#a way nico will never get to again. they will never share a bowl of frosties again but at least their roots are so thoroughly tangled | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsallyscorner · 3 years

Text

Bring Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, PTSD, murder. A smidge of smut.

A/n: In honor of the Cherry🍒 trailer dropping, I decided to write this!

(GIF creds: @atealiers )

Any kind of project was a blessing to Tom. He loved being an actor. He was fond of telling stories through the big screen and got a kick from portraying many different characters. Acting was something he felt passionate about, it was his craft and he was very dedicated when it came to becoming his roles. Cherry was quite different from the other movies he’s been in. It was dark and contained many subjects like drug addiction, PTSD, and crime. The world of Cherry was something Tom was not used to; it was twisted. He hasn’t been exposed to things like drugs or the events that Nico Walker had been through. Which was why he was hesitant to take on the role of Cherry.

When the Russo Brothers approached him with the idea, he was excited. He was getting the opportunity to tell another story and would explore the world of a new character. Though the more he looked into it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t up for the role. Was he really ready to dive into the dark and traumatizing life of Nico Walker? As an actor, he was willing to take the job, it would give him an opportunity to expand his career and would possibly be one of his best work. As Tom, he wasn’t sure if he could handle learning or re-enacting the events that occurred in Cherry. But Tom did like a challenge, which was why he ended up agreeing to become Cherry.

He prepared himself mentally and physically pre- production. For research, he interviewed army veterans and former drug addicts to get an idea of what it was like to be in those positions. To get the look of Cherry, he did a variety of things. For example, going on a diet and losing weight, then gaining said weight again once they had to shoot the army scenes. Another thing he did was shave off the gorgeous brown curls that adorned his head. At first you weren’t too happy with his change in hairstyle, but later on you found yourself running your hands along the short strands of hair, loving the fuzzy feeling it gave your palms.

After the interviews and hearing others’ experience, Tom felt a level of responsibility to tell the story of millions of people around the world. Not only was it telling the story of Nico, but of other army veterans who suffered from PTSD and people who’ve had drug addictions. He was fully on board now and there was no looking back. He was going to push himself to the limit and to places he’s never been before.

Filming was tough. There were scenes he had to do that were so unlike him, that felt wrong, and sometimes he just had to take a step back. They didn’t feel right, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was his job, if he wanted this movie to be the best that it can, he was going to commit. Thankfully, he was working with the Russos, who he’s known for a while now. He was familiar with the two and they were patient with him, giving him the time to regain himself before shooting an intense scene. The cast and crew were very understanding as well, creating a safe space for him on set. Having Harry along with him helped as well, the familiarity of his brother kept him grounded and avoided him from falling into the void of Cherry. Though he had all these supportive people around him, there was only one person who could calm him down when things got suffocating on set. The only person he wanted to be in Cleveland with him but wasn’t. You. Since you had your own life and job, you were unable to fly out to Cleveland with him. Instead you stayed at your shared home with Tessa as company. All he needed was you when he felt the affects of Cherry caging in on him. Just the sound of your comforting voice over the phone could clear his head and make him breath again.

He had his bad days on set, where he would have to take a moment and hide in his trailer for a few minutes. During those few minutes he liked to be alone as he waited for you to answer your phone. The line would ring, it’d stop, then the sound of your sweet voice would be the only thing he’d hear. Sometimes you didn’t answer the first time, but nonetheless you answered eventually. It wasn’t the same as having you with him in person, you had your responsibilities, and he understood that. He just wished that one day you’d come to Cleveland. He wanted to be in your arms, stuff his face into your neck, breath in your familiar scent, he just wanted to feel you. You were his home. His safe haven. And it was all he wanted right now.

•

Glancing at your phone, you wondered why Tom hasn’t texted you yet. Not that you were itching for him to text you, but because around this time he would be blowing up your phone telling you things that happened during filming or how his day was going. You decided that filming probably went into overtime making him busy during his break. You shrug to yourself and continue working on your laptop.

You hear the sound of Tessa’s nails clicking against the floors as she enters the office of your home. You greet her with a smile as she settles herself beside your legs.

“Is it dinner time already, Tess?” You scratch her head as you glance at the time on your screen. It was currently nine at night, a bit late for dinner, but you haven’t noticed.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll get us dinner. How does that sound, love?” A somewhat sound of approval emits from Tessa. You get back to work, fingers typing away as you finish off the last of your work.

You finish in four minutes, finally satisfied with your work. You let out a content sigh and turn your laptop off. When you get up you stretch and let your bones crack after being in the same position for hours. Tessa joins you, stretching out her front paws then shaking her body out. You chuckle as you lead the way to the kitchen. Taking the scoop for Tessa’s kibble, you fill her bowl up, causing the dog to look up in curiosity. Once you placed the bowl down, her tail wagged wildly as she stuffed her face into her food.

You decided on going for something simple, ramen noodles. You were too tired too cook anything and ramen noodles were the quickest thing to cook in your pantry. While you waited for the noodles to heat up you checked your phone. You went through your notifications, but there were still no texts from Tom. Though you were concerned, you assumed that they had a long shooting day, making him too busy to text.

Hi love! I hope you’re doing well in Cleveland. I know you’re probably busy, but hopefully filming isn’t tiring you out too much. Have an amazing day! Don’t forget to drink some water from time to time and eat :) Tess and I miss you and love you so much! Talk soon xxx

You send the text with a smile. He won’t read it till he was free or done with filming, but you knew he’d see the message while you were asleep.

The microwave beeps, letting you know that your food was done. You end your night catching up on episodes of New Girl and eating soup. When you were done you did your nightly routine and settled in bed. You turn the lights off and snuggled under the warm sheets.

“Night Tessa.” You whisper to her. A huff comes out of her as she makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed. When the both of you were settled, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Buzz

The harsh vibrations of your phone shook you awake. Desperate for sleep, you blindly grab your phone and turn it off. Silence fills the room again as you turn around to stuff your face into Tom’s pillow. You were slowly drifting back to sleep when your phone began to vibrate again. With a groan you stretch back and snatch for phone off the night stand. You don’t bother looking at the caller id.

“Hello?” Your voice rasps out.

“Thank God you answered.” The person on the other line said. “I know you’re busy, but how soon can you visit Cleveland?” The deep voice was belonged to Harry.

“Uh—I’m not too sure, I’ll need to check in with my boss.” You reply. When you start feeling more awake you become curious as to why Harry can be calling you. “Why? Is everything ok? How’s Tom? I haven’t heard from him all day.”

The younger Holland sighs. He takes a moment to answer your questions making you suffer in silence, wondering what could have happened to your boyfriend. “Um, they’ve been shooting some intense scenes lately. Tom’s been trying his best but everyone’s noticed that he’s been a bit different.”

You sit up in bed feeling more awake. “What do you mean by different, Haz?”

“Well he’s snapped at the Russos quite a few times. There was this one scene, that they shot multiple times, and Tom would just break down after every one. (Y/n), I’m concerned for my brother, I don’t know what else to do. He’s locked himself in his room after every shoot. A—and I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell him that he can talk to me but he wouldn’t.” Harry explained, his voice croaked. You heart felt heavy for him. Harry was always there for his older brother, so to see him feel so helpless made you feel sorry.

“Haz, calm down, you know how your brother can get. How long has this been happening?”

Harry sniffed over the phone, “About a few weeks now. It’s only started becoming worse last week and now.”

The concern you felt for Tom grew. From what he’s been texting you, filming had been going great. He appeared happy on your FaceTime calls and sounded like his usual self. But maybe he actually wasn’t.

“Harry everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” You assure him. “I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and when I get the ‘ok’ to leave I’ll get the first flight out to Cleveland. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds good. Can you tell me if you can make it? I’ll have someone come with me to pick you up at the airport.” His voice is quiet, almost muffled.

“Yeah I will, don’t worry.”

“Ok, thank you (y/n).” A small smile forms on your lips. You rub the sleep out your eyes as you glance at your closet. “Alright Haz, I’m gonna go now. But if there’s anything else, just text me or call.”

“I know, stay safe (y/n).” You bid him goodbye and place your phone on the empty space beside your side of the bed. Tom’s side of the bed. You bite your lip in thought as you worry about your boyfriend. You knew he was doing almost everything he can to make sure the movie came out perfect. If that meant shredding himself emotionally and physically, he was going to do it. Tom was dedicated to his work, but he’s never done anything close to Cherry, making you worried about the thoughts that could possibly be going through your lover’s head.

Tessa, who’s now woken up, waddles closer to you, sensing your uneasiness. You appreciate the dog’s gesture and pull her into your side, resting your chin on her head. You were basically sleepless the whole night. Although you haven’t emailed your boss yet, you already had a suitcase packed of your clothes. Your passport and other important belongings were already in a bag, ready to leave London.

The morning had been hectic. You’ve managed to get two hours of sleep, waking up at six in the morning. Still in bed, you sent your boss an email about a family emergency and how you needed to be out of the country for at least a week. As if the gods above knew of your situation, your boss willingly let you go, no questions asked and gave you well wishes. With that out the way, you scowered the Internet for flights to Cleveland. Luck was on your side that morning because you’ve booked a flight that took off in the afternoon. With your bags packed, you drove to Nikki and Dom’s to drop off Tessa.

Now all checked in, you were at Heathrow Airport waiting to be called for your flight. You were sat at your gate, with an iced coffee and a croissant from Starbucks, texting Harry. The two of you were discussing the time you’d arrive and how he’d pick you up. When you were both in agreement, you two decided to catch up. He had been in Tom’s trailer eating his breakfast. An hour passes and you were being called to board the plane.

You settle in your seat, but your leg bounced in anticipation. After the things Harry told you, you just wanted to have your boyfriend in your arms. You knew everything was probably getting to his head, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that he was going to be ok. As the plane began to take off, your lack of sleep caught up on you. Throughout the whole flight, you slept soundly, the worries of Tom subsiding for the time being.

~🛬~

The plane lands in Cleveland safely. It was night when you arrived. With your bags, you looked around the airport for a familiar curly haired boy. Harry waves wildly at you before running and pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around the slender boy.

“How’s your day been, Haz?” You ruffle his hair as he rolls your suitcase to the parking lot. He shrugs, “The usual. Was on set with Tom, ran around and got things for him, nothing much happened honestly. But you’re here now, so this is the highlight of my night.”

The two of you approach a black car with a driver inside, Harry motions for him to unlock the trunk. He lifts your case in before the two of you get into the backseat.

“How was your flight?” Harry asks you. The car began to move, exiting the airport and entering the highway.

“I slept through all of it, I don’t remember a thing about the flight besides getting on and off it.” You chuckle, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Harry nudges your shoulder, “Thanks for coming out with such short notice.” You wave him off. “It’s no worries, anything for my boys.”

The car is quiet, the only sounds that could be heard is the car’s wheels against the pavement. You turn to Harry, “How was he today?”

“He was pretty good in the morning.” Harry started. “Then filming started and he would grow frustrated after a few scenes. His temper’s been short. He snapped at me during lunch, which is normal, but I just asked him if he wanted some water. He broke down after a certain scene today, I tried talking to him but he still wouldn’t open up about it.” Tom wasn’t too open about his feelings sometimes. He struggled to voice them at times making all his frustrations and feelings bottled up in his head.

Half an hour later and you guys arrive at Tom’s rented home in Atlanta. As soon as you opened the door, you felt the heavy atmosphere. It was somber and tense, the chilliness of the weather also felt inside the house. Harry gestures up the stairs, “Don’t worry, go see him. His room is the first door on the left.”

You quietly thank him and climb up the stairs. You find his door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You hear some shuffling behind the door, “Harry I’m fine! Leave me alone!” His voice was deep, a bit scratchy. You frown at the door.

“Tom?” The room falls quiet. Suddenly you hear fumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door. The door opens and you finally see him. He was dressed in a large shirt with sweatpants. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, eyes glassy, and chapped lips.

“(Y/n)? You’re here?” He asks you in disbelief. A tight lipped grin forms on your lips.

“Yeah, Har—“ You were going to explain how you got there but he immediately threw himself at you. His arms wrap tightly around your figure, his head dipped into your neck, pulling your closer into him. One of your arms go around his neck while the other rubs his back soothingly. A whimper bubbles out of him, his shoulders beginning to shake. You managed to shuffle the both of you back into his room, closing the door behind you.

“You’re ok.” You whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His grip around you never falters. Though he was much taller than you, he seemed so small at the moment. His body drowned in the shirt he wore, making him look thinner. You feel tears soaking into your shirt, making your heart clench in pain. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, holding and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he was ready to speak.

A few minutes pass until his removes his head from your neck. You frown at his tear stained face, his eyes and cheeks red from quietly sobbing into your shoulder. Your hands cup his face, wiping the trails of tears on his cheeks. Tom leans closer to your touch, his eyes shut while his lips kiss your palm.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired from the flight.” He apologizes but you shake your head. You lead him to his bed and sit against the headboard. Tom follows in suit, desperately trying to get closer to you. His arms wrap around your torso, his head rests on your chest, while your legs tangle themselves together.

“I’ve had plenty of sleep on the flight, how are you?” Your lips are against his short hair from holding him so close. You nails scratch softly at his hair, calming him down.

“I don’t know if I could finish it.” He quietly admits. He shakes his head at himself.

“Why’s that, Tom?” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath as he sits up, removing himself from your touch. He sits across from you with legs crossed as he holds his head in his hands.

“I—I, it’s too much. There’s so much fucked up things he’s done. And all the things he’s seen. I just—sometimes I feel like it’s me who’s committed all of those things. When we shoot the scenes in the war and when I had to do drugs and rob banks, I felt like I lost myself—“ He cries interrupting himself to take a breath in. Compared to your fingers that ran gently through his hair, his clawed at his head. His palms rub harshly at his face, turning his skin a bright tint of red. To see Tom in such pain made you sad. You hated seeing him like this.

You gently remove his hands from scratching at his face and hold them in his lap. He stares down at your hands, clinging onto them as if his life depended on it. “I get lost in the character sometimes and I have to pull myself out of it to bring me back. But it keeps on happening over and over again. Then the Russos kept telling me to reshoot the scene more like Cherry, and I lost it and yelled at them.” You feel his tears fall to your your hands, making tears well up in your own eyes. You shuffle closer to him and kiss his forehead before pulling him into you. You stay quiet, letting him get whatever he wanted to get out.

Tom’s face is against your shoulder again. He sniffs before continuing, “It’s like everyday I find something he and I have in common. Then I think that maybe I’m turning into him. I don’t want him to be part of me. (Y/n), I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to do the things he’s done.” He sobs into your shoulder. Your heart breaks at how broken he sounded. His shoulders shook again, his back burning up with tension. A few tears made it’s way down your cheeks as you pulled his face away from you.

“Look at me.” You urged him. His jaw clenched, still looking down at his lap. He shook his head in response. “Tom, please. Look at me.” Your voice cracks. He slowly tilts his head up, your eyes connecting. He didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes, it’s like they’ve lost the light in them. Instead they were dark, like there was no life behind them. There was a mix of sadness, confusion, and even fear in his eyes.

You sadly smiled at him, cupping his face with your hands. “You’re not going to be him. You never will. You’re Tom. You are nothing close to Nico or Cherry. You are the sweetest man I have known in the world, you wouldn’t even hurt a damn fly. You’re not him. I know you aren’t. You wouldn’t do the things he’s ever done even if you were forced to. I know you Tom, I assure you, you’re nothing like him.” Tom hiccups, gripping onto your wrists.

“When this is all over and you’re done filming, we can forget about him. We won’t even mention him.” You assure him, stroking his cheeks.

“What if—,” You cut him off.

“No, there’s no what if’s. You’re going to be fine Tom. You’re surrounded by people who love you and will make you realize that you’re nothing even near him. You are the kindest man ever, you love your family, you care about your fans, and your brothers. You’re busy always taking care of everyone else, I think it’s time you take care of yourself, love.” You tell him. A small smile is on your face but it falters, “You don’t have to go through this alone, Tom.”

Tom takes a shaky breath in. “You’ll be there right?” He asks like a child making sure his mother will be there when he wakes up. “You’ll be there with me to bring me back?”

Your thumb smooths the crinkle between his brows, “I always will. I promise.” He nods and pulls you into him. You climb onto his lap and settle on his legs. He stares up at you, one of his his hands supporting your back, the other pressed against your cheek. “Thank you. I missed you so much. I’m sorry for not texting, everything’s just been so taxing mentally and physically.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” You turn your face to press a light kiss on his palm. For the first time since you’ve seen him, Tom managed to crack a smile on his lips. He moves some strands of hair away from your face before resting his large hand on the back of your head. “I love you. I love you so much, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Tom.” You whisper against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally crash your lips together. After months being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. The kiss was desperate, like it was the air you both breathed. Tom had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day, whether it be sexually or just missing you. The kiss grew rough, your teeth clashing, tongues poking and gliding against each other.

Tom lays you down on the bed, hovering over you. His hands grab and stroke at your body, trying to pull off your clothes to get close to your skin. He suddenly pulls away from your lips. “I need you. Please, I need you.” He almost begs you. Panting, you nod and push him to lay on his back. “Ok, let me take care of you, Tommy.”

He yanks his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You do the same, leaning down to meet his lips again. You kiss your way along his jaw and down to his neck. When you find that certain spot, he lets out a throaty groan, head falling back against the pillows. You run your nails along his chiseled abs and slightly roll your hips against his growing length. Tom grunts, hands instantly connecting to your ass and gripping onto your cheeks. He helps you roll your hips more, deeper with more friction against you two.

“Mm, Tom. I missed you.” You moan against his neck. You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue after.

Tom looks down at you, lifting his hips to meet your clothes pussy. “Fucking miss you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of being buried in you again.” You kiss your way down his chest, but Tom stops you. His hands grab onto your leggings and slide them off.

