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lovclyboncs · 3 years

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Everything I Wanted (Todoroki x Reader) Soulmate Au

inspired by Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish.

TW! Mentions of contemplated suicide and insecure thought that could be triggering.

soulmate Au! Where your soulmate tattoo appears on your wrist after you touch your soulmate for the first time.

F!reader x Todoroki

F!reader x Bakugou (brotp)

Plot: the reader is Todoroki’s soulmate, but he doesn’t want to let some mystical ink on his wrist dictate who he should love, so he rejects reader as his soulmate. This story is about how reader first reacted to the rejection and how slowly reader lets herself heal, but what the universe wants it will get.

Part two out now!

This is my very first post on here! I hope you guys enjoy!

I had a dream I got everything I wanted Not what you’d think And if I’m bein’ honest It might’ve been a nightmare To anyone who might care

Every night you’d wake up drenched in sweat, panting as you tried to calm your breathing, tears staining your rosy cheeks. Every night you had the same nightmare, you wished it was just your mind overthinking, but sadly it wasn’t. Even in your dreams you’d replay that memory in your head over and over again.

“ I’m sorry (y/l/n), but even if your name is tattooed on my wrist and even if fate says we are meant to be together, I can’t return your feelings. My heart belongs to another. I’m truly sorry if I’m not what you expected as a soulmate.” He told you with nothing but sincerity in his voice. The sad and hurtful truth.

“I-It’s okay. I understand Todoroki-san. Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine” You said holding in the need to cry, and the need to let the crawling feeling in your throat free, to scream and yell how once again this world was nothing but cruel.

He gave a slight nod of his head before walking away from you. His other half as written by the universe and written on your left wrist.

You looked down at the floor clenching your fists and look up once again to see him standing with the rest of the A-1 class who was chatting as they waited for class to resume. A lone tear raced down your face.

“I’ll be fine” You whispered to yourself.

‘I have to be’ you thought.

As a young girl all you ever did was fantasize about your soulmate. You thought it would be a dream come true for you when you would finally get to meet them. You would get your happily ever after like in those princess tales you’d love to read before going to bed. You thought you’d have the perfect white picket fence life to look forward to.

As a young foolish girl you thought life would be easy.

you didn’t know your parents were going to sacrifice their lives to save others.

you didn't know that you weren’t quirkless and that your parents had been using ‘vitamins’ to suppress your quirk because of how dangerous it was when your emotions went haywire.

you didn't know that it wouldn’t get better contrary to what your therapist would tell you.

you didn’t know that you weren’t going to make as many friends as you had hoped you would.

and what hurt the most was that you didn’t know your soulmate wasn’t going to be your knight in shining armor like you had hoped.

Thought I could fly (fly) So I stepped off the Golden, mm Nobody cried (cried, cried, cried, cried) Nobody even noticed I saw them standing right there Kinda thought they might care (might care, might care)

It had been a month since Todoroki rejected you as his soulmate. You thought you could've gotten over it but as always it seemed like the universe wanted to punish you for just existing. You didn’t participate in class anymore, You made sure to cover your soulmate tattoo so that no one would accidentally look at it, you didn’t tare your gaze from the floor, you thought that it wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't have to look at him, but then the rumors started spreading and then the rumors weren't so much of a rumor.

“ Todoroki and Momo made it official!”

“ I knew they were soulmates, I mean just look at how perfect they look together.”

“ Did you see the picture Momo posted of their soulmate tattoos? I'm so jealous!”

It was all too much for you, so you ran and you ran until you found yourself on the rooftop of U.A. and you let the tears you were holding in fall.

You let the monster crawling at your throat free, letting yourself scream, letting yourself voice the hurt you had been bottling up.

why weren't you good enough for anyone?

not good enough for your parents to live for, they would rather die for others than to live for you.

not good enough for your classmates, they barley talked to you or invited you to places like they did with each other.

not good enough for your soulmate to want you. hell he’d rather cover you up than let people know fate had chosen you for him, were you so disgusting that you weren't even worth mentioning as the soulmate he rejected?

“stop” you whispered to your thoughts.

“ please just stop” your voice sounded hoarse.

“I just wanted everything to stop. To end” you said louder to no one, because no one was there, because no one cared.

you slowly walked towards the edge of the roof and looked down at the ground.

your eyes were void of anything, they looked empty.

shakily you put one foot out into the nothingness, into the only thing that could stop you from letting the pain overwhelm you. you closed your eyes ready to fly.

‘This world is so cruel and yet so beautiful’ you thought before letting your eyes snap open and gasping.

your eyes regained a light and tears began to swell once again, you let yourself fall backwards away from the edge of the building.

Yes the world was cruel and life wasn't fair, but it was also beautiful. there was still so much you wanted to experience, still so much that would be worthwhile.

after sitting on the floor for what felt like hours, you heard the distance sound of the bell signaling the end of lunch. you slowly picked yourself of the ground and cleaned your tears with the sleeve of your uniform jacket.

you made your way back to class 1-A. you were the last one to walk in, and some of your classmates glanced up at you, but they didn’t say anything about your puffy red eyes, they didn’t ask why you weren’t at lunch, they didn’t ask how your day was going so far, they didn’t ask if you were okay.

because you were not okay.

you once again felt a heaviness in your chest.

you thought they would care at least a bit, they were heroes in training after all, yet it seemed like they hadn’t even noticed.

they hadn’t even noticed your absence and maybe they didn’t mind it in the slightest.

I had a dream I got everything I wanted But when I wake up, I see You with me

Maybe you were too wrapped up in your own mind or maybe you finally lost it, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out how you ended up like this. Eating spicy noodles quietly with your class’ very own lord explosion murder sitting across from you.

If you were to ask Bakugou why he demanded you have lunch with him, he’d say it was because your dumbass face was the only one he could stand enough to willingly share his homemade noodles with, and if you were to ask him why he was sharing noodles in the first place, he would tell you to shut the hell up and just eat without questioning him.

What Bakugou would never admit is that when he was roaming the school grounds during lunch two weeks ago he saw you standing at the very edge. He stood frozen in place, not sure of what he could do, but before he could will himself to move he saw how you feel backwards and out of his sight. He knew why he froze because he remembered a comment he made to deku before they entered U.A. He obviously didn’t mean it, but seeing you so willingly to just dive of a building made something in him feel guilt for making such an insensitive comment even if it was to deku.

He really didn’t know you well. He knew that he had never actually seen your quirk in action though probably more than half of the class could relate to that since you never really used it. He knew pretty much that he didn’t know you at all and that unsettled him. Sure he wasn’t the most sociable guy or easiest to approach, but he at least knew a couple of things about each of his classmates friends.

So he decided to pay more attention to you, he noticed how you really didn’t talk to any of your classmates and how they wouldn’t try to include you in their conversations. He noticed you always walked with your head down not really looking at where you were going. He noticed the bags under your eyes making themselves more prominent. He noticed how sometimes when you would space out in class you’d be staring at the back of the class where the half and half bastard would sit. He became aware of your being but he still didn’t know how to approach you.

The opportunity came after an awkward encounter.

Everyone (or so you thought) had gone out to who knows where and like always you hadn’t been invited. You decided to train for a little while. You had been slowly progressing with being able to control your quirk, but after your conversation with Todoroki you were back at square one. Your emotions were a train wreck making it hard to control your quirk. Becoming frustrated with yourself you decided to call it a day but since you were sweaty you went to take a shower first. You forgot to take your clothes with you, and since you were by yourself in the dorms you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal if you ran to your room. Midway there you bumped into a wall that wasn’t there this morning. You looked up and there was Bakugou looking down at you.

‘Oh shit I’m going to die’ you thought but then you saw Bakugou frown as he looked directly at your uncovered wrist.

‘Shouto Todoroki’ Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He finally understood why you had been acting more closed off than usual, and maybe if you had looked a little harder you wouldve seen the understanding in them.

“Sor-” you began to say but he cut you off

“get dressed and meet me in the kitchen” he said before walking away.

After that day things changed for you. Who knew eating noodles in silence with an angry blonde could set you on your path to healing?

Every time you saw them holding hands you didn't have enough time to let yourself question what you could have done for that to be you.

“hey dumbass hurry up or I’ll kill you” the red eye blonde would yell at you once he noticed you lagging behind. Making you forget about the black ink on your wrist and making you worry about how bakugou was going to react to you getting a C- on the test he spent a whole afternoon helping you study for.

And you say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you Don’t wanna lie here, but you can learn to If I could change the way that you see yourself You wouldn’t wonder why you’re here, they don’t deserve you”

It was close to the end of the school year and if you were to say that much hadn’t changed you’d be lying.

thanks to practing your quirk with bakugou and him suggesting meditation to help you stay calm you were finally able to control your quirk enough to use it without fear around others.

Through him you also became friends with the rest of the bakusquad and they helped you warm up to the others.

all the second guessing and the comparing yourself to others didn’t cross your mind often anymore.

unbeknownst to you every time you peeled off the layers of insecuirty that held you back from expressing yourself bakugou would smile glad that you,just like him, could get passed the pain left by an unrequited soulmate bond.

also unbeknownst to you, as you began getting along with the rest of the class and opening up, he couldn’t help but be captivated by some of your quirks. How you would help the likes of denki study even when you weren’t better off yourself, how you were the only one who entertained Midoriya’s rambling and even added comentary.

He began to get to know you and he could see how the universe could’ve blessed him with a soulmate such as yourself. you were the complete opposite of what he was used to, the todoroki home wasn’t exactly the most affectionate.

He was seeing you bloom right before his eyes and all he could feel was guilt as he diverted his eyes to look at his left wrist.

‘Momo Yaoyorozu’

He softly caressed his thumb over the name and even with his soft touch the fake dark ink smuged.

He thought he had what he wanted.

He thought the universe had been wrong.

He thought it was for the best.

but as he saw you bickering with bakugou he found himself wondering what he could’ve done for that to be him, for you to be open with him like that.

he knew he was wrong but he was too far in to fix it.

If I knew it all then would I do it again? Would I do it again?

lastly Todoroki knew that even if you found it in yourself to forgive him, he still wouldn’t deserve you.

Thank you so much for reading this far if you did! I don’t know why I couldn’t get this out of my head and so here it is. Also I threw in an AOT reference to cope with the pain.

#mha x reader #todoroki shōto #todoroki x reader #todoroki angst #mha angst #anime angst #bakugou x reader #brotp #fanfic #oneshot #angst oneshot #billie eilish #songfic #soulmate #themes: unrequited #unreciprocated love #healing #fanart #strwbrrybratff

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid.

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is. Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail.

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them.

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match.

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one.

The newest addition to the list is her.

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible.

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him.

A trillion. At least.

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him.

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening.

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior.

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book.

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach.

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him.

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it.

And probably because she just said it to me right now.

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence.

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity.

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.”

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels.

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.”

That surely kept us apart.

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that.

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work.

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age.

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.”

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?”

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me.

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too.

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me.

What was going on?

What is going on?

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before.

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with.

“What do you think about me dating again?”

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue.

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is.

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch.

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that?

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought.

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish.

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.”

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.”

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine.

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?”

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …”

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag.

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one.

Red.

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice.

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect.

_ _ _

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes.

That story for later? This is the one.

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do.

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really.

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates.

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down.

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word.

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.”

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered.

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.”

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise.

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well.

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand.

If he kissed me.

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here.

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe.

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting.

I don’t wanna seem the way I do

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all.

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way.

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half.

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress.

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes.

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner.

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently.

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance.

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go.

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that.

But I’m confident when I’m with you

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained.

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it.

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke.

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable.

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me.

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again.

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.”

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said.

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.”

_ _ _

“In what way?”

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer.

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated.

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet.

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him.

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?”

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.”

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed.

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.”

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was.

“How am I wrong?”

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same.

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?”

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.”

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own.

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger.

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice.

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine.

_ _ _

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission.

I was the first.

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him.

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t.

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line.

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face.

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.”

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!”

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand.

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day.

_ _ _

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter.

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility.

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg.

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things.

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?”

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.”

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me.

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite.

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else.

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered.

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite.

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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nikki152006 · 3 years

Text

My Man - Shouta Aizawa X Reader (~1~)

You walked into the large gates of U.A., which had hardly changed since when you had last been here, in your third year as a student. You could still remember yourself running out of the gates with Shirakumo when the school ended, while Aizawa and Hizashi caught up from behind, running and shouting, carrying your school bags which you both had thrown at them.

You walked over to the teacher's lounge, for the very first day as a teacher at U.A. High, hoping you'd meet your best friends as soon as possible. You had missed them terribly, all of them, for the last ten years you were in America, for your mother's cancer treatment.

You sighed as you slowly opened the door to the teacher's lounge and walked in slowly.

"Ah." All Might's skinny figure said, "(L/N), you're here." Since the Kamino ward incident, when you saw the interview of the U.A. staff as well as the fight between the weird villain and All Might, All Might's true form had been revealed to the whole world.

"This is the new teacher I was telling you abou-" All Might said, but halted his speech as someone pulled you into a large bear hug.

"(NAME)!!" Hizashi shouted, "You're back." A wide grin made it's way to your face. "Hizashi!" you said, hugging him tighter. After a few moments of hugging, he let you go, only to start bragging and telling the others about all the stuff you used to do at U.A. together and how you used to be best of friends with him and Aizawa.

'Shouta,' you thought, remembering the guy you had loved all your U.A. years, 'Where is that brat?' Your eyes skimmed through the people but he wasn't there. Your lips tightened as you inhaled deeply and glanced around the room, and thankfully, you found him leaned against a wall in one corner of the room with a conflicted look on his face.

"Shouta!" you said, happily, running over to him and pulling him into a big tight hug. He didn't hug you back. "You brat," you said, as an odd sense of disappointment feel over you, "do you have any idea how much I missed you guys. Idiot."

"Y-Yeah, yeah." Aizawa said, pulling away from the hug and looking away. "I-Is there something wrong?" you asked him, taken aback by his actions. Aizawa shook his head in denial and turned to look at you again, but with the same gaze he had for you back when you were students. You smiled widely at him and playfully punched him. "Tsundere." you said, making him groan and look away.

"So, what do I do today?" you asked the rest of the teachers, who then handed you your teaching schedule while Aizawa and Hizashi left for their homeroom classes after giving you sad looks and you telling them to some to you in the lunch break.

_____________________________________________________________

"How were the classes?" Hizashi asked you, as you sat over with him, Aizawa and Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) for lunch. "Pretty good actually." you said, "It was class 1C and 1B today and the kids are pretty good."

"Oh, you haven't seen Shouta's class yet!" Hizashi said. You grinned and turned to Aizawa. "You gonna introduce me to your class or not?" you asked. "No." Aizawa said, blandly, "Don't even let them have an idea that you're related to me."

You and Hizashi laughed. Aizawa hadn't changed much, he was still the biggest tsundere you had ever seen.

"Who do you think was the most promising student in class 1B, (L/N)?" Kayama asked. "Please call me (Name)," you said, "And I think there were a few. That dork Monomoa is pretty good but he's kinda a brat and Kendo and Juzo were pretty good."

"Call me Nemuri too!" Kayama chirped. "And what about 1C though?"

"Some kid called Shinsou, looked as half-dead as Aizawa." you said, shrugging. "Oh," Nemuri said, "Looks like your son's got the lead, Aizawa."

You choked on your drink. "AIZAWA HAS A SON!?" you asked, sounding shocked from the outside, but your heart tearing apart from the inside.

"Not biological, he's adopted." Hizashi said, chuckling and patting your back. You stared at Aizawa who had his head turned away. "Wait," you said, "What exactly happened?"

Hizashi explained how Aizawa was now the legal guardian of Shinsou and how with a lot of requesting, Aizawa had finally, legally adopted Shinsou.

