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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

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if you don’t know, let me go - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Summary: It’s always seemed like they’ve been dancing the line between friends and more, so why does he take a different girl to the ball? Warnings: Some swearing, pining that one character is too much of a dummy to see, a bit of angst but it eventually becomes fluff I promise, jealousy but nothing toxic, underage drinking but it’s like one line. Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in literally forever, so any feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open if you like this and want more! Also this got stupidly long fast, I can barely write book reviews on Goodreads without writing a novel so my bad, I’m sorry if you don’t like long fics. (Also cross-posted on AO3 as the tumblr tags don’t seem to be my friend right now.)

- Also, thank you so much to @lumosandnoxwriting for answering all my questions on how to get back into writing!

Send me an ask or a dm if you would like to be added to a tag list!

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“Do you think he’s going to ask you?”

It’s Wednesday afternoon, late enough for class to be over but too early for dinner and Y/N’s attempt at understanding anything in her potions textbook is broken by Alicia Spinnet talking to her. Despite the fact she hadn’t said a name, Y/N knows immediately who she was talking about and she shrugs in response, closing her book and accepting that studying was not on the table for the rest of the night now the ball has been mentioned.

“Probably not.” She deadpans. Y/N’s been trying not to get her hopes up that Fred would ask her to the Yule Ball since it was announced three days ago. Alicia’s already been asked by George- who immediately did a dramatic reenactment of some muggle proposal he’d seen in a movie as soon as Dumbledore announced it. But Fred had been more reluctant to ask anyone, despite people’s assumption that he could get anyone he pleased. Y/N only hoped this was because he was too shy of taking whatever they were from friends to lovers.

No one really understood how the outspoken and mischievous redhead became friends with the snarky Slytherin girl, but 6 years into their schooling people have stopped questioning it. They had formed an unexplainable bond the second they met on the train to Hogwarts when they were eleven years old that may have included both shouting at blood purists and now it seems to have evolved into something beyond just a friendship.

Lingering stares, soft touches, the fact neither of them had really dated anyone else because they were too caught up with each other. Everyone, including their friends, have all placed bets on how long it’ll take for the two of them to ‘fess up and finally get together.

“What makes you say that?” Alicia asks, genuinely. She’s heard first hand the teasing George and Lee give Fred over his feelings for Y/N in the Gryffindor common room when they think they’re alone so she finds it hard to believe he hasn’t even hinted at them going together yet.

Y/N shrugs. “I just think if he wanted to go with me, he’d ask me by now… Y’know?” Alicia can’t really deny her logic. Fred’s never been the one to shy away from being outspoken about anything really in the whole six years she’s known him, so even she can admit it’s weird that Fred hasn’t asked her.

“Maybe he just assumes you guys are going together?” Alicia starts, and before Y/N can argue back, she holds up a hand, “I’ll ask him after dinner tonight. I can guarantee Lee or George will join in and you’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!” Y/N shakes her head and laughs, and starts packing her things, mumbling about Alicia is a meddler and that she’ll see her later.

Y/N’s walking to the Great Hall for dinner when it happens. Adrian Pucey, star quidditch chaser for the Slytherin team slinks up next to her and scares her enough to almost drop the books she has clutched in her hands. She’s never had a problem with Adrian- their parents are in similar friendship circles so she sees him at family friend events outside of school, but she’s never considered him a friend either, which is why his approach to her is so odd.

“Sorry about that,” he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as Y/N clutches her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she starts, “You’re just very quiet. I’m used to being almost tackled to the ground when I see friends.” She laughs, but she doesn’t miss the awkward tension in the air and she can’t help but assume what’s coming next.

“I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you don’t have a date to the ball… If you’d like to go with me?”

Y/N gulps. She knows she shouldn’t be putting all her eggs in the Fred Weasley marked basket, but she can’t help but remember her conversation with Alicia only an hour ago.

‘You’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!’

Adrian senses her hesitation and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s almost laughing. “You’re waiting for one of Weasley twins to ask you, aren’t you? Fred, right?” She hates how easily he caught on.

“Adrian, I- Ugh, I’m sorry. But yeah… I am.” She feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at someone she’s not even friends with pointing it out. She can’t help but think maybe this is a sign though, that if everyone else is expecting it, why hasn’t he asked her yet?

“No, it’s all good. But the offers on the table if he’s too pussy to ask you out.” He gives a kind smile as he walks off to catch up with Marcus Flint who’s drilling Malfoy about quidditch plays.

She exhales slowly and finally makes it to the Great Hall. She scans the tables looking for her closest friend in Slytherin- Daphne Greengrass and once she finds her, she quickly makes her way over to her. Dinner is relatively uneventful since she’s sitting with her house, and George manages to catch her eye at one point and mouths ‘miss you’ to which she laughs and says she misses him back.

She’s about to get up and leave when the last thing she expects to happen, happens. She hears Ron exclaim loudly that Fred can’t make fun of him for not having a date because he doesn’t have one either. Y/N feels her heart start to race, knowing if anyone’s going to prove a point to Ron, it’ll be Fred Weasley. She doesn’t hear what Fred’s reply is but Harry and Ron both scoff, and one of them says ‘ask a girl out if it’s so easy then.’

Y/N’s about to approach the Gryffindor table when George’s eye catches her, and he shakes his head. Fred has already thrown a scrunched-up piece of paper at Angelina and her heart sinks.

“Angelina! Will you go to the ball with me?”

As Angelina laughs and says yes to Fred, it feels like the whole Great Hall is either watching their altercation or watching Y/N in pity. Her heart now feels like it’s in her throat, and she needs to get out of the room before she cries or yells at Fred. She pivots on her heel and is met face-to-face with Daphne, who nods in silent agreement that they’re going back to their dorm.

Y/N is halfway down the long tables with the door in her sights when she spots Adrian out of the peripheral of her eye. She can tell he’s looking at her in pity and in a weird way, she feels the need to show defiance against Fred Weasley. She needs to show she doesn’t need pity, especially right now, that she can get a date herself. So she stops in front of the Slytherin quidditch team and slightly smirks.

“That offer to the ball still on the table?”

Daphne spends the night taking Y/N’s mind off the Weasley family. They sit in their dorm together, once again trying to study for potions which eventually leads into ball talk yet again. Daphne can tell the idea of going to the ball with anyone who isn't Fred is unnerving for Y/N, but there’s no backing down now.

“That was kind of a badass move, y’know?” She starts, treading lightly as they eventually reach the elephant in the room, ‘Asking Adrian after what happened.”

It doesn’t feel badass to Y/N. She feels like she’s cheating on the redhead that owns her heart, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Fred clearly has no form of feelings for her and she’s decided to get over him.

“It’s nothing…” She starts and she sees Daphne’s eyebrows raise. They’ve been roommates every year since they started school together so they’re both aware this is a big lie. “I didn’t want to go alone. Everyone else had dates already and Adrian’s nice. Plus, he did ask me before…”

Daphne nods, not wanting to press further. “Have you got a dress yet?” It had said on their packing list for the school year to bring a dress or dress robes so everyone’s already well prepared. Y/N nods and walks towards the closet before pulling out a floor-length silver gown with lace detailing. She smiles shyly as Daphne gasps in awe.

“Eat your heart out, Fred Weasley!” For the first time all night, Y/N laughs. She knows she’s going to look stunning in the dress and while she has no ill resentment towards Angelina for agreeing to go with Fred, she can’t help but feel a little bit coy knowing Fred’s going to see her in it.

She’s sitting at her desk in Transfiguration the next day when he finally acknowledges her presence. She’s twiddling her quill in her fingers, dreading the moment the troublemaker waltzes into the class. His usual seat is the one next to her, while George and Lee sit in front of them but she can only hope Alicia takes the hint and sits with her before Fred does.

She doesn’t get her wish. She’s about two seconds away from dozing off when the seat screeches against the hardwood flooring below them and she looks to her left to see Fred smirking.

“Hi love,'' he starts, the nickname not feeling out of ordinary, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He says, and it’s true. He hadn’t seen her since class yesterday. He had looked for her before dinner to tell her about the prank he’d pulled on Filch with George while she was studying and he’d barely seen her during dinner.

Her heart starts to speed up at the nickname, and she forces down the bile she feels growing in her throat. “Yeah, I just ate dinner and went to bed yesterday. Been studying for potions. Sixth year is hard.” She’s trying to be short and sweet and maybe a little blunt but Fred doesn’t pick up on it. “Heard you asked Angelina to the ball too.” She’s hoping to whoever’s listening to her prayers that the jealousy isn’t evident in her voice and by the dopey smile that grows on Fred’s face, her prayers were answered.

“Yeah! Ron was being such a prat, telling me I couldn’t make fun of him for…” But she drowns his voice out. It might be a bitch move, but she really doesn’t need to hear the who, where, when and why he asked Angelina out. It’s clear to Y/N that Fred didn’t even notice her existence at dinner and that stings more than she’d like to admit.

She can barely concentrate during class. Fred has never really shown to care about any academic success, so he spends the entire period trying to entertain Y/N and get her to speak to him but she’s being stubborn and Fred can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He starts to think maybe she’s just had a bad day, but when the bell rings and she storms off without even saying goodbye to him he’s dumbfounded.

“Trouble in paradise, brother?” George teases when he sees the frown adorned on Fred’s face.

“Have I done anything to upset Y/N?” He questions and he sees the way George and Lee both give each other a look. They know something he doesn’t and that leaves a feeling of uneasiness in his chest. Y/N and himself have always been closer than her and George and especially her and Lee. He was there for her when her parents were fighting constantly when she was 11 and when Marcus Flint started bullying her in 3rd year. He was even there when she cried to him last year about the guy she loved and how he was so stupidly blind to her feelings and while she didn’t give a name, Fred was dying to go punch whoever it was for not realising he had his best friend’s heart.

“If you have, it’s not up for us to tell you, mate.” Lee states and he hides behind George when he notices the scowl on Fred’s face. Lee knows better than to get between him and Y/N, but he isn’t wrong.

“Look, Alicia said she was fine when they left the library yesterday evening,” George starts, and he knows he shouldn’t be lying to his brother and best friend, but it’s not a huge lie, and maybe it’ll push his oblivious brother to realise what he did to upset his best friend, “She was at dinner last night when you asked Angie to the ball and then she went to her dorm with Daphne. Heard something about her saying yes to Adrian Pucey asking her to the ball…” While George made extra emphasis on the fact Y/N witnessed Fred asking Angelina to the ball, Fred’s eyes glaze over in rage when George mentions Adrian and he has a feeling his twin has got the wrong idea.

“I bet Adrian did something to her. Fuck him, honestly.” And before George and Lee can stop him, Fred’s stalking out of the classroom with Adrian Pucey in his sights.

Fred doesn’t find Adrian until later that afternoon, standing on the pitch and clad in his quidditch robes, yelling at someone who Fred assumes is Montague. He thinks now is probably a bad time to confront him, but he's blinded by the thought that he’s hurt Y/N.

“Pucey!” He shouts and when Adrian turns around, he chuckles and smirks at Fred. He was expected this later rather than sooner, specifically during dinner, but he guesses now will have to do.

“What?” He asks, but they both know why he’s here and he’s just enjoying riling Fred up.

“What did you do Y/N?” Adrian scoffs at this and shakes his head which confuses Fred. “What did I do to Y/N?” Fred stands his ground, chest puffed up. Adrian might be a fair bit shorter than Fred but Adrian hasn’t got anything to be scared of. Sure he’s seen Fred throw a punch or two and he’s definitely been on the receiving end of a bludger from the Weasley during a game, but he knows he isn’t the one that hurt Y/N here.

“I think you should be asking yourself that, mate. Y/N only agreed to going to the ball with me after you asked Angelina out right in front of her.” This causes Fred to look at Adrian in confusion and Adrian laughs at Fred again. He’s confused, why would asking Angelina out hurt Y/N?

It turns out he said that out loud, because two seconds later Adrian is responding to him, “Because she was expecting you to ask her, Weasley.”

Adrian doesn’t even wait for Fred’s reply before stalking off to the Slytherin change rooms and Fred’s left standing on the pitch, wondering why the ache in his chest is almost debilitating at the thought of hurting Y/N and questioning why he feels the need to throw up knowing she’s happily going with Adrian Pucey.

Fred’s next port of call is finding Y/N. After his talk with Adrian, he needs to find out why she expected him to ask her to the ball. He would’ve happily gone with her, but to Fred, she hadn’t even dropped a single hint at wanting to go with him and when she’s finally located, she’s in the library with Daphne.

“This is my exit cue,” Daphne mutters as she notices the redhead roaming around the library looking for Y/N. She doesn’t even have a moment to question Daphne before the seat in front of her is suddenly occupied by the last person she was hoping to see again.

“Why are you going with Pucey?” Is the first thing that leaves Fred’s mouth, and it wasn’t what Y/N was expecting. She splutters, only for a few seconds, before eventually replying.

“He asked me.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow, but didn’t Pucey say she wanted to go with him? “A little birdie said you wanted to go with me. So, how come you’re going with him.”

Now Y/N scoffs and Fred can’t help but notice how many people are scoffing at him today just for asking questions and it’s getting annoying. “You didn’t ask me. He did. So, I said yes. Don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” She’s intentionally being short, hopefully not spilling anything about her feelings for the boy in front of her.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go with me, Y/N. How was I supposed to know?” At this, Y/N goes from feeling hurt to angry and she can’t explain why her hands start to shake.

“How were you supposed to know?” She exclaims loudly which causes her to receive a rather nasty ‘sh’ from Madam Pince and a few O.W.L students surrounding her.

“Have you seen the way we act around each other Fred?” She’s now whisper yelling and the confused look on Fred’s face as she says this just aggravates her further and she’s convinced no one is this daft and he’s pushing her buttons on purpose. “Because everyone thinks we’re fucking dating already, Fred. You have to constantly be touching me, we’re always together, you call me darling and love and you kiss me on the forehead when I fucking bring you sugar quills from Hogsmeade because they’re your favourite and whenever you have spare money you always buy me Honeydukes chocolate because you said you like seeing me blush when you buy me things. You’re telling me now that we’re just friends?”

If the ache in Fred’s chest was almost debilitating on the quidditch pitch earlier, right now it feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched, pieces of her hair are falling out of her bun that’s resting on top of her head and, worst of all, Fred’s noticed the tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes.

She sighs before continuing, trying to compose herself so he doesn’t see her crying over him, unaware he’s already noticed the tears threatening to fall. Her voice is sad and broken, and it feels like the ending point for her.

“I was just stupid enough to assume this year was the year we would finally admit we’re more than friends, Freddie. But I guess all this time it’s been one-sided. I hope you have a good time at the ball with Angelina.”

Fred grabs her wrist as she starts to pack up her things and looks at her, scanning her face for any form of emotion. “Let me go, Fred.” She looks at him with pleading eyes and he lets go of the grasp he has on her wrist.

Fred doesn’t try to stop her again as she hastily packs up her things and he sadly watches her leave the library without turning to look at him.

Y/N doesn’t care if it’s considered dramatic, but she lays in bed and cries for the rest of the day. While she hasn’t gone through a literal break-up, it feels like her friendship with Fred is over. At least, she’s decided, it’s over until she gets over her feelings for him.

Daphne tries everything in her power to comfort her. She rubs her back, plays with her hair and even puts on ABBA to try and get Y/N to dance just to cheer her up. Y/N feels horrible she’s basically conned Daphne into babysitting her breakdown but Daphne constantly reassures her it’s okay.

“Do you want me to go beat him up? I might be short and weak and he’s the size of a tree but I could take him.” Y/N sniffles a laugh at this, and smiles. She’s truly grateful for everything Daphne’s been doing for her and she makes a mental note to get her an extra special Christmas present next time she goes to Hogsmeade.

However, it turns out essentially ending the friendship with Fred ends her friendships with most of the Gryffindors. She was expecting this, but when George can’t even meet her eye in class her heart breaks into even smaller pieces. George has always been like a brother to her, someone she could tell anything too without worry of being judged. He was the first person she told when she realised she liked Fred and Y/N was the first person, besides Fred, that George told his feelings for Alicia for.

Y/N feels alone but she’s stubborn so she refuses to show it. She sits with Daphne in every class, essentially kicking poor Cassius Warrington who’s been pining after Daphne for 3 years into a different spot in class and she sometimes even sits with Adrian during lunch. It turns out they have a lot more in common than just the fact they’re in Slytherin and pure-bloods and Y/N’s pain in her chest is slowly but surely disappearing.

While her feelings for Fred still exist, her heart slowly feels like it’s being mended. It’s only when she spots Fred sulking during lunch one day that the ache returns. She was usually the one who he went too when feeling bad- him being too embarrassed to go to George. She hopes he’s okay, but she shakes the idea of approaching him, knowing he’s got Angelina to keep him company. The pang in her chest stays a little bit longer that day.

The Yule Ball arrives quicker than expected and Y/N and Daphne spend all day getting ready with a bunch of other Slytherin students. It’s nice, while they don’t all usually get along, the house loyalty between them is unmistakable.

Most of them are acutely aware of Y/N’s ‘Weasley Situation’ and while some of them give her pity looks, most of the younger girls have expressed their jealousy that she’s going with Adrian. This makes her laugh and shake her head and she often replies that boys aren’t all that and no boy is worth being jealous over. She feels like a wise mother almost, never wanting them to feel the way she’s felt the past few weeks.

Daphne and Y/N arrive at the Great Hall together, giggling about how bad Y/N is at walking in heels and placing bets on how quick they’re going to come off. While Daphne is counting her galleons in her purse to confirm the bet, Y/N catches a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. He looks so handsome, his dress robes a mixture of gold and black and she can’t help but think how well they’d go together. But when she looks at Angelina she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Angelina is stunning, and there’s no doubt about it. She’s in a floor-length dark purple gown that compliments her skin perfectly and Y/N thinks if Fred was going with anyone to the ball, she’s glad it’s Angelina.

Cassius and Adrian soon appear by the girls and take their arms into the Great Hall that’s been transformed to look like a winter wonderland. The roof tonight is bewitched to look like a winter, snowy day and Y/N can’t help but admire it. She’s grown up with magic her entire life, but she can’t help but constantly be amazed.

Adrian pulls a flask out of his dress robes jacket which makes Y/N snort and he smiles happily at her. Of course he snuck Firewhiskey into the Ball. The action reminds her of something Fred would do and she shakes her head, trying to get the boy out of her mind, tonight of all nights.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Adrian states as he takes a swig of the flask, and she feels her cheeks heat up. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t scrub up so badly either, Pucey.”

“A dance, m’lady?” He jokingly bows to Y/N and she smiles while she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. As Adrian twirls Y/N around the dance floor, albeit messily because neither of them paid attention in dance classes held by Snape of all people, she forgets about the redhead who’s stare is burning holes into the back of her head.

“You’re a shit date, y’know.” Angelina laughs and Fred’s broken out of his trance. “Shit, Angie, I’m so sorry.”

Angelina isn’t wrong. She’s a smart girl, and she’s well aware of Fred’s longing stares towards the Slytherin girl. “Did you know? That you wanted to go with her?” Angelina questions, out of sheer curiosity. Even she was shocked when Fred asked her, but she was too dumbfounded when he asked and with everyone watching at dinner, the pressure to say yes was immense but it was not worth all the pain and heartache she’s watched her two friends go through.

“At the time? No, definitely not. She’s…” He trails off as he tries to find the right words, “She’s always been there, y’know? I just assumed she’d be in my life forever and what we had was what we’d always be… It felt normal, like I didn’t feel the way I feel about her with you, or Katie or Alicia but it felt like that’s how you’re meant to feel about your girl best friend?”

He looks over at them again, and the gross feeling of jealousy rises in his throat. “But then she said yes to Pucey, and all I can think about is how no one should be holding her but me and that he'll walk her all the way back to her dorm tonight and probably kiss her and I feel like throwing up, and...” He pauses and looks at Angelina and the pity in her eyes is obvious. “And you don’t think about your best friend like this.”

Angelina watches in pity as Fred clearly drowns his sorrows in pumpkin juice and she drags him onto the dance floor. She’s not letting Fred have a bad night and she refuses to have one as well. Fred is one of her best friends, and even though she might not be the girl he wishes he was here with, she’s determined to cheer him up somehow.

Fred finally starts to have a good time when he spots George slyly leading Alicia out of the Great Hall and he loudly wolf whistles causing a red hue to form on both their cheeks and George to flip Fred the bird as they leave. Angelina spots Y/N grab her purse across the room while Fred’s distracted and she quietly leaves just after George and Alicia.

Alone.

“Y/N just left, Fred. Alone.” Fred’s confused why Angelina is telling him this when he looks over at Daphne and Adrian, who both look at him like ‘Go you fucking idiot’ and before he can even mutter a goodbye to his friends, he’s out the door almost as fast as George was.

He finds Y/N sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She’s looking up at the stars and Fred stars to recall last summer when she visited The Burrow. She spent all night trying to point out constellations to Fred and as he watches her mutter to herself, Fred wonders how he didn’t realise that they were in love this entire time.

He clears his throat, careful not to startle Y/N and when she turns Fred can see the hesitation in her face as she quickly goes to jump up and leave.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen the prime make-out spot of the night.” She awkwardly laughs but then quickly realises Fred is alone. “Nevermind… Where’s Angelina?”

Fred shrugs, and sits down on the bench she was sitting on originally. Y/N stands awkwardly before sitting down next to him. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s missed being close to him. The warmth that radiates off him despite it being the middle of winter causes her to shuffle just that slightly bit closer to him and Fred can’t help but smile.

“You look beautiful tonight. I know Adrian probably told you already, at least I hope he did, but you deserve to know.” Fred could feel himself rambling and he doesn’t miss the blush that rises across Y/N’s neck and cheeks. It’s the exact same blush that appears whenever he buys her chocolates and his heart soars.

“Thanks Freddie,” the nickname feels foreign on her tongue, “you look pretty handsome yourself. I hope Angelina told you.” She retaliates and Fred hates it. He hates the awkwardness between them. He wants nothing more to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but they feel like strangers.

“Thanks,” he laughs and Y/N looks at him confused. “Did you have a good night?”

“Can we not have this awkward small talk? I’m sure Angelina’s waiting for you somewhere.” Fred’s taken aback by her abruptness and stares at her for a few seconds. “What?” She asks when she notices Fred looking at her like she has nine heads.

“Angelina’s not waiting for me. Is Adrian waiting for you?” He asks but he doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and he truly doesn’t want to know if another man is waiting for her to sweep her off her feet and walk back to the Slytherin common room. But when she shakes her head, Fred lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I need to apologise.” He blurts out and Fred wants to smack himself in the head. This was not the romantic moment he had envisioned in his head as he followed her outside into the courtyard. “I need to apologise for a lot of things. Mostly, for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am, and also for not asking you to the ball and for ruining our friend-”

“You didn’t ruin our friendship.” She cuts him off but she doesn’t know what else to say. “You didn’t. I did, if anything.” Fred has to stop himself from starting an argument on who ruined the friendship but he wants to backtrack. Did Y/N just ignore him confessing his love to her?

“Well, I’m still sorry for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am?” He tries again sheepishly and Y/N gives him a double-take. She heard him the first time but she was convinced it was just her ears playing tricks on her or Fred being a menace. After all, this is Fred Weasley in front of her, he’s always looking for a joke and as she’s about to accuse him of pulling a sick, twisted prank on her, she looks at him properly.

And he’s looking as serious as he did the day he told her he plans to open a joke shop with George after they graduate.

“You’re in love with me?” She asks quietly and her heart is racing again. She thinks back to the day she accidentally confessed to Fred and how she’s spent the last few weeks trying to fall out of love with him just for him to admit he’s fallen in love with her. “Fred, if this is some sick and twisted joke I will never forgive you.”

Fred almost looks hurt at this, that she thinks he’s capable of something that cruel. So instead of speaking, he softly cups her face in both his hands and runs his thumbs across her cheekbones in a loving manner. He looks her directly in the eyes and Y/N doesn’t think she’s breathed in the last 30 seconds.

She’s been craving being this close to Fred for as long as she can remember. Their lingering touches were never this intimate and right now, she feels like she can look into Fred’s eyes and see into his core, his soul. And he can do the same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, and Y/N gasps before nodding, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers.

As he leans in his eyes flutter close, as do her’s. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people in her life, but nothing could ever compare to the way she feels right now. The love and adoration Fred is pouring into this kiss almost brings tears to her eyes and she can only hope he can feel the love and adoration she has for him back.

Their lips move in perfect synchrony, neither of them pushing each other too far, but when Y/N drags her fingers through Fred’s hair and he lets out a groan, she can’t help but pull away and giggle.

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.” Fred’s arms are now wrapped around her middle and he’s leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Now he has her in his arms, he’s never letting her go.

“I’ve missed having you make me laugh, Freddie.” She says sincerely and it’s Fred’s turn to blush. He knows they need to eventually leave their little bubble of happiness they finally have but he doesn’t want too. But he knows they need to talk about what happened, about them, what they are and Fred so desperately hopes this means Y/N is his.

She senses Fred’s thinking and she looks up at him, doe-eyed and innocent and Fred’s heart melts.

“Stop overthinking.” She mutters, running her hand through his long hair again and Fred almost looks like a cat purring as he feels her fingernails rake across his scalp and he leans into her touch. “Can’t help it. Don’t want to lose you again.”

Her heart pounds, this is all she’s ever wanted to hear and now she wants to hear it every single day. So she tells him exactly that.

“I’m yours, Freddie. As long as you’re mine? If you don’t know what you want it’s okay, I promise we can take it slow-” Fred cuts her off, laughing as he kisses her again and he feels how warm Y/N’s cheeks are, as she blushes over Fred silencing her with a kiss. When he pulls back, her face is flush, her hair is falling out of her bun. It reminds Fred of that day in the library, except this time, the happiness in her face is unmistakably there, and finally he’s the cause of it.

“Of course, I’m yours, darling. I’m never letting you go.”

Late the next morning, when Y/N is trying her best to sneak out of the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory with a dark purple hickey adorning her neck, she spots three 4th years whose names she doesn’t even know, giving Ron Weasley five galleons.

Ron sees her, and smirks. “My bet was at the ball. Thanks, Y/N, you and Freddie boy have made me a very rich man.”

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#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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Title: coward :: epilogue Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, heavy mentions of abortion, and brief mentions of trauma

notes:

we’ve finally reached it guys! the end :”> this story has been one of the things i’m very much proud of. From this chapter onwards, it’s all just fluff and well Atsumu and Y/N content. thank you for sticking around despite the slow burns and see you on the side stories and the drabbles. ill be accepting eight drabbles for this story and it’ll be open after all the side stories are complete, uwu.

previous masterlist [ ss;; one, two, three, four ]

“...I wonder how you put them to bed.”

“They usually sleep immediately after I give them a glass of milk.” You blinked, looking up from your paperwork, “Did they give you a hard time again?”

“They chunked a pillow at me and that started a pillow fight.”

Soft laughter filled the room and Atsumu felt his heart soften at the sound of that, such a beautiful laugh you had.

It’s been a year since that confrontation but it feels so surreal whenever he wakes up to see you lying next to him, snuggled on his chest or the kids suddenly barging into the room to catapult themselves to bed with you two.

Him, you, children.

A family.

“Are you not going to sleep yet?”

“No,” You breathed, shifting through paper works,“I have to finish this if I want to watch your game next week.”

“Can I lay on your lap then?”

“We have a very big bed.” You deadpanned, you were still stoic and blank as ever but comparing to before, you were more open to him with your emotions and thoughts. Albeit, he didn’t know much about why you ran away - Daiki says to give you some time - or what happened with your family, he doesn’t mind because he promised he’d wait and be patient with you.

Atsumu even suggests that if you can’t talk to him about it, he’d willingly look for good psychiatrists around the area to help with your trauma. The sessions seem to be going well so far, albeit it was slow, you were finally taking the proper steps to heal.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Atsumu grinned childishly and situated himself on your lap. Unknowingly, you’d start playing with his hair. He suddenly feels like he’s about to doze off by the domestic gesture and the familiar sound of your breathing but he is immediately awoken by the small voice of yours.

“Do you want to know why I never introduced you to my family?” you suddenly asked, his eyes slowly turned towards you yet you continue to play with his hair nonchalantly as if you weren’t talking about a heavy topic, “Our situation was a lot like my parents. I was born when my okaasan was in the middle of studying medicine and my otosan was a law student.”

Atsumu remains quiet as he listens to your story.

“They were both from very rich families with promising futures, they dated, they were happy until I happened…” You paused, continuing to play with his hair, “Okaasan wasn’t able to finish her course and she got depressed because of that, her family had turned her back on her. So she begged otosan to marry her even if he didn’t want to so that she could finish her degree and return to her family.”

You continue your story; telling him everything about how your father fell out of love with your mother, how scared you were of your mother growing up, how she quit being a doctor because she was an alcoholic and almost sued for drinking on the job, and how you came to the realization that you weren’t supposed to be born when you were only eight years old, “...that night we met at the frat party was the day of my otosan’s wedding to his mistress, they had called out how the previous wedding and me was a mistake as a joke but it still kind of stinged.” You confessed, “I didn’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you that night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, comforting even and it made you smile because despite his rather loud attitude, he understood you very well and was very patient with you.

He’s empathetic and it makes you wonder why you even ran away in the first place, maybe Daiki was right that night seven years ago, maybe you should’ve told him and stayed with him.

“Whenever I was with you back then, you didn’t make me feel that way so I didn’t want to spoil it or destroy that feeling. I didn’t want you to see me in that light.” You divulged, recalling the memories you had with him, “I felt like I was supposed to be there with you. You were a reminder that it was alright to be alive. That I wasn’t a mistake.”

Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes it all in.

