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i-fondued · 1 year

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Ghost | Sinners in Secret - Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty Four - The Wedding Ceremony Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N: we have FINALLY arrived at the wedding!! it has been a long, long road to get here and now that writers block has let go of me finally I think I'll be able to finish this story strong <3 thank you all for sticking this out with me, this story has been a full labor of love and I've loved everyone's support over the last few months so much.

As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love! However, as always I snuck this out only half edited because I’m a terror and you should all know how terrible I am!

“Prime Mover Elizabeth, these just arrived for you Ma’am.”

I jumped as someone suddenly spoke to me and I turned to find two of Terzo’s ghouls, whose names I was unfamiliar with, coming to place two massive bouquets on the table behind the sofa.

“Oh, thank you.” I smiled as I took a deep breath; inhaling the intoxicating scent of gardenias, orange blossoms, and roses that made up the bouquets. “Does it say who they are from?”

“One from Papa Emeritus the Third and the other from Cardinal Copia, Ma’am.”

Oh, of course they would send me the most extravagant flowers only hours before we’d be wed.

It was finally here, the day I’d been longing for after all these weeks and months. A thrill went up my spine as I smiled, walking over to my flowers and brushing my thumb gently over the petals. I’d just finished getting buffed, waxed, polished and shined for the last time. The Sisters that had been part of my court and had been helping me all week had been filled with joy and laughter, but were also on the verge of tears as we parted after spending so much time together. We’d become close the four of us, despite everything that had happened, and I’d promised them I’d write to them once I was back at the Abbey at home. They had told me, tears brimming in their eyes as we all talked over each other, that they would be eagerly awaiting the announcement of the next member of the Emeritus brood. I blushed profusely as we parted and they left me alone with my thoughts, jitters and beautiful flowers as I waited for Sister Imperator to retrieve Swiss who would be my escort to the ceremony.

“Satan be good…” Sister Imperator’s voice caught my attention as she came back into the suite with Swiss only moments behind her.

“Holy shit, Sunshine…” he cursed, finishing with a low whistle of approval. I blushed bright red, heart pounding in my chest. “You look…woah…”

“You like it?” I teased, turning back and forth slightly to show off the dress. “Sister Imperator, you did say to go big or go home…”

“Go big wasn’t a challenge, but my word, we really outdid ourselves with this one,” Imperator chuckled, crossing her arms and resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. “You look like an absolute vision my dear…”

My wedding dress had been the longest process to put together, both Imperator and I taking our time picking fabrics and designs together. It had taken a week for us to settle on a look, and it was the last garment to be delivered to my room only the morning of the ceremony.

The dress was form fitting, looking almost painted on, until the smallest part of my waist where the skirt floated outwards in a 50s bustle silhouette. It was made entirely from a sheer golden beaded fabric, light and airy on its own, but extremely heavy when made into the gown I was wearing, with a matching golden silk under fabric. It had a sweeping portrait neckline with a sheer portion coming up over my chest and neck, which gave the illusion that I had a choker made of shimmering diamonds and golden stardust sprinkled over my chest and cleavage. We’d decided to add on sleeves made of the same fabric without the silk underlayer; they were skin tight all the way down my arms and came dramatically to a point over the tops of my hands. The skirts were long and had a mid-length train, but the crowning glory was the veil.

It was pinned slightly back from my hairline and made of the same sheer beaded and embellished fabric as my dress, and was royal length. It trailed behind me, much like every other veil I’d worn this week, and hidden in the center of the train was a little secret. Obscured from the unknowing eye, buried in the beading was our new familial crest. It had been designed by myself and Sister Imperator, as there hadn’t been a thruple in many decades, and it was all of our three personal crests wound together in an art deco style. I was giddy to be able to show it off to Terzo and Copia later, but right now I was just jittery with emotions and nerves.

Because my dress had been so elaborate we’d kept my make up simple, just a natural look with light and airy eye make-up and a blush lipstick. My hair had been pulled back to a large bun at the nape of my neck, the front slicked back to hold my loose hairs in place. After the ceremony I already knew I’d be ushered away before the reception to change into yet another gown, something I could actually move around in and dance with other people with.

“Alright, Prime Mover, let’s get you ready to go, we leave in five minutes,” Imperator said happily, clapping her hands as she started to leave the room, pausing to look back at me again with a wry smile. “Let me find your court, the ladies left to get dressed and should be back already.”

Stepping to my side and taking my offered arm, Swiss cocked his head to the side with a peculiar look in his eyes. “You ready, Sunshine?” he asked quietly, his tone genuine but slightly teasing. “I can feel your heart pounding away, darlin’...”

“I’m fine, Swiss. Just nerves. A lot of important people are going to be there and it’s a big deal and I-” I rambled but there was a knock on the bedroom door and I paused as Sister Imperator peeked out and began tearing apart whoever was standing there.

“-You cannot see Her Eminence right now, Cardinal, no matter how important the information is!” Ah, that caught my attention. I slipped away from Swiss, keeping myself to the side behind the door so he wouldn’t be able to see me. I bit my bottom lip as I eavesdropped on Copia’s growled part of the conversation.

“Si, I cannot see her but I must speak with her…è molto importante!” His gritted, Italian parts coming out more like a growled command than a request.

“I cannot even dare to risk the bad luck if you were to see her right now, I’m sorry Cardinal.” Imperator’s eyes drifted to me, narrowing as she began to say something else. I held my hand up and paused her before she could continue.

“It’s alright Sister Imperator, we’ll speak like this. Why don’t you all head to where we’ll meet. Swiss can escort me after Cardinal Copia has left.”

It was the first time I’d used what Swiss had dubbed as my ‘Highly Important Clergy Member’ voice and, much to my surprise, Sister nodded softly.

“Your ghoul must stay here…you haven’t exactly been trustworthy in the past,” Imperator mumbled with an arched eyebrow, and I couldn’t help the blush on my cheeks.

“Of course, Sister Imperator.”

With the sound of swishing fabrics and the soft clacking of shoes on the floor, Imperator swept out of the room with one last glare at Copia as she passed him. Once she was out of sight, Swiss was stationed to my left to block out the other side of the door just in case the other man tried to take a sneak-peek.

“It’s just us, Copia…” I smiled, throat thick with unshed tears as I longed to rip open the door and leap into his arms. I ached for him, but kept reminding myself that in a few short hours we’d all be back together again. “What did you have to tell me? It must be pretty important if you risked a mauling from Sister Imperator.”

“Amore…” He sighed, a soft thunk on the other side of the wood, and I knew deep down he had rested his head against the ornate carvings. Clearly he missed me too. “I…I may have put this off for too long, but I wanted to make sure you were well before I told you anything…”

“What is it?”

“I…Well…Lucifer brought more than just yourself back to this world the other day…”

“What do you mean?” My heart was racing, worry clear in my voice as I placed both hands on the door. What happened when I was recovering?

“He brought me…my ghoul,” he mumbled, so quietly I thought I’d misheard him at first.

“Your ghoul?”

“Si.”

“Copia…you have a ghoul?” I was blown away for a moment as he mumbled another yes back to me. “This…this is wonderful news! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

“You were so hurt, Amore. I did not want you to be worried or stressed out or overexert yourself.” Copia sighed, clearly exasperated but relieved to get this off his chest. I was somewhere between fuming and ecstatic.

“Copia, I’m fine now. Why wouldn’t you want to share this with me? Because I’d been hurt? Swiss was worse off than I was.

“I did not want to make that day about me,” he said gruffly. “We were all thankful that you were okay.”

“Still Copia…you have a ghoul, your own ghoul, and I haven’t even met them yet!”

“Topolino…”

“Don’t you Topolino me, I remember what Swiss was like when he first came earthside, he was like a lost puppy. Your ghoul must be beside himself…” I fumed, heels clacking against the stone floors as I stomped my foot like a child.

“Actually…” I could hear the amusement in his voice, which only made me even more angry. “He has been bound to me since I became a Cardinal, I just did not allow him to come to me at the time…”

“Copia…” I started but I heard him sigh and he cut me off quickly, ending any rant I had incoming.

“What is done is done now, Amore. I was foolish but I understand now, si? I wanted to tell you about him so I would be able to introduce you before we leave tomorrow morning.”

The Cardinal’s voice was clear that he thought the conversation was over. I was still ready for a fight, but the look in Swiss eyes told me Copia had already beat himself up over it enough that I didn’t have to keep it going. I sighed and tucked the anger to the side, remembering that today was our day, and all of us were staring down the finish line of a very emotionally changed week.

“Fine…but I want to meet him before the reception or I will make a big scene like a bridezilla, okay?” I teased, his little chuckle on the other side of the door causing me to grin against my will.

“Of course, Amore. Anything for you, si?”

There was a moment, a quiet pause and before I could even help myself the anxiety took over and I spoke in a small voice that surprised me.

“Are you scared? About the ritual, our futures, the expectations…”

“Terrorizzato, Amore.” He chuckled and I watched the familiar black leather gloved hand slip between the opening of the doors. “But we will do it together, yes? With Terzo too, naturalmente.”

I tentatively slipped my hand in his and my heart melted as he gave me a gentle squeeze.

“Always. It will always be us,” I said, voice tight and watery as I fought the well of emotion that had bubbled up again. I cleared my throat as he let go of my hand and had to laugh to break the tension. “Speaking of Terzo, where the hell is he? I would have thought he would have been with you already.”

“He was still getting everything ready for the ritual, full of dramatics. When I left he was dressed in his shirt and socks, nothing else.”

I snorted back the laughter that sprung from my mouth at the image of Terzo and Swiss cleared his throat.

“We need to head down to the chapel, Cardinal. You need to get ready as well.”

“Ah yes, yes. I am off.” Copia said, I could picture the little smirk on his face as he spoke. “I cannot wait to see you, Stellina.”

“I can’t wait to see you too, beloved.” I blushed as I spoke, the nickname feeling foreign in my mouth.

“Amati, eh?” He laughed, I could tell he was walking away from the door when he called back to me. “I could get used to a life being your amati, Sorella…”

…

“Swiss, your pacing is making me more anxious…”

Shortly after Copia had left us, my heart light from anxiety for the first time all day, Swiss and I had joined the others as we made our way down to the chapel for the last time. Just like the earlier rituals, there was much fanfare from the Siblings and ghouls who’d not been able to attend the actual ceremony. I felt like a goddess among men as we followed the path I knew deep down in my sleep; the way they all looked at me with reverent eyes and praying hands was both ego boosting, while also a solemn reminder of who I was to these people. My people.

Suddenly the soothing classical music floating under the seam of the door changed into a more fitting and haunting melody, the organ clear as day in the space just beyond the doors. Swiss and I looked at each other and I couldn’t help the twinge of panic. Swiss instantly was in mother hen mode, clucking around me and making sure everything was perfectly in place.

“You ready, Sunshine?” he smiled, the only sign of it behind the mask was the crinkle around his eyes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be…but wher-?” I started, but before I could even finish my sentence the doors cracked open and the last person I’d have thought to see stepped through. “Secondo? Where is Primo?”

“I’m sorry, piccolo.” He sighed, looking down at me from his height with a grouchy expression. “My brother wanted to pass along that he wasn't feeling all that well and he didn’t trust his ‘old bones’ to make it down the aisle without hurting himself; so he sent me.”

“You?” I squeaked, but Secondo was glaring in the direction he just came from.

“Meddling old coot…” he mumbled under his breath as he moved to take my arm, and Swiss and I locked eyes.

My ghoul shrugged, taking the bouquet from the side table and handing it to me. It was made up of flowers handpicked and selected by Primo and I. Almost unwieldy in its size; the bouquet was a long, cascading style made with all white roses, dahlias, peonies, and hydrangeas. Mixed in was lush greenery and baby’s breath, which made for the heaviest bouquet I’ve ever held, not that I had many in my hands. Wrapped around the stems was a grucifix in gold, a wedding day gift from the council. I had practically growled when I’d seen it but I was told it was apparently tradition to have them gift me a golden grucifix and I’d begrudgingly let it go.

I went to step forward as Swiss moved up to the doors, getting ready to open them, but paused as my companion didn’t move.

“Secondo...?” I looked up at him curiously and he seemed to come back from the far off place that was lingering in his eyes.

“Yes, Sist-excuse me…Prime Mover.”

“What happened with Veritas was not your fault, Secondo.” I mumbled quietly, noting the way he looked at me like I was a fragile toy and he was a two year old left alone in the room. Like he was afraid I’d shatter if he held my gaze for too long.

“I…I don’t feel that it is.” His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, looking away from my face and I had to resist the urge to place my hand on his cheek and tug him to look at me.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I quirked my eyebrow, unable to help the smirk that slipped onto my lips.

“No.”

“Then don’t treat me like I’m one of your brothers or your father. I can see it every time you look at me.”

“Sorella…” he started, turning towards me but I held my hand up and cut him off.

“Nope, I won’t hear it.” I couldn’t help the small smile on my lips at the petulant look on his face. “Look…It’s my wedding day, I just want you to know that I don’t blame you at all. What happened…the blame lies with Veritas and him alone. I have it on very good authority that he is currently getting what he deserves.”

“...and what about his sister?” He spoke quietly, so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it until his eyes finally met mine and I saw the intense shame in them.

My heart pounded sharply, thinking back to the look on her face as the events had unfolded down in the catacombs, and a chill ran down my spine. I could see Swiss out of the corner of my eye, stiffening at the mutual anxiety floating back and forth between us.

“W-What about her?” I didn’t like how small my voice sounded in that moment even as I straightened my back and tried to look casual.

“They still haven’t been able to track her down in the catacombs, I’ve looked down there myself. We don’t quite know where she could have gone…”

The conversation was cut short when Sister Imperator cracked open the door herself, causing both Secondo and I to jump.

“It's time.” She nodded at us, and slipped back behind the door.

“We will speak of this again after, Sorella. For now, enjoy your day and your honeymoon. I’ve had my own ghouls watching over you and Copia, along with mi fratellino.”

“O-Okay.” It was anything but okay, but I knew that he was right, today was going to be a happy day and a day not about the past but about the future. “When we get back to the Abbey, we’ll talk about it right?”

“Of course, Sis-Prime Mover.” He corrected himself last minute as he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm with a wry smile on his face. “You know, if the fates had been written differently it would have been myself at the other side of the door.”

“Good thing for you, Secondo, they weren’t, ‘cause I don’t think you could handle my attitude in the morning,” I teased, giving him a small and playful shove. “Besides, who else would have been able to teach me about all the rituals if it wasn’t for you?”

He chuckled then, kissing the top of my hand affectionately before putting his stoic mask back on as the doors opened in front of us.

“You’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to Terzo, Sorella. I honestly don’t know what we would have done with him without you to balance him out, not to mention the Cardinal.”

“I love them both, equally. I don’t know what I’d do without them either.”

The sound of the old wood doors opening pulled my attention from Secondo, who was about to say something, to the chapel in front of us. I felt my heart thundering as I took in the sight of the entire chapel turned to watch my entrance. A gentle blush spread over my cheeks and crossed the bridge of my nose as we started to make our way forward, with Swiss following stoically behind to make sure my dress, train and veil stayed perfect. The chapel was decorated beautifully, flowers arching over the eaves and candlelight glowing in the low candelabras casting a glow over the entire space. But that barely registered with me once I saw Copia and Terzo turn towards me from the altar, their jaws dropping at the sight of their bride coming up towards them.

I couldn’t take my eyes off them however, the background of the space falling away as I took them in. This was the first time I’d ever seen either of them dressed in formalwear. They were in full white tie dress, the most formal they could be. They were in black tailcoats, white waistcoats and bowties, and the cut came snug at their waists. Both of them were also wearing the sinfully tight trousers of my dream that left nothing to the imagination while whispering the images of what was to come once the festivities were over, a slight blush staining my cheeks, However that was where the similarities ended.

Terzo was wearing his traditional Papal face paints, but his hair wasn’t quite slicked back. Instead it had been coiffed into a part with a few light strands dusting his forehead which reminded me of some of the covers of romance novels the Siblings back home would trade between each other. He wore a dangling grucifix earring like he had when we had gone to the club all that time ago, and the sight of it made my stomach flutter a little. I smiled at the almost familiar sight of his black shoes with white spats, which were bright white in comparison to his black tux. He winked at me and I blushed, eyes quickly scurrying away to look at my other groom.

Copia had the softest look on his face, my heart leapt into my throat and I had to already fight back tears as he attempted to clear his throat. Copia, much like Terzo had his daily Clergy paints on his face, his hair was also slicked back in a slight coif. Instead of black shoes he wore red leather dress shoes with buckles, as a nod to his position and subtle way of pushing back against the white tie dress code. They were both wearing white silk gloves, twin hands starting to reach towards me as I approached the pair of them.