"God.." you whispered out, " and I thought he managed to get married." Hizashi began laughing again, remembering your and Shirakumo's old joke about Aizawa not being able to get married since he'd doze off during the wedding.

"Stop it." Aizawa groaned. "(Name), you have a class in 1A after the break." You grinned widely at him, "Now that's the spirit!" you said, patting him hard on the back, making him choke on his food, "Be the good boy."

"What the hell." Aizawa growled, looking away. "Aww..." you said, "Looks like our...uh." you said, glancing at Nemuri while Hizashi began laughing out lous realizing what you were gonna say, "Looks like our...sweet father's blushing."

Nemuri began laughing out loud for some reason. "I've never seen someone handle Aizawa like that before! He's actually blushing" she shrieked amidst her laughter. You chuckled, punching the back of Aizawa's head softly. He had never complained when you did stuff like this.

"God, (Name)," Aizawa groaned, "Grow up already, will ya?"

"I can't when you're still the whiny baby boy~" you taunted with a sadist grin. Aizawa groaned again, massaging his temples, while Hizashi smiled the widest he had in these last few years, his eyes going moistly. He had missed all this so much.

The bell rang. "To class." Aizawa said, sighing. "You won't enter until I tell you to." he said, taking the lead and walking inside the classroom.

You waited outside while Aizawa took his time talking to his class about something. "Why are you outside here?" Hizashi's voice came from behind you. "Because Shouta asked me to wait." you said, shrugging and sighing.

"Wanna go in already then?" Hizashi said with a mischievous grin, knowing exactly how much it'd piss Aizawa off. You grinned and nodded back.

You both burst into the classroom, drawing everyone's attention. "HEYA LITTLE KIDS!" Hizashi shouted loudly making you wince due to his high pitch.

"What the hell?" Aizawa growled. You flashed him with a grin similar to his signature sadist smile. "I WANNA INTRODUCE YOU TO YOUR A NEW TEACHER, (NAME) (L/N)!" Hizashi shouted. You waved out to the kids you recognized from the sports festival.

"PLUS SHE'S VEry close to your sensei and me!" Hizashi said, while Aizawa used his quirk to cut out his voice amplification mid sentence.

Something wrapped around your neck and you and Hizashi were pulled forward by Aizawa's special capturing weapons only to be faced by an angry faced, glowy eyed, hair standing up-ed Aizawa who growled, "Get out, both of you."

"Aizawa sensei, is that your daughter?" a girl with long green hair asked.

"Pfffftttt..." you and Hizashi clasped your hands on your mouth to avoid laughing out loud but it didn't work. It couldn't with what she had said. You both burst out in uncontrollable laughter while Aizawa groaned loudly and turned to the girl with a death glare.

"O-Only because she's got a black costume like yours and Present Mic sensei said she was close to you!" the girl blurted out hurriedly.

"Shut up or you'll regret it." Aizawa growled, making you and Hizashi, who were almost lying down on the floor clasp your hands to your mouth to stop laughing. If Aizawa got angry, he was deadly and you both knew better than to get him that way.

"Like I said," Aizawa said, "Principal Nezu has decided to let Shinsou into the class, and beside that, the new teacher will be assisting in today's battle training.

_____________________________________________________________

You cracked your knuckles and neck and plopped onto the couch in the teachers' dorm's common area. It was still just your first day and Aizawa had made sure to burden you with two piles of test papers to correct.

"You're a monster, you know." you told Aizawa, after Nemuri left you alone with your two best friends. It was pretty late already and everyone had left for their rooms. Aizawa flashed you his sadistic grin, and you flipped him off.

You finally walked over to your desk which was right beside his and started correcting the papers. "Coffee, anyone?" Hizashi called out as he got up from his seat. "Me." you groaned, circling out the dumbest mistake you had ever seen. "Get me one too." Aizawa said, and Hizashi walked off, towards the cafeteria downstairs.

There was some silence as you quietly corrected papers, glancing at Aizawa after every few seconds. Aizawa's eyebrows furrowed as he marked a paper and used his left hand to slowly rub his chin. 'Sexy.' you thought, blushing and turning away to your own papers. You corrected another one effortlessly, which was almost completely correct.

You looked back up at Aizawa who was holding out two papers, as though comparing them. He let out a 'tch' and scribbled something on both the papers and sighed, picking up the next one. "You want something?" he said, suddenly, making you jolt and look back at your papers.

Aizawa turned to look at you, wondering why you'd been glancing at him. "(Name)?" he said again, when you didn't reply.

"W-What did you write on those papers?" you blurted out, and thankfully, he seemed convinced that this was exactly what you were wondering.

"Ashido and Kaminari." he said, "Students in my class looks like they've copied each other's answers." You nodded and looked away. You exhaled out deeply, feeling all the feelings you had for him during your school years, which had still remained over this time, light up again.

"Shouta~" you breathed out subconsciously, thinking about how you and Shirakumo used to say embarrassing things to him during your school years to cause him to fluster up or look away, embarrassed, and Shirakumo and Hizashi always amplified it tenfold by passing embarrassing and sometimes even lewd comments to fluster him even more.

"Hm?" Shouta asked, making you jolt. You didn't reply, but instead, froze as deer infront of headlights. "You need something?" he asked. You didn't reply.

"(Name)?" he said, looking up from his papers to see you frozen, your eyes fixed on the desk. "Hey." he said, but you didn't reply. A million thoughts were running through your mind, half of how sexy he sounded, and half of what excuse you should make for your accidentally blurting out his name in your thoughts.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and jolted hard, falling off the chair.

"What the hell, (Name)," Aizawa said, getting off his chair hurriedly and crouching beside you, "What's wrong with you?"

You turned to him, biting your lower lip, unable to understand whether it was the fact that Hizashi had left you both alone or that he was crouched above you that was making you want to pull him and kiss him roughly.

"Are you okay?" he asked. You looked away and nodded, composing yourself and getting up. "Where were you lost?" he asked. You let out an awkward chuckle. "I was......correcting the papers!" you said, even more awkwardly.

Aizawa raised a brow at you, but turned around when the door of the teacher's dormhouse opened.

"Dad." Shinsou said, stepping in, but halting when his eyes fell on you. "Why aren't you in your dormroom?" Aizawa asked him, as you took the chance to compose yourself and sit down on the chair.

"I...needed to talk..." Shinsou said, awkwardly, "I'm...not disturbing something...am I?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. 'I wish you were.' you thought, as Aizawa replied with a quick "No" and walked over to him. They both talked to each other silently for some time before Shinsou left and Aizawa came back to sit beside you.

"Now," Aizawa said, turning his chair towards you and sitting down with a concern clearly visible in his eyes, "What happened? Is there something wrong? You never used to zone out."

You stared deep into his eyes, feeling a hot bubbly feeling in your heart. Shouta Aizawa, you'd liked him from your first year in U.A. and had always been a good friend of him and the other two boys, until the third year, when your friendship grew to get stronger and stronger, so strong that you four were almost inseparable, well, that was until Shirakumo died during his work studies, leaving the three of you heartbroken.

"I've...had some things on mind these past years." you said, after a sigh. You knew you had always been close to Aizawa, you and Shirokumo had taunted and annoyed him in tons, but he never complained since he loved you both. You hoped his feelings towards you were romantic but knew that he wouldn't understand until he was confessed to directly.

"Yeah?" he asked, patiently. You inhaled deeply, preparing yourself for confessing your feelings to him.

"I...." you said, as alot of heat rushed through your body, making you sweat slightly and rapidly increasing your heartbeat. "Y-You...I..." Aizawa sighed and got up, dragging you along to the couch and plopped down, pulling you beside him.

"Relax." he said, "Just say it."

"Y-You're ...cute?" you mumbled, nervously. Aizawa stared at you in disbelief. "I'm being serious. Don't joke around with me, (Name), what's wrong?"

You tapped your foot on the floor, thinking of the right way to say it but knew that you'd have to say it straight.

"Mm...Sh-Shouta.." you said, turning to him with trembling lips. Aizawa's gaze never left yours, as his hand made it's way to your head, slowly ruffling your head. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice the softest you had ever heard.

You inhaled deeply, leaning forward onto him. "(N-Name)?" he said, leaning a little back, unsure of what you were doing. You climbed onto him and stared at him dead in the eye. "Shouta, I.." you said, about to say the words 'love you' but your brain did a backflip and you blurted out, "N-Need to tell you something." instead.

Aizawa stared at you, with creased eyebrows, unable to understand what was wrong with you and why you were almost climbed onto his lap. The thought made heat rise to his cheeks. He just hoped you didn't make it all more difficult for him.

You inhaled deeply bit your lower lip. 'I've got to say this.' you thought and said, "Shouta, I...listen, I don't know whether you feel the same way but I've....I've always..liked you..you know..romantically. Ever since our first year in U.A., I began developing these feelings...and stuff...I-It's no problem if you don't feel the same way but...we'll always be friends and that'll be enough for me. Shouta, I love you."

Aizawa's eyes widened and he winced hard, as though regretting something. You suddenly became aware of the several tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Dammit." Aizawa growled and pushed you off of him so hard that you fell on the ground. "Are you crazy!?" he shouted, turning around and rubbing his temples. "Are you fucking crazy!?"

"Sh-Shouta?" you mumbled, out, the tears in your eyes increasing and blurring out your vision. You crawled over to his crouched figure who was rubbing his temples. "Sh-Shouta...I-I'm sorry.." you mumbled, placing a hand on your back, which he swatted away immediately.

"Sh-Shouta..." you said, your voice turning into a whisper, as your tears drenched your cheeks. "Aizawa." he snarled, "You fucking call me Aizawa." Your heart dropped.

"B-But we're best friends, right?" you asked, in a scared, uncertain tone. "I don't think so." Aizawa growled, "I'd very much like you to fuck off."

Your heart broke.

You had never confessed to him in school because you had valued your friendship too much and weren't very ready for relationships then, but now, that you'd been so sure that he would have missed you, and thought that it was the right time to let him know, it hurt, it hurt so much.

"GO AWAY!" Aizawa shouted, making you flinch and jolt away. You got up, tears flowing over your wet cheeks, your body trembling and ran outside. You ran away outside the building and over into the forest-like grove of trees. It hurt, it hurt so much that you wanted to scream and cry madly.

"(Name)?" Hizashi's voice called you out from some distance away. You tried to silent your sniffs and sobs while you cuddled up with yourself under the large tree you were sitting under. It was evening already and the air was getting chilly.

"God." Hizashi said, jogging upto you, "I've been finding you for over an hour now." he said. You let out a hitched exhale, regretting not being quiet enough to avoid him finding you.

"C'mon." he said, pulling you up to stand with him, "Let's go. I need to tell you something." You, not being in the condition to respond or resist, just allowed him to take you wherever he was dragging you along. Hizashi walked outside the large tree grove, and took you over to a tree beside one of the gyms.

"Sit down, I need to tell you something." he repeated. You quietly sat down, still sobbing. Hizashi scanned you sadly, seeing your messy haris, sticking you your dirty, wet cheeks and your trembling body. He sighed and put his coat over you.

"I heard it all." he told you, crouching in front of you and ruffling your hair. "The reason why Shouta reacted like that was not that he didn't like you, (Name)."

_____________________________________________________________

Aizawa walked out of the teacher's dormhouse, his heart aching badly. He wanted to forget it, he wanted to forget you confessing to him but he couldn't. He wanted you to stop having those feelings for him but he knew you wouldn't. He sighed, rubbing his throbbing chest before turning towards the gyms, hoping to distract his mind. He couldn't bear the guilt of liking you anymore. It just hurt.

He walked over to gym beta, but what he saw made his heart clench tight. You were sitting against a tree, your hair messy and sticking to your dirty cheeks while your body trembled under Hizashi's jacket. Aizawa clenched his hand to stop his urge of consoling you. Your confession repeated in his mind.

It was taking alot to control his feelings, but Aizawa wasn't going to let him take over what was meant for Shirakumo. 'He wouldn't have wanted this, he would never have wanted her to cry like this.' a voice in the back of his head said and before he could even realize it, Aizawa had used his binding weapon to move over the gym and secretly jump onto the tree you both were sitting under.

"The reason why Shouta reacted like that was not that he didn't like you, (Name)." Hizashi said. Aizawa's eyes widened. 'H-He...He doesn't know...does he?' he thought, glancing down at Hizashi who was slowly rubbing your back as you lied against him, looking up at him with puffy eyes.

"Aizawa did that because....Shirakumo....he...he had the biggest crush on you." Your eyes widened, along with Aizawa's.

"It was our first year." Hizashi said, "After the sports festival, Shirakumo started to find you really interesting and he talked alot about you to us. By the end of the first year, you were a sort of good friend to us already, and that's when he told us that he had a crush on you. By the start of the second year, me and Shouta would sometimes tease him about you and stuff and we began to talk to you more and more. We all got closer and became besties, but by the end of the second year, Shirakumo told me something I hadn't ever realized before."

You looked at him with widened eyes. You had never known any of this. You had never know that Shirakumo had a crush on you.

"Shirakumo told me that you had feelings for Shouta." Hizashi said, " I was shocked and kind of sad for him but he was happy, really happy. When I asked him why he was happy, he told me that he realized in the beginning of the second year that Shouta had feelings for you, which he hid from all of us because he didn't want to intrude between you guys. Yeah, Shouta too, had a crush on you in school but he hid his feeling because he didn't want Shirakumo to feel bad about it."

Aizawa's eyes widened. He hadn't ever known that Shirakumo had known about his crush on you and despite his best efforts in hiding it, he failed to do so.

"Shirakumo told me that day, that you were perfect, not for him, but for Shouta, and that every little outing he had planned that year, and every little joke he made alongside you, about how Shouta got tired, or how he dozed off, everything was just so that you both could get closer. (Name), Shirakumo did have a crush on you initially because he liked you alot, but he wanted you and Shouto to be together."

Aizawa inhaled shallowly, feeling tears in his eyes. He had never known that the person for whom he had been hiding his feelings for you was actually trying to set him up with you, despite having the biggest crush on you.

"Remember the time when we went to the amusement part and you and Shirakumo ended up making Shouta so embarrassed that he hid his face in his jacket and ran away?"

You nodded. Aizawa breathed out, shallowly, remembering the day.

"Hey Shouta," Shirakumo said, "It's just ice cream. You're eating it like some five-year old eats broccoli." You began giggling, drawing Shirakumo's attention, while Aizawa felt his lips twitch into a small smile. He loved it when you laughed. Aizawa immediately composed himself, hiding his smile.

"(Name)! (Name)!" Shirakumo said, "Okay, I got an idea." You, Aizawa and Hizashi turned to him, while still licking all your ice creams.

"How about you give us some advice?" he said. "What sort of advice?" you asked. Shirakumo smirked.

"I bet all of us boys might have some crush or the other, right?" he said, leaning over onto Aizawa's shoulders. "Just tell us from the point of view of any other girl, what we look like." Aizawa froze, gulping hoping that Shirakumo wouldn't have found out about his crush on you.

"What you look like?" you asked. Shirakumo nodded, "Like Hizashi looks like the bright, loud and always cheery sort of person to any other girl, uh...like...what do you think girls see us as?"

"Oh...Ok, lets see...Hizashi as the loud and always cheery guy." you said, "You like...hmmm..the attractive and charismatic guy which every girl would want. Actually some girls do call you 'husband material' behind your back." you told Shirakumo.

"And what about Shouta?" he asked. You turned to Shouta who was glancing at Shirakumo with a worried gaze.

"Hmm.. to me he's like the cute supportive family guy who's a big tsundere on the outside. No, wait, you know what, this isn't about my choice, so, Shouta looks like the sexy tsundere guy who the girl'd call daddy or some shit like that." you said, with a wide grin. Shirakumo grinned and placed his elbow on your shoulder. "I wonder," he said, "I wonder who all thinks about him that way. Shouta, you've sure got some sexiness into you, huh."

