to figure out a solution."
"So then you called me for no reason? 'Cause we don't know shit right now, Kang." You fire back, not fond of his attitude. Though you were unsatisfied with your suggestion as well, what other choice did you have? He needed to calm down before he blew up at Beomgyu, or worse, Sakura.
He knew why he had called you, not for you to just pop up with a solution. He called you cause you're the only one who can ever manage to get him to stop overthinking so damn much.
"Pick whatever you want." He gives in, patting the seat next to him on his bed before handing you the remote to his TV.
You smile at his compliance and grab the object before flipping the screen on. "It's okay to be worried, I'm scared shitless too. But let's relax for a minute."
He lays back on his bed as he pulls the covers over the two of you, "What? I'm cold."
You just giggle as you press play on a movie, the previous qualms forgotten in favor of the crappy Netflix Original you had picked.
...
You stir awake as you begin to hear hushed voices. Oh, had you fallen asleep? Obviously, by the lack of light shining through Taehyun's window, you two had indeed knocked out. He still lays beside you comfortably, head resting on his arm as he remains napping. The end credits of the subpar movie you had put on rolled, indicating you two slept for around two hours.
You lean up and rub your eyes, throwing the blanket off of you. You really had to pee, which must've been the reason for your sudden awakening. Or maybe it was the small whispers that crept in from the living room, you didn't know. Were his roommates back? Was Beomgyu here?
Quietly, you patter over and open the door slightly. Making a beeline for the restroom, you sigh as you finally get to empty your bladder. After washing your hands, you attempt to silently make your way back to Taehyun's room, hoping to avoid confrontation with whoever was home. Sure it's not like anything happened, but it'd be awkward to explain why you were cuddled up with Taehyun in said boy's room.
Unfortunately, you don't get so lucky this time.
You hear the question of your name as you turn around. Beomgyu standing in the hall to see you, Sakura right behind him. Her face lights up as she see's you. "Hey! What're you doing here?"
Though you fear her tone is a bit too loud, and are scared of the two possibly waking Taehyun. He wouldn't exactly be thrilled to see the two of them anyways, so you figure you're doing them a favor as well.
"Taehyun's asleep." You whisper quietly, gesturing for them to lower their voices.
"Asleep?" Beomgyu blinks. "You were with him in his room?"
You just nod your head slightly. "We fell asleep while watching a movie."
"Yeah right." The male snorts as Sakura elbows him. She gives him wide eyes before telling him to knock it off.
"Well I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you both." She says, a huge smile on her face.
"Me?" You feign, pretending like you didn't have a clue. You can practically feel your face draining of color. So it was definitely hers.
"I was going to text you earlier, but I wanted to wait till we saw each other in person! But this is perfect!" She squeals, "I'll go wake Taehyun."
"I'll do it." You stop her, before catching yourself. "He's kind of grumpy today."
"Oh okay!" She says, not giving it another passing thought as you walk into Taehyun's room.
To your surprise, his eyes flutter open as you open the door. "Where did you go?" He grumbles, still somewhat asleep.
"Bathroom." You brush off. "But you need to get up."
"No."
"Sakura and Beomgyu are here."
And he shoots up, all signs of tiredness gone from his face. "What do they want?"
"I think she's going to announce her pregnancy." You say, eyes darting around. "She said she wanted to talk to us."
"Tell them I'm not in the mood."
"Taehyun." You reason. "She's your sister, and he's your best friend. Can't you at least pretend to be happy?"
He sits up as he slides off the bed, mumbling an annoyed "Fine." As he slips his shoes on. Clearly unready to look the two in the face.
He opens the door as Taehyun dons a bored expression on his face. Beomgyu doesn't miss a beat. "What took so long? Was she helping you pull up your pants?"
Taehyun doesn't respond, instead choosing to look over at his sister. "What's up?"
She smiles for the millionth time as she looks at Beomgyu. He grabs her hands in his, giving her reassurance. "I'm pregnant."
Taehyun just looks back at you. "I know."
Well that was anticlimactic.
"What?!" Sakura exclaims, taken aback.
"Genius here left your test out in the open." Taehyun says, pointing his head towards Beomgyu.
Sakura death glares her boyfriend before looking back at Taehyun. "You don't have anything to say?"
"What do you want to hear Sakura?" Taehyun begins, his attitude about to slip through.
"Congratulations!" You squeal, interrupting the tense atmosphere. "I'm so excited! How are you feeling?" Someone had to be the bright one around here. You know the pair was expecting some kind of celebration.
"I'm going to be a mom!" Sakura gushes, holding onto Beomgyu's shoulder. The fake smile remained plastered on your face, did she know what was coming? Had this been on purpose?
"Wow , a mom with an over demanding desk job, and a dad who acts like a child himself. Your baby will be a real kicker!" Taehyun remarks sarcastically. The grin is wiped off your face as you pull back on his arm.
Shaking your head, you notice the two in front of you stayed silent.
"Aren't you happy for us?" Beomgyu questions, caught off guard.
"Happy?" Taehyun says, looking between them. "Happy that you ruined your lives?"
The silence speaks for itself. Your heart growing heavy as you watch the upset look on the couples face.
"Okay," You interject, eyes looking from their dejected ones. "Taehyun and I are going to get some food before he can say anything else he'll end up regretting."
Sakura just nods as you grab onto Taehyun, angrily dragging him out the door as he mutters something about the situation. How could he be such a rainy cloud on their obviously sunny moment?
You could talk out other things later, but right now you were just focused on helping him get his coat on. Giving him harsh looks as you can't believe he really said that to them.
"That was insensitive." You speak as you close the door behind you two. Walking out of the apartment complex with a frown.
"What's insensitive is them thinking they can provide a suitable lifestyle for the baby." He says with his head hung low.
"That's not our business to worry about." You respond, shrugging. "We just have to be there for them anyway we can."
He just scoffs. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to be 'Uncle Taehyun' all of a sudden."
"You'll be a decent uncle." You tease.
"Does this mean Beomgyu will be my brother-in-law soon?" Taehyun's jaw drops.
