#just so you know ''guts all over the magical forest'' is way less murder-y in context | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wingsofkpop · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth - I.VI: The Forgotten One

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, HEAVY Angst, some Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, brief violence, blood and gore, character death by suicide, mentions of depression and mental illness, hallucinations and trauma, brief mentions of child abuse and slavery, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit depictions of suicide. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 7,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

A/N: This is a dark and heavy chapter.Please make sure to look carefully and closely at the warnings. Your safety and wellbeing should be your first priority. Do not read if you know it will cause you harm. Be safe and enjoy.

“I can’t believe he just left like that, that asshole!” Jinyoung holds back a chuckle at your bitter retort, unable to focus on anything aside from the furious expression along your features. He knows he shouldn’t find your anger cute, but there’s something about the way your nose scrunches inward and how your lips purse that has him melting. More so than the fever.

“I mean, what kind of self-absorbed, arrogant, heartless prick leaves his best friend to suffer…?”

“Jaebeom has never been the most compassionate person on the planet.” Jinyoung hums in response, tilting his head as to better give you access to towel away the sweat gathering across his forehead. “Even when we were children, it was hard for him to see through someone else’s eyes. But that is likely the cause of his upbringings.”

You shake your head indignantly. “We’ve all had sucky childhoods. That doesn’t excuse this petty, cruel bullshit.”

For a short moment, Jinyoung studies the forefronts of your face. This is the first time you have ever brought up mention of your childhood, and he couldn’t help but notice the rather sour tone of your voice. And while he can easily pass that off as anger toward his hybrid brother, Jinyoung wonders whether there’s more beneath the surface…

Who really are you…?

“Did Jaebeom tell you anything about his past during your time together?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess? He told me about your family, and your father—”

“What about his family?” Jinyoung notices how your body pauses, the cold cloth on his forehead freezing in place. He gives you a second to fix your composure, before leaning back into the comfort of his mattress and continuing, “Jaebeom’s parents were both killed by pillagers when he was very young, leaving him orphaned and one of the only remaining survivors in his village.

“He was taken into slavery, and traded off from one person to the next.” He explains, taking a second to cough and clear the thick bile building in his throat. “For the majority of his childhood, Jaebeom was beaten, abused, starved, maltreated and left to die more times than anyone could count. If I hadn’t found him, incapacitated and nearly dead in the forest, he would never have survived past fourteen.”

Guilt washes along your face, transmitting into your body language through the shakiness of your hands and tension in your shoulders. Jinyoung keeps his eyes trained as you dab his cheek, ignoring how the cloth does little to relieve yet another increase in his body temperature.

You murmur with a deep frown, “I… didn’t know.”

“Few do. Jaebeom doesn’t like to look back on his past.”

“But that still doesn’t make sense to me.” The hand with the cloth falls to your lap as you take the time to think. Jinyoung waits patiently, resting comfortably against his pillows. “If you two are so close… why let you go on sick rather than heal you?”

“Jaebeom and I have spent many lifetimes together, (Y/N).” He says, “Like most companions, we’ve had our fair share of falling-outs and feuds… This time was no different.”

“So he’s essentially punishing you? For not listening to him?”

Jinyoung sighs. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but Jaebeom does have a good heart.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“He spared you, didn’t he?”

“He told you…?” Your eyes widen in surprise, and Jinyoung can’t help but smile at how much you resemble a gentle doe.

“Not exactly…” With some needed effort, he moves his arm to your lap where your free hand rests on your thigh. He mindlessly runs the tip of his finger over the bump of your knuckles, marveling at how cool your skin feels against his own. “My brother and I got into an argument the day before you came to the cemetery, so I had a suspicion he would try and retaliate against me… When I saw you were here, with him, I knew my suspicions were somewhat correct.”

Jinyoung raises his gaze to meet your eyes. “Time is not a friend when it involves creatures like me and Jaebeom, (Y/N). We may live forever, but we also suffer and endure the same pain forever.”

“There’s really no way for you to die?”

“No. If there was, then I would have ended my life a long, long time ago.”

Jinyoung notices how your eyes seem to sadden at his answer. But he doesn’t inquire any further, enduring another coughing fit that rattles his bones from the inside out. A small barrage of blood leaves his lips to splatter across the white sheets, which you’re quick to wipe away before offering if you can do anything else.

He shakes his head. “The symptoms will pass eventually, but you need to leave. I will start to hallucinate soon and I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you here by yourself.” You argue, adamantly shaking your own head back and forth. “You’re stuck with me until your ass gets better.”

For the first time, Jinyoung actually curses your stubborn nature. He releases a groan, partly out of pain and partly out of frustration, before forcing himself to sit up against all your warning protests. Once he’s in a less than comfortable position, Jinyoung reaches for your shoulder and pulls you even closer toward his bedside.

“Mark is missing, and Youngjae needs a friend right now.” Your steadfast expression falters at Jinyoung’s words.

You sigh heavily. “I just… don’t want you to be alone.”

Jinyoung’s heart seizes at your confession, but he forces his expression to remain neutral. For your favor, and for his.

“I’ve endured this fever dozens of times on my own. This time will be no different.” He reaches up to brush a fallen eyelash from your cheek, relishing the starry night that shimmers in your eyes. “Go, please. Unlike me, your friends are not immortal.”

You remain troubled for a moment, weighing the options over while nervously gnawing at your bottom lip. Before he can think about his actions, Jinyoung hooks his thumb over your lip and frees the flesh from the wrath of your teeth. Surprise flashes in your eyes, but it is quickly replaced with defeat.

You surrender with a nod, “Fine. But I’m only going because I’m worried about Mark… not because you told me to.”

“Of course.” Jinyoung smiles as you retract from his touch, captivated by the way you flail about the room, preparing him a sick care package and gathering your own belongings. After you’re satisfied, you return to his bedside, and to Jinyoung’s surprise, lean down to splay your lips across his burning cheek. When you pull back, you refuse to meet his gaze.

“That’s for saving my life… And everything else.”

Long after you’ve exited the room, Jinyoung can still feel the lingering ghost of your lips against his skin.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Raindrops cascade gracefully from the silver storm clouds above, creating a soft curtain of mist everywhere you look. The chill of the rain shower actually motivates your pace to pick up. That, and the apprehension of leaving Jinyoung alone in such a weak, vulnerable state. Though your inclination to find Mark keeps you from turning on your heel and hailing a cab all the way back to the Project Estate… yet another good chunk of money out of your wallet.

At this point, you might as well as invest in a car.

The sigh that falls from your lips disappears into the falling rain as you slip past the entrance gate of Eclipse Cemetery. Before you found out about Mark’s witch nature, you never understood why he and his friends ever chose to hang out in a graveyard—a place where you can’t walk without stepping over the resting place of a corpse. You always figured Mark was edgy like that… and just strange, in general.

Your boots sink into the earth with each step, thick mud staining the leather soles. You can’t bring yourself to really care though, too focused on reaching the mausoleum before the storm soaks you to the bone. However, just when the familiar building is mere feet away, a rather small gathering of people come into view. You recognize Youngjae’s dark head amongst the crowd and beeline straight for the group.

Youngjae notices your approaching figure and turns to greet you. Even through the fog, you can tell the younger male has been crying from his swollen cheeks and crimson-tinted eyes. As soon as you’re in reach, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug.

He reciprocates with a murmur. “I didn’t think you’d come… not after what happened—”

“None of that matters right now.” You assure, running a hand through Youngjae’s rain-soaked locks. “We’re gonna find him, okay? He’ll be home before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

After another moment or so, Youngjae pulls back from your hold. His hand remains on your bicep as he invites you into the sea of faces, where the surrounding strangers had watched your display with the young siphoner. You clear your throat, willing away the slight embarrassment brewing inside your gut.

“(Y/N)-noona, these are members of Moon Dye Bay’s resident werewolf pack.” Youngjae points to a shorter, but rather broad and muscular male with bleached, blonde hair, “This is Bang Chan, the Alpha and leader of the wolves.”

Chan’s smile is kind. “Hi. I wish we could have met during better circumstances.”

“Same here.” You reply, offering a small smile of your own.

“Kim Yugyeom is Chan’s second-in-command. You might have heard his name from—”

“Bambam.” You finish Youngjae’s sentence with a nod, noting Yugyeom’s extremely tall stature. And to think you thought that Bambam had long-ass legs… “It’s nice to finally know the face of the best friend he mentions all the time.”

Unlike Chan, Yugyeom doesn’t smile. But you can tell it’s not out of impoliteness or prejudice. The dark bags underneath his eyes and the tense lines of his cheeks disclose the severity of his exhaustion.

“The feeling is mutual.” Yugyeom hums, “Bam talks about you a lot too.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“More or less.” You make a note to smack the cashier the next time you see him as Yugyeom gestures to a young woman at his side with navy blue hair and a pretty smile, “This is my sister, Dahyun.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Dahyun steps forward to take your hands between her own, “A couple of my friends are in Professor Park’s literature and history classes. They rant and rave about the aide that might as well be their professor.”

You chuckle shyly, “I’m getting there. Working on my doctorate right now.”

“Good for you.” Dahyun squeezes your hands before letting go and returning next to her brother. Through the corner of your eye, you notice another figure lingering beside a grand oak tree—obviously steering clear of the circle. His expression is cold, almost as if he had never smiled in his entire life.

“Don’t mind Changbin.” Chan blocks your view of the lone male with a sigh, “He’s in a mood, and has never been the greatest at greeting new people.”

You wave off his concern, instead focusing your gaze on an oddly silent Youngjae. Your heart practically breaks at the pure sadness and helplessness that contorts his features, but before you can open your mouth to console the siphoner, Yugyeom beats you to it:

“Is there any way we can find Mark without ripping apart the entire goddamn town? Some spell or enchantment or…?”

Youngjae shakes his head. “I already tried a tracking spell. He’s cloaked, meaning we won’t be able to detect him with magic.”

“What about the witch?” Dahyun says, “I mean—she had to have taken him while we were dealing with the huntress, right? There’s no other explanation why he would just up and disappear—”

“Wait—” You stare incredulously at the conversing wolves and witch, “Mina took Mark? Why would she do that?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “We killed her partner. Seems like a pretty decent way to get revenge.”

“She won’t… hurt him? Will she?”

Silence is your only answer, and it unleashes an electric wave of panic through your veins. You swallow down the gathering bile in the back of your throat before getting a grip on your sanity and turning back to the group:

“My friend is close with her.” You gulp, already pulling your phone from your pocket. “I’ll call and see if she knows any place she might have gone.”

“Good idea.” Chan nods and turns to the other wolves, “While (Y/N) does that, we should start forming search parties to check the town. Dahyun, you call Chaeyoung and Ryujin and have them start at the square—”

“Why do we even fucking bother?” Everyone startles at the sudden, gruff question. It takes you a second to realize the voice belonged to the lone wolf, Changbin, who is now rounding in on the small circle with a violent sneer. You can’t help but shiver beneath the intensity of his expression.

Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Who invited this asshole to come, again?”

