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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (17/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The most difficult part for Levi was picking the best place to read.

His first choice was the oval. It was almost summer though and Levi was familiar enough with the timeline to know training must have started already. The last thing he wanted to do was run into old teammates and be forced to maintain some inkling of a conversation.

His second choice was the library. And it wasn’t a bad choice. For a while, Levi had settled on one of the desks at the corner of the library, far from cramming students or students looking for a convenient place to cool off. Seats on the corner didn’t have wide windows though and the artificial light and the artificial chill of the room had turned out to be distracting.

It was only a few pages in did Levi realize, he would have preferred some green around him and the heat of late spring wasn’t so bad. He started to wonder why he had even considered reading indoors in the first place.

He had ended up wasting a good fifteen minutes only to fall back to where he had parted ways with Hange anyway.

In front of the science building.

Hange was inside one of the empty classrooms defending her final thesis. Levi sat on one of the benches to the corner of the building, closing his eyes tight as if that would have been enough to make out the voices inside the building.

Others came to watch and he was sure of that. He had seen Erwin on the way in. Nanaba and Mike had waved at him, asking if he’d be coming inside.

Levi decided against it long before and maybe Hange would have preferred it that way too. After all, she must have left him that particular manuscript before entering the building for a reason. He read the title page, neatly printed in a very much readable and professional font.

Although it had looked like one with the thick cover and the hard binding, as soon as Levi opened the first page, the small title on the upper left had him speechless yet very much convinced.

It wasn’t her thesis manuscript.

To: Captain Levi

Captain Levi. How long had it been since he heard that name and that title? Hange had called him that months before. He had remembered writing about him. The words on the page, Hange's voice, Kuchel’s voice and his own voice all mentioning those same two words in succession had happened, he was sure of that much.

The circumstances though with each memory had blurred into each other one by one and he liked to attribute it to his hermit tendencies the succeeding months after his injury.

Life had been different since then. He had gone back to face to face classes. He had been working on his thesis. Hange had been working on her own thesis too. And they were both just too busy trying to graduate on time given the chaos of the first semester.

He stared at the title page for a few more seconds pondering that chaos, possibly trying to reach for something behind that haze to no avail. The only thing he was able to grasp then had been a bout of nostalgia.

And the nostalgia was more than enough to get him in the mood to read. He chalked up the small stint in the library to a test run and started again from the beginning.

Hange Zoe was born to a rich family within the Walls of Wall Sina…

Hange had taken great pains to describe everything from the cobblestone streets to the crystal-like bricks that lined the walls of the elegant buildings. The bricks shone with a unique glint and that alone had been enough for Hange to waste one paragraph on it.

She then used up another few paragraphs talking about the stifling life within the walls and her own curious nature.

If there’s something you don’t understand, go out and learn to understand it.

Living within the walls wasn’t in her nature so she ran away. She joined the survey corps. She was drawn to the outside world, drawn to titans.

So she became a researcher.

Levi didn’t notice it at first. Although his brain had been able to partition those few early events on the timeline, eventually the words started to shift, blur into one another and he found himself scanning through the paragraphs much quicker than usual.

He knew that much about squad leader Hange Zoe. He knew she hyper fixated on titans. He didn’t need vivid descriptions of Sonny and Bean nor did he need detailed descriptions of the outside world, the guns, the war or even her theories on the rumbling.

She had already told him everything then in the forest. She had told it to him back then in the office. Before he even knew it himself, he was flipping through the pages much faster. Suddenly his mind was pushing him to look out for certain things as he read.

There was something else he was looking for, between the lines of the descriptive narrations of Hange Zoe’s life.

“Maybe we should just live here together right Levi?”

Levi found the quote three pages before the back cover, towards the upper left of the page. He found himself running his left hand up to the corner of the page, slipping that corner between his two fingers, pressing on the ink on paper, just to make sure it wouldn’t so easily smudge with touch. Maybe it might even disappear like some sort of an illusion.

He just had to make sure it was real.

Hange’s exposition on sceneries was exhaustive. They were clear and vivid and they covered everything to the most granular bits of the large painting in his mind. If Levi closed his eyes, he was sure he would see the forest then.

Although Hange’s descriptions were detailed, comprehensive, enough to paint easy pictures in his head, they were far from introspective.

She had taken great pains to describe the darkness, the crackling campfire and the rough gashes of his face but she didn’t talk much about how it felt. Maybe it was up to the reader to contemplate them.

So Levi filled in the blanks, he filled the spaces between the lines with emotions, musings, ponderings. He couldn’t be too sure yet whether they were his or hers though, so he trudged on aimlessly as he read.

Everything happened in fast forward from there. Although Hange never left his side when she could, she was still fighting, suddenly she was strategizing.

Of course she would, she was a commander. He was just an injured soldier.

There was another quote, towards the last page on the upper right and Levi found himself running his pointer finger through it and he pressed on it hard, hard enough to crumple the pages of that corner. He ran his nail through it leaving a noticeable crease before he closed the binder and took a deep breath.

Dedicate your heart.

Just like every other page, there was no introspection into the character that made Hange Zoe, only words, more words then vivid descriptions of everything that happened after.

He didn’t need white spaces between the lines to figure it out for himself. Even if the pages had all been black, save for the words and the emotions they evoked, he felt it then like a weight.

But he shook it off, opened the book once again and continued to read.

Hange flew up. She fought titan after titan. And the fight had ended with her burning up in the air with the one last quote below.

“Titans really are incredible.”

Levi had half the mind to close the book again there, except that time, with no intention of reopening it. If he didn’t hyper fixate on that last sentence towards the end of the page, towards Commander Hange Zoe’s last words, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed the faded grey at the back of the last paragraph.

It was particularly noticeable on the white, between the lines of paragraphs. Once again Levi played with the creases just to make sure he hadn’t missed it. It was the last page, he was sure.

There was something written on the other side of the page. As much as it had ached to read on, Levi willed himself to flip the page.

It was empty, a blank white page. Fortunately, Levi was desperate enough to stare at it a little longer and he soon realized, he was focused on the center, somehow he had expected to find some sort of resolution there.

Hange had left the last line towards the upper left corner.

See you later Hange. Watch over us. Next to it was a shabbily drawn airplane and unlike all the other pages, it was smudged. The ink had blotted, sending light streaks of gray towards the right in such a predictable manner, Levi could almost imagine the way she had held the crease of the corner between her finger tips.

Once again, he shifted the weight of the page, moving his thumb and his pointer to that corner, reproducing the motions of how she must have messed up something so simple. It was easy to imagine and Levi found himself smiling.

Below it, towards the lower part of the page, he saw it. It was written with the same gel pen that bled through the other side of the page.

There were so many things I wanted to tell you but I never got the chance.

“Then why didn’t you say it? You had ten pages to say it.” Hell, you had five years to say it.

The next line read as if Hange had already predicted what he was going to say next.

I was the commander. You were the captain. We had a war to fight.

But you know, I thought when everything ends, once we retire I could let you know.

In a moment of dissonance, Levi started to wonder who those words were for. For all he knew, he could have been telling her the same thing.

Even if you don’t remember, I hope you at least felt it.

Please remember. Even if I wasn’t able to tell you anything, even if I couldn’t stay by your side.

I was watching you until the end.

Commander Hange Zoe

“Commander Hange Zoe,” Levi said it out loud a second time. Those words were ambrosia to his lips and he probably mouthed it a few more times as he stared at the blue sky above him.

Levi let his shoulders fall and he looked back down at the binder. He didn’t even notice he had closed it. “There were so many things I wanted to tell you too.”

You said it already. Commander Hange heard you. The answer came as a whisper. A quiet whisper that blew into his ear, caressing his neck.

And it had him jumping on his seat. “What the fuck Hange.”

“Are you done being sad already?”

“Why would I be sad?”

“Because Commander Hange Zoe died and you were staring at the sky like this for a good few minutes.” Hange let her head fall back playfully and Levi could have sworn he didn’t look like that. When she looked back at him a second later, she gave a knowing smile, an almost mocking smile.

That was enough to get Levi a little abrasive. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was watching you,” Hange said. “You looked like you were concentrating so…”

“I was.”

“So I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You could have announced your presence like a normal person at least, maybe drop a greeting?”

“I had to look for you and you weren’t answering your phone then I got impatient.” Hange seemed unperturbed. “Come on, I’m treating you guys out to dinner.”

Levi opened his phone to see an hour had passed since he last checked the time and beneath it five missed calls, all from Hange. On the upper right of his phone, the silent mode sign flashed like some sort of reminder. “I was in the library so I had to put my phone on silent.” Those words in defense of his actions were instinctive. Soon, as Hange looked back gesturing for him to follow her, he started to realize that maybe that defense was useless.

“Okay Levi,” Hange said. Her tone was reminiscent of a know-it-all. Her pace was insultingly slow. Levi found himself angrily quickening his pace to catch up to her.

Hange’s pace was at least slow enough that even with his recovering leg, he found it easy to catch up. The moment Levi walked past her, he felt familiar arms on his shoulder. They weighed on him and in a way, they had prevented him from overtaking her.

He had no intention of doing so anyway. “How was your defense?” Levi asked. It was an easy question to start with.

“Better late than never but I’m getting a diploma.”

“Late? You’re graduating with all of us.”

“I’m the last one among my batchmates who presented.”

“Believe me, I’m more amazed that you managed to get something out even after redoing your thesis three times.”

“I should thank Kuchel, it was her sources which got me here. I’ll probably send her a copy of my thesis as a thank you. You think she’ll appreciate that?”

“She probably will. Something to help her pass the time when she goes on leave.”

“Leave?”

“In our last session, she told me she’s expecting.”

“Oooh? A baby?”

“She ended up opening up to me about it after our session. She was pretty nervous about having a child for a while and recently, she managed to get over that fear.”

“I guess we all had something to deal with…” Hange said as she pulled him towards the gate. “You think we’ll get to meet the kid one day. I’d love to see Kuchel as a mother.”

“She’ll be a great mother…” Somehow, Levi knew it. He only had to look back at her words, her refined tone and the way she easily shifted between professional and motherly to be almost jealous of the child growing in her womb.

Hange gave him a toothy grin. “Let’s visit her together?”

“Why not?”

The conversation died as they turned the corner of one of the buildings along the path, a corner that opened up to a large courtyard and beyond it the gate of their university.

“Wait, where are we going?” Levi asked,

“I told you, I’m treating you guys out.” Hange answered matter-of-factly.

“Where Hange?”

“We’re having grilled meat.”

“Hange? For the third time… Where?” Levi asked.

It wasn’t Hange who had ended up answering the question. By the gate, Moblit and Nifa were waiting and they looked like they had been waiting a while. Nifa was tapping her feet impatiently while Moblit had seemed genuinely concerned.

“You guys okay? You looked like you were fighting,” Moblit said as he approached them.

“Where are we eating?” Levi asked.

“The Korean grill just a few blocks away.” Moblit said.

Levi didn’t need any more clarification from there. They were all from the same university and the restaurants around the area were a common language among them.

“That’s how you answer a question Hange,” Levi muttered coldly.

“Well, I didn’t think the location was important. I was leading you there already anyway,” Hange responding mirroring that same cold tone with her own. She went ahead and put one arm around Moblit muttering unintelligible words save for the quick congratulations at the start.

“Congratulations?” Levi asked.

“He got nominated for best thesis and everyone's pretty convinced he’s gonna win it,” Nifa answered. She had fallen back behind the two and matched Levi’s pace.

Moblit eventually raised his voice, loud enough for even Levi to hear. “No No… That was your data Hange and it was your idea. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Still…” Hange’s voice trailed off. She was far enough, her voice was garbled enough that with that few feet distance, her words were unintelligible. Her smile though was very much still perceptible, a genuine golden smile.

“Levi, you agree right?”

Levi looked towards the voice, Moblit’s voice. “Agree with what?”

“If Hange had submitted her thesis early, she could have won ri---.”

“Moblit, stop downplaying your nomination.” Hange interrupted, giving him a strong push n the back.

Moblit wobbled and held onto Hange’s shirt to keep his balance “But it was a good thesis right?” He asked as soon as he recovered. He looked at Levi expectantly.

It was only then did Levi realize, despite the five months together, he never really thought too much to ask what her thesis had been about. With his own hectic schedule, his physical therapy sessions, his sessions with Shela, maybe it just never peaked his interest. He was starting to feel guilty at such a reminder and before he knew it, he was finding excuses for it.

She spent a lot of the past few months cooped up in her room if not in class, save for the few moments when she would accompany to therapy sessions or to meet with Shela.

His thoughts flew back to the document she had shared with him.

To: Levi Ackerman.

And if that document was half as good as her thesis, he was sure she did well. So he returned Moblit’s approval with one of his own. “It was a good thesis,” Levi said. “But don’t downplay yours. You won fair and square.”

That was all there was to it. Hange didn’t win. But she didn’t seem to mind either. Hange had snuck what looked to be a grateful smile and she continued to playfully poke at Moblit then, probably whispering inside jokes, reminiscing about their life before.

Her mood was unwavering all the way until the restaurant

It turned out Mike and Nanaba were in the restaurant already and they only joined Hange at glomping Moblit for his nomination. The four childhood friends created a world of their own in the restaurant, a world full of inside jokes, long gone memories and maybe even discussions on future plans.

Levi deemed it appropriate to sit on a chair at the edge of their long table and just quietly listen.

Mike was selected for the national team.

Nanaba wanted to go back to minor league volleyball after college.

Moblit was going to medical school

And Nifa, who had joined their conversation then, was going to take masters.

Hange’s plans were either long-awaited or they were intentionally avoided. He couldn’t tell.

By the time the question came, it had come as a casual question by Moblit who had always been sensitive with the way he phrased things so his intention had been something Levi couldn’t read either.

Before Hange could open her mouth though, Nifa chimed in greeting. “Doctor Erwin!”

“Sorry I’m late. We were discussing the nominees,’ Erwin said.

And the topic shifted from there, even before Levi could get answers.

Erwin never spilled who the winner was, but it was apparent in his gaze that shifted to the side and the smile that curled up his lips that it was one of them. By the time Hange had started being too vocal about it, Erwin had spilled more than enough for the students to guess for themselves.

“You’re free anytime next week for an awarding ceremony right?” Erwin asked.

“Anytime sir! Thank you for this opportunity.”

Erwin shook his head. “You wrote a great thesis. It was well deserved. Will you be inviting Elijah?”

“I think I should treat him out, I’ve wasted a lot of his time this past year... He’s been pretty busy training with the national team though… But I’ll talk to him.”

Their long table was already a conglomerate of conversations and Levi struggled to keep up.

Somewhere between conversations, the charcoal had been added to the grills, the sides were served and Levi found himself listening intently to Erwin and Moblit’s exchange in particular while he played with the spinach on his plate.

Elijah swept the high jump. He swept the other events. He came out winning the Most Valuable Player Award for the High Jump. And he recently started training with the national team.

The Olympics isn’t a far off dream at this point. It’s probably just another step for him.

Moblit had shown up for the first training and he had started to describe Elijah’s skill with the bar then. His coordination with the take off food, his wide penultimate stride.

He was using lingo most track and field athletes wouldn’t have thought twice to use and Levi had used and heard them more times than he had counted through the years. Having not thought about high jumping in months, listening to such a conversation peppered with such words that used to be home for him, seemed surreal.

So surreal that for a second, Levi lost his grip on a reality. Enough to not have noticed the waitress who served the drink in front of him

It was a short and stout glass. The contents looked particularly ---almost dangerously--- colorful and the red stick on the side was enough for Levi to deduce what exactly it was. To confirm it, he took one sniff.

“Nanaba, why the hell did you order alcohol?” Hange asked.

“It’s a celebration right? We should be drinking. Cheers!” She raised her cup up to no one in particular.

Moblit and Nifa had been nice enough to join albeit a little uncomfortably. Levi found himself making eye contact with Erwin who was still slowly mixing the cup in front of him, seeming unsure of what exactly happened.

Hange seemed flustered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with us drinking but more people are coming and---”

“Sorry we’re late Hange!”

Armin? That was Armin’s voice. But it wasn’t just Armin, tailing behind him were several other very familiar people.

Armin continued. “None of us wanted to go alone…”

Of course none of them would want to go alone, they were high school students and around them were a group of college students and a college professor.

A group of high school students among college students. Levi noted. He eyed the cocktail glass in front of him then. Was that what Hange was worried about? Levi found himself downing his cup a little quicker.

“Blame Connie here, He was the one wasting his time on extra batting practice until god knows what time,” Jean said as he followed behind Armin.

“Shut up Jean. At least Armin didn’t have to cover my subway fee.”

“I just didn’t have change on me.”

“Calm down you two, you’re eating here for free.” Historia went in between the two, and walked up to Hange who had stood up to guide them to their seats. “I could pay for my share.”

“No, no. I set aside money for this. I just wanted to express my thanks for the past few months and I wanted to meet you guys again. I hope we can keep in touch even after...” Hange pulled Historia to the side and Levi couldn’t make out the rest of their conversation.

So he focused elsewhere.

“Is this… unlimited?” It was Sasha who spoke up that time. It was great timing that the moment Sasha had come in, the first plates of meat were starting to be served on the table. Expectedly, she had been the first one to sit and she started cooking on her end.

“Yes it is,” Levi answered

“No way… Right after a long day of training? Is this heaven…” Sasha could have been tearing up at that moment. She had been too focused on the meat so Levi couldn’t confirm it for himself but the crack on her voice had been evidence enough.

Hange squeezed herself among the high school students who had settled on the nearby seats. “No no… This is a thank you for helping me with my thesis. I got some good data from you guys so really, thank you for taking the time to fill out those forms and dealing with all my messages and calls,” Hange said.

“You didn’t have to. You did more than enough for us.” Jean sat in front of Levi towards the edge of the table. “You helped me fix my dunking position.”

“Ah Jean, you mentioned last time, you’d be going abroad for college. Will you?”

Jean grinned. “Basketball isn’t too big of a sport here so I thought of going somewhere where I can go pro. I got a full ride in a pretty good university.”

“Jean! Congratulations!” Their side of the table had exploded into other conversations.

They were all going to colleges, some abroad, some local. Levi had turned to their side, ready to passively listen for details. He was starting to get invested in their plans too.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Mikasa Ackerman. He instantly recognized her voice. “Ah sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” Levi said.

Mikasa remained standing. She stared at Levi expectantly and pointed to the seat next to him. “So, I can sit here?”

“Go ahead.” Levi scooched over on the bench. He eyed the filled cocktail glass next to Mikasa and pushed it casually towards himself. The last thing he wanted to do then was enable a minor.

Mikasa didn’t seem to notice the drink at leats.. “I talked to Elijah,” she said as she started placing meat in the grill... “He welcomed me during my first training.”

“Didn’t he move on from collegiate jumping already?”

“He had some free time. We had a long talk about prospects after college. I’m guessing coach put him up to it. Some extra persuasion points maybe?”

“You’re not gonna change your mind.”

“I don’t plan on changing my mind. I submitted my documents, signed the contract and I’ll probably be moving to the dorm next week so I’ll be nearer to the oval.” Mikasa paused to eat an egg roll.

“To think you were so against it before.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier now since Eren’s starting to prepare for entrance exams. I’m actually convinced he’s gonna be fine. He’s been taking review classes and he’s been studying a lot outside the classes too.”

“Entrance exams of Paradis University?”

“That’s his first choice,” Mikasa said. “Are you still staying in the dorm? Maybe we could go through drills together on off-days and you could give me a few pointers.”

“I’ll be in the dorm for a week more or so... I’m not exactly sure.”

“You’re gonna wait for Hange?”

Is it obvious? Levi avoided her gaze then, looking back at his empty plate. He soon realized he hadn’t even started cooking himself. So he dropped a few slabs of meat on the grill in front of him to feign at least some disconnect. “Maybe,” he answered.

“It would be nice to get a few pointers from you,” Mikasa said. “You really were one of the best jumpers out there.”

“I won’t be able to demonstrate a jump if that’s what you’re expecting. Besides Hange is much better at giving pointers. She’s a lot more observant than I am.”

“I’m sure there are things you can teach me that Hange can’t. I wanna improve my vertical jump. And maybe try some of the other events as well.”

“This is a complete 180 from you months ago..”

“I’m stuck training twice a day. I barely get to talk to Eren and Armin. So I ended up finding happiness in just jumping… And I thought to myself, might as well make some jumping goals for myself right?”

“So what’s your goal?”

“I wanna beat your high jump record. Even Elijah hasn’t beaten that yet,” Mikasa said.

“That’s some character development,” Levi mumbled.

Mikasa ignored it though or maybe she didn’t hear it. Levi never really figured out how loud he had said it. “.. And the only person who can teach me how to beat your record is you.”

***

Levi had eaten too little and had drank a little too much. But he would rather not have told anyone that.

So he had made the journey to the rooftop of the restaurant alone. There was a toilet conveniently by the staircase where he had ended up dry heaving on the bowl. A few dry heaves and a few sets of stairs later, he found himself sitting back on the metal wired fence that lined the roof.

Just long enough to get my bearings. Levi reassured himself as he leaned further in.

As time passed though, he managed to convince himself that maybe he could stay there long enough to just wait for everyone to leave. The last thing he would have wanted to do was puke on anyone on the way down.

He checked his clock. 9:30pm. Most college students wouldn’t even be leaving for the party yet at that time. His strict athlete schedule meant he never was a normal college student though.

He graduated college already anyway. With that realization, Levi was a little more merciful towards himself. So he rode out the high of his inebriation. He counted out the stars above him, treating it as some sort of countdown to sobriety.

It probably wouldn’t work. After the tenth star, his head was still pounding, the stars were starting to show signs of blending amongst one another and he could feel his face warming up.

He was starting to feel the beginnings of dry heaving—or possibly wet heaving—again. Unable to sit up any longer, he lay on his side.

He didn't know how long he had lain there, waiting for the pounding to subside before he heard footsteps. His first instinct had been to force himself to sit up. His mind though was quick to recognize those footsteps, that natural mix of fast, loud and even as they made their way up the stairs and somehow, he ended up relaxing instead on the cold concrete floor.

How many times had he searched for those footsteps before?

“Hey, you know you’re lucky we’re here on a weekday during off season. If this were a weekend, the rooftop probably would have been full and they would have kicked you out already.”

“How’s everyone?” Levi asked. He kept his question to two words but the amount of syllables he had to pronounce then only garbled it.

“They left already,” Hange slid back on the metal fence and leaned back on it. “It’s just you and me now.”

“Okay,” Levi said. He would have wanted to say more. The pounding headache only made something so simple as speaking, a game of Russian Roulette and he didn’t want to figure out which word had the bullet, and which word could have him throwing up on Hange then.

“It’s just you and me,” Hange repeated.

You said that already. Levi would have wanted to say. Instead he kept his own response at a hum of understanding. She should interpret that as a yes at least.

“You don’t wanna talk? Or are you just too drunk?”

Levi didn’t respond.

“Didn’t you just have two cups?”

Levi raised up three fingers. He wasn’t exactly sure how many at that point. But he was sure it felt like more than two.

“Okay, that still isn’t enough to be deadass drunk you know.” Hange seemed impatient. And maybe a little disappointed.

So Levi took one risk. “Just keep talking. I’m listening.” Maybe that had been enough to get some bile up his throat. It had done more than enough to aggravate the pounding in his head and he found himself leaning on Hange’s shoulder.

As she held him closer, her hand gently guided him deeper onto her shoulder. Within seconds, Levi found he had rested his head on her lap and was staring up at the sky above.

The night was clear, the stars were shining and Levi was counting the stars again, a little ticked that he had lost his pattern and his train of thought of a few minutes ago. He was starting from the top again and he could have sworn the stars were constantly moving. There was no way he would have been able to guess which line of stars he had already counted.

“Hey, talk to me.” Hange only made the ordeal of counting stars worse. Her big head of all things was obscuring the view of the patterns he was starting to form as he counted.

Get out, I’m counting stars. That’s what he would have wanted to say then.

Hange could have heard it. Or maybe she didn’t. She bent a little more forward, so unnaturally, Levi could have sworn she had done it out of spite. She stared at him with wide eyes, her lips curled up into a playful smile. “Let’s talk Levi, one more hour and they’re gonna close. Besides the view here is nice, it’s breezy and…”

“And?”

“You’re probably too drunk to move now. We’re gonna have to get a taxi home.”

“Later,” Levi mumbled as he turned on his side and buried his face into Hange’s polo which smelled unavoidably like beef. He would have complained then if his head wasn’t pounding and if it didn’t dawn on him then, he probably smelled worse.

“Okay, Wanna talk about my work?”

“Thesis?”

“That… and, the binder I gave you, the one with the stories.”

“What about it?” There was a lot to talk about. But it wasn’t like there was much Levi could have contributed then but one to two syllable answers.

“What did you think?”

“Good.”

Hange pouted. “No, not about the quality. How did it make you feel?”

“Good.”

“Okay, how did Commander Hange’s death make you feel?” Hange had taken pains to pronounce the word death a little more clearly than everything else. Enough for Levi to almost think throwing up on her would be a good idea.

So he took another risk. “If you had so much more to say, why didn’t you say it?” Levi asked. His voice would naturally slur so he willed himself to enunciate every syllable even if it could make him look like an idiot in the process.