“N-no foreplay. I need to feel you.” He stutters out, mouth agape. You nod in agreement and take his sweatpants off along with his boxers. You spit in your hand, running your hand along his dick to give it some wetness. Tom helps you lift yourself over him and guides your hips down his erected cock. You let out a combination of a sigh and moan as your walls envelop and stretch around him. Tom slightly sits up against the headboard, your tightness wrapping around him. He lets out a cry of relief, your walls around him feeding his cravings. You use his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself up but Tom stops you.

“What’s wrong?” You eye him cautiously. Tom shakes his head, “Nothing’s wrong. I just—can we stay like this for a while? I just want to feel you, please?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” You send him a reassuring smile as you settle back down on him. His hands make themselves comfortable around your waist. You maneuver your arms under his and wrap them around his back. Tom smiles at you, rubbing your back and guiding you into his chest. Before you can nuzzle your face into his neck, he presses a kiss to your temple and lets his fingers get tangled in your hair.

With his eyes closed in bliss, he whispers, “Thank you for bringing me back. I love you.”

You kiss his collarbone basking in the feeling him being so close to you. “I’ll always be here. I love you too.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #Tom Holland smut #Cherry #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland drabble

2K notes · View notes

iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 10

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, is showered in love and support, learns how to be a person again, and tries to protect those like him from going through what he did.

Content warnings: Panic attacks, vomiting, Caleb's backstory

Chapter summary: There's not a lot Caleb can do right now, but he can teach a hurting teenager a new spell and reunite him with his very much alive parents.

Chapter notes: I 100% believe that Astrid knows the Nein call Essek "Hot Boi." Chapter title is from Ghost by Jacob Lee.

****

Chapter 10: And I'm just a stranger who could be a friend

The first thing Caleb did was flip to the page in his spellbook where he had transcribed the Sending spell. It was far into the book. As he pulled out his copper wire, Felix made a sound of surprise.

“You learned this recently?” asked Felix.

“Ja, I travelled with a cleric friend for a long time who had the spell,” Caleb replied. “Not Caduceus; he was there too, though. Jester seemed to enjoy casting it at everyone, even mere acquaintances, so I never saw the need for it.”

“What made you learn it?”

“Jester insisted a few weeks ago, so I could talk to her while we were apart. I knew another wizard who could teach me, and we were spending a great deal of time alone together exploring Aeor, and exchanging theories.”

Felix, despite his distress, was absolutely smirking at Caleb and he was not about to deal with teasing from an actual child. “So… exchanging theories in Aeor? Is that what old people call it now?”

“Hush.” Caleb ran Felix through the basic somatic motions of the spell, before demonstrating it himself. “Hallo, Caduceus. I am teaching Felix the Sending spell. It will take a few hours. Let me know if anything happens.”

“Hey, Caleb. Beau has the monks looking for Nico. They’re playing nice with the Volstrucker, apparently. Don’t miss dinner.”

“Right, so you can have a single two-way exchange out of the one casting,” said Felix. “What’s the word limit again?”

“Twenty-five words. Now, this is a third-level spell. It will take some effort for you at the moment.”

“I’ve been to school, Bren. I know what spell levels are.”

“Call me Caleb. Or Professor Widogast, if you prefer. I do teach here now.”

“Fuck off.”

“Caleb’s fine.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Professor.”

This was better. Caleb could work with impetuous children. Most children he knew were like that. Caleb could tune his behaviour to whatever Felix seemed to find most calming. Or at least distracting.

Felix had great attention to detail, methodically copying out Caleb’s transcription of the spell and yet still finding excuses to make fun of Caleb along the way. It was comfortable, more than Caleb had expected. Felix only knew him by reputation, and one put forward by Trent, no less.

Maybe it was the shared trauma. Maybe it was the fact Caleb was teaching him something. Or because Caleb, despite being a professor here, wasn’t trying to inhabit a position of authority over him in the way Trent had.

Snacks were delivered to the room about halfway through the process. Felix paid it little mind, and that was painfully familiar.

“Felix.” Caleb could not believe he was enforcing a break. That he had become the kind of person who would pull a focused wizard away from study for mere human needs such as food. But he was responsible for Felix, at least for now, and that was a frightening pressure.

“Busy.”

Caleb closed his own spellbook, taking away Felix’s source for transcription. In its place, he put a bowl of fruit. “Eat.”

Felix paused, his pen hovering over the page, frowning. Then he slowly set it down and sullenly grabbed a plum. Caleb sat back against the wall, nibbling on a handful of grapes.

“Don’t forget to stretch before we get back to it.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Listen, I’ve had many people do this for me in the last year alone. So I’m paying it forward, and you are going to accept that.” Caleb tried to throw a grape into his mouth, and missed. He grabbed it off the floor and popped it into his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. “It’s good for you.” If any of the Nein had heard him say that, they probably would have fainted from shock. It was easier to give this advice than to follow it himself.

“I can see why Trent fucking hates you.”

Caleb snorted. “Oh, this does not scratch the surface of Trent’s problems with me.” He threw another grape, catching it in his mouth this time. “Did anyone tell you what my friends and I did to him?”

“No.”

“Well, he tried to ambush us at Caduceus’s family home. One of my friends may have ‘acquired’ evidence of his experiments from Vergesson, and he was upset that I refused to entertain his ego while busy with bigger problems. By the time we were done with him, Astrid and Wulf were on our side, my friends had permanently glued a silencing collar around his neck, and used the leftover glue to stick his hands together. And that glue was in the shape of a dick.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Astrid. She activated the collar. Or Beauregard. She put the thing on him.”

Felix had that look of a teenage boy who was trying not to look impressed, hiding it behind a veneer of sarcasm. “Okay. I will.”

They finished their break, stretched, and got back to it. Felix was clever, eager to learn. It brought back memories for Caleb. Good memories, as tainted as they now were. And as much as he was worried for Nico and grieved for what had happened, he was also indescribably relieved they had been able to stop Felix. If he could help Felix reclaim even the smallest amount of good from his stolen childhood, he would take that as a victory.

Astrid looked in on them as Felix practiced the somatic motions around his copper wire, his muscle memory already secure. With a few minor corrections, he would be ready to cast.

“Almost finished?” she asked.

“Almost,” said Caleb. “Felix, that was very good. Just watch that you fully complete the motion right at the end, and hold it until you finish speaking your message. With time, you can find your own method.”

“You learned this method from your special Aeor friend?”

Caleb sighed. “No, these somatic components are developed from watching several casters perform the spell. My colleague provided the basic framework to learn the spell, but his somatic components are more intricate than my own.”

“So he’s your fancy special Aeor friend.”

Astrid chuckled. “It’s not the silliest nickname he’s had. Now, focus. The Martinet is sticking his nose in our business and we need to get you out of here.”

Felix wordlessly practiced the gesture again, meticulously correcting his errors. He ran through the motion a few more times, becoming more confident each time.

“I think you are ready,” said Caleb. “Remember: twenty-five words. Consider them in advance. It may be worth telling Nico he can reply to you.”

Felix nodded and closed his eyes, counting on his fingers under his breath. And then he cast. “Hey, Nico. It’s Felix. I heard what happened. I’m okay. They stopped me. I hope you’re okay. You can reply to this message.” The barest pause. “Love you.” Felix held his breath, listening out for a reply.

Caleb let him have ten seconds, before breaking the news. “Felix. If he has not replied yet--”

“I know,” Felix muttered. He grabbed his spellbook, hugging it to his chest as he deflated, and Caleb’s heart broke. “Just… get me out of here.”

****

Astrid’s teleport brought the three of them back to Blumenthal. The path was muddy from yesterday’s storm. Felix gripped his spellbook tighter, raking his eyes over the buildings around them. The way he held himself, shoulders hunched, inches from bolting, reminded Caleb far too much of himself mere months ago.

“Felix,” he said. “We need to speak to your mother and father, but we will not put you in a situation you do not think you can handle.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” And wasn’t that just painfully familiar. They had barely made it a few steps before he froze, closing his eyes against the vision of home.

Astrid looked to Caleb, silently begging for him to do something.

“Felix,” said Caleb, completely panicking on the inside, “we will not force you to do anything you don’t want to. Okay? Let’s walk for a bit. Take deep breaths. If we reach your house and you don’t want to go inside, I will stay with you and Astrid will talk to your parents. Is that all right?”

Felix nodded, and he took a step. Then another step. And another. They walked together down familiar but unfamiliar streets. They were in a different part of Blumenthal than they had been yesterday. Caleb blocked out most of it, concentrating on getting Felix through the next few minutes. His own shit did not matter right now.

Felix’s body language remained tense. His head stayed down, barely keeping an eye on where he was going. His fingers flexed around his spellbook. And Caleb was planning. A hundred different options.

Caleb refused to force this boy to face his parents before he was ready. If the time came, and he couldn’t do it, he would need somewhere else to go. Somewhere away from here. If Astrid allowed it, there were a few options. Veth in Nicodranas would take Felix if Caleb asked, but he wasn’t sure if Felix would feel comfortable being around a family like that, especially with a small child. Or Felix could stay at the Lavish Chateau, but Marion was a busy woman who had been through enough on Caleb’s account. There was the Gentleman’s hideout, but Caleb wouldn’t want to leave him alone there. He could take Felix to the Blooming Grove, where the Clays would willingly care for him, but taking a boy who almost killed his parents to a graveyard was possibly not the best option.

There was Reani, wherever she was, but he wasn’t so sure that Felix could handle her on his own, or that her rigid morality had shifted enough to take him in without killing him if she found out even a fraction of the shit he did while under Trent’s power. Taking Felix to Nila and her young family, who Caleb believed had returned to her clan, would bring up many of the similar issues as taking him to Veth. And the Guiatao clan had suffered greatly at the hands of the Iron Shepherds, including many deaths, so Caleb wasn’t sure that would be a good place for him to cope with nearly killing his own parents.

And Caleb was not putting Felix on a pirate ship, so that ruled out Fjord, Jester and Kingsley.

They could always bring Felix back to Rexxentrum and he could either stay on Astrid’s estate (possibly too traumatic) or with Caleb and the lesbians, but Ludinus was poking around and that could get messy. Not to mention the whole “harbouring a Drow fugitive” thing.

Caleb circled back to Veth. If Felix could handle it, he would feel most comfortable taking the boy to her if he wasn’t able to go home. Caleb hadn’t told her what happened yet; he was not looking forward to that conversation. Even if it would help him in the end.

Of course, this all depended on Felix. If he agreed to go home, this would be irrelevant. But Caleb felt better having come up with a plan.

They reached a quiet street. Felix headed to the house at the far end, partially concealed by a granary. Caleb thought, with faint nausea, that even the physical isolation of their parents’ homes could have been a factor for Trent.

Felix made it all the way to the small vegetable garden out the front of the house, but faltered between the carrots. He stared up at the modest house. A single-storey affair, small even for a family of three. The front door was painted cherry red. The boy’s lips parted; no sound came out. His eyes traced the features of the house - the red door, the two small windows, the thatched roof in need of maintenance.

A woman’s face appeared at the window. And the door flew open.

“Felix!” The woman ran out of the house, and Caleb was just barely able to take in her simple dress and heavy coat, blonde hair gathered in a loose bun. But as she got close, Felix stepped back, wide eyes fixed on her face, as she spoke in rapid Zemnian. “No one has heard from you in weeks. Where have you been? Are you okay?”

“I can’t do this.” And he was backing away. “I can’t.” He tore his eyes from her, and ran.

“Go after him,” Astrid told Caleb. He wasted no time chasing after the boy. Caleb had run from a great many things in the past few years, but he was not the fastest man alive. But he was fast enough.

Felix barely made it around the granary before he collapsed into the grass. Gasping for breath.

Caleb knelt beside him. “Felix, listen to me. You’re okay. Slow down, breathe. Let the air fill your lungs. Feel the grass beneath your hands.”

Felix dug his fingers into the dirt, gulping in air. He was listening, at least. Being on the other side of this was not especially familiar to Caleb, but he had coached Essek once or twice. He could do this. They could do this.

Of course, Felix barely knew him, so it wasn’t like Caleb could just hug him. That would probably make things worse. So he would have to use his words.

“Felix, you got this. How does the grass feel?” Caleb gave Felix a moment to process, and then he supplied options, taking a pause between each. “Is it dry? Wet? What colour is it?”

Felix coughed a little, sucking in a shaky breath. “Wet. Green.” His hand slid across the grass. “Short. Muddy.”

“Good.”

Felix leaned away and vomited onto the grass. Then he staggered to his feet, grabbing Caleb’s shoulder for support. They moved a little further from the house, and Felix leaned against the granary, knocking the back of his head against the wood. And he laughed, that kind of unhinged, hysterical laugh that was not funny at all. Caleb knew it well.

And then he was in tears. Caleb reached for his shoulder, carefully, and Felix didn’t shake him off.

“I was going to kill her,” Felix said quietly. “If you hadn’t… I almost murdered my parents. I love them. I love them… and it didn’t matter. I was going to… oh gods....”

“Felix,” Caleb said, and did a very poor job hiding the tremor in his voice. “I am so glad we found you.”

“What the fuck does it matter? I would’ve done it.”

“Felix, as somebody who did… it matters a great deal.”

Felix stared up at him, eyes wide and wild.

“I will not force you to go home if you’re not ready,” Caleb said, pulling his voice back under control. “All I will say is this: I would have given anything to see my mother and father again. I almost did. And I know it hurts to look at your mother, knowing that you were going to end her life because of a lie. But you didn’t. She is still here. So is your father. And you have time to heal, all three of you.”

Felix wiped his face on his sleeve, cleared his throat. “Okay. Danke.”

***

Astrid was seated at a small dining table with Felix’s mother and father. Nobody got up from the table when Caleb brought Felix in, though it took visible restraint from his parents. Felix took after his mother--blonde hair, blue eyes, soft features--but he was closer to his father’s build.

The father tore his eyes from Felix with visible effort, and when his gaze fell on Caleb, he froze. And Caleb recognised him, and his wife. Friedrich Schneider and Louise Fischer--probably Schneider now. They were a few years older than him, but he could recall playing together as children.

“I heard you were back,” said Friedrich. “You were helping Nico out yesterday, ja?”

“Ja, I was there,” Caleb said carefully. “As were Astrid and Wulf.”

Louise pulled out the chair next to her. “Felix, come here.”

Felix, still gripping his spellbook like a lifeline, shuffled over and fell into the seat. Caleb sat next to Astrid on the opposite side of the table to the family.

“I have given some details of Master Ikithon’s arrest,” Astrid told him. “We were just about to discuss options for support. If you would?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb compartmentalised his old memories and focused on the task ahead of him. “We are organising a support group for Ikithon’s former students. We are still nailing down those details, but we will be sure to pass them on. I have also been appointed as a teacher at Soltryce Academy, and we are hoping to put the students back into school when they feel ready.”

Louise and Friedrich grasped at Felix, who curled in on himself but did not complain.

“We just got him home,” said Louise. “After everything Astrid has told us, why would we let him go back?”

“The students in Felix’s position are at a delicate stage of development,” Astrid said, with little inflection, and Caleb sensed she was compartmentalising as well. “They are quite skilled, but have lost the guidance they had. That is dangerous. Good or bad, Ikithon was…” She sighed, and the mask melted away a little. “He engineered this situation. We were dependent on him. Even those whose families still live. Bren, you have been out of his influence longer. Do you have thoughts?”

“Ja, I do.” Caleb had spent his fair share of time soul-searching in the past few weeks, as well as the past year as a whole. “Ikithon shaped each of his students in a very specific way: patriotic to a fault, willing to do anything to get the job done, and unfalteringly loyal to him. It is a gradual process. By the time you realize it is happening, you have already done terrible things at his command. For most, there was no way out. My situation is unique, because I was able to escape in a rather dramatic fashion, but it has taken years to shake off the influence he had on me. I was alone and homeless for most of that time, and let me tell you: almost every fragment of positive change in me happened in the past year, because I had a support network. I found people who cared about me, and they learned how to help me. It was a group effort. I am now in a position to offer that kind of support to others.”

“Say we let him go back,” said Friedrich. “Will he have to live in that place?”

“Not all the time,” said Astrid. “You are not far from Rexxentrum, so I do not see a problem if he wishes to come home regularly. Bren and I both live off-campus if he needs a break but cannot make it to Blumenthal.”

“You do not need to decide now,” said Caleb. “The seniors do not start for another few weeks.”

“We’ll think about it,” Friedrich said flatly. “What happened to Nico?”

“He did it,” Felix said quietly. “Had a breakdown. Ran the fuck away.”

“We have people searching for him,” said Astrid. “Bren taught Felix a spell to talk to him, if he likes.”

“He prefers Caleb,” Felix muttered.

“Danke, Felix.” Caleb had not expected Felix to speak up on his behalf, not when he had his own shit going on. “Astrid gets a pass and, well, your parents knew me when we were children. I go by Caleb Widogast these days, but I will answer to either name.”

“Why the change?” asked Friedrich, still in that flat tone of distrust.

“I went by many names after I escaped Master Ikithon,” said Caleb. “For safety. I gave that one to a woman who eventually became my best friend. Now, it’s my name. But, for you, I don’t mind.”

Both Friedrich and Louise did not look trusting. At all. A mere muscle twitch from openly glaring at Caleb and Astrid, really.

Louise sighed, and some of the hostility dropped. “Thank you for bringing Felix home.”

“We will check in regularly,” said Astrid.

“Felix can message either of us with the spell I taught him,” said Caleb. “If he so wishes.”

Things were too tense to continue much conversation. Caleb and Astrid said their goodbyes, and left. They did not speak, except for Astrid’s short incantation to teleport them back to Rexxentrum.

They landed on the outskirts of the Shimmer Ward. Astrid immediately combed her fingers through her hair, hands shaking.

“That was…” She groaned softly. “Thank you for coming. I will keep you updated on the search for Nicolaus.” She turned on her heel and marched deeper into the ward, pausing for a split second, before she continued onwards without looking back.