"Woah, who said they were getting married?"
"No one." He shrugs. "But the two are so in love that it'll probably happen."
"See, they love each other." You point out, opening the door to the restaurant the two of you frequented. "They'll make it work."
"Love doesn't pay the bills." He replies as you two enter.
"No." You agree. "But it helps."
"You're so naive."
"Maybe." You say, dropping the topic as you two sit down to eat. "Oh, but before I forget.."
"Yes?"
"You have to apologize."
"For what?!" Taehyun speaks. "For telling the truth?"
"It wasn't your place!" You say back, careful to mind the volume of your voice. "You really hurt their feelings."
And he rolls his eyes before muttering a small fine as he looks over his menu. He was convinced you were the only person in the world who could get him to see the fault in himself sometimes. It was a weird trait, but he couldn't say it was bad. You kept him grounded a lot and he appreciated it. He hoped he had made as much of a difference in your life as you did his.
-
Standing in the grocery aisle, you looked over the several different types of jams and jelly's on the shelf. Which one would Taehyun like anyways? I mean, you were only really buying it for him. He was the one who came over and complained (About three different times) about your lack of ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Goodness, he took a lot out of you, but it was worth it if it meant cheering him up. You knew something this small could make his mood a little better. And right now, anything would help.
You pull out your phone, contemplating calling him when you hear the sound of your name called out. You lower your phone and turn around quickly, met with a face you hadn't seen in months.
"Yeonjun." You squeak out in surprise. Your eyes drift to where he has about four liquor bottles in his hands, eyebrows raising.
"Oh, these?" He says, noticing your eyes. "Old habits die hard, I guess."
You offer a meek smile. "Big party coming up?"
"No." He shakes his head, before quirking it to the side. "..And yes?"
You just giggle lightly. "Nice."
"It's my birthday next week." Yeonjun states, averting his eyes. You remembered, of course you had. This was one of your closest friends just mere months ago. The memories were forever etched in your mind though, you'd never associate that day with anything else.
"Well, happy early birthday." You nod, not really sure what else to say.
"I want you to be there." He blurts out.
Your eyes widen at that. "Yeonjun-"
"Wait, before you shut me down." He starts, his brain gearing into overdrive. "There will be no drinking or weed, and it'll just be a couple of people."
"I don't want you to change things for me." You respond, waving him off in an attempt to deny the invitation. "Enjoy your birthday."
"You could bake me a cake." He begins again, not letting up. "Like old times. It'll be a calm thing, like a peaceful parting."
You feel uneasy about it. "I don't know."
"I promise I'm not trying to make this weird. I would just like us to celebrate this last birthday together." And Yeonjun sounds sincere, looking down at the basket he held in his hands, awaiting an answer.
"I have your number." You smile, and he caught onto that you'd think about it. Though you knew what your answer would be the moment he had asked. So after grabbing the most appealing brand of jelly, you went straight for the baking aisle.
By the time you got home, you were ready to crash onto a pillow. Loading groceries and putting them up had taken forever. Though you had made plans with everyone this afternoon, wanting to ease the tensions lately. Beomgyu and Taehyun weren't really on speaking terms, and Sakura was going to have a meltdown if they didn't get it together.
Taehyun was arriving soon, planning to help you cook. He had been mostly compliant with the idea, not wanting to cause his sister anymore stress, though you knew he was having a hard time. Still, you had appreciated his effort.
You groan as you hear the knock on your door, you figured you should just give the boy a copy of your key anyways. Him and Sakura could share with how often they came over.
You let him in and watch as he slips his shoes off. Hanging his jacket as he places a few bags on your counter, mostly last minute stuff like drinks and cups. He stretches his arms as he begins opening your cabinets, taking things out as you sit down in a chair by your counter.
"Get to work, Taehyun." You smirk.
"That's Chef Taehyun to you!" He rolls his eyes and you laugh.
You help cut a few vegetables and season a few things as you make mostly light conversation. It felt good to talk about mindless things like new tv episodes and office gossip. Definitely a change in the usual topic of conversation lately, and you were thankful for that.
Taehyun finished dinner right on time for the others to arrive, both of them giving him a shy smile. Tensions completely obvious, but he was keeping it together.
And he did just that. For a while, it seemed like it was just the four of you, normally eating a dinner together. Conversation was mostly cut short though, no one really speaking up besides complimenting the food. You all did this pretty often, so it was almost like nothing had changed.
Nothing had to anyways. Right?
"You know," Sakura begins. "I was really thrilled when you invited us all to dinner."
You can tell shes itching to say something, so you play along. "Mhm, why's that?"
"Well, I have something I want to ask the two of you."
You go cold, what could she possibly need to ask you and Taehyun? It felt like everyone just wanted to drop bombs on you lately. So you held your breath.
"I want you guys to be the baby's Godparents."
Taehyun visibly stiffens at that, even allowing his fork to fall onto his plate with a loud clank. His eyes never leaving the table.
"Me?!" You question. You understood Taehyun, that was her brother. But you? You had only known Sakura for about six or seven months now, but she trusts you with her child? This was huge.
"Yes you!" She says, offended that you seemed so surprised. "I trust no one else more in the world than you. And I know that if anything were to happen to Beomgyu and I, that you would take that baby in with no hesitation."
You sit back in your seat, this would a lot of responsibility. What was even included in being a baby's Godmother?
"Taehyun." She continues. "You are my brother, the most responsible person I know. And Beomgyu and I trust you so much as well. I have no doubt that you two could work together in the future for this baby."
"Well, if we die, that is." Beomgyu attempts to lighten the conversation.
"I'd like time to think over it." He responds, grabbing his fork and resuming eating, seeming indifferent.
You know Sakura wants to say more but she backs off for the sake of keeping everyone off edge.
"I accept." You say, causing Taehyun to whip his head around. Sure, this was a lot of process in a few days, but you love Sakura. You'd like to think she had helped change your life for the better, so you'd be there for her. If roles were reversed, you know she wouldn't hesitate to do the same for you. Even if it was for something kind of far fetched, more of a title than anything. If it made her happy, then you would do it.
