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santacarlahorrorshow · 4 years

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Love’s Strange (Billy Hargrove/Reader)

Title: Love’s Strange

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/f!Reader; background Steve/Nancy/Jonathan

Summary: Written for the ‘The Breakfast Club’ prompt for The 80s Challenge by @nellblazer . “You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room. “

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: Underage drinking

Author’s Note: Set after season two of Stranger Things. Title taken from Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds. Principal Himbry is very much so based on the principal from Scream. I couldn't resist. Masterlist / Read on AO3

You thought the whole concept of Saturday detention was bullshit. You didn't understand what the point was of coming into school to waste half of your weekend. You would have preferred staying after school every day for a week than giving up your Saturday.

It wasn't as if you had anything planned, though. You would sit in your room, listening to music, and ignoring that the rest of the world existed. You would probably catch up on homework or finish the assigned novel for your English class. You didn't lead the most exciting life, but you really didn't want to spend your free time stuck in detention.

You knew what people thought of you at Hawkins High. They thought you were quiet. They thought you were a nerd who only focused on your grades and had no fun whatsoever. You usually didn't care what anyone thought about you, though. You were there to get your diploma and then get the hell out of Hawkins.

So what if you didn’t spend your weekends at parties or had a full social life? You didn’t know why you would bother to waste your attention on the other kids at Hawkins High anyways. They had never given you any consideration and you weren’t really jumping at the opportunity to try to change their minds about you.

At the end of the day, they had already made up their minds about you. Did it bother you sometimes? Sure. Were you tempted to try to change their opinion of you? Not really.

You sighed as you pulled open the front door to the school. You had been forced to walk to school, since your parents were out of town and you didn't have your own car. You didn't mind the walk, but since it was almost Thanksgiving, the air had a chill to it that took your breath away.

Once you got inside, you started pulling off your gloves.

"I see you've finally showed up," you heard from in front of you.

You glanced up to see Principal Himbry standing there, an unimpressed look on his face.

"I had to walk," you offered helplessly.

"That's no excuse," he said. "All of you little delinquents are late." He sighed before he glanced down at his wristwatch, shaking his head when he noticed the time. "You'll be in the library. I suggest you get there now," he snapped before he brushed past you to step outside.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way to the library. You weren't sure who you would be sharing detention with, but you hoped it wasn't any of the idiots you had come to dislike during your time at Hawkins High.

When you got to the library, you noticed it was eerily silent. You considered the row of three tables taking up space in the middle of the room. Each table only had three seats, so there weren't a lot of seating choices. You were glad you were the first one in the room, since that meant you got to choose where you wanted to sit.

You made a beeline for the table at the back. You chose the middle seat, hoping it would dissuade anyone from sitting at your table.

You sat in the silent library for long enough that you started to wonder if you should try to find something to read to pass the time. Just as you had convinced yourself to get up, the door to the library opened and three people walked inside.

You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Steve Harrington striding into the room followed closely by Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers. Nancy shot you a quick look before she moved to take the middle seat of the first table, Jonathan and Steve flanking her.

You were more than a bit surprised to see Nancy and Jonathan. They were a grade below you, but even you knew they were generally regarded as good students. Seeing Steve wasn't as much of a shock. You had a few classes with Steve and while he seemed like a level-headed guy, he also had a habit of bickering with Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove and disrupting class.

You really hoped neither of them showed up for detention, because you were sure it would lead to more bickering and fighting between the boys. You only wanted to do your time and get home to enjoy what was left of your weekend. You really didn’t want to get pulled into any drama.

You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room.

Billy jerked his arm out of Himbry's grasp. "I told you I know where the library is," he insisted. "I didn't need your help."

"Your grades would suggest otherwise, Mr. Hargrove. Take a seat."

Billy rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to say anything as he moved forward. You noticed Steve's shoulders tense as Billy brushed past him, but you were quick to drop your gaze to the table in front of you when you noticed Billy's attention focus on you for a moment.

You were aware of Billy dropping into the middle seat at the table in front of yours and felt relieved that he didn't choose to sit at your table. If there was anyone who didn't mind pushing boundaries just to get a rise out of people, it was Billy Hargrove.

You didn't bother looking up again until Mr. Himbry spoke. "I know you five think you've been given a free pass to just sit around and do nothing all day, but that's not how Saturday detention in my school is run."

Billy snorted as he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Please, enlighten us," he remarked.

Mr. Himbry shot Billy an exasperated glare. "I want you to write me an essay," Mr. Himbry started as he moved over towards the librarian's desk. He grabbed a small stack of loose-leaf notebook paper and a handful of pencils before he started distributing them among the five of you. You frowned down at the blank paper in front of you before you glanced up to see Himbry standing back in front of the door, his hand on the doorknob as if he was about to leave the room.

You hastily raised your hand, hating that you were going to call attention to yourself.

"What?" Himbry asked when he noticed you.

"What are we supposed to write about?"

You heard Billy groan as a smirk appeared on Himbry's face.

"I'm glad you asked. I want you to write me an essay about your character. Explain to me why what you did was wrong and how you're going to improve so it doesn't happen again."

Billy raised his hand. "But, sir, what if we're not sorry? What if we like our choices?" His voice had a mocking tone to it and by the annoyed expression on Himbry's face, you were sure he caught it.

"Mr. Hargrove, I hope out of anyone in this room, you will take this day to reflect on your bad decisions. You’ve certainly made a lot of them since you decided to grace us with your presence."

Billy leaned back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. "That'll be the day," he commented.

"I am sick of your attitude, Mr. Hargrove," Himbry snapped. "You just earned yourself another Saturday detention."

Billy chuckled as he moved to pull a stick of gum from the outer pocket of his jacket. Mr. Himbry crossed over to him and held his hand out.

"And no chewing gum in the library. It's bad enough you kids stick it under the cafeteria tables. We don't need that in here either."

"Sure thing, Mr. Himbry," Billy replied as he handed over the stick of gum.

He waited until Mr. Himbry's back was turned before he pulled out another piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. When he realized he had your attention, he shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit even to yourself that you found Billy Hargrove dangerously charming, even when he was being a bit of a dick.

Mr. Himbry turned to survey the five of you. "I want those essays finished by the time you're allowed to leave here today," he said. "You will stay right here in this room. No going off into one of the private study rooms. If I think you've left your seat when I get back, I'll add another Saturday to your sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aren't you going to stay here?" Steve asked.

"I have better things to do with my time than watch you all day, Harrington. I'll be locking you all in so I can be sure you won't leave."

"But, sir, isn't that a fire hazard?" Billy’s tone suggested he didn’t really care, but he just wanted to piss off Mr. Himbry by bringing it up.

"Shut it, Hargrove. You’re lucky I gave you detention and not suspension for smoking on school grounds,” Mr. Himbry responded, a displeased look on his face.

Billy held up his hands in surrender before he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He rocked back in his seat, not caring that his head was dangerously close to the edge of your table.

Mr. Himbry sighed and shook his head. "At least you're graduating this year," he grumbled before he turned and left the library.

You had no intention of actually writing the essay. There was no way Himbry could grade you on it, so there was no point in actually wasting your time on it. Instead, you grabbed the pencil he had left for you on the desk and started doodling in the margins of the paper. You were mindlessly drawing stars and scribbling snatches of lyrics from some of your favorite songs when you were torn out of your thoughts by Billy's voice.

"I should have known you would live for that extra homework bullshit," he said. When you glanced up, it was to see Billy sitting back up in his chair, his feet planted on the floor once again as he considered you over the top rim of his sunglasses. "Did you get turned on by the thought of writing another boring-as-shit essay, Miss Honor Roll?"

You shot him a glare before you bent back over your paper. You made sure to print the letters large enough on the page to be able to read them at a distance. You held the paper up so Billy could read your message to him.

His lips stretched in a smirk as he read the words. "Fuck off, huh? Such language from such a pretty girl."

"Just leave her alone, Billy," Nancy cut in, shooting a glare at Billy over her shoulder.

Billy turned back around in his seat, facing the table in front of him. "I'm surprised to see you here, princess," Billy said as he leaned forward in his seat, his gaze set on Nancy and Steve in front of him.

Steve turned around, a scowl on his face. "Hey, don't call her that."

Billy smirked. "I was talking to you, Harrington."

"You're a real asshole. Do you know that?" Steve snapped, turning fully in his seat so he could consider Billy.

"So I've been told," Billy drawled, seemingly unaffected by Steve's words.

"Why the hell are you even here, Hargrove? I would have thought you were above showing up for a Saturday detention."

"Oh, but then I would have missed seeing your face, Harrington. I couldn't possibly go a day without it."

"Just do what Y/N said and fuck off, Billy," Steve spat.

Billy chuckled before he pressed his hands to the surface of the table, pushing himself up to stand. "With pleasure," he hissed.

You watched him move over towards the library doors. When he reached out to try to open them, they didn't budge.

"That dick actually locked us in," you couldn't help saying. You really didn't think Mr. Himbry would go so far as to lock you all in the library. What if something happened? What if you needed to leave?

Jonathan glanced at you over his shoulder, a surprised look on his face.

Steve snorted as he leaned back in his seat. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Because that's just what today needed."

Billy turned around, his focus immediately going to you. "There you go with that smart mouth again," he said as he leaned back against the locked library doors. "How did you even end up in detention in the first place? Aren't you the perfect little teacher's pet?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to grab the paper and pencil from the desk. You pushed yourself out of your chair and then made for one of the private study rooms dotting the perimeter of the room. You didn't care if Mr. Himbry had forbidden it or if you ended up being punished for it. You would do just about anything in that moment to get away from Billy Hargrove and his insufferable attitude.

"Oh, we've got ourselves a rebel!" Billy called after you.

You didn't bother to look back at him or the others as you pushed the door closed behind yourself. You let out a sigh of relief when you dropped into one of the chairs found at the table in the middle of the room. You were sure you would be even more bored all by yourself in the study room, but you didn't care. If it gave you just a few moments to yourself, then you would happily take it.

You spent a couple of hours by yourself, absently drawing your own constellations on the paper and trying to find ways to entertain yourself.

You were thankful that it was warm enough in the room that you could slip off your jacket. You weren’t sure if the others were talking or even bothering with each other, because you couldn’t hear a thing from the main room. Sitting all alone in the study room without music or anything else to occupy your time was mind-numbingly boring, but you couldn’t help but think it was better than potentially listening to Steve and Billy fight all day.

You were starting to get sleepy and seriously considering balling up your jacket to use as a pillow when the door to the study room abruptly opened. You were startled enough that you almost tipped out of your chair.

"Get out of there," you heard Mr. Himbry snap behind you.

You sighed before you made yourself get up. You grabbed your things before finally turning and looking at Mr. Himbry. He sighed and shook his head, disappointment clear in his expression as you brushed past him.

"I'll see you here next Saturday," he told you.

Billy was sitting in the seat you had originally claimed, his sunglasses still on his face. When he saw you, he smirked at you. "Looks like I won't be lonely next Saturday after all."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to sit in the middle seat of the second table.

Mr. Himbry sighed as he passed your table. "Now, if you didn't bring lunch, which I don't think any of you thought to do, then there are pre-packaged sandwiches and chips that can be found in the cafeteria." He moved to stand near the librarian's desk, his gaze fixed on the five of you as he considered you. "You," he said as he pointed at you. "And Harrington," he added after a few moments. "Go to the cafeteria and get lunch for everyone."

Steve glanced at you before he pushed himself to his feet. You were quick to follow, glad that you would be able to leave the library for just a few moments.

"And don't take more than ten minutes," Himbry called out. "Or it's another Saturday for the both of you," he warned.

You really didn't want to spend your weekends leading up to Christmas in detention, so you simply nodded your head and followed Steve out of the library.

You didn't really know Steve Harrington all that well, even if you had been in classes together for years. However, everyone at Hawkins High knew who 'King Steve' was, even if he had recently fallen from the ridiculous heights of popularity he once seemed to enjoy.

"So," Steve started, shooting you a glance as he swung his arms idly at his sides. "Y/N, right?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, amused by the question. "Yeah. Steve, right?" You jokingly asked.

Steve rolled his eyes before carding his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

"I'm just trying to make small talk. I don't really know anything about you except that you're one of the smartest kids in our class. How the hell did you even end up in Saturday detention?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I'm more than just a nerd, King Steve."

"Alright, alright. Point taken."

"How did you end up with Saturday detention?"

Steve bit his lip before he shot you a grin. "I told Tommy H. to go fuck himself. Himbry overheard."

"Huh," you breathed. "Knowing Tommy, I'm sure it was deserved."

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a laugh. "Now will you tell me how you got detention?"

"Nope," you answered.

Steve laughed again, shooting you an amused grin, before he shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to like your secrets."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Harrington."

"Yeah? I guess you are."

A companionable silence fell over the two of you once you reached the cafeteria. You helped Steve grab the food helpfully waiting for you on the lunch table closest to the door leading to the lunch line. You caught a glimpse of one of the women who regularly worked in the cafeteria through the open door. She raised her hand in a wave when she saw you and you offered her a smile in return.

When you got back to the library, Mr. Himbry was pointedly looking at his wristwatch. "Another minute and you would have added another Saturday to both of your sentences." He considered the both of you, a scowl forming on his face. "And where are the drinks?"

"Uh," Steve started, shooting you an uncertain look. "You didn't mention anything about drinks, Mr. Himbry," he pointed out.

"It was implied, Mr. Harrington." Himbry sighed before he glanced away. "Wheeler and Byers," he called, snapping his fingers at the pair. "Go get drinks for everyone."

Nancy frowned, but didn't say anything as she got out of her seat. Steve watched Nancy as she passed by him, a look of longing on his face. You had heard about his brutal breakup with Nancy at Tina’s Halloween party and you couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. By the look on his face, you figured it was safe to assume he wasn't over her.

You moved to take your seat again, dropping a sandwich and bag of chips in front of Billy.

"Thanks, baby," he purred, sitting up in his chair.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, shooting him a glare. You faced forward in your seat, noticing Himbry stepping out of the library and closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Steve and Billy.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Billy quipped, earning an eyeroll from you. "So, hey," you heard Billy say. "I heard an interesting rumor about Harrington."

You saw Steve's shoulders tense, but he didn't bother to acknowledge that he had actually heard Billy.

"I don't care," you answered, reaching out to slowly unwrap your sandwich.

"I heard he's fucking both of them. Nancy and Byers." You heard Billy chuckle, as if amused by his own words. "The princess gets the freak and the jock. How's that for a fairytale ending?"

You noticed Steve's hands clench into fists. You only shared one class with both Billy and Steve, but that was enough to know that they had a complicated relationship. Billy constantly riled Steve up and thought it was hilarious when Steve finally snapped back. Hell, Billy liked to pick at everyone. You weren't sure if it was his own way of making sure he stayed at the top of the high school food chain or if he had another reason for bullying people, but you were sick of it.

"You know what?" You said as you turned in your seat to look at Billy. You noticed his eyebrows rise in surprise, as if he didn't think you would actually be bold enough to stand up to him. "It's none of your business if they are in a relationship. You know whose business it is? Theirs. No one else's." You considered Billy for a moment, noticing the way he seemed to be studying you. "You know what I think, Billy?"

"Enlighten me," he retorted.

"I think you're lonely," you told him. "You spend so much of your time antagonizing other people so you don't have to take a good, hard look at yourself. Because once everything is said and done, all you have is yourself. And maybe you don’t like you all that much."

"You don't know a damn thing about me, sweetheart," Billy muttered, his tone close to a snarl.

"Maybe that's because you don't want anyone to really look past those aviator glasses and that leather jacket," you pointed out. "Maybe if you let someone in, then you wouldn't feel the need to drag everyone else down with you. Maybe you should let someone lift you up."

Billy scoffed and shook his head. "That's the biggest piece of shit I've ever heard in my life."

You shrugged your shoulders, not bothering to respond as you turned back around in your seat.

Steve was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face for a moment, before he grinned. You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself flush at his silent approval, before you began to pick at the sandwich in front of you.

When Nancy and Jonathan got back, Himbry locked you in again.

You thanked Jonathan when he handed you a can of soda. You noticed the way Steve reached out to clap a hand to Jonathan's shoulder and the soft smile Jonathan shot Steve in return. You couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to Billy's words, but then immediately felt guilty for even thinking about it. If they really all were in a relationship, then you told yourself it wasn't any of your business. Although, a small part of you couldn't help but feel curious.

You picked at your lunch, not really in the mood to eat. You really just wanted to go home and fall into bed.

An hour managed to crawl past. The silence in the library was almost unnerving. You had long run out of space on your paper, so you had taken to using your pencil to try to color in the full page.

Every so often, you heard Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan all softly whispering to each other, but you were never able to catch what they were talking about. You didn't really want to eavesdrop, but you were so bored out of your skull that you were just about ready to try anything to stop yourself from banging your head against the desk as a form of entertainment.

