#or if you’re an anon who’s sent me a hundred asks or someone who lurks even if it’s just to laugh

[newjenns]

love and appreciate you all very much

[bonniebird]

If you asked nicely

Reader x Mikaelsons

Requested by Anon

When you had fallen asleep Elijah had been neatly sat in one of the chairs in the corner of your room. He was softly reading some old book you’d never heard of. He had come in the angry wake of Klaus.

To his credit Klaus had tried for a day to coax you out of bed, soothing and fussing. He wouldn’t listen when you exclaimed you just want to be left alone for a day. To sleep until you roused only from your body being incapable of sleeping any longer. He had relented when he realised nothing he did would get you up. Not daring to move lest you catch the attention of one of your predatory protectors you stayed still. Hoping for more sleep. You just felt more tired now.

Something twitched the edge of your duvet and before you could decide between snapping your eyes shut and feigning sleep or glaring down whoever dared to disturb you and a new face peaked at you. “Hello Darling!” Kol said cheerfully. He smiled, shoving himself partly under the duvet and looked around as if he was appraising your docile cave. “I thought it sounded like you were awake. Elijah said not to disturb you. Apparently you gave Klaus quite the hard time.”

Amusement played with his face as he watched you. He received a frown. Not one of anger but more one you’d get if you suddenly roused someone with something delightful. You sighed, frowned and turned your head so you wouldn't have to look at him but by the time you’d done it, he’d rounded the bed and tucked his head under the duvet on the other side.

“Come on now love, don’t be like this! You’re no fun when you’re sleepy.” Kol teased before raising his eyebrows and adding. “I suppose it’s best you got Elijah helping you sleep last night, when Klaus helps you sleep… it’s a pain.” He smiled and rubbed his chest, wincing. You tried not to laugh knowing he was joking about the daggers. When he got a snicker out of you he beamed with delight.

“Kol! Brother are you pestering (Y/N)?” Elijah called from somewhere. Fake panic took over Kol’s face as he froze and leant up. Tugging the duvet up with him, letting a fresh breeze brush at your skin.

“How could you say such a thing brother! I do not pester… I seduce and intrigue, some think I’m a delight!” As he spoke he playfully wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. His eyes lit up as he heard the bubble of laughter you’d been holding onto escaped, bursting past your lips in peels of laughter that had you tearfully rolling in your bed in a fit of giggles.

“Yes! I did it!” Kol cheered, throwing his hands up victoriously. He cheered to himself, your duvet helplessly flopped across the room, making a last ditch attempt to cling to you as it defeatedly slipped to the floor.

“You didn't do anything!” You said through giggles the laughter ebbing away.

“Hey if you didn’t get out from under that blanket they were going to send in Rebekah.

“She would have just joined me and said it was a girl thing.” You pointed out knowingly. Kol gave you an agreeing nod as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“So what now, you’re free of that.” He said cast a gesture to your piled duvet on the floor. “Elijah is making enough food to kill a man. Honestly there isn’t any space in the kitchen. Klaus has been painting pictures for you since yesterday and Rebekah was gathering supplies so you two could take to the bed in an appropriately aesthetic manner.” He mimicked Rebekah’s voice for the last few words and you giggled again.

“Food sounds nice. I should probably shower though.” You said as you sighed.

He hopped up and your eyes widened when he started to undress. “Right let's get in the shower.” He said until he caught your eyes. He flashed you a smile and paused.

“I need a shower… not you!” You said quickly, finally sitting up and trying to tame your hair a little. “I might need a shower! You don’t know where I’ve been!”

“I suppose that’s true.” You mused. He watched your brow furrow as if you were mulling over where he could have been that day. Your attention was snatched back when you moved in a blur. You were whizzed past Elijah who dropped his plate he’d brought up for you. Though you were sure Kol had knocked it out of his hand on purpose.

“Brother!” He snapped sharply.

“Brother?” Kol answered in a tone that would definitely rile Elijah. Kol focused on fixing the water in the shower which made Elijah rap on the door several times.

He gestured for you to get into the water but you frowned at him. “Aren’t you going to leave?” You asked and he shrugged.

“If you’d like. I thought I’d help you wash your hair.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “It was something that was done as… a show of affection. Elijah’s still right there and I’ll keep my underwear on!” He gestured to his boxers and then to the door. “Elijah?”