Atsumu takes a hold of your hand that’s playing with his hair and gives it a comforting peck, “Was that also why you couldn’t tell me back then that you were pregnant?”

“You were being scouted for the jackals that time and I was scared we’d end up like my parents because I disrupted your dreams.” You ran your hands through his hair again, playing with the blonde strands, “I didn’t want the kids yet at the same time I couldn’t abort them because they were yours.It was very confusing.”

“Would you...Would you have pushed through with it? With the abortion?”

“Probably.” you blinked, recalling that moment you were at the clinic,you recalled the feeling of nervousness as you waited for them to call your name, “With the past I had, I doubt I would’ve made a good mother. Would you have hated me if I had done it?”

“No. I don’t think I would.I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love those brats, I love this family but at the end of the day, it would’ve been your choice.” He replies softly, drawing small circles on your hands, “It would’ve been better if you went up to me and told me though, at least I would’ve been there.”

“Well, in the end, I didn’t push through. I couldn’t do it. They were yours as much as they were mine and I couldn’t let that go after breaking off with you.” you paused, “I also told myself that they’d never feel that way, that they’d never feel as if they were born out of a mistake.”

“And you did a damn good job at it.” He complimented, “You placed your own okaasan to shame.”

“You placed my otosan to shame too…” You smiled softly, suddenly a question popped in your head, you might as well ask it now since the timing seemed to be better than ever, “Would you like to get married?”

Atsumu’s eyes immediately widen at what you said and he sits up, “What the hell, Y/N? I should be the one asking that!” He loudly exclaims and you cover his mouth to muffle his voice.

“The kids are asleep.” You choke back a laughter, shushing him, “And I think it should be me the one who should ask for your hand, after all the shit I put you through-”

The blonde setter takes your hands off his mouth and cuts you off, “First of all, that was my choice. Second of all, how many times do I have to tell you that we were both at fault there? We’re doing a damn good job now. Mind you,” he immediately scrambles out of the bed right after before you could say anything else and looks through his sock dresser, he takes out a small box and your eyes widen, is that what you thought it was?

“I was supposed to give it to you when I officially got in the jackals back then.” Atsumu sheepishly confessed, “I couldn’t throw it away after you left, it was the little hope I guess that you’d come back. I mean, I’ll get you a new one now since i got-”

“I didn’t think you were the sappy type.” You glazed, cutting him off, completely enamored by the gesture, “You’re very cheesy.”

“Only to you.”

You scrunch your nose, faking a disgusted look but Atsumu knows better than that and just crawls back in your arms and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips that you reciprocate almost immediately. It’s slow, languid, and passionate. Something people wouldn’t expect from someone like him.

“Don’t bother buying a new one, I think I like this one better.” You smiled, pulling away as you hold out your hand in which he happily puts on the simple band. He looks into your eyes again, the eyes he loved looking at since he was nineteen. The eyes that were filled with so much emotion that it always contrasted your face that was void of emotions. The same eyes that he dreamed his kids (and they did) to have when he asked you that one night if you wanted to have a family.

“I’m in love with you.” you break the silence.

You never said those words out loud before to him but hearing it now, after all that you’ve both been through. It’s worth it.

He’d do it all again just to be in this moment.

“I’m very much in love with you too.” He grins, leaning back in for another kiss.

Finally…

Finally he was able to catch up with you.

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm and thank you once again, coward wouldn’t be possible without all you people + other readers]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ; @demursv1ogs ; @just-snog-already ; @angmarwitch ; @angmarwitch ; @simpingonothers ; @woo-youngs ; @cowward ; @chaelysian ; @sempiternal-amour ; @jungshookmeup ; @jovialnoise ; @karlitabi-rrito ; @iwaizluv ; @sugarandsoft ; @tspice283 ; @ohshirabu ; @syzygymai ; @volleybloop ; @oikaw-ugh ; @pockytokyo ; @differentballooncollection ; @keniloveshaikyuu ; @turquoiselace ; @playboygeniusphilanthropist ; @keijislut ;

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @allysasteaparty @mikaashi @brownie0food @ph10xy @Chocolaterumble [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#coward series #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyu angst #miya atsumu angst #atsumu x you #atsumu angst

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rose7420 · 4 years ago

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Use Your Words

A request from @lokiismyhubby

Summary: Loki feels down and Y/N decides she wants to help him out

Warnings: Selectively Mute reader

Y/N sat with Peter Parker, listening to him as he rambled on about his homework and complained about how much he had to do of it, instead of just doing it. Even though Peter could be kind of annoying sometimes Y/N loved to be near him. He was the only human so far that had proved to be worthy of her trust. He was a gentle giant and showed her tenderness and care when he provided her company. He even went out of his way to gather her food and certain supplies to help her out, erasing the risk of her being caught by another human.

Y/N knew Peter didn’t have to do all of these things but he still chose to and that made y/n feel good because she knew someone out there cared for her wellbeing. Out of impulse, she stepped up to Peter’s wrist that held a pencil and hugged it.

“Woah there… You good pipsqueak?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow in curiousness. Y/N nodded her head wordlessly. She didn’t like to speak much.

She had lost her parents at a young age and her kind called borrowers lived in small, distanced packs, making it hard to find people to share a life with. After she had lost everyone close to her there had been no reason to speak and communicate with others. Peter was the first person she had talked to in five years. When she first spoke to him her voice had been rough and she didn’t want to admit she had lost the confidence to actually speak. All of her memory of language had practically withered away in her head, making it hard to remember how to pronounce some words. Peter had only questioned once why she didn’t speak to him. He was worried she was frightened of him but she assured him that wasn’t the problem with an exaggeration of her hands and a written note. Peter hadn’t questioned her after that and only spoke to her with no expectations of her responding.

She released his wrist and smiled brightly up towards him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling good today. But I think something has made Loki feel bad these last weeks. Would you know why?” Peter asks, resting his head upon his hand to see her better. Y/n shakes her head.

“Well if you have any free time, you mind using those amazing spy skills for me? I’m worried about him, he won’t talk to me?” He patted her head with a finger.

Y/n nodded, anxious to see Loki for the first time. She had never come across the god since her arrival at the tower.

Y/n sat on a shelf in Loki’s room watching his daily life. He led a rather peaceful but boring routine. Reading late at night and early in the morning, practicing his impressive magical abilities, and occasionally eating a meal. Y/n was about to stand and leave, ready to tell Peter that he was probably sad because he did nothing during the day when the door opened. In Thor walked, one of the biggest people she’d ever seen, and that was saying something.

“Brother, why don’t you just leave this room? There are plenty of things to do.” Thor said to Loki.

“Leave so I can hear you all blabber on of how wretched of a person I am? My life may be spent in solitude but perhaps I like it like that.” Loki retorted snarkily.

“If you stay in here, your chances of being liked will increase no more. “Thor said stepping towards Loki.

“So you admit it? The mortals of this tower do not want me here.” Loki said, anger lashing his voice.

“I don’t blame them, brother. You’re wasting away in this existence you call a life. Mother would be disappointed.” Thor said, his voice going soft to lessen the blow at the end.

Despite Thor’s gentility, Loki still became furious.

“Get out,” Loki said with a scary calm. Thor respected his wishes and walked out. But Y/n stayed, thinking she had just found the reason for Loki’s sadness.

As the days went by Y/n hid well and listened to the others’ Avengers conversations. Most of them as she’d thought spoke terribly of Loki. Remorse became heavy in her heart and she vowed to make Loki feel better. Since Peter had been there for her she figured it was time for her to be there for someone else.

She crept onto Peter’s desk and broke the lead off the pencil quietly. She checked to make sure he was still asleep and began writing.

Dear Mr. Loki,

I am sorry you feel so bad. I know people can be mean but I think your feelings are valid. If it was me I wouldn’t want to hear about what people think of me either. But I think you are very kind and generous. I hope this helps.

-Your friend

Y/n set out the next night to give the letter to Loki. Her handwritten letter was strapped to her back, easily accessible to her reach. The floor was mute under her imperceptible footsteps. She climbed the towering, unstable wall of Loki’s silk, black bedsheets which was a hard task as the sheets slipped from her grip a couple of times sending her heart to beat out of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the top. Her breaths were heavy and she struggled to keep them quiet. Approaching Loki’s open, pale outstretched palm she retrieved the letter from behind her back. The paper was bigger than her upper half when folded together and heavy enough that she couldn’t place it upon his palm using only her arms to boost it to the surface. Which meant that she would have to climb into his hand.

Oh, how she wanted to turn around, climb down the bed and run to her safe, warm home inside the wall.

But she refused to give up when she had come so far.

And he needed someone to be there for him.

She delicately climbed into his palm, with the letter strapped to her back carefully placing her feet in non-ticklish places. One twitch of his hand would send her flying onto the covers, or worse off the bed itself. She shivered at the thought. Finding a good place to leave the letter she bends down.

Then a powerful, immense weight falls upon her sending darkness to coat her vision. She falls to her butt as vertigo hits.

“What are you doing?” A booming voice demands.

She trembles in fear, covering her head with her arms. I knew I should’ve just gone away. What will he do?

“I asked you a question?” The voice is angry. A light is turned on allowing her sight of her captor.

She dares to look up and is met with the rage of Loki Laufeyson. She shakes her head in reluctance to answer.

“What is this?” He roughly nudges her away from the note she holds in her arms causing her to fall onto her back with a squeak of fear. She holds onto the slip of paper for security but his strength overpowers hers greatly. His eyes squint in concentration as he reads the small handwriting.

“Did you write this?” He asks returning his focus upon her trembling form.

She nods hesitantly.

“Truly?”

Another nod.

“You don’t speak much do you Little Miss, do you?” He asks with a hint of a smile, his tone is much softer.

She shakes her head. Y/n clutches her arms across her chest, scooting back further from his face.

“Did I frighten you?” Loki suggests his eyes gentle voice guilty.

She nods, her eyes wide studying him for any ill intent.

“I apologize. I have a few trust issues. “

She says nothing and only stares at him with distrust.

“How did you know what the others were saying about me?” Loki asks raising her to meet his eyes. Even through her apprehension, she notices how beautiful they are. How his irises cannot seem to decide on a cool blue or a rainforest green.

She doesn’t try to answer his question, from the fear of speaking and the trepidation of angering him with her words.

“Okay, well I will wait until you’re ready to tell me. For now, I’ll let you go.” He stands up from his bed and releases her onto the hardwood floor. He stays crouched even as she slips off his long fingers. Taking a few cautious steps away from his looming form she is frankly surprised he is letting her go. She supposes that is a good sign. Maybe she will come back to him despite her previous scare.

“Don’t be a stranger.” His voice calls out almost wistfully.

Next week…

Y/n finds herself in a vent located in Loki’s room. This past week she’d felt guilty for leaving Loki in such a dreadful, sad state. So her final decision was to come back. She watched as Loki sat reading in an armchair on the other side of the room. He looked regal and imposing from far away, with his head bent down in concentration, long legs spread outward and she could only imagine how intimidating he must look up close. Her legs shook as she dropped to the floor below with no sound to alert Loki of her presence. Scurrying to his chair she stopped by his black boot. Even this simple apparel dwarfed her, able to serve as her sufficient sleeping quarters.

If you want to turn back now’s the time. She said to herself.

The enormous, unaware boot shifted closer to her and she let out a squeak, scampering back.

“It’s you again Little Miss.”

She craned her head all the way up and saw Loki staring down at her. His black hair hung down around his face. His hand reached for her and pinched her waist carefully, lifting her up to bring in front of his eyes. The pressure on her waist was gentle but still made her fearful.

She kicked her legs in search of a non-reachable floor. Loki noticed her apprehension and set her down in his other palm.

“Is that better?” He ducked his head down to meet her eye.

She nodded.

“Still not talking are we?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that’ll be fine. Would you care for me to read to you?” He asked kindly.

His offer was so kind and thoughtful. One that didn’t seem right for a simple nod in answer.

“Y-yes p-please.” She stumbled.

Loki grinned and set her upon his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to do so high up and close to his person. Thankfully Loki caught onto this with his quick perception.

“Sit right here Little One.” He tapped right beside his neck and held still as she walked to the pointed area. Sitting down, she dared to lean a bit of her weight against his neck. She was instantly met with warmth and the gentle pounding of his pulse. When he started reading his smooth voice vibrated her minutely.

After a while, Y/n started becoming sleepy from the comfortableness of her position. Loki stopped reading.

“You know Little Miss, I think you have a lovely voice… perhaps you should use it more often.”

Y/n pondered these words in her sleepy mind.

Maybe she would heed his advice, but for now, she would sleep.

#loki #giant loki #tiny reader #borrower #selectively mute

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minniepetals · 5 years ago

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Rose & Thorns: 07

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst / fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 7.5k

— warnings: hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Prince Taehyung? If you're the head of the nursery nest, how are you able to take care of me?"

"Because this is my part time job," the dragon told you while mixing herbs with a light spirit. "I've always had the tough decision to choose between watching over the whelps or being able to heal my whole clan which are both an honor to do but in the end I chose to be a guardian of the little ones."

"Really?" You stared in fascination from where you sat on the bed. "What made you choose the whelps?"

"Baby dragons are adorable, dear Y/N," he laughed cutely. "Kinda like you."

You blinked, not expecting such a bold comment as your face began heating up. "L-like me?"

"Yup," Taehyung nodded as if it wasn't uncommon to say such a thing.

"But, how?" You asked, even more flustered because he was so casual about it. "I thought baby dragons aren't able to transform into their human forms until they've aged into a more mature age."

"They can't but they're still cute and you're cute too so they remind me of you."

Cute.

He was probably the first person to ever compliment your looks — well, Jinyoung did it before but he was rude about, someone you didn't really feel comfortable to hear words out of. Yet with Taehyung, you felt more at ease hearing the compliment coming out from his mouth.

"Hey, when you get better, want to come visit the roosts with me? They'll love you, I just know it."

Though flattered, you tilted your head in confusion at the excited boy. "How would you know?"

"No one is born with hate, dear Y/N," Taehyung told you with a voice that was calmer and sincere, "we only learn to hate because the people around us has taught us to do so. Maybe that's why you only love."

Love.

"Your parents must have been the sweetest, huh? To raise such a sweet child who doesn't know how to hate?"

You smiled at his soft words as you looked down at your hands. "They had...the sweetest love for one another," you remembered. "Mother had always been ill but she risked her health even more by giving birth to me. Father never gave up hope though, he was always there for the both of us. They've always taught me to look on the bright side to things, to people, and know that if there's a dark side, there is always going to be light. Like the moon. Father left us sooner than we expected but even then Mother never lost sight of her love and hope for me. I always blamed myself for making her health worse but she's always told me that I was a gift and that the world will one day reward me if I continued being kind and gentle."

"And you believed her."

"Of course." You smiled. "One day the world will see," a sigh left you, "hopefully."

"It will." You hadn't realized Taehyung had gotten up from his spot to walk on over to you until he took your hands into his larger ones, stroking it with such gentleness. "One day you'll find happiness and people who will give you the same amount of love as you have given the world."

"You really think so?" You asked him with bits of doubts, unsure and worried, timid and afraid.

Taehyung gave you a sweet smile as he squeezed your hands. "I know so."

When he looked at you, he could see a beautiful rose waiting to bloom. The rain had already given you enough of itself, now you just needed light in your life in order to grow from your budding state.

"One day, Y/N, one day soon."

"Jungkook?" You called upon his name softly, gently, a soothing voice he wanted to hear forever. Was it wrong to want to hold you? Was it wrong to want to take all your pains away so that you could never understand what hurting meant? Was it wrong to want to love you?

His eyes continued gazing out from the balcony, watching his clan from below while he replied with a soft hum. He loved his mates, loved ruling the clan alongside them, so perhaps it was indeed wrong to want another by his side when he already had six. Jungkook felt so selfish but a part of him didn't want to admit to his wrongdoings, didn't want to admit that the feelings he felt for you were wrong.

He didn't want for it to be wrong.

You deserved someone to love you in turn for the world's forsaken kindness and he wanted to be that person — or maybe one of them?

Was that wrong? For him to want his hyungs to see what he saw in you so that they wouldn't hurt if he ever did confessed the things he felt for you to them? He knew he could never confess to you, not before letting his hyungs know and getting their permission. They mattered as much as you did.

"You're lucky, you know."

"How so?" He asked.

"To have a love so sweet and beautiful," you breathed. "I don't think I've ever seen such a love so pure. Your hyungs all care about you, the same way you worry and care for them. It's something many will envy, you know, you should never lose that love."

Jungkook knew his love was pure, always knew he'd never want to leave any of his hyungs and would want to spend all of his life with them by his side. "Really?" yet he asked, curious for how you perceived their relationship in your eyes.

You nodded. "You'd do anything for them, wouldn't you?"

"I would," he confirmed.

Your gaze fell with a genuine smile, a little envious of the beautiful love but more happy for him than anything. He deserved such a love, they all did. Your hand reached up to trace along the scar that held just slightly away from your heart, an arrow you had taken because you saved Jungkook and brought him back to his home.

And now? Perhaps now it was your turn to find your own home.

"When I am all healed and can walk on my own without support of another, I am planning on taking my leave from this clan."

Jungkook's head was quick to snap your way and you almost flinched at the abrupt moment. His eyes widened, brows a little furrowed as if he couldn't believe what you had just said. "What?" He asked, words a little too soft, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid he heard it right.

But you sent him a smile despite the fear in his eyes, despite the little stab in your heart and a little moment of relief from the way he looked as if hurt to hear you wanted to leave. You felt glad for just a moment. "Home isn't a specific destination, it's where your heart lies, where you feel safe, loved and protected. You've found that within the arms of the other princes, and I have yet to find my own but I don't believe my home lies here."

Why not, he almost said it aloud.

Almost.

But he had almost forgotten that you weren't his, you didn't love him in the same way he was falling for you. He had almost forgotten that if he were to ask those two words, he'd sound desperate and you'd wonder why. You wanted your own home and you didn't feel it through him or anyone in the clan.

If he were to ask the question aloud, it'd be an even more selfish wish upon wanting you to stay despite the fact that he knew he couldn't have you.

So knowing that, knowing he couldn't keep you forever even if it meant just watching you from afar in hopes of your heart being his, he let his head process the whole thing, nodding slowly though reluctantly.

"I see," was all he could utter out in a low whisper.

Deep down, he hated it, he didn't want to accept it.

But he had to.

"What's wrong?"

Yet no matter how easy it was to hide his feelings from you, it could never go past the ones that did loved him back, the ones that had known him for much, much longer.

"Nothing," he tried to say.

"You're lying, Jungkook," Seokjin said with eyes that grew with more concern because they had set a promise to tell each other everything and Jungkook, out of them all, wasn't one to break promises.

They all watched their youngest lover while he stared into an empty space, past the plate of food that hadn't been touched since dinner started.

Jungkook wanted to show them that he was okay, he didn't want to hurt them because of the things he felt for you, but he knew that he was going to have to tell them the truth one day. But did it have to come so fast? Was there really a need to tell them so soon? He didn't want to.

But they weren't going to have him going to bed restless with that frown on his face, not without a talk first.

He didn't want to talk. Yet he knew he had to.

And for that, his heart fell. "I'm sorry," he breathed almost inaudibly before swallowing a big lump that rested in this throat and blinked quickly at the tears that threatened to escape.

He stood up from his seat, ignoring the concern in his hyung's voices as they called after him. Jungkook kept walking away, not wanting them to see his tears though he knew fully well that he could never hide from his mates. They knew him more than anyone, loved him more than the universe itself.

But the thought of speaking up and inevitably hurting them even further than he had already done so, Jungkook didn't want to face them just yet, he didn't want to be selfish.

"Jungkook?" The eldest called upon his name softly while his heart dropped at the sight of Jungkook in the bedroom, curled up in one of the corners as he tried his best not to cry while hugging his knees. He looked so weak, so vulnerable and the sight was enough for them all to want to do absolutely anything to make their youngest mate smile again.

"It's Y/N, isn't it?" Namjoon guessed, his voice gentle as he tried his best to assure Jungkook that just the name alone wasn't going to make him resent anything. Weeks before, he would have hated it, but after your sacrifice, Namjoon couldn't bring himself to hate you even if he wanted to.

He didn't want to now.

"I'm so sorry," the youngest prince squeaked. So, so scared. Afraid not just for them but for his own feelings that had kept growing and growing. He didn't know whether to feel guilty or not. Jungkook didn't know what to do at all.

Jimin began to hush him gently as he took a seat beside him, placing his young mate's head against his chest. "We're not upset at you, Jungkookie," he reassured. "What are you worried about, hm?"

He cried into Jimin's chest, the sounds echoing into the room which broke their hearts. "She says...says she's going to..-to leave after she heals." A few minor hiccups. "And I don't want her to leave. I don't want Y/N to leave. She saved my life."

"And she saved mine," Namjoon nodded, acknowledging the fact with a soft understanding. But as he knelt in front of Jungkook and took his hands into his, Namjoon squeezed it with a tight smile on his face. "But this is her choice, Jungkook, we can't make the decision for her."

"I-I know but..-"

He knew, knew more than anyone that he'd rather let you leave in peace and with a smile rather than to stay in the clan feeling like you'd never belong. You wanted to find a place that would accept you, a place that would love you just as you had loved the world. And maybe that'd take a while, not because of you, but because people had yet to understand of your true pure nature.

But ever since learning the fact that your former village had never liked you, Jungkook always wanted to protect you despite the position he was in. You became the keeper of the dragon, the keeper of him. You kept him company, spoke of stories after stories so that he didn't have to be alone in that cave, brought him food each morning, stole blankets to keep him warm, and risked your own life to help him escape so that he could return home.

The scar left upon your left chest, a scar that will always remain no matter how much time will pass, will always remind him of what you have done for him.

He felt so, so guilty. He loved you yet he felt so useless and unworthy of loving you. You saved him yet what had he done for you? He couldn't protect you from when his hyungs had once hated you to such an extent, he couldn't make you feel better when you were left trapped in the dungeons. It was Jimin who had helped you out. And he hadn't been there to protect you when you fell from that cliff along with Namjoon, left to only destroy himself over the fact that he couldn't do anything.

"Why can't I be the one to save her just as she had done for me?" Jungkook asked in a small weak voice and Namjoon's eyes fell.

You were always the one on the hurting end, the one to sacrifice your own happiness for someone else's.

"I want to save her too, hyung."

But would you let him?

"Oh, you're um, up early."

You looked over at the sound of Hoseok's voice and found the dragon flying just a few feet away, surprised you were up earlier than the sun. He looked like a beautiful creature from where you stood, golden eyes similar to that of Jungkook's, contrasting Seokjin who held the eyes of the moon.

You wondered what colors the others held.

"I can say the same thing to you, prince Hoseok."

He smiled with his head beckoning over towards the higher grounds of the mountain leading outside. "I'm in charge of the early patrol this morning, gotta be extra early to get ready. And you?"

You hesitated for a moment before replying. "I couldn't sleep well the night before."

"Why's that?" He asked and you gave a light shrug.

"I guess I had too much to think about last night."

Hoseok fell silent for a moment as he thought back to Jungkook who couldn't sleep as well because even the thought of you leaving had broken their youngest mate's heart. A part of him wanted to understand what the feelings were, but another part of him felt conflicted because he didn't understand.

And what about the others?

He could see it in Jimin, the soft care he had for you, taking in everything he learned about you and holding that dear to his heart. Seokjin grew a soft spot for you too, he could tell. He was no longer grumpy about having to take care of you and most days he'd willingly take over Taehyung's nursing for you when Namjoon wasn't in much of need. And Namjoon was beginning to care as well. After you saved him and he held you close while you finally broke down for the first time, you also became a soft spot for him.

The rest of them, him, Taehyung, and Yoongi had yet to figure it out but something told him it wasn't going to be hard.

"Thinking can be good but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. Clear your mind, Y/N, be at peace." You stared at him with confusion as if you didn't know how to do that. A light chuckle escaped his lips. "I know a great way to take your mind off of things."

"What's that?"

"I'll show you," Hoseok offered. "It's right on the highest point of the mountain but don't worry, we don't have to venture any further than that." He could tell you were still afraid and in fear after the attack. "Want to come with me?"

You hesitated for a moment but then thinking about it, you guessed being left by yourself all the time wasn't at all a good thing and perhaps Hoseok would be able to get your mind off of things so you nodded at the prince. "May I?"

He smiled sweetly. "Climb on."

It was a little more difficult than not having someone else hold you while you got on a dragon's back but you made it towards the highest point of the mountain nonetheless.

When you got down from his back, you walked cautiously towards the edge of the mountain, staring in awe at the sight in front of you. It was as beautiful and exciting as when you were with Seokjin and it felt like you were on top of the world. The Earth was vast and fascinating in ways you could never find the right words to describe, but in your heart, you felt like owning it all.

The love and divine land of Earth.

From where you stood beside Hoseok who had already shifted back to his dragon form, your eyes could only focus on the sun breaking through the endless white clouds, its streaks stretching onto the vast land and gifting the earth with its mesmerizing bright yellow and orange rays.

"You're so lucky," you told the man beside you. He tilted his head just slightly and you answer his unspoken question. "The world is so much more beautiful when you're looking from the sky. I've always only lived looking at the Earth from the grounds and though it can be beautiful in its own way, it's nothing compared to this sight you get to witness everyday."

Hoseok smiled. "Having wings has its benefits," he said, nodding, "but it's nothing if you can't share it with the ones you love."

"Hence you are even more lucky for that."

Hoseok was silent for a moment, eyes only focused on the view in front of him but his mind consisted of you. "Where will you go, Y/N?" He asked and you look away from the view for a brief moment.

"I don't know," you admitted, "but the world is vast. I'm sure I'll belong somewhere."

"What if you belonged here?"

You smiled softly. "I wouldn't mind. But I'm a human."

"So what?"

"It's tiring, prince Hoseok."

He looked at you. "What's tiring?"

You sat yourself down on the ground and he followed, eyes never straying from you. "Everything, Hoseok," you told him. "I'm so tired."

And you did looked tired. Not like the tiredness where all you had to do was take a nice good rest — though that would be ideal too — but the kind of tiredness that left you deprived of energy and love. You were tired of keeping up, trying to prove to others of your worth, and a part of him knew that it was partly their fault.

You were just another person capable of anything they were, yet because of stigmas and the way dragons and humans didn't naturally get along, you were hated for a reason no one had yet to find out. You were kind and gentle, soft and sweet. You saved their youngest prince when you didn't have to. You betrayed your own kinds for a dragon that felt more human to you than anyone else you've met back in that village. Yet even after all that sacrifice, you still had to face discrimination and loneliness that you didn't deserve of.

"Come here," was what Hoseok said in response. You looked over at him with some confusion while he gestured for you to scoot in closer to him, patting at his lap. "Rest, Y/N."

You hesitated. "You're a prince."

"That's only a title," he insisted. "Now come."

You shifted towards him and slowly laid your head against his lap. Before long, you felt soft, long fingers running along your hair and the soothing touches were beginning to make your eyes droopy. Hoseok did that often to the younger ones when they felt uneasy and just needed time to stop everything and rest. He was used to it, to taking care of others when they needed it most and always being able to tell.

The two of you remained there in silence but you didn't mind it. There was no need for exchange of words, his actions alone told you that he wanted to make it better for you, to make things easier and that you could always rely on him if you needed.

Hoseok knew he should have already gotten ready for the morning patrol but right there in that moment with you, he also understood that it was far more important to keep you company. Maybe the others will be alarmed when they figured their patrol leader wasn't going to show up, or find you missing from the medicine nest. But for the time being, all he cared about was letting you have your rest.

"Is Y/N with you?" Taehyung asked the moment Jungkook flew in and transformed himself back into a human.

The maknae's brows furrowed with alarm. "Why would she be with me? Where is she?"

"I-I don't know," the older man quickly began to panic. "I thought that if she wasn't here, the first option would be that she'd be with you."

"Have you checked with the others?"

"No."

"Hoseok's missing too. He hasn't shown up to the morning patrol," Jungkook quickly informed before returning to his dragon form and flying out.

Taehyung spat out a curse as he followed his younger mate from just behind, both heading towards the castle to see if the others had seen the two of you. Yet when they both realized that the others had also not seen you nor Hoseok around, it only worried them further.

"Maybe they're out together," Jimin tried to suggest.

"That early?"

He shrugged when Jungkook doubted.

"He's supposed to be out for the morning patrol."

"Maybe it was an emergency and Y/N needed some fresh air, let's not panic alright?" Namjoon said, stepping up to try and calm things down.

"Hoseok won't leave the mountain right before a patrol even for something like that," Yoongi pointed out as he thought about it. He knew Hoseok a little more than the rest because they grew up together, as close as soulmates could be. Kind of similar to the relationship between Jimin and Taehyung.

So he also shared something with Hoseok, a place they often went to when they needed to take a break — or in this case, for you to take a break.

Perhaps Hoseok had brought you there.

"You look like you know where they might be," Seokjin interpreted and with a light nod and a glance Jimin's way, he sped off in his dragon form.

"I thought you might be here," Yoongi noted the second he flew down and returned to his human form, finding you lying against Hoseok's lap. He kept his voice low (though it wasn't with much effort because Yoongi was usually quiet), and looked at the two of you. "Is she alright?" He asked and Hoseok shrugged lightly.

"She's tired," he stated. "Tired of many things."

"I would be too," Yoongi nodded. "It's surprising she's held on for this long."

"She's used to it, I guess." Hoseok's eyes fell down to your form, watching you with a soft gaze as you breathed in with a slow pace, clearly deep in the sleep that you needed. "It's sad, isn't it? Knowing that we were one of the reasons to cause her distress?"

"We can change, Hoseok," Yoongi told him, "it isn't too late."

It wasn't too late.

