#my parents at least had the state right? where they grew up? surrounded by family they love

[iqmmir]

Sometimes i feel so fucked because i seriously don't really belong anywhere and it's just. Wow

[cinematicnomad]

i'm 32. i've never had an abortion. i grew up moving around the world. at all points of my life, i have always, always, considered in the back of my mind what i would do if i needed one. college in particular stressed me out—from 2009–2013, i lived in a rural small town that didn't have an abortion provider, just one of those malicious "crisis pregnancy centers" that PRETEND to provide options but really guilt and shame and lie to people with uteruses to deny them care.

so i always made sure to know where the closest abortion provider was. my friends and i talked about this, shared our individual plans with each other. at the time, it was a good 2 hour drive away, and i didn't have a license, let alone a car. but i did have older siblings and friends that i knew i could rely on. people i could turn to if i really needed help. my fears at the time mostly surrounded potentially having to reveal any personal details about my private life to them—i have a hard time asking for help, and tend not to share my thoughts or emotions with others, especially family (case in point, i almost posted this on twitter but then DIDN'T bc my sister and brother follow me). i'm in therapy, i'm working on it!!—but i never worried about being able to access abortion care.

i've never had an abortion, but i did have a miscarriage. i was 18 and i didn't even realize i was pregnant. my miscarriage was, thankfully, early and painless and i didn't know what it was until my period came for real and i spoke with my OBGYN about what happened.

i think about that 18 year old version of me all the time. i had just finished my freshman year of college. i had ended things with the guy bc i was hoping to (and would shortly) get back together with my other ex. i was more concerned with watching the latest true blood episode and meeting up with my friends still in high school at their after-prom, than with worrying about whether or not the guy at college had knocked me up.

abortion in austria (where i was at the time) has been fully legalized since 1975. if i had not had a miscarriage, i would have had options. if i had not realized until later in that summer, once we were back in the states, i would have had to have an incredibly uncomfortable and upsetting conversation with my conservative parents. but even then, i know, i would have had options. miscarriage for many people is a traumatic event. a painful loss, both emotionally and physically. for me, it was a blessing. but even if it hadn't have happened, i know i would have an abortion.

reading the latest NYT article (free link!!) about the dobbs decision fucking kills me. i keep having to stop. i keep welling up with tears. these 5 justices calculatingly (and at least some of of them, i believe, maliciously) stripped the country of roe v. wade. they turned back the clock and denied millions of people access to safe abortion, to their right to choose, to their bodily autonomy. just because i never had an abortion does not mean that this loss is felt any less keenly.

i find, time and time again, that i do not understand how some people go through this world and their life seemingly looking for ways to harm others. seeking to strip them of their rights. to deny them their humanity. i cannot comprehend how they seem to take glee in punishing people they view as other for the v basic fact that they exist.

this is long and i don't even know what point i'm making except for: i am so grateful for the fact that when i was 18, i had options, and i am so very, very, very fucking sad for the fact that there are 18 year olds today (and 20 year olds, and 28 year olds, and 15 year olds, and 36 year olds, and WHATEVER) who are being denied their right to choose. it's not fair. it isn't right. i want, so desperately, to change this.

and now the plea: please vote. please care. please advocate and donate and protest and be loud and be heard and demand better rights for yourself and others. please consider the courts when you cast your ballot: not just the supreme court, but the lower courts as well. if you don't, there will only be more decisions like this, the consequences of which will continue to ripple out for years on end causing harm to untold numbers of people.

[cuntyaldente]

Memories Of An Old Friend - Chapter 01

Harry H. Crosby x Joseph "Bubbles" Payne | Masters of the Air (2024)

Word Count: 1,884

Warnings: vomiting (this is a Croz fic, what do u expect), slight depiction of a panic attack?, anxiety

A/N: English isn't my first language, and it's been a while since I last wrote something in it. Thanks to @bitchsleep for the Beta work <3

Summary:

“Joseph Payne, but they call me Bubbles.” Bubbles. I could tell by that face why they called him that. He didn’t seem like the others, not that serious and severe, and also not like the type of cool guys that seemed to be essential to every group. More like someone who would laugh wholeheartedly even at one of Brady’s terrible dry jokes. He looked like he just stole the sun from the sky and ate it. “Harry Crosby. Or just Croz.”

November, 1942

The nights before our missions, I spent hours going through our planned routes, making sure we had the courses right and enough fuel to bring us back home. While the rest of our group used those nights to get some useful hours of sleep, I caught myself recalculating what I had already learned by heart until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer.

It wasn’t the lack of trust in the other navigator's work that made me do this. More the kind of an overthinking-nature, as Jean, a girl I met back in Iowa and still kept writing to, called it. There was no rest for me if I hadn’t made sure everything would work out - even before training missions.

Was I scared? Trying to make the unthinkable possible by finding a way to secure our guaranteed safety in a world that was burning itself to the ground more and more?

Needless to say I didn’t find it.

I never learned to swim until I enlisted in the United States Army Air Forces. There was a river just crossing the small town I grew up in but I never dared to put more than a toe in it. Only an idiot would be stupid enough to jump into running waters without caring about the current that would have them dragged hundreds of meters away from their starting point. It was kind of similar to flying, actually. If you didn’t take the wind into your calculations, you would get off your course - and sometimes, getting off your course could mean death.

Not caring about the wind as a navigator was just like jumping in a river without even knowing how to swim. Suicide.

On this day, I felt like I was drowning.

When the moment came that we finally landed, everything fell silent. No one dared to say a word or move - and if they did, nothing was able to pierce through the veil of fog surrounding me. The propellers came to a stand still, I could feel the engine’s electric hum, but it wasn’t quite there.

For a single breath, the whole world had fallen into the sea. I could hear the waves crashing, the roar of the deep beneath us. We were sinking, sitting in a drowning fortress, our own Atlantis.

It was kind of bizarre. This would be our end. We didn’t even make it into the real thing, instead we failed on a training mission I had already accomplished about fifteen times before - at least in my head.

They would call us the biggest failure of the Bloody 100th - if they would even remember a crew like ours who went down on a flight that was supposed to be as easy as riding a bike. What would they write to our families? Would they tell my mother her son was the biggest fool the Air Force had ever seen, because he couldn’t even read the briefing properly and got the whole formation mixed up?

For a second - it must have been only a second - I thought, how lucky I am, to be sitting there, still not moving, head underwater. I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t dare to try. I was sure, I would die in this exact moment, but still I thought, I am lucky.

Surviving would mean they would take me to court. They would accuse me of sabotaging an entire unit, they would throw me out of the Air Force and send me back home, where my parents would be embarrassed to welcome me back and Jean would never answer any of my letters again. If they wouldn’t send me home, they would sentence me to death on the spot because of my failure. Because they would clearly consider my mistake as a planned act of treason.

It took me a moment to realize that it was only me. I was the only one drowning, and - in fact - I wasn’t actually drowning, even though my head felt like there were tons of water pressing down on it. I couldn’t quite concentrate, neither on Brady’s command to leave the B-17 at once, nor on Hamilton’s voice right next to me. I was sinking into the dark blue, deeper and deeper, never to be seen again - until Ham grabbed my shoulder and brought me back to life.

Reality hit me like a good punch right on the nose. Most of our crew had long since left the plane, only Hamilton with his gold-flashing front teeth was still inside with me. Because I didn’t react to his words, he grabbed me by the arms and pulled me outside. A burnt smell hung in the air, and mixed with the sweat and the shame on my shoulders it made me even more dizzy.

“Goddamn’t, Crosby, move!” I did move. The moment Ham started to run, I followed him. My heart was pounding like it was trying to flee from my insides too, I could barely breathe, but I didn’t dare to stop until we reached one of the jeeps that were already waiting for us. Just then the emergency alarm rang and made sure the whole base was awake. And when I turned to look back at our fortress, it was wildly ablaze.

I don’t remember going back with the others, let alone how long we stood there watching our plane burn down despite the ground crew’s attempts to put out the flames. The time after seemed to be lost in the sea, just like me. I let myself float on it until it rose like acid up my throat and said goodbye to me with the contents of my stomach.

“You okay there?”

I certainly was not. I was still feeling rather dizzy, as if someone had dragged my head right through the mud next to the barracks and then stuck it in the nearest toilet. Several times. But at least my gut was empty now.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Not exactly convincing, Croz. I forced myself to stand up, just leaning against the wall for a moment longer. Shoulders straight, chin up. At least act like you’re not a complete failure.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Oh, I wanted to hate that guy, wanted him to leave me alone, even if I were bleeding to death in this alley, because anything would have been better than having to face the shame that was about to come. The verdict, my discharge from the Air Force. Dishonored. I surely must have been the pride of my family. But this guy just didn’t care that I looked like I had just puked my guts out (because that’s exactly what I had done). He looked at me like I had made a joke - not a particularly good one, mind you. His lips were curled up slightly in a smile and for a second I wondered if he was making fun of me. But there was no scorn, just warmth that made me stare back at him in confusion for a split second. Not even that stopped him from continuing to smile at me and before I felt it, the corners of my own mouth twitched upwards.

“Don’t worry too much - many of us struggle with airsickness in the beginning.”

I’ve had airsickness before, but at that point in my training I was convinced I'd gotten rid of it (which I hadn’t, but I didn't know that yet). At this rate, I wished for it to be just airsickness though.

“’Though I think it’s also the food here.”

The food in Wendover was indeed terrible. Everything tasted of flour and the coffee was more water than anything else. It was probably still better than what I would get when they would put me in prison because of treason.

“It’s not that bad,” I said. My voice came out as nothing more than a croak. At least that I had to get under control before going into the operations office. Were they already looking for me? I probably should have contacted them straight away instead of hiding between the barracks. On the other hand, throwing up on the Colonel’s table was unlikely to make things better.

“Is it?”

The other guy still smiled at me, eyebrows slightly raised. His eyes were studying my face and I would have set all my money on a bet that he probably thought that I looked like the biggest idiot he had ever seen. Then his eyes wandered down my uniform and his face lit up even more. He looked like he just stole the sun from the sky and ate it.

“Another navigator - welcome to the club!”

His smile turned into a wide grin and then he closed the distance between us and held out his hand. I wiped the cold sweat off of my fingers and gave his hand a shake. Even that gesture seemed about as strong as that of a newborn baby or a very pathetic kitten.

“Joseph Payne, but they call me Bubbles.”

Bubbles. I could tell by that face why they called him that. He didn’t seem like the others, not that serious and severe, and also not like the type of cool guys that seemed to be essential to every group. More like someone who would laugh wholeheartedly even at one of Brady’s terrible dry jokes.

“Harry Crosby. Or just Croz.”

They called me Bing at home but other than the famous musician I really couldn’t sing. And I also really didn’t want to.

“Oh, so it’s you they’re talking about.”

He let go of my hand and just like that I could feel the last bit of blood draining from my face, almost as if he had just taken it with him.

“Must be me.”

I pulled a pained grimace. Of course my name was already being talked about. The worst navigator in the entire Air Force - Harry Herbert Crosby, as he lived and breathed. If only I had taken the chance and started a singing career. That would have been far less damaging to my name - but just as close to a war crime.

“They said you did a pretty good job up there. Not every navigator would have maintained control in a situation similar to yours. At least not at this point in training.”

Oh, now he was just mocking me. There it was, glaring scorn, shining bright like the sun in his never-ending smile. Hopefully his mouth would later hurt.

“Thank you, it was awful,” I mumbled and lowered my gaze because I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Looking at myself and the puddle of vomit right next to me didn’t make me feel any better, though. I really had to change before talking to the Colonel.

“Do you want me to tell them you’re changing?” Bubbles asked and for a second I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just read my mind.

“No — I mean, sure. Whatever.”

I shook my head indecisively, rubbing my throbbing temples with one hand. It probably didn’t matter anymore anyway. Neither he nor I could do anything to stop them from throwing me out. And before I racked my brain for ages I’d rather brush my teeth, so I left him alone with an indistinct mumble for the time being.

[mxrsmordre]

Marlene McKinnon

hey isn’t that Marlene McKinnon? I’ve heard that the 23 year old witch can be be kind of head-strong and outspoken…. but that might not be true because I also heard the Pureblood can be quite bubbly and resilient. One of my muggleborn friends thought they were Danielle Campbell, but I have no idea who that is.

Ex Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Loyalty: Order of the Phoenix Gender Identity and Pronouns: Cisfemale, she/her Sexuality: Heterosexual

Changes to Canon: A reasonable amount of her bio is made of headcanons due to a lack of actual canon content on her history.

What four songs would be a must in your characters playlist?

Rock 'n' Roll by Avril Lavigne

Wild Things by Alessia Cara

Victoria's Secret by Jax

Raise Your Glass by P!nk

Biography Despite being a pureblood family of relative notability, the McKinnons never cared for the politics surrounding blood purity. They didn’t judge people on such trivial things, but on the way they acted.

Marlene was practically the embodiment of her family’s beliefs. Oh, she liked to have fun and got into her fair share of mischief, but she was fair and caring, and always ready to stand up for people. It was practically inevitable that she would be sorted into Gryffindor, and so her parents were not in the least surprised when that was where she ended up.

During her school years, Marlene remained true to who she was. She didn’t choose her friends based on their blood status, or the advantages that came with them. She chose her friends because she genuinely liked them, no matter what their background was. As such, her friendships were real, and she always knew that she could count on her friends just as they could always count on her.

The mischievous side of her also remained, and she adopted a very Carpe Diem attitude towards life. Though she usually managed to avoid getting into too much trouble, she definitely broke a few harmless rules throughout her time at school. She was a good student though, with a particular talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. When the time came in her fifth year to decide on what she might like to do in the future, she didn’t even hesitate before answering “auror.” As much as she loved being out on the Quidditch pitch and had been told she could fly well enough to go pro if she wanted, she knew that wasn’t her calling.

She worked hard during her NEWT years, determined to get the grades needed to be accepted as a trainee auror. Yet as the times grew darker, those closest to her worried about her decision. They knew it could be dangerous for her to work in the heart of the Ministry. Marlene knew that too, but she was not to be deterred. If there was even a chance she could make a difference, she was going to take it.

Headcanons:

There is almost nothing Marlene won't do for her friends. From being a shoulder to lean on, to standing beside them in a fight, she will always have their backs.

Marlene is not afraid to take risks, or stand up for what she believes in. She believes in the importance of using her voice as well as her wand to do what she feels is right.

She loves Quidditch with her entire being, and was a very skilled Chaser during her years at Hogwarts. As graduation came closer, she was offered a couple of places with professional teams, but knowing the state of the world she chose to follow a different path. She continues to play Quidditch when she can though, and has kept the contacts she made just in case situations change.

Marlene has two older brothers, Charles and Matthew, who she absolutely adores, even if they can be quite overprotective of her at times. Growing up, she practically idolised them and always did her best to keep up with them.

With the current state of the world, Marlene's Carpe Diem attitude has only increased. She knows that tomorrow is never guaranteed, and doesn't want to waste time.

[kelitasbrazilianlitblog]

Week 1 Blog

Family Gap Year

Sheila Maloney

Pages Read: 1-20

Word Count: 480

Summary:

In the beginning, Sheila was introducing herself and her family. She is a lawyer who specializes in alternative dispute resolution. She married Sam and has 3 kids. Her oldest is her 7-year-old daughter Nina, then her 6-year-old son, Alex, and her youngest, 4-year-old Nadia. She was in a moment in her life where she wasn't seeing change. She wanted new adventures because the environment and people she was surrounding herself with were keeping her from achieving her goal. Sheila talks a lot about society's standards for parents, especially mothers. Seila then goes on to talk about her reasons to move to brazil. Why would she eat it all and move with her family? Some reasons that were mentioned were demand in the U.S. and lack of culture, back in 2014 with elections, it was becoming a dangerous place for immigrants. People started getting aggressive, verbally and physically. Another reason was the lack of culture. Sheila was born in Brazil but moved to the United States early on in life. She didn't want to reuse her three kids with no Brazilian culture. She wanted them to at least experience the basics.

Critical Analysis:

Maloney made great points that instantly caught my attention. Something that got me thinking was when she said ¨I did everything ¨right¨ based on what society told me I should do.¨ This simple statement got me on a deep train of thought. Before this was said Sheila was talking a lot about how she was unhappy with the place her life was in. So much so that she started to question herself. ¨Why am I unhappy if society tells me I'm doing everything right?¨ Why do I feel this way if I'm doing everything by the books? I feel like this can correlate to real life on so many levels. We often question our happiness because society makes it seem like we'll be fine if we simply fit in. The world sets these standards, that if we don't follow, we assume leads us to sadness. I loved the way she worded it and the points she made throughout it all.

Personal Response: 

Based on her morals, Sheila and I could become close friends. I agree with many of her views and can relate to certain topics she brought up. She talked a lot about Brazilian culture, the importance of family, and Christ in her life. The way she grew up was similar to mine as well. She was born in Brazil but came here when she was two. She built her family here, got married, and had kids. This is something that I plan on doing when I get older. Sheila talks about how marriage is like a full partnership, not one person does it all. In a way It's like shared custody, both are treated and work as equals. I couldn't agree more with this statement.

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[crackheadgeminibby]

appearances pt. 1

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x female!black!reader

warnings: language, angst, mentions of racism a bit?

word count: 2.2k

part 2

a/n: watched the first avenger and my brain almost immediately felt the need to write this down so enjoy, friends!

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my gif

Being a Black nurse in the United States in the 1940s was far from easy. Your parents had always taught you to take care of and protect yourself. As you grew up, you learned that people weren’t as black and white, no pun intended, as they had made you believe. As a near 20-year-old now, you still used their advice, but you did so with a grain of salt.

You had always felt the need to help people, which was why you had decided to become a nurse. Sure, it was hard, but you were a strong, determined woman that believed that nothing could stand in the way of your dreams.

And it was by doing exactly that that you had met the love of your life.

James Bucky Barnes.

He was an extremely handsome man. One that came to the hospital far too often to get his friend Steve checked on.

Bucky was a huge flirt, which you didn’t mind, it’s not like you spent that much time together. But after a while, you noticed that Steve always seemed to stay at the hospital slightly longer than the previous time. He always said that he wanted to stay to make sure that everything was okay or that he had a headache and he preferred to stay where it could be monitored. But somehow, Bucky always stayed right next to him.

After about three months of coming to the hospital at least four times a week, Bucky had asked you out. At first, you had thought he was fucking with you. A handsome man like him asking out a regular woman like you? Even after you said no? It had to be a trap. Or so you thought until Bucky had left to use the bathroom one time and Steve had convinced you to say yes to him. He seemed so earnest while talking about how much his friend liked you and talked about you often that you couldn’t refuse. So, you had told him yes but only if you went somewhere private and at night.

It wasn’t because Steve and Bucky didn’t mind the color of your skin that everyone else in town shared that feeling. And you didn’t need this kind of thing coming back to your parents.

And so, you had started dating. Sure, it was in secret and only Steve knew but you didn’t mind. Bucky called you a hopeless romantic, but you liked to say that your romance was like that of Romeo and Juliet.

The sneaking around was fun. At least, at first it was. But now, a year after your relationship had started, it was getting increasingly energy-consuming.

Today was your anniversary with Bucky and it just so happened that you had the day off from work. You were supposed to meet him in the park where you had your first date at sunset but until then, you didn’t have any plans.

So, when your mother asked you to go grocery shopping for her, you hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Oh, how you regretted it now.

You were currently walking back from the grocery store, bags of food in hand when you had first heard it. Bucky’s laugh, coming from near you.

You frown as you focus on it to find him. Your breath hitches and you feel tears pooling in your eyes at the scene in front of you. Bucky is leaning against a wall in a hidden alley, flashing his smile at a girl in front of him, his hand on her cheek. Even with her back to you, you could recognize her.

Dolores. Or Dot as people usually called her. She was Bucky’s longtime pursuit. Everyone thought they would end up married with a whole litter of kids. Childhood sweeathearts and all that.

Bucky looks up, spotting you, and you see his smile falter for half a second before it’s back up like nothing happened.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your tears in, as you turn around and walk faster towards your house. Luckily for you, your family lived near a large park, full of thick, tall trees that were essentially soundproof. As soon as you step foot in the park, tears are flowing freely down your face and sobs are shaking your body.

You hated that you were crying because of this. But what you hated even more was your complete inability to do anything. If you had had any kind of reaction back in town, an uproar was sure to happen. You didn’t want or need that and neither did your parents.

You let out a breath when you arrive at your house and see that nobody’s home.

You put away the groceries hurriedly before taking a hot shower. As you exit the bathroom, you see that the sun has set, making your room pitch black. You also notice that your family has made it home, hearing your father, mother and sister talking downstairs. You close your curtains and turn on your bedside lamp, not wanting a light too bright illuminating your room. You put your pyjamas on as you hear a knock at your door.

“Come in.”

Your mom opens that door and walks in, leaning against your desk before asking, “Already in your pyjamas? Did you already eat?”

You shake your head, replying, “No… I’m just not very hungry so I think I’m going to read a bit then go to sleep.”

Your mom nods slowly before answering, “Okay, good night then, honey.”

You mumble a “good night” to her as you get under your covers. You reach for the book sitting on your bed night table. You didn’t even remember the last time you had time to sit down and read.

You barely read a sentence before you hear a small noise at your window. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly who it was.

