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bokutosworld · 3 years

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the ending scene | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader word count, genre: 2.3k words, angst. kenma makes a cameo and offers support as the good friend that he is. summary: in which kuroo realizes that his relationship is edging closer to its end, and it’s up to him to cut the ties.

“Did you really love me?” His question takes you by surprise, your words getting stuck in your throat. “I want to know,” his voice breaks. “In the years that we were together, did you ever truly love me?”

How do you look at the person you love and tell yourself that it is time to walk away?

It’s a thought that has been sitting in Kuroo’s mind for a while now. And as he’s standing outside the library, the glass windows giving him unobstructed view of you, it seems to him that he’s much closer to the answer more than he thought.

You weren’t alone. He recognizes the person you were with and his heart clenches at the sight.

Yanagi was their name, and he remembers meeting him during a college party. His mind plays back that moment when you happily introduced them to each other. They were the two most important men in your life as you declared. It had only been a few weeks since you two started dating, but he was genuinely touched that you’d already considered him a special person in your life.

But looking at the two of you from his current spot, he wonders if he still holds that position. Right now, anyone could easily mistake you and Yanagi for a couple. For a study session, the two of you seemed too close for comfort, and any other day, he wouldn’t think anything of it. He knows that Yanagi has been your best friend for years. The pair of you go way back, even before Kuroo had entered your lives.

And he respects that. It wasn’t in Kuroo’s personality to ever be possessive to the point that he’d stop you from being friends with others. In fact, he’s the one who’s always pushing you to be more social and hang out with your friends. Just because he was dating you doesn’t mean he wants to monopolize you.

But he has his moments when he wonders if he has ever made you smile the way you were smiling in Yanagi’s presence right now. He ponders if you’d ever laughed so hard with him, tears of joy spilling from the corners of your eyes, the way Yanagi was making you right now. You seem so free, so comfortable with Yanagi, and he couldn’t help but wish that it was him instead who was by your side.

Kuroo has half a mind to turn around and leave you be, knowing that Yanagi would bring you home safely anyway. But your eyes catch his, and suddenly he feels frozen in his spot.

You wave, the smile that he’s fallen in love with paints your face as you call him over. His resolve to go home and talk to Kenma about his worries dissipates the instant you beckon for him.

“I was wondering when you’d arrive,” you stand and kiss him on the cheek the moment he reaches your table. “I’m getting hungry. It’s about time we go for dinner, don’t you think?”

He reaches to carry your laptop, helping you fix your things. “Is Yanagi joining us?” He watches you, anxious as he waits for your answer. You take a second to think it over, but he doesn’t miss how your face lightens up at his suggestion. He watches you excitedly turn to your friend, inviting him to go. And it was when Yanagi agrees that Kuroo realizes his mistake.

—

“Why are you here, Kuroo?” Kenma drops his bag at the side of his bed where the boy currently in question was lounging. “I know I gave you access to my flat, but that doesn’t mean you can just barge in here without a warning.”

Kuroo grumbles, tossing and turning in his friend’s bed before he sits up with a scowl on his face. He exhales loudly, his hands flying to his hair to ruffle them in his confusion. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” Kenma drags his gaming chair and takes a seat across Kuroo. He already has a hunch about his friend’s problem, but he didn’t want to assume and get ahead of himself. In times like these, he’d known that it was better for Kuroo to open up and talk about it by himself.

Kuroo opens his mouth and closes them again. He hesitates. As if the moment he starts talking about it would mean that he’s already admitted his defeat, already accepted the dreadful fate that awaits his relationship.

“Is it her?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it this time?” Kenma wasn’t a stranger to his friend’s overthinking, the way he would come up with a hundred different scenarios that was not helping with the waging war in his mind.

“I’m not sure if I’m still the right person for her,” he confesses. “Yesterday, I went to pick her up at the library and I wasn’t expecting anything, but it still didn’t feel right to see her with him. You know Yanagi.”

Kenma nods, the name ringing a bell in his mind as it had already come up in previous conversations with him. His friend continues, “I know that she’s been nothing but good to me. She’s the best partner that I could ever ask for. I’m happy. We are happy, but yesterday, I saw it in her eyes.

The way she looked at him. I don’t think she’s ever looked at me like that. Not a moment when she smiled or laughed with me the way she did with him.”

He’s never seen Kuroo conflicted like this. Sure, this wasn’t the first time that his former captain came to him for relationship advice. But this was the first that Kuroo’s seemed so desperate, so dejected that the only thing that he was considering was letting go.

“They… have a lot of history together, huh?”

Kuroo chuckles dryly at the remark. “Yeah, and I don’t think I can ever compete with that.”

“But you were together for three years. Wouldn’t it be a complete waste just to give up and throw it all away because, I’m sorry for the word, you were insecure?”

Kenma was right. It’s not that he didn’t trust you; he was insecure, and his doubts were eating him up from the inside. It doesn’t help that there were people around you and him that kept talking about Yanagi, complimenting their easy and comfortable friendship – how they seem like the bestest of friends, like they were soulmates.

“I don’t think I can ever compete with what they have.” Kuroo plops back down on the bed, his voice muffled when he says, “Our three years seem nothing compared to the decades that they have spent together.”

“So,” Kenma sits up and grabs a bottle of beer, one for him and one for Kuroo. “What are you going to do?”

He sees the drink in Kenma’s hand and grabs it. Sitting up, he pops open the cold beverage and takes a sip before asking, “How do you look at the one you love and tell yourself that it is time to walk away?

Sympathizing with his friend, Kenma thinks over his reply, “You don’t want to carry this burden forever. You should already know what to do before it all becomes too much, and you can’t recover.”

—

After meeting with Kenma, Kuroo spent the rest of his evening productive, doing his homework and writing papers to keep his mind from steering to thoughts of you.

The answer was already staring him in the face. But it was still so hard for him to come to terms with it. You were the best thing to happen to him, and he vividly remembers the time when he was so mesmerized when he saw you. People say it doesn’t happen in real life, but Kuroo swears he fell in love at first sight.

He reminisces on your many firsts together. The second-hand embarrassment lingering when he remembers the sleepless nights he spent practicing how he would say those three words to you. But you were a force to be reckoned with.

The words I love you catching him by surprise when they slip out of your mouth one afternoon while you were cuddling in his apartment. He wishes he could turn back time, prays that he could experience it all over again so he could press capture and keep it in his memory.

But he couldn’t, and the reality pains him more than he ever thought it could.

Kuroo spent the whole weekend holed up in his room. Not bothering to check his phone for messages and calls, missing how you left so many texts and voicemails on the device. The sudden silent treatment was worrying you, but you gave up, deciding that you’d talk to him at campus.

However, once the new school week started, Kuroo was nowhere to be seen. He was still not answering any messages, and the rare times that you’d catch him, he’d have an excuse that he had somewhere urgent to go to. But a person could only be busy for so many times.

Besides, you knew his schedule like the back of your hand. And it was becoming clear to you that he was ignoring you. But for why? You sadly didn’t know.

—

Kuroo felt bad. He was already experiencing the effects of withdrawal from distancing himself from you. He’s been so used to you being part of his every day that it was making him feel empty without you.

But this was what he had to do, and ignoring you was his way of slowly preparing himself, and you, for the inevitable.

And the inevitable happens right after your last class on a Friday. A whole week passed by in a blink of an eye, and you were getting hopeless over no interaction with Kuroo. Yanagi had suggested for you to check up on him at his apartment, but you knew that maybe Kuroo needed the time alone.

So when you found him waiting for you outside the classroom, you ran and tackled him with a hug. “You dummy, I missed you. How could you be so cold to me this past week?”

He laughs, but it didn’t sound like him. “I’m sorry, I got busy with my majors.” He takes your pile of folders and carries it. “Shall we head to our usual place for some snacks?”

You agree, but there was a nagging voice in your head telling you to prepare for things to be never be the same again.

The after-school date was decent. You and Kuroo caught up with your activities, exchanging stories that you’d been wanting to tell him for the past week. You notice him nodding to your words, but you avoid commenting on his disinterest and the way he seemed so occupied.

It was when the pair of you were walking home that you finally brought it up. “Okay, something is clearly bothering you. What’s wrong?”

His head remains downcast, the hold on your hand tightening, “We need to talk.”

He makes a stop to the playground near your home. He lets go of your hand, walking to the bench and takes a seat. You reluctantly follow suit. Without any minute to spare, Kuroo takes a deep breath and lays it down. “We should break up.”

You wondered if you heard him right, frantically searching his face for any indication that he was joking. That he was pulling a prank despite April Fool’s Day being months away from now. “What did you just say?”

He’s avoiding your look, “We should end this.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” You lash out, getting to your feet and standing in front of him. “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed. You’ve been so indifferent, so absent, and even today, you weren’t the Kuroo that I am in love with.”

He snaps, finally looking at you. “Did you really love me?” His question takes you by surprise, your words getting stuck in your throat. “I want to know,” his voice breaks. “In the years that we were together, did you ever truly love me?”

“Where is this coming from?” You were shaking. “What ar-”

But he was relentless, “What do you think of Yanagi?” That question seemed to hit the nail on the head as you stood still, dumbfounded, shoulders sagging because for once, you didn’t know how to answer.

“You love them, don’t you?” He smiles sadly. “And not just as a friend.”

It’s like a cold wave washes over you, and the tension was getting too much. You take a seat beside him and Kuroo pats your head in understanding. “I see it. How you’re falling in love with him right in front of my eyes, and how he is being the same.” He drops his hand. “But I can’t blame you. I know he’s been there for you longer than I have, and there’s clearly chemistry between you two.”

You didn’t know when you started crying, but your face was becoming wet with tears every second that passes by. “I didn’t… I wasn’t lying all those times that I told you I loved you.”

“I know.” You just love him more, he figures.

“I’m sorry.” The instant you said those words, Kuroo feels his heart split in two. He never wanted to make you cry like this, let alone make you say those words. But this was it, the ending of his love.

“I should be saying that.” He knows you were hurting too, but he also knows that by doing this, you could finally have the chance to be truly happy even if it weren’t by his side anymore.

“I’m sorry for taking you from them. For robbing you of precious time you could’ve spent with them.” He kneels down, taking your face in his hands and wiping the tears. “But thank you for letting me experience what it’s like to be loved by you for the past three years.”

One last kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll always be rooting for your happiness.”

And with one last searing kiss on the lips as goodbye, Kuroo makes his exit from your life and draws the curtain down on his chapter with you.

#hqradiostation #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu angst #kuroo angst #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu drabbles #hq!!