"I'm bored," Billy groaned, finally breaking the silence in the room.

"No shit, Hargrove," Steve snapped. "We're all bored."

"Well, I have something that'll help," you heard Billy say.

You turned in your seat to see he was reaching into his coat. When he pulled out a flask, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Of course," you muttered to yourself, turning back around to face the front.

"What?" Billy asked defensively. "You have something against making things interesting?"

"How is drinking going to make things interesting?" You wondered why Billy even thought to bring a flask to Saturday detention in the first place.

"Because we're going to play a game," Billy said, reaching forward to poke at your shoulder.

Steve turned in his seat, his eyebrow quirked at Billy. "You have to be kidding."

"Nope," you heard Billy say, a smile in his voice.

You heard Nancy sigh before she turned to consider Billy as well. "What game?" She sounded like she didn’t really want to ask, but she was so bored she couldn’t help but grasp at any distraction.

Billy was silent for a moment, as if thinking over his choices. You heard him snap his fingers before he spoke again. "Never Have I Ever," he offered.

Jonathan snorted before he blushed when you all glanced at him, having obviously been caught off-guard by Billy's suggestion.

"What? You've got something to offer, Byers?"

Jonathan sighed before he glanced at Billy over his shoulder. "Just thought you'd think something like that was lame."

"I'm bored, Byers," Billy drawled as he pulled his sunglasses off before putting them back in his jacket. "There's a hell of a lot I'd do to avoid that."

You heard Steve groan before he pushed his seat away from the table. "You know what? Fuck it," he conceded. "Sounds a lot better than sitting here in silence."

"I never thought you'd agree with me on something, Harrington."

"I still hate you," Steve told Billy, glaring at him.

"Feeling's mutual," Billy sneered.

You shook your head, still working on shading in your piece of paper. You were going to have to get up soon and sharpen your pencil if you had any hope of completing your self-assigned project.

"I'm out," you muttered. "You guys have fun."

"Oh, come on," Billy coaxed. "Live a little. Have some fun yourself for once."

"I don't want to play," you told him, not even bothering to look back at him.

"Why not? You scared I'm going to get to know you like you seem to think you know me?"

You finally turned and met his gaze, momentarily getting drawn in by the smug look on his face.

Playing this game with the others was probably a terrible idea. Steve had been right to guess you liked your secrets, and it was mostly because you were sick of other people judging you. You knew that Billy likely picked at people for the same reason you also didn’t let them in. You didn’t want others to see you and then decide you weren’t worth it.

It was probably a terrible idea, but you really had nothing better to do. Besides, you didn’t like the challenging look on Billy’s face.

"Fine," you finally bit out. "Let's play."

"Great," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "What about you, Byers? Wheeler? You in?"

Nancy rolled her eyes when Steve turned a pleading look on her.

"Oh, come on, Nance. Don't make me play by myself." His lower lip poked out in a pout and you saw the moment Nancy began to cave.

Nancy glanced to Jonathan, catching his hesitant nod, before a reluctant smile flashed across her face.

"Alright," she agreed. "We're in."

"But how is it going to work with one flask between the five of us?" You couldn't help but ask. "Don't we all need our own drink?"

"We'll improvise," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Wait," Nancy called, hastily getting to her feet. "Maybe we don't have to."

You frowned when she went behind the front desk and disappeared into the librarian's office. She came back after a few moments with a small stack of mini paper cups. "There's a water cooler in there," she explained. "These will make things easier at any rate."

"Alright, let's do this," Billy said, getting out of his chair.

He moved to drop down into the seat next to yours while Nancy set the cups down in front of you. Steve and Jonathan had already turned their chairs to face your table and you felt weirdly flustered at the feeling of everyone focusing on you.

"Look alive, nerd," Billy said, nudging you in the side with his elbow. "Make yourself useful and help me out here," he added, nodding at the cups in front of you.

You rolled your eyes before you reached out to grab the cups. You separated them, holding one out to Billy at a time as he poured a little of whatever was in his flask into each cup. You handed them out to the others as you went, wondering if this was such a good idea.

"Don't make me regret wasting the good stuff on you assholes," Billy said as he finished. He twisted the cap back onto his flask, shaking it for a moment as if checking to make sure he still had some left. "Plenty left to go around," he added. "So, who's going first?"

"I've got an idea," you said, reaching behind you to grab one of Billy's blank pieces of paper. You ripped the paper into pieces and wrote a number on each one. You made quick work of folding each piece and then mixing them up. "Okay, we'll just go in order of the numbers we choose."

"Smart," Steve commented, shooting you a quick smile, before he reached out to grab a number.

Jonathan ended up going first. He looked like he wasn't really sure what to say at first.

"Come on, Byers," Billy groaned. "Do you not know how to play?"

"I do," Jonathan assured, shooting Billy a glare. "Never have I ever," he started, trailing off for a moment. "Used a fake ID," he finally finished.

Billy snorted before he downed his shot. You noticed Steve did as well.

Steve scrunched up his face and shook his head, turning his head to cough into his sleeve. "What the fuck is that?"

"The good shit, Harrington," Billy said. "So shut up and drink up."

"My turn," Steve said, holding his cup out to Billy to refill. He seemed to think about what he wanted to say for a moment before he finally spoke. "Never have I ever played hooky."

You quirked an eyebrow at Steve. "Really?" You would have thought King Steve would have skipped school at least once before.

"Really, really," he confirmed with a nod of his head before he smirked over at Nancy and Jonathan.

"Not fair," Nancy grumbled before she laughed and downed her shot, Jonathan not far behind her. You noticed Billy tip his head back as he had his second shot of the game.

He glanced over at you when he noticed you watching him.

"You're zero for two, sweetheart. You should join in on the fun."

"You're two for two," you reminded him. "Maybe you should start having a little less fun."

"Never," he said, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes, glancing away from him.

"Your turn, Y/N," Nancy reminded you when you were silent for a few moments.

"Right," you agreed, staring down at the '3' you had scribbled down on the slip of paper in front of you. You weren't really sure what to say. When you agreed to play the game, you seemed to have momentarily forgotten that you really hadn't done all that much. It made it easy to do your part now, sure, but you were about to make it clear how much of a social life you didn’t have. Maybe you really were as straitlaced and boring as everyone made you out to be.

"Tick tock, babe," Billy drawled, knocking his shoulder lightly into yours.

"Don't call me that," you automatically said, barely even thinking about your response. "Alright, never have I ever been in a fist fight."

You noticed Steve, Jonathan, and Billy take a shot. You glanced to Jonathan, surprised that seemingly sweet and gentle Jonathan Byers had enough fire in him to have been in a fight.

Nancy went next, admitting that she had never been arrested.

Billy and Jonathan downed a shot for that one.

"You know, maybe I was wrong about you, Byers," Billy said. "You're quite the miscreant, aren't you?"

You noticed Jonathan's face flush, so you looked to Billy, figuring turnabout was fair play.

"Get on with it, Hargrove," you said, reaching out to tap your fingers against his slip of paper with the '5' written on it.

"Patience, baby," Billy said. "I know how to make a good thing last."

You heard Steve groan and shake his head. "Stop flirting with the poor girl and just get on with it, Billy. This was your idea," he pointed out.

"Stop ruining my fun, Harrington," Billy snapped. He considered Steve for a moment before a wicked grin appeared on his face.

You instinctively knew what he was about to say would likely be a dig at Steve.

"Never have I ever," Billy started, pausing as if for dramatic effect. "Had a three-way," he finished after a few seconds.

You reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You hissed at him, shooting a quick, worried look at the three in front of you.

To your surprise, all three of them were taking a shot. You felt your eyes widen in surprise before you looked to Billy, noticing the satisfied smirk on his face.

He leaned over until he was in your space. "Called it," he whispered, winking at you, before he pulled away.

You hated to admit that you felt a tiny thrill at having Billy Hargrove so close to you that you could smell his cologne and feel his hair brush against your shoulder. You also would never admit that when he leaned away, it left you feeling just the tiniest bit bereft. You didn't understand why you seemed to have a bit of a crush on him. He did nothing but poke at people and call you pet names. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would probably never seriously glance your way when every other girl in the school was attracted to him and looking to get into his pants.

"Uh, earth to Y/N," Steve called. "You still playing?"

"What? Yeah," you answered, blinking at Steve. "What did I miss?"

"Byers here has never done drugs," Billy told you, watching you expectantly. When you didn't touch your cup, he snorted and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush.

"My turn," Steve said. "Never have I ever flirted with a married person."

Billy was the only one to take a shot for that turn.

"Why am I not surprised?" You echoed, fixing Billy with an unimpressed look.

"I can't help it if everyone knows I'm hot shit," Billy told you, seemingly unconcerned.

"You're one of those things," you muttered, ignoring Billy's scowl. "Alright, never have I ever had a friends-with-benefits relationship."

Billy smirked at you before he downed his shot. "We can fix that, you know."

"You're the last person I'd want to fix that for me," you told him, even though it was mostly a lie. Would you and Billy actually have any semblance of a functioning, healthy relationship? Unlikely. Would it be hot as hell while it lasted? Most likely.

You were able to take your first shot when Nancy admitted she never got stitches. You noticed Jonathan quirking an eyebrow at you in surprise, but you shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to get into the story.

You hated to admit it, but as the game progressed and you got to know the others a bit more, you started actually having fun. You had managed to down a couple of more shots, admitting to being drunk at a family event and then later confessing to going skinny dipping.

"Never thought you would have had it in you," Billy said. He swayed in his seat, bumping companionably into you. "You've surprised me, angel."

You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to fess up that the only reason you had gone skinny dipping was because you had been completely alone and didn't want to get your clothes wet. Still, when Billy shot you a pleased smile, you couldn't help but gift him with one of your own.

You noticed that, to your ultimate surprise, you all seemed to be bonding. You were all so different, but it seemed one dumb party game was enough to bring you together, if only for a small amount of time. If only because all of you had nothing better to do in that moment.

When Nancy admitted that she hadn't lied in the game, shooting a pointed look at Steve, you couldn't help but laugh when he begrudgingly drained his cup.

"Okay, so I have played hooky before," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I knew it!" You pointed at him accusingly, catching the amused grin on his face.

It wasn't all fun, though. When you admitted that you never lost someone, Billy and Nancy both somberly took a shot.

"I'm so sorry," you told them both. You knew Nancy must have been thinking about Barb. The aftermath of the discovery about Hawkins Lab and their involvement in Barb's death just a few weeks before had rocked the town. You knew that Barb’s absence had to be eating away at Nancy and couldn't imagine what it was like to lose your best friend.

You noticed Steve's arm come up to wrap around Nancy's shoulders as Jonathan reached out to grab her hand. You glanced away from them, giving them a moment of privacy, as you considered Billy. You couldn't help but feel curious about his loss, but you knew it wasn't your place to ask. Instead, you reached out to cautiously squeeze his shoulder, before you drew your hand back. He gave you a lingering look, his eyes dipping down and then back up, as if checking you out.

He cleared his throat, glancing over towards Nancy. "Alright, your turn Wheeler. What do you got?"

By the time the contents of Billy's flask were dangerously low, everyone was at least a little bit tipsy.

"Somehow, I doubt this was what we were supposed to do in detention," Jonathan said, glancing around at the group.

"Yeah, this has almost been nice," you reluctantly admitted.

"Enough for one more round left," Billy said, shaking the flask in his hand. He moved to stuff it back into the inner pocket of his jacket before he glanced at you. "Your turn, babe. Make it a good one."

You didn’t even bother to tell him not to call you that, since from the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew.

It was then you noticed everyone's attention on you. You bit your lip, struggling to think of something interesting, but not embarrassing, to confess.

"Never have I ever had sex in a car," you finally offered, shrugging your shoulders at Billy's incredulous look.

Only Steve, Nancy, and Billy ended up drinking to that. You glanced down to the shot in front of you before you looked to Jonathan.

"We can be losers together," you told him, holding out your cup towards him. "Cheers?"

You saw a brief smile flit across his face before he reached forward with his cup to tap it against yours.

"Cheers," he said before he drained his cup.

Once you downed your shot, you noticed Billy staring at you.

"What?" You felt suddenly defensive, not knowing why he was watching you so closely.

Billy startled, as if he hadn't realized he was still looking at you. "Nothing," he immediately denied, shrugging his shoulders. "Just don't get how you can be so boring."

"What?" It felt like your stomach dropped at his words, a cold wash of dread crashing down on you.

"You took the least shots out of all of us. You've done nothing," he added. "You just spend your days making all your little class notes and probably having wet dreams about acing your calculus exam."

You felt the good mood you had just moments before suddenly dissipate.

"Leave her alone, Billy," Nancy snapped. "What has she ever done to you?"

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked, leaning forward and watching you in concern.

"Fine," you said. "Just regretting thinking that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't such a dick for a moment."

"Oh," Billy breathed on a helpless laugh. "So, you do have some teeth. There's the fight I was looking for."

"I would think you've had enough of fights," Jonathan told Billy, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I love fights," Billy argued. "Especially when I always win. Just ask Harrington here," Billy continued, gesturing towards Steve. "Or did you forget I just beat the shit out of your boyfriend a few weeks ago?"

It wasn't long before an argument broke out. It seemed that Billy just couldn't help riling up the others. You sat at the desk, picking at the side of your paper cup, and wished that detention was over. All you could think about was Billy calling you boring and thinking that you lived and breathed for nothing except school. You weren’t sure why his words stung, but they did.

You jumped at the sound of the library door slamming open, Himbry standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"I can hear you kids yelling from just down the hallway. What the hell is going on in here?"

"Nothing, sir," Billy said, reaching into his jacket and pulling his sunglasses back out. He put them on, smirking at Himbry as he leaned back in his seat. "Just having a little friendly conversation."

Himbry snorted as he walked farther into the room. You noticed Nancy hastily reach out to grab the other paper cups and stack them again before hiding them beneath her chair.

"I know better than to think there's anything friendly about you, Hargrove. I've had to suffer through having all of you in my school for some time now. You think I don't notice things? I notice things!" Himbry's face was starting to flush red in anger as his voice steadily rose. "You kids think you run this school, but you'll be out of here soon enough! And who's stuck here taking care of the next generation? Me," he hissed, pointing a finger at Billy.

"Uh, Mr. Himbry?" Nancy hesitantly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped. "I've had enough of this and I obviously can't trust the five of you to follow rules. So, you're each going to a study room and you're going to stay there, by yourself, until Saturday detention is over."

"Fine by me," you muttered, already moving to grab your stuff.

A couple of minutes later, you were back in the study room you had retreated to for solace earlier that day. You went back to trying to shade in your paper, hating that Billy Hargrove of all people had managed to get under your skin.

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, glaring down at the progressively-darkening paper in front of you, before the door to your study room opened.

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping it was Himbry telling you it was time to go home, but to your surprise it was Billy standing just inside the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders before he pulled his sunglasses off. "I was thinking," he said, moving to sit down in the chair beside yours.

"I didn't say you were welcome here," you reminded him.

"Come on, Y/N," Billy said, grinning at you. "You can't tell me you weren't a little excited to see me here."

"I'm not excited to see you here. Get out," you told him, already turning away from him.

"Hey," he called, his tone softer than before. He reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist, tugging until you faced him again. "I wanted to apologize."

"What?" You blurted, thrown for a loop by his words. "You can't be serious. Are you just making fun of me again?"

"No," he insisted. "God, this is why I don't tell people I'm sorry. They always give me shit for it."

"You have to admit it's a little unexpected given your track record," you couldn't help but point out to him.

Billy brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous smile on his face that looked remarkably out of place. You were used to Billy practically oozing an obvious charm that he bestowed on anyone he thought he could get into bed. Otherwise, he was almost hostile, picking fights and mostly winning them. A nervous and awkward Billy Hargrove wasn’t something you thought you would ever witness.

"You know, I've seen you around school before. You get this smile on your face when you think no one's looking. Like, you're away in your head and anywhere else other than this shithole. It's nice," he said.

"You've noticed me? I thought you were too busy being too cool for someone as boring as I am."

"Oh, I've noticed you," he confirmed with a nod of his head. "And I shouldn't have called you boring. But I just always thought you were too good for me. You’re going to graduate top of the class and go to some fancy university in a big city. You’re better than Hawkins and you’re better than me."

"Maybe I am and maybe I’m not," you said, rolling your eyes. "But maybe if you stopped being such a dick to me, then you'd find that out for yourself. Maybe if you actually got to know me, then you would know that I have more to offer than my good grades."

Billy narrowed his eyes at you before a self-satisfied grin broke out on his face. "Alright, then," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We've still got at least an hour locked in here. What do you say to getting to know each other a little better?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Just talking?"

Billy held his hands up, palms facing towards you. "Just talking," he promised, even though the smirk on his face did nothing to convince you he wasn't lying.