You set your book down and walk to the window, opening the curtains and sliding the window open just a smidge.

“What do you want, Bucky?”

Bucky cringes at your use of his full name. In the past year, you had only ever called him Buck or Baby, sometimes James when you were joking, but never Bucky.

Bucky smiles slightly at you, “Can I come in?”

You sigh, opening the window completely and turning around to sit on your bed. Bucky climbs into your bedroom and sits down on the edge of your window.

“So, how was your day?”

You look at him, mouth agape. Was he being serious right now?

You cross your arms across your chest and reply sarcastically, “Gee, Bucky, my day was great, thanks for asking.”

He bites his bottom lip before coming to sit down next to you. “Nothing happened with Dot. We were just talking.”

You sigh and shake your head, getting up to pace around your room. “I don’t care, Bucky. That’s not the problem. I just…” You stop in front of your closet, looking down at your feet, “I can’t do it anymore, Bucky. I can’t handle it.”

Bucky walks towards you rapidly, “No, no… Don’t say that, doll. I won’t see Dot again, I promise. I won’t talk to any other girl, only you. Just don’t say that please.”

You shake your head, looking up at Bucky.

“It doesn’t matter if you see her again or not. Or who you talk to. It just can’t work.”

Bucky stutters, trying to find the right words to say, before looking into your eyes, unshed tears in his.

“Why are you doing this to us?”

You glance at the floor before looking back into his eyes, biting your bottom lip, “Because, Bucky, it just has to be like this.”

Bucky shakes his head, “No but I won’t talk to Dot again, it’s fine.”

“God, Bucky, it’s not about-”, you start, practically screaming before Bucky puts a hand over your mouth, frowning.

“Keep your voice down!”

You rip his hand away from your face before walking back to your bed.

“It’s not about Dot, Bucky. Or anyone else. It’s about me.”

Bucky looks at you confusedly.

“We’re not going to go anywhere, Bucky. It’s not like we’re going to get married and have kids or something. It’s stupid to keep doing this when we have no future together.” You finish, throwing your hands in the air.

Bucky’s face contorts with an expression of hurt and slight anger, “You don’t see a future with me?”, he whispers.

You look up at him and despite every single cell in your body screaming at you to say yes, you shake your head at him.

You see a single tear fall from his eye before he nods his head dejectedly. He wipes it away angrily before walking back to your window. He makes his way on your roof but before jumping down to the ground, he fishes something out of his pocket. He slams a small, black box on your windowsill and says, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

He looks at you one last time before jumping down from your roof. You feel some tears falling down your face before you walk slowly to your window. You take the box, exhaling deeply as you open it, feeling the air being sucked out of your lungs.

A modest but beautiful engagement ring sits in the center of the box, surrounded by velvet. Tears are now freely flowing down your face as you take the box and lay down in bed, staring at it for God knows how long. After feeling like no tears are left in your body, you close the box, tucking it in your bed night table drawer, before falling asleep.

The next morning, you wake up, stiff, dehydrated and with a headache. As much as you would have liked to stay in bed and cry some more, you had a shift at the hospital this morning that you absolutely could not miss.

You wearily get up from your bed, following through with your morning routine before walking to the hospital. As you look at your assignment for the day, you hear a small throat clear behind you. You whip around, seeing Steve right behind you, looking exhausted. He waves at you, muttering a “hey”.

You take him to his usual room and make him sit on the bed before getting the clipboard from the counter.

“So, what’s wrong with you today, Steve?”

“Nothing. I came to talk to you about Bucky.”

You swallow thickly before putting the clipboard back down slowly. You lean on the counter and cross your arms before nodding at Steve to continue.

“He came back home last night, sobbing. I could barely even understand anything from what he was saying except your name. What happened last night?”

You look away from Steve uncomfortably before biting your lip and answering quietly, “I broke up with him.”

Steve frowns in confusion before asking, “But why? I thought everything was going super well. Did he mess up the proposal or something?”

You feel tears rise in your eyes at the mention of Bucky’s proposal. You shake your head slowly before replying, “He didn’t make it to the proposal.”

Steve looks at you, even more confused than before.

You sigh, saying, “I broke up with him because it’s what’s best for him. He doesn’t need to be held back by me. Do you know what people would say if they saw us together, Steve?”

Steve looks at you, surprised, “Since when do you care about what people have to say about you?”

You shake your head, “Us.” Steve tilts his head in confusion.

“People wouldn’t be talking about me. They would be talking about Bucky and me. I’m protecting him. He doesn’t need to go through that kind of shit. If anything, I’m doing him a favor.”

“Why can’t you let him decide what he needs?”

“It doesn’t matter, Steve. It’s done. Bucky probably doesn’t want to see me ever again.”

“That’s not true.”

You feel the air being knocked out of you as you turn around to see Bucky in the doorframe. He looks drained, his face void of color and his eyes bloodshot.

“I love you more than anything else in the world. How could you ever say that I don’t want to see you?”

“Bucky…”

Steve gets up from the bed, walking towards the door, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

As Steve is leaving, Bucky enters the room and closes the door behind him.

He stands in front of you, slightly out of reach, with his hands in his pocket.

You exhale deeply before starting, “Look, Bucky, I can’t do it. It didn’t really hit me until yesterday that we’re not going anywhere together, it can’t work.”

Bucky clenches his jaw tightly, “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true, Bucky. Do you really think that anyone is going to support us?”

“Steve does.”

You roll your eyes slightly, “Steve is literally the definition of good. He couldn’t be mean to me if he tried.” Bucky chuckles softly, knowing that you were right. His face becomes serious again before he replies, “Who cares about anyone else? There’s you and me in this relationship. No one else. So, no one else matters.”

You shake your head, “Bucky, we can’t just live with no friends and no family. What kind of life would that be?”

“It doesn’t matter because I would be with you.”

You feel your heart squeeze at Bucky’s words, “Bucky, we can’t. It has to be this way.” You look up at the clock behind him.

“I have to go, my shift started 10 minutes ago.” You walk towards Bucky, stroking his cheek. He leans into your hand before you kiss him softly. His eyes flutter shut as his hands grab your waist.

You pull away from him gently before saying, almost inaudibly,

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

hi @saiyanprincessswanie i would love it if you could read this! part 2 is coming in about a week though!🤗

[weelittleweasley]

Transfer Student | Draco x Reader

Prompt: After transferring from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to Hogwarts, all of Hogwarts’ eyes is on the new girl. An American Gryffindor? Everyone wants to be your friend, steal a glance from you, or ask you on a date. Can Draco resist the hype or will he end up all for the new girl?

Warnings: None! Just some fluff and longing looks from bitch boy Malfoy

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: My requests box is very full oh my LORD. I’m trying to churn them out as consistency as possible, so if I skip a day with no imagines, it’s mostly for me to take a breather and catch up on my actual work for my job and school.

America was home, no matter where you were in the world. You grew up an American and lived your life with that culture and their customs. Going to school at Ilvermorny was a treat. Tucked away in the mountains in Massachusetts, it was your happy place, full of other kids from across America, studying magic. But things changed drastically when your father was offered a position at the Ministry of Magic overseas in London. Your parents were thrilled, a prestigious job in a new country; your father accepted the position, no question. You on the other hand were more nervous than anything. Moving meant new school, new friends, new start. Not to mention, if you moved within the country, you would still attend Ilvermorny. But now that you were moving overseas, it really meant a new start with a whole different school with a whole different body of students. 

Your mother was insistent that you would be just fine starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Mom,” you insist, “I’m an American among a sea of people from the UK. I’m going to be a fish out of water. They’ll know the moment I open up my mouth!” 

But there was no changing their minds. You were moving to London whether you liked it or not. So you had to say goodbye to all of your friends at Ilvermorny. Although you expressed your anxieties about moving and switching schools, the rest of your friends were jealous of your move. Saying how London was a beautiful city and they were so jealous of all the culture and events happening. It did seem exciting, you always wanted to visit Europe, but not like this. 

Soon enough, you were on a plane to London from America, your things packed up and ready to ship you off to Hogwarts. When you arrived, your heart raced with excitement and nerves. London was a little grey and stormy, but it was still beautiful. People most melodically and dressed neatly. Men in suits, carrying around briefcases, heads tilted down as they ran to work. Women dressed cleanly and beautifully, walking to work, in and out of shoppes. Your mother gave your hand a squeeze as your father insisted you took the Tube to your new home.

London was very different from your hometown. Much more hustle and bustle with busy people, but its people were much kinder than Americans. Strangers offered you small smiles as you looked at your surroundings. As you arrived to your new home, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Everything was different. Even the oven. You couldn’t think about how long it was going to take to get you adjusted to this life. You drag your suitcases into your room, flipping open the latches. “Don’t bother unpacking, honey,” your mom calls. “You leave for Hogwarts tomorrow, remember?”

Your stomach sinks. You couldn’t even get used to your new home because tomorrow you had to get used to your new life at Hogwarts. 

The next morning, you arrived at the train station, confused as ever. Your mom and dad walked with you through the station, interrogating you on what to tell the Professors when they asked for your information at arrival. “My name is (Y/N), I’m the transfer student from Ilvermorny, I’m going to be a junior,” you start.

“You’re a sixth year student,” your father corrects. You look at him, confused. “The education system here is different, sweetie. You’ll technically be going into year six at Hogwarts.”

Sighing, you know that this was going to take some getting used to. 

----

You watched your parents wave goodbye to you, your mother with tears in her eyes. Your heart drops, not wanting to leave your parents to go off to somewhere that was completely foreign to you. As the view of your parents fades, you walk through the train, looking for an empty stall to sit. People sat with groups of friends, laughing, picking up right where they left off. Why couldn’t you have been a first year student? This would have made things so much easier. As a sixth year, everyone had friend groups and you would have to wiggle your way into one. 

Finally, you find an empty car and plop yourself down on the seat, laying your head back. Here’s to the start of a miserable year, you think to yourself. You play with the charm bracelet on your wrist that your mother gave to you when you started school at Ilvermorny. The bracelet had a Thunderbird charm on it, the mascot of your house at Ilvermorny, and the same house as you parents. You were a proud Thunderbird, but now you had to be sorted into a new house with a new breed of people. You only hoped that whichever house you were sorted into had the same type of people as Thunderbird did. 

As you mindlessly play with the charms on your bracelet, the car that you sat in’s doors slid open. “Are you alone?” a blonde haired girl asks you, noticing you amongst the chaos of the cars around you. “Would you like some company?”

“That would be nice, actually,” you offer her a thankful smile. 

The blonde haired girl sits down in the booth across from you, pushing all of her thick hair to one shoulder. “Your accent,” she notices, her eyes widening. “It’s American,” her dainty English accent points out as you blush in embarrassment. “It’s lovely.” You slightly smile and blush, silently thanking her. “Are you a transfer student from Ilvermorny?”

You nod, “Yeah, actually. My name is (Y/N), by the way. I’m a jun-I mean a sixth year student.”

“I’m Luna,” she shakes your hand politely. “I also a sixth year. Look! You’ve only been here for five minutes and you’ve already made a friend in your year!” Your heart swell at the word friend. At least you at Luna to tag along with. The two of you talk for a while, you telling her about America and why your family moved to England, confiding in her about your nervousness about the new school and making new friends. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble making friends, (Y/N). Everyone at Hogwarts is very friendly. Besides, once you get sorted into your house you’ll make a ton of friends that way!” Your stomach churns. “Do you reckon what house you’ll be sorted into?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “Nope. Back at Ilvermorny I was a Thunderbird. But I don’t know if that means I’ll get sorted into a specific house at Hogwarts.” You reach into your backpack and pull out a pack of Fruit Roll Ups. “Want one?” you open the box to her as she gives you a hesitant look. “It’s good I promise,” you giggle. “If you don’t like it, you can force me to eat a gross British snack,” you tempt as she laughs before taking one from the box.

The two of you sit in the car, peeling open your Fruit Roll Ups, munching on the sticky snack. As you laugh at Luna getting it stuck in her teeth, another person comes to the car door, sliding open, making you yelp out scared, them surprising you. “What’s that?” the red headed boy asks, referring to the snack you munch on. You just look at him, bewildered that he just burst through, no introduction, no hello, no nothing. “Oh, hi Luna,” he smiles as Luna waves. The red headed boy looks at you. “You’re new,” he states as if you didn’t know. “I’m Ron Weasley,” he smiles at you warmly, making every bad thought about him leave your mind. 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you reply before tossing the ginger a Fruit Roll Up. He catches it, eyes wide with excitement as he tears it open. 

Ron sits next to Luna as he peels his Roll Up. “Your accent. You’re an American,” he points out as he looks to Luna who smiles sweetly. 

You tease, “Really? I didn’t notice.” This makes Ron let out a chuckle before eating his Fruit Roll Up in two bites. “I’m a transfer from Ilvermorny.”

“Ron! Where did you go?” a voice calls from the hall. Suddenly, a girl with brown hair, wrapped in a stripped cardigan appears with a worried look on her face. It instantly relaxes when she sees Ron sitting next to Luna and you, wrappers in his hand from the Fruit Roll Up. “Ron, you can’t just interrupt two people’s conversation and then eat their snacks.”

Ron puts his hands up in defense. “She offered it to me!”

The girl rolls her eyes at his antics before walking into your car. The booth was getting awfully full very quickly. “I’m sorry about him. He has the mental capacity of a teaspoon,” she says, making Ron let out an offended hey! “I’m Hermione Granger. You are?”

You shake her extended hand with a smile. “(Y/N), I’m a transfer student fr-”

“Ilvermorny! I heard we were getting an American, but I didn’t believe it! Wow! It’s so nice to meet you,” she exclaims, scooting closer next to you. “Are you excited to be here? Which house do you think you’ll be sorted into? From what I’ve heard about you, you were a Thunderbird, correct? I reckon you’ll be a Gryffindor by the looks of it,” Hermione fires away. You were little taken aback by how forward she was, but you had to admit it was sweet. 

All of your fears of not being able to make any friends slowly faded away.

----

It has been a week since you arrived at Hogwarts. As Hermione had predicted, you were sorted into Gryffindor, making her cheer out in delight. “Yay! More girls!” she hugged you tight when you entered the Gryffindor common room. “They can be much,” she refers to Harry and Ron behind her with a little giggle. 

You had to say so far, you adjusted well to Hogwarts. You did miss your friends back home, but whenever you started to miss them, you found Hermione or Luna and they would always cheer you up and make you feel right back at home. Your classes were interesting, but hard at Hogwarts. Your Professors were all brilliant, some more intimidating than others. Regardless, you worked hard for your grades, doing study groups with Hermione, quizzing yourself with Luna, and spending countless nights in the library. 

However, much to your surprise, you were the talk of the halls at Hogwarts. Whenever you were in the hallways, you would feel people’s eyes on you as you walked beside Luna, whispers throwing your name around. Your anxiety grew. What did people think of you? Did they think you were strange? Did they hate that an American was in the school? 

It was actually quite the opposite. People were fascinated by you and how charismatic you were. You were kind to everyone, offering people smiles, making conversation in the Great Hall during meals, offering help with studying. You were the it girl of Hogwarts. 

That was a new concept for you since you always blended in at Ilvermorny. Maybe it was time for a change. You were getting invited to parties, asked to hang out on weekends in Hogsmeade, and not to mention, you were a few people’s crushes. “Hi (Y/N),” Seamus waved at you with a shy smile.

“Hey, Seamus,” you smile back, brightly, unaware of his blossoming crush on you. His cheeks turned beet red as you wiggled your fingers back at him. Hermione laughs next to you as a bunch of Gryffindor boys in your year watch you walk down the hall, you tossing your hair over your shoulder. “What’s so funny, Granger?” you ask, pushing her shoulder lightly. “Is it so strange that I say hi to everyone in the halls?”

She just shakes her head. “Are you that blind?” she laughs. “(Y/N), nearly every boy in our year fancies you.” You furrow your brows. Hermione groans, knowing you didn’t understand her slang. “The boys all think you’re cute. They’ve got crushes on you.”

Rolling your eyes is disbelief, you enter your History of Magic class. “Yeah, right, Hermione. The day everyone has a crush on me is the day pigs fly,” you plop down in your chair, grabbing your book out of your satchel. “Besides, I’m sure it’s just the new girl crush. It’ll be over within the next week, I’m sure of it.”

Hermione looks at you knowingly. “(Y/N), you’ve been here for two months now.” You just ignore her comment and continue getting ready to take notes for class. “There’s no denying that you are the popular girl,” she teases you as you fake gag. “I’m serious. I dare you to flirt with anyone in here and see their reaction,” she whispers to you.

You look around the room to see who would be the person most likely to shoot you down if you flirted with them. Two desks over was Blaise Zabini sat next to Draco Malfoy. You smirked and nudged Hermione as if to say watch this. “Blaise?” you ask, his head shooting up to look at you. “I think I forgot my quill. Do you have one I could borrow?” you bat your eyes at him.

A cheeky grin comes across his face as he hands you the one in his hand. “Forgetful today?” he smirks as you giggle. “You can borrow my quill any day,” he winks at you as Hermione fake gags, making Zabini rolls his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask Granger for one next time? The mudblood is always prepared,” Draco speaks from behind Zabini. 

Anger rises in your chest as Malfoy laughs about your best friend. “Why don’t you just keep your fat trap shut and cry to daddy about how much you hate this school, Malfoy? No one wants to hear it out of you, least of all me,” you spit before turning away to do your work. Hermione smiles as you, squeezing your hand. “See? Malfoy doesn’t have a crush on me!” you tell her, making her laugh.

Meanwhile, Draco glares at Zabini. “Don’t tell me you fancy the American girl too.” Zabini keeps his mouth shut, knowing what’s best for him. “What is everyone’s obsession with her? She’s American, not from outer space.”

Blaise shakes his head. “Come on, Malfoy. She’s proper fit, isn’t she? Not to mention, she’s quite cheeky and has good banter.”

Draco just slaps Blaise upside the head. “Oh, please,” he huffs. “There’s plenty of girls like that in this school. She’s not the only one.”

Throughout class Draco thinks to himself about what the entirety of Hogwarts’ student body saw in you. He ignored the lecture going on in the front of the classroom and dreamily watched you during class. You sat there, biting down on your lower lip gently in concentration, scribbling down notes as your nose scrunched up when a question came to mind. He could see the wheels churning in your head when you asked a question and then the lightbulb flick on when it was answered and it made sense. You let a small dance play on your lips when you answered a question correctly faster than Hermione. You hair flopped on head perfect as you pushed strands back as they fell. Your eyes twinkled with curiosity and playfulness like a child. Draco’s heart thumped a little louder when you let out a giggle when the professor made an awful joke. His heart nearly stopped when you looked over at him and caught his gaze, your cheeks taking a rosy hue as you looked away shyly. Draco didn’t look away for a second. He wanted you to know he was observing you. Shit, he silently thought as he felt his heart rate pick up when you sent a cheeky wink his way. He was caught.

You left class that day, a little pep in your step. You didn’t think much about people having a crush on you, but something about Draco Malfoy staring at you during class made you giggly. “What are you on about?” Hermione pokes your side. “I know you aren’t happy about that lecture, so spill.”

“Nothing,” you smile as you walk down the hall. “Can’t I just be happy?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was happen, but rather than embarrass you about it, she kept to herself. “Alright,” she sing-songs.

------

The more time passed the more Draco found himself thinking about you and itching to get to class just so he could tune the professor out at steal longing glances at you. Sometimes you would catch him as he sent a little wink your way as you blushed. Sometimes he would catch you staring at him which gave him way too much satisfaction of knowing you liked him just as much as he liked you. 

You had no problem talking to boys, but Draco was different. You didn’t talk to him much because you were too scared you were going to embarrass yourself in front of him.

But Draco on the other hand found any excuse to walk right up to you in the halls and strike up conversation. He would see you walk down the hall, his eyes zeroing in on, dismissing his friend group as he made his way up to you. He didn’t care who you were with whether it was Luna or Hermione. Draco just slid himself next to you with a sly, “Where are you off to, American girl?”

You did not try to stop the blush from appearing on your cheeks. “What’s it to you, Malfoy?” you tease as he laughs.

“I’d walk you there if you let me,” he suggested as you glanced to Luna or Hermione as they would fall behind to walk to class with Ron or Harry. “Ah, alone at last,” he’d tease as your friend walked away, earning a teasingly slap from you. “Don’t worry, I won’t try and pull anything on you.”

As you sat in another class of History of Magic, you doodled in your notebook. When the professor turned his back to write on the chalkboard, you see a small origami dove fly over to your desk. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peel it open to see a little note scribbled on the inside.

American Girl,

I need to ask you a very important question.

You look to your left to see Draco staring straight ahead at the board, but his eyes look towards you with a sneaky smile on his lips. You shake your head, a grin teasing your lips as you write back, And what would that be, Mr. Malfoy? 

When the professor turns back around, you send the note back to him. You watch him scribble for a while, your curiosity eating away inside of you. Finally, he folds the note back up and send it your way quickly.

The note lands back on your desk as you ravenously open it, dying to know what the question was. 

You. Me. Hogsmeade. This Saturday.

Your heart flutters and you want to giggle, but you hide your smile and scribble back coyly, That’s not a question, Malfoy. 

