#props appear in front of him like magic so he can complete a joke to its full potential

[thatonedudeinthecorner]

[putting two fingers to my head] The spirits….they….they’re telling me that…..you’re GAY….

[beomgyw]

A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND

you chose to give jintaek a fake number

if you're new here, go back to the beginning !!

you hesitate under jintaek´s shit-eating grin. "aw, cmon, pretty girl, give me your number..." he insists.

"i don't know...." you mutter.

but you realise you're trapped. jintaek is like bad smell—it's persistent and just won't leave you alone. so, you figure, why not play along?

sometimes dealing with these annoying guys means giving them a little taste of what they want, just to get them off your back. makes you loose the appeal of the prey.

"sure," you eventually say, as cutely as you physically can. he clenches his fist like he's just scored the winning goal, a smug grin plastered across his face, before shoving his phone into your hands for you to enter your number.

his friends hoot and holler like a bunch of drunk monkeys, egging him on. "yo, jintaek's scoring all summer," they jeer. like you're not even there, like you're just some prop in their little game.

but you're not giving him your real number, no way. last thing you need this vacation is this idiot blowing up your phone, thinking he's got a free pass. you enter a fake one, tweaking a couple of digits from your own. and it seems to do the trick. he's grinning like a fool, thinking he's just won the jackpot, right in front of his buddies.

that is, until one of them pipes up. "you might wanna double-check she didn't give you a dud, taek. can't believe a babe like this would even look twice at your ass."

shit.

they laugh, but you don't. you think fast, trying to dissuade jintaek from the idea of texting you, giving him your best innocent look. but it's no use.

you know that smirk too well, it hasn't changed in seven years. he wishes you to have given him a fake number because that means punishment is justified. it's like some sick game to him, a way to keep humiliating you. to turn the tables on you because, yes, he would not leave you alone, and sure, he was being insufferably insistent; but now you're in the wrong. that was his way, it had always been.

and so, he texts you, knowing that real number or not, his buddies are waiting in the wings, ready to either toast his victory or make you the punchline of their jokes. but of course, you get no notification.

"aw, sweetheart, you didn't fib to me, did you?" he smirks, all slow and calculated, making you feel like a complete idiot for trying to outsmart him. 

"told ya. you're ugly as fuck, man" one of his friends sneers.

"she's being a little bitch. trying to play hard to get, that's all. right, pretty girl?"

your ears turn red in embarrassment. this is your fault, for trying to reclaim some power you never had. you tried to avenge your little self but you've sacrificed your present self in the process. but then, out of the blue, the brown haired boy steps up.

"come on man, cut it. why do you get off on tormenting girls?"he says. "you're making her uncomfortable."

"her? uncomfortable? i just got duped..."

the boy rolled his eyes before snatching jintaek´s phone away.

"dude, what the hell are you doing?" jintaek protests, but his friend pays him no mind, focusing on the phone for a few minutes. 

then, like magic, your phone lights up with a notification, surprising jintaek, though not nearly as much as it surprises you.

"see, dumbass?" the brown haired boy says, giving the phone back. "wrong area code. are you from jeju?" he asks you with a warm smile.

and no, you're not from jeju, but you find yourself nodding slowly, too stunned to do much else. how did this guy know your number?

"i could tell from your accent. you forgot to add the prefix." the boy continues to say. and that too, is a lie. because, even if you did have a jeju accent– which again, you do not– you had only said like three monosyllables in front of him.

though you can't for the life of you rationalise what just happened, the rest of the group laughs, and disperses with small talk soon enough. jintaek appears somewhat chastened, too, which is always nice to see.

the journey continues in a hushed sort of peace, with you trying to figure out if brown haired boy could be a spy, or a fairy. eventually you come to the conclusion that wizard or not, he saved your ass, and for that, you can only be grateful.

when the train finally pulls into the station, you bolt out of there quicker than a hare outrunning a pack of hounds. no way are you sticking around for jintaek and his gang of goons to hassle you again. 

stepping off the train, you inhale the distinct scent of a geoje summer. it is different here. none of the hustle and bustle of seoul, just a serene atmosphere that makes you feel like you could actually see the stars at night. no one rushes around like their pants are on fire; it´s a refreshing change of pace.

but just as you start to relax, you feel a tap on your shoulder, and every curse word you know flashes through your mind, expecting it to be jintaek, ready to pester you with his nonsense again. but it isn't him. it´s the brown-haired boy.

"hi," he says. confident, but polite.

"hey...?"

"i just wanted to talk you, you know, so that you don't freak out." he smiles.

"yeah... um, how did you..." you begin, but he cuts you off.

"i recognised you. you're y/n, right? we used to be in the same class. i looked for your number in the old group chat. it was a long shot, you know... you could've left the group or changed your number... but it was was worth a try."

"that was pretty smart," you reply, an admiring smile curling up the corners of your mouth. "thank you."

"no problem. you know, come to think of it... you're lucky jintaek never saved your number." he shrugs. "i'm taehyun, by the way. i take it you didn´t recognise me."

"i... i just wasn't sure." you tell him, suddenly realising why those big round eyes were so familiar. "but you haven't changed much."

"can't say the same."

"yeah..."

"oh, and sorry i ended up giving jintaek your number. i had to, you know, to save you. but trust me, it would've been worse if he caught you lying. plus, he would've found a way to get it eventually." he said, scratching the back of his neck. "be careful around him. he's... well, he's obviously a jerk, but he can be... just, be careful," taehyun warned, his darkened expression betraying something he couldn't quite put into words.

"i will. thanks,"

"well... i gotta run." he says, checking the time on his phone and giving you a small smile before starting to leave. but before he can make his escape, you stop him.

"hey, taehyun," you call after him. "why are you friends with him?"

he glances back at you, silent for a moment, before turning away and walking off without a word. the question hungs in the air, unanswered, leaving you to wonder just what kind of mess you stumbled into.

as you watch taehyun walk away, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you check it to find a text notification from huening kai. "i'm here! bring the awkward on. 💪🏻"

go find huening kai.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

love your writing please more mason mount ones can you do one where he takes care of you because you're drunk

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

DRUNK

( WARNINGS: alcohol, swearing, fluff )

word count: 1.3k

“Watch your head—”

“Ow!” You groaned, your hand immediately reaching out to touch the sore spot on your head from where it collided with the roof of your car in a failed attempt to get out of the vehicle.

Mason blew out a breath, trying to hold in a laugh as he reached out one hand for yours, trying to get you slightly more stable on your feet. You’d taken your heels off before you got in the car and you gripped them in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Mason for dear life.

Normally you’d never let yourself go too much at parties, but tonight it seemed your glass was never really empty, and unfortunately it didn’t take too long for you to get uncharacteristically talkative. As luck would have it, Mason made the heroic decision (looking back on it now) to be your plus one, which was why you had a free taxi drive home.

What else is a boyfriend for if not a personal chaperone?

“Yeah, the car roof got in the way a little bit there. You okay?” Mason asked, slamming your door with his free hand, before immediately turning his attention back to you, fingers lightly brushing over the red mark in the middle of your forehead.

“I’m fine.” You reassured, but the fact that your eyes seemed completely incapable of focusing on any one thing for more than a second seemed to have him unconvinced and instead rather concerned.

He held up his hand in front of your face, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, still trying to encourage you to make your way towards the front door without eliciting a spell of dizziness.

“What? I have ten.” You answered, furrowing your eyes in his direction.

You knew you must have said something wrong because a line appeared in between his brows, and despite the vague haziness of your mind, you knew that only happened when he was worrying over something.

“Don’t do that,” You said, reaching your hand out to smooth the crease out of his skin, momentarily forgetting about the shoes in your hands, wincing when they collided with his chest. “Sorry.” You apologised, patting him on the chest as if it would somehow magically heal him.

The crease disappeared and instead he took to glueing his mouth shut, but the telltale curl of his lip suggested that he was — once again — trying not to laugh at you.

“God, you’re so pissed.” He muttered, rooting around in his pocket for his keys, taking special care in ensuring his arm was still tightly secured around your waist in case you decided to take a leap of faith off the step and take him by surprise.

“I’m not pissed, there’s just two of you.” You mumbled, almost tripping over your own feet as your head spun, sending a wave of nausea rolling uncomfortably through your body.

Mason shook his head, swinging open the door and taking your shoes from you, lobbing them out of the way of the hallway.

“You look paler than usual.” He observed, helping you through the doorway and shutting the door behind himself, making a mental note to lock it once you’d gotten yourself settled somewhere it would be easy to clean up any vomit if that was to happen.

“Nice to see your nose works well.”

He paused, turning to you with an incredulous look painted on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe you’d said those words aloud.

“What the fuck? Tell me you’re joking.” He said, chuckling awkwardly, trying to mask the now growing anxiety.

“Of course I’m joking. I might be drunk as a skunk, but I’d never get my numbers mixed up.”

He physically froze, his eyes wide.

“I’m joking.” You whispered, beginning to feel the fair pinpricks of an oncoming headache.

“How have you not passed out yet?”

“Because I didn’t drink enough to pass out. Why are we still standing in the hallway?”

You closed your eyes, slumping to the left and resting your forehead head against Mason’s shoulder, letting out a long breath.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing you still had a paler complexity than normal.

You said nothing in response and hummed, letting out a pained groan when a sharp throb shot through your skull. Some of the agony was relieved however, when Mason pressed a cold hand to your forehead, to which you found yourself leaning into the touch, the coldness of it soothing a somewhat nasty headache.

“Can you walk?”

“Not sure.”

The hand was removed from your head, and the next thing you knew, an arm had been scooped under the back of your knees, and Mason was walking as lightly as possible so as to not influence a bout of vertigo, towards the bathroom. He set you down on the cold tiles, quickly rinsing a flannel under cold water and wringing it out a little bit before pressing it to your forehead.

You heard him leave and it took a couple of minutes for him to return, holding the same bag you’d used when he was in your position.

He placed it on the floor at your feet, pulling out a cushion and a blanket, propping the cushion between the wall and your back and folding the blanket up and placing it next to you on the floor. He then proceeded to hand you a tub.

“A bagel and a bottle of water…this looks familiar.” You said, your voice now getting a little bit scratchy as the effects of the alcohol lessened somewhat and the partial hangover began.

“I can’t say I remember.” He smiled, reaching a hand out to wipe mascara tracks from your cheeks; the water from the flannel having trailed down your face.

“You tried to convince me you were a firefighter and that your name was Sam. You made siren noises for half the night—”

“It wasn’t half the night—”

“It felt like it.”

He breathed a laugh, moving to sit next to you against the wall of the bathroom, his shoulder pressing against yours in the small space the room had to offer.

“What are the chances you won’t remember this tomorrow?” Mason asked, lifting his arm up and around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him.

You shrugged, closing your eyes as if the small action would immunise you to the nauseating feeling in your stomach.

“Why?” You asked, taking a bite of the bagel.

“Just wondering.”

“Thanks for looking after me.” You mumbled, looking up at him with a smile. You were sure it looked more like a wince than a smile because Mason had to pretend to mask a laugh with a cough.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Just take it—”

“Do I have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” You sighed, the haziness of the alcohol slowly starting to fade away with every sip of water and every bit of bagel.

Mason seemed to notice your growing weariness and he nudged you gently.

“Think you can make it to the bedroom without spilling your guts?”

You nodded, the action not bringing as much lightheadedness as before.

He heaved himself off the floor, putting his hands out for you to grab onto, and he pulled you up, reaching down to grab the bottle of water off the floor and deciding he’d deal with the mess in the morning when you were feeling better.

“Why does alcohol always have really shitty side effects?” You groaned, the pounding in your head increasing when you stood up, the head rush not helping with the headache.

“I don’t know but you’re definitely going to regret ever drinking in the morning.”

“I’m regretting it now.” You groaned, fingers gripping his shirt sleeve as you made your way up the stairs.

[damn-stark]

A new friend & A new problem

Chapter 9 of Different Light

A/N- I hope you all like this chapter :)

Warning- only slight angst, Slowburn

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“So your parents are fighting?” Fred wandered once George had separated from the both of you.

You sigh and stop in your steps so he could catch up beside you. “Yeah, just a bit, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Fred nods while he puts his hands in his pockets, looking to the floor before glancing at you. “Really? Because, well Harry seemed to know a lot about it.”

Damn.

What could you say to ease the situation? “I’m sorry Fred, but Harry is just easier to talk to.”?

No, that would make this matter worse. Even if it was true.

You continue to walk towards your common room, and Fred follows by your side, waiting for your response that you delayed a bit, just truly tensifying the situation even more. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you begin slowly, “it’s just I didn’t think you’d really care.”

“Not care?” Fred scoffs, “I’m your boyfriend, of course I’d care, plus I understand having parents argue,”

You sigh and begin to gently rub your wrists, avoiding his gaze and looking to your approaching common room door. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah,” Fred nods slowly, “well you know you could tell me anything right?”

You stop just a few feet away from the door and turn to face him, leaning your back on the wall and watching him stop just inches before you. You nod in agreement to his comment and add a small smile. “I know.”

Fred smirks and looks down to your lips, taking another step towards you and grabbing your hand that was at your side and slowly sliding his hand all the way to your cheek, “how was your summer by the way?”

You shrug and sigh in an exaggerated manner, “boring. How about yours?”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Fred replied cheekily.

“Oh?” You quirk your brow.

“Well you know with George and I starting our business, making our boxes and other stuff to sell here.” He lied unbeknownst to you.

You add a feigned smile and grab his free hand that remained at his side. “Well I will say that I missed you.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely.”

Fred’s gaze drops again and this time he leans in to crash his lips on yours, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss just a bit before parting away and offering a cockier smile. “I missed you too, darling.” Fred steps back and his cocky smile turns mischievous. “By the way I do hope you could help George and I sell our Skiving Snackboxes.” He proceeds to take out a small pile of yellow fliers and pulls your hands out so he could drop them on your hands. “Just put these around school, yeah?”

You scoff and chuckle, looking to the flyers and then Fred, noticing he was being serious. “You’re serious,” you calm down and grow serious, “Fred, you know next year is my last year, I’m very busy this year studying for exams and trying my best to get the best scores.”

Fred finds some humor in your comment where you hadn’t and he doesn’t seem to grasp that you weren’t joking. “You got NEWTS last year, you’re in Snape's NEWT class and just about every class that you wanted. You’ll be fine.”

You furrow your eyebrows and take a step towards your common room. “Fred? You’re not being serious are you? Being an Auror takes a lot of work.”

“And yet you don’t have to please your parents all the time, Malfoy.”

You frown deeper and tilt your head slightly, “impress my parents? Fred I’m doing this for me. Just like George and you are doing that joke shop for yourselves. Yeah my parents may require me to do a good job at school, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m just doing what I want and what will make me proud.”

Fred frowns and nods, “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and keep backing to your common room. “I’ll hang the flyers, and try and help George and you when I can though, okay?”

Fred puts his hands back in his pockets and nods slowly, “okay,” he turns around and doesn’t say a simple goodbye, or goodnight, he just turns and begins to walk off before stopping to add one last thing. “By the way, get ready, this new professor is going to provide a lot of fun this year. That’s a promise, darling.”

A half smile tugs on your lips whilst you nod in slight agreement, “right. A lot of fun.”

——

“Your previous instruction on this subject has been disturbingly uneven, but you’d be pleased to know from now on you’ll be following a carefully ministry approved course of defensive magic.” The annoying pink lady explains in a squeaky voice that hid the fact that this all sounded monotone, like if she has rehearsed saying this hundreds of times. Her weird, creepy smile seemed that way too.

Regardless you look down to the yellow book down in front of you, and you part your lips and blink in disbelief at how childish this book looked. When you skimmed through the pages it got even worse, there was nothing on new spells, or spells at all actually. All there was on the book was paragraphs upon paragraphs about stuff you didn’t even want to bother reading.

Curiosity was getting the best of you and just as you planned to ask what was going on, a hand beside you flew up. Professor Umbridge plastered on a bigger feigned smile and pointed to the girl next to you.

You shift in your seat to look to your side at said girl, seeing her stand up and hearing her clear her throat before speaking in a soft, soothing and elegant voice. “Ma'am there isn’t anything on defensive spells here, it’s all….just a whole bunch of mess.”

Professor Umbridge giggled and it made you cringe, she walked up to your table and looked to the girl beside you. “Well that’s because we won’t be learning spells, there's no need for them.”

You scoff, “no need for them? I would think that learning spells would be our highest priority since you know who is back.”

Professor Umbridge snapped her head to you and her gaze turned icy as she glared at you. “The next time there's a question please raise your hand like miss?” she turns and points to the girl beside you and her smile turns more genuine.

“Clementine Zabini.” The girl you knew as Clementine answered sweetly, sitting back down as the pink lady turned around and walked back to the front of the class. “I’ll tell you,” Clementine continued in a loud enough whisper so you’d be able to hear her, “If Monday was a person, this old hag would definitely be it.”

You blink in disbelief and look at her just the same, noticing her red lips lift to a smirk. “And here I thought today was Friday.”

You scoff lightheartedly and glance back to the front of the class to pretend to be listening to the professor as she went on. “Yeah well as my boyfriend says, she’s a complete destroyer of fun.”

Clementine snorts and nods, “yeah I can agree. What do you think of her.”

“Well,” you shrug, “let’s see, beside frigenteing, I think she’s a bore and well a complete fake pink lady that seems to be up to something.”

Clementine nods and puts her book to pretend to be reading as she examines the professor. “What could it be?”

You shrug and prop your elbows on your shared desk, glancing at the girl next to you and noticing her robes match yours; the same green color, same snake on the side of her cloak. How come you hadn’t seen her before? Or really noticed her? She had the same surname as one of Draco’s only good friends, Blaise Zabini. And she was obviously in your same year—perhaps it was because last year, you only really focused on the twins as your sole companions and didn’t care for much else even if Hogwarts was a hundred times better than your previous school. Maybe with this new year, you being secluded to only a couple friends could change. Plus she seemed to have the same vibe the twins gave. That could be fun.

“I’m y/n Malfoy,” you introduce yourself kindly.

Clementine meets your gaze and offers you a kind smile, “you already know my name so I won’t even bother, but I will have to ask, your brother is friends with mine, right?”

You nod, “yes.”

“Hmm, well how poetic is that?” She continued as she neatly clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “Our brothers are friends, and now we are.”

“Ladies in the back, I do hope you can write up here on the board what rules I’ve just said.”

Clementine and you turn your attention to the pink lady and you both offer a feigned innocent look, you shake your head and speak up first. “We can,” you both stand to do as she said and Professor Umbridge just watched the both of you with a narrowed gaze as you make your way to the front of the class. However neither of you actually knew what she had said.

Knowing that, you both look at one another from the corner of your eyes and then glance at the board, picking up chalk and lifting your hands to start writing. Before either of you could try to write down whatever rubbish you could think she’d say, you inch towards Clementine and bump her shoulder with yours, earning her discreet attention to then whisper a spell on the both of you without a need for a wand that would write what was instructed. Your gazes slid back to the board and you pretend to write, smiling proudly once you were done and saw Professor Umbridges taken back expression.

“I do hope it’s right,” you tell the pink lady once you’re back on your seat, trying to suppress your threatening smile.

The professor looks to the board and her eyes scan the rules of what appeared to be hundreds of times before looking back at you and nodding slowly. “It...is.”

“Good,” Clementine interjected smugly, smirking wider as the pink lady just returned to her teaching. “That was nice, y/n. Saved both of our arses over there.”

You shrug nonchalantly and prop your clasped hands on the desk. “Thank you.”

“Look,” Clementine pointed out, tapping on a spot on the desk beside her elbow, “I drew the horror on her face just now when she saw that she was wrong.”

Your gaze lowers and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing out loud at the carved out drawing, and the name scribbled at the side of the drawing that said; “pink silly old witch.”

“You know,” you attempt to warn her, cutting off by her reassurance.

“Don’t worry, I put a spell on it, she won’t see it, just us and the other students who sit here.” She winks at you and in that moment you knew that she was going to be a great friend.

——

“I’ll catch up with you later, Clementine!” You wave as you start walking back towards Harry.

“Dinner?!” She shouted out and you nodded before spinning around and running to fall by Harry’s side.

“Hello, Harry.”

Said boy jumps slightly and looks up at you with a slightly frightened gaze.

Your lips twitch and you quickly apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No,” Harry lied, “you didn’t.”

You narrow your gaze on him, but let it go. “Okay if you say so.”