You thought that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't capable of being alone in a room with a girl without making a dozen innuendos. You thought Billy Hargrove would have hit on you relentlessly or tried to goad you into doing something more than having a conversation. You thought Billy Hargrove would rather eat his own shoe than spend over an hour with you alone, simply talking and getting to know each other better.

Billy Hargrove managed to surprise you.

During your time together, you learned that the loss he admitted to earlier during the game was his mom.

"She didn't die or anything," he told you, shrugging his shoulders as if unbothered by what he was saying. From the pained look in his eyes, you knew that he still obviously cared a lot. "But she ran out on me and I haven't seen or heard from her since. Left me in a pretty shitty situation," he confessed, carefully not looking at you. “She’s as good as dead to me now.”

"I'm sorry," you said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"Whatever," Billy breathed, his expression smoothing out. "So, what did someone like you do to end up in here?"

You normally wouldn't have wanted to fess up, but after Billy had practically bared his soul for you just moments before, or as close to it as he ever got, you couldn't help but want to trust him with something of yours.

"I threw a book through Mr. Himbry's office window. Smashed it."

"What? That was you?" Billy looked almost impressed as he finally looked at you again. "Why the hell did you do that?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I was going to fail gym. I told him it was a bullshit requirement, but he wouldn't listen to me. I guess I got angry. He said the only reason I wasn't expelled was because I was top of the class."

"A hothead, huh?" Billy chuckled, an expression that looked a lot like fond amusement appearing on his face. "I can respect that."

As more time passed and Billy revealed more and more of himself to you, you couldn't help but wonder if he was ever this open and candid with anyone else.

You talked about favorite movies and teachers you both hated. He told you about his car and you bemoaned your lack of one. You told him about some of your favorite books and he shared some memories about his favorite places in California.

By the time the end of your detention was approaching, you felt like you had gotten to see a side of Billy Hargrove that no one else was allowed to.

"So, hey," Billy started, tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. "I was thinking I could help you out."

"With what?" You asked, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.

"With some of your answers to that game. Or, I mean, lack of answers," he amended. "You barely got to participate. It's a little sad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not having sex with you in your car just because I've never done that before." Even if it is a nice car, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

He laughed, sounding genuinely amused by your words. "That's not what I had in mind," he muttered before he leaned forward in his chair. He reached out, tipping your chin up towards him, before he brushed his lips against yours. "This okay?" He quietly asked, pulling back only enough to meet your gaze.

You nodded your head, pulling him back towards you. It was strange to think that you started the day dreading the sight of Billy Hargrove and now you felt almost breathless with anticipation while he was pressed so close to you.

One little Saturday detention had somehow managed to change your opinion of him. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you really didn’t hate the turn of events that ended up with his lips pressed to yours and his fingers carding through your hair.

The next time the door to your study room opened, it really was Himbry.

"Enough!" He snapped when he caught you and Billy making out. "It's bad enough that you two ended up in Saturday detention in the first place, but it’s even worse that you just couldn't respect my rules for even one day." He sighed, sounding oddly defeated. "Detention is over. Get out of here. I'll see you two here next Saturday." As he turned, you heard him mutter under his breath. "Honestly, between these two and the other three, I'm starting to wonder why we even bother with Saturday detention anymore."

When you turned back towards the table, you caught Billy looking at you.

"What?" You couldn't quite read the look on his face, but it had you shivering in your seat.

"Nothing," he answered as he reached forward. He pressed his thumb just under your jaw, a smirk on his face. "Looks like I helped you out with something after all."

You remembered his biting kisses to the skin he was considering with an intent in his eyes that you couldn't help but melt at seeing. You also remembered admitting earlier that you had never before gotten a hickey.

"You're something else," you muttered, moving to gather your stuff. You briefly wondered if you would be able to hide the love bites Billy had gifted you with, but a part of you really didn’t want to.

You left the study room, aware of Billy trailing right behind you.

When you looked up, you noticed Nancy righting her blouse just outside the study room she had been confined to earlier. Steve and Jonathan were just right behind her, talking softly to each other.

It was then you suddenly understood Himbry's words from just moments before. You quirked an eyebrow at Nancy when she realized she had your attention and she blushed in response, shrugging her shoulders. You grinned at her before you mimed zipping your lips shut. She shot you a grateful look before turning towards Steve and Jonathan.

"Told you," Billy whispered in your ear.

You glanced at him over your shoulder before you shook your head. “You better not go spreading that around school,” you warned him. “It’s not yours to tell.”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, but from the expression on his face, you hoped he agreed to keep his mouth shut.

You walked out of the library, already dreading the walk home. You pulled your jacket back on, knowing that it would likely be freezing outside.

When you opened the front doors to the school, you shivered at the blast of cold air that greeted you.

You hastily tugged your gloves back on and pulled your jacket tighter around you. You only made it a few steps away from the front doors before you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your jacket.

"Hey, nerd," Billy called, an almost affectionate tone to his voice. "Let me give you a ride home. You'll catch pneumonia walking in this cold."

"And you care?"

"Just get in the car, Y/N," he groaned before nodding over towards his blue Camaro.

You watched him step towards his car before sending you a questioning glance over his shoulder. You moved to follow after him, feeling a little exhilarated as you ducked into the passenger seat.

The car ride to your house was filled with an almost awkward silence. You weren't really sure where you stood with Billy now that you weren't sentenced to spending time together. Were you friends? Something more? Surely friends didn't make out with each other, right? You had certainly never given any of your friends a hickey. But were you dating? Were you anything other than a Saturday detention fling to Billy?

By the time Billy pulled into your driveway, you had managed to almost convince yourself that the connection you thought you had forged with Billy was tenuous at best. He would probably never speak to you again past today and the thought hurt, even though you knew you didn't really have any claim to him or his time.

You moved to get out of the car. You hated that he wasn't saying anything as you pushed yourself out of the car and closed the passenger side door shut behind you.

"So, Y/N," Billy called, looking at you through the open passenger window.

"Yeah?" You pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering at the chill in the air.

"Can I call you some time?"

You felt your breath hitch, your knees going a little weak at the expectant look on his face. He looked as if he was looking forward to the idea of speaking to you again.

"Sure," you answered, trying to keep your tone even. If you let him know just how eager you felt for more of his time, then he wouldn't let you live it down.

"Great," he said, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He shook one out before he placed it between his lips, his gaze going to you as he lit the end of the cigarette with a lighter he pulled from the glove compartment.

You weren't really sure if you were supposed to leave now, but you couldn't help but say one more thing before stepping away from the car.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the next Saturday detention," you reminded him. A part of you really hoped that it was only going to be you and Billy there. You relished the idea of having Billy all to yourself.

He smiled at you, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth to breathe out a cloud of smoke.

"It's a date," he agreed.

#nellblazers80schallenge #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove/reader #stranger things x reader #reader #stranger things fanfiction #love's strange fic #my edit

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the-demelza-robins · 4 years

Text

american high school!jily (pt II)

hi! here’s a short chapter before The Big One (which is set on Halloween night and will hopefully come out on Halloween, if I have the energy). thanks so much for all the positive feedback, it makes me really happy! also you can read it on AO3 if you want

read part one here

James and Lily are in the same math class; this fact is not new. What is new, however, is that today, he drops his bag in Sev’s seat, the one right next to her.

“Hey,” he says, then nods once, as if this is normal. It is not.

“Hi,” she responds, because she doesn’t know what else to do. What she does know is that suddenly she’s aware of him, aware of the solidness of his form beside her. He’s tall, taller than Roger. She never really noticed that before.

He fiddles with his pencil. She blinks once, twice. She’s probably so attuned to his movements because he took Sev’s seat. Yes, that must be it. James sitting next to her means that Severus “I’m a fucking white supremacist” Snape can’t. Math has always been the worst, too — Lily cut Sev out of her life junior year, after he published that article, but he refuses to listen to her when she tells him to stay away, and sits next to her whenever he can. She has no friends in math class, no one to shoot him dirty looks and drown out his murmured apologies and arguments.

But James is here, now. Even if he’s not her friend. Even if he doesn’t know the significance of what he just did.

He’s still here. And that’s something.

***

Lily, please save me, the note reads, written in James’s messy scrawl. It took her a long time, as well as a lot of not-so-subtle hints from James, to realize that he’d written it in the first place. It takes her a little longer to decipher his handwriting, which is fine, because she’s ahead on the problems they’re supposed to be working through, caught in that in-between of being too good for regular math and not good enough for honors. As she looks at the curled-up bottom portion of his notebook, she senses Sev glaring daggers at her from across the room. Perfect.

From what? she writes back, letters neat and compact. James reads it almost immediately and takes a long time to respond.

The evil eye that Snivellus is giving me right now.

Ha, ha.

A smile spills out of the corner of his mouth as he writes back. Are you two involved in some sort of torrid love affair I didn’t know about? Am I making him #jelly?

That hashtag made me throw up in my mouth a little. She pauses, pencil flicking against the desk. She knows he’s watching, knows Sev is watching, and so she picks up the paper again and adds, and no, I am not involved with Sev. Would rather make out with Tony the Squid.

His smile widens, now, and she catches it in her peripheral vision. Not our school mascot. That’s too far, Evans.

It occurs to Lily that she’s acting exactly like elementary school James would. She’s laughing about Sev. Her past self would be disappointed.

But her past self didn’t know what Sev would become. She angles her body more towards James, away from her former best friend’s skin-crawling stare.

***

James sits with her again the next math class, and the one after that, too. She knows things about him, now: knows that he doodles soccer balls in the margins of his notebook; knows that he can’t stop moving, and sometimes when he’s bored of tapping his pencil he’ll tap his foot against her chair leg, unconsciously; knows that he has a little scar on his neck; knows that he can make her laugh with one passed note; knows that he still hates Sev as much as he did in eighth grade.

Lily’s the first to step into the math classroom today; or, at least, she thinks she is, until she spots Sev hovering near her seat, muttering to himself under his breath. Lily steels herself and walks by him, pointedly ignoring him as she slips into her chair.

“Lil —”

“Don’t call me that,” she says immediately, and glances towards the door. She’s forgotten what it feels like to be alone with Sev: like she’s been stripped bare, vulnerable, underneath all the layers of hatred and hurt.

Sev huffs, haughtily, in a way that’s so quintessentially him that it causes Lily physical pain. “You’re blowing it all out of proportion. I was looking at the situation from a purely economic perspective—”

“You were being fucking racist, Sev, and you know it,” she snaps, trying and failing to calm down. So easy, she is. The same conversation, every time: the same circles ran, with no ground lost or gained.

Sev opens his mouth to argue back, but before he can, a new voice cuts in.

“Should’ve known I’d find you here,” says James, speaking in a way she’s forgotten that he’s capable of: sharp, sharp as cut glass.

“This has nothing to do with you, Potter,” Sev says stiffly, gaze settling on James, who in turn looks at Lily, brow furrowed.

“You’re in my seat, Snivellus.”

Sev’s face turned red. “It was my seat first.”

“Then I guess it depends on what Lily wants.”

They both turn towards her, and this is where I get to choose, Lily realizes, with a startling burst of clarity. She knows she doesn’t want Sev, doesn’t want him near her, doesn’t want him begging for forgiveness with crocodile tears; she sucks in a breath, says, “That’s James’s seat.”

James smiles, just for a second, then slides into the seat next to her and starts to take out his math notebook. Sev stands, watching them, hands curled into fists; Lily can’t meet his eyes. Yes, he’s virtually unrecognizable from his childhood self, but rejection — rejection for James? James, who had made his early years a living hell?

She stares at the desk until she hears Sev’s retreating footsteps, knowing that to glance up and see the look of anguish on his face would make her feel even worse.

“Glad we got rid of Snivellus, huh, Evans?” James whispers, and he’s too close, sitting next to her with his pencil already tapping against the desk, a hand wafting through his hair. Lily feels like a child again, except this time she’s chosen the wrong side. She’s one of them now. Sev will never speak to her again.

Isn’t that what she wants? He’s a terrible person; she doesn’t long for his friendship. Still, a part of her — a very small part of her — wants him to want her. Another wave of revulsion consumes her; for a moment, she just stares at James, wondering how she’s gotten here. “I’m not like you, James.”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

She could yell at him. She could ask him why, all those years ago, he felt it necessary to call Sev Snivellus, to joke about his greasy hair and unwashed clothes, to ensure that he’d have no friends save Lily.

But in this moment, Lily’s more angry at herself. So instead, she turns towards the front of the classroom, hoping to find some sort of respite in calculus.

Sev doesn’t approach her again, after that.

***

Texts with Roger Davies, Tuesday, October 27th, 9:33pm

Roger: did you get rodriguez’s approval for the theme?

Lily: yeah, we’re all set!

Roger: okay great

Roger: i’m so glad that we’re finally done with that process

Roger: james was being so annoying about choosing it

Lily: lol i thought he was funny. and it didn't derail us that much

(Lily doesn’t know where that instinct comes from, the one that tells her to defend James’s honor. Maybe she knows, in her heart of hearts, that he’d do the same for her, without question, because that’s just the kind of person he is. Maybe she imagines him in math class, tapping his pencil against his desk, focused but also not, a reassuring presence. Maybe the image in her head is shifting from the boy he once was to the boy that now sits next to her every day: the one who lets her fight her own battles, the one who doesn’t push her, the one who didn’t ask about Sev after their last encounter. She can’t be sure of it yet, but maybe she’s actually starting to enjoy his company — that is, when she forgets about the past eight years of her life.)

(Or, maybe, she thinks, as she lies down on her bed, watching the bubbles on her phone pop up and disappear over and over again, she knows that disagreeing with Roger will extend their conversation.)

Roger: james is always like that tho

Lily: really? he’s been pretty good lately i thought

Roger: always wants things his way

Roger: idk i shouldn’t be talking about this

Lily: lol

Roger: it’s just that ur nice to talk to

(Roger’s never said that to her before. She wonders if it’s because she really is nice to talk to, or if it’s because she’s just there.)

Lily: lol thanks

Roger: and i feel like i can trust you

(He’s never said that to her before, either. They’ve never really spoken about non-yearbook related things. She doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly acting like they’re friends. She can’t say she doesn’t enjoy the familiarity — this is Roger, after all, and any relationship gain with him is a good one — but she feels blindsided. It was October until people burst into her room telling her it’s Christmas, and now she’s just confused.)

Lily: yeah you can trust me

Roger: cool i’m glad

seen by Lily at 9:46pm (there’s nothing more to say).

***

Texts with Roger Davies, Tuesday, October 27th, 9:50pm

Roger: can i ask you a question

Lily: fire away

Roger: are you coming to the halloween thing this weekend

Lily: yeah was planning on it

Lily: why

Roger: cool maybe i’ll see you there

(Oh.)

(It’s Christmas morning in October. It’s Christmas morning in October.)

(Lily doesn't know much about high school relationships, hookups or otherwise, but she does know this: if a boy asks a girl if she's coming to a party, he did it for a reason. And that reason is usually not so that they can discuss the yearbook.)

Lily: yeah see you there

(There's nothing more to do but wait.)

part three

#jilytober #jilytober 2020 #jily #jily fanfiction #mine #my writing #lily evans #james potter #severus snape #jily au #harry potter fanfiction

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tumblebee-the-smol-bean · 4 years

Note

hey, if you're not too busy, maybe secretly regressor logan getting so overstressed from planner changes and schedules that he slips right in front of roman in his room???💕

Thank you so much for the prompt first of all! I’m sorry it took me so long to answer.

Too much work, not enough sleep

Cg Roman Regressor Logan

Logan tapped his pencil against his glasses. He was so tired but also so close to being done with Thomas’s schedule. He took a second to look up from his work to the clock and sighed, he’d been working for well over fourteen hours now, but it was fine, he didn’t technically need food, even if he was really craving some Crofters right now...NO. No that could wait until he finished the schedule and he was almost done, he just needed to- “Hello your royal nerdness!” Great, Roman had dropped in and now he was interrupting Logan’s work. Just what he needed right now. He rolled his eyes and tried not to scream at Princey to just leave him alone. Instead he said in a calm voice, “I am quite busy at the moment Roman. Please take your business elsewhere for now.”

Roman scoffed and Logan flinched a bit. “Well you don’t have to be so rude about it. I just came to tell you that the plan for next week is changing.”

Logan froze. No. NO. he couldn’t have said that. He was so close to being done he wanted to cry. Big boys don’t cry, he tried to remind himself. Big Logan had to fix this, he couldn’t afford to cry and regress and throw a tantrum over a simple schedule change, Even if that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Besides, Roman was right there, he could control this, he had to. So he sighed and turned to him, setting down his pencil. “What nature of schedule changes are we talking about?”

Roman grinned and plopped a few scattered pages of what looked more to be doodles than written out plans.

“Well I’m just so glad you asked! You see Thomas has just been so bored lately and that is no fun at all, especially not for me, so I decided we’re going to enter daydream mode a few times to help solve this pesky little problem! Oh! I’m also helping him come up with a new song, it’s going to be sooooo good when we’re done!”