Again, you send it back his way, watching him open it as you bite your lip to contain your smile as you pretend to pay attention to the class. From your peripheral vision, you watch him scribble back. The note lands back on your desk and you let it sit there for a second, making Malfoy sweat. You let a solid ten seconds pass before looking at the note, pretending to be shocked to see it on your desk, before peeling it open slowly as Malfoy lightly laughs, watching you do so.

So it that a yes?

You smile and write out as slowly as you possibly can. It’s a yes.

The note makes its way back to Draco’s desk as he catches it from the air, ripping it open. He smiles impossibly wider and laughs a “yes,” a little too loud for your professor to hear. 

“Mr. Malfoy? Would you like to share something with the class?” your Professor asks.

Draco realizes that everyone’s eyes on him, including you as a deep shade of pink rises to your cheeks. Draco sends you a wink before standing up from his seat, your heart beating fast. What is he doing? “Actually, yes,” he retorts. “I’ve got a date with the new girl,” he declares. Girls all turn to you before immediately whispering to those around them as some boys groan and others cheer Malfoy on. 

You just sit there, blushing like a fool. Hermione grabs your arm. “No way,” she speaks.

“You better believe it,” you whisper, eyes not leaving Draco’s as Zabini high fives him. Saturday could not come quicker.

[mianavs]

meeting the zoldycks pt. 1

part 7 of Cathexis

a/n: we’re finally here~ splitting this up into 2 parts to make it more readable.

wc: 2.2k

Cathexis

Pangs of pain from your leg jostled you awake to a foreign room. With your instincts kicking in, you tried moving only to realize your right leg was in a hard cast and the events that led to your injury replayed in your head ending with the feel of Illumi’s strong arms carrying you to his car. 

Your eyes examined the dimly lit but well-furbished room for a hint that would dispel the growing fear in your chest regarding your whereabouts only to watch a Zoldyck butler come in with a tray of medical supplies that included a syringe needle.

Before you could utter a word, the young female butler set down the tray and rushed out of the room.

Anxious, you dragged your body to the edge of the bed and ignored the growing ache in your leg. Just when you were about to set your legs over the edge, purple bruising on your arm caught your eye and halted your progress. Darting your eyes up to the syringe needle the butler brought in, your mind pieced together everything and the realization you’d been sedated broke your composure.

Like clockwork, the door opened to reveal Illumi who entered the room and closed the door behind him. He approached your bed and trailed his impassive eyes over your form, lingering on your casted leg, before breaking the silence.

“How do you feel?”

“How long have I been here?” Your voice was hoarse from disuse but that didn’t stop the questions spilling from your lips. “Why am I here? What happened to bodies? Where’s my phone?”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed the slightest before repeating his question but you disregarded his question yet again.

“I need to get out of here. Ruo Wen is prob—”

Illumi’s bloodlust cut you off as the air in the room seemed to thicken and your surroundings blurred until all you could focus on was the man before you. Beads of cold sweat dotted your skin as fear coursed through your veins in the presence of such malicious Ren. You were trembling like a leaf when Illumi spoke once again.

“How. Do. You. Feel?”

You opened you mouth to speak but nothing came out as your eyes remained fixed on Illumi’s. As if he was pleased with your shaken state of mind, the bloodlust receded and your vision and breathing returned to normal.

“…F-fine! I’m fine…can I go now?” You sputtered, still reeling from the malice that’d permeated the air seconds ago.

Illumi quirked his head. “Not in this state. Your leg needs to heal completely.”

“I can recover at home just as easily.”

Illumi’s face twisted into an eerie smile. “After your little incident, I don’t think I can trust you being on your own—at least not like this.” His eyes trailed to your injured leg and your face flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of your defeat against Saul’s men.

“It was your fault he came for me.” You muttered, avoiding Illumi’s haunting gaze.

“I know. That’s why I took the job to kill him.” He replied absent-mindedly.

“So, you weren’t tracking me?” You cringed at how the question sounded but one look at Illumi’s oblivious face eased your embarrassment.

“No, I knew you were in Meteor City and, after reading up on his recent movements, I figured he would try to harm you.”

You were quiet as Illumi’s words sunk in. Despite the twisted reasoning behind it, you had to admit he’d saved your life and you were grateful. Besides, he was right regarding your current state; you wouldn’t be able to work with your leg in a cast. If you stayed at the Zoldyck mansion, you wouldn’t have to worry about medical bills, treatment, food, or running into your parent’s if they happened to drop by your condo.

“I’ll stay here until my leg heals but—”

“I’ll be sure to compensate you for your injuries and for the time you won’t be working.” Illumi dug into his pocket and fished out your phone before handing it to you. “Your boss called you a couple days ago.”

Scrolling through your missed calls, you looked up to ask the question you’d first asked him only to see Illumi closing the door behind him. The curse on your lips died when a notification from your bank confirmed the deposit of your compensation and you lied back down with a sigh before closing your eyes and going back to sleep.

It was a week after the incident when boredom lured you out of your room with the help of the crutches Canary brought you. While Illumi was on a mission, Canary had been the one tending to your needs and providing her companionship while you recovered. You quickly grew fond of the younger girl and appreciated her friendly personality. However, you couldn’t suppress your hunter instinct any longer and decided to roam the mansion in search for intel on Illumi and the Zoldycks.

As you hobbled down the hallways of the mansion, you noticed they were as dimly lit as your room with only a few lamps adorning the stone walls. You couldn’t help but chuckle how much the home reflected the ominous reputation of its inhabitants.

The possibility of running into one of the Zoldycks was one that you welcomed regardless of how dangerous it seemed. You needed to know more about the other family members—particularly Silva and Zeno—and what better way than to do it face to face.

Just when your arms began to ache after wandering for what seemed like an hour, a flash of white hair from the corner of your eyes caught your attention and you found yourself face to face with the third son, Killua Zoldyck.

You froze, unsure of what to say to the boy, but spoke when he turned around to head in the opposite direction.

“Wait! Do you know where I can rest?” Holding your breath until he turned, you plastered a pained smile on your face and leaned against the wall. “I think I overdid it.”

He was entirely different from Illumi. Where Illumi was inscrutable, you could see a myriad of emotions on Killua’s face that ranged from surprise, confusion, and finally concession. With an exasperated sigh, he closed the distance between you.

“There’s a small library nearby. Follow me.” His tone was harsh but he walked slowly enough for you to keep up with him.

The library was brighter than the hallways, with a large window letting sunlight stream in. It was fairly large with several bookcases filled with books, a couples of lounge chairs, a table, and a lit fireplace. The room was almost cozy and you let out a sigh of relief when you collapsed on the comfortable chair. Killua took your crutches and leaned them against your armrest before taking a seat in the adjacent to you.

“Thank you…” Debating whether or not to call him by his name, you trailed off only for Killua to interject.

“Killua.” He sounded hesitant but curious, nonetheless. “You’re my brother’s fiancé aren’t you.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m not his fiancé yet. I still have a couple months left of freedom.” Adding the last bit to feel out the nature of his relationship with Illumi, you were pleased to hear the chortle that escaped the Killua.

“Guess I’m not the only one who finds Illumi suffocating.” The sadness in his eyes betrayed his joking tone and you wondered just how suffocating Illumi’s presence was to his younger brother. “So how did you get hurt?”

You told him about Rivero’s death, your job in Meteor City, and the encounter with Saul and his men ending in their deaths at the hand of Illumi. Killua was quick to point out Illumi as the root cause of your accident and you quickly found yourself warming up to him.

“Illumi will kill anyone who interferes with his plans. He also likes to control those around him.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You said and rubbed the back of your neck where Illumi’s needle had once been embedded. “Sounds like you don’t agree with his ways.”

Killua visibly tensed and you wondered if you went too far. Just when you were going to backtrack, Killua’s body deflated in defeat before scanning the room for intruders despite being the only two people present.

“Illumi and my father expect me to be an assassin for the rest of my life but I don’t want to keep killing people.” Killua admitted, fidgeting with the material of his shorts.

“And what do you want to do?”

Killua’s eyes widened as they met yours and you couldn’t help but feel for the younger boy. “I…I want to have fun.”

You reached over and placed your hand over his. “Then you should go and have fun. This is our only life so we should do the things we want to do—not what other’s want us to do.”

“Then why don’t you try to break off things with Illumi. If it’s contract-based then there should be ways to null it.”

Watching Killua wrack his brain for ways to break off your betrothal caused a surge of warmth to spread across your chest. He was nothing like Illumi or the rumors that circulated regarding the Zoldycks and you felt grateful to have met him first. With your mind clouded by emotions, you let your guard down even more and opened your mouth to tell Killua about your plan.

“Actually, my parents and I are—”

The door swung open to reveal an old man with white hair. You raised your guard and shut your mouth as Zeno Zoldyck shuffled over to you and Killua. With the opportunity to find out more about the Zoldycks and your marriage deal before you, the corners of your mouth rose to mimic a shy smile and you lowered your gaze.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Zoldyck.”

You looked up to find him sitting next to Killua as he regarded you before smirking. “I’m sure you are.”

He saw behind your smile and sugar-coated words but you continued the façade to avoid a confrontation you weren’t ready for. “Thank you for allowing me to recover in your home, Mr. Zoldyck, and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Call me Zeno,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Mr. Zoldyck is my son. As for your stay, it’s no inconvenience, after all, this will be your home soon enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth. You felt helpless in front of the man responsible for your betrothal and the urge to leave the mansion returned.

“How has your recovery been?”

“Huh?”

The question brought you back from your thoughts and you found Zeno studying your face the way Illumi did only you could see a twinge of genuine interest in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s been going well. My leg is almost completely healed thanks to Canary’s care.”

Zeno smiled at the mention of the young butler. “It’s good to hear Canary has served you well.”

“Did Illumi ask you for Canary?” Killua interjected but Zeno merely chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I offered her up when I heard what happened to Y/N.” Zeno then turned to you. “You see, Canary is under my supervision and, as your grandfather’s granddaughter, I wanted to make sure you were cared for.”

Zeno’s words caught you off guard. You’d always assumed Zeno hated your deceased grandfather for the large debt, so finding out that he personally sent one of his butlers to attend you was a revelation you hadn’t expected.

“Were you close with my grandfather?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have lent him so much money if we weren’t” The old man laughed while you tried to make sense of the information you’d been given.

“I just assumed you held a grudge against him for the massive amount of debt.” You admitted, hoping Zeno would disclose more.

“Perhaps at one point I did, but he was a good friend despite his poor money management skills. Illumi told me he got into debt with other people and that you and your parents are paying off that debt.”

Your throat closed at the mention of the “other debt” lie you’d told Illumi. It wasn’t that you weren’t prepared to recount the lie to Zeno or the other Zoldycks but the way he said it, made you doubt it’s effectiveness.

Gone was the geniality on Zeno’s face as his eyes searched for a chink in your armor that he could exploit. Knowing you were on thin ice, you played off your surprise as embarrassment over the large amounts of debt your late grandfather owed others which seemed to get Zeno off your tail.

Killua saved you by changing the topic to your work experience as a hunter and you were more than happy to oblige with tales of your jobs from the most difficult, interesting, and just flat out weird. Killua seemed to enjoy your tales while Zeno would nod occasionally to show he was listening but never commented. Eventually, Killua asked about the Hunter Exam but just then a knock on the door interrupted you and the door swung open to reveal Gotoh, one of the butlers you were familiar with, who informed Zeno that dinner was being served.

“You should join us, Y/N.” Zeno declared and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. “My son and his wife would like to meet you.”

[ailuro-mania]

Always

Hey! I wrote another thing. This is a lot shorter than intended. I'm very bad at focusing on writing. But I really liked this whole idea, and my girlfriend really did too. So I had to write it, naturally. Can also read here  --- It was a bad day. Or at least, under Inuyasha’s opinion it was. Kagome was leaving the village with Sango together, alone, with next to know protection aside from their sass. Never mind Sango being a badass demon slayer, or Kagome’s ability to purify evil within seconds, she was leaving him behind. Him and Moroha. Their daughter who was barely pushing 6 months.  

“You can’t leave,” he simply stated, eyeing his wife though his face did not turn to meet hers.  

“I most certainly can,” the miko commented right back. She was folding some clothes she’d recently unclipped from their drying line directly into a wicker basket they acquired last season. Kagome actually seemed to enjoy doing such mundane tasks Inuyasha couldn’t even fathom about.  

He scoffed, tucking his arms into each sleeve. A sneer settled across his lips when he finally turned to look at her with all the confidence in the world. Oh, this will win the argument. “And what about Moroha?” he didn’t even bother trying to hide the smirk.  

Kagome tiled her head, a strand of her tresses swishing into her face, “What about Moroha? You’ll be watching her.”  

Inuyasha’s eyes widened, “Wh- what? Me? Watching Moroha?”

“Yes, you.” Kagome leaned down to heave the basket up onto her hip before a blur of red approached her side and took the basket into his own clawed hands. She faltered a solid second, a smile playing at her lips though she hid it within seconds, not daring to give him the satisfaction during a debate. “You’ll be fine. And aside from that, you haven’t so much as spent an hour alone with our daughter.”  

Inuyasha’s upper lip twitched a tad, “How am I supposed to spend an hour alone with her when you’re dying to hold her at every moment? Besides, can’t Kaede watch her and I go with you? You haven’t left once since Moroha was born. And I��m not... I don’t like the idea of you leaving. Not yet.”  

The miko smiled, tucking the hair that played in the wind behind her ears. Her Inuyasha, only in these moments is she blessed with such honesty. It was delectable.  

“It’s only the next village over. I should be back before the sun even sets,” she felt his tension even before the words filtered out. “I will be back before the sun sets.”  

Inuyasha pressed his lips together and set the basket down at the front entry of their hut, an ear turned to listen inside, the other focused on her. Their little one was fast asleep. Moroha always seemed to sleep an hour into sunrise, and the young parents were not ones to change that. She was up all night, Kagome and Inuyasha finding their alone time well within the meek hours of the morning. They loved every moment with their girl, but it was so much easier to just be alone at times.  

“You’ll be fine. Sango will be with me for extra protection though she honestly isn’t even terribly needed,” She gingerly reached up to cup his cheek within the palm of her hand.  

Inuyasha subconsciously leaned into her touch, golden eyes gazing directly into chocolate brown. His hair engulfed her wrist in a bracelet of silver whilst the breeze continued to dance through every strand. “I still don’t like it.”  

“I know,” she leaned up on her toes to press her lips against his in a passionate pursuit only to be moments away to hear their daughter, on cue, wailing.  

Though the interruption, the miko couldn’t help but smile. She leaned that smile into a quick peck on her husband's lips before turning on her heel and headed straight into their hut.  

“Well, hello little one,” she chirped, heading directly toward the bundle of attention seeking that was their daughter. She scooped Moroha up into her arms in one swift movement. The little girl let out a loud squeal of delight as she always did seeing her mother. Little hands turned into fists as the young one reached out toward Kagome’s cheeks. Kagome complied by putting her face directly into the path of her daughters, letting her pat her down.  

Inuyasha all but watched, his heart full of emotion for the most important people in his life. He watched as his wife smoothed out their daughter's bed head and smothered their happy girl in kisses, he watched as she wiped the bit of drool at the corner of Moroha’s lips. He wished he could watch every moment of this, possibly even freeze it. As selfish as it sounded, he didn’t want things to change. And he most certainly did not want his wife leaving the area where he couldn’t watch her, not with their pup this young.  

He made a grunting noise, catching both his girl's attention. Moroha offered an extremely gummy grin toward her father and reached her arms out in his direction next. It was his turn to get mauled by the beast. Kagome sauntered over, arms stretched out, Moroha at hand. He made a face at the miko as he gently took her into his arms next.  

Kagome stood up on her tippy toes once again to kiss their daughter's cheek and playfully ruffle Inuyasha’s hair, much to his distaste. The next move she made was toward her bow and arrows she’d been practicing with fairly frequently since the birth of Moroha.  

“What if she gets hungry?” He continued, holding their pup against his right side. The little one had taken to playing with his hair, strands of the silver already covered in drool. “She needs you if she gets hungry.”  

A soft laugh escaped through Kagome’s lips as she shook her head, “No, she’s already started to wean. We’re balancing, and today can be a day in which she stays off me. As much as I adore her, she can be... well...” the miko just shook her head, sparing her husband that bit of information he’d probably never shake. “You can take her down to Miroku’s for lunch.”  

He raised a brow, “Breakfast?”

“Already mashed some solid foods this morning. You watched me do it,” Kagome slung the bow around her shoulder, her quiver stead strong on the other side.  

“Kagome, really. I don’t know about this. I really don’t thin-”  

“You don’t know about what, Inuyasha? Watching our child?” Her hands were at her hips. Fuck. He’d treaded into a battlefield.  

“No! I- well-”  

“I carried her for nine solid months,” she took two steps forward, Inuyasha taking one back. “In my own body. I carried her daily afterward and have been with her for another 6 months after. Inuyasha, I just ask of you, just this once, ple-”

“Alright, woman!” His brows pulled together, straightening back up. “I’ll watch her today. I’ll watch her any day so long as you promise to keep safe, to come back.”  

Yet another smile grew across such soft pink lips. “Always.”

A familiar voice carried over to their hut. Sango, calling for Kagome. Inuyasha glanced toward the door. The moment Kagome started forward he’d gently caught her wrist with one hand, pulling her back into his available arm, Moroha still balanced in the other content with his hair. He placed a lasting kiss against Kagome’s lips, a small noise of relish slipping from her. They lasted for another few seconds before both their mutual friend knocked at the side of their door, eyebrows quirked.  

“You sure you want to go still?” Sango asked, a teasing smile displayed.  

Kagome rolled her eyes, “I’m coming.” She turned to kiss her daughter once more, squeezing Inuyasha’s hand. “Always,” she repeated one last time, a bit of emphasis laced through the word.  

He pursed his lip once her back was turned. “You watch out for her, Sango.”  

It was Sango’s turn to roll her eyes, “We’re mothers, Inuyasha. If anything, we’re the most threatening things on this side of the region.”  

He’d watch as they walked away, ignoring every instinct telling him to follow after. Sango was right. Their group protected one another. They’d kill for each other, or each other's family. Kagome was in good hands and he knew it well, he knew she could easily take care of herself. Though he faintly missed his clutzy crush, she’d turn into a graceful, powerful miko, and a mother. A mother of his child, something he’d never even dreamed of becoming a possibility in his cruel reality.  

And just as he begun to feel himself sink into such deep emotions; his daughter immediately pulled him out with a fit of wailing. “Fuck.”  

-------

The silver haired half-demon found himself at the monk's house fairly quickly. Moroha gave him an impossible try for food the moment Kagome’s scent was out of reach for both of them. She was entirely different without her mother as he begun to realize. She pushed every attempt of food away and kicked. His patience was thin to begin with, but with his daughter it stretched further than the horizon. He needed to be able to do this. So, he found himself here, surrounded by 3 human children and an extremely enthusiastic and well-sought monk.  

“So,” Miroku smirked, “came to me for child advice after all?”  

Inuyasha scoffed and gave him one of his famous glares, “I think your children could give better advice than you could. Sango does most of the childcare and we both know it.”  

“Touche.” Miroku and him both sat at a table within their larger hut. After Kagome’s disappearance, Sango and Miroku’s life went on. Not that Inuyasha could be upset about such a thing. He was happy to see them happy, to see their wishes coming true. Though he’d sulk, he still enjoyed watching as Miroku changed from less of a lecher to more of a father. He still had his moments though; moments Sango still seeks revenge on.  

Their hut was larger, but only because they planned such a large family that they may have overcompensated. But who knew, they still had many years to go, perhaps more were well within the near future.  

The children ran about the front of the hut, weaving between the door and front yard. A gate was spread across the face of their house which gated the young ones in. The twins were pushing four, Hisui almost two. Hisui was placed at the feet of the monk playing with some sort of rattle that rung in the half-demons' ears. Moroha was pressed well against his chest, leaking from her nose from an earlier sob.  

As soon as he’d walked up the twins were at his feet, clinging on for dear life as their favourite uncle carried them with ease. Miroku didn’t even so much as bother to tell them to stop, he knew Inuyasha secretly loved his daughter's trust. Moroha went from crying to fascination so fast it nearly gave Inuyasha whip-lash. Kin’u and Gyokuto both bouncing about, their heads hardly tall enough to reach up to his knee.   “Ooo, Moroha!” Kin’u called out. She’d made a silly attempt at pressing each palm of her hand against either side of her face directing the expression toward Moroha. The little girl within Inuyasha’s arms letting out a laugh that rung through his ears, but mostly shook his heart.   “Can we play with her, pleeeease?” Gyokuto begged, dragging the word out until her little lungs were airless.   Inuyasha pressed his lips together in silent contemplation. Had Kagome let them play with their girl? Surely, she had... Moroha seemed thrilled about it.   “Alright. But only inside the hut, where I can see.”   Both the twins hooted, reaching up for his treasured daughter. The half-demon complied, prying his daughter far too easily from his chest to the twin's enthusiastic arms. The little snake, of course she’d abandoned him for two loudmouth girls.   He watched silently as they each took a hand of his daughters and teetered Moroha up on her feet, walking her over toward their play corner surrounded by childrens toys.   Miroku let out a whistle, Inuyasha’s head jerking toward it, “What?” “Kagome’s never let them play with her,” he said, smug. “She hardly lets Moroha out of her arms when you’re all here.” Inuyasha’s eyes widened slightly.   “What? You hadn’t noticed?” The purple in his eye glinted. Surprisingly, Inuyasha never wanted to punch anyone more than his best friend. Even Naraku was less-punchable. He snorted and put his nose up in the air, “Of course I noticed.” Emphasis on ‘noticed’. “I can just watch out for them better with my keen senses. Besides, Kagome left me in charge. We’re doing things differently.”   “Uhhuh...” Miroku nodded, eyebrows raised. “Well, in that case. What are we having for lunch O Great Leader?” He’d made it a dramatic to put his hands out in front of himself, arms pushed in Inuyasha’s direction for exaggeration.   “You’re the one who's supposed to be in charge of that, lecher.”   “Harsh,” Miroku pulled his hands back in to cover his heart, “I was. Up until recent development. I’d love to see you take charge during the high sun over four children and your favourite friend.” The smirk planted on the monk's lips worsened the half-demons want, no, need to punch him. “Also, your kid is shoving a toy up her nose.” He nodded his head toward the three children in the corner while snagging his son off the ground.   Inuyasha immediately stood up and walked over to the three girls, the twins trying to pry Moroha’s hands away from her nose. The youngest girls grip being far too strong for two humans, even if she’d only developed half of her father's half-blood. “Moroha!”  