“Dubu, please.” Yugyeom sends his sister a pointed look before meeting Changbin’s gaze. You marvel at how calm the tall wolf seems, as if he’s dealt with this type of thing a good number of times beforehand.

His tone resembles that of a parent speaking a serious subject to their child. “We’ve already talked about this… Mark—”

“—is the fucking reason why Jackon is dead?” Changbin chuckles darkly, the soaking wet hood over his head intensifying his intimidating aura. “No matter how many times I try to tell you that, hyung—you just don’t seem to get it…”

“Mark didn’t kill Jackson!” Dahyun argues, shoving past Yugyeom to approach the furious wolf. Although she’s significantly shorter than him, Dahyun doesn’t hesitate to lean in close to Changbin’s face until they’re nose-to-nose and send him a harsh glare of her own. “When will you get that through that moronic brain of yours!?”

“And when will you realize that whatever this puppy crush, love sick shit you have on him is never gonna happen—”

“Enough!” Chan’s bellow ricochets through your bones. The Alpha shoves the two wolves away from one another before stepping in between their bodies, making sure there is no possible way for them to reach one another without going through him. He glances between the pair with a stern glare, “You two need to calm down. Changbin, take a hike.”

“But, hyung—!”

“That’s an order. Go.”

You barely manage to duck out of his path before Changbin barrels past, likely heading toward the gates of the cemetery. His silhouette eventually becomes one with the raindrops, almost as if he was never here to begin with…

“(Y/N)-noona…?” Reality hits at Youngjae’s soft call of your name. You turn back to the other figures, finding each set of eyes looking in your direction. With your attention, Youngjae continues, “You want to make that call…?”

“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, remembering the phone between your fingers. “I’ll let you know if Sana tells me anything.”

Without waiting for a hum of agreement, you turn on your heel and make your way deeper into the cemetery. You don’t know why you have this sudden need to get as far away from the group as possible, but something in your gut doesn’t sit well with what Changbin had said.

Who is Jackson…?

The name isn’t familiar, nor do you recall Mark ever mentioning a ‘Jackson’. But judging by the tone of both Changbin and Dahyun’s voices, this Jackson is, or was important to them—important to Mark. So why have you never heard about him…? From anyone…?

And why did Changbin say Mark is the reason why Jackson died…?

You don’t realize how far you have traveled until you reach the tall iron fence highlighting where the burial grounds cease. Youngjae and the werewolf pack are long behind you, and you can’t tell whether the relief that spills through your body is a good thing or a bad thing. After wiping the droplets from the screen of your phone, you prepare to do as tasked and phone Sana for whereabouts on Mina. But just as you are about to hit the call button, something else catches your attention.

A jet black, one-winged butterfly glides through the falling rain like a tiny plane. It flutters only mere inches from your nose, playfully beckoning you with its single, rigged appendage before traversing past the graveyard fence toward the ominous forest. You watch, transfixed, as it pauses just in the mouth of the wood… as if waiting for you to follow.

Against your better judgement, you tuck your phone into your pocket and walk closer to the barrier. You somehow manage to scale the slippery fence without fault before sprinting after the deformed butterfly, which flew into the trees as soon as your feet hit the ground outside the cemetery.

The rain is lighter underneath the cover of thick leaves and branches, but it is also much, much darker. It is especially difficult to spot the black insect amongst the gloom, but as if under a spell, you manage to do so. You’re not exactly sure how long you trailed the butterfly, nor do you have any idea where you are, but you can’t seem to care—not when a large, obscure cave comes into sight.

You pause, watching the butterfly drift toward the mysterious cavern, telling you this is where you’re supposed to be.

Way past the point of no return, you enter the pitch black of the cave. Your own steps and the pitter-patter of the rain echo in your ears as you tread deeper into the obscurity, shuffling your feet as to avoid tripping over any awaiting obstacle. You eventually decide to pull out your phone, cursing yourself for not doing so in the first place, and switch on the flashlight setting.

A loud yelp sounds from your throat when your beam of light reveals something that strikes both fear and relief in your heart. Not something… but someone.

Mark lays in a heap on the dry cavern floor. If it were anywhere else, he would seem as if he were sleeping soundly… but he’s in a dark cave. Unconscious and alone.

“Mark!…” You rush to kneel at his side, checking over his body for any possible injuries. You find none, so you attempt to shake him awake, “Mark! Get up!”

Mark doesn’t even stir at your touch.

“Freaking hell, Mark…” You shake your head with a heavy sigh, preparing to grab your phone and call Youngjae, but when you turn to the spot where you left it on the ground, the device is nowhere to be seen. Chills race through your bloodstream like a wave of ice.

“What… the fuck?…”

“I believe you’re looking for this…?” You immediately whirl around at the sudden voice, protectively standing in front of Mark’s incapacitated figure. More panic and dread fill your gut at the sight of a silhouette standing in the mouth of the cave, with what seems to be your phone within their hand.

Trying to mask your fear, you call to the figure with a growl, “Who the fuck are you!? Don’t come any closer!…”

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” The more the stranger speaks, the more you swear you can recognize their voice. You keep on your toes as they approach closer and closer, until there’s only a couple feet separating your forms. It’s not until a light appears, right in the palm of the figure’s hand, do you finally match the voice to a face.

Mina smiles softly. “I’ve been waiting for you, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

He’s running. With no destination in mind. Lungs screaming for oxygen. But he can’t stop. No matter how the rocks and branches tear at his skin. Have to get away. Warm blood spills down his arms and feet. Have to get away before he finds him. Violet and crimson bruises stain his flesh like acid. Have to get away before he finds him and finishes the job. Running deeper and deeper into the black.

Fat droplets spill down his cheeks in scarlet trails. Of terror. Of pain. More tears blur his vision. Colors of all shades meld into one single glow. Every wildflower is grey. Every leaf is grey. Even his blood is grey. He cannot tell which one of four hands is his own. Fingers outstretched. Searching for answers. Searching for comfort.

What has he done to deserve this misery? What merciless deity has subjected him to such violent torment? What has he done to deserve each slap, each broken bone, each lick against his skin? What kind of unkind universe allows a young boy to suffer at the hands of his own father?

His ankle catches in the dip of a rabbit hole. More agony erupts through his veins. Body meeting the hard earth with a pound. It hurts. It HURTS. Sobs are long past uncontrolled now. Maybe he can cry himself an ocean. And drown in the currents of his own tears. His ankle throbs. There would be no more pain. No more suffering then.

A sharp rock would do the job. One stab to the throat and he’s out like a light. It would be so easy. So easy. The stone sears his palm like a handful of ice. Its surface even colder against his neck. His father can’t punish him in death. Can’t find him when he’s gone. He would be safe. Dead. And safe. He presses the point deeper into his skin.

Who would miss him? His mother? His sisters? The villagers of his town? Do they know he’s gone past the territory border? Do they know he’s suffered the wrath of a thousand suns? Do they even care? Will they mourn him? Acknowledge him?… Celebrate his absence?

Echoes of a shrill groan bounce through the trees. His grasp loosens. Blood pools into his collarbones as the rock tumbles back to the earth. Trembling legs bear his weight. Ankle still throbbing. He takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. His hands shake like a helpless rose in a violent windstorm.

There’s someone else in the woods. It’s another boy. Strewn among a bed of dead leaves. Laid within a puddle of his own blood and sweat. Mud clings to every available patch of skin. Like a shadow of nature. Thick pus oozes from his thorn-bounded wrists. He can’t see his face. But he knows the scent of pain.

“Help me, please.” He can’t tell if the voice is the boy’s or his own. Or maybe he’s finally lost his mind. Overthrown by the claws of insanity. Maybe death will come for him now. Bruised. Cracked. Broken. Like a piece of useless trash no one desires. Take him. End his pain now.

“Jinyoung…” The voice is clearer now. Adamant. Death has come. Sweet and merciful. Arms up toward the heavens. Fingers outstretched. Searching for comfort. Searching for relief. Something warm cradles his hand. Tears and blood mix along the canvas of his body. Another call of his name. Distorted. But real. Loving.

“You need to drink this…” Something cold presses against his lips. A sigh escapes. Death really has been his true friend all along. Sweet liquid invades his taste buds. Swallows the thickness like a greedy child. Thank you. Thank you so much.

When Jinyoung opens his eyes, the blurred forest is gone, as is the pain. He searches the dark room for the bearer of his fate, wanting to verbally express his appreciation and pledge his loyalty. However, the face that appears in his vision is neither spiritual nor resemblance of the grim reaper—it is the wounded boy from the forest. Now a man.

“I’m here, brother…” His murmur is faint against Jinyoung’s ears. Soft. His eyelids begin to droop, the same darkness, yet more tame and kind, overtaking the forefront of his mind. He can’t fight it off. Not this time.

The voice continues to lull him, calm him, as Jinyoung slips back into a dreamless sleep.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“If you’re gonna kill me, then just get it over with.” You hiss, keeping alert as Mina proceeds to pace around the wide, dim cavern. Never before have you felt such anger, such hatred toward another human being, except at this very moment. “Stop playing around like this is some fucking game. I want nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N). That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Yeah? Is that the same thing you told Nayeon before you murdered her?”

Mina’s sigh is neither one of frustration or annoyance. In fact, if you knew any better, you would have thought the sound to be something close to exhaustion.

Your shoulder tense as the witch approaches, maneuvering yourself to shield Mark who lays behind you. Still asleep. Noticing your protective stance, Mina backs off with another sigh and runs a trembling hand across her sweaty forehead.

She murmurs softly, “We weren’t always killers, you know? Momo and I—we used to be innocent… and good.”

For a moment, you merely gape at the witch, unable to conjure up a proper response. Mina ignores your silence, either uncaring or unknowing, and takes a seat across from your frozen form. Still a good amount of distance away. Her eyes glance toward Mark’s unconscious body before turning back to you with a blank expression.

“He’s alright. I put him under a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this?” Your strict, yet inquisitive tone pulls a grimace across her face.

“I knew if I took Mark, I would be able to get you alone… to talk.”

“Why?”

Mina doesn’t answer your question and proceeds to stare off into space. “You know, I was in the foster system for years, always dreaming about the day I would finally quit bouncing from one home to the next.

“I was fourteen when I was adopted, and also when I met Momo.” The weak smile that forms across her lips stirs something inside your gut. “I had always wanted a sister, loving parents, and a home to call my own, which I finally had… It was the best feeling in the world.” She pauses to release a breathy chuckle, “It’s funny—what I would give to go back in time and feel like that again…”

You bite your lip. “What… What happened to them?”

“Our parents were killed by our town’s witch coven in a ritual gone wrong.” Mina whispers, tilting her head and fluttering her eyes closed. A single teardrop escapes her lid, dripping sadness down her flushed cheek. “It was an accident, but the damage had already been done…

“Once Momo found out about her hunter-roots, she became different—vengeful. She slaughtered those witches without so much as batting an eyelash, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to kill again and again and again. ”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Because I couldn’t.” She shakes her head, another droplet trailing down her skin. “After our parents died, she was just so—so heartbroken. I could barely get her out of bed in the mornings, much less make her eat or go out or anything…” You watch sullenly as Mina wipes her eyes before shrugging, “It was like her soul died with them, and the sister I knew and loved was a shell of who she once was.”

