jeremy heere is such a terrible protagonist like he's literally just so boring and i dont see the appeal lol
What the fuck did you just fucking say about my son, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
Every time I still wish that I’m only having nightmares of you leaving, that one day I’ll wake up inside your embrace and that your face will be the first thing I’ll see in the morning. And I’ll kiss you. I’ll kiss you because I woke up from the worst dream in which you told me you don’t love me anymore, and I would be so relieved and thankful that it was only a dream and you were really just right beside me, sleeping, all these time. And I’ll tell you about my nightmare and you’ll assure me that no, it won’t ever happen because you will never leave me. And I’ll kiss you again. But I know I’m not dreaming and I just miss you.
A/N: This is a really sad one, inspired by the song I Have Questions by Camila Cabello. I adore this song.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. As she
walked down the hall hugging her books close to her chest, her mind
raced. He had bolted again, and Y/N had no idea where he had gone off
to. Peter had left her hanging high and dry for the umpteenth time, and
she had no idea what to do.
Given no reasonable explanation, Y/N’s mind wandered the worst
possibilities to explain Peter’s constant disappearances.
knew Peter wasn’t of the sort, but he had just… taken off without
reasonable explanation. She had spent months staying silent, willing
herself to trust that Peter was off doing something important enough
that he was forced to leave halfway through the only time you ever got
to spend together.
But in her attempt at convincing herself of what she wanted to believe,
Y/N left herself vulnerable and susceptible to the attacks of her inner
He found someone better.
He no longer wants you.
You’re foolish to have ever though he ever wanted you.
i cried so hard after reading part 3 of 4musketeers, you gotta write another
part i dont think my heart can take an ending this harsh bc archie loves her so
much and it breaks my heart pleaseeee
gonna be a part 4 right? Oh god please don’t leave it like that 😭
Do a part
In a day
that started in me Bing reading Jughead images, I found and read all 4 parts of
musketeers. And now I need more!!!!
Oh my gawd😱 can you please do another part in 4 Musketeers?!
My mood swings bro! My mood swings have been permanently damaged.. lmao
of musketeers please I’m dyeing here 😭😭
a part 4 of “Four Mouseketeers”😭😭😭
I need a
4th part for the 4th musketeer its not a want its a necessity maybe can you add
me to the tag list for this series. x
Pairing: Archie x
between (Y/N) and Archie don’t mean happy endings.
Word count: 1,469
A/N: I’m so
thankful for all of your positive feedback for this series, enjoy!
Archie spent as much time as he could at Pop’s, choosing to
sit in a booth that faced the entrance.
He would sit there for hours and stare at the door. Everyone knew why he was doing that, but no
one wanted to mention it. He didn’t need
them to tell him; he knew it was hopeless.
(Y/N) was not going to return to Pop’s.
Veronica Lodge felt extremely guilty. She realized that maybe she shouldn’t have
told Archie to go to Pop’s, even though he needed to confront her about his
feelings. Archie may have been ready,
but it seemed like (Y/N) wasn’t. That’s
how Veronica found herself headed to the diner on a Tuesday night, knowing who
she would find sitting in the same booth.
“Archiekins,” she cooed, settling onto the seat across from
him, “you gotta snap out of this. It’s
my fault, I know, but you can’t let this destroy you.”
“Why not, Ronnie?” he questioned, and she saw his
tear-clouded eyes. “This is what I have
to do to make up for being a horrible friend to (Y/N). I don’t deserve to be her best friend, so why
should I have expected her to want to be more?”
“You didn’t even know she was back,” Veronica comforted
him. “If I hadn’t told you to go to
Pop’s, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s good that this happened,” Archie waved her off. “I needed to know she was back, I needed to
tell her. I just don’t deserve her.”
“That’s not true,” she argued. He shook his head and turned his focus
towards the door. No one came in. “I’ll fix this, Archie. I got you into this mess, and I’ll get you
out of this mess.”
(Y/N) was aware of the consequences of her actions. She knew, as soon as she walked out of the
diner, how Archie would respond. They
had been best friends for the first thirteen years of their lives, so she could
predict how he would react to this heartbreak.
However, she rethought her predictions when a raven-haired girl turned
up on her doorstep.
“(Y/N), hi, I’m Veronica Lodge,” the girl introduced
herself, sticking her hand out for (Y/N) to shake. She hesitantly shook it.
“You were at the diner with Jughead and Betty,” (Y/N)
recalled, and Veronica nodded. (Y/N)
stepped out onto her porch, closing the door behind her. “What do you want?”
“Listen, I know what happened between you and Archie,”
“Do you?” (Y/N) scoffed.
“I think you don’t even know the half of it.”
“I know you two grew up together,” Veronica told her. “I know you two fell in love, and I know that
Archie never called you.”
“There’s a lot more to the story,” (Y/N) muttered. Veronica crossed her arms and sighed.