------

A few hours later Inuyasha found himself alone with his daughter in the confines of their hut. Moroha had been set down at the top of the hut’s layout, far from the ledge in which he’d tried to baby proof since her crawling development that started only within a few months of her birth. The girl felt as though she was aging rapidly, something that worried the parents but neither seemed to want to address. She looked her age, but the mentality and ability were maturing at an alarming rate. There was much to learn about this girl they’d created together.   He’d gotten up to start building a fire. Though fall had just started to show itself, he knew his wife got chilled almost any night of any season. It was inevitable, her cold feet would constantly press against his warm calves during the darkest hours in search of warmth. He complained, but secretly it was his on his list of Top Things Kagome Did. Right next to plucking his ears before leaving for her daily duties.   Nightfall was still an hour or so away. Inuyasha’s patience warring thinner. No sign of his wife’s scent had entered the permitter, and he’d sniffed the air several times. Much like what his daughter had started to do right that second. He begun to sniff just as fast, finding nothing but the scent of left-over stew balanced above the firepit.   He cocked a brow and walked toward his kid, “Hungry?”   The little one stopped sniffing the air momentarily, big brown eyes rimmed with stunning lashes turned and focused on him. Something akin to a growl rumbled at the base of her throat and up.   Inuyasha blinked a few times, taken back. “Did you... Did you just growl at me?”   Moroha repeated her adorable threat, taking a small bundled up fist move toward her father. Inuyasha sat on his arse a few feet away, still stunned by his daughter's animalistic nature. Sure, sniffing the air was one thing, but to growl?   Moroha was fast, trudging directly for Inuyasha’s lap. Once she reached him she put both hands on the foot that prodded out from under him. Inuyasha leaned forward so his face was directly in front of hers, letting out a growl far more ferocious than his daughter's cute attempt.   To his surprise, she giggled! She let out a loud, stomach deep laugh that made Inuyasha’s lips tug upward in the most genuine smile. The laugh stopped abruptly and she growled again. Inuyasha growling right back. And the laugh returning even louder.   But then she started to push herself up using his foot. His daughter stood up in front of him at a mere 6 months old, her chin held high and her tiny clawed hands caught in his not so tiny clawed hands.   “Hey, kid. Don’t you be doing that. Not yet. Your mother will kill me if you walk when she's not around.” He plucked the girl up from off her feet, folding his legs in front of himself so his knees touched in the air and placed Moroha in his lap, her back and head rested well against his thighs. She smiled all the while, bright brown eyes staring up at her hero.   “You think this is a joke? She really will kill me. You have no idea how scary she is. But you will, eventually. You have my blood, you’re gon’ be a lotta work.”   Moroha’s tiny fist wrapped around her father’s fingers, staring up at him in awe as he spoke.   “You’re gonna learn a lot of things. And I’m sorry for most of them. You’re gonna learn how this world... is harsh. How you and I are different from the rest, and even your mother. How our group is needed, yet so judged outside of this village. You’re gonna learn how to use these claws,” He’d lifted one index finger up, studying his daughters' hand, “how they can really hurt someone if you’re not careful. But I know you will be. I know you’re gonna be a damn good girl. You may have obtained some of my traits, but your mother's blood runs within those veins of yours too. And she's the best human to walk this dammed earth.”   He watched as his daughter's eyes fluttered shut. She was tired, probably exhausted from the twins earlier. He leaned forward to kiss his daughter's forehead, ears turned forward to listen intently to the small but even breathing.   Inuyasha waited a few minutes more before deciding she was out enough to move. He gently lifted her within his arms and walked her over toward her dedicated matt that had a few inches more around the surrounding area to keep her from rolling out. Though with this new standing thing she’d shown off, they may have to come up with a new plan.   After settling her into bed, he’d turned his head toward the doormat. The sun was just nearing itself from hiding away and his wife was just now approaching. Soft thuds planting into the ground that normal human ears would not pick up. He’d wait by the threshold but refused to meet her out there no matter the excitement. He was still petty, of course.   Kagome came trudging in, bow and quiver held over one shoulder, her sandals in the other. She’d ran barefoot. “I’m ba-” Inuyasha’s hand went right over her mouth before she could finish her shout, pointing toward their sleeping daughter. Kagome smiled sheepishly, prying his hand away, “I’m back,” she whispered.   Inuyasha rolled his eyes, “I see that, idiot.”   Kagome pretended to be hurt, smacking his shoulder with no real threat held in the hit. He smirked and leaned forward, taking her into an awaited kiss. Kagome smiled into it, dropping both her items to the ground so she could wrap her arms around his neck, her entire being pressed and hanging off of him. Inuyasha’s arms instinctively wrapped around his miko’s waist to hold her nearby. She pulled away with the same smile, “miss me?”   Inuyasha’s eyebrows knitted, “Not at all.”   The miko’s eyes narrowed, still extremely close to his face. “Oh yeah?” her arms went from draped around his shoulders, down toward the base of his shoulders.   He couldn’t help but let out a quiet snicker, “Yeah.”   “Hm...” His wife made a soft noise at the back of her throat, one corner of her lip tugged up. She pulled her arms in all the way and begun to try and escape his grasp, to which he responded by lifting her up entirely, Kagome letting out a hardly suppressed yet joyous laugh, “Inuyasha!”   He smirked again, still holding her well up in the air, “What are you gonna do about it, woman?”   Kagome continued to laugh as she hardly put in any effort to move, “Put me down, I’m gonna pee,” she laughed out.   Inuyasha scoffed and set her down, “Ew.”   Kagome rolled her eyes and leaned up again to peck him on the lips, “Hey. You wanted to marry this ‘ew’.”   Inuyasha shrugged, “It has its perks.” A soft coo came from behind him, “I knew it was too good to be true. She’d never sleep through your arrival.”   “Unlike you, some people like me,” Kagome smiled playfully and shouldered past him toward their fully awake daughter. “Hello, my girl!” The miko bent down to scoop her up and pull her into her chest. And Inuyasha watched yet another moment he wished he could freeze. This was it. This was his always. He’d protect them at any cost. His girls.  

[shintorikhazumi]

(Diakko week) There’s no way she- (5) ““There’s no way she would ever lose her again.””

A/N: I’m late because. I’m dying in school. Thank you. Dw, I’ll finish the story regardless.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 5: Afterlife/Reincarnation

“There’s no way she would ever lose her again.”

[“I will be with you in our next life, and into forever... Diana.”]

“-ness. Your highness, please wake up.”

Akko stirred from her slumber, feeling the silken sheets slip from her shoulders as she was aided into a sitting position.

Yesterday’s meeting must have really worn her out if her body felt this heavy the following morning.

“Ugh- Thank you, Anna. May I have a glass of water?” She requested, holding a hand out in waiting while the other cradled her throbbing head.

“Of course, your excellency.”

Having been handed the drink, Akko took large gulps until she cleared the cup of its contents, handing it back to her attendant. “Thank you.”

“I am glad to be of service.”

Akko continued to massage her throbbing temples, trying to think of all she had to attend to today. It was proving difficult however as she felt strange emotions swirl deep within her. Somehow, she felt as though she had dreamt of something important last night. However, she could not- for the life of her- seem to remember.

“Could you call Finnelan for me?” She moaned through the steadily intensifying pain.

“Right away.”

Akko nodded her gratefulness to Anna who quickly went to fetch the person she needed to see. Not a minute later, Akko’s court adviser had walked into the room, some papers in hand.

“You rang, Empress?”

Kagari Atsuko, empress of the continent of Solis, raised her head to greet her subject, trying her best to put on a presentable face.

“Yes. I apologize for my current state, but I’m feeling a little unwell. I’d like to ask if I had anything important that I needed to accomplish today? Anything that needs immediate regard?”

Finnelan gave her a sympathetic smile, leafing through the papers she had brought with her. “Not that I know of, Empress. You are fairly ahead of schedule for most of your work, and anything scheduled for today can be moved to at least three days later with nothing affecting any ongoing or future work.”

Akko sighed in relief, allowing herself to fall back into her covers. “Thank goodness. Would it be alright if I take the day off? I’m feeling a little unwell.”

Finellan laughed at the question. The young empress sure could be considerate.

“You literally own the entire empire, your Majesty. People’s time revolves around you. I mean this in a positive way. You are allowed to take breaks. No one could ever tell you no.”

Akko laughed along lightly with her, glad that she could take a much deserved rest.

“I will take up the opportunity then.”

“Please do. We can’t have our Empress functioning at any capacity less than her best.”

“Understood~” Akko lazily saluted as her subjects shook their heads in fondness.

“We shall be taking our leave then.” Finnelan said for both of them, taking a bow as she did.

“If you need anything, your majesty, feel free to call for me.” Anna reminded before they both finally left the empress to her own devices.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Akko sighed, draping her arm across her eyes as she thought of what she should do with her free time now. Clearly, resting was at the top of her priority list, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to just keep still and laze around all day.

She decided she’d nap and grab a bite to eat before doing some exploring- something she hadn’t been able to do lately. The forests to the south of the palace sounded like the ideal place to adventure in today.

With her plan in mind, she laid herself to sleep and succumbed to the temptations of her sheets.

//

Akko felt significantly better once mid-afternoon came around. She had satisfyingly filled her stomach and had acquired her much needed rest. Refreshed, she decided to go for a ride into the southern woods, as planned.

Akko walked through the palace halls, first searching for Anna to let her know she was heading out. With the castle staff aware of her whereabouts, she made her way out the back doors and hiked far enough that she’d be hidden from anyone’s immediate sight.

She scanned her surroundings for any presence or unwanted eyes. Finding none, she sighed in relief, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a small locket- an oddly shaped one. One that looked uncannily like...

A briefcase.

This odd artifact had been with her since the day she was born, apparently. Her parents hadn’t given it to her, that’s for sure. They just said that one moment she was born, and the next they’d seen her, she already had the necklace laid next to her in her crib. She had never parted with it since then.

It wasn’t something they could explain. Maybe a cleric or a mysterious nurse had gifted it to her, who knew. All Akko knew was that one day, she suddenly had many creatures to call family, and somehow, she knew each one by heart.

Whispering a few words against the locket, and planting a gentle kiss on it, the case grew and she was able to open it.

Biting her lip, she weighed a few options in her mind. Who should she call today...

Ah, of course. If she wanted to brave the woods and look for adventure, who better to call on than-

“Florence.”

Immediately, a gentle glow of light filled her area, and a regal-looking creature emerged, basking in the light for a few moments before nuzzling Akko’s side.

The empress giggled, petting her creature before returning the briefcase to its former state and hanging it around her neck.

“Hello, my friend.”

Without her having to say another word, Florence took her up on his own back before quickly ascending to the heavens and flying quickly across the vast lands, giving Akko a gorgeous bird’s eye view of the landscape.

As they sword above the heights of trees, Akko spotted an open area. She was sure that if she had walked the woods, she’d never spot this peculiar looking shack as it seemed cloaked in some sort of... magic.

Carefully, she had Florence glide about the air before silently landing nearby, but not quite in the area. Her intuition had proved right as she struggled for a few minutes to see what she had found from above. Using her general instinct and memory of where she vaguely assumed that place to be, she eventually stumbled through an odd-feeling magical barrier that allowed her to stumble upon a cottage that looked nothing like what she had seen mid-air.

It looked cozy, quite homely.

Akko looked around, hoping to see any signs of a person as clearly someone resided here- what with the well-kept grass and the lively waving by the window.

She followed the dotted stony path leading to the door, reading the sign left there.

[Apothecary Cavendish is closed. Return tomorrow.]

Akko frowned slightly for two reasons. One beint that that odd name caused her head to throb once more. Was she getting sick again? Maybe not. The other reason Akko felt disheartened was due to the fact that she wouldn’t exactly be having a tomorrow to check this place out as she would have to get back to work. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d have any time this week either. Or this month. Or... ever.

She weighed her options.

She could sneak out of the castle at some point in the future. Or maybe she could quench her curious thirst right now and try opening the door- have a little peek, that’s all. She could say that it was an inspection since she was sure this place wasn’t on the empire’s map, nor was it registered in any city or town hall.

She was simply investigating, yes. Investigating. For the safety of her country and men.

Akko nodded, knowing she hadn’t really convinced herself of anything. Reaching for the knob, she felt her hands sweat and tremble, throat drying. She really was justifying her actions that could very well be a crime. Empress or not, this was really wrong. But... She just had to know... She just had to reach and turn the knob and take one small look and all would be fine. She’d leave without a trace, and no one would kno-

“Who are you.”

Akko felt her body go rigid in fright, slowly turning around to spot a woman with basket of what seemed to be herbs. Had she just returned from collecting them-

“Ugh-”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Again. It was back again. The pain in her head.

Akko crouched down, cradling her head in her hands with her eyes squeezed shut as the world spun round and round until she hit the ground. She barely heard the panicked yelling of her companion as all went to black.

//

“You’re awake.”

Akko blinked once, twice. Her visage was filled with soft light and wooden framing across a tall roof. Turning to her side she watched the woman she’d met only moments ago squeezing a towel over a basin before gently laying it over her forehead.

“A high fever, and you had the gall to go exploring in these dangerous woods.” She scolded Akko who couldn’t help but stare, not processing anything she’d just said.

Akko didn’t know why, but something spoke familiarity in just about everything this woman had been showing her. Her manner of speech, of action, the way she was currently scolding Akko with a stern and frank voice that still held a gentle warmth to it- everything about her told Akko that couldn’t possibly be the first time they’d met.

At least... not in this lifetime...?

Akko did a double-take at her thought process. This lifetime? What did that mean? Had she ever been one to believe in something like reincarnation and multiple lives? Well, she didn’t necessarily doubt it either. She simply never thought of it until now.

So… what did she think of it now?

“Um, pardon me? Are you alright? Are you still with me?”

Akko realized her mind had wandered so far that she forgot her manners.

“Ah, my apologies. I just...just…” She had looked up to meet the eyes of her savior to show her sincerity, but so quickly got lost in them. Sparkling blue gems that were framed with long lashes above the gentle slope of a tall nose and healthy pink lips distracted her.

Holy shit. This lady was-

“Absolutely stunning.”

Miss Stunning blinked. As did Akko.

“Thank...you…?”

It was only then that Akko came to her senses, immediately rising from the bed, only to smack her head straight into her companion’s nose.

“CR- CRUMPETS AND SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS-… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” She groaned, nursing her nose and checking for any possible signs of bleeding.

Fortunately for her, their were none. Unfortunately for Akko she was now rather cross.

Akko reached out to assist her, but the woman promptly created distance between them, not trusting Akko anymore in case of any more surprise attacks.

“Miss, I-”

“Just-! If you’re feeling better, please leave. Please. I beg you.”

Akko really, truly felt terrible for causing her so much trouble that she silently complied. With a bow, she gathered her coat that had been hanging off a dining room chair, wore it and said her farewells.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. And trespassed.” She apologized, head hung low. “I-if it’s alright…” Still, something deep within her told her she still needed to come back. She needed to know of this woman and the strong pull she seemed to have over her. “May I come back?”

Akko could see the woman’s hesitance in her eyes. She watched her deliberate over the decision, before sighing and agreeing, much too Akko’s surprise.

“Fine. I guess I do need a few more customers. Wouldn’t mind that.” She reluctantly gave Akko a smile… and a piece of paper with a few things written on it.

Akko cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing the item. “What’s this?” She inquired, confused.

She watched the other woman crack a grin, finding it somehow incredibly endearing. “The bill.” She stated factually. “For the services I’ve provided you, good miss.”

Akko’s jaw dropped at the words. She couldn’t even tell if she was being teased or-

“I’m dead serious.” She was told. “My ingredients don’t really grow on tre-… okay, some do. But this forest doesn’t exactly grow me any money. Only resources.”

That drew a fit of laughs from Akko who was incredibly amused by this stranger’s straightforwardness.

“Alright, alright.” She was never really short on money anyway. “I’ll come back with your compensation. That, I promise.”

And she swore she died a little at the smile she received just then. Her brain ceased to function and her feet would no longer move.

“Miss?”

“O-Oh! Sorry, just… uh. Got lost in the moment there. Um…” Awkwardly scratching the back of her head, she bid her farewells. “Well, I’ll see you around um…” Oh. She didn’t quite know the woman’s name.

“Hmm?” Akko was given a questioning look before the apothecary caught on. “Oh, right. We forgot to introduce ourselves to one another. Hello there.”

“H-hello.”

“I go by Cavendish…

Diana Cavendish.”

And at those words it felt like puzzles of a piece Akko didn’t know she was solving, suddenly fit. Sparks connected, and her mind ran miles and miles per hour over memories, thoughts, emotions, and a past Akko now fully remembered.

A past where she had love. A past where she had… Diana Cavendish.

She hadn’t even realized when it was she started crying, but Diana had reacted faster than she did, dabbing Akko’s face with a handkerchief while awkwardly consoling her.

“May I… embrace you?” Akko suddenly blurted out.

Diana, already surprised from Akko’s sudden crying, became all the more shocked. Her being a little weirded out by what Akko had requested was also not something she particularly hid from showing on her face.

“May I... Could I possibly embrace you?” Akko repeated to her, well aware of how odd it was to ask that of someone who clearly thought her to be a stranger.

“I don’t even know who you are, sorry.” Diana eventually admitted, the words breaking Akko’s heart just a bit.

Akko couldn’t remember the last time words had hurt her this much, but Diana not remembering the things they’d been through and Akko knowing the things she knew… it was just a bit much.

Maybe… this wasn’t something that was meant to be. Akko decided to plaster on a smile. Maybe she could try again tomorrow? Would Diana be able to remember her as well? Should Akko just tell her? Would she even believe her?

Akko didn’t have much time to think about it any longer as the sun began to set. It was time for her to leave.

“My apologies.” Akko sighed, giving Diana a respectful bow. “That was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?”

Diana gave her a small, suspicious nod.

“I must be on my way, but… um…” Akko felt her palms sweat and she quickly wiped it off on her garments before holding a hand out. “Let us start over again.” She smiled. She could do this much at least. Right?

Diana took her hand incredibly slowly and carefully. Akko kept up her smile despite all the salt continuously being added to a fresh wound.

“Hello, Miss Diana.” She greeted. “I am a simple noblewoman in this country and I go by the name..,” Maybe if she said her name, Diana would remember just as she had.

Or maybe not and Akko would continue to wallow in sadness for a few days more.

Only one way to find out.

“Kagari Atsuko”

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Diana neither flinched, nor blinked, nor spoke a word.

Akko could now actually hear her heart start to crack, ready to shatter. The universe sure could be cruel sometime-

The sunset sky sure looked lovely from where Akko was laying on the ground, tackled by a Diana who now sobbed heavily into her robe.

“B-by gods, Akko… Akko. Akko.” Diana chanted, over and over and over again. “Akko. Akko. Akko. Atsuko. Kagari Atsuko. My Akko.” She cried into the crook of Akko’s neck, placing kisses along that curve and up to her cheek,

Adjusting herself so that she was comfortably atop Akko, she cupped both the brunette’s cheeks, looking into her eyes as if she were confirming this to not be a dream.

Akko felt her eyes water again, the shock of the sudden attack fading away as it all begun to sink.

That Diana remembered.

That they both did.

As though she had found it, Diana’s face lit up into the biggest smile as she leaned down to plant a kiss on Akko’s lips for as long as she could, like she was afraid Akko would disappear again at any minute.

They both laughed through the tears and the kisses, Akko carefully sitting them up with Diana situated on her lap.

Having run out of air, they parted, Akko immediately grabbing both of Diana’s hands and planted kissed on them,

Diana felt her stomach flutter at the familiar gesture, bringing her hands up to brush the sides of Akko’s face, her bangs and hair, and play with her eats that were warm at the tips.

“I’ve missed you.” Diana whispered.

The floodgates opened once more and Akko cried the most she had in this lifetime.

Cradling Diana close to her chest. Showering her lover with her own affections and completely forgetting about her home, Akko just reveled in the miracle that they had acquired, happy beyong measure.