"Well, I was thinking we could make it official on Friday."
"I can't Friday, it's my friends birthday." You mention as you pout.
"Awe," She responds. "Ok, we'll do Saturday then?"
"Sounds good." You say, looking beside you. "Maybe Taehyun will have decided by then."
"Who's birthday is it?" He asks, changing the subject. "Can we come?"
"Oh, it's not a big party." You say. "Just a few of his close friends."
Beomgyu nods in understanding. "Sounds nice."
"You seem nervous. Something you're not telling me?." Taehyun pipes up again, you bringing a spoon to your mouth. He's onto you.
"What're you talking about?"
"Can we please just eat?" Sakura interjects, you and Taehyun looking shocked to her outburst. Even Beomgyu had an unexpected expression.
You just nod and offer an awkward smile. Everything was happening way too fast, so you couldn't blame her for snapping.
You nudge Taehyun on his arm. "So, how's the food?"
"Fine." He responds through gritted teeth. You sigh, he always loved talking about you two's meals. Saying how he wish he did things different, or that he loved the spices you added. But even that couldn't get him to speak again.
You're about to say something else when he suddenly stands up. Everyone looking up at him as he abruptly grabs his jacket.
"Taehyun?" You call out.
"I'm going home." He says, not even sparing you another look.
And you'd had it up to your ears with his attitude, your blood practically boiling. "Okay, then go."
And he looks back at you with a twinge of surprise evident on his face. You weren't going to ask him to stay? Or ask why he was so upset?
No you weren't. He wouldn't either after the way he's acted.
"I'm sick of all of you acting like this is normal. Like I don't have a right to be upset that my best friend knocked up my sister! Two of the most important people are starting a life that has no room for me!" He bursts, emotions pouring out.
"It's incredibly selfish of you to try and make everyone else miserable with you!" Sakura fires back. "I'm a grown adult, and I love Beomgyu. You are trying to make my baby all about you! I won't have my child around an uncle that sees them as an obstruction!"
"Then don't." And he walks towards your door. Slamming it on his way out, causing you to shrink in your seat.
It's silent for a couple seconds as Beomgyu runs his hands over his face. Sakura sitting back in her seat, obviously hurt.
Well this went to shit fast.
"He's taking this really hard." You speak up, attempting to defend him, when you're not even sure why.
"I know but I didn't expect him to react like this." Beomgyu says.
"He was so supportive of us dating too.." Sakura adds.
"Having a baby and dating are two different things." You remark, the two chuckling lightly.
"You can go after him, you know? We won't be mad." Sakura says, and she can tell that you so badly want to. But you surpress the feeling as you shake your head.
"He doesn't deserve it."
"He doesn't deserve you defending him either."
And you know she's right.
..
You don't talk to Taehyun for the rest of the week. Nothing so much as a text or phone call from him either. You feel somewhat hurt. You thought you two had grown an actual friendship, but it seemed so easy for him to cut you off. Like you had meant nothing.
It was all too familiar.
So it was ironic that you were slipping on your shoes to head to Choi Yeonjun's little birthday party. You had iced the cake that morning, taking extra long too, wanting to make a good last impression. That's right, last. You figured you really should just close things out on a good note. Seeing as you were struggling elsewhere, you figured you could do good with the one thing you had control over.
You put the cake in a little stand and headed straight for the front door. By the time you settled into your car, you see an incoming call from.. Taehyun?
"Hello." You say blankly as you bring your phone up to your ear.
"Can we talk?"
"Not unless you're ready to apologize."
"I am, please, can I come over?" He pleads.
"I'm busy tonight, remember?" You respond quietly.
"Then after?"
"Taehyun.." You trail. "I'm going to see Yeonjun."
You couldn't see him, but you could see his expression now. This would be like a slap in the face to him. Though, you knew your true intentions.
"Why?"
"I don't owe you any kind of explanation." You speak as you start your engine. Your stern take surprising even you. "I don't know when I'll be home, talk to you soon." You hang up the phone before he can get another word in. This night was going to take a bit out of you, and you didn't want Taehyun's intrusion to sour your time even more.
You just shake your head to yourself as you pull out of your driveway. The drive to Yeonjun's house is a short, familiar route. You wonder if this will be the last time you ever drive here.
You park next to what you recognize as Chaewon's car, wondering if she's aware that you're coming. Was Wooyoung? You throw the thought out of your head, it didn't matter if they knew or not. This was Yeonjun's day, and you were only here to make your last amends.
You can feel your hands somewhat shaking as you carry the cake to his front door. You couldn't believe you were back here after months. Would this change things? Would you fall back into them without the support of the others? And with the tornado that was your other group of friends? No, no you wouldn't. You would be strong, you got here through your own realizations. You were just here to suffice a last wish to one of your oldest, yet dying, friendships.
You knock gently on the door, unable to really ring the bell considering the cake that took both of your hands to hold.
The door swings open to reveal Wooyoung, the smile fading from his face as he see's you. He comes to a realization as he thinks out loud. "So that's why he said no booze."
Looking down at the cake in your hand, he moves to take it from you. But you're quick to brush him off as you smile awkwardly. "I got it."
And as you follow him into the house, you had confirmed the suspicion you had before. They hadn't known you were coming, and now you feel weird as everyone else might just think you decided to drop by.
Wooyoung moves some things off the kitchen counter so you can set the cake down, his hand grazing yours as he helps you put it down. You realize in that moment, that you felt nothing. It was a reassuring feeling, closure that your feelings had faded away. You weren't sure what to do with that information, but it did help anyways.
"Yeonjun, look who's here!" Wooyoung yells out to the living room.
The aforementioned is quick to stumble into the kitchen, eyes widening at your form. "You came!" He says, moving to look at the cake, almost like he didn't think you would. "It looks so good."
"That's what she said." Another voice remarked from behind him as they entered the area. It belonged to a male you'd never seen before, and a girl followed behind him on his arm. Were these new friends?