You release a sigh of your own. “Until she killed those witches.”

“I convinced myself that it was fair—their lives for our parents. And every other life she—we took, I tried to make up some sort of excuse that it was justified…

“But it became too much.” She says, “After Nayeon, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore death. Not even for Momo.”

Your eyes widen when you realize the shadows along her face are not shadows at all, but her veins gradually appearing in the forms of inky, spider-webbed lines. When she lifts her gaze back to your own, her pupils are dilated to slits and rimmed with jet black irises.

“I knew Momo could never stop killing, so I used every bit of my magic to strip her of her strength long enough to allow the wolf pack to do what should have been done a long, long time ago.”

“Your face… It’s—”

“Dark magic is a funny thing, (Y/N).” Mina laughs sarcastically, tracing the black veins along the back of her hand with the tip of her finger. “The power itself feels so good, like a high that never comes down, but like every drug, you don’t realize it’s killing you until it’s too late.”

Holding back tears, you shake your head. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you deserve to know what this world does to you.” Mina answers, crawling closer to reach for your hands. You don’t flinch at her abnormally cold touch, nor do you make any fight to pull away.

The witch stares directly into your eyes. “Knowing about the supernatural comes with a price. Your values, your morals—everything you know will be tested at every possible moment, and piece by piece, your soul will chip away to nothing.

“I could sense your humanity the very first time we met.” With a black-lined finger, Mina caresses a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen until then. “You’re different from other mortals… If you go down this path of darkness, then it will destroy you, (Y/N).”

“I don’t understand…” You sob, attempting to cling to Mina’s hands as she begins to pull away.

“You will. One day.” With given effort, she eventually peels herself away from your grasp and retires back to her lonely place in the shadows. She retracts something from the pocket of her jeans, but you can’t make out much through the darkness. Only the gleam of something sharp. Mina offers a weak smile— her lips as black as night.

“I hope you live a long, happy life, (Y/N). Without any of this.”

You watch in horror as the witch lifts a small pocket-knife right beneath her jaw and slices across her throat. Dark blood immediately spurts from the wound and paints her skin and the cavern floor red. Mina’s eyes keep to yours as she garbles and chokes, before the irises themselves grow white and her figure collapses to the ground. She squirms and spasms for a moment or two, then falls uncomfortably silent. Completely still.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach like a tidal wave, and you have to force yourself to look away from the vulgar scene before you vomit. Even then, the sight of the knife dragging across her windpipe and her strangled noises remain at the base of your thoughts. You’re sobbing uncontrollably, you quickly realize, gasping for air and shaking like a madwoman.

“(Y/N)?…”

The husky call awakens you from the beginnings of the anxiety attack. When you peer down, Mark’s eyes are hooded and bleary, but open and alert. He forces himself upright with a pained groan, rubbing at his likely sore shoulders before glancing around the cavern with visible confusions strewn along his features. His gaze immediately stops at the sight behind you, the confusion ebbing to terror, then sympathy.

Mark’s expression is absolutely heartbroken as he returns his focus back to you. “Oh my—(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry…” You practically throw yourself into his awaiting arms with a loud wail, curling into his body like a small child. He holds you tightly, his embrace warm and safe, while murmuring soft assurances into your ear.

“She just—just k-killed herself!.. I couldn’t-couldn’t do any-anything—!”

“Shhh…” Mark cradles the back of your head in his palm, caressing light circles into your scalp with his thumb. “Just don’t think about that right now, okay? Focus on something else—keep talking to me.”

You sharply breathe through your nose, inhaling the various elements of Mark’s scent. Rainwater. Earthiness. His sweet cologne. A gentle hint of lingering bourbon. As you count, the panic in your chest begins to die down… but the trepidation remains.

Your tone is soft, calm when you finally speak again. “Who’s Jackson…?”

Mark’s body deeply tenses underneath your own, his hand freezing its movements upon your head. He pushes you backward to peer at your face, wide-eyed and somewhat frenzied, before humming darkly, “Where did you hear that name?”

“I met the wolf pack earlier and Changbin mentioned a Jackson.” You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just never remembered you mentioning him and you told me to talk, so I just figured—”

“Hey…” Mark silences your rant with a finger to your lips. “Don’t apologize, okay? Jackson was… my best friend.”

“Was?”

Your companion hesitates. You can see the cogs violently turning in his brain, but before you can tell him to just abandon the subject entirely, he answers:

“He died almost four years ago.”

“Oh, Mark…” You don’t waste a second to wind your arms back around his shoulders, pulling his head tight against your chest. His form trembles beneath your touch, but like a starved man, Mark greedily surrenders to your embrace.

As you’re comforting your best friend, another dreadful thought enters your mind—almost as bad as the repetitive memory of the scenes that occurred just moments before: Mina is dead, and so is Momo.

What will you tell Sana…?

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I don’t know what we could ever do to repay you guys.” Mark shakes his head, glancing between the circle of wolves with an incredulous expression. Behind him, Youngjae and Jisung both nod in agreement while Lia offers a grateful smile. Chan responds with a grin of his own before moving forward to place a careful hand on Mark’s shoulder.

The Alpha hums, “We protect our own. No payback required.”

“Plus the huntress didn’t even put up a fun fight.” Dahyun snickers, joining Chan in wrapping a tight arm around Mark’s waist. He pats her head as she nuzzles into his chest, releasing an amused chuckle into the torn fabric of his shirt. “Good thing we weren’t in our wolf forms, or we would have literally ripped her to shreds!”

“Dahyun, please.” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, earning another laugh from his sister. The she wolf leans upward to press a kiss to Mark’s cheek and whisper a farewell before exiting the mausoleum to join the other waiting members of the pack outside. Chan follows Dahyun soon afterward, leaving only Yugyeom alone with the witch coven.

Mark sends the wolf a soft glance. “I owe you my life, Gyeom. Thank you.”

“Like Chan said, hyung, we protect our own.” Yugyeom waves off his thanks, though Mark can visibly see the younger male attempting to hold back a smile. “Whether you like it or not, you’ll always have a place with us. Jackson-hyung made sure of that.”

At the mention of his passed friend, Mark is reminded of his conversation with you inside the cavern. For some reason, the mere mention of the name does not strike the usual despair it has in the past. It actually feels good to hear it, he realizes. Maybe he should try saying it himself more often.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? We still play beer pong every Friday at the cabin.”

“I was always pretty good at bp.” Mark chuckles at the memory, “You and Bam are always the first ones to get shit-faced though.”

“It’s not my fault Bam literally has no skill.”

The head witch tilts his head. “Kind of is… You do pick him as your teammate every game.”

“Not the point.” Yugyeom sends Mark a playful glare while shrugging on his brown leather jacket. Mark follows the youngster to the door, pausing when he directs his goodbyes to the other members of the coven. Once he’s finished, Yugyeom meets Mark’s gaze with a silent sigh before pulling the witch into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you, hyung.”

“Me too, Gyeom.” Mark confesses, breathing in Yugyeom’s familiar woodsy scent. The fragrance brings back even more pleasant memories that act to warm his heart. He gives the wolf one final squeeze before pushing him away with some reluctance and gestures toward the door. “Better go before Dubu lands herself in a fist fight with Changbin.”

“Don’t even get me started on those two.” Laughing at the expression of pure annoyance across his face, Mark watches as Yugyeom bids him one final farewell and takes off into the pouring rain. In the distance, Mark swears he can hear Dahyun’s headstrong voice telling Chan off for something. The knowledge widens his smile.

But his rush of jubilation is only temporary for Lia’s shrill scold yanks him back to reality:

“—almost got us killed, asshole! What don’t you understand about that!?”

“How was I supposed to fucking know that it was a set-up!?” Minho hisses at the female witch, rising from his perch at the small dining table to enter the disorganized circle of conversation. “You guys made it very clear that my input in everything was useless—”

“Now that’s just bullshit.” Mark interrupts the younger witch, “You were the one who stormed off and have been M.I.A. for the past however many days. The fact that you’re trying to assign blame is fucking stupid.”

Minho scoffs., pointing to Lia. “And what the hell is she doing then!? This is what I mean when I say you take sides—when everyone takes sides! None of you ever take me seriously!”

“How can we when you go out and do stupid shit like this?” Lia growls.

“We’re alive, and the people who killed Nayeon are dead.” Youngjae cuts in, stepping in between the seething pair with a shake of his head. “There’s no reason to fight, okay? We should be celebrating and—”

“I have no desire to celebrate a goddamn thing.”

Mark rolls his eyes as Minho begins to gather his belongings, pushing past Lia with a little more force than what is necessary.

Like Mark, Lia also rolls her eyes. “Gonna run away again and live off the radar for another week or so?”

“Fuck you.”

“Enough!” Mark nearly yells, his mood now at rock bottom. He sends Lia a stern expression, as well as one to a silent Jisung, before pointing toward the door. “It’s been a long day, and we all need some time to process. Go home and sleep on it, alright?”

Lia doesn’t say a word. She only grabs her bag, storms past Mark and Youngjae, and disappears into the storm outside. Close behind, Jisung takes the time to pull on his raincoat and murmur a hushed goodbye, before following in the female witch’s footsteps. Minho goes to leave as well, but before he can make it past the doorway, Mark blocks his path.

The former addresses him in a hiss, “What the fuck now?”

“We need to talk—”

“No, we don’t. Cause I’m done.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want nothing to do with you fuckers anymore.” Minho seethes with the most piercing glare Mark has ever seen, “Consider me self-exiled.”

Mark has more to say, but Minho literally shoves his way out the door. For a second, Mark debates on whether or not he should run after the witch, and convince him to reconsider his decision. But he decides against it. Minho needs time. And so does Mark.

“She used what is called the Sleeping Beauty spell to put you in a coma.” Mark tears his gaze away from Minho’s retreating silhouette and faces his remaining company. Somewhere in the midst of his confrontation with the younger witches, Youngjae had retreated to the lectern and flipped through an Encyclopedia of Spells.

Mark approaches the siphoner as he continues, “She bound your consciousness to her life force. So only when she died, you could awaken.”

“Makes sense.” The head witch collapses onto the sofa with a loud sigh, “One minute I was watching Jinyoung take a bullet for me, and the next I was in that cave with (Y/N).”

A small moment of silence passes. Mark relishes the peace, propping his suddenly heavy head on the palm of his hand. The quiet, like his positive mood, doesn’t remain as Youngjae eventually breaks it:

“How was she? (Y/N)?”

Mark shrugs. “She was… traumatized. It was a lot for her.”

“But she’ll be okay? Right?” Youngjae joins Mark on the couch, tracing the patterns of the cushions with a worried expression. “You don’t think she’ll… leave Moon Dye?”

“I honestly don’t know, Youngjae.” The head witch offers the siphoner a lost glance, trying to ignore the obnoxious pounding inside his head. An aspirin and a nice, long fifteen hour sleep sounds like a dream in heaven. “I hope not.”

“Me too.”