Aizawa groaned and looked away.

"He'd get many options for wives," you said, with an evil smirk, "Only if he didn't doze of mid-wedding." you and Shirakumo said in unison laughing, making Aizawa groan and tell you to "Stop it already."

"AW." Shirakumo said, "Look, our sugar daddy's blushing." Aizawa exhaled out deeply in annoyance. "C'mon, sugar daddy." you said, as you and Hizashi laughed, "Don't be angry with us~" Aizawa choked on the large bite of ice cream he had taken on hearing what you said and glanced away blushing awfully.

You began laughing out loud. "Nah.." you said, "He's like a blushing little kitten." Shirakumo laughed out loud, "Damn, if I was gay I'd be totally onto him. "

"Me too...wait, I don't even need to be gay to like him.." you said, and then lightly punched Aizawa on the shoulder, "What d'ya say Shouta~"

You and Shirakumo burst into laughter as Shouto covered his face with his jacket and hurried away.

"That day, the main reason Shirakumo wanted you to tell us what you thought other girls would see us as was because he wanted Shouta to know what you felt about him. " You wiped your tears, which were no longer because of Shouta, but because of Shirakumo. 'That brat.' you thought shakily.

"You know, the day when he....died.." Hizaki croaked out, wiping his own tears, "Me and Shirakumo had made a whole plan that morning, of how we were gonna make you and Shouta go for the end of year school prom together. We even planned to tell Shouta that Shirakumo didn't like you romantically anymore since he wasn't making a move on you."

Aizawa wiped his wet cheeks as he sat silently on the branch, listening to everything.

"Even today, Shouta thinks that you and Shirakumo liked each other, well, not anymore since you just confessed to him, but...he wouldn't do anything, even if he still had feelings for you, because he didn't know the truth. He still feels guilty for liking you. Getting you both together was the only thing Shirakumo wanted that morning and then later, he died and you left the school shortly after that. Me and Shouta never even got to say goodbye."

You let in a shaky breath. "(Name), you leaving made Shouta confirm your feelings towards Shirakumo, and I'm not really sure whether Shouta still likes you or not, since he never once talked about you all these years, but I think it's time for me to tell him-" Hizashi's speech halted as he rested his head back on the tree, only to stare right into Aizawa's teary gaze from in the tree.

Hizashi sighed as he smiled sadly at Shouta who just bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Hizashi turned to you. "I wish..." you said, tears still falling from your widened eyes, "I wish I hadn't taken a leave then. I-I could have saved him."

"It's okay, (Name)," Hizashi said, "You couldn't have, it just happened, it okay."

"I-If I wasn't sulking so much over my father's death and would've just gone to attend my work studies that day, I could have saved him!" you croaked out loud, shaking miserably. Hizashi pulled you into his arms and craddled you, his face bearing a shocked expression.

"What!? W-Why didn't you ever tell us?" he asked. "Why didn't you ever tell us about him dying. It's not your fault, (Name), it's not, trust me. I-Is that why you left?"

You nodded while sobbing into Hizashi's shoulder. "M-My mother had can-cer." you croaked out, "Sh-She needed to be taken to A-America and dad had died and..."

"It's okay." Hizashi said, "No worries, it's all okay. Everything's fine now. You're mom's okay...r-right?"

"She died a month ago." you croaked. Hizashi hugged you harder, glancing up at Aizawa who was hardly visible in the now spreading darkness.

"Let's go back in, it's cold here. We'll talk about it later, okay. You're back, I'm here, everything will be fine, I promise."

___________________________________________________________

There's a part two which was really fun to write.

Check that out too :)

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About "Knock Knock Knockin' on Hooty's Door" from The Owl House

Wow. They are really pushing it for that secret message, huh?

Anywho--Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

I think it goes without saying at this point that Season Two of The Owl House is setting itself up as a season without filler. Now, filler episodes aren't always bad. Yes, it hurts when a series turns away from the main plot for a week. But at best, they're utilized as a chance for the writers to play around with the characters and developing said characters without it relating to the overarching story. So, some people who see that consider it a bad thing that a series doesn't have that many filler episodes.

I like to call those people: F**king morons.

Don't get me wrong, I see where some of you are coming from. And I'd be willing to agree...if The Owl House was a plot-driven series. Which it's not. It is a character-driven series. Because for every plot thread and narrative that the show presents, they always relate to the characters and develop them further each time these threads get brought up. For example, look at "Knock Knock Knockin’ on Hooty's Door" (It pains me just to write that). Several narratives move forward, and it’s all done to make the characters grow. And to explain how requires going into spoilers. So keep that in mind as you continue reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Hooty: Might as well start with the character that this episode is about.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't a huge fan when I found out we're getting a Hooty-centered episode. I've grown to love him over time, but he is a comedic character that's best used in small doses. Primarily due to how his voice is grating to me (My ears are still bleeding...). With that said, I do really love his contributions in "Knock Knock Knockin' on Hooty's Door" (Seriously, there couldn't have been a less awkward title?). Hooty's antics when trying to help everyone are as hilarious as they are heartwarming. He deeply cares for his friends but just doesn't understand how his plans could do some unintended harm, which is pretty lovable if you ask me. We also get some surprisingly great insight into his character, as he feels insecure about basically being the comic relief who doesn't really do that much other than being funny. Rarely do you get that level of dimension from a comedic character, and it's even more uncommon for that to work out as well as it does here. It once again proves just how competent the writing is in this series to the point where we get an episode about Hooty, and it's funny and heartwarming instead of being annoying. And whoever is responsible for that, you're the best.

Lilith’s Letter to Hooty: I mean it when I say that I love how Lilith kept her word about her and Hooty becoming penpals. Their friendship was something I would have never expected to love, and I'm still shocked that it works so well, so seeing it continue like this just warms me to the bone. Plus, it is pretty sweet that Lilith's kind words are what inspired Hooty to do what he's done in this episode...meaning it's Lilith we should thank here--SON OF A WITCH! Even when she's gone, she's still working her way into my heart!

King going through Puberty: What?! KING IS EVOLVING!

(There, I made a Pokemon reference. Do I get my cookie now?)

Eda Keeping Herself Awake to Train Herself: I'm willing to bet a large sum of money that this has everything to with Raine getting captured last week. If Eda was still the most powerful witch in the Isles, she might have actually saved them. But she isn't, and now the love of her life is in the clutches of a tyrant planning something that could potentially be the end of everything. So I can understand Eda pushing herself to her limit to get back on top again, as I would probably do the same. It's not healthy in any way, and Eda would be doing more harm than good. But when it comes to the people you love, logic doesn't always win out in the end.

Luz Wanting to Make her Way into Amity’s Heart by Making the Echo Mouse Happy: ...That's it. I Just...I just love everything about it, ok?

This was also when I knew that I was wrong to doubt that there would be zero Lumity in this episode. I realize my follies now, and I humbly apologize.

Hooty Teaching King About Demons: This was so funny. So, so funny. Probably doesn't come as a surprise, especially since The Owl House proves itself as a comedy before, but the jokes have never hit as frequently and as hard as they did here. From Hooty getting offended by King's dance to him and Dana's insert wanting a "DNA sample," everything managed to successfully make me lose my s**t. It does come at the expense of King suffering, but I can stomach that much more than if it were Eda or Luz. And, as a bonus, we get lore about how demons work, added with another great joke of King getting in trouble with Hooty for saying he already knows this stuff. Humor isn't always the show's strong suit, but when it works, it f**king works.

King Wanting to Know What he Is: But despite how funny King's vignette was, we still get to see more of his character grow. We learn that he's frustrated now that there's this big question mark over his life now, feeling extra angry that his father "abandoned" him to leave such a present mystery. It shows the hidden resentment he has that Lilith inadvertently brought out, made even worse when King's father hasn't responded to the video yet. King hasn't really gotten that much development until "Echoes of the Past," so it's pretty cool that the writers haven't really slowed down on it. Especially when it leads to these great moments of King venting his frustrations.

King’s Shouting Powers: KING learned FUS RO DAH!

(And now that's a Pokemon reference AND a Skyrim reference. WHERE'S MY GOSH DANG COOKIE!?)

Eda’s Nightmare: If King's vignette hits you hard with the laughs, Eda's will absolutely hit you harder with the feels (never make me say "feels" unironically again). Knowing that Eda's life got thoroughly screwed over by the curse is something we could figure out on her own. But seeing just how much the curse ruined her life and tore apart relationships that mean the world to her really does a swell job at ripping apart the soul. What's even more tragic is, technically speaking, it's all sort of Eda's fault too. She kept hiding the curse, refusing to be a burden to others who would do all they could to help. If she had only been open and honest, things probably wouldn't have changed much, but they most likely would have been better than they are now.

Eda Attacked her Father as the Owl Beast: ...I don't know what I was expecting when "Keeping Up A-Fear-Ances" hinted that there was some possible tension between Eda and her father...but it definitely wasn't this.

The fact that we see blood where his eye used to be doesn't make things any happier, either.

Raine Broke Up with Eda: Before we get into anything else, let's celebrate the fact that it's now confirmed that Eda and Raine really did use to date in the past. Because this show is just f**king phenomenal with its LGBTQA+ representation!

But, seriously, this is a fantastic reveal that goes far beyond just shipping...well, sort of. It shines a new light on Eda and Raine's interactions from last week, revealing that while they're not a couple anymore, they still very much love each other. It helps make their last interaction especially tragic, as they were both on the same page now and could very well be together again. Only for them to be forced apart for the second time in a way that's much worse than the first. And I frickin' adore that this series changes the impact of one episode one week later. Again, it shows just how competent these writers are, and kudos to them for making something so...perfect.

The Moon Person: WHO THE FU--Nope. Nope! We have more than enough mystery bulls**t to deal with through CreepyLuz and Philip Wittebane, so I am PUTTING YOU ON THE BACKBURNER FOR NOW!

(They're probably nothing more than a one-off character, anyway)

The Owl Beast and Eda are Connected: Through visuals alone, we, the audience, can clue into what the curse really means. The Owl Beast doesn't want to be a part of Eda as much as she doesn't want it to be a part of her. Whether they like it or not, and they very much don't, they're stuck together. The thing is, and this is what I love the most, they still decide to make the best of their situation rather than let it ruin their lives even more. This might be the best possible turn Eda's curse could have made. It'll still affect her, and there are probably more negatives than positives, but at least now, it's not the worst thing in the world. And I feel like that's all anyone can ask when in a position like her own.

Eda's “Pretty Dream”: I don't know what emotions are toiling inside me more with this moment. Awe and wonder over how beautiful Eda's dream is, or heartbreak over the implication that she has only had nightmares since getting cursed...I'm gonna say both. Yeah, it's definitely both.

Eda’s Harpie Form: Well, fan artists are gonna have a field day with this...especially the freaks.

(You know who you are. And you're weird!)

Luz Calling Amity a “Cotton-Candy Haired Goddess”: ...Have I ever mentioned how much I love this show?

Hooty Kidnapped Amity: ...Hooty, if your stupidity wasn't charming, I would be more than willing to call the authorities over how you kidnapped a girl in your version of a knapsack and locked her in the basement. For that is going to ring SO MANY alarm bells in people's heads.

Amity and Luz Stuck in a Tunnel of Love: *Smacks lips* Mmm. The adorable awkwardness of this moment is just *chef's kiss* magnifique!

Luz being afraid of getting made fun of:

Amity’s look of hope: I mean...just...f**king--LOOK AT HER:

That is the look of a girl who, while embarrassed as hell, still is ecstatic to learn for a brief moment, everything that she is hoping for has a high chance of being real. Who, in their right mind, wouldn't go "Aw!" at something so pure and innocent?!

Luz Destroying the Tunnel of Love: This is how to effectively utilize dramatic irony. The audience can understand why Luz is tearing the place apart because she explicitly states that she's afraid of Amity rejecting her in the end. They also know that's bogus, thus making it extra painful to watch Amity's heart break more and more with each second (which is perfectly represented through Amity's expressions). You feel bad for both of them, and even worse when you know that it can easily be prevented by the simple art of communication. That's what makes it great dramatic irony. Knowing the point of view of each character results in a scene that evokes emotions in two different ways.

Hooty’s Breakdown: This was...genuinely hard to watch. Not that it was badly written, far from it. It just...hurt seeing how destroyed Hooty was when he realized he failed the people he has such an admiration for. On the upside, a wholesome moment follows soon after as the Owl House gang tries to reassure Hooty that he's done a lot of good that night. It's a pure action that shows even though Hooty gets on their nerves all the time, they still care about him...damn it. I think I'm gonna cry.

Eda’s Advice for Luz: ...Eda...You're the best.

You found out that your surrogate daughter wants to ask a girl out, and not only were you quick to deliver the best possible advice ("Just go for it!"), but you also quickly reassure her that it doesn't need to be perfect.

And you know what? That's it. Eda is the best cartoon mom! She might not technically be Luz's mom, but I don't give a s**t because she is the best!

Luz and Amity Ask Each Other Out: Shh-sh-sh-sh...

Do you hear that?

...

...It's the sound of dozens of Lumity fans collectively losing their s**t...and I'm one of them.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!

IT!

IS!

CANON!

AH-HAHAHAHAHA!

HOLY S**T! Holy s**t! Holy s**t...might just be the best way I could possibly describe this! Finally, after all the waiting, speculating, and praying, THESE TWO IDIOTS FINALLY GOT TOGETHER! AND IT WAS PERFECT! I mean, it was awkward as s**t, but that's what makes it perfect! You know why? You wanna--Hey! *snaps fingers*. You want to know why? It's because they're teenagers. Of f**king course, it's going to be awkward! This is their first relationship, so there will be a lot of missteps along the way. And that, in itself, brings me to the best (second best part?) thing about it happening in episode eight of the new seasons. Most endgame couples get together in the climax or even at the end of the series. But to have them get together this early on, means there will be quite a few episodes dedicated to showing them grow as a couple.

And better than that--EVEN F**KING BETTER THAN THAT--dozens of kids are going to see these two, a realistic depiction of young love that just so happens to involve two girls, and are going to learn once and for all that there is nothing wrong with being who they are. That fact alone is f**king incredible. Yes, it sucks that season three got cut short, and we'll have even less time with Luz and Amity, but knowing how many kids have felt seen today almost makes it worth it in the end.

And if I see one mother f**ker saying this was poorly paced, I might just hunt them down for SPORT...Sorry if that was an overreaction. I'M JUST SO HAPPY! Because they're happy! Look at them. Listen to them! It's so...GAH-HAHAHA!

“They’re adorable! And deserve all the happiness!”: You're darn right, Hooty! You're darn right.

King’s Father(?) Shows Up: What the--WHAT?! They're doing this now?! Here?! After everything else?

Oh, man. What could this mean? What dynamic changes will this cause in the main cast? How could the writers fit this in during the next two episodes? And what--

Hooty Eats the Letter: ...Pfffft--HAHAHAHA!

Oh, man...I should be mad, and I wouldn't blame others if they are...but that is too much of a brilliant f**k you that I can't help but appreciate it. Bravo writers. Bravo.

WHAT I DISLIKED

...Dislikes? Dislikes? You would honestly believe that after everything I witnessed in this episode, that I would have the gull to list anything wrong with it?!

HOW DARE YOU ASSUME THAT I WOULD BE SO CALLUS TO--Actually, I do kind of have an issue with the episode's title. It's just too much of an awkward mouthful for me to get behind. I understand that the writers wanted to sneak the K into the secret message, but were there really no other titles starting with K that they couldn't come up with?

But that's just a personal issue, and in no way do I think anybody else would feel the same way. Especially with how well-written everything else is anyway.