Caleb slowly worked his way back to and through the Tangles until he was home. He couldn’t fault Astrid for being distant right at the end. The last twenty-four hours had been intense for everyone involved.

It was close to dinnertime as he reached the house. He entered his side and shut the door, leaning against it as the strength left his body. He’d done it. Today had been two-thirds of a shitshow, and he had made it through.

Felix was home with his parents, and he had the means to contact Nico, and Caleb himself, if he wanted. That was a win.

Nico, however…

Caleb knew, intellectually, that it had been a freak occurrence. A series of imperfections had tangled together into a knot, and that knot had been Nico’s escape. Almost every wizard in that room had more than one try at countering Nico’s spell, but they had not been unable to unravel it. Nico, empowered by panic and grief, had thrown all he had into a powerful fireball, and had the adrenaline to power through what should have hurt him a great deal.

Caleb hoped he was okay. Physically, at least. Psychologically, Caleb knew he wasn’t.

He sat on the floor, resting his back against the door. And he tried something. Coil of wire in hand. “Hello, Nicolaus. This is Caleb Widogast. You may know me as Bren Ermendrud. I was with you today. I’m sorry we frightened you. Be safe.”

He didn’t expect a response, and he did not receive one. A small part of him feared Nico wasn’t responding because he was dead. It was all too likely. There was no way he hadn’t been injured in the blast. Once the adrenaline wore off, the pain could��ve taken over and left him vulnerable to any number of attackers.

Gods, if after all this, Nico had died on the side of a road…

Caleb was tired. But he forced his fingers to cooperate, and worked through another casting.

“Me again. I want you to know: Trent Ikithon is in prison for what he did to us. You’re welcome in my home, when ready.”

Again, no response.

“Caleb?” A form slid into view at the top of the stairs, blending into the dark, but Caleb knew Essek’s voice anywhere.

“Ja,” he said, with the remaining strength he had. “Felix is home. We have both tried to message Nico, with no response. I…” He didn’t want to speak it into existence, so he shifted the morbid statement on his tongue into something more positive. “I hope he’s alive.”

Essek floated down the stairs and sat beside him, squeezing into the remaining doorspace. “If he's anything like you, I would expect nothing less.”

“Danke.” Caleb dropped his head onto Essek’s shoulder, and let himself rest.

#critical role #caleb widogast #shadowgast #astrid beck #professor widogast #cr2 #my fics #fanfiction #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

14 notes · View notes

thenightgazer · 3 years

Text

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her— his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

#devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil x oc #vergil x lyra #vergil #dante #nero #lyra #vergil x original character #original character #developing relationship #mystery #tales of apotelesma #spark of stardust #night writes

37 notes · View notes

buoyantsaturn · 4 years

Text

I got too high again (realized I can’t not be with you) (1/1)

summary: “Okay, so, one time Leo got drunk when we were both at this party, and he sat on my lap, and it was all I could think about for two months. I had myself convinced that I was in love with him until the next time he accidentally set himself on fire in front of me.”

word count: 2318

read on ao3

With their busy class schedules, Nico and Hazel had to make time to see each other, despite sharing an apartment. They reserved Friday nights for each other, however that meant - watching TV or a movie, and sometimes ordering pizza, then usually staying up too late just to talk.

They were lounging on the couch in their living room with the TV playing some Halloween show that they were both mildly interested in and only half paying attention to when Nico’s phone started buzzing in his hands. Nico didn’t sit up from his slouch when he accepted the Facetime request, and Will’s face popped up on the screen, smiling big.

“Nico!” Will exclaimed, causing Hazel to eye him from across the couch. He wasn’t breaking any sacred sibling bonding time rules - she was simply curious to see what it was about.

“Hi, Will,” Nico said, unable to stop a small smile from blooming on his lips. “What’s up?”

“Oh man, Nico, it’s so nice outside,” Will told him as he was making his way inside his own apartment. “Cecil and I were just outside, uh, you know. Enjoying the fresh air.” He winked, and Nico snorted as Will started to ramble about something else entirely.

Hazel nudged him with her foot, causing Nico to glance over to her as she mouthed the words, Is he high?

Nico grinned and nodded, replying, He’s very high.

“Hey, I can see you!” Will said, and when Nico looked back at him, he saw Will pouting, now laying back on his bed.

“I know you can,” Nico replied, turning his body and tilting the camera so that he and Hazel were both in frame. “Say hi to Hazel!”

Will returned to his bright and beautiful smile, waving as he said, “Hi, Hazel!”

“Hi, Will,” Hazel said, waving back.

Nico returned to his slouch, the camera pointed only on him once more. “So… what’s up?”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Nico, babe, I have something very, very important to talk to you about.” His next few words were unintelligible as he moved around, apparently trying to find some way to prop up his phone while he was talking, meaning that Nico missed out on most of Will’s very important topic. He was pretty sure Will was talking about video games, so it likely wasn’t a huge loss. Or maybe it was Star Wars? Or a Star Wars video game. Really, with Will, any of those topics was equally as plausible. Nico tried to nod along regardless.

“Hey, Will?” Nico said gently.

“Yeah, babe?” Will’s eyes shot back to the screen, eager to listen to whatever Nico had to say.

Nico smiled and leaned his head against the pillow beside him - it was the rainbow pillow pet Hazel had gotten him for Christmas a few years back. “Why’d you call?”

Will smiled back just as soft, rolling onto his side and snuggling into his own pillow, as though trying to imagine for himself that he and Nico were laying side by side. “I just wanted to see you, and be like--” He held up a peace sign. “What’s up! I’m intoxicated.”

Nico tried to suppress his laughter, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it the way Will appeared to light up with pride. “Okay, well, Hazel and I are watching a show right now, so I’m gonna go, okay? But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, Neeks!” Will said, and he blew Nico a kiss before Nico could end the call.

Nico set his phone down and turned his attention back to the TV, though just as he did, the image froze. With a frown, he looked to Hazel who had the remote in her hand, and was staring right back at him.

“So,” she said. “Will.”

“What about him?”

Hazel grinned. “He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t--”

“He called you babe.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “That’s just a thing people call each other.”

“No, girls call each other babe. Guys definitely do not call each other babe.” Hazel nudged him with her foot again. “He likes you.”

“He just gets more affectionate when he’s high,” Nico told her, waving it off, “and he is... frequently high.”

Hazel’s head tilted to the side. “About that...should we be concerned?”

Nico shrugged. “Cecil’s just a bad influence on him, but Will can handle himself. He’s not, like, dumb about it.”

“Right,” she nodded. “Dumb like...kinda like how you’re acting right now?”

Nico kicked her back with a bit more force than she’d used on him. “Rude.”

“It’s not rude if I’m stating a fact. And if you would act on your feelings, then I wouldn’t have to point out how dumb you are.” She punctuated the statement with a shrug.

Nico huffed. “I don’t know how to act on my feelings. I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

“You like him,” Hazel said, as if it was obvious.

Nico crossed his arms over his chest, though rather than looking defiant, he almost looked like he was hugging himself. “I mean...maybe. What do I know? Clearly I’m not great at recognizing my own feelings...let alone others.”

Hazel straightened out a leg and set her foot on Nico’s knee. For some reason, she thought that that was a comforting gesture. Nico didn’t feel the same. “Okay, yes, you had one very bad experience, but…everybody makes mistakes! And being with what’s-his-face helped you figure some things out - admittedly in what is literally the worst way possible - but now you’re a very out and proud asexual man! And I’m so happy that you were able to come to that conclusion, but there’s another side to that coin that I think you’ve been ignoring.”

Nico frowned, meeting his sister’s eyes once again. “But what if I haven’t been ignoring it? What if I’m aromantic, too?”

Hazel hesitated. “Oh. Um. I mean, you never pegged me as aromantic, but...maybe? You did tell me you were gay, so that’s what I’ve been going with.”

Nico’s nose scrunched up in discomfort. “Yeah, but that’s just because the idea of being with a girl in any sense is disgusting to me. No offense. With guys I feel more...neutral. Or maybe it is a positive feeling, and I just don’t know the difference.”

Hazel allowed a moment to process his words before she spoke again. “Okay. Let’s try something. When you think of Will, what comes to mind?”

Nico shrugged again. “I guess...he’s nice? He’s nice to look at, and he’s funny, and--”

“No, no,” Hazel waved a hand at him, cutting him off. “Not like that. Don’t tell me about him, but, like… What kind of thoughts do you have about him? If you picture the two of you spending time together, what do you imagine? Do you think of it as more traditionally romantic, like a date, or more platonic?”

Nico frowned down at his lap in thought. “I have no idea. Can you give me, like, a scenario?”

“You’re watching a movie.”

Nico closed his eyes and bowed his head, but there was a crease in his forehead that told of his frustration. “Okay, so… We’re sitting on the couch, and we’re sitting close together...because there’s only one bowl of popcorn.”

Hazel sighed. “Forget the popcorn. Are you still close to each other? Are you holding hands? Any sort of cuddling?”

Nico’s eyes snapped open, shooting a glare across the couch. “Well, now, yeah! You’re making me think of it!”

“Sorry!” She held her hands up defensively. “Then have you ever imagined cuddling with Will?”

Nico took a deep breath, and it looked like most of his frustration left with his exhale. “Yeah, sure, but… Okay, so, one time Leo got drunk when we were both at this party, and he sat on my lap, and it was all I could think about for two months. I had myself convinced that I was in love with him until the next time he accidentally set himself on fire in front of me.”

“Have you ever thought about kissing him?”

“Leo?” Nico’s nose scrunched up again. “Ew. No.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “No, stupid. I meant Will.”

“Oh.” Nico averted his gaze. “Maybe once or twice, yeah.”

“Have you ever thought about having sex with him?”

Nico buried his face in his hands and groaned, “Ew, Hazel, please.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “This shouldn’t be a difficult question.”

“Fine, yes, alright?” Nico snapped, throwing his arms down. “And then I went down a shame spiral because even in my own imagination, I couldn’t go through with it! And Imaginary Will always got pissed at me for leading him on, and left!”

Hazel winced. “In your daydream?”

He huffed. “I’m not exactly emotionally stable.”

“Okay, back to my point: it sounds to me like you want a romantic relationship with Will.”

“Do I?” Nico argued. “Or do I just want to reach that stage of friendship where it’s not weird for me to hug him whenever I want? Like, is that even an option?” He paused, though not long enough to allow Hazel to reply. “Did I ever tell you that I thought I had a crush on Frank when you two first started dating?”

Hazel’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

“I don’t, and I don’t think I ever actually did,” Nico assured her, “but the two of you were always spending time together, and you were always holding hands or hugging or...you know, physically affectionate, or whatever. And I thought I was jealous of you! Just because you got to hug Frank all the time, and I didn’t! And then I realized that I… I just wanted to be hugged by somebody.”

Hazel still looked a little shocked, but she shook her head as if to clear the thoughts from her mind. “Come here.”

Nico shot her a look.

“Just come here.” She patted her lap, and Nico rolled his eyes. He scooted closer on the couch and then turned and tipped over until he was laying on his back with his head resting on Hazel’s thigh. “Close your eyes.” Once he did, Hazel started running her fingers through his hair. “How does this feel?”

“Fine,” he answered automatically, and then a moment later, “Good, whatever.”

Hazel hummed. “Do you wish you were with Will right now, instead of me?”

“For this awkward conversation? Hell, no.”

She tugged on a clump of hair, causing Nico to flinch at the unexpected sensation. “Don’t be a jerk. I’m trying to help.”

“Fine. Yeah, I wish I was with Will right now,” he admitted. “But that’s just because you’re doing this out of love. You have to love me, because you’re my sister, but if Will loved me, it’d be by choice.”

“You know I love you by choice, right?”

Nico’s eyes slid open, and he looked up at her. “I know. I love you by choice, too.”

She went back to stroking his hair, and Nico’s eyes closed once more. “And you know that Will already likes you, like, a lot. Friends don’t just call to see each others’ faces. Maybe if you would give him whatever sign he needs so he knows he can ask you out--”

“He already has,” Nico muttered.

Hazel gasped. “He what?”

Nico exhaled heavily, and looked down at his hands as he started picking at his fingernails. “He asked me out once, and I panicked and asked him if I could think about it - because, believe it or not, my head was even more jumbled back then.”

Hazel glared down at him. “When is back then?”

Nico mumbled something in reply.

“Nico--”

“Two months ago!”

“Two months?” Hazel swatted at the top of his head. “Nico! You’re leading him on!”

“I know,” he groaned.

“You have to stop, that’s not fair to him!”

“I know it’s not!” Nico shouted, suddenly sounding close to tears, waving his hands around frantically as if gesticulating would help him to better express what he was trying to say. “But I can’t figure myself out because there’s… There’s something wrong with me!”

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Hazel insisted.

Nico let out an angry puff of breath and glared at his sister. “I can’t feel emotions, Hazel. That’s not normal.”

“You can too feel emotions. You’re angry and frustrated right now. Those are emotions. Sadness is an emotion. Happiness is an emotion. You’re not a robot, Neeks, you just don’t know how to define your feelings. You haven’t had the same experiences as other people, so you have to learn how to recognize things in ways that other people don’t. You can’t recognize romantic love because you haven’t experienced it yet, and you’re not going to experience it until you try. Why not try with someone like Will? Someone who’s nice, and handsome, and makes you laugh, and who already feels some amount of love for you.”

Nico seemed to notice that his argument had lost steam. “I think ‘love’ is a strong word,” he said plainly.

“I think I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Hazel shot back. “And the way he talks about you, and the way he acts when you’re around.”

Nico sat up. “Now you’re making me anxious.”

“I’m sorry,” Hazel told him earnestly, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “Just don’t count yourself out before you even try, okay?”

Nico nodded. “Okay. Can we go back to the show now?” Hazel reached for the remote and resumed the episode. With his back still turned to her, Nico continued, “And can we...have a sleepover tonight?”

“Of course,” Hazel answered softly. “My room or yours?”

“Yours, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” She paused. “Do you need a hug?”

Nico was wrapped up in her arms before he could even get a word out.

thanks for reading!

buy me coffee | more auctober stuff

#solangelo #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #hazel levesque #auctober #mine #my writing #it's project on nico hours

44 notes · View notes

manggaetteokkie · 4 years

Note

So what are your top 5 favorite BTS songs and then top 5 favorite BTS videos?

Then what are you top 5 favorite Jikook moments? Lol Haaaard questions

Gonna combine these two cause I think these are from the same anonie, who I’m starting to think likes to make people suffer djfhskdh (if it’s not from the same person, then big rip)

Sorry this took so long, I was really trying to narrow it down to top 5 and I think I still ended up failing... I actually do this with my friends but usually, we’re a little bit more generous by narrowing it down to stuff like: top 5 title tracks, top 5 rap-line, top 5 vocal line, top 5 albums, etc... Asking me top 5 songs from their entire discography is absolutely savage.

For my top 5 BTS songs (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER BECAUSE I BARELY NARROWED IT DOWN TO FIVE, YOU CANT MAKE ME RANK THEM):

Blood Sweat & Tears: the monarch, the goat, putting it simply, the absolute best. I honestly remember when the Wings short films started dropping, my friend and I panicked HARD because we were like “WTF IS GOING ON WHAT IS THIS”. And then the teaser dropped, and it was so different from the “typical” BTS we’ve been getting, so we were even more confused. But then... The MV dropped and that was honestly just such a massive turning point for everything. Also, as an ARMY with a Jimin bias, I almost didn’t survive it.

Attack on Bangtan: okay this is honestly just such a fun hype song that never gets old no matter how many times you listen to it? It’s honestly a classic and whenever it plays on Run BTS, I know I’m either about to witness an epic moment or it’s gonna send my ass on the floor from laughing. (Also, let us never forget Tae’s “Nico nico niiii~”)

I Need U: okay this was The song that got me learning all their names and holy shit, I’ve listened to this song so much, it’s currently 5th most played song (out of nearly 2k songs) in my iTunes with 1,338 plays. When one hears “Fall...”, one does not simply resist the urge to belt “EVERYTHANG” with feelings. Also, funnily enough, the one that first caught my eye was Yoongi, there was something so eye-catching about the way he rapped in such a despondent manner at the start of the mv.

House of Cards: I definitely need to put this one because I’ve listened to this song a total of 2,104 times, if you add the Prologue (short) version total (861) to the full length one (1,243). This was my “hoe” anthem long before My Time was born. I deadass fell in love with the song 10 seconds in, there was no saving me and you cannot stop anyone from doing emo bodyrolls when it comes up. Jikook’s bridge? I can’t sing to save my life but you can bet your ass I’m lipsyncing to that shit every single time.

I HATE THIS. I HATE PICKING THE LAST ONE, I WANT TO FIT THEIR ENTIRE DISCOGRAPHY INTO THIS LAST SPOT FFFFFFF.

And now, the last one... can I cheat and throw Euphoria, Serendipity and Seesaw all at my 5th spot? Cause I REALLY can’t pick one out of these 3 skjdhfkshdkf I have such an emotional attachment to Serendipity and Euphoria at this point (DJ Swivel remix of Euphoria? Hello?? I almost cried??? You are me, I am you?? HMMM????), and Seesaw just really surprised me. I absolutely was not expecting it, but holy shit, Seesaw slapped and it slapped hard. At this point, I’m like, anything Yoongi touches turns to absolute gold, I can’t resist him.

Okay I have so many other faves (Spring Day, Baepsae, etc.) but since you only asked for top 5 and not, like, top 100, I have to stop myself here, but I also very curious about your top 5s if you guys wanna share!! Let’s see how well you do, only narrowing it down to 5.

For my top 5 BTS videos (I only counted Bangtan Bombs and live performances, excluding MVs, since you didn’t specify. Otherwise there are too many... just thinking about how many Run BTS episodes I could fit otherwise lmfao):

Perfect Man: I’m a Jimin stan. What did you expect, me to not include this masterpiece??

As I Told You: Good lord, Jungkook was so fkn attractive in a hockey jersey of all things. I honestly loved it so much, I can listen to the live audio as is.