“Yes Kol.” Elijah said in an unamused tone. You tried to hold back another laugh at the sound of his voice.

“See, a perfectly friendly shower.” Kol said giving you his best innocent look that gave a more dubious expression.

“What’ll I wear?” you pointed out and he shrugged.

“I won’t look at you if you like. But I’m a thousand or so. I’ve seen a lot.” he said as he stuck his hand under the running water, satisfied it was a good enough temperature he stepped in.

“You’ve seen a lot or you’ve seen a lot of naked people?” You asked curiously as you decided to undress. It would be nice to have someone do your hair for a change.

“Both?” Kol said as he, to his word, closed his eyes until you’d gotten in. “Women did find me rather irresistible back in the day.” He said as he brushed his fingers through your hair until it was damp enough to add the shampoo.

“Back in the day?”

“Well, I got a bit out of swing when I spent a few hundred years in a box, not much room for seduction in a coffin.”

He chuckled when you spluttered out a laugh as if his comment had caught you off guard. Kol’s fingers were soft and gentle. More gentle than you’d thought a vampire capable of. If you weren’t quite so intimidated by his near nudity you would have been lulled into relaxation, so much so that you could have leant against him and closed your eyes.

The shampoo smelled different and glancing at the bottle Kol had set on the shower shelf you realised it was a brand new bottle, an expensive looking brand that you hadn’t heard off before. You assumed it would have either been from Elijah or sent over by Rebekah.

For a while there was silence as Kol massaged the suds into your roots and rinsed it out, continuing to massage your scalp and neck. “You know. Affection really is wasted on modern humans.” Kol said thoughtfully as he reached for a second bottle. “The fun that could be had if you all let go just a little.”

“If every human let go we’d all be like Elena. Vampire lovers on rotation.” You said quietly. His hands stilled for a moment as he raised his eyebrows. When you glanced over your shoulder at him he chuckled.

“Careful darling. Glass houses and all that.” He said playfully as he rinsed the final suds out of your hair. “You could have four Mikaelson if you asked nicely.”

He grinned when you elbowed him gently and spluttered a little. With the gentlest brush of a kiss to your shoulder he got out of the shower, leaving to finish your shower as he deliberately dripped as much water on the floor as he could. He cracked the door open and snatched the towels that Elijah was holding out for him. He could see Klaus lurking behind Elijah and grinned. He didn’t envy Elijah for having to deal with Klaus’ grumpy mood.

“Come on then darling, you must be starved.” Kol hummed out as he unfolded teh warm, fluffy towel. It was definitely one from the Mikaelson's home. It was massive enough for you to step into it and have it wrapped around you at least twice.

When Elijah saw the state of the bathroom he sighed and glared at a gleeful Kol who bowed mockingly. Klaus bickered with Kol as you were escorted to your bedroom which had been tidied and your bed made with fresh sheets. Rebekah was sprawled over them with a pile of new pajamas beside her. “Off you go now!” She insisted once Kol was near the doorway. Both he and Klaus found the door slammed in their faces as she took a turn at fussing you. She fixed your hair and produced so many creams and powders and moisturisers your small desk was almost completely covered in little bottles. Once she was satisfied she’d fussed you enough you were relinquished into Elijah’s care to be escorted to your kitchen. You noticed everywhere was a lot cleaner and suddenly all the odd jobs that needed doing were done.

“You didn’t all have to make a fuss.” You said quietly to Elijah who smiled.

“Nonsense.” He muttered back with an endeared affection.

Kol hadn’t been kidding about the amount of food in your kitchen. Even if you invited the gang round there would be too much for you all to eat. You gave Elijah a grateful smile as he pulled out your chair and helped you sit. He must have been worried to cook so much. You hadn’t meant to worry them. You’d just felt so exhausted by everything going on in Mystic falls.

As you sat you noticed sweet paintings of plants and flowers adorned your kitchen walls. Klaus’ touch there was no doubt and you smiled as you looked at them. “Rebekah said renovating the kitchen was a bit much. So I settled for decorating.” Klaus said as he took a seat beside you. He admired the way you appreciated his work.

“Thank you. All of you. I feel much better.” you said with a smile. The stress of the chaos going on had ebbed enough for you to feel energized again. The Mikaelsons had gathered in the kitchen and all smiled as you beamed for them.