Nothing was ever too late, for Yoongi knew that it was better to be late than never so when Hoseok looked up and their eyes met, a mutual gaze of understanding tied them together like soulmates and Hoseok smiled.

"You set off a panic, by the way."

He raised a brow. "Did I now?"

Yoongi chuckled and Hoseok joined in just imagining the maknae line worrying over nothing too serious. "You can apologize later, just head to your morning patrol. I'll take Y/N back," Yoongi offered and when Hoseok nodded, the older man kneeled down next to you, joining Hoseok in waking you up.

"Hey, little one," the younger one cooed as he lightly brushed his finger against the tip of your nose. Your face scrunched up cutely and they chuckled at your little whines of protest. "Time to wake up."

You opened an eye, frowning with an adorable pout. "You can sleep some more when we return to the nest," Yoongi informed and you look between him and Hoseok in confusion. "Hoseok has a morning patrol," he answered your unspoken question.

"I'll be back, don't worry."

Why did everything feel so soft all of a sudden?

Just minutes before when Hoseok had first approached you you weren't feeling all that great, thoughts running all over the place while your heart weighed heavily against your chest. Everything felt overwhelming but now? With both Yoongi and Hoseok there, something about their presence made it better.

You couldn't pinpoint why but you liked it. A lot.

"Come on," Yoongi encouraged and picked you up in his arms. Still sort of half asleep, you took advantage of your hazy thoughts to snuggle in close to him.

It felt wrong yet so right at the same time and Yoongi only held you closer. You couldn't remember ever seeing Yoongi acting gentle towards you before but it was fine. More than fine. And you liked it.

Liked it a lot.

And when he brought you back, the only thing you could remember — besides his gentle hold — was the bright moon that held his dragon eyes.

"They're going to love you so much!"

When you asked Taehyung to meet the whelps, he had been so excited to let you visit the nursery nest where all the baby dragons resided, yet there was one thing he was certainly not prepared for.

The overwhelming cuteness overload due to the combination of you and the babies.

All you did was say hi to a little baby dragon just four years of age and the next thing you knew, the remaining whelps were quick to surround you at all sides and Taehyung watched from the sideline, watched your soft smile that grew so bright and brilliant as the babies all asked for you to pick them up because they've never seen someone as pretty as you before.

He stood there by himself leaning against the entryway, not minding the peace he was finally given because the babies did adored him too, and now that they had someone else to play with, his presence was nothing more than invisible because of you.

But he was happy to just stand there and watch.

You looked so happy and soft, being so gentle and sweet towards the babies that he couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in his tummy just watching you surrounded by them. He never knew he'd love it that much but he did.

It was only when a little one tried to climb on you and accidentally touched the shoulder that was still in the process of healing did Taehyung finally step in to make his presence known. You were too kind to push the little one away but he heard you wince.

"Careful with her," he warned in a gentle chiding voice and everyone looked up with exciting eyes at the familiar caregiver of the whelps. But Taehyung paid no mind to them just yet as he walked over to carry the little baby that was hoping to grab your attention by climbing on top of you. He met your eyes with a soft concerning gaze. "You okay?"

Before you could give him an answer, the whelps were already bombarding the two of you with questions filled with concerns, worrying for you.

"Is noona alright?"

"What happened?"

"Did someone hurt her?"

You gave out a soft chuckle as you shook your head lightly. "I'm alright, I'm alright," you assured them all.

"But you little ones have to be careful around her, okay?" Taehyung chided softly again with pointed fingers going around at each of them. "She heroically saved Namjoon and hurt herself so she needs time to heal. Her shoulder is injured."

Their mouths gaped, eyes widened, and their wings and tails flipped around with excitement just from hearing what Taehyung had just said.

"You saved our leader?"

"You saved prince Namjoon?"

"Wow, noona is so cool!"

"How-?"

"When?"

"I didn't..-" you cleared your throat as you sent Taehyung a pout to his exaggeration, embarrassed for yourself now. But he only giggled. "I didn't save him," you emphasized to the little ones.

"She's being too humble."

"What? No, I-"

"So no matter what she says, just know that Y/N is pretty and kind and if someone ever bullies her, you have to be the big and mighty dragons you are to protect her okay?" He instructed them all and when you try to protest again, a little dragoness, the one who Taehyung had picked up to rest against his hold, spoke up before you can.

"But I'm not big and mighty," she said to the prince with cute pouting eyes as if disappointed she wouldn't be able to protect you when the time ever came. "I wanna protect unnie."

How cute they were to already have such a bond with you even though it hadn't even been a day. But Taehyung was fond of it and wanted to take advantage of it, so he gave her a sweet smile before poking at her little nose. "You are strong and courageous and if the prince says you are mighty enough to protect someone else then you believe his words without a doubt," he told her then turned to the rest to echo the same thing to the doubtful ones and you watched him with a gentle gaze.

He had the sun in his eyes as a dragon, like Jungkook and Hoseok, but as a human, they all shared the night sky and you couldn't help but wonder why it was so fascinating to you.

But you had to shake the thoughts away as the children brought your attention back on them, their eager selves declaring to protect you just as Taehyung had told them to.

It was wonderful, and Taehyung was right when he said that no one was born with hate. At first you had been afraid of visiting the little ones that would soon make fine warriors for the clan some day. You were afraid that they wouldn't accept you just as the older dragons.

But being there and finding yourself surrounded with love and laughter, your heart began to warm up and glow a beautiful sunlight's ray.

It felt nice for once, to not have to worry about judgement and needing to prove yourself to be accepted. Children always brought out the best in others because they were all born with love and only had love to share. They were too innocent to understand the evil part of the world, where hate and beliefs in society separated others and you were so happy for that.

Perhaps it wasn't all so bad, being there in the clan.

The prince's have all seemed to warm up to you, being much kinder than they were previously, and now you had admirers who wished to see you again the next day and other days to come.

"I'm telling you, the goblin is kind and sweet and handsome."

"Goblins can't-"

"You've never seen a goblin so you can't tell me what they should look like," you were quick to cut Jungkook off when he tried to tell you otherwise, a scolding expression on your face while he remained stubborn.

The four of you sat around in a circle where you resided, the three maknae dragon princes awaiting to hear one of your many stories, yet it was cut off too soon by Jungkook.

"You've never seen a goblin so you can't just say that they're nice and good looking," he countered. "No stories have ever said that they were nice and good looking."

"But this is my story, you can't base your facts off myths and fairytales," you pointed out a little more agressively as the argument began to rise and Jimin and Taehyung looked at one another, laughing silently. "What if myths and fairytales went on about dragons being ugly creatures and that they are nothing but mean and vicious?"

Jungkook frowned as he rolled his eyes. "There are already stories that base the facts off those ones."

"Exactly!" You argued. "You see how that's wrong? You can't just discriminate another creature just because you've been hearing the same rude things about them over and over again in stories and folktales. Their feelings could get hurt, you know."

The dragons laughed at how cute you were being. "So that's why your goblin is nice and handsome?" Jimin asked.

"Mmn!" You nodded without hesitation. "So stop interrupting me, Jungkook, because I really like this story. Father told me about it."

He settled down upon hearing the last sentence with a soft gaze. "Your father?"

Your smile grew just thinking back on it. "It was mother's favorite story. But he made the goblin ugly and I didn't like that so I changed that part of the story."

"Alright then," Taehyung leaned back to settle himself with a soft smile, "proceed."

"Right. As I was saying," you cleared your throat to begin the story again, hoping there will be no interrupting this time. "This story is about a handsome goblin, the goblin's bride, and a handsome grim reaper."

"Grim reapers-"

"Jungkook!"

The man could only laugh when you, Jimin, and Taehyung all shouted at him for interrupting you.

He loved it though, that moment right there, upon the lighthearted night that became a supposed sleepover with you returning to your beautiful glow. But he knew that right then and there was a much better time than when you were back in your village.

Your smile was genuine, everything felt genuine, even when you pouted and scolded at him for trying to interrupt. The memories of the cold nights in that dungeon made him shiver a little but he was glad for it, glad to have wondered off and gotten caught. After all, everything happened for a reason.

He met you. You became his light admist the night and set him free.

And even though not everything had been great when you came to his clan and you had to suffer for so long, being there in that moment while he stared at you telling your story with an intense passion, Jungkook wanted to believe that everything previous had all been worth it.

Because Jimin and Taehyung had joined him, wanting to hear your stories as well. And the other hyungs have gotten closer to you as well, smiling rather than giving you the glares like before. The clan had even began to warm up and the whelps loved you.

And you were smiling.

Genuinely.

He wanted to say that it was all worth it. That it was enough to convince you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

"Tired?"

Seokjin didn't have to ask to understand that you were tired because just watching you from where you sat helping him with his herbal remedies made sense with the way your head kept dropping and eyes kept drooping.

"We ought to keep an eye out for you little ones when you have your game times," he chuckled.

"We weren't playing games," you told him with a big yawn. "They were just listening to me while I told them my stories and we lost track of time because they were that good."

"Really?" He grinned and you hummed with pride. "Then I think the whelps would love that, wouldn't they?"

"Would they?" You asked with interest, head perked up at just the suggestion alone.

"Everyone enjoys stories, Y/N," Seokjin said, "especially the little dragons. You should go to the roosts and surprise them with your presence, Taehyung told us they really love you."

A light hint of blush formed around your cheeks upon hearing Taehyung telling them about you and the little ones. "But..what about you?" You asked.

Seokjin turned around, tilting his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I like helping you out in the medicine nests but if I were to head to the roosts, won't that make you lonely?" You pointed out. "Taehyung has the whelps to keep him company, who will you have if I'm not here?"

It was so cute the way you were thoughtful for even just that and the eldest of the prince found himself smiling softly at your consideration. "No worries," he brushed it off lightly, "it is a much harder task trying to keep young dragons in line. Training them to one day become an apprentice of a warrior is not a task for just anyone and I think you have the gift of taking care of the little ones. We need that in our clan, you know."

He hoped it wasn't too straightforward but just enough to try and subtly tell you that he wanted you to stay with them in the clan. If you ever wanted to leave on your own accord then he hoped it would be because you just didn't feel it was your rightful home rather than because you just didn't feel needed.

And it wasn't just because his little maknae wanted you to stay and he wanted to make him happy, but it was also because Seokjin genuinely wanted you to remain in the clan.

He'd have a talk with Namjoon about it later on.

"You think I'm perfect for the job?" You asked him and he nodded.

"I know it."

"But being a healer isn't just for anyone either, you know," you told him. "Not everyone can listen well and do the tasks you tell them to do. Can't I do both?"

Seokjin chuckled. You were just too kind for your own good. "Maybe we can squeeze both in your schedule."

You sent him a bright smile that almost blinded him. "We sure can! I'll make sure of it. I'll help both you and Taehyung with no problems you won't have to worry about a thing."

Seokjin was ruined.

So, so ruined.

"Should we build bridges?" You looked up at Yoongi with a confused gaze but he went on. "Should I ask Namjoon if we should set up bridges to connect the nests together?"

"Bridges?" You asked.

"You know," he said, "so that it'd be easier for you to walk around rather than taking the long way around, traveling back and forth between the medicine nest and the roosts."

You eyed him carefully for a moment. You hadn't even started the jobs side by side and yet he already knew. "How often do you guys discuss about me?"

More often than we should, Yoongi wanted to say but he knew that wasn't appropriate just yet. Him and the guys have found themselves always talking about you whenever there was an opportunity, whenever discussions about the clans were over and the topic would almost immediately turn to you.

"I'm just saying," he shrugged off the thought, "it'd be a lot faster and efficient."

Yet you shook your head. "Don't bother. Building bridges would mean taking a few warriors out of their tasks and besides, I..."

You trailed off and Yoongi watched you.

"What?" He queried before stating bluntly, "still thinking about leaving?"

You could only shrug at his question before changing the subject. "Anyways, prince Seokjin asked me to collect some herbs for him and since I don't have wings like you guys, I came to you."

"To me?" He raised a brow, slight amusement falling upon his face.

"The patrols have already gone so I couldn't ask them to pick up some herbs or ask for a ride, prince Jimin has to keep watch of the dungeons, prince Taehyung has to watch the little ones, and prince Namjoon and prince Seojin are busy on their own."

"So you just assumed I wasn't busy myself?"

"No, I-" you stuttered to defend yourself, "I didn't mean that. I just didn't know who else to turn to. I'm not really used to the other dragons but if you're busy then-"

"I'm kidding, Y/N," he cut you off with a light chuckle, amused by your presence alone. "I'm free for an hour, no worries," he said as he stood up from where he was lying, stretching his limbs with a big yawn before jumping off to transform into the dragon he was. "Climb on," he beckoned and you smiled, jumping onto his back without hesitation unlike the first few times you've climbed onto a dragon's back, and the two of you rode the wind.

The sky felt safer that time around with no worries about another clan trying to invade your space because they had already been dealt with.

It always felt nice riding the back of a dragon that made you feel safe, as if you owned all of the lands and skies. You would have never imagined yourself feeling so free at that moment right there. Things were beginning to look up, the happiness and freedom blooming in your chest, warming your heart.

Yoongi had once been so cruel and coldhearted. They all were. But eventually they found themselves on the wrong side and decided to change their ways.

There was no need for apologies. Words were only empty thoughts unless actions were done about it. And they showed you through their acceptance and smiles that they were sorry for what they've said and done and that was all you needed.

But a part of you was still unsure about where you belonged.

Did you belonged with the dragons? Or was your fate to roam around the Earth, traveling on your own and seeking new discoveries and wonders?

You didn't know yet but sitting there on the back on Yoongi, you know you wouldn't mind it if your fate belonged with the dragons. After all, it wasn't just the princes that had begun to accept you, but the clan itself was beginning to warm up to you.

Seeing you with their young ones, the whelps who were all fond of you and took great pride in their vow of protecting you, or the way you'd go out of your way helping Seokjin out with his medicinal remedies as the prince had once been left alone to deal with the task, you thought of it as them beginning to see your true heart.

And you hoped you weren't wrong.

"Go on, I'll wait for you here."

With a basket in hand, you took off on your own while the dragon prince settled himself on the grounds of the forest, resting in his dragon form and closing his eyes.

You chuckled at Yoongi's typical drowsy self before going on to search for the herbs Seokjin had asked you to.

It took about a good twenty minutes to fill up your basket halfway yet just as you were about to search for some more feverfew, the voices of humans was what caused you to freeze up. It wasn't the fact that they were human, why would you be afraid of that when you were a human yourself? And you knew Yoongi could take care of himself if they were to ever catch him.

No.

It was so much more than that.

Because those voices? Especially the one that was loud and clear and held a sickening humor that brought chills down your spine, memories of the night you saved Jungkook and tried to run away with him came spiraling back almost instantly.

The angry voices of the villagers echoed in your ears, the arrow that had pierced against your chest, the scar still there and would never go away.

It was as if fate was playing with you, the same once fading memories returning to your side clear as a crystal just as you had taken a step forward into the world. Only for it to force you back to where you had once came from.

He took a step forward and you trembled in fear as you took two steps back, realizing who it was.

Jinyoung.

It was Jinyoung.

2K notes · View notes

spencerhotchner · 4 years ago

Text

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 2

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok, i am really excited about this series. and really thankful that y'all are liking it. also, i hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as y'all did the last one! it didn't end up as long as i wanted it it but ig its ok right.

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You could hear some familiar voices on the background as you began to regain conciseness, voices you could identify anywhere. You kept your eye shut for a while, feeling the tiredness and dizziness your body was screaming at you despite the fact that you have been unconscious, and on the floor apparently. Even though you're head was still too slow to think straight, you noticed that your face mask wasn't on you anymore.

“Who is she?” you heard the familiar voice of Shamar, or Morgan, given the circumstances.

“Apparently she knows me.” that was Spencer’s turn to speak.

“I met her this morning.” JJ states, you could only imagine the faces they would be making at her, wondering how and why. “I bumped into her walking on the street, she seemed pretty confused but yet she still knew who I was.”

“Well, that’s weird.” Emily said.

When you finally decided to open them, you felt like you were still dream. Once again you found yourself asking what was going on. Why was the whole cast of Criminal Minds standing there simple staring at you and why were they acting like their characters? Out of the two explanations that came to your mind at the moment, only one made any sense. I was a tv prank, it could only be. There would be no other logical reason to it, other wise.

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks, offering a hand.

You stared at him trying to figure out what to say, but without saying a word you took his hands and got up. The whole team was looking at you, with weird expressions. You felt almost like you were an unsub, you hated being stared.

“Yes, I mean, no!” you say. “Is this a prank of something? Because, damn, you guys went too far down with it. Fuck!” you say, finally snapping.

“I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” Rossi said.

You tried not to but as soon as you realized you already had a big sarcastic expression on your face. How wouldn't they? They were tv stars and they were clearly acting, you've seen it.

“Oh, you're not?” you said, as sarcastic as you could be. “Ok, let me enlighten you all, since you ‘don’t know what i’m talking about?’. I woke up in this freaking random apartment by myself wearing the exact same thing I was wearing the night before.”

“...and where is the part we fit in there?” he replies.

You ignored him, sighing and trying to push your anxiety down.

“As I was saying, I was wearing the exact same thing and I was in Bellevue, in Washington state. I have no idea who decided to pull this off but as much as I love the show, I am not enjoying this.” you say, looking around trying to find cameras.

They all kept staring at you, Rossi was the only one who didn't seem worried about, it was like he thought you were on drugs or just delusional. You were even starting to believe in that. JJ and Spencer kept staring at each other, possibly trying to figure out what was going on, and how you knew them.

“You believe you were abducted, then?” Hotch finally says something.

You sigh again, trying to be patience. All you wanted was to go home, when you said you wanted to meet the cast - all the hundreds of times you said it, you didn’t mean this. You closed your eyes, because suddenly all you wanted to do was cry. You couldn't count how many times you imagined this happening and it was being just awful. You hated being confused, lost and being pictured as crazy.

“No, Agent Hotchner” you spilled his name, sarcastically. “I am sure.”

He looked at you without much expression - as usual, but you could tell he was superseded you knew him, just as much as the team. Morgan step forward, walking towards you. You stared at him, trying to remain calm.

“Listen, we can't help you if you don't let us.” he said. “Can you tell us your name?”

God, don't they realize this is funny? I do not wanna be acting, some pictures would do the job just as fine.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you say as you watch Rossi give Garcia a look making her nod and direct herself to her ‘cave’, certainly to search you up.

“Alright, you have someone we can contact with?” JJ asks.

You nodded, yes you did. But they wouldn't pick up the phone, as you tried multiple times this morning on the old cellphone. What if something happened to them? This was all so confusing.

“But she won’t pick up the phone, I tried.” you said.

Once again, you caught yourself wondering what was going on. And that was the moment you kind of got what was happening. Would it be possible that you shifted to this universe? Maybe this wasn't all a prank and your wish had just became true. You probably should've thought about it before asking for it. At once it hit you, what you said to your friend just last night.

“What is something you would want to do right now?” your best friend asked you, leaning a bit towards you, laughing drunkly.

“Um, I’d really like to be in Criminal Minds right now.” you say laughing as you best friend rolled her eyes. “No, listen! I’d love to meet Spencer Reid and I don't know, it just sounds better than quarantine.”

“Yeah, sure, because serial killers are just not bad at all, huh?” she laughed.

Maybe this was true, maybe you did shifted. And if you did, you sure sounded like a crazy person, and probably a stalker. You looked around trying to figure out if you could sit somewhere, it all became took much for you mind at that moment.

“Can I sit... Can I sit somewhere?” you asked, probably looking as ill as you sounded.

You watched as Reid rushed to bring the chair. You set down trying to figure out how you'd leave there, and how you'd shift back. Staring at them you felt your heart warm a little, you dreamed about this for so long - as it was all it was, a dream, until now, at least.

Before you could say a word you watched Penelope come back and whisper in Rossi’s ear, probably what she found out about you. Which, maybe was everything, since you had no reasons to hide a thing about your life, which was quite boring, in fact.

“Who are you?” Rossi says, like he’s ready to arrest you.

“I-I already told you.” you answer. “I’m Y/N.”

If you needed any proof about what was going on that was it. It was like you did not even exist, like you weren't real. She probably didn’t find anything because you’re not from this universe.

“Alright. What can we do for you, Y/N?” Morgan asks.

“I need to go home.” you let it out. “I don't know how I ended up here in Quantico.”

Garcia stares ate you, almost like she felt pity about your situation while the rest of them kept a suspicious look at you. It’s not like you blame them, anyways, you would think it’s weird for somebody to come out of nowhere knowing your name and claiming to be pranked.

While you were sitting there, with all those eyes at you, you thought that maybe giving up and trying to figure it all out by yourself maybe would be better. How would they help you, anyways? It is not like they could send you back. And it is also not like you didn't actually wish for this.

There are some wishes that are entirely rhetorical.

“You know what? I’m good.” you fake a smile, obviously. “I’m just gonna go.”

You stoop up fast, not giving them much time to contest you. Spencer looked confused, more than any of the others, for some reason. Maybe he was just curious on how you knew him, or JJ. Either way, you wouldn't know.

Hotch looked at you, wondering your action. Why were you so desperate at one time and tried to pull off as if it was ok? It was definitely not ok. Your smile looked fake, your body seemed tense and your eyes looked as lost as he could think someone could be, as he has seen a lot of lost eyes.

“Thank you, for your attention, though.” you say. “I’m sorry for taking your time agents.”

You stormed out of there, not even realizing that you left your jacket in there. How could you? Not when you ran out of there as if your live depended on it. You let a sigh out as you got out of the building, not even noticing when the tears started to come down at your cheeks.

At that moment you didn't care at all about where you were, you set on the floor, letting the tears roll down and the sobs come out. You never wished to be away from your reality, it only seemed nice in your dreams. Right now, all you wanted was to go home and hug your parents, or even just see them. You felt lost, as lost as a five year old who can't find his mommy at the park.

You got scared as you felt a big hand touch your shoulders. As your turn, to see who was it, Spencer looked as nice as you could ever picture him to, or see on the screens. His face resembles worry, like he was actually wondering what happened to you and why where you there.

“I believe this is yours.” he hands you your jacket.

You stare at him before.

“Yes, thank you.” you wipe the tears away.

“No- No problem.” he said, sitting by your side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” you answered looking away.

“You don't have to lie to me.” he said, as you looked back at him. “I wanna help you, but I can only do that if you cooperate with me.”

Why would he?

“I don't know where I am. I mean, I do know but I don't know how I ended up here. I understand what is going on, I did after a while but I don't know how to change this situation. I don't know how to go back home.” you said.

Not like he’ll understand, anyways.

"Maybe... Maybe me and my team could help you figure it out?” he tries.

“I doubt it.” you shake your shoulders. “I know that you guys are awesome at your job, don't get me wrong, to be honest I’m quite the big fan.” you laughed a bit. “But it’s just out of hand.”

He stops, looking at you. Gave up offering help, you were not accepting he felt it. No, he knew it. It was his job to know what body language was telling him, anyways. He didn't want to stare at you, but he felt like he needed to. He was stuck at your looks, so pretty, yet so lost.

“If we can't help you, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

You looked right into his eyes. Thinking, if you should say it. Maybe so, it wouldn't kill you, it was not like it was the real world of something, well maybe it was but you couldn't care less. All you wanted was somewhere to stay this night and figure out how to get back.

“I do need a place to stay tonight.” you say, smiling little at him.

He had a weird look on his face when you said that, like he wasn't expecting it. Because he wasn't. That moment he considered himself a crazy man, because he knew the risks and yet was up for it.

“Uh, ok.”

Taglist: @feverdreamreid @andromedasstarship @paulaern @theetherealbloom @thatsonezesty13 @reidsalvez @pieceofreid @nymeria-targaryen @greeny-kitten @peppermintnight @notebookgirl30 @2sarvinem @holding-on-to-my-youth @mggsprettygirl @iifloweringnightsii @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @mcntsee

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heejinnien · 4 years ago

Text

j.jungkook | monsters

word count: 4.5k

pairing: jungkook x reader

synopsis: in the darkness is when the monsters rise.

genre: horror, angst, demon au

warnings: implied minor character death, implied toxic relationship, brief description of gore, death threat, brief violence

author’s note: please do not read this fic if any of the topics listed in the warnings is upsetting or triggering for you. this fic is based on the tale of the hungarian demon, the lidérc. they feed off of nightmares and fear. my beta readers (thank you so much to @voiceswithoutlips-kas, @elcie-chxn, and ryan for beta reading this fic for me) have told me that this fic might be confusing to read at first, so please read it in its entirety. i promise that every detail serves a purpose. that being said, the entire fic will be placed under the read more cut, as triggering content is mentioned right from the start. the banner was made by @voiceswithoutlips-kas, thank you so much.

cross posted to ao3 here

Now

He's dead, the doctors tell you.

The surgeon in charge of the procedure that was supposed to save your husband's life murmurs his condolences, explaining how your husband's body rejected the new organ. They tried their best, he explains, but once your husband's body had decided to reject it there was not much they could do.

It's almost ironic how he died, considering the numerous ways you thought he would go over the years due to the reckless activities he constantly engaged in. Each time he would leave the house you feared for his life, feared that one day he would no longer return to you. Now, it seems, your worst fears have come true.

When the news finally sinks in you let out a sob, although whether it is one of relief or one of despair you can't quite decipher.

Despite the fact that he loved berating you, loved tearing you down until you were entirely reliant on him, you still loved him. Until death do us part, you had promised on the day of your wedding, and you still loved him as much as you did when you were both teenagers in high school. Going on a date with him sparked the same chaos of butterflies in your stomach as it did on your first date, and you were giddy over the smallest amounts of affection, willingly bending over backward trying to please the man who used to be your husband even at your own discomfort.

In the first days of your marriage, your friends and family would visit you. You had bought an apartment together in the city so that he would be close to his work. You had your reservations at first, but he slowly convinced you of the idea. Of course, he could convince you to walk across glass and you gladly would, for him.

And, at first, you were delighted when somebody would visit you. Your husband had insisted he would provide for your every need, so you didn’t work. You also didn’t leave the apartment, as your husband had also insisted it was too dangerous for you. You had initially become hurt at his words, but when he explained it was merely because you weren’t used to the city and that he would take you out whenever you needed to go out, you accepted his words without argument.

Then

“Y/N,” one of your friends had said abruptly during her visit. You were conversing casually over tea, yourself perched on the edge of your sofa and her on a loveseat opposite you. She leaned forward, worry creasing her face. “I think you should come back home.”

“I’m fine, Soodam,” you replied, startled at her words and setting your tea cup down loudly. “I love my husband, and I love the city.”

Soodam pursed her lips. “From what I’ve seen, your husband keeps you prisoner here.”

You stood indignantly, anger flaring inside you at her words. “He does not! He just wants what’s best for me.”

“How many times have you been into the city then, Y/N?” Soodam pushed, standing up after you. She stepped closer, and you shied away, suddenly nervous.

“I… That doesn’t matter.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to put space between you and Soodam. No matter how much you desperately wanted her to stay away from you, she continued to follow you, grabbing your arm to prevent you from running away from her.

“Y/N, please listen to me,” she begged. “You haven’t been the same since you married him and you know it. The apartment is the only place your husband allows us to meet, and he keeps you like a dog on a leash.”

You yanked your arm out of her hold, anger bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion. How dare she talk ill of you and your husband like that, she didn’t know anything about you.

“Get out,” you spat harshly, wiping furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

Soodam’s eyes widened, and her voice softened. “Y/N, please. I miss you.” She stepped forward again. “Come home with me.”

“I — ” You trembled, suddenly unsure. Your previous anger dissipated within a second, and you stared at your longtime friend. Sensing your hesitation, Soodam continued, this time with a renewed vigor.

“Your parents miss you, Y/N, I miss you. Please, just come back with me and — ”

“That will be enough, Soodam.”

The aforementioned girl gasped, and you looked to see your husband standing in the doorway to the living room, face stoic but eyes burning with anger. He spared you a brief glance before moving into the room, making your friend suddenly cower back in fright.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Scared, Soodam stared at the floor, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and immediately walking in the direction of the door. Before she could get there, your husband grabbed her arm, much as she had done to you earlier, and whispered in her ear. She nodded, face ashen, staring at the ground and refusing to meet your pleading gaze. Moments later, she was gone.

Silence permeated the apartment. Then, “She won’t be returning.”

You knew better than to question your husband’s wishes so you nodded, throat dry. Your husband let out a harsh laugh at your obedience, before dropping his briefcase by the front door. Without so much as another word, he strode down the corridor leading to his office, the sound of a door slamming ringing through the same passageway moments later. The silence afterwards was even worse than your husband’s wrath, the emotions of the past few seconds catching up to you once again and settling upon you like an unwanted blanket.

That was the last time you saw your friend.

Now

You can't remember the first time you feel as though you are being watched. It might have to do with the first time you see him, as after your first encounter you never consciously feel safe again.

The days following your husband's death seem to pass by in a blur, and sometime during them he appears, slowly forcing himself into every aspect of your life until he is a constant fixture you can no longer ignore.

The first time you see him is during your husband’s funeral. The sky is a somber grey, as if it can sense your mood, and an icy wind nips at anything within its grasp. It is the beginning of winter, and the cold is sharp, chilling you to the bone despite the numerous layers you have on. The funeral is brief, more of a formality than anything. Strangers give you their condolences, and it only serves to remind you of how little you truly know about your husband.

It is when the casket is being lowered into the ground that you see him, standing among the group of mourners.

He is huddled in the center of the group, head bowed. Something about his presence draws you to him, and you don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up, making direct eye contact with you. You quickly look away, face burning with shame. Imagine how it must look, you mentally chide yourself, the wife of a dead man checking out another at his funeral.

