Ensorcell :: (Dave x Reader)

Chapter 1 - Establishing the Setting

Wind in your hair, a gentle breeze against the warm sun. It felt nice. It wasn't too hot, nor was it too cold. With the sun warming your clothes the breeze cooled your skin so it was perfect. Grass beneath you, behind you, around you. The smell of fresh rainfall filling your senses. It was... it was perfect. You take a tentative step forward. Then, another. Finally, you start to sprint through the grass, the feeling of running so free and tempting. You didn't want to stop. That was, until the actually running caught up with you. You slowed down, eager to enjoy the freedom of the field around you. It was so open. You couldn't describe it any other way, perfect. Across the way, you could hear the breeze blowing through trees, you lifted your head and closed your eyes to enjoy-

"Excuse me!" Your teacher demanded, standing in front of you. You jerk up, your chin jolting to face her as your eyes shoot open. You hadn't even realized you closed them. That's why the image had been so vivid. You looked up at her with a blush, cheeks dark red. Around you the class snickered at your misfortune. You were the one caught, not them, and for that they were amused. It wasn't as if it were a rare occurrence, though. It happened often enough that some of the students were getting annoyed at it and would try to prod you awake throughout class. Not that you were actually sleeping. However, your daydreams did leave you in a rather fugue state.

"I-I'm sorry," you quickly gasp out, embarrassed you were caught daydreaming, and even more so since you knew the teacher had to call it several times, louder each time, to get your attention. Your teacher gave you a look, the look, and you dropped your head, hoping that your sense of submission would appease her this time. Unfortunately, it didn't, thus with a grated sigh, you accepted your write up slip, keeping your head down and eyes facing the ground. Even though the write up didn't do much to affect your grade, gpa, or even school record, you knew your parents would throw a fit about it. As the teacher walked back up to the front of the room, everyone else followed her, facing forward and eyes on the teacher. All except two, that was. You and someone that was still smirking at you.

Dave Strider. Residential badass and class president. Not officially, but the he may as well be. Everyone listened to what he had to say and if he didn't like something, it was gone. He approved things with a smirk and thumbs up, disapproved them with a cocked brow. He didn't talk much, until you got him started, anyway. Once he started, he didn't stop. He would fly off the handle on metaphors longer than War and Peace. You looked at him, pursing your lips and furrowing your brows. His lip quirked, as if about to smile, before he faced forward again. That was the only expression you ever saw on him, it was a smirk, it was disapproval, or stoic. You weren't going to lie. Dave was extremely attractive, but he put up a facade and you did not trust it. Why would someone go out of their way to hide their expressions, to make sure no one knew who they really were.

Dave reminded you a lot of Jay Gatsby. He and his Bro would host awesome parties, but they stuck to the turntables, never talking to anyone, just mixing. He would look out on people, talk, but he would never tell them about himself. He had rumors flying around him. He kept dead things in his room, swords in closets. You knew both of those for a fact because you went to one party of his, Halloween freshman year, and you accidentally walked into his room. Dead things floating in jars, swords sticking from his closet. You could tell they were real, too. He shooed you out pretty quickly.

That only furthered your curious and almost suspicious nature of Dave. Sure dead things and swords were creepy, but at least it proved he was human. People who saw one or the other assumed he was a psychopath. Rumors ran around school that he killed people, ran a drug cartel, hell, that he was a kidnapper despite having no where to hide the body, at least in his apartment with his Bro. Yet, the rumors did nothing to dissuade his popularity. People loved him all the same. Not everyone, no. There were people who pissed him off so bad that they became school outcasts, not because of Dave himself, but because everyone else dissuaded one another from relating to them. They have their own little gang. They're all pretty nice. You sat with them during lunch a few times. Most of them have grown up since they made those mistakes. Dave faced forward and you didn't realize you had been staring until the bell rang and people brushed past you both, eager to get out of class and to their next one. Eager to get through the school day as fast as possible. Giving another sigh, you pulled all your books into your bag and slung the messenger bag over your shoulder. Technically, you weren't supposed to carry backpacks, but because you used the bag as a purse, you were able to get away with it. Not that many teachers cared, but those that did couldn't argue with you.

You stood up and once again felt Dave's eyes on your back. You couldn't prove he was looking at you, this time, because you were all facing forward. But you could tell, you could tell even without seeing past those aviators. Dave Strider, now, he was a strange one. You would love to be able to figure him out, but someone as popular as he, you could never get close. At least, not without a valid excuse. You sighed, you knew he wasn't an asshole. He knew your name, and if you waved, he waved right back. He wasn't mean, he wasn't crude, and he wasn't sexist, either. He advocated for the queer community, he spoke out against sexism, and hell, he even spoke out about racism. But you just couldn't understand why he was so good all the time and why he didn't show anyone his flaws...

Maybe it was because he was so popular. If he had any flaws, they would rip him apart... You sighed and shuffled out the door. At least you had your favorite class next period. That was something to look forward to, at least.