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 37: A Trevelyan’s Word

Tristan and Dorian spend some much needed quiet time together. Some fluff, a tiiiiny bit of angst (blink and you’ll miss it), and some important conversations.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Libraries had always been one of Dorian’s favourite places to be, ever since he could remember himself.

After having lived in so many different Circles, and having worked and studied in many more, gravitating towards the nearest library wherever he happened to be was something like second nature to him. He remembered the layout of every one he’d visited in startling detail: the neat rows of bookcases of the Carastes Circle; the circular library tower of the Circle of Trevis, with its tinted glass windows that had been specifically designed to protect the priceless tomes from the scorching sun and the dust; the vast Library of Minrathous, where one could easily lose themselves in unless they had a chart, a compass, a detailed floor plan and perhaps said a prayer or two. Regardless of the size, layout or method of archiving, finding what he was looking for had always been a swift matter, each library’s secrets revealing themselves to him readily after one brief sweep of the many rooms and shelves.

Never once had he encountered a library as reticent as the one in Skyhold.

After several months there, he still could not figure out the organisational system that the books had once been stored in. He’d assumed it was because of all the different kinds of people that had once resided there, but even in the oldest and most dilapidated libraries he had visited there was some method to the madness. In Skyhold, however, there was just madness.

Books on Pyromancy, which he had personally moved to the top floor - where they belonged, alongside the treatises on Primal magic- would magically appear on the lower floor shelves, alongside the tomes on Entropy magic. The scrolls of ancient Tevinter glyphs and spells, which he had found after sorting through the multitude of Chantry books that seemed to be practically sprouting out of the soil in that place, and that he had painstakingly cleaned from dust and arranged in alphabetical order in the booth next to his own, had now disappeared into thin air. The apprentice archivists, when he’d asked them, had simply stared at him with the sparkling gazes of well-fed heifers. One of them had had the audacity to look him straight in the eye and unironically say:

“If it’s Spirit glyphs you’re interested in, why don’t you read Former Second Enchanter Muriel’s research? Those scrolls you're looking for are outdated, anyway.”

Outdated? Outdated! The very notion had had Dorian grinding his teeth. As if seeing Former Second Enchanter Muriel’s sour visage every day, and listening to her endless tirades about Tevinter and anything else that displeased her wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t touch that tiresome crone’s research with a ten foot pole— no, make it twenty feet. One could never be too safe.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he shoved the book on Alchemy he’d found lying forgotten by the side of the wrong bookcase back in its proper shelf. If he’d known the level of ignorance and buffoonery he would be met with in the South, he would have seriously reconsidered ever leaving Minrathous. Oh, certainly, his homeland was a nest of vipers, but at least Tevinters knew how to organise a dratted library.

Now, if only he could find who in the Maker’s dratted name had gone through his dratted scrolls—

A glance at the research table across the rotunda promptly answered his question.

“Helisma,” he grumbled through clenched teeth as he stomped towards her. Priceless scrolls and documents were gathered willy-nilly in her arms, as well as the arms of the two apprentices that trailed her. The Tranquil looked up at him calmly when he barred her way.

“May I ask what on earth you have been doing with all the scrolls? You are the one who snatched them away, and don’t you even try to deny it.”

“I moved them to the underground storage rooms.”

That she could deliver those lines without an ounce of emotion was entirely bewildering, despite the fact that she was, indeed, a Tranquil. He forced his lips into a tight, sarcastic smile. “Why would you do that, pray tell? What have the poor things done to offend you so? Surely whatever it was could have been resolved over some tea and crumpets, instead of banishment to the nearest dungeon.”

She simply blinked at him, her tone completely flat as she informed him, “The upper levels of the library are reserved for leather bound tomes and codexes. The underground storage rooms are where scrolls, manuscripts and loose documents should be kept.”

“Helisma, my dear,” Dorian uttered tightly, trying his best not to lose his composure and start yelling in the middle of the library where everybody and their aunts could hear, “we have been over this. There is no reason for the scrolls to be there. They are needed here, where they can be used. The storage rooms are as damp as it gets, certainly you must be able to see that keeping ancient and fragile scrolls there is not the wisest course of action?”

“The humidity in the storage rooms is less than forty percent. That is lower than the Circle of Amaranthine’s storage rooms by five point two degrees.”

“And you’re saying it as if it’s a good thing? If the humidity in the Minrathous library was half as high, the master archivist would be having an apoplexy!” Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep breath. There clearly wasn’t any way of making sense of this, and he would sooner teach a mule to dance than talk Helisma out of her ways. “Very well. Have it your way. I’ll see what I’ll be able to salvage from this mess.” He sniffed and tossed his head back in defiance as he turned around and stomped back the way he’d come, leaving a blank-eyed Helisma behind.

The chill in the lower vaults was unmistakable, cutting through his many layers of clothing and piercing him right to the bone. Dorian resisted the urge to frown as he gathered his cloak around his shoulders. Any more of that, and he would getting wrinkles before his time, and he had enough as it was. Ever since coming to the South, he had noticed a few more around his eyes that he was sure had not been there a few months before. If this went on any longer, he would be looking like a shrivelled up prune by the time this entire Inquisition business was done.

The stray thought made him stop short, there, in the half dark and quiet of the vaults. Part of him wasn’t sure if he wished the Inquisition business to be done, he realised. Of course, he wanted Corypheus and his Venatori to be defeated, more than anyone. If this were done, the world would have a chance to recover, and with it his country’s reputation. Still… the thought of the future brought with it a certain amount of trepidation. Trevelyan would ultimately be the one to face all those dangers, and no one knew how he would be affected. His life was on the line, day after day, and Dorian more than anyone could see how it was stretching him thin. Even if everything went according to plan though, even if they both survived this ordeal, no one knew what the future held for the two of them. For the time being, they were bound by this common cause. Beyond this… only time could tell.

The worry and unease that he so often tried to brush away slithered to the surface. Dorian took a deep breath to quell it. There was no point thinking of the future, when everything about the present was so uncertain. Trevelyan was alive and well now, as much as he could be, and that was all that mattered.

Brushing the thoughts aside, Dorian turned right as soon as he’d reached the storage room he was looking for. It was the farthest down the corridor, with only a lone torch burning.

Torches. Amidst all this paper. The horror.

The sounds beyond the door of the storage room quickly revealed that there was someone else there, shifting through the many scrolls and documents in the cramped space. At least she had the sense to conjure a small ball of light, which was now hovering above her as she searched, its halo glossing her cropped black hair. She gave a small start when she heard him entering, her large blue eye widening.

“Lord Pavus,” Grand Enchanter Fiona breathed, pressing her palm to her chest. Or was it just Fiona, now? “You frightened me.”

“My apologies,” he said. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced at the scrolls she had been shifting through. “I see I wasn’t the only one who has found the scrolls Helisma has banished down here useful.”

“Ah, yes. She does have some strong opinions about where everything should be stored. I’m not entirely certain I agree.”

She gave Dorian the barest hints of a smile. Their interactions had always been kept serious and professional, both of them taking care not to linger in each other’s presence too long, despite them practically sharing the same workspace. At first, it was because Dorian wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, and he had the suspicion that his presence made her just as uneasy. However, he had soon found out that she didn’t particularly invite any interaction beyond the typical. The former Grand Enchanter and Grey Warden had kept a low profile ever since joining the Inquisition, more so after they had taken permanent residence in Skyhold, and Dorian didn’t blame her for that. There had been enough talk about her, even without her stirring any sort of trouble or gossip.

Even so, the fact that the former leader of the mage rebellion, who had —unknowingly, allegedly— struck a deal with the Venatori and had been banished from Ferelden because of it, could go by largely unnoticed at all was an impressive feat. Still, she managed to do just that. Most days.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for? Can I be of any help?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. You’re much better versed with those scrolls than I assume I am.” A compliment? That was promising. “I’m searching for Magister Domitius’ research on reanimated undead. I do remember seeing a copy a while ago, in loose papers, but it disappeared before I had time to properly bind it. Have you perhaps seen it?”

Dorian narrowed his eyes in thought as he looked around the stacks. It didn’t take long for him to spot a few sheets of paper hastily rolled and bound with a leather cord. “That seems to be it,” he said as he dragged it out carefully and handed it to her. Fiona inclined her head in gratitude, unwrapping the document with slow, careful motions.

“Thank you. That was most helpful.”

“Anytime.” Dorian took a step back, giving the mage some time and space to inspect the discovery. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she read, her lips pursing in thought. She was short in stature, and could easily be overlooked if she wished it to be so. Yet there was something about her, a commanding presence and a stubborn streak that was hard to define, and to hide.

“I studied this one many years ago," he mused, crossing his arms before his chest. "It’s a rather interesting treatise, although some of the glyphs for releasing the spells that bind the undead are quite crude.”

“Crude, but effective. That is just what is needed right now. I hear the undead have claimed many lives all over Thedas, and will likely claim many more.”

“So grim, so early in the day? Grand Enchanter, I expected more from you.”

The elf glanced up at him, her lips quirked in amusement. “Former Grand Enchanter, if you please. Or you can just call me Fiona, as everyone else does these days.” The smile faded away as she looked down at the scroll once more. “One does learn to be grim after seeing as many deaths as I have. It is a hard thing to shake off.”

The silence that followed between them was somewhat awkward, with her carefully studying the writing on the yellowed and musty pages. Still, if there was something Dorian was good at, that was filling the silence. “So how come you’re studying the undead? I wasn’t aware that necromancy was your field of study.”

“It is not. The Inquisitor reported a large number of demons and undead in Crestwood, and some of the Inquisition mages were assigned with coming up with strategies to defend the villages until the Inquisitor is able to close the rift. I have experience battling the creatures, so I volunteered to investigate the matter further and to train the new recruits.”

Dorian’s stomach tightened ever so slightly. There were so many issues that demanded Trevelyan’s attention, he often wondered how the man found time to eat or sleep. He certainly seemed to be doing much less of both these days. That he found time to spend with Dorian at all when they were in Skyhold was a marvel in and of itself. Even before leaving for Crestwood, before the ordeal they’d both been through with the demon, he'd seemed so gaunt and pale, wrung out. The Inquisition was stretching him thin. Dorian wondered if ever the time would come that it would break him.

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow past the knot in his throat. He wouldn’t let it come to this, not if he could help it. He would stand by him, help him as much as he could. That was what a partner did, after all, wasn’t it?

“It is very noble of you, to offer to help with the matter,” he told her, in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts.

“Not at all. It is the least I can do to aid the Inquisition’s efforts.” She let out a soft sigh as she rolled the scroll back up carefully. “The way things ended in Redcliffe, the Inquisitor could have demanded anything he wished. Instead, he offered us a full alliance, and our dignities back. That is not something I am about to forget.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose he could have ordered you to become the Inquisition court jesters, as I hear the Orlesians seem to be doing with their mages.”