My arms slipped from Secondo’s and I felt him chuckle at the almost star-struck look on my face as I reached out to my boys, my grooms, and I looked back at him with a sheepish smile.

“I think I was meant to get you up the altar, Sorella,” he teased before he passed off my hand to Terzo, and Copia took my arm as my left hand held my bouquet. “But I think they’ll take it from here…”

“Thank you, Secondo,” I smiled, voice whispery as I smiled brightly and fought the tears that seemed to be permanently lodged in my throat.

“Any time, Sorellina.”

I saw Swiss from the corner of my eye and, like we’d practiced, he came to my right side and bowed deeply to me while I curtsied to him. Swiss then turned to my grooms and, almost militaristically, he saluted them and gave them each a curt bow.

“I pass on my duty as sworn protector of the sposa sacra to you both, my watch has ended,” Swiss stated, repeating what Secondo had taught us, before he walked to sit with the other members of the Emeritus family and their own personal ghouls.

“Amore?” Copia’s voice was soft, almost breathy, and I turned instantly to look at him. “Are you ready?”

“Of course, Copia.”

“You look stunning, Tesoro,” Terzo murmured in my ear as he helped me up to the altar where Nihil was waiting for us.

The altar had what seemed like a whole other altar added, essentially giving us another level but also to make sure that everyone present could see us from where we were standing. A chill ran up my spine as I looked back at all the eyes on us. Copia was on my left, Terzo on my right, and I was in the middle like a half moon as we stood in front of Papa Nihil. As the organ music came to a close I heard the rustle of everyone sitting down, and I fought the urge to groan as Nihil launched into one of his well known and long winded sermons.

While Nihil droned on about love, duty, and the call of the Old One, my mind focused on my grooms. Terzo had tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, his gloved thumb running back and forth over the top of my hand as he looked not at his father but at me. There was a warm look in his eye but not the heated one I was used to, no this one was a slow and simmering sort of adoration. My cheeks flushed and I smiled at him, winking as Nihil made a mention of continuing the line. He fought back a chuckle and my eyes slipped over to Copia, who looked a little more stressed than I would have thought at this point in the rituals, but when his eyes met mine the stress melted away and suddenly I was faced with a completely smitten gaze in his eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Nihil finally made it to the meat of the event. The ritual.

“With this blade, slice your palms and hold them out for each other to take,” Nihil wheezed, one of the Siblings helping with the ritual took my bouquet and handed me the golden blade.

I winced slightly as I quickly sliced both palms and took both Terzo and Copia’s hands in my two. They in turn took each other's free hands and we stood in a circle as two Siblings and Nihil himself one by one tied our hands together.

“This circle signifies your relationship, no matter what you may go through, may this moment remind you that life is a never ending circle. Like the serpent attempting to swallow its own tail. May your life ebb and flow from each other, may you bring each other comfort when the others may struggle, may you support and lift the other ones to new heights. May Lucifer smile upon this union.”

As he finished speaking the last binding was done and we looked at each other with bright, massive smiles.

“May the flock offer you tidings and wishes,” Papa Nihil bowed, moving back as he opened the pews to come and offer their good fortune and prayers.

It was an odd tradition to continue to observe with us being a throuple and unable to face the approaching Siblings and Clergy members; but I just continued to smile at my men knowing this was one of the last steps before we’d be free to party the night away until we were expected to retire for the evening. I could feel as people passed by us, hear their mumbled prayers of our union and eventual continued lineage, and I could feel the ghosting of fingertips against my skirts as they pressed a kiss to the hem. Secondo had said that to kiss the hem of a bride was considered good luck but to kiss the hem of the Prime Mover while she was bound? There was no greater blessing for our flock.

So I stood there as everyone filed up to offer up prayers and took luck in the form of my hem, and I let my eyes drift between my partners, until I felt both of them stiffen.

“What?” I whispered, suddenly fear pounding through my veins. “Whats going on?”

“Amore…” Copia started, eyes focused on someone right behind me. “The Siblings have stopped moving.”

Ah, that could only mean one thing.

“Blessed evening, my little lambs.”

Lucifer’s voice was silky, like fingertips dancing across my bare skin, and I couldn’t help the lazy smile on my face as he came to stand next to me where I could see him. “Look at you three, finally bound as I’d been planning for quite a long time.”

“My Lord.” Both boys bowed, while their hands were still bound together, and launched into prayers. I rolled my eyes and looked at Lucifer with a wry smile.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Holiness.” I nodded my head at him. “Come to rescue me from sore feet?”

“No, little lamb,” he laughed, a twinkling sort of sound as he slipped under where Terzo and I’s hands were tied together and stood in the middle of the circle the three of us made. “I was here to offer my blessings.”

“You honor us, my liege.” Terzo sounded so serious that I was a little shocked by his change in demeanor.

“Hush, Alesandro,” Lucifer smiled, a flirty look in his eyes. “I’ve known you since you were small, I’ve watched you grow into the man before me. I know who you truly are. The least I can do is offer my blessing.”

“Papa is right, my Lord, but I must thank you again for everything you have done for us. Bringing Sorella back…”

“We will speak no more of us, Cardinal,” Lucifer said, tone final as he cut off Copia. He turned to me with a wolfish smile. “What of you little lamb? Any words you wish to shower me with?”

“Nope. I know better, I’d like to just thank you for coming to see us.”

“That's my girl.” He winked and I couldn’t help the blush that flushed over my cheeks. “For now I offer you a gift.”

As he spoke he pressed his hand against my lower stomach, a knowing look on his face as the realization dawned on me. I looked at him with a somewhat shocked expression, and he chuckled as he turned to look at my grooms.

“When the time is right…you will receive my blessing, my lambs. For now enjoy your time together.”

Before any of us could say anything, the sound and mumbles of the hall came back to us and Lucifer was gone.

“D-did he do what I think he did?” Terzo asked, eyes suddenly wary as he looked around, like the devil was going to pop up again.

“Let’s just say he’s hoping to have a large pool of children to pick to take up the mantle, so to speak…”

…

After a long reception filled with dinner, drinks, dancing, and just all around merriment; I was exhausted.

I had assumed incorrectly that I’d get to change into another dress at the reception, instead I had to wear the heavy dress and veil through speeches and people coming to wish us many blessings and for a happy marriage. I could feel the weight digging into my hip bones as I danced with every important member of the clergy more than once. I felt the slightly itchy scratch of the illusion neckline as I slouched down slightly as I rested between the festivities and courses of the meal. Finally I felt a warm hand on each shoulder, the Sisters from earlier had come back and they had knowing smiles on their faces.

‘It's time to change, your eminence.” One said her head bowed slightly.

I nodded as the pair of them guided me off to a secluded room off the main ballroom that had been set up as the main reception space, though the whole monastery had been prepped and decked out so every sibling and ghoul could celebrate. Together we took off the heavy dress, one that I’d been told would be preserved and held in the archives for who knows how long, like all the prime movers before me.

The afterparty dress was made entirely of slinky black silk, the maternal feeling almost like water as it slid down my bare skin. I wore no bra and no underwear, feeling exposed but extremely turned on. I blushed as I felt my nipples harden at the thought of what my companions, no…my husbands, would say when they saw me. There were drooping straps that just dusted past my shoulders, the neckline scooping down almost to the point of indecency, and hugged me so tightly through the thigh I was surprised I could walk. The dress also had a small train and a small overskirt made of silk as well for a little extra dramatics. Over all of this was another intensely long veil, this time a spanish style with lace all along the edges and even over the blusher that covered my face.

They left my hair and make up as it was and quickly I was ushered back to the room as the clock chimed 3 in the morning.

Terzo and Copia were already by the door as I stepped through, their faces eager and mischievous as they reached out towards me. I smiled brightly as I took their hands, both bending to kiss my knuckles almost at the same time.

“Come, Amore.” Terzo murmured against my skin, the deep rumbles of his voice causing me to shiver as they both stepped close to me. “We have a special surprise waiting for you back in our rooms.”

“Si, I think it will be something you would not expect.” Copia chuckled as they led me out of the space, the high ranking clergy members, such as Papa Nihil, Sister Imperator and the other Emeritus Brothers, followed us in the low light of the candlelit path we followed.

“I’m just happy we get to sleep together again, all in one bed.” I mumbled, a small blush at the heat in their eyes.

“Oh…Stelina…sleep is the last thing on our minds.” Copia’s eyes met Terzos before they both smirked at me, something smoldering in their gaze and I had to bite my bottom lip to hold back a whimper.

When we finally made it to the door, the Emeritus brothers each took my hands kissing the knuckles and bowing they heads and wishing for a fruitful evening, as they had done for centuries. Papa Nihil was behind a few steps and I heard him grumble to Imperator, my face blushing bright red.

“Back in my day, the clergy was to watch the consummation….”

“Hush, Papa…” Imperator cut him off sharply when she saw the look on Terzo’s face before they tugged me into our rooms and practically slammed the door in everyone's faces.

Finally. After several weeks of planning, being forced to be separated due to the rituals, a near death experience, and a cock-blocking ghoul at every turn…we were alone.

It took all of seconds before hands were pulling at clothes and lips were pressed to bare skin.

Gods below...I had missed them.

#ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #terzo x copia #copia x reader #copia x reader x terzo #cardinal copia #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #my writing #sinners in secret chapters

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loaflovesdoodling · 6 months

Note

let’s say hypothetically i was interested in attempting to write fanfic of your kirby guys….. where would you point me where i could learn who the characters are and a good idea of what they’re like?? 👀

OMFG WAIT JUST A SEC BECAUSE AVDHSBSSHDHSJSHS WE LITERALLY JUST MET BUT YOU'RE ALREADY SO INTERESTED IN MY SILLY BAPIES AND ASSHDHSHDHSBDHSSJSJSJS OMFG MY ANXIETY AND EXCITEMENT ARE AT THEIR PEAK RN

OKOKOK SO,

FOR THE DULCIADES LORE, HERE'S A LIST OF THIS OLD AND BAD FIC SERIES I MADE ABOUT 1-2 MONTHS AGO (BUT PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION BECAUSE IT DOES TALK ABOUT RATHER TOUCHY SUBJECTS SUCH AS TERMINAL ILLNESS AND DEATH)

(pt. 1; pt. 2; pt 3; pt 4; pt 5)

AS FOR A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THE SILLIES :DD

Sir Pleiades: Ultimately Immortal (which is basically a fancy way to say he cannot die ever no matter what and will even survive the Heat Death of the Universe), he's kind, caring, elegant, but really cocky and boastful. He can be scary serious when he wants and is kind of a mad psychopath, but he bottles all his anger up to look 'normal' and so he mostly appears as a very calm individual. He deeply cares about those whom he holds close to his heart and is willing to take any risk for them. Also teasing is his love language (both platonic and romantic) and, being a Demigod, he possesses multipurpose stardust magic (he can use it for object summoning, self-healing and even some brief variant of teleportation) and has a super strong sense of intuition and instinct.

Blossom Dee: Mute tiny little gremlin <3 she's canonically 8cm tall and an eternal toddler, and even though she can't speak herself, she understands others perfectly and can write basic words out using flower petals; she's also able to pick up on social cues quite well. She loves sweets and often has huge sugar rushes (not that she ain't already hyperactive herself, mind you, she's already an energetic little creature as is HELPPP). She loves sitting on people's heads (most of the time you'll see her sitting on her big bro Ades'); she also loves making friends.

Miss Dulciana: Just a regular mortal lady, she's pretty into daisy flowers and has a gorgeous singing voice. She's sweet, loving, but pretty peppy and playful. She has a purse, but doesn't carry it around often, because the top skirt layer of her dress has pockets beneath it. She's an absolute disaster at baking, but she has her fun in trying, at least. She's also tried learning Crochet, but gave up when she accidentally tangled her hands in the yarn and undid her entire work while trying to pry them free. She taught Pleiades French and learnt Japanese with him. :)

WAAAAAHHH HELP SO SORRY FOR THE REALLY LONG POST ASBSBSBBDBDHDDBDBDJDN YOU DON'T HAVE TO WRITE ANYTHING IF YOU DON'T WANNA REALLY AAAGSHSHSHSHSHSHS BUT JUST IN CASE YOU AT LEAST WANT TO GET TO KNOW THEM BETTER HERE'S A CRAPPY DESC 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#loaf's rambles #kirby ocs #sir pleiades #blossom dee #miss dulciana #oc asks

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definegodliness · 2 years

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In the lone dark

She sinks back Into the star strewn veil; In darkness, velvet softness Caresses tip to toe; Mellowing like water, warmed By the residual heat of supernovas. The touch of infinity trails silver, causing Every speck of stardust that Shapes a human body To sparkle.

She sinks Lower, floating down, Almost weightless; a lone rose petal, Carried by little more than Surface tension.

The flowers rise like trees at the banks Of the river Nyx;

Eyes pierce in everflow, the lively black Craving creation.

A pulse In the lone dark; A rhythm that dictates Every speck of stardust that Shapes a human body to flicker.

She rises, Pushed upward; Her vessel lifted By The goddess, reborn; Awoken; alive — below her diaphragm; She feels it as heartbeats synchronise; She is her, and her is she.

She flashes, light; Every muscle and sinew Strains as if used for the first time; In might, forgotten, bracing for the plummet.

Earth, As night, her mother, Awaits with cradling arms. She is born; Alive, Once more.

Goddess, woman, human; Eternity, within.

--- 3-10-2022, M.A. Tempels ©

#poetry #spilled ink #writing #dark academia #romanticism #esoteric #creative writing #romantic poem #romantic poetry #words #writeblr #tumblr poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #poem #free verse #alt lit #writers #poet

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daosies · 3 months

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frostbitten

kaeya teaches you how to ice skate.

kaeya ♡ gn!reader

warnings: not proofread, petnames ("dear"), maybe ooc kaeya

note: thank you so much for requesting! sorry it took so long </3

requested by: anon

"don't lean your weight on your heels," kaeya instructs, "and don't panic."

you panic. your arms flail haphazardly around, the ice under your skates suddenly gaining sentience as it slides out from under your feet. as if it has something against you.

it definitely does. because the ice that loathes you is, in fact, ardently in love with kaeya. he's quick and precise, his hands snaking around your waist and stabilizing you before you can fall. of course, being kaeya, he also has to sneak in a witty remark.

"there's no need to fall for me twice, dear [name]."

"i'm going to kill you," you respond blandly. he chuckles, his hand coming to brush against the side of your face in response as kaeya steadies you against his figure.

"since you have figure skates,"—he rests his hand on the side of your hip—"you have toe picks in the front of your blades. you can use them to grip the ice."

you stab the picks into the ice, noticing the way bits of snow fly from the ground, melting into the fabric of your clothes. kaeya dusts your jacket, his hand coming to fiddle with the scarf around your neck, as if he's unsatisfied with the way it wraps around you.

"you should bundle up more," he says, a tender expression taking over his features. kaeya is unlike himself when he's with you—he's a little bashful, a little shy. when he's with you—which he always seems to be—kaeya is enamored.

it's in the way he unties your scarf, only to tie it again. it's in the way he looks at you with that adoring gaze of his, as if you were a wild dream, the mere thought of you making flowers blossom across his chest, scattering his world with petals and love and you.

again, kaeya brushes his hand against your face, smiling when you shiver from the cold of his fingertips.

"oops, sorry," he says without remorse. he reaches his index finger out to do it again, but you clumsily back away from him, your arm still outstretched in case you fall.

"when you go backwards, you should make an oval motion with your feet," kaeya states, amused. "and put your weight forward to push back."

"don't tell me what to do." you heed his advice in order to get away from him, your legs wobbling as they dig into the ice.

"oh, my sincerest apologies." again, there is not a hint of sorrow in his voice. slowly, you inch away from him, ignoring the way he narrows the distance within half a second.

"you're getting too good," he says. "how am i going to tease you if you keep going away?"

"that's exactly the point," you reply. "shoo."

he grins a cheesy grin. when kaeya smiles at you, it's either a shit-eating smirk or a tender one. when kaeya smiles at you—which he often does—he smiles like you're the most wondrous thing, like you plucked a star from the sky and pinned it to your figure.