“New friend?”

You look over your shoulder to where Clementine was before for a second before turning back to Harry and nodding. “I hope so. I think it’s about time I had a friend in my own year. Albeit I don’t think professor Umbridge likes us that much.”

“I don’t think she likes anything at all,” Harry remarks bitterly.

You glance at him and can’t help but smile at how angry he looked at just the mere talk about the professor. “You should’ve seen her face when we proved her wrong today,” you snicker, “looked like she was going to get an attack of some kind.”

The corner of Harry’s lips tug into a small smile that doesn’t disappear as he changes the subject. “How are your classes going so far?”

You breathe out deeply and feign exhaustion. “It’s going to be tough this year. The easiest class surprisingly with Umbridge’s stupid change, is defense against the dark arts.”

“That class is compelelty boring and stupid,” Harry grumbles in a tone that caught you by surprise. “How are we supposed to learn to defend ourselves if we’re getting taught nothing but damn rubbish.”

In your disbelief at his new anger and the frown that had so quickly formed on his face you walk in stunned silence for a brief moment. “You’re right,” you pause and glance at how hard he was grabbing his books and that’s exactly when you notice a fresh scar on the back of his hand. “Harry what happened to your hand?”

Said boy without even looking at his hand just dismisses your concern. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch?” You scoff, trying to grab his hand to examine it better, but suddenly stopping as he pulled away swiftly and put some distance between him and you.

“I said it’s fine,” Harry continues, only growing your concern, “I need to get to class. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before you could say goodbye, Harry walks off in a hurry.

That was odd.

——

“SAVE YOUR MONEY NOW!”

“YOU WON'T REGRET IT! A DELICIOUS MYSTERY WITH EACH SWEET!”

The twins announce in a booming voice, showing off their skiving snackboxes to passing students in the courtyard. All while you hand out the brightly colored flyers.

“Oh, hello, Malfoy, I didn’t know you worked.” Clementine teases as she stops by at the sight of you next to the twins.

“Well since I’m not getting paid,” you say out sharply whilst you glare at George and Fred. “It’s not work.”

“You’re doing it because you love us,” George butts in with a smug grin as he comes up behind you.

“Exactly, it’s an act of kindness,” Fred adds. “Besides when we go big, you get anything you want for free. That’s your pay.”

You roll your eyes and take a flyer and hand it to Clementine. “You won’t regret it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Fred exclaims as he pats your shoulder.

Clementine smiles and sighs, “fine, I’ll buy a box. It’d be a shame if I didn’t support a small business.”

George grins and pulls out an orange box to hand it to Clementine after receiving the needed amount of money. “You—”

“Won’t regret it,” Clementine finishes for George, “I got it.” Her eyes shift to a couple of passing first year Slytherins and her lips twist into a mischievous smirk; she gently elbows your arm and whispers, “watch this—hey wait!”

“What is she doing?” George asks as the three of you turn to watch what she was planning to do with a curious wonder that stopped you from trying to sell for that moment.

“I see you’re fellow Slytherins and I know how tough it can be so—”

“Oh,” Fred grins, “wicked.”

Clementine rambles on in a tempting manner that wins the kids over and gets them to take the box from her hands and try it right there. All of them innocently falling for her trap just like many other new year students did when George and Fred attempted too. And it's as funny as before as it is now, watching the students eat the candy and not expect to get pranked and temporarily change in appearance, or experience some odd feelings.

“Eh, that was wicked!” George blurts when Clementine returns, “Slytherins are usually the toughest sell.”

“More like an impossible,” Fred corrects him.

“Hey! I try!” You interject, feeling Fred grab your hand to head to your other spot to continue and sell their snacks.

“Maybe you could team up with us, that way you and y/n try selling to your house mates.” George explains in an over excited tone.

You scoff and shake your head. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“It’s not bringing her into this if we’re friends,” Fred continues.

Clementine smirks continues to walk beside the three of you. “Well when I’m not too busy with homework, or studying, we’ll see. It’s a maybe.”

“Maybe is almost a yes,”

“No it’s a maybe,” Clementine argues with George.

Just as Fred was going to pitch in, the moment the four of you turn the corner, the pink lady rounds another corner and almost runs into all of you. You try to just walk past, but she gets in the way and looks at all of you with that same wicked look.

“What is that in your hands?”

Fred steps up and attempts to ease the situation. “It’s just a group project we need to finish.”

“A school project?” She repeats with a raised brow. “So early onto the school year?”

“Well,” you add, “we are busy.”

Her eyes burn into Fred and you before her eyes drift down to your connected hands, proceeding to pull out her wand and use a charm that parted you from each other. Neither of you said anything after the action, you just looked at one another before backing away as she tried to get one of the boxes. “If it’s just a school project then it won’t mean anything if I just take a peek right?”

“Well if you take a peek then our project will be ruined,” George protests, hiding the boxes under his cloak.

Umbridge shoots him a cold feigned smile and uses her wand to pull the boxes towards her, she looks at all of you and smirks. Clementine glances at you and smirks, discreetly pulling out her wand and secretly using a charm to hide what was actually inside.

“See,” she innocently adds, “nothing but boring school stuff.”

Umbridge snaps her gaze towards her and shoots her a scowl. “Well I’m still taking this for further examination. You see I don’t understand how two six and seven years are teamed up.

Fred shrugs, “they’re smart.”

Professor Umbridge huffs and just turns and walks off with all the boxes, leaving all of you with nothing.

“Well that was a bust,” you grumble.

“Well I guess we’ll stick with more discreet ways.” George attempts to lighten the mood.

Albeit the next day a rule went up that read, “all Weasley products will be banned”, just like there was a rule that “boys and girls are not to be within eight inches of each other.” Not only that but there was more and more each day, she was slowly turning school into some kind of prison; no type of fun was allowed, she regulated the halls and classes, she checked uniforms, she kept all talk that had anything to do with anything bad, forbidden. She was changing everything and trying to take away professors, she was trying to be under control, and proclaimed that she would, that the ministry of magic would approve of it.

She was changing things for the worst.

——

“Have you noticed that Gryffindors, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs all talk with one another; they’re all so friendly, but when it comes to talking with a Slytherin it seems that they’re suddenly so quiet and competitive.” Clementine mused while the both of you “studied” in the courtyard; when in reality, you were just talking about anything that came, and watched as students from other houses all talked peacefully. “I mean why is that?”

You tilt your head to the side and study the students closer, noticing the big gaps left between Slytherins and the other students from different houses—“when I was put into Slytherin, the other houses ‘booed’.”

“See,” Clementine exclaims, “they put us aside. I know some fellow Slytherin can be a bit rude, but that’s only because they know the other students are being the same. I know a lot of friendly Slytherin; like you for example.”

A heat grows on your cheeks at her compliment and you turn to offer her a sweet smile. “Thank you, I think you’re very nice too.”

Clementine returns your smile and then looks back to the courtyard. “I mean they’re not all mean towards us, but a lot of them are.”

“Yeah I see what you’re meaning,” you sigh, leaning back and resting your hands on the grass, from the corner of your eye catching Harry and Herimone walking up to you. You fully twist your head and smile softly when they reach you. “Hi, guys, what a surprise.”

“Hi, y/n,” Hermione greets sweetly, glancing at your friend beside you. “Hello.”

Clementine offers them a simple “hello,” and let’s them speak what was obviously on their mind.

“Y/N, can we talk to you for a minute,” Harry interjects in an almost nervous manner.

“Sure.”

“Uh,” Hermione parts her lips as her eyes nervously drift to Clementine. “Alone.”

“Oh,” you breathe out slowly, glancing at your friend and preparing to stand up to follow them, but stopping as you recall your conversation that happened just mere seconds ago. “It’s okay, I trust her. You can too.”

The pair hesitate and look at one another for a second before deciding to do as you say, sitting down to begin with this talk that brought obvious tension.

“Well,” Hermione starts, “you know how poorly Umbridge is teaching defense against the dark arts, and how she’s trying to rule this school with an iron fist and not let us practice any important spells. Well…” Hermione glances to Harry and without a word to do so he continues.

“Well since we know you’re good at defensive magic, we wanted to ask, or really I did, if you’d want to join our secret group where I’ll be teaching other students defensive spells.” Harry turns even more nervous and averts his gaze so he wouldn’t see what reaction you’d give, instead he talks to the ground. “And if your friend wants to join that’d be good too. The more the better.”

“But,” Hermione interjects, “it’s top secret, nobody outside of our group can know. We’ll be trusting the both of you with our secret.”

Without hesitation, or much thought, you sit up and offer a single nod. “I’ll do it, I’ll join your secret group.” You look to Clementine and quirk your brow. “What about you? It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

Clementine looks at the three of you before landing her gaze solely on you, taking a long agonizing minute before giving an answer. “I’ll join too.”

“Great!” Hermione grins cheekily, “thank you! I’ll tell you both when and where we’re meeting! Thank you y/n and….”

“Clementine.” Said girl says.

Hermione nods and offers one last sweet smile before she stands up along with Harry.

Albeit before Harry could leave he turns to you just as nervous as before. “Can we talk later?”

Your face lights up and you nod. “Of course.”

.

.

.

.

A/N-I just wanted to provide a faceclaim for our new character just so it’s easier for some of you to imagine the character :)

Yara Shahidi as Clementine Zabini

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence, @ilovespideyyy , @m3ssytrash , @hogwarts-babe-blog @yodaboo , @missryerye

[heliads]

Stealing Hearts

You and Peter Maximoff both have one thing in common: the two of you have a bad habit of thievery. Will that be the only thing between you, or will you two share one more powerful trait?

masterlist

You can’t help the broad grin as you casually walk through the mall. The stores are packed, which makes it more than easy to brush up against a rich, unsuspecting stranger and “accidentally” snatch their wallets as you pass by. You’ve been stealing things for what feels like forever, and you’ve never once been caught.

Finally, you’re satisfied with your latest acquisitions and stroll out of the mall, blinking in the bright sunlight. You’ve only walked a few feet when you see something that catches your eye in the alluring way that all valuables do- a large, silver ring on the finger of a woman walking by. She’s just a few feet away from you, and when she takes it off to try on a pair of recently purchased gloves you can see all the details carved into the metal. You know at once you must have it.

Casually, you stroll by the woman, hand poised to pluck the ring off the wall where it’s been temporarily placed. Just as you’re about to grab it, though, the strangest thing happens- it disappears right before your eyes. You blink confusedly, yet the ring is gone. Then, across the street, you see a silver-haired boy admiring a ring in his hand. It must be the same one- but how did he get there and back that quickly?

The details don’t matter, you’re too caught up in your annoyance that the boy stole the ring before you did. So, you nonchalantly cross the street, pretending to pay no attention to the silver-haired boy. He looks away for the ring for just a second, which is his mistake. The second his head is turned, you slip the ring from his fingers and walk away, pretending nothing happened. You tuck the ring quietly into your jacket pocket, and continue on down the street.

Soon enough, you hear an angered shout behind you, and suddenly the boy is right in front of you. “You took it, didn’t you? Give it back?” You feign confusion. “Give what back? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The boy glares at you. “Yes, you do. The silver ring, the one I rightfully stole, which is in your jacket pocket.” You look at him thoughtfully. “How about you tell me how you stole a ring from across the street?”

He gives you a questioning look in return, then nods in approval. “Sure. Ring first.” You sigh and drop it into his outstretched palm. “Thank you.” The boy’s voice is dripping with false gratitude. “My name is Peter. Peter Maximoff.” “Y/N L/N.” You answer in return. “Well, Y/N, I was able to steal the ring because I happen to be the best thief on these streets.” You laugh incredulously at his confidence. “Is that why I was able to steal the ring from you?”

Peter pretends to be hurt, and playfully throws an arm around your shoulders. “That was just a coincidence. It usually never happens.” You grin at him. “Yet, it did. And you know what, I have an idea for you.” Peter raises his eyebrows. “What would that be?” You stop walking and spin around to face him. “I say we work together to steal whatever we want. You could use my help in not being completely obvious and maybe you could tell me what your secret is. What do you say?” Peter tilts his head to the sky as if thinking this through, then agrees. “I think you just want to spend time with me.” He winks at your indignant protests, and before you know it, he is gone. 

You feel a sudden weight on your hand and you pull it out of your pocket to find the silver ring glinting on your finger. You look back behind you, but there’s no sign of Peter anywhere. You smile suddenly, admiring the ring. Who is this boy?

Well, it turns out Peter Maximoff is much more interesting than you thought. First of all, he’s a terrible flirt, and you find yourself laughing over many attempts to win you over. Second, the two of you are an incredible pair, and you’re able to relieve many stores and passersby of goods that interest you. Finally, Peter is able to get away with most of his stunts because he is a mutant.

When he first told you, after you’d known him for at least a month, he’d seemed scared to hear your reply. This was most unlike him, as Peter seemed to have this unquenchable positive spirit. The fact that he was staring at his shoes, the usual smirk gone from his face and his usual cocky stance reduced to a mere lean against the wall told you that this was the one truth he was afraid to tell you. Your friendship was very important to him, and he was worried that if you knew he was a mutant, you would leave him out of fear.

Luckily for Peter, this was not at all the case. You had simply swatted him on the shoulder and told him that it made sense that he’d need magic powers to keep up with you. His laughter was indignant and loud as always, but behind it there were the silent words he didn’t have to say: Thank you for understanding.

You and Peter often hung out at each other’s houses, too, on days when the weather was a miserable rain or when neither of you really felt like going anywhere. When Peter opens his front door to reveal you standing on the front step, he assumes it’s just another one of these days, but one look at you tells him otherwise.

You look terrified, breathing heavily like you’ve run a marathon. You’re also wearing a thick jacket, which you have firmly wrapped around you, despite it being the middle of a scorching hot day in August. “What is it?” Peter asks, ushering you inside. You can’t say a word, just shake your head worriedly.

The second you and Peter get down to his basement, you drop down on the sofa, shaking. “Peter, I don’t know what’s happening. It just started today- I was at home, and then-” Peter takes your trembling hands, gently stopping their frantic movement. “What happened? What’s wrong?” You look at him through eyes wide with panic, then take your jacket off.

Instantly, Peter sees the problem. Your entire body is glowing with some strange sort of light, starting from your heart and spreading down your arms. You study your illuminated hands, shaking your head as if you can’t believe what you see. “I don’t know how to control it, it just started happening.” Peter nods slowly. “You’re a mutant now. Like me.”

He sits down next to you, taking your hands in his. “When I first started getting my powers, it freaked me out too. I get it. If you want to control them, you’re going to have to focus.” He delicately closes your eyes with his fingertips. “Just breathe, with me. In and out, slowly.” You let yourself relax, hanging on to the sound of Peter’s voice with all the desperation of a drowning sailor. In and out, in and out.

Before you know it, Peter’s telling you to look at your hands. You open your eyes hesitantly, and are amazed by what you see. The glow has died down from your body, leaving only your hands illuminated. Fascinated, you raise one to eye level, and with just a thought, you’re able to control the strength of the light and even make a tiny sphere of light appear in your hand. You look at Peter, giggling at the sheer joy you feel at being able to control your powers. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You nod in agreement.

Peter is definitely a big help with your powers. There are many times when you feel like you might accidentally lose control in public, and he’s always there to help you calm down and regain focus.You’re not sure what you would do without him, and to be honest, you don't want to know. 

Your powers actually come in handy during your little shoplifting excursions, too. All it takes is one quick flash of light to block a camera, and you and Peter have already taken everything you want from a store. After one of these occasions, the two of you lie comfortably on the grass, drinking stolen lemonade and admiring your newest belongings.

“You know, I think this whole mutant thing has worked out pretty well for the two of us. We can get whatever we want, and whenever we want it.” You laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure that our abilities can be used for more than just stealing stuff, you know.” Peter rolls his eyes at that, then turns to you, suddenly serious. 

“Actually, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to have. I’ve never been able to get it, though, no matter how fast I run.” You sit up, propping your head up on one arm. “That surprises me. What valuable is that?” A joking smile crosses Peter’s face, and he whispers one word. 

“You.”

He kisses you once, and you’re so surprised that you can’t even say a word. Peter grins once more, then gets up as if he’s about to quickly leave as usual. You grab his shoulder before he can go, and pull him back down to you. “Not so fast, Peter. Maybe you can steal my heart, but you can’t expect that I won’t take yours too.”

[katcoquette]

Valentine’s Day (3/5)

Another part of my Valentine’s Day weekend celebration, The Marauders!  As always, (☻) is a mature warning !! Consent, consent, consent & use protection! <3 Enjoy(;

This set includes: (young) Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, and James Potter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Sirius Black

The entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day weekend you had been receiving love letters from Sirius Black. However, he would never give them to you directly, instead finding alternative and sometimes extremely creative ways to get them into your possession. You never doubted  the source of them; it would have been hard to miss his signature at the bottom of each and every one:

With love,

Sirius

Your closest friends started to look forward to them too, seeing how he would get it to you. Swooning with you over the words that you decided to share. He was a hopeless romantic, and knew exactly how to get what he wanted, which this Valentine’s Day, was you. His letters had you melting in the palm of his hand, so when he asked you to be his date for that night, you accepted immediately. You spent the evening being showered with sincere compliments, and you were genuinely enjoying his company. He made you laugh, his smile was infectious, and it helped that he was extremely attractive. By the end of the night, you felt like you had known him forever. He was the perfect date, and by the time he had kissed you goodnight, you could already feel yourself falling for him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Remus Lupin 

Remus would spend hours thinking of the perfect way for the two of you to spend Valentine’s Day. He’d pick you up from your room half an hour from dusk, arms full of supplies for your date. You’d walk to his favorite view and he’d set down a blanket and some pillows for you to sit on. The sun would start to set, lighting the sky with beautiful shades of pink and purple. He’d compare the beauty of the sunset to you, though he’d make it clear that you were “much more beautiful than any sunset could be”. Once the sun set completely, you’d lay down on the blanket in his arms, resting your head on his chest. You’d be able to hear his heart beating in his chest and feel his quiet breaths. He’d prop his head up with one hand, the other absentmindedly running over your back. As the stars begin to appear, Remus will point out constellations to you, telling you the stories that accompany each. You’ll lay there comfortably, focusing on how smooth his voice sounds, smiling to yourself at his excitement with the stars. You’d spend some time with your lips connected, he’d hold himself above you with a hand on each side of your body. The cool air would send shivers through your body and he’d notice, immediately moving to warm you up. It would truly be a magical night.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Regulus Black (slightly ☻ warning)

“Regulus! What if we get caught?” He laughs at the idea, “No one comes out here this late. We won’t get caught; I promise.” He assures you, kissing your forehead. You bit your lip, still unsure, but unwrapped your arms from around your body and let the clothes you had been holding fall to the ground. Your boyfriend smirked at your exposed skin, his eyes raking over your body. “You’re breathtaking, Y/N.” He admires you, then kisses you deeply. You smile shyly, “Come on then.” You urge him to do the same and he does, taking off his pants and dropping them next to yours on the shore. Before he can do anything else, you take off running into the water, shouting a taunt at the boy you’d left on the beach of the Great Lake. He chases after you, catching up easily and picking you up, forcing you to go deeper into the freezing water with him despite your protests.

“I guess it was a tie.” He mutters, letting go so you’re floating next to him. You stay close enough that you can keep your arms around each other, silently taking in the moonlight reflecting off the surface, and the sound of gentle waves hitting the bank. Regulus turns to look at you, though it takes you a few seconds to notice. When you do, you give him a soft smile. He pulls you to the front of him, and you wrap your legs loosely around his waist. Your chest is barely above the water, glistening from the moisture. He couldn’t take his eyes off you or keep his hands from roaming your naked body. You press your chest against him, keeping one hand around his shoulders while the other cupped his cheek, gently bringing his lips to yours. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” He whispers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* James Potter 

“I’m going to brew an Amortentia for you.“ James tells you matter of factly when you enter the empty classroom after hours. You laugh, softly shutting the door behind the two of you. “What for? I already love you.” You smile, kissing his cheek. He thought it would be fun, taking a love potion when you both already had feelings, he’d told you he wanted to see what would happen. It seemed obvious to you, but you had decided to go along with him anyway. “You missed.” He mumbles, pulling you back to him so he can kiss your lips, instead. Your cheeks heat up at his subtle flirting. He still set off butterflies in your stomach whenever he had a cheeky remark for you. “Come on, you can be my assistant.” He starts to take out the necessary ingredients, placing them on a table near the two of you. You playfully bumped and teased each other, which resulted in the potion taking three times longer than it normally would have. “Done!” You cheered, capping off a bottle for each of you. You followed James out of the classroom, quietly talking to each other. “Mr. Potter! Y/L/N!”