You chuckle, the sound empty and devoid of any humor. Luckily for you, at that moment, the casket is finished being lowered. The priest in charge of the funeral’s addresses hands you a shovel, effectively drawing your attention away from the mystery man. As you send shovel after shovel full of dirt flying onto the casket, he is effectively pushed further and further away from your mind.

It is not until after the procession is over, guests beginning to head back to their cars that he approaches you. You have just thanked the priest for his words, turning to walk back to your car when you let out a gasp.

He is standing right in front of you, broad frame seeming imposing against your smaller one. He cocks his head to the side, holding out one hand for you to shake.

“Hello love,” the man’s voice is silky, and he grasps your hand firmly. Even though it is a simple handshake, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. The man stares at you, his expression unreadable, and you have the sinking feeling that he knows the effect he has on you. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” you say similarly, albeit a bit hesitant. He feels familiar, the subtlety of his features causing your memory to tingle, an identification of who he is just outside of your grasp. You assume he is just another one of your husband’s associates, shoving away the niggling feeling to give Jungkook a polite smile, hoping he picks up that to you, the conversation is over.

He does, because he steps to the side, allowing you to pass. As you hurry to your car, the skin on the back of your neck prickles, the feeling of someone watching you causing your hair to stand on end. When you look back, however, Jungkook is gone.

From the funeral, the feeling of being watched follows you everywhere. Coincidentally, so does Jungkook.

You run into him at the store, the park, even the lobby of your apartment complex, since it turns out he is a resident who recently moved in. Each time, he gives you a charming but guarded smile, attempting to strike up a conversation with you. Each time, you give short, uninterested responses, something about Jungkook’s presence causing you unease.

A month after the funeral, you are woken up in the dead of night by a pounding on your apartment door. Heart racing, you jolt away to the sound, fumbling in the dark for your phone. Squinting to read the harsh digital light, you manage to make out that it is three am.

Swearing at the heathen who dares interrupt your sleep, you throw off the covers of your bed, swinging your legs onto the floor and using your phone light to navigate the dark hallway.

By the time you finally reach your front door, the pounding has stopped. Annoyed, you unbolt the lock and yank open the wood, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind.

The hallway is empty.

The mysterious incident sets you on guard, only serving to increase your paranoia. Several nights later, you hear it again, only this time you swear you hear something else, too.

A voice, calling your name.

“Y/N,” it says sweetly, almost crooning. Even though you are locked in your room and buried beneath the security of a multitude of blankets, the voice manages to reach your ears, sickeningly sweet. “Come out, sweetheart.”

You spend the night huddling in your bed in fear, praying for the noises to go away. You are surprised your neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint about it by now since they’ve complained over lesser, you think, a thought that dryly amuses you.

Much to your chagrin, the noise continues for the next few nights. Each time you stay huddled in your bed, irrationally hoping that the blankets around you will protect you from whatever it is outside your door.

During the day, you don’t fare much better. You swear you are beginning to lose your mind. You find keys moved, doors left ajar. The fear you feel of being watched only increases.

The last straw that breaks the camel’s back comes when you finally seek out your landlord, demanding to see the security cameras.

“Y/N,” the landlord glances from out of the corner of his eyes at you worriedly as he slots the keys to the security room into the lock. He pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter first. “I know things have been… stressful for you lately.”

He pauses, flipping on the light switch and illuminating a set of monitors. “Are you sure that someone has been…” He trails off, struggling to repeat what you had told him earlier. “Knocking on your door at three am?”

You glare at the man, and he gulps, effectively silencing himself and preceding to busy himself with the monitors. Hell hath no fury a woman scorned, and you are tired of the constant paranoia that has settled deep in your bones. An uncomfortable silence settles upon you, and you stare unnervingly at your landlord, too sleep deprived and furious to be aware of your rude actions.

“Ah, here it is,” the landlord flashes you a weak smile, pushing a monitor towards you. He clicks his mouse a few times, and footage displaying the hallway outside of your apartment begins to play.

You stare intently at the screen, watching the numbers signaling the time in the corner slowly tick away until finally they reach three am. You hold your breath, and see

Nothing.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you whirl on your landlord. “Did you tamper with the footage?”

If possible, your landlord looks even more nervous, and he gulps. "I haven’t been in here in the past few days.”

“Try another night,” you demand, desperation welling inside you.

Obediently, he speeds up the tape until it is the following day. And, like in the previous footage, as the clock hits three, the hallway is deserted.

Silence permeates the room.

“Y/N,” the landlord lets out a sympathetic sound, and you don’t realize you have begun to cry until a tear splatters on your shirt. “I think it’s best if you just go back to your apartment.”

Embarrassed and frustrated, you nod, storming out of the room...

And right into Jungkook. Your chin collides with his chest, and you reel backwards, angrily swiping at your tears. The aforementioned individual stares at you, concern lacing his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter angrily. “Just let me pass.”

Jungkook wordlessly steps to the side, and you quickly hurry past him, now mortified more than anything.

What you didn’t know was that you had just made two, fatal mistakes.

If you had looked into his eyes, you would’ve seen the gleam of delight in his orbs.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the way he smiled.

The footage replaying in your mind, you finally seek out a therapist and book an appointment for the following day. You don’t fall asleep that night, body tense in terror and dread exponentially filling you as the clock ticks closer to three. The knocking, however, never comes, and sometime around the rise of the sun this realization sinks upon you.

You barely make it to your session that day, state in disarray. The many nights of sleeplessness and terror are catching up to you, and you drag your feet down the street, fatigue crashing down upon you.

Somehow, you manage to locate the therapist’s office and scribble down all of your personal information on the clipboard that the receptionist hands you as you enter. You sit in the waiting room, legs bouncing anxiously.

“Y/N?”

You look up as the door opposite you opens and a kind looking man stares down at you.

“Hi, that’s me,” you say, standing and striding over to him. He takes in your worn appearance, eyes kind and compassionate.

“I’m Dr. Kim, but please, call me Taehyung.”

He leads you to a small room just off the main corridor. Several closed doors line the passageway, and at your curious glance Taehyung explains that they are the offices of his coworkers.

His office is small but cozy, a desk on one side and a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the far wall, and a lamp next to the couch gives the room a soft glow. He gestures in the direction of the couch, pulling a chair from his desk over as you sit stiffly.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here today, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, steepling his fingers on top of his lap and the papers lying there. Your gaze flickers down to the top paper, the sheet you know you had scribbled information on earlier, and he smiles. “I know you already answered that in the pre-screening questions, but I just wanted to ask you instead. It’s always different when someone says it I find.”

Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile, and you take a deep. With the landlord’s footage playing in your head, you finally manage to open your mouth and say, “I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.” Taehyung nods, as if this is a normal thing, and you push on. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night to this pounding on my door.”

“A pounding?” Taehyung frowns, and the expression sends dread plummeting to your gut.

“I went to the landlord about it,” you say quickly. “But when he showed me the security footage, there was no one there. I swear I’m not crazy, though. It’s almost as if…”

You trail off, forcing your jaw shut before you suggest something crazy.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Taehyung says soothingly. “You’re in a safe place.”

You nod, closing your eyes and attempting to calm your breathing. When you open them, Taehyung is staring at you worriedly.

“Almost as if what, Y/N?” Taehyung gives you another encouraging look. “It’s okay.”

“Almost as if…” You take a deep breath. “As if I’m being haunted by a monster.”

“Monsters?” Much to his credit, Taehyung doesn’t sound mocking at your confession. You nod, throat dry, and he leans forward. “Monsters aren’t real, Y/N.”

“I know that,” you say, your words ending up in an almost whisper. “I just…”

“You wrote that your husband passed away recently, did he not?” Taehyung asks, and you are grateful for the subject change, even if it is to another depressing topic. You nod, and Taehyung continues. “Grief is powerful, and manifests itself differently in everyone. I think that this is just your grief trying to find an outlet.”

“I don’t — ” You protest, but Taehyung quickly holds up a hand to silence you.

“I know it might not seem that way, but trust me, there are no monsters, Y/N.”

You nod slowly, and Taehyung smiles. This time, it’s sharp and sends a shiver down your spine. A dark look passes over Taehyung’s expressions briefly, so briefly you wonder if you imagined it, and then he smiles once again, this one the same, gentle one as before.

“I’ll write you a prescription that should help you sleep.”

“But, Taehyung, that’s not the problem — ”

Taehyung hums, already turning away, and your protests fall on deaf ears.

You end up leaving the session several hundreds of dollars lighter, one prescription heavier, and the worries pressing down upon you still prominent within you.

That evening, when you return to your apartment complex you see Jungkook in your apartment lobby. You had stopped for groceries on the way home, and you are carrying two large paper bags, each one nestled in the crook of your arm.

Jungkook is standing by the elevators. He turns at the sound of you, lip quirked at the sight of you struggling to carry two bags.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asks lightly, brow creasing in concern.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, your usual answer whenever he asks if he can help. This time, he purses his lips, and you feel a pang of guilt. You think about your therapist’s words, that the sinking sensation you have around him is probably just guilt, and shove down the feeling before saying, “Actually, if you could, that would be great.”

Jungkook beams, taking one of the bags from its precarious grip against you. Moments later, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. He motions for you to step inside first before following you, pressing the number for your floor. You open your mouth to ask how he knows your floor, but you quickly close it, the therapist’s words ringing in your head. Coincidence, you think.

The ride is silent, the only sound the occasional shuffling as you adjust your grasp on the bag. You find the silence uncomfortable no matter how much you try to convince yourself of your delusion, the sound of the elevator signaling your floor causing you to exhale in relief.

You are the first one off, leading Jungkook to your apartment door. You fumble with your key, shoving it unceremoniously inside the lock and pushing open the door with your hip. You flip on the lights, already heading in the direction of the kitchen before the lights have even fully powered on.

“You can set the groceries down here,” you nod your head in the direction of the counter, setting the groceries down there yourself. Jungkook does the same.

After setting the groceries down, you expect Jungkook to leave but instead he stands, observing you. Unease twists once more in your stomach, and the fact that you two are alone, together, in your home sinks down upon you.

“Thank you for your help,” you say in what you hope is a clear dismissal. Jungkook doesn’t move, continuing to stare at you unflinchingly. You subconsciously step back.

Jungkook steps forward.

“What are you — ”

“Do you not remember me?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, question innocent but voice laced with venom. You swallow, your throat dry, and take another step backwards.

“Uh, no? I’m sorry, you were one of my husband’s associates, right?”

Jungkook scoffs, and in that moment his stance reminds you of a predator. He prowls forward, matching each step you take backward.

“You know who I am, Y/N L/N,” he sneers.

“I don’t — ”

“Yes, you do!” Jungkook spits angrily, slamming his hand into the counter, the loud sound causing you to jump. He cocks his head to the side, eyes twinkling in a mischievous way that has fear coating the inside of your stomach.

“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it, Y/N?”

To anyone else, the statement may seem harmless, a well known idiom used to caution the overcurious mind. To you, they tear at your memories. You gasp as one particular memory flies to the forefront of your mind.

Then

You gently pushed open the already ajar door of your husband’s office, looking around the room for your husband. You had just finished making dinner and were ready for him to come to the dining room so you two could eat, but he was nowhere to be seen. On his desk, you spotted the tray you had left him for lunch.

You hesitated on the room’s threshold, your husband’s warnings to never step foot in his office ringing in your ears. After a brief mental war with yourself, you finally slipped inside, quickly and silently heading in the direction of his desk.

You picked up the tray, and before you could look away papers resting beneath the tray caught your attention.

“Oh my god — ”

You let out a gasp, the tray slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor, the sound deafening in the still silence. Face up on your husband’s desk, beneath the tray, was a photograph of a young man. His face and body had been badly mutilated, and the sight made you sick.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the photo, instead meeting your husband’s steely gaze. The body was pushed to the back of your mind, your heart beginning to race for an entirely different reason.

“I saw the door ajar and just wanted to get your lunch tray,” you stammered, cowering beneath his gaze.

He’s silent, staring at you unnervingly before, “Get out.”

You were all too eager to obey, quickly scrambling in the direction of the door. The entire way you felt your husband’s burning gaze, and you had just passed him when his hand shot out, gripping your arm painfully tight. He leaned down, his lips hovering above your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” he says, words causing your heart to feel as though it has stopped and your stomach to drop out from beneath you. “Be careful of where you look, or else you’ll end up like him.”

You ate dinner alone that night.

Now

“Oh my god.”

You barely register as your legs give out beneath you, weak beneath Jungkook’s menacing gaze as the missing piece to Jungkook’s identification that had been nagging at you ever since you had first seen him finally clicks into place.

Before you had suppressed it, you had wondered why your husband had that picture on his desk. Now, everything clicks.

Your husband had been responsible for Jungkook’s death.

You had never been a violent person, and the sheer gore that you had seen from the photographs had caused you to repress that memory. Now, it is vivid and fresh in your mind, and you shake your head furiously as if that will cause the memory to dissipate.

“It’s not my fault,” you insist, staring into Jungkook’s burning gaze pleadingly. “I’m sorry for my husband’s actions, but — ”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, and suddenly he is in front of you, hand against your windpipe. Your breath hitches in fear, and you swear you see a gleam of satisfaction deep within his dark orbs. “You could’ve done something to stop him.”

“I didn’t know what he was up to, I promise,” you sob, vision blurring with tears. Jungkook coos at the sight, gently stroking the bottom of your chin with his thumb. His touch feels as though it burns against your skin, and you flinch.

“Shh, baby.” Jungkook leans forward until his mouth is against your ear. The moment feels strangely intimate, and his breath sends shivers down your spine, just serving to heighten your fear. Every muscle within your body is tense.

“Your therapist was wrong about me, you know,” Jungkook chuckles, the sound sending warning bells signaling throughout your head. “Monsters do exist.”

His hand suddenly tightens, and you choke as your air supply begins to dwindle. The world around you begins to spin, and as everything fades into darkness you hear Jungkook’s voice one more time.

“I can’t wait to break you.”

You gasp awake, heart pounding. You sit up in bed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. As you piece together the details from your nightmare, your hands quickly fly to your throat, gently pressing against it where Jungkook’s hands were. You wince, and you quickly shove your covers aside, flipping on your bedside lamp and stumbling into your bathroom.

When you flip on the switch, you are greeted by a ring of purple and grey bruises around your throat. Your eyes widen in horror as the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare crashes down upon you.

And that’s when you hear it.

The pounding on the door.

#monsters #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungguk #bts jungguk #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #horror #angst #bts horror #bts angst #bts demon au #bts au

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years ago

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Wings in the Dark Chapter 6: Stories From the Dark

AN: I feel like this chapter should have been posted around Halloween, but there was NO WAY I was waiting that long XD Also its a bit short, I think, to me, it goes a little quick, partially because I didn’t want to have to write Levi wandering around this little town this whole time having all this meaningless chit-chat meant to fish information, I decided summarizing was best with detail where it counted XD

Characters: Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader (Mentioned), Erwin, Various OCs and BG Characters

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder Aftermath, Description of Fatal Injuries, Description of Buried Alive, Descriptions of Injuries, Language

Word Count: 5188

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Levi's POV*

While taking such a sudden few days off might have caused a couple bumps in the way things were developing around HQ, but he knew Erwin would be able to handle it and smooth things over, so he stayed focused on the task at hand.

Stripped of any signia, symbol, or uniform resembling clothes that could suggest that he was part of the military, Levi was dressed in plainclothes, having taken a carriage out to L/N’s supposed hometown early in the morning. He still arrived with plenty of time in the day to investigate the town and see what he could find on-site, taking in the small, easily overlooked town that was more of a loose collection of homes bordered by farms, with a central farmer’s market to keep some local trade and business going. Any serious buying and selling probably consisted in a day’s trip to one of the larger towns within Wall Rose, but it seemed they had basic foodstuffs here. He managed to find a blacksmith tucked away in a corner between a small grouping of houses, as well as an old, empty building that had a weathered carpentry sign in front of it. So there had been more trade smiths around here, before the town gradually lost those businesses.

Talking casually with the blacksmith informed Levi that a ways past the farms, there was a home that was the reason for most of their outside visitors--people who could afford to would put their elderly loved ones in the care center, and there was a separate building for the mentally ill to live comfortably and get the care they needed as well. Visitors to the town usually consisted of relatives visiting their loved ones in the homes, or they were descendants that had moved away but came back for the occasional hometown or family visit.

Which meant Levi, having no ties himself and not knowing about the homes, stuck out a bit despite his best efforts. The communities of small towns were tightly knit and they knew their own, so it couldn’t be helped, and he would have to deal with the fact everyone was going to be curious why he was here.

While talking with the blacksmith, he also heard that the carpentry shop had been the family trade for the Frazier family--the family who lost the daughter sharing L/N’s first name. With the murder of their only child, there was no one to take on the family business, and the building had fallen into disrepair after the parents had gone to the home outside town.

That had caught Levi’s interest. They’d been in the home for years judging from the sign alone, and the impression he’d received was that only the well off could supply their own stay at the home, or their family members paid for it. If there were no children to pay for them, and they’d only been a small carpentry business in a no-name town, how could they afford to be in the home? He doubted it was by the grace of the community, though it was a possibility considering the tragedy that had happened here.

Moving on from the blacksmith so he didn’t ask too many questions in one place, Levi made a mental note to make his way up to the homes to investigate the still-living parents of the original Y/N. Making his way to the farmer’s market, Levi perused for any small town hidden treasures and struck up conversations, looking for a town gossip to get talking about the town’s history so that he could eventually hear the more personal tale of the double homicide than the technical report Erwin had scrounged up for him.

While trying to get the man selling the baked goods to be a little more forthcoming, Levi overheard a small group of children, three or four gathered around each other as one of the older children attempted to scare the smallest of the group with a surprisingly gristly tale.

“...clawed at the wood of the coffin, screaming for someone to hear her, too afraid to realize her screams took up what little air she had. Her fingernails broke and blood coated the coffin, her elbow busted open as she pounded and shrieked for help, but no one could hear her so far beneath the dirt. Some say she did manage to break the wood, but halfway through the dirt falling on her she couldn’t breathe, and body’s still frozen in her silent scream, so close to freedom, no one above ground aware of the terror she felt before she truly died. Now, so she doesn’t feel so alone, Screaming Sally’s ghost crawls out of her grave and drags children like you from their beds and drags them into her coffin below ground.”

The poor youngest was visibly trembling, tears of fright in their eyes before one of the other kids shouted and grabbed them, making the youngest shriek and cry as they laughed and continued to pick on them.

“Tch.” Levi turned to them, a glare in his eyes that he pinned on the older kids who should have known better. “Oi! Cut it out.”

Spooked by the scary voice, and even more so by the scary man they saw glaring at them, the older kids bolted, with the youngest running away once they were free of the older kids, most likely to run home and find comfort from a parent.

Levi turned his attention back to the stall in front of him, a woman beside him buying a basket of rolls as he scowled over the childishly cruel display he’d just seen.

“That’s one messed up horror story for kids to be telling each other,” he muttered, paying for a loaf of bread and waiting for the man to finish wrapping it for him. The woman beside him turned with a small shrug.

“All the children around here know about that stupid story about Screaming Sally. It’s been around for decades, and at this point, it’s almost a rite of passage to hear it eventually.”

Levi looked at her, sensing he might have someone who would be willing to share if he asked the right questions. “How did it start?”

The woman sighed, shaking her head. “Some poor caretaker for the graveyard by the woods about forty years back snapped after that double homicide and started trying to tell people one of the girls crawled out of her grave. Everyone knows it’s impossible, not to mention the grave was undisturbed when folks checked in the morning after seeing how sincere he was. They had to put him in the home because he kept insisting he saw it, and eventually the story turned into the Screaming Sally legend the kids are always sharing to scare each other.”

Levi’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyes widening momentarily in surprise as the unsuspected connection jumped out at him.

For the briefest moment, he was looking back up at Kenny years ago as Kenny shared some outlandish story to try and scare him. When Levi had called out it’s legitimacy and accused him of spewing a nonsense legend that wasn’t even possible, he’d suddenly appeared a little serious, a small frown appearing beneath the brim of that signature hat of his as he gave Levi the reply that now rang in his ears.

“There’s always a little truth to every legend.”

Pretending his surprise was over something else the woman had said, Levi took the chance to try and pry the local story from her.

“Double homicide? Out here?” Levi asked, suggesting that kind of thing never happened in places like this.

In his opinion, they were more likely to happen out here, since it was so damn isolated.

As Levi took his wrapped loaf, the two started to walk together, just a little further down the path as she indulged his curiosity.

“I know--it’s the darkest stain on this town’s history. Still unsolved, too--one of those locked room murders I think they call them. Y/N Frazier and Victoria Schultz. The Fraziers’ daughter had been out late the night before and came to her parent’s home to rest instead of going back to her own home. She was sick the entire next day, and her best friend Victoria came to visit her. Sometime between the moment Victoria and Y/N were in the room together to the time the Fraziers checked in on them a few hours later, some psychopath managed to find their way into the room, tore Victoria apart beyond recognition, and disappeared with the Frazier girl. Without the Fraziers hearing anything amiss! The police thought it might have been the Frazier girl, because it was the only possible explanation considering the bedroom door was locked and any attacker would have had to come in through the window, and neither girl made a sound, so perhaps Victoria knew her attacker--but Y/N’s body showed up on the edge of the woods a few days later, poor girl. They never found out who did it, or what exactly happened. It still haunts the people in the town who are old enough to remember it.”

As the woman spun the more personal version of the tale, Levi’s mind filled in the gristly details that had been in the report he’d read. How there had been hardly any blood left in the mutilated girl left behind lying on the bed, but far less in the room than there should have been, how L/N’s namesake had been found lying just within the forest’s edge, neck bruised and broken, as well as several bones, covered in bruises and lacerations. It was a closed-casket funeral for both. They had no leads, no one with a motive, no mysterious footprint or shadowy figure seen leaving the crime scene. They’d just been murdered out of nowhere, and nothing like it had happened anywhere near the town ever since. It was a sudden, violent anomaly in their history, and one that was going to leave a mark that would never disappear.

Levi said goodbye to the woman with the bread roll basket, standing in the middle of the road with his gaze turned towards the homes he’d been told about, a thoughtful frown on his face.

It seemed he had two reasons to visit this place: the Fraziers and the caretaker.

Once there, as curious as he was, Levi decided against visiting the Fraziers and asking about the events of forty years ago. From what he’d been able to dig up, it was likely something that still haunted them to this day, and he wasn’t here to terrorize the elderly.

He did, however, pry into who was paying for their stay at the home. Once at the front desk, he suggested that he wanted to pay for their stay, asking after the amount it would take and how often, before insisting whatever payments they were making themselves stop so they wouldn’t have to pay out of their own pockets. At that point, he’d been politely turned down, the secretary informing him that the Fraziers already had an angel donor who was paying regularly for their stay at the home.

“Can I get a name so I can talk to them about splitting the payments?” Levi asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, but...angel donors are what we call anonymous donors who don’t have any ties to the family but still pay for their care. We don’t know who makes the payments, only that they’re made regularly and on time, so Mr. and Ms. Frazier can spend the rest of their days here. I have no name to give you, not that I could, considering that would be sensitive information,” the secretary said politely, though there was a bit of a chill in her voice brought about by Levi’s questioning. He ignored it, busy mulling over this new detail.

He had no evidence to support it, no reason to suspect it, but what if the angel donor was L/N? He knew she was looking for ways to cut costs with how she spent her money, it was one of the reasons she had the tea garden at HQ--it would save her money in the future by cutting costs she spent on things like tea. And her lack of personal belongings could also be from a lack of money to buy nice things for herself. What if the money she saved from her salary was going towards the Fraziers’ well-being?

Again, he had no evidence. It was just a thought, a far-fetched theory, but it was something to take note of and consider, just in case it wasn’t far off the mark.

Getting the hint from the secretary and knowing he was at a dead end as to who was taking care of the Fraziers, at least for what he would find here in town, Levi moved on to the next objective.

“All right, well, I also came to talk to someone in the psychiatric home. He used to be a cemetery caretaker about forty years ago.”

Recognition immediately sparked in her eyes, as well as a bit of apprehension. “We’ll need you to sign in, as well as put down a reason for visiting.”

“Fine,” Levi replied, taking the paper she slid over and writing Jacob, no last name--not that he’d have one to give even if he was using his actual name--and then wrote down social visit before handing it over. Her eyebrows rose slightly and her gaze flickered up to him from the paper, and Levi gazed back at her calmly, waiting patiently for her to at least direct him the proper way.

“Room seventeen. Follow me,” she said, leading them out the door--since they’d been in the home for the elderly--and a little ways away to the other building that acted as the psychiatric home. Once inside she led Levi up two flights of stairs and down a fairly long hall to let Levi into the room marked seventeen in white paint. “Mr. Briarton, you have a visitor,” she said after opening the door, allowing Levi to step into the room and take in a man in his late fifties, early sixties, suspicious pale green eyes narrowed at Levi as he stepped inside.

“I don’t knows you,” the man rasped.

“Jacob,” Levi said bluntly, stepping deeper into the room and staying conscious of the fact the secretary was temporarily lingering to make sure everything was going to be all right. “I came to hear your story.”

“Hah? Here to mock an old man?” Briarton sneered.

“No. Just to listen,” Levi responded simply. Briarton sized Levi up for a moment, then looked at the secretary still standing in the doorway and gave a small wave.

“We’re fine, Janice, you can leave now. I’s knows the rest of you’s is tired of hearin’ my tale.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Briarton.”

“Eh,” he grumbled, and Janice sighed and shut the door, leaving the two of them behind. “Why exactly are you’s interested in hearin’ my story? Everyone else says I’m’s crazy. Locked me up for it, too!”

“I’ve heard the town legends. Someone I knew used to say there’s always a bit of truth to the legends. So I’m here looking for the truth,” Levi answered, leaning up against the wall with arms folded over his chest.

“Hmm…” Briarton hummed, contemplating Levi’s reason before he sighed. “I’s guessin’ you’s already heard ‘bout the murders, if you’s here.”

At Levi’s nod, Briarton skipped over the events that came before, and went right to talking about the burial. “Closed caskets they’s were. Victoria had a pine box, Mr. Frazier insisteds on makin’ Y/N’s hisself, out of willow. We’s buried them midday, six feets down in the grounds, six feets dried earth on those boxes. I’s told they’s were both dead for sures, no comin’ back--specially poor Victoria. Schultz’s weren’t allowed to sees hers it was so bad. Course we’s all thoughts abouts it, we’s all hoped back then the killer’d get caught. People kept comin’ by till it gots too dark and I’s closed the cemetery for the’s night. My’s job was to make sure no ones messed with the graves, and I’s was patrollin’ like usual, and for the’s longest time, I didn’t hear nut-thin. But sometime in the wee hours of the mornin’, as I’s was comin’ up on the girls’s graves, I saw somethin’ movin on the ground on tops of one. I’s went to yells at them, to tell ‘em kids to scram, cause that’s what I’s thoughts they were. But when I’s got close enough to see a bit better, I’s realized they’s was comin’ up from the ground--outta the ground. I’s was frozen in place, watchin’ them’s drag themselves out of the dirt, clawin’ across the ground likes a wounded animal. I’s was tryin’ to scream, but I’s couldn’t makes a sound.”

Briarton stopped, his wide eyes turned towards Levi. “Do you’s know how heavy the dirts is on a coffin? How hard it is to break open a coffin? Impossible’s what it is! My’s brother once locked me’s in one to scares me, and my’s mother lost it whens she found out. I’s was kickin’ and screamin’ for what’s felt like hours tryin’ to break out, but all I’s got from it was bloody hands and elbows. Ands that was without the dirts on tops of it. But I’s swears this girl busted out and crawled outta hers grave. Even if she’s managed to breaks the coffin, she’d’da been crushed bys the dirts. But she’s still crawled outta hers grave. She’s stood up, covered in fresh bloods and dirts, and she’s shoved dirt backs into the hole she’s crawled outta like a drunkard, gaspin’ and wheezin’ and wailin’ like a banshee, an’ then she’s disappears into the night. An’ I’s ran for help, jus’ to get calleds crazy and locked up in here.”

Levi listened to Briarton’s tale in silence, studying the man’s face closely as he spoke to see if the man truly believed every word he was saying. The terror in the man’s eyes was real, though, as he spoke of the impossibility of the haunting image, and there was no trace of insincerity in his face as he spoke. He truly believed in the tale he was telling. Considering the impossibility of it all, Levi also doubted, but he wasn’t going to call him out on in--enough people already believed this man crazy, Levi wasn’t going to add himself to the mix.

He only had one question.

“Who was the woman who crawled out of her grave?” Levi asked steadily, though the crawl of his skin as he said it told him he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Briarton say it.

“Y/N Frazier.”

The day had cooled--in fact, it was starting to feel chillier, the sun frequently hidden by clouds that seemed to be gathering across the sky, hinting at fouler weather on the horizon. After taking his leave of Briarton at the home, Levi went looking for the now infamous cemetery--infamous in his mind, at least--and had made his way to the grave of one Y/N Frazier, where he now stood in silent contemplation, staring intently at the headstone that had engraved upon its surface the girl’s name, a birthday and date of death that showed she had barely been in her twenties, and a brief, “Beloved Daughter.”

He wasn’t really seeing the grave anymore, though. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, theories, memories, information...none of the connections he’d made here made any kind of sense to him, but there were far too many to be ignored. There was something here, something that seemed to be staring him in the face, but he couldn’t see what it was, so he couldn’t use it. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe Briarton really was crazy, maybe he hadn’t seen Y/N Frazier crawl out of that grave that night and he’d simply snapped like everyone suggested he had. But there was nothing to have caused him to snap, no trigger. Not to mention, the sheer coincidence was far too strong to be a coincidence.

