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fenristheorem · 3 years

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hi, if your ok with it, can we ask hc for the boys (nevra leiftan and lance ) dating a virgin s/o?

Ah, my first request with more than one LI! Happy to write for the three 😊 Also, this is my first time writing Nevra - and I’m not too familiar with his character, especially with what little we know about him in ANE - so I apologize if he’s a bit out of character.

This ask does sort of request an nsfw-ish scenario - considering the main focus is Guardienne being a virgin - which I’m fine writing for Lance but not as much for anyone else. However, in a wide perspective, being a virgin can effect a few other aspects of their relationship rather than just during the moment - and I can sort of imagine very basic nsfw ideas for the other two - so I do feel I can write this well. This ask is a good example of something that walks along the lines of some of my rules, but can bend them a bit since it's nothing too specific.

That being said; these will be general headcanons mixed with the slightest bit of vague nsfw.

~Under the cut~

Nevra with a virgin S/O:

Nevra is a bit... odd about it, I suppose. There’s certainly nothing wrong with Guardienne being a virgin - he’s been the first time for many women in the past - but recently he’s been... spending time with women who have done this before and know their night will be one and done, or perhaps repeated a few more times in the future without any attachment. Of course, he stops seeing these women once in a relationship with Guardienne, but when they encounter the time where this information is brought up, he doesn’t really know how to react.

She’s a virgin - ok, that’s no problem. He knows how to treat a woman during their first time; gentle, attentive, supportive. However, it clashes a bit with his routine as of late, and since he’s still dealing with a lot of emotions from the past, he does question sometimes if this bothers him in some way.

To clarify: I imagine Nevra is fine and accepting with this, and has no problem with acting appropriately during their first time, but he would be a bit... nervous? about how their first time would go. He would wonder if she’ll be anxious and need support, or if it would be so natural that the idea of nervousness or support wouldn’t even cross their minds as something that would need to be prominent during this time.

Basically, he’s been spending his nights with experienced women, so being in a relationship again - with the woman who saved Eldarya and emerged from the crystal no less - and then realizing that she’s a virgin, so he needs (by his own moral opinion and by social expectation) to be attentive during their first time, is out of his current field of expertise. So yes, he’s probably a bit nervous and clueless in some ways.

His emotional standpoint has changed since the White Sacrifice, he’s a bit more aggressive and standoff-ish, so he wonders sometimes if he’ll know how to treat her properly. He wants to be kind, gentle, careful, and tender, but he’s been through so much - between realizing an old friend has betrayed them, living through the war, realizing her and the demon sacrificed themselves, Valk’s death, Ezarel, Cameria and Miiko’s leaving, and so much more - that he’s not exactly sure if he knows how to be all that anymore.

At first it almost sounds like her being a virgin would bother him in the way that would make him turn his interest away from her, but really it’s not that at all. Nevra will put so much pressure on himself to assure that - of everything that has happened in the past years - this will be right and good, and that pressure will display in way that can make her wonder if her being a virgin is a major issue for him.

In a relationship with her, he’d probably have a few issues with softening himself every now and again, especially in the beginning. Sometimes he may forget that he doesn’t need to be (and shouldn’t be if she’s his partner) cold and aggressive with her, and in time he’ll soften up properly, but once he learns that she’s a virgin there’ll be a bit of a relapse in his personality again. He’ll want to make sure everything will be alright - that their first time won’t be screwed up because he doesn’t have much recent experience in taking someone’s virginity - and since that idea will take up most of his thoughts he may forget that he’s being a bit cold towards her again. Basically he’ll slip back into being a bit distant because his thoughts will be preoccupied with trying to think over how things will go.

He’ll be so busy trying to think things over - how he should react, how he should treat her, what happens if she’s truly uncomfortable and not ready, if his reaction will be appropriate in her eyes - to assure everything will be good that he’ll be at risk of accidentally sabotaging something that he would otherwise be just fine at.

Overall, he’ll withdraw a bit again, becoming a bit cold, distant and aggressive at some moments without realizing it. His partner will likely - justifiably - think that this change is because he’s losing interest due to this new piece of knowledge, but one simple, honest conversation can fix this.

He’s not disinterested because of this, he doesn’t mean to act cold and distant towards her again, he doesn’t wish to drive her away - he wants everything to be alright, he wants something to go right after so many things that went wrong, but fears that it won’t go right for some reason. This continued impression can be harmful for both, so as long as they both have an honest, open conversation about this they can both relax and go into this in an understanding, tender way, where nothing goes wrong and everything is just as they hoped for.

Leiftan with a virgin S/O:

Leiftan really doesn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Guardienne. He’s had his time where he was a terror - except to the angel, for the most part - so when his partner first tells him this information he’s very glad that she not only told him in the first place, but that she also trusts him to understand this and act accordingly. He loves his partner like no tomorrow and is determined to make sure that she knows it, so he readily listens to any concerns she may have and openly talks about this if that’s what she needs to feel comfortable.

In a way, he’ll sort of know prior that she never had sex before - they’re something along the lines of soulmates, so if anything he’ll just have that odd bit of knowing without actually knowing.

Regardless, he’s ready to approach this topic at any time, in any way she wants. He knows how to be gentle, there’s no way he’s not going to be attentive throughout the process of taking her virginity, and he’s willing to do basically anything she needs of him at any time.

He will talk to his partner about this beforehand as well, making sure to stress to her that her comfort matters to him, and that he’ll do anything she needs him to do, even if it means backing off and waiting to try again another day. If she isn’t comfortable, then he isn’t either.

Overall, this facet of information doesn’t effect many things in their life - they still act the same, do the same things, feel the same way for each other. The only difference is that Leiftan will be sure to be that much more comforting and attentive in he moment if that’s what she needs. Leiftan loves his partner dearly and will be just fine with this information, but he doesn’t feel he needs to stress too much that he’ll do anything for her. They have a special bond - she already knows he’ll do anything for her.

Lance with a virgin S/O:

Like Nevra, Lance has likely had quite a bit of experience with sex in the past - including being the first time for some women if that’s what they chose - but none of that is recent.

When he learns of this information, he doesn’t care much. He’s completely fine with her being a virgin - everyone once was before their first time - so he keeps a level head about it and is sure to listen to anything she feels she needs to say.

Lance’s only concern will be if he feels that he can control any impulses during the moment. He’s a relatively feral man - mostly due to his draconic instincts, but also since he feels emotions very deeply - so he believes that, in theory, it would be relatively easy for him to be a bit more aggressive than he should be.

This is why, of all the guys written here, Lance is most likely to talk about this subject with his partner with his own concerns regarding himself. He knows there’s a possibility that he may not be her ideal in the moment, but he doesn’t overthink and have an existential crisis about it that could cause more harm than good (*looking at you, Nevra*). Lance will be sure his partner knows that it’s possible for him to get caught up in the moment and forget to be gentle, so he’ll tell her that if she’s at all feeling uncomfortable, hesitant, in need of comfort / reassurance / affection, anything at all, just tell him. He’s not going to be disappointed, he’s not going to be angry or upset, this won’t turn his interest away from her - he will listen and be as patient as she needs him to be. He knows it’s possible for her to decide in the moment that she’s not ready, he understands that and doesn’t hold it against her, and even if he’s aching to have her, this is something that he will not debate - if she wants him to stop, be more affectionate, be a bit more cautious about the manner in which he touches her, etc. he will do as she wishes. He just wants her to be comfortable and know that he cares.

However, if she tells him that she’s a virgin before they’re anywhere close to having sex, Lance will take it upon himself to change his daily manner with her a bit. He’ll be more attentive to anything she needs, he’ll be a bit gentler with his touches, he’ll be a bit more transparent with his emotions and affections for her. It’s not that he’s trying to entice her into sleeping with him sooner, he just feels that he should be more obvious to the fact that he’s willing to treat her differently if she needs it, and in this case he feels that he’s showing he’s happy to treat her in a more tender manner.

Of course, his partner may notice his slight change of manner and think that his opinion of her has changed a bit, and she may confront him about this. She may think that he feels he needs to treat her softer or be more attentive - like she’s suddenly a glass doll that he could break if not careful, and she’ll be quick to point out that she is - in fact - none of that. He’ll immediately realize and understand her reasoning for this, and he’ll be quick to tell her that he doesn’t think that at all; sex can be emotional and messy, and while she may think she won’t need any reassurance, that may change in the moment. Everyone is different during their first time, some people do end up needing reassurance and some don’t - he just wants her to know that if, per chance, she does end up needing him to do anything different, he can provide that and he’ll be happy to provide it. If he’s in a relationship with her then she truly means a lot to him - I can’t imagine Lance in a mere casual relationship at this point - so he’s going to make sure that he acts appropriately in every way, and if he’s not acting appropriate to her standards then she needs to tell him so he knows. He’s not someone to break his back to please someone, but his partner will hold a special place in his heart that he won’t want to lose, and he realizes that no relationship is perfect so it will take listening and compromise to work, so he’d likely be just fine with making any changes to help her feel more comfortable.

On another note - there’s a bit of a... carnal change that takes place within him. Knowing that he’ll be the one to take her virginity will spark a bit of a territorial streak within him. She’ll be his, only his, no one else will have ever touched her in the ways he has. This won’t make him obsessive and controlling with who’s near her, who she talks to or anything, but there’ll be a special loyalty that he has for her thereafter (however, I can image he’s a bit territorial with her regarding certain people depending on if they seem romantically interested in her and his past relations with them). He won’t really treat her differently, if anything he’ll just be a bit more obvious with being protective about her, but he’ll definitely feel the change within him when he suddenly has overwhelming urges to be around her and have her in his arms. After all, being a dragon means that he’ll be quite possessive at times - especially knowing that he’ll forever hold a special place in his precious gem’s heart from this.

These are somewhat short since there’s three of them together, but I hope you like them despite the length! I suppose this post is a good comparison on how I write the three different men, since I had a bit of a hard time writing for Nevra and Leiftan (especially Leiftan - I feel he’s very straightforward with this) whereas I could easily add another couple bulletpoints for Lance (but I didn’t want to make one headcanon incredibly long while the others were short). This, again, was my first time writing for Nevra, and I’ve only written Leiftan a few times prior as well, so they may be a bit out of character but I think I have them well written.

Thanks for requesting!

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#Eldarya #Eldarya ane #eldarya nevra #Eldarya nevra ane #Eldarya leiftan #eldarya leiftan ane #Eldarya Lance #Eldarya Lance ane #Eldarya nevra headcanons #eldarya leiftan headcanons #eldarya lance headcanons #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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shepard-ram · 3 years

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Okay so going deeper into yandere tommy, imagine him trying to get close to/befriend reader. Like he’s trying so hard to befriend them in his little gremlin way and, especially right before his exile, it becomes increasingly difficult because of the accusations and his actions. Despite all of the buzz around him, you both manage to become, in some form of the word, friends. But then the exile happens. Tommy feels like he’s been abandoned, betrayed by his closest friends. He literally has nobody. Well, except Dream and Ghostbur. After some time into his exile, with nobody going to visit him besides Dream, you decide that enough is enough and go to visit your friend. -🦤 1/?

you manage to get through the nether and, after a few failed attempts, find the portal that leads to Tommy’s site. When you find him, he’s probs not 100% in the right mental place. Like his depression is really getting to him and he’s kinda going mental (I haven’t rlly gotten to this part of the smp, I’m at the part right before Tommy’s exile so apologies if this isn’t completely accurate). And when a fucking ghost is your only mostly-constant contact along with a practically-daily visit from Dream, a man is gonna yearn for some other human contact. Especially from someone that you befriended before hand. So he feels closer to you since, ya’know, ur the first and only one that came to visit him (excluding Dream and Ghostbur). So y’all get to talking. you eventually leave but promise to keep visiting pretty often. Now Tommy’s trust issues are most definitely probably worse than before the exile so he’s very anxious when you leave. When you return the next day or the day after he’s like fucking POG the great Tommy is here!!! Right over here!! Look at him! You came back because you enjoy him because obviously he’s the best! But secretly he’s ecstatic about the fact that you came back for him. This keeps going on for a while until Tommy goes off with Techno. -🦤 2/?

You have no idea that anything happened to because you were busy and couldn’t visit him. Then when Tubbo spills the news, you’re devastated. You hadn’t visited Tommy in quite some time and because you visited him so often, you were partially in denial. So you went to check out the site yourself, and the tower convinced you that Tubbo’s news was true; Tommy was gone, dead, killed himself, whatever you wanna say about/call the “accident”. The mourning process starts and you cry. You cry and cry, sobbing until you can’t anymore, and somehow still manage to cry. Time passes and the guilt still stacks on you day by day. Then suddenly there’s news, rumors that Tommy was back; Tommy’s alive and well, seen walking the prime path with Techno and talking to Dream in front of the portal by the community house. -🦤 3/?

You are, understandably, in shock. You must be dreaming again, hallucinating that Tommy had come back and that nothing bad had happened to him. That everything that happened after he went missing was all some sick joke or a prank he pulled that worked a little too well. But when you see Tommy, mostly well but a little beaten/tattered, your emotions suddenly can’t be held back. All you can do hug Tommy, sobbing into his shoulder and calling him a “fucking bitch” for making everyone believe that he died or some shit. Then he chooses L’manberg over his alliance with Techno. Everything turns into chaos from there. -🦤 4/?

You don’t remember much else happening besides the fight for L’manberg which lead to its fall. It was all a blur. But everyone came out mostly unscathed and that’s all that mattered to you. I mean yeah there were some deaths and Tommy and Quackity were struck by lightning, but nothing that lead to a cannon death. But Tommy remembered everything. He remembered the way that you were repeatedly slain by Techno’s dog army, blown up by the tnt, fell into the holes that the withers made. There were so many things that Tommy remembered, all of the horrific things that happened to you and his friends. Some were reality and some came from nightmares/night terrors later on when that Tommy couldn’t differentiate between reality and fiction. But shhhh that totally doesn’t matter *wink*. - 🦤 5/? (Am I losing count?)

Anyways so a decent amount of that time you spent defending your friends against dangers instead of really instigating/fighting the stuff. You defended Tommy a lot because small big man Tommy is gone through so much , it’d hurt to see him go through more. But that just further traumatized him because why??? Why are you doing this? He’s not that important??? Stop getting yourself hurt over him! He’s am a big man! He can care for self! See!! He really appreciates you doing that for him though, even if it leads to disaster and fear/anxiety later on. So the battle definitely could have gone better. -🦤 6/?

People start to rebuild, but conflict still lingers. The Eggpire? Yikes, dangers cult! It literally wants to kill Tommy! So wouldn’t it try to do anything to lure Tommy in? Nicki and Jack trying to kill him. They’d do anything to get to him. And harming the things/ones he loves doesn’t seem to be on their list of “stuff we won’t do to fuck up this kid”. And many people don’t like him. There’s so many dangers for him and anybody he cares about. Tubbo, Phil, Sam, and the others can handle themselves. They have fighting experience. But you? Your first fight/war on the SMP was literally the last fight for L’manberg and you saw how that went! You got so injured during that! He can’t allow that to happen again! -🦤 7/?

So he’s paranoid about your safety, not really about himself. And maybe Nicki and Jack have already tried to use you to get Tommy. Even more incentive to do something ASAP for your safety. The best idea he can come up with is hiding you in a secret base. Secret bases do pretty well in the SMP... when they aren’t revealed; nobody really finds them and they do a great job protecting the stuff inside of it! He’s lazy and impatient and can’t just demand/“persuade” someone into making it for him. Then they’ll know where the base is, get suspicious of him or worse, they’ll know where you are/could be. So “asking for help” isn’t really an option here. He’ll ponder for a while then come up with the Pogtopia idea. It’s perfect! Nobody goes there anymore/it’s abandoned, it’s got the essentials to live there (I’m gonna assume the potato farm is still down there and will work), it’s a pretty secretive location (only the people on Pogtopia’s side rlly know of the location and they’re either dead or most likely forgot about the location! Besides Wilbur, Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo, the others didn’t go there often), and it’s a good distance away from most of the SMP. It’s a great idea! Now all Tommy has to do is get you into Pogtopia without any suspicion... -🦤 8/8 (yeah this was small at first then spiraled out of control owbfhfke sorry for the dump in your ask box)

Bro I'm not even gonna add to this cause it's just so perfect by itself- ah i am so glad you decided to share this <33!!! Like you really said "I'm gonna send a goddamn masterpiece" and I'm here for it

#ask #🦤 anon #tw. yandere #c: tommy

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vorish-musing · 4 years

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Risky Business (IT Chapter Two)

Summary: Eddie is a monster hunter, he’s called back to his hometown, there's another man eating monster, he just never realized how fucked this job could be.

Warnings: this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this is also not a story for the faint of heart, there is (not super graphic) moments of fatal/hard vore, digestion mention (does not occur), fearplay, and the usual cussing warning.

Hi guys! its been so long! I’ll be honest, i was not planning on posting this, since this was a WIP discarded back in march, but while watching the movie again, I realized I needed to finish this, I really hope y’all like it!

NSFW DO NOT INTERACT

Risk analysis? Was that Job invented before fun?

Well, it Depends on what you call ‘fun’

For Eddie Kaspbrak, risk analysis is fun.

He couldn’t remember much of his past, all that he knew was that monsters existed, the ones that hid under your bed, the ones that prey in the night, he didn’t know how he discovered this for the longest time, he just... knew.

He knew he had to have encountered a monster at one point, but he just couldn't remember when.

His first instinct was to kill these monsters, though after further consideration of how the ethics of that worked, plus the morality of him being the judge, jury and executioner was pretty skewed. He decided to analyze these creatures, at least the ones he found. Witches, Vampires, werewolves, ghosts.

So yeah, he was a Risk Analysis, he analyzed creatures that we’re a risk to human kind.

And yes, it was Fun.

Being a part of a small group of people who knew these monster movie critters existed was something he wished he could brag about.

Though everything changed when he got that call from Mike Hanlon, Begging him to come back to Derry to fight that clown. That damned clown.

His memories flooded back, the childhood trauma of that summer, 1989, when everyone they knew started turning up missing, really they were dead, nothing more than food to the demon living in the sewers

It was then, fighting that demon, when he realized that analyzing these monsters wasn’t enough anymore.

They were not a risk, they were a threat.

Once he got back to his home in new york, he began his own business, he tried finding his way into different circles, ones he never thought existed, multiple people with stories of slaying beasts of all shapes and sizes, and he was now one of them.

He got a second phone, one he could use for his side job, he went under an alias, Richie Marsh. Not creative, a little embarrassing, but it worked.

He would get calls almost daily, he made pretty good money, but he had one rule, only kill if it had harmed first. He always turned the monsters who had done no wrong away, allowed him to get some sleep at night, knowing that he was saving others lives while doing this.

Hell, the first time he met a vampire, the dude just chilled alone in a cabin in the woods. Not bothering anybody.

He began making a name for himself in the business and it had only been a year, it was impressive to all about his knowledge, how much he knew about these creatures, how fearless he could be.

Up to this day, he scribbled down notes about the varying creatures he saw and met. Sitting in his living room, the constant scritch of his pencil was interrupted by a ringing from his pocket.

He took his ‘work’ phone out of his jeans, putting the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Richie Marsh?” A familiar voice was heard on the other end, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, thankful his phone had a voice modifier, just in case he actually knew the person on the other line.. Even though chances of that were slim to none. “Depends who’s asking”

with one hand, he took a sip of water in a glass, while with the other he opened a new page in his notebook, ready to write down this stranger's name.

“My name is Mike Hanlon, I was given this number by a friend, he told me you could help me”

Slim to none huh?

Eddie coughed up the drink back into his cup,“M-Mike Hanlon?”

“Uh...yes, I...I need your help”

Eddie scribbled down the name very quickly, though nothing in the world could make him forget it. “with what? What's going on?” he felt his heart racing, he didn’t want any of his friends to know what kind of danger he was putting himself into, he didn’t want them to know, or even try it themselves.

“Well… I live in Derry, Maine. There was a curse in this town...right? A monster, it killed a lot of people, but me and my friends… we stopped it.” Mike's voice sounded nervous.

“I...see…” Eddie’s voice wavered, hoping that this wouldn’t be another call back to defeat a killer clown “if you stopped it, why are you calling?”

“Because people are going missing again, but I know it's not what we fought, it's something else, nothing is being left behind, they’re just...vanishing.”

Eddie scribbled a few words down, his throat getting dry as he began to sweat nervously “okay...what's the age range of the missing persons?”

Please don't be kids….please don’t be kids.

“All adults, the other creature went for children, and those killings lasted for a year at least. This happens every few weeks, from my calculations, it's once every 3 weeks, and if I'm right, they're supposed to be here by Friday, they start hunting at night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he wrote what mike was saying down, opening his laptop and began booking a flight for Friday afternoon “okay, got it. have you seen this creature.”

There was an awkward pause, before Mike answered, almost embarrassed, “No.”

“Then how do you know all of this?” He wanted to believe Mike was reading too much into things, that Derry wasn’t being terrorized with another monster.

“Because one of the missing people has come back, and she came to me-- I’m somewhat of a Private eye in this town” Eddie smiled--good for him, making a name for himself in Derry.

“I talked with this one lady, she told me that she didn’t remember much, but whatever was out there, her two friends were killed, she didn’t tell me how they died, or even how she escaped...she just woke up..”

Eddie scribbled some more “do you know how many there are?”

“No. but I believe there's more than one, if you come in the next few days we can meet up and-”

Eddie shot up out of his seat “NO!” he heard mike go silent, before adding “uh...no...i’d rather uh...keep my face a secret”

Mike let out a laugh “of course, of course. We will have to talk more though, I have many notes and things that I’ve observed-”

‘Text me them, I have to go”

“But-”

Eddie hung up before he could hear the rest of that sentence, falling back into his seat. He put both hands on his face and sighed loudly.

He had to go back to Derry, and he had to avoid seeing Mike there too. He let out a groan, sitting up and finishing the booking process, it was only two days away, but that gave him enough time to pack everything he needed.

Those two days went by very fast. Mike tried to pay, but Eddie insisted it be free, not wanting to take money from his friend. Next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Derry, a rental car waiting for him and another traumatic nostalgia trip was in his future.

Once the plane landed, he quickly made his way through the airport, wearing a baseball cap in a poor attempt to hide his face. He got into his rental car, driving as fast as he (legally) could on the roads to his hotel room, texting Mike that he had landed, and was going to scope out the locations where Mike had claimed the creatures were.

As he drove through the streets, he began noticing the missing persons signs, it reminded him of when he was young, and there were people he knew going missing. He shook his head. Whatever those creatures were, He was sure he would stop it.

He parked his car in front of the hotel, getting a room key and making his way up with his bags. He used to be very particular where he stayed, but as the months went on with this job, he would just take what he could get.

As he settled in, he got another call from Mike.

“If you need any help, I’m no stranger to killing monsters, just give me a call” Mike sounded worried, but it also sounded like he wanted Eddie to say yes to him coming along, but the man couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I’m fine Mr. Hanlon. Thank you.”

“Okay, most of the missing persons were last seen around the woods, be careful, the trees go on and on, outside of the town and basically into the next, which is an hour away when Driving” Mike explained a few more things about the town, which of course, Eddie already knew about.

After speaking for a few more minutes about the plan, Eddie hung up the phone, it felt so awkward to be speaking to him under his alias, it was the most disconnected he had ever felt while on the job.

Once he gets all of his hunting gear in order, he puts it under the bed, just in case housekeeping decides to come in, and promptly leaves the room.

If he had to be here for the next day or so, he could at least go out and get some food.

As he walked down the streets of Derry, he made sure wherever he would go, nobody was following, and that nobody who knew him could recognize him.

He soon settled on a cafe near the hotel, walking into the establishment and ordering coffee with a BUNCH of espresso shots inside, after all, he needed all the energy he could get. He was usually much more healthy, but on jobs, he needed as much caffeine as humanly possible.

Sitting at an empty booth in the cafe, he took his journal out, scribbling a few notes down, his plan, he never really needed a plan, but it was nice to have one. He was sure this was a simple case that would be solved in less than an hour, so he didn’t pay much mind to it.

The barista comes to his table, setting his cup of pure caffeine down. Before she could leave, Eddie pulled out a $20 bill out of his wallet, giving it to her

“Save up every cent, get out of this town, it’ll be good for you” she gave him a confused look, like she was expecting him to pull it away as a joke, but with a look in his eyes, she took the money.

The barista smiled, her eyes bright and much more charismatic than his, “thank you sir.” she pocketed the money in her apron “ and that's the plan, as soon as I have enough money, I’m leaving this hell hole--just me and my shitty van. all the way to broadway”

He nodded as she walked away. He took a sip of his bitter drink, going over his notes a few more times--now should I ambush or wait--

“Eddie?”

His heart stopped dead as he snapped his head up, hearing his name, slamming the book closed.

His eyes met Richie's, who seemed equally as shocked to see him there. They stared at each other for a few moments.

W...why is he here?! He...he can’t be here now...what the fuck?

There was something off in Richie's overall appearance, he looked very sick, malnourished, hunched over and wearing clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks, his eyes looked like he was coming straight from the morgue.

Though his face was one of shock and confusion as to why Eddie was in Derry that night, Eddie was almost disappointed Richie was not happy to see him there.

“Holy shit trashmouth” Eddie sat up straight “What the hell are you doing here?” He motioned for Richie to sit down, which the man obliged to very quickly.

“Just passing through, I have to get down to uh… Ludlow, Maine.” to this, Eddie was confused, it sounded like Richie was making things up on the spot “I uh...got a show down there, w-what are you doing in Derry?”

He knew when Richie was lying, he always knew, he never told Richie this, but since they grew up together, he watched the mannerisms he had when lying, and could always tell ever since.

But that's because he didn’t want to look stupid, believing what Richie said. Definitely not because he liked to watch the man, and DEFINITELY not because he admired him for lying with so much ease.

Definitely not.

Eddie nodded, taking a sip of coffee “Just uh…” he quickly thought of a lie, “Visiting Mike, I wanted to surprise him, plus, wanted to get away from New York for a while”

“Interesting.” Richie’s eyes fell to the journal Eddie was desperately trying to keep hidden “Aw, does Eddie have a diary?”

Eddie let his face falter a bit, showing off his worry, pulling his journal “its it’s for work, asshat” he narrowed his eyes.

Richie, one who usually would keep poking at Eddie, slumped back a bit “Well, I gotta get going, Nice seeing you around.” he stood up, ready to walk away.

“Wait, come on.” Eddie looked up at the man, extremely confused “are you okay, man? If I'm honest, you look like shit.”

“Yeah i'm...fine.I just gotta get some...thing to eat” Richie eyed him up and down slowly, before exiting the building without another word.

Eddie just stared at the door as Richie walked away, well, not really walking, he was pretty much stumbling away.

Though as he left, the two men from before waved at Richie, like they knew him...probably just fans, Eddie couldn’t afford to read too much into things.

He shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee and reopening his book once again, Richie was probably drunk, and there was no surprise there. Eddie noticed how much Richie would drink last time they met, and this behavior didn’t surprise him.

But it was strange.

He quickly finished up his cup of coffee, placing his cup at the edge of the table, another waitress quickly coming to pick it up as he left the coffee shop, holding onto his journal tightly as he walked through Derry.

He checked his phone, a few missed messages from Mike, sharing a few more of his findings, but Eddie couldn’t bother to read them, his mind was only on Richie.

Why was he lying? What was he doing here? Questions whizzed around his head. Did Richie know something? Did Mike call him too?

Eddie sighed, he better get back to his hotel room, no use thinking about it now. He had a task at hand, and he had to get ready in the next few hours.

And that he did.

He was prepared for everything, he had a few guesses to what the monster was, a werewolf, a demon? but nothing really fit perfectly. demons kill people, but it's not like they would let people escape. Werewolves fit better, you could escape one, but they were not very...cleanly with their kills.

Whatever it was, it was going to be killed, no matter how many there were.

An alarm went off in his phone, letting the man know it was time to leave, get to the woods and start investigating.

He grabbed his bag, filled to the brim with gear, and headed out the door, texting Mike that he was headed out, and that the man needed to refrain from further messages, until Eddie had texted first of course.

He placed his phone back into his pocket, swiftly leaving the building. It was only a twenty minute walk to the forest, but if it felt like forever, his body felt shaky, like he should just turn around.

He never felt like this before, he chalked it up to nerves, with being back in Derry. Something in him still believed it could be IT, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If it was, ‘Richie Marsh’ wouldn’t be out, it would be the losers.

Before he even knew it, he was in the woods, walking down a manmade concrete pathway, exactly where Mike told him to go, trees making it seem like he was walking through a hedge maze.

As he walked down the path, it seemed to get more and more confusing, like he couldn’t even remember where he was going, but thinking it was nerves, he kept going.

His heart stopped as he heard a woman's scream break the cold silence of the night, the sound of heels clicking on the concrete coming closer and closer.

As quick as he could, he bolted towards the sound of the woman, following her voice. He carefully took out a gun from his bag as he ran down the pathway, his finger on the trigger.

Soon enough, a woman came into his field of vision, she was wearing a black apron, a dirty white shirt caked in blood, and a tattered pair of shorts.

it was the Barista from the coffee shop, She waved her arms wildly as she ran towards him, stumbling around like an animal.

“Please! Please help me! He’s gonna kill me!”

Eddie placed the gun back into his bag, putting it on his back and grabbing onto her as she ran into him.

Her makeup was running down her face, blood all over her skin, her hair was a mess, what once was a perfect simple bun, was now tangled with branches and all kinds of dirt in it.

“Ma’am calm down its okay we just-”

“No you don't understand! We can’t stay here we have to run!” She whisper-yelled at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the trees, straying from the pathway. “If they find us they’ll kill us!” she pulled him into a ditch, her breath shaky and tears flooding down her face.

“Okay… Okay take a deep breath, what the hell happened?” Eddie reached into his bag, grabbing his first-aid kit, ready to seal up any wound on her.

She took deep breaths, holding onto her arms as she shivered “these two guys, he… came into the cafe I work in, He was so nice” she let out a laugh, sniffling a sob. “I was so stupid, he asked me and my coworker out, and we said yes, it was supposed to be a walk in the woods, a nice walk… “

“Where’s your coworker now?” Eddie pulled out a cloth to wipe her off with, before he could give it to her, she began sobbing.

“The man…the thing! It ate her!” she said through her sobs. “While we were walking, they… they began saying weird things, like ‘dinner is ready' we didnt know what they meant! They meant us! This man came out of the woods, i called out to him, he just looked away, I think he was one of them.”

As she spoke, he watered down the cloth, giving it to her. “he...ate her?”

She sighed, wiping her face with the cloth, “this is going to sound crazy…” she hesitated, sniffling again as she looked at him.

“I deal with crazy almost 3 times a week, this is why I’m here, you’re gonna be okay, this is my job.”

She nodded nervously “there was another man there, he was in the trees, before we could even say anything, all three of them...grew..into giants...and… my coworkers date...he picked her up and…”

She suddenly fell into a crying fit once more, falling into eddies lap, he rubbed her back, trying to console her.

“He… he bit her in half!” she screamed through sobs. “I got away, the one in the trees just watched me, who knows how close he is.”

He felt sick as she cried, and Eddie looked away from her… this wasn’t what he expected, no wonder nothing was making sense, there was nobody, because they would eat it.

He was about to say something, as they heard the sound of leaves crunching and branches breaking. “It's not my fault you lost the bitch”

The girl froze, her cries stopping out of fear, she covered her mouth. She shared a terrified look with Eddie, who shared the same look.

“Well it's not mine either, I was in the middle of eating!” the man sounded so nonchalant when talking about murder, but then again, most monsters weren’t remorseful.

“Will both of you shut the fuck up and just get on with it?” the voice sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn’t concentrate on it now.

The three men kept bickering, and the barista nodded to eddie, pointing to the other side of the ditch, mouthing the word “run”

He shook his head wildly, mouthing the word “no” over and over, if she did this, she would be dead.

Either she thought it would work, or she didn’t care if she died, but she ran up the side of the ditch, then began dashing through the woods once again, ignoring Eddie's silent pleas not to.

Instantly two out of the three men yelled, and began running as well, though their footsteps began getting louder and louder, Eddie shrunk back, trying to hide as best as he could.

He watched in horror as one of the giants walked over the ditch, which took them only one step, right above him, then another, then another, it was too dark to get a good look at any of them from his disadvantaged point.

But luckily, with all the noise they were making, he was able to run to the other side of the ditch, running up and hiding behind a large tree, digging through his bag, the best luck he would’ve had with killing these things, was his machete, thanking god that he actually brought it.

Eddie held it tightly to his chest, slowly turning to see what was happening.

“Let me go!” the Barista screamed as she was picked up by the giant, flailing around in his grip.

“Oh I’ll let you go alright,”

She gave him a strange look, before returning to her screams as he lifted her up over his head, his mouth agape.

“I’ll let you go now”

Eddie turned back behind the tree, hearing her screams as she was dropped into the giant's mouth, he wasn’t looking, but his mind pictured it. He felt sick to his stomach, anger bubbling up inside of him

He heard the screams of the woman suddenly stop, and a silence filled the air. Eddie knew what this meant, he felt like he was ready to vomit, his stomach twisting in knots

“Y’know you don't have to drag it out.”

“What? You’re just mad because you got jack shit, maybe you shouldn’t be so picky”

Eddie listened to the three bickers, waiting for the right time to move from tree to tree, making sure they couldn’t see him as he got closer.

In his head he knew this was a bad idea, that he was going to get caught, but this was the first time he had ever actually met a victim, he talked with her, even if it was brief, it pushed him more than anything else did, this wasn’t about money, for the sake of the town, no…

It was for Her.

He took a deep breath as he prepared to move to another tree, planning to climb it and attack in a much better position.

“Ah! I thought I heard something!” Eddie froze, hearing a booming voice behind him.

He. was. Fucked.

He instantly spun around, waving the machete up, he heard the giant let out a yell as the blade bit into its hand, which was about to grab eddie.

shitshitshit

Eddie backed up a bit, before taking off in a run, but it didn’t help, another came barreling in.. barrelling in Eddie's eyes, it was pretty much just a few steps for the giant, the last one just hung out in the back, basically ignoring the interaction.