(you have. kaeya is utterly convinced you plucked a star from the sky, that your face was crafted by stardust and your being was inspired by constellations. when kaeya looks at you, he sees galaxies and universes, futures and lifetimes where you make flowers blossom and stars fall.)

because kaeya's always smiling—but when he's smiling at you, it's different. a nice kind of different. a lovely, captivated kind of different.

you inch away from him, but this time, kaeya doesn't chase you. he stands amidst the ice, watching the distance between you two grow larger and larger, 'till he can't bear it any longer and he opens his arms for a hug.

while you're bundled up in a puffer jacket and a scarf, kaeya wears a simple shirt with a picture of a slime printed on it. it was a gift from klee—and when she was gifting it, she had the intention for kaeya to wear it during summer.

it was most definitely not summer. and this most definitely was not the occasion that klee had in mind.

still, you approach him with an exasperated smile.

"i'm not hugging a guy with a geo slime on his shirt." you point at the slime. "why's it looking at me like that?"

kaeya's arms remain wide open. "it thinks you're pretty. i agree, by the way. come here."

you roll your eyes. with shaky legs, you slowly skate back over to the man, the ice picking you up as you glide over the distance, landing straight in kaeya's embrace as he wraps his arms around your figure, letting your momentum carry him back, the two of you beginning to sway a little.

his grip is tight, and when he speaks, there's a breathless tinge to his voice.

"got you."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya

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nemufaery · 3 months

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Chapter 3 | The Night Palace

The softly glowing twin moons drifting through the hallway of the second floor of the Night Palace.

Yuki had changed into a pair of pajamas that the enchanting magic on her room had created.

They consisted of a matching short and top set with a theme of cat and an oversized fluffy pink parka and pink thigh high socks. Along with white bunny fluffy slippers.

Her waist length hair was tied up by white fluffy scrunchies in twin tails at the back of her head.

She stepped out into the hallway. Stretching her arms out in-front of her.

The quartz gemstones on the ceiling were glowing less bright than earlier due to them being set around sleeping hours.

“Princess?” Sena’s voice interrupted.

She softly blinked, looking towards the end of the hallway to see that he was standing there.

She shuffled over to him.

“Can’t sleep?” He guessed.

Watching her lightly nod.

He thought for a second.

“I’m getting a drink from the kitchen, care to join me?” He started.

Located on the ground floor past the Grand Duke official office and the Moon Room for moon gazing.

The floor was light purple with a violet coloured bellflower design.

The cabinets were a matching light purple with white surfaces.

Sena leaned his arm on the island bar.

“I can make any drink. Any preferences on what you want to try first. We have pretty much every possible fruit or flower available,” he offered.

She tilted her head to the side.

“Anything pink,” she mumbled.

He smiled as he nodded.

“I’ll make you four sample drinks of the most popular pink tastes in Seren,” he smiled.

Starting to go through the organised cupboards that had jars of different slices of fruit or flower petals.

“You can sit down over there,” he added.

She glanced behind her to see the white table with matching four seats by the large window that showed the forget-me-knots outside.

She shuffled over, sitting on the furthest away seat.

She lightly swung her legs as she looked at the view outside.

With a few of the white blossoms on the trees falling.

A few minutes had passed.

He had made her four small drinks. Consisting of white peach, roses, strawberry and peppermint.

While he had made himself an butterfly pea soda with pomegranates on-top.

He sat down opposite her.

He sipped his drink as he looked out of the window.

To see that the lavender fog outside was growing stronger.

“I guess the fog is a side effect of all the stars coming down from the sky,” he started.

Taking another sip.

“Although, I believe the Mirage world believes that when there’s night fog it means the Fae are about. Maybe the fog is recognising a new Faery,” he remembered.

His amethyst eyes looking over at Yuki opposite him.

She tilted her head to the side as she exchanged eye contact with him.

“Did it really change that much when I appeared?” She mumbled.

He leaned forwards on the table.

“A mixture of stardust and dream energy had appeared all over the sky leading to where the Stars were. That’s what I followed,” he nodded.

“Stardust…” she mumbled.

Glancing down at her hand as pink stardust drifted across her fingertips before turning into the shape of a small bunny.

“So are they any good?” He asked.

Pointing down at the drinks in-front of her.

She lightly nodded.

“I like all of them but the middle one is the best,” she mumbled.

Sena’s amethyst like eyes glanced down.

“Ah, that’s the rose one. So you like roses, at least in drink form,” he confirmed.

Taking another sip of his butterfly pea drink.

Yuki tugged down the hems of her sleeves as she looked out at the view outside the window.

Seeing the flowers blossoming either side of the glowing crystal pathway outside.

“I’ll give you a tour of the Night Palace somewhen. Other Fae will stop by once in a while but they stay on the ground floor. Rumi is the only one who tends to stay in the guest room,” he offered.

Before starting to describe the basics of the Courts that belonged to Seren.

“There’s four other Courts besides my Night Court in Seren. The closest one to us is Rumi’s Crystal Court. On the other side of Night there’s the Flower Court to the East. The Moon Court is on the outside of all of them and split into two for each of the moons. And then there’s the Frost Court to the North,” he informed.

Finishing his drink.

“You can go anywhere you’d like in Seren or even move to the other Courts if that’s what you wish. The Courts know to give you time to settle in so they shouldn’t bother you. Although you’ve already met the High Lord of the Crystal Court,” he continued.

She softly blinked. Looking up at him.

“I would prefer it if I didn’t have to met that many Fae,” she mumbled.

Sena smiled as he nodded.

“I figured as much. Just come to me for anything you need and I’ll sort it out,” he offered.

Leaning his head against his arms on the table.

As the lavender fog outside drifted across the ground. Glistening under the moonlight.

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

for the dreamland promp list <3 can I request daydream prompt "Knowing you is like coming home. I’ve finally found something that’s been missing all this time." with Scara? him saying it to reader.

of course! thank you for sending this in :) - I know how much this Harbinger has stolen your heart <3

The floating petals drifted down from the trees above, their light and reflective hue like glittering stardust floating about listlessly. You couldn’t help but fall in love with the beauty of this place, Inazuma and all that it was - the glory and the dangers - it was part of the package you had signed off on long ago.

“Is this where you ran off too?” Someone called out to you, pulling you from the trance of fluttering flower petals. When you turned only to see Scaramouche walking toward you, it did your heart no good.

“Mmhm, I wanted to see the Sakura trees.” He stopped in front of you and, before you got distracted by a floating petal, you noted that he didn’t have his hat.

“I told you not to wander off.” He crossed his arms and gave you a stern expression. It wasn’t unlike him to set boundaries, especially when the current situation might put you at risk but no matter the harshness of his tone, you understood he was doing this to protect you.

“I know, sorry.” Taking a step closer to him, you felt the warmth of his body spread across yours and when his eyes continued to stare, you turned your head. You were about to apologize again when you felt something touch you, turning just enough, you saw Scara’s fingers and the words you so easily spoke before wouldn’t come.

He carefully pulled the fallen flower petals from your hair. Each one fell toward the ground, as they landed he moved closer to you and the way his scent mingled with the richness of the landscape made you sink.

“I hate this you know.” He began, his eyes distracted by the work of his fingers. Your heart beat in your chest but you didn’t dare cut him off. “Every time you leave my site, my chest hurts and I can’t think straight.” His fingers rummaged through your locks and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine. “Do you know why I tell you to stay beside me?”

You looked at him and shook your head, your eyes transfixed by his. Please, heart, be still so I can hear him.

“It’s so I can breathe. I am nothing but a discarded shell, a tool meant to serve those around me ... but ... knowing you is like living, like coming home. I’ve finally found something that’s been missing all this time.”

He looked at you and every doubt in your mind drifted away like petals on the wind. “Don’t leave me, it’s my one rule.”

“Never, how could I ever leave you?” You whispered through your tears and while the world bathed you in glittering beauty, the kiss he received from you set fire to his dormant heart.

Dreamland Event

#hazels dreamland #our dreamland #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #my lovely mer #i hope this eases your heart today #<3

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musashi · 2 years

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2021 Writer In Review Meme!

@wutheringmights said that the writers should get in on the end of year art memes and you know what!!!! i agree. this is one of the first years in a while i was constantly writing and i want to brag too, hehe.

here’s some excerpts im particularly proud of from the respective months i wrote them in~

January:

Another lurch in the spirit’s being, and Fi shutters it with calculations before it can get to her. A reason. A reason for her behaviour. Possibilities pop up and simmer out. She wants to keep an eye on him and monitor his health—low probability, she can do that without manifesting. She wants to keep watch on the area while he’s in a vulnerable state? The same—the evil around them has an easily detectable aura, and most of it wouldn’t dare near the sacred flame. Maybe the sword feels cramped? But nothing’s stopping Fi from making herself smaller, turning her body to stardust within its hilt. Nothing adds up—besides the stirring against her crystal heart, like a loftwing chick’s clumsy first flight.

~ In Emergency Situations, Your Sword Can Provide Medical Attention

February/March:

She sings. Marin’s pressed into his side, an arm around Legend’s waist, and he tries not to become lost in the notes he’s heard a thousand times and wants to hear a million more. His head swirls with the scent of her this close—fresh cut flowers, bonfires on the beach, she smells like summer and young love and memory, and she holds him, and he melts into her shoulder and her wild red hair, unable to fight the impulse any longer. Legend brings a shaking hand toward her, pawing at a courage that comes so easily everywhere else, and Marin meets him halfway, lacing the fingers of her free hand with his own. Her skin is so impossibly soft, the strength in how she holds him so apparent regardless.

~ Down [Chapter 1: Legend]

April:

Now, the sunset’s flashing its last hurrah across Hyrule in a golden parade of light, and Twilight lets his heart ache its bittersweet ache as he takes it in and buries his fingers in the sand and resists the urge to look toward his growing shadow. Wind and Wild are two blurs of bright blue, foot-racing through the salty waves, the champion desperate to win at something as it very quickly became clear that no living swordsman could best the Hero of Winds in a seaside battle.

~ Down [Chapter 2: Four]

May:

There’s so much he’s still missing, so much life he’s yet to remember, pawing at scraps of who he was before. Pictures the princess left him, and scrawlings on yellowed paper burnt with malice and hidden in the castle walls, with so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong, to silently bear every burden. Anything can send him tumbling back to that mysterious Before—the scent of fruitcake baking, the croak of a hot-footed frog, the right notes on Time’s ocarina, the velvety petals of a silent princess in his hand.

~ Down [Chapter 3: Wild]

June:

Most of all, Sky thinks of the day after Pipit’s Wing Ceremony. He thinks of the broken wail of his mother’s loftwing against the thundering winds that whipped and tore around Skyloft, he thinks of the scraps of his father’s best tunic hanging from the bird’s bleeding talons. He thinks of his fingernails dug into the dirt while he sobs, and sobs, and sobs, and he thinks of the pity he never stopped seeing thereafter in the eyes of everyone who looked his way.

Of the pity bed at the academy, why don’t you stay the summer in your dorm. Of the pity buffet Zelda brought him to a few days after, all his favourite foods lined up in the empty academy kitchen. Of the pity party his life became in the whole year following, a sudden and suspicious charisma that drew people to him, people who had never noticed the silent boy before.

Pity grades. Pity letter. Pity win. Pity sailcloth. Pity date. Pity sword. Pity destiny.

~ Down [Chapter 4: Wind]

July:

Skyward Sword HD said no writing this month <3

August:

Malon considers this for a moment before nodding, nonchalant. In some other lifetime, perhaps, this would be a revelation worth thinking about, but knowing Link has taught her to stop being surprised. Thinking back to all those years ago, when he’d stumbled into the castle grounds looking dirty and lost, the way her heart soared when she saw the fairy duck into his hat. Strange magic has always just swam around him, sparkling at his fingertips with every whistling note of his ocarina. Link’s a fairytale, even like this.

~ Rest Stop

September:

Tonight, Fi is restless, warbling energy glowing off her blade in quiet bursts, refusing to calm. Sky isn’t sure if it’s because she knows they’re talking about her and wants to be present as she’s able, or if it’s something more conciliatory, a way to put the lot of them at ease. It feels more like the second, Sky ponders, and it drifts along his head again—this vibration in his veins, like her wings on his hands. Like she’s touching him delicately, moving him into position. Not an order, never an order—always a guiding light, a tilt of her head to act as his compass, a two-digit numerical with a percentage trailing behind it like a comet’s tail. Even now—with the contradiction of her lilting monotone silent—she suggests, advises, encourages.

And Sky trusts her, so he listens.

Finally, his fingers weaving through Time’s hair without a single mussed-up objection, he braids.

Imperfect braids, of course—Zelda taught him in a single day, long ago when they were kids, and she’s so adept at doing her own, he rarely gets to practice. But it’s something to do to assuage his sick friend’s headache when the act of just entwining loses its appeal, and so Sky braids, feeling in that moment that there’s a one-hundred percent probability of it being the best thing to do.

~ Down [Chapter 6: Time]

October:

On paper, it’s an otherwise unremarkable sound. He’s got six sick friends still ailing in the house, and it’s probably the three-hundredth sneeze he’s heard in the last two weeks. Anyone else would probably ignore it and press on with their work, admiring the newborn night as it rolls across the hills of Hateno. Sky, however, isn’t anyone else. His ear twitches, and he stills his ladle where it is.

Who was that?

That doesn’t sound like any of them, is the thing. It’s not Hyrule’s sleepy-sounding rasp, or Wind’s near comedic half-scream. It’s not Time’s scrapey, metallic tenor, not Four’s breathy stifling, definitely not Wild’s loud orchestration. It’s not Legend, sounding like a remlit kit.

And his heart sinks for a moment as he nears the end of that list, but it can’t be Twilight either, because Twilight does that weird thing where it sounds like he’s just coughing, leaving Sky with a bless you hanging at the edge of his tongue, completely unsure if the situation calls for him to say it. He hates that. It’s not that.

~ Down [Chapter 7: Warriors]

November:

Twilight belts out a broken battle cry from reserves he doesn’t have, charging Sky with blade brandished. Every part of the chosen hero runs on instinct, then—his hand is at his back and his own sword is bared, and she’s not happy with him but he has no other choice. Right at the start, it’s clear Twilight isn’t fighting to injure, but he’s just as fierce as he is in any spar, swinging strong and heavy where he lacks in precision. Sky’s forced to block the first slice, and his palm is searing, violet flames crackling at the point where he meets her. He pushes through the pain, but he can almost hear Fi’s voice in his head—crying out in an agony of her own, what are you doing stop that don’t hurt him please don’t hurt him PLEASE—

I’m sorry, his heart cries back to her. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

~ Down [Chapter 8: Twilight]

December:

The weight of the whole world sits there on her shoulders, a swirling pink-black miasma that she sees sometimes in her deepest nightmares. It roars and screams and bears down heavy, and under its oppressive cloud the princess finds herself unable to breathe, to move, to speak. And she thinks, if I had my sealing powers, and she thinks, if I had a sword that demons revile, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe she could fight the beast as it looms, maybe she could save the world she so loves, maybe if she had been handed an easier destiny, or a map to navigate this one she’s stuck with, maybe the words wouldn’t stick, maybe the wreckage wouldn’t be so airless.

What an absolute fool she’d been, to think every demon could be slain with a blade.

~ Shattered Silence

I’m really proud of how much i wrote this year! in december alone i’ve written 20k+, and that is absolutely insane to me. the zelda fandom and especially the LU fandom has been incredible for my creative output--i am surrounded by so many people who are so generous with their time, encouragement and feedback.

thank you so much to everyone who read my work this year, especially everyone who read Down! i never could have anticipated, writing chapter one almost a year ago, that it would have ever received the reception it did. i hope to write so much more ;__; <3

#long post #wendy writing #linkeduniverse #linked universe

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permanentreverie · 3 years

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hi, i'm super stressed out right now and your writing is so good, would you be willing to tell a story? it can be made up or something from your life, and of course, don't feel like you have to <3

Anon, I am truly blessed and honoured that you would come to me, and I would LOVE to tell you a story! So come close, rest your head, and listen to the tale I am to tell;

Once upon a time, there was a fairy who lived alone in a forest glade. Her home was in an oak tree that stretched its branches over a running brook, and she nested in one of the gnarled holes that littered the wisened trunk. Every morning, without fail, she would sweep her little home with a stalk of wheat she found in the neighbouring field, and scamper down to the brook. There she would stand on a rock, letting the lazy current swirl around her thin legs as she drank her fill.

It was there that the forest animals knew to find her. They’d bring their young and their injured, and the fairy would tear her skirt into rags for bandages or lovingly stroke those who were lonely, and the entire company loved her. On a squirrel’s back or a stags antlers, they’d bring her deep into the forest, and ferns would bend to the sound of her voice, flowers reaching upwards to her song.

At sunset she was always returned to her tree, and finally alone the fairy would scamper up the trunk, racing time as she neared the top. Once there, she’d cling to the highest branches, the breeze swaying the tree beneath her as she caught her breath. Her feet would dangle daringly close to the edge, her hold on the branch the only thing keeping her from the unforgiving ground below, for she had no wings.