So, he entertained the possibility that the bizarre and impossible happened, that Y/N Frazier somehow survived, a mistake had been made somewhere and she was buried alive, and managed to crawl out of this very grave. Ignoring the impossibility of that scenario still didn’t give him many answers. If Y/N Frazier was still alive, she would have been sixty, seventy years old by now. L/N back at the Scout Headquarters was in her early twenties, and very clearly /not dead/. So, L/N definitely wasn’t this Y/N Frazier.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related somehow. If the original girl did survive, it would be possible for L/N to be Frazier’s daughter, maybe even grand-daughter, though that was starting to push the theory beyond what he was willing to suspend believing as impossible.

One thing the Screaming Sally horror story had made him remember, and that Briarton’s recounting had brought to the front of his mind to offer him another connection, was the conversation the other day between the rest of his Squad and L/N.

He remembered the tremble in her hand, the stillness in her posture, the flash of soul-deep fear, trauma, and pain in her eyes as L/N had softly stated that her biggest fear was being buried alive.

He had something big here, but he wasn’t sure where it fit in this messed up puzzle he was trying to solve, and was missing some key piece that connected it to something else. He needed more than ever to see what she was doing in the Underground when she snuck out at night--whatever it was, he was convinced at this point it was the missing piece he needed to make sense of all of this.

But first, he needed to do something that would give him a definitive answer amongst all these legends and tall tales.

It was a new low for him, he knew that. The entire ordeal felt wrong and filthy on an entirely new level, but it was something he had to do. No one else had thought to look, to disturb the grave of one of the murdered girls to see if there was any validity to Briarton’s claims, to the stories of Screaming Sally. Everyone brushed it off as nonsense and went about their day, probably because it was so certain, and it was easier to believe the horror stories were nonsense.

Levi didn’t have that luxury. He didn’t have the certainty, and the easier route was not the one he was going to take. He needed answers. So, he’d returned briefly to Headquarters in order to enlist Erwin’s help to give him the opportunity late that very same night to dig up the grave and settle once and for all whether Y/N Frazier had died. It would help clear up some of the questions and theories when he found her body in the coffin, and it might put them back at square one in figuring out why this place and this name had been chosen by Y/N, but it would help bring them back to a world that made some sense, and it would help weed out a few questions that these legends and stories had brought up.

He didn’t want to think of the implications if the grave was empty. He doubted it would be, but if it was...then this entire mess went far deeper than he could ever imagine.

Perhaps that was why Erwin agreed to help him, why he’d paid off the caretaker to make sure the grave was empty but leave the section Levi was going to be in undisturbed until Levi left. Erwin clearly hadn’t approved of disturbing a gravesite, especially the gravesite of a murder victim, but Levi had strongly believed it was necessary despite his own misgivings, so Erwin had relented.

Now, Levi was in a hole that passed his head, digging the last few inches to the willow coffin Y/N Frazier had been buried in, filthy and tired but determined to get to the bottom. Just a little further, and he would have his answer. He would see the bones in an undisturbed grave, fill in the grave once more, go home, wash up, hate himself for a while for doing this to confirm what he already knew, and then go back to trying to figure out why L/N seemed so deeply connected to this place.

He hadn’t found any bodies frozen on its way to the surface, so he could already rule out the legitimacy of the children’s scary story about Screaming Sally, at least.

The shovel Levi was using scraped against something solid, and Levi paused. Here it was. He’d found it.

Kneeling down, Levi started brushing away at dirt so he could find the coffin lid, fingers brushing against wood, hand brushing a little harder to smooth away dirt--

He had to pull his hand back as he unexpectedly came into contact with splintered wood sticking up into the dirt, piercing his hand and drawing blood as he jerked in surprise, breath catching.

No…

A few more careful brushes with his hand, and he was staring at a coffin lid that had been busted open, shards of wood buried in dirt, but the hole clearly enough for a person to crawl out of. He froze where he was as he stared at the sight before him, the odd, irrational fear that a hand was going to burst out of the hole and grasp his wrist strangely flashing through his mind before he pushed it aside. He wasn’t breathing anymore, an admittedly trembling hand reaching out to pull back the lid, just to double check and confirm what he was seeing.

The grave was, in fact, empty. The coffin was busted open with gouges that had old red stains upon them, as if it had been punched and clawed through from the inside.

His blood running cold and his breaths shallow, Levi had to fight not to think of the haunting image Briarton had described, the fear in L/N’s eyes, and the mental image of a woman trapped in this grave screaming and crying for help, having to tear apart her own body and defy all odds to crawl her way to the surface, tried not to imagine the terror of being buried alive like this.

Kenny had been right. There was always a bit of truth to the legend. He never imagined it would be this much truth, though.

When Levi returned to HQ, the first thing he did was clean himself up and get changed. Then, he made himself some of the tea L/N had gifted him, choosing one of the blends meant to calm in the hopes that it would help settle his nerves after what he’d seen.

Outside, he might still appear stoic, but inside, he was shaken.

Once he was clean, he had his tea, and he felt he had a better grip on himself internally and he was ready for the conversation, he went to Erwin’s office and very solemnly relayed his findings to the man, who looked no less disturbed by this unexpected turn of events than Levi had been. They’d expected some kind of secret while digging into the truth about L/N, they hadn’t been expecting a full blown conspiracy on this level.

Once Erwin was up to speed on Levi’s findings, they started to hash out some theories and details, both of them well aware that they were still missing something crucial as they attempted to make a broader picture with the pieces they were currently in possession of.

The running theory they were working with was that Y/N Frazier was L/N’s mother. It was the most logical connection they could come up with, even though it dumped a whole new slew of questions into this mess.

Why did Frazier run after she crawled out of her grave? Why not return to her home and family, alive and well? Why leave the town behind and everyone in it believing she’d died so terribly? Why never come back to tell who had attacked her and her friend Victoria? What happened that night forty years ago? How had she managed to crawl her way out of a grave? Why had she instead disappeared somewhere inside the walls never to be discovered or heard from again, hiding her true identity remarkably well? Or more importantly, how had she been alive? How did she survive those injuries? Had a mistake been made and she’d been assumed dead? Was the report faked?

How was the Underground supposed to come into play in all of this, and what part did L/N have in it as well? If Frazier was indeed L/N’s mother, was Frazier still alive and living in the Underground? Was that why L/N went down there every now and then? Why not bring her mother to the surface with her? Why, when she came to the surface, did L/N take Frazier’s first name and not use her last name? Why not use her real name? How did the events of forty years ago play into now, and how had it had an affect on L/N?

As always, whenever they uncovered something about L/N, it always came with a thousand more questions. They could theorize all they wanted, but it wouldn’t bring them closer to finding the answers that they craved at this point.

And still, despite the shock and the...unease he had felt to find the empty grave and realize the reality of what happened in that town--or at least part of it--Levi still felt like there was another reality altering twist in this dark tale that was unraveling in front of them that would be far worse. He still felt like they were far off the mark, that the still failed to understand the reality of what they were stepping into. More than ever, Levi felt there was something dark behind this, and he began to feel the first hints of malice surrounding these secrets.

Whatever L/N was hiding, at this point, Levi knew it had to be dangerous.

Erwin’s concerned eyes probed Levi’s expression as Levi gazed at the empty teacup in front of him, well aware that despite his feeble attempt to calm his nerves and thoughts, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

“Levi--” Erwin started to say in a grave tone of voice, but Levi cut him off. He knew what Erwin was about to say, and he already knew what he had to do next.

“I know. All I’m waiting for now is for her to make the next move. This time, she won’t shake me.”

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

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taexual · 4 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (13)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst, years of longing escalating into something serious

words: 8.6k (send help)

chapter thirteen

The lamp posts on the street illuminated Jungkook’s face with a warm yellow haze as the two of you walked back to your dormitory, the noise of the party – and the argument you’d had outside of it – already behind you. You didn’t dare to watch him for longer than just a split-second but you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you were too focused on the pavement to notice.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you left the front yard of his house – and that was already two and a half blocks away – and both of you were busy worrying what the right way to say goodbye once you reached your dorm was. A wave didn’t feel enough but a hug seemed inappropriate after the intense conversation you’d had.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook volunteered to make your trip less awkward.

“Were you actually going to have me arrested?” he asked, recalling your previous threat with surprising clarity – probably because it had impressed him so much.

You sighed, recognizing the amusement on his features – no matter how hard he tried to play it off as simple curiosity – and then said, “no, probably not. That would have only ruined your whole plan and your future—”

“I already have a record,” he pointed out. He said it like that was supposed to make you feel better – it’s totally fine if you get me arrested, you know – but you almost stopped walking in surprise.

“Y-you do?” you asked, unable to fathom how a family as rich as his could not find a way to ensure their beloved son remained a flawless citizen.

“It’s not the first time I got into a fight,” he explained simply and, if you hadn’t known the truth, you’d have thought he really was just your usual troublemaker with no strong backing from his relatives whatsoever. “Some of those fights were more public than others.”

“And your dad—?”

“He took care of it to the best of his ability,” Jungkook admitted, sounding far less dignified than when he mentioned he had a record – as if that was something to be proud of. “But he can only do so much without staining his own reputation. It’s just a few misdemeanors anyway, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. If it proved to be a problem later on, he thought he could just blame it on my youth.”

You chose not to voice it – to avoid an argument that would certainly arise because that was just how Jungkook was – but you couldn’t help thinking that his father’s reasoning was actually different. Maybe he chose not to cover Jungkook’s previous arrest up to teach him a lesson.

“Does that bother you?” you asked instead.

“What?

“That he didn’t put enough work to cover this up.”

Jungkook looked down. All of your questions about his feelings, his wishes, his ambitions were so unusual to him that he didn’t even know what the proper way of answering them was, because you looked like you genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t ask just to be polite.

“No,” he ended up saying, “I didn’t want him to cover it up. And it’s not like I acted out to get his attention, or anything. He seemed really tired of it all when he had to deal with that. You know he’s usually the sort who gets his frustrations out vocally?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Well, when he picked me up from the police station, he didn’t say a word,” Jungkook said. “It was like I’d unlocked a new level of disappointment – one I’d never seen before – where he was just quietly fuming. Or just… so disappointed, he couldn’t even begin to find words.”

You felt jittery. It was hard to walk when your legs kept trying to bounce nervously, hoping to rid you of the excessive anxiety.

“I never knew this,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a smile that wasn’t supposed to seem sad but, because it was purposefully meant to conceal his despair, sad was exactly what it seemed like.

“My mom didn’t tell yours,” he said.

“But they tell each other everything,” you felt the need to point out but you could feel your own naivety getting the best of you – even the people, who had no secrets, had secrets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook replied. “But I don’t think my mom would have had it in her to brag to her best friend – with a straight-A student for a daughter – that her son got arrested. She may have been less obvious than my dad, but she was still just as disappointed.”

Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he mentioned your scholarly achievements and, for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for being such a good student when he was struggling to be a good person.

But you didn’t think now was the time to feel bad about yourself – especially since there wasn’t anything you should have felt bad about in the first place – and you eyed Jungkook carefully before finally daring to ask, “did they ever say they were disappointed in you?”

“They don’t have to say it, it’s plain and obvi—”

“No, but maybe that’s just you assuming things,” you interrupted. Your mind conjured up a thousand scenarios of how this conversation could have gone wrong, but your mouth kept moving, “you have that right. I mean, they have been disappointed in you plenty of times before. But maybe this time they weren’t. Maybe they were just scared for you.”

Jungkook looked at you and he wanted to believe that you were basing your speculations on some legitimate evidence that he��d missed, instead of just hoping that this was true. But he’s known his parents long enough to recognize their defeat.

“Why would they be scared?” he questioned rhetorically. “I know how to throw a punch.”

“Well, maybe that’s why,” you said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “They don’t get scared when I get into fights. They get frustrated, like how did I dare to do that? And then do that again. And again. Maybe they also get confused: I am their son and yet they can’t explain why I am this way.”

He said it like he was diseased – like lacking proper conflict-resolution skills and being impulsive was an illness he’d inherited from someone and, since no one else in his family was sick, that had to mean he didn’t belong there. He belonged somewhere else.

And every time he did something that did not fit into the frame of acceptable behavior in his family’s eyes, it just reminded them that he was the black sheep in a herd of white ones. How did he get here?

“It’s not just you,” you said, your heart hurting. No matter if his parents were really disappointed in him or if they were just worried for him, no child should ever feel like he didn’t belong at home. “Kids from close, loving families rarely grow up to be impulsive or, well, aggressive.”

He clenched his jaw after you said this and that was when you knew that, despite feeling shunned for not being the son his parents had wanted, Jungkook was still their son. They were still his parents.

“I was always like this,” he declared. “From the day I was born. You know that. The relationship with my family hardly changed anything.”

You wondered if he was aware he was defending his family – the family that constantly hurt him with their expectations – by shifting all blame to himself.

“They could have worked as a preventative measu—”

“How, exactly? Remember the time I gave three kids from my pre-school class bloody noses?” he said to prove his point. “Because one of them mocked my drawing of a giraffe and the other two laughed.”

“I-I remember—” you struggled to find a word, “that. It’s not an acceptable way to solve conflict. If they’d taught you that—”

“Acceptability is subjective,” he snapped.

“Uh, sure,” you said and then stopped to wonder if you had the right to draw these conclusions about him.

You thought that, if only Jungkook had gotten more love from the people who were most responsible to love him, he may have grown up to be different – but saying that out loud would have made you sound far too condescending and it would have made a normal person feel uneasy.

Someone who was as arrogant as Jungkook was bound to get riled up – he was already defensive enough as it was – and, maybe, rightfully so. He wasn’t telling you about his family to have you psychoanalyze him. He was just talking to you.

“I-I guess there are other factors that determine how a person chooses to react to something,” you said, threading more carefully now. “For example, you let your testosterone make your decisions for you.”

The sudden transition to biology confused him as he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My testosterone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s obviously your uncontrollable hormones that get you in these situations in the first place. You’re like a twelve-year-old boy, unsure what to do with himself, so you just go with whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Fourteen-year-old boy,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I was fourteen when we stopped being friends.”

That only confused your further. “What does that have to do with—”

“Maybe you were the preventative measure that my family was supposed to be for me,” Jungkook said, the words pouring out as smoothly and elegantly as the floating of your skirt in the windy night. He chuckled humorlessly as he finished, “and then I lost that – the only positive influence in my life.”

You wanted to tell him that he never lost you. That he tried to rid himself of you, he tried to walk away – but he never lost you. No matter how much you wanted to detach yourself from him, to walk away, to move on – he never lost you.

And, more than that, you wanted to ask him why that happened – to demand why he walked away – but allowing him to shift the focus to your relationship would have been selfish. This wasn’t about you-and-him right now. This was about you and him.

Because you were here. You were always here. But Jungkook wasn’t – not always. Often, he fell out of touch with himself completely. And if there was no him, there could never be you-and-him.

“You… you need to be the positive influence in your life,” you said instead, advocating for independence when all you wanted was for him to let you hold his hand so he was steadier on his feet. “You can’t rely on others to get you out of the messes you create all the time.”

“I know,” Jungkook said but he no longer felt like discussing the reasons for his behavior, because every reason eventually led back to you – and when he thought of you, he couldn’t think of anything else. “But I never learned how to take care of myself, did I?”

“No, you never did,” you agreed and then, watching him smile appreciatively – you rarely ever agreed with him – you continued more playfully, “maybe it’s time you started learning, you big baby.”

He laughed and even the wind stopped to listen.

“Maybe,” he said then, the same pathetic hopeful tone that was in your voice before, now evident in his, “I do have you to help me again, don’t I?”

You do, you wanted to say, you’ve always had me. But you only smiled.

“I can’t be the one to handle your conflicts for you,” you said instead. “You have to learn how to do that yourself. How to do that responsibly. I can just… be there for you.”

And, much to the joy of your body that was aching to support him, he smiled and said, “that’s more than enough.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. You felt relieved suddenly – like the tension that surrounded you since you left the party had finally dissipated – and, paradoxically, nervous. Like you didn’t know how to act anymore.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that, however, as he teased, “support me even when I inevitably fuck up again, though, yeah?”

You raised your eyebrows, countering his lively pout.

“That’s not a very good attitude,” you said. “How do you expect to change if you’re setting yourself up for failure from the get-go?”

He shrugged. “By a miracle?”

“Jungkook.”

“Come on. I have you rooting for me. I won’t let you down,” he assured you and then, carelessly throwing his arm around your shoulders, added, “I am a great actor. I just have to start playing a responsible role.”

“It’s your father you’re supposed to prove your responsibility to, not me,” you reminded him – just like he’d reminded you a few days ago in your dorm room – although your skin was burning from his touch. “But I’m hoping that by pretending to be responsible, you’ll actually learn a thing or two and prove yourself to us both.”

Jungkook looked at you – his face so close and so welcoming – and said, in the most laid-back fashion that was possible for someone who’d just crossed half the campus while analyzing his childhood issues, “you’re very preachy when you’re drunk.”

It felt like you’d left the party years ago as you said, “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Oh, well. That doesn’t surprise me then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he leaned his head against yours and the touch of your temples was electrifying -- like shock therapy that numbed every one of your senses except the ones that consumed his close presence. “I’ve missed your lectures.”

You doubted that but your voice didn’t sound convincing when you spoke – he probably wouldn’t have even heard you if he wasn’t so close, “have you, really?”

“Hmm,” he purred and your pulse nearly flat-lined. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

If you two weren’t walking so close to each other, if he didn’t have his arm around your shoulders, if his head wasn’t pressed against yours – then maybe his words wouldn’t have strummed the strings of your heart so terribly and so delightfully. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten all about the seven-year-long silence when you heard the song his words played for you.

But you were walking so close to each other – so close, in fact, that a passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell where your body ended and his began; you shared a silhouette.

And he did have his arm around your shoulders – pulling you closer to him while making sure you were steady on your feet even if his own balance was off.

And his head was pressed against yours – so gently and yet so naturally, it was as if there were magnets inside your skulls and they literally pulled you to one another.

And, thus, when you reached the door of your dorm room, you could not imagine yourself saying goodbye. You couldn’t imagine watching him walk away.

“Are you coming in?” you asked as Jungkook waited a few steps away, unsure how to behave now that the moment-at-the-end-of-the-night had arrived.

“I thought you said you felt like going to sleep,” he said perhaps a little awkwardly.

“I do,” you said and maybe you were still drunk without realizing it but you felt bold enough to add, “but I also feel like spending time with you in a place where... we don’t have to worry about what other people think. Not to mention, your wound needs to be taken a look at.”

“My wound?” his bruised cheekbones had completely escaped his mind. “Oh, that—it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“At least, let me put a band-aid on it,” you asked.

“And cover up my beautiful face?” he scoffed, using his favorite strategy of dealing with problems – deflection. “No.”

You sighed. “It won’t be beautiful if it scars.”

“Are you kidding?” he still didn’t give in, bringing a hand down the side of his own face and clenching his teeth so you wouldn’t see him wince when he touched the wound. “It’ll make me look badass.”

“You’re a baby,” you declared and then ordered, “come inside.”

“Not if you’re going to be pulling your medical equipment out on me—”

Groaning, you cut him off with a reluctant – but irritated – promise, “I won’t. Now, come in.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook checked again but he was already reaching for the door that you kept open for him.

“Yes,” you said.

He still hesitated. “Because you don’t have to—”

His uncertainty did terrible things to your boldness – it seemed to vanish with every moment that he did not enter your room.

“Look, if you’d rather get back to the party,” you said, “and drink some more of Taehyung’s painfully unbearable drinks, then, by all means, go—”

“No,” he cut in sharply – maybe too sharply – and then, just to be sure you understood why he cut you off, he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, come inside, then,” you said and, because you were nervous, you felt the need to add, “but I can’t promise to be more entertaining than absinthe.”

He snickered, finally walking past your doorway. “Oh, you have a far bigger effect on me than absinthe.”

He stopped to take his shoes off. You stopped to lock the door.

The hallway of your dorm-room was very small for two people but, locked away from the rest of the world, you suddenly felt like you were home. Like there was nothing to be nervous about here. Like you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades.

“Ah,” you started to say because you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades, “so it burns your throat when you get in contact with me and you feel sick every time you look at me?”

“That’s—” Jungkook paused, one sneaker off. He raised his eyes to look at you. “You really hate it that much, huh?”

“It’s a rational feeling,” you said, unbuckling the strap of your own shoes. “Absinthe is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“Well, if we’d stayed longer, you would have seen what my bandmates do with it,” Jungkook said. “It involves a cube of sugar and a whole lot of cursing because their hands shake too much to do anything.”

He hadn’t realized just how hypnotizing it could be to watch someone take off their shoes so, when you finally placed your shoes on the floor, your feet aching from the torture you’d put them through tonight, he was still staring at your legs.

You cleared your throat, somewhat self-conscious now. “I’m, uh—I’m a little intrigued.”

This got him to lift his eyes to your face. “Oh? So… does that mean there’s a little possibility you’ll go to the party with me again next week?”

“Next week,” you repeated, realizing that this was Parental Advisory’s routine: parties every Friday, hangovers every Saturday. You turned around with a soft sigh and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on your bed. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, keeping respectful distance from you – because you weren’t walking across campus anymore, now you were on a bed – but still remaining close enough to hear your faint breathing. “I was just kidding. We can stay here.”

You looked at him. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, his voice breaking in surprise. “Okay, then. We don’t have to do anything togeth—”

“No, I just mean—you like that,” you clarified before his stomach could drop any lower. “You enjoy partying, hanging out with people, drinking, dancing, and all that. I don’t want you to give that up to hang out with me here.”

You were saying you didn’t want to bore him. You were saying you didn’t want him to overstep the boundaries of your fake relationship.

He’d never heard you say something so stupid before and he didn’t realize that it was his own words that got you to feel this uncertain.

“I’m not giving anything up,” he said because, apparently, even the smartest people sometimes needed to have it spelled out for them. “I do enjoy that but I also enjoy spending time with you.”

In your defense, it wasn’t spelling out that you needed. It was reassurance.

“We haven’t done that since we were… well, in middle school,” you pointed out and your last words were an incantation of a silence spell that prevented you from saying anything else for the next few minutes.

This time was no exception, as both of you shared a thoughtful moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, and then Jungkook clapped his palms on his knees, nodding his head in the direction of your laptop on the desk across the room.

The spell was broken. You weren’t going to speak of that day. Not today.

“Well, come on, then,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do, it’s been seven years. Show me the movies I’ve missed.”

“Lots of movies came out in seven years,” you replied but got up from the bed to get your computer nevertheless.

“Well,” Jungkook said, dramatically extending his arm to check the non-existent watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You sat back down, smiling at his antics, and pulling up your Videos folder. You scanned it briefly, trying to pick one movie that would leave a long-lasting impression on him – even though you couldn’t explain why you wanted to impress him.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested. “Just choose the first one. We’ll watch them all.”

You scoffed. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll stay awake through more than one movie.”

“You want to bet?” he countered, knowing your taste in movies too well. “After the movie you’ll choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled – he’d never grown to like horror movies as much as you did – and teased, “don’t be a baby.”

“I can’t,” he pouted on purpose, hoping for more of your sympathy and not knowing that he already had all of it. “I scare easily.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You just get distracted all the time and everything catches you unprepared.”

“That’s the same thing,” he insisted.

Sighing as you finally settled on the movie, you gave him a look. “Just try not to fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Do you mean that literally or—”

“I mean it in every sense of the word,” you replied. “If you start snoring during my favorite part, I might not be able to forgive you.”

“So strict about snoring,” he said, a mocking grin on his lips.

“I am,” you replied, completely serious. “So, now that we’ve established that—”

“We established that in second grade,” he reminded you, “when you tried to suffocate me with a pillow during our sleepover.”

“I…” you started to say but the memory was too unexpected and overwhelming – and he didn’t remember it correctly. “I tried to get you to stop snoring!”

“By putting a pillow on my face!”

“Nothing else worked!”

“You could have kicked me!”

“I did!” you said. “Several times. My feet bruised.”

He rolled his eyes, adamant to prove your murderous tendencies. “Oh, please.”

You shook your head, the argument so pointless and unnecessary that you chose to opt for a compromise. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen tonight, alright?”

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I stopped snoring after that incident. I guess, you could say I haven’t recovered from that trauma. I’m constantly afraid someone’s going to try to use a pillow on me—”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!” you said with a groan and when he opened his mouth to protest again, you cut in quickly, “drop this or I really will suffocate you with a pillow.”

He closed his mouth again and then nodded, impressed.

“Still very strict about snoring,” he corrected his earlier statement. “I’ll keep my breathing in check.”

You finger lingered on the mouse button, ready to play the movie you’d picked, but your mind lingered on the memory he’d brought back and all the other memories that came with it. It’s already been a long night, full of reminiscing, discussing, and analyzing.

But you couldn’t resist it.

You’d wanted to know for so long – even if there was nothing to know and it was something that just happened as things sometimes did – that even the late hour couldn’t stop you.

You didn’t want closure. Seven years have gone by – you didn’t want it.

You needed it.

“Can I ask you something?” you started, swallowing slowly.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, unsure why your face had clouded all of a sudden.

“It’s been seven years,” you said and the thunderclouds started to make sense. “Why did you talk to me that night at the party?”

The question was so loaded, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it without reflecting on his entire life. But right now, after the night he’d had, you managed to catch him off guard and his mind was void of any answer that made sense.

“Because you were there,” he said because that was the simplest way of explaining it.

You needed more. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” he shifted his weight to his side until he was half-laying on your bed, his left shoulder pressed into the corner where your bed met the wall. His body was facing you but his eyes were on your hands, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Actually, since the day I told you we shouldn’t be talking anymore,” he paused here. He never learned how to talk about that without pausing. “Not a clever decision on my part.”

“Mm, no, not really,” you felt the bitterness in your voice as you said this but you didn’t try to justify it – and Jungkook didn’t need you to.

“Yeah,” he only nodded. “So, I don’t know. I saw an opportunity to talk to you again – and I was drunk, and sort of on a post-show high – so I took it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed but it sounded like only one half of an answer that you needed. Jungkook didn’t know how to explain the other half and he naively hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Timing, right?”

You weren’t sure if that was right. He could tell.

“You deserve a better answer,” he acknowledged, sighing heavily, “but I don’t want to lie and make up stories about how I’d been—I don’t know—bracing myself to talk to you for a long time, how I planned it all out, because that’s not true. I did want to talk to you, I’ve wanted to every day, but I probably never would have. Not if I wouldn’t have seen you right then and there, in front of me.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was in any position to seek you out,” he replied, “and, actually, I sort of got the feeling that you weren’t that excited to see me, either. Every time I saw you on campus, I’d blink, and you’d be on the other side of the street, already far away from me.”

Fair enough, you weren’t entirely blameless in this, either, you decided, and then admitted, “yeah. Maybe I was avoiding you a little.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that. I made the decision to… to stop talking to you and I knew I should have stuck with it.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

He knew what you were going to ask as he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make that decision?” you asked, unafraid of the potentially childish connotations in your voice. You just needed to know. You’d waited for this long enough. “Why did you decide to stop being friends with me?”

Even though he hadn’t answered you yet, just getting the question out of your system felt so relieving, it was as if Sisyphus had dropped his boulder on your chest seven years ago and now, at long last, you’d rolled it off.

The boulder seemed to roll off onto Jungkook, however, as he tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but always ended up closing it again. He didn’t know where to begin.

“We… we were so different back then,” he finally said. He looked at you then and there was hope in his eyes – he wanted you to understand him without any words. “Remember?”

“From right now?” you asked. You weren’t willing to try to decipher the signals his eyes were sending you. Right now, you needed him to use his words.

“From each other,” he clarified. “You were always so focused on your studies and spent so much time working with the school staff when you were in the student council, you were essentially the de facto headmaster of our school.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Right. And I was… well, you knew me then. I haven’t changed much.”

“The troublemaker,” you said and then, almost automatically, tried to make light of the situation because he looked like he was having a hard time and you didn’t want that. “Good thing there are no more PTA meeting in college, huh?”

Jungkook laughed at this but his laughter lacked humor.

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding wistful in the slightest. He wouldn’t go back to high school even if someone paid him to do it. “There’s still the risk of expulsion even without them. That never goes away in any institution.”

“It’s what brings you to life, though,” you said, your previous discussion returning to your mind. “You love the adrenaline, the danger of doing something that might have long-lasting repercussions. You always have.”

“And you don’t,” he said sadly. “That’s why I felt like—I didn’t want to—I was bad for you.”

Your loud heartbeat momentarily halted your ability to comprehend his words. “Hmm?”

“You probably don’t know this, but,” he hesitated on the very edge of what he knew you needed to hear, “I’d overheard my parents talk about us once, after our middle school graduation.”

There it was again. The last day of your middle school.

Thankfully, this time, the silence spell didn’t linger and Jungkook continued. Actually, this time, the spell didn’t even work on him – now that he’d decided to answer your question – now that he’d found how to answer it – he couldn’t be silenced.

“And the only thing I remember from their conversation,” he said, “is my mom – who’s been on my side for as long as I could remember, standing up for me to my teachers even when they believed I was a lost cause – saying to my dad that she was afraid I was going to be the end of you.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed.

After spending almost every day with Jungkook – and his family, too – for years, you hadn’t even considered that they may have been talking about you when you weren’t there.

“She, um… she saw something between us that we didn’t, I guess,” Jungkook continued as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your blanket, his eyes on the shredded fleece. “And she believed I would be the reason why you stopped working so hard. Why you lost your ambitions. She thought I’d turn you into someone entirely different.”

“But that’s—why would she—” all the questions you had tried to pour out of you at once.

“She saw how much we meant to each other and—”

“Yeah, but—” you cut him off and, closing your eyes for a moment to settle on just one of the many things you wished him to explain, you tried, “I mean, why couldn’t she have looked at it from a different perspective? I could have been the good influence that you needed in your life. Y-you said I was.”