As Roman rambled on Logan became more and more frantic, shuffling through his papers and Roman’s doodles and trying to figure out where to put them. No, no no nononononono. This would shake up the entire schedule! He’d have to completely re-write the planner!

He tugged at his hair in frustration as tears welled up in his eyes and he began to feel himself slip. NO. not right now! Never in front of the others!

Roman paused his rant when he saw that Logan was obviously distressed. “Logan, are you alright? You look upset.” “FINE!” Logan managed as he tried to usher Roman out the door. “M’ fine! Go ‘way!”

Roman definitely wasn’t leaving now. Logan seemed really upset. He turned back around instead of going out the door like Logan clearly wanted him to. “Pocket protector you do not seem to be ‘gucci’ so to speak are you sure-”

And thats when Logan broke. It was all too much and the stress of the last several hours along with his exhaustion and sudden panic over the new planner changes and not being able to get Roman to leave crashed down on him and he fully regressed. “GO ‘WAY!” he screeched before crumpling into a ball on the floor and beginning to sob.

“Whoa!” Roman quickly shut the door behind him, figuring Logan wouldn’t want the others to see him like this but he didn’t leave. Logan clearly needed some help. Instead he crouched down next to him and rested a hand on his back.

“Logan what’s the matter?” he asked softly, trying to figure out the root of the problem so he could fix it. But Logan only wailed harder. “S-S-so many changes! nd’ you not supposed to be here when m’ like this!”

Roman was puzzled, why was Logan talking like that? He was normally extremely well spoken and used big words Roman didn’t even understand half the time.

“What do you mean’like this’?” he asked instead of commenting on his speech.

“Like...like when m’ small.” he sniffled and clung onto Roman, his small side winning over and just wanting comfort and affection and to forget about all the stressful stuff big him had to deal with.

“When you’re....Oooh...” Roman was finally struck with the realization of what was going on.

“Are you regressed Lolo?��

Logan looked up in shock before slowly nodding his head. How had Roman known? he hadn’t even known before he practically broke his computer doing research on it.

Roman smiled. “That’s alright bud, Janus regresses too and sometimes I help Remus look after him. Do you want me to watch you for a bit?”

Logan was trying to take in several peices of information at once. One, Roman didn’t think this was weird. Two, Janus regressed as well, and three....Roman...was offering to look after him? He had always had what if thoughts in regards to having someone to act as a caretaker towards him when regressed but he normally pushed them aside and ignored them. Afterall, who would want to watch him?

But here Roman was, soft smile and outstretched hand and Logan couldn’t help but to launch himself into his waiting arms and whisper sniffle, “Really?”

Roman cocked his head to the side and smoothed down Logan’s hair, “Really buddy, I don’t mind.” he smiled and the answer caused Logan to practically melt out of sheer happiness. “Can you tell me how old you are though so I know how to take care of you?” Roman had only ever helped out Remus when watching Jan but had never done this on his own. However he did remember that Janus had an age range he could regress within that often changed, and with it how Remus took care of him did as well.

Logan has to think for a second. It’s rather hard for him to tell sometimes, but Roman is patient and eventually he held up three fingers.

“You’re three?” he asked to double check, Logan nodded softly but didn’t say anything else, still a bit shy.

Roman smiled wide and hefted him up into his arms. causing him to squeal in surprise that soon morphed into excitement.

“Can you tell me what made you regress little prince?” he asked first and foremost. Janus sometimes regressed just for fun but he could be triggered sometimes when he was upset and considering Logan’s outburst Roman assumed it was the later.

Logan cooed happily at the nickname before frowning a bit and whining softly, pressing his face into Roman’s tunic.

“Lots a work...almos finish nd’ then it changed!” he sounded really upset and Roman realized his fault.

He rubbed Logan’s back and sighed. “I’m sorry little one, I should have talked to you before, we can save the daydreaming for next week.” The longer he looked at Logan’s papers he started to realize he hadn’t seen him out all day.

“Sweet little prince,” he began, successfully gaining Logan’s attention. “Have you been working all day? I didn’t see you come down to eat.”

Logan nodded. “Fouwteen hours, twenty seven minutes nd six seconds”

Roman tried and failed not to look shocked. “Well we can’t have that! That’s much too long for little princes to be working!”

Logan looks surprised at this, he always worked like that. Coffee, computer, three or four hours of sleep and a small snack then repeat. “i’ is?”

Roman shook his head he was definitely going to have a talk with big Logan about his work habits. “Yes, but we can talk about it more when you’re big again, for now we need to get some food in you.”

He makes sure Logan is well supported before carrying him downstairs, luckily it was late so Logan didn’t make a fuss like he would have had he thought there was a possibility of anyone seeing him while regressed. Instead he just swung his feet when Roman sat him on the counter to open up the fridge and looked around. He wasn’t usually in the rest of the mindscape when he was small. Stay in his room and his secret stayed hidden. He only came out when he needed to use the restroom and even then it was a mad dash.

Roman finished preparing some mac n cheese for him and set it down in front of him along with one of Jan’s old sippy cups that he didn’t tend to use, but it was decorated in stars and planets and seemed perfect for Logan.

He looked at it for a second before bouncing excitedly when he saw the space pattern “Staws!”

“Yes baby, stars.” Roman chuckled before kissing his forehead and taking him to the table to eat.

He was still a bit shy to use his sippy cup in front of Roman but he assured Logan that he’d seen Janus use them a billion times and sometimes even bottles when he was very tiny so he shrugged and drank the juice contents. He also ate his macaroni and made a bit of a mess but Roman just cleaned it up with a small smile.

“Alright Star, I think it’s bedtime for you.” he tutted as he scooped him up.

“Noooooooo, don wanna sleep.” Apparently big Logan and small Logan had that in common.

“Yeeeeeeeeees” Roman replied as he carried him up to his room. “little boys need their sleep and I happen to know that this little boy hasn’t slept alot as of late.”

Logan grumbled but relented, Roman wasn’t wrong and he was really tired, he stifled a small yawn. He still saw it however and hummed with a smile. Logan really was adorable.

When they reached his room he set him on the bed and tilted his head, Logan tilted his back, mirroring Roman which was so adorable he almost cooed. instead he snapped his fingers. “Ah, I know what’s missing” He snapped again and Logan was dressed in soft pajamas with planets and galaxies adorning them. The small side pet the soft fabric in awe and his eyes lit up at the planets. “Thank you Roro!” he half whispered, still engrossed in his new pj’s. The prince chuckled “of course little astronaut, I’m not done though, you can’t very well go to sleep without a soft cuddle buddy now can you?” and suddenly Logan was holding a star plush, it was almost half his size and impossibly squishy. Needless to say he loved it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“No problem little one.” came the chuckled reply as Roman tucked him into bed. “now try and get some sleep”

Roman went to turn out the lights but Logan spoke up softly one last time,

“Roro?”

“Yes my little prince?”

“You be my cuddle buddy too?”

Roman smiled and slid under the covers, snuggling Logan (Platonically or I’ll stomp you with my hooves)

“of course star.”

#Age Regression #sfw age regression #agere sfw #sanders sides agere #logan sanders #roman sanders #caregiver roman #agere logan

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

Text

i don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do

#12: I can't stop thinking about you, #22: Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and #28: I have never felt this way about anyone

Jealous! Amy and brand new relationship-Peraltiago

Also: Do I need to make a statement saying that Amy obviously isn't the kind of person to think she owns anyone, but means it well and in an endearing way? There you go.

Enjoy!

Read here or on AO3

It had all gone down in a spur of the moment-kind of moment that no one, even less Amy, had seen coming and honestly would’ve preferred to be without. It wasn’t really her place to say or do what she did, nor even as much as react upon it, alas… she did; she was in so deep with Jake Peralta and so she did it anyways.

Said moment had gone down during a weekend spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where the squad had attended a two day-seminar hosted by their brothers and sisters in the HPD.

Since the drive to Hartford was one of two hours, plus the seminar took place Saturday through Sunday, the squad had huddled together in two cars and were spending the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday, north of their respective homes in Brooklyn.

Immediately from the moment they arrived at the the hotel slash conference venue where the seminar was to be held everything seemed to set the scene for a pretty smooth, perhaps even fun, weekend where the squad would get to be entertained by other things that the wondering of why they weren’t at home on a weekend.

No one on the squad had any kind of expectations for the unknown city, except Holt who mentioned The Mark Twain House and Museum as a highly ranked point on his to be done-list, which meant their collective surprise upon exploring the city after checking into their rooms Friday afternoon was indeed positive enough for them to not hate the fact they were spending their weekend away from home doing work-related activities.

The very second the clock obnoxiously signalled 7 AM the following day, because not being home wasn’t an excuse, Amy Santiago was up and out of bed leaving Jake to regret, just for a tiny second, that he shared a room with his brand new paramour. It’d only been two weeks since coming to terms about “screw light and breezy”, and so far everything was smooth sailing although that morning was clearly an example of the two still figuring out this new dynamic of theirs.

“Ugh, can you stop being a decent person and get back in bed,” Jake groaned in pain when Amy without hesitance pulled aside the curtain to let in the bleak east coast-sun. If they’d been away on vacation in Mexico, even just as far as California, then maybe Jake would’ve accepted this. But there sure as hell was nothing less motivating than a sad barely there-sun hiding behind puffy clouds but still shining brightly enough to rip him out of his comfortable sleep. Especially when all there was to “look forward to”, quote Amy, was seminars; learning and powerpoint presentations that would haunt him in his next sleep.

“Stop whining and get up! The seminar starts at 8!” Amy hurried carelessly at him used to his many complaints of this childish nature. She didn’t let it take up too much of her time and had already moved on to grab clean clothes from her duffle bag to put on after her routine shower.

From where he had indeed not moved an inch Jake could hear the shower being turned on, door to the bathroom still open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was exhausted from staying up just a bit too late watching stupid videos on his phone then he would’ve attempted to sneak into the steaming water with Amy because he could do that now… Insane.

On the other side of the shower curtain Amy had expected the same. There was very good reason why she’d added the little detail of leaving the door open and hoped would lure him out of bed. To her disappointment she quickly noticed her so-called sneaky plan was in vain leaving but one last attempt up her sleeve.

“Jake, the breakfast buffet closes at 7.30!” she called out momentarily turning off the shower to allow her to pick up on potential sounds which could indicate her victory.

Indeed the last attempt was the right one: seconds later she heard the sound of quick footsteps and the ruffling of what she guessed was clothing items before a messy-haired, baggy-eyed Jake stumbled into the bathroom stark naked and on the edge of out of breath. The way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, Amy though to herself amused.

“Mind if I join in real quick?” he smiled sheepishly trying his best to hide exhaustion.

All complaints and opposing to her morning ritual went down the drain with shower water the moment Amy turned it back on and smiled through biting down on her bottom lip.

Santiago: 1 - Peralta: 0

—

Perhaps Amy had twisted the truth just a tiny bit to get him out of bed so early. Jake figured this out when they 20 minutes later walked downstairs and saw a sign announcing that the first part of the seminar wasn’t scheduled for 8, like Amy had said, but rather 9 and buffet as well only closed an hour later than Amy’s information had told him. Lucky for her he was so infatuated that he let her off the hook with a playful jab to her sides and a comment about how she probably didn’t even want to date him but was simply a double-agent sent to improve his habits and lifestyle. This in return earned him a very familiar by now laugh, roll of this eyes and smile-combo: a combo he’d never get tired of and already felt like getting an eternal subscription to.

The seminar was okay, he guessed; either that or watching Amy furiously yet impressively neatly take notes with the speed of light beside him was enough to make it feel so. He was convinced of the latter when she afterwards with the brightest smile on her face showed him all the knowledge she’d managed to boil down to a few neatly organised pages in her notebook. It felt dangerous so early on in whatever they would turn out to be, yet also so very natural that in his world nothing was greater than the sight of Amy Santiago smiling at him. A sight he’d quickly grown addicted to already years back although without coming to terms with it until some months prior.

“Are you sticking around for the Q & A?” Amy interrupted his wandering thoughts whilst getting a new page in her notebook ready as a few people started leaving their seats and the conference room.

“Nah,” Jake shook his head honestly knowing that it would be lying to both himself and her if he tried to act like he genuinely cared about sticking around for an additional 30 minutes of re-explaining what he’d already spent 2 hours zoning in and out of. “I think I’ll head to the lounge. I’m feeling snacky.”

“Of course,” Amy smiled shaking her head in an evident manner. “See you at lunch then?”

“Yup,” he got out of his seat before adding a “see you at lunch, nerd,” accompanied by one last teasing smile before joining Rosa on her walk towards the exit. The comment combined with his soft brown eyes and warm smile was enough to have Amy feeling like a puddle of mush in her seat. To know that said brown eyes and warm smile were… hers? It felt weird to say or even just think it since they hadn’t officially declared themselves boyfriend/girlfriend but definitely were something; something not light and breezy; perhaps solid was the appropriate antithesis to use?

No matter what - light, breezy, solid or whatever they could be defined as - when her eyes trained after Jake walking off for just tiny bit longer than intended, Amy definitely noticed how a group of four women, colleagues, she assumed, sitting on the other side of the middle isle between her and them where Jake was walking chatted and giggled as their eyes switched back and forth between each other and Amy’s favorite partner. In spite of the fact that she was en excellent lipreader Amy, to her curiosity’s dismay, couldn’t exactly tell what these women were saying or giggling about however two things were certain: one was that they were in one way or another very interested in Jake, even after he’d left the room, and two was that Amy didn’t like it. An uneasy tightness formed in her stomach telling her so and she for the following 30 minutes of a Q & A she had looked forward to couldn’t focus enough to take any actual notes. All she was left with post Q & A were mindless doodles on an otherwise blank page which was both a waste of paper and but even worse of no good use for her knowledge.

The second the seminar was officially completely over which was everyone’s cue to leave for lunch, Amy did her best, notebook and pencil case held tightly to her chest, in an attempt to get as close to the giggly group of women from before as the room’s population walked out of the room in one big stream. Completely forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with the Jake and the others for lunch she automatically followed the four women to the hotel bar where they settled down - and so of course so did Amy simply opting for a few seats further down in conjunction with ordering herself a soda as to not attract herself any suspicion or attention.

“Oh my gosh, Sydney, you have to figure out who that guy from the seminar was!”

This definitely caught Amy’s attention, both to her pleasing and bitterness: pleasing because she’d been right about her gut-feeling and bitterness because that guy was her guy. Not whoever this Sydney was.

“Yeah, he was pretty cute right?” Who Amy guessed was Sydney, a tall, beautiful blonde clad in a nice pantsuit, Amy had to admit, answered just as enthusiastically.

“Totally! And since he’s here, probably, also a cop,” the same friend who had started the conversation chimed in and Amy wished to God she’d just shut up rather than stuff her friend’s head with bad ideas like hitting on Amy’s own guy.

“I smell work place-romance, ladies,” a third friend giggled riling the other’s up along with her. To them it was all a joke, fun, some kind of competition of cat and mouse but Amy, at her respective end of the bar, was feeling herself starting to boil, more than she’d like to admit, at the thought of someone else taking away from her what she’d just struggled for so long to obtain. It was her cute cop-guy from the seminar; her work-place romance; her… whatever! And also what kind of dumb name was Sydney even? Jake and Sydney? So dumb.

“I mean we are here for another entire day so I’ll have to make sure to run into him at some point. Tonight…” the tone of Sydney’s voice took on a sultry undertone that had Amy shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. “… wouldn’t be a bad time to run into him.” The smug smile on the blonde’s face had Amy feeling like punching it right off of her.

As if on cue, like timing couldn’t have been any worse, friend number four made her presence be known and squealed with excitement while pointing which of course immediately earned herself the three other’s full attention. “Girls! There he comes! Right there!”

Within seconds all four girls heads snapped to the side with wide hungry eyes reminding Amy of what a flock of vultures looked like prior to ripping apart an animal cadaver in a documentary she’d watched a few days ago.

Vulture-like or not, Amy’s head was included in this collective redirecting of focus and followed the direction in which the friend had pointed to.

And there he was indeed: Jake Peralta, clad in his navy blue long-sleeved NYPD-shirt and freshly cut hair with the tiniest hint at a beginning forehead curl, was walking into the lounge that very moment seemingly looking around for someone and also completely unaware of the people watching him as his entrance seems to unfold in slow-motion. Amy almost couldn’t blame the girls for drooling because the cocky detective looked really good walking into the room completely oblivious to the attention he’d brought upon himself.

“Damn… He looks even cuter than what I remembered. I have to give it a try, don’t I?” Sydney questioned, obviously rhetorically already knowing what she wanted as she almost drooled like an agitated Doberman.

“I mean if you won’t, Sydney, then I will!” the friend who’d noticed Jake enter the room playfully challenged, and even though it was all fun and games to them, Amy felt like her seat was on fire making it almost impossible to stay passive and seated for much longer.

“Oh, hell no. Stay away from him. This one’s mine, Jasmin!”