Every night, the fairy would take one step closer to the edge, letting the wind tease her hair, taunting her. As the sun kissed the ground in its descent, she’d close her eyes and imagine her flight. Then she’d climb down to her bed, the stars above winking in sympathy at her plight.

But, one night, as the fairy rested her head, the forest didn’t fall to sleep with her. Rather, they gathered at the brook, the fish she helped create beds for their eggs told of her kindness, the robins whom she’d help defend their nest against the crows related of her courage, and the badger whom she helped give birth late into the night retold the tale of her selflessness. The deer in kind remembered her gentle hands, and the foxes of her patience. As the critters conversed, the stars bent down their heavens to listen in on their planning.

They worked well into the night, when the world slipped into a gray stupor, and at last finished as the first rays of dawn split the air and the birds took to the sky to announce to arrival of the sun.

So when the fairy awoke in her hovel, and swept the little floor, and climbed down the branches, a gift was waiting on the rock by the brook. Upon seeing it, she cried in thankfulness, for there rested a pair of wings; shimmering in the material of moonlight and stardust, sturdy in the fiber of river reeds, and soft to the touch with the essence of tulip petals.

The animals - hidden in the brush around - watched in anticipation as she attached the gift to her broken back. She couldn’t wait till dusk - oh no, at the nod of assent of her forest kin, she all but raced up the trunk, the robins and jays circling her in triumph as her small feet pounded against the bark. At long last, she let go, falling and tumbling through the air, and her wings unfurled and flexed in given strength, and she soared on the first light of dawn.

the end ♥️

#my dear I’m sorry for not answering this right away!#and I hope I did alright - I mean it’s nothing too serious #I hope this satisfies ♥️#and if you’re ever needing someone to talk / vent to or just listen - my dms are open!#until then I hope you find rest and peace ♥️#answered asks #anon asks

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

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10. Music Makers - Part 1 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside

Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-)

The title Music Makers comes from “Ode” by Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and it is very lovely. Part 1 A/N: Music Referenced: Einaudi’s “Primavera” Spotify | Youtube

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Music Makers - Part 1/6

“You missed the cherry blossoms.”

San Francisco wasn’t too unlike Denver in Spring, but while Denver had some beautiful display of cherry blossom trees over in Cherry Creek, the Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival was an event, the second largest outside of Japan coming in right behind the one in the nation’s Capital. Virgil remembered the trip they’d taken to Washington DC as a family, the spring he caught flowers buds in his hair. The festival had seemed bigger than the one that took place in San Francisco the past two weekends, but then again, he had been just a small child at the time.

This time, his heart hadn’t been in it with John leaving and Gordon still not awake. The slow rain of pink through his fingertips made him think his brother. Drifting. And he would not have gone in the first place if John hadn’t dragged him out of the hospital for a bit of fresh air…for his last few days on terra firma - John’s words, not Virgil’s.

“I don’t really want to leave right now,” John had said, silhouetted against the line of pink trees, stormy emerald eyes blinking against the glare of the sun.

“John,” Virgil had whispered, “you have to.” It wasn’t because John had no choice. There was always a choice, but the ISS was John’s dream, a once in a lifetime opportunity that he could only take up while under NASA’s employment. Once their project got off the ground, John Tracy would no longer be an astronaut. His work would be anonymous; he’d be invisible. They all would be.

Gordon would hate if he took that opportunity away. John needed to go to space.

Virgil knew his brother belonged above the mesosphere, that John’s veins were made of a particular brand of stardust that was quite potent in its call towards home. But it was to be John’s first time beyond the skies, and Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little fearful for his little brother rocketing through the atmosphere into the vacuum of space.

“Are you frightened?”

“Of what’s out there? No,” John had explained, a crushed petal falling from his grasp. “Of what I’m leaving down here – I’m terrified.”

April had turned into May all too quickly, yet ever so slowly at the same time. Scott had been called back to duty, and Alan back to school. John had returned to Houston for his last trainings before take-off. Virgil had missed his graduation ceremony.

Gordon remained motionless, and the cherry blossom trees had lost their vibrant colors.

“You would’ve liked them,” Virgil says, but there’s no response from the figure on the bed. “John would’ve been able to give you the scientific name. Uhh… here, let me try to find…” He slips his hand out from under Gordon’s to type the search in his phone.

“Oh, gee, there’s a lot. Prune-us Sair-ah-sus,” he says finally, pocketing the device. “I probably butchered that. I was never good at Latin.”

He picks up the hand again.

“Do you remember when Mom dragged you along to my first piano recital? Probably not. You would’ve been just three or four at the time, and Alan wasn’t born yet. I had never played in front of an audience before and so I practiced for months beforehand. It was Einaudi’s Primavera.”

He hums a portion of the tune, sinking back into the memory of being eight.

“Mom probably hated hearing it after the first week.” For just a beat, he lets himself chuckle thinking of their mother dealing with his earnest younger self. “Dad had gotten me my first suit for the recital, and Mom helped me with my hair so I could look like a professional. I’m sure we have pictures somewhere.”

Virgil pauses a moment, smiling as he remembers the rest of the story.

“You always said you liked my playing, but you wouldn’t know it from that day! You screamed and screamed, and Dad had to take you out of the auditorium while you fussed. I remember trying to look out into the audience, but I couldn’t see through the lights. But it was just Scotty, John, and Mom who met me after my performance, and I just knew that you’d ruined my big day.”

Virgil notices that a small sliver of light shines through the windowpanes to dance along a strand of red in Gordon’s hair.

Gordon in his purest form was joy – a laugh to accompany a joke, a sparkle in the eye with a mischievous glint, an open ease in the way he walked and spoke, a smile when you need it most. Gordon’s soul was a reservoir of light that he could never quite fill to full. Because just as quickly as he soaked the rays of the sun into his being, he released them to share with the world around him.

When Gordon was born his hair had been an almost white blond– Alan’s had been the same way. But as Gordon grew, the blond darkened into gold the color of sunflowers in fall. In winter, when Gordon wasn’t spending 90% outside, hints of auburn would poke through.

He wonders if the auburn has the same sun soaking powers as the blond around it or if auburn is what happens when you make a ray of light sad.

“Apparently you told Dad that my song made you cry,” Virgil continues. “And that you needed to give me a hug so I would stop being sad.”

He sighs wistfully.

“It’s how I felt watching the cherry blossoms, Gordon. It was like seeing spring and knowing the beauty is still there, but not being able to reach it, like watching through frosted glass, and I understood why you cried.”

This time when he hums the melody his fingers flutter in movement and intermittently Virgil sings the melody, replacing notes with “da” before falling back into hums.

Virgil loses himself in the lonely music, in cherry blossoms through frosted glass, in green eyes looking longingly to the stars, in the flickering of a sun ray desperate to find a path to his brother’s light.

He knows how his piano reacts to his hands, the exact distance from the keys to his fingertips as they descend.

As the music ascends, his keys rise to meet him.

A twitch.

Tap.

Virgil’s music falters.

Tap… tap…

“Gordon?” Like a dream, he watches fingers nudge his hand. His heart races as he meets his brother’s gaze. Honey eyes tell a story of confusion, blinking, searching. “Gordon!”

Tap.

“…ug.” The word is intelligible, but Virgil knows what it is by Gordon’s eyes.

Hug.

Virgil reacts.

#Gavii Scribit #Thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #thunderbirds angst #hydrofoil accident fic #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #scenes from gordon's bedside #chapter 10 music makers

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storyofpetals · 3 years

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𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈'𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

1. alias / name: magic!

2. birthday: october 8th

3. zodiac sign: libra

4. height: like 5′1″ i think. idk im short. :|

5. hobbies: writing, roleplaying, gardening, taking care of my fat chihuahua, magic the gathering, and video games~

6. favorite color: i like black because when you see a black object, it is absorbing the visible spectrum and reflects none of that back to the eyes--which is very interesting to me. aesthetically, i like pastel colors (blue and pink and purple) because they are easy on the eyes and pretty.

7. favorite book: gosh, this is a hard one. i’ll just mention a few i really like okay? stardust by neil gaiman is so good (so much better than the movie alright). the dark tower by stephen king is phenomenal but i really need to finish this series--i love it to bits, but for some reason i never finished it?? good omens by terry pratchett and neil gaiman is hilarious. i truly adored the everlost series by neal shusterman when i was younger, it still leaves an impression on me to this day. and if you want something just fluffy sarah dessen books got your back--totally slice of life romance shit, but it doesn’t read like a bad fanfic. this woman has freaking flow to her writing and i’m forever impressed by it.

8. last song: salt and the sea - the lumineers

9. last film / show: yall i don’t even know. i watch tv very rarely--mostly when my boyfriend wants to watch the newest marvel stuff--so uuuh loki? maybe? i watched all of that, it was alright. if yall do want something to watch that’s a little different, the kdrama it’s okay not to be okay (netflix) will kill your feels. i love that show.

10. recent reads: a few months ago i finished the lord of the rings by tolkien. shit was amazing, that man had INCREDIBLE worldbuilding skills. you wanna see a world so freaking detailed you can actually see it? tolkien thought about every little detail in his world and his characters and you can see his love in every word. smh. i’m still impressed but i have yet to pick up the next book lol.

11. inspiration: hmm, i do have to have a fitting song playing pretty loud while i write (to me, it makes my post like a music video and i just string the actions together with words idk??). sometimes a new song will pop on and the vibes hit just right and i get a whole scene in my head, like a little personal movie, and i squeal excitedly to myself: i need to write the thing! this is why i post music so much, i guess lol. otherwise, life experiences also play a part and things ive read or watched recently that i can weave into my posts. a whole mix of stuff, i’d suppose?

12. story behind url: i like writing stories and i like flowers, so i slapped those two things together and this is what i got lol. also, i felt if i used a “petal” theme there was a lot i could play with aesthetically: lots of poems i could whip up with flowers in mind and tons i could do for the theme... and now i kinda like it? it sounds whimsical, sort of what i was going for here.

13. fun fact about me: I LOVE DOGS ok. i work at a vet and i handle a lot of them every single day... and i’ve come to the conclusion they are the sweetest, most wholesome creatures on the planet. a dog can seriously go through hell and bounce back like nothing happened. i see healthy dogs, happy dogs, angry dogs, sick dogs... you name it, i’ve seen it. and if you approach them in the right way, with the proper mindset, you can almost make friends with any dog you see (the amount of people that don’t know how to handle dogs tho is MINDBOGGLING). i make friends with every puppy i see and i treasure them just as much as my human connections. <3

tagged by: @holyguardian (ty friend!)

tagging: @tsurugixbuster, @seraphicwept, @triggerxhappy, @floralcetra, @inmydrcams, @yumetohokori, @azure-steel, @argentdivinity, + anyone else who wants to do this!

#✿ ┆ mun ask #{ i tried to tag different peeps <3 }#{ ty friend for the initial tag !! }#{ so do the thing guys i wanna learn about yall too! :D }

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icollectyoursins · 4 years

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Polnareff N/SFW + SFW Headcanons

I tried to keep this gender neutral, but please tell me if there is anywhere I can improve!

These are headcanons, so a lot of them will only be mentions of the thing happening, not the act, though I did include some small excerpts of acts.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Wearing leather (a harness specifically), rope play (ie. tied up), nipple play, use of vibrators, pegging, overestimation, oral, hair pulling.

Word Count: 1380

SFW

Honestly, I think it would take him a little while to work up to being in a true relationship. I mean, small little flings lasting a couple of months, sure, but after Stardust Crusaders, he’d need some time before wanting to settle down.

Once he does settle, he will do everything to make you happy. Flowers, chocolates, he’ll pick up baking and make you bread. Ask and yee shall receive. Or don’t ask. He’ll probably just get it anyway.

Cute dates to the beach. Picnics under a willow tree. Dancing. Anything romantic to show how much he cares.

THE most comfortable person to cuddle with. He just pulls you in and you’re instantly comfy. Kisses the top of your head when you snuggle into his Polnatitties.

Polnareff smiles, whispering something in french as he runs his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head and pulling you into his arms on the couch. You sigh, closing your eyes for a minute and letting relaxation fall over your stress-addled mind. He pulls you in closer, gently squishing you. You playfully struggled to get free, tickling his sides, grinning like a madman when you heard his joyful scream.

“AHA! No, no please!” He shouted, letting you go. Finally, freedom! You leaped from your place on the couch and ran to the bedroom. He was too quick. You got about 3 steps away before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and spinning you around.

Polnareff puts you back onto your feet and you share a laugh, peppering each other’s face with kisses.

Loves to cook with you. Totally the type to put batter or something on your cheek just to lick it off. Will melt when you lick chocolate off his lips while baking. Surefire way to get into spicy times.

He loves to play with your hair, especially if it’s long and soft. He’ll braid it, put it in buns, anything. And his fingers feel so nice on your scalp.

Knuckle kisses, hand kisses, kisses on the shoulders. All good. He loves to give them, loves to get them.

Literally, so wholesome with anything you two do. Just wants you to be happy.

He will eventually open up about his sister and Egypt, it just takes him some time. Polnareff is the type of guy to smile no matter what happens, focusing more on making other people happy than himself mostly because that’s what makes him happy; making people smile. However, once he does tell you everything, he knows he can trust you. He is instantly more comfortable with you, not that he wasn’t before, but now he feels like he doesn’t need to be overly happy.

He does all the chores around the house that you don’t want to do. He’ll cook for you, clean the house while you sit and relax on the couch.

Loves it when you help him with his hair or play with the bits that hang from his mullet-thing (I have no idea what to call it, but I love it)

100% would take baths with you. He’d buy rose petals, bubbling things, bath bombs, face masks with cucumbers. The whole shebang. Spa-day? Spa-day.

Like I said before in the little blurb thing. He’s so ticklish. Sides especially. He flops like a fish; just completely loses control of his body and flails. His feet are also ticklish. The best time to get him is when you’re in bed or on the couch; it’s when he’s his most vulnerable. Be warned, he will hold it against you and bring it up later, probably in the bedroom.

NSFW

Total switch energy, happy in either position, but walk into the bedroom with a leather harness on or something skin tight and he will forever be on his knees ready to do whatever you say. You may have to wipe the drool off his chin.

Tie him up. Please. Tell him he’s doing so well for you and it’ll last only a little while longer. Hook your finger under his chin, force him to look at you and smile oh so sweetly at him. He is putty in your hands.

Nipple play. Suck ‘em, pinch ‘em, pull ‘em, clamp ‘em. Oh, he loves it. Giving, receiving (Especially receiving. I mean have you seen the titties on this man? God.)

Also into using vibrators. On him, on you, anywhere. Loves when you tape it to the tip or use a vibrating cock ring until he’s made quite the puddle beneath him.

Polnareff looks up at you, mouth open and eyes full of want. His arms are tied behind him, with the rope ends attached to his ankles preventing him from moving and relieving pressure on his rock-hard cock. His muscles are shaking from too much strain.

You run a finger down his cheek and under his chin to soothe him.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Do you think you can hold on a little longer? For me?” You coo in a hushed tone. He whines and nods his head frantically. It’s already been so long, but you can’t help relishing in his delicious suffering. “Why don’t we turn this up a little more, hm?” You held up the remote for the vibrator taped around the length of his cock.

You sit on the edge of the bed, a wicked smile on your lips as you turn the dial to a higher setting. His head drops and those delectable moans start falling freely from his throat, getting higher and higher the closer he got.

Man gets pegged/fucked in the ass (if you are a dick haver). I don’t know what else to say. Bend him over and slowly tease his prostate. Oh, he’s gone. His soul feels as though it’s left his body and the only thing that can bring him back is you whispering in his ear about how good he feels or how long you’ve been waiting to do this to him.

Now, when he is on top. Hooo, boy. He’s either a service dom, making sure you cum before he does, or he’s going to edge you until you beg. The third option is making you cum too much, but that’s reserved for… special occasions.

Like I said, will tape a vibrator to your genitals and leave you needing his touch while he practices drawing or studies something for Speedwagon Foundation.

Polnareff probably thinks he’s really good at oral, and with some practice he is, but once faced with the actual thing he just… doesn’t know what to do. Not in a bad way, he just wants to do really good for you and make you happy and all of that just really puts his brain into overdrive.

Once he gets over himself, oh. Ohhh. You’re in for a night. That tongue is just so nice. He likes to go slow, so usually oral is foreplay or a more lazy session. He’s a lot more dexterous with his fingers, so if he’s feeling a little more desperate, he’ll use those to get you off either massaging your g-spot or prostate for an endless amount of time until you make a mess of his face.