“That’s what Commander Hange should have been asking Levi,” Hange said.

“Captain Levi didn’t wanna let Commander Hange sacrifice herself. It was obvious.”

“No it wasn’t.” Hange shook her head, quickly enough to get even Levi dizzy. “You wrote something before, right? Your descriptions of everything were incredibly vivid, like I remembered the views, the appearance of the titans, the way you weaved words together but you know half the time, I couldn’t even be sure of what Captain Levi was thinking.”

“That’s how it felt reading your work. Squad leader Hange, Commander Hange… all they described were titans.”

“But Commander Hange explicitly said she wanted to live with Captain Levi. It was obvious too,” Hange said.

And for a second, maybe they were engaged in some mental sparring, a game of tug of war. Levi was still a little too incapacitated, he couldn’t take the initiative.

So Hange spoke up, loud and clear. “I thought being with each other, doing all that was enough of a love letter. Did they need words? A mad declaration of love?”

“Maybe, no one can be too sure unless somebody says something right?”

“Hange was the commander. Levi was the captain. With the war going on, I don’t think they could have left their post right. They couldn’t be too selfish. I think the commander was planning to wait until retirement to say it.”

“Retirement never came.”

“We’re both retired now,” Hange said. “I’m done with this whole academic stint. You’re done with your whole athletic stint. We have the time to make it work for Commander Hange and for Captain Levi right?”

“Are you saying we’re Captain Levi and Commander Hange?”

“My dreams tell me yes.”

“Dreams huh? That’s pretty objective.”

“Hey, I think I did enough research on this to make a theory about it. It was part of my thesis.”

“And you do realize you’ve never told me what your thesis was about?”

“Sorry about that…”

“So you knew? I always thought I was an asshole for not asking.”

“You asked a few times, not directly, but I think maybe you wanted to go in that direction,” Hange said. “And I admit, I ended up digressing every time.”

“Why?”

“I guess I wasn’t too comfortable telling you yet. I was writing my thesis side by side with that story and ever since I got serious about it, after a few dreams, after that night in the hospital, I wanted the memories to be as raw as possible, untainted by whatever story Captain Levi told me before. It was Commander Hange’s story, not Captain Levi’s. So I guess that’s why I wanted to avoid discussion on it.”

“Thesis is done. The book is done. You can talk about it now.”

“You're gonna get bored. So I’ll just read out the title.”

Hange twisted towards her side, jostling Levi in the process and Levi had to bite his lip not to aggravate the dull headache then. He heard the sound of a zipper and the sound of books pushed against one another.

After what felt like a lot more than a few seconds, it stopped. Hange opened the book, she turned on the flashlight of her phone.

The glare was sudden and for a good few seconds the glare of the light could have been right on him. Maybe that was what had made it particularly painful for Levi then.

He buried his face further into Hange’s shirt and let out a taut curse.

“Sorry,” Hange whispered, seeming distracted. After flipping through the pages for a few seconds longer, she read it out loud. “Nature and Nurture as Determinants of Athletic Potential, A Case Study on High Performing Athletes… Okay you know, maybe I was a little biased towards ‘nature,’’ she added cheekily.

“Why nature?”

“Dreams… Past life. What if… You’re Captain Levi and I’m Commander Hange Zoe. Right? We have the evidence. Captain Levi was humanity’s strongest and he was really good with fighting in the air... Commander Hange Zoe liked strategy and research... And the fact that we had the same dreams?” Hange trailed off.

Levi was in no state to respond.

So Hange continued. “You wrote a lot Levi and maybe you’ll write it again. But I can swear, from what I remember about your works, and what I remember from mine, They’re the same story. And Kuchel had something similar right? What if past lives are real?”

“I don’t think you’re wrong..”

Hange pulled another book from her bag then.

Under the dim starry night, Levi made out the thin binder, the one he had read that afternoon. She started to flip through the pages, much faster as if she memorized the exact page and maybe the exact position where the paragraph was.

“Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?” Hange read out loud.

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us… I know you’re not able to stay out of the action. Those words echoed clearly in Levi’s mind then. Captain Levi was still alive inside him and he was whispering.

Clear enough to convince Levi. Maybe past lives are real. Levi thought to himself. He was in another life then, circumstances were different so he changed the script a bit, a script fit for soon-to-be graduates Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman.

“Where to, Hange Zoe? What’s the game plan?” Levi asked.

“What’s the game plan of an academic washout…” Hange asked. “Well first things first, thank my parents for their grad gift, you know, the money to pay for the all you can eat beef… I’ll probably get a full time job, save up money then decide if I wanna go to med school again but at this point, I might just be better off pursuing a research track.”

“Didn’t Commander Hange wanna study plants?”

“She did,” Hange said. “And you know maybe she’ll get the chance now. Didn’t Captain Levi wanna own a tea shop?”

“I think that’s a viable career option for an athletic washout. The Olympics and the national team are out of my plate anyway.”

“So what? Teashop and research?”

“Teashop and research.”

“Well first things first, we’re gonna have to save right? My parents and I have been reconciling our differences lately already but I don’t wanna borrow too much money so our best option would be to get a place outside the city? You think we’d be able to afford that?”

Levi forced a slight nod. “Maybe a place with lots of green. You’d probably enjoy the trees and you’ll find lots to study during your days off. The commute to work is gonna be a bitch though.”

“We’ll find a job nearby or we’ll make it work. Just long enough to figure things out.”

Figure things out… The conversation died then. But maybe it did because Hange had started to do a little more research then, he saw in the glare in her glasses, the natural green over the white background.

Was she researching houses? Levi asked silently. It wasn’t worth asking anyway. They had only a few weeks before their contract ends and they’d be forced to vacate the dorms. Maybe it was a good idea to search much earlier.

So Levi endured the bright glare of the screen and searched for the beauty in the green glare on the white screen on Hange’s glasses then, and maybe he found it underneath in her eyes that seemed to be smiling.

If eyes could smile… No, they were definitely smiling.

“I’m sorry, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave. The restaurant is closing soon.”

Just like that, the moment was broken.

“We’re going down. Just give us a few minutes to fix our stuff.”

“Let’s go, Levi?”

“I would've wanted to stay here a little longer. It feels like a dream. I feel like Captain Levi here.”

“Because you are Captain Levi,” Hange said as she started to stuff the books back into her bag.

“Alright, Commander Hange.”

Hange chuckled. “You seem very disappointed.”

“Do I?” Levi couldn’t really tell the face he was making there. Hange’s face wasn’t the clearest either under the dark light. So he considered the possibility that she could be right. He might have been disappointed.

“Fine, I’ll give you something to dream about,” Hange said slyly. “You know, if Commander Hange Zoe wasn’t fighting a war, there was something else she probably would have done.”

“Wha--?” Before Levi could even complete the question, she had answered it herself.

She answered it with a quick peck. Or at least it should have been a quick peck.

With Levi’s mouth half open then, it morphed into something else in that split second, lasting a little longer. Their lips locked, their tongues touched and it had taken a few seconds longer to let go.

It probably could have taken a minute, an hour or even an eternity longer and Levi wouldn't have minded.

He continued to replay it in his head again and again as Hange helped him up, slung his one arm over hers. His surroundings changed, from the starry rooftop, the restaurant interior then the taxi on the way home.

And it ended with the sofa of the dorm lobby, the wooden ceiling and Hange leaning on him on the sofa.

He was still thinking about it then. In the silence, in the peace even with the changing surroundings, he had been on cloud nine the whole time.

He was convinced, Captain Levi wouldn't have minded that eternity either. Hell, he probably would have loved it.

***

There was a hiking trail near their house. Luckily it wasn’t too steep.

So Levi deemed himself well enough to brave it. It had been almost a year since his surgery, six months since the last tear and most days, as long as he wore his knee brace, his knee wouldn’t give out on him.

Unbuckling happened. Swelling happened. The dull aches never left. Levi had learned to just live with it, ride through the worst days.

It was as if his knee knew then that that day in particular was special. Or maybe Levi had chosen that day because his knee was feeling better. That day, Hange was notably freer and on the days leading up to autumn, it was only gonna getting colder and colder and he didn’t wanna have to wait another year to hike.

“Just tell me if anything hurts,” Hange said as they made the almost perilous journey up the hill.

The steeper it got, the harder it would be on his knees. He noted that, it would get worse particularly on the way down.

It was still far from the steep incline in the reserve Hange had brought him to more than a year ago.

There was a peak that overlooked the small town they had settled in. The incline, the climb albeit longer, was friendlier for his aching muscles and his bum knee.

Levi was counting his blessings. So through the worst of the dull aches, the worst of the pains as they climbed up, Levi gritted his teeth and clocked it as ‘bearable at least,’ not worth a complaint.

Hange probably could tell though. He didn’t figure out by her eyes since he kept walking behind her. She hadn’t been particularly pushy either. He had figured it out for himself when she started talking, and she never stopped.

“How’s Petra?”

“She’s working towards a PT Certificate.”

“How’s Isabel?”

“I heard she’s starting her third year of high school already?”

“And Farland?”

How do you even know them?

“I visited Erwin a lot in his office in the hospital you know. And I talked to them.”

But it hadn’t been just that. Hange had an emotional investment extending far beyond that. He slowed his pace, appreciating her seemingly interested voice then. With that, Levi was reminded, they were Commander Hange’s friends too.

So he continued to answer questions as they came. They were a good distraction from the specter of exhaustion that loomed over him.

And soon, he took the reins. "So how's Moblit?" It had only felt natural to ask too.

"He's in his first year of med school...How's Mikasa?"

"Her first college competition is next month.”

Conversations shifted quickly from topic to topic, person to person before dying somewhere at the peak when they attributed the death of such to speechlessness at the view before him or just utter exhaustion.

Levi knew it was neither of it and he became sure of it as Hange guided him to the bench that overlooked the rolling hills behind them.

She kept one hand over his knee. "Your knee did a good job not swelling."

"Even if it does, I won’t regret it. I wanted to do this for a while."

"Is this because you couldn't join me up the peak last year?"

"Probably," Levi said. He turned to her. "You didn’t get to the top then right?"

“No, I didn’t. I went back down as quickly as I could when I heard you scream my name.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what came over me. But Levi knew, so he kept that last part to himself. “You know, maybe I am doing this for you. You still wanna fly right?"

"Yeah, I do. Even if I remember everything then, after writing everything out… Sure I know how it ends for Commander Hange Zoe but... I still wanna fly. Maybe because I just wanna enjoy the freedom that comes with it.”

"Then I guess we made a good choice." Levi grabbed his backpack from behind him and unzipped it. "I wanted to give this to you. And I thought you might enjoy reading it in a place with lots of sky."

He had binded it the same way and he had titled it similarly.

It looked like Hange knew what it was. "Levi… is this…" Her wide eyes looked far from confused.

"After reading your work, I started dreaming about Captain Levi again so I rewrote the story I made a year ago. It's not a perfect copy but I think I remembered enough to maybe get you immersed again in his thoughts."

Hange didn't reply but Levi didn't mind.

In a way, she had responded, through whispers, murmurs and the grin on her face as she looked through the file. "To Commander Hange? Yours truly, Captain Levi?" Hange asked, a little louder and clearer than her murmurs. She wanted to be listened to.

"Are you laughing? That's the same thing you wrote at the top in your own file,” Levi said. “I guess you can say, it's Captain Levi's love letter to Commander Hange."

“A love letter huh? All I’m reading here are long drawn out descriptions of humanity’s strongest soldier fighting titans…” Hange chuckled. “And maybe some mentions of Commander Hange Zoe.”

“Captain Levi was with Commander Hange a lot right?” It was a shoddy reply. Still, an inkling of pride had Levi clinging on to that comment.

"Do you notice that neither of us actually wrote something introspective. It’s like they never could tell what the other was thinking. Captain Levi was too obsessed with fighting, Commander Hange was too obsessed with Titans."

"Those were how my dreams were."

"That's how they were for me too."

"But if you look over there, towards the last page, you'd find it. I wrote 'dedicate your heart' right? Captain Levi didn't want you to leave"

"I remember that and if you looked towards the end of my work you'd see I wrote... Commander Hange wanted to live with you."

Levi had a copy of it on his phone so he opened up, did a quick search and highlighted the text.

Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?

For a second they sat in silence. Levi was too busy finding a reason for the tens of thousands of words worth of exposition all for one sentence. Maybe Hange was doing similarly.

Hange spoke up once again, only confirming it for herself. "Commander Hange and Captain Levi really took each other for granted huh?”

"They had a war to fight. They couldn't be too intimate could they?"

“So instead of just explicitly saying I love you through a love letter, they decide to send each other memories of a past life and we’re left to decode it for ourselves?”

“Captain Levi was never really the type to say he loves someone. And I’m guessing Commander Hange wasn’t the type either.”

“Or maybe... They were too scared to think about it to admit it was love, but somehow the reader just knows.” Hange suggested. She turned to Levi then, eyeing his phone.” It wasn’t just in the ‘live together’ part right? I’m sure you felt it in the letter? With every mention of Captain Levi… Toward the end, he never left her side and she never his side too right?”

Levi nodded slowly, gripping his phone a little tighter. “I felt it and every time I reread it, it only got stronger." And how many times had he reread it since she first gave it to him months ago?

“You know Levi, even since last year, the first time I read it, I felt it for myself and I really thought they would have kissed. And maybe if Commander Hange died they would have.” Hange cocked her head to one side. “So none of us needed reflection or introspection huh? I guess the descriptions on titans and technology made some great padding to the love letter.”

“Don’t you think it just made everything more complicated? For us?”

“Maybe it did. But I like to think this long drawn out puzzle just makes everything deeper, worth remembering. Think about it, just mentioning someone again and again, just quietly assuming that someone would be there by your side forever, not thinking too much of it but just casually thinking ‘I wouldn’t mind if they were there forever.’ And when the prospect of losing them comes up, that refusal to let go...the regrets that follow... I think those run deeper than any flowery declaration of love." Hange waved the binder in front of him. "I like this. It’s better than any love letter I could have gotten.”

“Two idiots just writing stories about their tragic past lives and exchanging it," Levi mumbled that first part to himself. He turned to Hange. "I enjoyed the process of writing these ‘love letters’," Levi said. "Did you?"

Hange nodded. “It wasn’t all happiness for sure but overall, I’m enjoying the writing process and I'm enjoying where the dreams brought me. It’s not where I expected to be a year ago but hey, who says life should be following the path we set for it,” she said. She took a deep breath. “And I should be saying the same to you. I’m not the Olympics. I’m not the national track and field team but you don’t mind right? Being stuck with me? Writing love letters like that?”

“Hey, instead of going to medical school, you’re here living with me in some small house near some hiking trail. We’re both on nine to five jobs saving up money until god knows when. It’s a far cry from what our teammates and blockmates are doing.”

“But you know if I didn’t drop the other theses, I don’t think I would have written this much about you.”

“And if I didn’t get injured, I wouldn’t have written. I’d probably be training with the national team now.”

And we wouldn’t be here. Somehow, Levi knew she was thinking about it too. From his peripherals, he saw, Hange had leaned back on the bench and had let her head fall back. She was staring at the sky above her.

He followed suit.

There was something about the sky at the top of the hill. It was a light yet mesmerizing blue that endlessly stretched above him. There were no buildings, no trees, or no highlands framing such a view. The sky looked free.

And for the first time in months, Levi felt like he was flying again.

But he didn’t want to fly alone. Levi dropped one hand along that very small gap between them.

It looked like Hange had taken that as a sign to reciprocate.

Levi looked to his hand, cradled against hers and up at her face to see that she still wasn’t looking down. In fact she held her head back further, propped her glasses on her forehead, and continued to stare at the blue sky above.

The blue sky reflected on Hange’s hazel eyes and it manifested in streams of color Levi couldn’t have even imagined as ever been producible by blue and brown. He wanted to catch her gaze then.

So he spoke up. “It wasn’t easy to accept it at first but I’m happy where we are. I’m not regretting anything and you know, there’s something liberating about failing---” Levi shook his head almost instantly as if what he had just said dawned on him then. “Actually wait, I think I phrased it wrong. This probably sounds weird.”

Hange continued to stare at the sky. “No, I think I get it,” she said. “Failing is embarrassing, it fucking hurts and for a while it feels like life stops. But when you fail enough times, failure starts to feel like a friend. And when you fail a few more times, you stop chasing and that’s the liberation you’re talking about right? There’s something liberating about accepting failure as just something that happens and just riding through that downward spiral before picking yourself up again." Hange held the booklet over her and reopened it. “I’m happy where I am now too, post-downward spiral.”

Levi could only watch and listen as she whispered unintelligible sentences to herself, grinning at the pages. He wondered which scenes she was reading through then.

“Well, it’s time for both of us to regroup then. We can't just keep feeling sorry for ourselves right?” Hange added as she stood up. “I have my research. You have your tea shop to work on. We better start hiking now or I don’t think we’ll make it back before sun down.”

“I would have wanted to enjoy this view a little longer.”

“Then we schedule another hike. We endure the uphill battle, we enjoy the peak then we deal with the downward spiral. That’s how it’s always been anyway.” She stuffed the booklet on her backpack and pulled him up from the bench.

“Yeah, we’re both used to it anyway,” Levi joked. He felt Hange’s hand behind him as he looked down at the decline. Only looking at it then did it dawn on him, hiking backwards, the downward spiral which followed the euphoria at the peak could be almost comparable to hell for his knees.

“Hey, I’ll go first. If you feel like you’re losing your balance, just grip my shoulder harder. Besides we can look for a gentler slope on the way down. We just have to get past this one.”

“We won’t be able to get down if we don’t deal with this huh?”

“We won’t,” Hange said. “I know it’s bad for your knees… but if you walk at an angle, it will reduce pressure. I’ll cover for you.” She clutched his hand, went ahead and guided his hand towards her shoulder.

Levi took it as a sign to grip..

“Just relax," Hange said.

It was easier said than done. Levi waited for his legs to start screaming then. The dull aches were ubiquitous, the buckling and unbuckling of his knees were a discomfort he had learned to just ride through and he was sure, he wouldn’t be hiking for another few months after that.

Even before the slope had gradually morphed into something gentler, Hange had started talking again as if she knew once again that it could ease them the whole ordeal of hiking downwards.

“Remember that teashop, the one just a ten minute walk away from our apartment, you wanna check it out?” Hange asked.

There was only one teashop near their place and Levi was quick to recognize it. “I’ve been going there everyday after work.”

“Without me?”

“Where do you think I buy the teabags and the coffee beans that never seem to run out?" Levi asked. He had taken great care to say the word 'coffee' in particular. It was Hange who went through bags of them too quickly that it was almost impossible to not frequent the cafe.

“Fine, I won’t complain. Tell me about it then, any regulars? Anything notable?”

“There are two kids who live nearby and they hang out there a lot. A brunette and a blond. Falco and Gabi.” Those names had been easy to remember. Yet as he imagined those two kids in the cafe, as he recalled their minimal interactions, he started to wonder if they ever really did introduce themselves.

“Those are familiar names," Hange commented.

“And there’s a pilot who hangs out there but mostly on weekends. His name is Onya--”

“Onyakopon?”

“So you’ve met them before?”

“No, just seems familiar.”

“So what, are you gonna tell me you’ve dreamed of them?”

“Maybe I did.”

Somehow, that had taken a weight of his shoulders then and it had started to become easier to admit on his end. “To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of them too.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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moodymidnightkitten · 4 years ago

Text

Spark

A/N: Woof, what a busy holiday season, well anyways I’m back and new binging Black Clover, so heres my official fan application, an almost 2k fanfic for Zora Ideale.

Genre: fluff

w/c: 1939

Synopsis: reader from the real human universe lands herself in the Black Clover Universe (I could describe this more but I’m pulling blanks, feedback on how to make this better after y’all read this, that would be great.)

Pair: Zora Ideale x Reader

Ope heres my masterlist

Ugh god, what time is it? You asked, rubbing your head, sitting on cold hard ground outside. A completely different place from where you were, napping in a cozy warm bed at home in, reality? You've seen enough anime to know that this definitely not the normal home setting you're used to. But what anime? You looked around, doing a complete 180 and coming face to face with the one and only Black Bulls hideout.

"No fucking way," you mumbled to yourself. What in the magical hell is this? Also, what the hell are you supposed to do now?

"Ooooo who are you?!" A memorable voice chimed in behind you. Turning around you came face to face with no other than Asta.

You scratched the back of your head and gave the most non convincing fake smile you could muster up in this situation. Completely flustered and star struck.

"Oh, I uhm, my name is y/n," you gave a measly laugh.

"Are you a spatial magic user? You just fell from the sky?!" He loudly stated. You knew there was only one clear cut way into figuring out your situation.

"Actually no, I don't even know how I got here, but do you think you'd be able to get me to the Wizard King, he might be able to help.." you suggested.

Astas eyes lead beyond you through your request, you didn't feel it until now but a towering and looming figure was now behind you, with a voice that most certainly matched the profile, it was Yami, the captain of the Black Bulls.

"Oi, you'd have better luck with me, Asta, you're to come with us," was all he said as he walked past you and grabbed onto Astas collar and pulled him with him as well. Everything happened so quickly you had to do a light jog to catch up with them.

"I really appreciate this, thank you," you said in between huff's of air trying to fill your lungs back up.

"Your clothes are a give away to your difference in upbringing. As well as I watched you just fall, so I also want to know how you got to 'this world'' Yami was short and to the point, as he's always portrayed.

"Well I appreciate this a lot Captain Yami and Asta," as soon as you said their names Yami stopped walking.

"How do you know who we are?" He grumbled in confusion.

"You won't believe me when I tell you but, this place, and everyone here is actually a show, more namely, an anime where I'm from," you probably sounded crazy. Actually not probably, most certainly because the two men looked at each other and laughed the most hearty laugh you've ever heard. And so with everything being said, all three of you continued you way to see the Wizard King.

After meeting with the Wizard King who basically certified that you're from another plane of existence who entrusted Yami to watch over you. Although you're not from here the wizard king ensured that you came here with magic powers. So now you were a part of the Black Bulls.

But now you were stuck with living with one of your anime men crushes. Zora Ideale. It's not like you've never been around men you were attracted to, but this is just on some whole new level. This was fictional beauty and desire come true.

Those were the only thoughts going through your head on top of the fact you now had to learn your new magical powers and make yourself an asset to your new team. It's only stressful because it's time and space magic. So what, are you now Doctor fucking Strange? It made your head hurt thinking about it all too much. What's even more intense is the fact you bent realities while SLEEPING. How in the hell were you going to figure all of that out. But hey, at least you have a pretty nice grimoire. Black marble with gold tripping and a dazzling black diamond looking clover embedded on the cover.

“Ah, finally back,” You heard Yami exasperate as you three came up to the base. Pushing open the doors and allowing you and Asta to walk inside. Everyone else of the Black Bulls was busy doing whatever they usually do as you walked in, Yami stopped shortly ahead of you and yelled.

“Alright, listen up fuckers, we have a new member today, this is y/n, make yourself acquainted. Finral, bathroom.” Was all he said as Finral rushed over, stars dancing in his eyes upon looking at you. You smiled back at him as Vanessa wrapped herself around your shoulders, clad in only lingerie with a bottle of cheap wine in her free hand.

“Oooo where did you get such an outfit?! So cute!” Vanessa said, slowly peeling herself away from you and taking you all in, slowly but surely everyone else introduced themselves and bombarded you with questions, all except Zora, who seemed to be sleeping on the couch across the room very obviously trying to ignore the whole situation. Luckily enough for you Asta made his introduction for him so now it wouldn’t be weird for you to know who he was already.

“Let me show you around!” Asta exclaimed, eagerly walking ahead of you, you followed him, taking one small peek behind you at the handsome masked man laying on the couch, who was actually peering at you through slitted eyes, causing a blush to paint on your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead of you and pressing your grimoire to your chest. All you heard behind you with a small chuckle causing your small blush into a blazing one.

You got settled in very quickly and spent most of your days getting along and getting to know mostly everyone on the team. It was nice, you didn’t feel out of place and you’ve actually been able to use a little bit of magic here and there with the help of everyone around you. Of course thoughts of live at home, normal real home crept into your mind but you were practically begging to be in some new reality and experience the unreal, and now look, your sheer will bent the universes and landed you here. Could you really complain?

At the current moment in time you were sitting on your own reading in the main common area while everyone else was either on a mission or also enjoying their time off. Except Zora, who quite unusually will just chill against the wall or on the couch when he isn't in town or traveling about to mess around with dirty nobles. But right now felt more intense, like someone was staring at you, and not just someone, but Zora, his piercing gaze felt like no other. It was like a scientist waiting for a rat to do something out of the normal. You turned in your seat and to no surprise there he was with his sea blue eyes just peering at you, causing the ever so common raging blush to paint your face, but you weren’t going to let that stop you from confronting him.

“If you’re going to stare at me you might as well take a picture of me cretin,” you boldly stated, turning back in your seat. Why did you have to call him a cretin? What normal person just calls people cretins? Luckily he must have not taken offense because he was laughing and he walked over and sat next to you.

“Cretin? Interesting way of flirting with me Cherry,” you looked down from your book and saw him with his head in his hand. His witty comeback against you was very obviously a job at how red your cheeks got when you were around him.