Eddie prepared to swing again, but the giant in front of him didn’t move, just smirked, catching Eddie off guard, allowing the one behind him to snatch him up.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled as the sneak attack made him drop the machete on the ground.

“You little fucker…” the giant lifted him off the ground at a speed that made Eddie sick, never in his life had he wanted to be on the ground more than he was now, the cold wind made him cringe as he was face to face with the Giant.

Surprisingly, the man looked fairly normal, he wore a plain blue shirt with some black jeans, nothing like any fairy tale would describe it.

His eyes were damn near murderous, he held up his other hand ‘look what you fucking did.” Eddie struggled in the giant's grip, which only made the man laugh, “what? Little hunter doesn’t know what to say?”

Eddie sputtered a bit, how did they know he was a hunter?

“Looks like you got dinner after all, huh Rich?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Rich...Rich...that voice...is that...NO….NONONO

Eddie's head whipped around as the third giant came closer to the other two...those glasses, those clothes...those eyes.

When those eyes met him, they shared the same look, the exact same look that they shared at the coffee shop. Eddie wanted to yell, but it seemed all the sound had left his body.

That's why Richie was in Derry...

“What's the matter?” the giant holding him pulled him closer, “don’t like knowing that you’re dinner?” he chuckled devilishly, Eddie didn’t respond, too horrified at richie to even register what the giant was saying “hey fucko! You listening?”

The giant shook Eddie a bit, still nothing, he gave a look to the other stranger, who just nodded, the same devilish smile pasted onto his face.

Without another word, he let Eddie go, plummeting towards the earth.

Eddie let out a loud yelp, it was almost in slow motion for him, falling through the air, hitting the cold, hard ground, he was sure a rib or two were fractured just by the pain he felt in his chest, but the pounding in his head was much...much worse. He couldn’t move, he could only listen to what they had to say.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Richie pushed the giant who was holding Eddie, not even caring to remember his name “you could’ve just given him to me.”

Richie's heart sank as he saw the hunter in the giant hand, Eddie, he knew Eddie was lying about why he was in Derry, Eddie was just simply, a bad liar. But he had never expected something like this, he never wanted any of the losers to find out about this. It was bad enough he was hunting in Derry, only a mere half hour from Mike.

“Why not? The little fucker wouldn’t listen, so I gave it what it deserved.”

He felt anger overflow him as the giant talked about Eddie in this way, but he stayed silent, bending down, and picking up Eddie by the collar of his jacket, his body dangling at it rose up.

Eddie could barely move, everything hurt, he knew he was being lifted up once again, but he couldn’t do anything about it, what was he to do, his ribs were broken, he was winded and he was basically a doll to these guys.

He could hear Richie talking to the two, but he couldn’t really understand it, until one sentence was asked.

“So, You gonna chew ‘im?”

This sent Eddie back into his fit of panic, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he began cursing, kicking, wildly flailing. The two giants just laughed.

“Come on richie, you can chew this once, trust me, so much better experience.” Eddie couldn’t tell which of the two giants spoke, but he begged to whatever was out there, that Richie wouldn’t go through with it.

“I’m not a fan of blood, you should know that by now.” Richie rolled his eyes, his gaze back to Eddie, his heart breaking as he watched the man flail around, knowing he was in pain by the look on his face.

“The bitch thought he was going to kill us, he cut my fucking finger! Let him have it!” the giant pushed richie slightly, Richie giving him a glare.

“He's going to die anyways, why can’t I let myself enjoy him squirm?” Richie spoke, monotone. “I like how it feels when they go down.”

It was enough to make Eddie sick.

“It's your last hunt with us, go out with a bang! You got a fucking hunter after all…treat it like it treats our kind!”

“Fuck off, let me do it.'' His tone seemed almost protective, but with Eddie hearing a low gurgle of the man's stomach, Eddie knew it was like an animal protective of its prey.

The two just sighed, watching Richie...just...waiting.

Eddie paused as the giants fell into silence, staring up at Richie with tears in his eyes, his vision was blurry, and his head kept feeling worse and worse. “Please...don’t do this…” he found his voice, only to say that.

What else was he supposed to say? It was rich! The man he grew up with, the man he fought a killer clown demon with….the man...who was about to eat him.

Richie just sighed, lifting Eddie up carefully, much more carefully than the others would even dare, tilting his head up and placing Eddie right on his tongue. Letting go of the man and shutting his mouth.

Eddie's heart dropped at the quick action, Richie not even hesitating before putting Eddie into his mouth.

The heat inside richies mouth was enough to make Eddie let out a yell, going from chilly weather and a biting wind to a human sauna was not the best transition. The sensation of the wet, squishy muscle underneath him giving him a dose of reality-- He pushed against the roof of the mouth, hoping to re-open the mouth, but from the angle he was at, the throat was just becoming him.

He attempted to climb up the tongue, but no matter how close he would get to almost getting out, the saliva around him beckoned him down the tight, hot throat.

“Let me out!” Eddie yelled, but he knew it was no use, that Richie wouldn’t let him go, not after this. “Let me out you...fucking bastard!”

This was it? This is how he would go, he fought almost every dangerous creature in the book and won but he HAD to be eaten by someone he called a friend?

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker, his breath becoming more and more shortened with each breath. He found himself almost allowing his body to be pulled and squished around by the tongue, which happily licked at him.

He yelled as richie rolled him around, coating him in thick saliva in the process, but he really couldn’t do anything about it, the fear and fatigue getting to his head.

As the throat beckoned him down, he clawed at the tongue to keep himself out of the hot, wet esophagus “don’t do this!”

His words were met with no answer, but with a swallow.

Eddie yelled as his lower half was pulled into richies throat, he couldn’t move, which made him flail around even more, this was met with another swallow, thick muscles pulling the rest of him into the hungry throat and down the man's gullet, it was almost second nature to the man.

It must’ve been only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he slid down the esophagus, unable to move and his Eddies head spinning with anxiety.

The one word spilling into Eddie's mind was only ....”Why?”

He pushed against the esophagus in an attempt to stop himself from sliding down any further, but all the saliva clinging to him and his clothes wouldn’t let him.

Suddenly, Eddie felt his legs slip into the stomach below him, gurgles and growls heard below him. As the rest of him slipped inside the belly, the whole experience became very...very real.

His head was dizzy from the lack of oxygen in the throat, and he couldn’t stop shaking at the thought of this being the final place he would be alive, nobody would know Richie had done it.

And that's the last thing Eddie Kaspbrack remembered, before passing out completely.

----------------------

Richie paused as he felt eddie go limp on his tongue for a few moments, he was scared this was too much for the little guy and his heart gave out, but the small man began to thrash around once more, which in a dark way, got him relieved, so he could continue.

This was a disaster, he hated how he had to eat people already, but the fact that it was Eddie made everything so much worse.

Richie should’ve known something was up when he saw Eddie in that cafe, he just couldn’t focus with the hunger eating him up inside.

Now it wasn’t only hunger eating him up...it was guilt.

He rolled Eddie around on his tongue a few more times, capturing the taste of the man.

he hated to admit it, but people tasted so good. It was almost like a drug for him, nothing really could sustain him for long, except for this. The longest he could go without eating a person was three weeks, he would move town to town with his tour, every few weeks swallowing a person to keep his energy up.

He carefully swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he brought his head back down, he could feel Eddie sliding slowly down his gullet, esophagus stretching as he did so it felt so...normal for him, like it was second nature.

One thing he was grateful for, was that he was the only guy that night who didn’t have a meal already lined up.

The past few weeks, meeting up with these guys got worse and worse, they were cruel, but for some reason they liked him, and would not leave him alone no matter how much he demanded them to, but tonight they agreed that tonight could be their last night

They always wanted it to be Derry, maybe because they lived there, maybe because the people tasted better. Richie didn't know, all he did was agree, since he didn't want one of their victims to become someone that he cared about. .

He felt guilty knowing the fates of the other two girls, but he knew he couldn’t stop it, they chose to kill those girls, they could’ve safely eaten them, but they chose to kill, which they thought he chose as well. He couldn’t change this, and it made him sick just to think about it.

As the two other giants shrank back down to their normal height, RIchie didn’t even bother to remember the jackasses names, they looked up at him.

“Sad to see ya go! Maybe we’ll meet up again!” one of them spoke, the other just nodded, before they both walked away.

sickos...

Richie stayed silent and still until they got out of sight, before letting out a deep breath, holding onto his stomach as he felt eddies body slip inside of it, it felt so...good to have someone in there again

But all according to plan, he felt Eddie pass out, feeling his shallow breaths as he lay unconscious in his belly.

He was going to be okay...

----

It's too hot, It feels like I’m melting...I can’t move...I have to get out of here...I have to…

Eddie's eyes snapped open at the sound of a car horn, and a familiar yell, his head throbbing and he almost jumped out of his seat, he would’ve if he didn’t have his seatbelt on…

Seatbelt?!

Eddie's head snapped in every direction as he looked around, he was in a car, a blanket covering him...not where he thought he was...did...did he actually...no...he wasn’t...he couldn’t be… he wasn’t inside of a...

Richie let out a yell as Eddie popped up, making him swerve the car violently into the left lane, then back into the right lane, causing a chorus of more car horns to indicate that what he just did was an asshole move.

“Jesus fucking christ Eddie!” Richie yelled, “you scared the shit out of me!” he kept his eyes on the road, but the shock poured off of him like sweat.

Eddie just stared at richie as he drove, he could feel his body shaking at the sight of the man… he stammered for a moment, but he was only able to get out one word.

“Y-you…” his voice cracked a bit.

He didn’t want to believe it was true, but his clothes and hair being damp pointed out that might be the case, he felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears, never before had he felt this much Terror.

“I what eddie? I saved your life, what the fuck were you doing there?! If I wasn’t there you’d be fucking dead!” Richie turned to Eddie, giving him an angry look.

Richie was angry… at him?!

As Eddie got a good glypse at Richie, he noticed the man's face was red, his eyes a bit puffy, and he was shaking profusely, not to mention the cracks in his voice and the tears rolling down his face.

Richie was crying...Richie never cries…

“You actually...you fucking ate me?!’” Eddie finally worked up the courage to yell “What the fuck man?! I thought we were friends?!” his hand fell to his side, instinctively grabbing his knife holster, though only grabbing nothing, his knife lost in the fight earlier.

Richie didn’t respond, he just kept staring at the road. This just made Eddie angrier.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Eddie pulled the blanket off of him, shivering as his damp clothes absorbed the cold air around him. “You didn’t even tell any of us, you are a fucking m-monster!”

Again, silence, but he could see richie white knuckling the steering wheel.

Eddie could feel hot tears coming down from his eyes, “what's your plan now?” he couldn’t see himself leaving this vehicle alive, unless he hopped out the car door right now, even then he had a higher chance of ending up dead. “you should’ve made it quick like those other two fuckers did” he mumbled quietly.

Suddenly, Richie swerved across a few lanes, making Eddie slam into the car door instantly, which caused another abundance of yelling and anger from the man.

Richie didn’t say a word as he moved off of the highway, onto a local road, close to the treeline of the woods, slamming on the breaks at the closest place he could pull over at.

Eddie couldn’t help but be afraid of Richies silence, his slight shakiness as he held the wheel and the fact that Richie refused to make eye contact as he cried.

“I could’ve killed you.” Richies voice cracked a slight bit.

Eddies heart sunk hearing those words, he could feel every bit of fear he had felt before hit him once again “R-Richie...I-I-”

“I could have done everything I said I would out there, and you could imagine what they would do if I wasn’t there…”

“Richie...p-please-”

“But I wouldn’t...I...I can’t Ed’s!” Richie lost all of his composure, and began yelling “I couldn’t let anything happen to you! What the hell were you thinking going after us? You could’ve died, Killing IT was one thing, but you’re alone!”

Eddie stared at him with a shocked expression, he felt his face flush, even if he was angry and scared, he was almost embarrassed, he felt like a child being berated by a parent, he frowned.

“You. ate. Me.” Eddie spoke, emphasizing each word. “You ate me and you’re giving me shit?”

“But you’re still alive, hm?” Richie gestured up and down to Eddie, “nothing Hurt huh? You’re welcome.”

Those words actually got through to Eddie, “how am I...not dead…”

Richie sighed, hearing Eddie's tone, not angry, just...scared. “I’m not like them, Eddie. It's safe, because I’m safe…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose “fuck that didn’t make sense, I..Its just something I can do.”

Eddie got a good look at Richie at this point, the man was no longer disheveled, he looked like he was good as new, no bags under his eyes, he didn’t look like he was going to pass out anymore...he looked healthy.

Eddie, felt tired, nauseous, and felt like he was about to pass out, they practically switched places. t

“What did you do to me…?” Eddie asked, which richie let out a small chuckle.

“Unlike Them” he spoke of the two like it was bad luck to even think of them “I can’t digest living things, i uh… do have to eat living creatures though” he looked at Eddie, answering before the man could ask the question “I take energy, that's why you passed out, you came on the right day honestly, i usually wait a while before eating.”

“That's why there were survivors, that's how Mike knew--”

“Mike knows?” it sounded like a stupid question, but it had never crossed his mind. “How much does Mike know?” his voice was desperate, almost terrified.

“Not much… one girl that you...let go...talked to him about what she remembered…”

Richie shook his head “Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the wheels. “I left her on the pathway, watched her wake up, she shouldn’t have known about what happened.”

Eddie jumped at the slam “She didn’t remember anything, she thought escaped on her own, Mike has no idea what's going on, he...doesn’t even know he sent me here.”

“How the fuck doesnt he know?”

This is where Eddie began to feel nervous again-- what to say?

“A simple alias and a voice modifier did the trick.” Eddie rolled his eyes “and this isn’t my first time doing this.”

The shifter's heart sank.

Richie began piecing it all together, “You’re actually a hunter…?” he asked, “Tell me your joking Ed’s, you’re fucking with me…”

The thought of Eddie being an actual hunter was almost as absurd as knowing richie was a giant. Eddie was pretty fearless, but he didn’t act like the other hunters he’d met, if Eddie was actually a hunter, Richie was most likely a dead man.

“I uh… did tell you that I’m a Risk analyzer, I just didn’t tell you what kind of risks I worked with…” Eddie looked away, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d even run into you...or any of the losers on the job… Especially if the job is on one of you.”

Richie just stayed silent, Eddie. Eddie fucking Kaspbrack, kills monsters, just like him...all the time? He just silently turned on the car, driving back onto the main road. He felt this...intimidation now, and Richie did not like it at all.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, staring at the man, who just kept his eyes on the road. “Richie what's going on…?”

“I’m going to drop you off at your hotel, and guessing that there’s only one hotel that's not a total shithole, I’m guessing that's where you’re staying.” he spoke fast, like he didn’t want to talk to Eddie, which made the other man frown.

“You’re right...but...you seem...off.”

“Finding out my best friend is a killer isn’t something I really enjoy knowing.”

Holy shit…”Richie, are you...scared of me?” Eddie asked, utterly confused. He got no answer except for Richies face turning a slight red colour.

Eddie turned a bit red, but quickly changed the subject when Richie pulled into the driveway of the hotel, parking. “Are you going to answer me, dickwad” he only added the last part to get a reaction out of the man.

Richie snapped his head over to Eddie, “we’ll finish this talk in the hotel room, I’m not staying in this car the entire night.”

“In the hotel room? What makes you think I’m letting you up there?”

“Because you can’t fucking walk.” Richie snapped once more, pointing to Eddie's legs, “Just try.”

Eddie just nodded, giving Richie a snarky look, then getting out of the vehicle.

“See!” Eddie spoke as Richie started, just waiting. “What was that about---!”

Eddie couldn’t finish the sentence of glory as his legs wobbled. Making him fall to the concrete of the parking lot with a painful groan.

Richie got out of the car, a smug look on his face “what was what about?” He stood, hands in his hoodie pockets, holding back a bit of laughter.

Eddie just looked up, about to yell once more, but his own fear silenced him as he had to look up at Richie again, towering over him as he was on the pavement.

Richie frowned, seeing the fear in the hunters eyes, sighing

“Fuck--Here” Richie bent down, grabbing onto eddie, pulling the mans arm over his shoulder as to stablize him and help him move.

At first Eddie pushed back, not wanting Richie to even touch him at the moment, but something made him turn red as he got so close to him.

‘Do. not. Even. think. About. It.’

The walk up to the hotel room was silent, only minor grunts or breaths from either of the men.

Richie was practically going nuts with Eddie so close again--He would never admit it, but having eddie so close to his nose, he couldn’t help but smell him once again, and he smelled so...delicious, and the fact that he was able to taste him once meant that he knew that eddie was delicious.

‘Stop it….fucking stop.’

As they reached Eddie's door, the man tried to get the keys out of his pocket, only for Richie to just grab it out of his pocket himself, unlocking the door.

“T...thanks”

“Get in.”

Eddie sighed as they both walked in, the door shutting behind them. Eddie turned red as his luggage bag was sprawled on the bed, knives visible.

Richie groaned, seeing the blades, setting Eddie onto the bed, “Have enough fucking Knives man?”

“What? Scared?”

Richie said nothing, but looked away.

“The man who Eats people alive, is afraid of me?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, dry and sarcastic, “and I’m not a killer…”

Richie gave him a disbelieving look, eddies laugh faded

“Well I am a killer, but it's not like that...I researched creatures like you for a while, I made like four journals just observing you guys…”

“Wow, a nerd in literally everything. Even murder” richie rolled his eyes, but it was very noticeable when his shoulders relaxed slightly, though still seemed on guard as Eddie spoke, his eyes narrow and hesitant.

“After IT,” Eddie turned away. “I realized that some of these creatures, they just want to Hurt people… and...I just can’t let that happen. So I became a hunter… it was tough at first, but i’ve gotten better.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously “B-but I don’t kill people who are just trying to live their lives, only the ones who are killing people...which doesn’t make me that popular.”

Richie gave Eddie a look, not disproving, but just...intrigued, “Damn, a hunter with a moral backbone? Where have you been all my life”

Eddie paused, “I’ve been in your fucking life” He almost felt offended “suddenly I haven’t been with you because of my fucking career choice? Newsflash fuckface, I’m still fucking eddie kaspbrack”

Richie’s eyes widened “I didn't mean it--”

“You fucking EAT people. And I still see you as my...friend” Eddies voice lowered, looking away, “trust me, if I didn’t you’d be dead.”

Richie fell silent, somehow the word ‘friend’ still hurt him. Eddie could see the hurt on his face, looking away as well.

“All the other hunters i’ve known never gave me a chance to explain” Richie finally spoke after a few minutes, “They just see me as a monster.”

“i-I’m sorry.” Eddie responded “I didn’t mean--”

“Oh shut up.” Richie flashed a smile “You get a pass, I fucking ate you. I didn’t get a chance with any others.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the comment, something so absurd about the situation allowed him to. He was a hunter, who had been eaten, and is now talking to the person who had eaten him.

“So...the other losers?” Eddie fake coughed, trying to change the subject “Do any of them know”

“FUCK no.” Richie shook his head loudly, “If they knew that I’ve wanted--” Richie paused mid sentence, sputtering, clearly not wanting that to come out.

Eddie's eyes widened, “No no no, you don't get to say that shit and NOT finish the sentence, dickweed.”

“I-I..er--” Richie couldn’t form a coherent sentence, too busy turning redder than a tomato.

“Richie...Have you thought about...Eating us...like all of us? The losers?”

At first, Richie resisted, sputtering out a shaky ‘no!’, but Eddie just stared at the man, his expression not changing, it was a trick he would use when they were kids, Richie would always break.

“Fuck you Kaspbrak!” Richie finally broke, throwing his hands in the air “what do you want me to say? There's not one goddamn day that goes by since the reunion where i don’t think about it! There! Judge me all you fucking want! It's not gonna change the fact that I wanted to Eat you!”

Richie turned red again as eddie just stared “forget it”

“Did you ever try?”

It was richie's turn to look offended “you think im fucking stupid? If I tried anything on that trip, you’d think i was IT, I wasn’t about to be killed by my friends!”

Eddie put his hands up defensively “Okay okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist! It was a fucking question!”

Richie slumped back, defeated “I’ve thought about it sure---I never planned to though!” Richie almost sounded like he was trying to promise Eddie this, rather than convince him “I never planned on telling you guys, not that you’d believe me if I did.”

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me...so you kept your plan?”

Richie gave him a ‘are you kidding me’ expression

“I will eat you again”

“Don’t make me pull out the Knives, Tozier.”

Before Richie could even say another word, a loud ringing came from the luggage bag. It was his backup phone, Eddie reached for it, Richie first shook his head not to answer, but Eddie did anyway.

“Mr Marsh? Oh thank god you answered, it's been so long I thought the worst? What happened?” Richie tensed up, hearing Mike's voice on the other end of the phone, Eddie looked at the frightened predator and shook his head, mouthing the words ‘voice modifier’ which made Richie calm down slightly, still uncomfortable to hear Mike's voice.

Though on the other hand, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the ‘Mr. Marsh’ mouthing to Eddie ‘are you fucking serious?’

Eddie shook his head, trying to wave the man off “Sorry Mr Hanlon, I understand your concern, everything is--”

“Ed’s?”

Eddie's sentence came to a full stop as Mike said his name, and so did his heart “w-what?”

“i-I” Mike stammered on the phone for a second “Eddie is that you?”

Richie, in an act of pure instinct, snatched the phone away from Eddie, who yelled out a quick “wait!” Before Richie hung up, turning the phone off.

There were a few moments of silence, you could practically hear the two’s hearts pumping loudly and full of anxiety.

“Shit.” they both said in unison.

---------

its good to be back...again!

#soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #tw hard vore #tw fatal vore #non fatal vore #fearplay vore #quentin's writing

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imagine-straykids · 4 years

Text

Han Jisung: Crushed

short summary: when Jisung has a crush on you, he may not be the best at expressing his feelings

genre: fluff x romance

word counts: 5,350 words

Jisung wasn’t sure when or why he started liking you. Maybe it was the way you’d always awkwardly stumble upon your words; maybe it was the way you’d take jabs at yourself sometimes; maybe it was the way you listened to him as if he was the only person in the world. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure. But all he knew was that you stole his heart and he doesn’t want it back.

Who would’ve ever thought that Han Jisung, a music prodigy, basically a star student, would ever fall head over heels for someone like you who admittedly only joined a music course because you needed a filler class.

The first time you guys talked, it was because you needed help identifying some music notes. You were not the best at music--actually not very good at all, but you can sing a little bit, yay? You don’t know why you thought taking this class as an extra would be a good idea. Because it wasn’t. It was much harder than you had expected. Hell, you don’t know what you were thinking, because everybody here was basically legendary at what they do.

Anyways, well, one day your teacher had you guys do this assignment and you struggled like a bitch. While you were still on the first page losing at least 10 brain cells per question, you had noticed that Jisung, who was seated in front of you had already finished. You were amazed--No. Amazed was an understatement. You were shook even though you knew you shouldn’t be. He was pretty much second to no one in this class.

A few moments later, your teacher’s loud voice echoed through the room.

“Okay class! You have 10 more minutes left! I will be collecting your papers after that.” Your teacher sat down after her announcement.

“10 minutes? Crap! I’m not even through the first page yet...” you cursed quietly under your breath out of natural habits. You weren’t expecting anyone nearby to hear you, and you were actually hoping they didn’t. But your words did not manage to miss Jisung’s ears as you had leaned in a little bit too closely behind him when you mumbled.

You were too busy scribbling down whatever you were scribbling because frankly you weren’t really sure what you were doing. As you lifted your head up trying to take a look at the clock, you were instead met with Jisung’s puppy eyes as he had been examining what you were doing for the last 5 seconds or so. A small gasp escaped your mouth and you blinked out of fright, but not loud enough to catch anyone’s attention. Just loud and visible enough for you to make a fool out of yourself in front of Han Jisung.

“Do you need any help?” He smiled.

Ahhhh oh my gosh, he smiled, you internally screamed inside your head.

“I--uhm--uh--yeah, I kind of do--” you stumbled around your words awkwardly.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve wrecking, but why is it.

“I can help you. What do you need help with?”

“Oh uhm... the whole paper to be honest. I’m kind of... new to this kind of class.”

And that was pretty much your guys first time talking to each other. Ever since then, he would always voluntarily ask if you needed any help, to which you were very much appreciative for. He really did not have to be this nice to you, but he was. Bless his whole ass soul.

Little by little, working out assignments together turned into small talks between you guys, or rather silly stories told by himself, and you in return would share stories of your siblings to him and just how annoying they are to you daily. He liked to listen to your tales because he didn’t have any younger siblings and his older brother lived in another town.

Your Music class that used to be so intimidating to you because you were so far behind everyone else, the class that used to make you feel talentless and lonely as hell, you now had something to look forward to.

Oddly, Jisung could say the same thing too. Everyday back and forth to him was just go to classes, head to dance practice after school, go home, study, and repeat. But his somehow repetitive lifestyle started looking a little bit more exciting after meeting you. All his other classes were okay, but somehow he was always looking forward to 6th period; his music class. Looking forward to that special someone he could talk to about how his day has went so far.

Sometimes zoning out in his other classes, thinking about all the kind of things to say or tell you whenever he does get to 6th period. It was a foreign feeling that he had never experienced before. Not for anyone else. He’s had crushes in the past, but they were mostly puppy love, or crushes that would last a week at most. But every time he gets closer to you, every time he’s communicating with you, he feel his heart exploding a million times, and all the little things you would do like mumbling things to yourself thinking nobody would hear, the way you would twitch your nose whenever something upsets you a little, pressing the wrong keys when practicing, or just the way you would laugh at the smallest things he said just does a different kind of twist on his heart string.

Day by day he found himself becoming greedier and greedier, wanting to become something much more with you. But he didn’t know if that was too weird considering you guys don’t interact outside of this class, besides the small gestures you both would exchange sometimes when passing by one another.

He wasn’t sure if he was moving too fast or not, but it was 4 months ago that he started talking to you. 4 months ago when he talked to you, the one who would make him question so many things about himself.

He don’t know if he should wait it out and see if you’ll say anything, but from how you’re acting, it doesn’t look as if any changes was coming soon. He was growing more impatient every time he gets the chance to talk to you, because to him, you were just... so adorable.

One day after class ended, he finally managed up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go for a drink after school, to which you said yes. He was met with pleasure, but at the same time, terror. Was he really about to do this? No no. He was not ready. But he also does not want to be just friends anymore. He was mentally battling his thoughts the whole time walking there that he even missed out on some things you’ve told him.

You became aware that Jisung was not being himself and was rather gloomy today all of a sudden.

“Jisung, are you alright?” You asked him worriedly.

Your voice snapped him back to reality.

“Y-yeah I am fine y/n! Sorry, I was just thinking about how much homework I have today,” he assured you.

Really? A lot of homework? That’s really the best thing you can think of, Jisung criticized himself in his head.

“Oh... I see. Well we should probably go grab a seat so you can let loose some tension.”

Jisung nodded and you guys found a spot in the back corner.

As soon as you guys sat down, Jisung’s face positioned toward his feet as if he’s rethinking life decisions.

This was unusual for him because although you were not with him often, rarely did you ever see him looking so down. He was always jolly every time he entered the classroom. This was a rather new Jisung for you.

“Hey Jisung, you’re a smart person! You will finish all the work alright. And if you need any help, I am always here for you,” you tried to comfort him.

“Huh--O-o yeah. Thank you. Sorry I’m a little bit spaced out,” he said so quietly.

“Jisung, if there’s anything that’s bothering you, you can always tell me. I won’t ever judge, you know that. I just hope you’re okay.”

The more worried you were for him, the more it made him want to throw up from nervousness. Because you’re encouraging him to confess but at the same time, discouraging, because he was just that afraid he might ruin a good relationship with someone like you.

“I’m fine, y/n. You can go ahead and order something. I need to use the restroom real quick.” He stood up and made his way to the men’s restroom.

He quickly shut himself in and slid down the wall onto his knees as he puffed out breath of airs.

After he had situated in a comfortable position, he took his phone out and called Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin, I-I cannot do it. I can’t. I feel so weak and nervous right now I think I might throw up,” Jisung ranted.

“Tell me about it. That was a such a shit show. Dude, I got second hand embarrassment from it.”

“W-wait what. How did you know what happened?”

“Me and Jeongin come to this cafe every day after school. We were seated right across from you guys, but you were too busy being a nervous freak to notice.”

“Oh wow, so Jeongin saw it too. I really just cannot. I don’t think I can go out after this. My hands are sweating. Can you like, make up some kind of excuse for me?”

“Like what kind of excuse?”

“I don’t know... just tell her I went home because I feel sick.”

“What? Then she’s going to say why didn’t you just tell her.”

“Then just say because I was in a rush,” Jisung grew impatient trying to reason with Hyunjin.

“I guess then. At this pace, you’re never going to get a girlfriend.”

Jisung was about to say something back but Hyunjin already cut off the line.

When Jisung came in the next day, you asked him if he was alright, and he gave you a short answer but nothing more than that.

You tried initiating a few more small talks with him but he was really just out of it, you had a feeling you should just leave him to be. He’s probably going through a difficult time right now.

When the bell rung signaling it was time to leave, you bid a small goodbye wave to Jisung before you left but it was only met with an awkward smile from him.

The next three days continued on pretty much like the scenario above. You would try starting a conversation but it wasn’t much of a conversation if you were the only one talking. Eventually, you stopped trying to talk to him.

You would be lying if you were to say you weren’t upset or concerned. You didn’t know if you had said something that offended him, or if he found out that you secretly have a crush on him and is creep out by it. Either way, both situation weren’t going to end well for you.

The day you guys went to the cafe was the day he started acting indifferent. Maybe he heard that small fart you ripped out along the way or something. But you swore on god that it didn’t smell that bad. Maybe that day he meant to tell you he doesn’t want to be friends or talk to a loser like you anymore, but wasn’t courageous enough to finish what he started, that’s why he sent Hyunjin over to get rid of you.

It honestly sucks because your music teacher has recently assigned you guys with a project and in your head, you and Jisung would’ve had a blast discussing about what you guys were going to do for it. All of the things he or you would’ve said kept playing over and over in your head. But then again, you shouldn’t jump into conclusion.

You’ll just confront him on Monday and see what the real deal is. You just hope it wasn’t anything too serious that he’s brooding about. If you had hurt him in some shape or form, you would like to know and apologize dearly.

Jisung felt like an imbecile. An even bigger fool than the one he was before. He couldn’t believe he thought ignoring and avoiding you would suppressed his feelings or prevent you from asking anything relevant.

It probably did, but now the feeling of guilt is just eating him up. Your poor face after rambling and getting no response broke his heart. But he was afraid if he were to say anything less than appropriate, he would lose it.

He just wish you’re doing good for yourself and isn’t taking his actions to heart, because he pretty much acknowledge that he’s being stupid.

When he got to dance practice, he slammed his backpack harshly onto the floor of the studio and sighed.

The frustration of his caught the attention of Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin who got here a little bit early too and was prepping up.

“What’s good bro? You alright?” Seungmin asked as he walked forward to Jisung.

“Yeah. You have been looking pretty sad these past few days. I kind of miss that loud crackhead energy of yours even though you can get carried away with it,” Jeongin sensing the rising atmosphere, tried to lighten it up.

“He probably got rejected by his dream girl,” Hyunjin chimmed in.

“Huh?” Seungmin let out in confusion.

“This one girl in his music class that he has a huge crush on for no reason even though they don’t even interact.”

Hyunjin was of course only teasing Jisung.

“Hey! We do interact! It’s just mostly in class. You’re not even in the class itself so shut up Hwang Hyunjin. At least I can keep my crush on one girl, and not the whole freaking school,” Jisung defended himself.

Jeongin let out a small laughter followed by Seungmin.

“That’s true, Hyung. You really need to stick to one person like seriously.” Jeongin threw his arm onto Hyunjin’s shoulder but Hyunjin slapped it off.

“Whatever.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

“And no, I didn’t get rejected... I didn’t even ask her out yet.” Jisung admitted in shame.

“Huh?” Seungmin let out again.

“Then what are you so miserable about?” Jeongin cocked his eyebrow.

“I-I’m scared. What if she says no? What if she doesn’t like me like that. Then it’s just going to be awkward. She’s a really sweet person and I don’t want to ruin our friendship just because I think about her more than a friend,” Jisung’s tone dampen the longer he talked.

“But what if she also likes you like that? I mean, you don’t know... you haven’t even asked her.” Seungmin tried to encourage Jisung.

Jeongin nodded in agreement while Hyunjin just let out a chuckle.

“Dude, if you don’t ask her out, I will. Seeing her the other day at the cafe, she’s kind of cute.” Hyunjin goes into thought.

Jisung’s eyes fired up at what Hyunjin said.

“Hey! Stay away from her! But to be honest, she wouldn’t like you anyways. Sorry but she wouldn’t go for someone who changes girls everyday like he changes his clothes. Anyways--can you tell Chan for me that I will be missing practice today. Something came up. Bye!”

And with that, Jisung quickly grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the building.

“Wow, I’m hurt.” Hyunjin put his hand on his chest.

"Jisung, aren’t you going to eat?”

His door flashed opened with his mom’s head in between the crack.

“Soon! I just need to revise this one more time.” His eyes still not leaving his music sheet.

“Dear, don’t overwork yourself. It’s almost 11. You’ve been working on your song ever since you came home. Please come down to eat and you can continue after.” His mom tried to convince him, not wanting her own son to starve to death.

Jisung finally placed the guitar down at the defeat of his mom’s words.

“Alright mom. See you downstairs.”

“Wow Jisung, this is really good. And the lyrics are, wow...” Chan complimented the younger man who came to him for feedbacks on his sample.

“Do you really mean it? I mean... you really think this is good?” Jisung widened his eyes as he searched for an answer in Chan’s own.

“Yeah, of course! Jisung, are you like, okay? Because usually you’re always so confident in your works and rarely do you ever come to me or Changbin for revision.”

“Oh yeah, I’m good. I just need it to be perfect because I’m performing this song for my project on Monday and I need it to be A plus.”

Chan nodded.

“I am 100% sure you are going to ace this.”

Monday had came super fast, and when reality hit that you’ll be performing in front of the class again, it railed up your anxiety very bad.

The last few projects or performances you guys had was mostly just instruments based, as the teacher wanted to see how well the students were progressing on their skills. But now you needed to dance or sing and you weren’t so sure how this was going to end.