Fiona stared at him for a brief moment, until she realised he was jesting. She let out a chuckle then, shaking her head lightly. “I am glad he did not.”

Dorian joined her in laughter, the awkwardness between them dissipating somewhat. Affection and a strange sort of pride blossomed within him when he remembered Trevelyan in the hall of Redcliffe castle, only the bearer of the mark back then, with no real authority to his name, standing tall and proud before the King of Ferelden himself and declaring the mages equal partners of the Inquisition. Everyone had thought him mad, Dorian included. Looking back, perhaps it was around then that Dorian had fallen in love with him in earnest. A fool he certainly was, but a brave, beautiful, extraordinary fool at that.

“He has been known to make some interesting choices,” Dorian said, not quite able to hide the tenderness in his voice. “Some of them correct.”

“I dare hope it’s more than some.” She glanced up at him, and the pale light of her spell danced in her eyes. “The world has taken much from all of us, I suspect most of all from him. Still, I have faith that if anyone can see us through it all, it’s him. Not many would have done what he did. To declare an alliance with the mages, to shun the Chantry, to forge a new path, a new way of doing things... that takes courage. Or madness.”

“He has a fair bit of both.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “He is… an odd character. His ideas are odder still. Quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” She tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, and Dorian thought he saw something in her eyes, something akin to sadness, even more akin to sympathy as she regarded him. “I suppose it’s the same for you, yes?”

Dorian straightened, preparing himself to deflect the comment, to deny it, but something stopped him. He let out a soft breath instead, gazing at her levelly. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

A brief silence stretched between them. Fiona smiled fleetingly before looking down at the scrolls in her hands once more. “Thank you for your help in finding these. It is much appreciated.”

Dorian stepped to the side to let her pass. She left, her footsteps barely making a sound.

He let out a sigh into the quiet of the small storage room. Fiona’s words about Trevelyan had been kind, almost fond, and certainly much nicer than what many others he’d heard, yet even she couldn’t hide the depth of her expectations, her hopes. Dorian didn’t envy Trevelyan the power of his position much. The world expected so much of him, sometimes it did feel like it was perched upon his shoulders.

The scrolls stared at him sullenly from their shelves. Dorian pushed his shirtsleeves up and summoned a bright ball of light above his head. There was plenty of work for him to do. If everyone was doing their part to help the Inquisition, Dorian would do twice— no, three times as much.

When he lifted his head from his desk and looked out the window of the small nook in the library he called his office, it was already dark.

Dorian frowned back down at his own notes, sprawled before him messily like a blanket of autumn leaves freshly fallen from the bough. He had been poring over them for the better part of the day, after finding the scrolls he had been looking for. He was sure the copies he had made from the Venatori ritual in the Emerald Grave were correct, but they made no sense. Surely whoever had come up with those glyphs knew what they were doing, to some extent, but Dorian just couldn’t make out what they were trying to do exactly. The ritual itself was eerily similar to the one he had remembered finding years ago in the Minrathous library, but there were some fundamental differences. The Venatori had tried to control the power of the spell by tweaking central parts of the glyphs, but those they’d used for the binding clashed with the glyph right across from them, which was a bastardised version of a well-known affliction hex to weaken the subject’s mental defences. No wonder the poor people the Venatori had used the ritual on were turned to drooling, unresponsive vegetables; their mind was turned to jelly long before the actual mind-control spell was cast.

And it would be quite fortunate if that was the only problem he’d encountered. Trying to figure out the logic behind it was giving him headaches. There was something here, something that eluded him, Dorian was sure of it. That certainty only made him more intent on finding exactly how the ritual worked, and for that he needed resources that were not available to him at present. Tilani’s answer to the letter he had sent her regarding the original scroll was yet to arrive. It probably hadn’t even reached her yet.

Dorian suppressed the urge to curse the South and their terrible postal system, and reached for one of the dusty tomes he had managed to find in a forgotten part of the library instead. There was a glyph amongst those he had managed to copy that reminded suspiciously of Disthenes’ version of a glyph of paralysis. Now this, this he could work with. He had studied the Tevinter’s work extensively while he’d been holed up in the Circle of Marothius, and his memory was still fresh. If he used Disthenes’ theorems and altered the glyphs enough to make them work, in combination with Enchanter Hallesis’ equations in order to fix those horrible spirit-manipulating spells he’d seen the Venatori using...

Dorian let out a soft sigh. He probably should leave the matter alone, he knew that. There was little chance of figuring out how the ritual worked, or rather, didn’t work, without the original scroll he had asked Tilani to find. Yet, he’d already been working on this too long to let it go like this. If he was able to make some modicum of progress on his own, or better yet, find a way to work out some of the kink and errors in the glyphs he’d copied from the ritual, then he might be able to find a way to reverse it as well. The Inquisition needed knowledge like this, if they happened to chance upon a Venatori ritual like that again. Knowing what weapons and spells the Venatori had in their arsenal was half the battle, wasn’t it?

He half jolted out of his seat when he felt warm lips brushing the shell of his ear, a hand skimming his waist. “Four hundred and twenty two.”

Dorian leaned back in his chair, smiling at the sound of Trevelyan’s voice. How that man could walk up to him without making a sound, he could never understand. “Four hundred and twenty two, what?”

“Minutes. I’ve been counting.” He leaned forward, catching Dorian’s lips in a gentle kiss. The library was empty at that hour— Dorian thanked the Maker for that. He sighed as he turned around in his chair, his hand finding its way to the back of Trevelyan’s neck to deepen their kiss. He tasted of spiced, honeyed wine, with a mild undertone of the sweet and tart dried apples he always kept on him.

“Have you, now?” he murmured teasingly.

“Yes. I told you I would, didn’t I?” Trevelyan’s smile widened. “My word is my bond.”

A flush crept up Dorian’s cheeks with the warmth in Trevelyan’s gaze. He was peering at him with so much tenderness, and with their proximity Dorian could smell the warmth of his body, the faint smell of his soap. He realised then, that although they’d only been apart since that morning, he had missed him. And the fact that Trevelyan had come straight to him after finishing with his duties, with the black ink from signing his reports still staining his fingers, made him feel warmer still. He suddenly couldn’t wait to be alone with him again, to touch and kiss him freely without worrying about who was to see, to avail himself of the body that hid beneath that snugly fitting dark blue coat.

With his heart beating with a strange sort of giddiness, Dorian turned around and gathered his papers, placed them in the drawer of his desk and locked it securely. “So,” he said, standing up, “shall we retire to your quarters? I’d rather not spend another minute here, thank you very much.”

Trevelyan took his hand, threading his fingers through his. “There’s something I want us to do first.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian/trevelyan #dorian/inquisitor #dorian x tristan trevelyan #dragon age fanfic #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

S.....Sooga.....tiddie fucking........Heheheh

Simple, effective, genius. Let’s fucking go.

“Something tells me Master Kohga isn’t happy today.”

“No fucking shit.”

Kohga had walked back outside from his council with Princess Zelda. Ever since the defeat of Ganon, the Yiga and the royal family have been trying to work together. As in, try to bribe them to stop killing both the king and his daughter. Kohga didn’t HATE Zelda (Sooga often recalled the times he called her ‘a sweet gal’), but he still hated the royal family. This made him bring rather unreasonable demands to the table, and of course he was told no. This led to rather fierce tantrums on his end, but this was the first time he had actually stormed out of the hall. Sooga joined his master’s side, followed by the two previously bickering blademasters. Zelda tried to follow him, asking that he listen to reason. Kohga suddenly stopped in the hallway, pointing at both her, and Link.

“Look. I respect you guys, really. But your royal BULLSHIT has been affecting my people for TOO long! I was not taught my skills by my fathers mothers father, just to flop over the SECOND you want me to! I won’t!”

Kohga stomped his foot on the plush carpet floor, before grumbling angrily, turning to what he thought was the exit. Granted it was the library, but his point was made. Somewhat. Zelda tried to follow him, when Sooga stopped her in her tracks.

“Master Kohga is a proud man. You must let his anger take his course. Please, allow me to dissipate his anger, he will be ready to listen to you after, Princess.”

He received a nod from both little blondes. Sooga nodded at both Blademasters, making them stand by and guard the door. Sooga walked inside of the library, seeing Kohga standing there, forehead against a bookshelf. Sooga cleared his throat, alerting his master of his presence. That seemed good enough for him to pull away, and start his rant.

“I love how ZELDA just has to be a princess AND my friend! I’M more important than some stupid royal crap, right?!”

As usual, Sooga stood there, and nodded. He was ever an ear for Kohga, and Sooga never forgot a single rant of his master (upon his demands). Kohga started pacing back and forth in front of him, throwing his arms around and stomping around the floor.

“She acts like my cause is nothing! No one asks the Yiga clan, ‘hey, how much an ass WERE those royals from so long ago?’ They act like we do this stuff for fun! And no one takes me SERIOUSLY!”

That was enough for Kohga to smack a random book off a table. Even now, in having his little fit, Kohga was incapable of actually damaging someone’s property. Not because he was scared of punishment, but because he genuinely found the library to be Zelda’s personal stuff. He was grumpy, he was impatient, but he was incredibly kind, considerate. Kohga finally stopped, hopping up on a table, and folding his arms across his chest, grumbling something fierce. Sooga waited, just in case he wasn’t done, before he gave a small nod.

“Master Kohga. Things are changing for the better. Nothing about this has been, nor will it ever, be easy. But whatever does happen, you must know that you are respected, and you are revered, especially to us. I apologize for the disrespect you have been given. You deserve all of Hyrule, truly.”

That seemed to at least stop the grumbling. But Kohga was too upset to even LOOK at Sooga right now. Kohga really only wanted one thing; respect. It was something Sooga wished he could give his master more of. But, he already gave him all he had. This meant he’d have to cheer his master up by less...conventional means. Sooga hated royals as much as he did, but he wanted peace from them both. He HAD to make something work here. He knelt down in front of Kohga, and despite his nerves eating away at him, he knew what he had to do.

“Master Kohga, I would...like to help you feel better. May I?”

Kohga seemed confused on just what he meant, but he nodded anyway, clearly interested. Sooga nudged himself between his master’s legs, pressing his face into his big, beautiful belly, and his chest right up against his cock. Kohga took only a second to piece together what was happening, and he nearly roared in laughter.

“Sooga! I’m surprised at you! Here? Now?”

Sooga gave a soft nod, a bit in disbelief himself.