2018 MMA - IDOL Intro Performance (3J focus): Again, I am a Jimin stan. But seriously, from Hobi hitting every. single. beat. while dancing on a raised platform, to Jimin’s fan dance (I streamed the show live and I couldn’t focus on anything else after), to JK lounging like the absolute king that he is, what’s not to love?

It’s Tricky Bangtan Bomb: oldie but goldie, honestly. All of them were babies but holy shit, if their casual dancing didn’t absolutely make me fall in love with them all over again. It honestly never gets old no matter how many times I watch it.

BTS Carpool Karaoke: I have to admit, I honestly got stuck picking the last one so I went with this one because I feel like this is a really really good video to introduce others to BTS to. From their amazing acapella vocals (JK belting Finesse lives in my mind rent free) to how they were so perfectly themselves? You had Hobi’s sunshine smile in the middle, Baby Mochi, Jin’s “I don’t know what he said, but let’s laugh ha ha ha ha”, etc.

Okay I have to admit something, I probably forgot like 90% of their videos so if any of you guys mention a video, I might go “AH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THAT ONE SKDJFHKSH” so take this list more as a “bangtan videos you should 100% watch” :^)

For my top 5 jikook moments (you absolutely devil, how could you ask me such a question), in no particular order because, again, I actually cannot physically bring myself to rank them:

Jimin comforting a crying JK during LY: (6:05) the way Jimin ran over as soon as he saw Jungkook bent over, facing the backstage. My heart. And he kept JK company for a bit, making sure he was fine before leaving. This whole thing just makes my heart melt into a puddle no matter how many times I think/see about it because it’s like, the timing is just? Anpanman barely started and he just looked over, saw, and ran over. Jesus Christ.

That Jikook moment during SY Seoul Finale: Just how much comfort Jimin must represent for Jungkook to let the dam free once again just seeing his face aghhhhhasgdahj I literally made an entire post about that moment because of how incredibly soft it gets me. I’ve linked it but it’s also my pinned so it’s very easy to find.

“Are you guys dating?”: (start) holy shit okay so this moment is so sdjkfhkdshkfdhks the way both of them were so giggly? It never fails to make me laugh how absolutely done Joon sounded when he said “push quickly!” Also, just how soft did Jimin make his voice when he asked “are you ready”? and how JK, the single most competitive member of BTS, was just giggling the entire time and didn’t even try pushing Jimin before Jimin ended up eliminating himself. Not to mention how JK couldn’t into Jimin’s eyes and only finally made eye contact with at the very end :^)

MMA 2018: lmao okay so I’m just gonna throw this entire fkn night into the mix. I still remember how it was the wee hours in the morning for me when I started following the live stream and damn, they were literally inseparable the entire time. My TL was exploding in Jikook content and between watching them through the official broadcast and watching the fancams, I was BUSY. They did everything: whispering to each other’s ears, slinging their arms around each other’s shoulders, JK massaging JM’s nape, JK pulling JM down to sit... phew.

GCF in Tokyo: Okay so this is one of those things that the more you think about it, the more you can’t believe it’s real. I couldn’t not include this simply because of how meaningful the whole thing was. There’s so much about it that makes me ????? because JK really booked a two-person trip to Tokyo for Jimin’s birthday. And Jimin genuinely had fun on that trip. The whole thing just shows how comfortable the two of them are with each other because they’d never had gone on a trip together elsewise. I recently saw a Korean movie director’s reaction to GCF and the whole thing didn’t have any subs, but the two reactors were like “ohhh... these two... these two must be really close” (they’d reacted to BTS MVs before, but they’re not familiar with how the members are outside of that). From my limited Korean understanding, the movie director then commented “Because the model and the director are so close, it’s very natural” (if I’ve gotten any Korean followers, I’d love to get confirmation on the words said because my Korean understanding isn’t perfect and I don’t want to be spreading crap around). GCF in Tokyo is also the first video posted under the GCF label, with JK editing the whole thing himself. He filmed, he directed, he edited. And his main actor was Jimin.

I was this 👌🏻 close to adding LY lap sitting and Rose Bowl moments but I had other faves to include so I thought I’d go with something else :^) GCF forced its way into my list, I had no say in it.

Okay so I hope this was enough skdjfhkdshfs this post got really long cause I couldn’t help myself from giving reasons for why I included the ones I did, I’m sorry sjkfhdks Please feel free to share you’re own fave songs/videos/jikook moments!!

#thanks for the ask!#bts #bangtan #jimin #jungkook #jeongguk #jikook #kookmin #my post #my stuff #anon #anonymous #answered

40 notes · View notes

skamamoroma · 4 years

Text

All done.

I’m going to struggle IMMENSELY to summarise the past few hours.

I just used many tissues to dry my ridiculous tears, hardly able to see the screen. If this is the end completely then I’m satisfied. My heart doesn’t know what to do with itself but I feel contented.

But, LUDOVICO FUCKING BESSEGATO. Dude. I don’t know what to say about the talent of that man. The original s4 was fraught with issues with the odd true magic and beauty in there. It broke my heart at the time. I cherish those moments that truly were special and done to perfection. But I thank Ludo so much for what he tried to do, for the many MANY changes he made that made so much sense, that changed the story to fit his world, that made more messes that were ultimately more meaningful and for the surprises I didn’t expect. He has done this since day 1 and I am genuinely stunned.

Sana was and is beautiful. She was breathtaking from start to finish. She was human and difficult and gentle and funny and weird and intelligent and sensitive and so so much. Her mistakes didn’t feel unusual, her reasoning was impassioned and never once was she treated by the writing with anything other than affection even when she behaved wrongly. She was surrounded by beauty and at every turn she was just truly truly wonderful to behold. I didn’t know what to expect from this season but this? This genuine and total adoration for her. Ludo, that has you written all over it.

I have so much to say about the individual characters and moments and issues and THAT LAST EPISODE but as ever, if Skam It can be held up for one thing alone it is the dynamics between the characters and how they’re written with warmth and humanity and total deep affection. There was no dynamic went untouched, no moment wasted even in the background. Everyone was given their time and I didn’t feel it took away at all from Sana’s story... it always added to it. Rami/Sana, Filo/Marti, Fede/Sana, Luchino/Silvia, Gio/Marti, Eva/Gio, Sana/Ele, Filo/Sana, Marti/Sana, Marti/Eva, Sana/Malik, Elia/Gio, Filo/Ele.... every single one.

Mess and emotion and mistakes and difficulties were written in such an honest, blunt way and felt so true, so real as if these characters were exceptionally genuine. Especially Sana’s voicemail and her talk with Marti.

Every single shot was just fucking beautiful. I mean there’s no other way to say it. It was all achingly gorgeous, tiny little moments like the sound of a storm of the glare of the light or the steam from those hot baths (WHERE DID HE FIND THOSE). GOOD GOD.

The music. Hands down my favourite soundtrack of any Skam season and there have been MANY I’ve adored but this took the bloody biscuit. A perfect mixture and fitted each scene so beautifully, often adding to it so seamlessly like when Nico was playing seeker in hide and seek or when Sana was praying or the street procession’s voices...

And religion. I am not religious and I don’t speak for anyone who shares Sana’s experiences. I want to hear from you so so much. What did you think? As someone from outside that beautiful community and religious experience, it felt utterly breathtaking. It felt casual and normal as a way of life (whereas religion can often be portrayed as a burden) and it also felt celebrated and lit up from the inside to show the truth of it and the beauty within, the values it holds... not to mention the difficulties. Sana being able to speak to Marti the way she did or explain in her voicemail. Her anger. I felt it and I learned from her words. She just wanted to be seen, to be considered as herself and watching Malik look at her like he did and Marti being upfront with her but all because he likes her and their personalities fit and seeing her with her Mamma navigating being a teenager alongside the idea of a future.

I can’t finish without a mention of my boys. They were, as always, heart and bloody soul. My Marti was so present and overwhelming for me. I will 100% want to write god damn essays about him and about Nico but I didn’t feel he was out of character for a moment despite the major tests they threw at him, mainly because they laid the groundwork before it kicked off. We saw him from an outside view and his brutal honesty, his lashing out through fear and his sarcasm and stubbornness was explored in such depth... but his love for Nico was everywhere. All over it. As two young, complex guys and Nico with a past and vulnerabilities... both felt so raw and desperate at all times without ever losing the foundation they have. The effort to allow Nico to have as much of a voice as possible while still keeping that solid POV on Sana... I’m grateful. We all want to see more but the way it played out didn’t leave me feeling TOO wanting (EXCEPT FOR THAT UNDER THE BED SCENE... oh the desperation to see that). Testing them in that way was a brave move by Ludo but I am so pleased he did because they weren’t reduced to background models. They were woven into Sana’s story and given respect and real moments of beauty and honesty. I will NEVER BE ABLE TO GET MARTI’S HEARTBROKEN RED PUFFY TEARY EYES OUT OF MY HEAD. And the fact Gio was the one to lock them away...! Also. Hands down one of the best Marti moments was that snuggly hug on the beach, the fact that Nico looks at home and they’re both a little fragile but comforted by each other and then Marti and his god damn mouth asking if they can throw the guy in the water... hahahahaha. And Nico smiles. Because he knows Marti and loves him exactly as he is. Also a moment for Luchi and Silvia because I have a LOT to say but to see him trusted and to see his heart alongside his Luchi side was so meaningful and they were this refreshing special surprise.

And Gio. Gioooooo. Yet again. No matter which season, he felt fundamental despite not being the main. He is warm and navigates between them all with this sense of solidity and support. He’s just LOVELY. He was never missing. None of them were. I loved seeing him settled with Sofia (who was never belittled - only by Eva and hahahahaha yes they included her rolling her eyes again) but also clearly still entirely in love with Eva. That moment he told Cannegallo to get in line I was a weepy mess. The ending. Oh the god darn ending. That voice and hearing Eva’s words spoken back to him, hearing how loved he is and also reflecting on life... seeing them get back together so naturally. I honestly couldn’t have asked for more.

Also a moment for Federica. STRIKING AS ALL HELL. Fierce and willing to learn. Honest and she dazzled me.

I am unable to summarise properly as I’d write all day and it’s 4am! I have so much to say. I was bowled over by emotion watching the entire thing. But I was absolutely reminded of what a gift this show is and how precious I consider it to be. This season has wildly surpassed every expectation I had and god damn soared into the distance. I am stunned and I want to live, as always, in those orangey glowy scenes of warmth. It’s like being wrapped in a big blanket with someone telling you - “life is going to be hard but you’re ok, you’re going to be ok”. That’s how Skam Italia feels. Written, performed, edited and delivered with affection and love and i genuinely couldn’t be more grateful for it as I am this morning (did I mention it’s 4am).

I will write tons more. You know me. I will be talking endless about this season and you won’t shut me up but, for now, I hope you all enjoyed it as much as me. I don’t think I’m quite prepared to hear anything but love at the moment so I shall see you all tomorrow.

And, I hadn’t a clue if season 5 is a thing or even a possibility of any magnitude. Whatever happens, I want Ludo Bessegato with his hands all over it, loving these characters and taking us with them as Eva said though messes. I hope they don’t leave each other either ❤️ AND GIVE ME 10 EPISODES OF GIOVANNI GARAU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. The world wants it.

Aaaaanyway, WHOEVER DECIDED IT WOULD EVER BE A GOOD IDEA TO BINGE A SKAM SEASON. Too many emotions. This shit needs time to digest in between. I feel like I just pushed off an emotional cliff. And on that note. I sleep. I love you all and I’m not even sorry for my meltdown! I’m classing this as my Italian revision. Job well done 😘

#skam italia #skam italia spoilers #FUCK ME IM EMOTIONAL #thoughts etc

126 notes · View notes

seavoice · 3 years

Text

Horse Trading

(link to ao3 on title, or continue reading after the read more)

“Octavian was an asshole,” Reyna said, a contemplative look on her face as she laid on the floor of Hazel’s Praetor Villa, “but sometimes I think, can you really blame him?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, from her position on the floor next to her, where she was trying to sketch Reyna, a task made inordinately difficult by the older girl’s constant moving around. “I really can.”

Reyna sighed. It was a long and contemplative sigh. It wasn’t unusual to see Reyna with a brooding, thinking look on her face, but the relaxed and content expression added a new dimension to it. It was something structural; it somehow made her look younger yet more self-assured at the same time. “Octavian,” Reyna repeated, “was an asshole. But this Villa, Hazel. This Villa. I can see why Octavian was so desperate for praetorship. This house almost makes up for the stress of leading a child army.”

“It does not,” Hazel said. “It really does not, Reyna. Distance has just made your heart grow fonder. And delusional.” She sighed as Reyna shifted her position yet again. Reyna winced as a wordless apology. “Also,” Hazel said, reaching for her eraser, “Octavian didn’t want the praetorship for the house. He wanted it because he was a power hungry and blood thirsty politician.”

“At least you agree the bed is worth it?”

The bed was very nice, Hazel had to admit. Californian King, which seemed excessive, but was appreciated, and the fluffiest pillows Hazel had ever laid her head on. “Maybe. But I’m not agreeing with you when you literally opted for laying on the floor instead of the bed.”

“Fair enough,” Reyna said. She stretched on the floor, some complicated starburst. Hazel decided to give up her endeavour at drawing Reyna and flipped to the previous page in her sketchbook where she had been working on a drawing of Arion. It was half completed, and it was an attempt at drawing purely from memory, but Hazel enjoyed the challenge. “But it’s good for your back, believe me.”

“You’re an immortal Huntress now. Does that really matter?”

“Also fair enough,” Reyna agreed. Reyna rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and peeked at Hazel’s sketchbook. She raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, that’s certainly more...horse-y than I usually look.”

“I gave up. You move too much.”

Reyna inclined her head in acceptance. Still on her belly, she folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

It was weird to see Reyna so carefree. Weird in an undoubtedly good way, but weird nonetheless. Immortality had, perhaps ironically, taken years off her shoulders.

Hazel hadn’t invited Reyna to New Rome to draw her, but inevitably, that was what the visit had come to. She had written to her asking for advice — advice on running an entire city, advice on leading a quote unquote “child army” in times of peace, advice on not going crazy with stress — and Reyna had accepted so readily that a ventus spirit had brought her letter the very day Hazel had sent hers. Hazel had prepared for the visit with a single minded focus; she had brought a notebook for note taking, three different colours of pens, a highlighter, and her firmest handshake.

But then they had skipped the firm handshake and instead had hugged, tight, and Reyna had snagged a bowl of jelly beans from the Praetor office, and for the next few hours they had done nothing but lay on the floor of Hazel’s newly acquired Praetor Villa, swapping stories after stories, lazing around and sketching. Reyna had told her about the Hunt’s newest undertaking, some mythological boar or the other, and also about Thalia’s new obsession with 80’s rock. Hazel had told her about Lavinia’s latest shenanigans, and Gwen’s new job as a much valued mental health counsellor for the Legion. No notetaking had taken place. No praetor advice had been shared.

“It’s very good,” Reyna said, gesturing to Hazel’s drawing of Arion. “The likeness is stunning.”

Hazel beamed. “Really?”

“Of course!” Reyna scrambled to sit up. “It’s uncanny. This is really, really good, Hazel. It’s like…” Reyna made a hand gesture like she was pulling something; Hazel recognised it as an unconscious tick that Reyna had, one usually employed in Town Hall meetings when she was struggling to find the correct words to use for convincing reluctant denizens. “It’s like make a career out of it good,” she finished.

It was a warming compliment. Hazel’s smile grew wider; this was a pride unlike any other, something simple and easy and painless. Hazel had convinced herself to take pride in the smaller things more often. It made a dreary life just a little bit happier and easier when she could take pride in mastering her mist magic, in baking a sweet cupcake to perfection, in a good sparring session, in making a friend smile. But this pride in her artwork was somehow—brighter. It was something she’d dedicated long hours to.

“Horse artist?” Hazel said. “You think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Are you kidding me? Pet artist! Lucrative as they come.” Reyna laughed, an easy, lovely sound, and this too was unusual, this too was good, this too warmed Hazel. “People go crazy when they get pets. Put them in all cute little kinds of outfits and hire professional photographers, artists...I’m serious, Hazel. Business idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hazel said, with a laugh of her own. Then she sighed and set down her pencil. “I appreciate the business advice, though honestly, what I need more is Praetor advice. I feel I’m going insane.”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reyna said. “You don’t need my advice, Hazel. You’re a force of nature.”

This was a sweet sentiment, and Reyna probably meant it, but it didn’t help Hazel’s case. “Thanks,” she said. “Like—genuinely. But I do feel...I do feel like I’m going insane. It’s—it’s a lot.”

Reyna’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked older at once, older in all senses of the word. Like the Reyna of before the Hunt, and the break from her duties—Reyna in charge, Praetor Reyna, sixteen year old Reyna with the world on her shoulders. She sat up straighter. “Is someone giving you trouble?” Reyna asked. “I was joking about Octavian earlier, but gods, if someone’s coming up to take his spot as Asshole of the Year—“

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. That’s nothing. I could deal with someone like that no problem. It’s just—like you said...child army.”

Reyna exhaled softly and closed her eyes. “Yeah.��

Hazel hated bringing the mood down, hated evaporating Reyna’s good cheer, but she set that uncomfortableness aside for the time being. She pulled up her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. And there was solidarity in this too, acknowledgment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything’s—okay, now, for the time being. Doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever.”

“That’s not really ever in your control,” Reyna said with a rueful smile. “But I do...I do get what you mean. I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Hazel said. “That’s why I wrote to you.” She’d thought of going to Frank with these thoughts too, and she was sure he’d give good advice, and be kind about it, but a part of her—a stubborn part, maybe, a conscious part, sure, but a valid part, nonetheless—hadn’t wanted to show a weakness to her co-Praetor, even one as familiar as Frank.

“I don’t know if I can give you any great advice,” Reyna said at last. “I don’t know if I can tell you anything you don’t already know, and you are doing a great job.”