“I’ve finally found you again.” She told Diana, tightening her arms around her as she felt Diana do the same.

Akko smiled even wider-if it was possible as she continued her statement.

“I love you.” She whispered with Diana whispering it back. “And this time, I’ll never lose you. Ever again.” Akko promised, and Diana nodded, wrapped in euphoria and Akko’s arms.

“Never again.”

A/N: I rushed this already, I’m sorry. ;-;. See you last 2 chaps!

~Shintori Khazumi

[jj-lynn21]

Stellan interview

"Stellan Skarsgard Is Finally Seizing the Spotlight"

https://www.thedailybeast.com/stellan-skarsgard-is-finally-seizing-the-spotlight

With roles in “Dune,” the Star Wars series “Andor,” and “Hope,” the character actor par excellence has never been more popular. He talks to Marlow Stern about his stellar career.

Few if any actors have built a resume as impressive as that of Stellan Skarsgård.

After achieving teen-idol status in his native Sweden—even releasing a pop single—due to the TV series Bombi Bitt, Skarsgård transitioned to film acting. It was in the mid-’90s, with roles as a sadistic oil rig worker in Breaking the Waves, a fiery abolitionist in Amistad, and a haughty mathematician in Good Will Hunting, that the towering, stone-faced Swede would cross over into America, and establish himself as one of the finest character actors alive.

He’s since maintained a healthy diet of what he calls “experimental films,” including a total of six with Danish auteur Lars von Trier, and Hollywood studio fare, such as the Pirates of the Caribbean and Mamma Mia! films, the Thor and Avengers superhero extravaganzas, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Cinderella. And right now, at the age of 69, Skarsgård is at his most prolific. There was his Golden Globe-winning turn in HBO’s Chernobyl, the upcoming villain in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune, and a main role in the Disney+ Star Wars series Andor, which he’s filming right now in London. Oh, and he’s fathered eight children, including the actors Alexander, Gustaf, Bill, Sam, and Valter.

“There’s no competition, really,” the elder Skarsgård tells me of his talented brood. “There’s some joking competition at the dinner table, but I know they’re better than me, so I’ve given up.”

Skarsgård’s latest is the Norwegian drama Hope. Directed by Maria Sødahl, the wife of his frequent collaborator Hans Petter Moland, it is a heartrending autobiographical film about a long-married couple, Anja (Andrea Bræin Hovig) and her theater-director husband Tomas (Skarsgård), whose atrophying bond is put to the test when Anja develops terminal brain cancer. As they fight for Anja’s survival, the two reevaluate how their relationship went off-course, and why they fell in love in the first place. (The U.S. remake rights were quickly snapped up by Nicole Kidman and Amazon Studios.)

Anne Frank’s Stepsister: How Trump Reminds Me of HitlerNEVER AGAINMarlow Stern

In a wide-ranging conversation, Skarsgård opened up to The Daily Beast about his many great films, the controversy surrounding pal Lars von Trier, being a nudist, and much more.

How have you been passing the time during the pandemic?

In different ways. The first half of the year I was at our summer house on an island outside of Stockholm, and all my kids—who were also actors, most of them, and they weren’t working either—were all out there in two houses eating dinners together, having a good time, and seeing the spring inch-by-inch, everything grew, which you never get time to do otherwise. But this job I’m doing here now [in London], I was supposed to fly back and forth from Stockholm because I’m shooting this Star Wars series called Andor, and it would have been very convenient because it’s only a two-hour flight, but because of the quarantine I’ve been stuck here. For more than a month I’ve been alone in a hotel room staring into the wall.

Speaking of the Skarsgård household, I read a quote from your son Alexander who said that when he was a teenager, “Dad was always walking around [without clothes] with a glass of red wine in his hand.” Was that your vibe during the pandemic?

Not this time! Is it the wine that worries you? [Laughs]

Did the stress of the pandemic make you feel less… free?

No, I’m still taking off my clothes when I get home very often—and my kids also, some of them do. It’s not a big thing. We’re Swedes! And we have no God that says we can’t show our body parts.

What about it do you just find so liberating? I don’t go the full monty but when I go home, I do tend to take off my pants and let loose a little bit, because it is constricting.

If it’s warm enough you don’t need clothes, right? Unless you’re ashamed of your body—or taught to be ashamed of certain body parts. For me, it’s all upbringing. It’s cultural. Some cultures don’t care about what part of the body you show, and some cultures are very precious, and some cultures the women can’t show their faces.  

I’m curious what life was like in the Skarsgård household, because you’ve helped produce so many talented kids. Alexander described it as “bohemian,” similar to what you described during the pandemic, filled with dinner parties and a free-flowing atmosphere.

It’s always been a very open house, and the kids’ friends, it’s been easier to sometimes be in our house than their houses—especially during puberty, when conflicts arise—because we’re very relaxed and non-judgmental in our family. It’s really, truly pleasant. And my kids are more like pals to me. There’s no hierarchical relationship at all. It’s very nice. We just have fun!

It’s a very talented—and frankly, attractive—family. How did this happen?  

How did I make kids that look so good? [Laughs]

Is that something you’re particularly proud of?  

[Laughs] Well, the looks I don’t care so much about, but I’ve had two beautiful wives—and very smart wives—and that’s helped a lot. I’m not going to take much credit for anything. But what I’m proud of is, when I hear from other people in the business about Gustaf or Sam or Bill or Valter or Alexander, I hear that somebody worked with them and they were really nice on the set and totally cool with everybody, and how no matter what menial job anyone had on the set they were nice to them, then I’m proud. If they win awards it’s secondary to that, because that is a lottery anyway. Awards are sort of like reality shows.

They really are a popularity contest. Let’s talk about Hope. It could have very well been called Grief.

I thought it sounded bland to begin with, but in fact the film is about hope—and about love. It’s not a normal cancer film where it’s all about beating the cancer or fighting against it, but it’s about someone who gets a death sentence in a family situation with a lot of kids, like I have, and everything that was petrified in the relationship floats up again. It’s about how they rejuvenate their relationship, and through those horrible circumstances, find love again.

There’s one very powerful scene in the film that really encapsulates many elements and themes that it explores, and it’s the sex scene between you and your wife. It manages to capture the joy of reconnecting as well as the grief you’re experiencing.

I think it’s a great scene, because it starts beautifully—very gently—and it looks like it’s going to be really nice for both of them, and then her anxiety sets in, and things start to bad. And it does go bad pretty fast.

On another level, I’m an American and we don’t see sex very often in movies. And when we do, we don’t see it in the service of such complicated emotions.

With sex in film, it’s difficult, because sex is something that feels fantastic when you do it, and it looks ridiculous when you watch. Those humping movements like a dog? It’s not sexy at all! So, you can’t do a sex scene that looks like it feels, so they always have to be about something else. The sex scenes I had with Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves, it was about her curiosity, because she discovered her first penis, she discovered sexuality, and it was totally about the relationship. The sex was just there. And in this film, the scene is not really about sex but about something else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sex scene that looks like it feels, and that can convey that beautiful thing that sex can be.

Really, in America, we get almost no sex scenes in movies. And it’s 2021.

It’s very strange. It’s not as bad as during the Hays Code, when you couldn’t let the lips meet for more than one second.

You just had a train going into a tunnel.

[Laughs] Yes, that very subtle image. But in America, you have a strong, strong tradition of bigotry or fear of sexuality. Only two years ago, in nine states in America, it was still illegal to have sex outside of marriage, and my American friends have told me that when they were growing up, it was even regulated how they could have sex—you couldn’t have oral sex or anal sex—so it is so ingrained in American culture that people’s sexuality is not a private thing, but something that everybody should interfere with.

Hope is also an exploration of mortality. Is that something you think about often? 

I’ve never been that interested in it. I’ve always been aware of it. It’s the only thing you know in life—you’re gonna fucking die. But already many years ago, I thought I’d had such a fantastic life that it would only be fair that I died, because I’ve already lived more than most people. So, I don’t feel any injustice in death. And I’m not afraid of death because I’m not religious, so I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to end up in hell or heaven. But I have small children still, my youngest is 8, and I’m no spring chicken anymore, so I think about how I should stick around for at least another ten years until everything is set.

I read that you’d studied a bunch of religions in the wake of 9/11 and reached the conclusion that it was all sort of bunk.

I grew up with total freedom of religion—my parents weren’t religious, though my grandmother was very religious. It was taught to me without judgment, and it was a very tolerant upbringing I had. But I hadn’t read the Bible. And after 9/11, when I saw George W. Bush standing in front of TV cameras and claiming that God had put him there, I thought maybe it was time to read what they actually believed in. So, I read the Quran and I read the Bible. There are some fantastic stories—as fiction, it’s sometimes brilliant and sometimes boring—but the God in both the Quran and the Bible, there’s only one reason to really worship them, and that is fear. It’s a power that says, “If you don’t worship, you’re going to die—and not only die, but burn in eternity.” It’s a bit autocratic and dictatorial, I would say. It’s very hard for me to worship something under threat.

And if God put George W. Bush in the White House, then God has a very cruel sense of humor.

[Laughs] Yeah, he does. And the latest president said the same thing.

But he doesn’t believe in God. He only believes in himself.

Yeah. I think that if he had more appreciation from the liberals in America, he would have just as well gone populist-liberal.

I think so too. You know, I read that your Dogville co-star Nicole Kidman already picked up the remake rights to Hope for Amazon.

She’s picked up the remake rights, yeah.

Both you and your son Alexander have shared some pretty intense scenes with Nicole. There’s that dramatic scene in Big Little Lies where Nicole hits your son in the dick, and it almost seemed to me like payback for what you put her through in Dogville.

[Laughs] Yeah, I’ve done two films with her and Alexander just finished doing The Northman with her. But she’s lovely. I really like her. She’s so cool.

At least it was a prosthetic and not Alexander’s real thing.

Yeah… coward! [Laughs]

I gotta say, between Chernobyl, Hope, Dune, a Star Wars series, and even a Simpsons cameo as yourself, how does it feel to be at your most prolific at 69?

I’m just working! I’m doing my job and having fun doing it. I’ve been lucky and a lot of good projects have emerged. It goes up and down, you know, throughout life. And I don’t think I could have a better life than I’ve had. I don’t have any regrets. And I don’t have to be the star or be in something very successful, I just have to have fun.

Nice. Do you feel you’re underrated? I think you’re someone who’s so consistently great in everything that it can almost be taken for granted how great you are. I know you won a Golden Globe recently, and that was long overdue, even if it’s mostly bullshit.

I don’t know! I can tell you: it’s much better to be underrated than overrated. So, I’m very comfortable if I am underrated. But I’m a Swede with an accent—or most of the time I have an accent—and for being a Swede with an accent, I have been extremely successful internationally, so I can’t complain. When it comes to the big studio movies, and I’ve been in four or five gigantic franchises that have paid a lot of bills for me, their concerns are financial, and I’m not a ticket-seller. I’m a solid fucking actor, and I’d rather be an actor than a star.  

It gives you the mobility.

Exactly. The freedom I have. I can easily do small, experimental films and strange stuff—films that could ruin another actor’s career—so I’m in a good position.

I wanted to ask you about Breaking the Waves, because it’s the 25th anniversary this year and I consider it a masterful film. And it was Emily Watson’s first film, which is just extraordinary. How did you two establish such strong chemistry?

She’s British, which means she comes from a rather prudish society too, and to take on a role with an obscure Danish director—who wasn’t that famous at the time—and to take on a role with such explicit sex and nudity took enormous courage, but she was fantastic. My job was to love her, and that felt easy, but I think that she felt loved, and I think that she felt secure, which is essential for being able to do anything courageous. But she’s such a brilliant, talented, wonderful woman. I finally got to work with her again in Chernobyl. I mean, you just have to look at her and everything comes.

There’s this longstanding debate over whether Breaking the Waves is misogynistic or not, and I personally find it to be a misreading of the film. I’ve always thought of it as a biblical allegory of sorts about a desperate woman navigating a deeply sexist world.

Absolutely. Lars doesn’t have that in him. Those fantastic female roles that he has written, if you want to defend women in film, you’ve really got to take care of him because he writes the best roles for them. Those roles are very much him, and he definitely doesn’t have a negative attitude toward women. He loves them. There’s a plague of labeling people—not for what they’re really saying, but for what they appear to say. He was stamped as a misogynist and then he made a bad joke about Hitler at Cannes, and everyone stamped him as a Nazi, which is the furthest thing from what he is.  

Stellan Skarsgard and Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves

You stamp people as a “racist,” a “fascist,” a “communist,” I mean this fucking stamping is as smart as QAnon. It’s frightening. The fantastic thing about mankind is that we’re not one thing. We’re all capable of the most brutal and horrible crimes and we’re all capable of love. We do good things and we do bad things. There are nuances. The way of seeing people as “good” or “bad” guys is forcing something upon humanity that is really dangerous, because when you say someone is the “bad” guy then you’re saying you are the “good” guy, and it’s forcing you to not look at your own flaws.

I’m a huge fan of Lars’ films but I think one thing that’s really colored people’s opinion of him are the allegations that Bjork made against him on Dancer in the Dark. You didn’t have the biggest role in that film, but is it something you witnessed?

I’ve never seen him do anything like that. It’s not him. And if you talk to any of the other women who have worked with him over and over again, you will not get those kinds of accusations. But the Bjork and Lars conflict was enormous during the shoot, and it had very little to do with #MeToo. Lars, like all directors, in the end is a control freak, and Bjork has controlled everything in her career—from the music, to the costumes, to the way she sounds—and if two control freaks try to make a film, there will be conflicts. I got phone calls from Lars during the shoot where he was in tears. She left the set several times, and it had nothing to do with sexuality. She tore up her clothes. They had a very difficult relationship. But you’ve gotta pick your toxic males. You can’t put a “toxic male” label on everybody, otherwise it will be watered down, that label.

I’m so excited for Dune. What can you tell me about it? Denis Villeneuve said that your Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is different from the comics or the David Lynch film in that he’s not as much of a caricature but a calmer, more sinister presence.

The thing about it, and why I’m looking forward to this film as well, is because it’s Denis Villeneuve. Whatever he does, he creates an atmosphere that is dense, that you can touch, and you’re just sucked into it. You’re never bored—even if he does long, slow takes. The atmosphere builds up, and you’re in his universe. I think it will be the same with this one. He’s lovely to work with, and a beautiful man. I did eight or ten days on the movie, so my character doesn’t show up for too much, but his presence will be felt. He’s such a frightening presence where even if he doesn’t say anything, I think you’ll be afraid of him. And I’m extremely fat. I had eight hours in the makeup chair every day. And in some scenes, I look very tall because I levitate. You’re going to have a lot of fun with it.

The whole HBO Max day-and-date thing is weird, and I hope as many people as possible get to see the film on the big screen.  

Oh, definitely. I think they made a deal with AT&T—which owns Time Warner, which owns HBO, which owns my phone—that they cut a four-week deal where it’ll be just for the theaters, but I’m not sure. That could change.

I also feel culturally obligated to ask you about Andor, the upcoming Star Wars series you’re in. What’s that about, and who do you play in it?

As you know, they’ll shoot me if I say anything! I can’t even get a proper script. It’s printed on red paper so I can’t make any copies of it, it’s ridiculous! Of course I’ve seen all the Star Wars films, because I’ve had children in the ‘80s, and the ‘90s, and the 2000s, and the 2010s. I’ve had children in five decades, which means you’ve seen all the Star Wars films—and seen all the toys as well. But when I saw Rogue One, it had much more atmosphere and seemed a little more mature—and that was Tony Gilroy, who’s the showrunner on this one. So, hopefully this one will be a little more than little plastic people falling over.

Was a part of the motivation to do Andor to look really cool to your kids?

I do think like that sometimes! I’ll go and do a children’s movie for that reason. But also, I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

Plus, now you can give your kids action figures of yourself and say, “Play with me.”

Fuck yeah. Go play with dad. Don’t disturb him! Go play with him! [Laughs]    

I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

OK, this is kind of a silly question, but do you have a favorite movie death of yours? My favorite has to be in Deep Blue Sea, because in that one you get your arm ripped off by a shark, and then the shark uses your body as a battering ram to destroy this underwater facility.

I would say that is probably, in terms of inventiveness, my favorite one too. It was Renny Harlin. Yeah. I like it! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend that much time on that stretcher—it was a doll. But it looked really cool! And the sharks weren’t CGI back then. It was mechanical sharks, and they were pretty dangerous. The little boy in me was very excited.

Another movie of yours that I love, for entirely different reasons than some of these other ones we’ve discussed, is Mamma Mia! Is it basically a vacation filming these? I imagine the cast parties are a lot of fun, because it seems like you all are having a ball.

Well, it is. I’m not a singer and I’m not a dancer so I was scared stiff, but the only way to make it work—because it’s not much of a story—is that we had fun doing it, because that joy is contagious to the audience. And we really had fun. It was very relaxed in Greece there on the beaches, and the parties we had there were very good too. It was a nice bunch of people to hang with.

When the cast of Mamma Mia! goes wild in Greece, who is the one that parties the hardest? Who’s the VIP?

It depends what you mean by partying! I usually get pretty drunk. Down there, Colin [Firth] and I were pretty good at it. And at those parties, we also had 50 dancers in their twenties, and they had much more stamina.

I have to ask: Will the gang get back together for a third one?

I don’t know! It took 10 years between number one and number two, so if it takes another ten years, I don’t know. Some of us may just be there in urns, with our ashes!

You released a pop single in the ‘60s, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I became extremely famous in Sweden. We had one TV channel back then and I did this TV series, and it was like being a rock star. But it meant also that all kinds of shady people thought they could make money off me. So, this guy calls me from Stockholm and says, “Stellan, can you sing?” And I said, “No.” And he said, “Well, try it!” And then I hear this guitar on the other end of the line, I go, “Ahh!” and then he goes, “Perfect! Come over to Stockholm.” I went to this very shady studio in the suburbs and we recorded it, and then the guy who was running the project said, “I listened to the tape now, and I think it’s better if I sing and you speak on the record.” So, I don’t sing on the record. But there were very cruel headlines in Sweden. One paper had a headline that read, “Stellan Skarsgård, who we loved on this TV series, we don’t like anymore.”

That’s so mean! In addition to Breaking the Waves, another film that really raised your profile in the United States was Good Will Hunting—which holds up remarkably well. Some of my favorite scenes in that film are the ones where you and Robin Williams are jousting. And I know he’s a wild card, so what was it like shooting those?

He really is a wild card because anything can come out of him, and he can say anything and do anything, and he has this urge to do it because he has these three parallel brains that are constantly working on finding something funny or interesting. Sometimes, even when we would do ten takes and everybody would be happy with them, he’d say, “I have to get something out of my body,” so we would do one extra for that. You didn’t know what you’d experience when the camera would start rolling—you just had to dance with it. And it was fantastic. He was such a lovely man and had no ego. He was just a volcano of creativity and ideas.

Do you ever think about your legacy? You not only have a bunch of talented children but also have amassed such a strong body of work.

The thing is with legacy: you won’t be able to enjoy it, so just forget it. No, I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. If you’re extremely successful, it takes a decade and you’re gone from people’s minds. You can only hope that your children remember you for a couple of years, at least!

Well, they’ll have the Star Wars toys, at least.

They’ll have the toys! That’s right. [Laughs]

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Together Alone

BASED ON | The NCT secret santa collaboration feature done by bumblebeenct and lucaswithnoshirt studios over @neoculturechristmas​ headquarters 

DEDICATED TO | My own precious secret santa, @sly-merlin​! This one is for you my love. I hope I did you justice for the type of fic you requested and I hope you like it! By the way I apologize for getting your present to you late.

STARRING | Huang Renjun and Female Reader

FEATURING | Lee Donghyuck 

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Business centred, and Holiday centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, suggestive references and implications, crude humor, language, mentions of death, a deceased parent, drinking, alcohol, and other adult themes

PLOT | Everyone knew him. The heir to the multimillion dollar company. Next in line to inherit the top pharmaceutical business in all of China and South Korea. For being only 20 years old he was the most accomplished person of his age. Set to become the CEO at age 21 on his birthday, nearly a few months away, there was nothing that could deter him down the road for further success. They say he’s envied by most, yet loved all the same. If only people knew who Huang Renjun really was without his family’s name plastered against the walls of society that gave him fame and fortune. Only one would have the chance to find out the truth of his reality and sometimes when that comes near the end of a year shutting close, not everything can end pleasant like one hoped. OR Happy endings might not exist in this messed up world.

RUNNING TIME | 6.4k

DIRECTOR’S NOTE | Happy Holidays, my loves! This work is in honor of you all and the amazing year you all gave me with your immense love as well as support. I appreciate every single one of you more than you will ever know so I wish happy days among you this season and new year. I love you and please enjoy! Also, shout out to my lovely proofreader, @dvrlingrenjun​, you’re the best.

1, 2, 3 Now Rolling...

“Fuck them all!” Huang Renjun yells out in frustration, leaning back abruptly in his black cushioned chair, his hands clutching tightly at his dark strands of hair.

The younger boy smirks at him, leaning against the pillar by his office. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

A glare was sent in his direction in retaliation. “Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“Sure, big guy,” he dismisses, the jab made at the older visible with the way his words cut through the air. “Still doesn’t render the fact that you have to go to this event like you always do.”