“Well I wasn’t flirting with you, Match Book,” a stupid jab at has his hair looked also wasn’t the way to go but I guess this classic middle school back and forth flirting was how it was going to go. And it seemed to be the best option available because you now felt more comfortable in his presence and it seemed you two were getting along.

“What do you want anyways Zora?” You asked, shutting your book and placing it on the table. He raised his eyebrow.

“Let’s go for a walk,” with that he stood up without waiting for an answer and made his way to the door. Quickly you got up and followed him. You two didn’t speak for a bit as you walked, eventually you two came up to a small lake a few hundred feet from the base, Zora sat down in one of the clear patches, you decided to take up residence a few inches away.

“This is beautiful,” you smiled, looking out to the peaceful lake glistening in the evening sun.

“It is, but not as much as you.” Zora said, so blatant and straight forward. And if your face has never been this red and on fire before, well it was now. You didn’t even know you stopped breathing until, well, you needed air.

“What..?” You looked at him as he was still peering at the lake.

“Oi, I’m not going to repeat myself,” Zora said in the most disgruntled way.

“You’re different, everything about you, you don’t know what youre doing, you’re clumsy, your cheeks get this cozy red when I’m around, you radiate this positive do good energy and I’m drawn to it, I’ve been watching you since you got here, you’re intriguing,” he kept talking so honestly it made you wonder when he would ever stop flattering you, before you could say anything he said one last thing.

“I want to get to know you.” He finally looked at you wearing a weak smile with a blazing blush that was so strong it krept a bit up and past his mask.

“That was a lot, all at once, and to say I don’t feel anything back would be a lie, personally you radiate lawful chaotic energy but it's fun, I want to get to know you better as well.” You smiled and so didn’t he as you two looked back to the lake. You two sat there peacefully before being interrupted by someone gracefully coming through a spatial magic portal, wearing robes you know all too well, braided hair and the obvious facial marking, Licht.

“Y/n, I see you’ve arrived,” he said calmly. “You probably don’t know who I am, but I know all about you,” dread filled your body like a subzero frost striking your bones.

“I know who you are. What do you want.” Licht smiled at you.

“I want to show you why you’re here,” he offered once he got closer but before you knew it Zora jumped in between you two.

“Listen freakshow, she’s not going anywhere with you,” You could see every muscle in Zoras body tense in front of you, the tip of your nose practically touching his back. Licht chuckled.

“Hmm? I wasn’t offering,” Before you could even blink Zoras body was thrown away and now nothing stood in between you and Licht and before you knew it a force hit your body so hard you blacked out, slowly but surely phasing in and out of sleepy, your name was being yelled and fading out in the background and you felt you body being raised off the ground, the last thing you saw was Zora reaching out to you as much as he could, fingertips grazing upon your own as you slipped out of consciousness.

#zora ideale #zora ideale x reader #zora x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover #fanfcition #fanfic writing #zora ideale x you #zora ideale fluff #zora ideala x y/n #zora ideale fanfic #zora ideale x fanfiction

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years ago

Text

This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 3)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar?

Read these first Prologue Part 1 Part 2

It was now morning and you stared at the blank document in front of you. You have now written the first twelve chapters and you’ve hit a wall. A big, huge fucking wall. You had been trying to write now for well over an hour and you just couldn’t come up with anything. You made a few notes as to what you wanted to happen, but figuring out how point a leads to point c… you were blanking.

You finally decided to take a break, sneaking inside the house and making breakfast. It was still quite early, so you thought it would be nice to do the cooking while you were staying there. You searched around for ingredients and pans you would need. Of course, there was something on the very top shelf you couldn’t reach. You sighed, standing on your tippy toes, barely able to grab it. You just needed a few more inches and you would have been able to get it.

However, just before you decided to go and grab a chair, you felt a heated weight pressed against you and a tattooed hand grabbing the item for you.

“I see you haven’t grown much since we were twelve,” Harry smirked in your ear.

Goosebumps covered your skin while your face heated up, “Fuck off,” you smirked back, pushing him off of you.

You turned around seeing him standing there wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants and some crazy bed head.

“New style you’re going for there?” You smirked, walking past him and over to the counter.

“I still haven’t heard a thank you,” he pointed out.

“Thank you for being a foot taller than me, so that you could reach the flour for me,” you joked.

“I believe you should be thinking my Mum and Dad for that,” he winked.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing up this early anyway?”

“Jet lag,” he shrugged.

“Right,” you said. “So, what part of the world did you travel from this time?”

You poured out each of the ingredients while Harry watched you.

“LA,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right, the movie,” you said, nodding. “How’d that go?”

“It was great,” he said. “I loved it.”

“Any spoilers?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Netflix special,” he said, leaning up against the counter. “Congrats on that by the way.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “And I would totally give you spoilers but nothing is going on with it yet. They’re still casting some of the characters.”

“Speaking of, I’m hurt you didn’t offer me the starring role,” he joked.

“And make your head even bigger, no thank you,” you giggled.

“Well, I mean I do seem to have an awful lot in common with your main love interest,” he pointed out.

You froze, staring at the mixture in the bowl, trying to figure out what the next step would be. However, your hesitation pretty much proved he was right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you squeaked.

“I’m just teasing you,” he smirked, knocking your shoulder with his. “But you have to admit there are a few similarities.”

“Your point?” You asked.

“No, point,” he said. “Just dropping a hint on the next time Netflix comes your way, I’m available.”

“Wait… is The Harry Styles coming to me for a job?” You gasped. “Is the bank account drying up that quickly?”

“Ha. Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Since you’re going to make fun of me, I guess I’ll just go back to sleep and let you make pancakes all by yourself.”

“That was the plan all along,” you pointed out.

“Okay then… I’m going,” he said, staring at you.

“Okay, then go,” you smirked, shooing him out.

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You know you want my help.”

“You can put the flour back on the top shelf,” you told him as you finished mixing the batter for the pancakes.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the rest of the ingredients and putting them back in their proper places. As he did this, he caught himself glancing over in your direction. His gaze dropping down the length of your body and back up again. You were wearing leggings and a large jumper with the sleeves pushed up. Your hair was yet again in a messy bun with strands of hair sticking out around your face.

The real reason Harry was awake so early wasn’t purely from jet lag, but from having a dream about you. The last few weeks, you had been on his mind more than usual, but ever since seeing you again you were all he thought about. More specifically, he thought about the time he walked in on you in the bathtub the other night. He thought what it would have been like to join you to feel your skin against him.

And there he was again, thinking about you. He really needed to stop or else he was going to have another problem.

“Harry!” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, what? Sorry,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“You okay over there?” You asked. “You kinda spaced out for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, great,” he said as his face blushed a shade of pink.

“Can you heat up the veggie sausage?” You asked.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

You looked over at him as he fumbled around. You held back a giggle as you watched him. While you were finishing up the pancakes, your mind started to wander into the thoughts of if mornings would always be like this if you and Harry had ever given a relationship a try. You may never know in real life, but this was your little glimpse into what could have been and you weren’t sure if it was a good thought or a bad one.

Later that afternoon, you finally managed to write and finish an entire chapter. You still weren’t where you wanted to be, but progress was progress at this point. It was around lunch time, so you were just finishing up getting ready to go out with Harry. You weren’t sure what was on the agenda, but you were looking forward to it. You also made a mental note that tomorrow you needed to visit your mum for a bit because it was kinda rude that you were spending time with Harry and Anne when you told your mother you were going to be working the whole time.

Which you were, most of the time, but you still needed to go see her. Anyway, while you were getting ready you received a text from your editor asking about how things were going with the book.

Hey, Y/N! Just checking in to see how things are coming along.

Hey! Things are… going. I am writing and I’ve gotten quite a bit done in the last few days. Once I’m finished with the first fifteen, I’ll send them your way, sound good?

Perfect. I can’t wait to see what you came up with!

Let’s hope you still feel that way once you’ve read them. Ha!

After a few more texts back and forth, you double checked yourself in the mirror before grabbing your coat and heading out to meet Harry. You didn’t have to walk very far because he was already out the door of the main house, carrying a few bags with him.

“Um, are we taking a road trip for lunch?” You laughed.

“Nope,” he said. “But we do need some essentials.”

“Food better be included in that because I’m starving,” you said.

“It wouldn’t be lunch without food,” he said in a duhh tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, where are we going that we need all of these essentials, whatever that means.”

“You’ll see,” he smirked. “Now, let’s get going.”

The two of you walked out of the backyard and walked towards the walking trail that connected to the end of the street. The walk was filled with silence from the two of you, but it was refreshing. Any awkwardness that started out between you was now creeping away and everything felt like no time had passed.

It was strange really, but then again it was you and Harry. About twenty minutes later, you and Harry arrived at the nearby park, where he placed the bags on a picnic table. He took out a blanket that he used to cover the table in two shorter ones to place on the benches connected to it. Next, he took out containers of food filled with fruit, sandwiches, and crisp spreading them over the table. Finally, he took out some drinks before looking over at you.

“Lunch is served,” he smirked holding his hand out.

“Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” You laughed sitting down on one side while he took a seat across from you.

“Eh, I figured this was better than going into town,” he said.

“Do people still come up to you here?” You asked, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time things are pretty chill and people just want to chat me up, see how I’m doing. And then others, usually the younger generation are the ones who are a bit more… uh… “

“Annoying? Bothering you?” You added.

“Basically, yeah,” he nodded with a laugh.

“One… hearing you say the younger generation really makes me feel old,” you laughed. “And two, how do you get used to random people just coming up to you like that. Occasionally, I’ll have someone say hi to me… but that’s very rare.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It comes with the territory I guess.”

“I guess you have been dealing with it for over a decade,” you said. “Which is still hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I still can’t believe it and I’ve lived it. There’s so much I’ve already done that sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m only twenty six and still have a lot of life left to live.”

��You’ve definitely done and seen more than most people our age,” you nodded. “Is that why… you tend to spend more time with other uh… celebrities because they understand that part of your life?”

Harry sighed, putting his sandwich down as he thought over his words, “In the beginning yes. I had all these thoughts of who I was supposed to be, or where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be seen with. I kinda lost myself and what I wanted to do in it. Like I used to think I had to live in LA because that’s what everyone did when they made it, but now I can’t stay there more than a few weeks at the most.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your own sandwich in response.

“I don’t want to say that’s what happened with us,” he started. “But I can’t lie either. The truth is, I don’t know what happened, really. Things got overwhelming and I just... “

“Stopped calling?” You finished for him.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I’ll admit, when our friendship kinda just ended… I was pissed. I was hurt. I hated you for a good little bit. I was jealous whenever I saw you out with other friends or at all these exclusive parties. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be in your life anymore. Like I was the past and that’s where I was supposed to stay,” you whispered. “But then I realized, I was also to blame. The phone works both ways and I never tried to call or text you again. I could have tried one more time and maybe that would have been the time and we wouldn’t have lost years out on our friendship.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I would have still been an ass and everything would have stayed the same.”

“Guess we’ll never know, huh?” You asked.

“Good thing that’s in the past, right?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.

You and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon at the park talking about everything. It was like you two were trying to make up for all the years you hadn’t talked and in a way you two were. When you were done talking, you walked along the park, which quickly turned into a little game of running around and jumping on his back, just like old times.

By the time you both headed back home, it was getting dark. Houses covered in Christmas lights lit up the night sky and the two took a bit of a detour looking at all of the decorations. There were times you caught yourself looking at Harry more than looking at the different lights and decorations set ups. Your head and your heart were having a severe disconnect at the moment.

Your head was trying to be all logical and warning you about letting your guard down. Old feelings you had previously suppressed were slowly coming up, but your head kept trying to push them down. Your heart, however, kept fluttering whenever he would laugh or your hands would slightly brush up against one another. After a bit, you found yourself clenching your fist because the want to grab his hand and lace his fingers with yours was becoming unbearable.

If only you knew, Harry was feeling the same way. He glanced at you, smiling to himself as he watched the lights glowing over your skin. Being with you today further proved that he was in love with you. He realized then, he couldn’t hold back his feelings from you much longer and he didn’t want to, he had to get them out.

Harry stopped all of a sudden looking over at you, “Y/N…”

“Yeah, H?” You asked, turning around to look at him.

“I-” he started.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“I-I,” he stuttered out. “I’m really glad we’re doing this…. Reconnecting… and shit.”

“I am, too,” you smiled.

Harry forced a smile, mentally kicking himself in the ass for chickening out as the two of you finished the rest of the walk back to the house.

Uh oh! Who do you think will be the first one to finally admit their feelings?

Find out in PART 4, posted tomorrow at Midnight CST. :)

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Fics #Harry Styles Christmas Series

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rainbowcaleb · 5 years ago

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impossible magic

fictober prompts: 4 "incantations" mixed with 5 "you are here"

CW: blood, implied torture, imprisonment, chains, disassociation, hurt with a dash of comfort at the end, also mutual pining~

((also available on ao3 if you’d rather read there))

--------

If he died, there would be no coming back.

It was a secret Essek kept carefully hidden away. It was the reason behind the argument that pushed his father away to a place he didn’t return. His mother must know. There was nothing that escaped her notice and his father had no love enough for his son to keep his secret. But Essek knew his mother was like himself in one important way; she was a master at compartmentalizing information if it could be used.

Right now Essek didn’t really care about whatever political machinations he had inherited. The tiniest whisper of regret was trickling across his consciousness much like the drops of blood that had finally slowed their flow down his forehead.

He had woken from unconsciousness held strictly in place by manacles and chains. His arms were pulled taut behind him, mere inches of chain holding his wrists down to the shackles on his ankles. Every link, every piece, every ounce of the metal was heavily enchanted to block any magical escape. Even if Essek had any feeling left in his fingers, he wouldn’t be able to cast.

Sparing no expense, his captors had his neck collared with a thick heavy ring, just tight enough to drag painfully when he tried to swallow. Another enchantment laced through it and he knew if he tried to speak magic it would shock him with lightning. He knew because he had already attempted one desperate incantation. The collar was attached by a short length of chain to the wall behind him, so he wasn’t even able to find relief by lying on the ground without choking himself. He was forced to stay upright, his voice the only boon still left to him, but all his decades of magic rendered useless.

Essek had long stopped feeling the pain of his legs against the uneven stone floor and he had long lost track of the time. It was more than a week. He had scraped bloody lines on the floor with his knee to keep the time, but after the days kept going and going, he had lost the motivation to bother. No water came. No sustenance. No visitors. But they didn’t want him dead, otherwise he would be already.

This was calculated torture. They were waiting for him to break. Since his captors had taken the risk of leaving his voice in place, clearly they were hoping for him to give information. Otherwise, why not just slash his throat and be done with him? Perhaps they knew, impossibly somehow they knew Essek only had this current life and to kill him would end the trail of any of his secrets. He could be locked away by an enemy that intimately knew him. And now they were simply waiting. Essek wanted to heroically believe he could last until a rescue came, or perhaps he could overpower his captor, but he knew he was too weak. They had already won when they captured him.

It was some amorphous time between one week and two when the first visitor came. A bucket of ice cold water was dumped on his head, waking him from a feverish daydream, and he opened his mouth trying to catch whatever drops he still could.

There was a laugh from some distance a few feet away, male or female he couldn’t tell, and then footsteps receding before the slam of a door.

It would be another week before another bucket of water. They were doing the bare minimum to keep him alive. They were waiting. They were patient.

All Essek could do was try and keep his mind. He had lost motivation and strength long ago. If it wasn’t for the collar and chain holding him upright, he would have collapsed many days ago. Essek had to hold grasp onto his mind, the most important part of him, his most powerful part. He could not lose this too. He repeated lines of incantations, imagining their sigils and components in his mind's eye, but being careful not to move his mouth. He did not know if anyone was watching or what they were watching for. He started with the first spell he ever learned, testing his memory too, and then worked through each spell variation until he advanced to its final form. And then he would pick the next simple spell, working through each one like a library in his head, keeping his mind occupied. His whole body had surpassed from pain into nothingness. Essek felt completely detached from anything material around him. All he had was the repetitions of incantations, the words a rhythm in his head that kept his heart beating.

Another ice cold drench of water. It woke him from a fitful sleep, having dozed off somewhere between reciting dunamantic spells. His body protested, the tension against his shackles friction again as the water trickled down. It was a terrible reminder of where he was.

He coughed out his first word spoken since he was brought here. “W-who?” Essek didn’t need to know why.

The voice just laughed again, mirthlessly. He heard the door shut again.

Even though time had completely slipped from him, Essek had come to expect the water that came in a regular pattern.

It did not come that week.

There was something warm and glowing near his legs. His first thought was that perhaps his mental incantations had impossibly broken through the spells on his manacles and a drift globe had materialized. Something small and soft patted his knee. He smelled sulfur. Then there was an earthshaking explosion and the door he assumed was somewhere in this room was knocked down onto the ground. Essek’s eyes were still closed, he barely opened them anymore, but he could still see shocking orange light through his eyelids. Then it dimmed.

He heard scuffling, metal being dragged, multiple footsteps. Something grazed his face, but it was so light it felt like he imagined it. Essek felt the tension of the chains snap and he toppled sideways, suddenly loose from his bonds. Softness caught him instead of the hard stone floor. The last string of fight that had been forcing him to stay awake snapped.

Essek woke lying down. It felt like the first time in a decade that his body wasn’t twisted into a terrible position. He opened his eyes. It took more strength than he expected to force his eyelids open. He didn’t bother trying to move his limbs. The pain was greatly dulled, but the exhaustion was filling his bones with lead.

He didn’t recognize where he was. The whole room emanated a soft amber glow, the walls a plain ocher paint, the floor a polished wood. Essek tilted his gaze as far as he could and he saw a small nightstand beside him, a pitcher of clear water next to a glass, and several emptied potion bottles beside it. He was in a bed. Someone had found him and cured him and tucked him into bed. Essek knew who. As his senses woke up from however long he’s been asleep, he knew. The magic he felt flowing through this entire room told him with certainty. Caleb.

There was a click and a door opened. Essek didn’t turn his head to look, but several footsteps entered. He saw the familiar blue of Jester lean over him.

“Oh my gosh we were getting so worried, it's been days, we didn’t know when you would wake up and it’s been kinda crazy having to haul you out and have Caleb recast the Tower and stick you back in and-”

“J-jester.” Essek’s voice felt tight with under-use.

“Yes, that’s me!” She gave him a blinding smile. “You remember! You were kinda delirious when we found you, like you didn’t recognize us and were mumbling spells under your breath. You didn��t cast anything though, I don’t think you had anything left in you.”

Caleb was over her shoulder, looking at Essek with a guarded expression.

“H-how, there?” Essek asked.

Caleb finished his thought. “We heard you.”

He had so many more questions, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. Jester picked up on this.

“It’s a long story, but I was trying to send you a message about Vess, ‘cause we were gonna do this thing for her but there were some crazy red flags and we thought you might’ve heard something, any anyways your reply was super weird. It was like you were whispering on the other side of a door and it was hard to hear you and it didn't even make any sense. Just a couple words in between some long pauses.”

“It was a spell. When Jester repeated the words to us, I recognized it as your Echo spell.”

Essek had no memory of a Message, or doing any magic. The only thing he could imagine was that somehow his repeated incantations had briefly broken through the shackles.

“Well, whatever it was totally made me worry! It was so random and weird for you to respond like that. And then when I scryed it was like a big blank space and then I got booted out from the vision with a painful shove! It was scary enough that I Messaged our housekeeper, gosh I had almost forgotten we had gotten one but thank goodness we did, and had her go look at your house and there were some weirdo guards posted outside who said you were not to be disturbed. But they were totally unconvincing and weird.”

He was barely following the story. The drag of sleep was threatening him again, and nothing felt better than the soft bed he was resting in at the moment. Essek tilted his head to look properly up at Caleb. There were bags under his eyes, nothing new, although they looked darker than he last remembered. There was a mostly healed cut across his cheek and the cuffs of his coat looked dusty black with ash.

“Jester, can you find Caduceus? I think this calls for some tea.”

“Can’t you get one of the cats to-”

“Jester.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I can take a hint.” She winked at Caleb and stepped out the room, closing the door behind her.

Essek kept his eyes open, trying to take in Caleb’s face as the guarded expression was faltering under the weight of something happening in his thoughts. Caleb’s arm jerked forward, then paused, but he completed his movement to gently brush a lock of hair from Essek’s forehead.

“I will not ask, because I know the answer will be ‘no I am not okay’.” Caleb gave him a wry smile but then it faded again “We were...We investigated and what we found, or didn’t find that is, was disturbing. So many lies so easily spread, and you-” The hand returned to Essek’s face, the lightest sweep of Caleb’s thumb across his cheek. “We were worried.”

Maybe he still had a tinge of delirium, but Essek had to ask. “And you?”

There was the briefest shock in Caleb’s eyes, like he hadn’t expected the question. But Essek had to know. In between the flow of magic words that kept his mind occupied, the daydream (painful, beautiful, impossible) that came to him was the memory of teaching spells to Caleb. Of wanting to teach him more. Of wishing to spend more time with him. Of pursuing that thread of something that seemed to keep pulling them back to each other. He had to know.

Caleb leaned over and pressed his lips to Essek’s forehead, familiar yet unfamiliar, the touch feeling much more intimate in this position while alone in the room.

“I was worried.” Caleb’s words were a puff of hot breath across his forehead. Then he straightened back up and pulled his hand away.

“Caleb-”

“Do not make me say more.” There was a small smile on his lips, but Caleb’s eyes looked sad.

“Not now...We-,” Essek was really wishing his throat felt less like glass. “Can we talk later?”

There was a noise at the door as the handle turned. Caleb didn’t turn to see who it was and instead kept his gaze on Essek.

“Yes.” He stepped back as Caduceus and Jester walked into the room. “Yes, later.”

Essek was given another cold potion and warm hands of healing, and then he drifted off into unbothered sleep. Whatever they had given him was preventing any restlessness or dreams. However, Essek still found himself chanting a spell to himself as he sank into sleep; it was the first spell he had taught Caleb, its words as familiar and soothing as that memory itself.

#shadowgast #shadowgast fic #caleb widogast #essek #essek thelyss #shadowgast saturday #heed the content warning!#my fic #critical role fic

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spookyrealms · 4 years ago

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The Wayward Road // A Supernatural Sequel

Available now on AO3 & Wattpad

Rating: Mature

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, ua drinking, near death scenarios

Series: Book 1 of 2

Status: Ongoing

Characters: Chloe Braeden, Arion, Dean II "DJ" Winchester, Vivianne Gordon, Nate Preston, God/Chuck Shurley, Baby the Impala, The Empty, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester

Additional Notes: This story is based off the theory that Ben Braeden is/was 100% Dean's son. This is a post-canon story.

Summary:

Family blood runs deep. Chloe Braeden is the granddaughter of Dean Winchester. The last of a dying Winchester lineage, Chloe's undeniable thirst to carry on the family legacy leads her into an adventure far bigger than herself. Arion, a once powerful and respected angel, has slipped from The Empty. Now human, Arion must find his grace and find purpose within his fragile human form. Destiny is no stranger to a Winchester; Chloe and Arion join forces to find his grace and save the world from slipping into chaos as the walls between Earth and The Empty begin to shatter.

Read Chapter One:

Ringing, crackling, pulsing, deafening noise. This shockwave reached every desolate space within this blank expanse. It breached areas that had never heard a whisper since the creation of time. The explosion intensified with nowhere to go; bubbling like a pot of water nearing boiling point. Pressurized energy began to tear at the seams of dimensions, this place was not supposed to harbor chaos.

The Empty was waking up.

Entities that had been in a peaceful, endless sleep, were now stirring. What was meant to be an eternal rest was now awakening thousands of beings who were experiencing the darkness for the first time.

An ancient celestial being named Arion felt the energy. The blast surged through his lifeless body like a hundred lightning bolts all striking a single point. His eye flew open revealing nothing. Arion gasped as he shot into an upright position. The crackling roar of the explosion filled his ears causing him to cover them. It was maddening. The angel scanned the infinite darkness searching for anything or anyone.

"I'm dead." Was the first words to leave his mouth. His throat hurt, it felt dry. He hadn't muttered a single word in over a millennium.

Arion rose to his feet and placed his hand on his chest, as he did the flashing images of distant memories flooded back. The pain of being ripped apart by a cosmic being. His enemy, once his closest friend, towering over him with a menacing smirk printed on his face. The angel was unrecognizable to Arion within those final moments before darkness.

The armor he wore on that cursed day still clung to his chest. Broken and cracked, but still there. It was as if he was reliving the moment again. Only now, he was surrounded by an unfamiliar darkness.

Absent-mindedly, Arion walked through the expanse. Was he to dwell in this blank existence forever? In the midst of his troubling thoughts the angel saw movement ahead. It was a faint flicker of pale light. As he neared the strange but welcoming glow it grew in size to reveal an elongated sliver of light no more than two inches across. This light flickered several times, spitting out orange sparks that disappeared against the darkness.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Arion reached his hand out and touched the light. His finger went through it. He retracted his hand quickly and examined the finger finding relief in seeing that no harm was done to it. This only stirred his curiosity further. This time Arion pushed his whole hand through the sliver of light. Amazed at first, the innocent curiosity turned to panic as he felt himself be tipped forward as if a great force was sucking him in like the gravitational pull of a planet. A brief terrified yelp escaped his lips as his entire body was swallowed into this tear.