Yeonjun's quick to introduce you as a friend, to the new additions to their group, Mingi and Yunjin. Yunjin seems surprisingly ecstatic as your arrival, "Chaewon has told me so much about you! I've been wanting to meet you!"
"Yeah, Wooyoung say's you're the one who dyed his hair." Mingi speaks up.
"That was a long time ago." You say, you had only bleached it months ago. His new color was all due to his own touch ups and such.
"You got me something?" Yeonjun asks, looking at the bag hanging from your wrist. You had somewhat been at a loss of what to get him, only being able to use something your friend liked as reference.
"Uh," You stammer. "Taehyun say's they're like trending right now, so I picked one up for you."
Yeonjun smiles before taking the jacket out of the bag, his face lighting up. "I love it!"
And you grin, "I'm glad!"
"Taehyun? Like Kang Taehyun?" Yunjin qualms, quirking her head to the side. "Is he your boyfriend?"
You're about to shake your head when you stop yourself. "We're friends, I think."
"You think?" Wooyoung repeats.
"I-" You pause. "I don't know."
You really didn't, sure you guys could probably chalk up to close friends. But was that true? You looked out for each other a lot, but would Taehyun ever call you his friend? Would he?
But feelings were confusing. 'Cause at the same time, you felt maybe he could be something more to you. Something past the line of friends.
"He used to go to school with Mingi and I, super cool guy." Yunjin explains, smiling at you.
"Really?" Yeonjun says, sounding somewhat skeptical. "When I met him he was a sqaure."
"Hey," You say sternly. "He's fun."
Yeonjun backs off, quickly trying on his jacket. "Just saying."
"How do you not know what he is to you?" Wooyoung teases.
"I guess I never thought to ask."
"Yeonjun! I swear if I have to- Oh." Chaewon stops herself as she walks into the room. Spotting you as she all but gasps. "Hey."
"Hi." You manage to get out quietly.
Chaewon crosses her arms, "So are we like.."
You shake your head slowly. "Yeonjun just asked me to be here, to say bye, I guess?"
"Bye? Are you moving?" Yunjin asks.
"Something like that." You smile reminiscently. It would be easy to word it that way. You were moving, away from this life.
"Did you bake the cake?" Chaewon looks over at you.
You nod softly.
She smiles.
...
The night went better than you had imagined. You guys did stupid things like playing board games and telling stories. You warming up to everyone rather quickly. Nothing was awkward either, no one mentioned anything about your fight or sudden distance. It was just a normal hangout, minus the drugs of course.
The boys were currently playing a round of some video game on Yeonjun's tv when the girls huddle in the kitchen. Chaewon drinking sprite and Yunjin taking hits from her vape as you spot the tattoo donning her arm.
"That's badass." You say, her tilting her inner arm towards you so you can see it better.
"Thanks, Mingi has a matching one."
"You have couple tattoos?" You ask.
"Yup. We were wasted when we got them though, don't recommend."
And you just laugh. "That's.. admirable."
"Her and Mingi have been dating for like 6 years." Chaewon explains, your eyes widening.
"That's so cute." You grin, and it genuinely was.
"So what about you? Anyone special?" Chaewon smirks.
You sigh. "I'm not sure."
"Is it Taehyun?" Yunjin questions.
"Why do you say that?"
"I can tell by the way you've been talking about him like all night." Yunjin states. "Like earlier when Wooyoung brought up that new restaurant and you said you and Taehyun had already tried it. Or when you talked about the time you two went bowling. Or how about-"
"I think she gets it." Chaewon interrupts, laughing at the expression on your face.
Had you really talked about him that much? "I guess we just spend a lot of time together." You shrug.
"More like all your time." Yunjin winks.
Realization might as well have slammed you in the face. Maybe it would be more gentle to get by a bus than this. Did you like Taehyun? Is that why this was all so confusing?
You open your mouth to respond when Mingi comes barreling into the room, "Who want's to watch scary Youtube videos since it's midnight."
"Midnight?!" You exclaim, and as you check your phone, it confirms it is indeed about ten past midnight. "I should get home."
"Awee," Chaewon pouts. "But we're having so much fun."
"I'm sorry. I have something I need to do." You apologize.
"When will we see you again?" Yunjin pouts as she leans into her boyfriends side.
Chaewon grows silent as do Wooyoung and Yeonjun when they approach. All awaiting your answer, those three being the only ones who know why you're hesitating. Yeonjuns eyes light up expectantly. "You're welcome anytime."
You nod. "I don't know, when I have time, maybe."
But the three know what that means. "Thank you for coming. I had a good time, and I hope you did too."
"I did." You ease, grabbing your purse. You bid them goodbye, and Yeonjun pulls you in for a hug. Wooyoung follows as well, with Chaeown practically crushing you with her embrace.
"Until next time." Yeonjun nods, you trying not to notice the tears forming on his face.
"Yeah." You mutter.
Now, in the safety of your car, in your apartments parking lot. You want to bang your head against the steering wheel. Were you a fool? A fool for abandoning your closest friends? Or a fool for reuniting with them after you promised yourself you were done? You won't cry, you won't cry, oh. You're crying, but only a little.
You push all thoughts to the back of your mind, ready for a hot shower and bed. Just wanting to be freed from your thoughts for a little while.
Though that's all thrown out the window when you spot Kang Taehyun waiting at your front door. You just stop in your tracks, scoffing. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk."
"So you waited here the whole time?"
"The whole time." He confirms, pacing back and forth.
You step to unlock your door, him waiting outside as you step in. You turn and gesture for him to follow you, giving him permission to enter. In all honesty, you were drained and did not have to deal with whatever it was that Taehyun was so upset about.
Especially now that you felt you didn't know where you stood with him? Yeah this was a wreck.
"So," You begin. "What did you come all this way for?"
"I've been thinking, a lot. About a lot of things, like my sister and my best friend. And about you." He stops. "We haven't talked in a while."
"It's been a few days." You tsk, annoyance taking over. "This couldn't wait until tomorrow?"
Taehyun ignores you as he continues. "I've been miserable these past couple of days, and not just because of everything else that's been happening."
"Go on." You sigh.