There was no telling if the line had already been crossed multiple inappropriate remarks ago and she’d managed by the grace of God to stay seated or if this last comment was the one to exceed what Amy considered her very flexible limits. Either way, no matter what, the first one option or the other, this time Amy failed to bite her tongue. She threw a comment out into the open without thoroughly considering its consequences out in the open fora first thus letting the group, especially Sydney, know what was weighing on her mind.

“You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’,” the borderline growl of a tone in which the words came out in had Amy feeling like another person: not one she specially liked. This person, or perhaps even primitive beast was a better way of describing this persona, rooted deep down in her apparently found it very necessary to protect what she already within two weeks had come to mark as her territory. Never before had she felt so green-eyed, so absolutely reckless. This being said her instincts were more vigilant than ever before and it virtually felt out of her hands.

In the meantime, while Amy was looking at her decision in retrospect yet not at all since she wasn’t doing anything to prevent any further complications, the women had turned in their seats to collectively shoot quizzical, annoyed looks resembling daggers with their eyes at Amy.

“Excuse me?” The blue-eyed blonde challenged Amy to take her statement back which roughly said only goaded her raven-haired opponent further down the warpath.

“I said: You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’.”

Feeling herself so ice-cold, so sure about something partially dumb and actually really petty would normally have Amy back down right away but something deep inside of her, like a raging fire, had her stand her ground. Apparently that’s what Jake Peralta could bring out in certain people, both Amy and Sydney included, because the blonde was not backing down just, rather instead coolly took another shot at Amy in the hopes to have her back off.

“Why shouldn't I? It’s not like he’s everyone, right? I’m for sure not letting any of these girls run off with him,” she pointed to the her friends behind her, the switch from threatening Amy to mindlessly joking and giggling with her little girl-squad having Amy metaphorically slack-jawed. Luckily not physically: there was no way she was showing this bimbo any sign of weakness.

“Okay, well…” Amy had had it for good and all consideration of rationality was out the window. Crowded police seminar or not there was no way in hell this light haired pest with her greedy crystal blue eyes and three flippant followers were getting the last word.“…let me explain to you why how you shouldn't assume and make people your property. Especially when you don’t even know them.”

Yes, she was being a hypocrite saying this but she was actually Jake’s special someone and not just some stranger: she did have a say in this.

For a brief second Sydney seemed shocked and like she actually considered Amy’s bold statement, but it didn’t last and before long blondie was back in the game apparently not satisfied with the way things could be left off. They way things should be left off, if you asked Amy.

“Oh, so you’re his “girlfriend” or what?,” the tone of Sydney’s voice clearly implied she didn’t believe anything Amy said.

All the, not doubt per se since she knew she wanted to be with Jake and he with her, but perhaps the insecurities about what stage they were currently at melted and slipped away as water off a duck’s back. It didn’t matter what exactly they were when one thing, the most important fact, was sure: they liked each other and they were going… steady. They were each other’s, politically correct to say or not.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am,” Amy’s voice and eyes drilled into Sydney’s with a kind of confidence she’d never felt before, perhaps something Jake had brought into her life along with himself.

In return it earned her a mocking scoff.

“Easy for you to say. He might as well be a random guy you’ve spotted in the crowd,” one of Sydney’s friends stepped in to help her friend in what Amy knew was a lost cause on their part.

“He could be a stranger,” Amy paused very briefly biting her lip as to refocus, hopefully managing to not say anything that could potentially make the pointless, stupid conversation even worse. This but also she still did want to make very clear that the random, cute cop walking into the lounge (who even knew where exactly he was at this point?) was hers.

“But he’s not: he’s my boyfriend.”

It was as Amy allowed herself a small halt to provide her lungs with fresh air, just in case Sydney felt like dragging out the discussion, when cute cop-guy very suddenly made his exact position known. He was walking straight up to the bar and them displaying smiley lips and eyes plastered on Amy. All the women’s eyes - Amy, Sydney and friends - immediately forgot about their opponent to focus on newly reappeared target who obviously had no clue about the fact that he was walking into the belly of the beast when he made it to his destination next to Amy.

“Hey, Ames.”

He nonchalantly stretched out his right arm to place a hand on the bar behind her crating a point of support for him to lean his weight onto.

“You catching up with some old friends?”

Oh, sweet naive Jake, Amy thought but also lowkey melted as he very credulously sent Sydney and her friend’s a warm, welcoming smile wanting to make a good impression on who he believed were part of Amy’s social circle.

“Eh,” Amy smiled culpably knowing telling Jake the truth about the situation would be the epitome of an embarrassment so early on in this new relationship of theirs. “I was just making small-talk, I guess. You know… meeting new people - yay.”

She couldn’t have sounded any less awkward and enthusiastic, even if she tried. Jake, on his part, was either really openminded or had figured out there was a good reason as to why she acted like she did and didn’t want to dig deeper into it, settling for an understanding nod.

“Well, anyhow… I don’t mean to interrupt anything but you never showed up for lunch and so I just popped in to try and find you.”

Even head turned to look at Jake who was slightly behind her meaning she could only see Sydney out of the corner of her eye, Amy could tell her smug, confident look from before was faltering with every exchange of words between Jake and Amy though they were far from flirty or telling about their relationship in any way. And, yes, she could’ve left it at that, as undramatic at it had all managed to turn out but Amy, well aware of how petty it was, she knew, couldn’t help but want to conclusively knock in the nail of victory.

“Aw,” Amy spun a quarter of a round on her barstool to face Jake behind her before affectionally placing a hand on his chest - both for the sake of the show but also because, wow, she could actually do that as she pleased now. Something she was still getting used to.

“That’s very sweet of you, babe,” the word in focus was always said in an affectionate tone but this specific context definitely had it over-enhanced and laced with extra sweetness to make her message very clear.

Then breaking her own no making out at work-rule, the only rule to have survived “screw light and breezy”, she couldn’t help herself and gave into the enraged possessiveness inside of her. She leaned in to place a soft, just a bit longer than a peck, kiss to Jake who automatically lightly bent his neck to eliminate the remaining space between their current height difference. The kiss was good, they always were with him, but it definitely had to send a signal that hopefully Sydney would pick up on: do not touch.

Amy, not wanting to break her own rule too much and give in to straight up inappropriate PDA, then pulled back to throw the women-squad a smirk over her shoulder as her hand never left the safety of Jake’s blue shirt.

“Anyways… I think we’re done here? Right, girls?”

To her immense pleasure Amy was met by a mixture of bitterness and surprise which had to mean she’d proven her point. Finally. Jake Peralta, officially boyfriend or not, was not to be considered anyone but hers - apart from being very much his own person as well.

In the meantime, slightly shocked but also far from displeased by Amy’s very out of blue-kiss, Jake stood passive by waiting for his partner’s upcoming directions. He didn’t have to wait for long because whoever these other women were, Amy was done with them and hopped off of her stool promptly grabbing his hand to walk away with. It took him a few feet of walking in silence before Jake could fully assemble and give meaning to everything that had just happened. He turned to question a still smug, also a bit guilty-looking, Amy.

“Okay, so are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

They kept walking out of the lounge and down one of the many halls of the hotel.

“Nothing.”

Jake was perhaps naive at times as he saw a lot of good in everything, which Amy loved, but he knew a guilty lip bite when he saw it and it was currently on full display on the raven haired beauty.

“Hey,” he pulled her aside into one of the many small wall pockets leading to individual hotel rooms as he wished to seclude them in hopes of it easing her into telling him the truth. “What’s up with you?” he smiled knowingly taking some intensity out of the moment. It’s not like he was angry or anything, curious being a better word for it.

“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly trying to hurry out of the secluded area but quickly realising she’d failed once she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm to gently pull her back in. Her back gently fell back against the wall before him forcing her to face him.

He lightly tilted his head to the side much like a puppy would when feeling peculiar which was hard to resist when his eyes, soft and brown, had so much resemblance with a sweet puppy’s as well. She could tell he was teasing her, aware of the fact that he knew something she didn’t and it drew her insane in both the worst and best way - Jake Peralta summed up for you.

“Now I don’t believe that… girlfriend.”

In contrast to the playfulness controlling her body seconds ago Amy Santiago suddenly felt much more put on the spot, it clearly showing by the way her blood all at once seemed to fire up her cheeks. He’d overheard her talking to Sydney and the others; he’d heard her declare herself as his girlfriend when they hadn’t even agreed on calling each other that yet. The nervousness tricked her into making a loud swallow; yet another tell.

“Oh… y-you heard that?” She stuttered.

Jake nodded firmly almost encapsulating her against the wall when he took a step forwards, but made sure to leave just enough space for her to not feel straight up trapped against her will. A small smug smile on display. Why was he enjoying this? Didn’t he see that he was torturing her?

“I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to. I know we’ve just barely begun seeing each other as more than friends, it’s just these girls were saying things about you and sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and then it just kind of-“

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers, much needed, gently pressing her up against the wall although. Only because they were hidden from the majority of the hotel’s population, Amy allowed and excused this - or so she told herself. The feeling of his welcoming lips made her forget the mess for a few seconds, just giving into how good of a kisser Jake Peralta was, and even for a few seconds after their lips parted again she was speechless and dumbfounded by how she’d gotten herself a guy this great.

“Stop apologising,” he chuckled quickly using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth which inevitably made him look that much hotter.

“I know we didn’t exactly “agree on it” and that it’s still all very new, like you said, but, Ames…” his eyes mellowed after looking just a tad too cocky and alluring before, during and right after the kiss. This was definitely a different shade of Jake looking into her eyes and talking: a very soft one. “… I don’t need a certain trial period or approval from anyone to know that I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend.”

Upon hearing these words coming from the one and only Jake Peralta with recipient being herself, Amy Santiago she felt her heart shoot through the roof, take a trip around the moon and fly straight back into her chest where it had her feeling like crying, smiling, screaming and laughing all at once: a very maniac-like but also wonderful feeling. The most wonderful as far as she could recall.

“And I’m not going to force you to tell me exactly what happened, but just based on the way your fists were basically clenched when I walked up to you, am I wrong to assume that they were, let’s say, treading on your territory…”

If she’d been blushing before then now her face was definitely on fire and looking down at her feet apparently didn’t help cover it at all. The silence was enough of an answer, one which he chuckled in reaction to.

“It’s okay, Ames. At least I came around before you could Jimmy Brogan them.”

At this sympathetic joke reminding her of a time that seemed to be so long ago she had to look back up. She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and it warmed her heart to share it with him just like when he shared his with her. All the previous insecurities: had she gone too far? Let her tongue run away with her? Given too much of herself too fast to something as brand new as her relationship with Jake? It had all been answered by a few simple words, caring eyes and a kiss that told her everything she needed to know.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this crazy-jealous, possessive type. I’m normally not like this, I promise. I guess I have never felt this way about anyone before and maybe that’s why I’m acting up. Amy I crazy?” a tingling feeling of vulnerability made an encore.

“No, you’re not because I’m right here freaking out, in the best kind of way, because of what you just said. This is the first time I feel like this too, like I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scary and great all at once.” Jake was quick to wash away said vulnerability she was feeling and replaced it with a prickling affection and hope.

“So… no more feeling insecure about us?” he offered some kind of peace-offering, partly to her but mostly to their shared insecurities, trying to not come off as too gluttonous as he slid his hands onto her waist wanting to soak in a new feeling of belonging. A feeling he’d found in her.

“Deal,” Amy accepted the offering with a sheepish smile as her insides flipped upside down witch excitement. All she wanted was to be with this guy, fully and greatly, and this confrontation and mutual agreement would allow her to not give a damn about future external factors.

“Noice. Smart,” escaped him in optimistic relief but before she could roll her eyes at it he leaned in to softly kiss her again. Being held by him, hands gently tracing the front pockets of her pants while his lips took her to another world, was something she could never deny him or herself - screw the rules. Lips collided over and over again, one tug bringing on the next until they lost sense of anything and were full on making out like a pair of horny high schoolers in-between classes. This is what they brought out in each other: happiness, fire, want and so many more things they’d both spent the last two weeks wondering how they’d lived without before.

Unfortunately their movie-like moment had to be cut somewhat short as people coming back from lunch started flooding the hall passing by their little intimate pocket in the wall. Amy liked Jake but she also liked staying professional and this Jake respected. They jumped back, creating an exaggerated amount of space between them before sending passing strangers innocent smiles as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes declaring feelings and making out at an interstate police seminar.

“So, Detective Santiago…” his voice took on a brand new tone of gravity - a tone she also recognised as acting. “Shall we head over for lunch?”

“I’m sorry to come bearing such bad news, Detective Peralta, but people are flooding the hall as per consequence of the fact that lunch is over,” Amy played along taking on a serious tone and posture.

“Aw, man… Seriously?” he whined childishly, his recent serious persona from seconds before immediately forgotten.

“Sorry… boyfriend,” she smiled sheepishly in an attempt to cheer him up which she had to praise herself, as it obviously worked seeing his face instantly lit up.

“Whatever… It was worth losing lunch over, girlfriend.”

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mercyxkilling · 3 years

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[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you...

@emptyvictory said: ♛ + my url if we're copying each other? Lol

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;

my opinion on;

character in general: oh my god. niko bellic. i can’t explain to you the love affair that i have with this sassy ass motherfucker of a man and how much i want to hold him close and tell him that he’s good enough, though i bet he’d shove me away and tell me to never do that shit again and that i’m weird for doing it at all. he’s got such an amazing duality to him that i am in love with because like. yeah, he’ll fucking kill a buncha dudes, but then he’ll have a conversation in the car with a buddy about how he’s okay with saving some lives or some shit. he’s known to play peacemaker for some, but he’s also willing to smash a cameraman’s face in by kicking his foot through his skull because he doesn’t want to be on manny’s show. then when manny dies he says some callous ass shit about it and then goes about his business like nothing happened. niko is such a good man, he really is, but he’s also not at the same time, and is capable of doing such awful things. characters like that have always had a special place in my heart, and niko is no different. that accent helps an awful lot, too, lemme tell ya. it gives ya girl the vapors. *fans self* which is funny because i don’t actually find the man to be conventionally attractive, but all of that stuff i mentioned above? i mean... i’d let him touch me. i can’t lie. how they play them: now, rory, i know we’ve had this discussion before, but i’m going to say it again (to fuel your ego because i absolutely love doing that because i want you to feel as special as you truly are, and just because this is how i actually feel and i want to keep being honest about this stuff because secrets don’t make friends!!): if there were anyone else behind the wheel here taking charge of this slavic badass, i’m not so sure i’d even be interested in trying to have a thread with them at all. you bring such a take to this man that i cannot truly explain with words in an adequate way that could do you and what you do with him any justice. it’s just... an experience. and it’s an experience that i have loved from the moment we started all the way up till now, and i know i’ll feel the same way (and still quite as strongly!!) with anything and everything that we do in the future, be it with threads or asks or things in discord or just nonsensical little back-and-forths that we share once in a while when the mood strikes us. i love everything that we’ve done/are doing/will do, and i cannot fully describe to you just how much more i still want to have with you. i’m like mercy is with niko apparently; i’m fucking insatiable with these two. they’ve somehow become my OTP and that’s truly saying something since the last one i had lasted forever (all the way up to this point tbh--the one i told you about with my RDR verse where mercy and jack were supposed to get married? like, it’s managed to override even THAT one in my heart, that’s how much these two mean to me). i will never tire of niko x mercy content, i will ALWAYS want to hear your ideas about them, i will ALWAYS want to hear any ideas that you have for them--no matter how big or or how small they might seem, i will ALWAYS want to hear any ideas you might have for AUs with these two... i mean. i think you get the picture, yeah? BUT IF YOU DON’T COME FIND ME ON DISCORD AND I’LL GLADLY ELABORATE EVEN MORE IF YOU WANT, BECAUSE I COULD TALK ABOUT THESE FUCKERS FOR HOURS. I MEAN, YOU KNOW THAT I ALREADY HAVE, SO DON’T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME HERE, LMAOOOO. the mun: oh god, rory. ohgodohgodohgod. there are so many things that i want to say here, but i feel like you’ve heard me say them a thousand times already. i just... i want to make sure that you know that i love you, first and foremost. a lot of folks seem to think i throw the word ‘love’ around far too freely, but i very much beg to differ; i only use it when i truly mean it and when it truly means something to me. do with that knowledge what you will. you are such a treasure to me, and i can’t tell you how happy i am that you’re apart of my life and how much i wish we lived closer to one another so we could be silly together and i could actually ruffle your hair and give you platonic forehead smooches and wish you a good day at school each morning and then see you after classes and ask you about your day and talk to you about anything and everything as we sat side by side and watched some garbage like ancient aliens or played some ridiculous video games together while coming up with scenarios, both of us being like “oh my god, could you imagine if niko and mercy ____ together???” and things like that. but even if we aren’t closer, it doesn’t make me value your time that you give to me any less, and it doesn’t make me love the time that we spend talking with one another any less, either. i adore you so fucking much. i just... i just really, really, really love you, and i wish i could show you that better than just with some writing or a crappy doodle here and there you know? you deserve such good things. all the good things in life, in fact, and i wish i were capable of giving them to you. but i hope that you know that i truly am grateful for your presence in my life, i can’t imagine my experience here (or away from here and over on discord instead!) without you, as you’ve become such an integral part of my experience on this hellsite. niko and mercy are my OTP, and i’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, and you are very much stuck with me!