Experiencing a free fall that only lasted a mere second, Arion hit the ground with a hard thump. Birds chirped, leaves rustle in the light breeze creating nature's soothing melody. Something Arion hadn't heard in ages.

Opening his eyes, Arion looked up at the towering trees above him. The blank emptiness was replaced with a forest turning over its leaves for the season. Crisp cool air blew against Arion's face. This feeling was more then welcoming. Life. Oh how he missed life.

But, how did he get here? Where is here exactly?

The angel rose to his feet once more and began turning in a slow circle to take in his surroundings. Forest as far as they eye could see.

Somehow he had slipped from his eternal slumber and arrived on Earth, the world he helped create.

_______

For more check out the whole story:

The Wayward Road (Ao3)

The Wayward Road (Wattpad)

#supernatural #au #spnfam #spnfanfic #fanficton #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #fanfic #spnedit #wattpad #ao3 #archive of our own #original story #original character #angels #demons #spn

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nsheetee · 6 years ago

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Wifi

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: Roommate AU || Fluff, slightly crack-ish Length: 2k Warning: one mention of an adult theme, implied female reader Summary: You and Renjun have been rooming together for a while, not knowing of your hidden feelings for each other. Surprisingly, it’s the bad wifi connection in your room that brings you together.

〈〈〈━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━〉〉〉

You sigh for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening, your fingers angrily keyboard smashing on your laptop when the wifi bars at the top of the screen show only one small, weak bar barely hanging on.

Ever since you moved in with your new roommate Renjun, you’ve noticed how every once in a while around 11pm, the wifi in your room goes weak. Being a creature of the night that always gets their homework done during this time, it frustrates you that you have to take small breaks every few minutes for your computer to catch up with the internet connection.

Finally fed up with waiting for your computer to load, you pick up your supplies and march over to Renjun’s room, which is the closest room to the apartment’s wifi router. You knock on the door and after hearing an affirmative, you walk into the room. Renjun is buried under a pile of blankets on his bed with his hoodie pulled up to his lips and the hood over his forehead. The only light in the room is coming from his laptop and he hisses when you turn on the room light.

“Good God, turn that off before you blind me. What do you need?” You turn the light back off and instead turn on Renjun’s desk light, setting your stuff down on top of his abandoned homework.

“Can I finish my homework in here?”

“What’s wrong with your room?”

“The internet’s being dodgy again.” You explain and Renjun silently nods, shutting his laptop and putting his airpods into his ears as he looks through his phone. You sit at his “organized mess” of a desk, open your computer, and sigh contently when the wifi works smoothly.

Renjun peers over his phone to look at you. You’re concentrating hard on whatever paper you’re writing; your pajama shirt is so big that it covers your shorts and your hair is only held in it’s messy bun by a couple of pencils. He can’t see your face, but admiration pools in his chest.

He’s been lovesick for you ever since you interviewed to be his roommate. When you introduced yourself and answered all of his questions in your own quirky way, Renjun just about handed over the lease for you to sign then and there and called off all the other interviews he had that day. Since then, his small crush has grown bigger, but seems to be unnoticed by you. Renjun, instead of doing the obvious thing and confessing, decided to help you find out about his feelings “by yourself.”

Renjun found out that he can manually decrease the bandwidth of the apartment’s wifi just by logging into his internet service provider account online. So, he began to weaken the wifi every few nights around 11pm, when he knew you were doing your homework. Like clockwork, he’d hear your groans of frustration for a few moments before your feet pad over to his room and knock on the door, asking to do your homework in his room.

Was Renjun being ridiculous? Maybe… Was he going to stop this game he has you unknowingly playing? Not until you realize he has feelings for you or he gets enough guts to confess. Renjun sighs dejectedly when he thinks about the likeness of either of those events happening anytime soon. He sinks down further into his nest of blankets in an attempt to stop the feelings from taking over his chest, but to no avail.

Renjun has a total, major, embarrassing crush on his roommate.

〈〈〈〉〉〉

You knock on Renjun’s door once again, sighing when he tells you to enter from inside. You walk in with your books and pens in your hands, your computer haphazardly balanced on top of it all.

“What’s wrong?” Renjun asks from his spot on the floor. His project for his biology class is spread out on the floor; some sort of visual presentation that involves a lot of paper cut outs and glue.

“Internet’s bad.” You look over his work, “Are you actually doing your homework? I didn’t know that was possible.” Renjun glaces up from gluing paper to his presentation, a blank stare on his face. He didn’t manually decrease the bandwidth of the wifi tonight. Are the internet gods smiling down on him and bringing you to him through their own will? He hopes so.

“Those are bold words for someone who needs internet and the only place to get it is in my room.” It’s your turn to give Renjun a blank stare as you drop off your supplies on his desk. “Come here.” He commands. You sit down criss-cross applesauce across from him and he hands you a thick permanent marker.

“Write this here.” He points to a small passage in his notebook and a blank space on the presentation board before moving to glue a different piece of paper.

“Why? I’m not going to do your homework for you in return for wifi. I live here, I pay with this wifi.” You point the marker tip at him but he ignores you, too focused on gluing a piece of paper to the cardboard.

“Once again, this is my room.” You sigh at his stubbornness, deciding to help him just this once. You take time to look around; although you’ve been rooming together for a few weeks now, this is the first time you’ve casually been in his room. The wall above his bed particularly catches your eye; his drawings, the quick doodles that he seems to be proud of, are hanging over his bed. Some are of people he’s seen at the coffee shop he usually hangs out in, some are of your house plants that you bought for the window sill in the kitchen.

Your heart softens when you look back at Renjun; he seems to be hyperfixed on gluing a particular piece of paper to the cardboard, his lips open in concentration and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You feel courage build up in your chest and your gut fill with fearlessness. This is it. You’re going to confess your feelings for your roommate right here and right now.

“Nice drawings.” You mumble out instead, cursing to yourself in your head when the courage fades.

“Really?” Renjun asks, looking over his shoulder to the drawings. “They’re just doodles…” He tries to sound humble, but you can see the tilt of one side of his lips as he tries to hide his smile.

“Yeah, golden hands, they’re good.” You roll your eyes, deciding to feed his ego. It distracts him long enough to allow you to stand up and escape to Renjun’s desk chair. You start your own homework, a yawn leaving your lips. Maybe tonight isn’t the time to confess your crush on your roommate, but you hope he’ll be able to see the little hints you give of your feelings.

Renjun once again can’t help but stare at your back as you work, not minding that you’re not helping him anymore. He hates that your small, seemingly insignificant comment about his artwork makes his heart pound. He wishes the wifi could stop working by itself more often so he could see you naturally, like he did tonight.

〈〈〈〉〉〉

You don’t knock this time as you enter Renjun’s room, throwing up a peace sign as you close the door behind you and walk to his desk.

“Hey,” He raises his voice. “I get you have homework to do and the internet is weird, but at least knock. What if I was… masterbating in here or something.” He mumbles the last part and you snort.

“I still need to use the internet. So if you’re gonna masterbate anytime soon, please go do it somewhere else.”

“This is my room.” Renjun whines, throwing the drawing pad he was using before you barged in next to him and flopping onto his bed.

“Or so you keep saying.” You tease some more, setting down your supplies on his desk.

Renjun hasn’t touched the wifi bandwidth in weeks for fear that his meddling has caused the wifi to actually turn bad in your apartment. His wish came true: the wifi kept breaking and messing up in your room, all by itself. Now, you were constantly in Renjun’s room doing your homework and although Renjun likes you (literally), he doesn’t like how you welcome yourself in.

You surprise him by laying down next to him; you’re both facing the ceiling, hands on your stomachs and sighs escaping your lips every few seconds. Renjun can’t tell what you’re thinking, he’s too afraid to look at your face for the fear of not being able to quit looking. He doesn’t know if you’re as affected as him by your arm meeting his every time you breath, or if you can sense his thoughts racing at 1,000 miles an hour in his head. He tries to breathe evenly when he catches a whiff of your moisturizer, the one he said he liked a few weeks ago and that you’ve been using everyday since.

“Aren’t you here to do your homework? Why are you laying down?”

“No.” You gulp at the words that are about to leave your lips. “I’m here… for you.” You hold your breath after you finish talking.

“What.”

“The wifi has been working fine for weeks. I’ve been coming here to spend time… with you.” You can’t imagine how Renjun was dense enough to believe that the wifi has been poor almost every night for the past 2 months, but you hope it has something to do with him liking spending time with you. You got tired of waiting for Renjun to pick up your hints and stopped waiting for the wifi to cut out in your room to join him in his-- it’s not like he would ever know if the wifi is actually being dodgy on your side of the apartment.

You’re still nervously waiting for Renjun to say something or to tease you and kick you out of his room and tell you to find a different place to stay and then you’re going to be homeless and then you’ll definitely never have good wifi and then…

Renjun sits up and you don’t let your eyes meet, instead pulling your hood over your head and tightening the strings to hide away from your indirect confession. Renjun untightens the strings and pulls the hood off of you; he looks like he’s about to laugh at you and it makes you nervous.

“You’re a fool. I was the one that was cutting out your wifi.” His words make you sit up straight. Your jaw unhinges as embarrassment floods you. You thought you were only going to confess your feelings tonight, not the fact that you’ve been sneakingly lying to Renjun to hang out with him every night.

Renjun starts laughing and in your flustered state, you pick up his forgotten drawing pad and hit him with it. Renjun only laughs harder at your reaction, clutching his shoulder. He’s partially laughing because of the dumb situation you got yourselves in, but also out of joy because you just confessed your feelings to him.

“You! Do you know how angry you made me? I couldn’t get any of my work done for weeks.” You yell. You’re sure the neighbors could probably hear your mixed voices, but you don’t care. “Why did you purposefully cut out the wifi?” You groan.

“Because I knew you would come to my room if I did.” Renjun confesses, leaning back on his bed with his hands. Your heart soars at his words; it’s what you’ve wanted him to say to you for so long. You raise the drawing pad to hit him again but he catches it, fingers covering yours as he stops your second attack. You let him pry the pad out of your hands and he drops it to a different corner of the bed.

“C’mere, dummy.”

“Who are you calling a dummy?”

“You. Now get over here so I can finally kiss you senseless.”

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

Note

could i please request hux and his f!crush getting stuck in a lift together? 😍😍

Preparations

Whoops, I stayed up until 2AM to finish this one, that’s what I get for drinking all that Dr. Pepper at 10 PM. This was super fun, thanks for the suggestion!

Requests are closed (for now) ✨

Armitage Hux x Reader

Warnings: Nope!

“I’ll have those reports filed immediately, General,” the ensign says, struggling to keep up with his pace as he moves down the hall. General Hux doesn’t really care if he gets the reports immediately or not—not on a day like today—but he can’t let anyone know that. If he let his standards slip, even for a second, it would no doubt result in chaos.

“I’ll watch for them,” he responds, and the ensign scurries away, back to the bridge. Now that he’s alone, Hux can focus on more important matters. He’s planned carefully to make sure that he has enough time before the ceremony, and now he needs to return to his quarters to make his last minute preparations. He’ll practice his speech again, inspect his uniform …

The lift arrives, and his thoughts are interrupted as he steps aboard. He’s eager to reach his destination but the lift is moving too slowly for his liking; he’s overcome with annoyance when it comes to a stop a few levels too soon. The doors open, and Hux has already set his face in a scowl, ready to terrify whoever is about to board into finding a different lift. When he sees it’s you, though, the glare disappears immediately; his jaw falls slack, his heart falls out of his chest—the space left empty is filled with a bubbling set of nerves that have nothing to do with his upcoming address.

“Oh, I’m sorry, General! I can wait for the next one,” you say once you look up from your data pad and see that it’s him, one of your hands raised in a gentle apology. On instinct, he blocks the doors from closing with his foot and gestures for you to enter.

“I insist,” he says, but you still hesitate, “since you’re already here.” You give him a small smile as you walk through the doorway, avoiding eye contact as you brush past him.

The lift begins moving again, and Hux finds himself staring at the back of your neck, bare skin visible in the space between the collar of your uniform and your hair, which you’ve swept up and out of the way. He should say something to you. Now is the perfect time, after all. It’s not very often that he gets to see you alone and he doesn’t want to waste this opportunity, but his mind is blank; he’s distracted as you tap your fingers against the back of your data pad, keenly watching the door.

“You’ll be attending the ceremony?” he asks, the words in his head finally forming a sentence after considerable effort, and you turn to look at him, surprised.

“Yes, general, I’ll be there,” you respond, a little nervous, before adding, “attendance is mandatory, after all.” You face forward again, and Hux would like to fall through the floor. What a stupid thing for him to say; of course you’d be there. He’s sure that there’s no way for him to salvage this conversation now, especially not when he’s busy berating himself for his ineptitude. The embarrassment is so loud in his mind that he almost misses your next question.

“You’ll be addressing us today, sir, I assume?” you ask, and he pauses for a moment, trying to generate a coherent answer and thank the stars that you’re still talking to him at the same time.

“Yes, I will.” There’s only a few more floors before the lift reaches his destination, but he’s no longer in a hurry. In fact, now he hopes that time would slow down, or stop even, so that he could be here with you just a little while longer.

“I look forward to it, sir,” you say, “your last address was very engaging. The negligent New Republic surrenders to the whims of its most avaricious …” you trail off there, a faint blush budding on your cheeks, and the general feels unsteady on his feet at the sound of his own words repeated back to him, “do you write all of them yourself?”

“Oh, I- uh, yes,” he stutters, and he feels heat rise on his own face, his neck growing warm under his collar.

“I’m impressed, general, you have a way with words.” The praise goes straight to his head, and General Hux is sure that he’ll think of nothing else today, not during the ceremony, not after. This has been, and certainly will be, the best part of his day.

The lift slows to a stop, and he wonders if there’s some excuse he could make to stay with you a little longer. He doesn’t have to worry; even though there’s no movement from the lift, the doors don’t open, and it isn’t until the lights flicker gently that he realizes something is wrong.

“Strange,” Hux reaches for the control panel, re-entering the command, but there’s no change, the doors closed solidly, the lift stubbornly still.

“Is something wrong, General?” you ask, leaning in next to him to study the control panel as well.

“The lift has stopped, it must be broken.” You nod slightly, staring up at him for a moment, waiting.

“What should we do?” you ask, and Hux isn’t sure how to respond, running through a list of options, finding no solutions. This has never happened to him before.

“You’re an engineer,” he says tentatively, “is there anything you could do?” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you think. Part of him, an embarrassingly large part of him, hopes that any answer you come up with will take quite a bit of time.

“Nothing comes to mind, sir,” you say, examining the control panel, “I don’t have any tools with me at the moment, and I wouldn’t dare look at the wiring behind the panel without turning on the emergency settings first. That would have to be done at the main console.” Was that the answer he was hoping for? General Hux has mixed feelings; he didn’t want the problem solved right away, obviously, but it seems that the only path available is to wait for someone to discover that the two of you are trapped, and that makes him nervous.

“Could we try contacting someone? On your data pad?” He asks next, and your eyes light up with relief at his suggestion.

“Good idea, sir. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” You begin writing out a message—Hux assumes it’s for your second-in-command. He’s feeling a little more hopeful, but that feeling is lost once he sees you tap the screen a few times, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“It’s not sending,” you say, and your hand shakes as you pass him the data pad. The message is typed out on your screen, but no matter how many times Hux tries to send it, the screen stays obstinately the same.

“Something must be blocking the transmission. Do you-” his question is caught in his throat when he looks at you and sees that you’re shaking, eyes closed, holding onto the wall with one hand to steady yourself.

“Are you alright?” It’s obvious to him that you are not, but he asks the question anyway.

“I, um, I’m terribly sorry, General-” you say, and your words are punctuated with long pauses as you suck in a few deep breaths through your parted lips, “closed spaces make me a little nervous. Normally the lifts are fine, but … how long do you think it will be before we get out of here? I mean, someone has to come look for us, right? How long do you think that will take?”

“I’m sure someone will realize that there’s a problem soon enough. Perhaps you should sit down?” You nod in agreement, sliding to the floor. Hux hates to admit it, but he doesn’t have a plan. All the options he could think of have been exhausted, and he’s not sure how things could have gone from being so pleasant to so dire so quickly.

He needs to get a hold of himself. He had wished to spend more time with you, and now that he’s got plenty of it, he should take advantage. Hux moves closer to where you sit on the floor, lowering himself onto one knee and meeting you at eye-level. Your face is flushed and your breathing is rapid and shallow; Hux is worried that if he doesn’t find some way to help you, you might pass out.

“What do you need from me?” he asks, and you open your eyes, glassy with tears, “how can I help?” You reach out, gripping one of his hands in yours, and he’s surprised by the strength of your hold on him.

“I just need something to distract me, General,” you say quietly, “anything.” Hux needs to think for only a moment before an idea appears.

“Would you mind if I practiced my speech?” he asks, and you nod, a quiet laugh replacing the sounds of your harsh breathing. Every nerve is alight as General Hux moves to sit beside you, your bodies pressed close together on the floor of the lift. You keep hold of his hand, but your grip relaxes infinitesimally as he begins.

The words come haltingly as Hux adjusts to his position on the floor and his audience of one. Normally he practices alone, sometimes while he gets ready in the morning, sometimes late into the night, repeating the same sections over and over again, working tirelessly to get the inflection perfect. He falls into a steady rhythm after a moment, almost able to ignore the warmth emanating from you, and the softness of your fingers intertwined with his. He falters, though, once you move closer, resting your head on his shoulder. Your breath, much slower now, tickles as it brushes against his jaw, and the words threaten to fly from his head, but he forces himself to focus, for your sake and his. He takes heart knowing that the distraction is working, but his own pulse is beating rapidly, and he can hear himself become breathless just before he finishes the last few words.

There’s silence now, but you’re noticeably calmer, your grip on his hand much more relaxed. Hux has changed his mind once again; now he hopes that no one will find the two of you; he’d like to stay in this lift forever.

You clear your throat before speaking, removing your head from his shoulder with a little shake, embarrassed by the gesture of affection. “Thank you, General. That was the perfect distraction.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, and you pull your hand from his, smoothing it over your hair before stopping at the base of your neck. You stay there for a moment, looking at him with an eager smile, like you just solved a difficult problem and were excited to tell someone about it.

“What?” he asks quietly, hoping for some kind of insight to what you are thinking. Your smile only gets wider, and Hux can feel himself mirroring your expression, the corners of his own mouth turning up against his will.

“It’s nothing, General. I just didn’t know you had such a gentle side to you. I feel like I know your deepest secret now.” Hux scoffs, resting his head back on the wall of the lift. His deepest secret? Far from it. Still, the grin doesn’t leave your face and you won’t stop looking at him, studying him with relentless enthusiasm. This time, when he looks back, he does smile—a small, reserved smile—but a smile nonetheless.

“When we get out of here, you’ll have to keep it to yourself,” he says, looking away from you and disciplining his expression, “it would ruin my reputation.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, General.” You nudge him gently with your elbow, and it sets his heart on fire. Stars, he really doesn’t want to leave this lift. He doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were before.

Apparently, all of the general’s wishes for today have run out, because the two of you are startled apart by the squealing sound of metal against metal, and the doors are pried open, a familiar face appearing at the top of the door.

“There you are!” It’s Brielis, your second-in-command, and your expression is flooded with relief when you recognize that it’s her.

“Oh thank the Maker,” you say, hurrying to the door, and two stormtroopers reach into the gap, pulling you out by your arms through the small opening they’ve created; you’ve been stuck between two levels this whole time. General Hux manages to make it out of the gap without help, straightening out his uniform as he watches you embrace Brielis.

“We had no idea how long it would take for someone to find us!” you say to her, “how did you know where we were?”

“What are you talking about? I got your message of course,” she replies, and you look to the general in confusion.

“The sending must have been delayed,” he says, and you nod in agreement. The troopers have moved on already, but General Hux lingers, hoping to stay with you for just a moment longer. You notice his reluctance to leave and flatten your mouth into a thin line, trying to stifle a smile.

“Brie, can I get you to coordinate the repair for this lift?” you ask, and she nods, eager to help, “I just need to speak with the general for a moment.” Brielis nods again, already running off down the corridor. You turn back to the general, a little shy now that you’re back in a public space.

“If you’d like to take some time to recover, or help with the repair,” Hux says, hoping to put you at ease, “you’re excused from the ceremony.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, General,” you say with a laugh, “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” A quivering thrill runs through him, and when you smile again, his heart threatens to stop. You wave a small goodbye, and he watches as you walk down the corridor, off to find Brielis and get the repair started. General Hux waits for a moment, postponing his preparations, but he’s not worried. Even without the time he had planned for, he still thinks that this might be his best address yet.

#armitage hux x you #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux x you #general hux x reader #my writing #anons #requests #long post #claustrophobia

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cinnaminsvga · 6 years ago

Text

the walls have ears | Taehyung

→ summary: in hindsight, taehyung probably shouldn’t have told the paintings about his debilitating crush on you after he had (unknowingly) drunk some magically spiked pumpkin juice. after all, paintings don’t really have all that much going on, except getting excited over the occasional gossip or two. and well... news always travels fast when there’s magic involved.

{based on a prompt by @/alloftheprompts: “Character A tells a painting about their crush on Character B. The portrait spills their secret.”}

→ genre: hogwarts!au, fluff, humor → words: 5.6K → a/n: this is for the lovely @merriblazi who donated a couple ko-fis to fund my grocery bills lmao thank you so much!! also, i’m still accepting ko-fi comms until the end of august, so if you’d like something like this as well, feel free to drop a few ko-fis down my drain!! i’d love to write you all something!! (new banner was made by @jincherie ty girl ily)

The paintings at Hogwarts are all in high spirits today.

Taehyung notices this when he exits the Gryffindor common room, immediately being greeted by the Fat Lady’s cackles of excitement. He jumps up in surprise at her ear-splitting squeals, nearly knocking over a poor first-year student behind him. He shouts out an apology at the kid, but she has already scuttled off, spooked by the loud portrait. Honestly, Taehyung isn’t any better himself, turning back around to stare wide-eyed as the Fat Lady continues to point and giggle at him with her mouth stretched into a smirk.

Taehyung hazards a greeting. “Um, good morning?”

“Good morning indeed,” she singsongs, procuring a fan out of the many folds of her dress (from where exactly she had it stored, he tries not to think too deeply about). “Mister Kim, I’m sure you had quite an interesting evening the day before, did you not?”

Taehyung freezes immediately, his blood running cold at her words. Being a known prankster and rapscallion, Taehyung has grown to learn the importance of running at the first sign of trouble, despite how cowardly that might seem for a Gryffindor. The best way to continue having the pleasure of wreaking havoc is to choose your battles wisely, which is just a nice way of saying that he needs to scram before the authorities can catch him. He had learned all of this from the best, seeing as how his best friend happens to be a Slytherin.

He tries to think of what he had done the other night, but he comes up blank. He remembers being busy the entire afternoon trying to ask you on a date for the fourteenth time this month, only to no avail (as always). While others had already been deterred by intimidation alone, Taehyung remains hopeful that he will get the guts to talk to you eventually. After all, his mommy says he’s a handsome and charming boy who can sweep any girl off their feet, and his mommy has never lied to him before.

At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself these past few years of silently pining over you, but he digresses.

“I… I had an interesting evening?” Taehyung repeats quizzically, becoming more bewildered by the second. Due to the Fat Lady’s commotion, it seems to have caused a stir among the rest of the paintings, all of the nearby portraits peering over their frames to catch a good look at him. Taehyung can even see some of the more lethargic portraits waking up long enough to direct attentive gazes at him.

“Why of course!” The Fat Lady positively screams, clasping her hands together with a loud clap. “The castle is abuzz with excitement over your daring confession last night! Why, I could hardly contain my excitement for when you would awaken.” She flicks away her fan over her shoulder, accidentally hitting her neighboring portrait in the face. She scarely blinks at her neighbor’s barks of irritation.

Oh, jeez. It’s the crotchety portrait that everyone disliked. This isn’t good; no one could ever get the old fart to shut up once you got him going, and Taehyung knows better than anyone else how easy it is to get a rise out of him. After all, it was his favorite pastime.

“Watch where you flap those arms of yours, woman!” He shouts, bulbous features turning purple in mere seconds. The Scholar, or as Taehyung likes to call the Squalor, takes one of his many books from his desk, ready to hurl back at her.

Before he can even think of pulling back his shoulder, a stampede of finely dressed ladies comes rushing in out of nowhere, quickly subduing them by sheer number alone. There is a loud squabble as the ladies all corner him like a murder of multi-colored crows. At a closer glance, Taehyung recognizes them from one of the large paintings near the entrance to the Great Hall.

That was floors away. How had they rushed over so quickly? And for what reason?

“Oh hush, you simpering nerd!” One of the ladies snaps, grabbing the Fat Lady’s fallen fan and slapping the man in the face once more. The scholar sputters, at a loss for words for once in his life. Taehyung thanks the ladies internally, having always wanted to disfigure the bastard’s face ever since he called his yellow sunglasses unfashionable. What the hell did someone who died during the plague know anything about fashion?

“We came as soon as we heard, Lady Fat! Now, where is the boy that everyone’s been gossiping about – oh, my word!” Taehyung assumes it is the leader of the pack who gasps in surprise, her well-manicured finger outstretched as she waggles it at him. He can tell she’s the leader by the ostentatious crown on her head, complete with glittering jewels that he could scarcely tell the names of.