You shared a look, his eyes widening. “Time to go!” He grabbed your hand, and the two of you run down the corridors, not stopping until you reach the Gryffindor common room. You’re in a fit of laughter by the time you reach it, leaning against the door next to James struggling to catch your breath. “I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” You joke, nudging his side. He rolls his eyes but still smiles, then downs the Amortentia in one swig. “Bottoms up, sweetheart.”

[danger-xylophones]

The Magic of Sleep Deprivation and Tea (Fives x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: Allusions to sex and a role-playing kink, swearing, brothers being annoying. 

Notes: It’s loving Fives hours

Words: 2.2k

…………………………

You were in the mess hall when he walked in, hurriedly eating your meal so you could sooner go to sleep. After spending approximately 40 hours attending to critical condition patients you were eager to return to your room for some much needed shut-eye. In an effort to keep yourself from falling asleep in your food, you were keeping yourself occupied by tuning your ears into the chatter of the clones all around you. The animated discussions that permeated the mess hall were enough distraction from the unending beeping of heart monitors, the clatter of medical equipment being hastily moved around, the barking of the doctors as they ordered things from the nurses, and, most haunting of all, the pained groans of the men wounded in combat who were still clinging to life. 

You shook your head to bring you out of the sudden darkness that clouded your already foggy head. A peal of laughter sounded from a table close to the door and you snapped your head up to examine the intermingling 501st and 205th soldiers. You allowed a small smile to sneak across your face at the happiness the men were displaying. One of them, Codex you think, clad in his freshly painted teal armor caught your stare and sent you an enthusiastic wave. You returned it with a quiet laugh and toned down two-finger salute. It was then that the door slid open and the already noisy mess hall was deafened by the thunderous roar of laughter coming from the entering cloned men. It was a group of oh-so familiar 501st soldiers and the sight of them had the weariness from the excruciating work-life balance  you had melting away. 

Jesse was the one to spot you and he paused mid-joke to elbow Kix who was closest to him. The man bearing the republic gear on his head pointed to you which caused you to sit up a little straighter to wave the group down. They started heading towards you. As they drew closer, you were able to identify who was who; Jesse and Kix, of course, Rex, Echo, and Fives. Each one was still in their armor and they all looked better than the last time you’d seen them. Except for Fives. Although to be fair the last time you’d seen him had been 5 hours ago when he snuck into the med bay to quietly inform you that he and the rest of the 501st (those that hadn’t been sent to you on gurneys) had returned to Coruscant. 

“Hey, Doc!” Jesse yelled as he plopped down in front of you. You cringed at his loud volume by found a small laugh tittering from you all the same. Kix, with an eye roll that would make Commander Wolffe proud, settled next Jesse tiredly-it appeared as though he’d had a rough go out there and was in a state similar to your own. Rex took his seat on Jesse’s other side and Echo and Fives came round to sit on the same bench as you. Fives may or may not have ‘accidentally’ brushed his hand down your arm as he settled on your right. 

“Hey, boys.” You greeted with a smile. “How goes it?” You received a myriad responses ranging from a tired shrug from Rex, a so-so from Kix, an ‘alright’ from Echo, and a ‘good’ from Jesse. But the most dynamic response came from none other than the arc trooper on your right. 

“Better now that you’re here.” Fives simpered exaggeratedly, propping his elbow on the table so he could drop his chin atop his fist. A puff of air slipped from your nose as you rolled your eyes. 

“Gods, you’re a ham.” You bit back. With a dazzling grin, Fives embraced the challenge you’d accidentally presented him with. 

“Only for you, doc.” Fives slid closer to crowd into your personal space. 

You moved back enough to keep eye contact with him and raised an eyebrow. “I bet you say that to all the doctors.”

“Only the pretty ones.” The arc countered with a wide (and rather goofy) smile. 

“C’mon, Fives, leave Doctor L/n alone.” Echo’s condemnation of his brother’s dogged attempts at wooing you broke the moment and returned you to the mess hall. “I’m sure she’s got enough on her plate without your flirting to add to it.” 

“C’mon, Echo,” Fives mimicked his twin’s tone expertly, “I’m sure Y/n doesn’t mind. Right?” The arc turned to you with a comical wiggle of his eyebrows that had you trying to hide your smile behind your near-empty mug of tea. With a shrug, you downed the flavored water while Echo continued to rebuke his brother-much to the amusement of Jesse and Kix and the irritation of Rex. Fives didn’t listen to a word of it. 

“So, how have things been with you, Y/n?” Jesse eventually asked, having gotten bored with Echo’s lecturing. You took a second to finish chewing the bite of food you’d just put in your mouth which afforded you some time to think about your response. 

“Good,” you began when your mouth was clear of food, “well as good as you can be working back to back shifts.” A dry chuckle slipped from you that was mimicked by Kix who understood what you meant all too well. “If you guys could do me a favor and stop getting injured, that’d be great.” 

“We’ll stop getting injured when the clankers stop shooting at us, cyar’ika.” Jesse quipped immediately. You chuckled lowly before noticing the way Fives’s hand had clenched into a fist while it was still on top of the table. Thinking quickly, you dropped your own hand under the table to gently place it on top of his thigh-a silent reassurance that Jesse had meant nothing by the term of endearment Fives so often used for you and that his usage of it had no effect on you. Fives’s hand relaxed and you allowed your lips to quirk up in the briefest of grins. You didn’t remove your hand though and instead opted to go about eating without the usage of your right hand. With a low mutter of ‘that’ll be the day’ you downed the last of your tea as the other four men dove into their own conversation-something about Commander Cody punching a droid in the face, you weren’t really invested. You were far too focused on Fives whose hand had dropped over your own. His head was tilted downwards so he could watch as his finger dragged imaginary lines over the back of your hand. But the clink of your empty mug on the table caused his head to lift once more. 

“Here, I’ll get you some more tea.” Fives whispered and snatched your mug up before you could protest. You sent a soft thank you after his retreating figure and he spun around to send you a wink that immediately caused your cheeks to warm. 

The other guys said nothing regarding the interactions between you and Fives as they had all been distracted by the prospect of food as Jesse had gotten to his feet. As the trooper wandered off to complete his task, you dove into conversation with Kix, Echo, and Rex who were eager to tell you about their latest successes. You’d gotten so invested in the discussion that Fives returning to the table caused you to jump which elicited several laughs from the cloned men. You dismissed them with an eye roll and focused on the arc trooper. “Here you go, doc.” He chirped, gesturing to the mug in his hand with his head. “Just the way you like it-black tea steeped for three minutes with a splash of milk and a tablespoon of sugar.” As he explained your preferred preparations for tea, Fives leaned around you to set the mug on the table which brought his head close enough to your own for your cheeks to almost touch. 

You smiled softly, touched by his attention to detail and for just a moment you forgot about his brothers who were seated at the table as well. “You’re too sweet, Fives.” You sighed and took his chin in your left hand to turn his face towards you. His warm eyes that reminded you of pools of liquid bronze met yours and you felt yourself swooning again-although maybe it was an effect of the sleep deprivation. “What did I do to deserve you?” You didn’t catch yourself in time and, before you knew it, your lips were on his. It was a soft kiss-just barely longer than a peck but the effect it had was undeniable. Fives froze completely as you tore yourself away, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you stared back at the startled arc trooper. 

“Holy shit.” Kix breathed out in shock but it did little to distract the rest of the table from what they’d just witnessed. 

“Uhhhh…” You began, willing your mind to conjure up something. Nothing, nada, zilch. Your own mind had abandoned you. “Errr-I…”

A loud metallic slam on the edge of the table saved you (or damned you depending on how you look at it) and made everyone flinch. Jesse stood at the head of the table, a finger jabbed at both of you, a triumphant smirk on his face, and the metal tray he’d been using to carry his brothers’ food precariously balanced on the edge of the table. “I kriffing knew it!” He looked away from your horror struck face and turned to your equally startled boyfriend. “Fives, you lucky bastard.” Jesse’s complete acceptance of the shocking revelation was what finally kickstarted not just you but his brothers as well. 

“Congrats, you two.” Echo chirped as soon as he got a hold of his tongue. It was a little shaky but you were grateful that he refrained from condemning your relationship for being against regulations. Although, you might as well not have heard it considering you had already retreated into your own mind in an attempt to escape the situation. 

“Yeah!” Kix was next to accept it. “Although, I never thought Fives would be the one to finally get in your pants, Y/n.” And he was the first to begin the unavoidable teasing. 

You groaned pathetically and dropped your head onto the table with a loud thunk. The exaggerated reaction from you only served to spur the brothers on. “It was the goatee, wasn’t it?” Jesse queried in a mock sympathetic voice; like an older sibling that had just learned about their younger sibling’s crush, he was determined to tease the hell out of them. “You struck me as the facial hair type.” 

“Stop.” You whined, bringing your arms up over your head. 

“Maybe she’s got a thing for ARC’s?” Rex joined in and there went any hope that you and Fives would escape with any dignity. You whined again and thumped your forehead on the table. A chuckle slipped from Fives as he slowly regained his functions. The arc trooper reached over to rub his hand on your shoulder blade and you carefully peaked out under your arm. Fives’s face was steadily darkening and he had a small, bashful smile on his face that encouraged you to come out of the impromptu shell you’d constructed. 

“Or maybe Fives’s got a thing for doctors?” Jesse snorted and both of your faces fell at the blunt reminder that you were still with company. An awkward moment of silence passed until your boyfriend nervously cleared his throat and the table burst into laughter at the nonverbal confirmation. “Oh, kriff, does she keep the labcoat on?” Echo made an indignant squeak of warning on behalf of you and his twin  but Jesse stared his brother down unabashedly and you finally crossed into mortified territory. 

“And the stethoscope too?” Rex chimed in again, relying on his vague knowledge of the lab wear he’d seen you in. 

“She got a checklist of your kinks, vod?” Kix snickered. Fives chuckled at that one, apparently amused at the idea that hit a little too close to home. There was certainly a list, it just wasn’t a checklist. 

“No,” Fives tried to gain control of the situation as he tossed an arm around your shoulders, “None of that.” You sighed in relief, thankful that he was trying to keep the teasing to a minimum for once. “Although, I’ve certainly got some more ideas now.” 

“Fives!” You exploded away from him, crashing into Echo, with a shrill cry that launched Jesse and Kix into hysterics and pulled a chuckle from Rex. Your face was so warm that it felt like you’d decided to stick it in a furnace as embarrassment coursed through your system. Echo wasn’t much help as he was currently the only thing preventing you from bolting out of the mess. 

While this may not have been the way you planned to inform his brothers of your relationship, you couldn’t deny the relief at their acceptance of it. And if you had to put up with their teasing at least that would serve as proof that they’d already accepted you into their family with open arms. And you supposed that deep down-way past the mortification you still felt as you and Fives slipped away from his brothers followed by cat calls, whoops, and hollers-you were grateful for the chance to provide Fives’s vode with hope for their own futures. 

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 3

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: none... yet

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

There’s an issue with the soundboard, so the third rehearsal is delayed. While the girl playing Nurse whispers her lines to herself, you and Hyunjin sit on the apron, comparing ear piercings. Hyunjin isn't even in the upcoming scene.

Jisung scrolls through his phone while observing the two of you. Hyunjin takes out his silver bar earring and lets you look at it. Your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as you turn it around and hold it up to the light like a gem appraiser. He says something to you, and you break out into laughter.

Never has Jisung wanted to trade places with another person so badly.

Hyunjin rests his hand on your knee, and Jisung feels something inside him burst into flames. He abruptly gets up, knocking his chair into Changbin’s leg and earning an “Ow!” He doesn’t even apologize, just leaves the auditorium and goes down the school hallway. Without meaning to, he ends up in front of the restroom door.

There’s no one else inside, thank goodness. He splashes water on his face and watches as the droplets drip down his chin in the mirror. He has piercings, too. In fact, he has a silver bar just like Hyunjin’s at home. He tugs on the hoop in his right ear, wishing it would magically change. He allows himself to wallow in his self-pity for a minute. After drying his face with the hem of his shirt, he reluctantly heads back to the auditorium.

The soundboard appears to be fixed, judging by the tech director and Chan’s cheering. As expected, “Actors! To your places!” comes over on the intercom, and there’s a commotion as you scramble into position and Hyunjin disappears into the wings. He hopes Hyunjin trips on a cable, but alas, the cables on the floor are actually organized for once. The rest of the crew puts their headsets back and gets ready as well. The lights dim, and rehearsal finally begins.

You start the scene, and Jisung is surprised and proud of how quickly you are able to transition from yourself to Juliet. The spotlight shines upon you, and there is nothing else he can focus on. You look to the sky and describe the beauty of your lover.

“And he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun,” you recite.

Jisung disagrees with all those statements. Still, he can’t help but be moved by your love, even though it’s about Hyunjin.

Whenever you play lovesick Juliet, there’s always a small smile playing on your lips. This time it’s so tender that he unintentionally mirrors it when looking at you. Nurse stands by his side, waiting for her cue, so when Nurse enters the scene, you smile in his general direction, and it’s like it’s for him. His ears feel like they’ve been doused in sriracha, and he thanks the heavens that he’s wearing a headset, so no one can see how delighted he is. His day immediately brightens, and he almost forgets about the interaction between you and Hyunjin. News of Romeo’s banishment from Verona only increases his happiness. It might be strange to feel so strongly about a fictional character, but not to him.

Scene two is completed quickly. The lights go out, and the stage crew on the other side of the stage bring out the set pieces for scene three. At the same time, other actors rush on stage, trying to get into position before the blackout ends. While you walk back backstage, you attempt to take out the large pin in your hair.

“Can someone help me?” you whisper.

Jisung is about to step towards you, but the girl in charge of costumes, Ryujin, beats him to it. You lower yourself, so she can reach the crown of your head. You notice Jisung watching, and the corner of your mouth quirks up.

“I’m normally better at costume changes than this,” you tell him. The pin finally comes free, and you thank the girl for helping.

“Do you wanna change now or later?” She holds up a looser dress from the rack.

“Now. I might forget and then it’ll turn into a quick change,” you joke.

It doesn’t hit Jisung until a few seconds later. You are going to change, right here, right now, in the wings of the stage, not in the dressing room, in front of him, and a few other crew members who are not girls. He turns bright red, matching the color of the main curtain. He’s not the only way he’s flustered at this new prospect; the props guy, Yugyeom, who overheard the entire conversation, is also in a panic.

You begin unzipping the side of your dress, and Jisung and Yugyeom quickly face the wall, striking up a conversation about how great the weather has been. Jisung babbles on about the possibility of rain even though the sky has been clear for the past three days, while Yugyeom frantically nods. He wonders how Changbin and the fly rail guy are unfazed by this.

“I’m decent now.” They both hesitate and continue staring at the wall, so you add, “Seriously. You can stop pretending to be meteorologists.”

Jisung takes one for the two-person team and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that you’re fluffing your hair out from the collar of your newly-donned dress. You look amused by the trouble you caused.

“I wear a tank top and shorts under all my Juliet costumes, so don’t worry,” you explain, “but I appreciate the courtesy.”

“Got it,” he weakly replies. Yugyeom, on his way out of the stage, echoes his sentiment.

There’s no way he can just ignore you changing in front of him; he’s going to run and hide every time, especially now that he sees the aftermath of your change. Your hair is slightly unkempt, and your previous costume pools around your feet, reminding him —

Reminding him that now is not the time for impure thoughts.

“Stage crew, start getting ready,” Felix calls over the comms. “Jisung, at you in particular.”

“I didn’t come here to be attacked,” he grumbles as he meets Changbin at the edge of the stage and picks up the other end of the table.

“Lights and stage crew, get ready.”

The lights go out, and Jisung and Changbin bring the table out and align it with the glow-in-the-dark tape on the floor. Then they run back before Jeongin turns the lights back on. Changbin and Felix congratulate him on a job well done, and he rolls his eyes in response. He goes back to his previous position near the costume rack.

“I never realized how fast you guys set the stage,” you remark. “And you have to come back here as well. Is it nerve wracking?”

“You get used to it after a while,” he replies. “You have to get on stage fast, too.”

“Yeah, but it’s a one-way trip. And I don’t have to carry stuff.”

“It’s still impressive.”

You look up at him. “I think yours is more so.”

He is so grateful for the headset; his ears are burning, and he’s sure his cheeks will be soon. He awkwardly mumbles, “Thanks,” while focusing slightly to the right of you. The conversation dies, and you start talking to Nurse about the upcoming scene. Jisung internally slaps himself for not saying more, but he couldn’t think of anything witty after your compliment. His mind is still not working, and based on the comms, the soundboard might be having the same issue.

The last scene of Act III begins, and there are indeed problems with sound. Despite that, the actors and the rest of the tech crew power through, though the actors struggle to do the same.

Rehearsal is paused while the sound issue gets solved. Jisung decides to go to the classroom and wait out the situation in the more comfortable chairs there. As expected, it’s crowded, but he manages to nab a seat in the middle of the room. He spies you on the next table and waves hello. You light up and make your way over with Hyunjin in tow.

“Hey, Jisung!” you greet. “Hyunjin, he’s the one who thought you and I were the perfect Romeo and Juliet. Jisung, he doesn’t believe me. Tell him I’m not lying.”

Jisung feels small in his seat, looking up at Hyunjin. He’s already shorter than him, but sitting down really emphasizes the difference. His raised eyebrows combined with his slight grin make him seem like a condescending prick.

“She’s not lying,” Jisung shrugs.

“See?” you say to Hyunjin. “You’re doing great, so don’t worry.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you, and you turn a pretty shade of pink. “Thanks. And, uh, you too, Jisung.”

“No problem,” he manages to get out. He can’t decide whether he wants to Hyunjin down a flight of stairs or to kiss you. Maybe both are possible. “Always glad to be of help.”

“Do you wanna run the lines for the balcony scene again?” Hyunjin asks you. “I don’t think Ms. Park likes it right now.”

“Oh, sure!” you eagerly reply. “See you later,” you say to Jisung before following Hyunjin back over to the next table.

“See you,” he whispers too late.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Gi announces that there is going to be an adjustment to rehearsal today because the soundboard is still on the fritz, and a proper tech rehearsal is near impossible.

Despite their best efforts, rehearsal ends up being cut short. Everyone seems relatively happy about this, and Jeongin wonders out loud if anyone wants to get frozen yogurt with him. Jisung declines, citing that he has homework to catch up on, and while that’s true, he would rather go with you. Unfortunately for him, you and Hyunjin are working on the balcony scene with Ms. Park, and it doesn’t look like the drama rehearsals are ending early.

He gets frozen yogurt with Jeongin, Chan, and Felix after all. He’s disappointed that you aren’t a part of it, but it’s fine. He’ll go get some with you on your first date.

Just you, him, and a cup of strawberry cheesecake froyo to share.

~ ad.gray

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

The Fairy King - Chapter 10

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Queen X reader/ It’s a (obvious) surprise, x reader

TW: violence, swearing, Mercury being Mercury, Bri and Rog are SO JEALOUS OML, 10/10 would die for Deacon

Genre: Fantasy. (Labyrinth AU)

Series: The Fairy King

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue :( I’m going to miss this series so much!

Upon reaching the towering walls of, what (Y/N) could only presume was the city, she couldn't help but notice a door appear before trio that definitely hadn't been there before. But given the day she had, she didn't hesitate to guess that it was one of Mercury's tricks. A guard was leant against the wall, propped up on a chair, deep in slumber.

"C'mon, we can get through if we're quiet," Brian whispered to Deacon and (Y/N). Deacon nodded silently, and Brian took (Y/N)'s hand and opened the door, leading her through. Deacon followed behind them, inaudibly pushing the door shut again.

"Something's not right. It shouldn't be this quiet. Is it normally this quiet?" (Y/N) murmured, looking to Deacon, who shook his head solemnly.

"Why am I getting this awful feeling that we've stepped straight into a trap?" Deacon responded, edging closer to her and drawing the sword that was latched to his belt.