do i;

follow them: bitch, please. of fucking course i do. i can’t imagine not following rory. rp with them: as much as i possibly can and hopefully then some; i can’t get enough of niko and any other characters they want to introduce me to that they think mercy could mesh well with... or that she couldn’t mesh well with and yet could still make an amazing dynamic all the same. :P want to rp with them: are... are you illiterate? YES. ALL THE TIME. ALL DAY, ERRYDAY. ship their character with mine: one more time, for those in the back, and with feeling!: YES, YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES. i am so, so, so grateful that niko is part of mercy’s narrative (and honestly, i may even make it so that he’s part of her actual main backstory, that’s how much their relationship means to me and how much it’s allowed me to see her in so many different ways).

what is my;

overall opinion: holy shit i love you and i love niko and i love the way you play him and i love the way you really show his duality and i love the way he learned to respect mercy and how that respect turned to admiration and the way that admiration turned to full on attraction and how that attraction turned to awkward dating but not dating and how that awkward dating but not dating eventually turned into actual dating and how that led to mercy finally kissing him and how that kiss made him feel relief more than anything else but then how all of that turned into something even more awkward and how that led to mercy realizing finally how much she actually truly loved him despite never having been in love and despite the hurt that it caused and the way they both dealt with it (two hardened killers acting like BABIES omggggg) until finally, finally they were able to come to terms with it and are now left wondering where they’re supposed to go from here since they’ve never done anything like this before... AND ALL THE AUs WE COULD HAVE AND HOW THAT COULD END UP FOR THEM BOTH HAS ME SO FUCKING EXCITED BECAUSE WE COULD GET A CHANCE TO SEE THEM BEHAVE IN A DIFFERENT WAY LIKE WHAT IF THEY START OUT HATING EACH OTHER BUT HAVE A MUTUAL ATTRACTION BECAUSE NIKO’S LIKE ‘GODDAMN THIS BITCH IS STACKED BUT SHE’S GOT SUCH A MOUTH ON HER UGH’ OR MAYBE THE RDR AU COULD HAVE SOME STRIFE BETWEEN THEM SINCE MERCY RUNS WITH HER POSSE AND COULD POSSIBLY END UP HITTING A TARGET THAT HE PLANNED TO OR OR OR OMG THE POSSIBILITIES RORY OMFG THERE ARE JUST SO FUCKING MANY and i just can’t wait to experience them all with you and your interpretation of niko because it’s just so fucking good and they’re such a good couple and have such an amazing dynamic that have them both behaving in ways that sometimes are predictable but in others leave me reeling for days like ‘holy shit that actually fucking happened??’ and THAT, my friend, is the sign of a good writing partner. and that is exactly what you are to me, amongst many, many other things. <3 i love you so very much and while i know you’ve had a rough go of it lately, i wish you all the best with it, know that i’m here for you if you should need me for ABSOLUTELY anything you might need (whether it’s to talk/vent, write you silly drabbles, or draw you things), and know that you’ll always, always, ALWAYS have my support through whatever you’re going through. though part of me knows that you know that you don’t need it because you’re so fucking strong and capable of absolutely anything that you put your mind do.

i love you, boo. never forget that. please.

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty.

#emptyvictory #meme #ooc #there's still so much more that i wanted to say #so much more that i could say #but i'll spare you and the dash the rest of my gushing #ilysm rory and you've become such an important part of not only mercy's development and her life #but my own as well #and i adore you so much for it

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Five! (sfw)

So... this was supposed to go up on Friday but no one reminded me and I’m clearly not able to set a weekly reminder like an actual adult.

Hope you’re still enjoying this weekly series... Don’t forget to show me it some love if you are.

And I seem to have thrown my 'short chapters/800 words only' thing out of the window. This one is the longest so far, at 2455 words long. *rolls eyes at self*.

One, Two, Three, Four

An entire week passed without word from Mikaeïl. You had almost given up on the whole commission for this departmental murder mystery dinner, when one lunchtime your phone buzzed and you answered with barely a glance away from what you were doing. With a searingly important deadline looming for work, your stress levels were possibly at their highest since university finals, and you had been staring at the computer screen for what felt like days without a break.

“Yeah?” you barked, still tweaking the design while holding the phone with your other hand.

“It’s Mikaeïl,” came a surprisingly shy, male voice at the other end. “Is now a bad time?”

Your heart skipped a beat or two and you grinned despite the lingering frustration that the design wasn’t looking anywhere near ‘there’ yet. “No, not at all,” you smiled, “I’m at work, but I’d much rather talk to you.”

That seemed to fluster him a little, but he cleared his throat and said, “Well… I spoke with the department and showed them your preliminary design. They loved it and are very happy to commission you to do the posters for the event.”

“Fantastic!” you grinned, genuinely thrilled to have a more exiting project to work on than this steaming pile of minotaur shit currently sitting on your computer.

“I thought we might discuss it in more detail when you bring Celia over on Friday...” he said, his softly-articulated words doing odd things to your insides and heartbeat. You could imagine him standing amongst his hoard of plants, one arm folded protectively across his slim chest as he stood, ramrod straight, surveying the gardens beyond.

A second after that image had flashed through your mind, you realised that it wasn’t your turn to being Celia to her flute lesson that week. When you said as much, he sighed and said, “Never mind.”

“I mean... Celia doesn’t have to be my only reason to come over and see you, does she?” you asked playfully, doodling with the stylus on a new layer of the design. As you listened to him speak, his eyes began to stare out at you from the screen as you drew them, all distant and guarded, but glittering and somehow soft all the same.

“No,” he said slowly, the slight smile audible in his rich voice. “No, of course not. I’m rather busy with work this week, and I’m presenting a paper at a conference on Thursday, but if you’re alright to meet up in town instead during the week we could do that?”

“Stickybeaks?” you suggested, thinking of the cafe where you’d first met him.

He clearly along the same lines because he gave that sonorous chuckle that made your stomach churn pleasurably. “Perfect. What day suits you? I’m free most days after five, except this Thursday.”

“Friday?” you suggested. “I think Stickybeaks stays open til seven. We could have an early supper? That way you can tell me all about the conference too, if you like.”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he said reflexively.

“Oh, I think you’d have to work quite hard to bore me. I’m really quite a curious person...”

There was something melancholic about the tone of his clipped response. “If you say so,” was all he said. “Well, Friday works well for me. Shall I meet you there at half past five? That will give me enough time to walk over from the department.”

“Perfect. Looking forward to it.”

A beat too late, he said with a slight crack in his voice, “So am I.”

You rushed out of work that Friday and ended up getting to the cafe way too early, so you got out your A3 sketch pad and started to draw a number of variations on the same theme that you’d doodled back at Mikaeïl’s house. When he stepped through the doorway at precisely 5.29pm, Mikaeïl glanced around, the lenses of his round glasses glinting in the low light, and when he saw you, the hard line of his tense shoulders eased just a little.

Mikaeïl nodded politely at Lidaë, who was fluttering around behind the counter as usual despite the fact that there weren’t all that many customers in at that time, and then he strode over to your place in the back corner. The pathway through the sleek, modern tables gave you the opportunity to admire the slender form of his body and the effortless grace with which he moved, almost like a dancer. Today he wore a butterscotch coloured trench coat, belted tightly at his slim waist over black skinny jeans, and his autumn-red hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail again, with the shorter sections at the front falling down to mask the full intensity of his bright golden eyes.

“Hey,” you said, half standing.

“I hope you haven’t been here long,” he said by way of a greeting and staring at your drawings again with that odd expression again.

“No, not really,” you said, awkwardly sitting back down again. “I finished work a bit earlier than usual and came straight here. I roughed out a few more designs for the poster anyway.”

“You’ve been here long enough to have finished your drink,” he said pointedly. “Can I get you another?”

You eyed your empty cup and then glanced at your watch. “I just turned in a major project that’s been bugging me for weeks,” you grinned. “I think I earned a grown up drink…”

He cocked his head slightly and the corner of his pretty mouth twitched ever so slightly to show his amusement. “Congratulations. And I think I might join you in that.”

By the time he returned, you’d shunted the sketch book to one side and once he’d set your drink down, he took his coat off to hang it on the back of his chair. It was a real effort not to stare at the beauty of his figure. Perhaps it was the artist in you, but you really noticed the strong, straight lines of his waist and thighs, his body clearly tightly corded with extremely lean muscle, and the elegant movements of his fingers as he worked the buttons of his coat.

When he was finished, he sat and shyly drew his ponytail over one shoulder, twisting the end of it between his fingertips and blinked softly at you. “What?” he asked in a breathy murmur.

“I… Uh…” you blushed, and settled on a bashful, “Nothing. Have you come straight from teaching?”

He nodded.

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “Your students must love you.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” he said bluntly.

“I wasn’t,” you said, feeling a heat creeping up your neck. Did he seriously not have any idea how attractive he was? “Don’t take this the wrong way then,” you said, sipping your drink and letting the warmth of the alcohol ignite a little courage in you, “But if you were my professor, I’m not sure I’d get much learning done…”

“Then I’d be failing in my duties as a teacher…”

Damn but he was hard work.

“Never mind,” you said. “How did the conference go?”

“Very well, to my surprise,” he said, holding the stem of his wine glass as if it were a rare specimen rose. He inhaled the scent of the wine before drinking, and closed his eyes briefly as he savoured it. His throat worked and you watched his sharp Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and that newly-kindled heat in your cheeks flared a little hotter while blood rushed south away from your brain to somewhere a little less articulate.

“What was your paper on?” you managed to rasp.

He cleared his throat and swirled his wine absentmindedly around his glass. “It’s… hardly a dinner time conversation,” he said.

“What, because you study bodies and death?”

His golden gaze flicked up to meet yours. “Most people find it repulsive.”

“You’re searching for answers,” you said. “I’m sure you’re respectful about the way you treat the remains. What’s repulsive about that?”

Mikaeïl blinked, and then his hard, wary expression flickered to something a little gentler, bordering on relief. “Well, alright. I was presenting my preliminary findings on the use of MRI and CT scans to determine the presence of necromantic activity in long-dead remains…”

“That stuff shows up? Even centuries later?” you asked, instantly intrigued.

He made a side to side shake of his head. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. X-ray has been used in the past, but because any damage caused post-mortem usually presents exactly the same whether the person in question was truly alive or undead, it’s not always particularly accurate… I want to explore the use of other technology to explore the effects that necromantic magic in particular has on the body after the heart has ceased beating.”

“That’s awesome,” you breathed, and he smiled again. “Was it well received?” you asked tentatively.

“Yes, for the most part. Non-invasive examination is always preferable, so there was a deal of interest from others in the field. I even had a lich in the audience who was willing to undergo some testing, which was encouraging.”

“Did you study medicine at the university here?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Quite some while ago though,” he said. “I worked as a medical examiner for a long time.”

You frowned, and he read your next question in your eyes.

“I’m not as youthful as I look,” he said. “My kind is long lived. And before you ask, I’m just over two hundred and sixty.”

“Whoa…” Honestly, it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise, given how… ‘remote’ he seemed at times. A moment later you added with a wry smile, “You must have enjoyed watching the leaps and bounds that science has made then in the last hundred or so years! I’d love to witness something like that…”

“That’s…” he faltered into silence.

“What?”

Mikaeïl steepled his long, fingers and rested his lips against his index and middle fingertips, elbows resting on the table. “That’s… honestly not a reaction I’ve had before.”

“I don’t understand?”

With a dry chuckle, he said, “Most people - though the number is admittedly few - discover I’m old enough to be their ancestor, and they start to act strangely. Friendships have been hard to initiate, and even tougher to maintain, though I’m sure that’s partly due to my own…” he swallowed, apparently unsure of the word before settling on, “‘Quirks’.”

You shrugged. “It sucks, I’m sure, but anyone who doesn’t at least try to understand or get to know you is missing out, and probably isn’t worth the effort anyway, at least in my limited experience. Can I ask you another question though?”

As his lips hitched up on one side, he nodded. “Of course.” And with that, he seemed to relax a little more in your presence.

“Is it super rude of me to ask what you are? I had thought you were at least part tiefling, but that was literally just from the horns and the eyes.”

“A common misconception,” he said over the rim of his wineglass before he took another sip. “And one I usually let slide. But no, I am not any part tiefling. I am… my family is… that is to say…” He set his wine down, took off his glasses, and cleaned them with a little cloth that he drew from his top pocket while he said quietly, “We are dragon shifters. Wyvern, technically.”

You blinked in silence for a stunned moment. Dragon shifters were exceptionally rare these days, having been hunted ruthlessly for sport, mostly by orcs but also by humans, about five hundred years ago. They’d been massacred in droves almost to the point of extinction. “No way,” you finally breathed.

He acknowledged the truth with a brief pursing of his lips, and returned his glasses to his face. Tersely, he added, “Please don’t ask me to prove it here. I won’t fit into this corner of the cafe, and besides, shifting is a huge inconvenience to say the very least.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said hastily. “I’m just… amazed? Surprised? Honoured?”

Mikaeïl deftly and promptly steered the conversation onto your drawings and drafts after that, and you allowed him to slide the limelight onto you. Clearly an intensely private individual, Mikaeïl had just honoured you with the truth about himself, and, curious as you were about what he might look like in his wyvern form, you respected his gift by focusing on the real reason you were there. This was not a date after all, no matter how much you wished it were.

Despite that fact, however, it was five minutes before closing time when Lidaë flitted over to you, her iridescent hummingbird’s plumage shimmering, and politely asked if you’d mind wrapping up so she could close up her cafe.

Mikaeïl startled from your conversation as if he’d suffered an electric shock. “I’m so sorry, Lidaë,” he said, standing abruptly and pushing his chair back with a decidedly ungraceful scrape on the wooden floorboards. “I had no idea it was so late.”

She patted his arm fondly and shook her head. “Never you mind, my lovely. I’m glad to see you having such a good evening.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his pale cheeks flushed and he glanced briefly at you before fumbling to pick up his coat. Once he’d slid it on, he fished out his wallet and insisted that he pay for everything.

Outside, with your bag packed and a design finalised, you looked up at him and he turned his deep, golden eyes on you. In the light from the street lamps overhead, his yellow eyes reflected the soft glow in a decidedly inhuman way, and you felt something stirring inside you again.

Feeling perhaps a little uncharacteristically bold, you reached for his shoulders, took them gently in your hands, and leaned in to kiss his smooth, cool cheek. As you withdrew, you saw that he’d gone rigid, his eyes wide with surprise. Allowing yourself a small giggle at his expense, you grinned at him.

“I’ll bring the finished design with me when I bring Celia over next Friday, if that’s ok.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed softly.

“Looking forward to it,” you said. “And thank you again for supper.”

“My pleasure,” he croaked, bowing his head. “Sincerely.”

Tossing a final grin and a wave his way, you walked off down the street, leaving him standing there, and when you glanced back, you saw that he was walking away in the opposite direction, his fingertips just brushing his cheek where your lips had kissed his skin.

To be continued next Friday! (don’t let me forget!)

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

#exophilia #dragon shifter #dragon #dragon x reader #dragon shifter x reader #weekly story #weekly series

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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thepatricktreestump · 4 years

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Crush pt2 - peter parker imagine

crush masterlist

part 2 – an apartment in queens

The following weeks you found yourself sitting at Peter Parker’s lunch table nearly every day. You slowly got to know him better, understanding his passion for photography, his love for Star Wars, and of course, his obsession with science puns. Alongside him, you also got to know his friends, MJ and Ned. MJ was more laid back and careless than Peter, messy hair and doodling in class, dark humor and straight-to-the-point conversation. She wasn’t like the other girls you knew who liked to gossip about drama or swoon over boys. Instead she talked about true crime and conspiracy theories. Ned was a lot like Peter, minus the anxiety. He was a goofball who enjoyed LEGOs and read comic books and was always excited to announce whatever latest movie just came out or NASA’s newest discovery. His friends were interesting and cool, and you enjoyed hanging out with them a lot too. Of course, they weren’t nearly as charming and polite as Peter was, but you liked the company all the same. MJ was reliable in recommending you good music and Ned in showing you memes he thought you’d appreciate.

As far as Peter goes, when you weren’t sending silly selfies to each other or texting paragraphs back and forth over the phone, you both made an effort to spend time together at school. Study hall slowly became a regular thing between the two of you. After the dismissal bell rang, you would meet at the cafeteria vending machines to grab snacks, and then spread your textbooks out on a library table and breeze through your homework, sharing jokes and stories about the school day or whatever else was going on in your lives at the time. However, approaching the library that evening, both of you instantly pouted at the notice posted on the door.