“I thought you were. I still think you are. But, um…” Jungkook spoke to the fleece blanket because he couldn’t speak to you, “she… she didn’t seem to think you had it in you to resist me.”

“Resist you?” you repeated, unexpectedly offended. But that only lasted for a second before you felt it necessary to disarm yourself and stop pretending. You were absolutely devoted to Jungkook when you were growing up. “Oh, fuck it,” you said. “She probably had a point.”

Jungkook was prepared to hear your offence. He was not prepared to hear that.

“She had?” he repeated, looking at you for the first time since he started talking.

You swallowed the ball in your throat. “Yeah.”

Shakily, Jungkook concluded, “so, I made the right choice, then.”

“By putting an end to our friendship?” you asked, suddenly aware of how cold your body seemed to be, your hands especially – and painfully so, too. Dancing with the ghosts of your past proved to be difficult. “Was that for my benefit, then?”

It wasn’t the disbelief in your voice that he focused on. It was the anger.

You’d moved on. He thought you moved on – you were still the same in almost every aspect that he remembered, but you were also so different: so mature, so determined, so certain.

And he was partially right – you clearly didn’t hold a very strong grudge. But he also felt ridiculous for assuming that, despite it being so long, you wouldn’t still be angry about this now.

You’d allowed him back into your life and blessed him by not asking him to explain himself for weeks before you finally gathered the courage to do it; it was natural for you to feel angry about something that you’d waited for for so long.

“That’s… well, it was supposed to be,” he explained and then felt the need to defend his decision by saying, “that’s how everyone seemed to see it. I didn’t want you to lose the best parts of yourself because of me. And I don’t doubt that your parents were also relieved when I was no longer such a prominent part of your life.”

You had considered the possibility that Jungkook ended your friendship per the request of his parents. But you had assumed they saw you as a threat to him – even if, in retrospective, that didn’t make a lot of sense; what threat could you have possibly posed to him or the company?

Instead, it was the other way around.

Looking down, you said, “my parents weren’t relieved.”

“They weren’t?” Jungkook repeated because he couldn’t find enough words of his own.

“No,” you confirmed, remembering the not-so-distant times when Jungkook’s name was a forbidden word at your dinner table. “Hardly any parent would feel relieved to see their child cry her eyes out for days.”

Admitting this made you feel vulnerable and it would have made you feel pathetic, too, if Jungkook didn’t immediately wince after you said this – not from pity, but from his own hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said because he had to, and because he was. And then, even though he didn’t have to, he continued, “I didn’t handle that well, either. I broke my leg in a bike accident about three weeks after we last talked.”

You frowned, focusing all of your energy into your confusion so your wet eyelashes wouldn’t release the droplets of tears down your cheeks. “Was that—”

“That’s how I deal with my emotions,” he said with a nod, confirming your guess. “That is, I don’t. I get reckless and I do stupid shit. That’s the last time I ever saw Dad’s beloved Ducati. He sold it.”

“He sold the bike?” you asked. The bike had belonged to Jungkook’s father who was a casual collector of sports cars and motorcycles – much to the joy of his underage son – but Jungkook was never permitted to drive any of them, at least, not until he was “old enough” according to his father’s standard.

“On the same day they ‘scraped my body off the pavement.’ That’s how he put it,” Jungkook said. “I only got to ride it that one time. Clearly, I’m not a natural. But dad couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to get on a bike for the first time without a helmet or any help at all. He wasn’t even looking for reasons why I did it, he didn’t ask me anything. Just sold the bike, locked up the garage, and didn’t talk to me for a week after I returned from the hospital. Actually—t-that was the first major thing that lead to me moving out of their house later on.”

You replayed his words for a long time, thinking and trying to understand.

“Why did you ask me to put this act? To play a couple for your parents?” you asked when you thought you were ready for the final cross on the last T. “If they thought you were a bad influence on me, this—seeing us back together again, could have painted you in the wrong light again.”

He didn’t think so.

“It’s been so long,” he said, “and you’re arguably the best student in your year. You’re determined and driven. And you’d rather kick my ass to the curb than give in to me and what I want. You… you affect me in ways I could never affect you. Control me in ways I could never control you. And I mean that in a good way. You are a good influence on me. And my parents can see that now.”

Obviously, he wasn’t entirely aware of how much control he still had over you, but because now you knew that this was precisely the reason why you’d stopped being friends seven years ago, you chose not to bring it up.

“I… I don’t control you,” you said.

“You do,” he disagreed. “Maybe not intentionally—actually, probably not; I’d like to think that you didn’t want me to suffer—but you do. You want to stay inside of your room, watching movies – and I want that, too. You want me to come to class and I want that, too. You want me to change and I’m changing.”

“I just—I don’t want you to kill yourself with your recklessness. But I don’t want you to be different,” you said, looking down. “I’d... always liked you the way you were.”

Your broken-up confession couldn’t have warmed his heart more. And yet, he had to point out, “I was unbearable.”

You gave him a look that wasn’t threatening at all because your eyes were still glossy from the tears.

“I know,” you said.

He smiled in spite of himself. “And you still liked me that way?”

You nodded, not saying anything else because he already knew the answer to that—and every other—question.

“I’m sorry for these seven years,” Jungkook said then and maybe that wasn’t enough to cure the wounds the years had left but it was a start. “You had a future ahead of you and I didn’t. My parents could see that but there was little they could do. I had to understand and deal with the fact that I was going to fall off the rails sooner or later myself. I was fourteen and I had to understand that. And I did. I knew that. And I also knew I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You fell into silence again.

You knew you wouldn’t have walked away from him then – anything he’d have asked, you would have given him. Any cliff he would have jumped off of – you would have followed.

To realize that Jungkook didn’t let you go because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, or because he got tired of you, or because he didn’t care about you anymore -- or because of any other reason you tried to find over the years -- but rather, he let you go because he knew you wouldn’t, was groundbreaking.

It didn’t fix the hurt, it didn’t make it better, and, perhaps, nothing would – the years have gone by and you couldn’t get them back – but now you knew that the end of your friendship was a sacrifice of sorts.

You were intertwined together – it was you-and-him, always you-and-him – and you were comfortable living this way, both of you were. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

Except, you weren’t the one who had her eyes opened seven years ago – if there was no you and him, there could never be you-and-him – and so Jungkook ended up having to break out of your comfort zone, to leave your sanctuary, and walk in a different direction. On a different road.

All so you could have a road for yourself.

“I’m…” you tried to say but the tears that had welled up in your eyes were now cascading down your face and Jungkook – alert as soon as he saw that you were crying – sat up straight. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for telling me.”

“I… you’re welcome,” he said, wanting to reach out and wipe the tears away but watching you do it yourself. “Although, I wish I didn’t have to tell you anything. Not just because I don’t want you to think about my mom differently after this—she always wanted what’s best for you, we both did—but also because I… I wish there had been a different way. A way where we could have kept in touch and still remained individuals.”

“Maybe there was no such way at the time,” you said. “We’d been close from the day we were born. Maybe we needed to spend some time apart to learn how to be ourselves.”

“Maybe,” he agreed but he didn’t think that was fair. “We were too close.”

“We were,” you said and couldn’t help sniffling; the tears have started to block your breathing. “Sorry, I just—it didn’t have to be seven years. I-I mean, it doesn’t take that long for people to mature.”

“No. It didn’t have to be,” Jungkook said but the fact that he agreed with you didn’t bring you much joy because his words were sad. “I have no excuse for that.”

Knowing that you could have been setting yourself up for more heartache, you still dared to ask, “would you have talked to me sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding you?”

“Probably,” he said, afraid to look at you in case he’d lose control of himself at the sight of your tears. “I-I couldn’t resist myself. But would you have replied to me?”

You looked down, making it easier for another tear to trail down your cheek. “I did that night at the party.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “Would I have seen you again if I hadn’t crashed my car?”

You inhaled sharply, not liking that this was what it came to. “No. Probably not.”

“It didn’t have to be seven years,” he said again, nodding thoughtfully, “but I think that we… started to talk again right when we had to. When it was time.”

You didn’t like that, either. “That can’t be true.”

“We’ll never know what’s true,” he said, leaning in closer to you but still not daring to reach out and touch you. “But it’s been long enough.”

“It has been,” you said, nodding and, feeling more tears coming. You sniffled, throwing your head back to fight the crying, and excused your emotions again, “it’s been a long day. It’s been seven long years.”

It’s been a long life; but you didn’t think of your years as his best friend to be draining. If anything, these were the years that made you feel alive: both of your families so close, it was like you grew up with two sets of parents, and with a soulmate for a best friend.

It’s what happened next that was a task.

Life had been pouring out in every shade of color around you when you knew him, when you laughed with him. And when you didn’t, you had to physically strain yourself to see the world in anything other than black-and-white.

You’d worked so hard to get used to the darkness of your life that the explosion of the color spectrum when you finally got to laugh with him again was almost painful. You’d grown so accustomed to monochrome that seeing colors all over again felt scary. Dangerous. Potentially hurtful.

But now you knew he never meant to take the colors out of your life. By doing so, he ended up having to sacrifice his own brightness. His own light.

Maybe what hurt the most right now wasn’t the memory of the years that you’d spent without talking, but rather the pointlessness of it all because here you were again: together. Affecting each other in ways ordinary people should not have been allowed to affect one another.

“Come here,” Jungkook finally asked, extending his arms, but you shook your head, not wanting to admit to how big the hurricane cloud in your chest was. “Come here, please.”

The insistence of his tone wasn’t what got you to move closer in the end – it was the pain in his eyes.

This had hurt him, too. He was the one who had to find a different way so he wouldn’t have to end your friendship. He was the one who eventually failed and had to say goodbye – stone you so you’d run away. Wound you, so you wouldn’t come back.

It would have hurt your pride if you didn’t love him so much.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to say how much he wanted you to come back after he told you to leave; how much he agonized over your phone number – which he’d deleted off his phone only to realize that he knew it by heart – and how much he wished he was different—better—so he wouldn’t have to stay away from you. He couldn’t find the words.

So, he just held you – like it was the first and the last time he was ever going to hold you. And he hoped that this would be enough for you to know that he knew you loved him. He’d always known.

And he loved you, too.

“I’ve missed you. Everything about you,” he whispered, clutching your body tightly against his own and sinking his face into your hair. “So much.”

Your hair grew wet – you could feel the pain leave his heart in tears – and, even though you’d seen him cry before, you’d never cried with him. But it felt inevitable now – like everything you’d done together in the past few weeks was only the prologue and tonight you were turning the page, you were starting the first chapter of the rest of your lives.

It hurt because of how long the prologue was. It hurt because of the seven empty pages.

But it felt so relieving to reach the end. So freeing.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter because you were ready to work on letting go of the pain, and you were ready to move on, and you were so happy to have him with you. You didn’t know what awaited you after tonight but that scared you much less than all that you’d already survived.

“If history repeats itself,” you said, your nose stuffed from the crying, “we’ll find a different way, right?”

Jungkook considered pulling away when you said this but that didn’t seem right. Not holding you when he could, didn’t seem right.

“We will,” he said into your hair. “I’m not leaving again.”

And he meant it – in the long run, at least. Because this night was coming to an end.

Your laptop – and the movie you didn’t get to watch – was long abandoned as you and Jungkook sat on your bed, your legs crossed and hearts open, and you talked.

You talked and the seven empty pages filled. The filled with words, written in different fonts with different colors, but they filled.

You talked and your bodies grew tired even if your minds didn’t, so you lied down on your backs next to each other, the white concrete ceiling painting itself in the colors of all that you’d missed about each other.

You talked and the hours went by – minute by minute, morning was creeping up on you.

“It’s late,” Jungkook said when your room got so dark, he couldn’t make out which bits of skin, glistening in the pale light from the street lamps outside, were yours and which were his. But even so, he remained on his back next to you. “I should probably go home. Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow? Or next week?”

“I… I don’t have plans tomorrow,” you said and you wanted this night to keep going so badly, that if you’d been Faust, your soul would have gone straight to hell: beautiful moment, do not pass away! “Will the party be over now?”

“No, probably not yet,” Jungkook replied, “won’t be the first time I’ll be woken up by someone drunkenly smashing a bottle or something,” he said and then, when you bit your lip, clearly concerned, he added, “it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Then, because you were not Faust and the devil had not chained your soul to the pits of hell just yet, you found a way to stop the moment as you said, “you could stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you, unsure if he understood your offer. “H-how do you mean?”

“Just… stay here,” you said with a shrug as if it was that simple. Your eyes remained on the ceiling. “The RA didn’t see you come in with me. And, usually, no one smashes anything in the middle of the night here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. He didn’t want to go – but just like he did before coming inside earlier tonight, he didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for; God knew you’d already done so much for him.

But you assured him, “yeah. You didn’t want me walking home alone, well, maybe I don’t want you stumbling around at 3 AM, either. You’d already had one fight today.”

“It’s, uh,” he checked his phone, “four-thirty.”

You gave him a look.

“But your concern is understandable,” he added quickly, catching on, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you here.”

“Okay,” he said, your gazes so intensely focused on each other, both of you were almost paralyzed as you lied side by side.

“Yeah?” you asked. “So, you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay if you let me.”

You turned to your side, facing him. Your eyes never left his, just like his did not stray from yours. You even seemed to blink in unison.

“Stay,” you said. “I’m letting you.”

He turned to his side as well and, as his eyes fell to your lips – he could have touched them with his own if he dared to move a little bit closer – you knew you would have allowed him do a lot more than just stay here for a night.

But you’ve come a long way tonight, both literally – when you walked back here from the party – and figuratively – when you scratched the wounds until they bled because there was no other way for them to heal properly – and maybe that was enough for one night.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispered because you’d walked so much tonight but your road hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t dare to touch you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back because just having him here with you after so long felt enough right now. You didn’t have to to touch him.

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts college au #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #college au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #friends to lovers au #bts f2l #fanfiction #bts au #angst

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strawberrylemonz · 4 years ago

Text

Accepted Invitation

Part 1

Part 2 [CURRENT]

Part 3

DT: @bargledblocks my beloved <3 and @snapdragonfirefly my beloved <3

“Chat, stop being dickheads.”

Kristin shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at Phil, who smiled at her.

“He gets that from you.”

“What? Never! He must have learned it from someone else!”

As the two playfully bickered, accusing each other of starting Tommy’s cursing habit, they failed to notice the guilty look that covered the twin’s expression. Ghostbur, not being able to read the atmosphere or situation, whispered in a loud manner.

“Heeeeeey, didn’t we teach him how to curse.”

“You two did what?”

“Nothing! Let’s move on!”

Tommy hummed as he happily navigated through the unfamiliar Portal Hub. He had heard stories of what it was like from his father and brothers, so he was more than excited to finally navigate through it himself. Look at him go! TommyInnit, the most badass adventurer around! He would be so cool, just like his family!

“What is he doing on the main server? Why is he walking around the Portal Hub?”

“I don’t know, but does it matter?”

“Of course it does-!”

“Does not.”

Just as he was about to enter a different section of the Portal Hub, the sound of a small peep caught his attention. Turning around with a smile, he held out his hand as he caught a baby chick, gently petting it with his finger.

“Hello, little guy. New god?”

“Yes, little chick, I am!”

“Did Clara and Mother lead you my way?”

“They did! They couldn’t help but say good things about you, so I just had to come and see you for myself! I hope I’m not going to stay this small forever.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get bigger the longer you stick around with me. Mother and Clara are already fully grown chickens, but there’s other deities who are still puffy chicks, like you.”

“Wonderful! Can I stay on your person?”

“Sure, why not? Here, just stay there.”

“Thank you, young chick.”

“Not a problem!”

“I’m sorry, gods?”

“Are you telling me that Tommy’s just as crazy as his family? I mean, come on, Chat? Voices? Obvious red flag-”

“That’s not very nice, Dream.”

Dream frowned and tried to cover his ears, doing his best to block out Ghostbur. Techno and Wilbur just sat in silence, watching the form of their brother as he happily interacted with his voices, with his chat. He seemed so much more in control than they ever were at his age. Overall, they were just shocked that he even had a chat, and they didn’t know. Watching the interaction, Ranboo voiced his observation.

“Hey, Tommy kinda has what Phil does.”

“What do you mean, Boo?”

“Phil has a bunch of crows that follow him around, Tommy has baby chicks. Kinda funny, if you ask me.”

Tommy smiled as he tucked the chick into his shirt pocket, happy to see the little fella content. Peering into his satchel, he smiled as he nodded to a small group of chicks huddled in there, peering up at him. Their peeps comforted him as he entered the new area, clutching the straps of both his backpack and satchel tightly in his grip. Mumbling as he studied the different portals, he couldn’t help but snort as familiar clucking caught his attention. Turning around, he waved as a clucking chicken ran to him, flapping into his arms.

“Hello, Mother.”

Quackity snorted, only to quickly move to cover his mouth. Kristin raised an eyebrow as she turned to face him, curiosity painting her face. Nervous laughter erupted from the man’s throat as he scratched the back of his neck, trying to explain.

“It’s just, seeing him call a chicken mother was kind of funny.”

Kristin laughed as she nodded in agreement, she and Clara sharing knowing looks.

“It is funny, yeah.”

The chicken clucked as she rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling in. Waiting as he held her close, he smiled as a red aura came off the chicken, forming a mass in front of him. Floating there, arms crossed, was Kristin. Humming as she looked around the area, she spoke up in a confident manner.

“Joining your Chat was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. Now I just need to track down your brothers and join their Chats, talk some sense into them during my free time.”

“Good to see you too, Mum.”

Kristin chuckled as she shook her head. Pressing her lips together, she gave her youngest son a pointed look.

“Now, Tommy, why are you here? You should be at home, with the others. The Hub is a big and unpredictable place, no nine year old should be wandering around here unsupervised.”

“But I’m not unsupervised, you’re here!”

Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head as she sharpened her look, making the child avoid her gaze.

“I mean by someone who is physically there to watch you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Mum, I’m a Big Man!”

“I don’t doubt you are, but you still shouldn’t be here on your own. Here, let’s get you back to your father and brothers-”

“No!”

“Yelling at his mother, how rude!”

Niki shook her head in distaste as Jack nodded in agreement.

“She must have the will of thousands to deal with someone like Tommy.”

Kristin frowned at the statements being made behind her. It hurt her that the people her son admired and looked to spoke ill of him behind his back. What hurt her the most, however, was the lack of defense from her husband or sons. Instead, the defense came from someone else.

“Hey, leave the kid alone! Look at him, he’s just a child!”

“Quackity is right, Tommy’s nine here. Besides, if Kristin see’s something wrong with his tone, I’m sure she’d put him back in line.”

A satisfied hum came from Kristin as she smiled at Quackity and Ranboo, glad to see that some people had some sense in themselves.

Kristin frowned as she raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards her youngest son. Tommy peered down at the chicken in his arms, ashamed. Sighing, he nodded as he looked back at her.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I just- I can’t go back.”

“Why not?”

“I hate being alone.”

The group watched as tears welled up in the child’s eye. They all felt a pinch of pain and hurt in their chests, frowning at how Tommy was feeling. Watching as he wiped his tears away with the chicken, they couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

“What do you mean by alone? I’m sure that if you just ask your brothers if you can join in sparring-”

“They left.”

“...What? What do you mean they left? What about your father? What did he say about this?”

“He left too. They all left me alone in the cottage. Something about being invited to a new server? They sent letters back home for me to read, but they stopped coming in two months ago. Dad and Techno started a nation, I think. The Antarctic Empire, or something. Wilbur started his own, but I think he’s allied with them? It got confusing after a while.”

“L’manburg wasn’t Wilbur’s first country?”

“Forget that, the anarchists started a country?!”

“Letters stopped two months ago? When did they leave you behind?”

“Um, I’m not sure? They left November twenty-second.”

“Wha- Tommy, it’s July fourth! They’ve been gone for almost seven months!

“Wow, really? It’s been that long? Huh, would you look at that! I’m a master survivor!”

“Ow!”

“I still don’t forgive you for that! How could you leave our son behind like that?! For seven months?!”

“Kristin-”

“Don’t, we’ll talk about this later.”

“And you’ve been alone all along? What about our sweet neighbors? Aren’t you best friends with that boy your age?”

“Tubbo went with his dad on a trip a few months back.”

“Schlatt took him on a trip? Huh, weird. And what about Lani?”

“What’s so surprising about that? I can be a loving and cool father, right Tubbo? Lani?”

The two siblings avoided the ram’s gaze, mumbling excuses so they did not need to reply.

“Adopted dad took her on a different trip after she got upset that Schlatt left her behind.”

“Well, count on Jordan to cheer his daughter up.”

“The Captain is cool like that, Mum.”

“You bet he is! Man, I need to go on a trip with him again. He’d love to meet Michael!”

“Knowing dad, he’s gonna freak after seeing that his only son is married and has a child.”

“I think you’re wrong, Lani, dad will be fiiiiiiiiiiinnnnne.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, where are you going, Tommy? Joining them on this new server?”

“I was, but I decided not to.”

“And why not?”

“I was invited to a different server! See?”

Kristin watched as Tommy reopened his satchel, greeting the chicks who napped inside. Carefully pulling out an envelope, he smiled as he pulled out the card. Presenting it to his mother with pride, Tommy giggled with glee as she read the name of the server.

“Dream SMP?”

“Yup! Started back in April, I think? I got the invite a month back, and I’ve been preparing to leave ever since! Isn’t that cool? Someone thinks I’m cool enough to join a server!”

Kristin studied the face of her son, watching as he happily rambled about his plans for the new server. He didn’t fool her, he never could. She knew that despite his excitement, he was lonely and scared. He didn’t want to be alone.

“You’re not going to make me go back to the cottage, are you?”

“You know what? I’ll follow you wherever you choose to go.”

“Really?!”

“Absolutely, my ray of sunshine.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Pure love and happiness filled everyone as Tommy held the chicken close to himself, ignoring the strange looks people gave him as he mumbled his thanks.

“He really loves you, doesn’t he?”

“As do I for him. If I could live every day outside of my realm, I’d be by my family’s side every day.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Now, let’s see this Dream SMP, okay?”

“M’kay!”

“You guys left Tommy all by himself when he was nine? Kinda wack, ngl.”

“Did you just verbally abbreviate “not going to lie” in real life?”

“That’s not the point, Sapnap.”

“I know, but still.”

Wilbur refused to speak or look at anyone. He didn’t know why the train brought him and the others here, but he knew that being sat with his family made him uncomfortable. Technoblade just sat beside his twin, messing with his hands as he silently thought things over. Peering at his parents and brother, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been unfair towards his youngest brother. He didn’t regret doing what he did to L’manburg, the country deserved it. He didn’t regret a thing, no matter what Tommy said or did. He didn’t even know why the voices and his own consciousness felt uneasy by this all, nothing bad hadn’t even occurred yet! It was definitely uncomfortable to feel what Tommy was feeling during these events, but that was the only thing that truly explained his uneasiness.

He watched as his mother whispered to his father, her stare firm and strong. The ex-citizens of L’manburg all conversed with one another, sharing their observations so far. They all shared the same question, he knew this, but only one was brave enough to ask it. Watching as Drista made her way from Lani to Kristin, Techno watched with amusement.

“Excuse me? Mrs. Minecraft? Where is Tommy?”

“Oh, simple! None of us wanted him to revisit all these moments that may be uncomfortable for him, so he’s somewhere safe.”

Before anyone else could ask anything else, they were suddenly overwhelmed with excitement and joy. Turning around they watched as Tommy spawned into a new server, his mother’s chicken in his arms. Petting her head as he looked around, Tommy addressed his small following of chicks and chickens.

“Boys! Welcome to the Dream SMP!”

#The Reluctant Hero's Tale #The Reluctant Hero's Tale AU #Tommy is gremlin child pog

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butteraway · 4 years ago

Text

when time runs out | v

⋆ summary: A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 6.3k

warnings: none

authors note: HERE IT IS!! A whopping 6k chapter can you believe this lol :’) I plan on making the chapters this long, so that means it’ll take a little longer for me to write,,, But enjoy this guys!

Y/N was laying on her bed, twirling the bottle of pills that captivated her interest. Sitting up, she slowly opened the cap and took a pill out. She examined it, liking how the yellow and green color meshed together. The pills didn't look like anything special, just your basic average pill.

Her conversation with doc was a bit unnerving though to say the least. The doctor was acting a bit off if you asked her. ______________________

Y/N looked at Receen with uncertainty painting her face. What was the meaning of this? Was it really possible for her if she took these pills? He wouldn't try to kill her? They've known each other for almost two years, so he wouldn't try anything.

Right?

"C'mon Y/N, you trust me right? You can see your family again, just take them!" Doctor Receen urged the girl with an enthusiastic smile. Though the look in his eyes seemed a bit desperate for her to take them. Weird.

"Say, Doc, I don't wanna sound ungrateful or anything, but-" she was cut off by a soft laugh. It sounded more forced.

"Y/N, there's nothing to worry about! You had professionals work and conduct these small things! Here! Just take them and think about it!" Receen tossed the bottle to Y/N, who barely caught it with both hands. "I'll have someone bring in some fresh clothes just in case you do want to try these things out.”

And just like that he was out the door. ______________________

Y/N scratched the back of her neck as she put the pill back in the bottle, wondering why the doctor was pushy with her taking them. Her eyes wandered around the room until they landed on the new pile of clothes sitting on the edge of her bed. A kind lady bought it a short while ago, giving her a small smile before leaving.

Though, Y/N decided she'd play a game before calling her parents to tell them the wonderful news. It still felt odd for her to just get pills for her sickness right then and there. Even if it wasn’t a permanent solution. She wasn't even informed about the making of her medicine, despite what Receen had told her. All that she knew was that they were trying to keep her alive. Turning on her console and taking her controller, she glanced at the bottle. She didn't close it of course, wanting to see that they were actually real.

Putting on her headphones, she put on Fortnite and waited for other players to join. She really hated this game, but it was hilarious to see people rage. Seeing someone join, she tried to talk to them, but got no response. Briefly closing her eyes for a few seconds, she snapped them open after hearing a familiar gruff voice. King Explosion Murder!

"We better win this or I'll look for all of you and kill you." That was literally the first thing the dude said as the game began. Y/N let out an awkward chuckle, a sweat drop appearing on her forehead. This'll be interesting. She cleared her throat, slightly catching the attention of ‘Explosion Murder'.

"Hey! Do you remember me? We played together a few nights ago, with this other guy called Tape Dispenser on OverWatch!" Y/N decided to take a friendly approach, trying not to blow a fuse with this guy. I do not wanna be on this guy's bad side again. Silence filled the air, making Y/N feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Who the fuck are you?" Said girl nearly choked on her spit as she doubled over. She began shooting at random people as the game began, taking them down and moving with her small team. She once again felt her eyebrow twitch.

"What do you mean 'who are you?' Y/N asked, lowering her voice to mimic Murder's voice. She made her character shoot a person in front of her. Headshot!

"I have no idea who the hell you are, so shut the hell up!" Murder's voice rang through her ear as she winced at the volume. So loud! Her other teammate was shot down and killed, making Y/N sigh.

"You sure dude? I'm the one who almost won the game, but like, died at the very end?" Y/N didn't even know why she was even trying to talk to this guy. She just felt like she wanted to know him better. Or her. Could be a girl with a really deep voice? Murder was quiet before a growl like grunt was heard.

"So you're the damn girl who did that." Murder's voice was low and Y/N didn't know whether or not to feel scared for herself. "Haha! Yeah, that was me." She awkwardly laughed, not sure if he was going to blow a fuse because of that.

Murder was quiet, with the exception of his breathing being heard through her headphones. Y/N just came to the conclusion that Murder was, in fact, a dude. She didn't want to believe that a girl had that deep of a voice. It was possible, she thought, though she couldn't picture a female with that voice. She'd die if she did. The thought made her stifle a laugh.

"The fuck you laughing about?!" Y/N looked at his kill counts and her eyes widened. 7 already?! Goddamn! She looked at her own and only saw three. "Well aren't you curious now?" Murder let out a huff, as if he were trying to contain his inner rage. "I was asking for a goddamn reason."

Y/N swore she could feel his irritation through the screen. The two met up and began to continue to go to the middle of the map. 6 kills. Cool! She once again looked at Murder's kills and felt her confidence deflate once again. Way to make me depressed dude. As she was shooting a player, Y/N looked at the kill feed and almost spit everywhere.

"MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER!" This dude exploded, and by the noise, she assumed he threw his chair. This dude! Suddenly, an idea came in her, oh so beautiful, head. "Yo yo yo, bro! I gotta deal!" This caught Murder's attention as he let out an aggressive 'What.’ She smiled wide as she continued to play the game, knocking down and killing another player.

"I carry the team and win, you accept my friend request!"

"What if you don't win, huh?" That's what Y/N was scared of. She let out a defeated sigh and surrendered. "I'll give you the most rare skin I own." There was silence as she took some damage from another player.

"Which is what?" She swallowed and opened her mouth. "It's the skin that was only given to 5 players from the event last year."

"Deal." He said it so fast that Y/N was actually scared to give him it. But she always kept her word. Looking to see how much other players were left, she felt her heart speed up. Why am I freaking doing this?! The girl continued to focus on the game at hand and began skillfully killing the other players. She got hit a few times, but never went down. When it was finally one player left, besides herself, she began to be cautious. At last, she took down the final player and yelled out in joy!

"Oh yeah! Now that's what I'm talking about baby! Sweet sweet victory!" Y/N cheered while throwing her hands up in the air and slightly jumping on her bed. She had no idea why she was even this excited to win. Maybe it's cuz I like him. Y/N stopped mid cheer, before she burst out with laughter as she wondered why she even thought that. She doesn't even know the guy!