IN CONCLUSION

"Knock Knock Knockin' on Hooty's Door" (title aside) is another A+ episode. It was hilarious, heart-wrenching, and downright adorable while keeping me entertained with every minute. I'm sure there are some issues I was willing to ignore due to how expertly written everything else was, but why bother looking for the chinks in the armor when I could just enjoy a perfect episode for being so...perfect! Some of you might be willing to disagree with me, but to that, I say: Don't knock it till you've tried it.

(Now, if you don't excuse me, I'm going to go lie down. It's...It's been a day.)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #the owl house reviews #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #toh hooty #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne #raeda #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #lumity is canon #what i thought about

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wwweasleystan · 3 years

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The Scary Big Sister

Summary: Harry has managed to keep Draco’s taunts and nasty words away from the ears of his big sister. But what happens when she finds out what Malfoy has been saying about her little brother.

Pairings: Harry x sister!reader Fred Weasley x potter!reader

Warnings: If you're a Malfoy Stan then...sorry chief. one punch to the nose, a couple threats, but relatively fine

This is relatively short, but this idea has been playing in my mind all day, thought I’d share :) Please leave a comment!

~~~

Fred, George, and I were on our way to Potions when I heard it. Malfoy spitting insults at someone, a group of Slytherins gathered around. Rolling my eyes, I was about to walk over and teach the blonde brat a lesson, but before I could Freddie grabbed my elbow.

“Cmon love, we’re late and if we walk in after the bell again McGonagall will have a fit, right George?” he commented, tugging me away before I could get to close sharing a glance with George, who nodded quickly.

“What are you on about? Since when have you two ever walked away from a chance to shut up Malfoy and cared about getting to class on time. Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” I joked, even though I was slightly confused. A Gryffindor is always ready to jump head first into a fight for others, regardless of the cause. Plus, Fred and George hate Malfoy.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, love. I just think that whoever it is squaring off with Malfoy probably wants to deal with it himself” he says, slightly nervous while continuing to tug me down the hall.

Coming to a complete halt, I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms at my boyfriend and his twin. “Now hold on a minute, how do you even know it’s a ‘he’ that he’s tearing into. What’s going on Fred?” Even though I was staring right at him, he refused to look me into the eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay okay, but you have to promise not to get mad or do anything. Harry made us promise not to say anything to you. I told him that was just plain stupid but he was so adamant about it- y/n? Where are you going?” In the midst of his rambling Fred and George had failed to notice you turn around and begin briskly walking away once you heard Harry’s name. Who the fuck did that rat think he was, going after your brother? How long had this even been going on? You were quickly storming towards the jeering crowd, some parting upon seeing your icy glare, others you pushed right past.

Once you got to the front, you could see Draco standing toe to toe with Harry, who was flanked by Hermione and Ron. Malfoy, for his part, had Crabbe and Goyle off to the side for back-up, as if those two pinballs could do anything besides stand there and look dumb. Harry looked calm for the most part, but you could see that Malfoy’s words were beginning to get to him, especially when he started talking about Hermione and Ron.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Scared to fight back? Never took you as a coward, though I guess daddy was never around to show you what courage looked like. I don’t even know how you got into this school, you’re a sorry excuse for a wizard. Associating yourself with mudbloods and blood traitors, it’s pathetic.” Malfoy sneered. You made a move to step in but both Fred and George had stepped behind you, grabbing onto your shoulders. Fred leaned down to whisper into your ear,

“I know it’s bad love, and trust me there’s nothing I’d like more than to go over and punch his face in, but both Harry and Ron made us promise not to do anything and that they could handle it” he whispered.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you more than anything, but if you and Georgie don’t let go of me right now, I will not hesitate to hex you as well. You two may have promised, but I did no such thing.” You responded, shaking off their hands and strolling up behind your brother’s bully, who was still spouting off to Harry.

“Where’s that sister of yours, Potter. Ya know if she wasn’t related to you and dating that weasel I may have tried to get in on that. It’s a shame she’s related to you, she’s kinda hot” Draco snickered, causing Harry to clench his jaw.

“You’ll leave her out of this Malfoy, she’s got nothing to do with this, it’s between me and you. Talk about me all you want, but leave my sister alone. I’ve done a good job of keeping the shit you say away from her, but if it gets back to her, I’m not going to hold y/n back when she gets a hold of you. Let alone what Fred would do to you.” Your brother responded, clenching onto his wand tighter.

“Ohh I’m so scared. You’re sister isn’t here Potter, I’m allowed to say whatever I want about her, and you won’t do anything. If you do, I’ll report you to Umbridge, and I don’t think your hand’s healed from the last time, has it?” Malfoy fired back, mocking your brother by grabbing at his own hand and pretending to faint. You had heard enough. Finding out that Draco was partially responsible for getting Harry in trouble with Umbridge was the final straw.

You silently crept up behind Draco, your brother’s eyes widening as he spotted you. You quickly raised your eyebrows and winked at Harry, then tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. As soon as he turned, you gave him a swift left hook straight to his nose, knocking him straight on his ass. Smiling at the satisfying crack that echoed through the corridor, you watched as Hermione and Ron quickly pulled Harry away and over to Fred and George. Gasps were heard, but you blocked them out as you stood over Malfoy.

“Get up you prat.” you growled, grabbing him by the collar on his robes. You shoved him back, cornering him against the wall and keeping him there by pointing your wand at him. Malfoy, still dazed from the punch was too surprised to say anything.

“Gone all quiet now have you, Malfoy? Imagine my surprise as I’m walking to my class, having a lovely day, only to hear the biggest joke of fifth year coming after my brother. Cornering him with his band of cronies like some macho man. Calling him pathetic, as if you don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror everyday” you remarked, keeping your focus solely on the boy in front of you.

Appearing to have momentarily regained his confidence, Draco opened his mouth to respond, but you quickly cut him off with a “Silencio!” rendering the boy unable to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Uh-uh. I've heard enough of your chatter to last me a lifetime, and the next. You’re lucky all you've received is a broken nose. I should dangle you over the lake for the Giant Squid, you absolute douchebag. Newsflash, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Malfoy. Thought Mum and Dad would have taught you that already.” you spat, walking towards the clearly frightened boy, who’s eyes had gone wide in shock. Stopping only inches away, you pointed your wand directly at his face.

“I’m not usually one for violence, but make no mistake, Malfoy. If I hear you sniffing around Harry and his friends again, or anyone else for that matter, I won’t hesitate to reunite you with your ferret form from last year, are we clear?” you spoke, the warning clear in your voice.

Malfoy, seeming to finally come to his senses, nodded quickly. Swiftly, you patted his head. “Good boy, now take your “friends” and run along to class. And remember what I said, Draco. I never break my promises.”

You watched as Draco took off down the hallway, Crabbe and Goyle clumsily taking off after him. Turning to the crowd, you shouted “nothing to see here folks, go off to class” and quickly the crowd dispersed, obviously a little afraid of what the elder Potter was capable of when it came to her family and people she cared about.

You casually strolled over to your group, immediately pulling Harry into a hug. “I’m sorry if I upset you by stepping in, but I won’t apologize for doing it. That little ferret had it coming. He had no business talking to any of you like that” you spoke, glancing at Hermione and Ron who gave you grateful smiles in return.

“Honestly sis, it was pretty funny. I’ve never seen Malfoy so scared in all his life. I truly thought he’d wet himself. I just don’t want you to get in trouble with Umbridge. I’m supposed to protect you too and I don’t want you to have a run in with her because of me” he spoke, returning your hug.

“Don’t worry about me, little brother. I’m more than capable of handling that Pink Toad should she find out, but I doubt Draco wants to expose himself, merlin forbid his father finds out he got told off by a girl, a Gryffindor no less.” you chuckled, giving Harry a squeeze before stepping back. “Now, you lot run off to class, and if anyone gives you any problems, just let me know, okay?”

The golden trio eagerly smiled at you and nodded their heads, running off down the corridor, probably to tell the rest of the fifth years what a fool Malfoy had been made out to be. You smiled after them, turning back to your boyfriend and his twin, who you immediately smacked in their heads.

“Bloody hell, woman. What was that for??” George, grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “That was for not telling me my brother was being picked on, you numpties!” You then quickly pulled them in for a hug. “I did notice however, that a few more pranks have been played on Slytherin house in the past week than normal, and I appreciate you looking out for him in the way you could. Just next time, don’t keep something like this from me. please.”

“You got it, love. Harry is just very convincing when he’s got puppy eyes. ya know? Bloody fool can convince you of just about anything.” Fred spoke, wrapping his arm around you and beginning to once again guide you down the hall. “Now, let’s actually get to McGonagall’s, and you’re explaining why we’re late, miss.” George spoke from the other side of you, ruffling your hair.

“Oh and, love? Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Fred spoke, as you all laughed, walking off down the corridor.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #harry potter

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yandere-society · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Catastrophe

Pairing: Yandere Collector Yoongi x Collector YN

Synopsis: YN’s always been a collector. She’s always had the desire to possess any and everything she’s set her heart on. So when she finds an item she’s been wanting for over a year, she jumps at the chance to finally have it, unaware of the trap that’s been set just for her . . .

Word Count: 2422

Warnings: Yandere themes, Blood, Murder

Admin: @chimchimsauce

Request:

AN: This turned out way different than I was expecting it to, but I hope you enjoy it! It’s also pretty fucked up so . . .

Collecting is in YN’s blood, she’s sure. Ever since she was a small child, she was drawn to items she found interesting - rocks, bouncy balls, figurines, etc. But as she got older and her pockets began to fill with money of her own, YN’s collecting habits skyrocketed. Common items that anyone could obtain just wouldn’t cut it for her anymore. She set her eyes on things that were rare - things most collectors could only hope to set their eyes upon in real life. It’s caused her to get quite the following online in niche collectors communities. People message her to try and buy items from her collection but she never accepts, not even when the amount of money they offer is astronomical.

Half the appeal of having something is the fact that other people want it.

But collecting rare and expensive items is not easy. YN spends countless hours every week scouring online marketplaces and thrift shops to find the items that she has on her wish list. Her constant hunt for things has taken her to a variety of places - she’s driven hundreds of miles to go to estate sales, taken flights to attend conventions, and once even dated a guy who was related to the original artist of a piece she wanted.

She was successful every time. There is no feeling as satisfying as the first time holding an item she’s been searching relentlessly for. But it always fades quickly and she’s on to the next thing, the desire to possess and collect overtaking her once more.

YN has done some pretty crazy things in pursuit of her collection, but non as crazy as this. It had taken YN over a year to find this one item she was looking for - a misprint of a novel written by an author who died two hundred years ago. Based on what people think, there are only about a thousand of them in existence. YN read the re-edited version of the book and found it rather dull, but there are people who are willing to pay over ten grand just to have it.

When she finally found one for sale, YN was quick to buy a plane ticket to fly halfway across the world to pick the tome up. She’s never been this far away from home, but the thought of getting the book pushes any anxiety she may have out of mind. YN has no idea why or how this book ended up in South Korea of all places. But she’s even more surprised by the fact that it somehow landed in a small second-hand shop in a back alley of Seoul.

Thankfully, when she called last week to have the book pout on hold for her, she found out that the owner speaks English very well, so she won’t have a problem communicating with him.

YN looks at her phone, following the map through a labyrinth of abandoned alleys. Snow is falling gently, reminding YN that today is Christmas. Usually, she’d be at home celebrating with her family, but she was more than happy to drop them for a chance to get this book.

A bell rings when YN pushes open the door to the small shop, the warm air hitting her face and knocking away some of her chill. The shop is crowded with tall bookshelves stuffed to the brim with a variety of random items - most of which are covered in a thick layer of dust. It’s clear that no one really comes here and YN absently wonders how it’s still in business.

“Hello?” she calls out.

No response.

YN huffs. She hopes this Yoongi guy she’s supposed to be meeting hasn’t blown her off, especially since she had to take the longest flight known to man to get here.

She makes her way through the shop, feeling like a bull in a china shop with how carefully she has to avoid random piles of merchandise and the occasional broken item crushed into the worn floorboards.

YN makes it to the back of the store where a small desk is pushed against a wall, a thin, somewhat ghostly looking man sitting behind it. His eyes are unfocused and earbuds are plugged into his ears. He doesn’t even register her presence originally. YN has to tap the desk right in front of his face to get him to focus.

“Oh,” the man says, pulling his earbuds out, “You’re that girl here for the book, right? YN?”

YN nods, trying not to let her annoyance show.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she says.

“It’s in the back,” he says, “Follow me.”

He rises and YN is shocked by how . . . pale he is. He nearly looks sick and YN thinks she can see his veins even under the terrible light.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks him as he steps out from behind the desk.

“What?” he asks her.

“Nothing,” she says, retracting her statement.

It really isn’t her business. As soon as she gets the book, she’s going to leave anyway so it doesn’t matter.

The man looks her over and something about his gaze makes her stiffen. It’s uncomfortable. His eyes are almost lifeless, brown but dead like frozen mud.

He’s so creepy.

He turns without another word and behinds to walk to the other edge of the store where YN assumes the storage room is. Even the way he walks is weird. His footsteps are too heavy, loud in a way that’s unnatural. He barely lifts his feet, but she can almost feel each step in his ribs.

As soon as YN has the book and pays, she’s leaving, never to return.

Yoongi pulls a set of skeleton keys out of his pocket, taking one and inserting it into the ancient lock on the door. The mechanisms groan, nearly refusing to open. The door does unlock when Yoongi applies a bit more pressure to the key and he steps inside, becoming YN to follow her.

It’s pitch black inside, making YN’s heartbeat speed up astronomically. An icky feeling wells up inside of her, the same one that appeared whenever she had to visit her great aunt and go down into her creepy basement.

YN’s senses are hyper-aware. The air is stale in here, laced with a scent she’s never experienced before. It almost makes her gag but she forces herself to hold it in, not wanting to be seen as rude. A yellow light turns on overhead, flickering before finally staying lit. Yoongi is closer to her than she’s like him to be, but his back is turned, looking at the shelves built into the room. Even these are stuffed to the brim, absolutely filthy and covered in grime.

“The book is in good condition like you said, right?” YN asks him.

She’s going to be pissed if he pulls out a book covered in rat droppings and cobwebs.

“Of course,” he says, like it’s obvious.

YN doesn’t quite believe him. Yoongi moves deeper into the storage room, YN following him. There are a variety of things in here that pique her interest - small items that float in murky water, a collection of old stained knives, and a snow globe bigger than her hand. She reaches out to touch it, curious about the scene inside of it, but Yoongi smacks her hand away before she can touch it.

YN brings it to her chest protectively, startled.

“Don’t touch that,” he hisses out.

“Sorry,” YN says.

“It’s in the very back,” Yoongi says.

YN swallows, following after him as he gets even deeper inside of the storage room. She looks at the snow globe over her shoulders, looking at the fake snow that’s swirling around even though she never got to shake it.

This whole experience has been really unsettling, so when Yoongi stops and pulls a perfectly preserved book off the shelf, YN nearly sags in relief.

She reaches her hand out for it and Yoongi places it in her palm.

“You’re quite the collector, huh?” he asks her, his fingers still wrapped around the book.

“Yeah,” YN says, gently trying to pull it away from him.

His grip tightens.

“So am I,” he says, smiling at her.

His teeth are incredibly straight and perfect, a complete contrast to the rest of his sickly and generally unkempt appearance.

“That’s nice,” YN says, “Can I have the book now?”

“You know, I think the rarer an item is, the better it is for collecting.”

YN nods, agreeing and trying to decide if she should just cut her losses and run. But she’s looked for this book for over a year now and she finally has it in her grasp. She can’t give up yet.