The Fat Lady moves to the side, allowing the women to enter her space until almost the entirety of her canvas was filled with nothing but powdered wigs and poofy skirts. Taehyung can hardly see her crown of vines with how many people were surrounding her.

Her voice sounds muffled when she replies, “For the hundredth time, my name is the Fat Lady, not Lady Fat. And yes Martha, it is him! His name is Taehyung, the one I’m certain who had spoken to Raphael the other night.”

Wait. Taehyung’s mouth drops, taken aback. This is certainly news to him! When had he spoken to Raphael? Who the hell was Raphael, even? Why did everyone seem to know more about his nightly activities than he did?

He doesn’t get to ask, however, as the ladies immediately begin to bombard him with a barrage of comments ranging from excitement to disappointment, no holds barred.

“Oh, it’s the cute Gryffindor boy with the long eyelashes! They would make a lovely couple indeed! I wonder if Raphael has already passed the message to her–”

“He’s the one? Surely not! I was hoping it was the cat-eyed boy with black hair instead. Wouldn’t he be a better match for her?”

“You must be crazy, Marie! This boy is clearly meant for her. My mother was a seer, and I can tell from a mile away that those two are meant to be soulmates–”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Taehyung cries out, anxious from all the chatter coming from all directions at once. He can feel the panic bubbling up, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t even know where to start with all this! “Can everyone shut up for a second!”

Miraculously, all the portraits clam up at his request, still gazing upon him like he holds all the secrets to the world. Which, much to everyone’s disappointment, he does not.

The sudden disquiet unnerves him slightly, causing him to stutter in his speech. He swallows thickly, voice meek. “I-I… I’m a bit confused about all this. Can someone explain what everyone’s talking about? I just wanted to head down and get some breakfast.”

It feels like a hundred painted faces are staring back at him, and when Taehyung casts a furtive glance behind him, he sees that even the paintings from two staircases up are watching with rapt attention. Why was everyone so interested in him, all of a sudden? Not even his infamous dungbomb toilet prank got him this much notoriety. When he turns back to face the ladies, they all seem to be just as shocked as he is.

Lady Martha steps forward until she is almost taking up the entirety of the canvas, squinting at him dubiously. Her previously excited demeanor has soured greatly at his words. She tilts her head towards him, unimpressed. “Well? Are you not the boy with the crush on Lady Y/N? Have we sprinted across the entire castle just to find that the culprit of last night’s latest gossip had all been just another prank?”

“N-no, I – Wait. Did you just say–” Taehyung stops in the middle of his sentence to gape back at her, his ears feeling hot as his blood quickly races up to his face. “Did you just say ‘the boy with the crush on Y/N?’” He hisses the last part in a strangled whisper, snapping his head side to side to make sure no one else had heard. He is relieved to find that the only other people nearby do not seem to have heard their exchange, but he still waves his hands frantically to get all the portraits to lower their volume.

She raises her eyebrow at him, hip cocked to the side. “Yes? Had I misspoken? Had Raphael been lying to all of us once again?” She scoffs in exasperation, though it does not seem to be aimed at him. The rest of the ladies seem annoyed at this Raphael as well. “That’s just like him, too! We shouldn’t have trusted him again. That angel never did know how to shut his trap.”

The ladies make muted harrumphs of discontent, noses upturned in the air. Taehyung watches as a few of them begin to make their way back to their own canvas, but he needs to ask them one last thing before they leave. While he doesn’t remember ever speaking to a painting named Raphael, he still does not know how he had found about his crush on you in the first place.

He doesn’t know what he would do if you were to ever find out, even if it was just a rumor for now. This is not how he imagined he would finally tell you about his feelings; everything feels like a nightmare. He can already feel the apples of his tanned cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment.

“Hold on, did you say an angel named Raphael said all of that stuff?” Taehyung asks hesitantly, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He can vaguely remember a fresco of some angels near the kitchens, but he isn’t quite sure. He never goes there unless he wants to snag some treats from the house elves, but he has started relying on Seokjin to do the food hauls for him these days. Never mind the fact that he had already gotten caught in the act thrice by you – ever the attentive prefect.

Oh, how he hated how much he loved you, despite the stick up your ass. That being said, no one was supposed to even know that he liked you, much less the entire painting population of Hogwarts. Not even Jimin knew, and that was saying something! How did this Raphael fellow find out when he had kept this secret deep inside his heart since the first day he had laid his eyes on you? How had he figured him out, unless Taehyung had been the one to tell him–

“Yes, the archangel Raphael near the kitchens.” Lady Martha nods, her sneer disfiguring her delicate features. “He said that a drunken boy with long lashes and dark brown hair had confessed his undying feelings for the rigid Lady Y/N the other night. Oh, how excited we were to hear the news!” Martha holds a hand to her chest, sighing dramatically. The remaining ladies chorus their sighs as well, one of them even fainting from grief.

The Fat Lady cranes her neck upwards, trying her best to speak above the fallen, wailing ladies. “Yes, quite. What a shame! When I heard from Lady Martha, who had heard from Lord Michael, who had heard from Sire Nicholas, who had heard from Professor Bang–”

“Wait, Professor Bang?” Taehyung mutters in disbelief, scarcely heard over the racket.

“–who had heard from Archangel Raphael that a boy with long eyelashes had been going on and on about his crush on a female prefect, I just knew it had to be you! Then, the Ladies of Commère discovered that the prefect was Miss Y/N, well… It was like a dream come true! We had all been hoping for her to find her prince sooner or later.”

“Her prince? What for?” Taehyung is kind of afraid to dive deeper into this mess, though he is too curious to let it slide. It isn’t like you’re short on suitors, despite how intimidating and uptight you are. It is part of the reason why he’s too shy to approach you in the first place, with how large his competition pool is.

“Well… She had been complaining to me during her nightly rounds about how lonely she has been feeling, ever since her best friend had started dating that oaf with a quaffle for a brain,” Lady Martha tuts, shaking her head pityingly.

Taehyung is familiar with that “oaf,” otherwise known as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He admits that Jungkook isn’t the brightest boy, but he is a wickedly good player. Plus, Taehyung thinks he’s funny, especially after that incident when he had tried to snort pumpkin juice on a dare and consequently sprayed the entire wall with a myriad of fluids. (You had deducted points out of your own house for that, much to everyone else’s chagrin.)

Lady Martha continues, “She may seem like an independent woman, but I suppose all of us tend to get lonely during the night. And all the paintings love a good romance every once in a while, so we couldn’t help ourselves from jumping the gun a bit…”

Taehyung feels the dread begin to pile up like bricks in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the time when he had eaten too much cauldron cakes in one go. He needs to go see Raphael as soon as possible and get to the bottom of this. He doesn’t remember speaking to him at all, which is what makes Taehyung the antsiest. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t quite remember what he did after dinner last night.

Somehow between now and then, he had managed to go to bed despite not knowing how or when. Taehyung had woken up this morning with a minor throbbing in the back of his head, but it was nothing to write home about.

At least that was what he thought. He was starting to second guess everything now.

He bows to the paintings, belatedly feeling a little odd for showing respect to inanimate objects. Regardless, the ladies appear to be delighted by his involuntary action, all of them cooing at his manners and wishing him a good breakfast as he scampers off towards the Great Hall.

When he arrives, the tables are still largely empty with how early he had risen, a rare occurrence in Taehyung’s everyday life. He doesn’t think he’s ever arrived to breakfast this early, but he blames the small headache from earlier that prematurely roused him from his slumber. Strange, he thinks as he trudges to his usual place, waiting for the rest of his friends and housemates to arrive. Everything about today has been nothing but a fever dream come to life.

As he spoons a large portion of porridge and fried sausages onto his plate (still piping hot and crisp, which is another weird and new prospect to Taehyung since the food was always a bit mushy by the time he turns up for breakfast), he replays the conversation with the Ladies of Commère.

Other than Raphael, there appear to be no other leads as to who might have found out about his secret admiration for you. The Fat Lady describes a boy with long lashes and brown hair to be the one who had conversed with him, which definitely seems to indicate it was Taehyung himself who had snitched.

An utterly preposterous thought. There is no way that he would ever admit that to some random passerby, certainly not while sober.

Taehyung pauses, spoon midway towards his open mouth. Bits of porridge drip over his lap as the sudden terrorizing thought flits through his mind. Had he been sober last night?

The ladies said the boy had been drunk when he had confessed. Taehyung didn’t drink alcohol, averse to the bitter taste. So how could he have..?

Taehyung rubs his temples frantically, his heart beating out of his chest as he tries again to remember what he had done right after dinner the previous evening. No matter how hard he racked his brain for information, he comes up blank every time.

Even if he had been drunk, do people really lose all their memories from just a sip or two? The only way he could have gotten drunk is if he had consumed it unknowingly, meaning someone must have spiked his food the other night. But who could have done such a thing?

The loud thud of a body barrelling right into the table forces Taehyung out of his reverie, nearly dislodging his head off his neck in the process. He yelps in surprise, before glaring at the new smiley intruder beside him.

The Slytherin grins cherubically, having the audacity to wink salaciously at him. “Good morning, Taehyungie! Surprised to see you up so early,” Jimin says, seating himself on the Gryffindor bench like he belongs there. With how often he visits his table, it’s easy for people to mistake him as his housemate. Even you and the rest of the prefects have stopped trying to get him to leave after their fifth year.

Taehyung groans. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“I can tell. You aren’t even eating any of the bacon,” Jimin whistles in surprise, casually heaping his own (stolen) plate. He gives Taehyung a proper once-over. “You feeling alright? You look kind of pale.”

“It’s…” Taehyung wavers, not sure what to reveal. He still doesn’t feel comfortable telling Jimin about his crush, but he thinks that if the entire population of Hogwarts might soon find out anyway, then his best friend might as well find out from the source himself. But first…

“Did you spike my dinner last night?”

“What?” Jimin laughs, but stops when he notices Taehyung’s serious expression. “Oh. You’re serious. Did you eat something funny yesterday?”

“I don’t remember eating anything weird except for the lamb chops and chicken and mashed potatoes and…” Taehyung trails off, realizing how much he eats during a meal. He looks down at his already half-devoured plate of what was once ten whole sausages before sighing dejectedly.

“It could have been anything, huh?” Jimin hums, rubbing his chin. “That’s weird though, because I don’t think I ate anything weird yesterday, and we ate pretty much the same stuff.”

“That’s the thing! I only realized my food might have been spiked this morning,” Taehyung grumbles. He pauses for a second, steeling himself before he spills his guts all over the shiny mahogany dining table. He breathes deeply, causing Jimin to watch him curiously from his right. Well, it’s now or never.

“What made you realize?” Jimin asks.

“You see, funny story…” Taehyung says, not at all amused by the tale he was about to tell. “This morning, I was assaulted by the Fat Lady and the Ladies of Commère. You know, the hoity-toity ladies near the entrance of the Great Hall? Anyway, they said something that made me rethink my entire existence and that maybe my memories aren’t as reliable as I thought.”

“What the hell are you even saying?” Jimin huffs, wagging his fork in his face. “Stop beating around the bush and say what you wanna say! What does this have to do with spiked food?”

“Basically… The ladies said I told one of the portraits about my crush on this certain someone, but the thing is, I would NEVER tell anyone about my crush on that someone, so the only way they could have known about my crush on that someone is if I had told them, but the thing is, I–”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jimin interrupts Taehyung’s rambling, barely trying to suppress his giggles as he appraises his panicking friend. “You told a portrait about your crush on Y/N? When did this happen?”

Taehyung makes a startled sound, practically screeching in horror at Jimin’s nonchalant declaration. He had said it in a way like it was a simple truth, like how the sky is blue and how feet are sexy.

“You knew?!”

“Dude, everyone knows.” Jimin hums, nodding his head sagely. He snags one of the sausages off of Taehyung’s plate, even though he could have gotten a fresh one from the many other platters instead. He chews as he says, “Well admittedly, I’ve always known. Everyone else only just found out this morning as we entered the Great Hall. The hoity-toity ladies at the entrance were telling anyone who’d listen.”

“The ladies were–?” Taehyung stammers, mouth moving too quickly for his brain to catch up. “But I told them it wasn’t me!”

“Well, too late for that now,” Jimin shrugs, taking another one of Taehyung’s sausages. At this point, he was only doing it to make Taehyung’s day worse. “Apparently, Raphael the Archangel swore that it was you who had confessed about your crush on Y/N, and angels don’t just go around swearing, you know? Not that I know anything about Muggle religion, but also–”

“Oh Merlin, I think I’m going to be sick,” Taehyung says, slamming his head into his plate with the remaining three sausages. Jimin whines, lamenting the fate of his fallen riches.

“My sausages!”

“My love life!” Taehyung cries out, lifting his head and letting the greasy remains of his breakfast drip down his forehead.

Jimin is the first to recover from their respective meltdowns, using a finger to wipe some of the oil from his friend’s face and licking it with relish. “Damn, I love sausages. So, as I was saying… Why did you go and tell that portrait about your crush? Is that why you think you got spiked last night?”

Taehyung chokes out a sob, signaling his agreement.

“Oh shit, what if someone slipped Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice? But who?” Jimin wonders aloud, but it’s hard to narrow it down to just about anyone. Taehyung is pretty likable even amongst the most prickly students, so it will be difficult to pinpoint anyone who might have some personal vendetta against him. Then again, there are a couple of pranksters who come to mind…

“It doesn’t even matter who did it at this point. Y/N is going to come through those doors any moment and she’s just gonna know that I’m a fucking loser who spills his deepest infatuations to some random painting that I don’t even remember speaking to!”

“That is pretty lame,” Jimin says, not the least bit sympathetic. In his honest opinion, he feels like he should be thankful to whoever spiked his friend’s drink last night. Pining never did look good on Taehyung, despite all his natural handsomeness. If he had to catch him staring at you with that lovestruck look again, Jimin might as well have snitched sooner or later.

“Do you think I have time to go stop them from announcing to the world that I’m a loser with a huge boner for Y/N?” Taehyung is already rising to his feet, wiping the remaining grease from his skin as best as he can. He only smears it around some more, giving himself a blinding sheen. Somehow, he makes it work.

Jimin looks to his watch. “She usually comes in around five minutes before 8 AM, so maybe you’ll have some time before–”

He has spoken too soon. Lo and behold, you enter the hall with loud, purposeful strides, the entirety of your neck to your forehead flushed an endearing shade of red. You look absolutely mortified. Taehyung can say that he’s feeling the same, if not worse.

You pass by Taehyung in a blur, your gaze twitching towards him for a slight second before you are back to walking straight ahead with your head bowed slightly. Your best friend and Jungkook enter the hall soon after, both of whom were giggling raucously in your wake. The three of you slide into your usual seats a few spaces away from him, your eyes trained so fiercely onto your eggs that Taehyung is afraid that they might burst into flames.

Jimin looks from you to Taehyung, a smirk on his face. “You think she heard?”

The day continues onwards, filled with lots of staring and whispering. Taehyung can’t go from class to class without at least one person slapping him on the back in solidarity or others glaring at him out of contempt and jealousy. Either way, Taehyung isn’t sure whether he likes this type of attention or not.

Being hooted and cursed at for pulling off a fantastic joke? That, he could live with. Being the center of an ongoing cheesy romantic drama? This type of situation is a new world entirely.

The entire day is a whirlwind as he goes from class to class, not even getting to sneak off once to go and search for the ever elusive Raphael. Every time he tries to even look the other direction, his professors seem to be a step ahead of him, snapping at him to stay focused. Judging by the knowing smirks on their lips, they must have heard about the news as well, except they must be under the impression that he was trying to get away and search for you.

Oh, how wrong they are. He doesn’t even know what he would say if he saw you right now.

Luckily (or unluckily) for him, he doesn’t see you that often for the remainder of the day, except for one occasion when he passes you on the way to Potions. You aren’t with your best friend for once, but your eyes are still trained to the floor like they were this morning. Your usual pristine posture is gone, replaced by this timid girl who jumps up in surprise at the slightest bit of chatter. You don’t even scold a second-year for loosening his tie, and that honestly worried Taehyung more than anything else.

Were you embarrassed by him? He isn’t all that surprised that his affections were left unreciprocated – he’s long since accepted that his feelings will always remain one-sided. After all, with how often you like to reprimand him, you must only think of him as some loser seeking attention. In fact, he only ever plans his pranks so that you might be the one to catch him, like some misbehaving child who longs for the love of his absent parents.

Not that he thinks you’re like a mom to him, but then again… You’d be a great mom, but only if he gets to be the dad.

Wow. That went waaaay out of bounds than he was originally going for, but he digresses.

Still, he is a little hurt being ignored by you. Could he at least hope for a proper rejection? Just so he doesn’t have to keep having to speculating his whole life and wondering about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Oh, how he loathes what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. They are worse than losing an entire femur, in his opinion (and yes, he has lost a femur once. Luckily, they found it in the women’s bathroom, for some reason.)

He can’t blame you entirely though, since it must be hard on your part as well. He doesn’t ever remember seeing you this flustered in, well… Ever.

The afternoon winds down and classes end as quickly as they come. Dinner arrives once more, and Taehyung has more presence of mind to check what he eats before they even touch his lips. For safety reasons, he feeds his portions to Jimin first, just so if he gets spiked with truth serum again, at least the two of them could be idiots together.

He allows Jimin to lead most of the conversation, still not really feeling like everything’s fine despite his friend’s best attempts at lightening the mood. He did just get his heartbroken for the first time, after all. He’s surprised he hasn’t started bawling his eyes out in front of the entire school yet.

Just a few more minutes and I can cry all I want in the safety of my bedroom, Taehyung thinks to himself, feeling even shittier about how excited he is to spend the entire evening soaking his pillow with tears. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

He is in the process of feeding a spoonful of peas into Jimin’s open mouth when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder, breaking him from his trance. He is in the process of telling the person that he’s not in the mood, but the words die in his throat the moment he turns and discovers the identity of the sudden visitor.

It’s you.

It’s you, with your hands wringing the edges of your sweater and the most endearingly rosy tint on your soft cheeks. He feels his heart start pounding automatically, just as it always has whenever he’s near you. He thinks the whole school has stopped talking with how silent the Great Hall has become, everyone itching to try and listen to your exchange.

Perhaps you had anticipated this type of scenario and didn’t want anyone to overhear, which is why you have already prepared a note beforehand, inked with your signature neat scrawl. You slip the small piece of parchment into his palm, folding his fingers over it gently. You bow your head awkwardly, reminding Taehyung of his similar gesture from earlier. You scurry away back to your seat, hands cupping your cheeks to cool yourself down.

Taehyung can’t see himself right now, but he thinks he might be even redder than you are, if that is even possible. Jimin, like the nosey bastard that he is, rips the note out of his hand and reads it before he can even process the last five minutes, guffawing loudly at what he finds.

“Guess you got a date later at the Astronomy Tower,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand in mock congratulations.

Well, at least he’ll have the stars to look at when he inevitably gets his heart crushed for real this time.

He doesn’t get his heart crushed. At least, not immediately. In fact, he thinks he might be on cloud nine right now as he sees you waiting for him, a small smile on your lips.

“Taehyung, I… really didn’t expect this from you. At all.” You start speaking the moment you hear him reach the top of the stairs, still slightly out of breath from the climb up. He rushes over to you immediately, letting the breeze cool his sweaty face.

“You didn’t… expect it?”

“Well, I mean! You’re always so…” You trail off, your mouth doing this weird thing where you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“A fucking little bastard?” Taehyung laughs when he sees you start to backtrack, stammering all the while.

“N-no! Well, you sorta are… But in the cutest way… possible?” You say the last part like a question, almost helplessly. You wave your hands wildly, adorable despite being frustrated. “I mean! It’s like! I scold you, but it’s my job, you know? But it’s not because I want to do it? Do you get what I mean? Ugh, I’m so awkward I hate this!”

“You think… I’m cute?” Taehyung lets himself smile a little, and it seems to make you even more flustered.

“Have you not seen yourself? Of course you are! I can’t believe that you even have a crush on me–” You stop yourself, slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “I-I… I know it’s just a rumor and everything, and I don’t want to assume there’s any basis because oh my Merlin I’m never the type to listen to gossip and I don’t want you to think that I’m sort of–”

“What if it isn’t a rumor, though?” Taehyung has never felt this emboldened in his life, toeing the line of danger so closely that he can feel the electricity rush through his veins.

On the otherhand, you look completely baffled, as if the thought never crossed your mind before this moment. “What do you mean? Are you saying that…”

“That I like you, for real? Maybe I am,” Taehyung says, feeling cheekier the more he talks. It might just be the night sky or the wind against his cheeks, or maybe it’s the way your eyes are reflecting the stars like a mirror, but he feels like there is magic in the air. It’s cheesy, it’s cliché, but it’s everything he imagined it would be like.

He’s spent many daydreams thinking about this, and he isn’t going to let his fear pull him under. Not now, not when he can feel the string pulling the two of you together tighten with every second.

“If the rumors were true, what would you say?” Taehyung whispers, lacing his fingers through yours. Your hands shake imperceptibly, but your stare is as stagnant as the affection he feels for you. What he has always felt for you.

When you respond, Taehyung swears the whole world could hear his heart fluttering for you.

Somewhere in the Slytherin dungeons, Jimin is smiling to himself in the comfort of his own bed, turning in early for the night. It truly had been a good investment to secretly start dating a seventh-year potions prodigy over the summer. What is even better is that the Potions professor never did remember to lock his Veritaserum ingredients with nothing more than a simple deadbolt.

He snuggles himself deeper into his pillow, snickering softly. Good job, Yoongi.

All is fucking well.

#btsboulangerie #btsguild #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #hogwarts!au #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #bangtan #bts fanfic

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maxparkhurst · 5 years ago

Text

SHADOW’S WARMTH

It was cold outside. Winter’s frost fogged the stained-glass window and only shadows cast from the fragmented light broke the chamber’s monotonous sprawl. Despite all his layers, Augustine shivered. He adjusted the crate of potions in his arms, vials chiming in alarm, and followed his sister through the Cathedral’s entry arch. Their echoing footfalls heralded their path through the pews. His steps sounded far off, muted beneath the dull buzz in his head. Fatigue nestled itself in the space between his shoulder blades, sickly sweet as it pulled the muscles taut. It made his arms quake beneath the weight of their delivery. He wasn’t sure when this sudden case of shakes began or if it’d ever leave.

Augustine kept his gaze trained on the small of Max’s back. Unlike some, he found no solace in the home of the Light. If anything those cold, empty pews sent a shiver down his spine. To believe in fate written by a sole force was to revoke one’s own agency in the coming of destiny. If he were to believe in anything, he believed in their work and the help it’d provide to those less fortunate. Thus, instead of raising his eyes to the angelic depictions splayed on stained glass he turned to his mentor for guidance.

Max walked with the same composure she always possessed. Those unaccustomed to her measured smile and level voice found his sister to be enigmatic. They approached her with wary eyes and shifting feet. Such was the case with the deacon who met them half-way.

“Master Parkhurst.” He dipped his head to Max, wringing his hands within the trenches of his belled sleeves. A pleasant, albeit weary, smile touched his lips when he turned to Augustine. “And son?”

Augustine mustered a meager grin. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

“Apprentice,” Max corrected. She inclined her head to the deacon as she breathed a laugh. There wasn’t any emotion placed in the gesture. As with most things, the laugh was for display only. Something to fill the silence and lighten the air. “It’s good to see you in good health, Brother Matthews.”

Brother Matthews shifted on his heels, sending ripples through the hem of his diaconal vestments. Augustine imagined those flowing robes should bring a modicum of comfort to his restless soul. Quite the contrary. The gentleman hardly filled them out. Only the knobs of his shoulders poked through the dense fabric. Everything else? Lost beneath yards of cloth.

The deacon doesn’t wear the robes, he drowns in them.

“As good as I can be in these troubling times,” Brother Matthews chittered, running his fingers through an already thinning hair line.

His scalp visible through wisps of hair startled Augustine. This deacon could only be a few years older than him. Yet here this gentleman stood with less hair than perhaps what he started with at the beginning of the year. Stress must’ve aged him. Augustine grimaced and stole a glance up at his own locks. Had he faith in some deity, he’d pray to keep his hair once everything finally settled.

“...the potions?”

Augustine blinked. In his tired stupor, he missed the deacon’s question. The beginnings of a crimson blush crept up his neck as he scrambled for an answer. Luckily, Max stepped in.

“Yes,” she mused, coaxing the crate from Augustine’s grip, “They are.” She adjusted it in her arms, rattling the vials inside, and dipped her head to Brother Matthews. “If you’ll lead the way, Brother?”

Brother Matthews looked between the siblings before obliging with a nod.The hem of his robes fluttered as he drifted down the row of pews, looking almost spectral in the waning light. He paused at a stairwell’s threshold and beckoned. “This way…” he murmured.

Max stole a glance up at Augustine. Concern glistened in her eye as they made their descent down into the church’s underbelly. He tried to dissuade her skepticism with a forced smile. It merited a quirked brow followed by humoring silence. She hastened to fall in step with the deacon, lowering her voice so that they may converse in private. It suited Augustine just fine. If anything, he appreciated the momentary solitude. It allowed his thoughts to settle for the first time in over a week.