"I think I love you." He reveals, eyes blown as he looks up at you.
"Don't say that." You whisper, avoiding looking at him. He couldn't be serious, how could you not have seen it? Because he couldn't be. No, Taehyun was just confused. He was trying to cope, and he was confusing his platonic appreciation for you as romance. That was the only viable explanation.
"Don't say what? The truth?" He speaks up, looking almost offended. He had just bared his heart to you, and you won't even hear him out?
"You're upset." You breathe. "You're upset and you're deflecting."
"What does that have to do with-"
"You're just happy I'm here." You cut him off as you fumble with your hands, scrambling to rationalize this."Your life is changing, and I'm just a constant. If it had been anyone else, you would have confessed too."
"That's not true." Taehyun speaks out in denial. "If you want to reject me just do it, but don't say my feelings aren't real."
"Oh c'mon!" You throw your hands up. "You don't love me! Do you even remember what you said to me when we met?!"
"You're not that person." He responds, exasperated. "I was an asshole to you because I thought I knew you. Nothing can excuse that but-"
"So what?" You interrupt once again. "You know me for a few months and now you think you've got me all figured out?!"
"Why won't you just accept it?!" He fires back. "I love you."
You stay silent, throwing your head back as you listen. He said he loved you, and you hated how your heart skipped a beat.
"And don't say it's not real because it is. I'm in love with you, not the person you've pretended to be. I love the way you care for me, the way you know how to cheer me up, the way you force me out of my shell. I love simple things like your hair, your smile, your sense of humor, and everything else." He pauses as he stares at your silent figure. "I've never felt this way about anyone."
You won't even face him, opting to look towards the ground. This was all too much for one night.
He stands as he fights back tears. "Are you going to sit here and tell me you don't feel it too?"
You have to lie. You can't accept his confession. You can't be in love with Kang Taehyun. You won't allow yourself to be.
The last time you fell in love with a friend, you ruined everything.
"We're too different-" You calmly start.
"No we're not, you said it yourself." He speaks truthfully. "And so what if we are? We could work through differences because that's what people in love do."
People in love?
"What if this ruins everything?" You tear up. "What if we don't work?"
"Then we worry about that later." Taehyun responds.
You take a seat on your couch, head in your hands. "There's just so much going on right now."
He cuts in before you keep going. "I know, and not having you by side made me realize how much I need you."
"Why? You're the strong guy here, I'm just the weak one who keeps falling back into her old-"
"Hey," He stops you. "I understand why you went to see Yeonjun. He was your friend for a long time, it can be hard to say no. I don't care if you hang out with them, as long as you're staying true to who you are."
You grab his hand from where it sits beside you on the couch. Holding it between yours as you wipe your tears with your other hand. "We can do this right?"
His eyes flicker to yours as he nods softly.
So you kiss him, and it feels right. Like you were meant to be here, kissing Taehyun at one in the morning. The both of you with tears in your eyes, but no care in the world besides each other.
There were still problems, yes. But they weren't going to be solved right now, you couldn't do anything, so you'd leave it up to the universe to worry about that. It's incomplete, yet you know everything will be okay in the end.
Much like real life.
-
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gigglemugger · 28 days
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Mandy Goes to Med School.
Fandom: “Saw” Franchise
Pairing: None.
Synopsis: Amanda Young had no idea she'd have to become a surrogate cancer doctor, but then again she had no idea she'd start killing people for a living either.
Basically a character study of Amanda, my own take on her, through snippets of scenes from the movies all the way to Saw III.
Word Count: 4,127 (used to be less but I added a few things after a reading pass, lol, nothing major).
CW: All canon typical violence PLUS the horrors of being Amanda Young. So it's a bit heavy on the depression, self-harm, even a little bit of OCD.
AO3 link.
Notes: So not to sound totally pretentious but remember when Joan Didion said that she wrote Play It As it Lays to be a complete blank space of a novel? This fanfic is sort of like that. It's a bunch of snippets like the synopsis says and what Amanda might have been thinking during them. Title is from the Dresden Dolls song where they perform back alley abortions and while Amanda and Lawrence don't go around doing that in this fic, man did I think about writing that too. The timeline was borrowed from the wiki but boy is the Saw timeline complicated. Also things are not completely faithful. I hope you have a good time anyway!
When Amanda decided to join Jigsaw in his ‘business affairs,’ she didn't know that she would double as a medical orderly, but in retrospect she should have known better by the looks of everything.
She was presently standing in the middle of hers and John's shared working space, looking at him as he put one piece after another together in their newest contraption. He wanted to make a chair that twisted the limbs of the person sitting on it. It was still a long way away, this being more of a prototype at this point, and he was working meticulously at it, but all Amanda could see was how washed out he seemed. 
John didn't seem that sick when he met her at her apartment, all those months ago, but now, it was too plain to see that things weren't so hot. He'd cough more often. He'd also walk slower. Sometimes, he'd need longer time to breathe from one project to another. 
When they were preparing the bathroom game, dragging bodies, making sure everything was right and John told her he wanted to be in the center, she remembered being worried about him simply because he was, well, older. Nowadays though, she thought that if he did lay down in another bathroom for hours, he'd probably never get up. 
So, the decision to talk to Lawrence came from her. 
“I see,” John said, briefly looking up from his work, but focusing back on it again soon enough. 
Amanda went from one foot to the other.
“Maybe it could help.”
“I'm dying, Amanda,” he said, slowly. “Nothing can help.”
“I know. But you don't have to suffer just because of that.”
In the background, in the many televisions John and Amanda had in their space, people screamed while having their limbs torn out. 
...
John decided to let her talk to Lawrence, so he knew she was coming. She sat there on a chair at Saint Eustace Hospital, and could see the nurses passing her by, making sure other patients were okay. It reminded her a lot of the Homeward Bound clinic Jill used to run and her arm started to itch.
“Amanda?” A nurse asked. She looked up at a kinder face than hers. “The doctor is free for you now.”