“You have so much tension. Besides, doing something like this in the very castle seems like something scandalous enough for you.”

“Hey. You’re making me sound like a pervert. I mean I am, but still.”

Sooga had a slight chuckle at that. He could already tell his Master’s mood had improved tenfold. Sooga pulled away a bit, helping his Master’s cock out of his uniform, lightly stroking it in his palm. He had Kohga’s full attention now, and even though Sooga had initiated this, he felt as if he had been seduced into it.

“So, what exactly were you thinking? Blowjobs? Handjobs?”

Sooga almost thought about doing those things, but he decided against it. Blowjobs meant his mouth would be exposed here, and handjobs alone wouldn’t remove this kind of anger festering in his Master’s heart. No, he needed something to wow him, something that let him be in control. So, despite how lewd it was, Sooga placed his cock right at his chest, and pushed his titties (he liked to call them pecs, but even he had to admit they were so large, ‘pecs’ didn’t really suit them) together. Kohga actually seemed to be at a loss for words, before suddenly snickering.

“You’re ACTUALLY serious. I get to fuck THESE puppies here?”

“I’ve told you before, my body is yours to command. Every part of me is entitled to you. And I’ve….well. I’ve thought about this before.”

“You like thinking about me, don’t you Sooga?”

Kohga was already getting hard for him. Sooga pushed and rubbed his chest together, nearly smothering his poor master’s cock. Even though Sooga was VERY familiar with Kohga’s dick, it still made him nervous, feeling the hot, semi hard appendage brush up against his skin, separated by just the thin clothing of his uniform. Sooga nodded, trying not to drool at the sight of his cock reappearing between his cleavage.

“I do. I very much do. I’ve always thought how nice it’d be, if you deemed my body worthy enough to satisfy you.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. You’re such a good boy like that.”

Kohga actually felt like participating this time around; moving his hips a bit forward to really push his cock in between them. It wasn’t long before Kohga’s cock was twitching, smearing precum between Sooga’s massive chest. It made a wet, dirty sound, that when combined with Kohga’s moans of approval, made Sooga go mad. HE was making his master feel this good. HE was making him pant like that. Sooga would have preferred to go slow, but he knew Kohga. He liked quick, passionate movements, actions that made his partner seem desperate to please. It was why Sooga kept pushing his chest together quickly, it was why he even moved his chest from side to side. It was humiliating, but Sooga liked it. He liked it for not just the fact that it was making Kohga happy, but for-

“You work so hard for me, Sooga. When no one else wants to make me feel better, you’re there. You listen to me, you give yourself to me. You’re such a good boy.”

That. Sooga loved making him happy, loved being good and obedient. Kohga was endless in his praise, cooing them so sweetly, running his fingers across his scalp, and even pulling at his hair, just to really remind him who was running this ship. It was why Sooga was not above grabbing and moving his chest around as he was, like he was some kind of filthy little whore. Sooga had enough respect to not deem himself as such, but he had enough love (and lust), to be willing to do that for Kohga. Kohga grabbed at his hair again, making Sooga’s actions skid to a halt. Kohga was getting closer and closer, why did he-

“Stop, just for a minute. Look up at me with that pretty face. Just like that. Now, pinch your nipples. Nice and hard. Good boy.”

Sooga felt a bit of shame, actually finding himself enjoying the tight, firm pinches he was giving to his already sensitive nipples. But the way Kohga chuckled, the way he greedily gripped onto his locks? He didn’t regret a single thing.

“You like my cum, don’t you Sooga? You like it so much, you keep finding excuses to have it. The night after the party, the times I tried to punish you, and even the times you snuck into my room.”

Sooga suddenly felt tense. Oh no.

“M-master Kohga, I can explain-”

“I wasn’t done. I know you sneak into my room when I sleep. I know sometimes you just check up on me, make sure I’m safe, and you even cover me if I get cold. But sometimes. Sometimes you want to taste my cum so badly, you’ll sit there and touch youself to me. I’ve seen you there, pumping your cock and grabbing at your fat tits, just picturing how you could get it out of me. And the fact that I KNOW you’ve been doing that, just made you so fucking hard, didn’t it?”

Sooga nodded, even though there was slight shame in it. He meant no harm by his actions, honestly. It was just, hard to resist such temptations. Kohga chuckled, giving a small shake of his head.

“Well. I don’t mind. I don’t mind one itsy bitsy bit. You know why? Hmm?”

He paused, for dramatic affect, before a devilish snicker came from his lips.

“Becase as much as you love taking my cum, I love, just as much, giving it to you. Now, rub those titties together for me, and earn my load.”

Sooga was back at it again before he could finish his sentence. He rubbed his slick, hot tits together, putting as much enthiusm and speed against his head as he could. Kohga was right; he wanted his cum, and he wanted SO much of it. He wanted to earn the right to be covered in it, earn the right to sport it across his features like a medal of honor. And as he heard Kohga grumble, as he saw his fingers dig into the table, he received just that. Spurts of cum came from his Master’s lovely cock, decorating his tits, and even dribbling down to his stomach. It was hot, creamy, and absolutely perfect. Kohga gifted him with a plentiful amount, and Sooga was almost sad when Kohga seemed to finish giving it to him. He even kept pressing his chest together, hoping to squeeze out more from him. Even as Kohga sat there, in the midst of a cooldown, Sooga found himself unable to stop. It wasn’t until Kohga snapped his fingers, that he finally put a halt to it. Kohga grinned, lightly flicking the other’s forehead.

“You love doing all the hard work for me. And I love that.”

“Love it enough to re consider the princess proposal?”

Kohga sighed, before giving a small nod.

“Yeah yeah...for YOU, I’ll go back in there, give it another shot. Not that you’re making me.”

“Of course not, Master Kohga. You’re merely kind enough to heed my plea.”

“Hey...don’t you start talking like that. You’re getting a bit too smart, Sooga.”

He could tell his Master was most amused. They spent a good minute cleaning Sooga up, and after Kohga got himself a fistful of that ass, they both came back outside, just in time to catch Zelda and Link about to leave.

“Princess, Goldilocks! Listen, I talked a bit with Sooga here, let’s try the whole meeting thing again, yeah?”

Zelda’s excitement was palpable. As Kohga joined them both back to the meeting room, the Blade masters looked at Sooga, bewildered.

“How did you make him change his mind?”

“I do not ‘make’ our master do anything. I merely took a load off of his mind.”

A big, BIG load off of his mind.

#asks #kohga #sooga #lemon

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dramaticsnakes · 3 years

Text

The Revived - Chapter 15: Quiet

This is chapter 15 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3501

Cw: food mentions, tension between characters, crying, feelings of worthlessness

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The walk to the nether portal was even more strained than it had been all the other times combined. It was stupid, because really, not much had changed. Wilbur still knew next to nothing about his situation or how he got there. Most people were dismayed to see he was alive at all, and he was trying his best to get used to his heart beating. He even grabbed some sugarcane along the way, hoping there would be a comment about the strange feeling. Instead, silence rang in his ears that made him disappointedly put it in a jacket pocket. There was a ghost… While he was silent, there was still a ghost inside of Wilbur’s head.

Though the silence was just it. It was the only real change there was, when overlooking some of the strained interactions Wilbur had had in the meantime. But what really changed the situation was the silence, and that for some ungodly reason, managed to get to Wilbur.

“So, we’re going to visit Michael again, huh?” Wilbur tried, his voice cheerful to the point where he almost felt like he was mocking himself, “And Ranboo! You like him, right? Whatever it is he has done.”

No response.

“We can go play with Michael and all that. We can have some food too, maybe.” Wilbur said.

No fucking response.

Wilbur withheld a frustrated sigh. He didn’t want it to be interpreted as if he was angry at Ghostbur. Though maybe that was true. At least that was the simplest explanation for the fire within himself. Angry at everything perhaps. Angry at everything that hadn’t been blown up with himself. “We can talk to all of them. There’s still quite a bit of catching up to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quiet,” Ghostbur suddenly said, his voice hushed. Wilbur’s eyes widened, the sound taking him entirely by surprise.

“No no you don’t have to.” He sounded far too desperate than what he was proud of. He was met with nothing but silence again.

“I’m going to go in the portal now,” he said, and did exactly as he’d narrated. He felt himself being whisked away to the nether, the warmth once again surprising him. “I’m here,” he said. “There’s pretty much nothing but red netherrack as far as the eye can see. Oh! And there’s a zombie piglin a bit to the left, though it’s not a threat. No match for us, you know.” He added a quick laugh, but it almost sounded like a sob. He took a deep breath as he continued ahead.

“The nether really is big,” he cleverly observed. “I’m going onto one of the bridges now. I remember the way to the mansion, I think.” He heard a ghast make a sound, and picked up the pace. “And we’re safe, don’t worry. I’m wearing good armor, and it won’t be long.”

For the silent moments until they made it through the portal by Snowchester, Wilbur almost felt as if he was holding his breath along with Ghostbur. It was nice, in a way, and Prime Wilbur despised how that was comforting. How pathetic had he really become, if something as simple as doing something with someone who wasn’t even alive was enough to make him feel at home? The familiarity of Ghostbur’s constant presence had gone to his head.

He stood in the snow, which was a nice change of pace from the time he’d landed there with all the burns and the screaming from within. He once again became aware of his bandages. “We’re out,” he said. There wasn’t a response in words, but he could feel a relieved sigh.

He started walking in the direction of the mansion, his steps a little slower than they had to be. “We’re in Snowchester now. There are actually a lot of buildings here. I’m not sure what they-”

“Wilbur?” Ghostbur said suddenly.

“Yes?” Wilbur said, a little too quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Wilbur said, relief and confusion mixing in his mind, until a quick laugh followed

“I’m sorry for… For invading your life.” Ghostbur said, sounding a lot more serious than he usually did, “When I came here instead of you, I couldn’t quite fill the role you left behind.” He sounded almost defeated, but so unbearably sincere, “This is your chance to do so, and I shouldn’t get in your way like that.”

Wilbur could hardly comprehend what he was hearing, because it was so unlike his own understanding of events. It was unlike Wilbur’s image of Ghostbur, and completely different from what he’d wanted the ghost to say. “What… What the fuck, no.” Wilbur said, shaking his head, something dark settling around his heart, “Ghostbur, you were nothing like me.”

“I know, and I-”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?” He said, with a huff, “Ghostbur, the last thing I did was blow up a fucking nation, and you think they’d all rather have had someone like me on here? Come on.” It was hilarious really. How Ghostbur was so blind to the fact that everyone was probably dying to get him back in Wilbur’s place now. How everyone would be so sad on passive little Ghostbur’s behalf. Including Wilbur himself for some reason. “For crying out loud, you are so fucking good it hurts.”