Hazel tried to keep the sadness out of her smile. “Hm.”

“What I needed?” Reyna said. “What I needed when I was a praetor was...gods, just a ear. Just someone to bear it with me. Someone to understand. Jas—he was gone, and it was just me. For the longest time. But then with Frank, it wasn’t as hard again, because we could...we could switch off. We could share. That’s the only thing I can really tell you, Hazel. Only advice I can give you. Share. Share it with me, always. With Frank. Lavinia. Nico. Your friends. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” Hazel said. She’d been alone for so long in Asphodel she had thought she could survive loneliness, if she had to. But she didn’t have to. And she didn’t want to. “And you sold yourself short Reyna—you do give great advice.”

“Sounds like I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“But I think I needed to hear that from you,” Hazel said. “From someone else. You said it yourself—I just needed to know someone else understood. Otherwise it gets...it gets lonely.”

Reyna’s smile was soft. “You’ve got good instincts, Hazel. You’ll be just fine.”

Gods, she hoped. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. You probably were busy with the hunt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, and there was that strange new lightness to her again, a relaxed happiness. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got time now.”

Hazel picked her pencil back up. “You know, if you try sitting still, maybe I can still do a quick sketch. Before you leave.”

“Actually,” Reyna said, and was Hazel imagining things or did she actually look self-conscious? “I have a sketch request, if you’d accept.”

Hazel was intrigued. “Oh. Oh. Sure. Who?”

Reyna smiled a little sheepishly. “Don’t laugh okay? I miss him. Scipio.”

Pet artist...Hazel let out a small giggle. “Oh, so when you said people go crazy when they get pets, you meant—“

“I told you not to laugh!” But Reyna was laughing herself. It wasn’t sad, but it was sort of wistful. “I never dressed him up or whatever, but he’s been on my mind lately; I’ve been wondering when he’ll reform. Pegasi reform slow, apparently. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, but now that I’m a Hunter—holy Pluto, I can. And you drew Arion so well—“

“I think it’s sweet,” Hazel said. It was, exceedingly so. Hazel was trying to recall Skippy in her memories, and she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered him soaring above them during the War Games. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but she thought she remembered enough to manage a sketch for Reyna. “It might not be a perfect likeness—“

“I’ve got a photo.”

Now, Hazel absolutely couldn’t control herself. She smiled wide, a fond laugh bubbling in her chest. “Oh, Reyna—“

“Will it, or will it not make it easier to draw him?” Reyna asked, tips of her ears a faint pink.

“It’ll be perfect,” Hazel promised. “Where have you got it? In the Praetor office?”

Reyna reached into her pocket and brought out a worn out photograph. As much as it was hilarious, it was also heart-warmingly sweet, a touch melancholy. Hazel sympathised with her—she couldn’t imagine losing Arion. She probably would start carrying a picture of him everywhere too; it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure,” Hazel said, studying the picture. “I can do a drawing for you no problem. You can carry it everywhere along with the picture. A horse drawing in exchange for solid advice. My first political quid pro quo as Praetor.”

“That’s a terrible deal, Hazel. I can literally commission you, if you want.”

“I’ll settle for a refill of my jelly beans,” Hazel said, gesturing at the now empty bowl of jelly beans. They’d made fast work of it. It hadn’t survived the first hour.

Reyna sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Oh, I forgot,” she said glumly. “One more piece of advice, Praetor to Praetor.”

Hazel looked up. “Yeah?”

“Stock up on those beans,” Reyna said mournfully. “And never let anyone break into your stash. You’ll need them.”

#hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #pjo #heroes of olympus #voop fic #eh this is kind of choppy but i do really love these two and think they should be friends #also not relevant to this story at all but frank and hazel are very much NOT a couple here. just co praetors and good friends #goodnight I’m going to bed

16 notes · View notes

fangirl-1523 · 4 years

Text

My Sworn Brothers [Luffy x Crossover!Sister!Reader x Ace x Sabo]

A/N: Hey, so I want to write a High School AU of the many, many anime I have watched/ read. Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Devil is a Part-Timer, Durarara, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, High School of the Dead, InuYasha, Kill La Kill, Magi, My Hero Academia, Noragami, One Piece, Ouran High School Host Club, Pokemon, Saiki K, Sailor Moon, Seven Deadly Sins, Soul Eater, Sword Art Online, Vampire Knight, Your Lie in April, and Yu Gi-Oh. And I was wondering who would you like to be apart of your friend? And would you like to have a relation to any of the characters of the world.

Summary: [Y/N] is the oldest sworn sister to Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. And after finding Ace and Sabo aboard Luffy’s ship, the Thousand Sunny, she explains to them who she is, her other sworn brothers and sisters, embarrasses the three of them (a regular Tuesday for her), and threatens them with a chalkboard for interrupting her. Multiple times. In this story, most of the anime I am into is in the same world (Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, InuYasha, Magi, My Hero Academia, Naruto, Noragami, Seven Deadly Sins, and Sword Art Online. I might do a part 2.

Warnings: spoilers for the above mangas and animes, also, even though this is along the timeline of after the time skip (at some point), I took the creative liberty to have Ace alive during this meeting for a quad family reunion, might be language

Word Count: 1, 668

“How the hell am I suppose to believe that my three idiotic brothers would be in the same place at the exact same time I’m trying to find them?” the girl with [H/C] hair, old enough to be Luffy’s age, maybe a year younger or a year older than him.

“[Y/N]!!” the rubber boy flung himself at her in a hug.

She fell down on her butt from the impact of the hug. She groaned before pushing the boy off of her and standing up, dusting herself off. “Geez, Lu. I was on a job, just finished, and I heard something about a Straw Hat, a Fire Fist, and a blonde with a top hat that put the mad hatter to shame. I just came to see if the rumors are true.”

“What job did you have, sis?” Sabo said as he sipped a smoothie created from Vinsmoke Sanji.

“Well, you see. In the ten years I’ve been gone, I’ve been busy. Both with being lazy and being diligent.” the girl explained. “I am a member of Fairy Tail. Dragon Slayer Magic, particularly fire, water, earth, air, and plant. Requip the Knight. Some space jumping there and vortex opening here.”

“You got the two mixed up, kid.” Ace said from his spot next to Sabo.

The girl grinned an evil grin. “Oh, did I, Ace of Clubs?”

The raven haired pirate groaned at the nickname while Luffy’s crew members wondered after the nickname. Ace kept giving her the don’t-tell-them-anything look with a cut-it-out motion. She, like most people she knew, did not listen to reason.

“Well, when we were younger, I attempted to teach the pour unfortunate souls that you call Luffy, Sabo, and Ace golf. And we played mini-gold. First hole we went to, the club flew out of Ace’s hand and crashed into the window where the pour lady working the club stand was clonked on the head and fell unconscious. Another fun fact: I’m overly competitive and therefore master of mini gold. Luffy on the other hand... beat my bowling high score of just a little over four hundred points.” [Y/N] explained.

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY GOLF, YOU IDIOT!” Usopp shouted at his captain.

“Ace was a lot worse. However, on the eighteenth hole, got a hole in one. Although with team sports, I always sided with Luffy ‘cuz he was the baby of the family.” she explained.

“Never play Volleyball with her unless you’re Luffy.” Sabo warned the Straw Hat Pirates.

“Could you... possibly.... explain who you are?” asked Nami.

“That’s an easy and excellent question, m’lady. I am [Y/N] [L/N], the daughter of the Demon King from the Demon Clan, Niece of Solomon, adoptive daughter of the great dragon, The Curse of Depravity, a mage of S-Class ranking, the best older sister anyone can have, a Shinigami, and the Pirate Fairy.” [Y/N] said with her hands on her hips like wonder woman.

“You’re not wonder woman, dumbass.” Ace muttered.

She scowled at the boy (who was now physically older than her). “I know that, asshole.” Ace shrugged his shoulders at that. “Anyways, I should get going. I’m here with my teammates. And Salamander will have a cow if he finds out I’m on a Pirate Ship. Which may or may not include Natsu asking you all to fight him at once for his sister.” [Y/N] shrugged.

“SISTER?!” Luffy screeched.

“YOU ALREADY REPLACED US?!” Ace and Sabo said in unison.

“This is why I never took you to Amusement parks or sat next to you on a ride.” she clenched at her swollen ears. “No, I was merely saying that I have something called [Y/N]’s Council of Brothers. They’re basically a band of boys I feel need my protection, wisdom, and power to embarrass them until they’re six feet under and rotting.”

“She’s dark.” Nami said. “But can you explain this whole Council of Brothers thing. Because I’m not sure they,” the ginger pointed to the three brothers, “understand.”

“Alright! I will go over a lesson here!” and suddenly a white board appeared by her side with writing already on it.

“Where did you get the white board?” asked Luffy.

“That’s not important right now.” she scowled. “Yes, Sabo.”

“Was that Whiteboard always there and we just never noticed it?” the blonde asked.

“No. Ace if this is a question about the white board, I will smack you with the same gold club that flew through that window. All questions about the stupid whiteboard will be answered after I explained everything. Got it?”

The three brothers grumbled out a, “Yes.”

“Good. Anyways, to start it off I have two half-brothers. Meliodas and Zeldris.” she slapped a pointer stick against the whiteboard.

“Did she always have that?” Ace asked, whispering it to his two brothers.

“I don’t know. I’m just glad someone noticed it besides me.” Sabo murmured back.

“SILENCE, YOU INSOLENCE FOOLS!” and she threw a frying pan which hit Ace in the head.

Why does she have a frying pan in her requips? Sabo wondered in his head, not wanting to get hit in the head with anything else she might have to throw at them.

“Anyways, Meliodas and Zeldris are my half-brothers. Zeldris is the captain of the Demon Clan’s ten Commandments while Meliodas is the captain of Liones’s Seven Deadly Sins of which I am co-captain and the Phoenix Sin of Darkness. To be fair, I look more like my mother and I think the only thing me, Meliodas, and Zeldris share is our dumbassery we inherited from our father. Second off, my cousin is Magi Aladdin since my mother is his father, Solomon,’s sister. Now, that’s enough of my actual biological family. Now, I won’t go into detail about those three. Because you already seem well-acquainted with one another. Anyways, onto the next one. The next one on my list of brothers is a half-demon named Rin who is the son of Satan along with his younger brother, Yukio, but he doesn’t really need protection. next is Kazuto Kirigaya also known as Kirito. I prefer to call him that. He got stuck in a game where if you die there, you die in real life, but he defeated them. next, we have Satan himself, a king of demons, Sadou Maou. He works as a part-timer for a fast food chain which is sad to be honest. Next, we have Alibaba Saluja, a prince and a king’s candidate, also my cousin’s best friend. He wields the fire djinn, Amon. Also, he’s trying to be a gladiator while figuring out his feelings for Fanalis and former slave Morgiana. Next, we have actual God Yato who is a former god of calamity and a current god of war. I think. I’m not quite sure. But he and his two regalia, Yukine and a Nora named Kazuma, but also Kazune under Yato, must be protected by me at all cost. Then, we have Edward Elric, a alchemist missing both a leg and an arm because he wanted to see his mom’s smile again which kicks me in the heartstrings whenever I hear it. His brother, Alphonse, is an honorary member of the Council of Brothers. And he used to be entirely a soul attached to a suit of armor. No joke.”

“Does no one else notice that they are mostly raven haired or blonde?” Nico Robin commented.

The Straw Hat Pirates turned to the three sworn brothers who just shrugged their shoulders at that. “I admit I am guilty for that. But my actual brothers are raven headed and blonde, so that may be the reason. Anyways, off to the next people. Now, this person could make Luffy look like a genius. Sometimes. Natsu Dragneel, a salmon haired fire dragon slayer, is the brother of Zeref Dragneel, the black wizard, and also simultaneously END, the most powerful demon of the book of zeref which makes him one of the top fifteen most powerful demons. Next, we have strawberry boi, Ichigo Kurosaki, a shinigami who I’ve been helping train. He could see the dead and then he discovered his spiritual power, stole the shinigami powers of Rukia Kuchiki, and started to exorcist hollows and send souls to the soul society. Then, we have my favorite band of brothers since they could literally be in a band. Broccoli Boi, Izuku Midoriya, kinda has a power augmentation quirk, best way to describe it without giving too much away, Porcupine Katsuki Bakugo who can blow things up with help from his sweat. Zuko Wannabe Shoto Todoroki who can wield fire and ice. Also, his brother Touya may or may not be Dabi. Then, Pikachu Kaminari Denki who can utilize elctricity, but too much and he makes Luffy look like a genius. No joke. Well… maybe… I don’t really know. Anyways, then we have speedster Tenya Iida. Oh, there’s sharkboy Eijiro Kirishima. He can make himself go as hard as rock, but he has limitations. Then, we have spidertape Hanta Sero that can shoot tape out of his elbows. Then, half-demon InuYAsha who is the son of a dog demon and a mortal woman. There’s also Shippo who is an adorable little kitsune. And I think I got everyone.” the girl looked at her board before smacking it again as she noticed Luffy had begun to doze off while Ace had totally fallen asleep.

The action alerted the two boys to wake up at once and glare at their older sister. And then, a silver haired undead man with a flying blue cat landed on the floor of the ship. “Thank goodness we found you. C’mon. We got a mission and you and your ‘Team Natsu’ have a job request from the old man and a princess.”

“So Hisui and Bartra both agree to have us do something, but what is this so-called mission?” asked [Y/N].

Ban smirked. “We’re fighting slave-trading pirates.”

“I want in!” Luffy cheered.

#one piece #sabo #portgas_d_ace #portgas d. ace #luffy #monkey d luffy #fairy tail #seven deadly sins #anime #crossover #one piece x reader #asl #asl x sister reader

71 notes · View notes

lonelypond · 3 years

Text

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

#NicoMaki #Love Is For Losers #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #au yeah august #AUYEAHAUGUST21 #tennis #rivals #college

1 note · View note

gaymortagokat · 4 years

Text

Shared Secrets part 8/8

This is the final part of this fic. Let me know what you think, if you have any questions or if their are any obvious grammar errors. Only part one is on here, but you can read the rest of the fic here.

Lacy and Valentina knew something was up with Drew since she returned from New Rome. Well, Drew had been acting a bit nicer since she began talking to Reyna but this was different. Drew actually listened to their ideas and was a bit more helpful when it came to beauty tips. When either one of them asked her what was up Drew would act like nothing was wrong and add something snarky to prove it. She also would avoid talking about Reyna and hardly said her name. Valentina and Lacy were going to find out why and they needed Piper’s help.

Piper knew something had happened between Drew and Reyna since she first spoke to Reyna the day after Drew left. She seemed happier and when Piper pointed it Reyna would say there'd been less problems with the legion giving her a few more minutes to relax. Piper bought none of it but let it go until Reyna and the Legion arrived at camp. Drew would talk to Reyna briefly then disappear for hours and she knew from Reyna, Lacy and Valentina that they were close and would probably spend every spare second together if they could.

What really told Piper something was going on between them was when she found Drew watching Reyna train. Piper understood that watching Reyna train was fascinating.She was toned, agile, and strong, and today she was wearing leggings and a sports bra which showed off just how much muscle she had. Even Piper got lost for a few seconds. Focus.

Piper turned her attention back to Drew who had scooted a bit closer. She had a small smile and her eyes were carefully taking in Reyna’s form. It reminded her, a bit, of Annabeth whom Piper had once caught watching Percy so intently that when Piper walked up behind her and asked why she had jumped and quickly answered with something along the lines of ‘for science’. The only difference was Drew was further away from Reyna than Annabeth was to Percy. Part of Piper wanted to scare Drew but decided instead to talk to Reyna.

“Hey, I thought Drew was done with the stalking?”

“She is.”

Piper looked back at Drew. Was she pouting? “Then what is she doing?”

“Watching.”

“And you’re not bothered by it?”

“Not at all. I don’t think it’s that different from when you watch me train. I know you were watching me a few seconds ago.”

Damn, she did see me. “Why do you notice everything?”

“Training. Speaking of which, can I get back to it? I'm sure we can talk more later.”

“Yeah sure.”

Piper was leaving the training grounds when Lacy approached her. “Piper, can I talk to you about something?”

“Is something wrong Lacy?”

“Yes, and no. Drew has been acting nicer than usual, and Val and I think it has something to do with Reyna because Drew used to talk about Reyna a lot, but she stopped a few months ago.”

“So Drew and Reyna are acting differently.”

“Val and I want to figure out why, but we need your help since you’re friends with Reyna.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“When Silena was cabin leader if one of us was acting weird Silena made all of us sit in a circle and we would talk about it.

“An intervention of sorts.”

“I guess.”

“We need to get them in the cabin without them knowing what we’re doing.”

The sisters came up with a plan and began letting other siblings know to put the plan in motion. That night after the campfire, Piper would bring Reyna to her cabin for a sleepover. There she would figure out why Reyna is acting different.

A few hours later Piper and Reyna were walking together. Piper looked down and noticed something sticking out of one of the pockets on Reyna’s belt.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“So then you can show me.”

“No. It’s not yours.”

Piper tried reaching for it only to be held back by Reyna. She tried again and again until she managed to grab it. She opened her hand and found a flower without the stem. It was made of violet tissue paper and had a chocolate in the center. Piper had crumpled many of the petals.

“A flower?”

“I told you, it’s not for you.” Reyna sounded angry, but when Piper looked up she looked sad like a grade schooler whose project was just trampled.

“Why don’t we talk about this in my cabin. I’ll help you straighten out the petals.”

“Alright. But I’m mad at you.”

In the cabin they found many of Piper’s siblings to be inside. Piper led Reyna to a bed and handed her back the flower.

Piper walked to Valentina and whispered “Find Lacy and Drew. Take your time but not too much.”

She walked back to Reyna and began to help her fix the problem Piper caused while muttering apologies as they worked.