"Thank god, you're a knight," Brian joked weakly, taking a few more cautious steps towards the arched entrance to the city.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, eyeing as Brian's free hand began to glow dimly, ready to fight if needs be. A loud clanking was heard as the group ventured further in, and a large metal warrior emerged from the winding streets of the city, looming over them. One of Mercury's knights was sat atop a dip in the warriors head, controlling it from there. The warriors head nearly reached the wall of the city, where it looked as though archers fired from. Deacon and (Y/N) took a step back in pure shock, only to get sharp spikes to the back as sword-like spikes appeared where the door they'd entered had been just moments ago. (Y/N) let out a gasp and Brian tugged her forward and away from the impaling weapons. Brian narrowed his eyes as the warrior drew closer, pointing his hand at it, glowing brighter the closer it got. A bright green blast shot from his hand but simply bounced off the armour, now on course for the trio. Deacon raised his hand and the weeds between the cobbled stones rose to the group's defence, immediately being destroyed by the blast. Brian glanced at his hand. Of course, the king would make this mighty warrior resistant to magic other than his own.

"Thought you didn't use your magic, John?" Brian asked, quickly looking back to the dryad, who had his eyes fixed on the warrior.

"Maybe not the best time to be having this conversation,"(Y/N) intruded, tapping Brian's shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw a familiar blonde figuring running along the city wall above the warriors head. "It's Roger!"

"Of course it is," Brian muttered, rolling his eyes. (Y/N) let go of his hand and smiled up at Roger, who dropped down onto the knight. The knight was so taken by surprise that she toppled down onto the ground before Brian. She let out a squeak as she sat up and Brian shot a blast next to her as a warning. The knight scuttled off, tripping over her feet. (Y/N) watched Brian carefully, there was an aggression that she hadn't seen before. Frustration, perhaps? Whatever it was, it worried her. Roger let out a huff as he sat down, and began fiddling with the controls.

"How in the hell do you control this thing?" Roger grunted, angrily pressing buttons. The machine began sparking and spluttering, plumes of smoke pouring from the being.

"Roger, get out of there!" (Y/N) exclaimed, rushing closer to the machine. Roger's head swung from side to side jerkily, meeting the panicked eyes of Deacon, Brian and (Y/N). Realising he had few options, let out a small "Fuck it" and jumped down, landing with a solid thump. The machine crashed down and flames rose from the creature. (Y/N) rushed to Roger's side, helping him sit up. Deacon and Brian also followed after her, though the latter had a sour look on his face.

"I'm not asking to be forgiven, and I'm not ashamed of anything I did," Roger began, regretfulness filling his features. Brian raised his eyebrows at the prologue to Roger's apology " Freddie made me give you the fruit. I don't- I don't care what you think of me. I told you I was a coward and I'm not interested in being friends."

The groups' eyes softened at the "confession". Even Brian, who was being stubborn as a mule, could recognise Roger's self-defence mechanism. (Y/N) leant forward and took Roger's hand, squeezing it tightly.

"I forgive you, Roger," She said gently, giving him a small smile. Brian watched the pair with sad eyes and John eyed him, seeing the forlorn look in his eyes. Deacon shook his head sadly before looking back to (Y/N) and Roger. The blonde's head shot up at her words, eyes wide.

"You- You do?" Roger asked, completely flabbergasted. He slowly got to his feet, shuffling nervously.

"And I commend you. Rarely have I seen such courage. You're more valiant a pixie than I give you credit for," Deacon commented, placing a hand on Roger's shoulder and squeezing slightly. Brian sighed and shook his head slightly.

"You get on my nerves at the best of times, and we never see eye to eye, but you are, first and foremost, my best friend. I'll always forgive you," He stated, running a hand through his hair. He meant it, of course, everyone knew that, but Roger and Deacon were also fully aware that he was only saying it for (Y/N) sake. (Y/N)'s eyes suddenly lit up and she shoved her hand in her pocket, retrieving Roger's bag that she'd stolen hours before and handing it to him.

"Here are your things, Roger," She smiled and Roger couldn't help but smile back as he took the bag and attached it to his belt "Thanks for your help"

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get that rat who calls himself Mercury" Roger looked at the group and they all nodded in enthusiastic agreement

"Right! Come on!" Y/N exclaimed, running forward, with Roger quick in tow.

"You really love her don't you?" Deacon looked to Brian sadly, but Brian just shook his haid

"Come on, let's move" He said and followed after the pair.

"Your highness!" A soldier came barreling through the grand double doors, panting, followed by two other soldiers. The first soldier gave an awkward and rushed bow. Mercury had risen to his feet at the commotion and everyone in the ballroom had fallen silent, watching their king and the three soldiers with grave interest. "Your highness! The girl..."

"What?" Mercury asked with a dark smirk, sitting back down on his throne.

"The girl who ate the fruit and forgot everything!" Another one of the soldiers continued, panic in his voice.

"What of her?" The Fairy asked nonchalantly, eyebrows raised.

"She's here with your wizard guardian, your dryad head of security and your pixie jester!" The last one finished, removing his helmet and stepping forward, significantly calmer than the other two. There was a glint in his eye, similar to that of a child on Christmas. "They got past the guard and they're on their way to the tower."

Mercury shot to his feet once more and clicked his fingers. Immediately all but a handful of the people in the ballroom were scrambling out of the door and to the safety of their home. The handful that remained were suddenly shielded by a red glow and their fine suits and tailored dresses had become armour. Their intricate masks and delicate handbags transformed into shining silver.

"Go to the city of the tower! You, take the orb and hide it!" Mercury handed one of his crystal balls, the one which contained the freedom of the human girl, to a soldier, who immediately ran off with it. "She must be stopped! Do something!" Alarm bells started ringing throughout the tower as Mercury rushed down the stairs in front of his throne and walked over to one of his paintings. This painting was old and cracked, oily and greased, depicting a perfect image of the tower with all of its crumbling stones and ivy winding its way around. He quickly stepped inside, his soldiers following behind. Once arrived, the soldiers surged towards the entrance of the city, searching for the group of vigilantes, while Mercury made his way up the tower.

Roger's pointed ears pricked up at the sound of incoming footstep and immediately placed himself in front of  (Y/N). Deacon and Brian, noticing Roger's sudden defensive move, prepared their respective weapons, once again prepared to fight. They continued with cautious steps getting deeper into the city and closer to the tower. Brian glanced back at (Y/N), swearing to himself that he'd protect her no matter what happened next. She caught his eye and gave him a supportive and soothing look, eyes soft and smile tender. They soon reached a wall with what looked like skinny chess pieces, or something of a similar variety, protruding from them

"I think we're going to make it," (Y/N) whispered, her smile forming into a wide grin, which made Brian's cheeks flush and Roger's head spin. Roger's head had been so clouded, in fact, that he didn't realise the gravity of the next words he said.

"Piece of cake." The trios head snapped to him, their hopeful faces falling to ones of fear and alarm. The pixie's eyes widened in realisation, shooting a glare at Deacon, who had smacked the blonde over the back of the head. Abruptly, soldiers rose to the wall, as if they'd been hiding there, all of them holding a different variation of weapon. Mercury watched as soldiers poured in from every side and enclosed the assembly. Safe in his tower. One of the soldiers blew a horn and a canon, that one group of soldiers had rolled with them, fired, making (Y/N) flinch as her ears began to ring. The cannonball flew over their heads and into one of the straw roofs of the buildings behind them. They began to charge and Brian wasted no time in turning around and back the way they came, snatching (Y/N)'s hand along the way and pulling her with him, earning a scowl from Roger.

"Quick this way!" (Y/N) shouted as she ran ahead, this time pulling Brian along and turning sharply. The sound of the cannon reverberated through the air once more, striking the building next to (Y/N), who flinched and released Brian's hand to cover her ears. Roger, seeing his opportunity, grasped her hand, this time interlocking their fingers. Brian glowered but quickly noticed that Deacon had gone missing. When he looked over his shoulder, he could spy Deacon back where they'd just run from, fighting off a group of his own soldiers in an attempt to buy the trio some time. Roger, too focused on ensuring (Y/N)'s safety, had yet to notice and tugged her along as soon as he noticed a clearing through the soldiers, who, by now, were running around like headless chickens. The wizard, torn between helping Deacon or following Roger, froze for a second, contemplating his options before deciding to trail after Roger. Though he couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving John behind. (Y/N), Roger and Brian reached an open town square.

"John! Where's John?" (Y/N) asked turning to Brian, who responded with a sheepish look. However, as he opened his mouth to reply a scream of 

"Fire!" Ricochet through the air and another cannon blast was heard, narrowly missing the group once more. (Y/N) let out a frustrated huff.

"We have to find John!" She announced. Brian and Roger shared a look, knowing it would be safer for her if they continued on their way to the tower. They also knew, however, how deeply she cared for her newfound friends, and how she wouldn't stop until she found Deacon. She ran down one of the alleys, calling directions over her shoulder as the two head over heels creatures attempted to keep up. They came upon an alley where they saw Deacon charging at a group of soldiers, knocking them over like bowling pins. (Y/N) rushed over to him, yanking him into a tight but swift hug before Brian entered one of the houses, the others following behind him and slamming the door. All the soldiers were quick to swarm the house, banging on the door and bashing the walls and windows, like it was some form of apocalypse. 

"Well this wasn't your smartest plan, I must say, Brian," Roger commented snarkily, leaning on the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Brian shot him an icy glare, fire in his eyes, with a twinge of jealousy still present behind them.

"You didn't exactly contribute with a plan either, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut," Brian snapped back, narrowing his eyes daringly as Roger opened his mouth to speak. Roger quickly shut it again, turning the face the other direction with a small "hmph". Deacon and (Y/N) exchanged an awkward look, stood back by the doorway. The tension was thick and Deacon swore he could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

 Brian, with a sour look still planted firmly on his face, started his journey up the ladder in the corner that led to the roof. Once he arrived at the top, he opened the latch trapdoor and looked around the house. They were completely boxed in and soldiers called expletives and insults up at the wizard. The wizard thought for a moment when suddenly a plan came to mind. He had magic, why wasn't he using it? He managed to position himself as comfortably as possible before he outstretched his arms, a green glow protruding from them and joining together in the gap between them. Wisps of green spread out far and wide across the land and after a few minutes of nothing, hundreds, if not thousands of stones came rolling through the city, chasing the soldiers around in circles, knocking some over or unconscious or simply scaring the soldiers into the houses to barricade themselves. Brian let out a gasp as the glowing of his hands dimmed, and had to steady himself, feeling very sick and light-headed. Slowly, he began to climb back down the ladder, thinking he felt better but after a few steps down, his body grew weak again from how much energy he'd used summoning the rocks and stones. Roger, (Y/N) and Deacon instantaneously surged forward to catch him as he fell backwards off of the ladder. They carefully placed him on the ground and (Y/N) sat with him, placing his head in her lap. She cupped both of his cheeks and soothingly brushed the hair away from his face. Brian smiled weakly up at her and she gave him a worried, but clearly fake smile. And it was then Roger noticed something that he never had before. Something in her eyes. Something in the way she looked at Brian. A tenderness, but not like the one she had when she looked at Deacon.

"Can you stand?" She whispered, rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks. He didn't say anything but gave her a firm nod, knowing they were running very tight on time, and couldn't afford to wait for him any longer. Deacon and Roger moved to either side of him when he gestured them over and each took a hand to help him up. For a second, he stood but as that second passed, his knees buckled and Roger quickly caught him. With a small sigh, Roger moved Brian's arm over his shoulder and put his own arm around his waist.

"We need to move. C'mon," Deacon reminded them quietly, moving to walk in front of (Y/N) since Brian and Roger were too preoccupied to protect her. The pathway was clear once more and the trio made their way closer and closer to the tower and soon they were stood right before it. Seeing as Brian was in no state to be climbing all the stairs, Deacon looked to all the winding ivy and extended his hand. The ivy wound around each person's feet tightly and worked as a makeshift elevator, lifting them through the open tower window. Brian groaned in pain when they were placed back on solid ground. (Y/N) noticed the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. She had mere minutes to find the king and get her life back. She didn't doubt that he wouldn't put up some form of fight, considering all of his tricks and deceptions. There was only one staircase going upwards from the room they were in and her eyes lingered on it.

"That's the only way he could've gone," She remarked, scratching the back of her neck nervously."Well then, come on," Roger stepped forward, with Brian still clung onto him but (Y/N) put her hands up.

"No, no. I have to face him alone," She said strongly, trying to stop them from arguing with her. Immediately Roger's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Deacon's back straightened, and Brian gave her an odd look.

"But why?" Deacon questioned, finally putting his sword back in its holster.

"Because that's the way it's done," Was her simple answer, though she truly wished she could bring them with her. She was scared. Terrified even. What if she didn't win. What if she was stuck with the fairy king...forever. 

"Well, if that's the way it is done, then that is the way you must do it," Deacon agreed remorsefully, Roger and Brian immediately shooting him angry glances. "But, should you need us..."

"Yes, should you need us.." Roger echoed, giving her a reassuring look, to which (Y/N) nodded.

"I'll call. Thank you. All of you," And with that, she darted up the stairs, her friends watching her with woeful and worried eyes. She reached a room with staircases in every direction. Up, down, sideways. It was impossible 

She started to navigate her way around it, going down the stairs to her right, and up the ones after that. (Y/N) reached an even space between two of the staircases and looked around for any sign of the Fairy King. She peered over the edge, only to see Mercury stood upside down on the other side, looking right back up at her. She jumped back in shock, and Mercury swung over the edge to come face to face with her.

"How you've turned my world. I have wasted my magic on you and your little friends. You starve and near exhaust me," Mercury stated approaching her, causing her to back up. He turned a corner and as she went to follow him, he reappeared behind her. She whizzed around upon hearing his voice "Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no one," This time he walked straight through her, sending unpleasant ripples down her spine as he walked back to the edge and swung over back to the other side. Every time she tried to look at him, he seemed to move and reappear somewhere else. He looked at her and caught her glare, narrowing his eyes back "Your eyes can be so cruel. Just as I can be so cruel. If you want your life back, go and get it," He sneered throwing the orb that had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and throwing it to the opposite side of the room.

(Y/N) went down countless stairs and went through countless door frames as Mercury taunted her, and she would always appear somewhere else, often on the other side of the room to the orb. Mercury was messing with her, and she knew it very well. He would even bring her within inches of the orb and it would appear far away. However, she managed to distract him with his own endless monologing long enough. With a deep breath, she took a leap of faith and ran from one edge to the next, where the orb was located, and jumped off, falling through the air and grasping the orb. (Y/N) let out a laugh of glee before she noticed the room around her separating into chunks of stone and she landed on one of them, isolated in the endless sea of colours and stone. Mercury appeared from the shadowed, walking towards her as a predator would to a prey.

"Give me the orb," (Y/N) demanded, standing tall and proud, as a way of hiding her fear.

"(Y/N), beware. I have been generous up until now, and I can be cruel," Mercury warned, eyes dark and dangerous but (Y/N) could tell the boat was sinking and he was trying desperately to hang on.

"Generous?" She tilted her head, incredulously. "What have you done that's generous?"

"Everything!" He snarled "Everything that you wanted, I have done. You asked to be rid of your life. I rid you of it. You cowered before me. I was frightening. I have reordered time," He pointed to a clock that had appeared. The hands were going haywire, spinning around and around  "I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn't that generous?" In his rant, Mercury had stepped closer and closer until they were face to face. (Y/N) was silent for a moment.

"Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the tower beyond the King's Labyrinth," She took a step forward, and this time, Mercury backed away, as if he was scared of her words. He hid his fear behind confidence and an intimidating outer appearance, but eyes are always the body's deceivers. "For my will is as strong as yours and my-"

"Stop! Wait. Look (Y/N), look what I'm offering you," A new crystal ball emerged in his hand "Your dreams."

"-And my kingdom as great."

"I ask for so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything you want," He attempted.

"Kingdom as great... Damn! I can never remember that line," She mumbled in frustration and a cocky smirk rose on the king's face.

"Just fear me, do as I say, and you can spend the rest of your time here with Roger. I've seen you two, I know you feel for him. That you love him," He pushed. At that, (Y/N) hesitated and Mercury saw it. She paused and stopped racking her brain and looked up at him.

"You have no power over me."

Mercury's orb flew into the sky, and images began to flash before her eyes, clocks, owls, cloth, ivy, soldiers, ballrooms, dryads, pixies, wizards...

Pixies

The orb crashed back down to the ground, and when (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was back in the ballroom, with Brian, Roger and Deacon stood before her. The room was full of people dancing and laughing. No one seemed afraid.

"What-what happened?" (Y/N) pondered, confusion filling her eyes. Deacon's eyes lit up and he scooped her into a bear hug, spinning her around in circles, the two releasing joyous laughter. Eventually, he set her down again and it was then she noticed he was not wearing his soldiers uniform but a rather smart suit, just as Roger and Brian were behind him

"You did it! You're free! We're all free!" He bellowed in glee, but he was soon pushed out the way as Brian and Roger enveloped her in a massive hug as well, practically crushing her between them.

"I don't know the last time I've seen our people so happy," Brian stated when they'd separated, looking over the crowd with a child-like grin on his face.

"And it's all thanks to you, you incredible human!" Roger laughed, not seeming to quite believe that they were actually free "And I finally got out of that awful ruffle after god knows how many millennia."

"It's a shame, it was starting to grow on me," (Y/N) teased. Roger let out a loud laugh and Brian and Deacon watched happily. Roger had been kept under a tight leash by the king for so long, they couldn't remember when they'd last seen him genuinely laugh.

"(Y/N), I think the time has come" A crystal ball emerged from thin air and balanced in Brian's fingers. "You need to go home."

"I wish I could bring you all with me," She said sadly, agreeing that their time together had come to an end. Deacon looked at the others and sighed

"Actually, there's enough magical energy left from Mercury for two people to transport back," He explained, and (Y/N) smiled before realising the decision she now had to make. She looked at her three friends, all of whom were willing to leave their own world to join her. This would be the hardest decision she'd ever had to make "No matter who you choose, we will always be there for you."

TELL ME IF I FORGOT TO TAG ANYONE!”

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @loveandbeloved29 @sam-mercurry-sixx@sunflower-borhap-boys @bouncingjoe @lets-go-panic-at-discos@storiesandcelestialbodies @everything-you-dont-wanna-be@sincereleygmg@mirkwoodshewolf@queendeakyy@sprinkle-covered-leeks@ikbenplant @queen-paladin@scarlettequinn@simonedk @royalblueviper @seven-seas-of-bitch

Tags:  @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones@silvver-rose @psychosupernatural​

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 5

Summary: Addison makes her way to King’s Cross and back to Hogwarts for her fifth year.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X OC

Word Count: 4.6k

The next couple of weeks staying at The Leaky Cauldron were filled with lots of tension and whispers between the adults. Immediately following the events at the World Cup, the Abbotts had offered to deliver me back home to my parents until the end of the holiday. I’d insisted that this was completely unnecessary, saying that I truly didn’t want to worry my parents over a band of drunken men who’d wanted to stir up trouble. 

 Truthfully, I was terrified of bringing the prejudices and problems of the wizarding world, home into their non-magical lives. If for some crazy reason, the Death Eaters wanted to come after me for what I’d seen that night, or even just because of my blood status, I didn’t intend for them to find me at home. I had half convinced myself that I would be able to avoid going home for the rest of my magical education, but I hadn’t been able to work out a good enough reason to be gone the entirety of the summer holidays every year. 

 Between afternoons of shopping for my school books and supplies in Flourish and Blott’s and enjoying ice cream sundaes with Charlie and Hanna at Florean Fortescue's I’d received several letters from Ginny; each delivered by the Weasley’s slightly decrepit owl, Errol. Each of them demanded to know exactly what had gone on that night in the woods between Fred and I. I hadn’t responded to any of them yet, simply because there wasn’t anything to say. We really had just sat together like a couple of scared puppies in the darkness. But I knew I’d have to fill Ginny in on the way to school. 

 The day before we were due back on the Hogwarts Express, we had just returned from purchasing sets of dress robes from Madam Malkin’s and were packing our trunks when a small screech owl began pecking at mine and Charlie’s bedroom window. The owl interrupted the first thought I’d had about how curious it was that we’d need formal robes for our year at Hogwarts. I quickly crossed the scantly decorated bedroom and opened the window to let the petite, proud-looking bird in. In the slight breeze that wafted in through the opening, I noticed the smell of coming rain. I groaned internally at the thought of trekking to the carriages tomorrow in the rain.

 The little brown owl stood regally on the windowsill and held out his leg to me. On it was a rolled up slip of paper with my name scrawled on the outside. 

 “I wonder who this is from?” I scowled as I untied the twine binding the roll of parchment to the bird. 