Renjun groans, his right hand going around his left wrist to play with the gold Cartier bracelet that rested there. A gift given to him when he turned the legal age of eighteen a few years ago. A gift given to him by his father, on behalf of his mother or so it was said. One that was a promise of luxury and achievement if he continued down the path they set out for him. His decision then when he was an adult to decide his fate, but that was only a lie. The bracelet was only a bribe for a materialistic life where he could be well off and if he stepped away then he would be stripped of everything that made him who he was. 

“I know, okay? We do it every year but that still doesn't take away from the fact that I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Perhaps his father was a part of that.

“Well,” Donghyuck drawls, shrugging his shoulders when he lifts his body off the pillar to take long strides in order to reach the other boy. “At least it’s out of town this year so I’m down...I mean free vacation.” He gives a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling of juvenescence and a thrill for adventure, mystery, excitement. At least one of them still had a childlike soul and a more or less normal life while the other was forced to grow up too fast in the spotlight where eyes were scrutinizing his every move before he could even walk.

They called it maturity, but Renjun calls it loss of youth. 

“You’re such a freeloader,” Renjun mutters, his hands stopping from playing with the bracelet to glance up in exasperation.

“Says the boy inheriting an almost billion dollar company without batting an eye,” Donghyuck snorts with an eye roll, picking at his nails that now gained all of his attentiveness.

It was true after all.

Renjun laughs in mockery. “You’re just jealous, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.”

Donghyuck sighs loudly for effect. “Cous, I wouldn’t want your life even if I tried. Some horrifying shit.” He shakes his head, obviously disturbed by the notion.

Renjun’s voice becomes small, yet firm. “It isn’t that bad...”

Donghyuck finally stops twiddling with his fingers to give the other the time of day with a look of obvious reluctance. “Uncle is scary, can you blame me?”

“Guess not, that man is my father.”

“Exactly and as much as I would love to continue this conversation,” Donghyuck glances at his crisp navy steel Bulgari watch, seeing the time half past noon. “I got to run, meeting with the boys soon and I just needed to deliver the message before that. Little pit stop if you will.” His hands flair out in a theatrical motion as if he were giving a bow.

“Oh?” Renjun raises an eyebrow, hands reaching out to get started on the stack of papers placed at the edge of his desk by his receptionist before Donghyuck’s surprised arrival. “Say hi to them for me.” He pauses in afterthought, knowing the younger’s antics. “Or not.”

Donghyuck’s boisterous laugh rings. He knew him so well. “Very funny, but oh, wait!” 

The increase in his tone attracts the older’s regard who was beginning to read through the proposal. “Yes?”

“Here,” Donghyuck states, reaching into the back pocket of his chinos to pull out a small black velvet box with gold edging. “An early present of sorts. I assumed you might like it.” He slides the box over on the desk where it is caught in the grasp of delicate hands.

“Proposing are we? You know we are related right?” Renjun smiles snidely, running his fingers over the soft velvet in wonder. It was rare to get a gift from Lee Donghyuck himself and with the right intentions at that. 

“It would be an honor and privilege to marry me, thank you, but no it’s just...open it when I leave. I’m not into that sappy shit as you know. I have a matching one too, but yeah merry early Christmas and New Years.” His easy grin widens as he winks to take backward steps to the exit of the office. Always one for a dramatic flare.

“Matching...we can’t be a couple either, Hyuck,” Renjun says, shaking his head while he puts the box down on his desk in wait.

Donghyuck flips him off and grits out a reply. “Shut up and be grateful for once.”

Turning his head back to his papers, he mutters, “Oh, I am.”

“Anyways, bye you fucker. Don’t drown in work,” Donghyuck lets out once he turns his back.

“Thank you for caring, delivery boy,” Renjun shouts as his cousin finally opens the door to exit after his much longer than anticipated stay.

Donghyuck’s hands still on the silver knob before he can fully push the door. “When don’t I? If you’re gone then that means I would have to inherit the company and as much as I would love the money, the fame, the attention, maybe even the girls...I don’t want that responsibility. You get me?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, spinning the black ballpoint pen between his index and ring finger. “Just say you’re lazy and go.”

“I am going!” Donghyuck exclaims while he turns his head over his shoulder, shooting the boy sitting at the desk that didn’t quite fit him well, another wink. “Bye for real, Junnie!”

The door at last closes and he is gone in a blur of colors.

Renjun mumbles under his breath. “I told you not to call me that.” 

His mother used to call him that and she didn’t have the chance to stay long in this world. Taken too soon is what they say, but maybe she was blessed before everything turned to stone. 

With Donghyuck’s departure, Renjun looks over at the lone box that was gifted to him, perhaps not a gift like the others that held no meaning, for this one was an outlier in the equation. Donghyuck never gave without meaning or gain so it had to be special.

He places his pen down and picks up the box, undoing the clasp that held it close. The box opens to a sight he has gotten used to, yet there was a disparity. In between the cushion of the velvet laid a beautiful silver Chopard ring. The band was simple in design, yet intricate with the signature ice cubes filled with small sparkling diamonds across the entire width. Renjun handles the ring with care once it is taken out of the box to inspect every detail. Not only was the brand engraved in stunning cursive on the inside, but Donghyuck had gotten the ring customized with the word family in the same writing on the opposite side of the inner circle. 

Renjun runs his fingers over the engraving, the words rough under his calloused hands. He hums in thought as he slips the ring on his middle finger, the radiance seeping in from the windows catching the precious metal. “Family...family...I haven’t had one in a long time.”

The truth is he had, has, but he was too blind to see. 

Family is not just those that are immediate, composing of a father and mother or even siblings. Family can also entail the greater extent from cousins to aunts to grandparents. Family can even be those that are not blood related like the friends a person surrounds themselves by. 

Renjun has family. If only he could acknowledge them before they too left him utterly alone. 

Alone was something Renjun was not for the days to come. 

A week later after his cousin delivered the news about the annual holiday vacation and company sponsored events that his family has been hosting since his late teen years, he was flown in a private plane against his will to a remote town near Busan, far off from the heart of Seoul. He would rather spend the holidays in the city where he grew up like all those past seasons ago, but his father decided there was a need for change, a mirror of one forthcoming in virtually three months. Usually those that made the trip came for the designated three days they were given which still involved work communications with scant room for relaxation depending on the schedules of selected individuals. However, if one was a Huang, which Renjun was the only one left along with his father that were at least part of the business, then departure and stay differed. Intermingled was the Huang winter vacation with that of business affairs, a factor that was born when the tradition started. His father always said to kill two birds with one stone when given the chance and this very situation was one he took hold of to morph into a personal gain. 

Nothing was ever as it seemed with his father, nor himself. One characteristic they shared among a hundred to a thousand polarities.

Albeit this time around, Renjun had fought against his father’s wants, which was not the first instance, but was one that ended in surprising success. Success he tasted on the daily, even if all was bitter with no room for happiness. However, this success was sweet with contentment, ending with an awfully horrid aftertaste. Convincing his father to fly him out along with the others on the 23rd of December instead of the 20th was a victory no less. At least he didn’t have to spend unwanted days in the presence of his old man longer than necessary. 

He arrives in wealth and social standing like he always did for once his black A.Testoni dress shoes hit the white tiled floor of the airport’s general aviation ramp building, everyone within his general vicinity, even those afar, are taking heed to his every need, that as of now are limited. 

A slightly older woman who he deems as his assistant, comes into view, her black Prada heels clicking loudly against the tile as she advances with a clipboard and her trusty cell in her hands to the boy. She cheerful speaks into the empty building, her smile unwavering. “Mr. Huang, I am glad you had a safe flight. I printed your itinerary for the next couple of days that I will hand to you once we are in the limo. Considering it is…” She glances at her Apple Watch Series 6 to check the time. “Two forty three as of now, we can drop off your luggage at the Lodge and get you settled into your room before your three fifteen lunch with Mr. Kim and his wife at the Yongsusan Café. You will be with them for an hour before the rest of the afternoon is yours to spend productively. Then at six o’clock the maids and stylists will come by to get you ready for the business meeting at seven thirty, following with a small dinner party with those same individuals, including their wives and children. Sounds good?”

Renjun does not even have time to reply before his assistant speaks again. 

“Yes, okay! Let’s get going then.” She turns on her heel abruptly, yet with expertise without room for error and begins taking steps away from the plane to the left. “The limo should be this way, follow me while your luggage gets loaded. The drive should not take more than ten minutes.” 

He has no choice but to accompany her as he would not be able to make a run for it, he will be caught within seconds. He tried once and that was only one failure amongst little to none in his book. 

His strides are slow and lousy as if he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased, when he in fact did not, far from it in actuality. Even so before he knows it he reaches the limo and is lurched forward in motion towards his destination for the next few days. The place his dad selected oozes with sumptuous intent, being a gorgeous mid-century modern wooden lodge that nearly looked like a manor upon inspection. As the limo pulls up to the front, Renjun is able to see the beauty up close that he is entranced by even if he seems unfazed. New places and people excite him more than he lets on for his life is dull, lacking fulfillment of an unknown tomorrow. 

The porter, who is situated in patience by the front doors, strides forward to open the door of the limo, permitting Renjun to step out with the authority and grace bestowed upon him. 

When he crosses the threshold into the Lodge he is met with an even better interior that rivaled that on the outside, but he is not allowed to ponder too much on the design before the head manager greets him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang, it is certainly a pleasure for you to stay with us at the Lodge this fine holiday season. I am Gwan Jang-Mi and I will be showing you to your room today along with giving you a small tour of this place in order to familiarize yourself with the setting. If you look here to your left…”

Her speech is drowned out into obscurity as Renjun’s awareness shifts to another woman, one so stunning that he is surprised he did not take notice sooner. When sauntering through the entryway into the resting room that will be cleared out in the next couple of hours, a bar is situated to the left where you stand, arranging countless bottles of liquor to wine on the counter, no doubt for the little party later or for the meeting. Those men were heavy drinkers and needed alcohol to make it through the rest of the evening. Renjun did drink to drown his sorrows, worry, and anxiousness away, but he was not one to throw himself down a spiraling hole of darkness nor chaos that he could not get out of, for those consequences were ones he did not want to reap.

The soft sunlight peaks through the high guarded windows, shining down on your face that enunciates your features. For simply being in a black polo and khaki pants, you made it work and drew all attention to yourself without even knowing the power you held. 

The moment of admiration comes to a close when Renjun is ushered away from the ground floor to make way to his room in the upper levels, leaving you behind.

Yet that would not be the last time.

Time goes by slowly when there is no purpose, no meaning to the daily workings of one person in the masses of others. Renjun has experience in that regard, time always goes by slowly for him and exhausts him a great deal like a rotary clock that seeks no end. 

He was worn out by the time he got back to the Lodge in the early evening due to the stay with the Kims went longer than necessary and he was called elsewhere upon emergency to discuss future matters. He did not have time for himself like his assistant had plainly made known so there he was, collapsed head first into his silk covers, ten minutes to six. 

Instead of taking a long awaited nap he is ushered up and into more formal wear after a cleanse from the bustle of bodies that barge into his room. 

No privacy. No sense of normality. 

That is the normal. 

The next few hours go by in blur from him sitting in front of a mirror to have his hair styled to sitting in front of burly old men that were associates and inventors of the company in a grad meeting room with locked doors and the finest assortment of liquor that money can buy. 

He is out of the confines in no time, not even bothering to say one final hurrah before he lurches himself out the door and into the now cleared out resting room. One of the servers comes by then dressed in all black attire that was nothing of the typical black and white uniform, edging towards a usual guest. Renjun snatches a glass of sparkling champagne and gulps it down in one go off their silver platter, discreetly of course, for he has to look composed—sober throughout the entire affair. He always could hold his alcohol without a problem and he felt blessed to have that advantage. One thing he is proud of. 

He is whisked away not even moments after by one of the older investors, Mr. Han, to moreover chew over the end of the year budget and his stance on future decisions to be made in the new year. From the corner of his eye while listening to the man talk in a flamboyant manner, he sees his father standing with a glass of white wine happily talking to another investor, a more influential one, the most influential one of them all and his wife along with their daughter who was not even carefully surveying the room in search of someone.

Renjun’s eyes widen in shock, mumbling under his breath, “Shit.”

Mr. Han stops the flow of words out his mouth, his eyebrows rumpling together. He did not hear the swear word the boy uttered, yet he heard something in passing. “Pardon?”

Renjun shakes his head vaguely, bringing his third glass of champagne in the air as a sign of departure. “Ah excuse me, Mr. Han, but it seems I have been beckoned elsewhere.” His eyes shift over to his father who was not making direct eye contact with him, but Mr. Han did not need to know that little detail as he observes Renjun’s line of sight. 

Mr. Han chuckles brightly. “I see, well I must not keep you from your father.”

Renjun smiles. “No, you must not, but we shall continue this conversation later, Mr. Han. I am sure you have much more to say and I will happily discuss further with you.”

Mr. Han waves his hand in the air nonchalantly. “We shall. Now off you go.” 

Renjun nods his head, his lips still quirked up in a smile, this one more genuine than the last, as he makes a beeline towards his father to make everything seem more believable. Though once he no longer feels the eyes of Mr. Han on his retreating back he switches routes, going to the left rather than straight ahead. He circles around the opposite side, catching a stark mop of washed out red hair amongst the crowd in the process—Donghyuck. His cousin is not alone, however, talking rather freely with a girl he could not quite see in his peripheral vision. The grin on Donghyuck’s face is undeniable even with his back turned and the way Renjun hears the tiny giggles you are emitting, all is too familiar, which is the perfect cause for a disruption.

Renjun does not acknowledge his cousin when he arrives at the bar, the younger boy too immersed in conversation so he signals for the other worker that comes becking to his call. 

“A Negroni, on the rocks.”

The girl nods in understanding and turns to prepare the drink while Donghyuck still has not noticed his presence. The younger boy always did focus on what was in front of him rather than on his surroundings, contrary to his cousin that saw the whole picture. Two contrasting people surely with unlike futures ahead of them. 

The frosted glass with the reddish-orange liquid and topped with orange shavings is served to him a minute later, placed in front of him on a matching glass coaster.

He clears his throat loudly in an attempt to catch Donghyuck’s attention. “Thank you.” 

A method that proves effective since the younger boy finally turns his head to the right to see Renjun sitting on the barstool next to him, sipping casually on his high class Negroni. 

His eyes are wide, but he masks his shock with a subtle smirk. “Jun! Well, well, if it isn’t the mini man himself. How long have you been sitting there?” 

Renjun snorts into his glass, shaking his head at the dig Donghyuck made at his height, always one out for blood. “Far too long to have noticed your flirting from across the room, Hyuck.” It is now his turn to smirk, but Donghyuck’s own is still unfaltering.

“I take pride in my skills, glad you gave your time of day to notice.” He elevates his glass up then, filled most likely with a Nicolashka, his favorite holiday drink to date, and takes a sip himself, a move Renjun mimics.

Then your voice interrupts. “Sorry to cut in, but I have to get back to work. You’ve been distracting me for the last ten minutes, mister.” Your stern gaze is directed at Donghyuck from the latter statement. Although once your words are uttered, Renjun focuses his eyes on you, scrutinizing your appearance. The very girl he saw earlier today, the girl Donghyuck so happened to have a chance with before him—you.

Donghyuck laughs, the smirk morphing into a shiteating grin. “I told you, call me Hyuck.”

“Well, Hyuck, I have to get back to work...plus I am sure you want to talk to your friend.” Your gaze flickers to Renjun in that instance and lingers there longer than necessary that has him laughing to himself. 

Donghyuck’s charm only goes so far. 

The younger boy peers at Renjun when you utter out friend, and he smiles small in remorse. “Sadly, but do not let me keep you from your work.”

You turn your back on him, your eyes catching Renjun’s in the process before you look away from the intensity of the dark orbs. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

You leave the bar area then most likely to put on an apron that Renjun noticed you had not worn throughout the entire duration. Donghyuck simply distracted you before the start of your shift and after, not a good trait to inherit. 

Donghyuck hums, but let’s the remark go as he fully turns to Renjun to start up that conversation. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Must you always keep me from having fun?” 

Renjun shrugs his shoulders, swishing the liquid in his glass. “Not always, but I was saving that girl from misery. You should be thankful that I care enough.” 

Donghyuck taunts. “Oh wow I feel so special.”

Renjun sternly eyes him, his voice lowering. “You should.”

Donghyuck’s lips open to retort a response, but no words are spoken on his end for his eyes look over the older boy’s shoulders and he catches sight of someone none of them truly like or have liked after the incident. He sees her.

“Well fuck, here comes the devil,” is all he makes out and the phrase enough has Renjun turning his own head hastily to see who he was watching. Such is when he sees his ex-girlfriend, Cha Yeona, prowling straight towards their way.

“I’m going to go...so good luck, mate. You’ll need it.” Donghyuck pats Renjun’s shoulder in departure and his gesture of sympathy, leaving him in the wake of a girl he really did not wish to see or converse with. 

Once he leaves the bar in quick speed, you come in at that exact moment, your eyes zoning in on the way Yeona’s dainty hand latches onto Renjun’s forearm in greeting. You turn away from the image, busying yourself with wiping down the glasses. 

“Oh! What a lovely surprise,” Yeona voices, letting her hand maneuver down to place on top of Renjun’s hand in which she gives him a faint squeeze thereof. He flinches from the contact, retracting his hand to slip into the pocket of his Burberry blazer while the other rims his glass. 

He peers at her intently, a potency that has her giggling nervously. His looks could kill whenever he was serious with a blank face and austere hollows of eyes. “Hello, Yeona.”

She sits down gracefully on the stool next to him, crossing her long unblemished legs over each other, her hands placed in her lap. Her smile is bright and makes him want to pull out his hair. She was always two-faced. “Hi Jun Jun! How have you been?”

He lets the pet name go, but does not glance at her again, looking over her head at the white lights strung outside. “Good.”

Silence engulfs them that has her fidgeting out of discomfort. He evidently did not want to talk. She reaches her hand out to touch him once more that has him leaning away. She sighs in defeat, retreating from the gesture. She would have to reach him some other way. “Well...I—”

He cuts her off from continuing, drowning the last contents of his drink before he pushes the glass away towards the server at the end of the counter. He puts a hand up. “Save it. I have no reason to talk to you again. Leave.” 

He arches his eyebrow when he sees she makes no move to leave and he chuckles darkly. “Do I have to tell you again? Or should I have security escort you out?”

She flinches from the tone of his voice and gulps, her throat becoming exceptionally dry. She hurriedly stands up, almost ripping over her heels and departs without a goodbye, not that he wished to get one from her. Her slim body covered in a blood red dress slips into the crowd and Renjun finally releases the breath he was holding. 

He tugs at the strands of his gelled back hair. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters, lifting a finger in the air to signal for another drink that the server speedily moves to make. 

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

Renjun lifts his eyes to see you gaping at him, an eyebrow uplifted in fascination as you finally were in your uniform, a white cloth draped over your shoulders. Renjun runs his hand through his hair and scoffs from the remark thereafter. He was sure the stylists would be upset to see him dishevel their mighty work, but he could care less.

He shakes his head, the strands of hair rustling. “No, I think not. She deserves it.”

“Wow. Again, harsh.” You laugh mockingly and grab his drink that was slid over by your coworker to clean the glass again. You place the beverage down on the coaster which he takes with pleasure, muttering a small thank you that you can barely hear amidst the classical music playing in the background. Your hands make contact for a split second that has tingles erupting on your end, in a rather cliche response, yet he made no move of the feeling. 

There is quietness again that makes you flustered since you were never one to enjoy the muted scenery, always wanting a sound ringing in your ears. While Renjun enjoyed the still, always wanting a sound that faded in the wind and never made a comeback appearance. 

In a desperate attempt to keep conversation while making yourself busy by fixing up the bottles of alcohol, you propose a question that invades his privacy, whilst he never had privacy to begin with, a factor you were left in the dark about.

“So...um...your girlfriend?” You ask, in regards to Yeona that left some minutes ago. 

Renjun snorts, placing down his glass and interlocks his hand to rest his chin on, a move to focus solely on you. “Right. She’s my ex-girlfriend actually so you’re not entirely wrong.”

You mumble out a quiet, “Oh.” It was not your business to know his affairs after all, yet there was a voice nagging within that made you curious to find out every part of him.

The tranquility hugs the both of you once more, until he questions you out of the blue. 

“You want to get out of here?”

To say you are shocked is an understatement, since you are in fact bamboozled beyond belief. He says the declaration with so much firmness and certainty, it has your heart twisting on the inside.

You lightly laugh to mask the shock and turn around to really look at him, a look that he reciprocates. “I don’t even know you.”

A keen smile is visible on his lips. “Exactly the point. You have nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, leaning against the counter of the bar to stare into his eyes that look so lifeless, yet beautiful. “Maybe, but this is my job. I can’t just bail.” 

He leans his head closer to you, an act that allows you to a whiff of the Christian Dior Ambre Nuit cologne he wears and his minty fresh breath. “Of course you can.” His soothing voice turns teasing as he smirks. “Don’t worry I won’t tell.” 

You scoff to yourself, surprised by his mannerisms of outforwardness. You look around then to see if anyone is watching the two of you, but all eyes are elsewhere and you let out a sigh of relief. Another girl comes into the bar when you glance to the side, most likely to cover the next shift that was not yours quite yet, be that as it may you did have a break coming up. 