You weren’t no song writing goddess or instruments playing master, so you were just going to do a quick simple cover of Red Velvet Psycho.

As long as you don’t sound like a dying goat, you’ll do just fine.

You were honestly looking forward to Jisung’s performance as well. Because every time he goes up, he always come up with the most creative or mind blowing performances. Jisung didn’t need talents, talents needed Jisung.

Classes passed by like the wind, probably because most of the time you were in your own world.

The closer it was to your 6th period, the more anxious you were, and you were already very anxious to begin with.

When the time finally came, you walked into the class and sat down at your desk. Jisung still hasn’t arrived yet.

With time to kill, your eyes circled the room and for fun, you tried guessing what some of the students would be doing.

Mhmm, that girl Yoona in the back, you’ve seen a few of her song covers on Youtube, so chances are she’ll be singing.

That guy to the right of you performed in the rally last semester, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he bounced out some steps later on.

Your thoughts were intruded when you heard the door slammed shut, your attention shifted to your teacher who stood tall in front of all of you.

“Good Afternoon class, I hope you’re all doing well, and I hope you all have something prepared today as well,” She smiled.

She then does this thing where she’ll move her eyes from left to right, trying to pick out any students who’s missing.

The desk in front of you, which belongs to Jisung, was still empty.

Jesus, does he really hate you that much that he’ll even risk losing points. You really wanted to make things right today. Or at least try working out whatever is going on between you guys, which you don’t even know what is it.

“Jisung isn’t here yet?” Your teacher asked.

You only shook your head.

“Alright, well then it looks like we’ll have to continue without h--”

Your teacher was interrupted when the door busted opened. Jisung showed up looking like he just woke up, almost out of breath like. You could tell his hair was slightly messier and the shade in his pupils darkened compared to other days. His eye bags were also more prominent.

“--Sorry, I got caught up in things.” Jisung bowed down to your teacher and then to the rest of the class.

“You’re fine. Go take a seat.” She dismissed.

Jisung bowed again before trailing to his desk. Along the way, you guys unintentionally met eyes, followed by Jisung awkwardly breaking the contact by looking at the wall, then taking a seat.

All you could think about at the moment was what did you do to Jisung that he’s going to this extent to avoid you. Did he read your diary when you went to the restroom, and found out about that one experience you wrote when you and your family went to the water park and your stomach hurted badly so you did a little oopsie near the kids section and they never found out it was you--Oh gosh, you couldn’t imagine.

Whatever it was, Jisung must have his reasons, and you really need to stop jumping to conclusions. Everything will be okay as long as you talk to him today.

“Now that everybody’s here, we should get started, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Then your teacher started picking out names one after another. You did genuinely enjoyed their performances, but every time someone finished, you just want to crawl into the corner and hide away from the rest of the world, because pray to the lord you don’t get called on.

Everybody was doing so good so far.

“Please give a big round of applause to Saeron,” your teacher followed after Saeron had finished.

Everyone clapped in awed but it’ll always dimmed whenever your teacher call on the next person.

“Y/n!” She held up the piece of paper in her hand with your name written on it.

“Huh?” you were taken back at the sound of your name.

“It’s your turn, y/n.” Your teacher sternly looked at you.

“Oh--right, right.” You sluggishly got up and made ways to the front.

“Uhm, for today I’ll be covering Psycho by Red Velvet. I hope you’ll all like it.” you awkwardly turned to your teacher to give her the go to put on the instrumental.

Your heart was racing so fast.

It’s okay, you can do it.

You got me feeling like a psycho psycho People keep telling us As we fight like it’s our last but then we get along They don’t get it, it’s so funny

The last piece of lyrics escaped your mouth and you sighed in relief. You bowed to the class after you were finished and was met with applause from all around the room.

“Good job, y/n. You may now take a seat.” Your teacher smiled.

You walked back to your seat, having felt like you did a decent job, at least by the feedbacks.

“Next up, Han Jisung.”

You had completely forgotten about him, and that he was watching your whole performance. Ahhhhh

But on the flip side, you were excited to see what he had prepared.

The room was filled with silence while waiting for him. He finally grabbed his guitar and went up, gulped, then stared at you for a second, but you weren’t able to read his expression.

He had displayed a more tense body language, his eyes barely meeting anyone’s. The Han Jisung you knew had always been so confident and couldn’t wait for his name to be called, while the one that stood in front of you right now looked like every ounce of his soul had left his body.

Oh man, you don’t know how much more surprises he could pull on you. You just had never seen him like this before. Or is it that you never knew him all along. Your thoughts were cut short when Jisung spoke.

“For today... I’'ll be singing a song that I wrote for uh, a special someone. I-I hope that person will like it.” He threw on a nervous smile and right then, his eyes met yours. An innocent, sweet kind of enchanted look that pulled you right in.

“Oooooooooooooooo,” the students giggled and awed.

Was he talking about me? You thought.

No way. He hates me. But why did he look at me? Oh my gosh, is this song about me? Wait--why is he writing a song about me--wait what?! You continued fighting inside your head but not for long before Jisung began playing his melody.

The calming and relaxing tone of the guitar could almost put you to sleep, of course in a good way. The soft and dreamy tune like this was something only Jisung could pull off.

Then he started singing,

“When I first met you, I honestly didn’t think too much

You were like any other person to me, someone to talk to

but slowly, each day, you’ve showed me that you were someone worth loving, worth taking care of, worth falling in love with

Before I knew it, my heart was yours.”

okay excuse those shitty lyrics, I just made it up

Every words that he said, you could see and felt that he really meant it. He wasn’t just spitting out lyrics for the sake of this project. He was speaking from his heart and mind. As if he was trying to reach out to someone. He wrote those lyrics specifically for a certain someone.

Was it for you? Was it for the girl at the back of you?

You had no idea, but you were still secretly wishing it was for you.

The whole class’s attention and yours were glued onto him, not missing a bit of his performance. Han Jisung really got everyone whipped.

When he finished up on the last part of the song, the class exploded in applause. It was the loudest group of claps anyone has gotten so far. You were also slapping your hands together like a crazy seal.

He may not be acting like himself and is coming off a bit odd right now, but for sure, the boy’s talents is something that would never change.

The rest of the period concluded with other students showcasing what they had prepared. Not everyone got a chance as class was a bit too short, but your teacher reassured the ones who didn’t get to go up today, will be called up tomorrow. Sucks to be them.

You were knocked out for a second before remembering that you were going to ask Jisung today, whether he wants to answer or not. Jisung was still fixated on his backpack, digging and shoving through it, so you waited unsuspiciously.

He stopped the ruckus when he pulled out a piece of white paper with some words on it. You can’t read it but you can only make out the squiggly black lines. It seems that was exactly what he was looking for, so after that, he threw his backpack on.

Panicked, afraid he might leave before you can catch him, you stepped out of your seat to confront him, only for him to turn around, causing you guys to face each other instead.

“I need you talk to you,” You both said at the same time.

“What?” Both of you guys tilted your head in sync again.

“You first,” you gave him the go.

“No, you first,” He declined.

“Fine--I just--wait.” You inspected the surroundings. You guys were still in class and this was not a good setting because anyone can just walk in any moment.

“I think it’s better if we talk somewhere else.” you continued.

You guys stopped at the school garden, and when you made sure that absolutely no one was around, you proceeded.

“I just want to know what’s been going on lately. You’ve been ignoring and avoiding me. Did I do something wrong that had upset you? I would like to know, Jisung. Just completely ghosting me like this hurts.”

You promised yourself you weren’t going to get emotional about this.

“I know I’m a jerk, Y/n. I know. And I’m sorry about that. I just, I just... don’t know how to express my feelings to you, y/n. I’m confused, I’m lost, I’m scared, I don’t know... but I’m also in love...” He said the last part quietly, but you could still hear it.

“In love? With someone else? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“No no.” Jisung shook his head, getting more frustrated by the moment.

“And that song you sung in class, was--was that for someone?” you timidly asked. You have a theory it might be for you, but you do not want to say it, afraid you’re going to come out looking like a fool if he meant it for someone else.

“Yeah it was...”

“Jisung, if you have feelings for someone, you don’t have to hide it from me, I’m fine with it. If you like them, go for it. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, like you couldn’t be open about your relationships or feelings.”

“No no, y/n. You don’t get it,” Jisung exhaled.

“What do you mean? What am I not getting?”

“I didn’t write that song for someone else, or anyone else. I wrote it for you. You, y/n. I wrote those lyrics for you.”

You could hear the disappointment in his tone and his head hanging in defeat.

“Oh...” was all you could say. Not because you didn’t like him. No. You like him. A lot. Oh was the only thing you could let out because reality was getting a little hard to accept, knowing Han Jisung likes you, and wrote a song for you.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay if you do not feel the same way. I really only wrote it because I didn’t know any other way to let my feelings out, and music was what I’m best at. I did felt a little better after writing the lyrics, and after performing, knowing you were listening to it. Here, take this.”

He stretched his arm out to hand you something. It was the piece of paper he was holding earlier. It had the lyrics he had written for you on it.

“It’s okay to not feel the same way. But I hope you accept this. I might feel a little bit better if you do.”

You extended your arm to take the white sheet of paper, still speechless.

“I’ll get going now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave you a small smile combined with a bow and almost walked away from your sight.

“Wait Jisung!” You stopped him in his track.

“I--I, I feel the same way too, Jisung. I like you too. And I have for a while now.”

Jisung could’ve swore he heard that wrong, but he almost dropped his backpack at what you said.

He switched back to you, his face was planted with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from anyone.

“R-really? Y-you like me too?” He asked again for confirmation.

You nodded.

The next moment happened so fast, and before you can process anything, you were already in Jisung’s warmth. Your chin on his shoulder and his arms wrapping around you.

“I’m so happy! Really happy, Y/n! You don’t know how happy I am!”

uwu He was too adorable.

With your hands on his chest, you pushed a little bit to create a distance.

“Wait, then why were you avoiding me?” you frowned as you gazed at his face for answers.

“Because I don’t know. I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. I didn’t want to hurt my friendship with you. That day at the cafe I was planning on confessing but I got so nervous, I dipped. I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m a coward. But I promise from this day on, I will tell you everything. I won’t ever do it again. I-I really like you. Give me a chance.”

He pouted and trapped you in his hug.

“Alright alright. I forgive you.”

He finally lets go of you, but his idiocy smile still not leaving his face.

“What?”

“I don’t know. You’re just cute.”

“Pfft.”

You cheeks grew red from his remarks. Oh god, this feels so weird.

“Come on, let’s go.” He suddenly grabbed your hand, perfectly aligning it with his.

“Go where?”

“To introduce my new girlfriend to my friends.”

He ran at full speed, dragging you as you were struggling to catch up.

The End :)

#stray kids jisung #han jisung scenarios #han jisung fluff #han jisung fluff scenarios #jisung #han jisung romance scenarios #han jisung romance #stray kids jisung scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids romance #stay kids imagines #han jisung imagines #skz han fluff #skz han romance #skz jisung #kpop scenarios #kpop romance #kpop fluff

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violinsweetiemiss · 4 years

Text

Coffee Princess (Shownu X reader oneshot)

The tall sparkling glass building shines in the late afternoon sun where it sits in the midst of the bustling city that is Seoul. Outside, people walk up and down the sidewalk going about their daily lives, cars rushing past in the usual city traffic on the street next to them. In the midst of this rush of movement, a slender figure slips out the glass doors of a little coffee shop down the street from the tall glass building, a box of baked sweets in one hand and a carrier packed with coffee cups in the other.

“I’ll be right back!” You call over your shoulder at the other baristas, who only wave back cheerfully.

“Take your time!” They call, well aware of where you were going. You grin and tuck the furry hood of your coat around your head before hurrying down the street towards your destination. The chilly winter wind blows at your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but you still find yourself smiling, excited about seeing the person you were about to see. The guards in the lobby of the building wave you in, already used to seeing you appear periodically with snacks and coffee in tow. You quickly duck into one of the elevators waiting on the ground floor, tapping your feet lightly against the linoleum floor to warm up from your short trip outside. The elevator opens on the chosen floor with a light ding, and you hurry on to your destination. You walk to another pair of glass doors, identified by the bronze plaque set into the wall next to it.

Seoul Police, Violent Crimes Division.

A young man with a cheerful smile opens the door for you as you arrive, seeming to have been waiting for you.

“Noona!” He exclaims, a bright smile on his face. You find yourself smiling in response to the boy’s cheerful grin.

“Minhyuk-ah.” You say, “You’ve been waiting for me?” Minhyuk grins and nods eagerly.

“The entire division has been waiting for you!” He beams, “Your snacks are always the best after a long day of work.” He yelps as a hand hits him lightly on the head from behind.

“Yah, don’t make it sound like she’s only good for her snacks.” Jooheon chides, “That’s rude.” Minhyuk pouts and rubs the back of his head ruefully.

“Noona knows that’s not what I meant!” He grumbles. You laugh and hold out the box of baked goods you had brought.

“Here, this must be what you’re waiting for.” You say. Minhyuk’s eyes light up and he takes the box from your hands.

“Thank you noona!” He chirps and dashes off with the treats.

“Everyone!” You hear him call, “Noona brought us some treats!” Jooheon shakes his head and holds the door open for you as you walk into the large spacious office set aside for the division.

“You spoil him too much Noona.” He says. You laugh and shake your head.

“It’s nothing.” You respond, “I know you have all worked hard today. It’s just a small treat.” Ever since a year ago, every time the Violent Crimes Division returned from carrying out a mission, you would receive a call from a particular member of the division, and you would pack up some of the officers’ favorite baked goods and walk down the street to the tall imposing glass building. Given that you were the owner of the coffee shop, giving sweets for free to the hardworking officers of the Violent Crimes Division wasn’t really an issue.

You cast your gaze slowly around the bustling office space, looking for that one person in particular. However, he was nowhere to be found among the bustling police officers. You hear Jooheon chuckle softly behind you.

“Shownu hyung is in his office.” He says, pointing up the short flight of stairs to where a separate office sat, it’s blinds drawn. You grin and nod your thanks to Jooheon, your heart skipping a beat in excitement as you pick up one cup of coffee in particular from the carrier and hand the rest to Jooheon. You walk up the short flight of stairs and knock on the door softly, but hear no response. You turn to look at Jooheon quizzically, who shrugs and motions for you to go in. You hesitate for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside the pristine office. The office consisted of a large mahogany desk covered in folders and files next to a flat screen computer, each containing important information about each crime the division dealt with. A little bookshelf sat behind the desk, various trophies laid in a careful line on top. Sofas sat in a little rectangular shape on the left side of the room, lit up slightly by the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Your gaze travels around the room before landing on a tall figure sprawled out on one of the sofas

There he is.

You walk softly over to the desk and put down the drink in your hand before tiptoeing over to the sofa where the figure lay. A little smile turns up the corner of your lips as you look down at the sofa.

Son Hyunwoo, also known to his division as Shownu, was the head of the Violent Crimes Division, the youngest to ever take that position after a series of impressive achievements early on in his career. After rising to the leadership position, he had cracked down on the darkest corners of Seoul’s busy streets, greatly decreasing the crime rate and earning the praise of many.

Said accomplished man was also your boyfriend.

It had all started a little over a year ago, when you had first opened your little coffee shop down the street from the police department building. It had been a dream of yours to run your own coffee shop for a while, and you had finally found a place with the right layout and rent to fulfill it. Plus, with the police station nearby, there was a guaranteed stream of customers. Everything had gone more or less smoothly for a few months after opening, until one day you were outside taking a shipment of coffee beans when you found yourself in the middle of a standoff between a runaway criminal and the Violent Crimes Division. The criminal had been in the middle of transport from where he had been apprehended to headquarters when he had somehow managed to escape the car he was in and took off down the street.

And luckily for you, you were right in the middle of his path.

In seconds, the criminal had grabbed you and taken you hostage, holding a glinting silver knife to your neck as police officers surrounded you from both sides.

“Put down your weapons!” He had snarled, “Or else this woman will die!” You froze in place as the knife came dangerously close to your neck, your heart pounding in terror. The police drew their guns, but stood in place, uncertain of what to do. Then, a voice spoke.

“Taking a hostage? What an underhanded tactic.” Son Hyunwoo appeared from behind the group of police officers, his gaze calm and cool. Despite the situation you were in, you had felt your heart skip a beat, completely taken in by the young officer. Before the criminal could say anything else, Shownu had drawn a gun from his side and shot the criminal directly in the foot, right in the small part that your body was not shielding. As the man behind you stumbled, Shownu reached out and pulled you away from the criminal in one swift motion, kicking the man in the stomach and sending him tumbling to the sidewalk as he did so. In seconds, you found yourself in a pair of strong muscular arms, safely away from the chaos that ensued as the runaway criminal was surrounded and handcuffed again. Shownu’s touch was warm and comforting despite what had just happened, his voice calm and gentle as he helped you stand up.

“Are you alright?” He had asked. You nod and smile.

“Thank you for helping me.” You had responded.

“It’s what I should do.” He had replied gently. He was then called away by another police officer, but that was not the last you saw of the handsome young man. Before long, he seemed to realize you were the owner of the new coffee shop down the street from his workplace, and soon you began seeing him enter through the glass doors of your little shop every morning for an order of iced americano. It had started out with small little conversations while you made his coffee, how you were feeling after being held hostage briefly by a runaway criminal, little questions about how his work was going, how business was going for your shop.For his strength and unflinching bravery during work, Shownu was a surprisingly gentle and shy man outside of it, particularly when it came to talking with a woman.

But that duality was precisely one of the many things that made you feel increasingly attracted to him the more you saw him.

Shownu was soon a regular at your coffee shop, so regular that your employees began telling you when he arrived if you weren’t already at the front counter. He would smile warmly upon seeing you, and you would grin and turn to make coffee for him without needing him to open his mouth, sometimes adding a baked good with it as a treat. Within a few months, he was shyly asking you if you wanted to see a movie with him, his hands uncharacteristically clasped together nervously as he fumbled for the right words. Your cheeks had flushed hot at the invitation, knowing very well what it meant, but you had happily accepted. One movie date turned into another, followed by a first dinner together and many meals afterwards. The two of you went on walks through the nearby park together, chatting casually about anything that came to mind. You weren’t sure why, but you felt comfortable around this man, as if you could talk with him forever. He made you feel safe, and never pushed for more than what you felt comfortable with.

One thing was sure, however: slowly, but surely, Son Hyunwoo had found a place in your heart.

And so, when he had driven you home one day after having dinner together, took out a necklace he had bought at the nearby jewelry store and asked you to be his official girlfriend, you knew there was no other answer in your heart besides ‘yes.’

A full year had passed since then, and your relationship with Shownu had only grown stronger with every passing day.

You smile as you draw yourself out of the memories of the past year, and kneel down to look at the young man that had captured your heart. The young policeman was sprawled on the sofa fast asleep, one arm slung over his head. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black jeans, the top two buttons undone, revealing just a little of the well sculpted body underneath the white material. A black vest and a pair of black gloves lay where they had been tossed over the arm of the other sofa, likely where it had stayed since Shownu had thrown it there before he fell asleep. His lips were parted ever so slightly as he breathed steadily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he slept. A warm smile turns up the corner of your lips as you cup your face in one hand and trail one finger lightly over his handsome features.

“What did I do to deserve a boyfriend like this?” You muse softly to yourself, your heart fluttering just looking at Son Hyunwoo. A moment later, long fingers suddenly latch onto your wrist, and you squeak in surprise as you are yanked off your feet and onto the sofa, landing neatly on top of the figure that had surely been sleeping just a moment ago.

“You saved the world and back.” A familiar voice murmurs drowsily, sounding tired yet amused at the same time. You blink in surprise as Shownu’s eyes open slowly, his warm gaze meeting yours. Your face flushes hot as you realize you were caught staring and marveling over your boyfriend’s looks.

“I-I thought you were sleeping!” You stammer, turning your head away slightly. A soft chuckle reverberates in Shownu’s chest against your cheek.

“Silly girl.” He teases, “I was awake the moment you stepped into the room.” Your heart beats fast in your chest, your face flushing in embarrassment as you realize he’s right; he was the head of the police division dealing with some of the worst crimes in the city after all. Of course he wouldn’t be caught unaware, even while he had been sleeping.

“You should have said something!” You protest, giving him a half hearted smack on the chest. He laughs again, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other tilting your head back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you to him and gives you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I wanted to hear what praises you had for your perfect boyfriend.” He murmurs against your lips. You squeak in embarrassment and open your lips to protest but he cuts you off with another kiss, deeper and firmer this time. Blood roars in your ears as all protests fall away in the fog that comes over your brain. You hear Shownu laugh softly as he pulls away.

“Your face is as red as a tomato.” He teases, long slender fingers pinching your cheek playfully. You splutter and search for the right words to protest, but fail spectacularly in the midst of the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. In the end, you bury your face in his chest with a squeak.

“Oppa, you’re awful!” You protest with a light kick of your feet. Shownu had been a shy puppy when they had been getting to know each other, but there was an entirely different side to him that came out once they started dating. He laughs again, the sound music to your ears.

“Ah, I feel so refreshed now.” He teases, “I’ve been waiting to see my little energizer all day!”

“Is this how you’re supposed to treat a girlfriend you’ve wanted to see all day?” You grumble, your voice muffled from your current position. Shownu chuckles and ruffles your hair gently before kissing each of your fingers lightly, his other hand warm on your back.

“Is that better?” He asks, “I really did miss you, my princess.”

“Mm.” You mumble, your heart finally slowing down to a normal rate. Somehow, Shownu knew just which buttons to push to make you flustered, and which buttons to press to make you fall ever deeper in love with him. The two of you lie there on the sofa for a few minutes before Shownu turns his head towards the desk.

“I smell coffee.” He says, “Handmade by my princess.” You grin and nod.

“A hot chocolate mocha, perfect on a cold day for my hardworking Hyunwoo oppa.” You reply. He grins and carefully slips you off him before rising from the sofa and walking to the desk. You watch as he walks back with the drink and takes a sip.

“How is it?” You ask. Shownu grins.

“As sweet as my princess.” He replies. You blush again at the compliment, then giggle as you look up at Shownu.

“What?” He asks, confused. You giggle and point at his face.

“You have cream on your face.” You reply. Shownu pokes at his lips in confusion, and you laugh as you watch him struggle for a few moments before reaching up and planting a little kiss on the corner of his lip, licking away the remaining cream at the same time.

“Right here.” You reply. Shownu freezes for a moment, startled by your sudden movement. Then, he groans and covers his face with one hand, a deep sigh escaping his lips followed by a dry laugh. You tilt your head curiously, wondering what was so funny. Shownu sighs.

“I was planning on finishing these two reports on the criminals our team caught today,” He says,“But at this rate I’m not going to get a single word typed up on my computer.”

“Why not?” You ask curiously. Shownu chuckles and puts down his drink before wrapping one arm around your shoulders and planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t possibly get any work done while you’re here.” He replies, “I just want to sit here and hold you in my arms.” You blush and give him a light push.

“In that case I will head back down to the coffee shop.” You respond, even though you didn’t want to leave quite so soon, “I have delivered my snacks already, and you have work to do.” Shownu’s grip tightens as you try to stand up and you can’t help but smile in amusement as he pouts.

“Do you have to go?” He asks. You laugh softly and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“My shop will be open until you’re finished with work for today.” You reply, “How does that sound?” Shownu’s eyes light up at your suggestion, and he lets go of you reluctantly.

“Alright.” He grumbles, “I’ll finish work quickly and come to find you.” You rise to your feet and head for the door, but the moment you turn the knob, the door is pushed shut again by a large hand. You turn and see Shownu standing behind you, one arm outstretched, his palm pressed firmly against the door that he had just shoved shut.

“Oppa?” You ask, puzzled, “Did you forget something?” Shownu doesn’t say anything for a long moment, a contemplative look on his face. Then, he turns you around and pulls you into his warm embrace, your head tucked against his shoulder.

“Just give me three seconds.” He murmurs as you squirm at the sudden hug. One finger taps lightly against your back, counting the seconds as promised. After three seconds, Shownu sighs and lets you go, one hand patting you gently on the head.

“Wait for me.” He said, “We’ll eat dinner together.” You nod and give him a light peck on the cheek before turning to open the door again. You hear him sigh and within seconds the door was slammed shut again. Shownu’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Perhaps...another ten minutes of energizing wouldn’t hurt?” He suggested. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head slightly at the yearning look on his face.

“What about your reports?” You ask. Shownu chuckles and tilts your head up with one long finger.

“It can wait for a little energizing.” He replies. He captures your lips with his, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Son Hyunwoo, I love you.

#monsta x shownu #Monsta X #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #shownu #shownu scenarios #monsta x shownu scenario #kpop #kpop scenario #monsta x au #monsta x scenarios #monsta x scenario #shownu scenario #monsta x x reader #oneshot #kpop oneshot #monsta x oneshot #son hyunwoo #son hyunwoo fanfiction

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ajoy3fanfics · 4 years

Text

PTSD and other reasons to stay awake

Kagome was not a girl who was used to sleeping problems.

In the past, she was the one who slept late, couldnt be bothered to wake with the rising sun and begged for more time. She could find slumber whether on the cold dirt ground or perched high on a tree against Inuyashas back. But when she laid in her plush bed, pillows surrounding her, linen clean and comfortable, she found herself wide awake, and she hated it. Kagome took to counting the ceiling tiles, listing off the periodic table of elements, naming the cities if Japan by alphabetical order. If she was still, if she had more than a moment, she would think. And when she thought, she spiraled.

It was so much easier to disassociate in the moment; easy, in fact, to shoot arrows at a beast thrice her size, watch the man she loved rake his claws through another’s flesh, the red stains trickling down his hands as he flicked his wrist, ridding himself of the blood. They were enemies, literal demons in fact, and it was kill or be killed, and Inuyasha would not go down without a fight.

It was war.

But once Naraku was gone, and the great evil was defeated, she was left with nothing to do but process. The chunk of years she was removed from society, absent from the lives of those around her was one aspect she struggled with. Doing her best to catch up, trying to mend together bits of information and not feel affronted at the depth of relationships around her was something that left her silently sobbing into her pillow at most nights. Sota had kissed his first girl, grandpas sister- her sweet, old aunt- had passed, and she was probably the only remaining virgin in her age bracket it seemed.

Kagome was well aware she had PTSD. She was a smart girl, and she could recognize the symptoms; but knowing her demon didn’t make it any easier to face. It wasn’t as if she could speak to a therapist- or anyone for that matter. The moment she opened her mouth and began to weave a tale of time travel and power hungry demons would be the precise moment she was committed and medicated. Even her own family, privy to some of her more unsavory adventures, had difficulty relating to her trauma. They didn’t understand the fear that crept up her spine when the wind blew at night, her mind still racing and on high alert, even after years of sleeping in her own bed. They had never known the bone weary exhaustion, the tireless whispers of the villagers, the panic she felt daily as they raced the clock to destroy another being. And yes, during those years she smiled, during those times she still found it in her to laugh and forgive and even fall in love. But when it was over, and she was left alone, in a world so far apart from the one she fought for, peace did not come so easily for her.

She wondered if her friends faced the same troubles, if they laid awake at night, trying to tally the number of foes fallen between them. And while she would not have changed it, would stand beside them all and slaughter each one again, the weight of their actions, even when justified, took a toll on her. Kagome had to remind herself that the opponents they faced were often too far gone with power lust and rage to be left alone. They were dangerous demons, wild and seeking out trouble.

But then her mind would race to Inuyasha, and the times that he struggled to control his fury, eyes bleeding red, skin marked with bright purple stripes, a clear signal from nature to back off if she had ever seen one. Yet during those times, she could bring him back, lure him away from the edge and return to the man she loved. Could that have been true for all of them? Maybe just some? Did they have families? Lovers waiting for their safe return? Or were they rouge agents, solely under the control of the spider demon?

It was thoughts like those that kept her awake, kept her mind reeling. No one understood, no one could relate even in the slightest, so she did her best to smile, and not let it crack. If she lied very still, her mother would think her asleep. If she laughed when her friends did, they would be none the wiser. If she helped grandpa with his duties she could stay busy, keep her mind and hands occupied, nodding along with his stories and theories when he paused in conversation for her response. She became rather good at that, picking up on small signals and facial cues, without knowing any of the substance of the conversation. It was empty and hollow, damaged and broken, but she could manage it. She had no other choice. And when the night terrors started, the endless dreams of her friends being torn limbs from limb, Inuyashas body painted red, she would wake up screaming. Some nights, her mother would hold her, cradling her head as she rocked her slowly back and forth. Other nights, she’d wake up drenched in sweat, hands flying behind her, ready to draw an arrow and shoot down the demons in her dreams. Some nights she would simply cry, hugging her pillow, praying her friends were safe; others she would go out and train, releasing her arrows at targets in the woods, the familiar cover of night giving her some comfort. It had been like this before, and that alone was its own sort of comfort. If her family was worried, they didn’t bring it up. Kagome didn’t know whether or not to be grateful.

When she finally climbed through the well, relief seeped through her bones to see the familiar sight of her hanyou, the only red he wore was that of his fire rat. He wasn’t hurt or maimed as she had seen him so many times in her dreams, and she felt a piece click inside her. It was a longing to be here again, to be with him, and she was certain that things would get better. They did not talk about the trauma, did not endulge in the pain that was a constant loop in kagomes mind as she hoped and feared they would. Whatever healing they needed, they had worked through years ago, happy to have avenged their families and found peace with their own. Despite that, being back in the feudal era was its own brand of healing, it’s own slow burning cleanse, to be back in the land she fought for, with the people she fought with. And for a while, it was enough. She wouldn’t burden those around her and bring up the past. Her friends constant vision for the future was pushing her along. And for a while, nothing seemed wrong.

You can only fool a hanyou for so long. After a while, he began to question her. Why wouldn’t she sleep? Did she regret coming back? Coming to him? When kagome struggled to voice it, to tell him that no, she was happier than she had been in years, but she was still sorting through her trauma he grew impatient and left. It was hard to admit and rather embarrassing to admit she was so screwed up all these years later, when no one else was. She hasn’t lost her entire village like Sango, it had her brother manipulated. Her family wasn’t cursed as Miroku’s had been, and Naraku had not taken the life of the one she loved like Inuyasha. She had lost the least but somehow reacted the worst.

He came back to their small hut later that night, knowing she would be awake. He sat by their futon beside her, unsure if he should climb in, afraid of her answer. Pure instinct drove kagome to spring into his arm, burying her nose into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, over and over again, and she tried to explain the numb existence she had been living for the last 3 years.

Kagome felt selfish explaining it, the words tumbling from her lips in broken pieces, and every statement was punctuated with an apology. She didn’t want to be this broken, didn’t want to return to him so damaged. He had managed to let it go, and he had lost so much.

“Let it go?” He echoed, brows drawn together in confusion. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her in close, as if she would disappear any moment. Tucked in, he told her of his sleepless nights during their journey, not only for protection of their group, but also to combat the nightmares. If they were doing the right thing, why did each death weigh so heavily on him? If their course of action was for the good of everyone, why couldn’t he get the blood off his hands, even after he scrubbed them clean? He knew he would do it all again, but it did not seem to lessen the weight on his shoulders. He was often lost in thought, down his own rabbit hole of agnst and depression, a self loathing to intense he had trouble climbing out from it. But she had always been there, hands outstretched, ready to pull him out. And when she was gone, taken 500 years into the future, he found himself back down that hole again. Yes, there were friends eager to dig him out, but he only ever touched the surface. And for their sake, he tried. To smile, to laugh, to wear the mask kagome spoke about.

She understood. Having someone share in her feelings, understand without having to explain, vocalize the pain she had denied for so many years left her dizzy. She couldn’t have loved him more if she tried.

Kagome blessed him for being the soul that he was, for carrying the weight for so long; she knew the feeling all too well. They weren’t alone any longer. They could share the burden. She kissed him then, slow and tender, wet with tears as they slid down her cheeks, her hands fisted in his hair. Maybe they would not be able to sleep, but now they had each other, and the nights would not be so lonely.

#inuukag #inufanfic #inuyasha oneshot #inuyasha and kagome #inuyasha #kagome

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thehobbycollector · 4 years

Text

The Seer and The Wolf - Ch. 2

50 years later

Kestra Nightshade strolled through the towering trees that covered the western foothills of the Cambrian Mountains, munching on an apple. Morning sunlight trickled through the canopy, sparkling over leaves, making her feel like she was walking through a jewelry box. She had forgotten how ridiculously beautiful the land surrounding Doranelle was. Or she had never noticed. It was hard, she supposed, to appreciate beauty when you’d never known anything else. Technically she wasn’t even in Doranelle, but the magic of the Fae kingdom leaked across the mountains here, like ink into water, enhancing everything it touched.

She kept her ears and her magic alert for any danger as she made her way parallel with the mountain range. She had never been to this part of Doranelle, but she remembered Narenes’ stories of the terrors that lived in these woods: wights, and skin walkers, and worse things. She’d grown up in the south-east of Doranelle, on a country estate where the only monsters they had to worry about were rogue Fae or raiders who didn’t understand that Fae females were just as deadly as the males. Narenes’ land had been bordered on the west by a sprawling vineyard, owned by another of Doranelles noble families, on the south by her parents’ land, and on the east by a river. That river marked the eastern border of Doranelle. And had nearly drowned Kestra when she had fled 65 years ago. She’d been a strong swimmer, even then, but the current had pulled her south for miles.

Kestra chucked her finished apple into the underbrush, noting a trail on her left side. She veered away from it slightly and continued her stroll, carefully casual. She was nearing one of the many fortresses Maeve kept in these mountains, and she didn’t know what the sentries patrols looked like, how far they ranged. She had been on the northern coast three weeks ago, debating taking a ship to Erilea, when she’d had a vision of a pretty blonde girl surrounded by demi-Fae, and had felt a tug under her ribs. A sign of her magic pointing her in a specific direction. She did not want to be this close to Doranelle, but her gift hadn’t steered her wrong yet.