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to accept me!" Murder let out a couple of grumbles and snide comments as he accepted her request that she sent. "It was only fucking luck. Don't get too cocky."

Y/N gave a toothy smile that he couldn't see and giggled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." The small girl looked at the time and decided this was enough for the day. "Well Mr. Explody, I gotta go! It was cool playing with you!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Get off now, you're starting to piss me off." Y/N laughed at his sour attitude and decided to fuel the flame some more.

"Y'know, you should work on your gaming. You suck." The girl quickly got off the game and turned off her console, but not without hearing him yell at her. The smile never left her face as she fell on her back and looked at the ceiling. Gosh, he's so weird. She continued to replay their interactions before turning her head and looking at the phone. She sighed and sat up.

All her happy feelings went down the drain. Something just didn't feel right with the medicine the doctor gave her. Whatever. It's probably because I always thought I'd be cooped up in this room for the rest of my life. Y/N blinked and walked to the phone and dialed her parents number. She stood anxious, hearing the phone ring and her hands trembling with excitement? Fear? Who knows.

"Hello? Y/N? How are you!" Her mom's cheery voice sounded through the phone and once again, the girl smiled. "Hi Mommy! I'm fine, perfectly fine actually. What about you?" She decided to keep things smooth and simple. The laughter of her mother brought Y/N back to reality.

"Oh Y/N! No need to be so formal! I'm your mother, no need to act like that!" Y/N let out a chuckle and brushed her hair away from her face. "Yeah, sorry Mommy."

"And to answer your question, I am doing amazing!" She let out a hum, letting her mother know she heard. "Well, I have some kind of big and important news. So basically, Doctor Receen made some kind of medicine. For my, y'know, 'sickness.' Crazy right?"

There was a small pause before the cheerful voice of her mother sounded in her ear. "I know! The Doctor had already told your father and I beforehand! I was so ecstatic, and I still am for you-"

"Wait, you already knew? And you didn't tell me?" Y/N’s voice was filled with confusion. Why didn’t mom tell me? Was she keeping it a secret? Did she try hiding it from me? Was she ever going to-

“Well I wanted it to be a surprise for you from the doctor!” Said the older woman happily, leaving Y/N to feel embarrassed. She let out a small ‘Oh’, and rubbed her neck. Why did she even think her mother wouldn’t tell her something so important? Shaking her head, Y/N continued.

“Well thank you! I’m still, uh, just still a little skeptical of the pills. I’m not sure if they are actually going to work…” The clear doubt was heard in the girl’s voice. Her mother furrowed her eyebrows.

“But sweetie! Of course they’re going to work! I would’ve thought you’d be more excited about this!” Glancing up to look at the bottle, Y/N could only let out a short ‘yeah.’

“So when will you be coming! Your dad and I agreed that we would pick you up after you took one of the pills, so you could come home for a while!” Her mother’s voice continued to rant off about what they were going to do when she came back home. While the voice continued, Y/N drifted off into her head.

How am I going to tell Denki this? Should I like, surprise him when he comes back from school? Hmm, I swear if he cries, I think I will too-

“Y/N! Y/N honey are you there?” Zooming back into reality, she let out a chuckle from her mother’s worried voice.

“Yeah mom, sorry. I was just thinking about some things.” M/N hummed in understanding. It grew quiet quick, but soon was filled with Y/N’s sweet voice. “I think I’ll take the pill on Friday mommy. You can come pick me up at around three. This gives you some time to prepare for everything, heh.”

Her mother let out loud cheers, happy that she will be able to see her daughter face to face again. It’s been so long since she had last seen Y/N, not being able to take it, seeing her child confined in a spacious room.

The two talked for a short moment more until they decided to hang up. Placing down the phone, Y/N sighed. Dragging herself and the IV back to her bed, she sat in silence. Who knows how long she stayed in that position, all that she knows is that she was snapped out of her daze after a brief knock to her door. She hummed, loud enough for the person to hear. Opening the door, the woman walked in, boots squeaking against the clean floor. The short spray in the air filled the silence as the doctor walked over to Y/N’s IV bag.

Watching her check and adjust the fluid bag, Y/N’s big eyes snapped to the doctor’s face when she began speaking. “You’ve been moving a lot. The needle is off center from where it’s supposed to be.”

As she said that, the girl felt a slight pinch on her arm and saw the doctor putting the needle back into its rightful place. Satisfied with the placement of the needle, she hummed in acceptance and patted Y/N’s arm with her gloved hand. Moving her arm around to get used to the feeling of it back inside her body, Y/N wondered when it had fallen out. Huh, I didn’t even notice.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N spoke. “Well, today was an exciting day, haha. Received amazing news and had a wonderful conversation with my mom.” Y/N chuckled in false amusement, but the doctor could only narrow her eyes at the small girl. “Mm, you sound so excited, I could tell when I first walked in here.”

Now Y/N did laugh at that. Who knew the scary doctor lady could go along with her sarcasm! With now gleaming eyes, the excitement was now visible in her eyes. Now that she knew the doctor was ‘nice’, she definitely was going to have fun talking with this doctor. Seeing as she turned around and went to head towards the door, Y/N was quick to stop her.

“Hey! What’s your name?” The doctor’s eyes widened in shock and turned fully to the girl who had now stood up.

“What do you mean ‘what’s your name?’ I’ve been one of your main doctors for two years!” The woman exclaimed in exasperation, unbelieving of the situation she was just put in. Y/N could only weakly shrug.

“Sorry about that! I just, uh, like was too nervous around you to remember your name?” As pathetic as the excuse was, she was telling the truth! I am so sorry Ms. Doctor! The older woman could only shake her head in amusement.

“My name is Doctor Shuzenji Kumiko, but call me Doctor Kumiko. Now you better remember that, this will be the last time I tell you my name.” Y/N nodded her head with such affirmation, Doctor Kumiko thought the child would accidentally hurt herself. And right now she did not need that happening. While she shook her head though, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strike of familiarity at her name. But what about it is familiar? Cranking every gear in her head, she failed to notice Doctor Kumiko looking around the room.

Doctor Kumiko was never able to get a proper look around the sick girl’s room, seeing as her mission was to go in, check if Y/N was ok, and then get out. Though she immediately noticed how empty her room was. Only one big bed, a flat screen tv perched on a small table, and the medical equipment were all that occupied the room. Though now that she started paying more attention, the room was a different color. Bland white walls were now full of a bright color, something not too dark, but not too eye bleeding. It was a nice appealing color that suited the girl standing in front of her. That’s when Doctor Kumiko’s eyes landed on the small table next to the grand bed. They slightly widened as they caught eyesight on the small bottle.

“I can’t believe he gave them to her.” Kumiko hissed silently just as Y/N snapped her fingers. Staring at the doctor, she tilted her head.

“Did you say something?”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s nothing! Just remembering something is all!” Doctor Kumiko rubbed her neck, putting the momentary problem in the back of her head for now. Y/N shrugged her shoulders, curiously looking at the doctor in front of her. Clearing her throat, the doctor shifted the focus off herself.

“So were you going to say something?” Slowly fiddling with her gloved hands, the Doctor could only sigh in relief as Y/N eyes popped open quickly.

“AH YES!” Y/N quickly wobbled to the doctor forgetting to take the IV that weighed her down with her. The doctor let out a small gasp, stepping behind the girl and rolling it next to Y/N who didn’t pay any attention to that.

“I finally recognize where I heard that last name from! And no, I didn’t just remember your name you supposedly told me before.” The lady’s sharp eyes rolled, letting her continue.

“RECOVERY GIRL HAS THE SAME SURNAME! ISN’T THAT INSANE?! I HONESTLY FIND THAT SO COOL! I wish I had the same name as a famous person, oooo like All Might’s name, or or even Endeavor’s!” Doctor Kumiko cringed at the sound of Endeavor’s name but paid no mind to that. Right now she had to deal with a hero fangirl. Just then Y/N abruptly stopped her rapid talking, moving closer to Doctor Kumiko’s face.

“Wait. Are you like-” Y/N looked around the room as if there was someone else watching them. When she was done, she leaned closer to the doctor’s protected head and whispered the following words. “Are you Recovery Girl’s daughter?” The woman could only sigh and stared into the girl’s shining eyes. When Y/N got no response she determined her answer by herself.

“Oh my gOSH!!! WAIT LIKE FOR REAL?! LIKE YOU’RE ACTUALLY HER DAUGHTER?? YOU LOOK A LITTLE YOUNG TO BE HER DAUGHTER BUT I’M NOT COMPLAINING! WOW THIS IS SO CRAZY, ALL THIS TIME YOU WALKED IN HERE AND I HAD NO IDEA WHO YOU ACTUALLY WERE!! I HAVE TO TELL DENKI HE’S GONNA FREAK OUT-” Doctor Kumiko bellowed a laugh so grand it had Y/N laughing along as well. After attempting to wipe away her tears soon realizing she couldn’t due to her helmet, she let out more bubbly laughs.

“Aahhh, you’re pure gold!! I can see why Receen likes you!” She smiled brightly down towards Y/N who gave her a beaming grin of her own in return. “But yes! You’re right, though not entirely.”

Y/N trying to keep up with Doctor Kumiko’s pace to her bed, they both sat down and got comfortable. “Since you basically found out my family tree, to answer your question fully, I am related to Recovery Girl. I’m not her daughter, but her granddaughter instead.”

The small girl’s eyes widened in shock. No way. She actually met someone who’s related to one of the greatest heroes of all time. Don’t fight her on this, she knows what she’s talking about. As she stared at the doctor with such admiration, Kumiko could only give her a weak smile. She knew what the next question would be. Her answer would always leave people with disappointment.

“Wait! Does that mean that you have a similar quirk to Recovery Girl? After two generations, wouldn’t your quirk be more evolved at this point? Or do you have a mixture of both your parents quirk, seeing as your mom could’ve inherited some of Recovery Girl’s quirk or something like that!” Doctor Kumiko only shook her head leaving Y/N confused.

“Then did you get a quirk similar to your dads?” Once again shaking her head no, Y/N was beyond confused. Until a thought passed through her head.

“Are you… are you quirkless?” Y/N didn’t really consider a descendant from a nationwide known hero to be quirkless. It’s possible, but very unlikely. After all, only 20 percent of people in the world aren’t born with quirks. Me included. Y/N’s eyebrow twitched at the truth of her thought train. Once again though, the doctor shook her head and went to explain to the young girl.

“I do have a quirk, so that’s not the problem. The problem lies in how efficient my quirk is.” Y/N listened intently, ready to store this useful information in her memory. Ohoho Denki is gonna be sooo jealous, heheh. “My quirk is actually quite weak compared to my grandmother.”

“My mother was born quirkless, meaning that when she had me, many doctors had thought I would be too. But instead, I got a similar quirk to my grandmother. Since my mother had direct DNA from her, part of that DNA was transferred to me, to her granddaughter. Everyone was ecstatic to learn I had gotten a quirk similar to my grandmother, some even thought my quirk would be even greater than hers.

“But alas, I was handed the remains of the quirk from my mother, so I only proved to have a much much weaker quirk compared to Recovery Girl.” Soaking up the information, Y/N looked to Doctor Kumiko. Despite sharing not so amazing information, she didn’t seem to be too bothered by sharing it. In fact, she looked perfectly fine!

“I’ve come to terms that my quirk will always be a weak one, but that doesn’t stop me from using it all. I help as best as I could, using my quirk to help young children when they scrape their knees, and just replenishing as much energy into those who need it the most. I think the biggest wound I’ve healed was a large burn! I was so proud of myself, but I was just so exhausted! So I mostly conserve energy when I need to.”

Y/N nodded, happy that the doctor was sharing so much with her. She didn’t care if it was ‘improper’ or something, she was just glad to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t Receen or Denki.

“You seem quite happy with what you do. How much people have you helped?” Y/N smiled happily at the doctor. “ I’ve helped so many people. And just with my quirk!” Sighing happily, Doctor Kumiko got up and headed towards the door.

“Do you visit Recovery Girl often?” Y/N had a small favor she would like to ask the doctor, though she needed to make sure she was able to do it first.

“Of course, she is my grandmother after all. She would spam call me if I hadn’t visited her in over a week.” Doctor Kumiko deadpanned at the thought of that, having experienced that before. Y/N giggled at the thought, phone constantly ringing for who knows how long!

“Makes me deliver her food too if she forgot it. That lady is too much work sometimes.” The doctor rubbed her head, a headache already rolling in at the thought of all the things her grandmother makes her do.

‘Well since you see and visit her~” Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman looking at her with suspicious eyes. “Then that means you have access to the U.A. building!” Now Kumiko was narrowing her eyes at the girl at this point.

“Yes, I’m also a helper at the school too. What cards are you playing right now Ms. L/N?” Said girl chuckled mischievously, quickly moving to grab a small note pad in the drawer of her small table. Ripping out a piece of paper and quickly scribbling words on it and folding it, she handed the paper to the doctor who stared at it in confusion.

“GREAT! I need you to deliver this to my cousin that goes to the school! Since you have access to the school, which I don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner, this makes your little journey for me easier!” Sharp eyes flew from the paper in her hand to the young girl’s face, back to the paper. Sighing, she silently agreed.

“Thank you!!! Ok, so his name is Kaminari Denki and he’s a first year in the hero course! I don’t know which one, but he’s in one of them if he didn’t lie to me.” Chuckling, the doctor nodded and stood up from the bed.

“Well I spent too much time in here. I think it’s been the most since the two years I’ve been checking up on you.” Walking to the door, she paused for a moment, turning around to look at the girl who had sat back down on her bed.

“I’ll be sure to get these to your cousin as soon as possible. Also, I’m sure you’ll be able to help so many people when you’re out of here. But please be careful with those pills. They’re very strong so consume them with caution." And with that, she left, door opening, closing, and the familiar sound of the air purifier turning on.

Chatter filled the classroom in the early morning, the students excited for another day in U.A. Ever since the recent villain attack, many of them were still filled with fear, though their determination to grow stronger overshadowed any negative thoughts. The days passed by since then and many of the young heroes have made it their goal to be stronger than they were before.

Which leads us to a blonde boy with a black lightning streak in his hair, sitting nonchalantly in his chair. He listened to his rambling friend, the red head mentioning something about Crimson Riot, or something like that.

“And ever since then, I always followed his words! He’s my number one inspiration after all-” A grunt was heard next to him, the boys’ eyes turning to the ash blond boy sitting next to them.

“Yeah yeah, we heard this story already, why don’t you talk about something new?” His gruff voice didn’t knock down the red head’s bright mood though, only pushing him to talk more.

“Alright Bakubro, if that’s what you want!” The boy grinned, his sharp teeth on display for everyone to see. And even despite that, no one was very afraid of his appearance, seeing as his personality shone out like the sun outside. “So what did you guys do this weekend? I’ve been training for hours! Ever since U.S.J, I’ll admit, I was still shaken up!”

At the mention of what happened at U.S.J, more people around them joined in on their conversation. “Tell me about it, my parents didn’t want me coming back because of that.”

A few murmured in agreement, everyone now talking about their experiences at home. “You don’t know how long it took me to convince my mom to not call the school. But if anything, I’m still surprised Midoriya is still here. He was at the core of all the attacks!”

Said boy turns red at the mention of that. I mean, his mom was really really worried about him, so he couldn’t really say anything. Scratching the back of his neck, he could only let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, luckily All Might managed to come and save the day!” Excited chatter began to fill the room once again with everyone retelling each other how cool All Might was busting through the doors of U.S.J.. Ururaka jumped in as well, her voice filled with awe.

“Don’t forget how All Might even knew we were in trouble! If it weren’t for Iida speeding his way back to UA, who knows what could’ve happened!” Even more people agreed on that, some of the guys even patting the tall boy on the back. Clearing his throat, and trying to make the blush disappear off his face, Iida fixed his glasses and began talking.

“Well of course I did that, any sane person would have done it. After all it was the right thing to do, especially in our dire situation!”

“Ah there goes Iida humbling himself again!”

“Give yourself some credit dude!”

“It was still super cool how you managed to run that entire distance!”

Covering the raising blush on his face at the rapid compliments with his fist, he spoke once again, the others around him listening to his words. “It would have been more preferable if we were able to contact the school directly, help would’ve come much more quickly then.”

“Oh yeah! Too bad Kaminari couldn’t contact the school though, those villains really knew what they were doing!”

At the mention of his name, Kaminari faced Mina and gave a tight grin. “I didn’t even know that there were people who had quirks that can block out signals!” Some laughed, while others chuckled at the exasperation in the blonde boy's voice. An annoyed sigh cut through their laughter, everyone looking to the blonde spiky haired boy who interrupted their laughing fest. Just as he was about to speak, a knock was heard throughout the class, leaving the boy to grumble to himself as the door slid open.

A tall lady walked in, her straight posture already showing the students she meant business the moment they laid eyes on her. Her long, sleek black hair flowed behind her as she stepped more into the classroom, sharp eyes observing the kids in front of her. Immediately her eyes landed on a boy with narrowed red eyes, noticing he was giving her the stink eye.

Inwardly rolling her eyes at the boy's attitude, she went back to looking at the small crowd in front of her. “Hello, my name is Dr. Kumiko and-”

She was so rudely cut off by a very short boy who stood in front of her, the purple balls on her head making Kumiko furrow her eyebrows. “Are you our substitute? Wow you are gorgeous, has anyone told you that?”

As the boy continued talking, Dr Kumiko could only try and step around him in order to avoid his beady gaze. Cringing slightly, she turned her attention back to the class and watched as they curiously gazed at her. Clearing her throat sharply and loudly, that effectively shut the small boy up.

“First of all, no I am not your substitute, though I am aware you aren’t even getting one. Second of all, before you interrupted me, I was going to say I have a delivery for someone. The other hero class said I would most likely find him in here, since he was not one of their classmates.”

With that being said, murmurs erupted between students, all of them wondering what this delivery could be, that such a beautiful woman was sent to give it to one of the boys.

Looking down at the piece of paper that was folded into an envelope, Doctor Kumiko’s eyes furrowed a little more as she tried remembering the name Y/N gave her. Uh, something like Kamayama? Kamayari? Kama- oh whatever! Straightening up, she decided that she wouldn’t attempt to damage her pride and decided to read what was written on the paper instead.

“Is there anyone who recognizes the phrase ‘electrifying baby, electrifying’? A choked cough sounded throughout the now quiet room, everyone’s eyes trailing to the blonde with a black streak in his hair. Doctor Kumiko wondered if he had dyed his hair like that.

“Uhm I recognize it?” Kaminari was too nervous to even consider how this random lady even knew him and his cousins inside joke. It became a joke when Kaminari had accidentally used his quirk when he got angry at a game both of them were playing. He went into his dumb mode and that was the first thing he said just to show Y/N he was alive. He’s still embarrassed to this day because of his slip up.

“Here you go, I was told to hand this letter to you. I’m sure you know who it is though.” Giving the teenage boy a smirk, the doctor walked closer to him, placing the piece of paper in his palms.

“Alright, since that’s all I needed to do, I’ll head off now. Don’t you give any trouble to your teacher when he arrives.” With a stern voice, Kumiko exited the classroom, sliding the door shut and leaving the students in a stunned silence.

Looking down at the smooth, neatly folded paper in his hands, Kaminari goes to open it with furrowed eyebrows, only to have it snatched from his secured hands.

“Whose this from?! A secret girlfriend we didn’t know about?!!” Inspecting the letter, Mineta’s fingers itched to open the letter himself. No way could Kaminari have a girlfriend! There were better options out there, like him for example! Cue eye roll.

“What?! No of course not dude! Just gimme the letter-” Reaching down to take back the paper, a pink hand stopped him from getting it.

“Kaminari! There’s no need to be shy about it! You know we wouldn’t judge you, no matter how you managed to get a girl to agree to go out with you!” Mina turned around to Hagakure and Tsuyu, the pink girl’s eyes shimmering with delight!

“Wow, do you think this could be one of those romantic letters couples send to each other!” Giggling, Mina and Hagakure began to try and unravel the paper, only to be stopped by another hand delicately taking the paper away.

“Yah! I was going to open that!” Turning around, the pink haired girl faced Aoyama, who looked at the letter with slight curious eyes.

“Did you know Paris is actually known as the city of love? I like to say I’m an expert in that station!” A deafening silence rolled throughout the class, Mina and Mineta deadpanning at what the purple eyed boy said. Quickly jumping towards him, both the students wrestled Aoyama for the letter, making a ruckus around them.

“Hey why are you- Just give me the piece of paper, it’s mine!” Soon joining their hustling, Kaminari rushed to try and retrieve the letter from who he knew was his cousin. Why do they go touching things that aren’t theirs!, Kaminari thought.

Soon, the now wrinkled paper flew away from their little cluster, floating all the way to another students desk. That student's desk being Bakugou’s. Staring hard at the paper that laid on his desk, he drew his hand near it to pick it up. Kaminari began to grow even more worried.

“H-hey Bakugou, uh could you give me my letter?” Kaminari suppressed the urge to shiver as he made eye contact with Bakugou’s piercing red eyes. His gaze then shifted to the small wisps of smoke that began appearing in the hand Bakugou clutched the letter in.

“You idiots are really screaming at each other. Because of a paper?” Adding more to his irritation and annoyance, more smoke began appearing around his hand. Now he was angry at their stupidity.

“C’mon Bakubro, don’t be like that! Just give Kaminari his letter.” Kirishima tried coaxing the angry blonde, but that only seemed to irritate him even more. Planning on just setting the damn paper on fire so his classmates would shut up about the stupid love letter, he clutched it even harder in his hand. Only to have it ripped away from him by something sticky. Glaring at the short black haired boy, Sero quickly yanked the fragile paper towards himself.

Right now, Kaminari was panicking outwardly, rushing towards Sero to cradle the now ruined letter. His annoyance shot up quickly, sending clear glares to the four who wouldn’t give him his letter. Mina, Mineta and Aoyama looked away with guilt painting their faces, while Bakugou growled at Sero. Growled.

“Ugh look at what you guys did I- '' Taking a deep breath in, he allowed himself to cool down. They were just too curious, he told himself. Walking back to his seat, with Sero following him, he sat down and put the delicate paper on his desk. The once smooth paper was now crumbled and burnt around the edges. Resisting the urge to rub his eyes, he turned to Sero once again.

“Thanks bro.”

“No problem.” Their exchange was short, yet Sero knew Kaminari’s words were genuine.

“Sorry about your letter Kaminari, I was just too excited thinking about you having a girlfriend.” Mina awkwardly chuckled, Mineta and Aoyama following in suit with quiet ‘yeah’s’. Giving them a small smile, he waved them off.

“I guess it’s fine. I got excited too. But I don’t have a girlfriend, this letter is from my cousin.” Nodding, she still let out a meek sorry, embarrassed that she got the whole story wrong. Mineta and his words, ugh.

Looking back to Bakugou, said boy could only let out a grunt and look away from Kaminari. Snorting, he turned his attention to the letter and began carefully unfolding the folds that had formed an envelope shape. Kaminari let a smile grace his face. She used to like making origamis. I could never have the patience to fold these kinds of stuff.

After finally opening every fold with utmost delicacy, he squinted his eyes to read what Y/N had written for him. It was hard reading due to some of the paper being burnt and blackened. He managed to read what she wrote though.

Surprise on Friday :)

Kaminari didn’t even have a second to even dwell on what that could mean, jumping slightly in his chair when he heard the door to the classroom slam open. Golden eyes widening, he quickly stuffed the paper into his bag and watched as Aizawa entered the classroom. Those who were standing quickly rushed to their seats to avoid getting called out by the fully casted and bandaged man.

Listening to his teacher’s muffled voice, he reminded himself to ask Y/N what she meant later when he got home. It was very vague, but Kaminari didn’t dwell on the fact too long. After all, he had a full and exhausting day of school ahead of him!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #fanfic

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girlandthedarkness · 4 years ago

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the avatar I azula x reader

what if azula will have a crush on a girl that turns out to be the avatar, what would she do?

a/n: take a shot every time you see me doing a grammatical mistake, it's a little bit dramatic and in this fic azula is slightly ooc, because she's in love

Y/N were just playing in the royal garden, she came to the palace with her uncle, who had to attend a meeting. Y/N heard some noises behind her, and when she turned around, she saw a girl, who was walking towards her. The mysterious girl has a dark hair and a sly smile on her face, when she approached her, Y/N could see the royal crown in the girl's head. "Your Royal Highness." Y/N says gently bowing her head. "I saw you here, all alone, so I decided to play with you since I'm so bored." The princess voice was calm, but it still sends shivers down Y/N's spine. "Also, you can address me as Azula, what's your name?" To Y/N's opinion Azula's voice sounds genuinely interested. "Y/N". In that afternoon, Azula and Y/N spent time together, playing and chatting about stuff, the firebender even showed Y/N her moves, Azula couldn't help but try to impress the other girl. She even scolded herself for being so open with a person that she met a few hours ago, but the other girl makes it so easy to be wide open with her. Their game was interrupted by a maiden, that with a polite voice announced that the meeting was over and Y/N's uncle was waiting for her. "Will you come again?" Azula's voice was still calm, but to that was added a bit of sadness as well. "It was my uncle who was invited, so I don't know-" But her words were interrupted by Azula's "I'm the princess and I order you to be tomorrow here." She sounds like she will not take no as an answer, so Y/N just bend her upper body in a sign of respect and left with the maid who was ready to escort her. The next day Azula introduced Y/N to her other friends, Mai and Ty Lee, the last one was so happy to meet Y/N, that she runs to hug her. "So you are that mysterious Y/N that Azula talks about all morning, nice to meet you." You smile at the girl who griped you in her arms, noticing Azula's slightly red cheeks, which disappeared once she saw other's eyes on her. After that, the four became the best friends, spending a lot of time in academy and at royal palace. This is where Y/N found out that she can firebend, before that she was thinking that she's a non-bender.

Y/N was training already a few years in hand combat, but the last few months she had taken some acrobatic lessons from Ty Lee, who was very happy to teach her friend everything she knows. That's how Y/N found herself sparring with Azula on the backyard, wanting to test her abilities on a firebender who'll shot fire at her. At start Azula casts some fire at Y/N to see how good she can move, when she saw the girl moving fast and precise, she stopped holding herself back. After Y/N successfully dodged all the fire she sends at her, Azula shot more fireballs at the girl, thinking she'll dodged it like the first ones. But Y/N didn't, she avoids the first three shots, but missed to escape the third one, the blue fire almost licked the young girl's skin, but in a pure instinct, Y/N, stopped the fire right in front of her chest, shocking everyone including herself.

"So you didn't know that you're a firebender?" Mai's voice is curious; despite being hardly covered in carelessness. "Honestly I though I'm a non-bender as my parents, my uncle is the only firebender that I know in my family." Y/N talk fast, still astonished by the news. "Then you a very lucky person." The girl quickly turns around to see Azula who have a small smile on her face, but when she lifts her eyes to meet Azula's eyes she notice sadness in them. "Y/N can I talk to you privately?" But the princess didn't wait for girl to answer, she takes Y/N's forearm and drags her to garden, that she so dearly hates. "Something's wrong?" Azula study Y/N for a long time, her eyes exams her body, stopping at her chest when she noticed the slightly burned garment. "Are you dragged me here just to stare at my chest?" Y/N founds this situation funny, but the blush still crept on her cheeks, for her the princess is more than just a friend, you can call it a crush. Azula on other side just rolls her eyes, still deep in her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I should had been more careful, I almost hurt you." She said avoiding the other girl eyes. Y/N smile, in this few years, she gets used to see Azula's emotions or regrets occasionally and only in private, that's why she greedy memorize every second. "That's okay Azula, I'm not hurt and if you want to make up for almost kill me, you can become my firebender teacher." Azula just rolls her eyes again, feeling much lighter, now that she's sure that Y/N it's not mad at her.

Later, in the night, Azula is thinking about her feelings toward the Y/N, the things that she feels when the girl is near it’s nothing that she ever felt. Her heart starts beating faster, her palms sweats, she feels a tight in her chest and a foreign sensation of pure happiness every time Y/N hugs her.

Another few months were spending for Y/N in endless training with Azula, who makes sure to cast her own feelings for Y/N aside and teach her firebending. She makes sure to introduce her to everything she knows and even started slowly to teach Y/N the lightning bending.

But Azula was still a royal member who needs to attend gatherings and parties, so when she has to meet some very important general, she takes Y/N with her, half to continue their training and half to just have Y/N beside herself. "Why are you so pale, are you sick?" The Azula's face stay the same, not even one face muscle twitches, she keeps her appearance calm, but Y/N could see the worry in her eyes. "I guess it's just sea sickness." Azula frown her eyebrows and drags the sick girl to her own chamber, on the way ordering to one of the guards to bring something for sea sickness. "That's nothing Azula, I'll get over this." "You look very pale, maybe a tea will make you feel better?" The next few days Y/N spends on bed, feeling very ill and weak, but at the same times she enjoys the sudden attention that came from Azula. Lost in worries, Azula, didn't notice how their borders disappeared, she could spend hours just talking with Y/N, but deep down in her heart she knew that this is too good to last forever. And she was right.

Y/N felt like the sea decide to revenge on them, the storm make their ship to shake violently, while the waves were hitting them. Azula was busy talking with the captain, deciding how to survive the calamity. Y/N felt useless so she decides to go and help the crew to bring in everything from outside. The hard rain on girl skin didn't bring discontent, opposite, she feels very content, it was until she was thrown out from the ship by a violent shake.

Azula was annoyed by the downpour, thinking how late she'll be, her thinking was interrupted by an open door without anyone knocking on it. She was ready to scream, when she saw the terrified look on one of the guard. "What's now?" "It's Y/N, she was outside when we saw how she fell into the sea!" He sounds scared, and Azula wonders, is he anxious about Y/N or afraid of her anger. She didn't cast a second glance at him, she tells him to show her where this happened.