“What do you collect?” YN asks, hoping that indulging him in conversation will get this experience to fly by faster.

“Figurines, mostly,” he says, “Though everything else in this shop is mine as well, none of it holds my attention for very long. My figures, though. I adore them.”

“I like figures too,” YN says, all of the hairs on her body sticking straight up.

“Really? Would you like to see my collection?”

“No thank -”

“It won’t take long at all!” Yoongi says, suddenly insistent, “I’ll show you and then we can get you checked out, okay?”

Yoongi pulls the book away from YN entirely, practically dangling it in front of her. All the warning bells in her head are going off, but her desire to have this book has her internally soothing herself. Plenty of collectors are weird or just bad at speaking to people. He’s probably just the same as them.

“Okay,” YN says after a moment.

Yoongi gives her that perfect smile again and then turns to walk back the way they came, stopping in front of that snow globe. He picks it up and the entire shelf groans, sinking inwards and to the side to reveal a hidden pathway. A draft wafts up and tousles YN’s hair.

To hell with it. This is too far. Just as YN turns on her heel, preparing to run, Yoongi’s hand grasps her wrist, his skin cold as ice.

“You wanted to see right?” he asks her.

YN’s never seen a man so creepy. Everything about him is off.

“I changed my mind actually,” she says, wetting her lips and trying not to panic as those dead eyes follow the movement of her tongue, “I don’t really need the book.”

“Nonsense,” Yoongi says, dragging her inside, “You simply must see it.”

He’s surprisingly strong to look so sick. YN digs her heels into the floor but Yoongi has no problem dragging her inside. The door shuts behind them and Yoongi pulls her crying and screaming through another maze of pitch-black hallways until he steps foot into a showroom.

Everything in here is impeccable. The floors shine and the lights overhead are bright. Her attention is immediately brought to the dozens of life-sized figures he has, each of them different. There are men and women, figures of all shapes, sizes, and ages. It looks like a creepily realistic wax museum.

YN doesn’t want to know why Yoongi has these figures. All she wants to do is go home.

“Please let me go,” YN says, tears streaming down her face.

“Let you go?” Yoongi asks her as if he’s genuinely confused, “Why would I let you go? You’re the final piece before my collection is complete.”

YN’s blood turns to ice. She turns her head to look at the figure closest to her, noticing the way its skin is too lifeline to be made of wax.

“Please no,” she begs him, trying her best to fight him off.

Just as she swings her free hand at his skull, he drops her and pushes her harshly, sending her straight to the ground, her skull smacking into the floor.

Her ears ring and the bright lights overhead blur her vision. She feels nauseous as she raises her hand to touch the blood seeping from her scalp.

“Damn. I’ll have to make sure that gets cleaned up,” Yoongi mutters to himself, annoyed.

YN is terrified on the ground, but the blood on the ground makes her look like an angel, one surrounded by a halo. Yes, she really will be perfect, the very last piece of his collection.

He’s been following her for years, countlessly one step behind her as she snatched up several of the items he wanted for his own collection. It pissed him off to no end until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Even the thought of that smug smiles she always wears in her YouTube videos sent him into an outrage, one that landed him his first figure.

It was an accident, of course. The woman in his store had been there and accidentally knocked over one of his shelves, crushing her underneath it.

She could have been saved, probably, but he’d never seen someone with a face like hers, so completely one of a kind, something he knew that YN would never be able to possess.

And so a new obsession started. He would lure people he thought were interesting into his shop and lock them deep inside of it, propping them up on giant doll stands when they submitted to him.

It made him feel so powerful.

But YN was still out there, still always one step ahead of him. And so he laid this trap, ecstatic to finally have her in his possession.

Yoongi leans over YN, watching as the light slowly starts to fade from her eyes. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, a true Christmas miracle. He can’t resist sinking to his knees, watching as confusion and fear swirl in her eyes. For once, his own gaze isn’t clouded, clear as a night sky, dark and absent of stars.

Her blood smears on his fingers but he doesn’t mind, taking YN’s face in his hands tenderly and painting her lips crimson. He kisses her then, sucking her final breath into him, stealing it and her life away.

For an hour he just sits there and looks at her, completely mesmerized. She looks so beautiful in red that he decides to dress her in it, carefully pulling a red dress over her forms. She’s heavy in his arms when he picks her up and takes her to the spot he’s saved just for her, a plush red couch where she looks like she’s lounging peacefully, her lips smudged with her own lifeline.

And finally, his collection is complete.

#yandere society #yandere yoongi #literal murder sorry #i think i've been thinking about sangwoo too much #yandere bts #bts #yoongi

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You

Genre: Romance , Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 4,1K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?)

*Not all chapters have these but I’m letting this like general because as a series I think it’s better if I warn all of them at once instead of warning out of nowhere since I’ve already written some chapters*

Notes: The “Angst/Hurt/Confort” is related to the plot and how the characters will build their relationship, therefore it’ll be mentioned more than once through the chapters. Although I don’t think I made it really distressing nor anything like that, please be aware of the Warnings if you don’t feel comfortable with the themes <3

This is an EXTREMELY slow burn, if you don’t like those, I don’t think you’ll enjoy the fanfic :’(

Updates: I’ll update it once a week because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

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Hate: a) To feel extreme enmity towards something or someone: Regard with active hostility; b) To have a strong aversion: Find very distasteful.

Regarding all emotions someone could ever feel, you didn’t think something could be more powerful than hatred.

What in the world could be more powerful than disliking someone to the point you couldn’t even stand their presence? It meant you would prefer to leave rather than stay. Nothing could ever beat that. Nothing. People could do insane things moved by it. Things no one should ever think about doing nor do at all for that matter. Things that could hurt and destroy everything around someone’s life.

Even though common sense stated love was blind, you thought that maybe hate was blinder… Maybe hate was the one who blinded love. Who knew? You were sure hatred moved people to do the undoable. So what could be a better answer to your professor’s question? What was the most powerful feeling in the world?

“Fear” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. You didn’t know if it was the black hair, the dark eyes, or that pretty face everyone felt the urge to ogle but somehow Hyunjin had that funny effect on people around him. It was like people needed to hear him, like he held some kind of mesmerizing voice that made people believe he was a wise man on a young body.

He wasn’t.

“How is fear greater than hate?” You scoffed, wondering why people looked at him like he knew what he was talking about “I never saw someone actively doing something because of fear but people actually make decisions based on hatred” You pointed out, smirking at him. Hyunjin couldn’t possibly retort you because you were right, and sooner or later he would have to admit it.

“I believe you didn’t quite understand the professor’s question, my dear” He had this ridiculous accent like he was British when he clearly wasn’t, and you couldn’t help but grimace at him before he continued “He asked what is the most powerful emotion not what emotion prompt people to do something… I must say that if an emotion paralyzes you to the point you can’t make a decision ─ as you pointed out yourself─ it must be quite powerful, don’t you agree?” He had that smug look on his face, suggesting he thought he had won your argument, and you would gladly wipe that smug grin out of there if Paris didn’t interrupt you.

“Excuse me but I think it’s love” Her voice sounded polite even though you knew she thought Hyunjin was being dumb “If fear is something that paralyzes someone and that is your argument for power, I think love can beat fear, so it’s obviously more powerful” She stated, not bothering to defend her arguments.

Typical Paris.

“In what world love beats fear?” He jeered, looking at her as if she was growing a third head “I’m sorry to disappoint you, darling, but life isn’t a fairy-tale” He pouted mockingly.

What a despicable guy.

“It’s well known that love can make someone so eager to protect another thing that you could simply ignore your fears and get stronger. Mothers can lift a car to free their child, soldiers can fight harder if they have someone to go back to! And if you consider the paralyzing feeling, knowing love can beat this would mean it’s stronger than fear… When you love you can do or give up on doing things just to be able to protect something you love” She stated proudly before you looked at your professor expecting his verdict.

Like on cue, the bell rang, announcing your class was over.

And so did he, waving dismissively to all of you to go.

Great, so it was a kind of philosophical game for him.

Your pointless argument ended up with nothing but a bunch of opinions you couldn’t say was right; and when it came to insisting on being right there was just one person in this world you could say you almost hated… Hyunjin. He came to you with his signature─ a smug grin that made you want to punch his face every day─, getting in your way to pack your things as he picked up one of your pencils, spinning it between his fingers. You didn’t even make the effort to ask it back, settling for extending your palm up, so he would give it back to you.

“Paris may have a point but I beat you” Should you punch his face for real someday? Probably not. You should keep good grades and a perfect image so you could keep your scholarship. What a pity. You shook your hand once, a silent ask for your pencil again, and this time he put it on your palm, leaning closer as he braced himself on the desk, trying to be seductive or something “What? Are you so upset you lost to me you don’t even want to talk anymore?” He said in a mocking tone that made you glare at him.

“Even when I’m right I don’t want to talk to you” You reminded him, throwing your bag’s strap on your shoulder “Let’s go, Paris, Chan said He was going to have lunch with us today” You took her hand and guided her to the door, walking fast so you could leave Hyunjin behind but he, unfortunately, was right on your tail.

“It’s funny because I recall you bragging every time you’re right and I’m not hearing it now” He said, easily picking up your pass, since his legs were way longer than yours “I guess you don’t want to talk to me because you lost again” Oh god, how could he be so insufferable?! You trailed your eyes around the stairs, looking for Chan on the crowd.

Thankfully, there he was.

Chan was a fine guy, as anyone with two functioning eyes could see or at least guess since a lot of girls were staring at him. He was waiting in the corner, his arms crossed on his chest and his bored eyes looking at the floor while he waited for you, his dark hair falling on his eyes, obliging him to run his fingers into his locks, looking charming in the eyes of the girls ogling him. You chuckled as you saw him eyeing them disgusted, clearly bothered by people looking at him doing nothing like he was some kind of idol or something.

“Hey, Sweety!” You shouted, making him roll his eyes at the nickname that symbolized your friendship. It was the first name you ever called him, a sarcastic remark for the typical rich guy he was, a pretty and spoiled bastard.

The circumstances you met weren’t the best ones but somehow they worked in your favor.

You were working hard on pilling some boxes ─ all of them with a “fragile” sticker that made you very aware about the possibility of losing your job if you dropped one of them─, so it was only natural you were pissed as hell when someone dropped all of them at once. As if he didn’t have anything better to do, Chan stood with his right hand raised to blame, a smirk plastered on his face as he said “Ops! Sorry, Sweety” making his dumb friends laugh at you.

You couldn’t say you were a typical rich girl especially because you were, in fact, quite poor, so your antics were totally justified by the need you had to keep your job on your hands and change your paradigm.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone with a brain but he had to pay for the losses.

So you shot him a tight smile when you saw him walking to the exit and said “Don’t forget to pay for those, Sweety”, making him shot a brow at you. You remembered clearly the way he got close to you, declaring with that cocky attitude you hated “Do you know who I am?” as if it would make any difference. You shoved him on the wall, losing your composure, and hissing at him that you didn’t care, and he should pay for it unless he was some kind of hallucination of your head.

He came back every day after that.

It has been four years since you two became friends against all the odds; and as a rich kid himself, Chan often paid for your meals, claiming your sorry ass should be thanking him instead of scoffing. You couldn’t help but nudge him with your elbow as soon as you got next to him, making him nudge you back as Paris clasped her hands together, her eyes beaming at your interaction.

“It’s so beautiful how you guys love each other!” Paris couldn’t see you interacting with another human being without believing you were in love, and although it kinda annoyed you, you tried to overlook it since she didn’t have much more to hold a grudge against. She had been your roommate for the past three years at the dorms, and even though she was a hopeless romantic and annoyed the hell out of you to get together with someone, that was pretty much her only great flaw.

You remembered perfectly how you thought your life was over once you met her.

Your first impression of the dorm was awful as you got there and saw the overly pink and cute stuff hanging all around the place as she tried to organize everything in her room. She didn’t have much stuff but all her stuff was vibrant and girly to the point it hurt your eyes.

You didn’t complain.

You put your bag on the floor, looking at her with a grimace as she beamed to meet her new friend. You could say you hated to live with her in the beginning, her carefree self was annoying and her overly friendly antics pissed you off as she always asked you to do things together, watch movies, and eat, and talk and... Well, anything you didn’t want to do with someone you just met. On top of all, she was somewhat lazy and didn’t do much, which ended up with you doing all the chores.

If you were to be fair, you were the one wearing out yourself, really.

Everything changed on a particularly exhausting day.

You had to be a damn good juggler on that week, working yourself until you couldn’t even think about anything clearly. You were like a zombie. A workaholic zombie. You had to go to classes, get your work done, do your assignments, clean up the dorm, study your ass off for the exams, pretend to be a normal human being by socializing with people… Well, basically you were pretty busy on being perfect as you expected you to be. It was obvious that after all your exams were finally done and you got out of work you needed to relax as soon as you got home.

You fixed yourself something to eat, turned on the TV, crashed on the couch to watch something, and just blacked out right there.

When you woke up on the next day’s afternoon, you got a cozy feeling above you, some fluffy blanket was thrown around your body, making you warm and peaceful. You shot your body up, sitting on the couch and looking around, alarmed, just to see the TV turned off, the dishes cleaned, the dorm tidy, and your bubbly roommate folding the clothes. You got up from the couch quickly and made a bow, apologizing profusely for being a mess and letting everything out of place on the night before. She scoffed, shrugging it off by waving her hand and said something around “I know you like to do the chores but you wore out yourself this week, you should take a break! You’re not being a burden! Isn’t helping each other out what friends do?” and it made you gasp before smiling.

You didn’t think of her as a friend back then but it did change that day.

“It would be even more beautiful if you didn’t try to make us swallow up your need to a nonexistent love between us every time I take you guys out” Chan pointed out, grimacing at her. You couldn’t say Chan and Paris got along even though you tried to make them friendly towards each other but you couldn’t blame Chan for being an ass since you weren’t any better to his friend.

“So you’re taking us out to lunch? Wonderful!” Hyunjin beamed in sarcasm, knowing too well you would complain. You rolled your eyes and looked at Chan as you guys started to walk, getting on your way to his car so he could take you wherever he was planning to go.

“It’s called a friendly gathering for a reason, Hyunjin… It means only friends can come” You feigned sympathy, pressing your lips together and looking at him with apologetic eyes. He scoffed at you and nudged Chan on the shoulder, resting his hand there as you walked.

“I’m his friend too! He’s paying so I can go as a friend unless you want to pay for everyone, then I will have to retreat” He argued, an almost unnoticeable smirk on his lips. You pouted, turning to Chan to complain but he seemed to not pay attention to your childish argument, ignoring you as he looked straight ahead, unbothered.

“He’s right” He stated before you could whine, showing that he was indeed hearing your conversation. Chan had this habit of pretending not to pay attention to you just to state something that showed he was tuned with everything even though he looked bored, and it always seemed to amaze you. He was a sneak little prick. You whined at him, complaining randomly so he would give up on his idea but he wasn’t buying it, pretty much ignoring you.

“You’re rich! You don’t even need him to pay for you” You decided to complain to Hyunjin, who just shot you an amused look, scoffing.

“You work! You don’t need it either” He pointed out, making you sigh. You looked at Paris for support but she was watching the world absent-mindedly, humming something she probably had come up with on the walk, testing over and over again some tune she seemed to like and picking up her phone quickly, recording it and sending it to you so she could save it. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and sighed.

What great friends you had.