“I talked to Jughead, Betty, Kevin, even Mr. Andrews. I know how people other than Archie felt
about you. Archie’s dad told me about
your parents and how you always stayed at the Andrews household when they would
fight. Jughead told me about how Archie
wanted to ask you to the high school dance before you moved, and he told me
about how you two were the most fascinating people in Riverdale. He, Betty, and Kevin told me about how in
love the two of you were. And from what
I’ve seen and heard, it seems like you guys are still very much in love.” (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably.
“You have no right,” her voice cracked slightly, and
Veronica watched as she tilted her head towards the sky, attempting to not
cry. “You can’t just…”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help,” Veronica
retracted. “I’m the one who sent Archie
to Pop’s. He had told me earlier that
day that he was still in love with you, and I thought you needed to know. I thought it would be good for him to get it
off his chest.”
“Well now look where we are,” (Y/N) smiled
sarcastically. “We’re on the verge of
losing each other because we can’t communicate.”
“Then talk to him,” Veronica urged. (Y/N) crossed her arms and pursed her
lips. “Talk to Archie, please. I know he wants to fix this, and I’m pretty
sure you do, too.” (Y/N) stayed quiet
for a moment, and Veronica expected for her to send her away. But (Y/N) uncrossed her arms, still frowning,
“Tell Archie to come over here tomorrow,” she instructed
Veronica. Veronica nodded. “Tell him we need to talk.”
“You wanted to talk, (Y/N)?” Archie asked, tentatively
standing on her lawn. He gazed up at her
as she stood at her doorstep; he didn’t want to come any closer until she
signaled that it was okay. (Y/N) grimly
nodded and opened her door wider. Archie
walked into her house and glanced around, trying to picture how it looked
before she moved. It was much emptier
“It’s pretty empty, I know,” (Y/N) voiced Archie’s
thoughts. His head turned to face her,
and he sent a small smile at her.
“There’s not much to unpack.”
“It’s different,” Archie agreed. (Y/N) awkwardly nodded as she hugged her arms
to her chest. “So you told Veronica to
tell me that you wanted to talk?”
“Yeah,” she replied.
“She showed up at my house yesterday and babbled about how we need to
“We do,” Archie pointed out.
“I know,” (Y/N) sighed.
Archie furrowed his eyebrows.
“You don’t want to?” he asked, frowning. (Y/N) furiously shook her head.
“No, I do,” she immediately responded. “I really want to fix this. I just… I don’t know how. I was gonna give it more time.”
“Do you want more time?” Archie questioned. “If you’re not ready-”
“You’re here,” (Y/N) cut him off. “You’re here, so we should do this now.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I-” (Y/N) faltered, unable to express what she wanted to
say. She grabbed Archie’s face and
brought it towards hers, connecting their lips.
He quickly responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and deepening
the kiss. They pulled away, and (Y/N)
placed her forehead against Archie’s. He
was grinning madly, but she only wore a small smile.
“You wanted more time to do that?” Archie softly
laughed. (Y/N) untangled herself from
Archie’s arms and hugged herself again.
“I didn’t want to…” she trailed off, swallowing her next
words. Archie took a step towards her
and grabbed her hand.
“Didn’t want to what?” he asked. “You didn’t want to kiss me?”
“I did,” (Y/N) assured him, placing the hand he wasn’t
holding on his cheek. “I really did,
Arch, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“This isn’t hurting me,” he consoled her. “Sure, after the diner incident I was upset, and I’m
sure you were too, but we’re okay now.”
“No we’re not,” (Y/N) began to cry, so Archie wrapped his
arms around her. Her head was nestled
into his chest.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not-” her voice was muffled by Archie’s shirt. “I’m not
staying in Riverdale.”
“What?” Archie grabbed (Y/N) by the shoulders and held her
so that he could look directly into her eyes.
“I might have to go back to New York,” she elaborated.
“You still don’t know why I’m back,” (Y/N) sadly
laughed. When she saw the puzzled look
on Archie’s face, she continued. “My
parents finally got divorced. My mom
wanted to move back here, so I decided to go with her. But my dad still wants custody over me, so-”
“So you might have to go back,” Archie finished,
sighing. (Y/N) nodded.
“It’s not definite yet, but… they’re going to court next
week. And the chances aren’t in my mom’s
favor, seeing as my dad’s a pretty good lawyer.”
“But what about you?” Archie pressed, and (Y/N) stared at
him, confused by what he meant.
“What about me?”
“What do you want, (Y/N)?” he asked, drawing her slightly
closer to him. “Who do you want to be
“I want to be with you, Archie,” she replied, stroking a
hand across his cheek. He closed his
eyes as he relished in her gentle touch.
“So can’t you say that in court?” Archie questioned. “Can’t you tell them that you want to stay
with your mom here in Riverdale? Isn’t
that what this is all about?”
“It’s not that simple, Arch,” she sighed. “Sure, I can give my preference and it might
weigh the court towards my mom, but there’s more factors than that.”