Has it really only been a week?

Augustine hugged his shoulders. He felt as if he lived two life times while toiling through this whole mess. With the brisk shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. Instead, he focused his gaze on the cobble stone and counted each step down into the lower levels. Only the faint glow cast from torches illuminated the long stretch of shadows. Each step deeper in the darkened veil seemed to put the deacon on edge. His shoulders buckled. His steps quickened. And he wouldn’t stop stealing suspicious glances at them over his shoulders.

For someone as old as you, Augustine mused, You shouldn’t be so scared of the dark.

Augustine simply didn’t understand. He grew more at ease the further from the Light they traveled. Warmth from the torches’ flames started to seep into his chilled bones. His arms slid down to hug his stomach as he cocked his head back, feeling the cobblestone walls brush against his shoulders. Small and dark. He closed his swollen eyes and heaved a sigh. Memories, vague and diluted images, lapped against the foreground of his scattered thoughts. The touch of fire… Press of stone… Long, dark shadows… If he let it, the memory could wash over him. Swallow him whole and cast him far from this cold, hellish nightmare. Send him to a simpler time. A time when he was small. And all he had to worry about was the next page read from Max’s lips as they nestled in the corner of their father’s forge.

He could be there if he fed the memory. Let it grow and consume his waking thoughts. All he needed to do was stoke its flame.

But there was work to be done…

He pushed the memory aside and opened his eyes. The stairwell led down into a hewn stone chamber. Smaller than the Cathedral’s grand hall but bigger than their apartment. Perhaps at some point it housed their clergy’s tomes and relics. Now bedrolls dominated what little space was available. Families huddled atop these meager homes, each in a different stage of misery. Some were mourning. Some were frightened. And some simply watched him pass with a blank stare.

Augustine paused and canted his head. A voice lifted in song. His heart ached from how sweet it sounded. He tossed a way-ward glance over his shoulder, watching as the deacon joined Max in offloading vials onto a workman’s table. They’d be fine without him. He shuffled his way through the huddled masses, following that melodic voice through the winding desolace.

“We cannot thank you enough for your contribution.”

Brother Matthews voice. Spoken just a notch above a whisper. His quivering drawl broke the teen’s concentration for a split second. Augustine didn’t need to look at his sister to hear the cordial smile gracing her lips. She always spoke in the same tone; pleasant and unwavering.

“We’re only doing our part. Just as the church is doing theirs…”

Augustine allowed their conversation to fade into the background. Scanning the room, he listened for the voice. So sweet. It’d been days since he last heard another human being’s voice, much less hear one in song. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of people. His heart yearned to hear child’s mirth and city bustle. To hear the town crier and to listen to the lady’s chitter. To feel warmth and life again in the city. For now, it’d settle for this voice. One so delicate...That it possessed him to follow it until he found its source.

“Awake, our souls; away with fears… … let every trembling thought be gone; Awake and run toward thy heavenly light, … And imbue me with cheerful courage.”

The girl’s hair glimmered in the torch’s dim light, glistening pale like silver thread. She bowed her head as she knelt on the cold stone. Dressed in nothing but a tattered dress, she shivered as she breathed each word. She spoke with a lyrical somberance which captivated Augustine. He watched her in awe until she caught sight of him. She balked, a hiccup catching in her throat.

Augustine bristled. “Y-your song!” he stammered, curling into himself, “It was… It was lovely.”

Her demur countenance darkened. “It’s not a song,” she murmured, “It’s a prayer.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m praying for courage…”

“Praying for courage?” he echoed.

“Yes.” The girl pursed her lips, turning her gaze back on Augustine. He felt his face warm as she searched him with wide, doe eyes. No shame resided in them, only resolve punctuated by the furrow of her brow. “The Prayer of Awakened Souls. Don’t you know it?”

Augustine shook his head. “I’m afraid not...”

“Why not?”

The question caught him off guard. A disquiet smile touched his lips as he tucked either hand in a pocket. He chewed on the question before shrugging. “The Light is viewed differently in Kul’tiras,” he professed, “There are Tidesages who blessed the ships and waters. As far as the Holy Light…” He averted his gaze. “Well. I figured it was only used by paladins…”

“By Paladins…” she echoed, flashing him a teasing smirk, “So they can smite their foes?”

Augustine bristled. He rubbed the nape of his neck. “M-maybe…”

The girl hummed with amusement. She scooted over on and beckoned Augustine to sit. “The Light,” she explained, settling back, “Is used for so much more. It can be wielded by anyone. You. Me. Even an infant. It grants those who believe in it strength.”

Augustine sat cross-legged and quirked a brow. “But the Light exists…It’s part of this world, just like arcane and nature magic. Believing or not, it’s an irrefutable fact.”

“There’s a difference…” She took his hands in her own. “Between believing in its existence and believing in it…” She pressed both their hands to his chest. “When you truly embrace it. Its warmth will fill you.”

In his palms, he held his chittering heart. He searched for such faith in each pulse. His smile softened. He found no Light in his chest. It only harbored the crackle of a still borne fire. “I think I understand now…”

Augustine nodded thoughtfully as turned to steal a glance over his shoulder. The conversation between Max and the deacon looked to have drawn to a close. Shadows danced off her lithe form as she crossed the chamber, coming to stop just before him. She looked between him and the girl.

“It’s time to go, Augustine.”

The girl released his hands and curled into herself. “Augustine,” she murmured, brushing back an errant lock of hair, “That’s a nice name.” She summoned a demur smile. “I will pray that the Light gives you strength.”

Such a strange sentiment that he found oddly comforting. Augustine returned the smile as he rose to his feet. “I appreciate it…” A twang of guilt touched his heart. He couldn’t offer words of comfort. Not in the way her expectant gaze asked.

For his gifts of strength came in the form of tiny vials and mason jars.

Previous Chapter: What We Can

#The Alchemists #Pre-patch stories #Act 1: Chapter 3 #| Shadow's Warmth |

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oneyanderegirl · 5 years ago

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Hiraeth

Genre: One-shot, Angst Rating: T Sasuhina Month 2020 Theme: Day 11 (Hiraeth)

A/N: I wrote this before I wrote day 8/9/10, but I wanted to post them in order so I didn’t get a chance to post this until now. Part of my one-shot series for Sasuhina Month! Hope you enjoy!

Hiraeth - A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

@sasuhinamonth (in case this doesn’t show up in the tags)

The smell of earth and wildflowers overpowered her nose. She could feel the blades of grass tickle the soles of her feet. A gentle breeze passed by her as her silvery eyes tried to make out the surroundings.

She could see an open field of grass that seemed to stretch for miles with no trees in site. Though there was no rain, she could see the gray clouds fill the sky to prevent the sun from reaching in. The land felt unfamiliar, yet a part of her seemed to recognize where this was. However, no matter how hard she tried to think of where this was, she could not come up with anything.

Instinctively, she could feel her feet start to walk without her permission, as if something was pulling her towards a destination. There were no landmarks nor were there any paths that she could see, yet her feet continued on as if her body knew where she was going. She did not know how long she had been walking, but eventually she came to a stop.

There sitting in the middle of the open field was a large raven. Next to it was a small hawk with a broken wing. When the raven saw her, it immediately shield itself in front of the injured hawk as it glared at her.

It was a dream.

Dreams were something that Hinata had become all too familiar with over the past month. Lately, she had been having the same dream. She dreamt of the grass field that now surrounded her. She would then walk around and eventually meet the raven and the injured hawk. The raven would glare at her while trying to protect the small hawk.

She wondered why this scene would often occur in her dreams.

The hawk looked at Hinata.

It had silvery eyes similar to her own. It looked at her with a sadness that Hinata couldn’t understand. The raven looked upset as well. It made her want to help them for a reason she couldn’t explain. But when she tried to go closer to them, a sudden loud rumble startled her and caused her to jump in fright. Looking up at the sky, Hinata saw lightning and thunder started to appear. A heavy downpour of rain immediately followed afterwards.

A gust of wind blew past her, forcing Hinata to close her eyes as she shivered. The cold chill froze the land around her. She could see small icicles that formed on each blade of grass. The flowers had become dead and wilted.

Suddenly, the raven and hawk had disappeared. Instead, what took their place was the back of a man.

A man she didn’t know.

A man she couldn’t recognize.

In front of them was a forest of trees. The trees were frosted with ice and snow. The rain was now a mix of snow and ice. The atmosphere became colder as each second passed. The land around them was dying.

But Hinata didn’t care. All her attention was on the man she couldn’t see.

He wore a black yukata and carried a black sheathed sword on his back. He had raven-black spiked hair that reached just to the end of his neck. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could see that he was as pale as snow. The man was walking away and heading towards the forest.

An unfamiliar sorrow enveloped her heart as she watched him leave her. Hinata didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t understand why she always dreamed of the man. It was always the same man in her dreams. He would always leave her when she saw him. No matter how many times she would call out to him, he would ignore her. And when he finally did leave as the world around them crumbled to pieces, waiting for the wintry chill to send them to their deaths, she would feel her heart cry in heartache.

“ Who are you?” She cried out.

The man stopped walking. He turned slightly towards her, but she still could not make out his face.

“ Are you ready to go home now?” He answered.

Not waiting for her response, the man disappeared into the forest.

Hinata woke up.

The quiet buzzing of the heater echoed the room as she laid in bed. The clock on her nightstand read 4:13 AM. She reached out to open the blinds in an attempt to bring in some light.

It was raining.

The sound of rain brought a loneliness that added to the pain that Hinata was already feeling from her dream. She could feel the dried tears that had been running down her cheeks. It irritated her skin, though she didn’t try to wipe them away. Instead, she opted to head towards the kitchen to brew some hot tea in hopes that she could fall back asleep.

The kitchen was a simple one. A black refrigerator stood alongside a kitchen stovetop that came with an oven. The countertop was made of black marble. There was a small wooden dining table that held a light blue vase filled with white camellia flowers in the middle. Hinata could see a piece of paper underneath the vase, so she carefully grabbed it to read what was written on it.

I’ll be gone for a few days on a mission. Take care of yourself. I’ll be back soon. - Sasuke

Hinata read the note in her hand as she sipped her tea, unsure of how she should feel about it. He was gone again. It seemed that he had been taking on more missions lately. Whether it was to avoid her or not, she did not know. All she could do was stare at the note wondering if he really would be back in a few days or would he take on another mission again?

Sasuke Uchiha.

The man who everyone had said was her lover.

The man who she had been living with since they were twenty-three, though their relationship had been going on far longer than that.

Yet, Hinata could not remember him.

She could not remember a single thing about him. The only thing she could recall was their childhood days when the Uchiha were still the largest rivals with the Hyuga. When their families would compete in power and influence. She could recall their academy days where she had watched the hatred consume the twelve year old in such a way that seemed to make him unapproachable. She recalled him defecting from the village shortly after discovering a small taste of power in order to become even stronger.

Then the Fourth War came.

She remembered at some point, he had switched sides and decided to help Konoha and the other villages fight the war. She remembered the aftermath where countless civilians and shinobi had ended up injured or dead, including her cousin Neji. She remembered at one point, the night before Sasuke had left the village for good, how she had desperately tried to find comfort within the hospital room that he stayed at. She remembered his words clearly, and how they had provided her relief in a time where she was grieving. She remembered seeing him vanish in the morning before she could even thank him for his kind words, despite how unusual that was for the man.

And then nothing.

That was the last thing she could remember.

Memory loss was what they had told her at the hospital. She had suffered from severe memory loss due to becoming inflicted with a poison containing a cursed jutsu. Tsunade had told her that she would have almost died if not for her friend Sakura. They told her that the memories would eventually come back, given time. They had told her to come see them every month for a check up to ensure that things were progressing. They had told her to let Sasuke take her places, show her familiar objects, and tell her stories. They told her to let her friends and families do the same as long as she did not feel overwhelmed. They told her that as long as she kept trying, they’ll eventually come back.

How many months has it been since they had told her that?

Hinata walked to the living room. She could see a futon with dark blue blankets messily spread out across the floor. There were books of all sorts on the sofa and the coffee table next to the futon. There was a TV, though neither of them really ever used it. Next to the living room was another open space that had a sliding door that led to the outside. Near it was a low wooden table with a clean tea set on it. In the corner was a drawer with a basket full of blank scrolls next to it. Hanging on the wall were two scrolls. One was black with a fan that was red on top and white on the bottom half. The other scroll was white with a drawn flame that was enclosed by two lines with a half circle to form almost a cone shaped pattern using black ink.

They were the symbols representing the Uchiha and Hyuga clans.

A sign that she had permission to live here.

Hinata decided to tidy up the blankets and refold them. The blankets smelled like burnt ashes and tea. It made her feel a sense of yearning and a sadness that she couldn’t quite explain. It was as if her body knew what it wanted, but her mind couldn’t fathom the emotions. She laid on the sofa and closed her eyes.

Ever since Hinata had been released from the hospital, Sasuke had opted to sleep in the living room so that she could use the bedroom. He had told her that until she remembered him, he would respect her private space. She was grateful at the gesture.

Yet no matter how many times they had tried to help her recall the lost memories, nothing ever came back.

They had tried over several months to help her remember the past eight years. There were fragments that would come here and there, but it never added up to a whole memory. She could recall small bits of details, but never anything coherent. And as months passed to no avail, their relationship had begun to slowly devolve.

They were no longer like they once were. They had become more like roommates than lovers. They were no longer close as their friends and family used to tell her. The bedroom that they had once shared only waited for her now.

The two of them had essentially become strangers again.

She looked at the neatly folded blankets that she had placed next to the futon. The sound of rain echoed throughout the home. Hinata found herself slowly moving to touch the empty futon. It too smelled like Sasuke. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but before she knew it she had found herself laying on it. Closing her eyes once more, she inhaled his scent as she laid there in silence.

Though she was now an adult, in her mind, she was a seventeen year old stuck in a twenty-five year old body. It felt as if time had frozen in place. She could not recall anything past that age. Her memories were not coming back. In her mind, the relationship they had shared was never there. It never existed.

But as Hinata laid there listening to the pitter pattering of the rain while inhaling his scent, she could feel a desperate yearning for the Uchiha to come back.

Her mind may have forgotten him, but her heart certainly did not.

It confused her. Yet despite the anxiousness of her heart, she felt at ease laying there. She wanted him to come back. She wanted to see him once more. She was tired of the emotions that would surface again and again, often hurting her heart. She wished she could remember him. She wished she could regain all the lost memories and become happy once more.

But she couldn’t.

The last line from her dream suddenly crossed her mind.

“ Are you ready to go home now?”

Except the image of the man who had asked her was now Sasuke Uchiha.

“ I am,” Hinata whispered.

She just couldn’t remember where her home was anymore.

#sasuhina #sasuhina month #sasuhinamonth2020 #shmonth2020 #personal #writing #AL #fanfic #fanfics

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p4lparker · 5 years ago

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Like a Taylor Swift Mix Tape.

The songs I listened to while writing this;

(Taylor Swift : How to get the girl)

(Taylor Swift : Forever and Always)

(Taylor Swift : The story of us)

(Taylor Swift : Delicate)

(5SOS : Lover of mine)

This whole one-shot was based on the first song, and it grew from there. It took on a life of its own.

Warnings; Smut, angst, vague mentions of violence, unprotected sex (wear a raincoat guys)

_______________________________________________________________

The rain poured, hammering against the window- you sighed flopping back onto the bed. Ignoring how the lights flickered as a roll of thunder rumbled throughout the stratosphere. Your eyes cast around the room, trying desperately to not focus on the pictures littering your walls. All of the frames taking up any space on surfaces available.

Biting your lip as a pricking sensation tingled at your eyes. They were focused solely on the images in front of you. You should have really taken them all down- but you couldn’t find the strength after it had happened- and as time went on, it became harder and harder. It was almost as if you wanted to punish yourself- but you knew it was really, only because you missed the other figure in the pictures. You sighed deeply, remembering the way his cheeks would blush cutely as you sprang a kiss to them- snapping a picture quickly. Images of you wrapped around his back, leaping on him from afar and surprising the poor boy- he would always catch you though. Apart from the one time he didn’t and your happiness came crashing around you as your hit the ground hard- the ground being the truth in this case. The reality of your life hitting you harder now though. Shaking your head to try and rid yourself of the awful and terrifying memories, did you no good as your mind drifted back to then.

It was storming, rain pelting your face and wind screaming; as lightning flashed through the sky and thunder rumbled so deeply it vibrated your chest. Your looked around yourself trying to figure out what had happened and where you were. Your mind drawing a blank. Deciding to move and maybe figure out some answers, you realised you were restrained; hands tied above your head, but your feet were free. You cast your glance downwards and saw nothing- but the ground a long way off. The ache in your shoulders becoming more apparent, your hands going numb- but your wrists were raw as the harsh rope but into the delicate skin there.

Turning your head; you were at the beginnings of Oscorp, the sign being the only thing to fully intact- the skeletal structure being held up by scaffolding, as was your body as you dangled helplessly. Bottom lip trembling as you willed yourself to be strong.

You wouldn’t cry.

You wouldn’t scream.

You were no damsel- even though at this point you were in fact just that. You could hear sounds of a violent scuffle nearby- turning your head and body to try and find the source of the noise; you could only blurrily see two figures, locked in a fierce fist-fight- one figure clad in red and blue- the other with wings spread out behind him. The biting ache in your wrists, forced Y/N to stop twisting for fear of injuring your body more; you took stock of the aches and pains radiating from your head which throbbed with every breath you took, to the bruises you could feel blossoming on your skin- your attention once again grabbed by the fighting which came closer to where you were dangling precariously over the precipice. Edging your eyes downwards- which you knew was a mistake the instant your breath caught painfully in your chest and throat- you could see the tips of other buildings below your feet, dangling in air, nothing holding your there barring the rope still gnawing in to the delicate skin of your wrists. You couldn’t hold the whimper in as the gravity of the situation sank in. Burning tears leaking from the corner of your eyes- dribbling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin into the nothingness beneath you. As the realisation, that this was probably where you were going to die- with a glance at the only thing holding you from plummeting to your end, it was wearing thin- with each passing second the fibres snapping, almost teasing you.

Soon enough the rope would no longer hold your weight. And you would drop like a rock to the ground miles below; the fall would be quick, but not quick enough, your mind would be able to wander before the end, you would feel all of your regrets and relive your happiest moments- hopefully some of them involving your friends and family, but you knew they would mostly revolve around your Peter. Hair trailing behind you as your tried to grasp at something to slow yourself, there would be shrill screams and cries leaving your lips as you plunged to your demise. As the sobs wracked your body, shaking with fear and the power of your own misery- you could feel the strain on your wrists lighten. Looking up with wide eyes- your worst fear realised, you began to drop.

But just as your mouth opened to release the scream of fear and frustration, you felt a sticky substance cling to your hands- you could no longer feel the dropping sensation, your stomach righting itself within your body, but churning all that same. You were pulled back up the edge of the building- before being huddled into someone’s chest and arms. And all you could think was ‘Oh!’. You lifted your head from the firm red and blue chest in front of your face and looked up into the half hidden face of your saviour.

Your hero.

Into the familiar and unmistakable eyes of Peter.

Your Peter Parker.

“Oh…” was all your whispered, as your eyes slid closed.

Shaking your head and screwing your eyes closed as you threw one of the frames onto the floor. The sound of the wooden frame fracturing and the glass splintering as it met the floor, gave you a momentary feeling of satisfaction before guilt and heartbreak overwhelmed your entirety once more. Dropping to the floor carefully to avoid the glass, hoping to try and clean up the mess without injury, fishing the picture from the wreckage- putting it to one side, before sweeping the shards of wood and glass into the trash- as you turned away, collecting the abandoned picture once more, eyeing it and letting your gaze linger on the brown eyed boy you were wrapped around in photographic form. You gasped as your window slid open jerkily. Cautiously making your way over to the window, grabbing a blow dryer to defend yourself if necessary. Your breath hitching and heart stuttering in your chest, picture still clutched in one clammy hand, blow dryer in the other shaky one. The two stared at each-other for what felt like an eternity; the rain was still pouring and soaking the boy on the other side- body primed for attack, of the panes.

Peter slid his legs through the opening cautiously, giving your time to object- but when he heard none, and you stepped back giving him more room to enter, he continued. Once inside he pulled his mask of his face and held it loosely in his hand- mirroring the girl in front of him. He shuffled his feet and swayed his shoulders side to side; his nerves finally catching up to him- he had moved on instinct to defend your, the crashing made him think the worst. He eyed your; dressed in some fluffy shorts and a t-shirt he had been missing, a small smile tweaked at the corner of his lips and an eyebrow raised as he spotted the blow dryer brandished towards him. Arm raising of its own accord and finger pointing towards it in question- your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug and your bottom lip was worried by your teeth.

“What are you doing here Petey?” was whispered, and if Peter hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider, and had superior senses he would’ve missed it in the cacophony blustering outside- his head bobbing down.

“I’m always here.. or well out there, and I heard a noise and had to see if you were okay…” Peter rambled, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck- a nervous tick you’d missed in the months you’ve been apart, or avoiding each-other. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you..” he whispered the last part- making goose-bumps erupt across your skin as the words brushed against you like a chill from the howling wind outside.

Not really having a verbal answer prepared, you nodded slowly. It was as if your mind was on a go-slow; you could see him stood in front of you, could reach out and touch him if the mood struck you, you could smell his cologne, you could feel the longing to be with him, near him building within. Peter watched you, he was struggling not to reach out and hold you against him. He’d done what he did to protect you- he couldn’t let anything bad happen to you, not again. Breaking up with you was the only thing he could think of; distance himself from the one thing that would kill him if something terrible happened to. Not being able to control the movement; his arm reached out and hand gently gripped your arm, squeezing the skin of your upper arm- it calmed his racing heart- his lungs opening up fully allowing him to breath properly once more, relief flooding his entire being.

You on the other hand; felt your heart shatter and stutter at the touch, your eyes brimming with anguished tears- it took everything in you to not scramble away from him as if burned- but another part of you filled with hope, his touch was a comfort you didn’t know you’d missed so much until now. Alas, all good things must come to an end- so you moved back gently, letting your eyes wander anywhere but him. Peter let his own gaze turn to the floor as he could no longer feel you- before following your gaze, wandering around the room, eyes flittering over the ever-present photos from your shared past. A smile again puling at his mouth, a bitter taste filling it as his heart sank, you hadn’t taken them down- still holding prime space all over your room; evidence that you both once shared love. Peter still did love you, he only hoped you felt the same. He couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer; as he was sitting outside your window, he was preparing himself to call you, preparing a monologue to say to you, hoping win you back. Apologising profusely, begging for you to take him back, he’d been stupid and made a mistake breaking up with you- but the more he thought he knew it would never be enough- then he heard it the commotion and burst through your window in a rush hoping to save you from apparent danger.

“It wouldn’t be the first time..” You muttered bitterly- heart aching as you saw a flash of pain in his beautiful brown eyes. Shrinking back into yourself- that was cruel, you knew that and Peter’s crushed reaction was all the more proof; and you instantly hated yourself. Your hand gripped the picture tighter- sure you were crumpling it between your shaky fingers. The blow dryer dropped to the floor with a soft thud- making you both look to the floor. Peter then stepped further into your room- he knew you probably wanted him to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from you again; he’d vowed to never do that again, it had hurt his soul. He walked to the pictures decorating your walls- his eyes becoming more glassy as he remembered how it felt to have you wrapped up in him or around him. You stepped closer- one hand hovering over his back, the heat rolled off him and drew you closer, his shoulders sagging and you drew closer still until you made contact. You could feel him hold his breath as you hand squeezed his broad shoulder. You mind struggling no to remind you of how it felt under your hand in different circumstances- your mind flashing, a hazy image of Peter pressed between your legs- face screwed up in pleasure, sweat dotting his forehead, as he pushed into you again and again. You gasped, Peter turning his face to you- eyebrows furrowed.

“I know what I did hurt you, but I did what I thought was best. I couldn’t see you like that, never again…” Peter whispered, his chin inching closer to rest atop your fingers- still clutching his shoulder. Your lip was being worried by your teeth again, and his eyes followed the motion- darkening slightly as he watched in a trance. He could feel the stirring deep within him- seeing you do that thing- making him feel all of the feelings and a certain type of way, as his suit suddenly felt more snug around him. You nodded- still trying to calm your raging hormones; this was ridiculous, you hadn’t been touched by another person in months- always shying away from the most innocent of contact- which apparently had turned you into a hormonal mess. You let your eyes flutter shut as you tried to process what he had just said to you- your mind a jumble of thoughts, which only made you more flustered and frustrated with not only him but yourself also. Taking a step backwards and a deep breath- you shook your head as a bitter laugh erupted from your lips harshly, you threw the picture away from you and watched it flutter to the ground forlornly.