The silence returns. Mark takes the time to flutter his eyes closed and lean his head back into the sofa. Exhaustion immediately overtakes his mind like a vice, ensnaring his physical body in the need to rest—which is kind of ironic, since he had been in a deep, deep sleep only hours prior.

“Hey, hyung?”

Mark hums, not bothering to open his eyes.

He hears Youngjae inhale a shaky breath before whispering, “I thought… I thought I lost you…”

At the siphoner’s pained tone, Mark immediately opens his eyes and turns to his companion. Youngjae refuses to meet his gaze, finding interest in the loose threads among the couch cushions. Mark doesn’t push him to do so, nor does he really need to. With a heavy heart and an even heavier headache, he merely murmurs to the siphoner:

“You won’t ever lose me, Youngjae… Not if I can help it.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You’ve never exactly known what it’s like to live a stable life.

As a child, you were stuck in the foster care system since the day you were basically born, never having met the people who brought you into the world. No one ever told you the identity of your parents, not that you ever wanted to find out. Knowing your own mother left you, a newborn barely a day old, on the doorstep of a local church is enough to warrant your fair share of loathing toward the woman. Intense loathing.

You were never adopted, but once you hit sixteen, you filed for emancipation and set out for a life of your own. For the first couple years, you bounced back and forth between cities, taking up job opportunities as they came and working toward good enough grades in order to eventually qualify for an academic scholarship. You achieved just that, attended a university remote, and graduated with both your bachelors and masters. It wasn’t easy, but you did it. All on your own.

Moon Dye Bay was just supposed to be another temporary fix, then you met Mark that day in Poison Square, and for once you actually looked forward to staying in the mysterious, little town for longer than usual…

That was before you witnessed a woman slit her own throat.

So maybe after you and Mark parted ways in the cemetery, the thought of leaving town crossed your mind. In fact, you were more than ready to pack up your bags and make a beeline for the bus transit. However, the moment you entered your apartment to find Sana sobbing on the kitchen floor… your plans changed. Even more so when she told you that Jihyo had left in a panic after ranting and raving about tattoos and magic.

Jihyo is gone. Momo and Mina are dead. Sana is devastated.

Moon Dye Bay continues to see you for another day.

You inhale the final gulp of your tea before depositing the mug back on your nightstand and slipping underneath your bed covers. Today was the shittiest day you’ve ever experienced, which is saying a lot. All you wish to do is sleep everything away and deal with the emotional baggage tomorrow. Hopefully Mina’s foreboding words won’t follow you into your dreams.

With a sigh of relief, you lean back into the pillows and curl tighter underneath the weight of the blankets. You try to clear your thoughts as much as possible while rolling onto your side. Drowsiness immediately clouds your senses the moment you reach a comfortable position. Preparing to surrender to the darkness that calls, you move to close your eyes, but something catches your attention in the corner of your room.

You peer toward the area, unable to make out much through the thick shadows. Unfortunately, you know your brain won’t rest until you discover the source of movement. It’s probably just a trick of the moon, but just in case, you reach over to your nightstand and switch on the small reading light atop its surface.

It’s not a trick of the moon… because there’s a man standing in the corner of your room, staring straight at you.

Paralyzed with a blend of fear and shock, you’re unable to do anything but stare back at the stranger. His dark eyes widen to saucers after a long moment of silence, and even amongst the shadows, you can tell his expression is one of surprise.

“Can you… Can you see me?” His husky voice proves his bewilderment, but does little to settle yours. Instead, his strange question only sends more warning bells raging throughout your head.

You somehow find your words, but they come out in little above a squeak. “Who the hell are you!?…”

“My name is Jackson… and you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long, long time…”

65 notes · View notes

writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Penny For Your Thoughts (III)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?

A/N: And here’s part three! I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to

The first term flew by, the days becoming indistinguishable from each other as the First Years got set more and more work. Y/N spent a lot of her time in the library, working on essays or studying for upcoming exams, often joined by the other Hufflepuff girls with whom she had formed a close friendship with - Eric having slowly fazed himself out of the group to spend more time with the other boys.

When she wasn’t there, however, she spent much of her time near the forest, often dragging Beatrice along with her in search of magical creatures, fascinated by the many species that resided in the Hogwarts grounds. Hagrid, the gameskeeper, had taken a liking to Y/N and would sometimes invite her to tea with him if he had found something that he thought she may find particularly interesting, though had so far steadfastly refused to take her into the forest with him, regardless of her pleas.

She was also accustomed - as was the Hufflepuff way - to spending a lot of time in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, especially with Beatrice and Jessica’s love for Herbology.

James, Sirius, Remus and Peter were always together. Whenever Y/N saw one of them, she knew that the others wouldn’t be far behind - James and Sirius in particular seemed to be inseparable, much to the infuriation of the teachers.

Y/N learned the exact extent to which James found himself in trouble through the letters she received from his parents, which often included great lamentations about James’ work ethic - or lack thereof.

Y/N was happy at Hogwarts. Happier than she felt she had ever been before.

Her favourite place to sit in the library was in the back right corner. It was a table right by a window that overlooked the whole of the grounds. It was out of sight from the strict librarian, Madam Pince, which allowed more leeway for her to be able to chat quietly with her friends over whatever work they happened to be completing.

It was also quieter than other areas, on account of it being the opposite end of the library to where James and his friends would frequent on the rare occasions that they decided to do some actual work.

“I don’t know why you think you need help with this,” Liane murmured, her eyes scanning down Y/N’s potions essay. “This is completely fine,” she slid it back to Y/N over the table who sighed, still editing Liane’s Astronomy homework.

“I still think it’s verging on cheating you doing that,” Jessica told them, her nose buried in her Defence Against the Dark Arts Book.

“It’s not cheating, it's just a little… morally ambiguous,” Liane protested and Beatrice snorted.

“I’m sure that would hold up in court,” she commented, sharing an amused glance with Y/N.

“Well… to be fair, it’s not as though we’re writing each other’s essays - we’re just checking them through,” Y/N pointed out. “You really suck at writing conclusions, by the way,” she added, raising her eyebrows at Liane who shrugged.

“Never claimed to be good at it.”

Y/N pulled out a spare piece of parchment and began to re-write a conclusion for her.

“Totally not writing each other’s essays,” Beatrice agreed.

“It’s funny - I don’t remember you being so against it when you needed help doing the Potions one last week,” Liane pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

“That was different,” Beatrice scowled. Y/N tried to suppress her grin but upon meeting Jessica’s eyes across the table, both of them promptly fell into a fit of giggles.

“And you’re always telling me to be quiet in the library,” James whisper-shouted, causing Y/N to jump and glare over at where he was standing by one of the bookshelves, arms folded as he watched them.

“At least we’re actually doing work,” Y/N retorted.

“To be fair - we only come here,” he looked distastefully at the bookshelves surrounding him, “because of Remus - so one of us does work.”

“Your Mum’ll be thrilled you made friends with Remus, probably thinks he’ll be a good influence on you,” Y/N responded drily.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Y/L/N, come on - I need to talk to you.”

“No surprise there - I’m pretty great, many, many people want to talk to me at all times.”

“And we’re not some of them,” Beatrice stated, pushing her friend’s shoulder. Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes but stood from the table and walked with James to the nearest empty one.

“What’s up?”

“Evans-”

“Did you really corner me in the library again to tell me that you had some intimate eye contact with Lily? What was it this time? Breathed the same air? Almost touched hands? She didn’t tell you to piss off?” Y/N groaned.

“I mean - ouch?” James said, looking mildly offended. “And no - she spoke to me, thank you very much,” James said, raising his chin defiantly at her.

“I’m thrilled for you, I’ll get right on the wedding preparations,” Y/N deadpanned.

“That’s not the point,” James muttered, his cheeks flushing red. “We were talking about the Christmas holidays and she mentioned that you were thinking of staying here for them.”

Y/N froze. She hadn’t intended for James to hear about her plans for Christmas yet. She was going to tell him nearer the time, when he would have less of a chance to argue with her and convince her otherwise.

“Well?”

“It was just a passing comment, Jamie,” she denied, using his nickname in an attempt to soften him up a little.

“Y/N, I know you better than anyone,” James reminded her in a low voice and Y/N found herself unable to meet his eyes, far too embarrassed.

“James-”

“Don’t stay here,” James said, his tone verging on pleading. “Just don’t.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be!” James argued and Y/N shushed him as his voice began to raise.

“We’re in the library, remember?” She whispered harshly.

“Then stop being stupid!” James retorted angrily, setting his jaw.

“Excuse you!”

“Well you are being stupid!” James insisted. “My parents will be so upset if you don’t go home for Christmas! It won’t be right!”

Y/N stared down at the table for a while, feeling the tears burning in her eyes, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Penny for your thoughts?” James asked in a gentle voice.

Y/N looked up at him with a watery smile and James gave her a sad one in response.

“I’m sorry for shouting but… I’m being serious, Y/N, you have to come home for Christmas!” He pleaded.

“But-”

“No buts!” James shouted, annoyance flaring again immediately.

“Mr Potter!” Madame Pince came storming over to their table, glowering at them.

“Sorry Miss!” Y/N butted in before James could aggravate her further but it didn’t seem to do any help and instead her murderous glare turned onto her.

“Both of you! Out!”

“But-”

“No! I said out!” She shrieked shrilly, waving her wand and gathering Y/N’s things for her from the table where her Hufflepuff friends were sitting watching the exchange in amusement. She gave her wand another wave and Y/N’s belongings were shooting over to her, chasing both her and James out of the library to the laughter of their peers.

“Nice going, dickhead,” Y/N huffed, managing to catch her bag and she glared at James.

“You can’t stay here for the holidays,” James said instead, a pained look in his eyes that caused her to feel a bite of guilt in her gut.

“I thought that was going to take longer?” A voice commented and Y/N looked over to see Remus smiling at her, standing with Peter and Sirius, sitting by the window nearest the entrance of the library evidently waiting for James to return.

“What? Getting me kicked out of the library?” Y/N retorted.

“You act like you’ve never been kicked out before, Badger,” Sirius commented, familiar smirk at the ready.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Star Boy, but I haven’t.”

“Disappointed,” Sirius confirmed with a solemn nod of his head. “But not surprised.”

“James said he was asking for help with the Astronomy Essay - I thought it would take longer is all,” Remus butted in with a placating smile in Y/N’s direction, which she appreciated.

“Yeah well unfortunately James is beyond help - a complete lost cause and when I told him that he decided to get me kicked out of the library with him,” Y/N gave James a sidelong look, attempting to hide her grin.

“Tosser.”

“I wanted to ask you something, by the way,” Sirius mentioned, looking at Y/N who raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “What were you doing down by the Forbidden Forest yesterday evening?”

Y/N brightened at his question, a broad grin swiftly cracking her face in two.

“Hagrid was showing me his nifflers!” She exclaimed

“That doesn’t sound dodgy at all,” Sirius commented and Remus hit his shoulder lightly as Peter burst out laughing.

“I didn’t realise Hagrid had nifflers,” Remus said, looking interested at the news.

“Yeah! Some babies recently hatched so he asked if I wanted to help take care of them.”