“Oh! Are you going to come to Han’s game?” She asked suddenly, looking at you excited “He even said if he couldn’t score a point for us this time he would treat us afterward!” You laughed at her enthusiasm, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Was he laughing when you took the deal?” You asked and she seemed to think hard about it, her fingers gripping her chin as she frowned, trying to recall her conversation with your mutual friend. As soon as she remembered it, she smiled and nodded, making you snort “That’s because he’s a Líbero, Paris, they can’t score any points… He was hitting on you” You explained, her eyes shining in realization.

“He pranked me!” She uttered, laughing.

“If you actually paid attention to his explanations you would have guessed it” You pointed out, making Chan snort “Are you coming?” You asked him but Chan shot you a pointed look.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who would go to a volleyball match?” He asked mockingly, making you shrug.

“You don’t look like the kind of guy who spends your time with dumbasses but here we are going to eat with one” You retorted, glancing over your shoulders so Hyunjin knew you were talking about him. You finally made it to the car. Chan clicked his key’s button, unlocking his car from afar before you got there, opening the door, and getting inside with a cool motion that made you laugh. He was so playboyish!

“I wasn’t even doing anything right now” Hyunjin complained as he got himself on the front seat in the same way Chan did, trying to look cool. You snorted at him, getting in the car and sliding to the side so Paris could get in beside you “Is it just to get my attention?” He teased, looking over his shoulder, getting startled at your face so close to his, your arms were resting on Chan’s sit, your chin resting on your arm as you looked ahead, watching as your friend backed up.

You didn’t hate Hyunjin or something like this, you both just teased each other every time you could. You weren’t really fond of his antics since he was just a playboy that didn’t care about anything apart from him ─ and you weren’t really the kind to feel comfortable around dickheads─, so your friendship just wasn’t meant to happen. You could tolerate him well enough when he wasn’t pissing you off at classes though. You could say you both were academic rivals, extremely smart students that liked to overcome the other by doing witty remarks and good work…

It wasn’t about being the best student, you didn’t believe in such a thing, it was about being better than him, and he wanted to be better than you.

You could remember clearly the first time you met.

He was a cocky guy back then too.

He sat right next to you even though there were tons of available seats, his smirk suggesting he wasn’t really the friendly type, so he could only be there flirting. You rolled your eyes. He tried to chat with you, talking about him and how he was taking that psychology elective because the other ones seemed too easy for him. You nodded, not really listening to his monologue, and opened your notebook as soon as the Professor came in, presenting himself and giving you a deep question that made you contemplate in silence before you answered it proudly. He scoffed. He scoffed right on your face as he retorted you, and you retorted him back, and then he retorted you again… Your endless arguing conquered a proud clap from your Professor.

You, on the other hand, conquered a rival.

Later that week Chan invited you to see his new place, an apartment he rented with a friend even though both of them could easily live by themselves… You could never understand them. You arrived ranting about your classes, bringing the “smartass” issue as soon as you remember, and complaining about that guy that would seat beside you twice a week.

You regret till this very day the way you said he was a hot and annoying guy because at this very moment he showed up on his sweatpants, using a towel to dry his hair as some drops fell onto his shirtless chest. He smirked at you, teasing you by saying “Hot, hm? So you were just playing hard to get. I like it” as he leaned on the wall, hanging the towel on his shoulder and making fun of you about it till this very day.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Paris was waving her hand right in front of your eyes, trying to get your attention. You shot your eyes to her, startled, smiling apologetically “We’re here” She announced, making you realize Chan was parking, a huge and presumably expensive restaurant standing there in all its glory.

You would need to work at least to your death to be able to pay for breathing the air inside it.

“Holy shit, are you rich?” You asked in disbelief, shock getting the better of you as you completely forgot who you were talking about. Chan grimaced at you like you were his dumb but lovingly friend, and you shot him a glare as soon as you composed yourself.

Let Chan spend his money mindlessly and he would bankrupt his family.

////

You weren’t exactly the sport type but being on the grandstand together with a bunch of people you never talked to, all of you gathering by the same will to defeat the enemy… It just made its way to your mind somehow. You cheered loudly, booing at the opponents' team and their fans while clapping hard at your own team, shouting your lungs out every time Han made a good play, which was pretty often if you were fair.

If anyone asked you when you made it to college if you would be going to games and cheering for your team, you would laugh on their faces… In fact, that was exactly what you did the first time Han asked you if you were going to his game, amused by his innocence. You two met because Paris was majoring in Music and He decided to take some music classes, which got him an invitation to a party Paris decided to throw on a Friday night.

It was kind of cute how he was so flustered there, taking your offer for a glass of whatever Paris had mixed to serve as a drink with trembling hands. He was one of the first guys you had the pleasure to analyze as an aspiring psychologist, the clear signals of an awkward guy around the girl he had a crush all over his face: Pink cheeks, stuttering, exaggerated gesticulation, high pitched voice, inability to stay still as he swift his weight side to side, nervous eyes looking around the room…

The poor boy was on edge, his eyes resting on Paris from time to time as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words.

Although he was a player in the court, he was far from that on real life and you found it cute.

You remembered how he winced startled as you patted his shoulder, he looked like a little squirrel stocking his cheeks with alcohol just so he could gulp it down and choke, confused at your knowing look. He ended up being Paris’ partner for most of their projects, obviously trying to get some alone time with her, even though she always called you to listen to their compositions, blowing his plans. All that hanging out and his friendly behavior began a loose friendship, where you went to watch his games with Paris and you two went to watch Paris’s performances, your little alliance being settled so you wouldn’t feel excluded.

That was how thoughtful he was.

Paris screamed, hyped by your team score, and you followed her, standing up and cupping your mouth to scream his name, his eyes searching for both of you in the crowd, a bright smile when his eyes connected to yours. You waved at his way, getting a wave as an answer before he had to focus again on his match.

As soon as the game ended, you both waited as the sea of people made their way out of the grandstand, mostly hyped for some afterward party that certainly would be happening somewhere. You and Paris made your way to the court, waiting for Han to come back from the locker room while chatting about the game. It took him some time to take his bath and get ready, and he came out of the locker room along with some friends that patted his back and complimented his plays, waving him goodbye as soon as they saw us waiting, knowing you wouldn’t go to the party.

“Y/N told me you can’t score a point as a Libero” Was the first thing Paris said, chuckling, making Han cackle up.

“You should know it by now! You came to literally every game I played for… Two years? It’s insane! What did you think? That I was a terrible player?” Paris grinned sheepishly and this time you cackled up.

“It seems like your partner doesn’t believe in your abilities” You pointed out, making him snort “Anyway, I heard you would be paying if you didn’t score anything, so it’s on you today, loser” Han grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders, pulling both of you closer as he guided you.

“I can offer you the best hot dog in town” He agreed “Maybe even a soda if we all share it” Paris laughed, holding his wrist as she walked along with him, you took the hint to take his arm off your shoulders and let them have their moment, missing the way he pouted when you broke away the contact.

“I can pay for our drinks” You offered, making Han gasp in mock chock.

“Rich, aren’t we?” He joked, getting a light push on the shoulder as an answer.

“I work for a reason, moron” You rolled your eyes “Now let’s split that bill” You smiled as the three of you made your way to your favorite hot-dog stand on campus.

208 notes · View notes

ccelinewritess · 4 years

Text

the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

‘ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure.

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco x female reader #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #draco malfoy headcanon #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter x y/n #cedric diggory x reader

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

Two Years

Pair: Fred Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Warnings: Swearing.

Notes: Reader is Draco's Cousin! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Complicated couldn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the Weasley’s.

For to start, you were related to the Malfoys which automatically meant it was rocky. You were Draco’s cousin. Your family didn’t believe in the same ideology as Lucius and Narcissa, leading to family feuds being normal during literally any time of the year. Your family didn’t exactly want the attention of the Malfoys or the Dark Lord once the war reared its ugly head, so your family fled to America, dragging you with them. They wanted to get as far from the war as possible.

And two, well, you were Fred’s partner before the war broke out. Since your family was absolutely dedicated to being hidden, you lost communication with him when your family decided to just get up and go. You didn’t even have time to tell him goodbye or really anyone and it hurt. You knew you hurt him too and no matter how you begged, your parents wouldn’t let you see him, let alone send him a letter. Owls couldn’t travel across whole seas and you were basically in lock down, even if you were a grown adult.

You stayed up most nights because of nightmares. You’d wake up in a cold sweat more times than you could count on both hands. After these tear jerking visions from hell, you’d usually climb from your bedroom window to the room, gazing out at the moon like a love struck teenager, hoping maybe even praying Fred was gazing at the moon at the same time you were.. Most nights he actually was.

During the war, Fred had come into a.. Complication. He ended up fracturing his leg, resulting in a cane and physical therapy. George took up fixing and running the shop with Ron while he was borderline trapped between surviving at the Burrow and physical therapy.

Fred spent most of his free time sketching out ideas of products to tire his mind long enough to ignore the stupid nightmares and gazing out the window, hoping you’d apperate across the field and come comfort him, but you never came. Everyone in the Burrow avoided mentioning your name around Fred, anyway.

When the time came, Fred went straight back to work with his twin, spewing out ideas about different treats, potions, trinkets, anything and everything he came up with while bed ridden and they both got to work quickly.

It was nice, relaxing, normal again. Everything was normal to Fred but a piece of him was missing. You were across the world and you held a piece of his heart and he hated you never gave it back.

No matter how badly he missed you or longed for you to hold his hand, he wasn’t ready to face you when you entered their shop. He literally wasn’t ready to face you. He turned around when the bell went off, ready to say the shop wasn’t open yet but dropped the box he was holding. He ignored the sound of shattering glass and immediately booked it back into the room, where he nearly knocked over his brother.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, swiftly setting the box he was holding down on the shelf. “Are you going into another attack? Do you need to go upsta-” He was silenced when Fred's hand covered his mouth.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out, causing George's eyebrows to furrow before his eyes grew wide. Fred moved his hand, using it to slowly shut the storage room door, making sure to turn the handle so it shut silently. The separation allowed the twins to whisper to each other in peace.

“Isn't that-”

“Yeah.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“..You’re not ready? Blimey, Fred, it’s been 2 years since he left.” George ran a hand down his face, the other landing on his hip sassily. “What do you mean you're not ready? You always talked about how you missed him but now you aren't ready?”

“You wouldn’t understand-”

“Don’t even give me that, Freddie. Talk to me.” George smiled, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. “I know you're older by like, 1/4 a second, but you don’t have to be a rock. Come on, don’t bottle it up.”

Fred let out a sigh, his eyes casting downward before he let out the smallest of chuckles. His hand came to rub the back of his neck.

“Fine.”

George almost squealed with joy when his brother decided to open up to him. He wanted to clap his hands and jump around like a child, but opted for not compromising their position.

Fred went on to tell George about how you left, how you didn’t even leave a note, how he didn’t know how to ask if you two were still together and if you loved him anymore. George has already known all of this, causing his face to melt into an unamused expression.

“.. You realize you're being ridiculous, right?”

“Gee, thanks George. I will most definitely come back to you when I have emotional turmoil.”

“No, no, mate, listen.” George wrapped his arm around his older brother's shoulder, gently guiding him away from the wall. “Listen, ok? You’re such a top notch guy, not as handsome as me,” George smiled wider when his brother snorted, “but you’re trying! So why not at least talk to the bloke, yeah? You guys were snogging before he left, so why not try to snog after?”

“I just told you why I can’t.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Fredrick Weasley?” George put the back of his hand across his forehead, being the dramatic shit he is.

“Don’t call me that, you prat-”

“I thought I knew you! Confidence was your middle name! Frederick Confident Gideon Weasley!” The youngest twin only became cockier when the older one groaned and covered his face. “Oh, Frederick, where did you go?” He wrapped his free arm tighter around his brother and dragged him out the door, ignoring his protests and grabby hands reaching to hold onto the door frame.

“George, wait!” Fred’s hushed whisper floated in the air, completely ignored by the other red-head.

“Fredrick! Where did you go, Freddie?!” He called out, knowing damn well you were still in the shop. Neither of the twins heard the shops bell ring a second tie, indication your departure.

“George?” Your voice echoed in the closed shop, leading George to dramatically turn to his brother and smirk at him. “Is that you?”

“Why yes, my dear friend! How are you?” George let go of his twin, allowing him to scurry off to the side and hide behind one of their many filled shelves. You walked up to him just after Fred hid, much to his delight and George’s dismay. George’s smile faltered ever so slightly when he took in your appearance.

Your hair was a nest fit for Scabbers, the bags under your eyes would need to be checked with baggage at any muggle airport and your clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with a hoodie and sweatpants, but it was summer for fucks sake. He could see the sweat across his brow and wondered if he should turn the AC on.

“I’m as well as I can be, I guess..” You fiddled with a stray strand hanging from your hoodie. George noted the fraying hand made thumb holes and his eyebrow raised in confusion. “I um-” You ran a hand through your hair, “I wanted to talk to Fred, do you know where he is?” While your eyes were darting across the top level of the shop, George’s eyes flashed to his brother.

The shop owner shot his brother a glare when he shook his head back and forth fast enough to make anyone dizzy.

“Um, no.. I haven't.” George grumbled out, his hands going to his pockets. He looked down at the floor deciding it would be better than the disappointed expression on your face. “Um, do you want me to give him a message for something?”

“No, yeah, if that’s ok?” You went back to fiddling with the stray thread. You didn’t notice Fred peaking at you through the products lined on the shelves. “Just um- Could you tell him I’m sorry for me? I’m sure he’ll know what I mean..”

“Yeah, sure thing, (Y/n/n). Anything for you.” George ran a hand through his hair after you turned on your heel and mumbled a thank you before exiting the shop. “You owe me.” The red-head turned to his identical and sighed when he saw the longing expression. “Merlin’s left tit, you’re fucked, mate.”

“I should’ve-” Fred hit his forehead against the wood of one of the shelves, a yell of frustration leaving his throat.

“Say it.” “..You were right. I should’ve talked to him.”

“Damn right I was. Now, go get your bloke before he cries in the street or worse, goes to Malfoy for romantic help.” George faked a shudder at the idea. George watched his brother turn, slamming his back into the shelf and slide to the floor. “Ok, Fred, seriously, this is getting kind of sad.”

“I can’t go talk to him, George!” Fred was pulling at his own ginger locks, his knees coming up to his chest. “I- No, I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it?” George’s voice was soft. He plopped himself on the dusty floor right next to his brother. “I can talk to him as you? See what all of this is about?”

“I don’t know, Georgie..” Fred’s voice was softer than his twins. He looked at his brother with a hopeless expression and glossy eyes. George figured from this it would be best to tackle the problem tomorrow so he just pulled his brother into his side and held him for a good while.

The next day was easier for Fred. The store was bustling, as it was Monday, morning and all the happy customers provided a great distraction. He took over the register while George focused more on the floor work: answering customer questions, restocking shelves. It was a lot for two twins to handle, but they managed, especially when Ginny or Ron offered their free days to come down and help.

Fred had just finished closing the drawer, handing a youngster his change back when the bell above the shop's door caught his attention. He shifted on his feet when Draco was practically dragging you into the shop wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The red-head was starting to wonder if you were ok.

“(Y/n)!” George yanked you into a hug before you could even blink, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that left Fred absolutely yearning to have you by his side again.