He likes things slow and sensual. Feeling up your body, pinching where he knows you love, gently nibbling on your neck and whispering how good you feel in your ear, or how he loves when you moan like that. Loves when you beg him to move faster.

Prefers missionary or cowgirl (riding) so he can see your face, but when you two are doing it doggy style, he’s usually doing it to prove a point. Like, when you’re extremely bratty that day and teasing him with little ghost touches, he’ll pin you down on the bed and slowly tease you to your finish, just to take it away from you.

Pulls your hair, but gently. Just enough to force your neck back, not enough to leave you sore or pull your hair out. Forces you to look at him while he takes you from behind

Gives you a nice, warm, relaxing bath after rougher sessions, massaging out any kinks you may have in your back or in your wrists. Loooves it when you give him the same attention.

#polnareff #jjba polnareff #polnareff x reader #jjba part 3 #n/s/f/w #polnareff not sfw #polnareff n/s/f/w #polnareff prompts #not sfw #sfw

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

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Hello, friend! I truly hope you safe and healthy during these trying times! May I request a cutesy scenario w/ SDC DIO and an innocent, giving, optimistically cheery, warm-hearted fem s/o gardening? Thank you, dear and have a terrific night! 💜🌷

I’m so incredibly sorry that this took so long, I hope you can forgive me. I loved the wholesome nature of this request and though Dio may be a bit out of character, I still hope you enjoy this! Thank you so much for the request!!

A Flowery Memory

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: During a usual night at his manor, Dio is reminded of a simpler time by the presence of his beloved and the flowers she so gently cradled.

Notes: Fluff

Quiet humming filled the usual empty silence of the manor and gracefully emanated to the sharp ears of the Lord himself, catching his attention from the book he was reading while the darkness and pearlescent moonlight embraced his muscular form. The humming of the same song he had heard on multiple occasions made him stand up from his impressive bed and head out to seek the location of the person responsible for creating such heavenly melodies.

On his way towards the sound, which Dio knew was coming from the entrance of his mansion, his eyes glanced at the various flowers and plants placed around the hallways that bloomed elegantly even in the dead of night. Though he didn’t care much for such things, as just like every living being, flowers would eventually wither and die, Dio couldn’t deny the fact that they were quite stunning, especially since the person who had placed them there was someone quite special to him.

Your delicate hands carefully examined the blooming flowers planted just outside the entrance, the gentle humming still very much audible throughout the mansion. It was no surprise to anyone that your kindhearted nature enjoyed the joys of gardening, the amount of flowers decorating the impressive mansion increasing little by little ever since you had stumbled upon your Lord’s lair. It had been like this since you were a child, the sight of blooming flowers and life-filled plants brought you an endless amount of joy and always made a gentle smile appear on your lips, much like the one you were wearing now.

Though you knew Dio couldn’t witness your creations under the sun, the time of day when flowers were undoubtedly in their prime, you dedicated your time during the nights to ensure that the flora looked just as stunning under the moon as they did under the sun. It was the least you could do for your Lord, who so kindly welcomed you into his complicated life.

“Tending to the flowers again, I see,” said a voice next to you. Your humming comes to a sudden halt and you turn your head towards the source of the voice, only for your eyes to meet with the muscular figure of the blond vampire, his body practically bathing in the moonlight. The sight is something to behold and when Dio seems to notice your eyes filled with amazement staring at him, he lightly smirks and that is enough to snap you out of his spell, making you stand up.

“Hello, Dio. What brings you here?” You ask, a gentle, pleasant smile shining on your lips that fills the Lord’s dull and dark insides with warmth that rivals the sun itself. With your innocent and kind presence next to his cunning and evil one, you were like night and day. Yet, it didn’t bother either of you.

“You brought me here, my dear.” He steps closer to the flowers planted on the ground, his amber eyes carefully examining them. “A heavenly melody produced by those adorable little lips of yours reached my ears and I simply couldn’t help but follow it.” Though his back was facing you, he could virtually feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you stepped closer. “I see..”

Your (E/C) eyes notice Dio inspecting a certain crimson flower, seemingly intrigued by it. With a smile you crouch down and carefully pick it up, hearing his silent desire to examine it closer. “Do you like it?” You ask, voice soft and delicate as it always was, the essence of purity and love embedded in it. The Lord carefully takes the flora from your hand, his claws lightly brushing against the delicate surface of the skin.

“It is quite stunning, yes.” Your already tender smile becomes even more delighted after hearing his words. In truth, Dio had seen this flower before and the sight of it brought a wave of memories the Lord thought he had long forgotten. The more his amber eyes looked at the blood-red petals, the more he remembered of a time a century ago, a time when everything was better.

“I’m glad you like it.” Your eyes that pleasantly shone under the moon look up at him, noting just how strangely peaceful he looked. His eyes that so carefully examined the flower were missing their usual fiery and dangerous glow, and were instead filled with a mellow radiance you hadn’t seen before. The view was infrequent, but you cherished it, a gentle giggle escaping your lips.

The angelic melody of your giggle snaps him out of his state you didn’t quite understand and he locks his eyes with yours, having regained their usual appearance. A small smile, not a usual smirk, tugs one corner of his lips. “A flower’s life is a short one, (Name),” He says, his words shining upon your smaller form much like the moon above. The Lord brings the flower that holds such precious memories closer to you, lightly placing it behind your ear. Your curious gaze follows his hand and you look at him, surprised, but strangely touched by the action.

“That’s why we need to appreciate them while we can.” The tender words he spoke were something you had never heard him say and in response to this, you wrap your arms around his larger form, desiring to hold him close. The loving embrace is returned by the Lord as he carefully holds you, the memory from a century ago still fresh in his mind.

Despite his cruel exterior and the quite literal lack of a heart, Dio was once a human. A human who had a torturous upbringing but a mother so kind and warm who cherished him. Much like the person in his arms.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Stardust Crusaders #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo dio #jjba dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo dio x reader #jjba dio x reader #reader insert #fluff

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thenightgazer · 3 years

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Spark of Stardust

Chapter 2 : Under The Fair Moonlight After months of friendship, tonight is the first time for Vergil to visit Lyra's house for a tea... and some unexpected confessions.

Warning : parental abuse, drug abuse, PTSD, psychological/emotional abuse, munchausen syndrome by proxy

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

He doesn’t remember how he ended up lying on the ground.

He stares at the sky, only to find the full moon staring back at him.

Where am I?

What am I doing here?

An agonizing wail distracts him from his own thoughts. If only he could move his body, it would be easier to find out what’s going on here. He starts to lose his sight as he feels something come out from his head, dripping to his ear, then to his back. He tries to glance at his surroundings in vain and realizes that his eyes are going to betray him again.

Then he feels it— pain.

A tremendous pain all over his body.

The woman is screaming again. This time it is louder and sounds a lot more terrifying.

As he struggles to move his body, with desperation creeping in his spine, he finally sees a glimpse of the woman’s figure. Standing on the rooftop of the house, she is trembling and sobbing. He can’t hear what she’s murmuring, yet something forces him to keep his eyes on her. It’s against his will, and he can’t do anything against it.

To be fair, everything doesn’t make any sense to him since the beginning. He just wants to end this absurd dream.

But now he’s sure of something; that he recognizes her face. He can see it clearly now. It all makes sense why she looks familiar since the first time he had this dream. The same cold, void eyes...

… that belong to the late Asteria Crescent.

---

The first thing that Vergil feels before he opens his eyes is someone else’s hand over his face. He stares blankly at the dark, which he soon recognizes as Dante’s hand blurring his vision.

He pushes Dante’s hand slowly without waking him up, recalling the memory before the twins ended up passed out on the Devil May Cry entrance floor.

The party went smoothly. Kyrie loved the music box that Vergil gave her and wore the bracelet after he told her its function. The meal was delicious. The kids were well-behaved—more than usual—they even went to bed early with Kyrie. After that, they played poker and Dante suggested having a drinking game. Vergil was never a heavy drinker, but of course he was forced to join the game. In the end, they drank too much and could barely remember who won the gamble.

Vergil doesn’t remember the details, but the last thing he knew was that the cards and the smell of alcohol were all over the place. The entire crew passed out. Succumbing to alcohol and an over-flowing fatherly instinct, Vergil moved Nero to the couch and put a pillow under the young devil hunter’s head. He said goodbye to Trish, who was half-asleep on the dining table. Then he dragged Dante with him, made a sloppy movement to create a portal to Devil May Cry before he eventually collapsed.

I shouldn’t have drunk that forsaken whiskey, Vergil curses himself.

The blue hybrid stretches his body and tries to get up feebly, kicking Dante’s waist. “Wake up, Dante. Don’t sleep on the floor.”

The younger twin replies with a soft snore.

Realizing that it’s going to be futile to wake Dante up, Vergil walks to the kitchen and grabs cold water from the refrigerator. His throat is dry and sore after swallowing too much whiskey. He empties half of the bottle while thinking about his weird dream again.

“... Huston...” Dante murmurs in his sleep.

Vergil furrows his brow. “Who?”

“Play me... Elena Huston...”

Vergil puts the bottle on the table and back to Dante, grabbing his little brother’s ankle and drags him to Dante’s room clumsily. The alcohol still exists in his blood, making him slightly difficult to coordinate his movement. After struggling a little while to put the red devil on the bed and taking off his shoes, Vergil covers Dante’s body with a blanket. Foolish, meddlesome, slovenly little brother, Vergil grumbles, unaware of his opposite brotherly act of love he has done to Dante.

“Hey Verge...” Dante mumbles.

“What?”

“Thanks... you ... sleep... too...”

“Shut up, Dante. Just sleep.”

Vergil chuckles silently after watching Dante go back to unconsciousness. He laments the time gap between them. He didn’t have a chance to grow up together with his brother, but although he was indifferent to humanity, he secretly hoped that Dante was safe, wherever his brother would be. Even when he had defeated Dante for numerous times, he had never meant to kill him even for once.

Vergil cares for his brother more than he would ever admit.

He heads out from the room and takes a seat on the couch. When he’s about to take off his coat, he feels his phone is vibrating. He takes the phone to decline the call and shut the phone down, but Lyra’s name pops on the screen.

Coincidence?

He picks the call.

“Vergil?”

“...”

“Vergil? Are you there?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, almost like a whisper. “Just a little... tipsy.”

Vergil hears her snorting. “I thought you hated alcohol? You said it makes you lose your control or whatsoever.”

“Let’s just say the crews made me do it.”

“Even Vergil Sparda couldn’t escape peer pressure, aye?”

A subtle smile appears on Vergil’s mouth. “This is midnight, Stardust. You should’ve slept.”

“I did. Then I woke up and couldn't sleep again. I remember you said cambions don’t need to sleep, so I reckon you are still awake. How was the party?”

“What can I say?” Vergil massages his brow, relieving the pain on it. “Kyrie loved my present. Nero was more talkative to me than usual. Dante was less annoying. For the first time since I came back from Underworld, Mary didn’t glare at me like she wanted to kill me. Trish was civil. Nicoletta still wants to touch Yamato. Morrison still insists to give me his cigarette. The three little rascals asked me to read them Animal Farm and they left early for bed.”

A mocking snort comes out from the librarian. “Normally you would say ‘ It’s fine’ or something like that, but now you bother to describe the entire events to me—not that I complained though—it just convinces me that Vergil Sparda is sloshed for real.”

“... I’m just... happy, I guess. That everything went well.”

“Glad to know it,” there’s a short pause before she continues to speak. “Hey... do you know that there's this flower called butterfly pea?”

“Consider this is the first time I heard that.”

“It’s originally from southeast Asia. It has a pretty blue colour and if we brew it, we can have a blue tea. Bought a jar of it from Chinatown. In fact, I’m thinking of brewing it now, and... I think it would be great if I drink it with a friend,” Lyra chuckles nervously. “Would you mind coming for a cuppa? I know it’s midnight and you’re inebriated right now but—”

“I accept the invitation.”

There’s a gasp. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I thought you would decline it, but never mind! See you very soon!”

Vergil looks at the phone screen blankly after Lyra hangs up the call. Sounds odd. This is the first time she invites me to her house. What if this invitation has something to do with my dream?

He remembers Lyra’s statement that she doesn’t believe in coincidence. It’s all but synchronicity, she had said.

Coincidence or not, he decides to leave anyway.

---

Lyra’s neighborhood is always quiet. Surrounded by meadows and woods, her house is secluded and quite far from the central city. No one would have thought that there’s a small cottage here and someone lives there. Lyra had said to him once that she wants to live in solitude and avoid having some neighbors, or else she would go crazy by neighbors’ endless thoughts.

The door opens immediately after Vergil knocks. Lyra’s tender face shows up, smiling at his presence. She wears an oversized blue sweater and long pajama pants. But that’s not his main concern at the moment—it’s her stature. The moonlight helps Vergil to look at her scrupulously and realizes that he has never noticed how pale Lyra’s fair skin is, like she hasn’t seen the sun for a long time. Along with her dark eyes and shady smile, anyone could mistake her as a vampire.

“Welcome to my small and humble cottage,” the librarian chuckles after examining the devil hunter in front of her. “You look fine for a drunken man.”

Vergil shrugs. “Cut it out, will you?”

“Just messing with you. Climb aboard.”

As he follows behind her to enter the house, Vergil’s cautious eyes wander off to the house’ interior. The house is small with a cozy living room attached to the kitchen. The two doors beside the living room are assumed by Vergil to be a bedroom and a bathroom. He walks to the windows framed with burgundy drapes; the lace inner curtains remain drawn, allowing moonlight to enter the house. There he can see Lyra’s small garden, blooming delicately under the night sky.

“I always fancy stargazer lilies and munstead wood rose.” Lyra says from the kitchen.

“They look exquisite,” Vergil murmurs. “I can smell the fragrance even from here.”

Vergil still stands in his place, watching the midnight breeze swing the flowers. Some of its petals have fallen to the ground. The next thing he sees is the butterflies flying around munstead wood roses. It’s rare to find butterflies in this metropolis. Knowing that there’s still beauty worth living, Vergil is grateful that he isn’t dead yet. He spent most of his lifetime isolating himself from the world, loathing the beauty inside it because he thought it was worthless.

He glances to the kitchen where Lyra puts the kettle on the stove and takes a jar— he presumes that it’s dried butterfly pea— but seems like she’s having a tough time opening it. Trying his best to keep his dignity by not mocking her adorable struggle, he approaches her and takes the jar.

“The strange and powerful human being with the ability to move every object only with her mind, couldn’t even open a goddamn jar.” Vergil remarks in sardonic tone. “Is this what you call friendship? Acting as your jar opener and transportation device?”

Lyra taps her chin. “Tut-tut, Vergil Sparda. You forgot ‘personal bodyguard’ and ‘heat provider’.”

“I’ve never thought that you’re such an opportunistic capitalist who used your friend for your convenience.”

“Says a megalomaniac who raised a demon tree to fight his brother only to be kicked in the arse by his son.”

“... that's... it won’t happen again,” Vergil looks away as he gives her the jar. “Nero hasn’t succeeded in defeating me since I came back from the Underworld."

“Sure~ I believe you.” The teasing tone in Lyra’s word says otherwise, much to Vergil’s dismay. He decides to help her prepare the cups rather than to continue their banter as she puts the dried butterfly pea flower into the teapot. Lyra had told him to let her do all the work, but she finally gives up after Vergil glares at her while cleaning the cups with a napkin.

“You finally made your dream come true.” Vergil says, putting cups on the saucers.

“What dream?”

Vergil points at a 36-strings lever harp beside the table in front of the sofa.

“Oh!” Lyra exclaims, turning the stove off and brings the kettle on the countertop. “Couldn’t afford to buy pedal harp, so I’m quite satisfied to have this one. Sugar or lemon? Plain blue tea tastes super earthy, only if that’s your preference.”

“Just lemon. Thank you.”

“Okay. Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll bring the tea right there,” she says.

Vergil takes his time to observe the living room, which he finds odd since he entered this house. This house is too... plain. Except for the harp, a chess board, some Rubik cubes on the table and an old radio on the kitchen counter, there’s almost no personal touch in this house. No family pictures, trophies, or even a bookshelf.

Considering she’s a bookworm, that’s terribly odd. But as she said, this cottage is small. He tries to ignore his hunch and turns his focus to admire the lever harp, plucking the strings cautiously and listening to its mesmerizing sound.

“You like it?” Lyra asks while putting the tray on the table and pouring the tea to their cups.

“It's magnificent,” Vergil takes his seat. “Let’s see if you’re capable of playing this astonishing instrument.”