“Well, I have to apologise. If I had known looking at my beautiful face would be the thing to get you out of bed after a few days. I would have arrived earlier.” Kol said. You shared a daring look together as Rebekah groaned and helped herself to some food. Elijah rolled his eyes and tutted while Klaus growled quietly from beside you. Trying to hide a laugh you opted to stuff your mouth full with the food that had been carefully set before you.

[army-author]

yoongi scenario | felix culpa

« felix culpa: a fortunate fall; an apparent error or disaster with happy consequences »

➸ prompt: We’re both descended from feuding supernatural families, and to stop the centuries of fighting you and I are arranged to be married.

➸ pairing: incubus yoongi x fairie reader

➸ requested by anon | 4.2k words | fluff, angst

Stay on your side of the wall. That’s the most important rule, drilled into you since you were babbling in your cradle. Before you learnt what magic was, learnt about the power coursing through your body, you knew what the wall was. It’s a constant presence, even when its golden bricks are out of sight, you can still feel its impressive and impassive force. All that’s beyond it is an unending darkness, and darker creatures – some call them incubi, some call them devils. You call them a mystery.

They’re the reason the fairie government put up the wall, and the magic barrier that reinforces it. Faeries can get out, but nothing can get in. Below your artificial lights, your kind are free to live without fear of being snatched into the blackness of the wastelands next door.

But there’s something about the wall that pulls you to it, curious about what lies outside. Maybe it’s your heart pulling you towards love, somewhere on the shadowy other side, in the shape of someone you were taught to fear.

You meet him in your eleventh year.

Playing on the outskirts of the city, next to the towering wall that glitters unnaturally next to the smaller cottages that make up the suburbs, your friend, Nyx, is trying to show you her new doll, asking you to hold her, and pointing out the detailed needlework on its dress, when you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Magic crackles at your ears, alerting you to danger, and you hush Nyx before throwing a wary look behind you. There, on the other side of the golden gate leading to the wastelands, a young boy stands. He looks about the same age as you, but he’s not like any of the fairie boys you know. His hair is a few shades too black, his eyes a few shades too dark, unnaturally so – darker than midnight. You’ve never seen such a rich blackness inside the city where the streetlights keep the daylight even when the sun goes down.

Curious, you step closer. His dark eyes are like black holes that suck you in.

Behind you, Nyx calls your name, a warning in her tone, but you can’t turn away now. You reach the gate, one step away from the boy, with the rungs of the gate between you.

A smile, or maybe it’s more of a smirk, ghosts the boy’s lips, before he reaches past the bars and rips Nyx’s doll from your hand.

“Hey!” You make a grab past the gate, but the boy ducks out of reach, sticking out his tongue. In a few more steps, he bleeds into the fogs of the forest and disappears from view.

Without thinking, you squeeze through the bars of the gate, still small enough to fit, and feel the magic barrier wobble as it admits your fairie blood into the wastelands.

From the other side, Nyx’s voice sound muffled. “Come back! It’s not safe!”

You smile to assure her you’re safe, then dart towards the trees. The darkness swallows you up – it’s the first time you’ve been without light, and suddenly the gravity of what you’ve done sinks in. You’re in the wastelands. In the dark. And a hundred devils could be crawling towards you, lurking just beyond where your eyes can reach. A chill clings to your skin, and you turn your eyes back to the city lights, still glittering through the gloom. Just a few steps back and you’d be safe on the other side again, back where the trees bloom bright, bursting with fruit and magic, a far cry from the dead trees on this side, raising bare branches to the hazy sky in penance.

“Are you scared? Gonna run home?”

You spin around to see the boy, leaning against one of the trees, doll in hand.

The words you want to say build up in your mouth, ready to spill over, until he interrupts your thoughts with, “You know you’re going to be in big trouble if the incubus king learns there was a fairie on his land.”

You swallow and reply, “Well if he doesn’t want me here, you’ll have to tell him it was your fault, since you led me here.”

The boy bites down on his lips, red welling where his teeth clamp down. “He won’t know… and even if he did, he wouldn’t mind because it’s me…” But he doesn’t seem sure, so he quickly throws the doll back at you. “Take this…” As an after though he mumbles, “Since you were brave enough to cross the barrier, I’ll be nice.”

A smile stretches across your face, as you clasp the doll to your chest. “Thank you. You’re actually okay when you’re being nice… well, okay for someone who lives in the wastelands.”