During this time, Y/N, was fighting for her life, feeling how the heavy clothes drags her deeper to the bottom. She already lost all hopes when she heard a voice, then another, thousands voices in her head, telling her to rise, Y/N's hands move on their own, bending all the water from her lungs and then around her, moving her closer to the surface. The last thing that Y/N feels is a pair of hands that brings her out of water.

Azula could feel her heart pounding in her chest, she hurried up her pace, almost running, she outs all her thoughts that she's late, Y/N's alright, right? Outside the rain stopped, making easy to search something on water, she moves around the ship, ordering everyone to do the same. Azula was ready to take a boat and search somewhere further, when she saw a light coming deep from the water and then she saw a body. Quickly lifting the body out of the water she breathes with relieved when she saw Y/N's face, but then she notices the light in her eyes that slowly faded away. Azula let the body on the deck and feels like her whole world breaks again, she commands to her guards to take care of Y/N, while she left to recollect her mind.

Azula spend the last hour thinking, Y/N is the avatar, there's no doubt, the shining eyes and the water that brought her from the sea. The person that she cares about dearly is the avatar, the number one enemy of the firenation. So the rumours about the "avatar" that was seen in Southern Water Tribe is a lie, she was right beside them. She could go and throw her in jail, where she wouldn't be able to bend anything, bring the avatar back the fire nation, her father will be proud of her, her nation will worship her. Azula moves fast, open the door that secure the avatar from her and stopped when she saw the girl on bed. The realization hit her, it's real, Y/N is the avatar, she can't sacrifice her, Azula stays here, just like that, staring at the girl and try to analyze everything. "Azula?" The hoarse voice of the Y/N, makes shivers run down Azula's spine. "Did you know that?" She needs to know, did Y/N lied to her all this time. "I don't understand." Y/N sounds genuinely, that make Azula even more angry. "Did you know that you are the Avatar?" She almost spits this words, feeling how her defense starts to crack. "The Avatar? What do you mean-...so this's what it was...Azula I swear I didn't know" The tears start pouring right from the Y/N's eyes. Azula study the girl a few more moments and came closer, already knowing what she'll do. "You can't stay here, Y/N, it's dangerous. I'll leave a boat here, on the ship, take it and run away. Hide somewhere, maybe in Earth Kingdom? It's a very big place, they wouldn't find you here." The stillness returned in Azula's voice. "I can't leave, my family and, and you Azula, I can't leave you." "I'll meet you at sunset, come here to the ship, understand?" Y/N nods and Azula, take of the hand from girl's face, when she even managed to touch her? The rest of the day Azula tried to focus on the general and his plans. "I know, everyone think that Avatar returned back to world, but tha's just rumors, your highness"

To Azula annoyance, outside was pouring once again, she lets a deep breath when she saw Y/N's form approaching her. "Had you taken everything?" Azula says nodding to a small bag in the girl's hands. "I didn't take a lot of things with me." Y/N study Azula's face trying to find anything, but was meeting by a stone cold face. "Take it, you'll need money." The princess quickly throws the bag with money in Y/N's own bag. "Why do you do this Azula?" "Because..." Azula looks at Y/N as if she tried to remember everything, taking her arms she cups Y/N's face, inhaling deeply when she saw her leaning in, caressing softly her face to Azula's hands. "I care about you." Y/N nods and take Azula's face in her hands, giving her a kiss, tears were all over their face, and Y/N let a painful laugh. "I imagined our first kiss differently." Azula tilt her head and give the last kiss, feeling way to numb to even cry. "We meet again, I know this, when I'll win the war, I'll found you, I promise." Y/N just close her eyes trying to remember Azula's scent. She quickly gets on the boat, which will take her to the port where Y/N will start her life on the run. The next time they’ll meet, both of them will be on different sides of the war.

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ccelinewritess · 4 years ago

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the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

‘ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure.

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco x female reader #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #draco malfoy headcanon #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter x y/n #cedric diggory x reader

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virtueangel · 4 years ago

Text

limitless.

chapter one.

wc: 2,034. original publish date: october 1, 2020.

Winter seems to drag on this year, pushing back Spring farther and farther until it steps off the chessboard of seasons completely. It's early April, but there is still snow piled up on the sidewalks, filling in the cracks of the concrete squares and melting into slush on the smooth surface. John F. Kennedy and Cleopatra walk down the sidewalk now, grasping hands dearly so as not to slip on the melted snow. Cleo is bundled up tightly in a black cardigan, John's varsity letterman jacket draped on top for extra warmth. She huddles close to the boy as she walks, trying to bask in some of the natural body heat wafting off of him. They like to walk in silence -- sometimes it's easier that way. Their questions don't have to be answered if they're never asked. But sometimes, the burden of carrying around the question is greater than the weight of hearing the answer.

"Why don't you ever take me on real dates, John?" Cleo asks in her shrill voice, almost whining.

"I don't know why you'd want me to, Cleo," he replies coolly, still grasping her hand. She wears elegant black gloves which hug her lean fingers fittingly. The cashmere is smooth and inviting against John's palm.

"Because some girls like romance, John."

"I thought you liked making out with me."

"I do!" She relaxes her hand, still holding onto John but not as violently. "But I don't feel like your girlfriend when I'm being shoved into a closet. I just feel like a pair of breasts and an open mouth."

John stares ahead nonchalantly. "That's because you're not my girlfriend, Cleo."

She lets go of his hand completely and scoffs. She shoves her own hands into her pockets -- John's pockets -- and watches her feet on the sidewalk. Her shiny black boots tick against the pavement, her movements slow and even steadier now that she doesn't have the boy's support. "Some girls like being girlfriends, too."

John sighs, shaking his head in exasperation. "We've been over this, Cleo. I don't date, but you like me and you're hot."

Cleo clenches her jaw. "That's a shitty thing to say, JFK. Don't you like me, too?"

JFK shrugs. "I like your ass."

The girl rolls her eyes, quickening her pace to walk in front of John. She slows down again, realising that the bottoms of her new boots are too slippery to risk a pace faster than normal. "Whatever. We're almost to my house anyway."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Cleo lets out a huff before grabbing onto JFK for support again. She wraps her gloved hands around the loop his arm makes as it sticks out of his pocket. "I'm not gonna argue with you when we're right on the verge of a make-out session," she says.

"I thought you didn't want to be used for your body."

She shrugs before giving the shameless answer, "I don't, but you give exceedingly good head."

John F. Kennedy smirks. "Oh, you bet I do."

Cleo blushes, and tries to hide her face from John.

"But I can't today."

“What?” She asks. “Why?”

"Because I've got a lot of homework," he says, knowing it's a half-assed excuse.

Cleopatra turns to him, her eyebrow raised. "You don't do homework, John."

"I have to help Van Gogh today," John explains.

"Van Gogh?" Cleo repeats. John nods. "He needs your help?"

John rolls his eyes impatiently, wondering why Cleo can't seem to get it. Wondering why everything about her is so superficial that she can't understand that he has a best friend; why she isn't the only one who matters. "No, he doesn't need my help, he just doesn't like being alone on Friday nights."

"Neither do I," Cleo protests, batting her eyes desperately. She means the action to come off as flirty, but she knows she's going to lose this fight.

"So call some of your other friends. Abe, Joan-"

"Abe Lincoln and Joan of Arc are both cool enough to have plans on a Friday night," she combats.

JFK smirks. "Surely you won't let them be cooler than you."

Before Cleo can protest, they are walking up her driveway, her hands still wrapped around his arm. John walks her up the three steps to her front stoop, whirling her around so her back is to the door and her face is to him. He holds her gloved hands delicately, pretending to feel bad about blowing off his hot not-girlfriend to go spend time with his emotionally deprived best friend. It does sound depressing and lame when he hears it in his own head, but there's no going back now.

"Call me tonight?" Cleo asks, the slightest hint of a beg in her voice. She tries to hide it again under a flirtatious lilt, but it falls flat for the second time this afternoon. Cleo already knows what JFK is going to say.

"I never call, Cleo. People who are dating call, and I-"

Cleo cuts him off with an exasperated eye roll. "-don't date. I know."

"So why did you ask?"

Cleo shrugs. "I don't know. But I'm going now."

Nonetheless, she steps toward John for her expected kiss. He leans down to give her one, as per their afternoonly routine, but it doesn't bury itself as deep as usual. John keeps his mouth closed, despite Cleo's best efforts to engage him in the endeavour. When she realises her plan isn't going to work, she pulls away and scrambles into her house, swiftly shutting the door behind her to close off her embarrassment from the rest of the world. She has enough to worry about it seeping through the cracks.

***

JFK knocks on his best friend's door nearly ten minutes later, his feet sopping wet in his tennis shoes. He'd made a mistake when dressing that morning. He could see the snow intruding the sidewalk from his bedroom window, but he'd still opted for his sneakers, full of breathable holes and heat-accommodating fabrics. His big toe feels like it could snap off at any moment. He thinks if he were to take off his cotton sock and look at it, his toe would be blackened with the final stages of frostbite.

Vincent Van Gogh answers the door himself, wrapped in a fleece blanket and feet smothered in three layers of sock. Kennedy can't help but feel a little bit jealous, sure his toes are nice and cozy in their thick woollen fortress.

"JFK," Van Gogh greets the boy, standing aside to let him through the door. Van Gogh wonders how Kennedy ever could've noticed him at school; he stands at 5'5” while the varsity cross country runner was 6'1" last time he measured. Van Gogh is often a traffic cone to be tripped over.

"Sorry I'm so late. Cleo was bitching at me," JFK apologises.

"That's okay. I'm used to being alone," Van Gogh shrugs.

"But I know you especially hate Friday nights. You hate when there are sports games because the town gets loud and the drunken yelling echoes through the neighbourhood, bouncing off of the shingles and spinning like tops in your ears -- ear."

Van Gogh scoffs. "Spare me the poetry, Kennedy. You don't need to romanticise my mental illness, okay? It's not fucking fun."

"I thought you liked all that flowery prose -- all that girly shit."

The shorter boy shakes his head, feeling even smaller under Kennedy's scrutiny. "Don't talk down to me. And just because literature is written like a painting doesn't mean it's 'girly'. You like my artwork, don't you?"

"I like the one you did for AP art last year... the self-portrait."

Van Gogh smiles internally, secretly pleased with his best friend's answer. "I never thought I'd get a real compliment out of you, Kennedy."

"I compliment you!" He protests.

Van Gogh shakes his head, still wearing his smile. His lips are like daisies soaked in blood -- full and dripping. "Not without coating it in some condescending insult."

"Whatever, Gogh. You didn't want to be alone, and I'm here. So what now?"

"Well, so long as I'm holding you hostage, you may as well do some homework."

"I don't do homework," JFK reminds him.

Van Gogh smirks. "I know that, Kennedy. I just had to remind you of your morals before you go off and give me an honest compliment again. Weirds me out when you go soft, even for me."

JFK follows Van Gogh to his bedroom. The hallway walls are oddly bare and would go without notice if they hadn't been painted a murky blue. No pictures are hung, which strikes Kennedy as uncomfortably odd every time he visits his best friend's house. JFK's dads have hundreds of pictures of him stuffed into each nook and cranny of their house -- it's striking to see a pair of parents who care so little about documenting their child's early years.

Gogh pushes open the door to his room tentatively, almost as if he's scared there'll be an apparition seated on his bed. He shudders at the thought, trying to shake it off by opening the door all the way. He sits on a chair instead of the bed, nervous to accidentally sit on top of the ghost and give it a perfect chance to tunnel its way up into his organs. JFK notices the boy's shuddering and raises an eyebrow, taking note of the closed window and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Who knew such a small boy could be so hopeless at keeping warm?

"Cold?" Kennedy asks, and Van Gogh looks up from the spot on his hand where he'd been anxiously picking at a scab. "And don't do that; the skin's almost healed," he adds.

Van Gogh narrows his eyes at the boy on his bed. "Since when do you care whether or not my scabs are healed?"

JFK shrugs, nervous to admit that he feels like he has to care since his friend's parents so obviously don't.

"Sorry I snapped," Van Gogh covers quickly. "Reflex."

Kennedy nods dismissively as if to show that he understands.

A couple seconds tick by, filling the room like a hose in a swimming pool. The time collects in the bedroom, spilling into every corner and fault line crack of the walls. It begins to overflow, and that's when Van Gogh can't stand the silence anymore. He invited Kennedy over so he wouldn't have to drown in stillness. Why can't JFK talk, dammit? Why is he so self-absorbed that he can't carry on a conversation for longer than five minutes at a time?

"Do you wanna read a book?" Van Gogh suggests, but it comes out in an urgent blurt. Maybe that's for the best. It gets Kennedy's attention.

"I don't read books."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a violent fire from embarrassment. "That's because you don't have the attention span to," he spits. "I could read it to you."

JFK's head snaps up. Gogh's cheeks darken an even deeper shade of red and he can feel his heartbeat in his face. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay," Kennedy says at last. "Read me a bedtime story." His overconfident, annoyingly-flirty tone is back, and Van Gogh smiles in relief. The blood drains from his cheeks and his heartbeat follows, little by little.

He excuses himself from his chair to slide a book off of his shelf. Kennedy lies down on the bed, his head on the pillow and his too-long legs spilling over the edge. "Give me a blanket," he demands, clearly serious about the "bedtime" thing. Van Gogh rolls his eyes, but fishes a blanket out of his bottom dresser drawer and throws it over to Kennedy nonetheless. JFK has just finished unfolding the blanket and throwing it over himself when Van Gogh settles back into his chair, lifting the cover of the book with his long fingers gingerly. His nails grow out past his fingertips which is normally a girlish look, but Kennedy can't help but wash his eyes over the boy's hands anyway. It doesn't look girlish on Van Gogh. Nothing looks girlish on Van Gogh.

#jfgogh #jfk clone high #clone high #van gogh clone high #fanfiction #van gogh x jfk

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years ago

Text

pattonella part 13: kingdom alert: the princes are fiiiiiiiightiiiiiiiing!

cw: mentions of injury/infection/illness, mentions of death, arguing, overworking, parental figures who are not the best

wordcount: ~3.3k

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 // part 12 // read it on ao3!!

virgil stays in the infirmary for almost a week after he first wakes up.

he spends a lot of his time sleeping, since he’s too weak to do anything else. for the first few days of wakefulness, he barely has the strength to squeeze logan’s and patton’s hands when they hold them. despite his barely-open eyes, he smiles every time he sees them.

“i’m sorry,” he says once, voice raspy and hoarse. patton tilts his head in confusion.

“why are you apologizing?”

“for scaring you. i came home unconscious . . . on logan’s horse . . . and you didn’t know . . . what was happening . . . i’m sorry . . .” his chest heaves slightly with effort, and patton leans in to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“it’s not your fault. you saved roman’s life, vee, you saved everyone. you all came home alive, and that’s all i can ask for.” virgil smiles at him, eyes half-open, and yawns. “are you tired, vee?”

“‘m always tired lately.”

“that’s normal,” emile says, carrying over a large teapot. “you expended an enormous amount of magic when you were fighting. your body is trying to recover that energy; that’s why you’re sleeping so much. this tea helps you recover your energy as well, so keep drinking.”

virgil makes a face at the cup of tea emile has in his hands, but he still lets patton help him sit up. he takes the tea and sips at it gently, blowing off the cloud of steam. emile dips a washcloth into a pail of cool water, wrings it out, and drapes it across virgil’s forehead, removing the old cloth that has grown warm.

“is logan going to visit today?” virgil asks.

“prince logan said he would stop by after attending to his duties at court,” emile says. “remy will be back in a little while, he’s attending to the king.” a somber tone falls over the infirmary at the mention of the king.

“what . . . exactly is wrong with the king?” patton asks. “we know that he’s sick, of course, but - but we have no idea what’s actually wrong with him. do you know? are - are you allowed to tell us?”

emile exhales, nodding slowly. “the king was injured in battle. he hid it because -”

“he’s a self-righteous idiot and a coward,” remy mutters, shoving the infirmary door shut behind him. emile’s face brightens when he sees his husband, dimming when he sees how pale and drawn remy looks. “he didn’t want to worry people, so instead of letting me treat his injury and having a recovery time of maybe two weeks, he hid it until it got infected and then he hid the infection until he collapsed and now it’s so far gone that there’s nothing i can do to heal him. it’s killing him from the inside out.”

“the king will die?” patton asks.

“we all die eventually,” remy says, “but it’s true that the king is ailing more swiftly than most. i’d say he has . . . three years left to live, at most.” emile reaches up and gently kisses remy’s cheek, pressing his face into his shoulder.

“there’s a reason the rush is on to get thomas officially named crown prince,” emile says. “if he does not bear the official title when the king passes on, there will be a power struggle.”

“why? thomas is the eldest prince. roman and logan would never stand in his way of becoming king, would they?”

“no, but without an official heir appointed, it is possible that anyone with a connection to the royal bloodline, however small, could present themself as heir apparent. it would take months, perhaps even years to sort through the muck and mire of all that inherently political bullshit, which would derail the peace and prosperity of this kingdom. it is imperative that thomas is officially named the crown prince before the king dies.”

“do we have to be married for thomas to be named crown prince?” patton asks. “is an engagement enough to satisfy the law?”

“unfortunately, no. engagements can be made and broken at the drop of a hat, but a marriage is not so easily annulled. the wedding ceremony must be completed before thomas can be named crown prince.”

“i think that’s a stupid rule,” patton mutters. virgil laughs softly, and patton squeezes his hand.

“the most likely scenario at this point is a triple function.”

“a what?”

“logan and roman will have a double wedding to the two of you, and then once the wedding ceremony is completed, thomas will immediately be officially named crown prince. that way, no matter what happens, the kingdom will be secured.”

“and then we party?” patton asks. remy laughs.

“yeah, babes. and then we party.”

*~*~*~*~*

“everything alright?”

logan jumps three feet into the air at the sudden noise, whirling around to see roman behind him, hand raised as though he was about to lower it onto his shoulder. “take a deep breath, lo, it’s just me.” logan presses a hand to his chest, exhaling sharply.

“you startled me, roman. please do not do that.” roman rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder against logan’s as he steps towards the window logan’s been pensively staring out of. “can i be of assistance?”

“do you know any good smiths?”

logan hums, clasping his hands behind his back. “you spend far more time consorting with the villagers than i, roman. if anyone were to possess such information, it would be you.”

“yeah, but you spend all your time with the tax records and shit, i figured you’d know.”

logan frowns. “what is all this about, roman?”

roman looks at him, and logan realizes he’s been crying. “roman -”

“i went to see father.”

logan wants to swear. “roman, i thought we agreed to go together if we went -”

“we did! but i saw remy going to treat him, so i followed him, and when the door opened he saw me and he beckoned me inside and what was i gonna do, say no to the king?”

“what did he say to you?”

“he asked me if i was married yet.”

“and you told him?”

“no, but i have a partner.”

“what did he say?”

“‘that’s not good enough, roman,’” roman grouses, dropping his voice into a gruff imitation of their father’s. “'you of all people should understand how imperative it is that there is no issue with succession. thomas must be named my heir and become crown prince before i shuffle off this mortal coil -’”

“don’t talk about father’s death like that,” logan snaps.

“and how else should i talk about it, logan? father has been dying for years. and he’s making me rush my relationship with patton just so that thomas can get the official version of a title we all know he has!”

“father does not want to die without officially naming an heir. i understand that.”

“you really think someone’s going to be stupid enough to challenge thomas’s birthright?”

“it will not hurt to be prepared. you are responding irrationally.”

“right, because you’ve never done anything irrational in your life, logan, like riding into battle with no backup and no plan because your stupid magic boyfriend thinks i can’t take care of myself! what does he know, anyway? he doesn’t know anything about me or us or -”

“virgil saved your life,” logan says, voice low and thunderous. he takes a step forward, then another, and roman takes a step backward, then another. “if it wasn’t for his vision, you would have died . many more people would have been injured or killed if he had not come when he did. or did you forget the fact that he fell into a coma because he expended so much magic saving you? healing you? keeping you alive?” roman flinches away from his anger, and logan can’t bring himself to care.

“logan, i -”

“this conversation is over,” logan says, voice icy and cold. “i will see you at dinner, prince roman. send a servant if you have need of me.” he turns around and stalks down the hallway, footsteps sharp and precise against the stone floor. he hears roman throw a punch at something behind him, but he doesn’t call out, and logan doesn’t turn around.

*~*~*~*~*

“lord san - patton?”

patton looks up from the basket of yarn he’s picking through to see nate standing in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. “nate! come in!”

“you have a visitor,” nate says. he sounds oddly formal, and patton tilts his head in confusion. “sir claire, knight of the kingdom, second in command to his royal highness prince roman, requests an audience.”

“oh! um . . . send her in, sure!” patton remembers her riding just behind logan and roman when they’d returned from battle, but he’s never actually spoken to her.

nate steps into the hallway and murmurs something, and then claire steps in. she’s not wearing full armor, but there’s leather wrapped around her forearms and legs, and her hair is tied up in a knot atop her head. she’s panting slightly, face shining with sweat, as though she’s just come from the training grounds.

“lord sanders,” she says, bowing to him. patton stands up, not sure if he’s supposed to curtsy back at her or not, but as he’s gathering the material of his dress claire continues speaking. “i would request something of you, lord sanders.”

“um . . . okay! is it something you need from roman?”

“it actually concerns his highness prince roman.”

“is he hurt? is he alright?”

claire shakes her head. “i believe he had an . . . altercation with his highness prince logan earlier. prince roman came to the training grounds two hours ago, and he has been putting any guard he can through rigorous dueling. he’s finally exhausted his supply of human opponents, and he has been hacking away at training dummies for the past thirty minutes. his hands shake with exhaustion, but nothing i do or say convinces him to stop and rest. i worry he may pass out from heat or over exertion or -”

patton wrings his hands nervously, and claire takes a deep breath. “i do not mean to alarm you, lord sanders. i merely thought perhaps, as you are beloved of prince roman, you might accompany me to the training grounds and convince him to rest, if only briefly?”

“of course,” patton says. “nate, go to the kitchens, get some cold water, as much as you can carry, and some sort of snack. cheese, maybe? and nuts? something to get roman’s strength up. meet me on the training grounds.”

“at once, lord sanders,” nate says, bowing his head respectfully to patton and claire before sprinting out into the hall. patton slips his shoes on and follows claire out to the training ground.

“how long have you and roman known each other?”

“the prince and i entered knighthood training at the same time. were he not the prince, i suspect i may have been picked for captain of the guard, but i am not stupid. i know the ways of the kingdom. the third prince, should there be one, becomes captain of the guard, leader of the knights. prince roman has the skills to back the position up, at least. he is the only person who has ever bested me in combat.”

“it sounds like you really like him.”

“i admire and respect him greatly. it pains me to see him like this.”

“i’ll get him to calm down,” patton says. “what was he fighting with logan about?”

“it is unclear to me, lord sanders, but it distressed him.”

“you can just call me patton, if you want!”

“that is very kind of you, lord - patton.”

the stone walls of the castle keep it cool, even in the warmth of summer, so patton had chosen a dress with a long skirt made of lighter fabric. the minute he steps foot outside, he can feel himself starting to sweat. claire, wearing training clothes and leather guards, doesn’t seem bothered at all, so patton pretends that he isn’t, either.

he can hear sounds of exertion before they even reach the arena. patton gathers the fabric of his skirt up into his hands so that it doesn’t drag along the dusty ground as claire opens the gates to the training arena for him. roman is surrounded by a series of training dummies, stuffed with straw and carrying crude replica weapons. roman is shouting and grunting as he throws himself at the training dummies.

“his strokes are sloppy,” claire says. patton doesn’t know anything about fighting, but he sort of sees what she means. he’s watched roman train before; he usually keeps all his limbs close to his body, watching with narrowed eyes and striking with quick, precise movements in rapid succession. this looks like a hurricane given human form. roman’s limbs flail wildly, his chest is heaving, and his hair is matted with sweat.

patton hurries across the arena floor. “roman!”

roman whirls around, holding his sword out, but his arms are shaking and the tip of the blade drops down into the dust. “patton?” he pants.

“ro, sweetheart, how long have you been out here?”

“not - not long, i don’t . . .” roman drives the tip of his sword into the arena floor and leans on it heavily. patton lets his skirts fall down around his ankles again as he reaches out to take roman’s arm and help support him.

“come sit with me, ro, okay? come on. come sit down.” roman doesn’t protest, quietly staggering over to the wooden benches lining the arena. patton moves slowly to allow roman to shuffle along at his side, carefully helping roman sit down. “claire said you’ve been here for hours, ro.”

roman sighs. “so she sent you to come reign me in?”

“she sent me out here to ask you to take a break. she’s worried about you. so am i.”

“i’m just training. that’s my job, patton.”

“you’re destroying yourself,” patton says firmly. “what happened?”

roman stares off at the horizon. patton doesn’t pressure him to talk, gently leaning his head against his shoulder. after about ten minutes of sitting in silence, roman finally says, “lo and i got in a fight.”

“a fight?”

“i went to see father today. we had an agreement with the two of us and thomas that we wouldn’t go see him on our own. he can be a bit . . . intense. and lo and i got into an argument, and . . . he used my full title. he never uses that unless he’s super pissed off. and like, i’m pissed at him too! he was being an asshole! but . . . so was i, i guess . . .”

nate approaches, setting down a pitcher of water, two cups, and a basket of bread and cheese and nuts. roman shoves a hunk of cheese in his mouth as patton pours them both water and nods his thanks to nate. roman downs a glass and a half of water before staring off again, eyes unfocused.

patton hums, reaching out to set his hand on roman’s knee. “do you wanna talk about it?”

roman hesitates for a moment, swirling the water in his cup around, and then he does.

*~*~*~*~*

“are you going to tell me what you’re brooding about?”

“i do not brood,” logan grouses.

“are you going to tell me why you’re pouting, then?”

“i do not pout either.” logan pouts at virgil, who bites his lower lip to keep from laughing. logan continues to pout as he gently picks up a clay teapot and pours virgil another cup of the magic-replenishing tea. virgil wraps his hands around logan’s as he takes the cup, and logan’s face smoothes into a small smile.

“i . . . had a disagreement with roman, earlier.”

“i don’t like the way you’re saying disagreement.”

“he saw our father.” virgil, sitting up to sip at his tea, pauses as logan’s hands ball into fists.

“how is he?”

“our father? the same as always. asking about if we’re married yet so he can name thomas crown prince and die already.” virgil winces, and logan sighs. “forgive me, my love. our father . . . he is constantly rushing our lives. he would have had us wed to anyone, regardless of feelings, so that thomas could have his position as crown prince secured. thomas fought for us to have a chance at happiness, hence the ball for roman’s birthday. our father gave in, but he is . . . irritated that we have not yet wed.”

“would it make things easier if we got married?” virgil says. logan reaches out and takes one of his hands.

“i am not going to rush you or have roman rush patton because of our father’s succession issues. you are more than a political bargaining chip to me, virgil. you are . . .” logan’s cheeks and ears flush pink, and virgil can’t hide the besotted smile on his face as he watches logan’s gaze fix on a specific point over his shoulder. “you are invaluable to me. you are incredibly precious. i will not have you feeling like a pawn to be manipulated when you are - you are so much more than that to me.” virgil’s gaze slides to the black chess queen, propped neatly on the nightstand where he can see it.

“you’re important to me, too, l.”

“roman was insinuating that we were irrational for running into battle to save him. he was implying that you are - are stupid or something, that you don’t know things, when without you he would be dead and we would have suffered innumerable casualties! that fool, what was he thinking , he -”

“you were worried about him,” virgil says.

“roman is capable. he does not require worrying about, so he likes to say.” logan scoffs.

“you’re his big brother, lo. you were going to worry no matter what happened. i worry about patton no matter what, and i bet thomas worries about you and roman no matter what. that’s just what brothers do.”

logan pulls his hands into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “i . . . suppose i should apologize to him.”

“hey, if he was being a jackass, he should apologize to you, too.” logan leans in and gently presses a kiss to virgil’s cheek. virgil makes a very undignified squeaking noise that he will deny vehemently to anyone else.

*~*~*~*~*

“logan?”

“roman.”

“i . . . uh . . . ‘m sorry. i didn’t, uh . . . mean to insult virgil, or . . . or imply that he’s stupid. i know his magic takes a lot out of him, and i know he . . . he really used a lot when you guys came to save us. i just . . . i don’t like feeling like the stupid kid brother you all have to chase after, you know?”

“i find that i owe you an apology as well, roman. i was, perhaps, unnecessarily harsh on you when last we spoke. i felt that someone had to defend virgil’s . . . honor is not quite the right word, but it is the closest i have.”

“i can take care of myself, you know.”

“i know, roman. but when virgil burst into the throne room and told us that he had seen you being slain . . . after the truth of his prediction with my horse incident, thomas and i were understandably distraught. we always fear the worst when you ride out into battle, and virgil seemed to be implying that those worst fears would be realized.”

“i get that. and i . . . i am grateful, for what he did. for what you did.”

“i know.”

“father just . . . rattled me.”

“i confess that i am irked as well. he has been ill for years, and remy is confident that he is not on death’s doorstep despite his illness. there is no reason for him to be so insistent on this marriage. patton and virgil are more than just marriage partners.”

“i love him, lo. i - even if i didn’t have to, i would want to marry him.”

“i share the sentiment.”

“. . . i do love you, lo. even if you’re an annoying big brother sometimes.”

“and i love you as well, despite your constant annoying younger brother status.”

“hey!”

(patton, hiding in the hallway, giggles and scurries off to the hospital wing.)

#starshinewrites #sanders sides cinderella!au #pattonella!au #romantic analogical #romantic royality #platonic TLAMP

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