Renjun outstretches his hand in patience, his smirk slowly growing, even if it was borderlining a smile that you could see right through. He hums in anticipation and you give in.

“Okay fine, but not for too long,” you say as you rest your hand in his. The cold of your fingers meet his warm ones and you latch on for dear life, afraid to let go. 

He grins at you and squeezes your hand. “No promises.” 

Then he proceeds to drag you out of the bar, tugging you to who knows where. The tingle of a secret keeps you on your toes and you become giddy, laughing along the halls as he steers you left, right, straight, left, right, up...a never ending cycle of adventure.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” You ask after gaining the courage. He is intimidating in some regards, the thought of how he acted towards his ex-girlfriend as visible as day in your mind.

He shrugs, finally slowing down. “Who knows. Could be outside in the cold or near a fireplace in the warm. You will just have to see.”

“That certainly gives me no direction at all.”

He turns his head to look at you and stops suddenly, having you nearly crash into his back before he tugs you to the other side. He chuckles when he sees your horrified face from almost busting your nose. “That was the point, darling.”

You huff in annoyance when he continues walking, the pressure of his fingers around your own feels heavier as time drags on and your heart has no sense of calm, constricting with the name of endearment that slipped past his slim lips.

“Okay, we are here!” He announces and lets go of your hand, the bareness of his heat leaving you shivering. You take a step back from planting your feet firmly on the floor and glance around the room in which he stopped. It was one of the upper level rooms with strict access only to the most wealthy of the associates and investors. His family must be one of those highly regarded, if only you knew how highly regarded his family is, being the ones with the most status, the most affluent lifestyle. However, you would remain clueless.

“Oh, wow. The view up here is amazing.”

Renjun laughs, placing his hands in the front pocket of his slacks as he strolls around the room, glancing at the glowing fire that was left on and the books that were sealed shut. “Trust me, I am well aware. Why do you think I brought you up here?” He gives you an exasperated stare, peering past at the giant window you stood in front of that showcased the whole town, now covered in sleek white snow. It must have snowed while he was conversing with others at the party for when he arrived at the meeting hours ago, the land was void.

The white flakes are still falling outside, delicately covering everything in one uniform color that leaves you in awe and he is left admiring you, how at peace you are. How free you look, an emotion he never held onto in his entire life.

“So besides admiring this view, what are we doing up here?” You ask, your fingertips grazing the cool frosted glass of the window, seeing beyond to the endless landscape and twinkling stars along with lights of the houses nearby.

Renjun answers bluntly. “Admiring the view.”

You can’t stop the titters from escaping you and you roll your eyes, an action he sees through the reflection.

He steps forward, coming up besides your figure to look more clearly at the breathtaking scenery of a winter wonderland. “No, I’m joking...at least partially.” 

You giggle some more, interlocking your hands in front of you. “I didn’t know you had it in you to joke.”

It is now his turn to laugh. “Darling, I have a lot in me that you don’t know.”

You sigh solemnly, taking a step back to turn around, examining the other objects around the room. “Oh, I’m sure.” 

He is an enigma waiting to be unraveled, but you would not be the one to solve his case and that alone is an idea that scares you. 

Before you can get farther away, his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from escape. You peer down at his hand then up to his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching together in perplexity.

He does not speak, only drags you into him to where you are now chest to chest, only an inch of distance between your bodies. The closeness between the two of you leaves you breathless and gasping for air. His thumb carrasses your arm and runs down to the palm of your hand, enveloping his fingers around your skin. Your eyes are trailing the movements and you take a sharp intake of breath, curious as to what can happen next. He hooks his other free index finger under your chin to lift your face up so he can see you in distinct luminosity.

You have gazed at his eyes practically all evening, but nothing has prepared you for seeing him up close. He is even more handsome in full definition from the lines on his soft pink lips to his perfectly tousled hair. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, his thumb running along your cupid’s bow. “Absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful.”

You gulp, the words drying up in your throat for what could you say to his compliment?

Then everything happens at once.

His hand moves to wrap around the back of your head and he tugs you closer by the other until you are pressed up against each other. He lightly pushes your head forward and contact is made. 

Lips against lips. Moving and moving against each other, taking all your breath away for the second time within a span of a few seconds. 

He lets go of holding your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, to pull you closer if such is even possible. To make the contact more tender and desirable.

You suppose desire is that which allows the moment to escalate further. From a mere innocent kiss to a fiery passion of craving for more. 

When your lips separate, he does not think twice before grabbing your hand once more and dragging you down the long corridor to arrive at his secluded room around the corner.

He opens the door with haste as you come tumbling in after him, grabbing, pulling, tugging until all that is left is just you and him.

The frantic beats of two hearts. 

The heat of skin pressed against skin. 

Simply two bodies that became one all due to the desire floating around the room and pushing you to the limit. 

You lost yourself in him that night and he in you. 

Lost to the pure ecstasy of pleasure during the season of joy and love.

Yet the season could also be one for giving and taking.

You wake to a cold bed the next morning.

Gone is the warmth of a boy who made you feel like you were on top of the world, someone special enough to demand notice and have anything that is asked for. 

Gone is the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear, the words of assurance, comfort, and false love that made you feel worth it and simply protected.

Gone is the long lingering touches of his fingers pressing into you and dancing along the lines of your body to explore and learn.

Gone is the feeling of his lips on your skin that was enough to ignite you ablaze and leave you seeing all the colors of the rainbow.

Gone is he—Huang Renjun. 

All that remains of the remembrance from the night is the note he left by the oak bedside table, one that crushed the dream of longing and hope within. One that slapped you with the crude reality of who he truly was, is, in a place that you did not belong to and never would. 

Thanks for last night, but it’s a one time thing. You can see yourself out. Happy holidays.

He signed the note with his initials, H.R. and his family’s embroidered seal. 

Then you realize in that moment, your bare body covered in his silk covers in the large suite he had all to himself, that the holidays are not for everyone. 

You can either be together with someone else or alone by yourself. 

Never the two. 

Always one or the other. 

You had hoped to be together yet alone with him in privacy to make your own memories away from prying eyes, but at the end of the day you were by yourself and he was too.

That is how life works in this sick, twisted world.

Men against men. Women against women. Everyone against everyone.

Alone.

Never together. 

Like he and you.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[malfoymuch]

if it is a dream [draco malfoy; soulmate au]

Pairing; Draco x Reader,, Pansy x Draco (friends),, Pansy x Reader (friends),, Pansy x Theodore

Genre; Fluff? Overall, yeah...

Word Count; 3.5k+ (with extra)

Request; @andreasworlsboring101

Warnings; unedited

“Draco! Draco, dearie, can you come here, please?” Draco’s mother, Narcissa called from the main room of their Manor. Draco bolted down the stairs, throwing his toys onto the bed as he skipped down the stairs, his hair swept messily to one side as he straightened himself in front of his mother.

“Yes, mommy?” Draco asked, brightly grinning up at his mother as he watched her near him, smiling as she fixed his hair.

“Your hair, Draco. It’s a mess. You’re lucky you’re father isn’t paying attention,” she lightly scolded, though Draco knew that she didn’t mean it-- it just meant that he had to be more proper and presentable at times when his father was around.

“Draco, my boy. We wanted to give you something, or at least show you at least,” his mother whispered, kneeling down and gasping her son’s shoulders softly, grinning at him. “We think you’re old enough to be responsible, aren’t you, my boy?”

“Of course I am, mum. I’m a big boy,” Draco announced, puffing out his chest eliciting a heartfelt laugh from her. She nodded, her lips tugged high into a smile.

“Draco.” His father’s voice boomed, startling both Draco and his mother for a second before they greeted him happily.

“Your mother and I thought it was time to present you with this,” Lucius handed his son an ebony wooden box, intricate designs hand-carved throughout the box, all leading to the lock. His father then handed him what seemed to be the key, and suddenly, Draco began to feel his hands tremble as he turned it counter-clockwise until he heard a faint ‘click.’

Gulping, his hands came to the top of the box, and pushed it back, until the hinges fully supported it. His eyes immediately scanned the inside, until his eyes landed on a ring.

Draco picked it up gently, terrified that he’d drop it. The ring was too, delicately sophisticated. The band was twisted and cool, the texture and pattern reminding Draco of a snake; he soon noticed the snake’s head, curved over the prong, until his eyes finally landed on the head of the ring. There, was the Malfoy’s family crest, surrounded with a backdrop of black with pristine and steady strokes of emerald. He was captivated, swirling the ring in his hand.

“It’s our family heirloom,” his mother had told him, “The ring will attach itself and hold on to your soulmate, the one you’re destined to be with.” His eyes grew in disbelief as he stared at his mother, his eyes sparkling.

“Is it true? Soulmates? Do they really exist?”

“Of course, my boy. It’s a very special ring, so you must promise that you won’t lose it.” Lucius’ voice reasoned, staring down at his son softly. “One day you’ll find them… a soulmate or whoever you wish to propose to,” his father explained further.

“But it’s not something to play around with, and randomly put on people’s fingers, it must be taken care of. It’s our family’s, after all.” Draco nodded as he put the ring on his ring finger, feeling the ring begin to tighter around his finger, the snake staring at him cheekily before resting back on the prong.

A sudden knock startled Draco before his mother ushered him out of the room happily.

“Hurry! That must be the (L/N)’s!” His mother announced, Draco smiling as he could hear giggles from the other side of the door. Opening it widely, he waved excitedly at you, waiting patiently for your parents to greet each other and come inside. As soon as they did, he tugged his mother’s dress, pleadingly looking into her eyes.

“Mother, can I play with (Y/N) before we eat? Just for a little bit?” He begged hurridly as he bounced a bit, knowing that his mother would probably agree, whereas his father would’ve refused based on his behavior. She sighed, before slowly nodding.

“Okay, but just for a little bit, all right? Supper will begin any minute now,” she rushed, making Draco grin. He pulled you along with him, running up the stairs before his father could realize where they were going. Closing the door to his room, he turned back at you, pointing at his hand.

“You won’t believe what I just got!” He whisper-screamed to you, watching as your eyes light up as you grabbed his hand to get a better look at it.

“A ring?”

“Not just any ring, (Y/N). It’s supposed to lead me to my soulmate… if they put the ring on and it doesn’t come off, they’re destined to be with me.” Automatically, you grabbed the ring and stared at it, before Draco pushed your hand away, shocked.

“What’re you doing!?”

“I wanna tryyyyyyy, pleaseeeeeeee.” You nagged, “I wanna be your soulmate, Draco.” Draco shook his head, moving his head behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“No, not yet, I’m too young.” He retorted childishly, his cheeks filled with air as he looked away from you, his face turning pink. You gasped, before grabbing his hands with yours.

“Then promise me then!”

“Promise you what?” He asked almost immediately, afraid of what you’d say.

“Promise we that in ten years from now, I’ll get to try it on! To see if I’m your soulmate or not!”

“And if we’re not?” He asked concerned, raising his eyebrow at you as you bit your bottom lip, in deep thought, until another idea sparked. “Then if neither of us finds our soulmate by a certain point, we’ll marry each other.”

“Are you insane? I can’t just marry my best friend!”

“Of course you can, people do it all the time. Most people were best friends before they were a couple, Draco. Or at least, that’s what my parents always say,” you finished with a shrug of your shoulders.

“If you don’t want to, though, it’s fine.” Draco watched as you failed to keep yourself happy, your expression slowly turning saddened and bleak. His heart tugged a bit as he growled under his breath, intertwining his tiny fingers with yours.

“Fine! Ten years from now, we’ll be… sixteen? Seventeen? We’ll do it then,” Draco shouted, stunned that your expression had altered so quickly, hugging him tightly before pushing him away.

“Pinky-promise?”

“Yeah, sure. Pinky-promise.” He groaned, lacing his pinky with yours before the calls from both your parents were heard from bellow.

“We should probably get going,” he stated, making you nod. As you both hustled down the stairs, you quickly whispered.

“Remember, you can’t break a pinky-promise, or I’ll be mad.”

Draco and you had been friends from as long as he could remember, probably since birth, honestly. The two of you were constantly clinging onto one another, whether it was for comfort or to simply annoy the other… you both were inseparable as the years dragged on.

—————

“Draco Lucius Malfoy! It’s time!” You scolded at him, attempting to tackle him to the ground in order to steal the piece of jewelry on his finger. He dodged at the last possible second, however, grinning from ear-to-ear as he watched you trip.

“Better luck, next time, love.” He teased, sticking his tongue out and playfully sending a wink your way. You immediately flushed bright red, blowing away a strand of your hair before charging towards him once again.

“Draco Malfoy! You made a promise that I get to try on the ring! Let me, already!” You scolded, your finger jabbing into his chest as you tried to reach for his hand, but he seemed to be much quicker as he waved it in all directions. He then took the initiative to remove the ring from his fingers, placing it in the palm of his hand and tauntingly waving it in your face, before extending his hand as high as he could.

“I don’t see why you’re so obsessed with this ring, (Y/N). Or the promise, you should be focused on something else,” he tried to persuade, knowing that you weren’t listening to a word he said. “Besides, it hasn’t officially been ten years, since then… you still have another month or so.”

“Oh shut up, will you? Just give me it!” You interjected, jumping to try and grab his hand. He twirled around you and smirked, ruffling his hair as he steadied the ring back on his finger.

“Unfortunately, class begins soon… guess you’ll have to try later--” his sentence was cut off short as he began to run, you trailing behind him in a frenzy towards your class; his laughs echoed the hallways as students made sure to clear a path, avoiding eye-contact with him and you (pretty much because you threatened to hex anyone who got in the way as you were running).

----------

Normally, you wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash towards his heirloom, or bring it up in a conversation. But as the day got closer, it kind of started to bring a sense of uneasiness to you… the promise. The scenarios playing in your mind as you slept, or daydreamed through some of your classes.

But it made you think. For once, it was odd. To imagine your future as a sixteen-soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old, nonetheless with your best friend. He must’ve thought it wasn’t big, but it definitely was to you. You weren’t an idiot at the age of seven, you knew what you were getting into when you made that promise. Hell, you even wrote it in a little journal you had afterward, it wasn’t hard to deny it. You fancied Draco.

For years, so the thought of being his soulmate made you feel excited and absolutely terrified. Pansy had often reassured that all would work out, and things would pan out the way it should… but it still bothered you. As much as you tried not to, it was the only thought that remained.

Maybe I should just forget about it, he’s probably someone in mind anyway, you thought as you slumped in your chair, it wouldn’t have been the first.

“Hey! (Y/N), are you even paying attention?” Pansy nudged your shoulder, asking through her teeth, her eyes widening as she forced you to look down into your textbook before the professor noticed you were spacing out.

“Still obsessing over Draco?” She whispered, resulting in a bitter laugh to emit from you. Pansy had had an overwhelming obsession with Draco for the first few years until one day, it seemed the message of him not reciprocating her feelings had become clear, and then she changed.

Much better, if you were being honest. She had her own personal glow-up and was focused much more on devoting time reflecting and helping you.

“Maybe you should pretend to lose interest? That might make him give it up,” she suggested, “Or just steal it from him? You know, unexpected--”

“How am I supposed to steal it? It’s on his finger, Pansy,” you jeered, continuing to write utter nonsense in your notebook as you stared at it with intent, hearing her sigh loudly. “I don’t know, but you have to do something, maybe even tell him… ever given that a thought?” She questioned, staring at you concerningly as you shifted under her gaze uncomfortably, trying to stir your attention away from anything but the topic at hand.

“I don’t know…” you dragged on, making eye-contact with Draco from across the classroom, seeing him happily sending you a smile; you tried your best to return the favor, however, it seemed a bit forced, causing Draco’s to waver.

Oh, bloody hell…

“Well, now he knows something’s up,” Pansy piqued, giving you a knowing gaze as she gave a quick glance at him, before grabbing your hand to prevent you from writing any longer. “You have to do something, I’m not saying you should steal the ring or stalk him, but do what your heart tells you to do, when the time comes.” You smiled softly as you grabbed her hand, uttering a sincere ‘thank you’ before returning to your work.

Pansy gazed back up at Draco, seeing his concerned gaze towards you before mouthing to Pansy a series of phrases, and answering them swiftly before you had the chance to notice.

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

Draco had no idea what was going on with you. One minute, you were giddy and incredibly engaged in your own world, the next you were shouting at him about his promise and the ring, and then you give him a pathetic attempt of smiling at him… and suddenly he had no clue what was going on with you.

He’d been talking to Pansy lately about the issue, but she’d either reassure that everything would be fine or give the curt response: “Go ask for yourself”

Normally, Draco would’ve given a snarky response back, but she’d always managed to run away before he could press on more about you.

“What happened to (Y/N), Pansy?” He asked through gritted teeth, “You make this so much harder than it has to be.” Pansy raised a brow at him, amused, twirling the strands of her hair with her finger.

“Someone’s not happy…” she taunted before shrugging her shoulders. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? Aren’t you her best friend?”

“Aren’t you?” Pansy countered quickly, watching Draco’s mouth hung open, before closing silently. “You two have known each other longer than I have; if you think something’s wrong ask (Y/N) yourself.”

“I can’t if (Y/N) won’t talk to me,” he pressed on, staring at his friend’s eyes as he grabbed her wrists. “Please, I need to know--”

“Draco, do you fancy (Y/N)?” Pansy inquired, removing his hands off of her, settling them back on her lap as she stared at him knowingly. Draco frantically shook his head at her, ruffling his hair in the process.

“Where did that question even come from, Pansy? Have you gone mad--”

“No. But it seems you will, soon. Why won’t you let (Y/N) try on the ring? A Malfoy sticks by their word, don’t they?”

Draco’s mouth became instantly dry, struggling to form any coherent sentence as his ears began to grow bright. Pansy’s eyes glimmered in realization.

“You’re afraid (Y/N) isn’t the one, aren’t you?” Draco remained silent as she titled her head to meet his gaze, to which his gaze moved away again. “Or are you afraid (Y/N) is the one?”

“You’re deranged, Parkinson.”

“Perhaps I am, but the one thing I’m not Draco… is a coward.” She grunted, resulting in Draco staring up at her, shocked. Pansy was a female that often spoke her mind and criticized others, but not him. She certainly changed.

“You’ve been friends for ages, Draco. And even when I was too “preoccupied” with you I still knew it; (Y/N) won’t be around forever, and if you don’t act soon someone will sweep them off their feet because that’s what they deserve. And you’ll never know the truth,” Pansy flicked his forehead, making Draco whine at the impact. “You’re incredibly dense, sometimes. I wonder what I saw in you…” Draco’s eyes trailed down to the floor, before a sudden laugh shook, startling him.

“But I know (Y/N) sees it… saw it longer than I had, maybe… besides, I got myself… someone. So go get yours.” Draco’s eyes stared up at his long friend, staring at her both thankful and apologetic.

“Oh stop with the sappy look, will you? I’m not telling you to confess and I’m not asking for pity. But when the time comes… do it.”

————

A few weeks had passed since then, and your nerves had remained calmer than ever. It seemed Pansy was right, and being able to dial down on your turmoil was as simple as clearing your mind… from all of the thoughts of his heirloom.

Of course, you took that route. Instead of confessing to him… and Pansy had egged you to pursue him while respecting your decision. It just seemed easier, you noted, to distract yourself for a while.

“Why are you spacing off, again? Someone caught your eye?” Draco quipped, staring down at you. You rolled your eyes as you readjusted yourself on his lap, giving him an irritated look.

“Does it matter? Even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you ended while sticking out your tongue, noticing Draco’s eyes had slightly clouded at your remark.

“I should probably leave soon, Umbridge will be scouting soon…” Draco murmured, as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Oh yes! The sadist, who only lives to ruin student’s lives… I find it concerning that she’s so fascinated in kids…” you whispered the last part, Draco letting out a hearty laugh. “Pipe it down, I heard she has eyes and ears everywhere,” he added on, the both of you snickering.

“Watch out, she might hide under your bed too, I wouldn’t put it past her.” Draco grabbed your hand and squeezed it as he let out another laugh, the cool metal of his ring sending a shiver down your spine. As it died down, he released your hand, before his eyes traveled down to his hand, and his ring. He removed his other hand cradling your head and removed the hoop slowly.

“Here, a deal’s a deal.” You let out a huff, knitting your eyebrows as he dropped the ring into your hands.

“Why so suddenly… well, I guess I’ll try it. After all, you’ll probably be getting it back.” The statement broke your heart, but in reality, it seemed fit to say. And Draco cracked a smile, so he must’ve been hoping it to happen too.

Sliding the ring on your finger, another shiver sent down your spine, your eyes lost in the details of the loop. Your breath hitched suddenly as you paused your movements, watching for something to happen. A sign.

Looking up, you saw Draco staring just as intensely as you had at your hand, the curves of his mouth downward and grim.

“See? I told you,” you sighed, reaching for the ring again and attempting to tug at it.

Attempting.

However, as you tried, you realized you couldn’t take it off.

“Uh… Draco? Can… Can you give me a hand?” You pleaded nervously, his eyes widening as he adjusted his position, panicked.

“Yeah, of course.” He responded, gently grabbing your hand in his, his fingers hanging over the ring, deep in thought, before he dropped it, staring at you.

