[✓] 𝐺𝐿𝑂𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 「F.W x Fem!Reader」

'•.¸♡ YEAR 6 ♡¸.•'

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

-ˋˏ CHAPTER 10 ˎˊ-

↳ ❝ [ I KNOW YOU'RE SCARED. ] ¡! ❞

  .・゜゜・[Y/N] POV

I sat in the Common Room with a pillow cuddled to my chest. A blanket draped across the couch behind me. I didn't bother to use it, I wasn't cold anyways. 

Nearing midnight, I watched as the clock ticked. It was a boring sound. Annoying. Incessant ticking and tocking. I avoided trying to listen to the old thing and looked back down at the fire. Above the mantle, held a painting. The painting stared down at me. 

It was a bit creepy. The way it just stared. I didn't like making eye-contact, so I tried everything in my power to ignore him. I cuddled the pillow closer. It brought some comfort, even if it was an inanimate object. 

I jumped from the couch when a voice boomed across the quiet and empty room. ''By God!'' 

The pillow fell to the floor. I stood on my toes on the crimson colored couch. My fingers dug into the back cushions along with the blanket draped over them. Looking up, I saw the man in the painting looking down at me with raised brows. 

''That was pathetic.'' 

I furrowed my brows while I took in his appearance. His hair was brown, curly and mainly swept to one side. A few grey strands of hair differentiated from the brown. A beard curled around his mouth, reaching down to his white blouse he wore under a black coat. A navy blue suit vest accompanied the red ribbon tied loosely around his neck.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I gathered up the courage to reply. ''What?''

It's not that I was scared of him. He's an old man on a painting. He just spooked me for a second and I needed to collect myself. That's it. 

The man rolled his eyes, which were difficult to comprehend which color they held. His seemingly always downturned brows only seemed to drop more when he glowered down at me. ''Whom are you, girl?''

''I- uh..'' I fixed myself. Standing onto my own two feet. I took a few deep breaths, composing myself. ''I'm [Y/n] Clarke.'' I didn't see why he needed to know but I didn't want to be rude, either. 

He hummed. Seemingly sitting straighter. 

''And you are?'' 

''You don't know me?'' 

I shook my head. ''I can't say that I do, sir.''

''I am-'' He puffed out his chest. His eyes blankly looked into the distance. ''-Charles John Huffam Dickens.'' The man in the painting had proudly stated his name. His chin held high as his lips curved upwards in the corner.