“Challenge accepted!” the librarian drags the harp to her side. “Happy or sad?”

The blue devil stays silent for a while, staring at the cold fireplace before he glances at the window, remembering the moment when Lyra greeted him under the fair moonlight, causing his old soul to demand something soothing and nostalgic. “Play me Clair de Lune.”

Lyra nods cheerfully. “Easy peasy.”

It’s such a picturesque scenery, to witness Lyra hold the harp like she was born to play it. It’s the same bewitching phenomenon as their little adventure a few days ago when they stargazed together to see the Lyrids. He’s bemused once he hears the strings from the lever harp plucked and formed a beautiful composition. The brighter and folksy sound from lever harp is different from the classic pedal harp, yet it doesn’t change the beauty and romantic tone from the song.

Vergil finds himself frozen under the spell— it’s not just the song, he muses. It’s her.

Your soul is a chosen landscape

Where charming masquerades and dancers are promenading

Playing the lute and dancing, and almost

Sad beneath their fantastic disguise s

While singing in a minor key

Of victorious love, and the pleasant life

They seem not to believe in their own happiness

And their song blends with the moonlight

With the sad and beautiful moonlight

Which sets the birds in the trees dreaming?

And makes the fountains sob with ecstasy

The slender water streams among the marble statues.

By the time when Lyra finally reaches the song’s outro, Vergil senses his body is less tense and his head gets back its clarity after succumbing to alcohol for hours. Her fingers are getting slower as she plucks the pin and a string for the last time, a satisfied smile appears on her face, “I like this song.”

“So do I.” Vergil agrees.

She giggles. “Next time, it’s your turn to play me a song. Dante told me that you’re a gifted violinist. He sent me a video of you playing Caprice 24 yesterday.”

Vergil covers his face with his palm. “Kindly remind me to kill him soon.”

“You play eloquently. You should be proud!” Lyra giggles and pours honey inside her cup.

“Silence,” Vergil put a slice of lemon on his tea, the tail of his eyes spy on Lyra. “Instead of flattering me, why don't we just straight to the business?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s obvious that you didn’t invite me just for a cup of tea and impromptu recital.”

The puzzled expression on Lyra’s face answers it all. She doesn’t say anything for a quiet long time, still stirring her tea as if she’s still preparing what to say to him. Vergil suspects she would avoid his question, but she just sighs and finally sips her own tea, “You’re right. But first, drink your tea.”

Her eyes fixate on his, as if she commands him to mimic her gesture. He has no choice but to obey, lifting his cup to his mouth and carefully taste the blue tea. He enjoys the mixture between the natural flavor from the tea and the acid from the lemon, slurping more of them to please his throat. He would enjoy the tea more if Lyra didn’t give him that hollow gaze, causing him to wonder if she put poison inside the tea and wait for him to collapse, but if there’s any poison inside the tea, he would find it out even before he drinks it.

“What do you think?” She blows the steam from the tea.

“It’s good. Not too bitter, nor too bland.”

“Drink a little more, then.”

Again, Vergil obeys her.

Lyra puts her cup on the table. “It��s easy, doesn’t it?”

“What is it?”

“When I told you to drink, it was easier for you to drink it.”

“I don’t see why it should be difficult to drink it. It tastes good and it’s an act of courtesy.”

“An act of courtesy,” she smiles bitterly. “Oh yeah, it was easier for me too.”

Vergil puts his cup on the table with the intention to end Lyra’s vague trickery. The words he says next are full of certainty. “You had a dream of me.”

Her eyes are widened, but she already expects him to spill the question. She nods, her fingers trail on a Rubik's cube. “Twice. Weird, huh?”

“What did you dream about?”

“Last night? I was you, grieven by the death of your father. You wandered to your mother’s room and cried together inside a drawer with Dante. An hour ago, I was you again, chained up and this titanic, god-like demon tortured you and called you ‘disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda’. I think it was Mundus.”

“That’s bizarre. I believe I haven’t told you about Dante and I inside the drawer. And that was what Mundus exactly told me when he tortured me in the Underworld.”

“What about you? Did you dream of me?”

“I did,” he admits. “I’m afraid I failed to understand the context, since you haven’t told me any single things about you.”

“Fair enough. In that case...” she holds her breath while solving the cube. “What did you see?”

“I believe I was on your point of view when the dream occurred. You were gravely ill and your mother tended you. I still can recall how bad your headache was from that dream. Then Asteria— your mother— read you The Hobbit . In that dream, I didn’t know who she was, until you mentioned her name this afternoon. I decided to not bring it up to you until I found out why I dream about something I’ve never experienced and why it was about you.”

“The dream, then,” she continues. “Have you seen another one after that?”

He shakes his head. “None whatsoever.”

“Really?”

Sorry, Lyra. “Yes. Why?”

“... nothing. A lot of weird things have happened since our accidental mind link. The dreams must be our memories. Let's say the dream was our brain projection of what we’ve told each other about our past, then how could we feel the pain we’ve never experienced before? How could I know the face of the demon I’ve never met before? I got a hypothesis that whenever I dream of you, you must’ve dreamt about me. But this time you didn’t dream of me while I dreamt of you. Seems like it doesn’t work like that...”

The sound of clicking cube stops at once, making Vergil wonder whether she stopped the cube because of his answer or she has solved the cube since all the layers are already in the right places.

“I was sickly back then. Could barely leave my bed,” Lyra says, showing him the cube. “And this was the only thing I could do, aside from reading.”

Vergil receives the cube. “I saw plenty of this thing in my dream.”

She rests her back on the head of the couch. “What do you think of my mother?”

“She seems caring and nurturing.”

“Do you love your mother?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course.”

“I’m glad that you do.”

“You don’t love your mother?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, her eyes are dreary. She lifts her feet on the couch and moves her body to face the devil. “I don’t want to lie to you, Vergil.”

“Then don’t. We promised to not lie to each other.”

She chuckles coldly. “Where should I begin... oh right, I told you I was sickly. Mum said I got this rare genetic disorder called severe combined immunodeficiency. SCID made me extremely vulnerable of diseases. Therefore, I should live in a sterile and isolated environment. I could barely leave my own house, couldn’t even open the window just to smell my garden. Didn’t get a chance to meet new people other than my mother, my nurse— I forgot her name, I never liked her anyway— and my governess, Norma.”

Lyra closes her eyes for a while before she continues. “She was a great scientist. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. She was the one who made me in love with astronomy. I could only see her infamous work on telly and newspapers. Some days, there were people who came to visit us and talked to mum. They were forbidden to meet me because of my condition. Some of them left me notes and little presents, wishing me good health. They told my mum to have faith and carry on. And whenever my mum had to attend international conferences, she cried so much a day before her flight because she had to leave me, even though Norma was there with me.”

“What about your father?”

“Never knew him. Mum was never married. She always looked blue whenever I asked her about my father, so I stopped asking.”

Lyra clenches her hand before taking the Rubik cube from Vergil’s hand and begins to play it again. “We only had each other, that means we need to protect each other. I never questioned anything because she took care of me and devoted on me. If it wasn’t my mother, who else wanted to take care of me? I liked Norma, but she was paid for nursing me. She could leave anytime soon, but not my mum. She was the only family I had, and I loved her.”

Lyra gazes at Vergil, whose face is straight still without any meaningful reactions. “I ate and slept as ordered. Took my medicines. Never once went outside the house. I did exactly what my mum instructed. But one day I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt dizzy almost every day. I threw up a lot. Sometimes I couldn’t even move my own body. I didn’t feel any better, just getting worse day by day. I felt like I could die any time.”

She shuffles the cube again after solving it. “One day, I stopped taking all of it.”

“The medicines.” Vergil emphasizes, remembering the nasty smell of medicine in his dream.

Lyra nods. “No matter how persistent Mum’s and the nurse' persuasion, I didn’t take it. I just wanted it to be over. Then something unexpected happened,” she lets out a small grin. “I was getting better. Much better. I could walk without taking a deep breath anymore. I went to the garden without having a nosebleed. I didn’t throw up. My headache was gone. I felt like I was... reborn.”

Lyra takes another deep breath; her hands stop shuffling the cube. “I never said it out loud, but Mum was sick. Very sick,” she taps her head with her index finger. “Mentally.”

Vergil tilts his head. That’s unexpected. “What makes you think so?”

The librarian puts the cube on the table, leaving it unsolved. “Any time I refused to take medicine or disobeyed her, she distanced herself from me. She didn’t reciprocate everything I did. She was just going straight inside her room and locked the door. It was almost like she resented me— no, punishing me for disobeying her. She loved playing this guilt-trip game so much. It seems like she liked it whenever she succeeded to make me think that I was a worthless daughter.”

“I know there are parents who treat their children poorly and abusively,” Vergil contemplates. “But I’m afraid I still couldn’t comprehend why your mother did that to you. You were only a child. A terribly ill child. She should’ve been happy instead of punishing you for your better condition. I understand that we could never judge a book by its cover, but… in my dream, she seemed like... she loved you wholeheartedly. Why would she want to hurt her own daughter?"

Lyra hugs her knees. “When someone keeps putting a person in ugly circumstances, I can only think that it’s either out of hatred or love.”

“Why would you put the person you love in such circumstances?”

“Love can be... poisonous,” Lyra stares blankly at the ceiling. “It’s always easier to hurt someone you hate. It makes more sense. But if you love someone, you’d do anything for them, even if it’s beyond logic, consciously or not. You’d call it kindness and love, but it’s actually poison. You hurt your beloved ones and say that you do that because you love them. You keep them close to you, shower them your love until they’re blind by your love and never find the help they really need...”

Noticing her body begins to shiver, Vergil takes off his coat and wraps it around Lyra’s body to keep her comfortable. He couldn’t help but empathized with her. She’s as confused as he is about human emotions, which is surprising. She always looks so confident, like there’s no obstacle that could damage her. But now while she slowly reveals her past, she looks extremely vulnerable. It makes Vergil want to help her somehow, even just to calm her down.

“Here,” Vergil says, hesitantly offers his hand. “Just until you feel better.”

Lyra’s anxiety gradually calms down as their hands are attached. Vergil’s gloved palm is hard as steel—one squeeze can crush her bone, yet she can only feel the warmth between their entangled hands.

She lets out a sad smile. How long has it been since the last time someone holds my hand?

“Do you feel better now?” Vergil finally breaks the ice.

“A little,” Lyra agrees. “Although I must admit, this is awkward.”

Vergil closes his eyes and chuckles as he rests his body on the head of the sofa. “I don’t know what madness leads me to do this. Perhaps it’s because of you. You are a terrible influence for me.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend!”

“How unfortunate.”

With their hands still attached, Lyra lowers the coat from her head, revealing threads of her golden brunette hair, shifting her body to lean on the sofa. “Have you ever heard about Munchausen syndrome?”

“A mental disorder in which a person deliberately malingering?”

“Yup. And there is another one called Munchausen by proxy. Means the caregiver is the one who fakes the illness in a person under their care.”

“You mean...”

Lyra scoffs bitterly. “I know one should not self-diagnose without proper professional assessment. Mum was never clinically diagnosed, nor that people noticed her traits. They only knew her as a devoted mother and a great scientist. But I’m the one who lived under the same roof with her and I knew her better than anyone else. I could give you examples of how much my mother loved me”

“There was one time after my refusal to take my medicines, she humiliated me in front of her colleagues,” she continues with a calmer voice. “I was helping her to arrange a bouquet of roses to be placed at the living room. It was unusual that she allowed me to do the ‘hard work’. I did what she asked. I wanted to please her, just to see her smile again. I wanted her to look at me as her daughter, not a failure. I cut the roses diligently, and my fingers were bleeding because I was careless. I didn’t know that Mum brought her colleagues home, and they saw my bleeding fingers. She went nuts when she saw my fingers, scolded me for touching the roses. She said rubbish like, ‘I told you to not touch them!’ ‘Why are you so careless?’ ‘Oh, my poor, darling baby’ while her colleagues gave us the pity look as Mum brought me to my chamber, tended my wounds exaggeratedly, telling me that the pain will be gone soon and the wounds won’t leave any scratches. I was going to ask her why she lied to her colleagues but she kept shushing me like I’m a bloody idiot. I was confused, like, what did I do wrong?”

Lyra glances at Vergil, whose eyes are fixated to the fireplace in a silent rage. “You might’ve thought I was too naïve to indulge her unhealthy behaviour.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were too weak and innocent to defend yourself,” the door to Vergil’s memory palace where his darkest memories are stored is widely opened. “It sounds like self-justification, but we were just children. We couldn’t have known the cause of what was happening back then. You didn’t deserve everything your mother did to you.”

The contemplative words from Vergil slightly lightens the weight on Lyra’s shoulders. Her solemn smile emphasizes her hidden sadness and weariness. “At those days, I thought she was just knackered, or in a bad mood. Maybe she really worried about me. Maybe I was too stubborn and that made her gutted, so I endured. I took those bloody medicines because it was easier for me. She was so happy and for a moment, I thought I was happy too. Took it longer for me to realize that I was frightened, but I had no options but obeyed her.”

Vergil remains silent whilst feeling Lyra’s thumb tapping on the back of his hand. He waits patiently for her to gather herself before she mumbles quietly. “I’ve been wondering too... why would anyone want to go back to the person who hurt them?”

“Violence often acts in a cycle,” Vergil squeezes her hand lightly as a reassurance. “Once the perpetrator realized their mistake, they would beg for forgiveness. Some people mean it, some people don’t,” he sighs deeply, carefully putting his words together. “You thought by forgiving your mother, she could change for the better. That forgiveness would improve your relationship with her. You came back to her, sacrificing your safety and well-being to seek her love and comfort. She planted the fear inside you. It was a wheel you couldn’t escape. But you were never a fool for coming back to her. You loved her and you were a child who had no one to have your back but your mother. Even when your expectation failed you, you could only rely on her. ”

“I tried to break the wheel,” Lyra pulls away their hands and cups her face, sliding it to her head like she had a headache. “There were countless times when I thought about running away. But it never happened. I couldn’t even survive five minutes outside. If I told anyone about my suspicion of Mum’s actions on me, they would never believe me and call me a spoiled child instead. Norma was the only person who believed me. She was trying to help me, like quietly flushing the medicines whenever I couldn’t take it anymore. Then she was fired shortly after she spoke to Mum about her nonsensical punishment to me.”

Lyra bites her lips. “It seemed like Mum tried to cut every string with Norma. I never heard about her anymore. Never found her phone number or address. There was a time when I missed her but I couldn��t contact her. She was the only person who believed me and my mother took her away from me because Norma defended me from Mum’s fucked up behaviour.”

A sting of familiar dread creeps inside Vergil’s bone, despite his awareness that it wasn’t his own fear but residues from his first dream about Lyra. He remembers his futile effort to move the body and the way Asteria’s calm yet terrifying gaze at him when she feeds him. The unpleasant sound from the friction between the spoon and the bowl... Asteria’s shady voice as she told him her worries...

“I told you I never knew exactly when I acquired my power, right? Because as long as I remember, I always had this power from the very beginning. I knew what pawn Norma would pick whenever we played chess. I knew the next word my mother was going to say. There were times I accidentally moved things even without touching them. I thought I was just imagining things,” Lyra fixes Vergil’s coat. “Therefore, when Mum scolded me again, I felt my wrath burning and something inside me burst out. I was shocked because suddenly almost anything inside my bedroom was dropped—the books, the toys, the lamps. Mum was pale and silent like a ghost while staring at the mess, until the nurse came. She glared at me like I was a freak and the last thing I remember was I woke up and was unable to move my body. I suspected Mum had me drugged again to prevent me causing havoc. She still had the audacity to act normal, even read me The Hobbit like yesterday was nothing.”

Vergil’s icy eyes get wider slightly. “The event in my dream...”

“Now you know,” Lyra giggles but her face stays impassive. “Then a month later, there came the moment when we both fell.”

Vergil straightens up his body. The picture of his second dream of her comes up in his mind. The same soulless eyes that he saw back then when there was a murder in the library a few months ago appear once more on Lyra. Somehow, Vergil knows where this conversation is heading and he knows he won’t like it. “What do you mean by 'we’ ?”

The pure honesty in Lyra’s eyes makes Vergil’s blood curdle. “I told you, didn’t I? I don’t want to lie to you.”

---

It was the end of the fall season when six-years old Lyra woke up from her slumber. She glanced at the clock on the wall, grinning unconsciously. They say 3 o’clock in the morning is devil’s hour. Unable to go back to sleep, she grabbed her mauve cardigan and decided to take a little detour to the balcony. I could find some autumn constellation, she thought with excitement. She remembered her mother hadn’t packed the cool and sophisticated telescope she had always admired since the very first time Asteria brought it home, and she left it on the balcony this afternoon.