“And you’re okay for someone who lives in the city.” He echoes back, colour rising to his pale cheeks.

Running back to the gate, you call to him from behind the bars, “What’s your name, by the way?”

His brows furrow. “Why does it matter?”

“Because we’re friends now.”

“Stupid.”

“Your name’s stupid?”

“No. You’re stupid! My name’s Yoongi and you’re stupid.” He escapes into the shadows without another word.

♡♡♡

And so, you make your first fatal error: considering Yoongi a friend.

As the days fly by, eternal summer remains within the walls while it begins to snow in the wastelands.

You often go back to the gate where you first met Yoongi, hoping to catch another glimpse of him in the ashy grey slush outside. But there’s nothing there but a few black ravens, and the groaning of the trees.

You’re getting ready to forget Yoongi, until one day, leaning on the railings of the gate, you notice a piece of paper lodged in a crack in the bricks on the other side. Reaching past the gate, you pull it out, and brush off the dirt before reading: “Hey, stupid, stop standing by the gate during the daytime. Do you know how suspicious that looks? If you want to see me again, come at night. Yoongi.”

Your stomach flips. How long ago was the note left here? Will Yoongi still be waiting tonight, or did you leave it too late?

It’s worth one chance, one night, just to check that he’s not there. The next night, you sneak from your house while your parents sleep, and tread the familiar way to your spot by the gate. Peering out from the well-lit city, all you can see is darkness this late. You don’t notice him, until, “Boo!”

Your heart rockets to your throat and you need to clamp your mouth closed with your hands to hold back a scream.

“You actually came!” In the light of the city, his eyes sparkle bright, and you notice there’s flecks of light within the blackness that had first drawn you to him.

“I was worried you’d get bored of waiting.” You step closer, not actually sure what to do, now that he’s in front of you again.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do during the night,” he laughs, holding his hand out to you through the gate.

You take it in his own, staring at his dull skin contrasted against the glow of yours – one of the symptoms of living in the wastelands where no light can reach. His fingers snake through yours, and you tug at him, saying, “You should come inside to see the city lights.”

He hisses and pulls his hand away. “You really are stupid. The barrier, remember?” Sure enough, at his wrist, just where you had pulled him beyond the barrier, a blue bruise billows out – the payment for any incubus that tries to cross through to the city.

“Sorry…”

He waves off your mistake, and holds out his hand, wary of the barrier sparkling just in front of his eyes, “You’ll have to come across to my side.”

Doubts crowd into your mind, but he promises, “I’ll keep you safe out here,” so you grab onto his fingers and slip through the gate easily.

He leads you into the woods, dodging trees before you can even spot them in the gloom. He seems more at ease in the shadows, his shoulders relaxing, and his grip on your hand softening.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

He offers a helpful, “Somewhere,” in response.

“Yoongi…” you whine, before he shoots you a warning look that tells you not to start, before pushing you through some brambles, into a clearing and into lights that strain your eyes after the darkness. You blink a few times before you can make sense of what you’re seeing – the entrance to a small cave, littered with gemstones that scatter kaleidoscopes of light across your cheeks.

“Beautiful, right?” Yoongi steps to your side, searching your face to gauge your reaction, “We do have light in the wastelands, despite what you fairie folk think.”

“I always thought that no beauty existed outside of our city…” you breathe, “We’re always told that the wastelands are nothing but… well… waste.”

“Well, you can’t believe everything you hear on your side of the wall,” Yoongi says, fingers ghosting over yours again, “Not about the wastelands. And not about incubi.”

You catch his hand in your own. “Show me more.”

♡♡♡

Your second error is keeping in touch with Yoongi.

As the years pass, your make a habit of leaving letters for him in the crack in the wall. Walking by your gate is always exciting, and you look forward to the prospect of getting another letter from him.

Growing up, his writing has evolved from, “Hey, stupid. Come and meet me the next night you can. I’ve got something to show you!” to much something much more romantic – “Every day spent away from you takes its toll on me. Life on this side of the wall is so boring, the wastelands offer nothing new without you around to teach me how to appreciate it all. When can we meet again? I miss you more with each night that passes.”

You keep the letters he’s sent, stored in a locked box under your bed. It reminds you of why you like him so much, why he’s so important in your life, despite all the warnings you’ve received from faeries about the world beyond the wall.

If your friends ever found out about Yoongi, you know they’d tear up his letters and force you to stay inside.