Drew followed Lacy and Valentina back to their cabin. She was told one her siblings was having a fashion emergency and Drew needed to settle a debate. Drew was happy to help her siblings look their best. After all she was very fashionable, but when she entered the cabin she was concerned. Her reine was sitting on a bed and siblings were nearby prepared for a gossip session.

“Reyna. What are you doing here.”

“They said I couldn’t leave, and I didn’t feel like fighting.”

“What’s going on between you two?”

“You knew about this, Dear.”

Lacy smiled. “I know you could have predicted this would happen. You’ve been acting different for months.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Piper added. “Reyna has been acting a bit different.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. Reyna, you’ve been happier. I love that for you, but you go from talking about where you took Drew to avoiding talking about what actually happened. And the flower.”

“Flower?”

Reyna held out the paper craft. And Drew’s eyes went wide.

“You remembered?”

“Of course. You said any accomplishment deserves to be celebrated.”

“I did.” Drew examined the flower noting the wrinkled petals and knowing Reyna wouldn’t be so careless. “Okay, which one of you messed up the petals.”

“That would be Piper.”

Drew narrowed her eyes.

“She did help make it better.”

“It is beautiful.” Drew sat next to Reyna. “So tell me, how many times did you have make this.”

“Six I think.”

“Okay before you two get really cute we need the whole story,” One of Drew brothers said.

“I’m guessing we’re not getting out of this.”

“Absolutely not, Drew.”

“Alright. Where do you want me to start.”

“Your trip to New Rome in February.”

Drew nodded and began with when Nico dropped her off. She told the story with as much detail as she could remember. Over time she began to get closer to Reyna. It started with holding hands. Drew reached for Reyna, stopping just short of her hand. Reyna met her the rest of the way. Then Reyna had her arm around Drew. Finally, Drew ended up sitting between Reyna’s legs with her hands resting over her girlfriends on her stomach. Drew made it through the last four months. Their first kiss, letters after Drew left, and Drew’s nickname for Reyna (Reine).

Reyna give her input now and then either correcting Drew on some details or adding something Drew missed. Other than that she remained quiet, content with holding Drew.

And the entire Aphrodite cabin was happy for them. As Drew told the story they all listened carefully with occasional “Aw”. Piper and a few others asked Reyna questions through out the story that she answered.

“So it’s your anniversary. And you need a date. Or do you already have something planned?

“We can help with it.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Different siblings began to give their ideas. “There’s the beach.”

“Oo. the beach. Dinner under the stars.”

“Or you can leave for dinner and sneak back in later.”

“Or the Artemis cabin. No one is ever in there. And I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“Or here. We can make this place look nice.”

“Either way we can cover for you.”

“I think we’re going to let go of the beach. What do you think, Reine?”

“It was the first date and the trip to Oakland. I don’t mind where we go as long as I get to spend time with you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You know, you planned all the last activities, let me plan this one?”

“Of course.”

“How about here, for dinner?”

“Alright, but there is one problem with that. How are we supposed to get food in here?” Lacy asked.

“The tent the Hunters gave me contains fresh fruits, always. I can leave it here for a bit.”

“I might be able to get some other things, and we can always pick up meals.”

“There should be snacks in the camp store and if not, Will keeps some snacks in the med bay,” Drew added.

“We’ll figure it out. You two do whatever you think you need to,” Lacy said.

About two hours later just before the cabin went to the mess hall Valentina and Piper led Reyna and Drew back to their cabin. The entire cabin had done a great job of making the place date worthy. They laid out a few soft blankets on the floor with a tray of assorted fruits and what looked like chicken and mac n cheese. Candles were laid out at various points of the cabin and at some point incense were burning making the cabin smell like roses.

Drew’s siblings bust into a collection of voices asking if they liked it, hopes that they have fun (but not too much as a brother had said). Drew gave many of them hugs as they left. Reyna gave Piper a thank you and told Aurum and Argentum to move to the side.

Reyna and Drew sat next to each other sharing the bowl of chicken mac n cheese. They talked and had a good time. Even Aurum and Argentum were relaxed laying on the edges of the blanket. Drew kept the flower Reyna made her admiring it in the light. She never had anyone she dated before make her something.

“I got you something too.” Drew placed a wrapped package in front of Reyna.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to open it, ma reine.”

Reyna did. It was the Wonder Woman comic Reyna wanted to read, but she hadn’t found the time to go to buy it. “Thank you mi amor. How did you know this was the one I needed?”

“You told me which one you were reading in your letters, so I did a bit of math to figure out how long it would take you to read a book and guessed which one you would be on. Then you told me you couldn’t find the time to go buy it so I did and hopped you didn’t.”

“You did math?”

“You know, I’m actually fairly good at math.”

“I’m sure you are.”

They were both silent for a few seconds.

“Reine.”

“Yes, mi amor.”

“Tu es mon amour.”

“Lo sé, tú también eres mi amor. I’m glad you said it though.”

“How much French do you know.”

“Only the parts that sound like Spanish.”

“Wanna learn more?” Drew asked leaning closer.

“I’m sure I can.” Reyna said meeting Drew’s lips. “How good of a teacher are you?”

“Don’t know, I’ve never taught anyone before.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The cabin members returned to find Reyna holding Drew whispering in her ear, making the asian laugh. Her gold and silver dogs were curled up nearby. All of Drew’s siblings found it adorable and very domestic of their sister.

“Was your date good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Piper, Lacy, Valentina, and others joined them on the floor.

“You guys are adorable.”

“Thanks.”

“We’re always happy to help.”

“A few wondered where you were at dinner. I told Frank that you were taking a nap and not to bother you unless he wanted to clean the stables.”

“Thank you, Piper.”

“Seriously, though, Drew? Of all the people you could have dated.”

“Hey!”

“She can be nice. She’s smart too.”

“I can be nice to everyone but you.”

“Does that mean I can be rude to you?”

“Nope. My girlfriend might beat you up.”

“Will not.”

“Aw why not?”

“Don’t get into a fight that isn’t necessary.”

“Not even because someone is bullying your girlfriend.”

“Drew, amor, Piper only picks a fight with you because you sassed her first. And you’re both stubborn.”

“Am not!” protested the sisters.

They let go of their petty argument fairly quickly letting the cabin dissolve into chatter about the day filling Drew in on what she missed during her date until they all decided to go to bed.

Reyna laid down first holding up the blanket for Drew who settled in pressed against Reyna. The blanket covered both of them and Reyna put her arm around Drew providing enough support so she wouldn’t fall off of the twin mattress. Reyna fell asleep with the faint smell of hibiscus and cinnamon hitting her nose.

In the morning she woke to voices saying she and Drew looked so cute, “I didn’t know Drew could sleep so long,” “They look so peaceful,” and “should we wake them?” Reyna sat up carefully causing a few of Drew’s siblings to jump.

Everyone quickly recovered. Reyna slipped on her boots, Drew got ready for the day, and as others finished getting ready for the day they chatted on their beds waiting for everyone to be ready to go to the mess hall.

At the mess hall Reyna went to check on Frank before heading to the Aphrodite table.

“Everything went well last night?” “Yes. Where were you last night? Piper said you were taking a nap?”

“I was tired.”

“Is that- are you wearing Drew’s perfume?”

“I slept in the Aphrodite cabin. Perfume is the smell of the place.”

“Okay.” Frank said. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it.

Drew reached for Reyna’s hand as soon as the teen sat down. She held it the entire time she was eating and sat a bit closer no longer concerned with her siblings finding out. Part of her loved the idea of sharing this with them, but when it was a secret it was fun too. Though finding them to be so supportive reminded her of the way the cabin was when Silena was cabin leader, and that was something Drew found to be amazing.

Later that day everyone gathered in the arena to settle the debate over which camp was better. They were going to select one person from each camp to run in a foot race. Campers on both sides were trying to decide who should go. Aries and Mars cabin members challenged each other for the spot and the rest looked between their cabin leaders and their cabin or their Praetors and their friends.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Reyna yelled. “I’ll do it.”

Every one fell silent. Who ever Camp Half Blood chose would be up against the Praetor. Annabeth began whispering to the other cabin leaders and others began talking once more.

A voice cut through the noise. “I can do it.”

Everyone turned to the direction of the person’s voice. Members of the Aphrodite cabin moved out of the way revealing Drew as the source. “I can do it.”

“Drew, no offence, but this isn’t the time.” Annabeth said.

“Annabeth, Drew is a fast runner.” Will said.

“I was invited to join my school’s track team.”

“I’ve never seen anyone faster. She helped me out during the war running supplies to others in my cabin and bringing the injured out of the battlefield.”

The cabin leaders whispered to each other once again until Clarisse spoke up. “Some one in the Aphrodite Cabin used to go on runs with Silena. Silena said they often beat her in races. And anyone who knew Silena knows she was the fastest on her school's team. Was that you, Tanaka.”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Annabeth said. “You can run. You and Reyna change into appropriate clothes and meet back here in five. We’ll set up.”

Five minutes later Reyna and Drew showed up in proper running shoes. Reyna wore grey joggers and a matching crop top. Drew wore black leggings that transitioned to pink and a matching pink sports bra. Frank handed Reyna Camp Jupiter tank top while Piper handed Drew a similarly designed Camp Half blood tank top.

In five minutes campers smoothed out the arena’s dirt track and added the line that would serve as the start and finish line. The two racers were lined up toes touching the line.

“I hope you two at least stretched before this.” Will said.

“Okay,” Clarisse began. “At the sound of the flare gun you two will run to prove which camp is better.”

Leo looked excited as he stepped up holding the flare gun. Where he got it no one knew. “Alright, people count down with me.”

“On your mark!”

“Get set!”

“GO!”

Reyna and Drew took off. Campers yelled encouragement. As Reyna and Drew approached the first curve they appeared to be teasing each other. One would speed up making the other follow. Then they would slow down briefly. Camp Half blood (and anyone who missed Reyna and Drew’s run in February) were shocked that Drew was keeping up with Reyna.

As they approached the second curve Drew began to sprint. Reyna cursed and followed. They kept getting just a step ahead of the other. Just steps before the finish line Drew tripped just barely catching Reyna’s foot taking Reyna down with her.

They both crossed the finish line.

Reyna laughed and asked Drew if she was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“I am.”

Drew kissed Reyna. They could hear the people freaking out around them. When Drew pulled away Reyna whispered “I think everyone knows. Reyna stood up. She felt a bit of pain in her ankle, but she could put her weight on it without much problem. She offered Drew her hand and pulled her girlfriend to her feet.

Drew winced and moved to balance on her toes on her foot. “Does your ankle hurt this much?”

“No, not really.”

“How long have you two been together, Reyna?” Annabeth asked at the same Will said, “What the hell, Drew. I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to tell me these things.”

“Sorry, Sweetheart.”

“Not long.”

“You two hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Will.”

“I’m alright, Hon.”

“Damn, Tanaka. You were holding out on me.”

“I am not being your target so you can practice your aim.”

“Since you crossed the finish line together it means both camps are equals.” Frank said.

Shortly after everyone left returning to their usual routines leaving Drew, Reyna and much of the Aphrodite cabin in the arena.

“I think I need a nap, Reine.”

“Then let's head to your cabin.”

They began slowly walking. They didn't make it very far. Drew’s ankle hurt more than expected. Reyna rolled her eyes and offered to carry Drew. She accepted. It was fine until they were about 100 meters from the cabin. Turns out Reyna’s ankle did not like the extra weight it was supporting, but Reyna pushed through.

Drew was placed on her bed, and Piper- who stopped to see Will- offered them ice packs. Drew and Reyna sat next to each other on Drew’s bed elevating their ankles and icing them. Reyna offered Drew some of her water mixed with lemon and unicorn draught.

After a few moments Drew placed her hand on the center of Reyna’s chest. “Can I lay here?”

“Yeah.”

Drew patted Reyna’s arm. “Up.”

Reyna listened and adjusted her position to accommodate Drew. Once Drew was settled Reyna returned ro reading her new comic book. She went to turn the page when Drew stopped her. “I’m not finished reading yet.”

They read the story together. Drew asked Reyna frequent questions and Reyna was more than happy to answer them. Drew loved how excited Reyna sounded talking about the particular comic series but also related facts. She continued to ask questions, grateful that Reyna didn’t tell her to stop talking. She looked over at the bunk that used to be Silena’s and smiled remembering one of the many nights when they were younger where Silena told her that love could be found in even the simplest of things, and Drew believed it.

#dreyna #reyna avila ramirez arellano #drew tanaka #percy jackson #my writing #shared secrets

11 notes · View notes

sxmbinha · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER I

Summary: Roman tries to recover the friendship he had with Peter. At the same time, Steve Rogers leads the Avengers on another mission, but it has colateral damage.

Warnings: slightly description of anxiety, but nothing much

Word count: 2776

I guess we could use one of those classic story-beginning sentences. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. But what does that even mean? Obviously, somewhere in the world, it is the best of times for someone.

Roman Vidal has made a nest of himself on the sofa. He keeps doing that - covering himself with blankets and oversized t-shirts. It is summer, though, and he is sweating, but he feels pretty well and safe in his own personal claustrophobia, thank you very much.

His brother had promptly suggested that Roman went to spend the summer vacation at their abuela’s house. Specially after the new wave of miseducation he presented during this first semester. Alícia Maria, his younger sister, decided to make him company, leaving Nicolás to have some peace since he gained their guard two years ago. Since their parents died and Roman didn’t.

His abuela (do not mistake with the long deceased abuelita, God bless her) reads young adult novels (she loves Six of Crows), has determined that she is a Ravenclaw and shows her middle finger to Trump whenever he is on TV. It is a breeze of fresh air.

What he really likes is that no matter what high-stress thing is going on in his world or in the world as a whole (Christmas, SATs, natural disasters, car crashes, disappointing someone he cares about and being worried to death he might puke), there she is, his abuela and her noisy chanclas, doing her thing.

His legs are bent, aching knees close to his chest, and while his whole body is supposed to be hidden, his left arm is partially out of the cover so he can see the bright screen of his phone. A name jumps out of it - a cherry-red name with flecks of silver, one Roman had always loved. No one else is that biased towards a color like Peter Parker.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Ali asks without taking her attention from the television. She grabs a spoonful of ice cream and shoves in her mouth.

“Have you ever seen me sick?” He retorts, knowing, before she shakes her head, that the answer would be “no”.

That is because he never gets (physically) sick, although the sentiment of sickness is very familiar. No annual spread of the flu, no bellyaches. While his sister is allergic to dogs and needs to use glasses, and his brother has broken the same arm twice playing baseball (how he managed to do that, though?), Roman has a perfect - and slightly better than average, if you must know - vision, and once has accidentally broke someone’s nose during a volleyball class when he was in 6th grade.

Mami had always said to keep his powers hidden - you never know what can happen to you these days. She, though, didn’t call it powers. They were gifts. And if it wasn’t probably blasphemy, would have called this God’s given miracle. Everything weird with Roman’s super resilience and crossing of neural connections was a gift. Oh, there is this other thing… Roman see and feel things most people don’t, and for a long time it didn’t occurred to him that no one else could sense it too.

It’s not something he thinks with frequency, sometimes he even forgets it’s not the norm. It feels like the world is playing some sort of joke on him. A Mourning Dove’s song is yellow and there’s no better way to explain it; the teacher’s obsession with capslock on PowerPoint presentations makes everything too bright to read. But at least there’s always an agreement about how ugly the National Anthem is.

Ali finishes her ice cream and sets the bowl over the table. Roman runs his fingers over his hair - during summer he had let it grow, now the dark curls are fluffy and too rebel. The motion helps him go back to his original anxiety.

Roman has always had a really hard time apologizing if he’s forced to do it. He laughs and giggles, he smiles even when he tries not to because the idea of this forced, fake apology is so off putting he can’t comprehend taking it seriously - what for sure has got him into trouble multiple times. The point is: Roman loathes fake apologies, and he has heard so many of them and actually believed and hugged and cared them, that now any apology coming from himself sounds like a poor copy.

But if he could, if he was at Peter’s door right now, he would cry himself numb to deserve his pardon. But again, if he was at Peter’s door right now, he probably wouldn’t have to do that at all.

So he sends a message. Don’t take it wrong, he wishes he didn’t have to make such a shitty move, but here we are. He did previously thought about calling him, but apparently Peter is “kinda busy”.

It ended up a well balanced apology with equal measures of regret and understanding that speaks honestly from his heart (and overthinker brain). Nothing with “I hate myself for doing it, but I did it because of whatever reason” or any other gross victimization Liam thaught him - we will talk about Liam Reed later, he’s not important at the moment.

Peter has visualized it fifteen minutes ago and doesn’t seem willing to give an answer any time soon, what is a very non-Peter thing to do - he’s not one to embrace passive-aggressive attitudes. Maybe Roman finally got the worst of him.

“Pues mira, Andy-” says his abuela noticing his worried expression. “-al mal tiempo, buena cara.” Then she caress the right side of Roman’s face where the light-colored scar stands as a reminder: a line from his forehead to cheekbone.

He smiles with fondness, noticing the use of one of her catch phrases. His family has many of those. His abuela is also not the only one in his family to call him by his second name (in case of forgetting one, don’t worry! You got three more spares), but that, Roman can’t explain why.

“¿Qué es esto?” The elderly woman points at the movie they’re watching before turning to Ali. “¿No sos demasiado joven para ver esto?”

Certainly, the preachy girl couldn’t just answer the question. “I don’t speak Spanish, aunty. Why don’t you try English?”

Well, their abuela can speak English, but she won’t because she has a point to prove. And so does Alícia.

Roman doubts she can’t truly understand Spanish. From all their close relatives, the only one without Colombian heritage was their father and only him, as he grew up on an orphanage and wasn’t able to share his whatever-european legacy. Sure, just a low handful of cousins could actually speak a second language and their mother did a great job at dousing off her sing-song’d words, but Roman believes the reason why Ali pretends not to know the basics of Spanish is to keep herself unaffected by curses and fights (the bigger the trouble, the sharper the Paisa accent).