“What? I’m sorry I don’t mean to hurt you, I-”

“Shut up!” Wilbur said suddenly, standing in the middle of a solitary street in Snowchester, “No fuck- wait, don’t shut up. Don’t shut up, because it’s honestly really boring without you.” The last few words slipped out before he could stop them. They slipped out quietly enough to be genuine, and perhaps that was an issue on its own.

“What?” Ghostbur tried, sounding confused, “But you don’t always like when I talk, and no one else can hear me anyway. I thought that maybe you’d want some peace and quiet after all that. I’m disturbing you.”

“Perhaps I want you to.” He hissed through his teeth, before shaking his head, “I don’t know I don’t know I just-” he took a deep breath, collecting his words, “Ghostbur, you don’t need to apologize. I slipped up, and I… It gets boring without you here, okay? So you can keep talking.”

Perhaps Wilbur was still a lost soul, stuck at a train station, desperately grasping and wishing for even the slightest hint of interaction. Perhaps it was selfish of Wilbur, to want the only person who was forced to be with him at all times, to continue talking to him. Perhaps Wilbur was being just as cruel as he knew he was, throughout all of this, begging for attention as usual. Begging for someone who had every right to despise him, to keep him company.

And perhaps, he didn’t even care about any of that. Because Ghostbur clearly had it all wrong, and if it took Wilbur’s selfishness to prove it, so be it. “If you want to talk, you can,” he said, hoping that he would no longer feel as if he had to fight to reach the surface of the ocean on his own.

“Oh,” Ghostbur said, sounding uncertain still, but in a different way. “It… It gets lonely without you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to stay put like this but I don’t want… I don’t want to be alone.”

Wilbur didn’t either, but he knew he couldn’t say that. Wilbur Soot wasn’t lonely, because he couldn’t afford to be, and he was alive. “Then I can keep you company,” he said instead. “You won’t be alone.”

A fondness slipped into Ghostbur’s voice, part of it was quieter than it should’ve been, but Wilbur didn’t mind, “Thank you.”

Wilbur let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wanted to say how he didn’t need to be thanked for such a simple thing, but he didn’t want to spark a disagreement when Ghostbur was already in a fragile state. “No problem.” He started walking towards the mansion, before quickly adding on, “Headin’ inside the mansion.”

Ghostbur gasped so quietly, Wilbur almost confused it with a gust of wind, “I thought you were just saying that.”

Wilbur stopped walking for a moment. “No I… I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Ghostbur spoke quietly, “You lied to Tub-” He sharply cut himself off. Wilbur winced at the truth Ghostbur knew.

He couldn’t think of a response as he heard a familiar voice call out, “Oh, Wilbur, you made it here a little earlier than I did.” He turned around and saw Tubbo there.

Wilbur smiled softly towards him, “Yeah, we must’ve barely missed each other. Didn’t see you in there at all.” And I wasn’t talking to a ghost at all either, part of him wanted to add.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Tubbo didn’t seem skeptical of him, but he wouldn’t doubt if the boy was a good actor. He was a spy for part of the war, with a library even he was unaware of. Though he tried to put his thoughts aside.

Tubbo walked up to where Wilbur was, and the both of them moved together towards the front doors of the mansion. The two walked together in silence, something that he typically wouldn’t have even acknowledged. Yet, with the quietness of Ghostbur returning, he couldn’t help the concern in his eyes. Tubbo seemed to look at him slightly differently, but neither of them bothered to comment on it.

Tubbo pulled the door open, the warmness from inside being a nice refresher from the cold. They walked in as Tubbo called out, “Ranboo?” He closed the door behind them.

A muffled voice came from upstairs, before Ranboo’s head popped out of Michael’s room. He met Tubbo’s gaze, before hesitantly smiling at Wilbur’s presence. “We’re just coloring in here. Did everything go alright?”

Tubbo nodded and made his way up the stairs with Wilbur close behind. “Yep! Of course there’s still a bunch of questions I wouldn’t even know how to find out, but there’s a lot of new info.” Tubbo paused for a moment before continuing, “I’ve got a few theories in my head, but it’s all messy.”

Ranboo nodded understandingly, “I’m glad it went well.” Ranboo looked down from behind the door. A grin came across his face, “Michael, guess who’s here?” Tubbo and Wilbur made it to the top of the stairs, but the latter couldn’t see what was happening behind the door.

“Noo, not grandpa.” Another second passed, “Not Puffy.” A few moments passed before Wilbur heard a frustrated snort. Ranboo chuckled, “I guess I’ll just have to let you see.” He opened the door all the way, and Wilbur’s eyes immediately caught Michael’s. He quickly knelt down as Michael ran into his arms. He reciprocated the hug, his eyes closing for a moment, just holding the presence of warmth in his arms.

Too long must’ve passed as Tubbo playfully mentioned, “Michael, how did you miss Wilbur that much? You saw him earlier today.” Time must've flown by Wilbur as he quickly let go. Michael smiled and grabbed onto Wilbur’s arm, tugging him toward the room him and his father were recently in.

Wilbur laughed, “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” He stood up slowly, making sure not to accidentally hit Michael, and walked into the room. It looked the same as last time, except now there was a small bin on the table. It seemed full of crayons, with most of them being new. There were small light red chairs around the table, clearly made for children. Wilbur didn’t know if they would collapse under him and decided to sit on the floor, resting his calves under him.

Michael sat down on the chair next to him, pulling it closer to Wilbur as he grabbed a piece of paper on the table. His left arm was against Wilbur’s as he slid the paper to him.

Wilbur understood the message and looked at the paper. A goofy smile slipped on his face. It was a drawing of what appeared to be Michael. The lines were shaky, but it was some kind of pink blob that wore an orange and black long-shirt with blue overalls over the top. While the image itself didn’t look like it, that’s what the Michael holding his arm was wearing. The drawing had a smile on his face that mimicked the one Michael wore. A higher-pitched cheerfulness flowed easily with his words, “Did you draw this?”

Michael eagerly nodded, his face rubbing against Wilbur’s sleeve. After the moment, Michael proceeded to rub more of his face into it, enjoying the sensation.

Ranboo chuckled, “That must be why he likes you so much.”

Wilbur tilted his head slightly, though his gaze stayed focused on Michael, “Hm?”

Ranboo shifted in his position, “Oh, I mean- he sorta likes certain textures? We don’t really know how it works since it’s a bit difficult to communicate, but he just likes rubbing his face on stuff.”

Wilbur quietly stated, “I’ve noticed.” Though the sentence wasn’t harsh, Ranboo moved slightly away.

“I think I’ll head outside for a second.” The turned his back away from Wilbur and walked out of the room. Tubbo whispered something to him, and with a brief nod, he heard echoing steps down the stairs. Michael propped himself slightly away from Wilbur and grabbed a different paper on the table. It was a few black lines that went up and down, some parts looking almost like black rectangles. There were also some scribbles near the right, that took Wilbur a second to realize it was writing. He squinted at the words, and slowly he realized it was the word, “Dad”.

Wilbur looked between Michael and the page when realization struck. “Oh, Ran- Dad is alright. He just needed to do something.”

Michael nodded and Wilbur gratefully sighed at the toddler’s lack of overwhelming curiosity. Wilbur grabbed one of the blank papers on the table, his gaze wandering over the container of crayons. He searched the container and put a rainbow of colors in front of himself. He frowned slightly at the lack of yellow, but didn’t take it personally.

Michael squealed excitedly at the empty paper and grabbed a green crayon. He started making quick jagged lines that formed a semi-straight line near the bottom of the sheet. He quickly scribbled it in, coating the white paper as Wilbur grabbed an orange crayon.

Wilbur forgot Tubbo was even there as he quietly spoke, “I’m gonna start prepping dinner. Ranboo will probably be back soon.”

Wilbur nodded, “Sounds good to me. You need any help cooking?” He looked directly at Tubbo for a moment.

Tubbo shook his head, “I’ve got it, you two have fun.” Tubbo smiled as he turned to leave the room.

Wilbur chuckled, “Said and done.” He looked back at the paper, finding the bottom of the page to be mostly colored in with green. There were white patches at the bottom that littered the area, but he didn’t blame the toddler as he found it quite adorable.

Wilbur’s hand went to the top right of the page as he started outlining a small circle with his orange crayon. Michael grabbed a gray crayon and continued adding something towards the left side. Wilbur focused on applying less color onto the paper, the orange shifting into an awkward yellow. The yellow-ish circle stood proudly on the page as he added lines around it to show that it was emitting sunlight.

He looked back to Michael’s part of the page. He saw something that resembled a stickman with a smile on its face. There was a clump of gray on top of the person and Michael made grabby hands for the orange that Wilbur held. He quickly gave it to the toddler and grabbed a blue, though his gaze didn’t leave Michael’s portion of the paper.

The child took the orange and drew it over the stickman, quickly scribbling in an oval over it and looked at Wilbur expectedly. Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows together, “Who’s that?” Michael grabbed the blue from Wilbur’s hand and drew a dog-like figure next to the stickman. But the dog was blue and had a smile that paralleled the other drawing.

Wilbur tilted his head slightly, still not understanding, but with eyes so bright an innocent, he realized it was a look he'd received before. It was akin to the eyes of a young Fundy, displaying his art for Wilbur to hang on his wall in their little home in L'Manberg. It was much like that of Tommy, when Wilbur told him about the plans to create a nation. It so bitterly reminded him of Tubbo, agreeing to anything and everything Wilbur said. Three times was perhaps a pattern, just as Wilbur had been told. And perhaps, that was all the more reason he should've expected this to happen again. Should've expected young eyes to look to him for guidance. And the bitter truth was, that just as all the other times, it filled him with a strange sort of pride and joy.

Perhaps Wilbur had barely changed at all. He wasn't surprised at that. In fact he'd known for so long.

What he hadn’t known, and only realized in the moment, was that the drawing in front of him was Ghostbur. The orange oval was probably supposed to be a sweater of sorts, but the orange was too dark for him to recognize sooner. The gray stickman’s skin color looked similar to the ghost he saw before exiting limbo.

His eyes lingered on the blue dog in the front on the paper. Wilbur facepalmed when he realized that the blue dog was a sheep. He didn’t know why he didn’t recognize it sooner.

Wilbur was about to open his mouth to say something, when Michael pointed at the drawing, and then pointed at Wilbur. It was almost like a silent question, and the child looked at Wilbur so expectantly.

Oh.

Of course. Wilbur wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything else. No one had probably explained the situation properly to the child. Prime knew that would be one hell of a conversation. Still, Wilbur caught his treacherous heart dropping at the gesture. He frowned, despite himself. “No,” he said briefly, shaking his head.