“You’re going to stay here, (Y/N),” Archie assured her as he
enveloped her in a hug. “We will make
sure you stay in Riverdale.”
“God I hope so, Arch,” (Y/N) sighed into his chest. “I don’t want to leave you anymore.”
“You won’t ever leave me, (Y/N). I will never let you go again.”
It comes at the PERFECT time for the beast. He’s hesitant with his emotions but when Belle leaves all that reluctance goes out the window too, and he just….. pours his heart out
fuck what kind of good ass character development nothing will ever top this
“I know she’ll never leave me, even as she runs away. She will still torment me, calm me, hurt me, move me, come what may”
this line particularly gets me like…. the beast knows that no matter what, even if she chooses to never return, belle will always be with him, tormenting his memories of what could have been
but she also calms him, inspires him, brings him strength…. this is true love right here, the epitome of disney romance. fuck me up
“Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door. I’ll fool myself she’ll walk right in, and be with me for evermore.”
The beast doesnt even think for ONE SECOND that Belle will actually come back to him… he hopes but he knows with all of his heart that he’s lying to himself
AND YET!! HE WILL WAIT FOREVER WITH AN OPEN DOOR (AND AN OPEN HEART!!)
good god man thats so fucking sad SHE LOVES YOU!! SHUT UP!!! SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU SHE JUST HAD TO SAVE HER PAPA SHE WILL BE BACK!!!!! !! !!!!!
SRSLY SHE LOVES YOU !!!!!!!
And in this song like… it’s not just Belle he’s losing to those “long long nights”, it’s the rest of his friends, his family, because they’re going to die and leave him completely alone, forever, without anyone to love
Which like?? fuck???
And even THAT fate wouldn’t have hurt so much before as it would now, because now he actually REMEMBERS how to love, and just as soon as he learns to again it’s torn away from him for all eternity
And the beast has no anger towards belle?? the most agressive he gets is when he sings “I let her steal into my melancholy heart” and even there it sounds more like he’s angry at himself than angry at belle
he’s sad as fuck but never angry which, again,,, look at that fucking character development
also idk if it’s just me but i DEFINITELY think the beast sounds the most open, prince-like, and HUMAN in this track than the rest of the film
anyway i’ve listened to this 87 times and see no end in sight
He first knew it when Potter was sitting with him during Potions in their eighth year. He could smell him, he could see the way his hands shook whenever he would work on a potions lab.
Seeing Harry Potter in all of his magical glory was really what helped Draco realize it.
“Draco,” Potter grinned one morning as soon as Draco sat next to him in Potions, “goodmorning.”
This confused Draco to no end. First off, since when were they on a first-name-basis? Secondly, he couldn’t understand how it could possibly be a goodmorning for him, considering he had to sit next to Potter and listen to his nonsense for an hour.
The portrait of his godfather explained the potion they would be brewing today, Pepper-Up Potion. Draco quickly sent Potter off to retrieve the ingredients from the cupboard at the back of the room, while he prepared the cauldron and the tools they would be using.
It was common knowledge that Harry Potter was not an excelling student in Potions, but Draco couldn’t understand why it took him five minutes to fetch the ingredients. He impatiently strolled to the cupboard to see what was holding him up.
As soon as he entered the cramped cupboard, he ran into the back of the one-and-only Harry Potter. He was having a hushed conversation with Theodore Nott. Once his presence was known, the talking ceased, and Potter grinned at him.
“Why, Draco,” he began, “fancy seeing you here.”
“Yes, fancy seeing me in my own class,” Draco rolled his eyes, “I came here to fetch the ingredients that you obviously couldn’t.”
He began to collect what he needed, only to notice that Nott had left. He required the “eyelashes of Hippogriff” which was on the highest shelf. Draco wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he wasn’t particularly tall. He strained his one hand up, only to feel the pressure of hands lifting him up.
This was not a position Draco Malfoy wanted to be in, at the time, but he took the opportunity and grabbed the jar anyway.
Once he was on his feet again, he nodded at Potter who had rosy-tint to his cheeks, but was smiling nonetheless. Leaving the cupboard, he tried not to look baffled even as everyone (including Dumbledore who “coincidentally” entered Snape’s portrait at the time) looked at the duo as if expecting something.
As they arrived at their seats, Draco watched as Harry began chopping up a basil leaf. He saw his hair sticking to his face from the heat of the cauldron, and his glasses fogging up. Oh, Merlin. Draco knew it then.
Once he knew, he figured that the whole school was most likely in on the secret. Except for, newly-appointed, Headmaster McGonagall, actually. He figured this when he was inside of her office (which still smelled like Dumbledore, for the record).
“No, Mr. Malfoy. I will not change your rooming arrangements. We must enforce house-unity, and what better way to get through to the younger wizards than to place the eighth years in mixed-house dorms?”
Draco though of several different methods, perhaps even eliminating houses all together. He knew to keep his mouth closed, though, because the look in the woman’s eyes showed that she would not be convinced otherwise.