Before any of the others could respond, Peter’s stomach rumbled loudly. James looked as though he was trying his hardest not to laugh at him.

“I guess we should start heading down to dinner,” he suggested and Y/N smiled at Peter’s bright red cheeks.

“You guys go ahead,” Y/N gestured at the four Gryffindor boys to pass her, indicating that she was planning on waiting for her own friends to leave the library. James fixed her with a warning look.

“Come on, I still need to talk to you,” he grabbed hold of one of her arms and dragged her along the corridor with him so that they were walking side-by-side together towards the Great Hall, a few metres ahead of his other friends. Y/N could feel the eyes of the other three boring into her back, wondering what they were discussing.

“Way to be subtle,” Y/N hissed and James scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re seriously considering staying here for Christmas.”

“We’re really back on this?” Y/N groaned and James glared at her.

“Of course we are!”

“Jamie-”

“No! I mean… it won’t be right without you there.”

“You’ve spent Christmases without me there before,” Y/N pointed out and James squeezed her arm, trying his best to comfort her.

“Not since…”

“I know,” Y/N breathed, shaking her head a little and attempting to collect herself.

“I figured I’d be less of an inconvenience here.”

She could feel James watching her but refused to look over at him.

“That’s not how they see you.”

“I know,” Y/N agreed, a slight smile forming. “But it’s how I see myself.”

“Evans!” It was shouted from behind them, Sirius’ loud exclamation cutting off her and James and Y/N immediately felt the heavy atmosphere between them lift. They shared an understanding look, James grinning at her nervously and Y/N nudging his shoulder in return.

“Surprised your Lily-Radar wasn’t beeping,” she teased.

“My Lilydar is working perfectly fine thank you,” James retorted. “I just figured you might want my undivided attention seeing as though -” James let out a long, drawn out sigh. “I have so many other friends now and have so little time for you anymore.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Hey Y/N!” Lily ignored Sirius’ greeting, making her way over to Y/N’s side and linking their arms together.

“You alright?”

“Yeah! You?”

“I was fine until James interrupted my studying and got me kicked out of the library,” Y/N agreed, grinning at the distasteful look that Lily shot at James.

“I’m surprised he even knows where the library is, to be honest with you.”

“Wow, Evans, bit rude,” Sirius commented, catching up with the trio. He turned his gaze onto Y/N. “Sit with us?”

“I’m not Gryffindor.”

“So? Live a little, Badger.”

“How hard do you think it would be for me to push him into the Black Lake?”

“I think even the Giant Squid would be disgusted by his company.”

“Anyone would think you two don’t like me,” Sirius teased, throwing his arm over Y/N shoulder and she turned her head to look at him in amusement.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

They entered into the Great Hall and Y/N allowed herself to be guided by her Gryffindor friends over to their table rather than the Hufflepuff one. She could see Eric sitting there with the other boys in their year, his eyes watching her in confusion as she took her seat in between Lily and Sirius, James sitting opposite her with Remus and Peter either side of him.

The other Gryffindor girls joined them shortly after and Y/N saw her Hufflepuff friends walk into the Great Hall just behind them. Beatrice frowned over at the Hufflepuff table, her eyes glancing around the room. Y/N raised her hand to gain her attention and Beatrice beamed, saying something to Liane and Jessica before moving over towards Y/N.

“Can I sit here?” She asked Remus, who smiled and nodded his head, moving up a little on the bench to make room for her.

“Beatrice, you’re half-blood aren’t you?” Marlene asked, bringing the girl into a conversation that was being held between the Gryffindor girls. Beatrice looked over in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Which side?”

“What do you mean?” Beatrice laughed, clearly uncomfortable. She glanced over at Y/N who shrugged, equally confused.

“Is it your mum or your dad who can do magic?” Marlene clarified.

“Oh - my dad,” Beatrice said.

“And your mum - how much does she know about wizards?”

“Does it matter?” Beatrice frowned and Marlene’s eyes widened, clearly realising what her questioning was sounding like.

“No! No of course not!” She assured her. “I didn’t mean it like that - Dorcas and I were just wondering how much muggles get to know about the wizarding world when they’re introduced to it like that.”

“My mum never had much interest,” Beatrice said, looking down at her plate and swallowing.

“Really? My parents never stop asking me questions,” Lily inputted with a laugh.

“What about your sister, though? She didn’t get any magic did she?” Alice questioned curiously and Lily’s face fell a little.

“No - she’s not particularly interested,” Lily confirmed, an icy edge to her voice.

“None of my family were either,” Y/N piped up, not thinking of the consequences her input would have, just knowing that her two friends definitely wanted the attention to move off of them.

“I thought you came from a wizarding family?” It was Peter who spoke, staring at Y/N wide-eyed. Y/N caught James’ eye and saw the concern etched into his face.

“Ah - no, I’m muggleborn.” She answered shortly.

“Then how come you know James so well?” Sirius asked and Y/N could feel the eyes of everyone at the table staring at her as she kept her eyes trained on her food, which she was slowly cutting up into smaller and smaller bites.

“Told you,” Y/N risked a glance over at him, forcing a smile. “Childhood friends.”

“My mum was always really interested to hear about magic,” Remus spoke up at last. Y/N looked up at him to see he was looking back at her with a slight smile on his face, which she returned gratefully.

“You’re muggleborn as well?” Marlene asked which made Remus laugh as he shook his head, a somewhat shy expression taking over his face, giving Y/N the distinct impression that Remus was unused to having the attention on him, especially when he was around James and Sirius.

“No - my dad’s a wizard.”

The rest of dinner passed quickly, with the Gryffindor students exchanging anecdotes about their family lives, what it was like growing up in a muggle household compared to a wizarding one - Beatrice and Y/N both remained fairly silent, occasionally chipping in when it seemed appropriate.

Sirius, to Y/N’s surprise, did the same. After being questioned by Marlene over what his family of traditionalist purebloods were like, he fell silent. This didn’t seem to go unnoticed by James either, who Y/N caught looking at both Sirius and herself with a concerned expression.

“Hey, B, you finished? I need to finish that essay.”

Beatrice looked at her in confusion, aware that Y/N had already finished all her homework but realisation dawned on her quickly and she stood from the table.

“Yeah - you said you’d help with my Astronomy one as well?”

“Of course,” Y/N could tell her smile must seem slightly strained as she stood up. “Well… see you guys around.”

They walked in silence towards their common room, about half way there, however, Beatrice turned to look at her, a sadness in her dark eyes.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“What?” Y/N asked in surprise.

Beatrice’s smile was fixed on, humourless and Y/N saw the wetness in her eyes.

“My dad died when I was younger,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and moving her eyes to stare ahead at the corridor. “I don’t remember much about him - my sister remembers nothing at all.” Beatrice swallowed heavily and Y/N stared at her. “My mum was torn up and doesn’t like to be… reminded of him,” she was choosing her words carefully.

Despite Beatrice being a fair bit taller than Y/N, she did her best to comfort her, placing her arm first around her shoulder and then, when Beatrice let out a wet laugh, moving it instead to be placed around her waist, giving her friend an awkward side-hug as they walked together towards their common room.

“So you didn’t know much about magic growing up?” Y/N said and Beatrice nodded.

“We weren’t allowed to ask questions - the word ‘Hogwarts’ was practically banned. I don’t think Mum would’ve even told us we were witches if it weren’t for our Grandma interfering.”

“I’m sorry, B,” the dark-skinned girl rested her head on top of Y/N’s briefly and Y/N could feel her tears dropping onto her hair.

“I… I live with James.”Beatrice looked at her, pulling out of their awkward hug to wipe her eyes.

“I thought he wasn’t your brother?”

“He’s not,” Y/N rushed to confirm, her face twisting a little as she tried to think of what to say.

“I’ve lived with the Potters since I was eight? Maybe seven,” Y/N shrugged, glancing down. “I don’t remember much about it.”

“What about your family?” Beatrice asked in almost a whisper.

“I see my parents every now and then,” Y/N said, her voice monotone. “I haven’t seen my siblings much, though - it’s a long story,” she added, seeing the intrigue in Beatrice’s face.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N forced a smile at her and nodded.

“I am now.”

#sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #young!sirius black #sirius black series #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x hufflepuff!reader #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #Penny For Your Thoughts

98 notes · View notes

stusbunker · 6 years ago

Text

Known: And the Ass’s Jaw

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader, x Female Vessel OC, Sam, Crowley and some other demon minions

Summary: CC can’t come to the phone right now... Crowley gets our reader out in the open. Dean acquires the First Blade. This turns into an episode rewrite, I hope you enjoy how our reader fits into canon! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Self harm, mental health, possession, blood, “drug” use, violence, murder, sexual harassment, body disposal and a gentle reminder that our reader is a demon.

Series Masterlist

*^*

February 25, 2014

Green Valley, Arizona

Chloe sat in the bed of her truck, knife held firmly in her hand as she let it hover over her thigh. Her cut off shorts accenting the opportunity as a constant taunt. There, beneath six inches of magically strengthened iron, was her answer. She just needed to slide the edge of the blade over her skin, if she was possessed, she would injure or jolt the demon from her body. If she wasn’t, all she would do is leave a simple cut behind. If her hand would just move closer to piercing her flesh, this could all be over.

With a simple flip of her wrist you began. The soft silver edge split her thigh open like a burst seam. The blood blossoming up and out in a swell of heat and a dull sting, she watched you, paralyzed as another gash opened from her cherished blade. You smirked as the letters merged into the simple word, the surrounding skin reddening with each fresh stroke. The mesmerizing power of inflicting damage inside out causing your eyes to blacken, your mouth pulled into a snarl as you jammed the tip of the knife straight on and into the meat, ending the statement. The mixing of metals at the tip was a punch to the gut, the iron carving away at the latches of your control; you slipped back satisfied but laughing at yourself.

Her consciousness rushed forward to feel each throb of her pulse as she read your message.

HI.

*^*

March 5, 2014

Another Penthouse Suite

Crowley didn’t even feel the needle as it left his arm, the rush of human emotions quelled the lust for pain and morphed his perspective. He really didn’t want to break up Dean’s little tryst, it would be so much more satisfying to out the bitch to his face. But these were desperate times and he needed a few more ringers on his side. If he could just figure out what department she had escaped from, perhaps he could exploit her talents as well. If she had any, with demons the odds were less than a crap shoot.

He was going to track her down once he found the First Blade, which he would do after this high ran off. Can’t be doing business with the stink of humanity coursing through your veins. He was a professional, after all. No, he closed his eyes and drifted away in a day dream of smug zingers and disarticulated Abaddon.

March 18, 2014

The Bunker

Blade Runners (s9,e16)

“What do you know about the Men of Letters Massacre of 1958?” Sam stared back at Crowley, who was chained, once again in their dungeon.

“We know Abaddon missed our grandfather and Larry Ganem, was there anybody else?” Dean continued.

“Let me get this straight,” Crowley balked. “You keep me locked up in this closet, ignore my suffering, and then come barging in here and demand my help?”

“More or less, yeah,” Dean agreed.

Crowley looked at Dean and then gaped at Moose. “Did I or did I not keep up my end of the bargain the other night? Quite brilliantly, I might add. We ARE partners and you OWE me!”