 “I bet I can guess,” giggled Charlie, who had given up on her packing momentarily and was spread across her bed. 

 I unrolled the paper and squinted at the messy handwriting on the page. Immediately, the name scratched into the bottom made my heart jump into my throat. 

 Morris, 

Hope you’re holding up okay after The Cup. I reckon you might be a bit of a cry baby, but you can cry on my shoulder any time. See you at King’s Cross. 

-Fred 

 I turned to face Charlie and beamed. I couldn’t believe Fred Weasley had taken the time to check up on me. My stomach twisted up into the same butterflies that I’d experienced before the World Cup. 

 “Well go on,” Charlie laughed, “What’s it say?” 

 I crossed the tiny bedroom and flopped down on the bed next to her. Even though we’d been staying here for a while, dust motes floated up from it through the dim sunlight filtering in through the discolored window. I held the paper out to her, “I think it says that he wants to meet me at King’s Cross tomorrow.”

 “You think?” she frowned and nearly ripped the parchment from my hands. She read it over a couple of times silently and pursed her lips. “You did not cry in front of Fred Weasley.” 

 We both bust into a fit of giggles as I grabbed one of the ancient green throw pillows and beamed it at her head. “Shut it! We thought we were going to die!” I managed. “Besides, do you think that’s what he meant? He wants to meet before we get on the train tomorrow?” 

 “It certainly sounds like it. Ooooh d’you think he likes you?” she asked, handing the note back to me. 

 “I doubt it,” I sighed, settling down further into the musty smell of the pillows, “honestly, he probably just feels bad that I was such a git about the whole mess at the Cup.” 

 Charlie propped herself up on her elbows and bored her emerald eyes into mine, “I know you think you’re disgusting or something after that whole mess with Cedric, but honestly Addie, that was ages ago. You just need to get over it,” she said pointedly. 

 I was slightly taken back by the bluntness of her statement, but I knew there was probably some truth to it. I opened my mouth to object, but before I could say anything she started again. 

 “And you’re kind of gorgeous you know,” she laughed. “Fred would be lucky to have someone like you. If I liked girls, I’d date you.” 

 “Not so fast there,” I chuckled. “Who say’s I’d date you?” 

 She clutched her heart and flipped over backwards like she’d been wounded. I laid my head down and stared up at the grey ceiling. Letting my eyes trail up and down the grain in the wood, I pondered what this note from Fred could mean. Part of me wanted to hope that Charlie was right, that he’d be lucky to have someone like me. I tried very quickly to shut that part up though; the thought of opening myself up to the humiliation and rejection that I’d felt before was a petrifying one. The number of students at Hogwarts was so small, almost everyone at least knew everyone else’s face, if not their name, blood status, and life history. Word got around quickly at school, and I’d surely never get a boyfriend if everyone thought I was desperate. 

 I let out another large sigh. Charlie ignored it and jumped off the bed and resumed putting her things away into her trunk. 

 “What’re you going to wear?” she asked. 

 “I was just thinking a pullover, it looks like rain. Why?” 

 “No, no,” she shook her head. “You’re hopeless Addie. Fred wants to see you! You can’t just wear your ratty pullover with the hood!” 

 “Hey how did you-” I started. 

 “You’ll thank me later,” she called over her shoulder as she dug through her trunk. After a moment she tossed an armful of light blue wool at me. “That’s my favorite jumper, and I want it back, but it’ll look lovely with your eyes.” 

 I held up the soft blue sweater and looked it over. It was the same color as the sky on a clear summer day; the exact color of the eyes my mother had passed on to me. 

 “You think a sweater will make Fred Weasley fall in love with me?” I rolled my eyes, but trying to hide the excitement on my face. The jumper would be a lot nicer than anything I’d planned to wear. We change into our school robes on the train, so I never put too much effort into my appearance on the morning of September first. 

 “I think you can make Fred Weasley fall in love with you dressed in a tea towel like a House Elf; the sweater is just a plus.” 

 I mused over the idea of pursuing Fred for the next several hours while we packed our things and had dinner with Charlie’s family. It was hard to imagine, I just kept seeing scenes of Fred making fun of me and me being too embarrassed and flustered to ever be somewhat appealing to him. Fred probably liked the funny girls, and funny I was not. I could appreciate a good joke as much as the next girl, but mine always landed poorly and were awkwardly timed. I just couldn’t make people laugh. 

 Several times, I almost talked myself into avoiding Fred the next day completely, and pretending like the World Cup never happened. But something kept telling me that there would be no forgetting that night. Not anytime soon anyway, so I might as well embrace it. 

 The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott accompanied the three of us, still rubbing the sleep out of our eyes, to Kings Cross Station. The rain was coming down in sheets, soaking us to the bone in the few moments it took us to run from the Abbott house into the Muggle Taxi they’d called. Wind howled past the car windows as we drove bending trees nearly in half on the side of the road. Charlie and Hannah looked around with wonder, and told me that they only ever got to ride in a car when they were due back at Hogwarts. 

 I was reminded again of the stark difference in our upbringing. Riding in a car was how I got everywhere before I’d found out I was a witch, and was still how I got around with my family over the summer holidays. It was humorous how such a mundane activity was lighting their eyes up with excitement. 

 Lightning cracked overhead, causing us all to start, as we stood in the downpour and retrieved our trunks from the car. The jumper Charlie had lent me was clinging to my body awkwardly and had taken on the smell of a wet dog. My hair hung in long wet strands down my face and every time I wiped the water away from my face, it was immediately soaked again. So much for looking nice. 

 When we made our way inside, Mrs. Abbott pulled the three of us into a washroom and pulled out her wand. “No one wants to show up on the first day of the term soaking wet,” she said with a wink. 

 She quickly looked over her shoulder and pointed her wand at us. She murmured something under her breath, and suddenly all of the water from our soggy clothes was rising up towards the ceiling as steam. A smile slowly spread across my face as I remembered why I loved this world so much. There is no such thing as an inconvenience when you have magic in your pocket. 

 Now dry and comfortable, our group made our way towards the wall directly between platforms nine and ten. Given that this was my fifth year returning, some of the wonder that had come from running at the red brick at full speed and sliding right through, had worn off. Not all of it though. It was always slightly exhilarating to check to see if no one was watching, and then take off, only to appear safely on platform nine and three quarters, where the gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express sat on the tracks. 

 Hannah walked onto the platform following me, but took off towards a group of younger Hufflepuffs immediately, without as much as a “see you!” over her shoulder. I guessed that we’d never really be great friends. Charlie and Mrs. Abbott came through next, followed by Mr. Abbott, who today had chosen a grey jumper to compliment his mustache. 

 Now that we were in the presence of the train, the butterflies in my stomach returned. I hadn’t yet spotted the sea of red hair that would be the Weasley family, but I knew they’d be here any minute, it was nearly eleven. I was nervously adjusting my sweater time and time again the entire time that the Abbotts hugged us goodbye. I couldn’t even remember if I gave them a proper goodbye. 

 “Cool it Addie,” Charlie whispered out of the corner of her mouth as we crossed the platform towards the train. “It’s Fred, not the bloody Prime Minister.” 

 I nodded and tried to still my hands. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, I’d spent the entire night at the Cup pressed up against his chest. Surely I could say hello to him without feinting. 

 “Addison!” I heard my name called from the crowd behind me, and whipped my head around. A petite frame with a head of long carrot-colored hair was bounding towards me, agilely dodging students and trunks. 

 “Hey, Ginny,” I laughed as she reached us. 

 “You,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. “You didn’t respond to a single one of my letters.” She poked a finger at my chest. 

 “Hello to you too Ginny,” Charlie muttered from my side. We both ignored her.

 “Look, there wasn’t much to say,” I batted her finger away and laughed. “Besides, I figured it would give us something to talk about on the ride up today.” 

 The scowl that had settled into her brow softened. “Fine, but I want every single detail,” then she turned to Charlie. “Forgive me, had to get that bit off my chest. Did you both enjoy the end of your holiday?” 

 “It was alright, Mum just about wouldn’t let us out of her sight after what happened at the Cup,” Charlie sighed, “I’m just ready to get back to Hogwarts so I can have some freedom again.” 

 Suddenly, we were interrupted by the approach of another red head. This one taller, with soft brown eyes and the sweetest of grins set on his lips. There was an identical copy of him at his side. 

 “Hope you lot are ready for a bit of fun this year,” said George, the look of mischief clear in his eyes. 

 “Yeah, we’ve got a few things up our sleeve. Should be an interesting term,” Fred said, shooting me a wink over Ginny’s head. My stomach launched into backflips and my face burned red. 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, “You both would be wise to stay away from these two. They’re taking the pranking to a bit of an extreme these days.” 

 “You can’t tell me you don’t admire our entrepreneurship, little sister?” asked George, a fake pained expression on his face. 

 “Come off it,” Ginny grumbled, “You can do whatever you’d like, but keep it away from my friends.” 

 “Alright, alright,” conceded Fred, “But can I steal your friend Morris for a minute?” 

 Ginny glared at him. 

“I promise not to offer her anything to eat,” he chuckled. 

 “Fine,” she said finally. “C’mon Charlie, let’s go find a seat before all the good compartments are filled.” 

 They turned to board the train, followed by George who was grinning at Fred over his shoulder every few moments. As soon as they were gone, Fred’s goofy demeanor slipped away a little bit. 

 I had suddenly become very aware that my back was nearly up against the gleaming metal of the train and Fred was barely a foot in front of me. The bustling platform was starting to feel much more intimate. I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to look up at him casually. 

 “Thanks for the owl,” I said too nonchalantly, “I know I seemed pretty shaken up that night, but I’m fine. Honestly.” 

 “Well, yeah, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a bit of red creeping up into his freckled cheeks. “I didn’t think you were a mess or anything I just wanted to er- let you know I was thinking about you.” 

 “Oh, er- that’s really kind of you,” I stammered, trying to calm my racing heart enough to form a coherent thought. “I really appreciate you looking out for me. I don’t know if I got to properly thank you.” 

 “Don’t mention it,” he grinned again. “Besides, I didn’t mind spending the evening pressed up against a tree with you.” 

 I could feel the heat rising into my face and I knew my blush gave me away this time. I couldn’t believe Fred Weasley was actually flirting with me, but as long as it was happening, I was going to roll with it. 

 “Well I’ve got to say Weasley, you’re stronger than you look,” I put emphasis on using his last name, the way he always used mine. 

 “Got to be if Gryffindor’s going to keep kicking Hufflepuff arse on the quidditch pitch,” he pulled his lips back over his teeth and laughed. 

 “You wish! Just wait until you see what Cedric has in store for us this year. We beat you last year,” I pointed out. 

 “You beat us because Harry fell off his broom,” said Fred “Diggory’s no match for him.” 

 “This is going to be our best season yet,” I teased. “You’ll be kissing our arses when we win the House Cup.” 

 Fred ran a hand through his shaggy red hair and smiled at me again, “I guess we’ll see.” 

 Suddenly, the whistle on the train let out a wail, causing us both to jump. I remembered we were surrounded by people as I saw parents giving last minute hugs and handing forgotten belongings through the open windows. 

 “Better get a move on,” Fred gestured to the open door next to us. “Unless you want to take my dad’s car?” 

 I rolled my eyes at his joke and turned to climb on board the train. We walked down the narrow hallway, glancing into compartments full of students looking for our friends. Towards the end, I finally spotted Ginny, sitting with Charlie, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. George was nowhere to be seen.

 I slid open the compartment door and turned to Fred, “You’re not coming in are you?” 

 He smiled and shook his head slightly, “Gotta go find George. We’ve got mischief to attend to.” 

 “Right,” I tried to smile, but was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t going to be spending the day with us. “Well maybe I’ll see you later?” 

 “Definitely. See you later Addie,” he drew out the nickname that my friends used for me and winked. 

 “See ya, Freddie,” I replied, using the same tone. 

 I stood for a second and watched him turn and disappear back up the long hallway that was still buzzing with students trying to find a seat. I tried to wipe the silly grin off my face as I turned back around and sat down next to Charlie. I busied myself trying to settle my belongings into the storage space at my feet. When I looked up, the five of them were all staring at me with varying looks of smugness and shock. Most of the smugness was coming from Ginny and Charlie. 

 “Well I’m just going to say it,” said Ron finally. “What the bloody hell was that?”

 Charlie laughed. “Addison has a thing for Fred, obviously.” 

 “Do not!” I insisted, shooting her a warning look. 

 “Oh calm down,” dismissed Ginny, “It’s quite obvious that Fred’s got a thing for Addie too.” 

 “Fred doesn’t get ‘things’ for girls. I was starting to think he wasn’t interested in them!” bellowed Ron. 

 “Honestly Ronald,” interjected Hermione, “he’s nearly of age. I think it’s nice that he’s finally found someone he’s interested in,” she added reassuringly.

 “Look he’s not interested in me!” I blushed for what felt like the hundredth time today. 

“I think you all would be really good together,” said Harry matter-of-factly. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. “You both play quidditch, you’re both nice and my friends. I just think it could be a good match.” 

 Ron looked at Harry in confusion, but before he could say anything Hermione started again, “I agree with Harry. I think you should go for it.” 

 “Don’t I get a say in one of my best friend’s dating my older brother?” grumbled Ginny. 

 “Christ! We aren’t dating. I hardly even know him. He just looked out for me during the craziness at the World Cup, and he just wanted to make sure I was okay.” 

 “Oh yeah,” scoffed Ginny, “that’s why he spent days writing and rewriting that four line note he sent you. Face it Addie, he’s into you.” 

 I started to protest again but suddenly Ron was shushing us. “Oi! Listen!”

 Hermione was pressing a finger to her lips and pointing at the compartment door that I’d left open. I tilted my head and listened to the familiar cold, sneering voice drifting in. 

 “… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man’s such a Mudblood-lover –” my blood chilled at the word, and I noticed Hermione’s face pale, “and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…” 

 Ginny suddenly stood up angrily, stalked across the compartment and pulled the door closed with a woosh, effectively cutting off the voice of Draco Malfoy. A Slytherin in the same year as Harry, Draco was the son of Lucius Malfoy, a suspected supporter of Voldemort from the first war. 

 “So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?” said Hermione angrily. “I wish he had gone, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him.” 

 “What is Durmstrang?” I asked.

 “Yeah, is it another Wizarding school?” added Harry. 

 “Yes,” Hermione said to both of us, “and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.” 

 “I think I’ve heard of that one before. Dad’s maybe talked about it. Where is it?” interjected Charlie. 

 “Well, no one really knows, do they?” said Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

 “What do you mean?” asked Ginny. I would have thought this would be a boring conversation for people already raised in the magical world, but Charlie, Ginny, and Ron seemed just as intrigued as Harry and I. 

 “Well,” started Hermione as if she were reading to us straight from a book, “There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets.” 

 “Come off it,” laughed Ron. “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts – how are you going to hide a great big castle?” 

 Now it was my turn to have the answer, “Actually Ron, Hogwarts is hidden. I think they bewitch it so that muggles can only see old ruins of a castle.” 

 “So Durmstrang just looks like a ruined castle to outsiders?” asked Charlie.

 “Maybe,” said Hermione with a slight shrug, “or it might have a Muggle-repelling charm like the stadium at the World Cup. But I think It would be very far north. Somewhere very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of their uniforms.” 

 “Just think of the possibilities,” mused Ginny. “It would have been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident.” 

 “Shame his mother likes him..” snorted Ron. 

 I pondered the thought of the various Wizarding schools across the world as the train surged onward towards Hogwarts. The storm raged on outside the windows, and the sky was so black with rain clouds that the lanterns in the corridor were lit by lunchtime. We ate Cauldron Cakes silently as I savored the taste of the long missed Hogwarts cooking. 

 A few of Harry and Ron’s friends popped their heads in to say hello, and Cedric Diggory even stopped by to ask if Harry and I were ready for the quidditch season to start. Cedric had been very kind to me since the incident where he turned me down, and always did his best not to make things awkward, even if they were. 

 When Ron began recanting their experience in the Top Box at the Cup to Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor boy in their year, Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway of our compartment; hair slicked back, a smug smile on his face, and his two goons Crabbe and Goyle towering behind him. 

 “First and last time in your life, Weasley,” he sneered. 

 “Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” Harry said coolly. 

 Ignoring him, Draco continued with Ron, “So… going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know… You’d be able to afford decent robes if you won…” he said, glancing over at the mess of lace that I could only assume was Ron’s dress robes, covering a bird cage. 

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron snappily. 

 “Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeated more slowly, like he was talking to a child. “I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?” 

 “Either tell us what you’re going on about or beat it, Malfoy,” Ginny piped up with annoyance. A sinister smile spread across Malfoy’s face. 

 “Don’t tell me you lot don’t know?” he sounded delighted. “You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don’t even know? My god, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him…” Malfoy laughed and motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and the three of them disappeared off down the hallway. 

 Ginny was clenching her fists so hard that she was surely drawing blood under her fingernails. Ron jumped up and slammed the door with such force that the glass pane shattered, sending shards spraying around the small space. 

 “Ron!” Scolded Hermione, pulling out her wand. She muttered, “Reparo!” and the glass that littered the floor and seats returned to the doorframe and repaired themselves. 

 “Honestly, Ron,” grumbled Charlie, “Don’t let Malfoy get to you like that. He’s a twat.” 

 “Him! Get to me!? As if!” Ron scoffed, but he was absentmindedly crushing a Cauldron Cake in his right hand. 

 Everyone was in a horrible mood for the rest of the train ride, so we continued the afternoon with minimal conversation. No one spoke as we changed into our house robes, the Gryffindor robes accented in scarlet, and ours in yellow. The Hogwarts Express gradually slowed, so I knew we must be getting close to Hogsmeade Station. Hogsmeade was the only entirely magical settlement in Great Britain, so it was the perfect place to let off a train full of young Wizards. 

Charlie and I excused ourselves to go find Hannah and a few other fellow Hufflepuffs before disembarking the train. As the doors slid open, a giant strike of lightnings accompanied by an immediate clap of thunder caused everyone to jump. I filed out onto the platform behind Susan Bones, a dark haired Hufflepuff in Hannah’s year. We bent over to brace against the rain, which was now coming down in what seemed like swimming pools full at a time. All but running, we made our way to the line of carriages waiting for us outside the station. 

 We climbed into one behind Hannah and Susan and slammed the door, shivering. We were all chilled to our cores, huddled together for warmth as the carriages started to roll forward, pulling themselves without horses. I tried to squint out the window at the passing forest, but couldn’t see through the curtain of rain. We soon cleared the trees and began the incline up towards the school grounds. Suddenly, the rain let up just enough for me to see. And there, etched in black against the night sky, was the silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, welcoming us home.