The wrinkles surrounding her eyes also showed that she was way past her expiration date, and he constantly wondered how she managed to avoid death. If I was death, Draco thought, I wouldn’t mess with Minerva McGonagall, either.
“I understand that, Headmaster, but Weasley constantly sneaks into the room in the middle of the night, no doubt from Granger’s room.” They ignored the chuckle Dumbledore let out from his portrait above them.
“I don’t see how a room-change will prevent that from happening.” She sighed these words out.
“It doesn’t matter to me if it stops, I just don’t want to deal with it.”
“Mr. Malfoy, I can’t ju-”
“No, no, I think the boy is right,” Dumbledore spoke gruffly from his portrait. You could hear the smile in his voice, “Perhaps, we should switch Mr. Weasley with Mr. Potter?”
Draco Malfoy couldn’t deny that he liked where this was going. What he didn’t understand was how Dumbledore caught on to his feelings for the messy-haired boy so quickly. Draco made a decision to hide his feelings better, because if old men in portraits could figure them out, he was sure Potter could.
“Now, why would we do that, Dumbledore?”
Minerva McGonagall was practically competing with Harry Potter to win the title of ‘Most Oblivious Person in Hogwarts’.
The sound of Dumbledore sighing was heard in the room, and Draco couldn’t help but agree with the man.
“Well, I’ll be going now. Perhaps I could get a few hours of sleep before Weasley comes into our room, only to leave again with Granger.” Draco spoke as he rose from his seat to leave the room.
With McGonagall’s complete lack of knowledge towards Draco Malfoy’s feelings for Potter, he assumed that maybe the school didn’t know. Maybe it was only Dumbledore. That thought alone made him feel a bit at ease.
Until the next day.
He was strolling down to the Great Hall that morning, only to be yanked into a corridor. Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger looked at him expectantly, as though he was the one that pulled them into a corridor.
“What?” He questioned impatiently. If their little chat was going to happen at this rate, he would miss the fried tomatoes.
“We think that you should stop acting oblivious, and just be with Harry.” Granger rushed out as Pansy nodded alongside her.
“I’m the oblivious one?” Draco said incredulously.
“Oh, you have to forgive Harry,” Granger waved his comment off with a flick of her hand, “he doesn’t get things sometimes.”
“I’ll have you know, I am completely fine with pining after Potter. Leave me alone.” These were words that Draco never thought he would ever say in his life. His father was writhing in his grave.
Draco now figured that, yeah, the whole school was probably aware of his problem. You would think that maybe someone would actually help him solve it, but he continued to talk to Parkinson and Granger about how this was all his fault for not taking action and winning Harry over.
The thing is, Draco isn’t a man of action.
So people knew, that is, except for Potter (and maybe McGonagall, as she tended to watch them closely nowadays, as though they would break out into a fight at any moment). Which was quite a nuisance really, because now here he was in the library. The Boy Who Lived was his only companion, completing a Transfiguration Essay, and he was burning with want.
Over the past few weeks, Potter had weaseled (no pun intended) into Draco’s everyday life. They played chess, went to Hogsmeade, and ate together. Draco was in no position to complain, but everyday he found that he craved Potter more and more.
The library was silent, except for the quiet sound of Dumbledore trying to make his breathing inconspicuous. All he smelled was musty, magical books and the boy next to him. He seriously wondered how a boy capable of defeating the most powerful dark wizard in the world could be so absolutely oblivious.
Now, for the record, Draco Malfoy was not an observant person, himself. He had only realized his true feelings for the Golden Boy a few weeks ago. Whereas, the majority of the school population had figured it out during their sixth year (according to Seamus Finnigan who explained that he and Nott have a bet going on how long it will take for Draco to cave into Harry. The bet has been running for over two years.). Draco didn’t understand how he could have gone for so long without thinking about Potter that way.
Harry Potter, however, was a different level of obliviousness than Draco had ever had the displeasure of encountering in his life. It was a wonder that the boy realized there was a nose-less man after him in the first place.
“What are you reading?” Potter turned to him and pushed his glasses up.
Draco simply turned his book to show Potter the cover.
“You know, you don’t have to stay with me while I finish my essay.” Potter smiled at him.
“Well, I can’t leave you alone, now can I?” Draco rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be daft.”
Potter casually toyed with a piece of Draco’s hair, and even though his face was set in a frown, it secretly drove him mad.
He and Potter continued to share light conversation. They covered news concerning Quidditch, their N.E.W.T.s, and the other eighth years. Draco found talking with Potter was quite easy. Their conversations drove late into the night, and Draco was still not fulfilled. Eventually, Harry decided he ought to complete his essay, and Draco finish his book.
Draco had yet to figure out what got him in this dilemma. He had half-a-mind to pin it on McGonagall and her attempts at enforcing “house unity” between the eighth years. If he had stayed with his fellow Slytherins in their chambers, he would have never noticed the way Potter’s hair flopped into his eyes. He would’ve been too busy restoring the Malfoy name to care about Potter’s matured voice. He definitely wouldn’t have noticed the way the boy’s eyes gleamed with determination as tried to complete a potion. He would’ve never realized what he’d known all along. Damn it, Minerva.
