Thanks for the tag darling @writing-intheundercroft 💚 stop teasing me, drop Auror Six or lobotomise me
Realising I haven’t posted a fic since October so here's some snippets of my shame pile of WIPS.
Chav!Seb x Headgirl Part 3: A Torrid Affair (@sychenb Chav!Seb homewrecker living in my head rent-free)
Cooper was everything she’d ever wanted in boyfriend.
Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Handsome enough for her to take pride in the knowledge that all her friends were suitably jealous but not enough to make her feel inadequate about her own looks. An easy smile, but one of pedigree that had opened doors for generations. A gentleman who now gamely held the very same doors open for her. Being with Cooper was as effortless as he was.
A bright future, foundations laid by his father who had already made suitable arrangements for a nice internship in the Ministry in the Department of Games and Sports after he finished school. As much as he lamented it - and she could sympathise (to a degree)- Quidditch as a career simply wasn’t feasible long term. But he could go Semi-Pro, play for one of the minor leagues. It would keep him content and the connections in the industry would be invaluable.
As if by her own design he slotted as effortlessly into her plans as he brushed his perfect sandy hair back from forehead.
It was a shame really, that he was so fucking boring.
Really it was his only flaw. As if being so exceptional in every aspect seemed to cancel itself out. So palatable that it rendered him dull as dishwater. Any defining trait tempered, and rounded. His personality is a pumice stone slowly grinding away her patience.
If she was an unstoppable force and was expecting to meet her match in an immovable object - she wouldn’t find it in Cooper. Anyways, who was she to expect that from him? When he was just a scrap of fine cloth caught up in her carriage spokes.
PAS TOJOUR PUR - Andromeda Black x Ted Tonks
Third Year: All three Black sisters played the piano forte - to varying degrees of success. Narcissa; who never forgot a guest's favoured melody knowing that they would not so easily forget her. Elegant, precise fingers on an exposed pressure point. Bella; who played to a rhythm always a bit out of time but wholly her own. Until the day slammed the lid on their governesses fingers. Easily fixed. Swept under the rug some extra galleons in her pocket.
Andromeda played for the love of it; and perhaps because it was the only thing her sisters weren’t inclined to share. Her own little magic long before Ollivander had placed a wand in her hand.
Sixth Year: Andromeda studied him intently. Not in the way she had before - checking him for extra limbs, looking for physical proof of his unclean blood she'd always been told would be so evident - she'd never found anything anyway.
She was meant to be disgusted by him, his inferiority was meant to be so evident. But she had to admit he wasn't unpleasant to look at. Perhaps more than pleasant.
He'd been a gangly boy, round-faced with a mop of sandy hair that seemed to be permanently in his eyes but she supposed he'd grown into his appearance. Still tall and not beefy by any stretch but he'd filled out his shoulders broader. Lean but strong. His hair still sandy, fell softly on his forehead in a way that made you want to fix it for him. In Astronomy, Andromeda had watched Kate Jenkins map Ursa Major in ink using the freckles on his forearms.
Tonks had none of the severe aristocratic features of the boys she'd grown up with. The ones she was supposed to find handsome like her sisters did. His face although had lost that roundness of youth had a softness to it that she found pleasing.
Perhaps it was because she’d grown accustomed to her own face and its pleasantries. Andromeda had not inherited Cissy’s perfect porcelain grace from their mother's side; and despite their similarities was she quite as striking as Bella. Much like a quill running out of ink she too was softer. Less defined.
It was not to say she was not pretty in her own right; but it was not the kind of beauty that launched ships; but dreamt of when weary bones longed for home.
Untitled love triangles - S.S (inspired to write love triangle drabbles after finishing The Sound & The Fury by @cloniccouer )
They were friends. Weren’t they?
There had been no severing of ties. No mementoes stuffed into a box and unceremoniously returned that said ‘have back all that we were and all we could be for I have no use for it any longer’. No line drawn in the sand. Just a story that slowly bled off on abandoned pages.
They had caught fire together and once they’d inevitably exploded what remained was a smoulder. Dimmed, a slow spluttering death. Until all that remained was smoke. Their kindling - charcoal.
“Still have that saviour complex of yours, I see,” she said. “I don’t need saving, Sallow. Save your romantic concerns for Violet.”
He froze. Loath that he was to admit it, she was right.
“Well, I don’t have any romantic concerns. Things with Violet are fine.” She snorted again. Undignified, wholly unladylike but it still made him scramble as if he was the one unpoised an off balance. “Better than fine. Good.”
“Such poetry,” she taunted. Voice dripping, honeyed poison. “I never expected you of all people to settle for fine.”
“Not every relationship needs to be a battlefield,” he growled.
Eyebrows arched, her eyes sparked. How a cunning viper might look at snared prey. Under his skin, she’d snaked along his nerve endings tugging him into uncertain territory.
Not that Sebastian would ever call what they’d shared a relationship. Not the same way he would with Violet. Despite how many of the motions had been the same. They’d existed, both together and separate all at once, colliding like atoms in a liminal space. Beyond rules or reason.
There had been no first quiet hum of interest. A lingering eye as they passed each other in the corridors. Which gave way to smiles, laughter. No first dates under the guise of friendly outings. They had not tested their waters. Foolish, perhaps then they would have realised they were scalding.
Playing God (Chapter 2) - Dark!MC x Auror!Seb
It wasn't as if one day the wind shifted and suddenly the girl he knew wasn't there anymore, she hadn't walked into a catacomb or that final battle for the repository and what emerged from the flames was something new forged in blood.
It had been a staggered, uneven decent - like she'd lost her footing, heel coming loose on rain slicked grass. Lost her balance /until/andtripping downhill before submitting to the inevitable fall.
Sebastian hadn't seen her slip, and hadn't been able to catch her.
Or perhaps he had but he'd been too much of a coward to admit it.
He certainly hadn't when the girl who blushed, when his knuckles so much brushed hers, who he hadn't shared more than a kiss with appeared on his doorstep; eyes burning with desire. Had closed his eyes to it when she pushed into his London flat. Let her strip him of his clothes, and he hers. Wrapped herself around him, lustful, desperate. He'd whispered silent thanks to forgotten God's that night. Never thought her to be so bold, he'd seen what he wanted to - A beautiful girl plucking up the courage to take what she wanted.
If he'd been looking he may have realised it was somewhere in a series of missteps in a pattern he wasn't looking for. He'd been thinking with his cock. Blinded to the truth by desire. Or perhaps more dangerously, when the fog of lust had cleared and he'd woken the next morning to her curled up in his bed like she belonged there - with his heart.
Honourable mentions the other WIPS in the cemetary: Dad!Seb & Anne reunion fic, Traitor (In the Shadow of Us - MC POV), Owl Post...among others.
Well I’ve already tagged you @cloniccouer & @sychenb because your work is inspiring me to drag myself out of my writers block - I’d love to see your WIPS ✨
gummygunk
2087
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