After little concession on either part, the brothers caved to the dramatic demon.

“What do you want?” Dean decided it was easier to play along than to argue with Crowley any longer.

Crowley paused a tick, “I wouldn’t turn down more comfortable seating arrangements, a few nips of Scotch, and—” His eyes glinted as he drew out his final request. Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows, fueling his theatrics. “This is paramount. I want Dean’s, how should I put it? Lady friend? To accompany us.”

“Not happening,” Dean interjected flatly.

“Wait, Dean, CC would be there as backup. If Abaddon’s closing in, we could use all the help we could get, especially from someone we can depend on,” Sam grimaced at Crowley’s smug face, he felt dirty agreeing with the crumbling King of Hell.

“Moose is making sense, Dean,” Crowley purred. “Come now, let me meet your pet.”

“No!” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look, she booked it last time she knew you were here. She was working with Kevin and the moment you started your belly-aching she was out the door. No, Cease doesn’t deal with this level of crap. Not like us.”

“Shame, really,” Crowley leaned his head back and nestled into the creaky old chair. “I’d thought we had a lot in common, both always getting screwed by the mistakes that are the Winchesters and all.”

Dean stomped forward, just to have Sam pull him back from punching Crowley. When they were out of what they estimated to be earshot, Sam continued, “Look, man, I don’t like it either, but CC’s tough. Just call her, she can always say no.”

Dean returned ten minutes later with a calculated glint in his eye, Sam hadn’t moved from his perch outside of the Devil’s Trap.

“So?”

“She’s about four hours out,” Dean gave Crowley a cold curl of his lip. “If you so as much as look at her wrong, I’m going to let her take it out of your hide herself, you hear me?”

“You give all your mates the possessive alpha male monologue or do I threaten your manhood, Squirrel?” Crowley tutted. “Honestly! I think you underestimate just how charming I can be.”

Sam pursed his lips and spun on his heel while Dean sauntered forward. “Now what was that you were saying about seating arrangements?”

Crowley swallowed at the menace in Dean’s voice, careful to keep his thoughts to himself as the boys set up a suitable Queen Anne’s Wing-back for him in the Library, among the other amenities. After an hour of digging through records, they managed to get real intel out of Crowley. Dean naively hoped that their progress would keep CC out of the hunt for the First Blade, but a demon never forgets.

“Call your little huntress, tell her to meet us there,” Crowley’s dark eyes mocked Dean as he watched Dean as he shoved Crowley’s head into the backseat of the Impala.

*^*

Chloe walked in a hazy forest, the underbrush crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t know if she was tracking or hiding, she just knew she had to keep moving. The sky above was a muted gray with streaks of purple, twilight was approaching, and she needed to find cover. Slowly she realized she had lost her lead with the snapping of twigs somewhere behind her. The farther she journeyed, the more certain she knew what was chasing her and the panic grew. She could keep running, she could stop and fight or she could go quietly. Just when she had made her choice the woods parted before her, revealing her grandfather’s cabin and her old bike topped with a shiny new helmet waiting for her. It didn’t matter, the thing that was chasing her didn’t need transportation, but the sight of home had made her pause long enough to end the game once and for all.

*^*

You flew down the highway with the windows open, letting the winter air bite against your bare arms. Chloe was gone, hiding in some memory and you had been buzzing on the power of absolute control. The phone hummed from underneath her leather jacket beside you and you slid the call open before turning down the radio.

There was no way out of this invitation. In fact, it may have been easier to avoid a summoning spell than Dean telling you that Crowley wanted to meet CC. The King, however incapacitated, requested your presence. It was a death sentence, really, either now or later. The loyalty to the throne may not have been your motivation, but its illusion may be your salvation. That with Dean and Sam on your side, gave you enough confidence to answer it readily. Or maybe you were still a masochist this side of the Pit. Go big or go home. You gathered what little belongings you had back at your motel and climbed back into the truck. You hadn’t quite been able to keep Lebanon far enough away.

*^*

“Well, well, well,” Crowley stood alone beside the Impala. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

You remained in the driver’s seat and peered from the window. “Sir,” you nodded, looking around for either Winchester.

“Your boy toy and his oversized sidekick are fine, Y/N. They’re just chasing down an acquisition for me, sporting lads that they are” Crowley oversold. “Come now, let me look at you, Love.”

You hadn’t heard your name in what seemed like forever, an Earth year at least, it was jarring to be addressed by someone so important so intimately. Your overconfidence in your safety was shaken by the sudden solitude. The glint of spelled handcuffs at his wrists gave the final push which brought you out to stand in a seemingly vacant field, two feet from the King of Hell.

“So, Y/N, Darling, what are you doing topside and riding a hunter of all things?” Crowley tutted, thinking your vessel below demon-kind, sending your defenses back up. You looked down at CC’s legs and arms, flexing the muscles beneath her gentle curves before meeting his eye again.

“It was convenient and proved knowledgeable in the long run,” you shrugged, a thousand words passing between your eyes and Crowley’s.

“What of the state of things these days, hmmm? Abaddon and her scare tactics, a demon really needs to keep their friends close,” Crowley was getting to his point.

You knew there were darker reasons Crowley had coaxed you off the road, but there was no good response to a turf battle you had been avoiding. His dark eyes watched knowingly as you tried to conceal your uneasiness. But before you could satisfactorily reply, Sam stumbled out of the nearby trees.

“Magnus has Dean,” he bellowed before realizing you were there. “CC, hi, uh, Magnus is a collector, I think he wants Dean for his zoo.”

“Well, there are worse mugs to put on display,” Crowley muttered as Sam replied in an exasperated face. Sam stormed over to the trunk of the Impala and began digging while Crowley began working him over. You hadn’t spent much time alone with Sam since the whole Angel fiasco, but you knew when he was annoyed. Crowley was playing dumb, yet was still able to hit all his buttons, it was hard not to laugh at them both.

“You’re gonna need another set of hands when you get in there, unless you think Dean’s gonna want little miss priss over here breaking a nail.”

“Thanks, pass,” Sam snapped.

“Hey, at least he knows where I stand,” you interrupted, the low blow stomping out your amusement in less than two breaths.

“Does he?” Crowley grinned over the trunk lid at you.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam countered. “But he’s got a point. Dean wouldn’t want me dragging you into this, CC, this guy has got a spell for everything.”

“He’s human, right?”

“I think so, a witch-like un-aging human, but yeah I guess,” Sam continued rifling through his files.

“Well, if he’s human, he can die,” you surmised. What you didn’t say was that you wanted to be the one to do it, after snatching Dean for his own sick entertainment.

“I’ll remind you, both, that I am the one who flushed the lout Gadreel out of Sam’s noggin. So! Lately, Big Boy, I’ve seen more playing time than you.”

“Crowley, will you please, shut, the hell, up?”

Crowley shoved his tongue in his cheek and sauntered over to your side of the Impala, he nodded to the woods. You didn’t want to do this, not here or now, especially since you knew it would do little to help Dean. But you followed the King about thirty paces until Sam was out of earshot.

“You care about him, is that it?”

You didn’t respond, crossing your arms over your chest, listening in mild annoyance.

“Fine, be stubborn, but you’re still just a bottom dwelling demon in a mediocre meat suit. I have the juice to stop the sorcerer, now, are you going to help me convince the not-so-Jolly Green over there or are you going to stomp your feet and prove yourself a petulant human?”

You didn’t have to convince Sam in the end. Necessity was the mother of invention and the need of the hour was ingredients.

“I did good, eh, Moose?” Crowley pandered once Sam had prepared the spell, “everything on the list. You’re welcome.”

“Remember, stay close, do what I say, and shut the hell up.”

“I’m growing on you, aren’t I?” Crowley stood between you and Sam as Sam started the chant. Crowley’s voice was pathetic and needy. You knew he was off his game, but the fishing for approval was almost painful to watch, and especially suspicious. As the entryway blazed to life before you, Crowley turned and waved, blasting you backwards ten yards.

“Be a dear and wait in the car?” His voice taunted as they disappeared in the night.

*^*

Dean knew he needed to hold out for Sammy and CC to come through with the prison break. Crowley, well, Crowley was a long shot, but he could be tapped if Sam got desperate. What had they gotten into with this guy, the Men of Letters really gave this nutjob too much knowledge for their own good, didn’t they?

Dishonored and forgotten wasn’t enough of a punishment for Cuthbert “Magnus” Sinclair. This guy needed to be put down, once and for all. So, Dean played along, giving him the illusion of control until Dean had his back up squad on the board.

*^*

You could smell them before you heard them, demons. You spun CC’s knife in your hand and sunk into the cover of some nearby bushes. If you smelled them in a pack, one or more of them would be able to sniff out you and Crowley before long. You circled the invisible fortress, spreading your trail and gaining eyes on them. Over a five-minute wait, three stooges barged into the clearing, glaring at the abandoned vehicles.

“Look-e here, the Douche-chester mobile,” a lanky one drawled.

“Christ, she has us tailing after those two for this blade?”

“We woulda been here first, if you hadn’ta stopped to beat them cops, Morris,” the lanky one was apparently in charge.

They continued on, arguing and muttering about their boss, but they never said her name. It wasn’t like they were being cautious to mask their identities. They must have truly feared her if they didn’t utter her name aloud. Once they started in on the Impala, your eyes blazed black, the rage simmering like water beneath the lid of your skin. Eventually they spread out. Which sped up the chances of them finding and following your trail. Slowly you climbed into a low tree, letting their stomping feet cover the sounds of your efforts.

“So, what’s Crowley doin’ wit the Winchesters?”

“Do I look like his secretary, man, I don’t know. But it can’t be good. They are always getting into Hell’s business. You’d think if they wanted the job Sam would have demon-ed up and not put Lucifer back in the Cage.”

“Righteous little Ken Dolls would be real nice to play with though,” a voice like cracked ice spoke for the first time. The third demon was female, and she was much more torture-oriented than the mission required.

“Tommy, there aint no way of gettin’ in ta this vault,” Morris was now ten feet from the trunk of your tree, all any of them had to do was turn and look up and you were screwed.

Fighting against the compulsive breathing of your vessel, you waited. You slid to the farthest weight-bearing spot of the branch, aiming to get within dropping distance. With a calculated toss, you lobbed your knife holster towards the cars, the sound forced the three demon’s heads to snap to attention. In an instant they took off allowing you to leap from your perch and crash onto Tommy, the leader and the last of the pack. With your knife handle firmly in your mouth, you worked to cover his mouth.

The iron and silver blade sunk into his vessel with a satisfying slice, he spasmed against your hold. Once you knew he was weak enough, you removed your hand, letting him smoke out from the decimated corpse. The woman’s and Morris’s voices called back, both confused and cowardly. You wiped the dead man’s blood on the thigh of your jeans and stalked back to the entrance of Magnus’s hiding place.

Amazingly, your gun was still tight against the small of your back, but its weight left little comfort when you were dealing with your own kind. You threw your voice channeling Tommy’s voice, taunting them as you crouched beside your truck, “Morris, get your ass over here and help me already.”