Little Lyra succeeded sneaking out from her bedroom. The mouthful and annoying nurse was nowhere to be seen. She was sure that Asteria is already sleeping. Lately, Asteria didn’t show her ‘lunatic’ nature to Lyra, which Lyra was grateful for. So when she found Asteria on the balcony, Lyra’s excitement instantly turned into fear. Her mother stood with her hands on the balustrade. The telescope was still there, but it seems like Asteria hadn’t used it again since the afternoon. Thinking that her mother wouldn’t notice her presence, Lyra tip-toed to going back to her chamber, but Asteria saw her and startled. It was almost like Asteria scared of being caught on the balcony.

“Solstice?” Asteria gasped. “Why do you— oh, never mind. You must be here to stargaze, aren’t you? Come here, sweets.” A warm smile appeared on her face as she sat on the chair and fixed the telescope.

Lyra’s fight or flight instinct soared up. It was already horrible to think her mother would scold her for sneaking from her bed, but the sullen face of Asteria was unsettling. It looked like she was able to burst any time soon.

“Come on,” Asteria insisted. “Look, there is Andromeda!”

Without making any sound, Lyra climbed on her mother’s lap timidly. Asteria told her to peek into the eyepiece, which Lyra reluctantly did.

“What do you think?” asked Asteria.

“Beautiful,” Lyra said. “But I don’t understand.”

“About what?”

“The pattern. Andromeda doesn’t look like she was chained. More like she fell from the sky and died on the ground.”

Asteria chuckled. “As per usual, sweets. You have a vivid imagination.”

“I just don’t like that story. It was Andromeda’s parents’ fault, but she was the one who got sacrificed.”

“The gods punished her parents too.”

“Yet the gods placed them among the stars. It’s not fair.” Lyra murmured.

“Well, it’s mythology,” Asteria caressed Lyra’s hair. “On the other side, I think Cassiopeia loved her daughter. Too much that she got the audacity to boast about Andromeda’s beauty. If she were really that self-centred, she’d boasted her own beauty instead.”

Lyra’s small hands adjusted the focusing knob slowly. “If she really loved her, she would think for her daughter’s safety.”

It took Asteria a quite long time to respond. She hugged her little daughter from behind, resting her head on Lyra's crown and massaging Lyra’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? It’s cold here.”

Mummy sounds tired, Lyra noticed. Yet asking questions right now wouldn’t be the best choice. Asteria gave her a good night kiss lightly before letting Lyra off from her lap.

“You’re right. Cassiopeia’s pride put her daughter in danger,” Asteria said, cuddling her daughter tightly. “I love you, Solstice. I’m sorry for everything.”

What was that? Lyra felt an itchy ache somewhere in her heart by just listening to her apology, but Asteria just smiled as if she had never said anything. She waved at her, telling her wish for Lyra to have a sweet dream.

Lyra walked away from her mother with heavy steps, despite her wish to stay a little bit longer. Asteria seemed to be in a good mood this time, and that tender side of her melted Lyra’s heart. She’s her mother, after all. She couldn’t help but love her unconditionally. I hope I don’t agitate her, she hoped as she turned her direction to enter the balcony again, planning to beg to stay for a while.

But when she turned around, the horror already waited for her there.

Lyra was screaming like a wild animal as she ran and ran...

“MUMMY!!!!!”

… towards Asteria, who jumped from the balustrade.

Don’t leave me here! Lyra’s body felt like it was burning in blaze. She could feel an overwhelming power within her burst out. Please God, let me use that power again!

Her breath got heavier as she jumped from the guardrail and reached her hand to her mother with a hope to save her. It felt like eternity when she realized that her mother was floating on the air instead of falling. With an eerie face, Asteria screamed her daughter’s name while she was brought by an invisible force to the rooftop again.

I did it! Lyra thought cheerfully, but not for long because she quickly realized her mysterious power didn’t bring her to the balcony too. She tried to focus on herself, doing whatever she can to release her power again. She knew her power was still raw and immature. She had planned to practice secretly tomorrow, but she had no idea that things would go south like this. The first was always luck or coincidence, Norma had said to Lyra when she found out Lyra’s little secret. But there will be no more luck for the second time. There is no such thing as coincidence, but synchronicity...

While Lyra was still thinking about why her power didn’t work, her body crushed on the ground violently.

She was sure she heard the sound of her fractured bones.

She had never experienced that kind of pain before. All those side effects from her medicines was nothing compared to this one. The pain gradually ended as the numbness consumed her body. She looked at the sky, thinking how poetic her fall was under the fair moonlight with her motionless body. She was sure she saw Asteria on the balcony, shrieking and saying something she could not comprehend. Why did she jump? Was that because of me? Maybe because I made Mummy angry again... maybe afterlife seems better than living with me...

Lyra was willing to go. Afterall, she was sick of being isolated. Death seems promising. At least she would be free from medicine and endless hope for getting a healthy body. I look like Andromeda , she thought as she felt her eyes getting heavier. Like someone lying dead on the ground.

She knew it’s time to go when her eyelids could barely manage to stay open. She hoped Asteria would live a better world without her. If only she could laugh right now, she would do it for the last time, so she wouldn’t feel too bitter about death.

Mum—

Unfortunately, she never got a chance to think further. The only thing she saw before she lost her consciousness was her mother climbing up the balustrade again, this time to follow her daughter to death.

---

“Stardust?”

The gentle voice of Vergil startles Lyra back to reality. She doesn’t know how long the time has passed since she told him how her mother died. The long, buried weariness and sadness inside her consumes her like she has just released a huge burden from her body at once.

“Sorry, I was preoccupied with my own head.” Lyra scratches her right ankle, a habit she couldn’t let go since that tragic day. “You alright?”

“I was supposed to be the one who asked,” the blue devil says. “Are you sure you’re going to continue? We could discuss this later.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just adjusting myself because I’ve never opened up to anyone else before,” Lyra continues, ignoring Vergil’s pity look. “Anyway, after that, I woke up in the local hospital. They said my nurse heard my mother’s scream and went to check. That was how she found us and called the ambulance. When we reached the hospital, they said they couldn’t save us. They went insane because suddenly my heart started beating again in an hour. They put me under intensive care for three months. I got severely broken bones and head trauma—I needed to do a couple more surgeries and physiotherapy. They said it was a miracle for me to survive and recover rapidly.”

“That must have something to do with your power.” Vergil adds.

“That’s very likely. I woke up hearing voices and seeing things I wasn’t supposed to be. I thought I was just dreaming, but day by day I spent my time hospitalized, I knew it was real. Those voices and images were people’s thoughts,” Lyra chuckles with irony on her lips. “It was already too much for me to read minds at once, and then I found out that my mother died. I saved her life just for giving her a chance to jump again.”

She sounds ireful rather than sad, Vergil suspects. He can’t deny his instinct to not let his attention to Lyra’s right ankle, which he stores his suspicion for a long time.

“One day, Mum’s lawyer came to visit me at the hospital. She said since I’m an orphan and have no relatives, she will act as my guardian and I’ll receive inheritance whenever I reach legal age. The whole ‘guardian’ part was just formality because she’ll send me to an orphanage once I get discharged from hospital. Even I knew what she had stored in mind before she started to speak. But that didn’t really concern me,” Lyra takes a deep breath and exhales. Her expression is slightly twisted as she telekinetically raises a Rubik's cube and tears every cube apart before she smashes them into flakes.

What in the seven hells— “Lyra?” Vergil calls her, but the word seems unreachable to her.

“I was going to forgive my mother because I wanted her to rest in peace, yet again she proved it to me that she was a fucking devil.”

Another cube is crushed, followed by a loud cracking sound from the teacup.

“The lawyer couldn’t bear to tell me this, but she found fake prescriptions of my daily medicines and a drawer full of placebo pills in my mother’s room. The doctors told her that they found traces of placebo pills and a very tiny dose of rat poison inside me. A. Fucking. Rat. Poison—”

The radio on the kitchen counter starts playing by itself, followed by a loud bang from Lyra’s front door.

“It was all placebo. There was never a fucking SCID nor fucking illness. I was perfectly fine from the start! The only reason why I always felt sick was because of that rat poison and abominable suggestions from that fucking b—”

Vergil grips her shoulder. “Lyra, you will destroy the entire house. Please stay calm.”

The view of her floating table pulls Lyra back to the earth. She startles at first, but it doesn’t last as she finally gathers herself and puts the table back to the ground. The bleak on her face remains while she tightens up Vergil’s coat. “Sorry.”

“I told you to stop earlier.”

“I can never be ready to tell you the truth unless I do it right now.”

“Fine, but if I notice even a small sign of you going berserk again, we have to stop this conversation.”

“Deal.”

“Good. Then, did the nurse have any knowledge about the poisoning?”

Lyra shakes her head in disappointment. “She claimed that Mum just gave her my medical certificate and records, which the lawyer found to be fake. Mum made up those records as if they were authorized by a credible health facility. She made up things and fucked up my life for Hell knows what she was up to. Then she just fucking died and leaving me alone without any explanation on everything.”

Vergil wipes his face in frustration, This is more messed up than I thought it would be.

Lyra lets out a rugged laugh. “You know what happened next. The media never told people how my mother died.”

“That’s what I always thought to be very suspicious. They can’t just spread false rumour. There’s evidence, witnesses and statements from the police and hospital.”

“All I could think was that Asteria Crescent was an infamous astrobiologist with great reputation. Imagine if the world knew this brilliant person was a mad woman who poisoned her own daughter. That would destroy the reputation of academical world. Her good legacy must be remembered.”

“... Was that really easy for humans to alter the truth?”

The librarian laughs bitterly. “They do it all the time, Vergil. It’s easier than you think it is. Money talks louder than words. They must’ve silenced Mum’s lawyer too since she said nothing about the truth to me. I tried to tell them that my mother was insane and that wasn’t how she died, but they thought I was the one who lost my mind. PTSD, head trauma, reconstructed memory, call it what you want. I don’t know who started it, why and how, but they closed the case.”

“But who were these people? Why did such a grandiose plan just to cover up a scientist’s death?”

“Who knows. There’s always someone behind the stage.”

“And they really sent you to an orphanage?”

“Yes, maybe to shut my mouth. Mum’s lawyer managed my financial support, but she never showed up at the orphanage.”

Lyra bites her lips, like she doesn’t know how to continue and stumbles over her own words. She scratches her right ankle again. “Kids in the orphanage used to tease me for limping whenever I walked. It’s odd for me, even until now. The doctor said I had fully recovered, just needed to adjust myself to the outside world since I stayed indoors for too long. But the sore thing in my ankle here never really disappears. I never found out why. All doctors I’ve consulted with said despite the fading scar on the skin, my ankle is perfectly fine and should’ve been functional. People couldn’t even see me limping, at least until a certain sulky devil spotted it.”

“I’m not sulky.”

“The more you deny it, the more it’s true.”

“Your logical fallacy amuses me.”

A relieved laugh comes out from Lyra. “You got me there.”

With the smile on her face blooming again, Vergil feels a towering wave of unpleasant ache filling his whole heart. Right now, he can grasp the reason why Lyra acts too secretive. He knows that burden very well; to be unable to trust anyone but themselves. Lyra has never received the real love from her mother, which was different from Vergil. Her childhood and self-esteem were stolen from her own kin. That is also the reason why Lyra can easily understand him, despite his despicable sins. Lyra has already had the power and was able to save her mother, yet in the end Asteria chose to kill herself. Contrary to Vergil, who even had demon power since birth, but he couldn’t save his mother from her doom. His love for his family was Vergil’s motivation to gain more power, which is a total opposite from Lyra who hates her mother and resents her power. They are two sides of the same coin.

“Terra to Vergil?” Lyra snaps her fingers in front of Vergil’s face.

“Pardon me,” Vergil says. “I was just contemplating.”

“About what?”

“About how humans can be so much worse than demons. No offense.”

“None had taken.”

The blue devil hesitates before he asks. “How... How did you cope from that?”

“Hmmm...” Lyra mumbles and sighs heavily. “It’s not easy. It still affects me in a way. I grew up thinking that people can’t be trusted. Telepathy made it worse. I hesitate to live, but I don’t want to die either. It’s difficult to form any connection, no matter how much effort I took to fit in. I’m not even sure myself whether this is the real me or I’m just a skilled imitator who fits people’s expectations.”

She smiles, this time the gloom on her lips is fading. “I met people who were sincerely decent and empathetic. But somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to open up and let them enter my circle. I used to blame my mum for this trust issue, but lately I suspect it was on me.”

“You’re not the one to blame, Lyra.”

Lyra shakes her head. “I choose to leave them before they get too close to me.”

“Because you don’t want people to see your scar?”

“I thought the reason I’m pulling myself from society was because I’m afraid that I’d get hurt. Took me a long time to realize that I’m worried that I’d hurt people. That’s what you got when you have a telepath as your friend. You’d get caught in endless insecurity of having your minds in constant danger, while I really don’t want to read one. If only Sparda’s magic didn’t protect you and Dante, you’d leave me since day one.”

“I won’t.”

“Mundus screwed up your brain, Vergil. You have a thousand reasons for hating telepaths.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I saw your dreams. I know how much you want to kill those who fucks with you.”

“And I saw yours too, Lyra. I know how much you hate your mother, but deep down you still love her. Even since you saw her falling from the balcony.”

The realization hits her hard. “Wait— you knew this all along?!”

“Forgive me, but you won’t tell me the truth unless I told you a white lie. Your hypothesis is true; that our dreams occurred simultaneously.”

“You—” Lyra glares at Vergil like he has done treacherous betrayal, but she gathers herself up since she knows she was the one who lied to him first. She can’t deny that everything he said was true. It has been said that the dead won’t stay only if the living sets them free. For Lyra, it jabs her heart whenever she tries to brush that fact away. She knows that her hatred would rot her soul, yet it’s difficult to forgive her mother, who had tried to end her life multiple times.

“I envy you, Vergil,” Lyra confesses. “You were an arsehole evil lord back then, but you had a reasonable motive for fighting. You have a family. I got none. I don’t see the point of keep going on. Everyone wants me dead.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Vergil states without any doubts in his voice. “It’s understandable since you’re undeniably enigmatic and can be threatening. But my fool brother of mine was right; strength is a choice. You choose to be strong to prevent more loss. You have every right to live, for death is the end. Make a full life while it lasts.”

“I wonder if I had such a reason to stay.”

Vergil straightens up his seat with a wary and cautious expression. “Sometimes… It doesn’t have to be something big. “

“Such as?”

“I don’t know…” he chuckles half-heartedly. “Don’t you have something to cherish for? Something that makes you willing to trade your life with?”

“Hmmm…. I love my job. I love books and the stars. But I don’t think I’d give up my life for that...” Lyra hums indifferently. “I think not. Nothing very important in particular.”

“There are things that could be important, but not everything important is worth cherishing.”

“What makes it different?”

“As time goes on, important things could become less important. The urgency wears off,” Vergil says quietly as he curves a faint smile, reminiscing his bonding time with Nero. “But something precious, something you hold dear most... you will suffer when they are taken from you.”

“Something precious, huh...?” Lyra’s eyes wander off, her voice is softer than a whisper. “Like... you...?”

Vergil almost gets choked by his own breath. “Beg your pardon?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing!”

“I’m certain that you said something.”

“If you’re so certain about that, why can’t you listen and repeat back what I said?”

“Because I couldn’t hear that properly!”

“Your loss.”

“You meddlesome creature.”

“You angry kitten.” Lyra holds her mouth to prevent her laughter from going too loud.

Vergil glares at her. “What did you just call me?!”

“Nothing~ I’m sleepy~” Lyra stretches her arms, the corner of her eyes flashes a mischief as she glances to the oblivious Vergil. “Those self-help books were right. It’s relieving to have the right person to share the burden with—”

“Don’t you dare try to change the topic. If you ever call me an angry kitten again—”

“We’re still talking about that? Bloody hell, Vergil, I’m just kidding!” Lyra holds his palms and takes off his gloves. “Come on, we need to rest. You might be sober now but even the strongest demon needs to sleep.”

A light crumple curves on Vergil’s forehead. “Why do you take my gloves off?”

“Do you have a habit to keep your gloves on while sleeping?”

“Hold on,” Vergil hesitates as he pulls his hand. “You want me to sleep here? In your house?”

“Yup.”

“You know that it’s not… very decent for an unmarried woman and a man to stay under the same roof.”

“Since when do you care about custom?”