She barely remembered her parents, or their home. Her father had died in one of Maeves’ wars when she was three, and her mother had followed her mate into the Afterworld three years later. The ancient and noble Family Nightshade had never been very prolific in bearing offspring, so Kestra had no siblings or cousins to take her in. Narene and Kestras mother, Avenna, had been friends for centuries, working together to defend their lands when their mates were off at war. Even though Narene already had two sons, both 18 years older than Kestra, she had taken her in and raised her as her own, absorbing the Nightshade lands and funds, to be held until Kestra reached her majority. That was the only home she had any memories of: running wild through the countryside, doing her best to keep up with her adopted brothers. Probably annoying the shit out of them every time she used her gift to find them whenever they tried to hide from her.

She smiled slightly at the memories as she topped a rise and stopped to study the fortress before her. It rose up out of the trees, hugging the spine of the mountain slope, three watchtowers of dark stone encircled by a ring of towering rocks and held together by a large connecting building covered in moss and lichen. It looked like one good kick would send it crumbling to the ground. Kestra could practically hear the magical wards humming between those rocks, setting the hair on her back on end. It’d been so long since she’d been anywhere with that kind of warding. She noted males and females in light leather armor patrolling each of the towers, as she started toward the gate.

***

As Kestra entered the large courtyard beyond the wall, a hooded sentry with his sword strapped across his back stepped out of a door and walked up to her. She stopped and let him come to her, watching how he moved, noting every detail in case this went horribly wrong. Being this close to Doranelle was such a bad idea. When he reached her he pulled back his hood and studied her for a moment, also noting every detail: the sword on her back, the pack over it, the various daggers under her ragged cloak, and the dirt, mud, and stains on her leather pants and jacket. Her blue leather pants. His eyes lingered on her legs, noting that color, before he met her gaze.

“Welcome to Mistward. I’m Malakai.”

“Keina,” Kestra offered.

“Well met, Keina,” he said. “What can we do for you?”

“I was hoping I could stay for a while, if there’s a room available,” she glanced around the courtyard, at the figures going about their daily chores.

“I think we can probably find something for you.” He noticed her glance and added, “Everyone here works for their room and board.”

Kestra nodded at the subtle inquiry in his voice. “I trained with the Vareshi Warrior Priestesses for 15 years, and have walked off about a dozen battlefields. But I’ll take any work you give me.”

Malakai nodded and turned back toward the fortress. “Come with me.”

He led her past the door he had come out of and around a corner to another door at ground level. The top half of it was open, providing a view of a large kitchen filled with work tables and shelves crammed with chipped serving and cookware. Another male was busy layering ingredients into a pan, and chatting with someone she couldn’t see through the open door. He looked up as they entered.

Malakai gestured to her, “This is Keina. Keina this is Emrys, my mate.” Kestra nodded her greeting and acknowledgement of the warning in Malakais voice. He turned to Emrys. “Keina needs a room.”

“I’ll see she gets one,” Emrys responded with a smile for Kestra, and a softer one for Malakai. The sentry stepped closer to his mate and kissed him softly.

“I’m on patrol this afternoon, I’ll be back for dinner.” He turned to Kestra as he headed back out the door. “You’ll be on rotation starting tomorrow. Second shift until you’re familiar with the area. Training ring is on the other side of the fortress, be there at seven.”

“Thanks,” she said to his back as he disappeared.

“Hungry?” Emrys asked. She turned to look at him, and he gestured to a work table covered in platters of food. “Help yourself. We’re between breakfast and lunch, eat as much as you want.”

“Thanks,” Kestra repeated. She grabbed a plate and loaded it down with potatoes, eggs, bread, tomatoes, and a pile of bacon. Emrys waved his hand toward a table on the side of the kitchen that she hadn’t noticed before, where a pretty blonde was sitting holding a cup of tea. The girl from her vision. Her long hair fell past her shoulders, pinned at the sides to keep it out of her face. Her skin was tan from time spent in the sun. Kestra smiled at her as she slid onto the bench across the table, noting her eyes: turquoise, ringed with gold. “Hi, I’m Keina.”

“I’m Evalin,” she smiled back. She took a drink of her tea, allowing Kestra time to dig into her food. Here was another thing she had forgotten: the utter deliciousness of food prepared by the Fae. Her tongue could taste every layer of flavor and spice that had been lovingly blended into everything, even as she covertly studied the girl across from her. She was wearing a tunic and pants, well made of high quality fabric, with subtle details stitched at the cuffs and collars. The pins holding her hair up would have cost a small fortune, but she wore them casually. Kestra noted her rounded ears, but her scent… not entirely human. The girl, Evalin, seemed to be studying her too. Eventually, Evalin spoke.

“What brings you to Mistward?”

Kestra shrugged as she paused her eating to drink from her own tea. “Nothing, really. I’m a bit of a wanderer.”

From the other side of the kitchen Emrys asked, “Where all have you been?”

Kestra took another bite of bacon and thought it over. The information was probably harmless. “Varesh, Akkadia, Ishmalen, Karstok, Amarna…” she mixed up the order, just in case. “And all the little places in between.”

Evalins brows rose slightly at the list of kingdoms that were spread across most of their world, and Emrys let out a soft whistle. “That’s quite a bit of travel to do on your own,” he said. She noted the question implied in the comment.

“I trained with the Vareshi Warrior Priestesses for 15 years, “she repeated what she had told Malakai. “I can handle myself.”

Evalin sighed across the table. “I wanted to be a Vareshi Warrior Priestess when I was a kid. Do they really walk around the Vareshi temple wearing only their weapons?”

Kestra heard Emrys choke as she snorted her tea, and grabbed a napkin to wipe off her face before answering. “No,” she laughed. “Though their style of dress could be considered scandalous in most areas of the world. Blue leather leggings under a black skirt split up both legs to allow for easier movement in battle, and either a short shirt showing the midriff or just a breast band,” she explained.

“No armor?” Evalin asked.

Kestra shook her head. “According to temple code, armor is only for acolytes or the untrained. The theory is that true warriors are so skilled they don’t need armor, and every wound acquired is a lesson in where you let your guard down. I always thought it was kind of stupid, especially since most of the priestesses are human…” she trailed off and shrugged again. She had never really understood that rule. Not when armor would have provided them a better advantage in battle. But she had to admit, their training went a long way toward keeping the priestesses alive. There was a reason they were famous across the world.

She looked at Evalin again, “why didn’t you go train with them, if you wanted to be one?”

The girl sighed. “According to my father, princesses aren’t warriors.” Kestra cocked a brow at the word princess, and Evalin added, “My family rules Wendlyn.”

Both of Kestras brows rose at that. Her magic had sent her to meet an Ashryvver? This definitely was a bad idea. The Ashryvvers were related to Maeve through one of her sister-queens. She couldn’t remember which one. “What are you doing at Mistward?”

Evalin fiddled with her tea cup, glancing at Emrys. “My brother is the Crown Prince, so while I’m a princess of the realm, I don’t really have any… responsibilities at home. I came to Mistward to learn more about the demi-Fae, since I technically am one.” She sat forward and crossed her arms on the table in front of her. “Did you know that Maeve doesn’t allow them into Doranelle?”

There was an ever so slight tinge of disgust in Evalins voice when she mentioned Maeves name, that made Kestra sit up straighter. She shook her head at the question. She couldn’t remember having ever met a demi-Fae when she had lived in Doranelle, though she knew they existed. Mostly in places like the City of Rivers, Doranelles capitol. Humans were allowed into the cities for trade, but they were rarely seen in the countryside where she had grown up.

“Only purebred Fae are allowed to live in Doranelle,” Evalin went on, warming to a topic she had clearly discussed many times. “The demi-Fae are relegated to places like this, on the border between Doranelle and Wendlyn. She lets a few special demi-Fae into her kingdom, if they’re powerful enough, but that’s it. I may have initially come to learn about my heritage, but I decided to stay for a while to help them.”

Kestra tried not to gape at the girl. “You’re… in contact with Maeve?”

Evalin grimaced. “I’ve sent her a few letters. She’s only written back once. She won’t deign to leave her palace in the City of Rivers. Not even for me.” She shifted in her seat. “She’s being remarkably unhelpful, even for her. So, I’ve started lobbying with my family to increase the demi-Faes rights in Wendlyn. The Fae might belong to her, but technically they live in Wendlyn. And should have the same rights as the other citizens.”

Kestra stared at the princess. She didn’t know what to say. This was… What the hell was she doing here? She glanced side-long at Emrys, diligently working on another dish and pointedly trying to look like he wasn’t listening to this conversation. Her gift had brought her into contact with a Wendlynian princess, who was related to Maeve, and… clearly didn’t like her. Kestra looked back at Evalin and asked, casually, “Want some help?”

#fanfic #fenrys #throne of glass #sjm fandom #feedback

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ravenwings-noyreallyback · 5 years

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Emotions and socialist theory

This is long as fuck but I think it's important and it's broken up by topic. Tldr stop telling people they need to read a book, stop shitting on potential allies, and start asking them what they're thinking about, what worries them, and appeal to those feelings with emotionally honest radical wholesomeness of your own.

---

I want to do something in the local person to person community that gets to people. Something to get people interested and invested in small ways that can grow legs and develop something good, and isn't bogged down in Party Politics.

People know the world's bad. They know capitalism sucks. They don't need a book or a working theory. They need hope and action.

The situation

People are feeling shock, panic, depression about the news in general. Nothing can be done etc.

People feel a sense of being a burden on others when they express that. People want to tip toe around things so as not to freak everyone out. To avoid the morbid grief and anger and fear. They still have it but nobody wants to talk about it in a personal way.

People have a need to express that fear but not in a therapy kinda way, or rather the therapy way would make it very very difficult to maintain and do appropriately for even skilled activists. Folks talk about not pouring from an empty cup? This is like trying to fill a bathtub with a cup and the tub isn't plugged.

Marx wrote a lot about alienation from daily life, not just economic job alienation. Similar to today?

People like radical compassionate sensitivity. There's a need for that.

People don't want a fuckin art installation theatre play or a communist party paper article thing they won't read. If you're reading this it's a fucking miracle. Nobody wants "here's the economic theory about why you're sad and what to do about it maybe it'll work if literally everyone does it" tbh. They engage in memes, in self destructive self care, hedonistic stress eating, drinking, sex etc. And that's okay. That's honestly probably good. Better than being depressed and doing nothing. But they can't go too hard because they don't have to put much time into because life's busy. Fuck is it busy. And every moment you try to get someone to go do theory based activism that isn't Shock and Awe or Radical Wholesomeness, it's just a dull hell grind.

The dsa in the states and corbynism in the uk is good actually, fuck it, for all their problems the ndp in Canada are worth working with. Leftists saying they're all bad because they're socdem really discount a couple things.

A, the massive political emotional energy behind those movements lately.

B, the people in those movements that are absolutely skeptical at least of capitalism. And many are legitimately radical but sticking with it because it's a structure to organize in.

Some history

Marx wrote during a time where theorists were bogged up in utopian socialism, where there were ideals of the kind of world they wanted to live in, but no means to make it happen. Marx wrote it to apply to everyday life in the industrial revolution, and establish an actionable plan for a better world.

Now today, things are in the rosiest of terms, not looking better in a lot of ways, and not optimistic in any. People are almost crying out for some emotional honesty and vulnerability and wholesomeness and just general heartfelt spirituality and human connection in uncertain times. Do I need to tell you how much the youth of today like games and shows that have this zeal of positivity these days? How much energy there is in queer movements? (oh yeah if you're anti LGBT, or honestly even just passively okay with it but not enthusiastic in your socialism, you will be left in the dust by today's movements tbh.)

Marx of course wrote a bit about that alienation shallowness of society thing in terms of talking about cultural alienation (more than just jobs) and the use of religion to people who have nothing else, etc.

Current responses

Today in response to that alienation, we've got irony poisoned reactionaries who don't want to engage with reality, and when they do, hide behind layers of "just kidding" etc and generally want to distance themselves from their victims. Big focus on nostalgia for when things made more sense, idealistic past worlds that never really existed in the first place. Maga and qanon conspiracies about how it all fits together and there's actually a pattern in the chaos. They end up isolated from all but their echo chambers until the pain of not being able to relate to society in healthy ways makes them go and do terrorism out of their conviction that the world is so broken and their way is right.

Meanwhile, good voices with good spiritually connective ideas like the almost saturday morning shoujo cartoon optimism and heart of Marianne Williamson connects with people, but offers no substance (and is backwards as fuck when it does) and proposes a world where if we hope hard enough, we can stop hurricanes and shootings. All for the benefit of selling self help books and crystals. But people still eat that up because it's hopeful and optimistic and fuckin romantic. People go nuts for that kind of optimism. Why don't we have that with good faith?

We do, but not enough of it. Artists and people who are out there pouring their hearts out are doing that good shit. But we need more of that. Hell the dsa is better at inspiring people to get involved with it than the left is.

Voices combining hope and reason and sincerity like AOC and the squad bring what people need, but tearing them down for not being radical enough is kind of stupid. The far left isn't organizing to connect this message of hope to people. We've got cynical takes and hell world worst timeline jokes. We've got theory as dry as Lenin's preserved corpse. We're right about the world being this awful, but God damn that's depressing.

Good responses in the past and today

I think the black panthers got this. They knew this and spoke to it. It was community solidarity first and foremost. People joined up and felt good about it being the right thing to do. It threatened the government in ways no internal western movement ever has, except probably the IRA but I'm not that spicy.

Regardless black panthers good. Standing rock good. Ferguson good. Unist'ot'en good. Antifa good. Soup kitchens and food banks good. Unions good when they actually stand up and challenge unfairness beyond their immediate industry connections. But throwing books by musty ass old men (and Rosa) hasn't worked. Even when they're right and relevant is still an implicit way of just saying "read more and maybe once enough people understand the theory, the revolution will come".

Still read, but don't tell other people to read unless they ask is all. Reading won't inspire revolution. Newspapers and blogs won't either. Informative podcasts aren't.

It's not gonna come that way. People don't respond to theory. Fuck, people barely care about facts.

Idea

Anti theory Theory: peoples' desires for emotionally honest and sensitive narratives isn't reflected in our theory at present. Potentially in part due to the materialist foundations of marxism, and certainly in the often dry motivations and spurs to resistance and revolution, which seems far off and at odds with the timeline of climate change that is weighing on peoples minds. Yes making good differences isn't a timeline thing, but people feel pressure to do it, which makes them even less effective at doing community action. Fear of collapse replaces will to revolt. People want to do something certainly, but lack the emotional connection to revolution. You could say something about base and superstructure being at odds, but I'm not as fluent in those ideas as I'd have to be to articulate.

Regardless, people want hope. Not as a slogan or buzzword, but as an action and a personal connection. They know society's in a bad place. They know there's something deeply wrong with capitalism, if not in general then at least with how it's being used right now. But when theory speaks mostly of society, or our place in it, but never asks "hey, you seem kinda hurt... how are you doing? What's on your mind? Can I listen?", people feel disenfranchised.

So on that hopeless emotional raw angst? Maybe folks just want to be heard and given permission to talk about the things they're told not to talk about? Climate anxiety, job stress, wanting someone to just talk to because social media is alienating and brief and temporal. Like, I'm not gonna interview them, but the right wing reactionaries are scared too. That's why they do what they do. Or at least that's what leads them into the irony poisoned spaces they go to.

Maybe some kind of local project of interviews in a humans of new york kinda way, or a postsecret way, or some other kind of way to ask and get people to tell us "here's what I'm thinking about that I'm afraid to tell even my best friend or my wife" "here's what scares me" "here's what I care about".

Maybe take some time to map out the things people are talking about? Use that as a source of identifying needs. Any excuse to get out there and listen to people instead of telling them things, which they won't always be ready for anyway.

Dunno how much solidarity it would build or who it would reach but it can open up conversations, not to radicalize but just to build a sense of human compassion and connection? Because really, if there's gonna be a left movement that takes off and gets things done, it's not coming from the communist parties, it's not coming from existing anarchist movements, it's gonna be something new and multilateral. People don't respond to theory they respond to emotions and passion projects and stories that get to them and tell them they're not alone. Hell, people say populism is bad? No, it's been used by bad people, but it's just another tool to get people on your side. And thinly veiled racism is only one direction it can take. Populism can help us if we're just straight up about compassion and empathy and listening.

Just fucking close your mouth and open your ears I guess is the point. If we want to be vanguards, we want to know where the movements are, facilitating them, not creating them ourselves.

And that takes listening.

#Socialism #Communism #Dsa #Marx and shit #Sorry this is long but like #Just care about people more and stop listening in order to speak #But in a structural sense

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sebeth · 5 years

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Fantastic Four # 9 - 12

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

A Brief Summary: Doctor Doom suffers another embarrassing defeat

Debuts:

· The Ovoids

· Impossible Man from the planet Poppup in the Tenth Galaxy

· Willie Lumpkin

Favorite Cover: #12 – The Fantastic Four Meet the Hulk!

Invisible Girl Hostage Count: 5 out of 9 issues

Points of Interest:

· The issue opens with Reed using his “electronic x-ray camera” with “radioactive film” in an attempt to learn more about Sue’s invisibility power. Sue urges Reed to hurry as it’s “hot and stuffy” while “Torch keeps his flame on”. Said Torch is acting as Reed’s lab assistant. Johnny is taking notes while engulfed in flames – except for his hands. Between the causal use of “radioactive film” and Johnny walking around in flames, it’s a wonder the group lives long enough to battle Doom later on.

· The FF’s signal flare appears in the sky. The trio attempts to exit the lab but the door is locked. Johnny decides to burn through the door but is stopped by Reed: “Trying to stop you from blowing us up, kid! Did you forget how sensitive that nuclear device is to heat?!” Johnny was completely engulfed in flames only four panels earlier and Reed didn’t seem to care but now it’s a no-go.

· Is it safe to keep a nuclear device in the middle of New York City? Especially with Johnny and Ben living in the building. The duo engages in destructive rough-housing on a near-daily basis!

· Reed attempts to stretch his arm to reach the Fantasti-Car so the trio can leave via the window but the strain proves too much. No worries, as Johnny has learned something new: “I can concentrate my flame so much that it burns without heat!” What?!

· The trio escapes the lab. Reed decides “Let’s forget the Fantastic-Car. We can make better time without it!” Again, what? Johnny, maybe, but not the other two. And this is the era where Johnny randomly loses power due to “exhaustion”. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Johnny not to use his powers until the group has reached the scene of crisis? Especially when you have an awesome car-plane just waiting to be used?

· The three head to the source of the flare. Sue causes a car crash with her “now you see me, now you don’t” routine. I never understood how Spider-Man was a “public menace” and the X-Men were “hated and feared” by the general public in comparison to the Fantastic Four in the early days of the Marvel Universe. Spider-Man mostly stopped criminals and the X-Men were isolated in Westchester County minding their own business…meanwhile the Four, in the heart of NYC, can barely go an issue without causing a mass panic or massive property damage…many times caused by Ben having a tantrum!

· The source of the “emergency” is Ben wanting to show off the new statues Alicia has made of the team’s enemies. Sue protests the inclusion of Namor. Reed questions Sue over her feelings for Namor: “I thought we had an understanding.” Sue admits she’s not sure of her own feelings.

· Johnny’s glad he’s “not old enough to have all those kinds of mushy problems”. Karl Kessel’s “Human Torch” series contains pre-transformation flashbacks of Johnny flirting with girls. And he’s flirting with Valeria, Princess Pearla, and soon to be dating Dorrie Evans in the “Strange Tales” series. Perhaps Johnny’s referring to “serious” relationships?

· Doctor Doom has returned to earth! And decides to storm Marvel Comics and terrorize Stan Lee & Jack Kirby with the sight of his unmasked face?!

· Doom proclaims: “I do no blame you for shrinking from the sight of me! I still cannot bear to gaze upon my face myself! But I must remove my mask at times else I feel it will strangle me!”

· Reed has the nerve to question Ben: “What makes you so bad tempered all the time?” Seriously, Reed?!

· We have a fun moment of Johnny & Ben uniting to prank Reed by stretching his clothes.

· Doom ambushes Reed. Victor explains he was rescued by the Ovoids, an alien race whose “science and culture were a million years ahead of ours”. Doom learned many abilities from the Ovoids including the ability to switch bodies with another person. Victor promptly switches bodies with Reed.

· The rest of the team arrives and subdues Doom (Reed). Ben and Johnny are very excited to have captured Doom (Reed) and devise ludicrous ways to imprison him. Not to worry, Reed (Doom) had devised a cell to contain him.

· Kirby draws some extremely creepy “Evil Reed” facial expressions.

· Back at the Baxter Building, the rest of the team is overrun by a herd of miniaturized animals: horses, bears, kangaroos, moose, elephants, cows, camels, zebras, birds, etc. The trio scramble to contain the animals and return them to Reed’s lab: “You know how angry he gets if anyone interferes with his work!”

· Reed (Doom) returns and the trio questions him – 1) Are these the animals stolen from the zoo and 2) Why are you shrinking animals?

· Victor spins a story that this “reducing ray” will expand the team’s powers and allow Ben to transform at will. I know Reed is the scientist of the story but that explanation makes no sense. The team chooses not to press the matter of the animal theft and forced experimentation.

· Doom (Reed) escapes from his cell and seeks the aid of Alicia Masters. Unfortunately for Reed, an invisible Sue was visiting Alicia and knocks him out.

· Alicia is confused: “How can that be Doctor Doom? There’s an aura of goodness about him…of nobility!” Really, Alicia? You can sense that from an unconscious man in a suit of armor? I wish someone would establish Alicia had minor empathic abilities – otherwise, her “sensing” is ridiculous.

· Johnny & Ben arrive to defeat “Doom”. Ben is furious that Alicia was threatened: “You tried to scare Alicia, did ya? Nothing can save ya from me now, ya miserable ghoul…I ain’t kidding now! He threatened Alicia! Do ya hear me? He dared to threaten Alicia!”

· There’s a cute scene where the team takes Doom to the parked Fantasti-car only to discover a group of neighborhood kids palying in it.

· Johnny and Ben suspect something is off with Reed & Doom so Johnny uses his powers to create a mirage to test their suspicions. I love Silver Age powers – always used in ways that make no sense with actual science.

· Doom is found out, re-switches bodies with Reed, and shrunk to nothingness by his own reducing ray. The next time Doom achieves god-like powers he should erase everyone’s memories of his ridiculous Silver Age-shenanigans.

· Issue #11 opens with a cute scene of the team encountering a group of children playing “Fantastic Four”. The team shows off their powers for the children. Johnny wisely reminds the kids “Throwing fireballs is easy for me, fella, but don’t you ever play with fire. It’s too dangerous for little kids.”

· We meet Willie Lumpkin, the team’s mailman. He volunteers for the team: “I haven’t exactly got any super powers, but I can wiggle my ears real good.”

· The team goes through their fan mail: Johnny receives love letters; Ben gets pranks from the Yancy Street Gang.

· Reed has yet another cure for Ben who is understandably wary: “I’m sick of being a guinea pig for you! None of these things ever work right!” Ben takes the cure and transforms back into his human form. Ben, Reed, and Sue are ecstatic. A more cautious Johnny muses to himself: “Poor Ben! If he changes back to the Thing again, I don’t wanna be around to see it!”. Johnny decides to head to the garage to “fool around with my new TR-4!”

· Reed and Ben recap their meeting in college. Ben was “State U’s football hot-shot”. Despite being polar opposites, “I was a millionaire’ son and he was from the wrong side of the tracks”, the duo quickly became best friends. Their friendship persisted throughout World War II. Ben was “a Marine fighter ace over Okinawa and Guadalcanal” and Reed was “behind the lines, working with the underground for the O.S.S.” The timeline of these events would put Reed and Ben in their late thirties at the time of their transformation into the Fantastic Four.

· Due to the sliding timescale, the World War II bit has been retconned from Reed and Ben’s past. I think Ben’s time in the military is still part of his background – the era has simply changed. I’m not sure about Reed.

· Sue had begun dating Reed before he left for the war: “It’s always been you, since we were kids together living next door to each other”. This would be retconned later – Sue and Reed wouldn’t meet until Reed was entering college.

· Sue brushes off Reed’s devotion as the “shadow of the Sub-Mariner” lies between them. The whole Namor storyline could have been resolved much sooner if it was acceptable for comic book women, or women in general, were allowed to have lustful thoughts about men. Sue hasn’t spent enough time with Namor that didn’t involve threats to her, her family, or the human race in general. Poor Sue isn’t allowed to admit she appreciates Namor’s fabulous body in a tight, small speedo so the audience is left with her swooning over his “gentle”, “conflicted” nature. I love Namor but there has been nothing gentle or conflicted in his FF appearances. Execpt for the time he swam with the dolphins but Sue wasn’t there to witness it.

· We get yet another recap of the infamous rocket flight. I understand the “every issue could be someone’s first” principle but were at issue #11 and it’s been recapped in half of the books.

· Sue’s upset because a few pieces of mail state she “doesn’t contribute enough to the team”.

· Reed defends Sue by saying Abraham Lincoln’s mother didn’t fight but she still contributed?! Kick him, Sue! Kick him!

· Ben becomes overly excited and turns back into the Thing.

· The boys surprise Sue with a birthday cake.

· Impossible Man arrives on Earth, causing confusion and chaos in his wake. The Four battle Impossible Man in the Flamingo restaurant. He eventually becomes bored and leaves the planet. If you’ve seen the Impossible Man of the 2000s Fantastic Four cartoon, you’ve basically read this issue.

· Johnny uses his powers to create “hypnotic rings” during the fight with the Impossible Man. You’ve got to love Silver Age powers!

· Issue 12 begins a classic rivalry of the Marvel Universe: the Thing vs the Hulk.

· Alicia and Ben are leaving a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Ben comments “I get my kicks from low-down New Orleans Jazz”.

· The army pours into town and mistakes Thing for the Hulk, prompting a mistaken identity fight.

· Ben is quite irate over being mistaken for the Hulk.

· General Ross arrives at the Baxter Building. He wants the Four to locate the Hulk.

· Ross shows a picture of the Hulk. Sue fades from sight: “The sight of that monster unnerved me so that I lost control of my visibility power!” Really? I don’t buy it. First, it’s only a picture and secondly, she lives with Ben and has battled Skrulls and monsters from Monster Island. It’s not like large creatures are a foreign concept to Sue.

· Even Ben thinks its bull!

· The boys show off, proudly proclaiming how he – and he personally – will capture the Hulk. Unfortunately for Johnny, flying around the small room a few times exhausts him flame. I appreciate the time it takes Johnny to master his abilities – it’s more realistic as opposed to the “instant mastery” route but two laps around the living room shouldn’t wipe him out as this point. He’s been the “Human Torch” for months as this point.

· Reed praises Johnny’s skills as a mechanic: “That flame of his is one of our most potent weapons as well as his mechanical skill. In fact, I’ll give you a little demonstration! Johnny has just finished modifying our Fantastic-Car!”

· Johnny encourages Reed: “You tell him, Big Daddy!” In an alternate universe, Johnny married Reed Richards – was that his pet name for him?

· The Four and the General head to the Southwest to search for the Hulk. The Four meet Bruce Banner and Rick Jones.

· Reed has “long been an admirer” of Banner’s atomic research. Banner returns the praise: “I’m highly flattered that the most brilliant scientific brain of our time should say that to me”.

· Johnny both shows-off for and pranks Rick. Neither are impressed with the other. Johnny: “Look at him green with envy! Trying hard not to admit he’s overwhelmed by me!” Rick: “He wouldn’t be so swell-headed if he knew I was the Hulk’s partner!”

· Johnny tends to dial up the obnoxiousness and showboating when he’s with another teen hero: Spider-Man, Rick Jones, and later, Iceman. Possibly a combination of eagerness to impress/work with someone of his age group and a desire to be the best of said age group.

· The army base’s saboteur “the Wrecker”, but not the Wrecker, kidnaps Rick Jones causing Bruce Banner to unleash the Hulk.

· The Four and the Hulk meet up in a “deserted Western ghost town” and fight. Ben finds and frees Rick. Hulk flees the scene.

· The Four prepare to leave the base. Reed hints to Bruce: “I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot we have to talk about – like you, and Rick, and the Hulk, for instance!”

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Hiraeth {part three} {demigod!Lance x reader}

Words: 6k

Summary: Your life changed forever that day in the forest. The day the voices got too much. The day that single word brought you to what felt like the very brink of death - that was until Lance McClain, son of Poseidon, arrived to take you home.

Genre: percyjackson!au - angst

Notes: part 1 - part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - epilogue -enjoy!!!

-----

Hiraeth - (n) a homesickness for a place you can’t return to, or that never was.

Chapter 3

If you were ignored and feared before the body of Coran was found, you may as well have been completely invisible now.

Nobody even spared you a glance. The atmosphere had changed entirely, a shift from simply ignoring you to downright hating you; people glared, people scattered whenever you so much as made an appearance; dinner was eaten in a tense silence amongst everyone, nobody brave enough to speak up about the heavy elephant in the room.

It was all consuming. You had never known a stress quite like it, never felt a loneliness quite like it.

Lance was there. As days slipped by, he reminded you on a daily basis that he didn't believe a word Lotor had said, that he had been with you for the majority of that special day and hadn't seen you do anything that looked even mildly suspicious; you had thanked him, but his presence didn't do much. You were still labelled as a murderer by many of the people who you were being forced to live with at the moment.

You hadn't trained with your powers after that first attempt with Lance. Something just felt off about conjuring up the dead from the ground only days after a dead body had been found; besides, the last thing you wanted was for Lotor to appear behind you again and claim you were practising another round of black magic.

And so, your days became boring. It got to the point where you woke up and dreaded the day ahead, and nothing had changed on this particular morning.

You awoke, got dressed, scraped a brush through your hair and headed outside. People were already training – as per usual, the Ares campers were bustling around the training square with swords and weaponry that was far too old for you to know what it was. They were yelling into the abyss, making a ruckus that didn't seem to bother anybody else. You walked past them, keeping your head down to avoid the stares of Lotor's siblings. You were most certainly not in any mood to argue with them today.

Out of all of the cabins, it was the Ares cabin who insisted on giving you the hardest time. Despite Chiron telling them, time and time again, that you were to be left alone, that the topic of Coran was to be left buried until he could pinpoint a direct suspect, the Ares cabin didn't listen. It looked as if they took pride in seeing the horror on your face as they spat words like “Murderer!” in your direction everywhere you went.

You searched for Lance, eventually finding him outside of the Poseidon cabin with a bow and arrow in his hands.

“Good morning,” he chirped cheerily when he heard you approaching. Sweat was glistening off of his collar bones and his forehead, making the tips of his brown hair hang down into his eyes.

“Morning,” you responded. “What are you doing?”

“Training.”

He pulled the bow string back and let an arrow fly. It crashed against the target set up in front of him and the target immediately burst into flames, disappeared into the ground and was replaced by a new one.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets and slumped against the wall. “Was breakfast any good this morning?”

“It was the usual,” he replied. “I still think you need to start coming to meals. Sneaking in after everyone's gone is just going to make you look suspicious.”

“More suspicious than I already look?”

Lance pursed his lips, shooting you a sorry look over his shoulder. “We're trying to fix that.”

“And it's not exactly going well,” you grumbled. You kicked at some dirt beneath your feet and sighed. “I just want to go home, Lance. I don't want to be here any more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Home.” You looked up. “Back to the forest you found me in. I want to go back there, and I want to stay there; I wasn't cut out for this whole demigod business.”

Lance seemed to have frozen at your words, one eyebrow slowly raising whilst his eyes widened. You stared at him in confusion – what had you said that he didn't understand?

“Your home was the forest?” he guffawed suddenly.

You slowly nodded. “Yes... I thought you knew that.”

“Of course I didn't!” Lance set his bow and arrow down and rushed to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in that way he so often did. He tugged you into him as if he were an older brother comforting a younger sister, placing his sharp chin on the top of your head. “Why didn't you tell me? That's devastating, Y/N!”

You wiggled out of his grip, not pleased by the idea of somebody taking pity on you for something you had been dealing with your entire life. “It's fine. It wasn't that big of a deal.”

“It is to me,” Lance insisted. “Where were your family at? Did nobody call the police on the fact that there was a gods damned minor on the streets?”

“I don't know what happened,” you replied. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does matter,” said Lance. “Is this whole thing with Coran getting to you so much that you're genuinely willing to go back to living on the streets?”

You pursed your lips, knew it sounded utterly ridiculous and oh-so-suspicious, but there was nothing else to it. You didn't want to be here any more, around these people who saw you as nothing more than some sick psychopath who didn't know how to control her powers.

“The streets aren't that bad,” you mumbled, though you knew you were lying almost as soon as the words crossed your lips. “I had control. That's all I want right now.”

Lance was staring at you as if you had just punched him in the face. His eyebrows were heavy over his blue eyes, his hands crossed in front of him and his head slightly tilted, as if wanting to get the best view of the sadness on your face at the moment.

“Did you – Did you have friends on the street?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I had an acquaintance. You learn not to trust people whenever you're homeless.”

“And this acquaintance has no idea where you are?”

You shook your head slowly.

Lance bit down on his bottom lip and shifted his gaze elsewhere, as if he was thinking. You watched him closely, feeling more and more awkward by the second – why did he want to know about Romelle? What could she possibly do that would effect anything that had been going on recently?

He looked up suddenly. “How about I take you to go and visit them, just to get your mind off of things?”

You very nearly choked on the air you were breathing.

Your eyes widened and you were shaking your head before you could even decipher why. You wanted to see Romelle, wanted to explain everything to her, but it would look so suspicious if you suddenly got up and left the camp with all these allegations behind you. Could you risk such a thing? Would Chiron understand? Would you leaving only entice the Ares cabin further?

“We can't do that,” you said. “Can you imagine how guilty we'll look leaving right now? They may as well convict me as soon as we walk through the gates!”

“You seem to be forgetting the little fact that you're innocent, Y/N. People can believe what they want, but once we get enough evidence gathered to find out who the real killer is, you're gonna be set free and everybody else is gonna feel stupid. We can do whatever we like until then.” Lance nodded to himself, as if confirming something in his own head. You continued to stare at him in shock, mouth open a little bit. He span on his heel, snatched up his bow and arrow and started practising again – he didn't dwell further on the plans, didn't give you even the slightest of hints as to why he would do such a thing.

That was what didn't make sense to you – why would he risk everything just to give you the chance to speak to the friend you had left behind? Why did he feel as if that was something you needed right now?