“What’s he want now,” the tall man muttered, stomping back to where you’d left the body.

“Don’t know, don’t care, but you have fun with that,” she snipped, walking backwards with a mocking wave. Once she was alone in the clearing you made your move.

“Hey,” you greeted her, pulling her away from her mutilation of the Impala’s paint job.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“No one of consequence,” you sighed, whipping your knife into her chest, it was two inches up and to the left from where you hoped, but it still froze her in place before her face was forced into a mask of rage.

“Fucking bitch!” She screamed, cutting your window of opportunity down. You charged her, the vessel was tiny compared to CC, your arms and legs reaching her before she could swing back. You threw her to the ground, her boot catching your stomach as she tried to will you off of her. Then you smiled down and twisted the knife, dragging the iron face across her chest in blistering strokes. The skin split bloodless, falling open like a burst bag of flour, the body that housed her was long dead. Muscles, fat and ribs exposed and ragged as she finally escaped through the yellowing lips.

Morris’s strong hands found you before you could enjoy your handy work, one clamped fiercely on your neck while the other hoisted you up by your thigh. Your knife fell from your hand as he had pinned your arm at an awful angle by way of the throat-crushing.

“One of Crowley’s bitches, eh?” He inhaled the scent of your hair. “Didn’t know the ol’ dog liked the chubby’uns. Can’t blame him, really.”

His hand roamed lower and you pushed back against him, trying to wrestle free. “Yeah, that’s it, Baby. Let me feel that fat ass.” You wanted to vomit, but the fingers bruising your throat would have stopped you, if you got that far. You started to panic, it was the middle of the night and you were completely alone; Chloe wasn’t even helping fight this sick fuck off of her. “Could do wit out that pistol ‘tween us though.”

“Why?” You struggled to speak, “my gun make you, insec-c-c—c.” He tightened his hold, crushing Chloe’s windpipe. As his spindly fingers started to undo your pants, you bent forward, lifting his feet out from behind him and slammed his face against the truck’s side view mirror, breaking his grasp of your throat. You coughed and drew sweet air back into her lungs, she was going to be banged up and your antics weren’t exactly helping that fact. You stomped on his foot and shoved him back against the truck, breaking his last hold on you. You stumbled forward, snatching the knife and quickly spinning to face him. His stance was wide, hoping from foot to foot as you inched closer, he grinned suddenly, the barrel of CC’s gun pointed square at your chest.

“Nice vessel you’ve got, sister, be a shame to muddy it up,” Morris taunted. You didn’t know how it came to mind, but suddenly you smoked out of Chloe’s mouth and straight down his shocked jaw. You hadn’t had a different vessel in months and never an already possessed one. But you found him quickly, blanketing his senses and twisting his essence into thin useless strands, like putty. When you felt him trying to leave you shoved him further back, bringing him inside the dead brain of his vessel and wallowing in the emptiness. Just when you thought he was too tired to keep fighting, you raised his hand and put a bullet in his temple.

“So much for this vessel,” you taunted before leaving him in the un-camouflageable husk.

Sure, he could have tried the same thing with CC, but you had scared him shitless. He shot off after his useless friends, like dogs with their tales between their legs. Unfortunately, those bitches would undoubtedly head home to Abaddon, with your treachery bursting from their lips. There was no hiding from Hell after this.

Once you were back inside Chloe, having righted her weapons and fixed her pants, you started hauling bodies. It was dawn before you had them all salted and stacked on a pyre two hundred yards north from the trail to the old Man of Letter’s safe house. The smell of burning flesh coated your nose and sunk into your clothes. It reminded you of home, a wistful smile came to your lips as you watched the bodies with a filling satisfaction.

*^*

Dean was doing his best to ignore Crowley’s verbal masturbation as they stomped out of the woods from Magnus’s place. He was terrified of the power the First Blade put in his hand and absolutely impressed with the taste the murder left in his veins. There was no high like it and so he tried to bury it. When they reached the clearing in which he had parked Baby, the sight was enough of a distraction as his stomach dropped.

“No, no. Come on!” Dean strode forward. “What the hell?!”

“That’s sulfur, demons,” Sam hurried to the other side of the car, checking their cargo.

“Uh, Abaddons’,” Dean groaned. “Well, she’s just one jump behind us. Guess she couldn’t find Magnus’s joint either. What about the trunk?”

“Safe,” Sam sighed in satisfaction. “The warding kept them out.”

Crowley finally reached the distraught hunters, confusion or concern heavy on his face.

“Demon mitts all over my Baby,” Dean stewed. “Oh, come on! What, now, they’re keying cars?!”

“Gents?” Crowley broke Sam’s focus, but Dean was too far gone, desperately trying to right the wrongs done to the beloved Impala. “Notice anyone missing?”

“Chloe,” Sam’s face fell to the empty spot of the missing truck.

“CC was here?”

“Yeah, Dean, you were inside overnight.”

“Wait, what?! It was like an hour, hour and a half tops,” Dean groaned.

“Must have been a temporal pocket, like Hell, only opposite,” Sam explained, scanning the horizon. He froze when he saw the pillar of gray smoke, “that’s not a good sign.”

“Maybe your bird cleaned up the mess,” Crowley mused.

“God, I hope so,” Dean clenched his eyes shut against the deep gashes in the car doors and slid inside. Whispering to the car the entire way over to the pyre. He parked beside CC’s battered pick up and he crawled out of the driver’s seat. Only to be knocked back against the steel frame as CC ran into his chest, breath ragged, and face covered in tears.

“Dean, thank fuck,” she croaked as he pulled her close. “I don’t know what happened, suddenly I was lighting a pyre with three strangers on it. I, I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean stared over her head to Sam and Crowley, concern of varying degrees on both of their faces. Dean kicked himself for leaving her alone, she reeked of sulfur, gasoline and burning flesh. He held her at arm’s length and examined every inch of exposed skin, they really worked her over, fucking bastards.

“D’you have anything to do with this,” Dean looked Crowley square in the eye.

“I might have left her behind, for her own protection,” Crowley raised his hands in surrender. “I had no idea Abaddon’s goons were right behind us.”

“Who are you?” CC asked.

“Name’s Crowley, Y/N was it?” The Englishman leaned forward with a doughy palm.

“Shut up, Crowley. You know this is Chloe, Chloe Collins. You met her yesterday,” Sam eyed the demon contemptuously.

“Right, Ms. Collins, pleasure,” Crowley smiled smugly.

“He’s sort of the King of Hell,” Dean whispered as she unwrapped herself from his arms to take the demon’s handshake.

“I remember, Kevin told me all about you,” you returned his menacing stare as Crowley broke the handshake.

*^*

@mogaruke @dontshootmespence @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world

Next Chapter: Case of the Weak Part A

41 notes · View notes

justfangstvdto · 6 years ago

Text

Open Coffin | Chapter 20: “Crossing A Line”

Pairing: Kol x SalvatoreSister!Reader

Warnings: (this is all over the place emotion-wise you guys) lots of fluff, a little bit of angst, teeny tiny bit steamy, questionable coping mechanism, swearing (but that´s a given), canon &timeline divergence

Word count: 3478

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Open Coffin Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

The forest surrounding the burned ruins is dipped in darkness. The only guidance you have is the orange flames on the top of the gently rising hill, and Kol´s hand that's holding yours firm in his grasp.

You emerge on the top of the hill next to Kol and Klaus and Elijah right in front of you. The flickering flames of torches fitted as a circle hide Esther and Finn behind the magic boundary.

“That's lovely. We're stuck out here, while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb.” Kol scoffs, glaring daggers at his oldest brother “How pathetic you are, Finn.”

“Be quiet, Kol.” Esther scolds him “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”

Says the witch who wants to kill her own flesh and blood.

“Whatever you think of us, killing your own children will be an atrocity.” Elijah weighs in as he steps closer to the circle

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

“Enough,” Klaus says, the tone in his voice angry, scared and annoyed at once. “ All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother, or I'll send you back to Hell.”

“For a thousand years, I've been forced to watch you.” She looks at each of them briefly before moving on to the next “Felt the pain of every victim, suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility, you're no better. All of you. You're a curse on this Earth. Stretched out over generations. If you've come to plead for your life, I'm sorry, you've wasted your time.”

“I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous.” You step forward, right to the edge of the circle. The magic barrier radiating its warmth to the pores of your skin.

“Oh dear.” Kol chuckles. He knew you wouldn't be able to keep quiet. Not that he would ever demand such a thing.

You step forward, right to the edge of the circle. The magic barrier radiates its warmth over the pores of your skin “How dare you decide who lives and who dies? You might be the creator of our species, but you’re certainly not the judge of life and death.”

“That is what a vampire does, is it not? Be the judge of life and death?”Finn scoffs. The word vampire never sounded so atrocious.

Must be a great feeling to hate oneself so much, the only way out is to eliminate the own species. You almost feel sympathetic. Almost.

“Perhaps, but the world is full of monsters. Not all of them have fangs or claws. If you punish us, what about all the others out there?”

“Us?” Esther laughs “Even with your greatest enemy present you consider yourself equal to them?”

“We are the same species after all.” You look over to your companions, stopping at Klaus who looks over when he feels your eyes on him “Well almost.”

“How refreshingly loyal. But doomed nonetheless.” Esther replies.

“Doomed maybe. Question is for who.”

Esther's seems to be perplexed by your threat hiding behind the words you´ve just spoken. But a moment later her eyes widen with horror as the magic she and the Bennetts share severs.

“No sisters, don't abandon me!” Esther screams and Finn rushes to his mother's side

Finally, something played out according to plan..

While Kol, alongside Klaus, check the surrounding area to find Esther or Finn, you and Elijah are on your way back to meet up with Stefan and Damon.

“That went better than expected.” You breathe out in relief “Now we just need to find something to break the link.”

“Y/N I.. “ Elijah stops midway, “I want to thank you. You chose to stand with us despite the grievances we have caused you.”

“There really wasn't much of a choice.”

Elijah nods. If someone understands that, it's him.

In the distance, Kol emerges on the slight hill, Klaus right behind him blabbering something that Kol doesn't seem to pay attention to.

“I must ask you, and I vow to never ask again.” Elijah begins, eying his younger brothers “Do I have to be concerned about Kol´s intentions regarding Niklaus?”

He looks at you after speaking this question that seems to lie so heavy on his heart. There is absolutely no doubt that lying right in Elijah´s face is nothing one should ever dare, but in this case, it is a better alternative than revealing your true intentions.

“No.” You reply, looking directly into his expecting eyes.

But I said nothing of my own.

“I'll take you by your word then,”Elijah replies, not sure if he can or want to believe you.

“Mother and Finn are gone.” Klaus informs as he and Kol rejoin.

Near the parking space, Stefan and Damon emerge from the other side of the hill, Damon´s ice cold, and resentful stare

“I'll be right back.” You announce. Kol opens his mouth to protest, he doesn't want you anywhere near Damon at the moment, but he swallows his worry.

“I see you took care of it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest without realizing it, building up some kind of separation between you and them.

“Are you gonna shoot me again to say thanks?” Damon spats.