“You’re right Peter. You did hurt me. You abandoned me as I was coming to terms with the fact that you had been hiding half of yourself from me for months… I gave you everything. And you took it… not caring that you weren’t giving me the same in return!” you whispered- venom dripping from your words as the hurt was expelled from your body with each word, making room for the violent anger that was coursing through your veins like a drug. Peter’s mouth dropped open with a pop. He was surprised at your cruel tone- the light within your eyes not matching your words, they glinted with something but it wasn’t anger like he expected or hurt- they flashed in that familiar way which had him even more surprised as he felt a familiar stirring within himself. You ignored the way your arousal bubbled just under the surface mixing with your anger deliciously. He took a step towards you- you holding a hand up to keep him at a safe distance- he ignored your reaction and continued towards you- gloved hand reaching out and brushing his fingers against yours, before clasping them and tugging you towards him

“You left me, you didn’t even have the common decency to actually dump me… you avoided me and abandoned me and left me. You left me…” you whispered brokenly, tears rolling down your cheeks- Peter tugged you further towards him, tucking you into his chest as your hands tried to push him away- your clenched fists beating against his hard chest not deterring him in the slightest.

He let you.

He let your hands pound against him, until he saw you falter, letting his mask slip to the floor. He took his chance and wrapped his hands around your wrists- holding them against him. You tilted your face upwards defiantly, tears streaming down your face- but eyes burning into his own, and all of a sudden they were too close and your tear-stained lips were crushed against his own. His eyes widening before drifting shut as his muscle memory took over and he allowed himself to tattoo the feeling of you pressed against him to his memory. You hadn’t realised what your were doing; anger, sadness and lust mingling together to fuel you on- leading to you mold your lips and body against him. There was a pounding in your ears as blood rushed around your body- the sound thundering in your head, almost drowning out the sound of Peter’s pants. His fingers slipped from your wrists and down your body until they rest against the small of your back- pulling you further into him. A groan sounded- neither of you knowing who it came for and neither of you caring as your settled hands began to roam each-others bodies.

Fingers pulling.

Groping.

Pinching.

Feeling and committing it all to memory in case this would be the last time you had the chance. You tugged at the smooth, second skin of Peter’s suit. Becoming angry that the thing wouldn’t give way like you wanted. No needed. Peter chuckled against your lips- the pair of you hadn’t stopped trading feverish, sloppy kisses- his fingers drifting away from your hips, before reaching up and tapping the spider resting in the middle of his chest, allowing the offending fabric to pool around his elbows. You pulled back- eyeing up his shoulders, your hands ripping at the fabric, tugging it off his arms- leaving the material to swing idly at his hips. Your eyes trailing over the expanse of his torso; pale skin, taut over the muscles that looked to be carved from stone, your eyes caught on his left peck- it was missing your mark, it obviously having faded months before and before you could stop your movements, you latched your lips on that spot. The one over his frantically pounding heartbeat- pecks turned quickly into open mouthed kisses- teeth nipping and tongue lapping over the area, lips suckling until you were sure your mark was where it should be. Peter’s sighs spurred you on as you left a trail of kisses down his body, dropping to your knees in front of him- hie eyes widened before tugging you up and connecting your lips once more.

Pushing you towards your desk- he pushed you until you were resting on the top- legs hanging on either side of his hips; he let his lips trace over your neck, chest and stomach over your oversized top, when he reached the hem his nimble fingers ruched the fabric up until he was able tug your top off and throw it carelessly behind him. Eyes marvelling at sight revealed before him; you wearing nothing but your underwear- eyes lingering on your exposed chest, a finger delicately traced down the valley between your breasts- the light touch leaving goose-bumps in its wake and a gasp to fall from your lips. His digits lead to way and his soft lips followed- kissing the expanse of bare flesh, trailing down until he reached the band of your underwear- he stopped, his eyes fluttering to your own and at eager nod, he nipped at your hips and then the band itself before tugging the material away from your eager core- the material pinging back with a slight snap causing a groan from your lips. the material was dragged away from your body; pooling around your feet before being cast aside. Peter’s hand ghosted over your ankles, calves, knees and thighs before smoothing over your hips- once his hands settled his eyes glanced at you once more not just asking for your permission but begging for it with his desperate eyes.

“Yes… please…” you whispered brokenly, as soon as the words left your lips- his own were on you. Placing kisses around your core; using his deft fingers to spread you apart slightly his tongue darted out and traced up the outer edges of you- your replying shudder spurred him on eagerly. He lapped at you, before diving in; lips and tongue doing obscene things and making vile curses slip from your lips. The sounds pouring from your lips making a smirk pull at his face- God he’d missed that sound! You were falling apart around his tongue- as he worked you and pushed you closer to the sweet edge you teetered on. As your hands wandered to his tousled curls; dragging through the tresses as your eyes followed the motion, barely managing to stay open as you watched his face be buried between your legs. As if feeling your stare, his eyes slickered up to you, and all of a sudden you were falling off the precipice; moans echoing throughout the quiet room. Hands fisting in his damp locks, you had to force yourself not to grind yourself against his face- you could feel yourself flutter around him and he chuckled as he dropped careful kisses to your sensitive clit. When your racing heart had finally calmed, you tugged on his hair gently- stopping him giving your delicate core attention and dragging him back up your body. Once he was face to face with you- your lips collided, lips nipping and tongues licking at each-other.

Your desperate hands dragged at the material still hiding him from you, it pooled on the floor; and you had to bite your lip not to laugh at him as he awkwardly tried to kick the pesky suit away from him. He rolled his eyes at you before claiming you lips once more. As your lips met- your hands explored; tracing over him, hard in your hand, you shuffled his boxers away from his hips and wrapped your legs around him. Dragging him closer to you- if that was even possible- the head of him rubbing against your slick folds, your hand found him again and gently rubbed him against you. His hips stuttering, a groan leaving him loudly- the sound dragging him back to reality. He pulled away from you- your lips desperately trying to follow and not lose this carnal connection, but when you couldn’t meet again your eyes slid open. The sight in front of your hazy eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

Peter held his hands in front of himself to provide some modesty, his lip was being bitten harshly between his teeth. But that wasn’t what had startled you. No, it was the emotions flickering within his beautiful gaze. You could see a multitude flowing through those familiar irises; pain, lust, guilt, happiness and sadness all at the same time. You reached out to him, and he followed your beckon- allowing his body to mold against your own once more. His head resting on your chest as a wetness dripped on to you.

“I’m sorry…” his defeated whisper haunted you, you hands gripping his head harshly- forcing him to look you in the eyes. His tear filled ones staring in to you, staring straight into the centre of your being; your soul and your heart breaking and then rebuilding themselves as your mind was made up, you shook your head.

“I love you!” You murmured, keeping your eyes connected- a few more tears slipped from his expressive orbs before a watery smile filled his beautiful features. His lips pecking at you face, dotting all around; your brows, eyelids, cheeks, jaw, chin and finally your lips. He had a salty taste to him now, as his tear-stained lips mingled with your own. The delicate pecks becoming more heated until your tongues were in a passionate tangle. Hands once more roamed; remembering this time, not for future, but letting the gentle touches heal the ache you both held deep within.

With each kiss, Peter could feel you open yourself to him again; trust, forgiveness and love flowing from you to him.

With each kiss, you could feel all of Peter’s; self-hatred, adoration and desperation flow from him.

The pair of you moved together- skin kissing against skin- hands traversing familiar but at the same time unchartered territory. Your hands traced over him as his did you; he rubbed into you, fingers circling your sensitive nub teasingly- you dryly rubbed him up and down few times before pushing his hands from you and pulling him into you once more. Though this time Peter didn’t stop you- he allowed you to line him up with your entrance, and the pair of you sighed happily as he slid into you fully. The stretch you felt was welcomed as he filled you- you were once more whole, and Peter, well, he was home. He pulled away from you lips sliding down your neck to leave his own mark upon you- as his lips marked you, his hips also moved. Not in a rushed manner you had expected, he pushed back in slowly- almost painfully slow. You could feel yourself yearning for him to push you to the brink- but he had other ideas; he wanted you to remember this, memorise every inch of him as he pushed and pulled in and out of you, he needed you to remember the healing sensation as your bodies met, he needed you to never forget this- as he didn’t think he could ever let you go again.

He wouldn’t.

The slow pace was driving you to your end, but also to madness- you wanted him to be overtaken with the passion that was bubbling beneath the surface; but the moans, grunts and groans leaving both of your lips only made him wish to go slower, hoping to prolong the inevitable. But as you fluttered around him- hugging him and his body closer to you he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the tsunami quickly approaching. His hands which had previously been tracing over every bit of skin he could find suddenly gripped you on either side of your face- forcing your half-lidded eyes to try and focus on him.

“I love you!” Peter declared proudly. Adamantly. You gasped as you reached your peak dragging Peter along with you shortly after- walls clenching tightly, as tears slipped from your eyes. Peter let his lips kiss away the salty stains, before resting his forehead against you as he filled you- a content sigh leaving him.

He was definitely home.

Once your pounding hearts had settled into a calmer rhythm, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead- the gentle smile never leaving his delicate features, and it was one you returned, dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Peter let his fingers trail to the backs of your thighs, pulling you tighter against him and moving through to your adjoined bathroom to clean you both. He skilfully opened the shower cubicle door and turned the tap to let the water fall and warm up before stepping you both in, only pulling from you as he began to soften inside of you. Once you were no longer joined, he settled you in front of him- warm water cascading over the pair of you; sharing a delicate smile as he began to wash your body lovingly. When he was convinced he had thoroughly worshipped you with various bewitchingly scented body washes, he moved on to your hair. He adoringly washed the coconut shampoo within your locks before rinsing it from them. When you felt you were fully cherished- you decided to return the favour and lavish him with the same adoration, massaging his muscles and scalp alike- revelling in the pleased little groans and grunts falling from his smiling lips. When the pair of you were clean, relaxed and smelling delightfully of a tropical island- you exited the shower, and dried off with fluffy towels before making your way back to the bedroom. Once there Peter went to the bed and pulled the covers back ushering you to sit on the edge before he walked to your dressing table and plucked a hair tie from it- before coming back to you and settling on his knees behind you. Once situated, he gently tugged the towel from your hair and began weaving the tresses together in a braid- peppering kisses along the column of your throat until he was pleased with his handiwork.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling into your neck again- you turning your face to kiss his crown, before the pair of you fell back on to the cushioned mattress and pillows. Peter reached one hand down and tugged the blankets over your frames, and wrapped you in his arms- breathing you in until you both felt sleep beckoning, and you both succumbed.

“I love you…” was whispered to each other, as consciousness left your content selves and you both entered a dream world- which did not live up to your reality.

#your friendly neighbourhood auther #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

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war-sword · 6 years ago

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easter break (part 2)

summary: Draco invites you to Malfoy Manor for Easter break during your last year at Hogwarts. What ypu’d hoped would be a fine visit to Draco’s house with his family is anything but. Now, you’re back at Hogwarts for the rest of the term. What will happen? warnings: cursing words: 5,948 A/N: thank you SO much to everyone who showed interest in this fic and asked for a part 2!! this is for everyone who reblogged, liked, or commented on the original story. that being said, there will be no more parts after this because i am out of ideas, haha. if you are interested in any more of my writing, please head to my ask box or send me a message to be added to my taglist for all future posts. tags: @clockworkherondale @paigeyisme // read part 1 here

You woke up to the feeling of Draco’s hot breath on your neck and sweat between your legs. You couldn’t feel your entire left arm, as Draco was lying on it. As the events of yesterday came back to you, you felt your chest constrict with anxiety. Immediately you wished for the void of sleep again. As gently as you could, you slid your arm from beneath Draco’s torso, gently rubbing it to get the feeling back. Your neck was sore- you and Draco hadn’t moved in your sleep all night.

Despite how you tried not to move very much, Draco stirred, blinking his eyes sleepily as he woke. The sight of his slate-grey eyes looking so sad first thing in the morning made you want to start crying all over again.

Today there were no ‘good morning’s’. Instead, Draco just opened his arms back up and you held each other again, this time in a more comfortable position.

After being awake for a while, you heard the telltale sound of a house elf apparating into a room. “Master Draco, I apologize for the intrusion, but your presence is required downstairs at once,” the elf growled from somewhere at the foot of the bed, disapparating without further comment.

“For the love of Merlin,” Draco muttered. He kicked off the blankets and you unattached yourselves, and Draco slipped on some pants and a robe.

You sat up, pulling the sheets around your shoulders. Draco lifts your face to his for a quick kiss. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t take too long,” he says. “I hate to leave you alone.”

You put your hand over his and lift his fingers up to your lips. “I’ll be okay,” you whisper against his hand.

Draco lets go of your hand and disappears before your eyes. You lay back on the pillows and stare out across the gardens. Today, it is sunny.

“It was mother… she said I’m not to go back to school for the rest of the term. I’m not supposed to be telling you this, any of this actually. She said I was to ask you where your loyalties lie and to make a decision about joining our family or not, but I can’t do that to you.” Draco lay flat on the bed, gaze locked on the canopy above as you stroked his fine blonde hair.

“Why? Why can’t you come back to school?” You have a sick feeling you already know.

“Father and Aunt Bella think the time is drawing near. I don’t know what Potter and the others are up to but I think we’re about at the end of the line, y/n.” He turns his head to look at you. “The war.”

Your heart catches in your throat, and your hand stills on Draco’s hair. He shoots into a sitting position and puts his hands on your cheeks. “Listen to me, y/n. I love you so, so much. I’ve already failed once. If I don’t do what my parents want, what he wants, we could all die. I can’t let anything happen to you, and I won’t. If something happens, I’ll come for you, I swear it.”

“I know,” you sigh, leaning into his hand. “Will you tell me what’s going on? Will you write?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know. I refuse to let anything like yesterday happen again,” Draco says feverently.

You spend the rest of the day in your shared room, packing and eating a small lunch. In the late afternoon, you dress in your uniform. Draco watches you in the mirror as you tie your colored tie. “Should I say goodbye to your parents?” You sort of hope the answer is no.

“Maybe we should just go downstairs as usual and hope we don’t encounter them.” Draco deadpans. It makes you smile a little.

You walk down the stairs, your trunk levitating behind you. “I’m sorry about your wand,” you say again.

“It’s fine,” he says, but you know it’s not. Draco was very attached to his first wand. “I’ll get it back.”

Outside in the manor’s driveway, your trunk gently settles to the ground. You give Draco one last hug. “I’ll miss you,” you breath into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll miss you so much,” he replies, one hand curling up into your hair to pull you closer. “Please stay safe.”

“I can handle myself,” you remind him.

“I know.” You can feel Draco’s smile against your temple. You pull away, and he kisses your forehead. One small wave goodbye, and you clutch your bag and apparate to the street outside of Kings Cross.

When you finally arrive back at Hogwarts, you try to be your normal positive self. “How was break, y/n?” Fine. “Do any of your homework?” Of course not. “Did you and Draco have lots of alone time?”, with a wink. Enough, also with a wink. “Where is he?” Still at home, he had family visiting. But as you laid in your bed back in your dorm, you couldn’t shake the cold feeling of the sheets around you, missing having a certain someone to cuddle up with.

The first few weeks back passed without much incident, but every time you heard whispers of Ron, Harry, and Hermione’s names, you would shiver. You would still listen though, just to make sure they weren’t dead.

Students from all years were being punished daily, and it seemed the only upside so far of Draco not being at school with you was no longer needing to sneak out under the noses of the Carrow twins to meet in the nighttime. You sent him a letter every other day, making sure to send your owl in the early hours of afternoon so Draco would receive them in the nighttime to reduce their chances of being intercepted. He’d write back at least bi-weekly, making sure to fill you in on any happenings. However, it seemed since the failed capture at the Manor over Easter break, Bellatrix had left and Lucius had not heard any new news from the Dark Lord. Neither of you were sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

The first evening in May, you were sitting in your dorm common room, when none other than Neville Longbottom burst in. “Neville, how in the bloody hell-”

“No time to explain,” he huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “One of your dorm mates told me… that you… taught yourself how to heal?” He asked.

“Um, yes, I can. Why?”

“Come with me. Please?” He held out a hand.

You followed Neville up the staircases to the fourth floor, where he paces back and forth in front of a blank wall. “Neville, will you please-” but to words died on your lips was a small, thin door materialized out of the wall. Neville motioned for you to follow him inside.

The room was big, but almost every available spaces was crowded with hammocks strung from the walls, and mattresses on the floors. At the back of the room there was a fireplace, and in front of it were several third years who had horrible slashes up and down their arms. Instantly, your mind transported you back to the Manor, and you saw the evil glint of Bellatrix’s knife, heard Hermione’s screams.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” Neville grasped your shoulders as your fought back a gag. “I, maybe should’ve warned you. But, I can’t heal them myself, not without the right plants. I was hoping you could help.”

You steadied your breathing. “No, no… it’s fine Neville. I can do it.” You gave him what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

One by one, you healed the cuts on the third years. Your work by now was nearly perfect, and only the deep ones ended in scars. After the last student was healed, you slumped against the wall, utterly exhausted.

“Thank you so much, I knew I could count on you,” Neville said, sounding relieved.

“Of course,” you replied, but inwardly you cringed. Neville shouldn’t trust you. No one should. “What is this place?”

“We’re hiding here, from the mess outside.” Neville explained. “We figured the war is coming. We’re searching for news about Harry and the others everyday, trying to keep morale up. This room is the only safe one in Hogwarts right now.”

“Are they alive?” You can’t help but ask. “Harry? Ron and Hermione?”

“We think so,” Neville says. “I think we would hear if they’d been killed, but no ones seen or heard from them since the start of the year.”

You gulp. “No news is good news, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Neville agrees.

He offers to walk you back to your common room, but you insist you’ll be fine. The guilt of your knowledge about the trio gnaws at you, but you try to tamp it down. When you get back to your dorm, you go straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Sitting under the hot rain, you try to relax, but in the end your hot tears run right down the drain alongside the hot water and flecks of dried blood stuck to your hands. You miss Draco too much to think, and you lean against the wall, crying with your constellation necklace clutched in one fist and your lips pressed on your ring, hoping to Merlin he’s okay.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sat there, but you get broken out of your stupor by one of your dorm mates yelling your name.

“Y/n! Get out of there! We’ve got to go down to the Great Hall right away, robes on!”

Shit. You shut the water off and dry as quick as you can, throwing on your uniform from earlier in the day. As you troop down to the common room with your dorm mates, you dry your hair with a wave of your wand. The Great Hall is cleared of it’s tables, and you all stand in your proper lines with the rest of your house. Complete silence envelopes the Hall as Headmaster Snape turns to address everyone The tension is palpable.

“I’m sure many of you are wondering why I summoned you at this hour,” Snape begins. “It’s come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmead.”

You gasp. A wave of murmurs sweeps through everyone in the room. He’s alive, he’s okay, Harry’s okay.

“Now,” Snape said loudly, cutting everyone off. “Should anyone, student or staff, attempt to aid mister Potter, they will be punished. Anyone with knowledge of these events will be treated as equally guilty.

“Now then, has anyone had any knowledge of mister Potter’s activities this evening?” Snape steps down from the front of the room, ready to walk through your rows. The only sound in the room is the tapping of Snape’s shoes, and the drag of his robes on the floor. “If so, I invite you to step forward, now.”

Three rows back on your right, you hear someone get out of line. Astonished, you whip your head around, only to see no one other than Harry standing in the aisle, dressed in a Gryffindor robe. “It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive measures, you still have a slight breach in security, headmaster.”

The doors at the back of the Hall open, and in walks a group of people you don’t recognize, except for Ron and Hermione. But Harry isn’t finished. “How dare you stand where he stood!” He yells. “Tell them! Tell them how it happened that night! How you killed Dumbledore!”

Another gasp ripples through the students. You must be the only other person in this room who knew what happened that evening on the Astronomy tower.

With one smooth movement, Snape draws his wand. Immediately, everyone backs away, and you’re nearly crushed by the wave of people moving out of the way. Harry doesn’t even have time to draw his wand, before Professor McGonagall steps in front of him. Your dorm mate reaches out and grabs your hand. You squeeze back.

Snape and McGonagall begin trading spells. Your eyes are wide as your teachers fight. You’ve never seen grown adults fight like this, and both have a face of sheer determination. But the duel only lasts a moment, when Snape suddenly disapparates in a cloud of black, bursting through the window of the Great Hall. Everyone erupts into cheers. Everyone, except for you.

Your dorm mate tries to cling onto your hand, but you’re running. Running out of the hall and up the stairs, taking them two at a time, desperate to get to your room. As you sprint down the corridors, you can see outside: a iridescent veil is criss-crossing the sky, forming a dome around the castle. Statues in the courtyard come to life, drawing stone weapons.

It’s happening, and neither you nor Draco were ready for it.

You burst into your dorm and begin ripping through your belongings. You frantically shuffle through Draco’s letters with shaky hands, searching for the one you’re looking for. But you’re hyperventilating, and your vision is getting fuzzy, and oh God, did you dream it? Did Draco not tell you a place to go that was safe in the castle? You can’t remember anymore, you can’t read the words on the page that are in Draco’s elegant, looping handwriting. You strip off your uniform cloak and try to get a hold of yourself.

You’re strong. You can fight, one of the top duelists of your year. You can fight and stay safe, and you will find Draco.

None of your roommates come back. You sit in front of the window that overlooks the east side of the school, and you wait. You wait for hours. You feel like coward, sitting in your room, watching the window, but you’re waiting, staying safe just like Draco told you to do.

You almost think for a moment that you were wrong, when you see a small part of the dome turn red, then grow larger, as if it’s almost burning away. A piece of the magical dome flutters past your window, and you know it’s time.

Outside, the corridors are chaos. Everyone is running, yelling, going to someplace they think is most safe. People are crowded in corners, bawling their eyes out. You run down the stairs, wand clutched at the ready. Down on the lower floors, you can hear jinxes hitting walls and people screaming, you pass by people laying on the floor. You try not to look too closely.

You weave in and out of familiar corridors, trying to think. Where should you go? Back to your dorm? Are Neville and the rest of those kids still in the room of requirement? Was Draco even here? You retrace your steps back the the main staircase, following a wave of students. You branch off, headed toward a corridor you know is a good shortcut to the dungeons, when you feel a hand close around the back of your collar and pull you off to the side of the corridor.

Fear takes over, and you twist out of the person’s grasp, wand at the ready. But you’re stopped by a pair of familiar lips crashing into yours, a clean scent that smells like home enveloping you as a pair of arms tug you close. As soon as the realization hits you, you push his jaw away, your eyes flying open. “Draco?”

Soft, grey eyes lock with yours. Draco runs his fingers along your jaw. “I told you I would come for you.”

You kiss him again, deeply this time. You cling to each other with desperate need, and for a moment, the sounds and feeling of the rushing people around you fade away. Draco pulls away first this time.

“Come, hurry. I need to get my wand from Potter.” You lace your fingers together as you sprint through the halls.

“How do you know where he is?” You yell as you run.

“I overheard them on the first floor, they’re headed to the Room of Requirement.”

Sure enough, as you reach the empty fourth floor, the door to the Room of Requirement is vanishing back into nothing. For the first time, you look down and notice a wand in Draco’s hand. “Who’s is that?”

“Mother’s,” Draco says, striding towards the wall. “The Dark Lord took father’s some months ago, and Mother gave me this to defend myself with tonight.” Draco spins and faces you. “I can’t leave her defenseless like that. I need to get mine back, and return this to her, then we can all get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay,” you say, your mind spinning as the large doors appear on the wall again. “But let me talk to him-- Harry. You two don’t exactly get on. Maybe I can convince him.”

Draco nods. “Okay.”

The doors open, and you step into the room for Hiding. You’d come here before with Draco to watch him work with the vanishing cabinet. As the two of you walk between the towering stacks, you think about all the things you done with Draco which could possibly be categorized into ‘The Dark Lord’s Unknowing Bidding’. It terrified you.

The two of you freeze, when you hear a clatter around a corner, and then a curse that sounds like Harry’s voice. You turn to Draco, a finger to your lips, and he nods. You go off in the direction of the noise.

You turn the corner ahead of you, and there is Harry, holding what looks like a tiara. He looks up, eyes wide, and for a moment neither of you say anything.

“Harry,” your voice comes out with a crack. “You… you’re okay.”

"Y/n." Harry’s lip twitches. “I’ve been better, I suppose.”

You stand there awkwardly for another beat. “Listen, about that day-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry cuts you off. “You did what you could. But, why? You two knew it was me. Why did Malfoy lie?”

“I… I dunno. I guess only he could answer that. He never told me,” you say, looking down at your feet. “Listen, Harry… I know you have Draco’s wand. He really needs it back.” You spare a glance at the piece of Hawthorn wood clutched in Harry’s hand.

Harry’s face takes on it’s usual look of arrogance. “Well, I sort of need it probably a little more than he does. Now if you don’t mind I’ll…”

Harry trails off, and you feel Draco’s presence behind you. You turn, and see Draco glaring at Harry, wand raised. You turn back in a huff. “Bloody fuck, Draco.”

“Malfoy,” Harry spits.

“You heard her. If you would, hand over my property,” Draco sneers. You can’t help but roll your eyes at their usual bickering, despite the circumstances.

One of them seems likely to spit another insult, when Ron and Hermione come barreling around the corner. “A SPRITE!” Ron cries, “A DUST SPRITE SET THE BLOODY PLACE ON FIRE!”

Hermione grabs Harry’s hand as she runs past, and the three disappear down the aisle next to them. You hear the fire before you see it, but the wall of orange flame quickly proceeds the crackling sound. “Oh, fucking hell!”

You grab Draco’s hand and you quickly start sprinting back the way you came. At least you think it’s the way you came, but the fire starts coming from all sides, and you don’t which way to go. Next to you, Draco looks terrified.