As Draco pondered over the absurdity of his situation, a light snoring from his side shook him out of his thoughts. Potter had fallen asleep on his parchment and the ink on his quill was beginning to drip. He looked so vulnerable and delicate lying there. The light pink of his cheeks, accompanied by the gentle rise-and-fall of his lungs shook something inside of Draco.
Draco thought quick about what one of Potter’s friends would do. Making a natural decision, he gently shook Potter’s sleeping form.
“Potter,” his shaking only resulted in Potter crinkling his nose and then recommencing his snoring, “wake up.”
Draco sighed and felt a bit bad for trying to awaken the boy. He had been working so hard recently. It was no surprise he was exhausted. So, Draco carefully scooped the boy up in his arms. Throughout the past year, Draco had grown slightly taller than Potter, whilst keeping his lanky form. He silently enchanted their equipment to follow them as he begun to walk to the Eighth Year Common Room. There weren’t a large amount of returners, and they couldn’t simply sleep with the underclassmen. McGonagall decided to place them all in the same quarters. This was also another attempt to promote the idea of house-unity to the younger wizards.
Draco tried to walk without running into any bumps. He narrowly avoided any disruptions that may wake Potter from his slumber. He would occasionally check to see if their possessed possessions were still trailing behind him.
Upon reaching the portrait of Sir William Arthur that hid their common room, Draco quickly mumbled the password. He tried to act as though he didn’t see the knowing look the man gave him as he entered.
Potter’s room assignment had been with Blaise Zabini, some Hufflepuff boy, and Neville Longbottom. Draco was sure they were asleep, but had no problem waking them up.
He knocked at their dormitory door, until a very frazzled-looking Blaise Zabini opened the door.
“I believe this belongs in your room.” Draco said gesturing to the boy in his arms.
Zabini rolled his eyes and moved to let Draco enter the room. It smelled like pine and there was only one untouched bed in the corner. He carefully set Potter on the bed, perhaps standing to look at him a bit too long.
He was met with a grunt from Zabini as the door shut behind him. Draco found his way back to his room with the Weasel, Finnigan, and Nott. There wasn’t even a shift in the room when he entered. Draco laid in his bed and thought about what mode of action he should take.
However, Draco wasn’t a man of action.
He knew this, and he doubted he ever would be. He fell asleep that night already accepting his Potterless future.
The next morning, he went down to the Great Hall only to notice Potter. He only ever thought of Potter these days. Today was the day that the ceiling had begun to snow and everyone was planning their plans for the break. Potter, however, sat and ate his fried tomatoes glumly. Draco didn’t understand why though, it was no secret that the boy would typically accompany the Weasel to his Weasel home.
He decided to take a seat next to the gloomy boy.
“It’s a wonder you were given the name "the Golden Boy,” Draco began, catching his attention, “what with your depressed persona.”
He watched as Potter laughed, and ignored how good it made him feel to bring joy to the boy next to him. Damn it, Potter.
“I wouldn’t be so "depressed” if you would have told me.“ Potter now sat with his chin is his hands facing Draco. Draco resisted the urge to straighten his glasses which were slightly crooked.
Once the words left Potter’s mouth, Draco didn’t know what he should do. He didn’t know how to respond to this situation. He looked at his nearby eighth years, and saw Neville Longbottom giving him a nervous thumbs-up. Pansy tried to hide her grin as she drank her pumpkin juice. Damn it.
"I didn’t think you wanted that,” Draco tried to speak as clearly as he could, given the heart-shattering circumstances.
“I think I know what I want better than you do,” the boy gave Draco a grin as his words sunk in.
“It’s not my fault you were completely oblivious to my advances.” Draco let a smile through. He ignored the way that the corner of Hermione’s mouth quirked up at his words.
“Advances? Draco, you won’t even touch my skin! Last night was the closest we’ve ever been, and I was asleep.” Potter threw his hands up and grinned.
“Well, I’m gentleman, and I have yet to even properly court you.” his eyes twinkled as he said this, and Potter’s cheeks were rosy with life.
Potter bit his lip before he spoke. Draco tried not to let his eyes focus on the action, or the way that Dumbledore inconspicuously wandered into the portrait behind them.
“You’re going to court me?”
Draco was suddenly a man of action.
“I don’t think your dad will be too happy with this news.” Potter chuckled and danced his hand closer to Draco.
“Well, he’s not the one doing the courting.” Draco gingerly played with the boy’s fingers.
“I should hope not.”
This was the second time Draco knew it. He knew he was in love. Potter did, too.
Trigger warning for abuse, harassment and stalking!