But you would be lying if you were to claim you hadn't missed Romelle just a tiny bit. For all that you claimed you and Romelle were merely acquaintances, it was no secret that you cared for her; leaving her behind with no explanation as to why or where you were going was something that had been gnawing at your subconscious for a while now.

Weirdly, the idea of Lance offering to take you to see her was enough to make your face flush bright red. Although you still thought it was a bad idea, you argued no further; you trusted him. You trusted him more than you had ever trusted anyone, because he was the one who had stayed by your side this entire time, the one who had helped you through the jeerings of your fellow camp mates, who had helped you come to terms with who you were.

This could only turn out bad in the end, you were aware. But slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, leaning your back against the Poseidon cabin, and watched Lance train, trying to block out that feeling of terror brewing in the pit of your stomach.

---

“Are you still convinced this is a good idea?” you hissed, keeping your voice to a whisper as you and Lance approached the door of Chiron's office.

Lance turned around, shot you a warning glare over his shoulder. You stuck your tongue out at him in response, causing him to roll his eyes and turn away. “Yes, I am positive. I've never been more positive about anything in my entire life.”

“That's a bit dramatic.”

“But it's true. Chiron's a good guy – he probably knows you're innocent, but he's just tending to the piss-baby Ares cabin.”

You bit down on your lip. You hadn't realised just how nervous you truly were until now, approaching the large, red double doors of Chiron's office, knowing what you were about to ask him, knowing just how badly this very request could backfire on you. You had put all of your trust into Lance for this one, allowed him to take the lead, and he seemed more than happy to do so. He walked with long strides, keeping his head held high whilst you stumbled behind him, your hands tangled in the back of his shirt to make sure you didn't lose him amongst the crowd of sneering campers, who were still looking at you like you were nothing more than scum.

Lance knocked three times on the red doors, stepped back, folded his arms over his chest and waited.

The door creaked open, and it was immediately as if every bit of Lance's confidence was drained out of him.

Suddenly he was stiffening beneath your grip, his back muscles flexing. His arms fell to his side, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, awkwardly glancing down at the floor. You raised a brow behind him – not so confident now, was he?

Although you couldn't blame him. What little confidence you had once possessed was immediately drained out of you whenever you looked up and saw Chiron standing in the doorway, curiously trailing his beady eyes over you and Lance.

Lance stepped back to reveal you to the centaur, awkwardly fumbling around in his attempts to shove you forward. You hissed, stumbling and just barely managing to catch yourself on the door frame before you fell head-first into Chiron's furry torso.

“Chiron! My man! You're awake!” started Lance. “You look so good this morning. Did you get a hoof shine?”

Chiron scraped at the floor with his hoof. “Is there a reason you've decided to disturb my readings, Mr McClain?”

Lance paled even further. “Actually – uh – yes, there is. A very important reason. 'Cause – you see – I know I'm your favourite demigod. You don't need to tell me. And because I'm your favourite, I think it's only polite for you to let me borrow the teleportation cloak for a few hours.”

He said this all very fast, not once looking up from the ground. He even winced after his sentence was over, as if realising just how odd his request had sounded.

Chiron was silent for a few seconds, glancing between you and Lance with a curious expression on his face. You wanted nothing more than to burst out and say “April Fools!” and run off before things got any worse; he was surely looking at you in suspicion now. There was no way in hell he thought you were innocent now that you and Lance had made it clear you were planning on leaving the camp.

Chiron whinnied before he started speaking again. “The teleportation cloak is only used whenever a demigod wants to leave the camp.”

Lance mumbled. “Yep. That's the one.”

“And why would you want to leave the camp, Mr McClain? Is there an errand you need to run?”

You stiffened, shooting Lance a panicked glare, silently trying to tell him to just back out now, to not drag this out any further.

But Lance looked up then and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I was going to take Y/N to see somebody she left behind whenever she came to Camp Half-Blood. Her friend doesn't even know where she went.”

Chiron's eyes shot to you. You instinctively curled a little closer to Lance, one of your hands winding around his middle and clenching the fabric of his shirt.

“This does look very suspicious. You both can understand why I'm a little hesitant,” said Chiron, refusing to look away from you as he spoke. You felt as if you were being scolded by a headmaster.

“We – We know that,” said Lance. “But we also know that Y/N is innocent and the claims that she murdered Coran are absolutely ridiculous and are only backed up by the fact that her dad is the god of the Underworld.”

You hissed. “Can we not say that so loudly please?”

Lance and Chiron ignored you.

“Don't tell me you actually believed a word Lotor said,” said Lance. “That guy feeds off of throwing other people under the bus – especially people who he knows are stronger than him.”

“I'm not stronger than him,” you protested. “I don't even know how to work my powers! I've never even lifted a sword in my life! I'm not a threat.”

“Tell Lotor that,” Chiron grumbled thoughtfully. He inhaled deeply, folded his arms over his chest and shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to do. “Fine. I will give you the teleportation cloak, but I want you both back by the time it gets dark. And if there's any trouble at all, you do not draw attention, and you do not kill. You just throw the cloak over one another as soon as possible, and you get out of there. Do you understand?”

Lance was grinning. “Yes, we understand. Thank you.” ----

Being back brought more bad memories than you were hoping for.

You hadn't even been gone for that long – two weeks? You had lost count. As you stepped out from beneath the transportation cloak, now exposed to a completely different surrounding, you felt as if time truly did work different over at Camp Half-Blood than it did here.

It was an odd feeling. Once being surrounded by people who could eat whenever they wanted, could sleep in soft beds every single night with not a fear in the world about whether or not somebody was going to slit their throat in their sleep, to suddenly appearing in a place that was the complete opposite of that.

Your home.

The trees surrounded you, whispered your name. Lance was silent at the side of you, too busy trying to fold up the pesky cloak than anything else; he didn't seem bothered by the sudden scenery change, didn't seem to understand just how much weight this place held, just how much it was affecting you being back.

You remembered sleeping under those very brambles, remembered pressing your head into the floor as a headache slammed through your body. You remembered the comfort this very place brought you, the alone time it allowed you to have at your worst points.

And the entire time, you had godly blood running through your veins, and you hadn't even known.

Lance finally groaned in frustration and ended up simply wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “We can deal with that later.” He walked up to the side of you, now gazing up at the trees which surrounded you. “This place is nice.”

You nodded. “Not a good place to sleep, though.”

“No, I wouldn't think so.” Lance took your hand in his own and started tugging you towards the tree line, an impatient hop in his step. He had been telling you all day that he was excited to meet Romelle, that he had been curious as to who she was – you had mistakenly told him that she had basically been the person who had raised you, taught you how to read and write whenever education was so far out of your reach. Lance had very clearly found some type of respect for her, even though he had never met her before.

The two of you broke through the tree line and started walking towards the nearby homeless shelter where you knew Romelle would be; she only ever really left the confines of the safe house whenever she needed to use the toilet in the off-licence across the street. The toilets at the homeless shelter didn't have hot water and were very rarely empty.

“Some people might be a little violent,” you informed Lance as the two of you walked. “It's best if you just keep your head down and don't talk to anyone you don't know.”

Lance raised a brow. “If I kept my head down and ignored people I didn't know, I would never have met you.”

“It's your own fault you got stuck with me,” you scoffed.

“Ay, I never said meeting you was a bad thing. I've enjoyed your presence these past few weeks – even with all the drama you bring.” He nudged your elbow. You looked up at him to see him softly smiling down at you, confirming to you that he was only joking. It warmed your heart. He didn't see you as a killer. He truly saw you as a friend.

You and Lance continued walking until you eventually came upon the building you were oh-so-familiar with. Though you hadn't slept within its walls, you had spent a good portion of your time there, talking with Romelle and hiding away from the rain that so often pelted the streets outside.

You turned, opened the door, and was immediately met by the blast of chatter which always rang out from this place; Lance genuinely gasped, gripping your arm in shock.

You nodded in response to his silent question – yes, there truly were this many homeless people around.

You led Lance into the large hall, nodding to the different people who were looking at you strangely – they all recognised you, of course. You had spent every day here for the majority of your life. But at one point, you had walked through them doors wearing ripped jeans and a shirt that was getting too small for you and was always stained with some other new substance that nobody questioned. Now, you were wearing your Camp Half-Blood gear, and you didn't have dirt streaked across your skin.

You pulled your jacket tighter around your body and zipped it up, instinctively trying to ruffle it up a little bit just to make yourself look more messy. Lance didn't seem to understand why you were doing such a thing, as he glanced at you in confusion and didn't follow your example.

Eventually, you approached Spark, a man you had spoken to on multiple occasions who you knew was quite close to Romelle. He had his hand stuck inside of a box of cornflakes. He didn't seem the slightest bit shocked to see you.

“Spark,” you said. “How's things going?”

He popped a cornflake into his mouth and shrugged lazily. “Same old, same old.”

He never was one for speaking. You didn't mind.

“Is Romelle around?” you asked.

Again, Spark shrugged. “Last I checked, she was out looking for you. That's what she has been doing for the past two weeks.”

Your face fell, stomach clenching with guilt – you knew it wasn't your fault that you had disappeared. You had been taken away, had learned the truth about who you were and where you were from. Surely Romelle would understand why it had taken you so long to come back?

“She thought you were dead, you know,” Spark continued, popping more cornflakes into his mouth. “Had her bawling into my side a few nights ago, trying to comfort the little thing. Never seen her look so distraught.”

“Is she coming back any time soon?” you asked, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

Spark did his signature shrug. “I hope so. She's the one who got me these cornflakes and I haven't even thanked her for it.” He sighed to himself, popped more cereal into his mouth before he waved his hand in dismissal. “Now get out of my face. You smell like soap.”

You hollowed out your cheeks, span on your heel and led Lance back out of the front doors. Lance was glancing at you with a worried expression, as if convinced you would start lashing out at the news that Romelle wasn't around – you felt like you could. It was brewing in the pit of your stomach, this unexplainable sense of anger. It didn't make sense – she was looking for you. You shouldn't have felt angry, but you couldn't help it.

You ran a hand through your hair and groaned. “We should have come earlier than this.”

“In case you forgot, you were the one who thought leaving camp would get you the guilty verdict,” said Lance.

“She's out there somewhere, Lance,” you hissed, whirling on him. His blue eyes widened at the sudden movement, and it took everything in you to reel back your anger. “She's out there looking for me, risking her life whenever I've been better off than her for the past two weeks.”

“We can't help that,” said Lance. “Look, we'll find her, alright? We'll find her, you two can talk and you can tell her everything that's been going on-”

“What, tell her that I'm half god?” you spat. “She'll think I've gone crazy.”

“I'll be there to back you up.”

“She won't take your word for it. She'll think you're crazy, as well.”

Lance hollowed out his cheeks. “Alright, we'll take it one step at a time then, won't we? You just need to calm down and-”

“Being out in the woods on your own is dangerous,” you said, ignoring him completely. Your brain was too far gone at this point, a wild sense of horror dawning upon you; this was why you hated getting close to people – it always, somehow, managed to get messed up and it left you feeling as if it was entirely your fault, as if you were the reason everyone was suffering.

And maybe you were. Maybe this time you were the reason behind it. If anything happened to Romelle, it would be entirely your fault.

“We'll go looking for her,” Lance said. “Just take a deep breath, okay? We're not gonna get very far if you're having a panic attack every few feet.”

You clenched your eyes shut, biting down on your bottom lip. He was right. Of course he was right. There wasn't a single thing you would be able to do if you couldn't control your anger and panic first.

You looked into Lance's eyes. He was directly in front of you, one hand on your shoulder. He had a skill with keeping eye contact, and those baby blue eyes of his had a skill of calming people down.

You inhaled deeply, Lance nodding along to every breath as if you were a woman in labour.

“Good. You're good. Everything is alright.”

But everything was not alright.

Especially not whenever the scream sounded out above the trees, shattering any illusion of peace you had once gathered.

You jerked up. Lance did the same, his face dropping. You had that human moment of hesitation, but Lance had no such thing. He was throwing the transportation cloak off of his shoulders and jumping down the hill into the forest, chasing the scream.

You were following him in a matter of seconds, even though every instinct was telling you to stop, to think this through, to evaluate your strengths and realise that you would be doing nothing more than getting in the way of things. But your feet carried you anyway, almost against your will, and soon, you and Lance were skidding into a random clearing.

Romelle was there.

Something else was there.

Something large. Massive. It's head very nearly poked out above the trees. It had the body of a human, the head of a human, but it couldn't possibly be human, could it? It only had one eye, wearing a shirt that was ripped to shreds with a pair of shorts that looked as if they had once covered every bit of its tanned, scarred skin.

“A Cyclops,” Lance yelled out. “Get Romelle! Grab her, now!”

You cried out, pushing yourself forward and running towards your friend. Lance was facing the Cyclops as if he had done this entire thing before, his arms outstretched before him. The Cyclops roared, brought his massive hands down against the ground; the entire forest seemed to shake, and you struggled to believe that no human beings on the other side of the fence couldn't hear it.

You skidded to Romelle's side and grabbed her; she was unconscious. Blood was dribbling from her eyebrow, dripping down into her closed eye, tangling itself in her eyelashes. You groaned out, lifted her head onto your knee.

“Come on, Romelle,” you hissed as the Cyclops took another swing for Lance. He dove out of the way, landing with a grunt against the root of a tree. “Come on.”

“I only hear rumours!” the Cyclops suddenly yelled out. He was so loud that his voice caused a gust of wind to slam into you, your hair flowing out behind you. “The gods be very secretive when talking about the princess of the Underworld, but now I knows the truth! She right in front of me!”

“Y/N!” Lance screamed. His eyes were wide, and when you looked over at him, he was flapping his hands desperately. “Get out of the way! He recognises you! Get out of -”

Lance's voice was cut off by a gigantic fist slamming into the ground beside you. If it hadn't been for your quick reflexes and the fact that you just barely managed to scramble out of the way, the dirt and the earth that spewed up would have cut you.

Lance was trying to stand up on the far side of the forest, but every time he tried to move, he fell back down. You saw the blood dripping from his leg, could see the bone sticking out of his calve that was a clear sign something had been broken.

You grabbed Romelle's shoulders and dragged her as far as you could. The Cyclops was stronger than you, but it was also a good twelve feet tall, meaning it didn't move very fast. One hit was thrown, and it took him multiple seconds to gain the momentum to strike again – seconds you used to your advantage as much as possible, hauling ass across the clearing with your friend dragging in front of you.

“Princess of the Underworld, just like her daddy!” the Cyclops yelled out. “Souls attracted to her. Death attracted to her. Everyone afraid of her!”

You tried to block out his words.

You dodged another hit as he slammed his fist down on the ground beside you. It didn't seem as if he wanted to hit you – that, or else he truly couldn't see you well enough to get good enough aim. He only had one eye, and you were much, much smaller than him, meaning he probably couldn't see you all that well anyway.

Nonetheless, the earth that was breaking beneath you was doing enough damage on its own. Stones clashed against your skin as they erupted from the ground, slamming into your arms and legs and ripping the skin open. You could feel the blood trickling down your body, but the pain was bearable. Nothing had broken yet, and you were still standing.

Eventually, you managed to drag Romelle to the edge of the clearing. You jumped up then, stumbling due to your injuries, but you were on your feet and that was all that mattered.

Lance was screaming his warmings at you from across the clearing, but you paid him no attention. You looked up at the Cyclops that was currently raging in front of you, and you told yourself that this was what you were made for; you had godly blood in your veins, you had powers that some mortals wouldn't even be able to comprehend; you couldn't run away from this. You couldn't put dishonour on your dads side of the family by running away.

And so, you stood in front of the Cyclops and yelled.

“Are you scared, huh? Scared of the princess? Is that why none of your blows have been able to hit me yet?”

The Cyclops roared, brought his fist down. You sprinted to the left, throwing yourself towards the roots of a tree and hugging them close, keeping your head buried in your elbow to avoid the shrapnel.

The Cyclops was back on you with a moments notice. He swung around, this time slamming his fist into the tree you were gripping. The roots broke free of the dirt, lifting you up for a second before you rolled over and let yourself drop back onto the ground. You grunted, stood up as quick as your injuries would allow, and ran around to the other side of the monster.

He followed you with his one eye.

“I speak to Hades before this,” the Cyclops said, and your insides ran cold. “He tells me that he wanted to kill you when you were first brought into the world but your mummy wouldn't allow it. But even she couldn't handle you eventually – even she didn't want you!”

The anger speared through you before you could stop it.

You let out a cry as a jolt ran through your body, a jolt so strong that you stumbled forward and crashed to your knees in the dirt. All around you, the world was lifting. The earth was rising around you, the cracks in the dirt opening even wider to allow the skeletal white hands to emerge from beneath it.

You watched on in absolute horror, unable to explain what had just happened or why it had happened, but it was happening. Skeletons were crawling out of the ground all around you, some of them missing bones, some of them fully-intact skeletons that walked with a confidence that made no sense to you whatsoever.

The skeletons wasted no time.

The next time the Cyclops brought his fist down, a group of them immediately jolted forward and grabbed a hold of his knuckles. The Cyclops roared in anger, trying to swing his hand back but being unable to do so; skeletons were running up his arm as the others held his fist into the ground, keeping him keeled over.

The skeletons that had made their way up the Cyclops' arm reached his shoulders, the side of his face – were they taunting him? You couldn't see, couldn't hear anything over the sound of the Cyclops' yelling.

And then one of the skeletons slammed their bony hand through the Cyclops' ear, and the Cyclops was dead in seconds.

There was no scream of pain, no thrashing about as he tried to get free – he genuinely just fell still, completely paralysed. You scrambled away as he fell to the floor, the skeletons scattering off of him. As soon as their feet hit the floor, they perished into a pile of bones.

It all went quiet. You could only hear the sound of your breathing, the thumping of your heart in your chest.

No way.

That wasn't you. You hadn't made that happen. You weren't strong enough to do that.

“Y/N,” Lance called out, sounding weak. You slowly turned to look at him, propped up on your elbows because you truly couldn't find the strength to sit up fully.

Lance was still laid out on the other side of the clearing, his leg still spewing blood and his bone still sticking out from his flesh. You swallowed thickly, made your way over to him with what little strength you could muster.

“Chiron is going to kill us,” croaked Lance, letting his head fall back against your shoulder as you sat behind him and started putting pressure to his wound.

You didn't say anything back to him. Your body was still ringing with the aftershock of what you had just witnessed.

What you had just made happen.

----

You had never been inside of the infirmary before.

You had hoped you would never need to head to the infirmary, and technically speaking, you didn't. You weren't injured as badly as Lance was; a few bandages wrapped around you and you would be fine in a matter of days. But Lance had fallen unconscious after you had wrapped the teleportation cloak around him, and had not woken up since.

You sat by his bedside, watching the Apollo campers work on his leg. They had told you to leave, but you had asked if you could stay and they were too afraid to say no.

They had managed to fix the bone up with a type of magic you didn't recognise, and were now busy putting the skin back together.

Lance hadn't stirred once.

“Do you think he'll live?” you asked.

The girl that was tending to his leg looked up at you. Blood smeared her forehead from where she had wiped her hand across it, and her hands were drenched in the same stuff. “The damage wasn't life-threatening. As soon as we got the bleeding under control, he was basically guaranteed to live. But the shock of it all will keep him down for a few more hours. It's probably best if you go back to your cabin and get some rest of your own, or else those wounds on your body will just get worse.”

You pursed your lips, nodded and left the infirmary. It was night time now, campers either sitting around campfires or getting ready for bed. All of them seemed oddly sombre, the news of what had happened settling over them to the point where they were even willing to feel a little bit bad for you – Hunk and Pidge gave you small smiles, and Shiro even went as far as to pat you on the back and ask if you were okay.

For all the complaining you had done about being lonely, now that people were beginning to acknowledge you, you suddenly craved for it all to stop.

Because you remembered the skeletons crawling out of the ground. You remembered them attacking that Cyclops – killing it – purely under your control. There was no other explanation for it, and you had been a fool for once believing that perhaps something else had happened.

Romelle hadn't been able to come back with you, and Chiron had ordered you to not risk trying to speak to her again. She was being tended to by some fairies that Chiron had sent over to her, but after they were done healing her, she wouldn't remember a thing that had happened – she wouldn't remember the Cyclops, would go on believing that you had been kidnapped or murdered – you weren't allowed to tell her where you were.

Basically, Chiron had forced you to cut all contact with your only living friend, and it was entirely your fault.

You walked to the Hades cabin and slumped down in your bed, tugging the covers up over your head. You could hear the remainder of the Apollo cabin singing a song around a campfire, one of them playing the harp softly. It was peaceful, but you didn't want to hear it right now. You just wanted to sleep, wanted to wipe your head free of any and all thoughts about what had happened only hours before.

You would talk to Lance about it when he woke up. Lance always had a strange way of helping you understand what was going on.

As you rolled over and closed your eyes, ready to welcome the sweet embrace of sleep, a voice whispered gravelly in your ear - “Princess of the Underworld.”

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nautilusopus · 5 years

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Question game, tagged by @tofuthebold oh damn

1. What was your first CD/album/record? (assuming you have bought at least one) - Paula Abdul’s Forever Your Girl.��I listened to that thing often enough to where it kind of looped around on itself and, much like anything Genesis puts out, I have a Pavlovian hate response associated with it now. Also, it took me a while to realise Paula Abdul kind of sucked.

2. What kind of fictional characters you like the most, and give some examples here - Lol everyone knows I have a type, which I’m actually gonna copy/paste from a previous ask: “maladjusted child soldier screaming VALIDATE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE from the top of the lightpole they climbed up to avoid their feelings, and they all deserve a good hug and a firm shove down a flight of stairs or two, in either order.”

So, you got your Cloud Strifes, your Zukos, your Azulas, your Shinji Ikaris, and anyone else that decides to crawl out of the Bad Decisions Dumpster to poorly attempt this “making friends” business.

3. What kind of natural environment you enjoy the most? Beaches. Maybe that also comes with living in landlocked suburbia, and also because I’m always cold, and because there aren’t as many bugs at the beach. I’d say the woods or something, but if I spend more than three minutes anywhere near grass I am immediately swarmed by chiggers and mosquitos.

4. Name something about yourself you genuinely like. I’m very, very good at talking. (Which I have to be. Commercials and all.)

5. For you, what is the most important facet of a fictional world/concept in various media: the world’s social system building? the characters and their interactions? Or something else? Characters 1000%. You can carry the stupidest, most ill-conceived barebones nonsense of a story in the world if you have interesting, compelling characters. Just look at Overwatch, and how utterly convinced people are that it has a plot at all.

And on the other hand, the reverse is true -- you can have a masterfully crafted literary epic, and no one will remotely care if the characters are unrelatable mouthpieces for plot to happen out of. Look at, like... basically any cosmic horror story every, where the author’s so busy wanking over their Kewl Badass Old God OC DO NOT STEAL and building an entire lore around it to emphasise how utterly alien it is that they forget the most fundamental piece of any horror, even the cosmic variety where human life ultimately does not matter, is the human element. What point is there in going, “Haha! Your struggles are all for naught against a universe you cannot truly fathom!” if we don’t even know what those struggles are in the first place? Why should we care about the ultimate pointlessness of everything if we don’t know what the characters so desperately want to have a point? Does insignificance in the grand scheme of things necessarily mean the same thing as pointlessness?

Any chucklefuck can slap tentacles onto something and call it cosmic horror, but the “horror” part of it only comes from the fear humans have of that uncaring cosmos in the first place.

(Despite claiming to be a cosmic horror fan, I think I actually kind of hate almost all of it???)

6. Time travel, future or the past? And why? This question is fucking booby-trapped, that shit never ends well. If there even is one, I’d skip ahead to when space flight is a thing and we’ve finally found aliens. But honestly I’d probably go back to summer of 2016 when everyone was playing Pokemon and gay marriage had just been legalised and it looked like the world was actually slowly becoming a better place (HA).

7. What’s your favourite thing about your own culture? And why? I mean I’m really wary about claiming anything as “my culture” because every time I try someone goes and says “you’re not _____ enough to say you’re _____”, but it’s not like I’m white passing either so I don’t know what y’all want me to do.

That said, Korean food is really fucking good. It’s easy to make, too -- the only issue with it is that it’s very labour-intensive, with like eight different ingredients per dish all needing to be prepped in advance.

See this? This is seolleongtang. It’s delicious. I’m also never, ever making it, because any recipe with the words “Day 2″ in it can fuck right off.

8. If you have enough money, what kind of job you want to do most? why? I really want to get back into voiceover work, but the industry is extremely crowded. To that end I’m currently attempting to get back into college so I have extra qualifications that make me more hireable, but I’m having trouble getting a loan for several thousand dollars right now that I know I’d never make back. Commercials are where all the real money is (with video game voiceovers being one of the worst-paying acting jobs you can possibly take unless you’re John DiMaggio or Nolan North or Steve Blum or something), but if I was rich and didn’t have to worry about my livelihood, I’d try and aim for cartoons.

9. Describe your ideal fashion aesthetic. Janelle Monae. All tuxedos all day every day. I would never wear anything else.

10. Do you have a favourite cartoon? What’s that? I’d like you to share the memories with me. I mean it’s probably Avatar? I actually didn’t have cable growing up, and only ever watched shows “everyone has watched” starting from when I was sixteen and learned how to pirate shit.

Prior to that, the only cartoons I’d ever watched were anything that aired on public access, which would have been Scooby Doo and Tom and Jerry. And I liked Tom and Jerry more because it had animals in it, and the animation wasn’t as constrained by budget (not that I knew that at the time).

I tag @cateringisalie, @terror-billie, @daily-kaley. I’m not sure how many people I’m supposed to be tagging, or even if you guys do these sort of posts.

#asks

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thisisusfan388 · 6 years

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Painful Goodbyes

Hey guys- I'm back with a brand new chapter for my This Is Us series, set one month after Jack's death.

You can check out the previous chapters here:

https://thisisusfan388.tumblr.com/post/173624345857/its-all-coming-back-to-me-now-hey-guys-this-is

https://thisisusfan388.tumblr.com/post/174405404197/my-number-one

Thank you so much the lovely @omeliashipper for helping me to proofread this chapter!

Kate's POV

I open my eyes to the sound of pitiful whimpering. As I look around, the room is still pitch dark. As my eyes become accustomed to the dark, I spot the source of the noise. My dog Louis is sitting up in his basket in the corner of the room. We lock eyes and he lets out another sad whimper.

I look at the alarm clock beside my bed and sigh. 4 am in the morning. What does he probably want?

" What do you want, Louis?" I ask him softly. " Are you hungry? Do you need to go to pee?"

He perks up in his basket, pleased at having gotten my attention, and wags his tail.

I reluctantly get out of bed and trudge to the kitchen of the rented house, with him following me close behind. I open the back door for him to go out to do his business. He dashes out almost immediately, and I pour some dog treats into his bowl. He bounds back into the kitchen after a moment and gobbles down the treats eagerly. Sometimes, I wish I were a dog. Dogs are always happy all the time, no matter the circumstances.

I stroke his back gently as I watch him devour his meal. A heavy feeling enters my heart. He is an innocent dog and doesn't deserve this. No. It's not his fault- I tell myself.

I just can't bear to look at Louis anymore. Every time I look at him, I have a flashback reminding me of how my beloved Dad lost his life trying to save him. Before that tragic night, Louis was the center of my life. All my love and attention was focused on Louis. Now, seeing Louis is just a painful reminder of the fact that I've lost my dad.

I can still remember very vividly my screams of terror as I heard Louis barking for help from inside the burning house, and as I watched Dad rush back into the burning flames of the house. I was so shaken up, so upset that Louis was trapped in the house and would be burnt alive. Dad surprised me by running back into the house, despite Mom's protests. In retrospect, I have no idea why he had to go back into the house. Mom, Randall and I were all safe. Yes, he managed to save Louis and the important family documents, but at what cost? It cost him his life! I can't help but wonder daily each time I look at Louis- would Dad still have been alive had he not gone back in? I love them both, but if I had to choose between them, I would choose Dad for sure. Mom had mentioned that Dad died of smoke inhalation. Had he not gone back into the house, he would have inhaled the same amount of smoke as me, Randall and Mom. We survived and he should have as well.

I know that Dad saved Louis for my sake because he loved me and didn't want to see me heartbroken. But what he didn't realize back then was that I would be even more devastated to lose him.

The familiar feelings of anger and guilt overtake me the longer I look at Louis. Because of him, I have lost my beloved Dad - who was my best friend, confidante, most loyal supporter. I have lost my livelihood.

Life is not worth living anymore when you have lost the only person who tells you that you're perfect just the way you are. Everyone else, my friends and even my mom tell me that I need to lose more weight.

I remember the day before his death- I was recording a video for my application into university. Dad was secretly using his video camera to record me singing. When I turned around and realized that he was recording me, I was extremely pissed off. Why would he do such a thing- recording me singing without my consent? He was embarrassing me!

Looking back now, I'm so glad that he did it. The video is an evidence of his time here on earth, a proof that I have been loved by the best Dad ever. I have been replaying the video's tape recording so many times for the past month. Seeing the proud look on his face in the video as he recorded me is what has gotten me through this past month. Somehow seeing Dad in person, even if just on video, helps fill the void in my heart. It is cathartic indeed to be able to see Dad smiling proudly at me while holding his camera. In a strange way, replaying that video recording again and again makes me feel like he is always here with me, looking out for me.

Watching this video also made me realize how genuinely proud he was of me. When my friends in school laughed at me and called me fat, I returned home upset. Dad, always the one to sense my downcast mood, would ask me what's wrong, and I would open up to him. With Dad, there was nothing to hide. He would then comfort me by saying that it doesn't matter what they say- for him I'm beautiful, and that was all that mattered. Once, in third grade, when I came back crying after a few girls in the class wouldn't play with me as they thought I was fat and ugly- Dad actually took the matter into his hands and approached the girls, nicely telling them that what they were doing wasn't right. They never did bully me after that.

He would also always diffuse the tension between me and mom. Mom and I have a rocky relationship. I always feel like she expects me to be as perfect and beautiful as her. I am not and never will be. I always feel like she thinks I am not a good enough singer and can't sing as well as her. I've to admit, deep down inside I'm always jealous of the fact that she is so gorgeous. Even when I tried to starve myself to the point of eating only salad daily, I could never be as slender as her.

My relationship with Dad though is different. With Dad, I felt like I am free to be my true, authentic self. With him, I did not need to pretend to be anyone I was not. There were many instances where I would get into an argument with Mom, over a dress which I couldn't fit in or an off-handed remark she would make about my appearance which would trigger my fury. Dad would always manage to diffuse the situation by calming both me and Mom down individually. Now, there is no one to mediate my arguments with Mom.

Now with Dad gone, I'll also miss the impromptu ice cream sessions I had with him. When I was younger, whenever I got upset when Mom mentioned that I needed to watch my weight, Dad would cheer me up by bringing me to our favorite ice cream parlor in town, called Frenchies. It offers a wide variety of ice cream flavors, and I loved sampling a different combination of flavors each time. Dad, on the other hand, loved the banana pudding flavor. Over ice cream, Dad would then tell some jokes which would send me cracking up in fits of laughter and forget about the reason I was upset earlier on.

Also, I can never forget the time I was waiting for the bus to a private signing session with Alanis Morrissette. I love her songs and really wanted to meet her in person. When I found out that she was coming to town, I knew that I had to go meet her and get her autograph or a picture with her. When I saw Dad pulling up, my heart sank as I knew that I would be busted for skipping school. It turned out that he was the most sporting Dad ever, giving me a ride right to the studio where Alanis was meeting her fans. It was a secret between us which Mom never found out about.

I am always Dad's little girl, no matter how old I am. I was, am and always will be his little ‘Katie girl.' He made me believe in myself and never gave up on me.

Louis has finished gobbling up his treat and is now looking up at me with pleading eyes, as if begging for more. I just cannot bear to look at those eyes anymore.

I fill up his bowl with another round of treats. I am going to spoil him now, because this will be his last day with me. I've made up my mind, I can't keep him any longer.

"I'm sorry, Louis," I whisper as I gently stroke his back as he continues devouring his food. "I'm so sorry."

He pauses for a moment to look up from his food and wag his tail at me, before returning his attention back to the food.

This gesture of his makes me feel even more guilty about the decision I've made.

I return back to my room with Louis trailing right behind me. As Louis settles into his basket again, I sit up on my bed, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. I haven't been sleeping much for the past month, because every time I fall asleep, images of that fateful night- the fire, my horrified screams, the smell of smoke, and my terror of seeing Dad running back into the burning house would come back to haunt me.

_______________________________________________________________

Later in the morning

I am chewing absent-mindedly on my piece of toast, thinking about how to say goodbye to Louis. It is going to be heartbreaking for me to separate from this loyal dog who gave me licks and tail wags when I'm feeling down. However, I know that it has to be done. If I'm ever going to keep my sanity intact, I have to let go of this dog.

It is a weekend, so I plan to walk him straight to the pet adoption center about 15 minutes away from home right after breakfast.

" Hey." Mom greets me as she enters the kitchen and proceeds to pour two cups of coffee, one of each of us. She then takes a seat beside me.

" Hey." I greet her back, still munching on my toast and not looking at her. I just can't bear to look at the sadness in her eyes and the grief on her face.

" Do you have anything planned for today?" she asks. " Like going out with friends or something? Kevin was staying the night at Sophie's, and Randall is going to Alison's later."

What?! Mom do you expect me to just go on with life like normal after all that has happened?! Life isn't the same anymore, and I can't possibly pretend that it is!

" Nothing much. I'm just taking the dog out for a walk." I answer casually.

" Well, that's good. You need to get some fresh air. It's good for you." Mom approves.

" What do you mean by that?!" I shoot back suddenly.

Mom lifts her hands up in a defensive gesture.

" I'm just saying that you need to get some fresh air," she repeats in a cautious tone.

" Stop telling me what I need to do! You've been telling me what to do my whole life, and I'm sick and tired of it. Ok? Stop telling me what I can or cannot become, Mom. Just back off and leave me alone." I retort.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." Mom apologizes. I think I can hear a quiver in her voice, but I can't bear to bring myself to look at her. Looking at her would only make me feel worse.

" It's ok, Mom. I'm going to bring the dog out for a walk now." I mutter.

Just then, Randall enters the kitchen.

" Morning Mom, Kate.' he greets us.