“(Y/N)... it won’t come off,” he said quietly, a small smile dancing on his features.

“How would you know? You didn’t even try,” you tried to defend, grabbing the ring again and tugging it. This time, the ring had gotten looser, only for the snake to hiss at you, its jade eyes leering. You removed your hand almost instantly, letting the creature hum in content before slithering itself around you again, this time, a bit tighter than before.

“This has to be a dream, it can’t be real… can it?” You gaped, thinking that you were daydreaming again. Hallucinating maybe?

“I don’t think it’s a dream,” Draco started, his thumb playing with the ring on your finger, a bright smile plastered on his face as he stared (almost) lovingly at it. “But if it is…” he intertwined his fingers with yours, staring into your eyes with a lovestruck gaze.

“I don’t ever want to wake up.” He paused, before leaning down to capture your lips with his.

“I think it’s better than any dream, actually.”

Extra:

Months later, your head was resting on Draco’s shoulder, as he seemed to be engaged in a conversation with the boy across from him; Theodore Nott, Pansy’s boyfriend, who looked to be a decently charming Slytherin, though he was extremely opinionated with whatever they were conversing about.

“Sorry for asking, but I’ve been a bit curious about the ring on (Y/N)’s finger?” Theodore suddenly inquired, making you lift your head up to see Draco had been playing with the ring on your finger the whole time, twirling it rhythmically.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? We’re engaged.” He smirked deviously, a gasp coming from you as you pushed him away, laughing. “Yeah right--”

“Aren’t we?”

“You didn’t even propose!”

“Don’t you have a ring? I can’t give you another one, this one isn’t coming off--”

“You didn’t ask and we’re still in school! Plus it’d be nice if you at least made the effort to ask--”

“Do you want me to ask? I can do it, plan it out if you want…It’s not like my parents would disapprove… my mother’s absolutely smitten for you.”

“That sounds nasty.”

“You know what I meant by that.”

“Even cuter, Theo, they’re soulmates…” Pansy whispered to him, as both of you bickered with one another. Theodore nodded in understanding, leaning down to Pansy’s ear. “I assume you helped… I don’t think Draco wouldn’t have done it anytime soon otherwise.”

“I can hear you,” Draco announced, pink dusting his cheeks as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “And I would’ve eventually… though I’m glad Pansy helped…”

“Of course I had to,” Pansy smiled proudly, “And look how it turned out. I’m great at what I do.”

“You mean not minding your own business?”

“DRACO!”

———

Permanent Tags;

@amberkay284

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 02

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

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader / future!bts x reader

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

— word count: 4.3k

— warnings: orphan reader, insecurities high, other members are jerks in here

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

It was a journey he never knew would be so long and hard. Had he really traveled that far from his clan? Jungkook couldn't remember.

But by the time the clan came in sight from just over the fog that hid almost every part of the mountain, he let out a loud roar to alert the other dragons that were probably sleeping in the middle of the night, or in case a night patrol had been blinded by the darkness to see Jungkook approaching.

Lights were immediate to light up from every corner of the clan at the familiar sound of the seventh prince's cry for help and dragons were quick to fly into the sky where they heard him.

"Jungkook!" The young dragon heard the familiar voice of Hoseok's.

But his vision hazed and his wings began to fail him from the long journey he had taken, weak and hurt, and he fell down onto the ground, sliding for a short moment and the others were fast to surround the youngest of the seven princes.

"Jungkook, where have you—who is that?" Namjoon's voice grew in anger at the sight of a human but Jungkook was quick to hide you away when the leader had hoped to grab you. He hid you behind his wings, pulling you close to his chest in fear of anyone harming you.

"You can't hurt her, don't hurt her," he begged with a voice so weak the clan almost couldn't recognize him. 

"Jungkook?" Taehyung called, a voice of concern.

"She saved my life, hyung," he told them all, "I wouldn't have gotten away if it weren't for her and," he paused and a harsh curse fell from his lips. Tears fell at the reminder, teeth clenching against his jaws. "She's hurt because of me."

"She saved you?" Yoongi asked, eyes narrowed and scoffing, unsure of a human being that kind.

"You can't hurt her, you have to save her, please," he pled at them all as he tried to get up and limped, offering you over towards the eldest of the princes. "You have to save her, she can't die. I'll never forgive myself if she dies."

They saw his tearful eyes, heard the desperation in his voice. It wasn't like Jungkook to cry in front of a crowd, it wasn't like him to protect someone unless he truly cared about them so they knew that you must be really special.

"I'll take care of her," Seokjin vowed as he took you in hand. He was wary, but still tried his best not to hurt you during the process of Jungkook handing you over. You laid limply in his hold like a little leaf too weak to stand on its own.

The maknae watched you even as you left with Seokjin, eyes never leaving you until Jimin nudged him with his head, nuzzling  against his muzzle for a moment.

"Come on, Kook, you're hurt too."

.

.

Haze.

Everything was hazy.

And something was hurting. You couldn't pinpoint where but it was somewhere on the right side. Near your chest, near your heart.

Slowly as you tried to force yourself to wake up, you groaned at the aching pain where it was hurting the most. Your eyes still hazy, you tried to look at your surroundings.

You weren't in the forest where you had last opened your eyes. Something happened the night before. You were escaping, breathless, climbed upon a dragon's back and got hit by an arrow. Perhaps it was all a dream? Otherwise, why would you be inside somewhere that looked like a home? It didn't look like your home but it was a home nevertheless. With smells of herbs; peppermint, yarrow, ginger, whatever you could pinpoint at the moment.

"So you're the infamous human that saved our beloved prince."

You gasped at the voice, a little soft but he heard it.

He was a man so beautiful, perhaps too beautiful to be a healer. With broad shoulders and pouting lips. Beautiful, but he held a piercing gaze that was deadly, a glare with furrowed brows that had you flinching back at the intimidating stare. He walked over to you, arms crossed against his chest with suspicion.

"You sure you don't have any other plans to plot against Jungkook?"

Jungkook?

Your eyes searched in alarm all of a sudden and Seokjin watched you with confusion. You sat up and got off the bed, causing your legs to give in as your vision darkened due to standing up too fast.

"Hey, you're not fully healed yet-"

You pushed his hands away though had done it so weakly. A stranger. Beautiful but still a stranger so you couldn't let him near you. You couldn't trust him until you got a full story. Maybe then you could judge him.

But for now, what happened the night before? Where were you? Where was Jungkook? And who was that guy?

You stood up again, bare feet and the floor swayed under you once again. You cried in desperation, wanting to escape. Maybe you shouldn't have tried to escape, but Jungkook needed his freedom. Yet then again, why had you tried to flee with him? Perhaps he had gotten caught? While you survived? No way, Jungkook couldn't be dead. But where was he?

You forced yourself up again, whimpering both at the pain from the arrow and for Jungkook.

Your legs stumbled about like a little doe learning to walk for the first time and the man's voice behind you warned you not to go wandering about but you ignored it. You had to find Jungkook.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Where was he? Where was—

"Y/N!"

Someone held you as your legs gave way once again. Your knees hit against the floor and you cried a little softer, a little more.

"Y/N, hey, it's me. It's Jungkook."

Jungkook. 

Yes, Jungkook. 

You liked Jungkook.

"J..Jungkook...?"

"Yes," the young dragon smiled while the rest of the princes followed in, watching you closely and wondering why in the world was their little prince so close to you? "It's Jungkook," he repeated again, cupping your small face to brush away your tears with his delicate fingers and the princes' heart clenched for a moment. "We're alive, Y/N, we made it."

"Made it..?" Your voice was so soft, so delicate and weak they could barely hear you.

"To freedom, Y/N." He held your hands tightly, a beam of joy flashing in his smile.

The village. Did you escape the village?

You tried to remember the events. Saving Jungkook and asking him to change into his dragon form. Now he sat in front of you, a human once again. Had he carried you to his..clan? Was the place his clan?

But before that, you were glad for the fact that you escaped your village. They've always thought of you as an outsider, you've never truly belonged from the moment your parents left the world. It had always been you and you alone. Which was why you decided to take up the job as a keeper, because it meant that you got to get away from the villagers. And sure Jungkook wasn't open towards you or had even spoken for an entire month, but that dungeon felt more like home than your own house.

Some days you wanted to stay with him despite his silence. Some days you wanted to stay there forever, to never return to that part of the village. They always gave you weird stares, an orphan who didn't belong. Maybe they were glad for the fact that you left. You had no family and they had taken you in for free. But now it was all over. You owed them nothing and they owed you none either. You were gone and they were probably glad for it — even if that one captain of the soldiers had once lusted after you. You were so, so glad you escaped.

That you got your freedom.

Jungkook didn't know much, you hadn't told him anything about your life as feeling like an outsider. But he probably understood that you wanted freedom just as much as he did. Maybe a little more because he at least had a home to return to.

"Free..." you whispered again before meeting his gaze. "Free?"

Jungkook nodded, his smile never straying. "Come on," he said, standing up while his hand held out for you to take. Some part of the guys were jealous, a little angry at the fact that Jungkook looked so close to you and regarded you as someone special. Whatever happened in that village, they knew it wasn't just friendship that grew from your relationship. Not with those certain stares they were all too familiar with.

Your frail hand reached out, shakily and hesitantly, before you met someone's sharp and piercing gaze and was quick to fall back. Jungkook wasn't yours to love, he was a friend, and he had his own lover — lovers, it seemed.

"I-I...I can..-"

Jungkook watched you with eyes of worry before he turned at the six men that stood in the room. He understood those eyes and for a moment, he felt conflicted about what to do as he looked back at you.

"Can you give us a moment?" He asked and they looked back at him, wanting to refuse. "Please?" A small smile of assurance and despite them not truly trusting you, they nodded and walked out, transforming into their dragon forms and flew away.

"Who are they?" He heard you ask a few seconds later and Jungkook's gaze returned on your form once again.

"Our clan's princes."

"Princes?" Your eyes widened. "I'm imposing, aren't I? You shouldn't have-"

"It's okay, I'm a prince too."

You blinked at the man that crouched down again and tilted your head in confusion and astonishment. "You're a prince?"

"That's right," Jungkook nodding, grinning. "You saved a prince so you're pretty important at this moment."

"I don't really.." you looked away, a hand clutching onto the wound on your body, "I'm a human, Jungkook, and I don't think that dragons are too fond of us."

"So what? I'm fond of you and I'm their prince so they'll have to accept you."

"But the other princes-"

"Are my mates," he stated and just for a split second, your eyes held a glint of sadness, ones he hadn't caught sight of because it was gone too fast. "I don't trust just anyone, Y/N, so they'll come to accept you on their own will one day soon."

But that was it wasn't it? Another life of having the need to feel accepted in another society that didn't want to accept you. Jungkook was insistent on keeping you and because you had no other place to go to, feeling the need to look after you since you were the reason he got back his freedom again. But were you really ready to go through another phase of trying to be accepted? You knew it'd be harder in Jungkook's clan. Dragons didn't like humans, didn't trust them, and you had to gain their trust which you knew would be harder than anything.

"Y/N, hey.." Jungkook placed a hand on your shoulder. "You'll be alright."

"Just because I saved their prince doesn't mean they'll accept me," you told him. "It was my people who got you captured in the first place."

"They're not your people, they were never yours."

"Even so-"

"You have nowhere else to go, Y/N," he cut you off to point out the truth. And not only that but because he didn't want to lose you. Even though he couldn't have you, Jungkook didn't want to lose you. "I can't let you leave."

"I don't want to be dependent on you," you said, looking away with eyes of pain.

"You're going to have to be dependent on me for some time now," he said and your brows furrowed.

"You have six mates, Jungkook," you reminded him and for some reason, hearing the word six brought him a little ache in the heart, as if that should not have happened, as if there should be something...more. "I don't want to impose."

You didn't feel comfortable being in a place where others would judge you regardless of Jungkook being the one to bring you into the clan in the first place. Even he knew that no matter what great words he'd say about you, you'd still get the glares and silent eyes that would tell you that you didn't belong.

And for that, the desire to protect you grew some more.

"Until you heal," he decided, though a little more hesitant, "until you heal, you can choose your life choices. But until then, I want you here. You're hurt because of me and I feel responsible for you so please, stay here until then." It was a firm statement he made you vow to, worried for your health more than anything. You knew he was a stubborn man and you knew that you'd never survive out there without being properly healed so you nodded, agreeing to him after a bit of hesitation.

"Good." He sent you a small lopsided smile. "Are you hungry?"

.

.

Jungkook got his freedom. Not you.

He was their prince, after all, so he belonged and everyone loved him. Whereas you were in another world where society had yet to accept you.

The stares got a bit overwhelming and the anxiety that sat within you was growing more and more as each day passed by. You wondered what they thought of you, what they were saying behind your back, and if they ever wanted you gone. You were sure they did but because of the fact that you were important to their seventh prince, no one dared to say a word. Jungkook was far too important to them and saying something bad about him or someone he cared about would mean belittling the prince himself, as Jungkook stated.

Sometimes you wished he hadn't treated you like someone so special so that you didn't have to keep awake at night wondering what others thought of you. Maybe it would be better if they said things in front of you. Maybe you'd cry like the weak rose you were in front of them but at least you'd know what to fix on, right? Rather than thinking on everything wherever you went, even when you were alone..right?

Most nights you couldn't get a wink of sleep because of all that thinking keeping you from resting. Most nights you'd think back on the village you left, wondering how life would have been if you hadn't escaped, if you hadn't been so insistent on freedom. Because at least you were a human in their eyes despite being an orphan. But to be in a crowd where everyone else was a dragon and you were a weak orphan human was something much worse. You wondered if you'd be happier back in that village now as opposed to living in Jungkook's clan.

But then again, if you hadn't done what you had done, Jungkook would have never gotten his freedom and he'd live a life away from the people he loved, away from a home that was made for him. You'd never want to go back in time before helping him escape free.

But maybe you'd go back to the time right before you climbed onto his back.

If you ever got that chance, you knew you wouldn't climb on top of Jungkook and try to find your own freedom, only to be locked away again in a different world that treated you even worse than the villagers. Because at least the villagers told you upright what they hated about you; your ramblings, the dresses you wore, the way you ate, the way you spoke, almost everything. Because at least you didn't go back to bed overthinking about what they thought of you behind your back, right?

Right?

Most nights you'd cry silently, afraid someone would hear you and be annoyed by it.

Most nights you'd think, either life was difficult. You still went to bed without sleep, overthinking on every little thing. Most nights you'd think, perhaps it would be better if you lived in a world on your own. Sure it'd be lonely but at least you wouldn't be bothering anyone. You'd annoy only one person and that was yourself.

Most nights you went to bed wanting to escape. But you knew that could never happen because you had no wings to carry you up and over those high mountains.

What was worse were the unwelcoming stares from the other six princes, from Jungkook's mates that clearly stated they only allowed you to stay because their beloved Jungkook wanted you there. It was silent, everything was silent, but you understood everything.

It was hard but that was the life. Maybe you never deserved true happiness and freedom. Maybe your whole life was never meant to be pretty. Maybe it was what you deserved.

"I'm sorry."

You looked up at Jungkook as the two of you had been working on grinding up some herbs. It was a task prince Seokjin had given you but Jungkook decided to help out when he came over for his daily visits.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked in confusion, not understanding what he was meaning to say.

"By now you'd be rambling on and on about all sorts of stories and our conversation would consist of little fights here and there so...I'm sorry." He looked up to meet your gaze, eyes so sad in a way you had never seen before. He was sad for you, thinking it was all his fault when you were the one intruding in his clan in the first place.

"Jungkook-"

"And don't tell me that this isn't my fault and try to put the blames on yourself because that isn't right," he cut you off, voice strained as if he was trying to bypass the anger that had been meaning to get to him. "Don't you dare for a second think that it's your fault and think you don't deserve anything because you do, Y/N, you deserve the whole world."

"Kook..." your voice trailed away softly, eyes cast down to the grinder in hand that has become a slow working process with your weakening force of hands.

"Y/N," Jungkook went to hold your hand and you looked up again with a bit of alarm, afraid especially as you met the eyes of the eldest of the prince standing just a few feet away, back from wherever he had gone to. But Jungkook couldn't see him and he held onto your hand a little more tightly when you tried to pry them away. "You kept your promise on freeing me and I've vowed to you to protect you from now on but I haven't been much help."

"Jungkook-"

"But I promise you one day soon, they'll see what I see in you and they'll love you just the way I...-" He cut himself off, not realizing what he had just said while you sat there worried because Seokjin was there, right in the room, and Jungkook had no idea. "Just the way I care for you," the man went on, correcting himself but you couldn't come to try and hear him out. Not with Seokjin in the room. "I'll protect you, I promise. I'll make them like you and I'll make my hyungs see what I see because you're a beautiful rose and you deserve to be seen in that light."

That was it for Seokjin and you watched him step off from the open balcony to transform back into the dragon he was and flew off. Each nest had no stairs, the dragons had no need of that, so basically, you were the only one stuck in if you ever wanted to leave. Not that you could ever.

You looked back down at your hands, one still wrapped in between Jungkook's and slowly, you took it out of his and his eyes fell into a weakened light.

"Don't try to force them, Kook," you sent him a small forceful smile, something he knew was fake. "If they want to accept me, they will. If they don't, they don't."

Oh, how Jungkook wished he could see you genuinely smile again.

.

.

The next day you were called into the castle where you had to travel on foot, tried to ignore the lingering stares from the other dragons, and stood in front of the six older princes without Jungkook in sight.

You were in trouble. Seokjin caught you and you were in trouble.

"You don't belong here, little human."

It was the words of their leader Namjoon that stabbed you hard in the chest, harsher than the actual arrow that almost pierced your heart. You knew you hadn't belonged but to hear the words was a different story.

"This is a place for mighty dragons and you are anything but mighty or a dragon."

"We only allowed you to stay because Jungkook insisted, do you understand?" Yoongi's voice bellowed against the great hall.

You nodded your head, too afraid to speak, too afraid to look up and meet the deadly gazes you knew they were giving you.

"Do not overstay your welcome, human," Seokjin said, his tone spiteful and filled with hate and anger. Your throat clogged up against you, another drop of your heart and the tears hoping to fall as you continuously blinked to keep them away. They'd hear it if you cried, you couldn't look any weaker than you were already to them, it'd just make them scoff and laugh. "Three more nights and you will be healed properly. Leave then."

You nodded once again and they dismissed you and you turned around, walking away in the light of shame, softly and silently just as you had walked in.

The walk back was even more shameful. Jungkook was probably out with a patrol of his own for some hunting and the rest of the dragons took that chance to openly scoff and glare at you as you walked back to where you were staying.

It was only when you reached the bedroom did you finally have the courage to cry. And you let it all out, tears streaming continuously down from your eyes like a river, heart clenched tightly as you hid your face against the pillows to muffle your cries.

If Jungkook had known, if Jungkook had seen you, he would have done something. But Jungkook wasn't there and you knew you couldn't depend on him forever. You didn't belong and that was that. Even he had no power over how he wanted people to treat you. If his six other mates didn't like you, what power did he hold over them? He didn't. He was the youngest of the princes and although everyone loved and respected him, nothing could be changed to their views on you; a mere human, just a poor orphan who belonged nowhere on Earth.

You were a rose that kept growing its thorns much more than her budding petals. And perhaps you'd stay like that for the rest of your life, with the thorns becoming too overwhelming one day soon and you'd be trapped underneath it for life.

Two days.

Two days later, the last night you would have stayed (without Jungkook's knowledge), the youngest of the prince was harmed with a spear thrown at his shoulder while out on a patrol with a few party members.

The whole clan was outraged.

"What happened?" You asked as Jungkook was laid on that same bed you had once woken up to on your first day in the clan. Worry filled your eyes as you clasped your hands together, not able to stand still as you could hear the low grunts and hisses that left your friend's lips.

"Humans did this to him," Jimin uttered.

"See what I mean?" Taehyung spat and your heart fell because to them, a couple of humans meant all humans.

"Y/N.."

You gasped at the call of your name whispered out of the youngest prince and ran to his side. He was quick to take your hand into his, to which you cringed with the sight of the other princes and two other guards in the room altogether.

"It was Jinyoung."

You blinked. "Jin..young...?"

"You know him?" Jungkook grunted, maneuvering for a moment due to the increasing pain and the hold on your hand tightened. "He said it was meant as a warning, he asked for you."

Jinyoung. Your admirer. The man that lusted for you.

He did that to Jungkook?

"What the hell do you mean by a warning?!" Namjoon's voice bellowed and all of a sudden everyone's eyes laid upon you. You shrunk away at his intimidating glare that stood just above you. "You set this up, didn't you?"

Jungkook's eyes shook with alarm. "What? Hyung-"

"Take her away," the leader commanded at the two guards and they were quick to grab you at both sides to which your breath hitched and breathing became staggering. "Lock her up."

"No, I—" You looked to your friend, tears falling from your eyes. "Jungkook!"

He wanted to sit up, to run to your side but the pain that fell upon him kept him from doing so. He couldn't even protest for as much as he wanted and before long, Jungkook cried at the sight of you flying away in the palm of one of the guards that held onto you.

"Jungkook!" You cried again, wanting to reach for him but not being able to.

Bit by bit, little by little, the sight of him disappeared and your heart was clenched shut.

Freedom that had once been so close to you. So close yet so far away.

Gone.