People have always compared her to their father, probably just because of the lighter skin tone and, again, the lack of Spanish. But Roman always thought he was very similar to him, more than to their mother. Okay, fine, he does looks a lot like their mother, but he has the “sensibility not praised by the family” - what isn’t praised is not the sensibility per se, it’s the obviousness.

“Usted estás fuera de mi herencia.”

He stays silent until she forgets the question and walks away. Roman could explain the whole concept of ‘Bring It On’ and the politics on Cheerocracy to his abuela, only that talking that much right now would be like moving furniture.

His cellphone shakes sparks in his hand. It joins the others two hundred thirteen (at least a hundred and seventy are from the Vidal family group chat) unread messages he’s received over the course of the day. He leaves them to later.

PETER PARKER

It’s okay

Just move on

There is no sigh of relief or jump of enthusiasm. He would move on, eventually, and act like nothing ever affected his bright personality. But the dread feeling of guilty and danger needed to stop bursting first - it always starts before the actual confrontation and ends a lot after the resolution, like a cup of soda with bubbles brimming at the top. So Roman has to wait until the bubbles seize and leave a bad taste at the back of his throat.

“It’s like the desert in Oz here,” Ali says.

Roman looks over at his sister, who’s already looking at him with a wrinkle between her brows. He takes a deep breath. Things keep on happening, he thinks under her cautious gaze.

“There’s no desert in Oz,” he says instead.

“Yes, there is, in the books. There’s this desert that you have to stay away or it burns you up.”

He tilts his head, blinks, and swallows his self-pity, replacing it by a mischievous look and the edge of a smile. “What if I ask abuela to turn on the backyard tap?”

Alícia’s face lit in excitement. They never had a swimming pool at home and neither does their abuela, so when Nico was younger and less cynical, he and some cousins would use a garden hose to splash water everywhere, pointing it to the sky and pretending it was raining. A tradition - or a romanticized improvisation - passed down through generations.

He smirks. “But only if you bring me ice cream.”

“No.”

“Oh, I see, so that’s how you treat me? If you ever ask me a favor again, anything, I won’t-”

“Fiiiine!” Alícia drags the word just like she draws her body out of the couch.

Roman looks down once again and taps a reply: 'I miss you’. His hand reaches up and grabs his cross necklace, pulling the metal chain against his lips.

PETER PARKER

We’ll see each other when summer ends

Happy birthday, btw

Roman wraps himself tighter in the blanket.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid? ” Teases Sam Wilson.

Natasha’s controlled voice answers. “Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something? ”

The presence of his partners is only noticed by their cheap talk. Steve Rogers hears through the earpiece the analysis of the new Avengers’ case. “Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

On an apartment in Lagos, Nigeria, Steve observes the busy streets hidden by the curtains. He spots a garbage truck pushing its way through traffic, with no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles.

“Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

In a minute, Sam is able to scan the truck with a small drone he treats as a pet, and report the analysis. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

Nat is fast to formulate their intentions. “It’s a battering ram.”

Without hesitation, Steve gives the permission to action. They all hear through the communicator when Wanda - the last, but not least component of the task force - exclaims surprised by the sudden order.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

The grasp of his hand on the shield reinforces the mentality of now being, not Steve Rogers, but the Captain America. Soon, he’s at the courtyard of the Institute for Infectious Diseases, fighting against the soldiers in black armor who successfully broke into the place driving the garbage truck. “I make seven hostiles.”

“I make five,” replies Sam. The mayhem keeps sounding over the speaker. “Four.”

Sam scans the inside of the building, in time to Steve reach him and Wanda. “Rumlow’s on the third floor.”

“Wanda,” calls Captain, “just like we practiced.”

Her Eastern European accent tingles in his ear. “What about the gas?”

“Get it out.”

Wanda hex Steve to lift him up and through the window. He uses his shield to break the glass and quickly immobilize a soldier, pulling off his gas mask. Thanks to the serum, Captain America is conveniently immune to such toxins, but the whole intervention takes longer than he planned, with soldiers shooting in his direction from various corners. Wanda starts to dilute the gas with the air, and by the time Steve gets to the target room, the building is clean of the toxins. Just as the room is empty and the biohazard is out of sight.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.”

“I’m on it,” replies Natasha on the radio.

An explosion rumbles at the courtyard, Steve runs out onto the balcony and spots Rumlow. A skull mask stares back at him while the man prepares and aims a grenade launcher. The grenade slams into the Captain’s shield and he is thrown back inside. He scrambles to his feet as Rumlow fires two more times, throwing him out of a window, onto a truck, and finally the ground.

The burn sensation on his chest and the ache on his back cause Steve to struggle to get up, but are far from stopping him. “Sam. He’s in an AFV heading north.” With that, the super soldier is running once again into the commotions’ direction.

Sam is the first to locate the vehicle, now crashed over a marketplace. “I got four, they’re splitting up.”

Natasha rides through the crowd on her motorcycle. She abandons it and runs over the hoods of cars, in pursuit. “I got the two on the left.”

Steve is also running across cars when he spots a vest in the middle of the crowd. “They ditched their gear. It’s a shell game now. One of them has the payload-”

Something crashes against the Captain’s shield - a bomb, ticking incessantly. Promptly, Rogers throws the shield in the air and the bomb blows up safely away from the citizens. With the seconds of distraction, Rumlow comes up behind Steve and punches him hard in the back, who collides with the stalls set on the street.

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” says Brock Rumlow approaching the fallen man. “I’ve been waiting for this!”

Another huge strike hits Steve before he can reach his shield. His stiffened back crashes over wooden and his face throbs against the arid ground.

Sam’s voice echoes from the radio. “He doesn’t have it. I’m empty.”

Steve gets up and puts the pain aside, keeping up with the fight and overruling the HYDRA soldier for just a moment, before being cornered.

“This is for dropping a building on my face,” snarls Rumlow. He extends a blade from his gauntlet and knocks on Steve’s direction, who’s able to deflect the blow, hitting the wall instead.

Steve grabs Rumlow’s arm and pulls the gauntlet off, only for him to reveal another knife. But Steve bests him, with a fierce kick to the chin Rumlow is brought to his knees. The man removes his mask, revealing a severely scarred face. “I think I look pretty good, all things considered.”

Captain pulls him by the collar. “Who’s your buyer?”

“You know, he knew you”, Rumlow smiles maliciously. “Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.”

Steve clenches his fists harder and pulls the man further with a rage he couldn’t blame on the Captain America’s professionalism. His fast-beating heart shouts through his ears. “What did you say?”

“He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. 'Till they put his brain back in a blender.”

Steve feels a sharp pain in his throat, closing his lungs. A bitter taste in his mouth.

“He wanted you to know something. He said to me, 'Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’ And you’re coming with me.”

A second, and the HYDRA agent activates his bomb vest. Steve flinches as Rumlow’s armor ignites, but Wanda shows in time to keep the blast contained, trapping Rumlow in agony. She lifts him into the air; her hex, however, runs from her grasp and gets out of control, as the explosion finally blossoms, devastating entire floors of a nearby building. At the terrifying scene, Wanda covers her mouth with trembling hands.

“Oh my…” Steve gasps. “Sam, we need- Fire and Rescue. On the south side of the building. We gotta get up there.”

The bitter taste in his mouth, he knows, it’s his own sorrow.

Taglist:

@starlight-starks

@dreamofaprilsblog

@everydaymj

@captainamericasdaughter

@intoomanyfandomsstuff

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x oc #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfic #peter parker #marvel fanfiction #mcu spiderman #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mine #Icaro

4 notes · View notes

chapter-61 · 4 years

Text

thank you

CARRY ON COUNTDOWN DAY 20: Fairy Tale/Myth Retelling

AO3, AU

You must never show your magic to anyone except for your aunt, his mother’s voice reminds him.

It’s hard to keep that in mind while a man is being executed right in front of him, on the grounds that he’s a magician. Baz knows the man is not a magician, he doesn’t feel any traces of magic coming from him, but he can’t do anything about it.

He watches, alongside the group of townspeople surrounding him, the man getting dragged to the middle. Above them, on the castle balcony, the king is speaking. David Pendragon. Apparently, the queen was killed by magic, or “sorcery” as the king calls it, and since then magic has been punishable by death. That’s what his mother told him, anyway.

When the executioner lifts his weapon (it looks like a big axe), Baz looks away. His gut tells him to do something, but he promised. He’s not planning on dying anytime soon.

His gaze falls on a long open window, on the side of the castle, where a woman is looking out. She’s holding onto the side of the window, her wide eyes on the execution platform. Wild brown hair surrounds her round face, big spectacles on her nose and she’s wearing a dark blue dress. She doesn’t look very happy. Baz wonders who it is and why her reaction doesn’t match the excitement of the people.

The axe comes down and the crowd applauds.

As the king finishes his speech (“bla bla, sorcery is evil”), Baz turns away and wrestles through the gathered people. Fiona should be inside the castle, and he wants to get there before the guards return.

The voice of an old woman makes him stop. The crowd gasps when she shouts at the king with tears in her eyes. Baz watches, intrigued, until the woman says: “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son!”

He feels sorry for her, but she won’t escape after threatening the prince like that.

“Seize her!” The king shouts.

Then, the woman mumbles something, and vanishes with a flash of light and whirling wind. Everyone looks astonished at the place where the woman had been just a moment before, but after a few seconds the crowd disperses with loud whispers.

Baz is rooted to the spot. This woman, a clearly potent magician, vowed to kill the crown prince. He doesn’t harbour any strong feelings for the royal family, but he’s supposed to be a student of the court ‘physician’. The death of the prince would definitely hamper his lessons and he’s looking forward to them. His mother might even say he needs those lessons more than he needs food. An exaggeration, of course, but she’s right about his grasp on his magic.

Natasha taught him as much as she could in their house, behind Malcolm’s back, which wasn’t ideal. His father is an advisor to the advisor of the king, and he certainly wouldn’t condone magic. He obviously doesn’t know about Natasha’s magic, and she’s tried her best to keep Baz’ magic a secret as well. That didn’t make it quite easy to practise, so his mother send him to the palace to learn from Fiona, because apparently it’s safer in the castle than at home (absurd).

He glances up at the open window again, but the young woman is gone. With one last look at the spot where the magician disappeared, he heads to the castle.

The next morning, he’s suffering through breakfast. If bland porridge counts as breakfast. “Aunt Fiona, this is disgusting.”

Fiona’s walking around the kitchen, touching objects and mumbling words to make them move and clean. It’s strange to see magic being used in such a mundane way, but it also feels nice. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. “Stop complaining, Basilton. I’m teaching you magic for free, the least you could do is not be an arse.”

Even though it’s been five years since Baz last saw her, Fiona still looks and acts the same. Her dark hair has a white streak in it (she told him it happened during a fight, but his mother said it’s just an ill-advised choice that Fiona doesn’t want to fix), and her black robes are tied with a blood red cord around her waist, the same colour as her lips.

She disappears into a side room, and comes back holding two vials. She puts them in front of him. “Deliver these for me. The yellow one is for Nico, the blue one for Possibelf. Make sure she doesn’t drink it all in one go.”

Baz looks down at the vials and back at Fiona, standing before him with crossed arms and a lifted eyebrow. “I have no idea who those people are.”

She rolls her eyes and picks up his bowl. “Ask around.”

“I wasn’t finished eating.”

“Be quicker next time, I have a busy day planned.”

Baz gets to his feet with a sigh. The porridge was awful anyway. Maybe he can steal a sandwich from the kitchen. If he ever finds the kitchen.

“Wait, Basilton.” Fiona holds out a few sheets of paper. “Throw that in the fire, will you?”

The fireplace is on the other side of the room, though. And he hasn’t used his magic in a few days now, it’s starting to prickle. So instead, he puts the sheets on the nearest stone table and waves his hand over them. They light on fire immediately, and in a few seconds they’re nothing but ash. He smiles. Fire magic has always been his favourite.

“What the fuck was that?”

He turns around with a frown. There wasn’t anyone around, right? Fiona looks at him and back at the incinerated sheets. “What?” He asks.

“What did you just do?”

“I burned the sheets.”

“How?!”

“I...” He feels lost. “Magic?”

“But… You didn’t use a spell. How is that possible? What did you do?”

“I don’t need a spell to light something on fire, I just think about it and it happens. Is that not what magic is?”

Fiona’s eyes are wide. “It’s definitely not. All forms of magic require spells, even the small ones. You didn’t say anything?”

“No? I just,” he waves his hand around. “I thought about lighting it on fire and it worked. I did it all the time at home.”

“Natasha knew?”

“Of course!”

“Shit. So she wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were powerful.”

“I’m powerful?”

“Kid, you can do magic without saying anything. I’ve never heard of that before.”

Baz leans on the table for support. Natasha always told him he was special but he thought that was just a thing mothers did. “What now?”

She takes the vials and pushes them in Baz’ hands. Then she shoves him out the door. “Deliver those. I need to think.”

Two hours pass, and Baz is looking for the kitchen. This castle is massive, he keeps ending up where he started. He managed to find Nico and Possibelf eventually with help from the guards, but it wasn’t an easy task. He’s hoping Fiona doesn’t keep using him as a carrier pigeon and actually teaches him some magic spells in the afternoon, but that does not seem very likely.

He turns another corner and finds himself in a wide room, empty except for three people. He immediately recognizes one of them as the woman he saw the day before, with her wild hair and round figure. She’s wearing another expensive-looking blue dress. Next to her is a taller woman, with long blonde hair and fair skin. She looks like a maid, wearing a dirty servant dress, but she’s chatting with the noble woman so she must not be that low-ranking.

The women are looking at the spectacle in front of them. And what a spectacle, indeed. Baz creeps into the room and leans against the back wall, hidden in the shadows. Now he has a better view of the man, untamed blonde curls on his head, bright blue eyes, a tight shirt across his broad chest and sweat dripping down his neck. He’s incredibly attractive, and Baz’ eyes are stuck to the muscles in his back, flexing when he swings his sword around.

Baz never found sword fighting appealing, but he’s quickly revising that opinion.

When he finally pulls his eyes away, however, he notices the lack of skill the man possesses. Being the son of the advisor of the advisor of the king, he’s had his fair share of sword lessons. This man, it seems, has not had a lot of practice.

The women aren’t giving much commentary, they look like they’re mostly chatting among themselves while the man tires himself out, punching around with the sword in hand.

When the man does another inexperienced jab and stumbles over his feet, Baz can’t help a loud snort. The three of them turn around immediately to face him.

Having blown his cover, he walks out of the shadows confidently with a smile and raised hands. “Excuse me, hope I’m not intruding. I’m afraid I got a bit lost.”

“You got lost so you decided to watch us from the shadows?” The man asks suspiciously. It doesn’t make him any less attractive. Baz tries to focus by looking at the women.

“I’m Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” he tells them. “New assistant of the court physician.”

“Nice to meet you, Basilton,” says the smaller woman with an amused smile. “I’m Penelope Bunce, King David’s niece.” So he was right, she is a noble. A highly noble woman, family of the king. She gestures at the blonde woman. “This is my friend, Agatha. She works here.”

Baz tilts his head forward. “It’s an honour. If I may ask a question?”

Penelope nods.

He gestures at the man, who hasn’t said a word since his first sentence. “Why are you two wonderful women wasting your time watching this incompetent idiot? He doesn’t even know how to hold his sword properly.”

Penelope bursts out laughing and Agatha covers a smile with her hand. Baz looks over at the man with a smile, but he’s met with a withering look.

“Excuse me?” The man says, his face turning red.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Baz says, but when Penelope keeps giggling, he figures he could go a bit further to entertain. He steps closer with a cocky smile. “Your moves could use some work. I’ve seen toddlers fight better than you.”

Penelope starts laughing again and she has to lean on Agatha to keep upright. It seems like he’s made a friend, maybe.

He’s not made a friend of the man, though. It’s a pity, but it would probably be better to steer away from attractive men.

Then the man lifts his sword in Baz’ direction with a menacing look in his eyes. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

Baz huffs a laugh, not wanting to be intimidated. “The king?” He jokes.

The man steps closer and pushes the sword tip into Baz’ chest. “My name,” he growls. “Is Simon Pendragon. And I’m the crown prince.”

Baz’ soul leaves his body. Fuck. He’s staring at the man, the crown prince, Simon bloody Pendragon, with wide eyes. Now he’s definitely never seeing his mother again. He’ll rot away in a cell at the bottom of the castle.

Thankfully, Penelope comes to his rescue. “Simon, calm down. He’s joking.”

Baz nods and steps backwards, away from the sharp tip. “I’m very sorry, your highness. I simply did not recognize you.”

“No shit,” the prince says, not lowering his sword, his eyes fixed on Baz. “Agatha, fetch a guard.”

Panic starts to rise but he presses it down and musters up a smile. “You’re going to throw me in jail because I made a comment about your sword fighting skill?”

“I could have you hanged, if you prefer that.”

“Simon.” Penelope doesn’t look too bothered. Maybe the prince is just all talk. Agatha has disappeared, presumably looking for a guard.

“I have a proposition,” Baz says, digging his grave even deeper because, for some reason, annoying the crown prince brings him pleasure. Maybe it’s because the scowl on his face makes him look more human, and less perfect. “What if we fight it out?”

“What?”

“Give me a sword, the winner decides what happens to me.” Baz throws him a challenging look.

The prince looks confused for a second. He must not be used to people talking back to him. Then his expression clears up and he smiles. It’s not very reassuring. “Fine,” the prince says. “I’ll fight you. Too bad there’s no sword for you.”

Before he can react, the prince charges at him. Baz panics and closes his eyes, bracing himself. When he doesn’t feel or hear anything after a second, he opens his eyes again, and his mouth falls open.

Everyone’s frozen in time. The prince is in the middle of his attack, raised sword, eyebrows furrowed, not blinking. Penelope stands still, her eyes on the prince, one hand reaching for him.