More and more, you’ve been hearing horror stories about the evils of the incubi. You don’t know if it’s just because you’re more aware now the innocence of childhood is sliding off, or if intolerance is mounting towards the creatures that reside in the wastelands.

The conversations with your friends make you uncomfortable now, hearing what’s been said in the news, regurgitated in their own words.

“Incidents of incubi kidnapping fairies is getting so much more common,” one of your friends, Alva, tells you, as you sit in the park with a group of other fairies, “They come to the gates and encourage innocent children to pass the barrier. And once they’re out in the wastelands, do you know what they do?”

You shake your head.

Alva widens her eyes, “They kiss them, and suck up their life force.”

“No, no,” one of the other girls, shakes her head, “They infect you with lust, and keep you as slaves in return for their love.”

The group starts bickering over what incubi do with their victims, until Nyx pipes up, “Well that incubus child lured you across the barrier… do you think he was trying to kidnap you?

The chattering falls off, silence settling in its place.

Under the gaze of your friends, Nyx presses you to support her claim, “Don’t you remember? He stole my doll and you followed after him to get it.”

The group dissolves into chaos.

“You crossed the barrier?”

“Are you mad?”

“You’re lucky you’re not dead!”

You hold up your hands to fend off their shouting. “It’s okay. I’m fine. It was along time ago. Nothing happened to me.” Your friends’ eyes stay pinned to you, worried.

You wish their concerns didn’t affect you as much as they do. No matter how much you remind yourself that Yoongi is trustworthy, that if he wanted to kill you he would have done so ages ago, doubt still resounds in your mind, a small ‘what if’ niggling like an itch you can’t reach.

What if he’s just waiting for the right time to strike? What if one day you go out to the wasteland and never return? What if you’re already affected by him, brainwashed to believe that he’s good.

You decide to test him yourself.

♡♡♡

The next night you go to the gate, watching the fog sigh by, and breathing misty clouds into the air.

At last, Yoongi arrives by your side, giving a rare smile. “Hello, stupid.”

Before he can say or do anything else, you stand up on your tip-toes, and press your lips to his own.

Below your touch, he tenses.

You pull back to see his eyes, as wide as a full moon as he gapes at you. “What was that for?”

“A test.”

He stays silent, waiting for you to explain.

“My friends told me that an incubus’s kiss could steal life force.”

“So you decided give me a chance to kill you?” His eyes darken.

“I trust you,” you mumble, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Yoongi digs his toe into the dirt, concentrating on the patterns he draws with his boot, rather than looking your way. “You really shouldn’t,” he says at last, “I’m an incubus after all. I’m different from you, always will be… and I really could take your life if I wanted.”

“But you won’t.”

“Want to bet on it?” Stepping forward, he presses his lips to yours again. Not like the first time. This time he isn’t stiff, but fluid, like smoke that expands to fill your crevices. Without really knowing what you’re doing, you open your mouth to him, let him inside – his tongue is soft, but firm, pressing to all your edges, until you feel weak at the knees and your fingers catch onto his arms to keep you from falling.

When he parts, you feel that something inside you has changed. Are you dead? Is your life force gone?

No, still here, just a little mushy-brained from Yoongi’s touch.

You’re unharmed. Despite his teasing, Yoongi wouldn’t hurt you. You smack his arm. “You’re the worst. Why would you do that?”

“Were you scared.”

You pause. Consider. “Maybe… for a second. But after that I liked it.”

“I liked it too.”

Falling in love was your third error. You should have seen it coming, could have prevented it – yet here you are, completely enamoured. And here’s Yoongi, looking back, like he might be enamoured too. That though alone pushes you up to float in the clouds, high on your own happiness.

♡♡♡

You return to your house, lighter than air, and breeze in through the door. That’s when you come crashing down from your dreams, meeting your mother and father, waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Where were you?” Your father steps forward, and you scramble to search for an excuse.

“Don’t make her answer. We already know,” your mother murmurs, a hand reaching out to your father. He pulls away from her, and goes to the table where a familiar box sits.

“What is the meaning of this? Huh?” He picks it up, and throws it to the tiles where it cracks, letters saturated with Yoongi’s love spilling onto the floor.

“Please don’t…” you can’t remember when you started crying. Your mother goes to your side, wrapping her arms around you. She’s crying too.