" You want me to come with you?" he offers as he sees me placing the leash on Louis.

" It's ok, you stay with Mom," I answer before walking out of the door, leaving Mom in the kitchen with her favorite son.

_____________________________________________________________

Fifteen minutes later, I am at the animal shelter.

" Hey" a pleasant looking middle-aged lady greets me. " How may I help you?" she asks.

" Hey- this is my dog, Louis," I say- gesturing at him, as she bends down to give him a pat on the head.

" Hey Louis." she greets him cheerfully as he wags his tail at her.

" He's such a friendly dog." she points out as I nod in agreement.

" Yes, he is," I say. " It's a good thing that he is friendly because I can't keep him any longer."

" Oh, why not?" she asks, a sympathetic tone in her voice.

For a moment, I am tempted to tell her the truth, that I just can't continue to be reminded of Dad each time I look at the dog, but I know that I'll break down in front of her, a complete stranger, if I mention Dad.

" I just can't afford to take care of him anymore." I lie. " I'm sure there are many people who are better equipped to care for him."

" Ok. Well, are you sure about this, young lady? Because once we take him in, you can't take him back anymore. So you need to be completely sure that you want to surrender him to us." she confirms with me.

Louis looks at me as our eyes meet. He has a pitiful look in his eyes, as if he senses that I am giving him away and he's silently begging for me to keep him. To add to my guilt, he cocks his head to one side, a gesture which I have always found adorable.

For a split second, I consider retracting my statement and telling her that I don't want to give Louis away after all.

I look away from both Louis and the shelter keeper, trying to blink back the tears that are starting to fill my eyes.

" Yes," I answer firmly, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

Louis lets out a woeful whimper.

" Ok, we'll take him in. I'm sure we can find him a suitable owner, he'll be in good hands." the lady smiles at me as she takes the leash from my hands.

Louis whimpers again as he looks at me.

Fighting back tears, I bend down to pat him on the head one last time.

"It's ok Louis, you will find another home, a better home. You'll find someone who will love you and take good care of you. You'll be ok. You'll be ok." I whisper gently to him as I stroke his back and pat his head.

He licks me on the face. I think he can sense that this is goodbye.

I need to leave this place as soon as possible before I change my mind.

" Bye Louis," I say as I stand up, give him a final pat and turn around to walk away.

" Say bye." I hear the lady telling him.

As I walk towards the door, I can hear Louis barking, begging for me to turn back to get him.

With tears now freely rolling down my cheeks, I walk out of the door.

_______________________________________________________________

An hour later, I'm at Frenchies, where Dad and I loved to hang out.

" Hey, Kate- haven't seen you for quite some time. What flavor would you like today?" the guy at the counter, Nick, asks.

" Chocolate and vanilla flavor, please," I answer politely, and he proceeds to make my ice cream.

" Here you go," he says as he returns with my order a few moments later. " Where is your Dad? You usually come with him."

" He's gone," I say with a flat tone of voice.

Nick gasps as he covers his mouth and a sorrowful look overtakes him.

" I'm so sorry, Kate. I didn't know. My deepest condolences to you and your family," he says, a sympathetic tone in his voice. " How are you coping? Are you ok?"

" I'm fine," I lie, as I pay for the ice cream and take it from him.

" Ok," he says, catching my signal not to probe any further.

I proceed to the usual table where Dad and I used to sit. Somehow, even though the place was always full, the table seemed to always be available for the both of us. It was as if the table was specially reserved for us.

I settle down in my usual seat and take a tiny scoop of the ice cream. It somehow doesn't taste as good as when Dad is sitting opposite of me, savoring his banana pudding ice cream.

I glance longingly at the empty seat opposite of mine, the seat which Dad used to occupy. The empty chair symbolizes the current empty feeling in my heart.

Even eating ice cream at my favorite hang out spot isn't the same anymore without Dad.

I remember how Dad and I used to sit here and talk for hours here whenever I had an argument with Mom. Now, there is no one for me to eat ice cream with, no one to cheer me up when I'm feeling angry or upset, no one to make me laugh.

" Kate!"

A familiar voice pulls me back to the present.

I see Randall and Alison approaching my table.

"Hey," I greet shyly as I shake Alison's hand. She is a nice girl, but not someone I would typically hang out with.

" Are you ok?" Randall asks me as he places a hand on my shoulder.

It is taking me a lot of strength to stop tears from rolling down my cheeks again.

Damn you, Randall. Why do you have to do this? You know very well that this is mine and Dad's favorite hangout place. Why do you have to make this caring gesture which can cause me to break down in public at any minute?

" Yeah, I'm fine," I reply meekly.

Randall, having known me for our entire lives, sees right through my lie.

" No, you're not," he states matter-of-factly.

He turns to Alison.

"Ali- I'm bringing Kate home now. You can come along with us." he offers.

" It's ok- I'll call Nicole to pick me up from here," she says as she smiles sympathetically at me.

" Ok- I love you. I'll see you tomorrow." Randall says as he gives her a quick and affectionate peck on the cheek.

" Come, let's go home," he says as he places an arm around my shoulder as we walk out of the place.

____________________________________________________________

Half an hour later, both Randall and I are settled on the couch in the living room of our rented house.

A tense silence passes between us as we stare at the blank TV screen.

" You gave the dog away," he says disbelievingly.

" Yes," I answer nonchalantly.

" Why, Kate?" he asks. " Why did you do that? The dog is innocent."

" I know he is! I just can't keep him any longer, because every time I see him, I am reminded of how Dad gave his life by going into the burning house to save him!" I snap.

" I'm sorry," I mutter, realizing that I am answering too harshly. " I did what I had to."

" It's ok," Randall says calmly. " I know you're angry and upset about Dad. I am too."

" Why did he have to go?" I ask as I look at him sorrowfully.

“ I don’t know. What I do know is that he is in a better place now, and it’s not Louis’s fault. Dad ran back into the house because he knew you loved Louis and he loved you,” he says.

I remain silent, as I purse my lips together, trying to stop myself from crying.

“ I miss Dad so much," I admit, my voice shaking. “He used to sit opposite me in the ice cream place. It just isn’t the same anymore without him. I miss Louis too.” I add ruefully.

“I know, I miss Dad too,” Randall says as he places a comforting arm around my shoulder, and I lean on his shoulder for support. “I sort of miss Louis too. He always greeted me cheerfully at the door whenever I return home.”

We sit in that position for a long moment, the sweet memories of Dad playing in our minds.

“ Hey- do you want to watch a rerun of Sex In The City?” Randall suggests.

“Ok.” I nod, smiling at him. I feel much better already, just having him by my side.

We sit side by side on the couch, indulging ourselves in our guilty pleasure, relying on each other for support and company in this tough time. Although I have lost my beloved Dad, I am grateful that I still have my brothers and my mom to depend on.

Alright- that’s it for this chapter. Comments, reviews, reblogs and messages are very much

#this is us #kate pearson #jack pearson #randall pearson #ailing's fics

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wildernessuntothemselves · 7 years

Text

Kookies And Cream

Word Count: 11.6k (oh man holy shit)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff. The whole package.

Author’s Note: You know the definition of a switch? Just look at the two characters in this story lol switch heaven

2k Requests, Masterlist

When Jungkook first came to room with you, you were less than ecstatic about it. You had only ever roomed with one other person before at the start of your freshman year of college, but you quickly got fed up with it. Not that your roommate was bad or anything. In fact, if you were being fair, you'd admit that she was a sweetheart. But you are an only child, and you were never used to sharing anything with anyone, and despite what everyone said about the joys of having siblings, you simply weren't interested. You have none and that's the way you liked it.

Tell that to your parents though. They were convinced that you needed the company after years of keeping mostly to yourself unless you had to, with the exception of a couple of close friends. They thought that if you keep at it, you're going to turn insane from being in your head too much. Where they got that shit piece of pseudo-psychology you don't know but it had enough hold on their minds to make them force you to get a room in the college dorms -yuck- and live with a stranger for an entire month.

Or it would've been a month anyway if you hadn't made that poor girl's life a living hell so much so that by the end of the third week, she was running away from your shared dorm room like the devil himself was behind her.

The series of students who came and went through your dorm didn't last long enough to qualify as roommates. Your record was six hours, that's how long it took to send one dude,-Hoseok, you'll never forget the name- running for his life. It's a shame too, he was cute, and you had to forever ruin your chances with him. But, oh well, there are much more important things in life, like having a bathroom all to yourself.

Soon enough, your college caught on to your reign of terror and they, not so kindly, asked you to vacate the premises and restore the harmony to the student body. Your parents were forced to rent an apartment for you, seeing as you weren't allowed in the dorms anymore and they lived too far away for you to stay with them. Yeah, they could've withheld their money from you and taught you an important lesson about the consequences of being such a spoiled child but they loved you too much to do that. They've never been able to deal any real punishment to their baby girl, and that's probably how you turned out to be so headstrong.

Little did you know, however, that your comeuppance was coming for you. It took five years, five long years where you enjoyed your solitude to the max, but just as you were enrolling in a one-year post-graduate Master’s program, instead of the peaceful send off into the working world you were counting on it to be, it turned into a shitshow of the highest degree with the arrival of a certain bunny-toothed brat.

Jungkook is the son of your family's next door neighbours. But other than the daily 'Good mornings' and the occasional dinner invitation, your families weren't really close, and the only contact you had with their shy son was that one year you tutored him in math. To be sure, you were shit at math but that didn't stop you from attempting to make some money off the kid.

You see, Jungkook had a painfully obvious puppy crush on you, and even though you didn't teach him shit, and what you did teach him was mindbogglingly wrong, he still never spoke a word of it to his parents, studying on his own and getting good marks just so he'd keep seeing you.

To say that you were a bitch to him would be an understatement. You'd frequently invite your boyfriends over, taking advantage of the fact that his parents were never around because of their jobs, and using his place to hook up with them, knowing Jungkook would never tell on you. You did not care or even notice much that you were breaking the boy's heart.

Eventually, though, he got sick of your shit and asked you to stop coming over. But he still didn't tell either of your parents, ever the sweet kid. You didn't hear or see much of him after that, and you suspect that was intentionally his doing, until now.

As if the universe was punishing you for all your sins against the boy, it made him appear again in your life, but this time you were the one who was going to suffer.

On the last day before your Master’s program was set to start, your mum dropped the bomb on you, informing you that your old pupil was to shack up with you this year, and no amount of whining or begging or scheming was going to get you out of it. She gave you an ultimatum: either you let him room with you and look after him, or she stops giving you money and leaves your spoiled ass out in the cold to fend for yourself. Any funny business from you and you're done.

You were in denial at first, convincing yourself that it couldn't possibly be that bad. From what you remembered of Jungkook, he was a shy kid who did anything humanly possible to please you. You were sure that his crush must be long gone by now but he would still be the timid boy you remembered. Right?

Wrong. Jungkook was the devil incarnate.

He was nothing like the boy you used to know. For one thing, he grew. Instead of looking down on him, he now towered over you. Not that you were expecting the boy to remain midget sized forever, but the sheer scale of his height change was intimidating. His long, thick thighs made him look all the more tall.

Speaking of his thighs, your next door baby neighbor had no right to grow up to have such drool-inducing thighs. He must be aware of how sexy they are because he always puts them on display, adorning them in slim fitted jeans -and sometimes leather fucking pants, seriously who was this kid- and giving you such dirty thoughts they could make Jesus cry.

The rest of his body didn't show such stark evidence of his muscle bulk, it was all lean and hidden underneath his skin and clothes, fooling you into believing that it wasn’t that strong. Until you made the stupid mistake of challenging him one day, taking away his dinner and threatening not to let him eat until he's cleaned the mess he always makes after him.

He had snatched the food out of your hands faster than you could perceive and pushed you on the sofa, restraining you with those damn thighs of his as he continued the Netflix show he was watching and paid no mind to your struggles to get out from underneath him. When he was done, he left the empty plate on the table and went to take a shower.

That was the first time you'd learned of his horrible strength, and throughout the next few months, you became aware of it more and more with each passing day. Like when you'd take too long in the bathroom and he'd physically remove you from it like you weighed nothing more than a towel in order to get ready for his day. Or on those rare moments when he would be kind enough to help you move some piece of furniture around so you could clean under it after that one time you almost got crushed under a storage unit you were trying to move. He never let you do that on your own again despite how hard you tried to shrug him off.

Most maddening of all is that he refused to properly address you, always calling you by your first name instead of Noona since your reunion even though you've never told him he could do that, but no matter how many times you corrected him, he simply ignored you.

He may be doing things way worse than that but that's the one thing that annoyed you the most. You've never allowed anyone younger than you to call you by your name before. Call it being power hungry but you liked the respect you got simply for your greater age and that's why most of your friends were younger than you. So to have a brat like Jungkook simply disregard you like that got on your nerves more than anything.

You couldn't even relieve all that stress he was causing you. Every time you'd invite a guy over, Jungkook would do something to make the boy leave. It was as if he was doing it on purpose. His ways varied. One time he decided to clean up the apartment all of a sudden, specifically your room, and when you and your hook up headed for the couch, he went to clean that too. Another time he invited his unholy friends over in the middle of your hook up and they made sure to disturb you as much as they possibly can. And yet another time he called your mum and told her that you wanted to talk to her mid-fuck... His ways were endless.

You'd tried going against your preference and heading to your designated hook-up's place instead of yours like the usual but that proved to be very challenging. When you had a one night stand at your place, you could simply kick the person out after you're done and enjoy a peaceful night of sleep all to yourself. But when you hooked up at somebody else's place you had to make the infamous walk of shame each following morning, with an empty stomach and a restless night of trying to sleep in a stranger's bed, fighting for space and never agreeing on the optimal temperature.

Of course, Jungkook found a way to make it even harder for you. He'd sometimes, somehow, manage to find where exactly your hook-up's place is and bang on his door until they'd open up then he'd pretend to be your boyfriend who caught you cheating, watching with barely contained glee as you got kicked out. Or if the hook-up was particularly nasty, like that Jinyoung guy, Jungkook would drag you out of the apartment himself. Soon enough, a rumor spread around the whole campus about a cheating senior girl and her crazy freshman boyfriend, and you couldn’t even find someone to hook up with after that.

Jungkook wasn't content with just fucking up your chances of getting laid for the entire year. No, he made it a point to rub it in your face by hooking up with a new girl every chance he got and doing things to her to keep her screaming all night. You didn't know what he could possibly be doing to make them go off like that short of a murder scene, but whatever he did, it kept you all up and made sure you got no sleep.

You spent months suffering through all this, wondering why the fuck he was acting this way until you got fed up and asked him about it one day. You weren't really expecting an answer, so far you had just chalked it up to him being a demon from hell sent to test out your patience. You certainly didn't expect the way he so nonchalantly answered you, "It's payback for all the times you tortured me as a teenager."

Damn, did that kid know how to hold a grudge.

After much struggling, you finally submitted to your fate, figuring that he'd get tired of torturing you eventually, but he never did. He only got worse until you couldn't even handle staying in your apartment anymore and only got back to it to sleep. That is if you were lucky enough and he didn't have another one of his girls over.

"Oh god, would you put on some underwear?" You scowl at Jungkook over your bowl of cereal, disapproving of the way he was wearing his grey sweatpants sans underwear and forcing you to see exactly what he's packing. "This is practically sexual harassment."

"Don't pretend you don't like what you see, baby," Jungkook says smugly, sitting down opposite you and spreading his legs, giving you an unfiltered view at little Jungkook... which looked slightly hard? You shake your head, must be just morning wood.

You get up and point your spoon at him, "See this whole thing right here," You circle your spoon in his general direction, "Is disturbing."

You throw the remainder of your uneaten cereal in the trash and put your bowl and spoon in the sink, spinning on your heel and leaving the kitchen, not noticing the pout now etched on Jungkook's face.

This was useless. You've never been good at studying outside your house. The conditions just were never right. The library was too quiet for you as you liked to read things out loud and talk to yourself sometimes, moving around as if you were explaining the subject to a classroom, and that just wasn't permitted in a library. Not to mention that it made you look insane. Cafes were too noisy and crowded for you as people socialized and talked at a volume higher than your internal voice and you couldn't even hear yourself think.

Today you discovered that the campus park was also out of the question as you constantly felt tiny phantom insect legs crawling all over your body. You snap your textbook closed and get up, brushing off the ghost insects and cursing Jungkook for forcing you out of your apartment, your safe haven. Grabbing your phone, you text Yoongi, demanding that he meet you at the nearest bar as soon as possible.

When Yoongi arrives fifteen minutes later, he sees that you've downed half a bottle of wine already. He raises an eyebrow at you, an amused smile on his face. "That kid got you hard, huh?"

You snort, "Fuck you, Yoongi, you should be on my side. But if you must know then yes, the devil spawn has me bested." You grumble and your entire face falls into a pathetic pout. "He's not letting me do anything, Yoongi. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't study. I can't even fuck."

"Why don't you just fuck him?"

You choke on your mouthful of red wine. After coughing and sputtering until you can breathe again, you smack your best friend hard. "How can you say that?!"

Yoongi shrugs, "Why not? From your fixation on describing his body to me, I'd say you want him."

"I was only telling you how inappropriate he's being!"

"Sure, love. That's why you were describing his body in detail to me." He gives you an unimpressed look and you blush. "You'd be killing two birds, or at this point four or five, with one stone. You'd get the fuck you've been running after for months, you wouldn't have strange girls keeping you up at night with their screams of pleasure because you'd be the one screaming." You give him a look of horror at that but he ignores you, "And he'd probably go easy on you after that. Since he would get to fuck you, he wouldn't be bothering you so much around the house... You get the idea."

"I'm denouncing this friendship." You declare but Yoongi merely rolls his eyes.

Your talk with Yoongi fucked you up, and you ended up finishing that wine bottle all by yourself in an attempt to drown the unwelcome thoughts he was giving you about your evil roommate. Ok, fine, so you may find him a bit attractive, there was no shame in admitting that, but you were not about to reward his behavior by giving your body to him. No, misbehaving boys like him needed to be punished.

You stumble all the way up to the door of your apartment, holding your keys ahead of you as if they had some kind of GPS to guide you home. You must have spent an entire ten minute stretch of time trying and failing to stick your keys inside the keyhole, and when you managed to stick one in, it turned out to be the wrong one. Exasperated and feeling like you were on the verge of a drunken breakdown, you start banging on the door, hoping Jungkook would have mercy on you for once and open the door for you.

But he doesn't, despite the fact that you could clearly hear him in the living room feeling on some girl, and he has to have heard you. Still, you bang on the door until you can't anymore. Feeling a storm welling up inside your stomach, you fall with a loud thump on the floor, wrapping your arms around yourself and praying you wouldn't humiliate yourself by throwing up right in front of your door.

You hear a rushed shuffling of feet inside the apartment before the door you were leaning on flies open and you fall to the floor. A familiar scent surrounds you as Jungkook turns you on your back to look at you, a concerned look on his face. "Hey, are you ok?"

Your traitorous eyes can't help but be drawn to his shirtless body, and you groan. "Ugh, go put a shirt on." You weakly smack his naked chest with your balled up fist, your drunken mind simply not able to throw up its usual defenses against the attractive boy.

Jungkook, on the other hand, takes offense to your words, scoffing and getting up to leave you on the floor. Your hands shoot out to grab onto his pants, pulling on them hard as you attempt to make him stay. "No, Kookie don't leave. Help me, please. I'm gonna throw up." You cry pathetically and he turns back to you, holding onto his pants to prevent them from getting pulled down.

"Alright, alright, but let go, you're gonna make me lose my pants."

You immediately let him go, managing to feel embarrassed enough to blush even in your drunken state. You feel strong arms wrap around you and pull you off the floor, carrying you bridal style and going in the direction you assume the bathroom to be.

Jungkook had a tight hold on you, pressing you up securely against his chest as he carried you off, and you were overwhelmed by the closeness. You could feel exactly how sculpted his body was and you were surrounded by his scent which surprisingly still managed to be pleasant to you despite your nauseousness. However, something about that scent felt familiar to you but you couldn't put your finger on it...

"Hey, is that Victoria's Secret?!" You exlaim, finally remembering where exactly you knew that smell from as he set you down on the floor in front of the toilet seat. You don't let him go as you pull him closer to you and sniff him up. "It is Victoria's Secret!"

Jungkook removes your body off of him and jumps back, a deep crimson blush staining his face. Whatever he or you were going to say gets interrupted by a fresh wave of nausea and before you know it, you're grabbing onto the toilet seat in a death grip and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. Jungkook uses that moment's reprieve and bails, bolting out of the bathroom and leaving you on your own. You were hurt but thankful, at least now he wouldn't witness the unsightly scene you were making as you gag and wretch your heart out.

You don't get to feel relieved for long though because after you overhear an argument you can't quite make out between Jungkook and the girl, you hear the apartment door slam shut before Jungkook is by your side again with a warm towel in his hand that he uses it to pat away the sweat running over your face in between your throwing up sessions.

When you've finally emptied out the contents of your stomach and then more, you shakily reach out to flush the horror scene in front of you and try to salvage any shred of pride left, but Jungkook holds you down and flushes it for you then he gets up to grab you a cup of water that you greedily drink up.

As soon as you're done, Jungkook sweeps you up in his arms again and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down and tucking you in before leaving without a word and you assume he's gone this time for good after he's done more than his duty.

But again you're wrong as Jungkook reappears with a cup of orange juice and a cup of water and he gently rouses you up from the superficial sleep you'd gone into, ignoring your protests and insisting that you drink everything.

"I can't. It will just make me throw up." You whine, fighting weakly against him to let you go back to sleep.

"You need this, ___. I won't leave you until you drink it." He holds the freshly squeezed orange juice to your mouth and you begrudgingly take a sip, figuring that the faster you drink it up, the sooner he'll let you get your much-needed sleep.

At long last, when you've lightly sipped your way through both cups, he asks you some questions -Can you breathe alright? Is there any pain? Not even here?- and he makes sure you're extra tucked in before he finally closes the light and lets you sleep.

You barely register the bed dipping beside you as you clutch your head in an attempt to keep it intact against a ravenous headache ripping through it. You hear a soothing voice calling out to you, and strong, sure hands pulling you up and removing your hands from your face, replacing them with two small pills at your lips and a cup of cool water to wash them down.

After some time, when your headache finally calms down enough for you to be able to look up at your merciful savior, you see none other than Jungkook looking down at you with concern upon his face. Before you can stop yourself, you mutter out, "Oh, it's you."

Jungkook's worried frown turns into one of irritation and he bites at you, "You're welcome." before getting up to leave in a huff. Your hands reach out to grab onto him, looking up at him in earnest and speaking sincerely, "Thank you, Jungkook."

His features soften at that, "I'm gonna make us some breakfast."

"Oh, you don't have to do that." You wave your hands in front of you, not wishing to cause him any more trouble.

"I'm gonna make us breakfast." He repeats firmly and you slump down into your bed as you watch him leave, silently feeling thankful that he didn't listen to you when you hear your stomach grumble in hunger.

As you wait for him, you look around your room aimlessly and your eyes land on your vanity chair that was displaced from its usual spot to where it now resided next to your bed, and it doesn't take you long to realize why. Jungkook must have slept on it the night before in order to keep an eye on you. You feel incredible guilt and shame wash over you as you think about how restless his night must have been in that uncomfortable chair just so he can watch over you when he didn't even have to.

When Jungkook gets back to your room with a tray of eggs and fruit, you thank him again quietly, and despite you not clarifying what exactly you were thankful for, the small smile on his face lets you know that he got it.

You were happily munching on the delicious food when you hear him clear his throat and ask timidly, "Did you sleep alright?"

You turn to him but you see him focused on his food, purposefully avoiding your gaze. "Yeah. I mean way better than it would have been without your help."

He nods and then hurriedly lobs a piece of orange into his mouth, restless under your gaze, but, nervous as he is, he doesn't chew on it well enough and it gets stuck in his throat and he starts coughing violently. You rush to his side, hitting his back and helping him dislodge the offensive piece out of his throat then you hand him your cup of water and watch as he chugs it down, finally breathing again.

Jungkook looks up at you, giving you an uncertain look. You're confused at the conflicting emotions in his eyes until you realize that you still had your arm around him, unconsciously rubbing your hand up at down his back. You quickly withdraw your hand and you both fall into an awkward silence.

"Listen, Jungkook." You start nervously, taking a big gulp of breath as his doe eyes turn to look at you. "I know you've done so much for me already just this past night, but would it be too much to ask you to set aside your grudge against me for just a few weeks? You see, exams are coming up and I really can't study outside the house. If things continue like this I will flunk. So I would really appreciate it if-"

"Ok," Jungkook cuts your rant off and you stare at him wide-eyed.

"Ok?"

"Yes, I was being immature anyway. What you did to me was a long time ago and I should've just gotten over it but instead, I acted petty and I'm sorry." He looked genuinely troubled and at war with himself so you rushed to ease his mind.

"No, no, I was honestly such a bitch to you, and I deserve all that I got." You smile in amusement at his shocked face. "But it's got to stop now or my parents will kill me because I failed my tests and then you'd have no one else to torture."

"I wasn't trying to torture you," Jungkook says sheepishly.

"Peace?" You smile, extending your hand to him and he takes it right away. "Peace."

In the following month, your view of Jungkook makes a 180 turn. Now that he wasn't making it his mission to make your every waking (and sleeping) moment a living hell, you realize that he's actually not that bad. No, scratch that. You realize that he's fucking golden.

He's funny, frequently making your sides split from laughing too hard. He has the most hilarious little reactions to everything and he is never afraid to make himself look like a fool just so he would see you crack a smile on a dreary day. On your part, you also enjoyed making him laugh. While you weren't nearly as funny as he was, you loved to hear him laugh, the sound so youthful and silly, it always lit your world up. Luckily, Jungkook seemed prepared to laugh at all your antics, no matter how pathetic, and you got to hear the heartwarming sound often.

He is the picture of the perfect gentleman, always prepared to help you any way you needed. From helping you open jars of your favorite honey to bringing you Chinese takeout and binge-watching Netflix with you when you just couldn't bear to face the world that day.

He texts you good morning on the days he doesn't see you. He texts you goodnight when one of you is out late. He texts you 'how are you feeling?' just before you head into an important test, and he texts you 'how did you do?' the minute you get out of the examination room.

He may still act like a brat a lot of the time but now you know that it's just him teasing you and not because of a decade old grudge. And he more than makes up for it with the countless sweet little things he does, not that you are ever really annoyed with his teasing anymore. Jungkook has a heart of gold. You've never encountered anyone as sweet and earnest as him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his every emotion raw and real, and you find yourself doing everything in your might to keep it this way, to protect him from the cruel world that would seek to get its dirty hands on such perfect innocence.

Jungkook's face became an indispensable constant in your life. His laugh a lullaby. His smile a ray of sunshine. His eyes more precious than the most beautiful night sky.

If someone had told you just a month ago that you'd be sitting on your sofa, yanking the textbooks and meticulously written notes out of Jungkook's lap and genuinely trying to ease up his pre-exam stress, you would've laughed in their faces and called them insane.

But here you were, hands cupping Jungkook's precious face and telling him to take deep breaths to match your own.

"Jungkookie, please relax. You've studied more than enough, honey. You'll do great." You speak after you're convinced that he was breathing again. You caress his cheeks softly and he closes his eyes and unconsciously leans into your touch. Your heart flutters at his reflexive action and you have to jerk your hands back to your sides, making Jungkook's eyes snap open at the loss and a small pout appear on his thin lips.

"You need to go to sleep. It's the best thing you can do now." You clear your throat, standing up and dragging him behind you towards his bedroom, avoiding eye contact at all cost. "Research has shown that you retain information and score better on exams if you have a good night's sleep beforehand."

You lay him down on his bed and pull the covers over him. Jungkook props himself up on a pillow to look at you, his tired eyes lighting up with mischief. "Oh baby, I love it when you talk science to me."

Your hand shoots out lightening-quick to smack the increasingly shameless boy in an effort to hide the blush on your face. Really, he's getting too familiar with you.

Jungkook lets you deliver the hit. Even though he could've easily stopped you with his freakishly good reflexes, he lets you have this one with a light-hearted laugh on his part. Again, your stupid heart does a backflip at the lovely sound.

Your new relationship with Jungkook was bad for your health, you lament, muttering a 'goodnight' to the overgrown child and preparing to make a dash for sanctuary outside of this hazardous zone. But Jungkook is too cruel to let up.

"Will you sleep with me?"

"W-what?" You choke on air, knowing exactly what he means despite the dirty part of your brain pathetically praying that it's the other meaning, while your poor heart agrees because at least then it would get a break from this emotional abuse.

"I would sleep much better if you're here with me." He looks up at you, bright hope mingling and exploding with the stars in his eyes to make the brightest nebulas. He has to know what he's doing to you. He has to, that manipulative brat.

You practically swoon and fall to the bed, not even caring that you despise not having your space when you sleep. Something told you that you'd enjoy Jungkook's presence more than your beloved solitude. And despite warning him to keep to his side, you wake in the middle of the night to find yourself good and cuddled up by the boy, and your previous suspicion is confirmed. It's the first time you've ever woken up not feeling cold as Jungkook's body heat forms a force field of warmth around you and you find yourself snuggling deeper into him. Your body fits perfectly into the concavity of his own and his limbs surround you, making you feel safe but not caged. You were as comfortable as a lovebird under its mate’s wings and that thought deeply worried you.

Finally, exams were over, and with them the transitional period of your relationship with Jungkook. The stress and trauma of exams and the need to survive them had brought you closer together. You'd take turns calming each other down. One day you'd be the level-headed one, taking Jungkook out of his own mind and making him see that things weren't really that bad, and the next day he'd be the one convincing you that, no, you shouldn't just drop out and become a stripper.

Past the first few awkward and unsure times, cuddling together has become a habit. Whenever one of you was particularly stressed about something, they would crawl into the other's bed and make them play with their hair and rub their back until they fell into a peaceful sleep. Truthfully, you felt perfectly fine half of the time you slipped into his bed, you were just craving his touch. It wasn't your fault that his body felt like your own little sanctuary and his voice resembled that of an angel.

If you were being honest with yourself, you would admit that your life with Jungkook was becoming more domestic than any friendship had any right to be. He made you breakfast and coffee every morning to coax you out of your habit of oversleeping and you made him dinner every night to dissuade him from his usual meals of junk food and coke. You cuddled and slept together most nights. You went out on cute little 'dates' around the city, both coming from a small town and making it a mission to explore as much of the city as you can. You've never thought to do that despite having spent three years here prior to Jungkook's arrival. It wasn't until he suggested it one day that you suddenly found yourself starving for a little adventure, spurned on by Jungkook's reckless youthfulness. He made you feel alive.

So why weren't you dating? Because despite him now being a grown ass man, he is still a whole four years younger than you are. You’re doing your Masters while he is just a fucking Freshman. You've just graduated from college and he’s just graduated from high school. How many more ways can you phrase it? Your friends never let you hear the end of it. They had gone up into a mini-riot when they'd learned that you used to babysit him ages ago.

Yoongi was the only one not losing his shit over this. He still thought it was a stupid idea -Jungkook is too young to be serious about this, not to mention he's your neighbor and your mothers know each other- but at least he wasn't treating you like you had committed some kind of crime.

You never really cared what people said. You're not the type of person to plan your life around pleasing people, but your friends' reactions made you falter because if that's what they thought then what did Jungkook himself think? He is the only one whose opinion on this mattered and if everyone thought it was a bad idea and you were sick for wanting him then that's probably what he would think too. Maybe all his gestures and actions are as innocent as him. He is probably doing it all with pure intentions and you're just a sick crazy lady who's reading too much into them.

After all, he's never once hinted at wanting something more with you, and it's not like you can exactly ask him about it. With any other person you would have, but because of the delicate circumstances of this situation, you obviously couldn't, and so you decide to just bottle up all of your emotions until you find a way to get rid of them quietly and for good.

At first, you wanted to distance yourself from Jungkook until you can reach an extent that is acceptable for two people who were just friends, but Jungkook didn’t let you even try. Despite how reserved he might appear to those who don’t know him, in real life, Jungkook is a human koala; he’s incredibly clingy, and once he holds on to someone he doesn’t let them go easily.

So it didn’t matter how busy you told him you were. Like the huge softie he was, he planned his schedule around yours, content with merely sitting in silence with you as you studied and he played his video games, every once in a while reaching over to squeeze your hand or draw mindless patterns on the back of it and smiling angelically at you. When he’d do that, you would never have the heart to reject him like you're supposed to do and tell him that you need both hands to work. You'd just let him hold it as your progress slows down significantly -only partly because of the practicality of working with just one hand but mostly because of the storm of butterflies in your stomach called into existence by his touch- and his character dies dozens of times while his teammates scream at him.

In the end, you resorted to inviting Yoongi over whenever possible, knowing that Jungkook is timid around the older male. He’d kept his distance the first few times you’d done that but when he realized that this recent development was becoming a constant thing, he’d tried to overcome his shyness and reach out to you. You could see the hesitation in his every move, in the way his hand would linger in the air for a second before touching you. Or in the way he’d stutter when he’d try to deliver his normal banter, mischief absent from the words and replaced by a confused insecurity.

But even that didn’t last long because every time he’d try to get closer to you, you’d turn to Yoongi and touch him instead. It broke your heart how easily that affected him. The look of betrayal in his eyes deeply reminiscent of those long gone days when you’d discard him to have fun with other boys.

After the most heart-wrenching period of time in your life where you had to watch yourself break down Jungkook after he’d innocently offered his heart to you, trusting you not to break it again, Jungkook finally learns his lesson.

He stopped reaching out to you all together and started keeping to himself, only talking to you as much as a roommate needs to talk to the other. He stopped inviting you out to things and rejected your own invitations to him. Even the cuddling stopped and you were back to being cold again. It all made your heart ache, this wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted to keep at a healthy distance from him so you’d quit your infatuation with the boy three years your junior, but you wanted to remain friends. Damn it, you never meant to lose him.

But it would be unfair to him to push for it now. Even on the off chance that he’d trust you a third time, you didn’t want him to. You needed to stop being so selfish. Jungkook deserves to get his distance from you and find a girl his own age who’d love him and never even think of hurting him. He deserves the best in this shitty world and that wasn’t you.