Baz walks around slowly, the pair like statues, and goes to a window. He’s shocked to see that everything outside is frozen as well. Everyone and everything is stuck, unmoving, in the middle of a motion. It looks like a painting.

Shit. Did he do this? How does he undo it? He’s not looking forward to telling Fiona about this.

He walks back to Penelope and the prince, and goes to stand in the same place he started. Then he looks at the prince’s sword, aiming for him, and he takes a big step to the left.

He tries to think about what makes his magic work. Fiona says it’s not normal, but it’s how he does it. Baz waves his hand and thinks, ‘please, let the time continue’.

Suddenly, the prince stumbles forward and Penelope’s reaching for him. They both look confused at the spot he was at before, and then at Baz. Penelope squints at him.

The prince says, “What the fuck.” Very princely.

“You missed,” Baz can’t help but say. He looks over at the window but everything seems to be okay again. The birds are flying around and people on the ground are moving. Disaster averted. Nobody even noticed.

“Impossible.”

“You should work on your aim.”

“You fucking git.”

Before the prince can insult him more, Agatha arrives with a guard.

“I’ve got this handled,” Penelope says before Baz can come up with an escape plan. She nods at the prince. “Go have some lunch.”

Surprisingly, the prince doesn’t protest and leaves with the guard and Agatha in tow. Disaster averted, again.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Simon can get a bit hot-headed sometimes. Definitely when he’s practising.”

“Why can’t the prince fight? Shouldn’t he get training?”

Penelope shakes her head. “David doesn’t want him to fight. He says a good king doesn’t need to be able to fight, he needs to be righteous and diplomatic. Personally, I think the king is afraid of being overthrown by his own son.”

Baz’ eyes snap to Penelope. “Why would the prince overthrow the king?”

She shrugs. “Simon isn’t planning on it, but he doesn’t agree with a lot of his father’s policies either.”

“Hm.”

“Not the magic one, sadly. The death of his mother hit him hard. One of these days I’ll convince him.”

“You don’t think magicians should be punished?” He asks, carefully. It would explain why Penelope looked like that at the execution the previous day.

She snorts. “I’d be a hypocrite if I thought that.”

“What?”

“I’m a magician, Basilton.”

“What?” He sputters. “You can’t just… tell me that. You don’t know what I could...”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “I’m not an idiot. You did something while Simon tried to hit you. You’re clearly a magician too. And Fiona told me.”

He’s still trying to process the fact that Penelope has magic too. Fiona told her about him? And she didn’t even bother to mention it? He was going to have words with her later.

“Don’t look that scared about it, this is great! I’ll have a magic mate. Could you teach me what you did? Was it a teleportation spell? I didn’t see you cast anything, though. What was it?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think we should be talking about this here.”

Penelope looks around them. They’re still in the empty room, but there are probably guards outside. “You’re right. We’ll chat later. You should meet the dragon first.”

“Dragon?”

Great. Just great. Now he’s apparently part of some prophecy, destined to protect Simon Pendragon until he becomes king, and help him unite Watford.

He never asked for this.

And the crown prince would never accept his help, let alone be his friend and listen to his advice.

Terrific.

#merlin au!!!#throwback to 2017 when i was a big merlin fan despite not watching beyond season 1 lmao #carry on countdown #coc 2019 #carry on #day 20 #my fics #yes i could've used this for the witch prompt #and yes merlin au doesn't really fit in with the fairy tale/myth prompt #BUT #sword in the stone and king arthur?? that counts as a myth in my eyes #if you get the title reference i'm sorry

12 notes · View notes

etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

A word of stern warning before we proceed.

Thank you very much.

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

XIII

***

"Mr. V, are you okay?" Roman asked him as he and Griffon helped him.

"It's him." V whispered, feeling the pain in his chest increase.

"Who?"

The poet clutched at his chest, feeling his own tears come down his face at what he just witnessed. He looked at Roman and Griffon, and with an anguished voice, he spoke,

"It's Christopher Lancaster. He was the one,... behind (Y/N)'s suffering. And Victor,” V inhaled deeply as he clutched at the metal cane in his hand, his anger overwhelming him and taking over what’s left of his sensible reasoning as he began seeing red in utter madness and hatred. “He,… DID NOT LISTEN TO HER! HE,… LEFT HER!”

With all of his might and anger, he threw away the cane that hurt (Y/N).

No. He threw away the cane that belonged to the man who hurt her.

Griffon squawked as he flew over to the thing to retrieve it.

A few moments later, Roman was going through Nico's files in the computer, trying to find something. Fortunately, the woman has woken up according to him but, she didn't linger and fell asleep once more a few moments later.

But, not without telling an important message first.

And whatever that was, Roman was frantically looking for it amongst the files, recordings, and videos they were able to record for the past two nights.

V, on the other hand, still felt indignant. He still couldn't believe what Victor did to her that he refused to take the cane from Griffon's waiting beak.

Other than that, he couldn't do anything else at the moment but wait for Roman to finish his research. He knew that some writings have manifested in (Y/N)'s journal. He just didn't have the heart to look at them given the current situation.

"Dios mio,..." Roman breathed as he slapped his forehead for seemingly the tenth time that day. Just like how Nico was two days ago, the Hispanic guy couldn't seem to find exactly what he was looking for. "What does 749 mean, anyway? Ms. Nico kept saying it over and over again before passing out. Do you know, Mr. V?"

"No."

"And the way she pointed at her mouth as she mumbled those digits! She looked like she wanted to eat something.”

"Hmm,..."

"And look at this! Someone just entered the first room on the right."

V felt electricity run through his veins as he quickly stood and made his way towards Roman to view the PC.

"Would you kindly show that to me?" He told Avery's fiancé. The poor guy obliged and one click of the mouse later, a video popped out, showing a man clad in white from head to foot enter one of the rooms on the second floor.

It was the one of the three rooms on the right, which was previously locked.

With a deep sigh, he turned on his heel and made his way towards the second floor. But, not before instructing Griffon to stay put with Roman should anything happen. And Shadow? Let's just say she's been out of commission since the incident with Nico. It really seemed that she couldn't fight against whatever creature attacked the Artisan.

He should be safe, right? After all, it's broad daylight,...

He strode towards the said rooms and didn't hesitate to fling open the first door. And he was right. It was unlocked.

But, how and when?

The room looked pretty decent, actually. It was a simple bedroom that looked the same as the one for the guests on the ground floor, but only with one canopy bed. He stepped within it, hoping that no creature in white would attack him. Then, he began searching every nook and cranny for some more clues, notes, photos, heck, even newspaper clippings, anything. He looked under the bed, behind the closet, the side table drawer, even behind the heavy maroon curtains. But, there was none.

That was, until he began looking underneath the sheets and pillows.

V's eyes widened as his hands came into contact with what felt like long, thin threads, and when he took them out from underneath the pillows, he realized they were human hair.

Blonde human hair.

V dropped them almost instinctively as yesterday's horror came back to his senses.

That restless spirit of the maid named Roselle,...

He knew that Christopher Lancaster was the one who murdered her and (Y/N)'s father. And (Y/N)? It was pretty obvious to him that she only married him because she didn't want the sinister doctor to kill anyone else who was close to her.

And Victor? Apparently, he wasn’t able to understand anything because he didn't listen to her that day! And he even hurt her!

"I would never hurt you, (Y/N)." He whispered as if he was talking directly to her. "Never."

All of a sudden, he heard some noises from the other room. V cautiously made his way closer to the source of sound, and as he pressed an ear against the wall, he heard it: shrieks and cries and pleas of a woman.

The poet drew back in terror as he hastily made his way out of the room towards the next one, practically kicking it open and revealing the neat office that probably belonged to that evil doctor.

"Please, stop! I beg you!"

V heard the voice once more, and when he entered the room, he finally saw the source of the pleas.

And a few tense minutes later, he, Roman, and Griffon were looking down at a very old device back in the entrance hall.

"I think that's a phonograph." Roman mused as he examined the antique device that V brought along from the doctor’s office. "Like a very old record player. Professors or even doctors used these for their studies."

"Doctors?" V asked him.

"Exactly. You know, like for documentation purposes. Or experiments."

Experiments? "That screaming lady in the record. I think it's one of Lancaster's patients."

"Patients?" Roman chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "More like victims to me. Look, if - "

V's eyes narrowed as Roman's voice seemingly drowned in the music that was coming out of the phonograph's horn.

His eyebrows furrowed, his sight getting blurrier and blurrier. V pinched the bridge of his nose, the melancholic music forcefully invading its way to his head and giving him a feeling of nausea.

He closed his eyes, wanting so much to chase away the feeling of depression that suddenly took over his whole being. And when he opened them once more, he found himself seated on a pew amongst the crowd of aristocrats wearing white. The music was still playing on the background, and as he looked at the front, he saw two people exchanging wedding vows before the officiating minister.

The man unveiled the bride and V saw her,...

While other women might consider their wedding day as the happiest day of their life, (Y/N), for understandable reasons, was not at all joyful with the event. And while she may be wearing a very beautiful gown made entirely of the most delicate white lace, silk, and satin, her sad and tired eyes clearly showed those endless days and nights she wept for all the things she lost.

And as Dr. Christopher Lancaster gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and as the crowd applauded in celebration, she abruptly turned away, tears pouring out of her eyes once more.

V turned away, the pain in his chest overtaking his whole being once more. He turned back just in time as (Y/N) collapsed in Lancaster's arms.

Panic settled over everyone. He was about to go after her when the surroundings before him got wiped out like painting on a canvass against turpentine. Darkness and silence engulfed V, and when he was pulled back into the light, he saw Daniella and (Y/N)'s loyal maidservant talking to her, arguing with her, pleading with her.

"Get rid of it!" Daniella begged (Y/N) as tears flowed down her face. "He will kill you!"

"Young Master Victor will never accept this!" The maidservant added. "Please, my lady, heed lady Daniella's wishes and rid yourself of this burden!"

(Y/N), who now have dark circles beneath her once radiant eyes and hollow cheeks that were once pink and plump, looked at the two ladies as she protectively placed a hand on her belly.

"This,... is what remained of Victor's existence in my miserable life. Of the love we once shared." She told them, her voice resolute, and yet it trembled with each word she uttered, especially when she mentioned the name of the man who hurt and left her. "Victor may not accept this as his own but, I will raise this no matter the cost!"

"But, Lord Lancaster will never allow this!" Daniella argued as she kneeled before her friend. "I beg you! Please! Do this for your own safety."

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, then she closed her eyes and looked away as her shoulders shook with her sobs. "I have made my decision,..."

"YOU, BITCH!"

V heard the unmistakable howl once more as his surroundings changed. And as he heard the clatter of silverware from a distance, he went after the light that beckoned to him.

However, nothing in his own miserable life, not even his experiences as a Devil Hunter in the face of real danger in the hands of his enemies, prepared him for what he saw.

Standing next to (Y/N) as she sat on a chair facing the fancy table was the doctor, himself. He somehow looked more intimidating than ever, and his stance alone made the servants in the room cower in fear.

But, (Y/N) was an entirely different story, altogether. Her belly, its size now clearly grown, showed, and as she gently rubbed on it with her now skeletal hands, she looked at it as if it was the most precious thing in the whole wide world.

And this infuriated the doctor even more.

"LISTEN TO ME, YOU, BITCH!" Lancaster howled as he grabbed the back of her head and brought her face down to the bowl of porridge on the table before her. "YOU DO AS I SAY AND OBEY ME! YOU DO NOT DISHONOR ME BEFORE OTHERS! YOU DO EVERYTHING I TELL YOU LIKE THE GULLIBLE BITCH WHORE YOU TRULY ARE!"

V has had enough. He was about to summon his familiars but, it proved to be useless in this realm. And as his eyes stung with the unspeakable scene before him, he wrathfully strode towards Lancaster and tried to strangle him.

But, of course, it didn't do anything.

When Lancaster let go of (Y/N)'s head, she howled in pain, her now slightly burned face a mess. And not even a second has passed when Lancaster grabbed the back of her head once more and did the same to her face to the now empty bowl, breaking the porcelain, its shattered pieces wounding her face.

"FOOLISH WHORE!" Lancaster howled once more as he let go of her head and spat at her once lustrous hair that V has come to adore.

V kneeled before her, unable to do anything, helpless in front of an enemy he couldn't slaughter. The poor woman silently cried as her loyal maidservant came forward to clean her wounds and the mess on her person.

"My Lord." A servant came forward and handed a white envelope to Lancaster. The doctor opened this and read the contents.

Then, after that, a sick, sinister smile showed on his features. He went to (Y/N) once more, and as V braced himself for another onslaught of violence, the doctor only gently touched the woman's face as he placed a kiss on her bloody forehead.

"Clean yourself. Get dressed." The doctor told her. "Our presence is needed."

With those last words from the sick and evil doctor, V's surroundings changed once more, its colors getting more and more twisted as he descended upon the most painful memories of (Y/N)'s life.

And when he found himself back on the same church, sitting on a pew amongst aristocrats, he found her sitting just next to him. Her hand clutching her chest, and her veil covering her wounded face, she wept, her tears staining her once beautiful and lively features. He looked at the altar and saw, in his utter shock, Victor Blake, the man who was the cause of all this misery, exchanging wedding vows with another, younger and more beautiful woman.

Please, don't forget me, my dear, humble poet, and of those times we spent time together.

I will cherish those moments for as long as I live.

I will never forget May 11. I will never forget I have met the most wonderful man in the whole wide world.

I will never forget you for as long as live, V.

Yours truly,

(Y/N), your Little Wanderer, Evening Star, Beloved Muse, Little, Innocent One, and Little Lamb.

P.S.

I Love You

(Y/N) stood just in time as Victor lifted the veil and kissed his beautiful bride. And as half of the guests celebrated, including the doctor, who probably do not consider Blake as a threat now, the other half watched in shock as the woman the poet once adored walked away from the church,...

... and collapsed, her pain - streaked voice piercing the cheers of everyone else inside the building.

Daniella, who also wore the same veil as her, came for her and noticed the blood staining her immaculate white dress. She turned to Lancaster and to the other guests, her face contorted in fright.

"It's coming!" She screamed just as Victor came forward and saw how the woman he once loved bled.

V didn't do anything as his surroundings morphed.

He didn't even do anything as he watched (Y/N) give birth, her arms and ankles tied to the bed posts to keep them in place, her mouth gagged to suppress her screams.

He didn't lift a finger when the beautiful babe was taken away from her by force.

He didn't do anything when Lancaster closed the door of their shared bedroom as he removed his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt.

However, the moment he heard her voice, he trembled and opened the door, revealing (Y/N), now reduced to a skeletal form of herself and with more wounds and bruises all over her body, talking quietly to the loyal maidservant who stayed with her all throughout her life.

The only actual person who stayed with her despite the risk of being murdered by Christopher Lancaster.

And as V watched how she hurriedly talked to the woman who took care of her, he felt the tears go down his eyes as he covered his mouth to stifle the sobs. No amount of self control could stop his own heart from weeping for the once radiant, beautiful, and beloved girl.

That's how he knew that he -

"Take this. Hide this. Do everything you can to keep these memories safe." (Y/N) said as she handed her own journal, the journal that V has in his pocket right now, to her most trusted servant. "And when I die, I want you to go to Victor and tell him everything. Give this to him. And go away from here. As far away as you can."

"My lady, let's just run away from here!" The servant pleaded as she held the journal close to her heart. "Take the child with us."

(Y/N) only shook her head as tears fell down her face. "I can't. I will die here. I know. You take care of my child. Raise her as your own. Do it for me, please."

"Day twenty - one: Bloodletting and purging."

V heard Lancaster's voice in the phonograph a few seconds later as the atmosphere around him changed one more time.

And what he saw next made his stomach turn.

Three nurses wounding (Y/N) on both arms with a knife as she was restrained on a metal chair inside a sickly bright room, letting her blood stain the perfect white floor. He turned and saw Lancaster speaking to the cylinder of his phonograph as the poor girl screamed in pain and begged him to stop.

"Please, stop! I beg you!"

"Internal biochemical relationship was behind mental disorders. Bleeding, purging, and vomiting will help correct these imbalances in the body and would help heal the physical and mental illness.”

"I'm not insane! Please! Pl - !" (Y/N) screamed before one of the nurses stifled her howls of pain with a gag.

"One trait of mental illness is denial. The patient often finds itself unable to grasp what's truth and what's not. At times, they would even go as far as hurting the people they love. And worse, themselves."

V looked away, wishing the visions to stop plaguing him, to stop showing him these painful memories,...

"Day forty - six: Hydrotherapy."

The poet looked once more, and this time, he saw the nurses tying the girl's hands and feet and throwing a sheet over her head, twisting it roughly around her throat so she would not scream. They, then, put her in a bathtub filled with what looked like ice water.

"This turn of the century technique proved to be highly effective in reducing the patient's agitation by submerging it in cold water, especially during manic episodes. I will keep her submerged for extended periods of time, instructing my assistants to add more - "

"ENOUGH!" V howled as he chased the visions away.

And with just one blink, he's back to his own reality.

" ... and with the way they treat patients with mental illness is just horrific, it gives me the chills! Hey, Mr. V, are you okay?" Roman asked as he gave the poet a concerned look.

"I - " V began but was interrupted when he saw something going down the stairs.

"Mr. V? Are you - ?"

"Ssh!"

Roman looked behind him and saw the same thing with his own eyes. It was a girl carrying (Y/N)'s diary.

Her loyal maidservant.

With eyes wide with shock and mouth opened wide, the two men watched as the girl quickly made her way towards the huge heavy door. She opened it and made her way towards the house across the mansion without looking back.

Then, V finally remembered,...

The numbers on Nico's hand, the way she pointed at her mouth as if she wanted to eat something,...

... the number 749,...

She was pertaining to No. 749 Swan Lane.

***

✒ @la-vita , @micaelagua , @v-vic , and @birdgirl69 . ✒

***

✒✒✒

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #p.s. i love you #v x reader #v x you #chapter 13 #descend to madness

18 notes · View notes