“Closed for SAT prep,” Peter read aloud. “Uh oh.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you stared at the piece of paper taped to the entrance, letting out a small huff. “We have a test tomorrow and to be completely honest, I haven’t even read the last two chapters yet.”

“I have,” Peter piped up. “I can fill you in if you want, you can borrow notes.” He turned to face you and narrowed his eyes. “Although it’s not like you to be slacking on an assignment. What’s up?”

“I’ve just been helping my dad with this uh, this project lately,” you replied. “I’m trying to figure out how to improve computation time through admissible heuristic-”

“A* yeah,” Peter blurted, recognizing your words, and you paused, thoroughly impressed.

“Wait! Parker, you’re telling me you know algorithms?” you stood there, jaw still hanging in surprise.

“Sure, I am a computer geek after all,” he chuckled softly, flexing a humble brag. “I have a bit of experience in computer science, if you ever want a helping hand.”

“Holy shit,” you blinked, thinking to yourself, as if he couldn’t get any hotter?

“Anyways, you should really get on those chapters. You know this exam makes up ten percent of our grade for the quarter.” He pauses to think for a moment and then his eyes light up with an idea. “Let’s hang at my place and I can catch you up,” he offers, and you look at him incredulously, practically delirious at this point.

“Y-you want me to come over?” you raise an eyebrow and he stiffens, hesitant.

“Uh, I mean, if you’re okay with that,” he explains. “I just thought since the library was closed, you know, we could find a different place to study. It doesn’t have to be my place we can go to a coffee shop or the park or something-”

“No, no your place sounds perfect,” you insisted, head reeling at the fact that your crush just invited you to their house.

“Awesome, cause I know a really good pizza place on the way,” he grins and you think you could melt on the spot right there.

Peter doesn’t live very far from Midtown at all, just a couple transfers. And as far as pizza recommendations go, he knows the very best spot in town. It’s obvious he’s a Queens kid, the way he walks about the city and interacts with the people, it’s like there’s nowhere else he could ever possibly belong. It’s heartwarming, to see the way he talks about his favorite shops and people, pointing out little things like good climbing trees and perfect awnings for being caught in the rain. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he created the city himself, the way he was familiarized with everything. It was impressive.

Your dad didn’t really let you out of the tower to roam much. Happy usually escorted you around a in a car or he insisted you take a taxi rather than the subway. When you did go out, it was usually in his company, to a fancy party or a conference hall, a five-star restaurant or a prestigious academy. Being raised surrounded with such success and wealth was a blessing, and you were ever grateful for it, but it was times like these when you wondered what it would’ve been like to just be a normal kid. To be able to explore and meet others and know the city as well as Peter does, every little hideout and bodega, the best spot to watch the sunrise or grab a sandwich.

“Well uh, this is it,” Peter clutched onto the straps of his backpack, giving a nervous smile. “It might not be much, but it’s my home. It’s just me and my Aunt May, she’s the one who pretty much raised me so…” He shrugged and then opened up the door, you being sure to take everything in.

“Oh my gosh Peter! Hi! How was school today? Oh! And you brought a friend!” a bubbly brunette with glasses greeted both of you, scooping up Peter in a hug, and you instantly knew she must be Aunt May. “Hi dear, I’m Aunt May and you are?”

“This is y/n, remember?” Peter introduced you and you raised an eyebrow at that last part, noting the way that he must’ve mentioned you to her before. You tried to hide the blush rising to your cheeks.

“Y/n? Oh yes, how could I forget your-” May paused immediately upon Peter’s terrified eyes and nodded slowly. “Your uh, your?”

“My friend,” he smiled. “She’s my friend, May.”

“Right. Awesome,” she looked at you and you could sense her suspicion, that they were hiding something, but you dismissed it and smiled back. “I’m so glad you could come visit today, Miss Y/n! Peter’s told me so much about you.” You looked at Peter and he gave you terrified eyes, making you laugh. “Oh, was I not supposed to say that?” May turned to you and you laughed harder, reassuring her it was just fine, but inside, your head was reeling. Peter had talked to her about you before? You just hoped it was all good things.

“Anyways… We’re gonna study for our test, so we’ll be in my room. Just knock if you need me,” Peter explained, and to your surprise, grabbed you by the hand and led you down the hall, heart fluttering in your chest every step of the way. He dumped his bookbag on the ground and shut the door, flopping onto his bed, sighing. “Sorry that’s my Aunt May, she can be a little overbearing at times.”

“No, no, you’re all fine,” you reassured, taking a seat next to him at the edge of his bed. “I get it. My dad can be a lot like that too. Lots of questions and pestering- it’s just cause they care about us, you know.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that,” Peter smiled softly, leaning up and looking at you, noticing the way you pressed your lips together, waiting to ask something. “What?”

“You told her about me?” you wondered, and he swallowed nervously, clearly embarrassed.

“I mean, uh… Yeah. I did…” He paused, staring at the floor. “Is that okay?” he asked, scared. “I mean, I tell Aunt May about everything, she’s sort of my best friend- but not in a weird way, she’s my aunt you know, but-”

“You’re fine, Peter,” you laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Oh,” he grew quiet, letting out a soft sigh of relief as you laughed a bit harder, smiling at him. He looked back at you, face reddening, hazel eyes softened. “You have a nice laugh, you know.”

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, growing self-conscious. “I always thought it was a bit too obnoxious.”

“No, it’s genuine,” he shook his head, insisting. “I like it a lot.” He looked down towards his feet and started to pull out some textbooks from his backpack, and you could’ve sworn you heard him mumble. “I could probably listen to it all day.”

Reading classic English literature was never the most exciting way to pass time, but with Peter, it instantly became your favorite hobby. Both of you impersonated characters and made fun of the old dialect, as well as sprinkled in vine references at every appropriate moment. While writing notes, you doodled cartoons in the margins and decorated them with stickers. It was like hanging out with Peter outside of school made doing school related things much less nerve wracking. It gave you the freedom to be laid back, boisterous, and most of all, handsy. Throughout studying you found yourselves guilty of seeming to find any excuse to touch the other, whether it was poking, tickling, pulling hair, slugging a shoulder, or tugging on a sleeve. At one point, Peter even leaned against your side, resting his head on your shoulder and watching as you scrawled down notes, making your head dizzy.

A notification went off on Peter’s phone and he sighed, walking over to where it was charged on his desk before staring intently. “Woah,” he held his phone screen up to you with the displayed time. “I didn’t even know it was this late! I’m sorry.”

“Oh no,” you glanced at your own phone, spotting the several missed calls and texts from your father, sighing. You didn’t want to leave, but you knew you had to. You didn’t want to dig yourself a deeper hole. Shooting your dad a couple texts and asking Happy to come pick you up, you groaned, realizing there was no avoiding explanations on this one. The school library wouldn’t have even been open for study hall at this time if you said you were there. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay,” he insisted, although you could sense his disappointment too. “Maybe another time?”

“Definitely,” you grinned. “I think I like hanging here much better than the library. You even have a periodic table up on your wall for reference.”

“Exactly!” he pointed out, overexcited, and you giggled at his enthusiasm. “The library’s got nothing on us.”

“It’s a lot quieter in here too,” you added. “Which is ironic, because you’d think a library is the quietest place there is.”

“Not in a high school it’s not,” Peter shook his head and you laughed alongside him.

“You got that right,” you agreed.

Gathering up your things into your bookbag, you joked back and forth with him, until you were about to head out the door and he stopped you, making you freeze. “C-can I ask you something?” he wondered and you stared up at him, wide eyed, nervous. “I’ve sort of been meaning to ask you but I get nervous sometimes and I didn’t know how you’d react but uh-”

“What’s up, Parker?” you smirked, having a feeling that whatever was about to happen could only lead to something good.

“Well you see, there’s this dance coming up, next week actually, and me and Ned were talking about it. Um, it’s the homecoming dance. I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, and it can be as friends or maybe more than friends but well, maybe, I was thinking…” he stopped rambling and sighed, looking at you, frustrated and terrified of himself all at the same time. “Would you like to be my date to the homecoming dance next Friday?”

“Peter-” you stared at him, fireworks exploding in your chest. “Yes! Of course!”

“Wait, really?” his eyes lit up and you nodded eagerly, dropping your bookbag and rushing up to hug him.

“Really,” you insisted, wrapping your arms around him. You had never hugged Peter before, but he was warm and comfy and he smelled like fabric softener. You buried your face into his shoulder, squeezing tight, muffling your giggles. Both of you pulled back and he was smiling ear to ear, you as well. “I wish I could stay longer, but um, I’ll be sure to shoot you a text when I get home.”

“For sure,” he kept smiling at you like a fool, and you couldn’t say anything because you bet you probably looked the exact same.

Waving goodbye to Aunt May and closing the door behind you, you took a step before instantly hearing Peter excitedly ramble on to his aunt. “I asked the question May- the one to the dance. And she said yes! She said yes, holy shit- I’m gonna need a suit. And a corsage. Where do you even get a corsage?”

“Woah, slow down there, kiddo,” Aunt May chuckled. Trying not to eavesdrop any longer, your entire face flushed, heart fluttering, fuzzy feeling enveloping you as you walked down the hall. You were falling for Peter Parker. And you were falling hard.

The car ride home with Happy was pretty quiet, and you knew you were going to get another talking to, you could just feel it. It wasn’t that you were purposely trying to be rebellious or anything, sometimes you just genuinely lost track of time. It was easy to be distracted when you were with someone like Peter. Your attention seemed to effortlessly gravitate towards him, you couldn’t even help it yourself. Making your way up to the elevator, half of you was still buzzing with excitement from your night at Peter’s, but the other half was dreading the rest of the night to come dealing with the repercussions from your dad.

“It’s nine o’clock, y/n. Where in the hell were you? And don’t even start with study hall,” your dad folded his arms, already exhausted.

“I went over to a friend’s house to study,” you explained. “I’m sorry, I lost track of the time and I just-”

“Was it a boy?” he looked at you, narrowing his eyes from behind his glasses and you sighed. “The boy?”

“What does it matter?” you whined.

“It matters because you’re the type of girl to get into trouble,” he argued and you did a doubletake, offended.

“Excuse me?” you stared at him. “I get perfect grades, dad! I’m on the honor roll! And you think that I’m going to get myself into trouble?”

“You’re my daughter, y/n. There’s no way in hell that you aren’t,” he shook his head. Tony sighed, looking you up and down, and then pursed his lips. “Does he treat you right at least? This boy?”

“Y-yeah,” you blushed, nodding, slowly feeling your agitation fade away. “He’s really sweet.”

“Is he smart?”

“Super smart. He competes in the decathlon, dad. Plus he literally studies computer programming for fun.”

“So he’s a giant nerd.”

“No! Okay, maybe. But he’s a cute nerd.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony nodded slowly. “So are you two dating or is this a crush type situation?”

“He asked me to the homecoming dance,” you told him, blushing furiously just at the thought of Peter Parker in a suit and tie, hair gelled back, swaying with you on the dance floor.

“I better get around to meeting this kid then,” he insisted. “If he’s inviting you over and going to the dance with you and all.”

“I’m sure you will, dad,” you smiled sweetly. “The dance is coming up soon and he’s obviously going to pick me up so, you can have a couple words with him then. He’ll be dressed up and everything, it’ll make a good impression.”

“Right, right,” he laughed. “Well just be careful, alright? I can’t have my daughter’s heart getting broken out here. He should know he’s messing with Iron Man’s daughter, I’ll kick his ass if he ever wrongs you.”

“I know, dad,” you rolled your eyes, giving him a big hug. “But I think we’re safe with this one. He’s a really good guy. I can feel it.”