“I’m not necessarily care about customs,” Vergil grunts. “It’s your convenience that I’m concerned about.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Lyra cleans up the table and waves her hand to send the tray to the dishwasher before making her way to the bedroom. “But my sofa is too small for you, and considering I have a quite spacious bed that fits two people, I don’t see any reasons why I would let my friend freeze on the sofa.”

Lyra opens the door, glancing at Vergil and tilts her head as a sign for him to follow her into the bedroom.

~~~

A/N : the poem mentioned in this chapter is “Clair de Lune” by Paul Verlaine, which is the inspiration for Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @shiranyaaww @queenmuzz @rubixa-seraph @andieperrie18

If you love my works and want to support me, kindly donate me on my Ko-Fi! :3

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#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x oc #vergil #vergil x lyra #spark of stardust #tales of apotelesma #original character #oc #lyra #night writes

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cupsofsuga · 4 years

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𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - there’s some heavy violence in this headcanon! again, viewer discretion is advised! also, thank you anon for being so kind!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Hcs for each member to their s/o having a hard time at school because they have a lot of exams and there is like this one girl who is kinda bothering them a lot and says thing’s like „you’re so dumb“ + Thank you for your hard work🌟 :) ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

whilst walking through the early afternoon, jin can’t help but let his mind wander to his y/n

they are candied cherries, chocolate-covered strawberries, slices of honeydew of a sultry june afternoon

they are a summer sonnet, saccharine sunshine embodied

they are in every means the light in a pit of darkness

and just before his fists meet with the mahogany door, the hushed sounds of sobbing brings his ethereal thoughts to an abrupt halt

that sugary taste of spring melts into a metallic tang

jin is ripped from the arms of serendipity and embraced by a holy, winter night; he is exploited by hell and feels it’s knife-sharp kisses litter his body

and without a second thought, he bursts through the door with enough force to puncture the wood

he is quick to provide aid for his love, letting them trail on of tales of their arrogant teachers and that sadistic blonde who finds pleasure in your torment

jin’s heart shatters and underneath the glass shard in unfathomable rage

and just like that, we watch as his anger swells and the events that follow after the faltering of his flower

5:38 PM, your teacher who has thrust you into a rough patch with school stands by his car

jin strikes, he falls to the ground, streets seeping with crimson blood as his sinful acts bleed into the creases of the pavement

the brick in his hand is quickly disposed of as he hijacks the stranger’s car and attends the key to his office

hours later, he finds you, nestled under silky blankets with moon tea in your grasp

he presents to you a cheat sheet, relishing in the way you smile so vividly and the summer petals that asphyxiate him

next, is that girl who dared to let you cry tears for her

and the acts performed on her were horrific

he nustles you back into bed, a gentle kiss to the head and caresses to the cheek, then, he is off into the night

within the next 12 hours, jin had managed to slice off her fingers and toes, laughing sadistically as she begs for mercy

the annoying disunity of her pained, guttural screams irritated jin, and to end of the night with a bang, he forced her to eat a bullet

now, the burdens have been disposed of, the anger has simmered and his love has found peace, you both can live smoothly

without the suffocating weights of the horrid world, jin can listen to his midsummer sonnets as they grace his world with their delicate smiles and infectious laughter

finally, he can breathe.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

yoongi awakes in the evening a couple of steps into march, early spring sticky on his cheeks and sheets pressed upon his dainty legs

the burning revelation of what lies next to him feels like the midnight sun warm against his bareback

he knows the love of his life rests right beside him, deep in a luminescent slumber

yoongi turns his body around, meeting with his love, who instead is perched on the side of the bed, phone screen illuminating the room that drowned in obscurity

beneath that canopy of constellations, there is his y/n, crying out to the empty night

and that bruising palpitation that strikes his heart with one bitter-intended swing could’ve crumbled planets in the galaxy to nothing but dust bunnies you’d find nestled in the depths of the attic

every bated breath is suffocated within his lungs, saltwater smothering him as he can’t find the words to provide aid for the love of his life

the ashes skies and dull clouds envelop him, and alas, magic has died

with a gentle touch to your shoulder, the boy behind you coos and hushes his own cries of worry as you both sit in solid darkness

through saturated cries, you manage to cough up tales of demons that litter the hallways, choking on the acerbic aftertaste of tears

with the moon strung high, yoongi finds devotion through the thorn-laced ivy that punctures his form

he must prove his infatuation, he must

after all, when the world left him astray, you painted him gold with stardust brewing in your lungs

when the galaxy abandoned him, you gifted him the sun as if the planet was nothing but coins in your pocket

when he was alone, you were there in all of your effervescent glory

and that leaves your lover now, writing an anonymous complaint about that blonde’s behavior, lacing the letter with false stories of her becoming physical

yes, yoongi knows this is wrong, but that image of you with gleaming tears sprinting down your cheeks robs him of any potential mercy

he loves you, and he must defend you from the world

and there it is, your smile

you look like a pack of adonis blue butterflies in the summer, the diamonds that scatter the galaxies, rose petals as they fall from the clouds

you are happy, and now you can live in tranquillity

as the sun sets and the wolves venture out of their the caves, you two spend eternal hours on the roof, sipping cheap red wine as bellowing laughter echoes

and it’s so sweet - so, so sweet - living days in the depths of ice-rimmed snow globes and soaring through the land of hogwarts

it's so sweet finding forever summer within the cold days of late winter

it’s so sweet to live the rest of his days with you.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

❝ oh, oh! i’ll do them for you! ❞

without a hint of breath, hoseok interferes your rant about exams with a shimmering idea

that’s who he was, after all

a boy willing to spit out the ash of bullets with the sun pounding against his ribcage and with the alacrity of his spirit

he’d watch the stars bleed and summer fade, he’d embrace violence with pleasure and hunt out the wolves of the night

he’d swallow seas, seethe in hellfire, swim within the embers of the sun and wither planets to dust

he’d just about do anything for you, and you milked his very desire to do such

you see, exam season was hot on your tail and there were only seconds before you witness the death of a downfall behind procrastination

the elegance of time has faded, and fortunately for you, your pretty-pliant boy toy is there with a cape to save the day

you should feel guilt for manipulating and twisting your lover's brain, but, the poison that seeps through the maze of your veins robs you of any empathy

his whitening bones and your rotten figure, his sunset skies and your ashen wastelands

you both might as well have been a devil and an angel sitting in the same high school class

but, the burden of exams is only an inkling of the baggage heavy on your shoulders

that blonde who finds sadistic pleasure in turning your life into a living hellhole awaits your next move, and with the help of your delusional lover, you may find stars within the black hole of the universe

as your grades all skyrocket as planned, you’ll have enough golden stars and lollipops to have her regina george and her precious good-girl streak melting into the tile before her expensive platforms

so, as the next afternoon blossoms, you meet hoseok at his locker with a disposition burning within your heart and ask him out on a date, watching as summer’s sky drowns out within his irises and the essence of spring spreads amongst his doll-like features

as he accepts with a stutter, you become concerned with whether or not you should check if the poor boy is still breathing, but settle on attending the ice cream parlor on the corner of town

and as you both sit in the sunset as superman ice-cream stains his lips, your plan proceeds in perfect harmony

with your sweetheart who resembles a golden retriever who’s met face-to-face with a battered-off tennis ball, your every desire is granted

with cloy praises and sugar-tainted caresses, you’re passing your exams with a pretty little pet there to serve to every one of your commands

and blinded by the infatuation through the manipulation, hoseok finds lavender-infused meadows and universes undiscovered

ever waking second with you, he finds the sun as it beats against his empty eyelids

alas, he has found clarity within the treacherous world

and he doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever left him.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

wednesday afternoon, namjoon is roaming around the somewhat-secluded library, once again

he finds you at a deserted table and relishes in the ambivalent pandemonium of your eternal gaze that pounds his hummingbird heartbeat

he finds cherry stains chalked upon your lips, the dust of a child’s dreams scattered upon your features, the touch of aphrodite herself laced within your fingertips as you turn the pages with elegance

to have a stark sight of you, he has found rome in the depths of you and he is only left to scrutinize every last moment

as you talk with a friend on the phone, namjoon picks up a stray book off the shelf, posing to deem it interesting as the ink fades to nonsense

there’s a tangible bitterness in your tone, stating your stress over exams, then exclaiming your rage for another student who has found entertainment in using you like a rag doll

namjoon listens, and he seethes

there’s a vivid pulse of red, a breath of tranquility left astray, heavy spring rain that envelops him

in the serrated halt in his thoughts, he listens to your rants and the harmonious claps of thunder that follow after the light rain showers

as the clock reads 3:27 AM, the boy spends the ungodly hours of the night inhaling the musk of silken mist as he dives into the depths of whatever information he can grasp of your supposed bully

after all, he’d do just about anything for you

he’d swallow bullets, suffocate himself on clouds, slice galaxies and set your shadows aflame if you simply asked

he loves you, and the burning light’s embrace taste of lemonade

you are willow trees in late june heat, apple pies left to cool on an autumn afternoon, a star amongst a field of faux pearls, a fairytale you’d find hidden in the dust of a bookstore

you are in every means a melody of summer and the ethereal sense of purity that follows after

so, that leaves namjoon now, casting his gaze upon a penthouse where the villain of your story lies

and the acts that follow after climbing into the adobe through the fire escape are horrid

he spits out threats and insults as the girl shows her submission, tears tumbling down her rosy cheeks as she pleads for any potential compassion found within the man

she then proceeds to swear on her life that she won’t utter a breath of this night if the intruder were to simply leave, but, the myths that lie within those ocean eyes state differently

and so he kills her - he kills her so violently - he watches the life leave her doe eyes like a dying star

namjoon then leaves her in the bathtub, mustering up some sob suicide note about how unfair her life was, then neglecting his sins at the domain

finally, finally, he can taste the midsummer plums and strawberry-tainted air without the burden of the world

finally, he can dance with the sunbeams as the rain begins to fade into lustrous stars

finally, he can breathe with you.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

even with the simple incantation of a compliment, you have jimin vowing his devotion to you, a simple stranger

you, who holds the hypnotic elegance of a swan, the unintentional divine nature of a ghost and the substantially ethereal depths of aphrodite herself hold a young boy’s sensitive heart in the palm of your palms

you, who lives in the wind by the riverside, hold the universe in your hands

jimin, and his tenacious behavior, stand just outside the door of his father’s office, ear pressed against the door, clinging onto any inkling of a word he can grasp

your father stands in the room, too, just without you, the sun in the empty abyss

with muffled words, he listens as your father speaks stories of your stress with upcoming exams and with a bully of yours

his brave iris, his luminescent flower, his star dripped in honey nectar- is suffering…?

jimin has been left to wallow in a desolated graveyard, just to fantasize of your dancing touch and luminescent smile

you are both two bunny rabbits prancing through the barricades of spring, two fairies dancing with dust in the heat of summer

every fleeting moment, it all echoed within him

and that leaves jimin now with the yearbook that he borrowed from you settled in his lap

he takes the brief second to examine your school picture, tracing delicate fingers amongst your features and the doodles of hearts and flowers that litter around your sparkling face

flipping through the pages, he hears your father’s voice in his head, who had spoken the name of the demon that dared to dwell in you

languorous days, lavender hearts and june-infused nights, he has found some sense of clarity within the heartbreaking loyalty

inhaling the musk of a filthy bar littered with drunk men, he finds a blonde head, plan lingering within his mind

he then forges attraction, single whispers proving more of the bruises on his skin than the flower of his love

with angelic tones and forcing gags back down his throat, jimin had finally gotten this parasite alone

he had gotten the doe-eyed villain alone in an alleyway, lust staining the shades of her eyes

and that leaves the blue-eyed, plum-lipped girl with golden hair now, left in a puddle of piss and beer - dead

there’s blood everywhere - in the wind, on the pavement, on the brick walls, stained upon empty skin

but, alas, despite drowning in the sticky residue of his sins, eden’s garden has bloomed

alas, without the burden there to touch your soul and carve letters to ghost upon your precious skin, he is free

and you venture behind your father to another meeting several days later, meeting face-to-face with an abnormally bright puppy-dog with summer sunbeams soaked in the hues of his irises

❝ y/n! y/n! hey! do you- do you need help with your exams? i can help, i swear! i really can! i promise...! i’d do anything to help… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

you curl your fingers around the flutter of the telephone cord, the prismatic pastel hues complimenting every syllable that leaves your mouth

your brows knit and nose scrunches, your lips twist and eyes glimmer

and, within your haze, after leaving your window open to find some contentment in the heavy humidity, a figure slid in through the crack and resides in the closet

taehyung now cherishes you through the speckles of light given through the rift of the closet door, summer leaving its eternal residue upon his form

he stares and finds the embodiment of the moon and its naked bones through the gentle film of your bedside lamp

he then listens as you complain about your bad day, dwelling in the curves and juts of your tone

how no matter how many times you attempt to curl your way out of her embrace, the blonde who has learned to despise you, an angel, always seeps her way back into your bloodstream

like a sour lemon upon the july sun, like the burning embers of winter amongst summer stars

his tranquility found in the human he loves has suffered a perceptible shift

and now, all he can touch and all he can see is unfathomable rage

how dare someone treat such a creature with envy? how dare they treat his love with obsidian-stained hatred!?

how could a human disrupt a heartbeat trapped in the galaxies!? how could a human hurt such an angel...?

these thoughts spread like constellations as taehyung sits beside you on your bed, tucking you tighter into your blankets with caution not to jeopardize his identity

you sleep like pearls in the sea, like california poppies in the daybreak

and with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a secret in the grave, he is off into the night

and within the blistering bite of the night, taehyung finds the girl and gives a gaze with two beady, stern eyes that burns bullets into his helpless victim

a good game of tag as the wind chills through the oxygen, cat and mouse in the opalescent midnight sky

and within a matter of seconds, an arrow pierces through the night and penetrates through her neck

he watches- watches as life bleeds down her collarbone

and he loves it

but now, he has returned to his love, soaked head-to-toe in the irony taste of his own sins

he sits beside your sleeping form, clutches midsummer peaches in his grasp as places his land ever so gentle upon yours

a plan lingers- a plan of how he'll kill two birds with one stone

he'll begin tutoring lessons, assisting you with your exams and drowning in the neon hues of your soul

and through the lullaby, kim taehyung has found a pale summer sky in an eternal night

he has found the lulling taste of july fruits in the suffocating depths of the attic

he has found his heartbeat in the graveyard of his mind

and his love for you is eternal.

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

with a juul held beneath your skin, nicotine soaks in the air and poisons the musk around

it fills your nostrils, holy smoke fogging up the deceased, midnight breeze

there’s muffled music that doubles yourself in this dream, there’s tranquility found in the abandonment of time

you listen and bathe in the epiphany found in the ghost of the late-night song, dwelling in the simmering sounds

you and your closest friend sit on the roof of your car, just outside of a party, gazing at the moon and sharing hits of the toxic juul pod

and within jungkook, there is infatuation infused with every breath, every blink, every waking second

there lies pearls and petals of lotus flowers within your irises, the smoke serving as a wreath around your exquisite form

your voice sounds of nature as you speak to the moon, and he has fallen prey to every curve and jut of the gibberish that leaves your mouth

you are graceful, you are broken

you are enigmatic in the hypnotizing land of twilight, you are beauty embodied as the stars circle the earth

but, through the canopy of tulips and chirping birds, the wolves venture from out of their adobe with bloodlust staining their golden eyes

you fuss about a particular blonde, proceeding to thrust your friends sanity into the flames of a hearth

you are but a doll in her grasp, a bruised and battered toy crafted for tantrums

you speak words of sour lemonade, and alas, the tranquility in the air has simmered into wrath

with lilacs in the black skies and tragedy in the pavement, you, too, find anger within the slender bones of the moon

you despise being wormwood in her grasp, but, you assume those are just the blues of being a high school student

and as the night falters and dawn blooms, you are met with fatal permission

you have met with the edge of the woods, found the corpses of mauled wolves, found ecstasy in a wasteland of dust

you eavesdrop and hear silent chatter of how regina george did not retreat home from the party the previous night

unknown to your knowledge, the sadistic candyland you were a plastic figure in has met its fate

as it will forever live as a mystery, you are unaware to the fact that her body lies miles away, left to rot within the venomous soil

then, you approach jungkook, filling him in on the latest gossip and expressing your cruel joy for her disappearance

and the pleasure that settles in his face like honey’s residue on a july afternoon was terrifying

jungkook has lost himself in a hallucination of lively color, an illusion of summer days amid winter

he has found the phoenix flower as it blooms within the hues of your eyes, he has found silken stars as they litter your face like sugar and glitter

he has found solace in the new day, the new beginning

he has found euphoria in judgment day.

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