“Thanks,” she said, getting up. No one knew she was Jigsaw, or at least an apprentice Jigsaw, but that didn't make it easier. As she walked, it was as if they knew. She wasn't, obviously, ashamed of it, or at least not as much as her rational brain told her she should be. That being said, the brain is weird, she would know.
Besides, if all the apprentice Jigsaws in this hospital were discovered, Lawrence would probably be in way deeper shit than a former drug addicted felon would be. That brought her some level of comfort.
“Amanda,” Lawrence greeted from his desk when she showed up. He pointed at the chair. “Close the door, will you?”
“Yeah,” she said, doing just that, before making way towards him. She didn't wanna sit down, not yet. “I'm assuming John told you why I'm here.”
“You want to make sure he's OK.” It was a statement. She nodded. “You understand that people go to medical school for years before they can do this stuff right?”
“You're saying I'm not capable of it?” Obviously not. Why are you challenging him? He's a doctor. He would know. Maybe this is stupid.
“No,” Lawrence said, cutting her thoughts. “I'm simply saying that I can't exactly teach you how to operate on someone. Not on the spaces we have,” and she knew he meant “we” as a team here, not “we” as the hospital he worked at “Not with the resources we have. The most I can do is give you books, talk you through treatments John was already going through that ended up interrupted because of his… Well. New status.”
“Yeah. I'd like that.” Lawrence never stopped looking at her. She thought she knew why.
“Alright. I'll see what I can do. I'll gather some resources, I'll… Steal some medicine.” She looked at him up and down, in that expensive suit, the expensive office, the job. The only thing out of the ordinary was the divorce, but then again how really out of the ordinary was it for a man of his age to be divorced from his first wife? Almost perfect or too perfect. And he's was gonna steal meds for her.
Apprentices come in all shapes and sizes.
“Thanks, Lawrence,” she said, and turned around. 
“Wait…” Slowly, Amanda did an about face. She knew her hair was getting longer, but her clothes were still, alternative enough. So she could guess at what he was thinking, or remembering.
“It's ok, you know. I suppose it's not easy to look at the person who kidnapped you and put you in a bathroom for hours. But if this is about him, he didn't suffer. Not really.” You know, apart from the three days of complete starvation.
Lawrence looked relieved. Amanda always thought she probably reminded him of Adam. Well… Who knows what he really thought of her or of Adam. Neither she, nor John actually knew what went through Lawrence's head about that. He hadn't even recovered completely when she went back down to the bathroom to kill him, considering Lawrence had been battling general infection and dehydration at the time. However, the first thing he asked about was him, and when John told him he was dead, he never asked again. Whenever they saw each other, she felt like he wanted to, though. They barely talked, so no chance. Not without John hearing. 
Amanda nodded and left the room, with no more words, but still thinking. John wasn't dangerous. Not really. Still, it was better if he didn't know that Lawrence was still hooked on Adam. Probably. Again, who knew what went through Lawrence's head. Amanda thought he probably caught feelings and snorted through her nose a little bit at a middle aged man's gay awakening being in a kidnapping situation. She'd plead insanity if she hadn't heard him in his sleep before, one time when John let him stay the night. Apparently he had problems with his wife, no new apartment yet, all of that. Amanda had slept with her arms on top of the workbench, her head against the cold metal, all of which helped to keep her sane, so the pain didn't matter. 
He, Mr. Perfect, had slept on the couch, another dent in his façade. 
Lawrence was lucky John wasn't around when he murmured Adam's name. Amanda was, though, half asleep. She wondered if Adam knew that he haunted not one, but two apprentices’ nightmares. That's gotta be worth something. Who knows, maybe he even haunted that little asshole friend of his, Scott whatever, who tried to harass her that one time. John didn't let her make a trap for him, because it would be a waste, but Amanda was increasingly of the opinion that people like Scott are a waste. 
...
Lawrence kept good on his word. He came by the workshop while she was alone. She did point a gun at him, though. It had been a lonely day at that particular workshop. The cop, Hoffmann, was nowhere to be found, and John had to take a break, so Amanda was antsy and stressed by a number of things, John's new treatment one of them. She even forgot she went up to the hospital until she saw him, a ghost with blonde hair and pale skin, almost too perfect to be there in the fifth and rust.
“Shit. Sorry,” she put the gun down, scratching her arm idly, going from one foot to the other, noticing how Lawrence didn't even flinch. She didn't see the usual fear in his eyes, the one she was used to.
“It's ok,” he said, and approached her, cane hitting the floor with each step, handing her a bag full of things: Books, pills, syringes. “How was the game?”
“Eventful,” she said, shrugging. “Joan survived.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” Lawrence said, sounding sincere. She gave him half a smile, before turning around and dumping everything on the metal table with a distinctive loud sound. Both were unimpressed. “Where's John?”
“He's at home.” She stopped herself. How much can I tell this guy? “He's uh… Doing research about a thing, preparing to go to Mexico.”
“Mexico?” Lawrence repeated. “Why?” Amanda shrugged.
“It's a new medical thing. Cause John wants to find other ways to treat his cancer. It's… I just let him do it. It can't hurt. He wants to live, even if these people don't.” Amanda saw that Joan survived, yes. But people like her were an increasing improbability. 
She looked down at everything on the table, the books, the pills and wondered if she was gonna need all of that. If John came back cured from Mexico, or whatever, there might be no need. That would be a relief. She wanted John to live. Still, how much hope could she really put into an experimental treatment?
“We survived,” Lawrence spoke, making her turn her head. “We wanted to live.” Amanda snorted.
“Yeah well, great stuff.” The corpse of Adam might as well have been between them.
“As John's doctor,” Lawrence began, despite the stench of rotting flesh, “I have to say I cannot recommend any alternative treatments…”
“Last time you said that, he put you in a trap,” Amanda said, opening a particularly thick volume. “Maybe it's best if you stay in your lane.” She didn't mean for it to sound like a threat, but increasingly she found that most things she said did. It's better than the desperate, lost tone she had before, she guessed. Lawrence chuckled.
“Yes, maybe.” He then approached the table and Amanda looked up. “Let me teach you how to use some of this stuff anyway. Just in case.”