Michael looked at him for a few moments. Then he nodded back, and turned towards the paper again, his expression barely changing at all.

Still, Wilbur felt misplaced. As if he’d walked inside a war meeting hosted by his enemies, or had put up walls around a nation that turned out not to be his. Every single second Wilbur had known Michael, the toddler hadn’t been aware of exactly who Wilbur was. Perhaps Michael had thought he was hugging Ghostbur. Thought he was smiling with awe at someone he knew positively, rather than an inconvenient stranger, whose presence made very little sense in the first place. The only reason Michael offered to show such basic kindness to him was because of a simple misunderstanding. Even a child who unconditionally loved every soul he met, couldn't love Wilbur without thinking of someone else.

Wilbur felt an unwelcome tear creeping into his eye. It was likely due to the fact that he was nearly alone, as it provoked the futile vulnerability he preferred to keep at bay. He looked away, trying to keep his face out of view as he listened to Michael continuing to work with the crayons. What else has Wilbur expected? He’d done little to nothing to deserve the child’s affections, and that was alright. It was perfectly alright, because Wilbur was a genius, not an uncle.

He suddenly felt a tug at his arm. He shook his head quickly, trying to grasp the world once more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael, trying to show him something. With a quiet laugh, that came out a little too broken, he turned his head. “What have you got there?” he asked.

Michael was holding the piece of paper from before, proudly displaying it with both hands. Wilbur looked at it for a long time, trying to comprehend exactly what he was looking at. The same figure as before was staring back at him, grey with an orange jumper, and a big smile. The blue sheep was standing in the same spot. Next to the ghost however, Michael had scribbled another figure.

A similar one, but with beige skin and a brown jacket, with fuzzy lines drawn on it. The figure had a white streak in its dark hair, and was smiling as well, brightly.

Oh.

Standing right there, next to the ghost and the sheep, was Wilbur. Wilbur Soot, creator and destroyer of L’Manberg, drawn with such confident crayon lines from a toddler. Wilbur let out a shaky breath, as Michael pointed to the drawing, and then to Wilbur.

Wilbur swallowed something in his throat, his lips curving up as he let out a quiet laugh. “Yes. That’s me.”

#dream smp #dsmp #c!wilbur #revivedbur #ghostbur #c!ranboo #c!tubbo #michael_beloved #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #The Revived

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truisticrhino28 · 3 years

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Insanity, by TruisitcRhino28

Prologue:

It is the year 3642 BBY. Revan has been freed by the Jedi Order, and the Sith Emperor lies dormant on Yavin 4. This information is a well-kept secret, though not well-kept enough, because a brash young Jedi Padawan finds out about the Emperor’s awakening…

Chapter 1: Brashness and Secrecy:

Padawan Vold Sagar was very strong in the Force; however, he was also very, very brash and reckless. He often let his emotions get the better of him and never really liked to come up with a plan, often preferring to rush into things head-on and improvise as he went along. This made him frowned upon by many of the Masters in the Order, particularly on the Council. Naturally, this meant that they did not consider Vold a good example of what a Jedi Knight, and thus, refused to elevate his status from Padawan to Knight. Upon hearing this news from his Master, Claudios Brenthen, he felt mocked, insulted, and most of all, furious.

“How dare the Council deny me the rank of Knight?! How dare they, those conservative old fools! I worked my butt off to become a Jedi! I did everything the Council requested of me, everything! And now those staid archaic bastards refuse to promote me!”, Vold was yelling in a fit of rage.

“It is not a matter of personal grudges with the Council. The sole reason you were not promoted is because you are brash. You never think twice, never form a plan. You are impulsive, and impulsiveness can be a very dangerous thing.” “I do not mean these remarks as insults, for few things can be insults if they are true”, replied Claudios in a calm but serious tone.

“I know, Master, and you are not the one I am mad at. Everything is making me so mad, the Council, this war, the Empire, everything!!”

“Remember, there is no emotion there is peace”, Claudios reminded calmly.

“Yes, Master”, Vold said in resignation, knowing that trying to continue the argument was pointless. With that, Claudios left meditate on the Jedi Temple grounds. Vold however, was still very mad at the Council and was desperate to prove himself. As such, he naturally thought that the only way to prove himself worthy was to gain power, of a darker kind.

Chapter 2: Hidden Power and Hidden Love:

Vold carefully made his way to his Master’s quarters and once he had entered unseen and knew he was secure, he began searching through the Force for his Master’s locked away Sith scroll. After a few minutes, he found it and retrieved it from its hiding place. As he carefully opened it and read the first words, he saw the name “the Sith Emperor”. Vold was fascinated by this, and began pouring through the text on the scroll, until he happened upon a location: Yavin 4. He was familiar with the location of Yavin 4; it had been the primary base of operations of the famous Sith Lords Exar Kun and Naga Sadow. What does the Sith Emperor want with Yavin 4? Vold then remembered that the Sith Emperor had previously been defeated at the hands of the Hero of Tython. Perhaps he is waiting until he regains his strength. That means he is weak, and ripe for the killing. Defeating the Sith Emperor once and for all will surely give the Council cause to promote me to a Jedi Knight. With this in mind, Vold realized he had taken up a large amount of time looking at the scroll and swiftly exited his Master’s quarters unseen, leaving everything in the condition it was in before he entered. He then headed to visit his lover, fellow Padawan Nehani Forrez. The two of them had trained together as younglings, and had begun to deeply care for each other, feelings that eventually blossomed into love. As he entered her quarters, they embraced and began making out, as they usually did when they saw each other. When they had finished, they stood holding hands and Vold began saying, “Nehani, I’ve finally figured it out.”

“Figured out what, Vold?”, Nehani asked in curiosity.

“I’ve finally figured out how I can become a Jedi Knight!”, exclaimed Vold excitedly. “I will go to Yavin 4 and once and for all defeat the Sith Emperor!”.

Nehani had many questions about this. “How did you acquire this information? Why are you doing this? Does your master know of this? How do you know this is even possible?”.

“I must become a Jedi Knight. I must prove myself to those staid old fools on the Council that I am truly strong enough. The only way to do that is to kill the Sith Emperor.”

“But you’ll die!”, Nehani objected in concern. “To try and do that is utter insanity! Have you never heard the stories? The tales of absolute cruelty the Emperor committed on its victims? If you failed, then you would go insane, and constantly wish for and be denied the glorious privilege of death.”

“No matter what happens to me, as long as the Sith Emperor lies dead, I will have proved myself at last.” Nehani had no further words. Vold gave her one last kiss on the cheeks before leaving, satisfied he had explained his point. “Do not come for me, nor mourn my death. Your future as a Jedi is too important”, he finished. He then left Nehani and headed in secret for his ship, the Passionate Champion.

Chapter 3: The Hunt for The Emperor:

As the Passionate Champion exited hyperspace, Vold was overtaken momentarily by dark imagery. Mental images of agony, screaming, and death flooded his mind. And at the source of all of it was the Sith Emperor. For most, this would have immediately deterred even the most mentally strong-willed being. But for Vold, this was only further motivation and reason that the Sith Emperor was a soulless monster that must be destroyed. He landed and exited his ship and began meditating in search of the Emperor. Once he’d found the Emperor’s location, he headed there at speeds unheard of to the human mind simply by using Force Speed. Once he’d happened upon the temple, he stopped, and cautiously sensed for any possible threats in the surrounding area. Once he felt it was safe, he ignited his lightsaber and entered the temple. Not soon after he had entered, he began to feel weakened and groggy, and eventually collapsed unconscious on the floor. When he woke up, he didn’t know where he was in the temple. Seeing his lightsaber, Vold tried to get up and use the Force to retrieve it, but he was snapped down to the ground, like an invisible presence had pushed him back. Next, he was bombarded with an assault of terrible images, similar to the ones he’d been bombarded with as he’d entered the atmosphere. Except this time, Vold was seeing a blurred vision of his future. He saw a person killing and murdering all life on Yavin 4. A person with dark eyes. A person that looked very similar to himself. A person he realized… was himself! No! It... can’t be! How is this possible? How? Vold then went unconscious again, and when he woke up, he found himself outside the Temple and empowered with a new strength, something far, far stronger. A power, he felt, one that would bring him victory. Then, as he looked at a tree, he saw not a tree, but the image of the Emperor. Driven by nothing but mad rage, he brutally slaughtered the tree. Vold then thought that he had defeated the Emperor, but then saw his image on another tree, so he cut down that tree, and another, and another, and more and more trees until he had cut a sixth of the forest, he was standing in. Losing sanity more by the second, he screamed a yell of dark rage that could be heard across the galaxy.

Chapter 4: The Call Heard Across the Galaxy:

Claudios was meditating in his quarters when he sensed a grave disturbance in the Force: his apprentice was in trouble. He was going to exit his quarters when he noticed something off, something he hadn’t noticed before. It appeared as if something had been left open. He opened his library cabinet, and nothing had been stolen, but one thing had been opened. As he opened the scroll about the Emperor, he read the entire scroll, and came upon a clause of the scroll regarding the Emperor’s horrific abilities to take control of people. It mentioned Revan, along with some other examples, but one part of this read of how the Emperor could drive people insane by making them see infinite projections of himself. He then thought back to his conversations with Vold. Realizing the terrible danger Vold was in, he rushed to his starship, and headed to Yavin 4, completely unaware that Nehani had boarded the ship in secret.

Chapter 5: Unheard Pleas and Failed Persuasions:

Claudios’s ship exited hyperspace and immediately he was hit with disturbing Force visions, but he ignored them by projecting a field of light side energy around his ship. As he landed on the planet and exited his ship, he was in shock of the pure dark energy on the world. He realized however that this would do nothing but stall for time, so he quickly went in search of Vold. After a decent bit of traveling, he eventually ran into Vold brutally slashing trees and wildlife all around him. He realized this would be much more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

Vold was on a killing streak murdering everything within his path of sight that he thought resembled the Emperor. By this point, the dark side was so strong in him it was like a hypotonic blood cell about to explode. Suddenly, all of his focus was concentrated on one singular being standing a good 200 meters away from Vold, in the midst of the forest fires and destruction Vold had caused. He recognized this being as his Master, however, all he could see was the image of the Emperor in his mind.

“You, whatever you are, you are not my Master! This is a trick! A deceit shaped by the Emperor to make me think you are not him! But I see the truth! His deceits may have gotten me before, but not anymore! I see you are him! And now, you will die.”

“Vold, listen to me! You are not yourself. The Emperor is driving you mad. Come with me and we can free you of his influence and the corruption of the dark side.”