[ducktracy]

bob clampett’s daffy

i hated daffy as a kid. i thought he was annoying, unnecessarily rude, bitter, and mean. and he was. and now i’m going to preach to you about why he’s my favorite character in the franchise, and how bob clampett totally changed my view of him.

although tex avery was the father of daffy, bob clampett was the first director other than tex to use daffy in a cartoon. clampett’s 1938 “what price porky” pins daffy as the dictator and leader of a group of ducks who are currently in a war with a group of chickens, with porky in the crossfire.

daffy’s head is a perfect circle with no feathers, and he’s considerably taller than other appearances. he’s a bit more rotund too, making him seem more malleable and easier to manipulate with gags. notice how his eyes seem like they could continue to wrap around his head. we start to see what will stay in his design for years to come and what will go, such as lacking the trademark white ring around his neck. what he DOES have, however, and for the first time, is his trademark lisp.

his next appearance in a clampett cartoon is “porky and daffy” (1938). this is truly where his daffiness is allowed to shine. porky enters daffy in a boxing match against a burly, undefeated chicken. the match includes (but is not limited to) daffy acting like a lion tamer, riding an invisible bicycle, and hiding in the beak of a pelican. the short is really just daffy being daffy, but we get to see how he interacts with porky.

his eyes are much taller and skinnier than they were in “what price porky”, and his head and body have been slimmed down. the ring around his neck is jagged, something that would make a few appearances in his design for the next 2 years.

in around 1939-1940 daffy was drawn with a light colored “mask” around his eyes and the ring around his neck a zig zag. there’s a definite difference between these two pictures (left: wise quacks, 1939, right: porky’s last stand, 1940). on the left daffy’s eyes are rather skinny and tall like the rest of him, the mask around his face taking up half of his face, whereas on the right daffy’s eyes are shorter and wider (again, like the rest of him) with the mask taking up less room. interestingly to note, porky’s last stand would be the last short to feature daffy looking like that, aside from a few advertisements in the early 40s.

both continue to prominently feature daffy as unhinged, off the handle, giddy, and, well, daffy. he was truly the epitome of ignorance was bliss. he was oblivious and didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t care. he had such an energy to him that’s so addicting to watch. of course, nothing but screaming HOO HOO! CAN get old over time, but the way clampett just makes him so enthusiastic and such a firm believer in whatever he’s currently preoccupied with is contagious. it’s hard to be in a bad mood when daffy’s jumping around all corners of the screen screaming in your ears.

clampett’s “the henpecked duck” (1941) is really the first short that would dictate how daffy would look in the rest of clampett’s cartoons. his eye mask is gone and the ring around his neck isn’t jagged, and he’s considerably taller and skinnier. his head is still rather short and round, but he’s really starting to take shape.

daffy’s personality also changes in this short. previously he was just a prop, truly a daffy duck. but now “the henpecked duck” opens with daffy and his wife (yes, he has a wife in this short) in the courthouse in front of a judge porky, with his wife angrily demanding to get a divorce. daffy is depressed and devoid of energy, not for a quick, breathless joke, but for suspense. in his previous shorts he’d shown bouts of anxiety or anger, but typically they blew through for a punchline. now something serious is going on, he’s actually depressed, he’s something other than wacky.

the majority of the short is a flashback. daffy is supposed to be laying on an egg as his angry wife is out for the day. because he IS daffy, boredom strikes and he eventually does magic tricks with said egg, making it disappear, reappear, disappear, reappear, disappear..... disappear. the egg is gone and he freaks out, and suddenly we’re back in the courtroom. all eyes are on daffy as he does one last cautious “alakazam....” and the egg is back in his hand and his marriage is saved.

it’s a strange and goofy premise, sure, but it’s surprisingly riveting, primarily because this is when we really get to see daffy express some real emotion. he’s a very versatile character. clampett prioritizes his daffiness, but that’s not to say he’s purely daffy. he can be angry, anxious, upset... he expresses such a wide range of emotions which is what i love about clampett’s characterization. he’s so versatile and UNPREDICTABLE. you don’t know what you’re going to get. it’s an element of surprise. it’s formulaic, but at the same time it isn’t at all.

two years later in 1943 we have “the wise quacking duck” with daffy taking on a role he hadn’t assumed for quite awhile: prey. in it, we have “mr. meek”, a dopey, meek, balding man who tries to appease his “sweetiepuss”’s hunger by serving her duck for dinner. daffy, of course, is said duck.

the short is just daffy teasing mr meek (quite literally, there’s an infamous scene where he does an actual strip tease) by throwing eggs at him, pretending his head was cut off, hitting him in the face with pies and coffee creamer, etc. it’s another “daffy daffy” short, but it’s so energetic and fun. there’s a method to daffy’s madness, and at the same time there isn’t one at all. you know he’s going to do some crazy stuff, but you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do.

daffy’s appearance is pretty solid from here on out. skinny, oval shaped head, long, slender bill, pear shaped body. i really like this design to him, he still looks like a duck. chuck jones draws a great daffy, but i just like clampett’s daffy more. it might be the bill. clampett’s cartoons make a point of daffy’s lisp, making him spew spit everywhere and his tongue has a life of its own. it’s great. they really took his physical qualities and had as much fun with it as they could.

in 1945 we have “draftee daffy”, about daffy getting drafted into the war and frantically trying to evade it. this is a personal favorite of mine, the energy is boundless. in a matter of seconds daffy is happily marching around, singing about how he was drafted, and all of the sudden he screams and breaks down into sobs. what an unpredictable mess! that’s why i love clampett’s daffy. he’s messy. a matter of seconds and facial expressions later he can act like a totally different person (or duck). again, he’s a firm believer in whatever scheme he’s riding the high on currently, whether that’s one-upping bugs, seducing his way out of becoming a roast duck dinner, or trying to dodge the draft. not much to note on his design here.

you knew this was coming! 1946 gives us “book revue” in a slew of continuous great shorts just before clampett left WB. i love how ridiculous daffy is in this. he’s not even in half of the cartoon, maybe topping out at about 3 minutes max, but he’s what makes it so memorable.

the short is another “books come to life” cartoon, a theme that had been popular in the late 30s and early 40s (another clampett cartoon starring daffy and porky was 1941’s “a coy decoy”, pertaining to this theme). as various book title pun related characters are playing a rousing rendition of frank sinatra’s “it had to be you”, daffy pops out of nowhere and throws on a zoot suit, wig, bad russian accent and danny kaye impression, and suddenly has disconcerting teeth. he screams at everyone to shut up, demonstrates his poor vocabulary by talking about sitting on balalaikas (a guitar like instrument), and sings “carolina in the morning” while rolling every “r” possible.

basically he encounters little red riding hood, warns her about the big bad wolf (by scatting), and the cartoon ends with the wolf chasing daffy around until the cops book him and the wolf, wooed by frank sinatra, passes out and literally goes to hell and tells everyone to stop celebrating his departure.

daffy’s just so good in this. he’s so in character and out of character. yes, i could see bugs putting on the same costume and same shtick, but it would be a bit predictable. funny? absolutely, but bugs is known for his costumes. what costumes has daffy ever worn? his wardrobe isn’t nearly as expansive as bugs’. it’s a nice surprise. just how out of character he is proves how in character he is.

“baby bottleneck” (1946) is next, one of my all time favorite cartoons. porky and daffy make such a great pair, they’re so different. daffy’s just completely off the handle in this one. i’ve rambled about this one a lot and repeated myself many times, so i won’t go too in depth here, but daffy’s unpredictability really carries the cartoon. he says he’ll sit on the egg. he doesn’t. he fights porky in a battle of strength and (lack of) wits. you just don’t know where the cartoon is going to head next, it’s packed with gags and so much action, i definitely recommend it. the jokes are nonstop.

and finally, saving the best for last... 1946’s “the great piggy bank robbery”, possibly my favorite clampett cartoon (just above baby bottleneck by a frog’s hair) and really one of my all time favorite cartoons in general.

the short starts off with daffy pacing around his mailbox impatiently (to the tune of raymond scott’s “powerhouse”—maybe that’s why i like this short and baby bottleneck so much, anything that uses powerhouse is automatically great to me) until exploding “WHY DON’T HE GET HERE!”

his attitude changes from pissed off to eager as the mailman arrives, slowly puts whatever daffy’s expecting in the mailbox, and walks away. we never see the mailman’s face or what it is that daffy is expecting, furthering the suspense. daffy tears through his mail and grabs what he was looking for and dashes over hill and dale before hugging his package, a comic book, and throwing himself upon it.

it’s a dick tracy comic, to which daffy declares “i LOOOOVE that man!”. what’s funny is that after this short i was watching frank tashlin’s “porky pig’s feat” (1943) and the antagonist gets his face pushed in by daffy, to which daffy looks at the camera and says “look, a dick tracy villain! pruneface!”. foreshadowing? 🤔🤔🤔

daffy reads to us the comic in excruciating detail (or lack thereof. he’s just manically sputtering out words. the change in emotion is what makes it so funny, from celebration to apprehension to despair, all in a matter of seconds). he celebrates the victory of dick tracy, saying how he’d love to punch those goony criminals, before punching HIMSELF in the face.

this is how we meet duck twacy, on the hunt for a case of stolen piggy banks (“it’s a piggy bank crime wave!”). daffy finds the case juvenile and a waste of his time... before he finds that his OWN piggy bank was stolen. he goes on a hunt for the culprit, kicking sherlock holmes off the streets, riding a trolley driven by porky for about 5 inches before arriving to the gangster’s hideout. he encounters a barrage of weirdly awesome villains, complete with a manic, breathless, and spitty narration of who is who. even though he thinks he’s about to be killed, you can tell that he’s totally eating up the fact that he’s in dick tracy’s shoes, that he recognizes all of these villains. after shooting all of the villains, he finds his own piggy bank and caresses it and kisses it. we’re now back in the real world where he’s kissing a barnyard pig who kisses him back and bashfully declares “i just love that duck!”, with daffy HOO HOO!ing off screen.

i should add, aside from the pig saying “i just love that duck!” and one of the villains grunting “guess who?”, no one in this short talks except daffy. and that’s why i love it so much. he carries the WHOLE thing. it’s all him and him alone. no one for him to upstage, no plans for him to ruin, we get to see his own motivations and his own personality.

i could ramble on forever about bob clampett and daffy, but i’ll try to summarize it the best i can here.

i love bob clampett’s daffy because he’s predictably unpredictable. his zaniness is prioritized above all else, but he’s able to feel emotions other than daffiness. he CAN be cynical, he CAN be depressed, he CAN be anxious, he CAN be happy... his emotions feel very believable, as zany as he is. you can go into each bob clampett daffy short knowing that he’s probably going to do something wild, but that’s it. you don’t know what he’s going to do. clampett keeps you on your toes with how he portrays daffy. daffy is TRULY unhinged in the best way possible.

thank you for reading! i’m sure i repeated myself and even contradicted myself dozens of times, but i love daffy and i love bob clampett. the best way to see for yourself how great he is is to watch some of these shorts. (i recommend the great piggy bank robbery, baby bottleneck, book revue, draftee daffy and the wise quacking duck, and the daffy doc and the henpecked duck are some really entertaining black and white shorts)

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 4

He wished he had been smart enough to get her number or email before leaving, he thought as he sat grinning and staring at his computer screen which showed the fruits of his exhaustive search. Her law firm webpage. All was not lost.

He’d spent the past five weeks holding onto an email that would ask her to contact him but confirm their dinner for Saturday night, and made sure it was professional, just in case it was seen by someone else in her firm.

All that plus he missed her. He was thousands of miles away and he missed her, the kids, her smile, those eyes.

She nearly sprayed her laptop with tea seeing his name in the inbox. She opened it and read it.

Hi Sildie,

Apologies for not contacting you sooner. Things have been a little hectic. I was wondering if you had time for a dinner meeting this week when I’m in town?

Sincerely

Gustaf

“Holy fucking shit!” She breathed quietly and grinned.

Hi Gustaf,

So good to hear from you. I have an opening Saturday at 7pm if you can make it? If not we can schedule something in for the following week.

Sildie O’Rourke

“Sly bastard.” She smiled and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’ll give you props for determination.” She mumbled.

Her week would get worse before her dinner with Gustaf. Between work and court, the twins decided to cause a ruckus at school earning them detention and their soon to be camping trip Saturday was on the slate to be canceled.

To add to it Brendan now hated her for not considering hockey camp for the school break which was in three weeks time.

She only had so much money, she couldn’t just click her fingers and make it appear like magic. And it was Brendans birthday this Saturday.

Gustaf got back Friday and now that dinner she had been looking forward to was in jeopardy because Brendan now said he didn’t want to have a sleepover and Trents.

Even Lily was cranky at her because the poor little lady was teething and she was miserable.

By the time Friday had rocked around she had lost her deposition case. Not her fault but still it was her case, hers to win. She felt as if the past three months working on it had all been for nothing.

The five of them got through the door of the apartment Friday evening and the kids were just miserable. They were at each other’s throats, bickering, squabbling, at each other, at Sildie. The last straw was when Brendan screamed at her, blaming her for the car that killed his parents.

She understood it was the first birthday without his parents. Understood that things were rough. Understood it all as she was right there with them. She knew it would be rough but blaming her for the car that killed them was the end of the line.

The kids knew just by the stone cold silence and the death glare that they’d pushed her too far. They were all grieving but there was a limit to the amount of crap she’d take from them, from anyone. Blaming her for what happened wasn’t going to fly on any day of the week.

She fed them, bathed them, and sent them to bed with a stern warning not to step a toe outside their bedroom doors or there would be hell to pay and nothing but cleaning for the entire weekend. The only one who got a pass was Lily.

They were in bed by seven and out cold by eight. She checked every single one of them. Keeping the rage and her temper reigned in she kicked off her shoes finally and hunted down the only bottle of liquor she had in the apartment.

She was in a rage. At herself. At her brother. At the kids. At everyone and everything. She grabbed the bottle of scotch and a glass and sat outside the apartment with the baby monitor and her keys.

She breathed out and ripped the top off the bottle. Pouring herself at least two fingers she downed it and chased it with a second.

She didn’t care who saw, or what they said. The entire world could go on happily spinning without her for a few hours while she got wasted. Fuck them all she thought.

Fuck this whole situation.

She downed six before she let the tears fall. Silent yet powerful. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even last a year without wanting to kill them or put them up for adoption. She wasn’t cut out for this and never had been.

“Sildie?” A familiar low male voice said softly.

“Shit.” She muttered to herself after the quick sideways glance. “Fucking shit.” After everything that had happened during the later part of the week and the clusterfuck of tonight with the kids, she’d completely forgotten Gustaf was back tonight. “Yeah it’s me.”

He could hear the rage under the false cheeriness as he tossed his bag in the door to his apartment and took those large purposeful strides to her door. He could sense her world was imploding or had imploded and the fallout was about to happen before his eyes.

“You ok?” He asked sitting against the door beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Stupid question considering he could not only see she wasn’t, he felt the anger, rage, and guilt radiate off her, wave after relenting wave. The sorrow that consumed her broke his heart.

“Yep, just peachy.” She spat sarcastically and downed her seventh resting her head on her knees so he couldn’t see the grief, sorrow, and shame written on her face. She was so ashamed she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle four kids.

“I see you’re on the strong tea.” He said as a joke to brighten her up. It didn’t go as planned.

She rounded on him and the sorrow he saw in those usually sparkling eyes had him wishing he could stuff that sentence back down his own throat. More serious than he first anticipated.

“Look.”

It is universally known amongst the male population that if a woman starts a sentence or argument with the words look, first of all, or listen, she is about to unleash on your ass.

Gustaf was not immune to this rule.

“First of all, I’ve had a shit tastic week. I lost my deposition case because our client didn’t submit the subpoena documentation as was requested, and I just went a few round with the kids. All four of them. More than once. Don’t sit there and fucking give me grief for wanting to drown myself in booze as opposed to drowning the four little darlings in there. Although jail for homicide is looking better than the train wreck that is my fucking life.” She spat and saw him flinch slightly at the venom in her voice. She took a breath and he watched her face fall.

She stared up at him and felt her gut lurch. She’d just ripped into him because he was handy and felt shitty about it. Could today get any worse, could it just be over she thought? Could it all just be over. She couldn’t take that back.

“I’m sorry.” She said sniffing and looked forward. “I’m so sorry.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and scrubbed her face, her hands weren’t steady. “You May want to just go home. You’re a handy fucking target right now Gustaf and you didn’t deserve that.” She couldn’t look at him.

“Will you tell me?” He asked gently. He would be the calm in her storm no matter how much she raged at him. The pressure she was under was immense and something had caused her to snap. Something had given way and her world was crumbling.

She filled her glass silently and offered it to him.

“I don’t drink.” He said softly and put up a hand to say no thank you.

“It’s all the tea I got right now.” She said bluntly. “I’m not ready to go inside yet. I needed a timeout before I did something I would regret and go to jail for.”

“I’m good but thanks for the offer.” He said and watched her a moment as she downed the liquor.

She was distraught about something. Something had turned her world on its head and crushed her.

Her head was resting on her knees which she’d hugged tightly. He risked another outburst of her rage by tucking the loose strands of hair that had escaped her hair clip over her ear. She was still dressed for court except for the shoes and jacket.

His touch alone calmed her temper to a simmer. He could see it. He would wait her out, wait for the words to come, they would eventually.

“Sildie?” He murmured and continued to run his fingertips through her hair. She stayed where she was and he could tell she was crying. The silent tears of grief, of a woman that had reached her limit.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She mumbled, her voice was that of a wounded, defeated woman. Quiet, eerily quiet and distant. It destroyed him to hear that in her voice. She tipped her head to the side and he saw the tears.

“Sildie what’s wrong love?” He asked gently and his heart ached for her.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She repeated and sniffed.

“Do what anymore?” He ran his finger down her jaw wiping the tears away that had pooled there but not yet fallen.

“I can’t keep being their parent. I was so stupid to think I could pull it off.” She said quietly as the sobs started fresh. “What the fuck were they thinking? What was in their heads giving them to me? To me.” She hoarsely cried out which was barely above a whisper. “The woman that has zero experience with children of any age.”

He was slightly confused. There was more here he thought, so much more that he didn’t understand.

“I think you do a great job considering, it’s not easy.” He rested his arm on her back and played with her hair. He wanted to feel it fall between his fingers and soothe the jagged edges of the emotions raging through her like a possessed rollercoaster.

“It’s fucking impossible. We’ve never had balance. We were thrown together when my brother and sister in law passed away and expected to just deal with it. Just bam! instant family, no warning, move back home, no friends to help, no ease into it to get a feel for it, I didn’t know anyone here, and my sister in laws family aren’t the supportive type. I know no one. I have no one. I’m alone.” She sniffed. “Now it’s just me.” She added quietly and took another mouthful of her scotch. “And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’m not parent material. I’m fucking drowning.”

He stayed silent as he watched her pour another drink and down it. She needed to purge it all from her system. She’d been holding onto it all for far too long. There was nothing he could do for her except be here for her which she’d feel bad about come tomorrow morning.

Not her kids he thought, her niece and nephews. Complicated was an understatement. They’d lost their parents, she’d lost her brother. Both parties had been thrown together and left to deal with it, expected to deal with it with no support. It would have knocked him on his ass if he wasn’t sitting down already.

“The kids blame me for it, for everything, and I lost a big case this week which...” she sighed and let the sob escape. “I just can’t.” She took another mouthful and let it burn all the way down. “I just can’t fucking do this, like this, anymore.”

His fingers trailed lazy patterns over her back gently.

“I never wanted kids.” She whispered staring into the distance and took another drink.

“Never wanted them, never planned them, quite ok not to have them, ever. But I got those four handed to me after their parents died. Lily was two month premature as they had to cut her ou....” she broke.

The sobs consumed her. He sat there with her and let her get it out.

As she spoke he pulled her to him and she eventually leaned against the door and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I can’t keep pretending I can do this. They hate me, they want nothing to do with me, and I don’t know what hurts more. That, or the fact I’ve failed them and failed my brother.” With the rage finally turned to guilt, she took another drink.

He kissed her head reaching his hand up to circle her shoulders and hold her head to him. Comfort and understanding is what she needed. Someone she could fall apart with and not be on her guard. He would be that for her, no judgement. “You have me.” He murmured. “You’ll always have me.”

She choked at his words. Would she really? After tonight she wasn’t so sure. This beautiful man had been more support and a friend to her in the few months she’d know him than all her family and friends over her lifetime. And she was literally falling to pieces on him.

“The whole family knew that I never wanted kids. My brother and his wife wanted them to come to me because I was the same age as they were. I didn’t get a choice, there wasn’t one to make when the only other option was foster care. Splitting them up. I couldn’t do it then and I can’t do it now really although after tonight I’m seriously considering it.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes draining her glass and pouring another.

“Brendan knew.” She said softly and his hand squeezed her shoulder gently as he held her to him as much as he dared.

“He knew I didn’t want kids, it wasn’t a huge family secret, but still, I didn’t need Dana’s mother rubbing my face in it. He threw that back in my face tonight as a reminder they mean nothing to me. In front of the twins.” She took a mouthful and held it burning in her mouth until she couldn’t stand it before swallowing. “So now they know too.” She whispered.

“Except they do.” Gustaf said quietly. “They mean everything to you. You provide for them, feed them, clothe them, educate them, and most importantly, you love them.” He murmured in that low tone in her ear. She blinked and looked up at him.

“You love them Sildie or you wouldn’t be so distraught over it.” He said honestly and kissed her forehead tenderly. He rubbed her back and she downed another scotch.

“He hates me, blames me. It’s his birthday tomorrow and the kid fucking hates me.” Her voice choked.

“No, I don’t believe that. You’re all grieving.” He kissed her temple softly and wanted to bundle her into his lap.

“The twins got into it at school and had detention and that’s a big mess too, so their camping trip is now not happening.” She sniffed. “So I’m going to be the bitch from hell for that too.”

“And I guess to top off my week I ruined our dinner.” She was winding down, full of alcohol, but the tears still fell.

“You haven’t ruined anything.” Her hair smelled nice as he held her and kissed the top of her head. “There will be plenty of dinners. The kids come first.”