“Hey Geo!” You briefly hugged him back before pulling away, causing his attention to shift to your cousin.

“Malfoy.” George looked the blonde up and down. He’d throw hands if he had too, even in his own shop.

“Hey, be nice. He’s on our side now.” You punched the tall suited man lightly in the arm before shoving your hands in your pockets.

“It’s unfortunate but true. Most birds did appreciate my bad boy ages.” Draco ran a hand dramatically through his hair while George snorted. “But that isn’t why we’re here. Is your brother around?”

“He’s at the til, why?”

“I’m just here to make sure (Y/n) actually talks to him like he promised too.” Draco put a hand on your back and gently pushed you forward. “But how is business, Weasley?”

While George went on to talk about statistics and boring old shit, you slowly walked over to the red-head who was trying to distract himself by restocking some of the knickknacks in the class case beneath the counter. You cleared your throat, clearly scaring him. He let out a squeak and hit his head on the underside of the glass case.

“I-I’m sorry, Freddie! Are you ok?” you asked, your hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of you as the male stood up and rubbed the back of his head. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and check his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He had his eyes squinted so tight he could see stars flashing behind his lids. He couldn’t look at you yet. You’d looked like a kicked puppy yesterday when you left and it pained him so much.

“Did, um.. Did you get my message from Geo?” You were fiddling with the string again. Fred opened his eyes slowly, nodding to you while he played with the product in his hand.

“I.. Look, I don’t wanna beat around the bush, but I-”

“I already know.” Fred spoke up quickly, louder than intended. “I know, it’s fine.”

“S.. So it’s fine then?” You looked around, a tiny bit confused. Fred wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, but it seemed his legs weren’t tired yet.

“Yeah.”

“So, I just wanna be sure we’re on the same page, you know my family dragged me to America?”

“Uh-”

“And basically put me under house arrest so I couldn’t see you or message you or leave or really live? And I haven’t forgotten you and my feelings for you haven’t changed and Godric, Fred, I miss you so much.” Tears pricked your tired eyes as you glanced at him. You cleared your throat over the awkward silence you felt was your fault. Fred was replaying your words like a record stuttering on a player and the bloke was still confused.

“.. Come again?” The red-head blinked stupidly, subconsciously leaning over the counter. Maybe he wasn’t hearing you right over the noise of the shop. You couldn’t help but release a borderline silent chuckle that bubbled into your throat.

“I still love you, Freddie bear.” You twiddled with your fingers, your eyes glancing down to his lips before looking back into his sparkling eyes.

“You do?” The co-owner was trying to keep his joy nestled deep down in his chest.

You nodded your head.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Wha- Ah! FRED-”

The male had all but jumped over the glass counter, dramatically picking you up by your waist and slamming his lips to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, while your hands gripped to his shoulders like your life depended on it. You immediately fell under the spell of his kiss and didn’t even hear your cousin and your boyfriend's twin brother whooping/gagging.

Fred soon set you down, his usual cocky grin spread across his face until his knee buckled. The strain of his dumb ass jumping over the counter and picking you off your feet like you were a feather was finally catching up with him.

“Ah, ow, ow.” Fred groaned out, bending over to hold his right knee. You put a hand on his shoulder, worry etched across his face. “Ah, so um.. I should probably explain-”

“We both have a lot to explain, Freddie. Two years is a lot of time to be apart.”

#fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #hp imagine #hp x male reader #male reader #george weasley #draco malfoy #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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kythed · 3 years

Text

the fallen

futakuchi x reader

synopsis: it’s a fallen world, and futakuchi is a fallen man. apocalypse au.

Strength alone won’t carry you through the end of the world.

Futakuchi Kenji knows this better than anyone. He’s seen countless men go down, most of them armed with machetes, rifles, and muscles three times the mass of his own. They walk around with the bravado of decorated generals only to get taken out by a single biter lurking in the storage closet of an abandoned gas station, destined to join the putrid ranks of the undead.

No, strength is not enough. You have to be clever, too. Extremely clever.

That’s the only way Kenji’s stuck around this long, he thinks, shoving cans into his backpack. He’s kneeling in front of a shelf in an empty supermarket, replenishing his rations without even bothering to read the labels. He can’t afford to be picky. Nowadays, “good food” is just whatever doesn’t give you salmonella.

He happens to catch the words on the last can as he gingerly places it atop the pile. Chicken noodle soup, it reads. Zipping the bag up and hefting it onto his shoulders, he wrinkles his nose-- he hates chicken noodle.

Clever means something else, too. Before, it meant report cards littered with As, college scholarships, knowing how to find the differential of a function. Now, it means survival. It means being able to keep your body moving even when every single fiber of your being is screaming at you to stop. It means knowing how to find clean water, how to bandage a tourniquet, how to identify biter tracks and have the good sense to bolt the opposite direction.

It means being able to leave people behind.

Kenji slips out the supermarket entrance, careful to avoid ringing the little bell that still hangs from the doorframe, a mockery of what was once civilization. Swiveling his head in every direction, he scans for even the barest trace of biters before darting out into the middle of the road, careful to keep the cans in his bag from rattling too loudly.

He’d started out with a small group comprised of several guys from his hometown. In retrospect, Kenji thinks he should’ve split that first week. Then maybe he wouldn’t have had to see Iwaizumi trampled by a herd of rabid biters, reduced to a bloodstain on the sidewalk. He wouldn’t have seen Kamasaki torn limb from limb right before his eyes while he could do nothing but watch in horror, paralyzed by fear.

Kenji is glad he’s run out of tears to cry.

“Fuck off!”

He’s shaken from his reverie by a string of cuss words and a drawn out scream, followed by the solid thwack of metal on flesh and the angry hissing of a biter.

“Somebody! Anybody, please! Help me!”

Sounds like a girl, Kenji thinks. He hates coming across girls-- that’s something he never, ever thought he’d say back before everything went to shit. But girls have always been more trouble than they’re worth, and it’s even truer these days. Kenji shrugs his shoulders, shifting the weight of his bag a smidge, and tries to trudge on.

“Please!”

Kenji cringes, halting in his tracks. Your voice is so achingly desperate, torn raw by terror. It’s the voice of someone who wants to live. And that, well, that’s something Kenji can relate to.

Against his better judgement, he heaves a heavy sigh and turns on his heel, grasping the duct taped handle of a baseball bat protruding from his bag’s outer pocket and spinning it in a practiced motion. He sprints towards the sound of your voice, silently hoping he’ll arrive before a biter takes a nasty chunk out of your arm.

Kenji is clever, and he knows it. He can find clean water, bandage wounds, and track biters. But leaving people behind? That’s something he has to work on.

You’re backed into a corner, wedged between the brick wall of a storefront and a recycling bin. Three biters claw at you and you swing at them with a crowbar, but it seems futile-- they’re already dead, and you’re not sure if they can even die again.

“HEY!” Kenji calls, tossing his bag to the side. The biters turn towards him with clumsy, lurching motions, decaying flesh dripping from their bones and empty sockets where their eyes should be. “Come and get me, shitheads! Bet I taste a whole lot better!”

One by one, they obey, snarling as they approach him. And one by one, Kenji takes them out with a violent swing to the head. Wide eyed, chest still heaving, you watch as their brains splatter on the sidewalk in foul pink lumps.

When the last biter falls to the ground, Kenji looks up at you breathlessly. “You good?”

He’s more than taken aback when you run towards him and throw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. Instinctively, he returns the embrace, pulling you close by the waist.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he feels your heartbeat thumping wildly against his own rib cage. “Thank you, thank you. I really thought I was dying today.”

For a fraction of a second, he lets himself melt into your arms. It’s been a long time since he’s touched another human, and even longer since he’s hugged one. Sighing, he gently pries you off by the shoulders.

“No problem,” he says. You’re still clutching at his sleeve, looking up at him with something like admiration-- or maybe shock. He clears his throat and nods curtly, carefully pulling your wrist away and turning to grab his bag. “Uh, good luck out there, I guess. I gotta go.”

“Hey, wait,” you say, and he does, despite himself. More than anything, he wants to get out of there and back on track. He can’t risk the burden of company— in the apocalypse, company just means a broken heart waiting to happen. “I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” he says, a wry laugh threatening to rip from his lips. “I travel alone.”

“Not anymore,” you say, and for a moment Kenji is speechless-- a rare occurrence. “Don’t give me that lone wolf shit. It’s a dangerous world out there, and two is better than one.”

Kenji raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re the one who was almost lunch just now. I can handle myself just fine.”

“Can you?” you say, stepping closer. You stare pointedly at his forearm, and he groans inwardly. He’d forgotten about that. It’s a cut, fairly shallow but long, and it’s begun to turn an oozing orangey-yellow. He’d caught his arm on a chain link fence he’d been trying to vault over— lame. “That doesn’t look good.”

“I know how to bandage a cut,” Kenji insists. It’s not a lie. But the issue is really that—

“It’s infected,” you say. You tilt your head back towards the storefront. “I have Neosporin in there. And half a bottle of painkillers, which you might need, depending on how bad that little scratch gets.”

“I’m fine,” Kenji insists. The “little scratch” throbs painfully as he lies through his teeth. “It’ll take care of itself.”

“Like hell it will,” you snort, glancing towards the store again. A faded sign above the doorway reads Miyazawa’s Convenience Corner, accompanied by the image of a grinning cat. “Wait just one second, then we can get going.”

Kenji doesn’t know why, but when you scamper into the store, he stays. He glances at his watch, a silver analog whose glass is split in two by a crack straight down the middle. He’d found it on the wrist of the first biter he’d ever taken down.

“Okay, let’s go,” you call, emerging once again. You’re bearing a backpack similar to his-- threadbare and distinctly not yours. He wonders who it used to belong to. “You got a camp?”

“Woah, slow your roll,” he says. He crosses his arms and stares down at you-- you’re pretty, he notices, underneath that layer of sweat and grime. You’re the type of girl he probably would’ve tried to hit on in the past. “First of all, I don’t even want you to come with me.”

You scowl at him, ready to disagree-- he silences your protests with a raised finger.

“But,” he adds, “if you insist on doing so, we need to set some ground rules.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you say, giving him a mock salute and a bright smile. He rolls his eyes.

“First,” he says, sternly as he can manage, “I get all the canned oranges we find.”

You raise your eyebrows but nod nonetheless.

“Second, we don’t interact with other groups. Humans can be just as fatal as biters.” Kenji’s had to learn this the hard way, and from the way you swallow, expression solemn, he thinks you must’ve too.

“Lastly,” he says, allowing himself a small smile as he bends down near your ear. “Don’t fall in love with me.”

“Like I’d ever,” you scoff, stepping back. “You’re not my type. You just happen to be the only other person I’ve seen for months.”

“I’m everyone’s type,” Kenji says, with about as much confidence as he’d say the sky is blue and the grass is green. “Just be careful.”

“Sure,” you concede, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “So long as you don’t fall in love with me, either.”

“I’ll try my best,” Kenji says, and he will. He can’t afford to fall in love. Love is a painful, risky business-- and it’s expensive. Love costs a whole heart and about half a brain, two things he’s going to need if he wants to survive.

Still, you’re pretty. Real pretty. You’re kind of funny, too-- a deadly combination, and he’s no Achilles.

When he starts walking towards the street, you follow, struggling to match his long strides. He shoots a glance over his shoulder, along with a wicked smile. He’s missed this. “But no promises.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #Futakuchi Kenji x reader #futakuchi x reader #futakuchi kenji #hi guys i’m back hehe #should i make a part 2?#lmk lmao #i love apocalypse shit but idk how much y’all like it #zombie killer kenji is hot tho

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ginwhitlock · 3 years

Photo

Southbound : Chapter 6

After the Cullens leave her behind, Bella is left to pick up the pieces by herself. A year after her eighteenth birthday, a split second decision lands her in her truck, running far away from everything she has ever known. She decides to go south. What will she find in San Angelo, Texas?

After Peter left, the air between us felt stagnant, cold, like a pond left uncovered in the first freeze of winter. The man in front of me didn’t smile, didn’t even fake a breath for my own comfort. I know he could feel the shard of glass slowly sinking into the pit of my stomach; the fact of its direction changing, resigning, surpassing my throat to lodge itself in my skull as a sharp ache not lost on me.

And I’m sure, not on him.

I knew Jasper. I had sat feet from him not even years before. What had changed in those aching months? What kind of lust seeped into his unbreakable bones since? This man was toothier, slumping shoulders spread wide against the settee. Who was this brother of his and why did he have Jasper now? I mean— he had explained just moments ago the short extent of Alice and his separation, but the questions were tar in my brainstem: unmoving, guilty, painful. The faint imprint memory of his hand on my knee softened the creases under my eyes. His eyes were nothing if not full of memories.

He scared the shit out of me. The worst part of me liked it.

The keys in my hand were jangling as I wrung my hands against the metal. They were ice cold from Peter’s grip and yet I never shied away from them, I rested into their cut, their steel mill scent. It’s all the comfort I had left in this unfamiliar sandy home.

“You never told me where you meant to end up, Isabella.”

The look on his face hadn’t changed from its hawk-like gaze, his mouth upturned in what was made to be sincere questioning.

My teeth seemed to buzz in my jaw as they clenched. I was stuck between trying to find the answer that made the most sense— but this far away haunted house was nowhere close to where I was headed. To be honest, I hadn’t even made a plan for my drive, the road had been a black licorice rope pulling me deeper and deeper south, its vines unswervable.

Those damn carmine irises were still on my face. My hand settled on the silver scar. “Somewhere without you— your kind.” There's a horrible dread that sinks deep into the pit of my lowest bones, down past the acid lining of my stomach. It wasn’t mine in the first place…

He smiled again. That fangy lip twitch he implemented earlier in his bedroom, his searing white canines glinting in the southern sun. Jasper did some twist of his knuckles as they rested on his denim knee, the bareness of the marble flesh punctuated.

“Do you truly think your life will not continue to be… supernatural?” He paused something big and let his lashes point away from me, his gaze settling right behind my head, “The world has never been that kind. Especially to you, Miss Swan.” The way his tongue curled around my name made something twist in my gut. Something that felt like finally breaching the top of a rollercoaster after clunking around in the seat for several minutes.

I took a breath, “No hope for me then, Mr. Cullen?”

“Whitlock, darlin. Mr. Whitlock.”

His correction was daring and quick, like a dare. The scared shitlessness was starting to turn.

“Oh?” I’m sure my eyes were the size of dinner plates served on the damn moon.

His quirk faltered as he refocused on the skin of my neck. “The Cullens aren’t the biggest fans of the ousted members keeping their name, I’m sure. Whitlock was my human name.”

My lip twitched, “Like Peter?” He did say they were brothers, it would make sense the tanner man kept it while Jasper stayed up north.

“He adopted it when I changed him in the twenties. He didn’t need to remember his own.”

The paint covering the living room walls was starting to feel warmer and warmer. There was a sort of mysticism in the air, the kind of feeling Phil said he got standing on the pitcher’s mound. This charge of electricity. And if I felt it— did the man in front of me do too?

“You changed Peter?”

A hum came from his Adam's apple. I quickly stopped staring at its vibration, focusing on my still hands. “Is that where you got that name? The ‘Major’?” My legs felt like salt blocks sat out for the new fawns.

Jasper kicked his foot out, inches from my own. “All in time, Isabella.”

Why the hell was that the question he kept dodging?

I nodded against my own snooping judgement and sat up straight, gripping the cut key again. “Peter said something about seeing my truck?” As if on cue the sound of a backfire sounding across at least an acre of dirt, the laugh of the man in question following in direct response.

He reminded me of a wilder, leaner, Emmett.

I didn't know if that was a good thing.

The blond rolled his eyes, something I would’ve passed out seeing months ago, which now just made him more and more intriguing. His hand raised without fantastical speed and made an ushering motion, inviting me silently to stand and follow him to the front door, not even twenty feet to our backs. I did as I… wasn't… told and raised to my shuffling feet, watching with barely suppressed intensity as he did the same, his shirt unbunching as his long legs swept past me. His strides were unhurried yet strong, quickly reaching the exit without me. Jasper’s slim fingers turned the knob gently and allowed the now open door to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m sure my brother will find you the moment you start walkin’. I have to get to some business caused by my early departure earlier.” My shoes scuffed the hardwood as I passed by him, the scent of firewood and malt whiskey light in the air of the threshold. I nodded again as I looked back at the giant southerner.