“Lies! All lies! I know this is another deceit to throw me off track, but it will not work! I have become too powerful to be deceived by such trickery again.”

“Vold! This is not you! Please, I implore you, do not do this. If you continue on your current path, I will be forced to end your life, which is a deed I very much do not wish to commit.”

“These lies will not work! The opaqueness of you is nonexistent, for I am transparent to your true self! Now, you must die!”

With deep regrets, Claudios concluded, “It is with the deepest of rue that I am forced to fight you. I am sorry for not protecting you from the corruption of the dark side better. Such flaws are the signs of a bad teacher, and a withered old fool. With that, Vold launched toward Claudios in fury, and he was barely able to defend the pure hatred of the first strike. Defend it he did though, and he proceeded to use a Force push to lift Vold off of his feet, in hopes of possibly knocking him unconscious. This only momentarily disrupted Vold however, and once he’d gotten back up on his feet, he used the Force to send waves of fire toward Claudios. Claudios responded to this attack by raising water from a nearby marsh to counter this. However, this gave Vold the opportunity to strike. Catching Claudios off guard, he threw his lightsaber at Claudios, forcing him to redirect his focus for a mere millisecond, causing fire to seep through his defenses and cause him critical burns. Wincing from pain, Claudios tried to use a Force Wave to push Vold away and give himself time to recover. However, Vold merely brushed past this, and instead threw his full strength into a single Force Wave, forcing Claudios to counter the interaction, an interaction which he lost. The sheer power of the Force Wave shattered many bones in Claudios’s body, leaving what was left of him barely alive and scrunched up, like a crumbled piece of paper. Vold then made the finishing move and killed him without a second thought. Then, at this very moment, Vold was released from the control of the Emperor, and everything was replayed in his head, the incineration of trees, the mindless slaughter of the life, and the murdering of his Master. Completely overcome with emotions and with no time to process them, he entered a state of insane grief and thrashed at everything around him, at which point he was again put under control of the Emperor, and even madder now he began brutally annihilating the flora and fauna at an alarmingly more intense level than before.

Nehani had been overtaken by the dark imagery, and had struggled to recover, but once she had, she’d carefully followed Claudios out of sight and had cried when she had seen Claudios die. That said, she knew she probably had one last chance to plea for Vold before he destroyed the entire planet.

Chapter 6: Insanity:

Nehani made her way toward Vold in nervous strides. Vold, sensing her through the Force, stopped and dashed to confront her.

Nehani began by yelling, “Vold! This isn’t you! I know you! The real Vold would have never killed his Master like that.”

Vold would hear none of it, and countered by yelling back, “You, you evil, cursed wretched being!! You made me kill my Master!! I will decapitate you; I will choke you but make sure you still hold breath, I will make sure you bleed, but still do not bleed dry. I will make you suffer like no being has ever suffered before!!” And with that, Vold began to choke Nehani all the while slowly cutting open parts of her skin. She tried to resist, but to no avail. She couldn’t scream at the pain, for she was too busy merely struggling for air. This continued for another 3 hours, at which point Nehani finally crumbled and died. It was at this point that the Emperor lost interest in Vold, and released control of him so he could go back to lying dormant. This shattered Vold’s mind utterly and completely, and this compounded with him mentally replaying the recent events caused him to collapse in remorse, and as he ignited his lightsaber for a final time and stuck it through his chest, he let out a final cry that released the last morsel of sane present within him, leaving him a corpse of his own insanity.

#starwars fanfic fanfiction starwarsfanfic swfanfic sw swfanfiction shortstory starwarsshortstory starwars short story tragedy

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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adsentio - stagnation

a/n: we’re back with prince!akaashi, royalty!au, extra part. i promise i was writing the wedding scene, but then it started storming pretty heavily...and my brain said, “no, Kay. it’s rainy hours. write angst. you know you want to.” and...this happened.

NOTE: for this specific scenario, it’s not 100% necessary to read ‘adsentio’, the main story. however, there are details that reference it and subsequent parts. the basic idea is: you and prince akaashi had been set up to marry since you were children, and while the both of you were against it for a while, feelings changed for the better.

summary: after a few years of being married, you find yourself firmly concluding that indeed, akaashi no longer loves you.

genre: angst!! with happy ending though. wc: ~2.9k

main story: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt. 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

Whenever torrents of rain cascade over the kingdom, down the vine-ridden castle walls and pattering upon the lake, many will pause in their tasks and gaze out the nearest windowpane. Thunder may rumble and lightning may strike, yet everyone registers the same twist in their stomachs. An unease lies beneath their skin; a chill that wickedly summons horripilation. In an effort to battle the shadows, fires begin to roar, one by one through the castle. Aches and pains arise in bodies as the masses wait with bated breath for the rainbow to appear as it always does.

Smoke floats through the chimneys and taints the air, evident by the wisps of gray and onyx. Yet they are unnoticed and in stealth on this dreary night where everyone must succumb to the understanding that there will be no rainbow. The controller of the tides will peak above the midnight clouds and attempt to shine, but never strong enough to guide the nightly travelers.

Even with the tamed inferno in the chambers, a puff of visible air leaves your lips. Your hands clasp tightly together, your fingers intertwining with each other in your lap as you sit in front of your vanity. Raindrops beat against the glass of the balcony doors, glistening in their trail towards the ground. Yet as soon as they fall onto stone, the drop shatters and colors the surface. It paints and paints until the blemishes appear and the imperfections glare towards the skies.

Jewels sit heavy on your figure, your crown resting on a cushion atop your vanity. But in this moment, nothing weighs more than the wedding ring on your left hand. It’s crushing, suffocating; it burns a print and imprisons your appendage, reminding you of unspoken promises ghosted against your ear. The gems hold decades of memories, being passed down from queen to future queen, and you wonder if any of them proceeded with what you plan on doing.

Akaashi had entered the room as smooth as a serpent, silent like a zephyr. Your only warning of his presence is the raised hairs on the back of your neck, your body tensing just as his hands placed themselves on your shoulders from behind. Another breath is drawn from your lungs as he peers into the mirror at you, the faintest expression of happiness drawn from his lips. But it’s lifeless. It’s the one he reserves for meetings and pleasantries, for when he disagrees with his father but has no choice to comply. His eyes are darkened with death and dissatisfaction, and has been for almost two weeks now.

His brows only marginally furrow with concern at your lack of reaction, how you seem to be looking past him. Your own expression comes off as solemn yet nervous, as if you’ve committed a grave sin.

“Is anything wrong, my dear?” He asks gently, watching carefully.

Your lips purse as you turn your head towards the hand on your right shoulder. They no longer provide the warmth and comfort that they did so many years ago, but only serve to freeze your soul and weave together the insecurities that you had painstakingly unraveled. Akaashi continues to gaze at you in silence as you stand from your seat, wordlessly beckoning for him to take your place. With guarded hesitation, he does as you say. Instead of standing behind him as he did you, you instead take the space on his right, facing his side profile. Feeling unnerved, he turns to face you rather than his own reflection.

In times of vulnerability, you have always struggled to find your footing, to feel that you are powerful. You believe there is a strength in possessing self-awareness and having the ability to convey those thoughts to someone who cares and knows. Just because you feel small in the moment does not mean you must be small. You can tower over the other person as you do now, forcing your prince to lift his chin to speak to you.

“You are unhappy,” you whisper ruefully.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he fibs, his eyes wavering as he directs his gaze away from yours. In that brief moment of eye contact, you had seen the show end, but the curtains lifted, the gears turning and unveiling his chaotic despair.

“You cannot lie to me, milord. And only you are incapable of doing so with me.”

He lets out an arduous sigh and slouches his back, a pose of defeat and exhaustion. A dagger twists his heart at the title, but his reticence allows you to continue.

“I can only imagine that there have been many women in my position before, where they must continue to rule with locked lips and the key thrown. There must have been many who were as hopeful as me, and yet as time aged us, we had to turn the other way and simply learn to accustom ourselves to the new surroundings. With how long we have known each other, I know almost everything about you. To most, you may only have a few sitting postures. But to me, you have tens. Each little movement indicates something different, something you happen to be thinking or feeling at that moment. It’s ingrained into my brain by sheer force and repetition, and I’m beginning to wish I was more oblivious. Perhaps, then, I would at least have been a happy fool, content with my misguided beliefs.”

“What are you trying to say?” He enquires as he dares to face you again. With regret, loss, and grief, he watches as your eyes begin to shine with tears and the most bittersweet smile on your face begin to form.

“You no longer love me.

“And I have no objection to that,” you continue, raising a hand to stop any of his interjections. “I should have known that you would eventually tire and wish for what I had voiced all those years ago: some freedom, some choice. As much as you had convinced yourself that marrying me was unequivocally your free will, you no longer believe it. All of your interactions with me scream so, and I have no intentions to attempt to convince you otherwise. Doing so would be hypocritical of me. So for now,” you pause, looking down at your hands while catching your breath.

Akaashi can hear the tremble of your lungs over the crack of thunder and the beating of the heavens. But everything deafens when your right hand hovers over your left ring finger. They hesitate and shake, reaching then reclining, before grasping the ornate band and slowly, lamentably removing it. You then extend a hand to gently grasp one of his, placing the piece of jewelry in his open palm, then curling his fingers closed around it.

“For now, I shall return this to you. You may do as you wish, as I will not stop you. Perhaps…we were not lucky enough for love.”

You sleep with your back to him that night, unwilling to face him when only mere inches exist between you two. You miss how Akaashi turns to face your back, how his arm tentatively reaches to wrap around your waist before pulling back, and can only slip into his dreams when counting the strands of your hair.

“The Prince urgently requests that you meet him in the library, Your Highness.”

“Now?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Very well, I shall be there shortly,” you sigh, your turning away signaling the messenger’s dismissal. Your head bends down to take one last look at the embroidery in your lap, your fingers finishing some last few stitches for an appropriate stopping point. Fingers cautiously smooth the wrinkles of your day dress, and you take one last deep breath.

The journey to the library is painstakingly laborious, as though each step you made had been done with shackles around your ankles. There is a weight to the sound of your heels clicking against the ground. Maids and butlers shuffle past you with heads bowed, though you seem to deep in a trance to observe.