[text]: If you don’t answer your phone I’m coming over. [text]: Guess who? I know you changed your number but nothing can keep me from you [text]: I see you changed the locks. Bad move. [text]: Look at this lovely picture I took of you at the café. [text]: Ignoring me isn’t going to make me stop texting you [text]: I’m outside. Let me in now. [text]: It’s like the Gods sculpted your body themselves. “Why were you out? Were you cheating on me? Is that it?” “From now on I’m going to pick you up from work. I need to know that the ten minutes longer you took really are because of traffic.” “No. I’m not leaving until you tell me why you won’t even give me a chance!” “You don’t understand, we’re meant to be together.” “You can’t leave me, I won’t accept it.” “I saw you cheating on me. It’s okay though, I forgive you. You didn’t know we were together.” “I hope you know I’ve been thinking about you ever since I last saw you.” “I know you broke up with me, but I don’t accept that.” “You’re mine, do you hear me? Mine!” “Do I have to lock you in here to stop you from getting away?” “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” “You’re scared now but in the future you’ll thank me.” “You’re six and a half minutes late. Why?”
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?!” “Leave me alone!” “Why won’t you understand, it’s never going to happen, ever!” “If there was any chance of us being together, it’s now gone.” “You can’t act this way towards people!” “Just because you want us to be together, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.” “Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? You’re ruining my life!” “Get away from me!” “Why don’t you understand, there’s nothing between us! Not even friendship, nothing!” “Oh my God… How many pictures do you have of me?” “So when you just bumped into me… that wasn’t the first time you saw me?” “How many of my things do you have?” “I think I’m going to be sick.” “I saw the folder on your computer with my name on it, you’re disgusting.” “Get out now, or I will hurt you.” “Don’t think I won’t defend myself.” “This is sick! You’re sick!”
A/N: Long as hell. Sad as hell. Feat. Good Friend! Monty
Named after: ‘House M.D.’ good show
“Right now she’s in a medically induced coma. We’re tending to her head trauma…” the doctor tells him.
Jeff tunes out the rest of doctors explanation, unable to listen any longer. He wishes he was deaf so he couldn’t listen any longer.
You were here too, in the emergency room. You were the subject the doctor was going on about. In critical condition. You flew through the windshield during the crash and ended up way worse than Jeff.
He suffered a fair share of injuries from the accident. He fractured a few ribs, his legs were cut and bruised but overall okay, his wrist for sure was gone and there was no way he’d be able to play this season but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. The doctor said he was very lucky, but he felt far from it.
His nose was broken and the tears that fell from his eyes mixed with the blood dripping from his nostrils. He looked, like a character from a Tarantino movie to say the least.
“Can I see her?” He pleaded, voice cracking in those simple four words.
“I’m sorry Mr. Atkins, we can only let immediate family see her at this-”
“PLEASE” Jeff wailed. It was his fault you were even in this situation and now he couldn’t see you.
It’s his mom’s hand that fits into his, squeezing lightly both in solidarity and in trying to get him to let doctors tend to his more superficial wounds.
“Sir, you have four fractured ribs. You need to remain calm as you could puncture a lung. She should be stabilized by Tuesday, in which we would bring her out of the coma…and you can see her then. I’m sorry.” The Doctor said before turning on his heel and walking away.
The sound of the emergency room was deafening to Jeff’s ears. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t bare to look at your mother’s tear filled eyes through the glass. Couldn’t handle it when your father asked him if he was okay.
“Mijo, look at me.” His mother whispered softly to him.
And Jeff turned to greet the woman with whom he shared the same eyes.
“It’s not your fault”
Jeff broke down into his mother’s arms. He was bawling now, with no reservations about embarrassing himself. He wept into her shoulder, staining the fabric of her shirt with tears, blood, and snot.
When your mom left your side to go comfort the boy, all he could bring himself to say was “I’m sorry”. It fell from his lips over, and over, and over again as though they were the only words he knew.
She nodded, understanding his pain. She hugged him lightly, invited him to come back, whenever he wanted, told him once again that it wasn’t his fault, and returned to her daughter.
Monday, Jeff stayed home from school. He cried all day, refusing his mothers meals, refusing to get out of bed. He ignored his phone altogether. He didn’t want anything but to see you
On Tuesday, however, his mother insisted he go to school first, before seeing you. He nodded absentmindedly, getting into the passenger seat with no intention of retaining anything. He went through the motions that day, not so much as uttering a word. Not even to Clay, who waited at his side patiently. Not pressuring him to do or say anything.
When lunch came he didn’t bother to grab anything. He sat with the people he called his friends and barely smiled when Clay dropped off a milkshake in front of him.
“I picked it up on my way to school. I figured you would need it. Sorry,…it’s a bit warm now.” Clay empathized with the boy.
Jeff nodded graciously before pushing it away from him. Guilt wouldn’t describe what he felt he was going through. He might as well have killed you himself.