And so you’d turned a blind eye when Jungkook started behaving rudely towards you. You don’t know what triggered the sudden shift in his behavior exactly but you’d chalked it up to him taking revenge on you again and to be honest, you more than deserved it. Except this time it wasn’t teasing and prank-like humor, this was straight up brashness. Even during his most intense bouts of revenge, he always picked his words carefully, taking care not to say anything actually offensive, but now he’s turned into this guy who just says whatever without giving a fuck about people’s feelings. Abrasive and cocky, only Yoongi could match his new bluntness. It’s almost as if he was actively trying to imitate the older boy...

Stepping up to the door of your bedroom, you don’t have long to wonder why it was wide open when you've always closed it before you left. Your confused thoughts screech to a halt when you see a large figure laying on your bed, but the fear is quickly replaced by worry when you realize that it’s Jungkook. It's dark and you can’t see all that well but you could recognize that voice anywhere, even if it was coming out in soft whimpers and choked sobs like it was right now.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest at the thought that Jungkook might be crying. Oh god, what if he’s realized that you’d purposefully distanced yourself from him and he’s hurting? Jungkook has always been sensitive even if he was bad at expressing his emotions. Maybe he’s heartbroken over your recent behavior but he doesn’t know how to tell you that. What if...

Your self-disparaging train of thought is gradually derailed by a curious detail in Jungkook’s movement. His body moves minutely but nonstop and with a rhythmic quality about it. His face nuzzles into your pillow as his body writhes on top of the bed, almost grinding on...

When you hear his “cry” again, soft and sounding suspiciously like your name, you’re almost struck down with the truth of the what was happening in front of your eyes. Jungkook was masturbating. In your bed. To your scent. To the thought of you.

As though a woman possessed, you step into the room and slam the door closed behind you. Jungkook jumps at the sound and turns to face you, pulling up the covers around himself.

“Kookie, what are you doing here?” You ask with sickly sweetness, pretending you don’t know exactly what he’s been doing just a moment ago. A plan forms in your mind. A bad, wicked plan that you certainly shouldn't follow, but after witnessing the boy so high on just the thought of you, you can't seem to bring yourself to care much.

This proves that you've been torturing yourself for no real reason. Jungkook does want you, at least sexually. If he wants you and you want him then there is no reason to keep feeling guilty about it. There is no reason for you to deny yourself from the pleasure of having him. The only real danger here was getting your heart broken when the boy invariably tells you that he's only in it for the sex, but at this moment you are desperate enough for him that you couldn't be bothered to care about that. Let the future you deal with the heartbreak, you'll enjoy the sex.

Jungkook pulls the covers tighter around himself and subtly tucks himself back into his pants, or so he thinks anyway. “I was waiting for you. I wanted to sleep with you.” He answers lamely, again with the suggestive words, except this time you knew it’s the second meaning he really wanted.

“So you’re finally done being a brat?” You can’t help but scold him, still feeling a little petty and upset.

“Only if you’re done ignoring me.” He replies defiantly despite the incriminating situation you've caught him in.

You stare him down, thinking of your next move as Jungkook squirms under your gaze. You don't address the fact that you hadn’t cuddled for weeks now, and start getting rid of your uncomfortable clothes until you’re standing in front of a shocked Jungkook in just your underwear. The boy feeling equal parts embarrassed and turned on.

“What? It’s hot.” You answer his still scandalized expression with a smirk. You slip into bed and press your back against him, ready to commence with the cuddling without a care in the world, but Jungkook wriggles away before your ass can touch a certain part of his body.

“You know what? On second thought, it’s probably too hot to cuddle. I’m just gonna go back to my room.” Jungkook stammers and attempts to get up but you quickly turn towards him and shove him flat against the bed, pouting, “No, stay. I’ve missed you.”

Jungkook stares up at you, frozen, as you wedge one leg between his, your thigh nestling against the hardness you find there. “Oh, what is that?” You exaggerate your surprise, having way too much fun with this.

“I’m sorry! I’ll leav-AH” Jungkook’s squeaks are interrupted by a loud cry when you run your hand under the cover, searching for the thing that was poking your thigh and ending up palming him through his pants. He throws his head back against the pillow, all fight leaving his body at once. “Oh my, Kookie, are you hard?”

You don’t really give him the chance to respond as you press the heel of your hand against his balls, slowly kneading them. “You are hard. You were trying to get me to cuddle you when you’re this horny. What a naughty boy.”

“No, I w-wasn’t.”

“Really? You told me yourself just a minute ago. The only other explanation is that I've caught you masturbating to me in my own bed and you thought you could lie to cover your ass... But that can’t be, can it, Kookie? You're a good boy. You'd never do something like that.” You purr in his ear, enjoying the way the boy was hyperventilating under you from the mixture of adrenaline and arousal, choosing to keep silent as he enjoys the humiliating handjob.

“Throw the covers away, baby.” Jungkook obeys your order despite the shudder running through his body and the flames of shame threatening to light him up.

“Now, pull down your pants and boxers -no, sweetie, I want you to do it." You say when he looks like he is going to protest. You weren’t going to force him into anything. If he wanted this then he needed to act like it. You were done feeling like the aggressor in this relationship. "I need to know that you want this too.”

“Oh baby, look at you.” You coo when he obeys, running your fingers lightly over his cock and tongue poking out to lick your lips at the stream of precum leaking from his round tip. “You’re so pretty.”

Jungkook wasn’t big by any means, he is average if not leaning more towards the small size, but damn if he didn’t have the prettiest cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. His shaft stuck out from the middle of his black curls, fat and soft to the touch, and his head flared and glistening with precum, making your mouth water.

You get up on your knees and shuffle down until you’re nestled between his thighs. Jungkook cranes his neck to look at you, anticipating your next move as if his life depended on it. Unable to take it anymore, you bend down and swipe your tongue across his slit then eagerly pull it back into your mouth. You and Jungkook both moan out at that, him with desperation and you with content. “You taste so good. So salty yet so sweet.” You coo, bending down again to take his head into your mouth, sucking on it to gather all the precum that has leaked out.

Jungkook’s hips involuntarily push upwards, seeking the pleasurable heat of your mouth but you immediately pull back, smacking his thigh lightly in reprimand. “Tsk tsk, you think you deserve my mouth, baby, after the way you’ve been treating me?”

“I’m sorry.” He whimpers pathetically, making it so hard for you not to just shove him into your mouth and give him the kind of blowjob that would melt his brain.

“You think that just because you have such a pretty cock that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself?” You say even as you bend down to lick at him some more, swiping your tongue from the base right to the tip then going back down with a trail of kisses down to his balls, lathering them with your tongue as you look up at him, his erect cock partially obstructing your vision. “So, so pretty.”

“I’m sorry, noona.”

Your head snaps up, eyes widening at what he’s just called you. Jungkook is still as teary-eyed and desperate as ever, but now there was a definite sly glint to his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be a good boy from now on. Just please suck my cock.” A ghost of a smirk distorts the lovely shape of his lips as he watches you carefully before adding. “Noona.”

You never knew that a single word could hold so much power over someone. Hearing Jungkook finally call you Noona fills you with an insatiable need such as you've never felt before. You push his sweats even further down his legs until they're past his knees then you straddle one of his thighs, ignoring how embarrassingly wet your panties have suddenly become, and start grinding your pussy against him. Under your breath, you mutter a prayer of thanks to whatever god is out there because if they had listened to your wishes of having Jungkook address you properly before, you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from jumping his bones each time he said it.

“You little brat.” You spit, feeling yourself already perilously close to the edge when the muscle in his thigh reflexively contracts as he feels your juices sticking against his skin. No, you won't give him the pleasure of making you cum first. The brat doesn't deserve it. You fist his cock and pump it brutally up and down, your hand blurring over it and not leaving him any room to breathe.

“Noona, noona, stop please, I’m gonna cum, noona, ah, ah, no-uhhh, noonahhh,” Even in his pleasurable delirium, the boy still doesn't shut up.

When his orgasm hits him, he suddenly stops resisting and spreads his thighs as he convulses, cumming all over himself and filling you with the urge to fuck him, to just climb on top of him and give him what his eyes are practically begging you for even after his last orgasmic shudders subside.

As if reading your mind, he sniffles up at you, “Noona... take me.” Like a whore, he spreads his legs some more, purposefully drawing your attention to his pretty cock that still hasn’t softened yet.

Your mind was foggy and pumped full of sex chemicals. You knew you couldn't make a halfway responsible decision in that state. You needed to decompress so you ignore his request altogether. Taking off your panties, you climb up Jungkook's body until you're hovering over his face, your pussy mere inches from his eager tongue. Without any prompting, Jungkook cranes his neck upwards, warm mouth immediately going to work.

He runs his tongue teasingly between your clit and vagina, careful not to touch the areas where you're most sensitive until you tug harshly on his hair, "Jungkook." You warn through gritted teeth.

Smiling insolently, his bunny teeth adding to his aura of mischief, he zeros in on where you want him the most, your clit. Except he only gives it little bunny licks, his tongue poking at it teasingly and his eyes staring up at you playfully. Maybe in another life, a life where you miraculously had Jungkook to call your own and where you could fuck him every day to your heart's content, you might've been able to deal with and maybe even enjoy his teasing, but this wasn't a perfect world. You were starved for the doe-eyed boy with the pretty cock and you simply had no patience for his antics.

You push yourself off of him, snapping, "If you won't eat me out properly then I'll take care of it myself."

Immediately, his hands that were previously clawing at the sheets shoot up to grab your hips and pull you flush against his face. You don't need any sorrys or promises from him as he makes his good intentions clear when he finally gives you what you've been waiting for all this time, and by the looks of it, what he's been waiting for too.

He licks your clit roughly, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and flattening right against it in firm, deliberate strokes until you can't hold up your own weight anymore. Your knees give out and you fall, almost crushing him if it weren't for the punishing grip he had on your hips. Far from getting overwhelmed, he uses your weight to press you further into his mouth, his tongue rapidly flicks between your lips as you hear the hungry licks echo lewdly around your room, your moans soon joining them, "Oh god, Kookie, right there baby. Please whatever you do, don't stop."

You're not the least bit embarrassed to hear the endless stream of whines coming out of your mouth for him. He was giving it to you better than any other man before. Technically, he may not be the best out there, though he was pretty damn close, but he more than made up for it with his sheer enthusiasm. If there was a doubt in your mind that Jungkook wanted you, no needed you, in that moment it was erased forever.

The consuming pleasure causes salty tears to sting your eyes and blur your vision so much so you can't even enjoy the erotic sight of Jungkook between your legs, his big, innocent eyes in an almost obscene contrast to his nimble tongue that did unspeakably sinful things to your pussy so you just close them and let yourself be devoured, one hand clutching onto the headboard and the other buried in Jungkook's hair as you cry out for him in hoarse raptured moans.

His tongue travels down to your hole and thrusts inside of you, making you whimper, "Oh god, almost there baby. Please, just a little bit more."

Since he couldn't use his tongue to stimulate your clit anymore, he puts his big nose to good use, rubbing it against your clit, and you hear muffled chuckles reaching your ears as he feels the way it makes you clench around him. When your orgasm washes over you and your walls begin spasming too strongly for him to keep pumping his tongue inside of you, he quickly goes back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it harshly with his tongue, practically dragging you screaming through the devastating orgasm.

Soon, it all became too much for you to handle and you pull away from him. Attempting to sit up on shaky legs, you watch transfixed as a string of saliva and cum connects his tongue to between your legs, but before you can observe the tantalising string as it breaks, Jungkook yanks you back down and licks up your cum hungrily, too addicted to the taste he's been craving for so long to let go.

The tears that have been collecting in your eyes reach their breaking point and start running down your face from the pain of oversensitivity, and Jungkook finally loosens his grip enough for you to throw yourself to the bed, laying by his side as you both gasp for breath. He, of course, regains it much earlier than you do and turn towards you, engulfing you in his arms and rubbing his hard cock against your thighs needily. "Can I fuck you now, noona?"

Despite your poor pussy protesting against it, there is nothing you wished for more at this moment than to just let him put his pretty cock inside of you and fuck you until he tires himself out. Still, the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave you helps your mind clear up a little bit and you regain some of your sensibility. Fighting against your debilitating need for the boy, you groan, "Kookie, we can't.

“Why?” Jungkook asks, irritated. Stubbornly, he runs his hand down your stomach and between your legs, prodding a finger against your entrance before pushing it in easily. "You're still dripping. You want me."

“I do, I really do." You sigh in both pleasure and annoyance as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, the tip of it dragging against your walls, searching for that spot that would drive you crazy. You can't believe how fast he can get you horny and ready to go again. "But I can’t take advantage of you like that. You’re going to regret this in the morning, I’m sure of it.”

“I’ve wanted this for years, you think I’m suddenly going to just decide that I don't want you after all?”

“But you’re too young...”

“I knew it!” Jungkook spits at you, turning abrasive again and yanking his finger out of you, making you whimper at the loss. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not your fucking Yoongi-oppa and I’m sorry I’m not like all those other assholes you’ve always loved so much.”

“No, Jungkook, you're misunderstanding me. I’ve never loved them.” You try to hold onto him as he fights to get away, but he’s too strong for you. He pushes you back on the bed and stands up, but before he can leave and the pain and heartache can have their way with you, you shout for him. “I love you!”

He whirls around, on guard and incredulous but with a slight tinge of hope that he wishes didn’t show so clearly on his face, “Don’t play with me now.” He warns.

You fall silent, realizing too late the gravity of what you've just confessed, your mind half convincing you to take it back, but Jungkook latches onto your words and refuses to let them slip by.

“You love me?” Jungkook breathes in disbelief.

“Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything." You squeak, attempting to salvage the unsalvageable. "We're both very tired and confused. Let’s just go to sleep so we won't say something we might regret in the morning.”

“Like hell, I will!” Jungkook shouts, getting back on the bed and cradling your face in his hands. “Tell me the truth, do you really love me?”

'No. No, I don't love you.' That's what you should say. That's the only right thing to say.

“Yes. Is that too bad?”

Jungkook wants to say no, he wants to tell you it’s all he’s been dreaming of since you’d gotten close over the end of last semester. Yeah, he’s always had a crush on you, but it was more physical than anything; wanting what he can’t have, but after he’s gotten to know you, he's desired no one else. He just never dreamed that you would feel the same way, especially since he was so different from the type of men you usually go for.

“You sure don’t act like someone who’s in love.” Jungkook’s lips are pressed into a thin line, his stubbornness and ego kicking in as he tries to hold his emotions back. He can't just fall to your feet the moment you deign to give him a little bit of affection. He'd like to think he isn't that pathetic.

“What did you want me to say? Did you think I’d risk telling you just so you would laugh at my face and call me sick?”

“Are you blind or just stupid? Do you not know how in love with you I am?”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Kookie.” You say in a small voice, already feeling in way over your head, and not needing him to encourage you further.

“I love you, noona.” Jungkook sighs, giving in faster than he'd care to admit, and smothers you with kisses as if they would convey his sincerity.

“No,” You say, even as you allow yourself to be swept up in his kisses. And you allow him to keep going as they turn sexual, and he starts laying open-mouthed, hungry kisses all over every exposed inch of your skin. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Frustrated, he presses you into the bed with his body. “Stop telling me what I should say or how I should feel. I’ve been acting like a fool for the past few weeks trying to be someone you would actually like. I’m not going to just let you brush this off when you've finally admitted you like me. Me. I’m not a toy you can play with whenever you feel like it.”

He leans down to kiss you again but this time you meet him halfway, pouring all your emotions and apologies into the kiss before the gears turn in your head and you fully digest the meaning of his words. Suddenly, you pull away, “Pretending to be someone I would like? Is that why you were acting like such an asshole to me?”

You turn from shocked and pissed off to just pissed off as all traces of assertiveness seep away from Jungkook’s body, leaving behind an unsure little boy who’s lost for words, and that's all the answer you need.

“On your hands and knees.”

“What?” Jungkook flinches under your hard gaze.

“Either you get on your hands and knees or you get out. It’s up to you.” You say coldly, leaving no room for discussion. Jungkook springs up to get into position in fear that you would change your mind and decide to kick him out anyway. He feels embarrassment whorl around the pit of his stomach as you lower his sweats down his ass, only to be dispersed by the sharp slap of your hand on the newly exposed skin. You deliver two slaps to each side and then say, “You had me worried half to death over your attitude and now you’re telling me that it was all just play pretend so you could act like some tough guy you think I would like?”

Slap. “You were always a nasty little shit but this really takes the cake.” Slap. “You were out there making me fall for you and getting me all horny like a fucking virgin.” Slap. "Almost giving me a heart attack from the guilt and need.” Slap. "All while you had no fucking clue to what you were doing to me. Acting like a misbehaving brat to get my attention?"

Jungkook was trying to suppress his grunts of pain but little quiet whimpers still reached your ear here and there so you stop. “You don’t have to take this, Jungkook. You can still leave.” You say, smoothing your palms over his red ass and gently massaging it.

“No... It's Ok.” Came his breathy reply that sounded suspiciously like a moan.

"Do you- do you like this, kookie?" The boy doesn't give you a response save shyly dropping his head to the mattress so you reach between his begs to find his dick hot and throbbing. "Baby boy..." You murmur, deciding not to press on in order not to embarrass the young boy any further.

You push his white shirt upward as you pump his cock slowly, bending down to trail a line of kisses down his spine and delighting in the shudder you feel passing through it and into his cock as his sticky cock thrusts into your hand.

“Spread your legs wider. And keep them open.” You instruct, bending down and licking at his balls from behind. He immediately goes against your orders, trying to close them. You sit up, taking your hand off his cock and slapping his sore ass, making him yelp. “I said keep them open. Do you want me to stop?”

Jungkook hurries to open his legs again, “Please don’t.”

Satisfied, you bend down again, tongue teasing his balls from behind and hand wrapped around his waist, tugging firmly on his cock that was leaking precum on your sheets, adding to the mess of bodily fluids that had already ruined them. You can feel Jungkook's thighs shaking, their strength no match to the pleasure coursing through his veins. When -at an upward stroke- your thumb swipes over his engorged head, Jungkook cries out, “Noona, I don’t want to cum on myself again, please.”

You didn't want that as well. Despite how lovely the boy looked messed up all over with his own cum, you needed to have him inside of you right now after he's made his feelings known to you. You flip him on his back easily as he gives you no resistance. Not wasting time, you grab his cock and quickly sit on it, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh of relief as you finally feel it wedged snuggly inside of you.

You must have taken too long enjoying the warmth and stretch because you soon feel Jungkook's hands clawing at your hips and when you open your eyes again, you see him worrying his lips to keep from pleading for you to move. Taking pity on him, you grind your hips in a circle, moaning in contentment as you get a feel of how his cock fits perfectly inside of you.

You gradually increase your pace, starting to lift your hips up and bounce on his cock, and Jungkook decides he doesn't feel like lying down helpless and at your mercy anymore. He starts bucking his hips up, thrusting his cock as far and fast into you as it could go until all that's coming out of your mouth are pleas for more.

"Ah, baby, fuck me just like that. You're gonna make me cum so fast. Won't you be good and make noona cum, baby?"

“You’re so damn spoiled.” He complains, snapping his big hand harshly against your ass. To your shame, instead of berating him, you moan out and clench around him in response.

“You like it, noona?” Jungkook purrs, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he throws your words back at you. He slaps your ass again more harshly which only causes you to clench around him even more, leaving no room for denial. “Yeah, Kookie, I like it. I like it so much.”

“Fuck yourself on my dick, noona. I want to see you use me to get off.” Jungkook orders, giving you one last spank. You plant your palms on his chest and dig your feet into the mattress, using them as leverage as you bounce erratically on his dick, so close you could taste it in the back of your throat.

"Baby, just a little more, please." Your hand closes over his larger one, trying to drag it towards your pussy but it stays put. "You want it? How much?"

If he thinks you were going to fight him then he better think again. You were needy and on the verge of insanity. "I need it so bad. I'm so horny, just a little touch and I would cum, Kookie."

"Just a little touch, huh?" Jungkook asks, enthralled. He lowers his hand closer to your pussy but only his thumb moves to hover over it. "Liars get punished, you know?"

You nod vigorously, anything to get him to touch you. In all truth, you wouldn’t mind it either way. You'd enjoy anything as long as he touches you. When you still don't feel his fingers on you, you start whining, bouncing impatiently on his cock. "Kookieee, you said-"

You get interrupted when he finally flicks his thumb lazily over your clit, and true to your word, that slight touch is all that it takes for you to cum. "Oh god, Kookie..." You grunt, feeling light-headed as your pussy contracts around his hot and twitching cock, and his fingers dig into your bones.

Without warning, Jungkook pushes you on your back, climbing up your body and pressing the head of his cock against your lips. “Open up.”

In a daze and your orgasm not even over yet, you open your mouth and he shoves himself inside, his dick filling your mouth with cum while your pussy is left neglected and contracting around nothing. You move a hand between your legs and rub yourself furiously, the abandoned orgasm quickly rolling into a new one. You gasp from the sharp spike in pleasure then you close your lips around his head before he can take it out of your mouth, sucking dutifully on it and milking out every last drop of his cum. But before you can spit it out, Jungkook grabs your jaw and forces your mouth closed, “Be a good noona and swallow my cum.”

You don’t know why you are so weak against the boy but you immediately obey, swallowing back the bitterness and opening your mouth again when Jungkook digs his fingers into your cheeks, wanting to make sure that you've listened. Satisfied with your empty mouth, he prods his thumb inside and moans, “I’ve always wanted to do that. Every time you’d yell and shout at me, I’d want nothing other than to pin you down and stuff my cock into your mouth to shut you up till cum and saliva are dribbling down your chin. Man, just thinking about it is making me hard again.”

You frown, pushing the cocky boy away and sitting up. “Hey, just because I agreed to swallow your nasty cum this time doesn’t mean you can talk to me this way.”

"Why? You prefer when I'm all cute and submissive? And you say you won't be with me because I'm young." He snickers, tongue poking out and teasing lewdly along his lips. "I don't mind either way as long as I get to eat you out and fuck you again. Or you fuck me. It's all good."

"You little..." You grab him in a chokehold that he easily brushes off in a fit of giggles, pinning you to the bed and giving your lips a quick peck. "I really do love you, noona. Will you be with me?"

He stares down at you, a timid and fearful look marring his doe eyes as he undoubtedly questions whether what you've told him before was just said in a moment of passion and that you'd take it back now that you've gotten what you wanted. You hurry to ease his worries, "I love you too, Jungkook, and nothing would make me more happy than being with you."

"Even if I'm younger than you?"

"You love me and I love you. That's all that matters, don't you think?" You caress his cheek and watch with a thumping heart as his bunny grin takes up his entire face.

He grabs your hand with his own and moves it towards his mouth, tenderly kissing your palm. "Yeah."

Author’s Note: Feedback is always welcome

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #noona kink #sub!jungkook #dom!junkook #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfics

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drarrydrabble-blog · 6 years

Text

The Words I Didn’t Say

Pairing: Drarry

Warning: Suicide mention, Death

Word Count: 9k+

Dedication: To all of my lovely betas who made sure my story wasn’t a hot mess!

A/N: The trope I used is based on this idea here! I thought it was very interesting, but don’t look now if you don’t want any spoilers!

The grounds of Hogwarts stood bleak on that particular Saturday on a snowy December. The sky, a mirky, ugly grey peeked into the eighth year common room windows, not minding any of its business as the forty-something students lounged around, doing absolutely nothing. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan sat in one corner, swigging from a shared bottle of contraband firewhisky. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger coddled each other, hands entwined. While the bushy-haired nineteen-year-old aimlessly stared into the fire, her counterpart supported her weight, looking just as crestfallen. The few Slytherins that dare returned sat amongst themselves and those who were forced back under punishment, such as Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle, stood aside, separate from everyone else.

The eighth years were in a particularly sour mood, except for Draco Malfoy, who’d been that way for quite some time.

Since those who fought in the war returned to Hogwarts eighth year under official Ministry instruction, Draco stood aside as someone who no longer withheld his typical spunk and flare. He answered particularly tricky questions in class if he rose his hand before Hermione Granger and no longer had access to studying Defence Against Dark Arts. Draco was bricked up in a sturdy cell of his school, his sentence for making the idiotic decision to step into his father’s shoes. Though he walked free like the others who were instructed to return, there remained a heavy restraint that pinned him to the ground by his shoulders, and he didn’t enjoy it one bit.

No one associated themselves with him either. The mere mention of hanging out with a Death Eater would’ve sent rumours, quite literally, flying around the school. The victim would’ve been prosecuted at the hands of the patriotic students of Hogwarts, the teachers standing aside because they took a disliking to Malfoy and anyone who would lessen themselves to his liking.

Even Goyle, Draco’s once best friend, wouldn’t get too close to him. Given, the past few months had been entirely rocky, but Gregory wouldn’t even glance in his direction any further.

Because of this, because of the war he fought on the wrong side of, Draco remained completely friendless.

Sometimes, when the loneliness became all too overwhelming, he would visit Moaning Myrtle. For some odd reason or another, she still greeted him with a high-pitched giggle and a kiss to each of his gaunt cheeks.

Other times, he would venture off to the kitchen, where the house elves aimed to please. He would sit in there, hours at a time, doing his work, taste testing new sweets the house elves concocted. Remaining in the kitchen became a win-win situation. They fed him while he studied.

Despite the few instances of kindness, he received anything but in the common room. Angry sneers and glowers shot his way from time to time and nothing else. There wasn’t any intention to prove himself, either. Not that he didn’t want to, but he hadn’t any idea where to start. No matter what, he’d be painted as a villain and the good that he did do disappeared with Harry Potter.

Suddenly, a wail disrupted the bothersome silence collected in the common room. The first two to stand were Weasley and Granger, followed by all of the Gryffindors who returned. Draco stood as well, pulled from his stupor. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his left hand, he could more clearly see Ginevra Weasley clutching a Daily Prophet to her chest. Tears strew down her cheeks, relentless to fall. Stumbling towards Ronald, she shoved the paper into her older brother’s arms and collapsed at the feet of Granger. Obviously startled and sympathetic towards the seventh year, she crouched down, scooping the mess of a teenager into her arms.

“What does it say, Ron?” Granger asked, voice trembling.

Draco hadn’t realized it, but he was gripping onto the back of the chair he stumbled towards quite ferociously. Observing the freckle-faced man clutching the paper, Malfoy held his breath. Many thoughts shot through his mind, but they all fell on one person: Harry Potter.

Terror whiplashed itself across Weasley’s face. Dropping the Prophet, he sat down and buried his face in his hands, looking as if he would have to accept what the newspaper had told him.

Groping for the paper that fell out of Weasley’s hands, Granger fetched the Prophet and opened it, flashing the article that shot grief through both Ronald and Ginevra Weasley.

The Boy Who Lived, Found Dead?

A whir in Draco’s stomach surged a sense of nausea through him at the thought of Harry Potter found dead somewhere, and who knew where? Even his cronies hadn’t any idea where the boy had gone, and they had searched everywhere they could think of. He was to return to Hogwarts or start training as an Auror. When he hadn’t returned to do either, people grew worried.

Now, no one knew where he was and was presumed dead at this point.

But Harry Potter couldn’t be dead! He was the Boy Who Lived, after all. He wasn’t allowed to die, not yet.

Surprised and upset, Draco wiped the tears in his eyes away, not wanting to make a spectacle of himself.

“Oi, Malfoy, why are you crying?”

Too late.

Trying to withhold a sense of entitlement and dignity, he jutted his chin upward just slightly but allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. “I’m merely sick of Potter playing hide and seek. We know he can’t be dead.”

“He’s dead, Malfoy!” Ginevra Weasley bawled but was hushed by Granger.

“According to the Prophet,” she said, folding the paper and setting it aside. For once, and without malice, Granger glanced his way. “Both you and I know that it is not entirely reliable.”

The inevitable wave of sorrow in the common room filtrated slightly.

“But we can’t listen to the wireless on school grounds!” Weasley unintentionally yelled, then shrunk when he caught himself. “Sorry, ‘Mione,” he said, voice cracking. “It’s just, you know…”

“Come on, now, you lot!” Seamus Finnigan said suddenly, standing from his chair. He thrust the bottle of firewhisky into Dean Thomas’ hand. “Think. We’re eighth years! We have full access to Hogsmeade before sunset!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Thomas cheered, standing up next to his fellow Gryffindor. “Potterwatch!”

Potterwatch? That term was new to Malfoy, but he knew already that it had to be invented during the war while the trio was in hiding.

The dampness collected in the room began to dry as the morale lifted slightly.

“Who wants to come?! We just need to let McGonagall know and we’ll be on our way!” Finnigan said, a little too happily as he sauntered towards the exit of the common room.

In side conversation, Draco heard the younger Weasley ask her brother if she could come along, only to be denied for obvious reasons.

A rally of voices echoed through the common room, which disoriented the intoxicated Seamus.

“Okay, who is not coming?”

Only one hand stood in the air, and it was that of Gregory Goyle. Obviously surprised that he was the only one to raise his hand, his eyes finally landed on Draco.

“You’re not staying behind, Draco?” Goyle said with a rich amount of indignance. “It’s Potter!”

“And?” Draco cocked a brow, stepping towards the crowd gathering at the exit. “I’m tired of being an enemy. War is over. There are no longer sides to pick.” And if there were, he would pick Potter’s side on any given day.

Draco Malfoy did not want to be his parents, not any longer.

“What would your father say of this?” Goyle laughed, which only provoked Draco.

Cheeks flushing, the room falling silent as he inched closer to Goyle, Malfoy could feel rage course through his veins. “He’s in Azkaban. Besides that, I really don’t give a hippogriff’s arse about what my father would think. He’s a criminal that deserves to rot in prison.”

This surprised Draco himself, but after all of those years of attempting to live up to his father’s expectations, he discovered just how much he loathed the man. Not only was he a coward, but he was also a cheat. Draco knew he had to be accountable for his actions, and he didn’t want to conform to some rogue agenda that would kill others off. Draco finally knew who he was. Nothing like his father.

“Like you didn’t do anything, Saint Malfoy,” Goyle spat, stepping up, their puffed chests nearly brushing.

“I know I did wrong, Goyle! I am not innocent! I know that! But you know what?” Draco said sharply, leaning in. “I am not going to let my past skew my future. I asked for forgiveness. I may not receive it, but I made my peace. I don’t want to be a monster like my father.”

Turning on his heel, Draco found himself staring back at the forty-something eyes of the other eighth years and Ginevra Weasley. Surprise, shock, and confusion reflected back at him, and if he were in any one of their shoes, he’d certainly peer at himself the same way.

But enough of that, they had “Potterwatching” to do.

“So? Shall we ask the Headmistress if we can commence?” Draco looked at his fellow classmates, disregarding their blank stares and gaping mouths shot in his direction.

Stepping up, he headed straight to the exit until a sturdy hand wrapped around his twig of a bicep. Attempting to pull it from the person’s grasp, he turned around to face Weasley.

“What’s it to you, Malfoy?” he asked, flustered, blue eyes blazing intensely back at him. “What’s Harry’s status got to do with anything that pleases you? Why do you care?”

“I prefer to keep my intentions between me, myself, and I, Weasley. Now, if we could, let’s see if the Prophet holds any truth.”

For all Potterwatch knew, it didn’t and after that, no one ever questioned Draco’s motives. The team of eighth years, at least those who were interested, asked on the next several Saturdays at precisely two o’three if they could run into Hogsmeade to listen to Potterwatch. The Prophet, like several had detected, was nothing but a phoney. That didn’t ensure anyone that he was safe either. Now, all Potter was a guessing game, a myth, a legend. Despite the fact that Harry Potter disappeared just as fast as the war ceased and had to be long gone from the Wizarding World, Draco continued to find himself attending the weekly ritual of sitting around an old, dusty wireless, hoping, and almost praying for some sort of news on his existence to ricochet off the walls of Hog’s Head Inn.

As the weeks passed, no longer were only students attending Hog’s Head religiously, but the entire proffessor-body of Hogwarts and those who had permission into Hogsmeade. While Filch remained at the castle to watch those under third year, students streamed along, wanting to know where the Chosen One was and if he was, indeed, alive, but as those weeks came and went, the high morale settled into something of a limbo. Some, Draco included, maintained hope while others weren’t too sure if Potter could’ve done as much as move a finger without being noticed. Though true, Potter had that invisibility Cloak Draco had used against him in sixth year. Whilst those who doted on Potter lamented over him, he always remembered to bring it up.

“There’s no way he can still be alive,” little Weasley had moaned as they tuned out of a Potterwatch for the day the weekend the Hogwarts students were to return for their studies. It was a nippy, frozen afternoon with an overcast sky and loads of snow blanketing the ground. Whilst the most logical of the Hogwarts students remained in the castle, the Weasleys, Granger, Malfoy, and the oaf of a Gamekeeper meandered into Hogsmeade, finding themselves in the Inn. Aberforth Dumbledore, though busy, had tuned in with them, and said his peace already: “The Prophet’s calling it suicide, but he has a head on his shoulders. He’s smart. If he were dead, they would’ve found him already.”

At first, Draco agreed with this statement. If the world-famed Harry Potter was, indeed, dead, they would’ve found him somewhere, someplace, keeled off. But then again—and this was when Draco grew nervous—what if he was killed, only to be covered by his own protection: the Cloak?

Malfoy didn’t know he was displaying any sign of conflict until he was nudged by Ronald Weasley.

“What, Malfoy?”

The last few weeks proved themselves to be monumental, as the eighth years actually began to hold simple conversation with him. Though he wasn’t on a first name basis with anyone quite yet, he was acknowledged and accepted as an individual for once, and the compliments were enjoyable. Hogwarts felt less and less like a prison and more like a home, which was a new and enticing feeling evoked while thinking of his school. Never quite feeling accepted because of his parents, Draco finally had a taste of freedom and it was there, in the walls of his very confinement.

Some days, Draco would browse the libraries and study with Granger. Others, he would visit the pitch and play some Quidditch with little Weasley. She was a helluva Seeker, but nothing compared to Potter.

Ronald Weasley, however, was notorious for grudges. No one had any idea when he’d come around, and Draco didn’t expect him to. He didn’t need to be forgiven, though his hand was out if Weasley ever wanted to shake it.

However, in times of crisis, such as now, all grudges were set aside and anyone who attended the Potterwatches was treated as a friend.