“Nyx told us about the incubus that led you into the wastelands,” your father says, “I can’t believe it…” His anger dissipates, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he laments. “My own daughter, infatuated with an incubus… brainwashed…”

“I’m not!” your try to explain, as your mother’s arms hold on tighter, “He did nothing to me. Incubi aren’t what we think.”

Your father scoffs. “Well there’s your proof. He’s clearly infected your brain with his poison…” He steps towards you, and you see something glinting in his hand. You recognise the bracelet just before he clamps it onto your wrist. It’s gold, infused with incubus blood, fashioned so that you can’t get past the barrier. They’re made for fairies that are brainwashed by incubi, meant for their own safety.

The metal burns as it binds to your skin, and as you scratch at it, it only squeezes tighter.

“Promise us you’ll never try to pass the barrier again,” your father pleads, forcing your chin up to look in his eyes. You want to be angry, but all you see reflected back is sadness and misunderstanding. You hang your head, defeated, while your mother sobs against you.

♡♡♡

That was three years ago.

You still have the bracelet shackling you. Your mother barely lets you out of sight now, fussing and worrying every time you ask to leave the house. She looks a lot older now, and you worry that all the stress you caused her has done this. You wish you could explain away her fears, reassure her that you’re in complete control of your brain. Falling in love with Yoongi may have been a mistake, but it was also a choice. You feel this way because you decided that he was the kind of person you’d want to spend forever and a day with. Not because incubus toxins are clouding your head. You pray you can get her to understand someday. There’s a small hope she might. Recently, fairies have been questioning what really lies outside the wall, why you even need a wall. And your mother has been paying more attention to the news as the fairie president schedules peace talks with the incubus king.

Your father, on the other hand, is just as stubborn. Any time he walks in on your mother watching debates on incubus rights, he’ll scoff and roll his eyes and say, “What more do those life suckers want? They’ve already got a whole world outside, and we’re trapped in this city, forced to use all our magic to keep them from our homes and our daughters.”

When he goes off ranting like this, your mother switches off the TV and stares out the window.

With the few chances you get to leave the house, you go to check your gate, where you and Yoongi first met, but Yoongi’s never there, and if he left a letter, it’s since been removed.

Today, again, you follow the all too familiar route, desperate to check, just in case. The streets are strangely busy, but you pay no heed, squeezing past until you reach the suburbs where the gate stands, as expected. What you don’t expect is the tape sectioning off the wall. “What’s going on?” you ask one of the men walking past, and he stares at you. 

“You don’t know? They’re knocking down this part of the wall.”

“What?”

“Our president has finished the peace talks with the incubus king. He agreed to knock down the wall, as part of a new deal sealed with the incubi.”

You shake your head, not able to hope.

“I couldn’t believe it myself,” the man goes on, “From what I gather, the king’s son is the one pushing for these changes. He’s even offered up his hand in marriage to a fairie wife as a symbol of peace.”

His words jumble together in your head. Only one thing sticks for you. The wall is being knocked down. You’ll get to see Yoongi again. Turning on your heel, you sprint back to your house. The streets are filling up as fairies spill out of their houses, the news leaking out. You hear the word ‘wall’ repeated over and over, sometimes murmured and other times shouted.

The street to your own house is the most crowed. Nyx, and a couple of your other friends are outside, and they catch hold of your when you appear. “I’m so sorry,” Nyx smothers you in a hug, “I was wrong about that incubus.”

Confused about what brought on her change of heart, you pull away from her, and force your way to your house, where your mother greets you with a hug and a few tears. Behind her, your father stares on, lip curling up in a scowl.

“What’s going on?” you demand.

“You don’t know?” your mother pulls back to search your eyes, “The incubus prince has picked you out to be his bride. It’s a great honour.” She wipes a stray tear from her eyes. “A marriage to end the fighting and a reminder of why we’re knocking down the wall.”

Your father jumps in, “It’s disgusting. He has no right to demand your hand.”

“It’s a privilege,” your mother says, turning to him, “Our daughter is going to be a part of history… we can’t say no. Not to something so monumentous.”

The world spins around you.

Marriage? To the prince? Your heart turns cold. A man you’ve never met has picked you out from a thousand other fairies he could have, and in doing so has pulled you away from the one man you love.

Your mother’s hand falls to your wrist, detaching your bracelet with a snap of her fingers and a crackling of magic. The tight band of gold slides from you, leaving a red mark where it had stayed for three years. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” she smiles.