...
“Just in case” turned out handy, as John's bogus treatment turned out, well, bogus and their trip to Mexico was way worse and much more nerve wracking than Amanda could have anticipated. She was silent looking out the window down to the world below. She wondered how many people in those houses deserved to die. 
“Amanda,” John called, and she turned to look. “Did you speak to Dr. Gordon recently?”
“Right before our trip, yeah,” she answered. John stopped for a second, pondering.
“You were right about asking for help,” he finally said, looking at her. “Thank you.”
She nodded and he went back into silent thinking while she turned her face towards the window once more, trying not to cry.
Amanda really, really, didn't want him to die.
...
John's fate sealed, Amanda watched as he prepared instructions and tapes for a lot of tests to come after he was gone. The tapes were supposedly for her and the cop. He seemed to be around more and more.  
“Do you like that guy?” Lawrence asked one day. They both looked at an unconscious Michael Marks on the table. He was supposedly that fuckass Matthews’ informant. She was happy to kidnap him, to put him in a slab, to make him suffer just a little bit. She wished that he was conscious for his procedure, but John thought differently. In any case, Amanda was there simply to learn how to administer the drugs John needed, how to hook him to a machine, anything that she could while Lawrence was away on a trip with his daughter, which would last a while.
She was also aware she was on tape, but she knew her body and face were concealed from the camera lenses, considering she helped install the thing.
“What? Who, the cop?” Amanda asked, disgusted. Lawrence smiled.
“I guess not,” he said, threading the needle one final time, before he observed his handy work.
“Good job,” she said, strained, in lieu of anything else. 
“Thank you,” Lawrence said, dignified. She looked at him the same way someone would look at a particularly intimidating teacher. “So, shall we?”
...
Amanda is sitting at the Wilson Steel Plant, looking down at her hands, shaking. John's supposed to welcome the cops in a few hours. She's panicking, slightly. 
“Is this comfortable?” Lawrence asked, still there for this last checkup.
“As much as it can be. Thank you.” Lawrence took a last look at the bags and made sure he had enough oxygen in his tank, before nodding. 
“Alright. Guess I'm going now.”
“Yes, go spend time with your daughter.” John said, somewhat painfully. Amanda raised her head to look at them both. “These are precious moments you have with her.”
These are precious moments… The sentence was precisely what she had in mind too. Precious. She needed so much to get up and leave the room for a second, and it didn't matter if John followed her with his eyes all the way outside or if she felt so tired she could barely push the door.
Lawrence met her at the hallway.
“Amanda. It is my understanding that you're going to participate in this next game.” John didn't tell Lawrence everything, just the basics. She nodded anyway.
“Yeah. I'm supposed to make sure this kid is ok. And to make sure everybody knows the rules.”
“A valuable addition,” Lawrence gracefully added. “Who's gonna take care of John while you're gone?”
“No one,” Amanda said. “He's gonna be alone for a while. I trust him, though,” she said this, but looked down. Where she comes from, that was an admittance of guilt. 
“I see.” Lawrence said, knowing she was hiding something. “Well, good luck.”
...
Fuck fuck fuck!
“What happened to him?” Hoffmann asked Amanda as she brought a seriously injured John in.
“That animal Detective Matthews," she shouted at him, vitriol in every word, face horribly contorted. "Or should I say your fucking partner?!” Amanda asked, while Hoffmann helped her with John. “He fucking did this!”
“Amanda…” John murmured. “Don't.” She looked at him, feeling her eyes water, feeling herself to be ridiculous for this. Her only consolation was that Eric Matthews was gonna die. He couldn't survive what she did to him. 
“Where is he?” Hoffmann asked.
“I left him in the bathroom, like you said,” she lied, making sure to hook John into the IV, making sure to look for the right pills.
It's not heroin, but it might take the edge off. It's not heroin, but it might take the edge off. It's not heroin, but it might take the edge off. 
“Here,” she said, bringing the pills back instead of taking them, one by one until she was full. “Give these ones to John, it'll numb the pain. Then we'll hook him on morphine.”
Morphine, morphine, morphine…
“Are you telling me the truth?” Hoffmann asked. Amanda looked up again.
“What are you implying?” She asked, this time the threat being real. As insane as making an unlikely friend in a man you helped tie to a pole, Hoffmann was different. She had no idea why John let him stay for as long as he did. Why did he trust him so much? He smelled like a rat. 
“Nothing,” Hoffmann said with a half smile, and Amanda went back to making sure John not only stayed with them for now, but took some damned painkillers. 
...
Hoffmann disappeared somewhere, thankfully, and Amanda stayed to watch over John. She made sure to count the pills, the few bottles Lawrence brought, plus the stuff they already had, and she made sure to brush up on some reading. Turns out cancer wasn't as complicated as everyone made it seem. Didn't make it easier on anyone's body though, and John being as old as he was and as advanced as he was… 
There's not much time.
That was the crux of the matter. She bit onto a very sensitive skin on her lip until it bled and tasted it. She wondered where Lawrence was, if he and Diana were having fun. He was so removed from all of this, with his little suit and his little medical practice. 
Maybe in another life she could have had a Diana. Not that she felt particularly motherly. Cecil was the last man she fucked and he wasn't really a fatherly type, either. She wondered how it would be to fuck Lawrence and laughed a little at herself, a little secretive silent laugh, while reading the same sentence over and over. It would be like fucking a very specific type of white concrete wall. It would probably suck too. She wondered if he'd cry. Nothing wrong with it, she cried on most days now.
There was no way she could have a relationship like this. John coughed on the slab, and when she looked up his vital signs were stable. It's just a cough to indicate he's dying. No big deal.
...
Gordon is back from his trip just in time. Amanda was working on her own trap, the Angel Trap as she called it. It was supposed to rip a person to shreds unless they could get the key in a minute. It was poetic in a way, somewhat beautiful. John approved of it. What he doesn't know, he can't feel.
She kept working at it so she didn't have to hear the coughing, so it was incessant work by now.
“Amanda.” Lawrence said behind her, and she didn't point a gun this time. Instead, she just turned around.