“Climb!” You yell. If you can get to the top of a stack and locate the door, maybe you can use a water spell to get through the fire. You and Draco frantically scramble up a pile of chairs and tables, but the smoke is getting too thick to see through. Everywhere around you is flames of orange, and they’re already starting to lick up the sides of the pile.

Both of you desperately cast water charms to fend off the fire, but it’s almost no use. You’re beginning to think you’re going to die in the Room, when you spot movement out of the corner of your eye-- It’s the trio, on brooms, headed straight towards you. As the pass overhead, Ron reaches down and grabs you by the arm, jerking you up and into the air with him.

You clamber on behind him, one hand gripping your wand and the other the broom for dear life. You look around Ron’s torso to see Hermione cast a water charm that hold back the flames just long enough for the three of you to fly through. The moment the broom exits the door, you and Ron bail, the broom hitting the far wall of the corridor and splintering. Next to you, Hermione nearly crashes as well, and Draco and Harry land beside you to your left. You curl up on your side, coughing uncontrollably. The smoke is still stinging your eyes, and they water.

“Harry, the Horcrux!” Hermione screeches. You barely have time to wipe your eyes as the trio sits up, also coughing. Harry rolls away from Draco and tosses the tiara he was holding earlier onto the floor, and Ron, who’s the only one on his feet, gives it a hard kick. It flies into the fire, emitting a horrible screech and black smoke before the doors to the Room slam shut.

“Bloody Hell,” Ron swears, putting his hands on his knees before breaking into another coughing fit.

Harry scrambles to his feet. “The cup? Is it gone?”

Hermione produces a small, blackened goblet from inside her jacket. Ron pulls her to her feet, and the three of them take off down the hall at a remarkable speed. You’re just now regaining your ability to breathe. “Hey, Dray?” You stretch your your hand to feel for Draco’s, and you’re able to hook the tips of your fingers together and you lay on the floor, catching your breath.

“What’s up, sweets?” He manages.

“I said, let me do the talking.”

Draco lets out a raspy laugh, and you turn your head to look at him. He’s got a smudge of soot on his cheek and ash in his platinum hair. “I know, I’m sorry.”

You both get up slowly. Draco still has Narcissa’s wand clutched firmly in his hand. “What do we do now?”

“We need to find a place to hide,” says Draco. “I can’t find my parents now. It’s too difficult.” He swallows thickly. “Come on, I know a place we can go.”

You take off down the halls again, this time at a slower pace. Draco leads you to a corridor you’ve ever been to before, and at the end there’s a small alcove, that leads to a tiny nook behind the wall. One skinny window offers a view to the forest side of the castle, and moonlight streams though it. Draco slumps against the wall and removes his jacket. You waste no time settling into his lap, your arms around his neck. You both smell like fire and are covered in soot, but it's the safest you've felt in weeks.

“My heart is still beating so fast,” you whisper.

“I know,” Draco replies. “Mine, too.”

After a while, the adrenaline leaves you, and you feel utterly exhausted. That combined with being back in Draco’s strong arms, it’s enough for you to fall asleep for a little while.

You wake in the same position, Draco gently stroking your hair. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you say, you voice still a bit raspy.

“You, um, you missed it. He spoke.” You don’t need to ask to know who ‘he’ is.

“How? What did he say?”

“I don’t know, but it was like his voice was everywhere.” Draco’s grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly when he says that. “He’s called everyone off. To let people gather the dead. Potter has one hour to turn himself over, or they’ll all come back.”

You digest what Draco has just said. “What time is it?”

“It’s just past four in the morning, I reckon.”

“Draco, I don’t want to go.” Your voice sounds small in the tiny space.

“I don’t want to go either.” He whispers.

So you don’t. You stay in the tiny room at the end of the corridor for a little while longer. Draco tells you how lonely he was at home without you, and you tell him about your equally empty-feeling month at school.

“I can’t live without you again, y/n.”

“I can’t either,” you reply immediately, grasping Draco’s hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“...will you be my girlfriend?”

You lift your head off Draco’s chest to look him in the eye, feeling shocked..

Draco starts again. “I’m only asking because I think it would be inappropriate to ask for your hand if we aren't officially togeth-”

You cut off his words with a kiss, not like your one in the hall hours ago, but a softer one, that reminded you of a time before, two years ago in a broom closet similar to the nook you were in now. Your lips part gently. “Of course, love,” you whisper against his mouth. “You think I wear this ring for no reason?”

Draco looks up at you. “Merlin, I don’t know how I made it one day without you.”

“I’m not sure either.”

Your limbs are tangled together, lips moving in tandem, when your attention is caught by a bright flash of red and white from outside the small window. Sparks are coming up from somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. You can Draco look for a moment before his hands tighten at your clothes. “We have to go.” Draco says.

You make your way through the empty halls, most of which are full of rubble. A whole side of the main staircase has been obviated. You near the Great Hall, and you hear voices. The two of you peek around the corner, and your breath catches. Laid in neat rows along the floor of the great hall are at least thirty bodies; students, teachers, people you don’t recognize. You pull back from around the corner, crashing into Draco’s chest. He pulls you against him instantly. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Just breathe,” he soothes.

“Draco… there’s so many. We didn’t do anything to help.” Tears spring to your eyes.

To this, Draco says nothing. You pull away and rub your eyes with the back of your hand, forcing yourself to pull it together. You peer around the corner again, your eyes sweeping the bodies quickly to see if there’s anyone you know. The only person you recognize is Ron Weasley’s older brother. His whole family is here, and Ron is sat on the ground near him, one of Hermione’s arms across his shoulders.

You’re still watching the scene in the Hall when feel Draco’s arm stiffen against your back. You turn back to ask him what’s wrong, when you your eyes catch on what he’s looking at. Through the crumbling entrance to the courtyard, you see a large group of people dressed in black making their way across the main bridge to Hogwarts. A familiar looming figure rises above the rest, a smaller body clutched in his arms.

You’re not the only person who’s noticed. People gather near you and Draco at the entrance to the Great Hall, watching the horrible procession grow closer. You and Draco both feel rooted to the spot as everyone comes closer into view-- Voldemort, live and in the flesh, stands barefoot as his Death Eaters fiil the courtyard behind him, a massive python slithering around his legs. Hagrid stands just behind him, holding a limp Harry in his arms. You feel like you can’t breath. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny push their way out of the Great Hall and run down the stairs. Other students and adults follow them.

Hagrid is sobbing, clutching Harry close to his chest. Voldemort raises his hands. “Harry Potter… is dead!”

Ginny screams in anguish, and Ron holds her back from lunging at him. She sinks to the ground with her brother, sobbing. You and Draco inch towards to the courtyard doorway, looking across the crowd. You finally get a good look at Harry laying lifeless in Hagrid’s embrace, and you put a hand over your mouth.

“Stupid girl,” Voldemort drawls. “Harry Potter is dead. From this day forward, you put your faith, in me.” He turns away from Ginny’s hunched form, and turns to the Death Eaters behind him. “Harry Potter is dead!”

They all chorus their laughs, Draco’s aunt Bellatrix’s high-pitched cackle rising over all the rest. She skips forward with glee, balancing herself on a piece of rubble to better survey the scene below. But you notice one figure in the front who is not laughing like the rest. With a jolt, you recognize her across the courtyard as Narcissa, standing next to Lucius. She’s scanning the crowd, looking for her son.

“Draco,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t dare glance over to see his reaction, but Draco squeezes your hand in acknowledgement.

“Now is the time to declare yourself!” Voldemort decrees. “Come forward and join us, or die.”

No one moves.

Then, softly across the silent courtyard, Lucius calls. “Draco.”

Your heart clamps in your chest. You didn’t know they’d spotted him.

“Draco,” he says again, this time with more desperation.

You spare a glance up at your boyfriend. His eyes aren’t even on his parents, instead they’re focused on the ground in front of him. He’s gripping your hand so hard it’s almost painful. Your eyes dart back across the courtyard, and you see his parents standing there with absolute desperation painted all over their faces. Everyone around you has turned to look, to see what Draco does. Voldemort is looking right at him.

“Draco, come.” This time it’s Narcissa. Draco squeezes his eyes shut.

You try to loosen your grip in Draco’s hand, to tell him to just go, to leave you, but he just holds on tighter. Draco gives the smallest shake of his head.

Voldemort tilts his head to the side, taking in the exchange with interest. “Well, Lucius, it seems your son is still just as insubordinate and… lovestruck as the last time we spoke.” Lucius, mortified, steps back into the crowd of Death Eaters behind him. Narcissa looks stricken by Draco’s betrayal. “Draco, it’s such a pity. Your aunt was always quick to vouch for your skills.”

Indeed, Bellatrix looks confused by the scene unfolding in front of her, arms crossed but a look of confusion on her face. She doesn’t try to plead with Draco as his parents had, however.

“Not to worry, we’ll sort this out,” Voldemort assures. He raises his hand, his knobby wand pointed at Draco.

You move on instinct, stepping in front of Draco as the spell sparks from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. You swipe your wand in front of you and Draco, effectively blocking the green killing curse. Assorted gasps rise up from both sides of the courtyard. Voldemort has a look of genuine shock on his face.

“He is not going to be the one to die today.” You say with as much confidence as you can muster.

In the silent moment hanging in the air after your declaration, Neville moves forward, a slight limp in his step. He clutches the tattered sorting hat in one of his hands. “She’s right, you know.”

Voldemort slowly lowers his wand, looking at Neville with fascination.

“Yes, Harry is dead. But he’s still with us, in here.” Neville points to his heart. “And so is everyone else lying in that Hall right now. None of them died in vain, but you will! Because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us!” Neville reaches into the sorting hat, pulling the gleaming sword of Gryffindor from it’s depths. At that precise moment, Harry rolls from Hagrid’s arms, very much alive. All the students and teachers erupt into cheers.

It’s chaos again. Harry shoots a fire spell at the snake around Voldemort’s feet, and Death Eaters fly away into the sky in clouds of black. Neville runs forward, the sword in hand, slashing at the snake. You pull Draco with you as you run down the side of the stairs, headed towards the hall that goes around the courtyard. “Come on, we have to get to your parents!”

Draco, the stronger one, pulls you behind a pillar instead. “Why did you do that?” He cries, nearly hysterical. “If you’d been hit I would’ve-”

“Been alive! That’s what matters to me!” You screech over the noise of battle. “Too many of my classmates died today because we didn’t help them, and I sure as hell was not going to let you join them!”

You’re not sure if Draco’s about to argue back or kiss you, but he doesn’t get the chance. Two people are running down the hall, screaming his name. His parents.

Draco lets go of your hand somewhat reluctantly, but collapses into his mother’s arms. She holds onto him tightly while Lucius stands awkwardly to the side. She pulls back and Draco puts her wand in her hands. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

“Don’t apologize, Draco. You made the right decision.” Narcissa grips Draco’s wrists, and gives him a kiss on his cheek. She catches your gaze over his shoulder and lets go of her son.

She takes a few steps towards you and takes you into a tight embrace. “Thank you. Thank you for saving him,” she whispers into your ear. In the moment, all you can do his hug her back.

Narcissa holds you at arm’s length, and turns back to her family. “We need to leave, right now,” she says.

Narcissa is still holding onto you, intending for all four of you to make your escape. But you stand firm, catching her and Lucius by surprise. “I can’t leave,” you say. “My friends are here. I won’t stand by again and do nothing while they protect our school.”

“Then I’m staying, too,” Draco says firmly.

“Draco, stop this. You made your statement, you chose her once, but now we need to leave.” Lucius almost growls.

“I’m done doing what you want, father.” Draco spits.

Lucius eyes are nearly aflame, but Narcissa steps between them. “Enough.” She turns to Draco one last time. “Please, be safe. Come back to us in one piece.” She grabs her husband’s arm, and the two of them disappear in a cloud of black smoke.

When the dust finally settles, there is only one body lying on the ground. And this time, it isn’t Harry’s. The Boy Who Lived had finally prevailed, the wizarding world safe from his thirst for absolute power. There is celebration, but it’s somber. You and Draco sit in the corner of the great hall, holding each other close. No one really comes near you two. Across the Great Hall, you make eye contact with Harry. You exchange a look of mutual understanding, and a nod. That’s all.

In time, you heal. You still wake often, in a cold sweat, Draco’s lifeless face imprinted onto the back of your eyelids, or the feeling of near death gripping your own chest. But he is always right beside you in the bed, breathing and alive.

You go with him to his parents trials, holding his hand as you listen to the minister give his father a life sentence. Dry his tears when you finally return home. His mother visits the two of you frequently.

You move the ring from your right hand to your left. You’re missing a lot of things, but at least he’s not one of them.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #my writing

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gretvvvnfleet · 6 years ago

Text

Familiar Faces (Ch. 2)

Josh Kiszka x Fem Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You froze in place, not sure if you had heard Josh’s request correctly. Your pulse pounded in your ears as your cheeks started to burn. You did your best to keep the confident composure you had for the last couple of minutes, but this had thrown you completely off your game.

“I-I’m sorry?” you smiled wide and laughed nervously, taking half a step away from the counter between the both of you. A faint blush blew over Josh’s cheeks as he scratched the back of his head, curls rustling in response to his movement.

“No, I’m- I’m sorry I-” Josh was cut off by the bells jingling over the front door. You both turned towards the sound to face the customer that had just walked in. An older man with graying hair and a cane slowly made his way to the counter, smiling kindly at Josh as he made it to the both of you.

“I’m sorry to intrude, and it’s so close to closing time, but do you have a minute?” the man asked sheepishly. He looked from Josh to you behind the counter, fiddling with the brim of his hat within his hands.

“Of course, sir, go ahead!” Josh made way from the counter and motioned his hand forward for the man to get comfortable. With a small wink, Josh turned away from you and made his way to the aisles of frames and cameras within the shop.

“What can I do for you today?” you smiled. You cleared the counter of Josh’s order, placing the envelope and poster roll off to the side table.

“I-I hate to come in at such short notice, I know you are just about to close, but it’s my granddaughter. She’s getting married next weekend and we are having such trouble finding a photographer. I’ve asked all around the family and friends but no one seems to be available. I thought I might try the only camera shop in town, maybe you’d at least know someone?” the man spoke sweetly with tears almost coming to his eyes. You could see Josh from behind the man, poking his head up from the shelves, listening in on the conversation.

“Well I just might have the solution you need,” you smiled, reassuring the man. You could see the instant relief on his face as you bent towards the drawer to pull out an order sheet to gather his information. “I’ll just need to ask you for some information and I’ll see what I can do for you”.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, you are so kind,” the man stepped forward to the counter and placed his hat down, looking at the sheet before you. Josh finally sat on a bench by the front window and admired your humble customer service.

“Okay, can I get your name, as well as your granddaughter’s name?”

“I-I’m Jonathan Corwin. My granddaughter is Lillian Corwin, soon to be Lillian Macey”, the man’s voice lifted when he spoke of his granddaughter, making you smile as you wrote their names down on the order sheet.

“Mr. Corwin?” Josh jolted up from his seat by the window and rushed to greet the man. The both of you were caught off guard by the sudden voice and he raised an eyebrow as he turned to Josh coming towards him. “Mr. Corwin, I’m Joshua. Joshua Kiszka. My band played at your granddaughter's eighteenth birthday a few years back.” The man’s face instantly lit up as he was able to see Josh’s face clearly and up close.

“Joshua! My boy, how are you?” He embraced Josh with a firm hug, his face lit up more than ever.

“I’m absolutely amazing! How are you, sir?” The two men held a firm handshake for the duration of their conversation, each deeply intrigued in the other.

“Wow, just wow! This young man right here”, Mr. Corwin turned to you, pointing at Josh and smiling vibrantly, “this young man right here is just absolutely fantastic, you know that?” he beamed.

“I am very aware of his talent, yes”, you laughed along. You could see Josh’s yearning to be released from the old man’s grip but never showed it while Mr. Corwin was looking at him.

“Oh, not just his talent! His energy and humble persona when you speak to him, such elegance and grace”, the man was laughing more than ever now, almost starstruck to be reunited with Josh.

“Oh, thank you Mr. Corwin, you’ve always been too nice,” Josh was now blushing severely with the widest smile across his face.

“Joshua, you must come to Lillian’s wedding! She would be so excited to see you!” Mr. Corwin’s eyes were wide with intent and waited for Josh’s response. Josh seemed taken aback and even looked towards you for an answer, which you didn’t have.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose. And my brothers won’t all be in town next week-”

“No no no! Not to perform, my dear boy. Just come, enjoy the get together. Bring your friend!” Mr. Corwin beamed at you, and your heart jumped within your chest. You stifled a laugh when he turned back to Josh.

“I will definitely see what I can do, Mr. Corwin.” Josh laughed and finally released his hand from the old man. They embraced each other one last time and Josh winked at you. He said his final goodbye and made his way out the door, walking to his truck across the street.

“Lord help him if I see you at the wedding taking pictures and he isn’t there”, the old man sighed. You smiled up at him and went over to the calendar on the wall.

“I’ll try my best to make sure he’s there”, you laughed. “What day and time is the wedding?”

You finished figuring out times with Mr. Corwin and writing down the address information on the order. The wedding was in a week, next Friday night at seven in the evening. You explained how you’d be able to take the job and would be arriving early to set up and meet the bride and groom. You offered your name and number on a blank business card in case there were any questions or changes to plans.

“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much,” Mr. Corwin looked over the card and shook your hand. “My granddaughter is going to be so happy, thank you”.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Corwin. And I’ll be seeing you next Friday,” you made your way around the counter and walked with him to the front door. He placed his hat back upon his head and your card within his coat pocket. With a final goodbye, Mr. Corwin made his way to his car and drove off down the road.

Before you returned inside to finally close up for the day, you noticed Josh hadn’t left and was sitting in the back of his truck bed with a book in his lap.

“Hey,” you called out across the street. His head immediately perked up and he placed the book down to hop out of the truck. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you teased.

“I thought I’d wait for you to close up. Don’t want anyone stealing a pretty little thing like you away from the store front,” he called back, leaning against the truck.

“I just gotta set the alarm, I’ll be out in a sec,” You rolled our eyes and turned back to the front door. You hastily made your way to the back and punched in the numbers, hearing the alarm set off and start the beeping countdown. Before you walked out, you grabbed Josh’s order from the side table and proceeded to lock the front door and made your way to the opposite side of the street.

“Hm, I knew I was forgetting something,” he eyed the packages and took them from under your arm. He opened the truck door and tossed them into the passenger seat, returning back to you beside the truck and leaning against it.

“Where are you headed to?” you nodded to the truck bead that was filled with fishing poles, duffel bags and buckets of who-knows-what.

“Ah, just my bros and some friends headed off for the weekend. Total boy shit,” he puffed his chest out and made huffing noises. You laughed at his gestures and rolled your eyes, laughing against the truck.

“Oh okay tough guy, trying to be Bear Grylls out here,” you teased, fiddling with the keys in your hand. Josh laughed but didn’t say anything in return, he only smiled at you, seemingly observing your face and all it’s acute features.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?” he finally asked.

“Oh, no, my brother should be here any minute now, he’s just coming in from town,” you looked down the road but didn’t see any sign of any other living souls around.

“Well if you think I’m gonna leave you here, you would be dead ass wrong”, he hopped into the truck bed, swinging his legs off the end of the truck and patted the open space next to him. You walked around the side and joined him, leaving as much space between you as possible without trying to be obvious.

“What were you reading?” you nodded towards the blank covered book behind him.

“Not reading,” he reached back and grabbed the book, flipping the pages in one swift motion, “just writing”. You could see it clearly now and realized it was a smaller leather bound notebook. It looked worn out and put to good use throughout the years. As he flipped through some pages you could see the writing within the lines and intricate designs.

“I’m guessing that’s where all the magic happens?” you studied it within his hands, curious as to what it contained.

“Yeah most of the songs start here,” he held it in his lap. He looked up towards the open road before you both and studied the nature around you. “But it doesn’t all just come from thin air. Writing gets easier when I find a muse,” he didn’t look back at you until his final words, smiling at you from your hair down to your face. You made sure not to make any assumptions, but it seemed like he might have been talking about you. You smiled back and turned your face back down to your own lap. Nothing in life seemed more peaceful than the spot you were in now. Listening to the trees rustling in the soft wind, hearing the birds meet again after a day of travels, feeling Josh move slightly beside you as he placed the book back down beside him.

“Y/n!” Robert honked from across the street in his truck and yelled out the window. You hadn’t realized he had driven up and Josh hadn’t said anything, if he even noticed at all. Josh jolted at the sudden sound of your brother’s voice and started to quickly get down from the back of the truck.

“Yeah! Just a sec!” you called back, quickly climbing off the truck yourself and helping Josh lift and close the hatch. You could feel your cheeks burning and you felt Josh’s eyes pierce your side as you made your way towards the opposite side of the street.

“Have fun on your trip”, you rubbed the side of your arm, and he smiled at the ground in embarrassment.

“Call me?”, he handed you a piece of torn faded paper from his notebook with a phone number hastily scratched on one side. Before you could say anything else, he turned, nodded to Robert waiting across the street and walked around to the side of the truck.

You made your way across the street and waved to Josh who smiled and pulled away, heading in the opposite direction from where you would be leaving with Robert towards home. You stood for a moment outside the passenger door, admiring what you had just received, so many emotions running through your head.

“Hey.” Robert spoke through the open passenger window, causing you to jump in place. You shoved the small scrap of paper into your front pocket and made your way into the passenger seat. You avoided Robert’s smirks for as long as you could without saying anything. Chuckling to himself, Robert started up the truck and started on the drive back home.

The short drive home seemed to last forever in silence as you wanted to avoid any questions about Josh that might come from Robert. You spent a majority of the ride trying to convince yourself that nothing major had really happened today… but so much had. His question was revolving around your mind, pounding every inch of your brain as you tried to focus on getting home without saying anything suspicious to Robert. Things like this just never happened to you. You usually stayed under the radar and didn’t stress much when it came to boys. You made friends easily and got along well with others, but being romantic with anyone was never really a priority on your life list.

Robert must have sensed your concentration on the drive and remained silent for the duration of the trip. He turned on the music as soon as you had left the shop and just let you be with your thoughts. His silence was a blessing and a curse. You wanted so badly to tell him about your day and scream and the thought of almost kissing Josh, but you didn’t know how he’d react, or if he’d even care. You never had these types of problems before so you weren’t even sure if you should go to Robert for something like this.

Finally getting home, you saw the other cars in the driveway, signaling that everyone was home for the night and that there would be a full table at dinner. You made your way into the house and heard the commotion from the kitchen immediately, followed by the smell of fresh pizza.

“Hey honey! How’d it go today?” your dad called out as you entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“Good! Good,” your aggressive first response seemed to catch your dad off guard, so you tried again with a soft smile. You reached for pizza and began to stuff your face, hoping to avoid any other questions while having so much food in your mouth.

“Jesus, someone’s hungry,” Jimmy muttered across the table. His presence caught you off guard and you forced down the huge lump of pizza stuck in your throat to address him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, looking around the table to see if anyone else was curious.

“One of the guys got stuck doing shit today, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he went back to his pizza.

The other boys and your parents went around the table, talking about their days and how their lives went about. Your heart pounded as you realized you were the last soul around the table who had yet to tell about their day.

“So honey, tell me all about it. How’d it go today?” Your dad pressed the question on you once more. You felt eyes shift towards you, eager to hear how running the shop alone went. Robert kept quiet but looked up at you from across the table with a slight raised brow, smiling slightly and knowing damn well something had gone down earlier.

“It was good, uhm… I got a job for next week photographing a wedding,” you began, still picking at pieces of pizza before you.

“That’s great!” your mom beamed, feeding Ollie in his highchair. “You need to get back into photography, hon, you’re so good at it”.

“Yeah, I’m really excited,” you forced a smile. You hoped this was all anyone would care about as they all got silent again and went back to eating.

“How’d that order pick up go today?” Robert asked, a smug grin resting on his face. Your eyes widened and you tried to kick at his shin from under the table but with no success.

“Oh yeah, how’d it go? You got everything out?” your dad asked over the brim of his reading glasses and looking up from his paper.

“Yup, everything was fine,” you felt your armpits grow sweaty and wished you could just run upstairs and call Josh now to hide from the family.

“You remembered to give him the discount right? He always comes around for his band prints,” your dad chuckled with pride. Your heart stopped, realizing you forgot the stupid discount and Jimmy’s head perked up at your dad’s comment.

“So THAT’S where that dickhead was,” Jimmy got up from the table abruptly and threw his paper plate into the trash, rapidly texting someone on his phone.

“W-wait, who was where?” you asked, hearing your voice crack and noticing a chuckle escape Robert’s lips.

“Josh… he said he had shit to do today and couldn’t leave for the trip until tomorrow. I’m about to rip him a new one,” Jimmy laughed, eyes glued to his phone the entire time. You froze in your seat and just gawked at Jimmy making his way out of the kitchen.

“Josh...Kiszka…. He’s going on the trip with you?” you pressed again.

“Yeah, him and his brothers and Tim and Gerald. Why do you think we had this trip planned for months? Fuckers are always on tour”.

#familiar faces #josh kiszka #fanfic #Greta Van Fleet #writing

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