“What if...What if Potter was covered with the Cloak? What if he did die and was covered by the Invisibility Cloak?” Draco said, voice deceiving him with a crack. “What if Potter’s dead?”

Little Weasley paled at the mere mention, despite always groaning over his possible demise. “W-what if…”

“That is always a possibility,” Aberforth said, looking downcast at Draco’s revelation, “but we don’t know. As far as we know, he’s simply blending in with muggles at this point.”

The lot left Hog’s Head Inn that day, feeling as gloomy as the wintery day before them.

The powdery poof of snow that accumulated over the winter began to melt away as buds began to blossom. Spring brought a plethora of hope, promising chances of crystal-clear skies and bright, sunny days.

A perfect evening presented itself to the quartet of the newly acclaimed “Potterheads”. A slight breeze rolled through the courtyard as they wandered towards the newly erected rose garden herbology students have been magically accumulating. Red roses were to bloom any time of year with special enchantments and were closed off to everyone but eighth years and the students creating the garden.

Although Ginny technically was not allowed in the garden, the four Potterheads ventured to the garden every day to discuss their shared favourite subject: The Boy Who Lived. Ever since the garden was put in place, the Weasleys, Granger, and Malfoy would recollect every night, discussing ways they could try and find Potter themselves. When Potterwatch failed them, when Aberforth said that Potter would’ve been found by now, when Hagrid stopped visiting Hog’s Head altogether, the four of them decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. At that moment, only the four of them still sought the truth, but that would change if any of them could help it.

“Remind me again, Malfoy, why you’re even here,” Weasley said when Draco sat in the circle they formed on that particular evening. Granger, attached to her red-headed git of a boyfriend, held a piece of aged parchment, practically inked from end to end. At first glance, Draco thought it to be homework, but upon further inspection, the writing was far too infrequent for it to be anything for her required classes. (From what he’d learned about her, she wanted to work for the ministry—of course she wanted to.) Little Weasley sat, dejected and on her own, knees hugged tightly to her chest. Malfoy ignored this and turned to her brother. He went to open his mouth, but before he could answer, Granger spoke for him.

“Can’t you tell that Draco loves him?” she said, everyone but her freezing at the statement. Straightening her posture slightly, she looked around, surprised, continuing, “What? Has no one noticed how he looks when anyone mentions Harry’s name?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. Was he really that bad at disguising his inner monologue?

“Please tell me she’s joking, Malfoy,” Weasley groaned, taking his girlfriend’s hand into his. “Please don’t like my best mate—”

“And my boyfriend!” Ginny whimpered, jealousy sharpening the blow of her words.

Draco shrunk slightly at the angry siblings as they berated his affections towards Potter. He never asked to be interested in blokes, or that one in particular. Everyone knew Harry Potter wouldn’t go after a former Death Eater, after all, or a boy for that matter. Draco called it wishful thinking.

After a moment of sitting there, staring around at the two gawking faces that peered back at him, he said, shifting slightly in his seat, “It’s not like anything would come from it. First off, he’s probably dead somewhere and who would love a Death Eater?” Tugging his robes around his slender body, his eyes diverted to the grass-clad dirt. He carded his fingers through the green blades, not wanting to speak any further of this...crush he developed on Potter. Like he said, nothing would ever come of it, and it was stupid for him to have a crush on that bloke anyway. Though their perspectives no longer opposed, necessarily, his parents’ did.

Then again, he stopped caring about what they thought months ago.

Still.

“Former Death Eater, Draco. That much is clear,” Granger said, breaking the moment of silence.

And for some reason, white heat coursed itself right through Draco’s body. Brow furrowed, bottom lip jutted out, his attention turned to her. “Why, out of all people, have you forgiven me?” Without much thought, he thrust himself from the ground. “I’ve hexed you, I’ve thrown several slurs in your direction...I...I almost killed Dumbledore and you forgive me first out of every one of the eighth years?!” At this, Draco began to pace, wringing his hands together anxiously, insecurely.

How could such deplorable sins be forgiven by a Muggle-born, his main victim? How could Hermione Granger ever forgive such terrible actions?

“Draco!” Granger screamed, snapping him out of his dread-ridden thoughts. From what was evident, Granger must’ve been beckoning him for quite some time. Standing, fists balled at his side, she stared at him with an intimidating amount of intensity.

Hoping he didn’t appear too ruffled, he smoothed at his robes and crossed his arms, jutting his chin up as he typically did. “Granger.”

With a disdainful look, she said, “That’s who you used to be. It’s clear that you’ve changed…” Sighing heftily, she took a seat. “Now, sit down. We have actual business to attend to.”

Draco sat without argument, smoothing his robes out against the grass so it fell in a graceful way. Then, he turned his eyes upward towards his counterparts. “Is that a list, Granger?” He nodded towards the parchment now on the ground with his chin.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, holding it out for the Slytherin to take. Snatching it, he gazed over the signatures as she said, “those are the people who want us to find out where in the world Harry is.”

Several slanted signatures glared back at him, including Longbottom’s, Lovegood’s, and everyone, as far as he knew, was once in Dumbledore’s army. No professors were listed; this militia was entirely student-made.

“Are you going to sign this, Malfoy?” Weasley asked, nudging an inked quill towards him.

“Of course, am I not a part of the Potterhead committee?” Draco said indignantly, grabbing the quill with haste. He signed with a large, scripted hand and handed the quill and parchment to Granger. “Now, is this all?”

Without a word, the parchment was passed to Little Weasley, who took out her wand and tapped it against the signature page. For just a second, the paper shimmered, golden flecks radiating off the ambient light of the garden’s torches.

“Just a jinx. Makes sure no one can betray the others without consequence,” the Weasley sister informed her, placing her wand back in its pocket.

Not that Draco didn’t expect it, but there always came disappointment with not being trustworthy. “Is it the same jinx Miss Granger used on Marietta Edgecombe? Bit juvenile if you ask me,” Draco noted.

“Far worse, trust me,” Little Weasley replied darkly, handing the parchment to Granger. “You wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of this jinx.”

Understood, Draco thought.

“One more thing before we dismiss,” Granger said suddenly, catching him mid-stand. Taking a seat, he propped his chin in the palm of his hand.

“And that is?”

The muggle-born pulled out a Galleon, handing it to Draco first. “Faux Galleons. Protean charm, as you know.”

Turning the coin in his hand, Malfoy let out a low whistle. He never thought he’d use something connected to that certain charm again. “Why don’t we just gather? No one would stop us.”

“Makes things easier,” Hermione said plainly, standing. “I’ll let you know now that our first meeting is on Saturday, two-thirty.”

The meetings were as frequent as the Potterwatches. Every Saturday at two-thirty, one hundred an forty-two Hogwarts students of all Houses—Slytherins, not including Malfoy, included—meandered to the Room of Requirement to find themselves in a type of Potterwatch Headquarters. While some students brainstormed places to search, others plotted places already explored. Many kept in touch with those who had thought to see Potter and they had their outside sources as well, including Lee Jordan and George Weasley of the radio programme. Potterwatch had become a very sturdy system, Granger, Malfoy, and Weasley all at the head.

The next big project coursing through the Headquarters consisted of hefty, well thought out plans and possibly dangerous ventures. The Hogwarts students wanted to do the unthinkable: set out to a location in a different part of the British Isles. London, England to be exact. Several thought it would be a good place to look around. But Draco, Draco highly doubted that Potter—though thick at times—would be idiotic enough to find himself in the same Muggle city that hosted both Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic.

“It hasn’t been pinned off,” Ginny argued, gesturing to the map they had hung up on an empty wall in the room. While standing, other students sat in chairs in quasi-rooms, searching through Prophet articles, sorting through dates and places Potter was “spotted” or searched for. The two had been at it for a while, deciding whether checking London would be wise.

“Yes, but Potter isn’t a buffoon. He would’ve been spotted if he’s been in London this whole time, Muggle or otherwise,” Draco said shortly, placing a pin—a muggle invention—over London. “Case Closed.”

In retaliation, Ginevra Weasley tore the pin from the map. “No!”

“Put. It. Back.” Draco went to grab the pin from her, but before a squabble erupted, the elder Weasley took it and glared from his sister to Malfoy.

“We cannot mark it, but I think you’re onto something, Malfoy.” Handing the pin to Granger, who came up behind her boyfriend, he found Hogsmeade and pointed to the mountainous terrain surrounding the quaint village. “What do you think, ‘Mione?”

For a moment, her face scrunched up, brow furrowed and unsure until her eyes scanned over its surroundings. Like an epiphany rolled through her entire body and shoved her into motion, she jolted towards the map and circled Hogsmeade and the terrain surrounding it several times with something she introduced as a red marker—another muggle invention.

“Brilliant! That has to be it, Ron! It’s where Sirius camped in fourth year!” Capping the marker, Granger turned to Weasley and pressed a sickly-sweet kiss to his cheek. “Good eye.”

“That’s rather close,” Longbottom said suddenly. Draco turned slightly to find him standing awfully close. The git in Draco attempted to coerce him into shoving Longbottom away, but he refrained, maintaining his poise. Turning back to the map, he scanned the area to be searched.

“So,” he said, eye falling on the thick of the jagged lines imposed as “mountains”, “you think he is in the mountains somewhere.”

“One place in particular,” Granger explained, marking a particular region inside her vast circle. “A cave. I remember exactly where it is, too…” Almost bemused, she heaved a sigh and ran her fingers over the mark. “We’ll find you, Harry. We’ll find you.”

A hush rolled over the students. Nothing but the sound of the grandfather clock the room oddly provided ticked for the first time since Potterwatch at Hogwarts banded, and as it did, its face began to mutate.

“What in the—”

“Ron,” Granger said, “it looks like the clock at the Burrow.”

Gawking, Weasley walked up to the clock and ran his finger along the only hand on the face. “Almost just like it,” he confirmed. “It’s on travelling.”

“I didn’t think about it,” Granger said, a smile remaining on her face as she turned to the Weaslette. “Ginny?”

“I did… I’m surprised,” she said, eyeing the clock in amazement.

“Why? The Room of Requirement provides you with what you need, does it not?” Draco asked, walking up behind Weasley with his arms firmly crossed over his chest. Standing beside him, he gazed at the face of the clock. Intricate, yet plain to see, the lightning bolt-shaped hand with Harry’s scripted name carved into it rested on travelling.

“Ooh, how peculiar,” a new, but familiar voice dreamily gasped from the other side of Weasley. Loony Lovegood stepped into view, running her finger over the hand. “Where is home for Harry, you suppose?”

“Just something else we need to figure out, I guess,” Weasley replied, clapping his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “As for now, I think we should check the cave. He’s still alive, I think. Fred’s hand fell off after a while...Dad found it a couple of weeks ago, so if it runs the same way ours does—”

“Harry’s alive,” Draco said more to himself, but out loud. Warmth filled him with the thoughts, as the vivid daydreams of Potter being found, safe and out of harm’s way. Of course, he’d be peaky, as he always was at the start of the year, but he would be there, with them, and alive, so, so alive.

“You really care about him, don’cha?” Seamus Finnigan said from across the room. Silence engulfed the entire room, every last ear ready to hear the answer, to hear the former Death Eater’s position, why he was actually there, if you will.

Turning towards the sound of the Scottish man’s voice, Draco, for once, let those cold, steely walls of his collapse at his feet. Everything in this room was in confidence, after all.

“Yes, I do care about him,” Draco replied, voice cracking just enough to make him sound pathetic, but what was new?

“But you were a—”

“I know what I was,” Draco roared, shaking slightly. His hands found his way to his wand and began to wring it, trying to keep his sudden flare up at bay. “No need of reminding me of my regrettable mistakes!”

A gentle hand caressed Draco’s shoulder, motherly in its warmth and grip. He turned to look right into the vibrant eyes of Ginny Weasley, and for the first time ever, he felt that they could see eye to eye.

“Sit down,” she said, still rubbing his shoulder, “and I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

The table in the middle of the expansive room was occupied with those who searched for dates and places, and once the true six ringleaders of the operation approached the table, linked together in one way or another through touch, the students dispersed, allowing them to take a seat. Ginny sat next to Draco, holding a steaming cup of tea out for him to drink, and he gratefully took it, muttering a, “Thank you.”

“Now that we have a location,” Granger said, tapping the tips of her fingers together as she thought, “I say we go and search. We’re allowed out, the eighth years—sorry Luna, Ginny—and we can go searching—”

“I’m going to go and look for Harry,” Ginny spoke vivaciously, staring Granger down with her fists in a clutch. “Besides, Draco can’t even go! Parole, remember? He can’t go past Hogsmeade!”

“I’m going,” Draco said himself, an ample amount of stubbornness in his voice. “I can't just sit back again. That’s all I ever do.”

“You could go to Azkaban, Draco,” Granger said, brow furrowing in concern as their gaze met. “He might not even be there and if you get caught—”

“Disillusionment charm, Granger. It’s not quite Potter’s magic Cloak, but if we keep to the shadows, I can sneak right past,” Draco said, determined. “Please, let me do something good.”

The entire table-full of people sighed.

“Say, what all comes with your parole?” Dean Thomas asked, leaning against the back of Longbottom’s chair. Finnigan plopped next to him, behind Granger.

“No magic outside of Hogwarts, no Defence Against Dark Arts—figured I might ‘gather some ideas’—completion of eighth year, O’s and E’s on my NEWT’s—more of my parents’ bidding—always being accompanied by an adult—which I believe every single one of the people on this mission are—I could inform you of all of the ins and outs of my probation, but I would rather not waste my breath for a nosy few.”

“We needed to know whether your risks are worth it and I think, with reason, one would understand if you snuck out with us. Maybe lose a few house points, a rather severe scolding, and we’d be on our way,” Granger said reasonably, surprising him with a congenial smile.

“When are we going?” Ginny asked, still plainly terse from the way her shoulders drew upwards.

“Wouldn’t today be as good as any other day?” Longbottom suggested, eyeing around for feedback.

“Might as well,” Weasley replied looking at Granger.

For a moment, she thought. Brows knit, she tapped her fingers together, nodding. “We’d have to leave right now.”

“Fine by me! Let’s go!” Ginny said, and stood up, jerking Draco upwards as well.

“Hold on, Ginny! We can’t leave just yet,” Ron stated, but stood up as well.

“Why can’t we?” Finnigan asked, which earned him a nudge in the ribs from his friend hanging off the other chair.

“We’re not going, are you barmy? Someone has to keep an eye on the clock,” Thomas said, nodding towards the clock. “Ginny is going whether Ron likes it or not and Luna, well….” Gesturing towards her, it was obvious that she was in another world. Eyes scanning the ceiling, she looked around, somewhat bobble-headed.

However, she glanced in the boys’ direction and smiled. “What about me?”

“Nevermind,” Thomas said, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“The key is to not look suspicious, Draco,” Granger spoke, nudging one of the boys off of the back of her chair. Standing, she allowed Finnigan to take a seat before she began to pace, and suddenly, a whiteboard appeared. With that red marker still in hand, she wrote:

Agenda

“Planning never gets us anywhere, plus you just said we could leave now,” Weasley said, taking the marker from her clutch. “Might as well leave and return before nightfall.”

For a moment, an argumentative stance flared within the woman. Puffing her chest slightly, she seemed ready to fight, but as soon as Weasley cocked his head and rose a brow, she backed off. Everyone knew the two bickered; it was Draco’s first time to witness Granger back away from a squabble.

“Okay, fine. I just thought—”

“I know, you want to be thorough,” he simpered, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“On our way, then?” Draco asked, wrapping the newly thought of cloak around himself. “The sooner we search, the sooner we’ll confirm or deny his residence in that hell-hole the lot of you assume he’s located at.”

“It’s not a hell-hole,” Granger argued.

“Well, you’d think he’d have a little more dignity,” the Slytherin assumed out loud, sipping the tea Ginny produced for him.

“He’s in hiding.” Granger shot him a worn glare before pulling out her wand. “We better be on our way.”

With that, the elite team of five—Luna remained in the Room of Requirement—departed.

“How far up the mountain did you say this was again?” Draco asked, growing tired from walking so much, especially since he couldn’t properly see himself. At least thrice he ran into Granger, merely because he could just barely see the outline of his body that camouflaged against the greenery of the mountainside.

“You asked two minutes ago, Draco, and the answer is still ‘I don’t know’. Be patient,” Granger groaned, tromping on the first path they found, used by what seemed like animals.

Just before Draco could throw an arrogant retort in her direction, the lot stopped in front of an indent in the side of the mountain. A lopsided smile embraced Weasley, whilst Granger bounced on her toes. They were obviously in front of the place they needed to be, but weren’t doing much other than ogling the site. Growing tired of standing behind an overexcitable crowd, Malfoy walked around the lot and straight into the cavern….

Where he found nothing.

Just a dim light found its way into the cave which could support a few larger animals, and absolutely nothing was there. The floor barren, Draco found nothing of importance. But as the others spilt in, they began to investigate the walls.

Granger was the first to find something.

“Look here!” she said, waving the others over. Draco moved among them, peering at a few drawings, obviously Potter’s. They were fresh on the stone, and markings of things no one else would draw: an owl and a lightning bolt. Both appeared to be ingrained with wandwork, which hadn’t been weathered down. Though he wasn’t an expert at this sort of thing, he couldn’t deny that it was less than a month old.

“The prat’s been in Hogsmeade, probably laughing at our misery!” Draco gasped, rushing up to run his hands over the stone. “He’s been here!”

A hushed sound of whispering emerged from the other four as Draco desperately groped at the stone, feeling its indent, feeling for any sort of warmth or life. Harry Potter had been there, a month or less ago. Where could he be now?

“Let’s go to Hog’s Head,” Ginny said after a moment, gripping Draco’s bicep. “We can discuss it with Aberforth, maybe he’d gather an idea of where he’d be.”

So the five of them ambled down the mountain and towards Hog’s Head Inn. By the time they approached the heart of Hogsmeade, Draco was no longer invisible. Not that anyone took much notice: he was allowed to remain within the boundaries of the village.

With the tinkling of bells, the front door of Hog’s Head burst open and the young adults filled with a newfound amount of vigour rushed in. Longbottom smiled sloppily, arm around Weasley, who held Hermione close. To them, it was a minuscule victory, something that could let them keep a close eye on the cave. Every day, Granger would check for any sign of life. They believed they were on to something.

But Draco, on the other hand, couldn’t quite believe that he would stay when he’d so easily be sought out.

“Mr Dumbledore!” Ginny gasped, rushing towards the Innkeeper behind the bar who was washing his butterbeer mugs.

“Aren’t you supposed to remain at Hogwarts, Miss Ginevra?” he asked, giving her a patronizing look. Then, his surly cornflower eyes shot in Draco’s direction. “What about your parole, boy?”

“We found where Harry was hiding out, Aberforth. They were only helping!” Longbottom added, which seemed to resonate with the old man. He softened, setting the glass mug aside.

“Let me guess: the same cave Sirius used as a hideout?” Aberforth said.

Weasley looked alarmed. “How did you—”

“I just do,” he answered, continuing with cleaning the mugs.

“Why?” Granger asked in a polite tone, leaning against the wood of the bar. “Did you know he was hiding out there?”

“I would think him a fool if he actually did. Maybe he did stay there. Maybe he knew you were wanting to find him. It happens that people who try to hide never want to be found. Now—”

A sudden thump from upstairs startled everyone, all nearly jumping out of their skin. Dumbledore, however, looked the most startled.

“What was that?” Ginny asked, clearly uneasy by the way she hugged herself in a sense of security.

“I hadn’t checked a room out to anyone—”

“Harry!” Granger cheered, then threw herself towards the stairwell, bolting up each step with increasing speed.

Weasley followed in tow, then Ginny, then Longbottom. Draco was last in line, other than Aberforth, who simply stumbled slowly behind them.

Granger flung open every door, finding nothing until she reached the last. She took a minute to compose herself, an inane smile on her face, but the minute she pushed the door open, the delighted visage slipped into a look of absolute terror. Before she realized it, she let out a scream so loud, the Inn practically shook with her sound waves.

Shocked, Weasley peered in, only to yell, “No!” just as loud if not louder than Granger. He ran in immediately, while Granger remained behind, slipping slowly down the painted room door. Ginny couldn’t look in. She hid in Longbottom.

And Draco…he stood frozen, too shocked to take anything in.

This much was obvious: Harry was in that room, dead. He had to be.

Walking towards the open door very slowly, Draco looked in to see a bloodied figure splayed across the floor. Dead, clearly, and with that mess of curled, raven-black hair. Glasses broken and on the other side of the room, the entire area was a mess, but a beautiful snow-white bird perched itself on Harry’s back, hooting quietly, sadly.

Finally, Draco took in what had really happened.

Harry Potter, the boy he loved so much, was dead, forever lost.

They said it was a suicide. He was cremated only a few minutes after he was pronounced dead, which took the Healers only a few minutes to confirm. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was, indeed, found dead and lost in his mind. All the glory that came with the title had a cost.

And Draco thought he had it hard.

All through the year, he thought that having the world against him was so terrible, but really, when he thought about it, several people were on his side.

Granger, Weasley, Ginny, his parents. They were all alive, all well, all wanting him to prosper.

Not that Harry Potter didn’t have those people in his life, but several more died in his name.

Guilt, Draco guessed, lead him to a permanent state of dread that could only be cured with Death’s sweet kiss.

Draco didn’t want to romanticize anything so painful; no one could take the severity of the Boy Who Lived’s death lightly. The entire school was a wreck. Several little wizards and witches lost a hero. The Weasleys practically lost another son. And Draco, though it would always be unrequited, lost his first and only love.

A memorial for Harry Potter was approaching, and everyone was holding onto each other much tighter than ever. Just the other day, Ginny spent a good hour clinging to Draco, crying those dull but beautiful eyes out. She wasn’t the only one, he cried with her, and without her.

He no longer recognized what it was like not to cry. Tears were always in his eyes, spattered on his cheeks, drenching his uniform collar. He didn’t care what others thought.

Yes, he was crying about Potter.

No, he didn’t hate him.

Yes, if he could bring him back, he would.

And it was driving Draco mental, knowing that there wasn’t any way to bring him back. He was long gone by now, cremated and buried along with his parents.

If only he could’ve begun to experiment, to create some sort of potion that brought back the dead. Though Death was unbeatable, he would’ve done anything to best it, to spit in the face of such a cruel being. But there wasn’t any need, there wouldn’t be any need. Not any longer.

It was a cool, rainy day at Hogwarts, wind rolling through the lush courtyards and gardens of the grounds. A single paper flew through the air, spinning, falling, landing at the feet of Draco Malfoy, who was watching a statue of Harry being erected in the rose garden. He was just behind the bushes, seeing that silver boy sparkling in the sun that just barely peeked out from the dense thunderclouds, but the paper caught his attention. Reaching down, he took claim of the sodden newspaper and found that it was a Prophet. The head article said:

The Scandalous Life of Harry Potter: What He Didn’t Want You to Know

Rage struck him through like lightning, his heart pounding angrily against his ribcage. Who could sully Harry Potter’s name like that, especially after finding him in such a way?! How dare they?!

Too angry to look at the words written on the front page, Draco wadded it up and threw it as far as he could, a choked out sob emitting from him with the throw. Knees buckling, suddenly weakening, Draco collapsed, helpless in any attempt to get up.

So, he lay there, sobbing until someone noticed his drenched, robe-clad figure lumped in the grass.

Gently, the person tugged on his arm and upon rolling onto his back, he looked into the eyes of Ginny.

Though red and puffy, those bright umber eyes of hers stared into his. Slowly, she crouched by his side, sniffing. “The article?”

“How dare they do that to him?!” Draco seethed, tears returning to his steely eyes. “The audacity!”

“If it makes you feel any better, Skeeter got sacked for writing it and the editor is apologizing profusely…”

“That’s not enough!” Draco boomed, standing up suddenly. “They can’t do that...t-they can’t—”

“Shh,” Ginny said, standing, pulling the taller boy into her arms. Propping her chin on his shoulder, she heaved an exhausted sigh. “Those who know realize that Harry was one of the best Wizards who ever lived.”

Shaking, crying, Draco nodded, burying his tearstained face into the mess of ginger hair.

For a while, they stood, embracing each other with the utmost intimacy a friendship could provide. She forgave him, all the Potterheads had, but a question burning a hole in Draco’s mind demanded to be asked.

“Ginny?” Draco said, breaking the silence.

She looked up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “Yes?”

“D-do you think Harry would ever forgive me if he hadn’t died?” The question set Draco in another set of hysterics; he nearly crumbled in Ginny’s grip. “I was such a terrible person, Ginny! How could anyone forgive a filthy Death Eater like me? How could anyone ever risk being seen around me? I should’ve died! Not him! Not Harry!”

Grief pulsed from Draco, drawing attention to himself unintentionally. Those in the outdoor corridors began to pool around the pillars, looking into the garden.

“Oh, Merlin! I should’ve died! I should’ve been the one!”

“Mr Malfoy?” A concerned voice from far off called, but he was too far away, too caught up in his dread to focus on anyone or thing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Ginny said in a strained voice. “He’s grieving, but he’s speaking nonsense.”

“We’ll take him to the hospital wing, get his head on straight,” the voice said.

Pale blue was not supposed to be dull, but as thousands crowded the Great Hall, Draco wanted to do nothing but stare at the enchanted ceiling. It was a week after the mishap in the garden, and though the potions kept his hysterics at bay, it didn’t stop the brutal attack from making an impact on him. What was once a boy with a hope to find the emerald-eyed saviour of the Wizarding World, became one with a deteriorating heart and a bleak mind. Everything was dull, boring, useless. He thought sixth year was a dark time. Nothing compared to how his beating heart felt like it broke with each pulse. Nothing compared to waking up with nothing to look forward to. Draco was forlorn, heartbroken, and sick.

The room was moist with the tears of Potter’s thousands of followers. The grounds of Hogwarts were jam-packed with people who didn’t even know him, but admired what he’d done.

Everyone acted like a personal friend, like they had known him all his life. They hadn’t, and not that Draco did either, but he knew far more than they did.

It was all too much, hearing everyone chatter about Harry’s life, spewing factoids, discussing his legacy cut short. Draco needed an out, so he shoved himself out of his chair and attempted to search for a way to depart, but before he could step even a centimetre away from his chair, Luna’s hand found its way around his left wrist.

“It’s about to begin, Draco. Don’t you want to be here?” she asked lightly but clearly worried.

“I can’t,” he said, bloodshot eyes turning to the podium prepared for the memorial. “I can’t.”

Luna nodded, withdrawing her grasp from his wrist. “Be safe, Draco.”

People parted as he walked right through, but with all the congestion, it took Draco a fair amount of time to escape the castle. The halls and courtyards were stuffed to the brim as well, but one place that remained vacant was the gardens. Draco supposed that McGonagall didn’t want Harry’s memorial to be trampled and placed a shield charm on the location. However, he stepped in with the slightest of ease and found himself at the feet of the life-sized statue of Harry Potter.

Everything about it was surprisingly accurate. From the arrogant but lovable stance to the glint of mischief in his eyes, the sculpture simply looked like a silver-covered version of the man.

If only.

Draco ran a hand along the bottom of the trousers of the sculpture, murmuring, “I know you would never believe me, but I miss seeing you in class. I used to look over and notice you, being the repulsive git you were, chewing on the top of your bloody quills.”

Laughing at the memory, he sat down and continued, “Also, I think you always struggled with holding a quill. You were used to your muggle devices, weren’t you?”

Fingers tracing over the gold plaque on the platform of the statue, he smiled, looking up at the face of silver. “You were an amazing person. I’m sorry the horrors of war were too much for you…” A few tears slipped down his cheeks. “They’re beginning to become too much for me, too…”

As he cried, a familiar Snowy Owl soared into view. No note was attached to it, as it hovered towards Draco. He stuck his arm out as a landing and it perched there, very gently.

Eyes turning back to the statue, he commenced with his soliloquy. “You know, the minute I knew I loved you was when you collapsed over my bleeding body. You regretted it, I could tell, and you panicked, groping desperately for a way to keep me from dying. I knew then. I knew then that if I died, it would be enough to die in your arms but I didn’t. And when the snatchers brought you to my house…”

Draco gasped, trying to keep himself from breaking into sobs. “I couldn’t let them touch you. I could never let them kill you. I’m sorry you’re not here. These are the words I didn’t say when you were alive, but I should’ve. I bloody should’ve.”

Finally, he allowed himself to openly sob, and as he did, the owl departed from his arm.

Draco didn’t notice, but someone was watching.

Gently, they grasped his shoulder and Draco froze, kicking himself for being caught. He should’ve never admitted something so private in such a public area, but he had.

So, he braced himself, turning around to face a presumably dead man.

Harry James Potter stood right in front of him, a sheepish smile on his face. His eyes turned to the statue, gazing over his silver imposter. “They did a really good job on that.”

Dumbfounded, Draco gawked at the man in front of him. He was barely recognizable, hidden behind long hair and a thick beard, but the blazing eyes and lightning scar were enough to chart him as Harry Potter.

“Y-You’re dead. I…” Was Draco going mad?

“Oh, no. I’m not,” Harry said, grasping Draco’s wrists. “That...was a friend of mine. I’d been following him around…terminally ill, coughing up blood. He was going to die, so he agreed to let me use Polyjuice on him. My secret would die with him, as would my identity. You’re the only one who knows I’m alive.”

“You’re absolutely mental,” Draco whispered, reaching out to touch Harry. He ran a hand across Harry’s face, fingers analyzing the scar on his forehead. “Why in Merlin’s beard would you do that?”

Was Draco dreaming?

With this, Harry became a bit uncomfortable. Eyes turning to the brilliant green grass in the garden, he said, “It would be better if the world thought I was dead.”

How could he think that? So many people depended on him, worshipped him, looked to be just like him. How could he just say that?

“No, it wouldn’t!” Draco snapped, anger flaring in his silver eyes. “Why would you say that?!”

“I…” Harry took a deep breath, as if he was counting to ten. “I found out… The Boy Who Lived… I can’t die.”

Draco cocked a brow. “Wait, you mean—”

“I’m immortal.”

“And you don’t want that?” Draco whispered, stepping closer.

“Of course I don’t!” Harry retorted. “If I stay, I watch everyone I love die. If I live apart, if I’m not ‘alive’, I’m not actively sought out and found and showered with affection.”

“You want to be miserable,” Draco said, crossing his arms.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. I have to live as a bloody owl for the rest of my life,” he replied.

Draco thought about it, about the situation in front of him. Harry Potter was alive and immortal.

Immortality.

“How...how did this happen?” Draco asked, hugging Harry all of a sudden, filled with utter relief. Potter was hesitant at first, twitching in the boy’s arms, but caved and hugged Draco.

“I killed Voldemort and sacrificed my own death.” Harry sighed. “I did what I had to do...and I do forgive you, Draco.”

Draco froze. “You heard..?”

“I’ve been acting as a second year’s owl for a while now.”

“But how?” Draco asked. “How could you forgive someone like me? I’m a bad person, Harry. I—”

“What do you think about your role in the war?” Harry asked, which hardly seemed to correlate with the subject. Through squinted eyes, Draco looked at Harry, saying, “I regretted everything I did to hurt—”

“Bad people don’t know how to regret, but good people who made terrible decisions do,” Harry said, cupping Draco’s pale, gaunt cheek.

“I almost killed Dumbledore, I’ve tortured countless people, I allowed people to get hurt, killed! I—”

“Draco,” Harry said, which silenced the boy. “You notice you’ve done something wrong. It torments you. You’re going to have to forgive yourself too. That’s the second step to redemption...if you could call it that, I guess.”

“And what’s the first?” Draco hadn’t realized, but he was entirely flushed. Cheeks red, eyes trained on Harry, who had those stubby hands on his face, he stared at the Boy Who Lived in amazement.

He felt so solid, so real, so alive and tangible.

“Knowing your faults,” he said. And then, he lessened the space between them, inching closer. “Draco?”

“Harry?” Draco whispered.

“I’ve been watching you—not just you, everyone that’s been looking for me—and I can just say that seeing you develop as your own person, well, has shown me who you really are and what intentions you have.” Gently, his free hand carded the silvery-blond strands of Draco’s hair out of his face.

“I’m not my parents,” he replied, voice rasping.

“Exactly. And, may I say, I think I’m attracted to the man you really are.” Harry smiled, genuinely, and rested his forehead on Draco’s. “I like you, and you love me. I think, if we can try, we can make something of this.”

“But Harry,” Draco whispered, dizzy and hypnotized by Potter’s mere touch, “I’ll die. I’ll have to be a vampire or something. I—”

Harry’s laughter dismissed him. “We’ll make it work. Vampire or not, we’ll make it work.” And then, Harry’s lips found Draco’s. For a split second, the world spun under his feet, the moment too surreal for it to be possible. But he opened his eyes and he stared right back at himself in the reflection of Harry’s glasses. This was happening, he was actually kissing Harry sodding Potter.

He dipped into the kiss, but before anything further could commence, Harry withdrew, looking around madly. “I heard something…I have to go.”

But before Harry could scamper off, Draco clutched his wrist. “So spontaneous...will you ever come back?”

“I’m here every day, you’ll just have to find me in the Owlery.” Smiling, he stepped back and transfigured into his animagus, that beautiful Snowy Owl, and took off, heading straight to his tower.

Draco noted a peculiarity in Potter’s animagus that mirrored his human self. A familiar lighting scar struck through his forehead, stark against his white feathering.

Draco watched Harry disappear, and as soon as he did, a bittersweet smile graced his lips. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

He would live forever.

Too bad the confrontation didn’t last longer, too bad he couldn’t ask any questions, but they kissed, they kissed! Absentmindedly, Draco ran his fingers along his chapped lips. Was this a chase? Did Draco have to find him?

He was right in the tower, he wasn’t too far.

Harry Potter was under their noses the whole time….

Satisfied, he turned towards the exit and found Ginny standing there, confused and tear stained. She didn’t know.

“Draco?” she said, wiping the large tears from her cheeks. He hadn’t any idea how far along the memorial was, but she was clearly shaken.

The man simply walked over, hugging his younger friend, saying, “Everything will be okay.”

“How do you know?” she whimpered.

Draco’s eyes fluttered to the Owlery tower, seeing a white speck perched on the edge of the arch owls flew from. Harry’d always be watching.

“I just do.”

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