“Hi.”
“Your hair grew.”
“Yeah,” she said, touching it reflexively. He looked somewhat sad. I look less like him by the day, huh? “How was your trip?”
“Good. Diana was particularly fond of the beach.” She smiled and turned back to her work.
“I liked the beach when I was younger.”
“You went with your dad too?” Amanda stopped. 
“No, not really.” She retrieved a screwdriver from the table. “John wants to talk to you. He's in his office.” There was a pause.
“I see. Thank you.” 
She watched as he made his way towards the door and went back to her work. Her dad really didn't do much good. It was useless to try to talk about him or even think too much . She looked at the office and could see they were talking through the window, wondering what it was about.
“So that's it?” Lawrence was crossing the room. He stopped to answer her.
“I'm supposed to come back for another stitching procedure.”
“I see.” Amanda stretched her back. “Is he OK?” His expression softens.
“Yes. He's alright.”
What a lie.
...
Troy's trap is set. He will not survive. Amanda is giddy, but tries to hide it, when everything goes as planned.
“What a waste,” John says, looking at the footage. He's sicker. More frail. She checks the bottles every day. She makes sure he has enough supplies, enough rest, food, water… 
“Yeah,” she agrees vaguely, pushing John, now in a fucking wheelchair. Everything has been hectic lately. John's worsening, Hoffmann being around more, the cops closing in, the kidnappings increasing. All of that. A Lynn Denlon is supposed to be around next, Lawrence suggested her. Amanda didn't get why, but John told her she's a neurosurgeon. The best. 
How convenient, a neurosurgeon who happens to be great at what she does and who is also throwing her life away. 
Amanda's thinking all of this while reading and looking at her trap from time to time, just to make sure it's still there, as if it would disappear. Turns out the cop is useful after all. He helps her put that bitch Kerry into it and she is elated to see as her creation finally takes her ribcage apart, revealing everything about her, good and bad.
John is wrong about killing. This can't be bad if it feels so cathartic. Some people just deserve to die. 
Did you? 
The illustrations in her medical books are beyond accurate.
...
Lawrence comes back, sews Art and some other guy's eyes shut. Amanda helps. She also helps Hoffmann kidnap a bunch of other people. John says they're human beings, but truthfully she can't remember who is who. She likes when Hoffmann gets a snide comment though. She doesn't like when Jill comes to see them. She can only remember the baby.
Hoffmann is looking at her weird, but Amanda is finishing yet another book, the last one Lawrence brought her. What was it, five books? She read some multiple times. She checked the bottles again.
“Amanda,” John's weak voice awoke her from her counting trance. “Are you resting?” 
“I'm alright.”
“I don't think so. I think you should have a good night of sleep.”
“How can I sleep when you're here?” She asked, distraught. His vital signs were so weak. She couldn't even fool herself about it.
“You have to accept what you can't control.”
“But I can't…” Amanda said, knowing her voice came out as a weak murmur.
“Counting bottles won't keep me from dying, but it will keep you from doing an acceptable job tomorrow. You must rest.”
But the letter was waiting for her. And her knives.
She cried the whole night through.
...
Everything smelled like a hospital. It was just a matter of time. John was laid down, at his likely final resting place. Hoffmann's letter kept ringing through her head.
Kill Lynn Denlon. Kill Lynn Denlon. Kill Lynn Denlon.
“You did a good job,” Lawrence said after checking John's heartbeat. Amanda’s wet eyes went to his face. He had a firm smile. “You could have been a good medical student.”
“Amanda is very bright,” John interceded. “She has a bright future ahead of her.” Lawrence nodded.
“I have no doubt about that.”
...
An hour later Amanda is screaming at a doctor about drugs and having a collapse. The room is somehow green, somehow closing on her and she wondered if these were symptoms of anything at all before coming back to reality.
Too many medical books.
“He needs surgery,” Lynn keeps repeating but honestly she needs to shut the fuck up before Amanda puts a hole through her head. 
She grabs and pulls hair, she cuts, she bleeds, nothing seems to be really enough. Everything is coming down. John is dying in a room, people are dying in the game and Lynn Denlon needs to die too.
Will John even survive? Why would I do what he says when he won't have time to tell him?
Because she wanted to kill Lynn. Why did he keep smiling at her? Why did he choose her? She was the best, right? That couldn't be it. That was one of the reasons, he said.
Then why? Was she special?
Amanda went out to get more drugs. Lynn wouldn't be stupid enough to try to escape. She was a smart type, a pretty doctor. Just like Lawrence, but even more put together. She had brains and even more. Lawrence didn't even look like himself halfway through his game, but Lynn was holding up fairly well. It was sort of impressive. She herself would be a pile of nerves.
In fact, she couldn't even put the key in the ignition. Could she run to Saint Eustace? That would be stupid. 
She tried again. And again. 
“Jesus fucking christ!”
Amanda, get a fucking grip. Now! John's gonna die! Get your shit together!
She drove to the hospital and back in record time, even if people screamed at her from their cars. Fuck them.
...
Lynn cut John's head open like she was cutting meat for dinner. Amanda had been lucky that Lawrence was on duty. Lynn couldn't even suspect he put her through this. 
“How is she?” Lawrence had asked. Amanda shrugged.
“We'll see.”
The machines were beeping. They were so loud. Oh my God. John.
“Amanda, I need your help!” Lynn screamed and her eyes were alert again.
...
Getting shot was as intense as she thought it might be by the looks of everyone else. Not that she had time to think about it as she collapsed to the floor, a relief considering the last few months or even years. Amanda wondered when was the last time she stopped thinking. John kept telling her things. She had failed. She looked up at the counter, at the bottles she had counted. She looked at him, she looked at Lynn. She couldn't see through the tears and she felt the warm blood gushing through her wound, through her fingers. It was her own this time.
She thought about Lawrence. She thought about her dad. She thought about Adam. 
You're dying, Amanda. She looked at John one last time. Maybe he would forgive her before she went.
“Game over.”
Yeah. It surely seemed that way. 
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