You told him you didn’t want him to go. You pleaded with him to stay at the party with you. He, was the one who talked you into coming with him. He, was the one who kissed your neck until you said yes. He, was the one who was playing with your seatbelt in an attempt to get you to lighten up. He, was the one that drove straight into the intersection. He, was the one that put you in a coma.
“Atkins, dude, relax. It’s not like you shot her.” A voice said.
When Jeff looked up at Bryce, he swore he was seeing red. He nearly leaped across the table to beat the shit out of the catcher of the baseball team.
He ignored the screams of the cheerleaders, the yells of his teammates and fellow athletes. He ignored the noise around him and focused on connecting his singular fist with Bryce’s face.
It was Montgomery who held him dragged him off of Bryce. Who basically, carried him kicking and screaming out of the cafeteria. Who shook his head at Mr.Porter as if to say ‘not now’.
“Jeez, Atkins you look like me out there” Monty offered as a joke. He laughed to himself, hoping to hear his teammates voice again.
He could tell Jeff was moments from crying and he had never seen his friend such a wreck…he didn’t want to. Jeff was the only person who checked on the victim of his latest brawl and then came to see how he was holding up. After scolding him of course. He was happy to return the favor in any way.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” Monty suggested.
Jeff nodded in response while he paced his breathing.
“Alright great. You wait here. I’m going to grab your stuff. We’ll go anywhere you want.”
When Monty left, Jeff checked his phone.
Your parents had texted him, letting him know you were up and asking about him, inviting him to visit. Letting him know they’d be back in an hour. Your mother hadn’t eaten in the two days and your father pulled her away to a lunch.
He crumbled underneath the weight of his own sadness. His letterman slid against the lockers in the hall as he collapsed.
He cried there in the hallway, his sobs echoing off of the posters on the walls. The thud of his backpack falling at his side couldn’t interrupt his outburst.
“No, no, c'mon big guy. You know I can’t handle feelings” his right hand fretted.
He pulled Jeff up, throwing the boy’s backpack over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist avoiding his sling.
“Don’t worry Captain, I got you.” He confided.
Montgomery, surprisingly of all people, was his crutch. The two boys made their way out of school and into the parking lot. Into Monty’s car where Jeff politely asked to go see you. On route to the hospital, you laid in.
When Jeff sobered up. Wiping away his tears, he realized they were there. He looked over at his teammate, his friend, eternally grateful.
“Monty-” he started.
“Don’t, Atkins. You’re there for me…always. I’m just returning the favor.” Monty stressed.
“…Also, I can’t go in there with you Cap. Hospitals freak me out. I’ll wait though.” He confided.
Jeff smiled for the first time in three days. He smiled, a brief, but genuine smile as he got out the car.
He walked into the sickly, sterile building slowly, decisively. Turning into the sign in office he looked around, wondering what the hell he could say to you to even make a dent in an apology.
“Can I help you, sir?” The receptionist questioned.
Jeff snapped out of his thoughts, nodding quickly.
“Yes, can I- is Y/N Y/L/N, taking visitors?” He stumbled over even the simplest of questions.
“Yes, she is, just sign-in here. Then I’ll buzz you in.”
Jeff scribbled an illegible mess and pulled at the door eager to see you. He looked back at the nurse and she met him with a sympathetic gaze before pushing the buttons that opened it for him.
“Room 361C!” She called out after him.
Jeff felt his legs go weak underneath him. He wasn’t ready to face his biggest regret. Betraying him, his two feet carried to the elevator. One foot in front of the other. Straight to your door.
His hand held at the door handle for what felt like forever. Just like his feet, his hand betrayed him. He opened the door, pushing through his pain.
You smiled at him weakly from your bed.
“Took you long enough” you whispered to him.
Jeff looked a wreck if you were honest with yourself. Your normally playful, overconfident boyfriend had bags under his bloodshot eyes. He looked paler compared to his usually tanned skin and you could’ve guessed that like your mother he hadn’t eaten in days.
Tears fell, once again, from Jeff’s eyes when he took you in. Laying in your bed. Tubes linked everywhere on your body, the monitor of your heartbeat drumming in his ears as if to mock him.
“I’m- I-” Jeff croaked out.
“Jeff…” you pleaded with him.
“I’m so sorry…It’s all my fault”
Every sentence, every apology he poured out, dripped with guilt. Jeff was rambling now, and his voice faded in and out.
You used what strength you could to outstretch your hand to him.
Your eyes closed and opened again, fighting to focus in on your boyfriend.
“Listen to me. It was not. your. fault.” You enunciated for emphasis.
You kept going as Jeff’s mouth opened to continue.
“My mom said a stop sign was knocked down, we didn’t stand a chance”
“I shouldn’t have-”
“I wouldn’t have let you-”
“Stop it! Stop. Please.”
You paused. Letting him take a moment.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can never forgive myself for what happened and I don’t expect you to but-”
He stopped. Glancing away from you.
“I promise once you’re out of here. If you’ll have me…I’ll never, ever leave your side.”
Your eyes shut involuntarily as he poured his heart out to you.