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itsyourchoice-hp · 4 years

Text

Year 1: The Wrath of Professor Snape

Author's Note: I hope you are enjoying the story so far! Reviews are much appreciated, as I would love to know what you all think. ____________________________________________________________________________________ The student behind Cath had to give her a little prod before she stumbled forward onto the stage. The staff table was behind her, but she had little time to observe before she sat down on the stool and turned to face the entire student body. Professor McGonagall placed a massive pointed Wizard’s Hat on her head. It was so big that it covered her eyes. To Cathryn’s surprise, the hat began to talk to her. It sounded almost as if it were a voice in her head. “Ah, a Malfoy… Well, Slytherin could be an easy choice. You have the ambition, no doubt. But there is a brave Gryffindor heart in there, yes indeed… It seems you could belong in both houses,” it said. Cathryn wondered if everybody else could her what he was saying to her. She was worried that it was taking a long time. What if the hat couldn’t decided which house to place her in? Cathryn couldn’t imagine the look of disappointment on her Father’s face when she arrived on their doorstep and told her parents that she didn’t belong in any house and therefore couldn’t attend school. “There is much you don’t know about yourself… so it had better be Gryffindor!” the hat exclaimed. Cathryn was stunned as the table to the far right erupted in cheers. The hat was taken off her head, and as she made her way off the stage, she caught a glance of Draco at the Slytherin table, who looked equally as surprised. In fact, most of the Slytherins were staring at her with scowls or mouths open in shock. She fought back tears as she hurried into a seat at the Gryffindor table. What were her parents going to say? Why was she the only person in her family tree who hadn’t been in Slytherin? “Cheer up, now, we aren’t all that bad!” a voice broke Cathryn’s anxious thoughts. She looked up. Sitting across from her were two identical twins, both tall and lanky with red hair and freckles - undoubtedly Weasleys. “Welcome to Gryffindor. I’m Fred,” one said, shaking her hand. “And I’m George,” the other said, taking her other hand at the same time and shaking it. “Hello,” she managed to say. Yet another redhead boy, who looked a couple years older than the twins and displayed a shiny Prefect’s badge on his robes, leaned over and glared at the twins. “Ssh!” he hissed. “That’s our brother Percy,” Fred explained. “He really puts a damper on things, that one…” George added. When Percy gave them another glare, both twins stuck their tongues out at him. As the Sorting continued, Cathryn looked around the table at everyone. She caught eyes with Harry, Ron and Hermione who all smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up. She managed to smile back, but felt a bit jealous as the Slytherin table cheered and hissed as two students in a row were sorted into their house. Ginny Weasley joined the Gryffindor table soon after (all the Weasley boys cheered the loudest) and as the last few students took their turns on the stool, Cathryn looked to the staff table. Hagrid sat at one end, beaming around at everyone and drinking from a massive goblet. In the very centre was an old man with a very long white beard and a blue pointed hat. He wore robes of light blue and gold and peered over half-moon glasses. Next to him was an empty seat where Cathryn presumed belonged to Professor McGonagall. The professor next to the empty seat took her by surprise, for he was staring straight at her, his eyebrows knit together in a look that looked oddly like anger. He had sallow skin, a rather hooked nose and long, black hair that reached to his high-collared black robes. His staring made Cathryn feel quite uncomfortable, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away and started at his plate for the rest of the Sorting Ceremony. Cathryn leaned over to the twins and whispered, “Who is the professor next to the empty chair?” The twins both grimaced. “Snape,” they replied. She nodded, remembering the conversation that she’d had on the train earlier. It seemed that nobody quite liked Professor Snape. And by the looks of it, he didn’t like anybody either - particularly Cath. Perhaps he was expecting her to be sorted into Slytherin too because Draco was? But why would he be so angry about it? *** Much to Cathryn’s surprise, a great horned owl dropped off a letter from home at the breakfast table the morning after the Sorting Ceremony had taken place. She opened the letter and unfolded the parchment to find a couple of lines in her mother’s handwriting: Cathryn, Congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor. I am very proud of you, and I’m sure it will grow to feel like a home to you. We hope you are settling in well at Hogwarts. If you’ve forgetting anything, don’t hesitate to send us an Owl back. Much love, Mum Cath frowned, picturing her Father with a very disappointed look on her face when the news came that she hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin. He had probably refused to let her mother write “we are very proud of you”. Cath usually wasn’t one to overanalyze, but such a short reply seemed like a good enough cause for worry. Perhaps her parents were going to shun her now. She was probably the disgrace of the family. It would cause her parents so much distress that her Father would lose his job at the Ministry and they would be forced to sell the Malfoy Manor that had been in the family for centuries… they would have to live in a small, dingy flat. They would be the shame of the Malfoy family - even Nana and Grandad would stop visiting. Or maybe, they would just throw her out of the house to begin with and she would have to start panhandling. Would Professor Dumbledore let her work in the school kitchens to earn her keep? The sound of a bell ringing shook Cath from her melodramatic thoughts. She quickly slung her school bag over her shoulder and followed the other Gryffindor First Year students out of the Great hall, deciding that she was probably overreacting to her mother’s letter. Pushing it to the back of her thoughts, she entered the doors of a cold and dark dungeon for her first class - Potions. The students were seated at round tables in groups of four. Cath joined Ginny Weasley, Esmerelda Goldsworth, Jeffrey O’Connor and, and Colin Creevy (a boy who was constantly asking to take Harry’s picture) at a table. Waiting for them at the front was a glowering Professor Snape. The dim lighting of the dungeon gave him a creepy and rather green look. “I expect my students to arrive at class on time. Not one moment early, nor one moment late. I will not tolerate my time being wasted, especially on First Year students who need all the education they can get,” he said sourly in a deep, sneering voice. Cathryn exchanged uncomfortable glances with the students around her table. “In my classroom, I expect students to behave with the utmost respect for the art of Potions. I have no patience for those who arrive late, talk out of turn, fail to complete homework, or do not follow my instruction. Failure to comply will result in punishment and deduction of house points. Am I understood?” he looked around, as if daring someone to speak up. The dungeon was silent. “We will move on to attendance. When I call your name, you will simply raise your hand,” he said, unfolding a roll of parchment that sat on his desk. Cathryn was certainly beginning to see what Harry, Ron and Hermione were saying when they had told her about Professor Snape. She was already beginning to dislike him. Whatever side of him Draco saw, he clearly wasn’t showing it today. “Adams, Christine,” he began. A girl with black, chin length hair raised her hand timidly. “Birch, Lauren… Blackstone, Michael… Creevy, Colin…” Snape continued down the list. His lip practically curled as he said, “Malfoy, Cathryn,” through clenched teeth. Cath raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit angry at his reaction to her name. Professor Snape scanned the classroom until his eyes rested on her, glaring. “Did I not instruct you to raise you hand when I call your name, Miss Malfoy?” he asked. She sighed through her nose and rose her hand in obedience. “Clearly you are already showing a lack of respect for the rules I’ve given you. Five points from Gryffindor,” he said. When he noticed the scowl on her face he added, “You will soon find out that not everything in this life will be simply handed to you, Malfoy.” He continued to take attendance as Cathryn’s face became hot with embarrassment. “He hates me,” she muttered. “That makes two of us,” said Harry to Cathryn at a table in the Great Hall the following Saturday. The two of them, along with Ron, Hermione and Draco were gathered there, doing homework (or in Harry and Ron’s case, playing Wizard’s Chess). “Maybe he’s getting bored of picking on Harry, so he needs someone new,” Ron suggested, as his Knight took out one of Harry’s pawns. “Or maybe he just can’t favour two Malfoys,” suggested Draco with a sneer. “So he has to pick a favourite. “Draco,” Hermione chided him from behind a stack of books. “Well whatever it is, I’m not about to let him make a fool of me in front of the whole class whenever he pleases,” said Cathryn determinedly, now doodling on her Transfiguration homework. “It’s best not to fight fire with fire when it comes to Snape, like Harry does,” Hermione advised her. “I do not-“ Harry broke off before he could disagree with her. “Well… I suppose I do.” “Have you replied to Mother and Father’s letter yet, Cath?” Draco asked Cathryn, changing the subject. She just shook her head. “Were they pleased that you were sorted into Gryffindor?” Hermione asked. “It’s none of your business, Hermione,” Ron said, looking as if she had just said something offensive. Cathryn laughed as Hermione scowled at him. “They weren’t over the moon about it, that’s for sure. From what I could gather from the four sentences my Mother wrote, they were probably a bit surprised. My Father didn’t write anything at all. Maybe he died of shock.” “I’m sure they’ll get over it,” Draco said, though he didn’t look to sure of it himself. “You can always come stay with my family over the holidays if they disown you,” Ron offered. “They won’t disown you,” Hermione assured her. It was all very kind of them, but Cath couldn’t help but think that they didn’t know the proud, Pureblood Slytherin wizard that was her Father. If he was encouraging Draco not to hang out with his Gryffindor friends, the chances that he would be happy his own daughter was one probably wouldn’t please him. “Cath, you should come to the Quidditch game today,” Harry suggested. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin. You can watch me put your brother to shame.” “Eat dung, Potter,” Draco snapped. “We’ll see who’s going to be put to shame. My father got me a Nimbus 2001 as a present before the start of school.” Quidditch was the most popular Wizarding sport - one that was played in the air on flying broomsticks. Draco was a seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and practiced tirelessly every summer in their backyard. From what he had told her, Harry was also a Seeker - in fact, the youngest one in history. Normally First Years weren’t allowed to join the Quidditch team, but Harry’s skill had been discovered and he’d been given special permission from Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Her father had mentioned something about special treatment when Draco had explained this, but even being the prideful brat he was, Draco admitted that Harry really was quite good. “You know what I got as a present before the start of school? My brothers old gloves. Gloves! What on earth am I going to need those for?” Ron grumbled bitterly. Draco snickered. “Well, it is quite cold outside, I’m sure they’ll come in handy if they haven’t got too many holes in them.” “Draco,” Hermione and Cathryn scolded in unison. *** As weeks passed, Cathryn began to feel more and more at home at Gryffindor. She got on well with the other girls in her dorm, most evenings were spent with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny and their other Gryffindor friends in the Common Room, and (save Potions) her classes were most enjoyable. The brisk autumn air slowly gave way to wind and snow, and the day before it was time for Cathryn and Draco to go home for Christmas break, Hogwarts was covered in thick blankets of sparkling white snow. However, something very strange happened that day. The last class of the day had finished, and Cathryn and Ginny were walking along with their other classmates back to Gryffindor Tower so that they could get ready for dinner A strange sight in the corridor caused them to stop in their tracks and let out a gasp. They were standing in ankle deep water, and a cat belonging to the school caretaker was suspended in midair, appearing to be paralyzed. Ginny gave a sudden sob beside Cathryn and fled back the way they had came from. “Ginny!” Cathryn said. Before she could attempt to follow her, Professor McGonagall arrived. The sight made her eyes widen in shock. She lifted up the hem of her robes. “Your attention please,” she said immediately, loud enough for the group to hear. Other students attempting to go down the corridor were now gathered around, whispering to each other. “Everyone is to return to their Common Rooms immediately. This corridor is officially off limits until further notice, so please do not attempt to reach your Common Rooms this way.” The students began talking amongst themselves again, all conspiring as to what had happened. As Cathryn looked over her shoulder, Professor McGonagall began to perform spells that closed off the corridor. If Ginny had already gone back to the Common Room, Cathryn could not find her. Her reaction to the scene they had just witnessed both confused and concerned Cath, and when the bell rang for dinner, Cathryn quickly went to the Great Hall to find Harry, Ron and Hermione and tell them what had happened. The three of them were already talking about it as she took a seat beside them. “Did you hear?” Ron asked. “It’s so strange…” Hermione said anxiously. “I was there,” Cath replied. “We were walking out of our last class, and the hallway was filled with water. Then, we saw Mr. Filch’s cat just hanging in midair. She was stiff as a board - she looked like she was paralyzed or something.” “Weird…” Harry said, shaking his head. “By the way… have either of you seen Ginny? She was rather upset when it happened. She ran off before Professor McGonagall could get there, and I didn’t see her in the Common Room when we got back,” Cath said. Ron shrugged. “She’s just sensitive, that’s all. I’m sure she’ll get over it.” However, Ginny never showed up to dinner and when Cathryn returned to her dorm that night, the curtains of her four-poster bed were already pulled shut. Cath lay in bed for a while, mulling the situation over in her head before sleep fell over her.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #wattpad #writing #mine #ship #dramione #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy #severus snape #hpff

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ofgoodmenarchive · 3 years

Text

Blighted Empire: 8.5

Bound by Light

Something was different.

Something was out of place.

Identifying the source of this unease was a sluggish, difficult task. Evallan attempted an intake of his surroundings, listing each detail in his mind.

Immediately he knew whatever his location, he was safe. Wrapped in blissful warmth and comfort, the world muffled by layers of blanket and a pair of strong arms. His sleeping companion was no mystery- Dorian had allowed him into his bed, no? Even if that memory eluded, the hint of fire and sweat was significant on its own.

Yet there was certainly something amiss.

We did not fall asleep like this.

He would not allow it...

Nor just that- beyond Dorian's smokey aroma the room smelled quite different from what it had. One grows accustomed to the damp within the tower, a dingy cloud lingering in every hall. It was a scent you only remember in its absence- and it was absent now- as absent as his clothes. Evallan appeared to be wearing nothing and Dorian was equally under-dressed, bare skin pressed to bare skin.

Startled, he lay stiffly and burned, trying to fathom his predicament. Eventually he realised the room was lit far brighter than Dorian's- where a window had been bricked. The ceiling here was spacious and a soothing breeze whistled through an out-of-sight opening, all fabrics and carpets dyed warm, luxurious shades.

It is me.

I am the thing out of place.

Though it wasn't terribly surprising. Cut off from the Fade, theoretically Evallan should no longer dream. Except in order to survive, he'd connected to something else- some place. With nowhere else in reach, his dreams brought him here.

Understandable. Evallan could even describe himself as grateful- almost.

Still- this timing was highly inappropriate.

Dorian's breathing was languid, tickling the side of his neck. Biting his tongue not to make a sound, Evallan scooted ever-so-carefully from the bed, determined to roll away and onto his feet without waking the man.

Luckily there was a robe hanging from the headboard. He slipped into the thin fabric, satisfied it at least covered more delicate areas. Not that it mattered- the true owner of this vessel was obviously comfortable to be seen by Dorian in such a way. It was just that Evallan found himself feeling rather intrusive.

Aimless, he padded around, blinking at paintings in the dim light, or frowning at books with titles he'd never heard of. After some time he settled at the writing desk and perused notes, finding most to be personal logs. Written by something akin to his own hand- his actualhand was clumsier in any language, than the careful Dalish script he poured over now.

The writing style was at least familiar; direct, to the point, sparing no time for frivolous detail but listing everything of importance in practical fashion. Yet he could make no sense of the information, lacking proper context for the endless descriptions, names, doodled maps...

Evallan debated searching out Amrallan's letters once more but never came to a decision.

“Mmn...Amatus...? Come back to bed...”

He froze, anxiety rendering him mute. Dorian's hand grasped at sheets, displeased by their emptiness. Since Evallan was unable to think of a response, the grumbling continued;

“Alright...either come back to bed or close the bloody balcony.”

At first he was lost- then recalled that gentle breeze. Indeed nearby was a balcony door, left ajar to reveal snowy mountains. Even in this life, his other self must find these quarters stuffy, needing a draft to counteract. Not having the same issue, Dorian required his partner to heat their shared bed.

Stepping towards the balcony, Evallan swung it closed and flipped the latch. He returned to the desk then and sat tensely, brooding at his knees.

After a short bout of silence, Dorian sighed with dramatic misery.

“...It'll be one of those nights, will it? I see how it is.”

Not really comprehending, Evallan observed from behind his hair. Dorian unfurled from the bed and instantly he looked away, cheeks flushed and lips thin.

“Bloody cold!” Thank the Gods for small mercies- Dorian also acquired a robe, saving Evallan from the shame of fighting with his own gaze.

To an extent, at least.

“So...what is it keeping us awake tonight, hrm? Orlais, the Chantry? Or maybe someone's just not doing their job?”

What to even say? Should he announce himself? Should he simply act as though nothing was wrong? While he thought and Dorian spoke the man also meandered for him, stretching and yawning, perfectly relaxed.

“Or, you're not...did you have a nightmare...?”

Thinking of his existence as a nightmare almost made Evallan laugh. He held himself.

Dorian's shadow fell over him, the other mage bending to his level with a sigh.

“Evallan...don't ignore me, now.”

Lips brushed against his and he seized, fingers clutching to arm-rests.

“...O-oh.” Dorian jerked back, laughing. “I-I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you at first.”

Aware his face was several shades of red, Evallan lifted it for Dorian to see.

“...At...first?” He hiccuped, forced composure. “How can you see any difference?”

The Tevinter snorted, leaning upon the table.

“Well, no offence to you at all, of course, but my Evallan doesn't tend to look around himself like a scared rabbit-” Choking, he hastened to add. “Not because of your ears- or anything! Your- your eyes. You stare around like a cornered mouse, or something. That's all I meant. Your ears are perfectly normal.”

Perplexed but not taking it as an insult, he nodded, considering-

“...That is not how you have described it to me before.”

“Oh?” He seemed amused by that, chortling. “And how did 'I' describe it before?”

“You said I scowl with only my eyes.”

This inspired peals of hilarity from the man- a calming sound. It gladdened Evallan to hear the same laughter he knew so intimately.

“Well- yes,” Dorian breathed out, wiping his eyes. “It is that- but behind the scowling- it's obvious you're quite terrified.”

Evallan's spine firmed, corner of his mouth tugging downwards.

“I am not afraid.” He stated in defence.

“Oh, forgive me,” Dorian rolled his eyes, teasing. “Distraught then, or stressed. Are those more appropriate descriptors for your terribly masculine ego?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to avoid sniling, muttering only-

“Yes.”

Which caused Dorian to roll his eyes again, though Evallan noted how affectionately he was regarded between these jabs.

This must be difficult for him...

A strange thought- not because of its content. Thus far it was the only internal dialogue he discerned as 'shared' between him and the quiet presence whose life he'd invaded. He was doubly compelled to express the sentiment, mumbling-

“I...am sorry. This must be very strange for you.”

“Ah, well...” Dorian shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “It's probably awful to say aloud...but I think I would be more upset if you had no idea who I am. Luckily, even when you're speaking intongues or drawing diagrams on the walls...you always seem to know me, so...”

“I still...cannot imagine that being so much of a comfort.”

“Well...” He paused with a sense of apprehension. “He is...still in there, isn't he? He just won't remember what we talked about. Or at least...that's how he explained it.”

“I hear his thoughts sometimes,” Evallan was quick to confirm, wanting to reassure. “I do not believe he 'goes' anywhere as such, no...”

“Good- that's. That's good.” Though he tried to seem unswayed the relief was obvious in his posture, relaxing with a huff.

“It really is you in an awkward situation here,” Dorian began again, snickering “I imagine waking up naked in another man's bed without alcohol to blame, was- wait, do you drink? I suppose you might.”

Evallan shook his head.

“No, I thought not. Well, my point stands then.”

Pondering it over, Evallan shook his head a second time.

“It is fine, really. We fell asleep in a similar arrangement, only, I, ah...both of us were clothed.”

“Oh.” Dorian snorted into his hand, stifling amusement- then abruptly straightened. “Wait a second! Does that mean you took my advice?”

He blinked, not comprehending.

“Your advice...?”

Sighing at Evallan as if he were the slowest man in any universe, Dorian conveyed;

“I told you to find me, remember!? To hold onto me?”

“O-oh-” Recalling, his face overheated. “I...Yes, I did follow that advice- but I...I forgot where I heard it, I think.”

“Typical!” He scoffed, full of exaggeration. “I don't get credit for anything.”

“You can have that credit now, if it means so much to you.” Evallan joked automatically.

“Careful, now,” Dorian chuckled, flashing a grin. “You don't know what sort of 'credit' I might ask for.”

He must have looked strange- for certain Evallan knew his mouth had fallen open slightly. Seeing this Dorian became apologetic, spluttering and waving his hands.

“Maker, my stupid mouth! It's easy to forget um...different stages of familiarity, and all that?”

“I-I understand.” He choked on a nervous laugh. “It is fine, really.”

“Well...” Dorian gestured around himself. “This is still your room, as far as I'm concerned, and it's a tad late for a tour of the castle. How about we go back to bed, and you can have a little rest before you're whisked off to whatever blighted world, hrm?”

“I would not mind that.” Evallan muttered, then tugged at his robe. “But...can we put on clothes?”

Dorian cackled at that, nodding.

“That would feel more appropriate, no?” He strode to a dresser, waving Evallan to follow. Once he'd done so, Dorian patted the top with a smirk.

“This is where you keep your clothes. It's actually the third time I've shown you.”

“The third?” Evallan perked a brow. “I do not remember the other times.”

“Yes, well...I say it was 'you' in a very...general sense.” His voice tilted between sadness and humour, though the sincerity of his smile never faltered. Encouraged but still skittish, Evallan dragged open one of the drawers and simply stared. In his reality he owned maybe three sets of robes, nearly identical. Looking at the plentiful folds of rich fabric, he couldn't imagine how this other self managed to dress himself in the morning.

“Need some help?” Dorian offered, leaning into his side.

“I only wanted some underclothes.” He ground out, massaging his forehead. “There is so much here...it is giving me a headache.”

Not an exaggeration- rooting around in these belongings provoked a throb in the centre of his skull, close to unbearable.

“I don't think it's that- you're looking somewhat green.”

A hand steadied him and Evallan braced against the attached arm with a grunt.

“I think...I am...” Incapable of completing a sentence, apparently. All at once his strength dissipated and he slouched into Dorian, who was steadfast in catching him.

“There he goes-” He heard the Tevinter mumble into his hair, holding close. “Don't worry, I'm here.”

His voice was the last thing Evallan heard, his careful touch the last thing he felt.