“So I’ll be making it back?” Half joking, half fearful the words slipped past my lips.

He smiled truly that time, his teeth hidden behind his smile. “Of course Isabella. No one plans to kill you�� for as long as I can see.”

The door closed slowly as I turned away from him in only slight ease, the sound of his footsteps behind it unrecognizable. Texas dry wind called to me from the bare porch, wooden planks creaking ever so slightly underneath my weight. The world was quiet— in only a way nature could be quiet. Silence without loneliness.

Another diesel racket sounded over the slight hill in the property, some of the only patches clustered with shruby, overgrown trees.

“Bell!”

There was a smile hiding under the surface of my skin, not the least undetectable. My stride started up again as I half jogged through the crab grass and rusty dirt. It had to be almost two or three o’clock now, the sun high and bright in the cloudless sky.

Had the day gone by so fast— or so slow?

I couldn’t decide which it was. Not yet. Not now.

The baked exterior of my cab was just in sight over the small hill, somehow further away from the bare dirt trail than it had been this morning. Had the black eyed man… moved it? It didn’t run, at least not by my hand, he would’ve had to have pushed it… or picked it up.

God, Peter was starting to turn out more and more like the biggest Cullen boy by the second.

My shoes were caked in dead weeds and clay dust by the time I reached the freckled vampire— an attribute I still hadn’t made sense of. His cowboy hat was a stark black against his darkened porcelain skin. He smelt rough like a redwood forest, something private. Secluded. Peter’s hands were covered in the ink black of motor oil and grease, the solutions clinging to his perfect fingernails.

He had to be related to Jasper somehow, there's no way he wasn’t. I was sure of it.

Or maybe I was just hoping.

Silly girl.

His eyes could’ve mirrored his brother’s and I wouldn’t have noticed anything past the sight just behind him: my truck was pulled at the seams.

“Sorry bun, I think your baby might need some extra attention before it gets anywhere near a highway.” My breath was loose in my throat, air whistling behind my eyes. The transmission was the only thing complete under the hood. The engine block was propped up by a chain tied to a lone pecan tree, the rest of the assembly laid out on a blanket on the pitted ground. The well of tears hit the back of my eyes before he started to speak.

“I had to take the engine apart to diagnose the problem— something to do with some coils. It ain’t as bad as it looks, I promise, Bell.” I nodded for the fiftieth time that day, my words fleeting in the paralysing tunnel that had become my voice box. The only thing I had kept when I left was now in pieces at my feet, the soil unforgiving and rough against the cotton blanket they sat on. The downpour of fear came down my sinuses and filtered out through my spine, the tips of my fingers pulsing with thunder. Peter stood, apathetic to the storm raging through my body, his stance curling around my own slightly, as if in defense to the world around us, to the truth in front of me.

“How long will it take to fix?” My voice was weak and pitiful, stripped of its playful kick Peter initially instilled.

He twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Could be a week or more. Maybe two.” His own speech didn’t reflect his burdening appearance. It was almost airy, a light glee hidden subtly behind the consonants.

My brain stored the small inflection for a much later time.

“You know,” he started, his massive wiped hand drawing to my shoulder, “me and the Major don’t mind some company around the house. The old thing could use some life in it while your truck gets some beauty work done.” His suggestion wouldn’t have sounded like such a question if anyone else had uttered it, but the draw of the Whitlock boys held a certain power over my otherwise powerless existence, at the moment. I wanted answers, stories, the in and outs of the clan I had called family as a younger girl.

I wouldn’t admit to anyone else my other wants.

Hell, I couldn’t even admit them to myself yet.

I made a sound in the back of my throat that made up for another nod and pursed my lips in false thought, the field stretching before me in an unwavering sea of curiosity.

“Only until she's fixed. I’ve served my time living with vampires for two lifetimes.”

There was an explosion of a laugh from Peter’s tan lips and I smiled in turn. The truck was a cesspool of terrifying possibilities, insecurities. But for right now, the horrible itch in my brain led me further into the immortal light.

The cold digits of the human drinker felt featherlight against my back as he sputtered to an airy stop. “You are truly something Bell.” My teeth poked through my lips as I looked into his face and found simple lineless skin and sandy curls. My eyes rested back on the rusted out birthday present and sighed. “Do you want any help?” It sounded almost like a plea, the time splitting me farther and farther.

He shook his head with vigor. “Baby doll, I’m not sure you’d make it go any faster.”

I had half a mind to slap him on the chest, no matter the bruising I’d sustain.

“I’m not that dimwitted.”

He sucked unneeded air through his teeth and let me go, stepping towards the hull. “Just believe me.”

I shook my head like a dumped dog and looked back towards the house, just barely noticeable at this distance. The question bounced around my stomach before it left my mouth, “What is Jasper up to?”

Peter raised a brow and picked up an impact wrench.

“I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

#southbound #my writing #jasper x bella #mine #writing #fanfiction #twilight #thetwilightsaga #twilight fanfic

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levyfiles · 4 years

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Last week the @skepticbeliever-bookclub prompted us to post a selection of our favourite shyan fics so there’d be a nice little way to highlight all the hidden gems of favourites we might already recognise and love while sharing a few we might never have found otherwise. Last December I posted a little list of some of my favourites so I figured I’d dust off that list with a few new additions of particular favourites I treasure.

Be All My Sins Remembered by spoopyy

Summary: In every lifetime, they find each other.

Review: This fic manages to take you on a long journey through what feels like a series of AUs and they all weave in and out of the wealth of their relationship with some vivid descriptions of the historical settings their journey takes them through. As someone who grew up reading Anne Rice’s epics through historical events, this fic is right up my alley. A vampire Shane passing through the wave of human society’s climb searching for a reincarnated Ryan again and again, trying to hold on to him and keep him through great tragedies and timeframes that just don’t let them be together. This was one of the first fics I read when I was only a lurker and to be quite honest, I need to give this one a nice re-read, maybe for the book club which would be loads of fun. Either way, 10/10. Would be Hurt in the heart again.

Perfect Fit by @beaniegara

Summary: There’s a legend that says anyone able to take all of statue Shane’s cock will summon the god to the mortal realm. Given the statue’s excessive size, no one has ever succeeded to prove or disprove the story. Until Ryan that is.

Review: Listen. You wanna talk actual fandom legends. This fic is one of them and it pulls out all the stops on being delicious and evocative. Also features one of my favourite incarnations of size queen bergara. Good stuff and you’re really rooting for Ryan in this lol.

a prize for rotten judgement by sarcasticfishes

Summary: “You’d drive each other crazy. You sit together at your office all day, and then you’d be commuting home together, eating dinner together, watching TV together, going to bed — well, not together, but you get it, right?”

It doesn’t sound so awful to Shane. There are worse people he could be spending all his hours with than Ryan Bergara.

Review: The moment I happened to glance at the notes of this and saw that Fie’s secondary title for this would have been Ryan and Shane move to the Suburbs, I about lost it with excitement. Primarily because the show this references is one of my favourite comedies and that is one of my all-time favourite episodes. Let me tell you though, even if the reference is lost on you, this story is so much gold rolled into a heart-gripping tale of two best friends who spend every waking moment together taking the plunge to share a home and they were roommates oh my god they were roommates. Shane is pining and you’ll pine right along with him as you’ll yell and holler for him to stop being so damn real and full of doubt. It really is worth every gasp of pain and all the more for the execution but the delivery will leave you in delight. Certainly had me yelling at the author. This fic is gonna be one of my timeless favourites; I knew it the moment I began.

Everything’s Weird and We’re Always in Danger by beethechange

Summary: Ryan perches on the edge of the bed, an indistinct shape that Shane can only just make out in the dark, so he turns the lamp back on. He wants to see Ryan’s face, wants to know that he is alright. Ryan’s cheeks are damp, his hands fisted in the hideous flowered duvet.

“It won’t go away,” Ryan says miserably. “I’ve been like this since we got here, basically, and it won’t fucking—”

“Ah,” Shane says. “Well, you know, sometimes fear…adrenaline…they can affect people. Physically.” He waves his hands indistinctly crotchward. “It’s a, a scientifically known phenomenon.” Shane feels a little better staying in the realm of scientifically known phenomena.

Review: Word of advice. You see a fic is authored by beethechange, run don’t walk because you’re absolutely always going to be treated to the best of banter, the best of prose, chemistry, organic execution and feels right up the bottom end of your heart. This fic, this changed everything I thought I knew I wanted out of a bed-sharing fic. It’s got a little bit of two treats here. You got a sex-pollen-esque situation mixed with bed-sharing and holy fucking damn that is more than you think you deserve, but read this because you do deserve the best of the best. The build up, the dialogue, the surprisingly hilarity of it, the hotness woah, and The Aftermath. When you think you know what you’re in for, you’re wrong and you’re most pleasantly surprised. Get this fic in your life and honestly? while you’re at it, you could do a clean sweep of every fic in her list of works and while my less than adequate reading time management may still be short on some of her most well-recommended pieces, I have an adamant faith that Bee doesn’t disappoint. Go get y’all juice.

Maelstrom by thewindupbird

Summary: Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

Review: Listen. One morning on a day off, I just laid in bed and read this– all 40k+ words– while lying there clutching my pillows, hurting and loving every moment of it. The descriptions of Americana, the slow steady metronome rhythm of Ryan’s feelings as frightened and helpless as they feel when you’re relating deeply to them juxtaposed with the deep-seated struggle of understanding what it is to be with someone you love so much but your mental health is burning quiet holes in your ability to express it in a way that can be understand. Ryan’s fierce determination, breaking through the silence of their non communication is really Everything to me in this fic. i think I really left my heart in the scene in Shane’s parents kitchen. That finished me. Read this fic and understand the deep relief you get when you’ve finished a fight with someone you fiercely care about and they understand you and you understand them and it’s OK; it’s gonna be all right. Augh.

5 times Shane had to overrule Ryan’s “No Homo” + 1 time he didn’t have to by ghoulboyboos

Summary: There was only one thing that would truly drive him up the wall with Ryan, much more than any debate about ghosts ever could: Ryan’s consistent twitches of “no homo” when any sort of physical contract between them happened.

Review: I have such a soft special spot in my heart for this fic particularly because Lud manages to examine a trope I tend to avoid in such a sweet and honest way I couldn’t not love this fic. The story takes a painstaking and very real look at the “no homo” issue as it weaved through the journey that was early days Ryan and Shane. Shane’s reaction to in this and how he communicates with Ryan has such a very heartfelt and once again, real quality to it. I get in my feelings all over again about how far they’ve come and what it meant for Ryan to have Shane there. Lud really nails this piece and it’s a classic in my eyes.

A Burial on Box Hill by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: The Celtics believed that the yew flower symbolized both immortality and death. Meanwhile, for centuries, the buxus flower was seen as a symbol for safe passage into the afterlife.

Or,Shane and Ryan were never the same after investigating the Black Forest of Germany alone.

Review: Let me just quote my bookmark comment here. Usually I flee from tragedy like a cat spotting a cucumber but the brevity and the prose dragged me in and now I’m a functioning mess. Bless this fic. Oh my god it’s short and reads like one of those quick horror stories you’ll read to your friends just as the scary stories are transitioning from the urban legends to the ones that feel real. Big warning for main character death but still read it if you appreciate a good story told.

Body Farming by shiphitsthefan

Summary: Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

Review: Now judging from the reactions of many people I’ve spoken to, big heavy ABO kink is not popular here but guys, GUYS. This one. Let this one in I promise it is not what you think it is. The dynamic is organic and the worst side of the trope is subverted in all the best ways and lord help us, the smut is hot, like swelteringly smoking. It’ll stay with you.

Believer by cellard00rs

Summary: Some demons and otherworldly creatures love climbing up the power ladder. Shane is not one of these. He likes where he is (thank you very much) and has no interest in moving up. All he wants is to give his friend Ryan a nice birthday gift. So, naturally, everything goes to hell.

Review: This fic is another fandom legend. When I think demon!Shane. It’s this and one other one that always pops right into my mind. This was my first exposure to the bureaucracy meets the supernatural!Shane trope and I was sold from the get-go. The Shane in this fic is everything I imagine a demon!Shane is and his ginger care for Ryan, the concept of their bond and how even though Shane is a demon and responsible for keeping the supernatural a firm secret from Ryan and the rest of the world, his skepticism is relayed through his status as a demon. I want to talk more about it but I think so much of the enjoyment comes from the surprises as the plot unfurls.

hey boy, take a look at me by weakspots

Summary: Ryan is 27, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not exactly hideous, so there’s really no reason to spend his money on a dude — a dude — whose face he’ll never see but whose livestreams he’s been jerking off to for roughly 4 months now. He should be going out and partying and fucking random chicks. Or a guy, whatever, just to get it out of his system and confirm to himself that he really is 100% straight.

Because he is. This is morbid curiosity, if anything.

Review: I’ve been a long-time fan of this universe and it was a universe I didn’t know I needed until this author gave it to us. We or rather me, a desperate audience, just devoured this with every update. Not only is it hot, but it has the delicious intrigue of secret identity, anonymous stuff and a LOT of blush-worthy prose therein. This version of Shane makes me thrive but the titillating nature of straight-identifying!Ryan being bowled over by the turn of events that leads him to his world tilting into the gravity of a camboy just--you Have to read this one!

Heartbeat by quackers

Summary: So the guy Ryan sits next to at work is a vampire. That’s no big deal, right?

Review: I could talk your literal ear off about this fic. Vampires, man. I love the trope; you don’t know me as a person if you don’t know this at least. And this fic kept me fed all damn year. It was a readable garden. If there is one thing I can guarantee about quackers’ work, it’s that their world-building is a festival of detail. The realms and alternate universes they work with while still managing to keep Shane and Ryan’s voices so familiar and real is a talent not attributed to your everyday author. This fic propelled me into wanting to write more and more because quackers makes stories so much fun! Reading their work is, to me, not unlike the feeling I got when I was younger and finding series that speak to my need to escape this crummy existence, made me want to believe in fun spicy things like a vampire that lived through centuries, cynical but still searching, navigating a world where people are still people, adjusting to differences and prejudices, finding comfort in a guy that understands that and more. I’ve talked about this fic in more than a few different posts so I’d just be reiterating a lot of things I loved about the more historical aspects of Shane’s journey, the way Ryan is so firmly curious and inventive in ways to connect with Shane. Look, even if vampires aren’t your thing, I can promise that if you visit quackers list of work, you will find something for your supernatural-lovin’ palate that speaks to a gentler side of your own curiosity about monsters and the jocks that love them. lol.

I’ll Crawl Home by carrieonfighting

Summary: “Shane was almost unnerved by how quickly he’d settled into this body, this name, this life - his friendship with Ryan was the most time he’d spent with any human before, and yet the man fascinated him.”

Review: This is the second fic I think of when someone says the words ‘demon!Shane’ to me because ohhhh my word, this fic is a masterpiece. I really am hard-pressed to find anything better than the feeling I get when I think of demon!Shane headcanons interwoven with the irl Buzzfeed reality and the idea of the Ryan as we know him being protected and watched and loved so deeply by a demon that found him so long ago and wanted nothing but to protect him. I feel an almost vicious glee reliving that moment when Ryan and Shane are on goatman’s bridge and man, I just really love canonical fic mixed with a slight twist. The writing in this makes it work so well with lines that still haunt my heart and soul like “Ryan liked popcorn. So did the demon. Genuinely, not just out of a desire to please the human – he liked the way it crunched between his vessel’s teeth. There were some aspects of taking a corporeal form that were… nice; laughing, coffee, feeling warm. Ryan made him laugh.” FUCK! The beautiful agony of it, watching the demon fall in love with Ryan through the eyes of his vessel. Just stark with pain and unspoken, well-written angst and pain with a perfect ending, I wouldn’t change for anything. I love this for us as a fandom and will always love that author crafted this piece and shared it with us. (Also every time I hear Work Song by Hozier, I think of this fic again and sigh).

#shyan fic #shyan #shyanbookclub #otp: we took an oath

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