“Or- or- you’ll never see me again. If that’s what you want.” He offered in exchange, panicking you were turning him down.
You shook your head to the latter statement and mumbled “Stay with me” as you went under once again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jeff is nodding and yelling out for the nurse thinking he was going to lose you.
The doctors pushed him out as they tended to you. He waited there in that hallway until they were done. Waited with your parents when they returned.
He was there when you woke up again, when you went home, when you went back to school. True to his word he stuck to you like glue, not letting you so much as lift a finger.
And you held onto the baseball player just as hard. You forgave him every time he offered up an unnecessary apology. Wiped his tears when he cried at the sight of your bruises.
The two of you were inseparable. Just like before that night.
A red marble floor. A crowd of High Fae and Lesser Fae pressing in.
I felt panic as I saw hair flash through the crowd, far too familiar. No. It couldn’t be. No- she was dead- long dead and Feyre had-
A piercing scream cut through the air and I looked down to see Feyre- human Feyre- thrashing in my arms. That wasn’t right. She had died without anyone holding her. I had been across the room, not…
I forgot my confusion, though, as my gaze darted to hers. Her eyes were filled with terror and pain. I heard another snap and my heart cleaved in two as she let out another shriek.
And then the crowd parted and Amarantha walked through. Her face was filled with nothing but smug delight.
A growl ripped from my throat. “Stop it.”
She just flicked her fingers, earning another scream from Feyre, from my mate who I loved more than anything, who I had to save because… because…
Feyre went still in my arms and I looked down to see her raising her hand to my face. Her bones were broken in too many places, I could feel her pain through the bond. Her hand brushed my cheek once as she whispered “Love.”
Then her hand fell to her chest. She didn’t move again.
In a panic, I reached out with my mind, towards the other high lords. But I couldn’t feel any of them at all.
Amarantha laughed darkly, that evil grin spreading across her face. “Come Rhysand.” She commanded, still chuckling. “You’re still mine. And she is gone.”
I bolted upright, my chest heaving as I scrambled out of the bed and scrambled to the window. I needed to fly- to prove that I wasn’t trapped anymore- to know that what had happened Under the Mountain was done.
I threw open the doors to the balcony and stepped into the night air.
“Rhys.” Feyre mumbled.
I looked back to see her sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she took in her surroundings. Even with her hair hanging in tangles around her face and her cheek imprinted with the wrinkles from the pillow, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. As my eyes connected with hers, my heart calmed, the panic that had filled my senses slowly vanishing.
“I’m fine.” I replied quickly. My voice was shaky. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I’ll be fine.”
She considered me for a moment before pushing back the covers and getting up. In half a second she was in front of me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Do you want to fly?” She nodded to the city beyond the balcony.
I almost laughed at that. She knew me far too well.
“No.” I replied, brushing a strand of heir back from her face. “I’m good here.”
She paused for a moment. “Was it another-”
“Yes.” I breathed.
She was silent again. She slowly looked back up at me and the sorrow in her face…
“Feyre,” I insisted. “I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “You’re not.”
Before I could protest, she winnowed us away.
I blinked as I took in our new surroundings. There were trees around us, but it didn’t look like any of the forests I was familiar with. Feyre took my hand and forced me to sit down against the trunk of a tree. There was a gap in the leaves overhead where the sky peeked through, just a collection of darkness and stars at this hour.
She plopped down between my knees and leaned back into my chest, staring up at the sky.
“There was a day when I was sixteen.” She began. I stilled as I recognized where we were. The forest just outside the cottage she had once called home.
She continued. “I woke up early because it was winter and we didn’t have much food. I knew that most of the game worth hunting was out at night in these woods. I was desperate, so I went out while it was still dark.”
She shook her head. “When Tamlin found me,” Her voice was bitter. “He thought that it was impossible that I had killed his sentry because I was too thin to have managed it. But that winter… that winter was nothing compared to the one when I was sixteen.”
I wrapped my arms around her as she spoke. “That day I made it to here. This spot before I collapsed.”
“And I couldn’t get up. Not the thought of food or warmth or even of providing for my sisters and father, of keeping the promise I had made to my mother… none of it could get me to stand back up. But then I looked up.” Her voice broke. “And I saw the stars. It was like someone was there, telling me to get up, to fight another day. Like a voice was whispering in my ear that it wasn’t over, not even close.”
She paused and raked a hand through her hair. “You’ve been helping me before you even knew it, Rhys.”
I realized that I was holding my breath as she raised her hand, the one covered with a tattoo that marked the bargain we had made that when we died, we would do so together.
“I love you more than I could ever say.” She whispered. “So I will never, never leave you alone.” She looked back at me. “Ever.”
My throat had closed up. “Feyre…” I choked out.
She swiveled around so she was kneeling in front of me. She took my face in her hands and leaned forward.
I was breathless as she kissed me softly. I couldn’t move as she pulled away.
“We will always be together.” She said firmly. “Never alone.”