You rub at your wrist, and try to smile back, despite the whirl of emotions pulling you down.

Your mother turns to your father. “Don’t you have something to give?”

He scowls, before stepping forwards to hand you a letter stamped with the crest of the incubus royal family. The paper feels heavy in your hand.

“And this as well,” he says, before you go to remove your hands. He adds another letter to your hand, this one is older, crumpled and creased. “It was left by the gate you always sneaked through.”

From Yoongi? You glance down and recognise the handwriting.

“I need a moment.” You push your way out of the house, fighting the crowd down the streets until you find yourself in the quiet of the suburbs, by the gate again. Left in peace, you sit down on the curb, and read the letter:

“Love, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I worry that your parents might have found out about us – and that you’re being kept from visiting. It hurts not being able to see you, but I’m not going to give up so easily. I’ll fight to see you again. You have my word for it. It may take a long time, but I’m going to see you again. Someday, we’ll live in a world where there’s no wall, and you can stay by my side without fear.”

Your tears spot the page.

The wall is going, but Yoongi’s dream for you is all but shattered.

“Why are you crying, stupid?”

Looking up, you see Yoongi standing above you, slightly out of breath. It only takes you a second to register he’s there before he sweeps you up into a hug, lifting you off the ground. The tears keep falling, but now for joy.

Setting you down, Yoongi presses a kiss to your forehead. “Where did you go? I’ve been going crazy searching for you.”

“I’m sorry, my parents found out I was sneaking past the wall.”

“I feared so,” Yoongi’s face falls, and his finger traces the mark where your bracelet once was, “That’s why I fought so hard to get my father to speak with your president. I needed to get into the city. I needed to see you again.”

“Your father?” you take a step back, and it’s only then that you take in Yoongi’s clothing, a lot grander than the normal black shirt and ripped trousers he wears while he wanders the forest. He’s wearing a blazer embroidered with diamonds, and earrings stamped with the emblem of the incubus’ royal family. “You’re the prince?”

His smile, so rare, but shown so often for you, brings back all the familiar feelings of love, reassurance, acceptance, belonging. You slot yourself back into his hold, listening to his heart beating as you rest your ear to his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose I never got around to telling you.”

Tears keep trickling their way down your nose, so overcome with all the ups and downs of the day.

“By the way,” his voice thrums steady against you, “I kind of… already told my father I’d marry you so we could bring the kingdoms together. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

You laugh into his chest. “Not at all.”

“Good.” His lips ghost the top of your head, and you thank the heavens for all the mistakes you made that led to this moment.

Author’s note: Well… this is definitely NOT a drabble… Sorry, I got completely carried away with this au, but I don’t think I could have told the story in fewer words. Even this long still feels a little rushed…

a halloween drabble > click here to read more

[protectjugheadjonesiii]

The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)

Part one here

Anon requests: can you please do a part two of "The reader and the writer"? i'm shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is

The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!

could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i'm obsessed!!!

Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)

PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG

Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??

OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!

Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason

I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren't too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can't bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x

Will there be a part 2 of "the reader and the writer"? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!

I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?

OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP

I really love your writing! I'm very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer

part 2 of "The Reader and the Writer" ?? it's greattt 😭

please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!

Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!

The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don't mind.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer

Warnings: none

Word count: 887

A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!

(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s.  Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance.  His friends noticed his shift in attitude.

“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”

“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes.  “I’m fine, Archie.”

“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he scoffed.  “This isn’t about (Y/N).”  When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window.  “I already called her.”

“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk.  Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance.  “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that.  I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”

“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes.  “If you insist.”

To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement.  From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself.  She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name.  She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call.  (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.  

One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed.  Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s.  Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner.  Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was.  When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately.  Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century.  She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first.  It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered.  She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.”  (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.

“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you.  Not one thing.”

“I like to keep my life private.  I don’t publish stuff about me online.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp.  “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret.  Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.”  (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.  

“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up.  He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.

“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him.  Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

“What?”

“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower.  Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).

“So what?”

“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.”  Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay.  “If you care, you’ll trust me.”

“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.

“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter.  “You called me every night, Jug.”

“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away.  (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.

“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.”  Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner.  Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her.  Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.

“And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm.  The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read.  I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix.  New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”

Part 3 here   Part 4 here