You press the top of your tongue against the top row if your teeth, exhaling loudly through your nostrils. He seems to actually mean what he's saying. Great.

“You attacked us, not the other way around, don´t forget that.”

“Fine, but don't pretend like you wouldn't have killed me if Stefan had not come along.” His voice layered with such distaste it's almost unrecognizable

“Damon-” Stefan warns him, growing tired of the constant bickering.

“Just admit it.”

“Wait, you actually think I would be capable of killing you?” You ask him, the anticipation of possible answers he could give rising the pressure in your blood.

“Yes.”

The quickness of his knocks the air out of your lungs. Your own brother believes you would be vicious enough to kill him.

Have you fallen so far?

“Then our relationship is worse than I thought.” You barely get the words out, the gut-wrenching sensation of the guilt spreading through your body so sickening you feel like throwing up.

“Y/N..” Stefan begins. He knows that the words that came out of Damon´s mouth cut you deep. And they did. It hurt.

God, it hurt.

Without uttering another word and hands nailed to a fist, you turn on your heels, walking away without even having the desire to look back.

Your heart beats hard against your ribs, the intoxicating and familiar rush of anger pulsating in your veins. You need to put as much distance between this place as possible, or you might actually turn into the beast your brother paints you as.

“Let's go.” You say as you walk past Kol, who returned to his usual murderous look that should have annihilated Damon by now.

“Leaving so soon?” Klaus asks as you pass him “And here I thought-”

“I don't give a shit what you thought, Klaus.” You cut him off “We´re leaving.”

Klaus arches an eyebrow at your words, sharing an amused look with Elijah next to him.

“Y/N I understand your desire for peace,” Elijah intercepts “However, an additional problem has arisen. Rebekah discovered-”

“I don't want to hear it.” You interrupt him “The last weeks I’ve done nothing but run from one catastrophe into the next and I’m done. We’re taking an off day. “ You look at Kol and he nods immediately, agreeing to your plan “Call Mae if you need help.”

“You heard her, brothers.” Kol wraps his arm around your shoulders and the two of you walk away, heading for a set car that's sitting on the side of the road.

Hot-wiring the car turned out to be less of a problem then you thought. It has been a while since you´ve had the necessity for said skill. One of Mae´s inner confidantes, Shank, taught you a few ticks back in the day, and it seems you still got the knowledge. Who knew it would come in handy again?

Somewhere between the classic rock blurting out of the speakers and the coming and going of the rain, your anger bled out into nothing but sorrow. It's similar to a fountain pen that's scraping the barrel of its ink and only the fading color stains the paper, resembling nothing of its previous glory.

“Are you alright?” Kol's asks from the driver's seat, his fingers tapping along the rock song on the radio.

Silence.

“Y/N.”

Silence

A feeling of agitated anxiety spikes through his whole body. You have done nothing but stare out of the window, looking at passing cars, every street sign whenever the headlights illuminated it and every tree that´is flying by, all in an attempt to avoid looking in his direction.

Had he done something wrong?

“Darling?.” He hesitantly brushes his hand over your knee and you flinch at his touch.

“Sorry, what?”

“What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Kol forces a smile, getting more and more worried by the second. Who or whatever caused you to suddenly become so full of sorrow will pay a heavy price, that he knows for sure.

“If just been thinking about…..”

Everything and nothing at once.

“Did you know that my brothers and I made something similar to an oath like your family did? It was right after we turned, we promised to face whatever´s coming together. And now, I just… I think I just now realized that it's just another promise I can't seem to keep.”

“They don't deserve- “He digs his fingernails into the steering wheels fabric. Anger, rage, fury, it always came easiest.“They were the ones who abandoned you, Y/N. You are not to blame for the reaction they forced.”

“But did they really force it? I´ve been doing nothing but point fingers at villain after villain, but maybe I need to point it towards a mirror next time.” You press your lips together as the last words escape. You didn't mean to say that out loud.

“I´m just so.. torn I guess.” You backpaddle “ I don't know if I should be running from them and never return, or hold on to that hope that somewhere down the road, we´ll finally feel like a family again.”

You words struck something inside Kol´s mind, something so hidden and buried under decades of dust he almost jumped in his seat.

He too, feels this way, despite what pain his family caused him. Would he ever admit that out loud? No. But the teeny tiniest part of him believes it's true.

It fills him all the more with content that you´ll always be there by his side, even if he one days decides to reconcile with his family. There's no doubt in his mind, and he loves you all the more for it. So of course, he gladly returns the favor.

“However you decide, I will be by your side. Always.” His hand joins the one on your lap and you immediately interlace your fingers with his, as if you´re holding on for dear life.

In many ways you are.

“And I will be by yours. Forever.”

He feels like he's floating on the highest of clouds. He was never part of his families oath, “Always and Forever” always excluded him, but this, hearing these words from you is better than anything his family could offer him.

Forever……. how heavenly.

“Let's just keep driving and never turn back.” You speak through the momentary silence “Somewhere where no one knows us. Just the two of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But right now I just want to pretend that we could just run away. Even just for a little while. “

He knows as much as you do that running away won't be a possibility, at least not while there's still some threat hanging upon his family. But for a fleeting moment, everything seems possible, so he closes his hand around yours and drives along the nameless road, with a plan you don´t have or even want to waste time thinking about.

Miles after miles you stop at a somewhat shabby Motel to refuel on the nearby gas station

The red digits on the clock on the side table read a few minutes after midnight as you open the squeaky door of the Motel room. You don't really need it, but the thought of pressing pause on the world to feel the comforting support of a mattress rather than a car seat seems like the right call.

“Well, this isn't quite as bad as I expected,” Kol says, and kicks the door closed with the back of his shoe. He walks over to the window and tucks curtains covering the window and brushes them aside.

There's a bar on the other side of the road, the neon sign flickering every few seconds or so. Next to it, there's an abandoned motorcycle leaning against a dirt wall and a run-down gas station, with a half-collapsed roof that looks like it's caving in any minute now.

The sound of something solid crashing against wood grabs his attention and he turns around, startled by the noise. You´re sitting on the table in the middle of the room, deep in thought, tipping you daylight ring on the edge.

“Hey.” He covers your hand with his own, your agitation slipping away ever so slightly.

“I'm sorry, I just-”

“I know.” He smiles sympathetically,“ What you need is a distraction. Come on.”

You grab his hand with hesitance, follow him out of the door. You round the building and cross the road only to heading through a swing door with a broken set of glass on the top.

The bar smells like old leather and booze and a very questionable stench you don't even want to begin to imagine where it originated.

“Wow, this place is disgusting.” You say, your eyes roaming over the thrown together interior “I love it. But I don't know how-”

“First, we drink. Then we dance. And then…” He gestures over to a very intoxicated pair of men “we eat.”

Heavy rain is pattering down on the streets. The neon lights reflecting in the puddle of water stir and blur as your rushed footsteps hurry over them, a second pair of feet following right after.

You fumble for the motel key in your pocket while Kol places kisses on your skin. But they are not just ordinary kisses, no, they are promises.

I will never leave you again. I promise

He leaves another pair behind your ear, whispering sweet nothings before moving on to your exposed shoulder, alternating between kissing and nibbling at your skin.

It's you and me against the world. I promise.

Once the door opens, you hurry inside, closing the door with such force the numbers on the outside falling out of their hinges. You waste no time, pressing Kol against the door, leaving your own promises against his skin.

I will love you forever. I promise

Kol gently tucks at your chin, and you lift your head, gazing breathlessly into his eyes that are filled with nothing but love… and desire.

As if pulled by a magnet, your lips collide with his, hungry desperate for his touch, more intoxicated by each other than the alcohol or the blood you consumed.

His hand trails down your arm to your waist, pushing up the fabric of your shirt to grip at your skin before pushing off the wall, only leaving your lips to pull his own shirt over his head, guiding you backwards until you hit the edge of the bed.

And then there´s just kissing and biting, scratching and moving - as easy as the wind but as powerful as the storm rolling over the town itself.

The sun burns yellow against Kol´s skin as his eyes flutter open halfway, eyes dilating due to the rays of sunlight peeking through the shutters.

He reaches over, to pull you back into him, but his fingers grasping nothing but the empty bed sheets. With eyes snapping open, he sits up, sheer panic running his blood could, just inches beneath his skin.

The bed is empty.

Panic panic panic

His eyes bounce from one item to the next, from the spot where your clothes landed that is now empty, up to the table that is empty too. It is then when his sleep-fogged brain registers the open door, leading out to the small balcony opposite of the windows.

He slips into his pants and heads for the door, instantly relaxing at the sight of you

“There you are.” Kol cautiously wraps his arms around your waist and nudges you against his bare chest, resting the side of his face against yours “Hm, the storm has cleared.”

“Yeah, it has.”

Usually, there is a calm before the storm, but for you, in this moment, it's the calm after the storm. While a storm, depending on its severity can cause destruction, your internal storm has left you with nothing but clarity.

You tried to ignore the line in front you ever since you came back to Mystic Falls, a line to leave the past behind and to focus what's in front of you, rather than what has already come to pass. And that includes Stefan and Damon.

If they choose to pursue their own happiness, then why waste time trying to reconcile what is already lost? On your own no less? To get where you want to be, means crossing said line.

So you cross it. From here on out, there´s only going forward. No going back.

And it feels euphoric.

“I'm sorry for being such a downer yesterday.” You turn in his arms, facing him “But you know you make me happy, right? So fucking happy.”

“You make me so, uh, fucking happy too.”

“That's all I want and need. Just you and me. Fuck everyone else.”

“Screw ´em.” Kol agrees in his version of an American accent.

“That was...the worst accent I have ever heard.” You laugh at his attempt and Kol can't help but let his eyes fan over the curve of your mouth and the little laughter lines around your eyes. He missed hearing you laugh.

“And your laugh is the most beautiful thing I ever heard.” He says, tracing his thumb over your cheek with care, before pulling you into a kiss, the sunlight creating a vibrant outline around your connected bodies.

You are so entranced by the sheer bliss you're experiencing, you don't even hear the sound of a new message arriving in your phone.

Mae: Up for a trip to the Mile High City? Got another Gilbert to use for our gain.Call me for details.

Looks like you get to press pause for a little while longer….

A/N: I wrote the first draft to this on my road trip by hand. Probably why it's all over the place emotion wise. But I felt like there had to be some kind of emotional response to everything that happened in the past chapter.

And this was also just an excuse to get as much Kol and reader time as possible. They deserve one day without impending doom hanging upon them, right?

That being said, what did you think? Where there parts you especially liked or disliked? Was there anything I should explore more? Did my more poetic approach work, or was it too much? Let me know!!

Open Coffin tags : (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@shadyladyperfection @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14 @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474 @pacifyprincessxo @mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @crazyinternetgirl @tvdplusriverdale @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @trymexo @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer @spunky-89 @putyourherohaironstefan @xxdragonagequeenxx @thegingerthatwaited @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @hinata7346 @controloffandoms

Crossed outs are not taggable anymore.

#kol x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #tvd imagine #the originals imagine #tvd #the originals #open coffin

73 notes · View notes