Fuck it he thought. She was a mess and just needed someone to care and take care of her for a moment. He just hoped his split second decision didn’t make the situation worse.

“Come here love.” He murmured kissing her forehead and half pulled, half lifted her into his lap. He tucked her against him and secured her with his arms wrapped around her knees and shoulders. Her head rested against his chest as her slender fingers fisted in the lapel of his suit jacket as she burrowed into the comfort, the warmth of him at the security and safety she suddenly felt in his arms. He cradled her head to him and kissed the top of her head as the sobs tore from her in silence.

Those sobs were the ones that ripped his heart out. Deep soulful pain and it shattered him.

He sat in the hall, leaning against her door, long legs stretched out in front of him, with a grieving upset woman in his arms. He soothed the only way he knew how, with love, with kindness, with touch.

He felt her shift in his arms and she scrubbed the tears away with the heel of her hand and it reminded him of Lily the first day he’d met Sildie. Over it, beyond it. She was so drunk now she could barely keep her eyes open. His fingers played with the hair that had escaped the clip and he kissed her temple and lingered there.

She tried to pull herself together and failed. Her head was swimming, more pickled than swimming. She had to try or she was going to kiss him because she wanted to feel something. Anything than the absolute nothing she felt right now. One upside was she couldn’t think, finally her thoughts were silent.

“You ok?” He whispered and he cupped her face in his hand and waited for her gaze to meet his. He saw the glassy look in her eyes. Drunk and so lost, so emotionally lost. She shook her head and leaned up and kissed him.

He almost lost himself at the touch of her lips against his, almost. He pulled away gently and rested his forehead against hers grasping desperately for control, and kissed her cheek.

He wanted to, damn he wanted to but he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not now, not with her drunk and in such emotional pain. He respected her too much and wanted her completely, when she was stone cold sober to remember it.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed over and over as she buried her face back in his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.” He whispered and held her to him as the sobs turned to whimpers. He hoped to everything holy she didn’t remember it tomorrow. She would never forgive herself.

He knew that need. The need to feel something other than the pain, the grief. To feel anything good or bad just so you feel something.

The tears and sobs dried up eventually and she drifted. He smiled against her hair as he knew she was nearly asleep. She had cried herself out.

He didn’t want to wake her but wondered how he was going to get her into the apartment. Lily came to his rescue. She cried out through the monitor and it woke Sildie.

“Stay here. I’ll go see what’s up.” She mumbled something and he moved her gently to rest against the wall for the moment.

He grabbed the keys, opened the door and went to see Lily.

She heard him tend her through the monitor and the tears fell slowly. He was so good with her. She grabbed the bottle and glass and tried to pour another one. She did eventually and sloshed it over the floor. But she was so fucking drunk and couldn’t seem to care.

With Lily clean and finally back to sleep he went to see if he could get Sildie inside the apartment. He needed to get her on the couch and safe.

He found her propped up in the doorway. Tears were still falling but they were silent and she was only just awake. He helped her inside and she curled up on the couch.

“Tea tomorrow?” He said softly. “You need sleep more than tea.”

“Ok.” She mumbled half out already. “Will you stay?” She mumbled and fumbled for his hand.

“I can’t Sildie. Not tonight. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.” He said gently as she drifted to sleep. He kissed her temple and pulled the throw over her. “Though I want nothing more than to stay here with you love.”

He sat at her table drinking tea and watching the woman curled up on the couch, that had felt so good in his arms, so heavenly against his lips. Her kiss still burned him. When he was sure she was asleep and would be ok he had to leave.

He couldn’t be here when the kids woke up. That would only add more to the current situation. He was so fucking torn.

He finished his tea and sat next to her letting his fingers stroke her hair. He couldn’t leave her like this either. He was concerned considering the amount of alcohol she’d had and the kids were still asleep.

Fuck he thought neither decision was the right one.

A few hours later he woke up with a start when he heard the toilet flush. Realizing where he was he grabbed the second baby monitor just in case, gave Sildie a rough shake to at least give her a head start on surfacing, and snuck out of her apartment taking her keys so he could lock the door.

He closed the door to his own apartment and leaned his head on it.

“Fuck!” He growled.

He set her keys and baby monitor on the counter, gripped the edge and breathed out slowly.

He stripped off as he headed toward his gym room and the bag. He didn’t care where the suit landed he needed to get this out, whatever this was he was feeling. It was tearing him up. There was only one way to get this out of his system. Physical exertion.

He pulled the boxers shorts on, laced the gloves, and zoned in on the bag. He delivered every punch, every kick with honed muscle and skill. After about an hour he was dripping with sweat and a little less on edge.

He rested his hands either side of the bag to hold it steady and leaned his head there for a moment.

“Breathe.” He said quietly. “You need to breathe.” He repeated as his chest heaved.

He felt the anxiety bubble up as he thought about Sildie. The slight panic at seeing her like that outside her door. The feel of her cradled in his lap. The press of her lips against his. That was going to be a hard one to explain if she remembers it he thought.

But it was that soul crushing sorrow and guilt that poured out of her that took pieces out of him. How did he fix this? How did he make this better?

By being the person you are, that tiny inner voice chimed.

He unlaced the gloves and ditched the boxers shorts and showered. The blistering heat helped to scrub the plane flight from the night before and the session sitting outside her door. He felt better but he was beat to hell.

He set his alarm for nine and stretched out on the couch not quite ready to sleep the entire day away. It was Brendans birthday and he knew he’d have to show his face over there at some point.

He was out cold moments later.

[anciientboosh]

90!!!!

90. “I’m not buying Ikea furniture again.” (Another one! This was actually so much fun to write that I almost ended up running away with it completely, and I may have to expand on it in the future. It’s complete tooth rotting sweetness because that’s the kind of mood I’m in today, hope that’s okay! Thank you so much @edenismissingasnake)

If nothing else, ikea was invented so that people like Vince could pull off ridiculously romantic gestures and look like proper accomplished adults in the process. Right? 

This was the kind of thing that people in films do, he thinks. All selfless and with a deep meaning, showing off how well they knew their significant other. It almost always ended with tearful declarations and a pretty good snog. Worth it, in his opinion. 

Vince was trying to put a bookshelf in their bedroom. 

It may not sound like much, but since beginning to share a bed rather than existing on opposite ends of the room, they’ve had a bit of extra space. Space that had initially been designated as a place for a wardrobe extension. Howard had begrudgingly intended let him do just that, the perfect gentlemen that he was. 

Except when they’d started moving furniture around to put this plan into action Vince had noticed that while much more organised, Howard also owned a lot of stuff. Under his bed, crammed in boxes, were stacks of books and records. Old photos and small trinkets that Vince recognised from years gone by all packed away in storage. 

Howard was a quietly sentimental type, and Vince was in love enough to think that if his partner deemed it important enough to save then it deserved to be somewhere other than under a bed gathering dust.  

On paper the concept was perfect. Howard would be gone all day helping Lester move into a smaller flat (he takes up a lot less room now that he is just a head) and Naboo was unlikely to bother him thanks to the alien strength illicit substances he’d come home with two days ago. 

In practice, not so perfect. 

Vince has never put anything together in his entire life. He understands the theory of it - part A in slot B. Flatpack furniture existed to help the common man conquer the world of DIY, why not Vince?  

But not even the simply worded instructions - that come with pictures - could save him. 

There’s a lot of pieces for a bookshelf. It’s like a magic trick unpacking them all, they just keep coming. Spreading them about himself on the bedroom floor leaves him in the centre of a crude looking summoning circle and he can’t fathom how he’s supposed to make this into a piece of furniture. 

That’s how Howard finds him. 

Somehow he has successfully managed to convince two pieces to partner up and stay there. But it doesn’t feel right. They’re propped in front of him, which is a success on the freestanding front, yet looking strange. Vince is certain they’re laughing at him. 

It’s enough for him to feel justified batting it over with the back of his hand and taking great satisfaction in how it thumps to the floor. 

He produces a spectacular pout and demands of the shape, “Why aren’t you helping?”

“Probably because it’s wood.” Startled from his tantrum, he whips around to find Howard hovering in the doorway. His tiny eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Howard!” In his panic he sweeps what he can of the evidence behind him. All this serves to do, of course, is mix up the bits he’s spent ages sorting and simultaneously draws Howard’s attention directly to it. “You’re home.” 

“Vince,” Howard slowly begins to smirk. “I am. What you doing?” 

“Uh..” Despite the fact it’s going to be impossible to pull off in any convincing way, Vince lies. “It’s a thing- for Naboo. Well weird.” 

“Oh I see,” Howard is unconvinced, that much is clear. The amusement on his features doesn’t change as he crouches beside Vince and reaches for the forgotten instruction manual. “So you’re not trying to put furniture together, then?” 

“Nope.” Vince feels his traitorous cheeks heating. 

Howard is giddy like a schoolboy let in on a private joke, a wolfish grin splits his features. “And you definitely don’t want any help?” 

At this point, he thinks he’ll keep lying just to entertain his partner. It’s rare he gets to play the role of the cheeky one. He wants to savour the look of it; the way his whole body seems to radiate mischief from the flash of his eyes to the tension in his muscles from concealing his laughter. 

It’s so breathtaking he can’t bring himself to form words anymore. He can only shake his head dumbly. 

“Alright then,” Instructions in hand, Howard pushes himself to his feet. The confidence in his frame as he moves for the open doorway makes Vince dizzy. “I’ll take this then, shall I? If you’re not building anything. I quite like instruction manuals, I’ll read this with a cup of tea. Really helps to broaden the mind-” 

“Alright, you smug prat, you’ve made your point.” He could have let that little speech go on. Wanted to, quite a bit, if just to indulge in that egotistical part of Howard that never fails to make him feel tingly. But he would quite like to finish what he’s started. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” 

Howard, regrettably, drops the act. Reinserts himself on the floor by Vince’s side. “What was?” 

Rather than say it explicitly, Vince waves his arm about to indicate the mess of screws and wooden shapes. “You’ve got some important stuff just hangin’ about under your bed,” As he explains, Howard’s jaw slackens in surprise, he flips to the front of the manual to see the diagram of the finished product displayed proudly and appears to put two and two together. “Seems a shame, is all. Thought we should have somewhere proper to put it.” 

“Vince…” Howard puffs out a breath of disbelieving laughter. “That’s- That’s incredibly sweet.” 

Vince looks down at his own hands twisting nervously in his lap. “Yeah, well. Didn’t really work did it?” 

“On the contrary, sir.” Howard says, the air of superiority returns as he lays out comfort like it’s fact. “Technically, the surprise part was a success. I definitely did not expect to find you doing this when I got home.”

“What were you expecting then?” Howard’s only response is to waggle his eyebrows in a fashion he certainly was not capable of a few short months ago, all playful seduction. It forces a startled cackle from his throat. “You are such a pervert.” 

 “The point is,” Vince finds a comforting hand placed on his knee. “You did well, Howard Moon is not an easily surprised man.” 

“It’s true,” Vince agrees teasingly. “You’re way too paranoid.”  

“And the thought was… Perfect.” Howard’s gaze softens. The palm on his knee finds its way carefully over his shoulders. Vince sinks into the half embrace he is pulled into. “You’re perfect.” 

There’s a kiss dropped to his forehead and whether he managed to do it on his own or not, it was all worth it. “Shall we finish putting this together, then?” He asks gently, unwilling to disturb the moment. 

“Sure thing, little man.” 

“One this is for certain,” He sighs, watching Howard begin to gleefully sort through the pieces. “I’m not buying ikea furniture again.” 

[peachywise]

nullify

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader 

- part i: the introduction || part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ part vi ⋆  more parts to be released 

- synopsis: A child and a ghost whisperer walk into a diner. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but really it’s just the start of an odd, slightly painful night. Turns out they need you and your power to do something, and Klaus seems way to thrilled and fascinated by you and what you can do. (takes place after the events of the first season) 

- notes: lmao how long has it been since i wrote a fic?? too long thanks anyways the reader is they/them pronouns and everything is pretty vague description wise for inclusivity and shit!! also even though this is klaus x reader focused ~romance~ wise i’ll be writing a shit ton with the reader interacting with the other guys like this part is deadass just as focused on number five as it is klaus. let me know if you guys want this as a series??? i won’t write more parts if people aren’t down but i left it open-ended so it could be a series but honestly, it’d be fine as a one-off too so read what you will k love you bye. tw for swearing

link on ao3 

________________________________________

“Isn’t that a health code violation?” 

Looking up from your book you'd been reading for the past half hour, you heaved a heavy-handed sigh. Sitting on the back counter of the dead dinner you worked at was the least of this shitty establishments problems. “I’ll be sure to let the rats in the kitchen know of your concerns,” you replied simply. 

Dog-earring the page of your book, you set it down beside you. Hopping off, you stepped forward towards the counter as the kid who just entered sat down on one of the stools, planting himself with a look of clear repugnance as he eyed his surrounding subtly. Resting your elbows on the counter, you propped your head on your hands and gave a friendly grin, “I’m sure they’d be happy to whip up some Mickey Mouse pancakes, special just for you.” 

His face though perfectly deadpanned couldn’t hide the slight tick of annoyance in his eyes. “Just get me a black coffee,” he muttered. 

“Coffee will stunt your growth.” 

“You’ll be stunted if you keep up this horrible customer service.”

“Ouch,” sarcasm dripped from your tone as you raised your hands up in mock defeat, “the kitten’s got a bit of a bite there, doesn’t he?” 

Quite honestly, your day was now veering on to a particularly delightful route you hadn’t expected when you first woke up this morning. You suddenly believed some sort of divine karma was finally rewarding you with some quality entertainment. He could banter— a bit on the aggressive side, but you would take what you could get out of the interaction. You knew it wasn’t going to last long. 

“Look, are you going to give me the coffee or are you just going to stand around all day uselessly taking in the air that could be breathed in by more deserving people?” 

Oh, so he’s got knobby knees and wit to match. 

Letting a slow amused smile cross your face as you gave a lazy curtsy, you casually made your way over to the fresh pot and grabbed one of the porcelain white mugs, giving him a knowing look as you poured a good ‘ol black cup of joe. Setting the pot back down, you sauntered your way back over still holding the smile. The kid rolled his eyes, reaching out a hand as he impatiently said, “thank you,” in a refined and expertly practiced condescending manner. But you didn’t hand it to him. No, instead you casually leaned back against the back counter and took a long sip of the burning hot liquid. 

Well, the little tyke certainly did not like that. 

In what was an actually flash of blue light before your eyes, the kid vanished from his place on the rickety red vinyl stool and was beside you a moment later, ripping the mug from your hand with such force that caused the liquid to spill over the sides, scorching your hand and splashing it on your already grease stained, 50’s themed uniform. So, he was words and action. You could respect that. 

“What, no screaming? Not even another smartass comment?” He half-heartedly asked, his eyebrow quirked slightly as he studied you. It was like he was waiting for some sort of delayed reaction from his little magic trick. While yes, it was a little jarring to see it in the flesh for the first time, the moment he had walked through those glass doors you expected a bit of a ‘powerful’ confrontation.

You knew he was Number Five. You knew he was a part of that Umbrella Academy. 

“You know who I am,” he stated in his all brilliant glory. Well, look at that. Seemed he was a real Sherlock as well as a tiny space hopper.  

Easily taking the cup of coffee back, wincing slightly as the cold air pressed against the new burn you tried to seem unfazed about, you took a sip and mumbled against the rim of the cup, “I’m a bit surprised you’re here and actually alive, but it’s easy to remember a face that hasn’t aged a day." Setting the mug down on the counter, you pressed a hand to your hip and questioned, “how is that exactly? Did you run from home just to make yourself immortal? Found yourself an Edward Cullen to bite you or something?” 

Now, you’ve had people look at you like you were stupid before, but no one with a talent such as him. Even though he was looking up at you, he still mastered that beady squinty little look that read ‘you’re the joke of the earth’. Precious. 

“I don’t know who Edward Cullen is, but I’m not immortal, and I don’t have time to explain the whole story to you in detail. Let’s just say I got stuck in time.” Doing his little magic flash again, he appeared back on the other side of the counter, continuing to speak as he added, “Is anyone else here? I assume you’d rather show me what you can do without anyone else around.” 

Ah, yes. What you could do. So that was why he was here. Part of you wondered if someday it would happen. That’s why you knew who he was when he first walked in after all. You kept tabs on all of them, at least a bit. Yeah, the whole “Umbrella Academy” was famous for a little while when you were a kid, but most people had since forgotten them and the kids in the academy had grown up and had become almost unrecognizable. Well, apart from Five. And maybe Allison, but hell, she was famous for a while different reason now. 

Like the others, you were born October 1st 1989 to a completely unexpecting mother who got the shock of her god damn life. If you were 9 months pregnant in under a minute flat, you’d probably be pretty shocked too. However, you were just stunned that something as odd as that could actually happen and result in you getting powers.

Unlike the others, when your parents were approached by professor evil monopoly Reginald Hargreeves, your mom rejected anything he offered in favor of her miracle baby. She was certain she was the new Virgin Mary despite absolutely not being a virgin and refused to give up that title up. At least at that moment, she didn’t want to anyway.  

“You managed to figure out where I worked, and I assume at this point you know my name,” you started, “so why don’t you just tell me what I can do and let me know why you're here so I can turn you down and get back to my book.” Gesturing your hands around the extremely empty diner, you breathed, “I’m a very busy person as you can see.” 

Five didn’t say anything, instead just giving you an almost thoughtful look. You didn’t trust it one fucking bit. 

Quicker than you would have expected out him, he reached over and picked up one of the plates on the counter and threw it your way with such force you wondered for a second if the reason he'd been missing for so long was because he’d taken up a passionate love affair with baseball. On instinct, damn the treacherous thing, your body chilled as a static feeling pushed out of you, surrounding you in a soft, nearly invisible blue bubble-- your force field. The plate bounced right off and landed on the floor, shattering lamely and loudly. 

It was legal to kill a kid who had been missing for years, right?

“Can’t you play a game of catch with the poor kid?” Came a new drama-dripped voice in the door, the little bell ringing softly as he spoke. “His father was a sociopath who didn't pay him any mind, he’s very stunted as you can see. So desperate for the affection and attention of strangers.” 

Klaus. He’d been harder to track over the years, but from the feather collared jacket and lack of shirt, you could spot the eccentricity of him miles away. 

Taking on a protective stance, you moved from behind the counter and positioned yourself in front of Five, stage whispering to him, “careful, looks like one of the kitchen rats got out. They’re very diseased.”

Klaus tilted his head to the side, his mouth snapping open and his eyebrows rising up in stunned amusement. Pointing at you, he turned his attention towards Five and stated, “I’m wounded! This seems to be going on spectacularly, don’t you think?”

Shaking your head with a slight grin, you started to speak to ream five out for throwing a freakin’ plate, but your words died off on the tip of your tongue when your gross ass boss pushed open the doors to the kitchen, his loud, gritty greased voice shouted, “what did you break out here?” His spine went rigid a bit when he seemed to finally note the presence of two other people, but his eyes quickly glanced at the shattered plate and his face continued to get splotchy and red. “Is that your kid who broke it? Jesus, that’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Wow, that 50 cent shitty plate? How would you ever survive? 

Hands slipped around your neck in a hug as Klaus propped his chin on top of your head, his attention fully on your boss. “I’m so sorry sir, you know how it is with kids, gotta get all those angst and deep-seated feeling out somehow. Yesterday we found out he’s been pretending the family cat was his girlfriend. Had to take him to the hospital to get those scratches on his little friend checked out, if you know what I mean,” he smiled, moving away from you to pat the clearly seething Five on the head. 

Before the kid could say anything or do something that would get you in more shit, you plastered your own happy little smile on and bent down beside him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as you continue to address your boss. “He was just upset because he found out I told his teacher about his little bed wetting problem.” Five ripped your arm away with incredible force and stepped away from you both. Sighing dramatically, you rested the side of your face on your palm and slightly shook your head, adding, “It’s so hard, I just don’t know where we went wrong!” 

Klaus snickered behind you, while your boss looked properly petrified and regretful about having walked in on the whole ordeal at all. 

“Just uh-- forget about it. Clean it up okay?” 

Giving him a wink and you stood back up, you flicked your wrist in a lazy salute. “You got it, Boss Man.” He couldn’t turn back around and get back to the back room fast enough. 

Turning the face the two once again, Klaus grinned as he said, “brilliant work,” raising his hand for a knowing high five. You happily obliged. 

“Was that really necessary?” Five ground out from between his teeth, as you shot him back an incredulous look. “Was it necessary to throw a plate at me?” you retorted, fully not expecting him to reply with, “Yes. It was the only way I could make sure you had a force field.” 

Smartass.

Running your hand through your hair tiredly to get it out of your face, you crossed your arms again and didn’t bother to argue anymore. “Just tell me what this is about.” At this point, you were tired and really just wanted to get back to your quiet night. Klaus was also giving you a once over every thirty seconds and you weren’t quite sure what he looked so bloody excited and anxious about. 

“I have a theory, and I’d like to test it out,” Five said. Klaus quickly interjected with, “and I’m one of the test subjects,” wiggling his eyebrows as he did. 

Narrowing your gaze, you questioned “one of?” 

“Well, it requires you, but before I explain, to what extent can you use your powers? Have you done anything more than just deflect things off your field?”

You shook your head, confusion still clouding your words. “That’s all. Some guy tries to knife me? He bounces off. Sometimes I get lucky and he stabs himself in the process. It’s a simple thing. 

“How many times has someone tried to knife you?” Klaus asked with a small snort, but Five cut him off with a great little bomb of information. “I’ve done some calculations on how your power works, and I think that if someone like us was in the field with you it might nullify our powers.”Huh.

“And... math makes you think that?” 

Five rolled his eyes. You got the idea he did that a fair bit. “I want to test out to see if that’s true, so if you will,  please conjure up your field around you and Klaus and we’ll see if it works on him.” 

Flashing your eyes to Klaus who almost seemed to jitter with excitement, your eyes got slightly wide when you asked, “wait, there’s a ghost here? Like right now?” You swiveled your head around like you would actually be able to see it.  

Klaus nodded his head. “Ben, meet Y/N, Y/N meet our brother Ben.” Pressing a hand to his heart, he added, “forever in our hearts and forever by my side. I am his saving grace.” Turning his head abruptly, he quickly said, “shut up,” to the air-- or Ben, rather-- slicing his hand in a silencing sound. 

Raising a hand hesitantly, you gave a flick of your wrist in that direction, squeaking out a small, “Hi Ben.” 

“If you two idiots are done,” Five muttered, but you stopped him as you said, “three idiots. It’s rude to dismiss Ben’s presence. You're his brother, be respectful.” Five ignored you. “The sooner we test this, the sooner we can leave.”  

Oh, now he was speaking your language. 

Shaking out your shoulders, you widened your stance and clapped your hands, saying, “alright, let's go.” Klaus gave some excited little claps as he stepped to your side, telling Five, “field trips are always so much fun!” 

Taking in a deep breath, you let the energy seep out of you until that familiar snap surrounded you, this time entrapping not on you, but Klaus as well. 

The smiling man quickly went silent. 

“So,” you started hesitantly, turning to study his face. “Did it work?” 

Multiple emotions seemed to cross his features, and it revealed to you certain hopelessness and vulnerability that was so unfamiliar to you and what you had known about him. It dawned on you at that moment that you had no idea what this meant. To him. To Five. Christ, nerves started to wrack through your body when you realized they could be having you do this just to try and kill you because they see it as some sort of ridiculous threat. Still, that seemed unlikely. No, they needed it somehow. 

And as Klaus turned towards you, looking at you as if you were some wonderous figure and not just some crappy diner waiter working two jobs just to get by, you realized that whatever they had been searching for, they had found. Whatever Klaus had been searching for, he had found. 

“They’re gone.” 

His voice was just a fraction above a whisper, but it sent a chill across your skin as his intense gaze once again studied you with incredible fascination. But as he took a step forward, his hand oh-so-gently reaching for your hand, your focus went away and the force field fell, all the sounds and senses of the real world hitting you all at once. 

Five was staring at you both with an odd look you didn’t quite know what to think of. 

“Alright."

Clearing your throat, you took a small step back as the fog cleared out of your head, stating back a dull, “huh?” 

“We’ll be at your apartment in the morning. Get ready to meet the others.” 

Wait, what the fuck?

“My apartment? You guys haven’t even explained what you guys want from me!” You blurted, moving your head rapidly as you looked back and forth between the two. 

“I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” was all Five said, as both him and Klaus began moving towards to door, clearly content with what they came here to do. Well, that was nice for them. They could sleep soundly as you sat up in bed all night looking up fucking umbrella academy conspiracy theories to try and convince yourself what happened here was actually real. 

“There’s no way in hell you’re getting those Mickey Mouse pancakes now!” You shot back as he exited the door, huffing as you turned around to go clean up the plate.

Then something smacked hard on the back of your head, landing on the ground with a little rattle. 

“Oopsie.”

Spinning around, gripping the back of your head, you were about to yell obscenities at Klaus who’d just thrown a spoon of all things, but he was already halfway out the door calling behind him, “I thought your little bubble would just appear like a party trick, bye!” 

Idiots. Idiots had just taken over your life. 

[onlytaylor]

Drarry, Eighth Year, and that time Draco Malfoy was a closet Swiftie

There it was, lying innocently on one of the tables in the eighth year common room like some kind of sick joke. Harry approached it, alone and painfully curious as he bit his lip with apprehension.

He’d promised to stay out of Malfoy’s business at the conclusion of the war. They weren’t rivals anymore, and silly games of conflict were left behind in sixth year. Defeating a Dark Lord had that effect on people, and consequently friendships had formed uncannily between members of all houses as they returned to complete their education.

In fact, Draco Malfoy has become sort of a friend of Harry’s if he dared to word it that way. The git was witty and cool, and something about the glint that remained in his eyes when he smiled had Harry coming back for more. It was as if he was a whole new person.

Which is why he detested the innate longing that came with prying into the business of a Malfoy; it was like an old habit that died hard. Or maybe it was that silly whisper in the back of Harry’s mind that wanted nothing more than to know Malfoy better.

Either way, the temptation was far too strong to resist, and he knew that the rest of the eighth years would be back any minute from the younger students’ quidditch match. So with a sinking feeling in his gut, he reached forward.

***

Hermione, in an effort to share her love of Muggle Studies, had extrapolated an intricate doing of her own magic that allowed a certain kind of electronic to work within the castle walls: a Muggle iPod. The trend spread rapidly throughout the eighth years, who now found it commonplace to study with ear buds in and their favorite tracks blaring. She’d even been working recently on a modification of the spell that could project the music from any given device like a speaker. She was still working out some of the kinks, but it was coming along just fine, and she knew before long they’d be using it effortlessly.

***

This is why Harry was itching to know just what Draco Malfoy was humming, poised elegantly as he always was in a chair while he read. He’d watch as his eyes would scan a book, or a roll of parchment, and his lips would mouth the words of some mystery song softly. And his attention would loll on his mouth, trying to piece together phrases at first, but then... he’d begun to daydream about them. They were the gentlest shade of pink, like rose or carnation or some other sappy color, and they were far from chapped (unlike Harry, who was constantly battling dehydration). He wondered what they would feel like, how they could possibly taste, and before long he began to blame the unknown music for all of his embarrassing yet intriguing thoughts. Sometimes they would come at meals, when Malfoy had his earphones secretly slung through his robes as he ate. And Harry would blush, staring unintentionally until they’d meet eyes and he’d glance away quickly and self consciously. That damned iPod, what could he possibly be listening to? And why was he suddenly so bloody attractive while he did it?

***

There it was, shining like a beacon in his hand. An iPod, a normal, ebony lined piece of hardware that he’d typically consider mundane. But this, this held the secret that Harry had been contemplating for weeks. Here, in his palm, he’d finally have answers.

He paused for a brief moment, still fighting his instinct to scroll through every playlist and album the device had to offer. Would Malfoy be mad? But what he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him... right?

He clicked the center button, and the screen popped on. Harry’s curiosity piqued. His breath quickened. Here it was, all of the answers to his impending attraction...

The door slammed open. A crowd of eighth years walked in, jabbering as always. Hermione was in the forefront with her newest friend Pansy in tow and a very amused Blaise Zabini. Behind them, Draco Malfoy entered with an almost grateful expression.

“Need some tips on music, Potter? I’m just glad I haven’t lost the damned thing.” He extended his hand, and Harry cocked his head confusedly as he readied himself to hand it back.

“You’re not pissed that I was about to go through your things?”

Malfoy shrugged. “We all know you have a history of stalking me. Go ahead, press play.”

Harry wasn’t sure why his heart was racing. His gaze traveled down to the circular button, propped against his now sweaty palm. He expected the song to be muted, for a title to flash across the screen with the absence of ear buds.

What happened next was far from what he ever could’ve guessed.

Firstly, his thumb glided in downward motion as he pressed it. Secondly, the rest of the students filed in from Quidditch, faces painted in red and gold, green and silver. Third, it appeared that Hermione’s magic was more solid than she’d anticipated.

Because all at once, everyone’s attention diverted to the two boys on either side of the iPod that was now absolutely blaring the first few lines to Shake It Off by Taylor Swift.

Harry, confused and startled, hit next without thinking.

“I promise that you’ll never find another like Me!”

He hit next again.

“Drew looks at me...”

Again.

“I remember when we broke up the first time-“

And one last time.

“We were both young when I first saw you...”

“Draco!” He called as Hermione lowered the volume with a flick of her wand. “This is nothing but Taylor Swift!”

Draco glanced around, suddenly feeling the presence of everyone’s gaze boaring into him.

“Yeah? So?” He seemed hesitant at first, but after a moment of thought, his shoulders straightened. “Got a problem with it?”

“Uhm, no, it’s just... it’s just...” Harry suddenly couldn’t spit out the words that were scrambled and fried within his mind. Those lips. Those eyes. The way he moved gracefully and effortlessly in a fashion that opposed his own blunt clumsiness. All at once, he knew. It wasn’t the music. It was Draco. It was everything about him.

“It’s just that he’s in love with you, mate.”

Ron piped from the sidelines, and Harry turned to him, flabbergasted, mouth dropped, heart beating erratically in his chest.

Ron’s response was a shrug. “It’s quite obvious, really. You deserve to be happy, Harry, with all that we’ve been through in the past year.”

“I can second that,” Zabini stepped forward, arms crossed as he stood comfortably next to Ron. “It’s been a rough year, Draco. Wouldn’t you agree?”

For the first time, Harry shifted his focus to the boy in front of him. He appeared almost scared, a few shades paler than his normal vampiric tone. Suddenly, he felt sick to his own stomach. What if Draco didn’t want this? What if Zabini’s intervention was only pious?

“He-here’s your iPod.” Harry stuttered, handing him the object with an unexplainable electricity as they touched. Draco’s eyes widened, but Harry pivoted to head back to the dorm. Away from all of these faces. Away from the rejection he hadn’t known he’d feared.

“Potter, wait.” Draco demanded helplessly, and he turned back. Malfoy was frozen for the moment, but finally formed he words.

“It’s been a rough year for me, too.”

And then, like lightning striking through his being, Harry knew. He just... knew that everything he’d been feeling, thinking, wanting, was mutual. He ran forward, pulling Malfoy into an embrace that quickly led to a sample of those lips.

They were just as delicate and perfect as he’d imagined.

After the cat calls and the clapping (largely from the area of Hermione and Pansy) subdued, they separated and shared soft smiles that meant the world.

“So, uh.. Malfoy,” Harry coughed with a grin, taking his hand as if to lead him somewhere.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a love story, baby just say-“

“NO, you twat!” Draco playfully hit him in the back of the head before Harry led them from the common room. Truth be told, they had a lot more to talk about than just Quidditch and Taylor Swift.

[flightsoffandom]

A Strange Visit to A Doctor

Pairs: None, Left open-ended. Dr.Strange is featured alongside the Reader.

Words: 1937

Summary: Running around New York on a hot day was never a fun time but today was worse. After passing out you find yourself in a strange building with an even ‘stranger’ person

Notes: I couldn’t help myself with the joke in the title. Left completely gender-neutral. Does contain some cussing, if that’s not your thing. I did already use this prompt for a Star Trek One-Shot, but I am wanting to challenge myself by using the same prompt with different fandoms and try to make it as unique as possible.

I found this writing prompt @wordfather and went with it.

A: Who are you?

B: Your doctor.

A: Okay, Mr. Doctor, where’s your white coat and other… doctor things?!

B: You are aware that… it would be ‘Doctor’… and not ‘Mister Doctor’?

A:

B:

A: Well, sorry if I’m not articulate enough when I wake up in strange surroundings!

New York had been crazy today. Not that it wasn’t crazy all the time anyway, especially after that whole New York incident years ago. Today was the day you had set aside to get all your errands done. It would have been hard enough if everything was normal but there was something about today. Something in the air that made it more miserable than anything you could remember. You had been shoved so hard that you almost feel to the ground many times. You were late for every appointment you had that day. It was a shitty day. It was hot, to the point you felt like you were being roasted alive. As you traveled about the city you tried to take breaks as often as you could and keep drinking water. The closer to noon it got the harder it was to rest at all. You usually found yourself stuck in the middle of a horde of people. Crammed in tight like sardines with no way out, so you were forced to keep walking. It was torture but you didn’t have any other time when you could get these things done.

Being swept along by the current of people you already felt exhausted and it was now noon. You could feel your muscles ache. You didn’t have time for it but you had to stop. You pushed your way through the sea of people. Catching elbows and other pointy parts to your body as you walked through. Finally, when you emerged from the crowd you scrambled to found a bench. You pulled out some papers from your bag and started to fan yourself. You took a moment to look around. Several restaurants surrounded you. All the smells finding there way right to your nose. When your stomach growled you had to think back to the last time you had eaten. It was probably this morning but you didn’t have time to stop to rest, let alone stop to eat. So you tried to ignore your stomach’s angry demand for food. You picked yourself back up off the bench. Standing up made your muscles feel worse than before. As you trudged back into a crowd of people you started regretting your short break. You felt light-headed but figured it was just from the hunger and trekked on. Walking a few more blocks your skin started to feel cool and not long after a dizzy spell hit you. You stopped dead in your tracks and closed your eyes tight. You held your head and tried to reorient yourself. It didn’t help that people were pushing into you as they walked by, causing the dizziness to get worse. You opened your eyes and stumbled over to the side. You placed your hand against the wall and tried to figure out what was going on with you. Your vision started to blur. You had barely enough time to lower yourself to the ground. Then your vision completely went to black.

When you woke up your head was throbbing. You opened your eyes and moved your hand over them to block out the light. You felt cool still but when you moved your head a damp cloth fell off. You slowly sat up. Looking around you it appeared as if you were in a weird museum of some kind. There were glass cases everywhere with old objects displayed inside. You see movement out of the corner of your eye. When you turn to look you could have sworn you saw a cape, flying on its own. You shake your head and tell yourself that clearly, you were imagining things. You close your eyes for a second while you try to compose yourself. Hearing footsteps makes you open your eyes again. You look up and see a dark-haired man with grey streaks and odd-looking facial hair. When you try to speak your voice comes out hoarse. “Who are you?” The man looks down at you, “A doctor.” He moves his fingers to the pulse point on your neck and looks down at his watch. You tense up when he touches you. Your thoughts are muddled. You weren’t sure this wasn’t some weird hallucination to go along with the flying cape you saw earlier. So in your jumbled state, you speak without thinking about it. “Okay, Mr. Doctor, where’s your white coat and other… doctor things?” You immediately know what you said didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He lets out an annoyed sigh, “Why does everyone think that’s a normal thing to say?” He removes his hand from your neck. You still couldn’t trust your eyes but it looked like his hands were shaking. With plenty of attitude, he states, “You are aware that it would be ‘Doctor’…” He pauses long enough to give you a disapproving look before he continues. “And not ‘Mister Doctor’?” You scowl at him, not exactly loving the rude tone he had taken with you. As your starting to think clearly again you snip back at him. “Well, sorry if I’m not articulate enough when I wake up in strange surroundings!” He rolls his eyes, acting like you made a bad joke, “If you knew who I am then why did you ask?” You look up at him, extremely confused “I don’t know what you mean. I have no idea who you are.” It seems as though a bright sparkling light appeared behind the doctor. You rub your forehead as you add, “I’m honestly starting to think maybe I died on that sidewalk.” Somehow he got another damp cloth and holds it to your forehead. “Doctor Stephen Strange.” You make a face. The name sounded familiar and you had a feeling you may have heard it on the news. The man continues, “And your not dead thanks to me. Your welcome.” You huff, “Thank you… I guess You don’t have to be such an ass about it.” He shoots you a look, “Saving you from a heatstroke took a lot of time out of my day.” You scoff “I’m sorry me almost dying inconvenienced you.” You grit your teeth and start to stand up, “I’ll just leave then.” Right when you stand up, you start to feel dizzy again. Making you fall back down onto the ottoman you had been resting on. He stares down at you, “Unfortunately for both of us you’ll need to rest here for a few hours.” That weird sparkly light appears behind him again and he hands you a bottle of water. He starts walking away as he directs you, “Stay hydrated, don’t move, don’t touch anything and try not to faint again.”

This was ridiculous. There was no way you were planning on staying in the same building as this asshole. So you looked around and made sure to gather your things before standing up again. The dizziness came back almost right away but you were so annoyed at this point. You would rather be anywhere but here. You take it one step at a time and make your way to a set of stairs. Right as your about to take a step down your grabbed from behind. You let out a loud yelp before turning around. All you see is a cape, floating right in front of you. Startled you take a step back. When your foot finds no ground you start to fall backward. But, the cape grabs you gently pulling you back up. Once both your feet are on the ground the cape starts more forcefully leading you back to the seat. Bewildered you go along with it and end up sitting down on the ottoman again. You keep an eye on th cape. A corner of the fabric floats up, coming towards you. Unsure of what else to do you flinch away. You feel the fabric pat your head a few times before floating off. You stare down at the ground clearly going insane. Stephen strolls into the room, responding all too slowly to the yelp you emitted earlier, “I said don’t leave.” You look up at him, “What the actual fuck is going on here… did you drug me while I was unconscious?” He seems annoyed that you are even asking that question. “I would have no reason to do that. I would have taken you to the hospital if ‘it’ would have let me.” You freeze, “Wait… you said that like that cape has feelings…“ Stephen corrects you, “Cloak of Levitation.” He glares at the cloak as it floats back up, “And for some reason it likes you.” You cross your arms, getting defensive “Maybe because I’m an actual likable person unlike you.” You see the cape mimics your movements as well as your emotions. You watch it move as you do, like some kind of funhouse mirror. Stunned you but lost in thought you ask again, “What is going on here?” Stephen’s eyes stay disapprovingly locked onto his cape as he answers. “You are in the New York Sanctum for the Masters of the Mystic Arts.” You start laughing, “Ohh… You’re like a children’s magician or something.” You reach out to look for the wires that are moving the cape, “It’s a very good prop. You should be nicer though if you work with kids.” As you try to search for the hidden strings the cape slaps your hand away. You pull your hand back. As you do the cape moves, placing itself on Stephen’s back. The doctor’s clothes turn into a costume of some kind. Before you can say anything Stephen once again corrects you, “I am not a Magician. I am the Protector of this Sanctum.” You shake your head, “Ooh kay bud, I think I’m gonna go.” You start grabbing your things wide-eyed. Sure magic is cool. But you started thinking about how trouble follows superheroes around. You didn’t want to be stuck in this building when some sort of monster came looking for Dr.Strange. Stephen doesn’t stop you, encouraging you instead. “Please do. I have a reality to protect.” You just nod and pick up your bag before going to leave. Once again your only able to make it to the stairs before the cloak flies over and hands you something. You take the weird-looking double ring from it, “I don’t think I should take this.” You direct your response to the floating fabric in front of you. Even as you feel Stephen’s eyes bore into you, “That’s not for you” The cloak stays, blocking your way. When you try to give it back the garment refuses to take it. Instead, it starts making a circular motion at you with one of its corners. Stephen appears to have had enough and start making his way over to you. You’re not sure if you did it out of spite or curiosity, or even both. But you slipped the ring on and made a circular motion like the cloak was showing you. After a few rotations, Stephen is ready to take the ring from you. Suddenly golden sparkling light appears in front of your hand. You gasp and the sparkles quickly fade. Stephen shares a look with his cloak before the fabric smugly returns to his shoulders. You stare down at the ring in your hands. You take the ring off and hold it out for Dr.Strange to take back. Dr.Strange pushes your hand away. The words that come out of Stephen’s mouth surprised both him and yourself. They even sounded nicer than anything he has said to you so far, “You should stay. I can teach you.”