Much of the energy and power that you felt you had exuded those nights ago had soon dissipated from your body. Your body resembles an empty shell, devoid of a plan to stand on your feet and continue with your normal activities. Your left ring finger screams into the numbing void, the missing weight almost bearing its own scarlet letter. You stayed in your room as much as possible, requesting meals to be delivered to the chambers. Akaashi nearly always needed to be away, taking care of kingdom affairs in preparation for his inevitable ascension to the throne. The only times you were ever near him were in the mornings and nights. You understood he was allowing some space for you, yet to request your presence…

Soon, you stand in the doorway of the royal library, the wooden entrance left ajar. The space acts as a safe haven for anyone in the castle; you gently press it open with the pad of your fingers. Hundreds of books on shelves line the walls with a few tables and lounging couches, yet it is eerily empty. Typically, there would be another person climbing one of the ladders to reach a high book, but even those are gathering dust for now.

Akaashi is in the farthest corner by the window, small stacks of bound journals and novels on almost every available space of the surface. He stands tall by the glass, looking out towards the gardens with his hands clasped behind his back. You take this moment of his oblivion to appreciate the back of the man before you, choking back and battling the agonizing twist of your heart. It is a moment you feel that you no longer deserve, but whatever it may be, the matter seems far less urgent than what the butler had told you.

You near him and clear your throat, the noise causing him to spin on his heels. He looks somewhat taken aback, but quickly composes himself as you curtsy. “I am here, Your Highness. I was told you had urgent matters to discuss.”

Akaashi sighs somewhat before sitting in the chair, beckoning you to come closer to the desk. His complexion seems pale and almost gaunt, and in turn, you frown. Was he not sleeping? Or eating? Has his father been putting too much pressure on his shoulders?

“I must confess,” he begins softly and refuses to meet your eyes. “The matter isn’t as urgent as I made it out to be. But I wanted to see you as soon as possible as it is still important and does concern you.”

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he immediately denies, taking a hasty glance towards you before turning back to the books on the desk. “If anything…I am the one who has wronged you, and I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me,” he continues, his voice trailing towards the end of his confession. The desperation for forgiveness and repentance drown his words until they are all you can feel, yet you were so unsure of why he was seeking those. Did he pity you? Your emotions?

“I believe there is no reason to forgive you, as there is nothing you should feel sorry for,” you say stiffly, hands subtly wringing together.

“I must concur,” he kindly retorts. “Here, please have a look at this.”

He hands you a journal from the top of a stack, encouraging for you to take it. The leather feels aged and worn, but it is one you recognize from many, many years ago.

‘You could consider it a memoir.’

“Open it, please. And read what’s inside it.”

With a curious look, you unwind the ties and peel back the cover. The first page holds nothing, but when you turn the yellowing parchment, familiar handwriting greets you. A date sits in the top right corner, marking it a little less than a year before your eighteenth birthday.

‘I must say, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the princess. In my mind, she would have better things to attend to than to reply to me. After all, we both have our own duties, and in addition to hers, she must be attending some of her father’s meetings. I cannot deny the fact that my heart began to race swiftly when I saw her signature at the bottom of the letter. Even in her writing, I could hear her voice in my head, reading it the same way as if she were speaking to me. How I long for the summer months to quickly come.’

The beginning entry ends there, but as you thumb through the other pages rapidly, they are filled with his writing in neat, onyx ink. You begin to recall the days when you both were here in this very room, him scribbling away as you read your subject of interest. Your eye the other similar-looking journals and he confirms your unspoken questions.

“They’re all about you,” he smiles, though it seems sad and apologetic. “As you can see, I filled quite a few journals over the many years, but…unfortunately, as I grew busier, I was unable to write as much. When you said those words to me that night,” – a grimace on his complexion – “I couldn’t believe myself. Did I truly not love you anymore? At first, I struggled to find an answer…until a few days ago. I have spent much of my time reading through these pages, seeing what I have written.”

“You read…all of these? There must be almost twenty journals here,” you say in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I couldn’t quite put them down, I must admit. Some of my best work, perhaps.”

He stands from his seat and walks around the desk until he’s in front of you. Those pools of cobalt blue still find it difficult to meet your own eyes – they swim with contemplation and hesitation, but a sheet of determination soon clouds them. After you recognize that, he grasps your left hand with both of his and kneels on one knee, his forehead bowed down onto your knuckles either out of embarrassment or absolute respect.

“Keiji, what are you—”

“I was wrong. I had been so wrapped up in my own affairs that I failed to look after you as I had promised at the altar. I neglected you and unwittingly led you to believe that I no longer loved you. You do not deserve such a foolish man, so ignorant to forget how good you are to me, how there can be no other woman because you are my perfect match. I have been reminded of all the reasons of why I love you, and I swear on my existence that I love you more than I ever have.

Yet the truth is, I shouldn’t need to be reminded. You should never need to question my loyalty to you, and for that…I can only give my deepest apologies,” his voice trails to a volume so soft, yet so shaky with remorse. “The regret that I feel can’t even begin to hold a light to the pain that you must have kept bottled inside you, where you kept the cork in for as long as possible as to not burden me. I have failed you, and I will spend the rest of our days correcting my wrongs. In this very moment,” he pauses, inhaling a deep but quivering breath.

“I desperately and humbly request of you to give me this one last chance, to prove that I can be the man you deserve. I am begging you, my future queen, to forgive me.”

Your breath hitches with the last statement.

A prince never begs.

Yet he was here to lay it all out for you, imploring that you stand by his side, again, in more ways than one.

“Please rise, Your Highness,” you call out softly, your hand reaching out to try lifting his chin and meet his gaze.

He stubbornly shakes his head. “Not unless you give me your answer.”

“Keiji, you don’t need—”

“Your answer. Please,” he beseeches with the last word, breath held. You know that when Akaashi becomes insistent, he never backs down yet somehow still allowing the other person to have a choice in the say. No thinking needed to be done, as your answer should be quite obvious.

“How could I ever refuse you, Keiji?” You tease softly with a smile.

Since the first moment he had kneeled before you, he looks up to see your face. Unshed tears glisten from the sun’s rays streaming through the glass. Your words are more than enough for him to stand on both feet again, soon wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your shoulder. These acts of affection are only a small portion of what you had sorely missed, and you were counting on Akaashi to fulfill his vow.

“You are everything to me,” he breathes unsteadily into your neck. “And I will make certain that you never forget this, even after we pass.”

“I can trust you?”

“Yes. I promise.”

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linenwrites · 4 years

Text

Notes

It has been a long three months since they last spoke. Since Severus had called her a Mudblood in front of their whole year. Shame and guilt still plague him but maybe, now that they have returned for their sixth year, he can find a way to make her talk to him once more.

In typical Slughorn fashion, their N.E.W.T. potion class starts with a competition to make the Draught of Living Death. Can Severus pull out enough tricks to kill the feud between himself and Lily?

____________________________________

"For the record," a soft female voice drifted over to him above the normal clatter of breakfast in the Great Hall, "I think it looks ridiculous."

Severus looked up in enough time to watch as a raven haired girl, possibly named Abigail, batted Lily's hand away. Lily had been twining her fingers through the long bangs that fell into Abigail's face, the strands having been dyed bright pink.

"You're just jealous, Lil," Abigail started, a bright smile on her face, "because you're parents would never let you."

He heard her sigh as she walked past where he sat at the Slytherin table, caught the wistful expression on her face.

"True."

Severus felt a piece of him shudder.

She hadn't even looked at him.

The two girls continued on and he turned back to his breakfast only to find that his appetite had suddenly vanished. He didn't know why he had expected anything different but he felt his stomach falling with his mood.

The silence had stretched on and on over the summer months. Severus had written her through muggle post and by owl but, when the letters remained unanswered, he had shown up at her front door. He had prepared himself for Petunia having grown used to her scorn and thinly veiled jealousy over the years. What Severus had not expected was Mr. Evans to open the door, Mrs. Evans behind him in the hallway, both of their faces lined with anger. They had remained polite, as always, but told him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome. He could still hear the slam of the door weeks later.

For three long months, he had endured his father's taunts and his mother's tears, clinging to the hope that things would be different once they returned to Hogwarts.

Apparently, though, nothing had changed.

"Would you look at that!" Avery exclaimed, "We got a free period now!"

Severus turned to his friend who was pouring over their schedule for the year. Slughorn had been round a few minutes ago to deliver them to the new sixth years.

"I'm jealous, I wish I could go back to bed." Mulciber, who was one year their junior, added. His words were punctuated by a yawn.

Despite his mood, Severus couldn't stop his lips twisting into a slight smile. "Stop drooling over Bella and maybe you'll get a good nights sleep for once this year."

His eyes glanced over at the fourth year sitting at the opposite end of the table, her dark hair as wild and unruly as the girl beneath it.

"Says the pricks still pining after the same Mudblood since his first year." Mulciber muttered, eyes flicking to where Lily had just disappeared.

Anger coursed through Severus, causing his blood to pulse through his veins. He opened his mouth and he prepared to curse his friend, unsure if it would be it magical or in words alone, when he felt a warm hand fall on his shoulder.

"Are you still planning on coming by the potions room early today, my boy?" Severus turned, knowing it was Slughorn before his eyes met the head of his house.

"Yes, sir." Severus said, his ears still pink with rage.

"Brilliant, brilliant." Slughorn muttered, eyes skirting around the Great Hall. "By chance, do you know if Miss Evans will be joining you this morning?"

Severus felt Avery and Mulciber's stare, the weight heavy on him as he fought to keep his cool, indifferent tone.

"No, nor do I care." He bit out.

Slughorn's eyebrows furrowed. "My dear boy, there is no need for such hostility just because she scored higher than you in your OWLs."

Sev felt his stomach sink. He hadn't known she had beaten his score.

"You're right, Professor." He ground out, his ears practically burning as Mulciber snickered.

There was a soft thud and then Mulciber let out a soft groan. Avery had undoubtedly kicked Mulciber in the shin.

Severus knew Slughorn had no malice in his words, simply bringing up the longstanding bet he and Lily had been waging against one another since their first year but his words still stung. That pain was now laced with a new sort of shame though, overwhelmingly, one word still clanged around his head.

Mudblood.

To his credit, Slughorn looked mildly embarrassed for once in his life. Perhaps, Severus thought bitterly, you finally realized it is inappropriate to discuss test scores with other students?

"Yes, well," Slughorn cleared his throat, "I'll be in my office till our class after lunch. Preparing for the New Term party and what not. Which reminds me.." Slughorn pulled a piece of decorated parchment out of the front pocket of his robe, the details for the first meeting of the 'Slug Club' written in a perfect, looping script.

Severus nodded in confirmation as he read over the details. Mulciber piped up, "Let me know if you need any help, professor."

Slughorn's eyes glanced over Mulciber, showing him as much interest as he would one of the countless threadbare chairs in the library.

It was petty, because Sev usually considered Mulciber a friend even with the tension that had hung over them throughout breakfast, but his chest swelled with pleasure at the look of defeat and longing in Mulciber's eyes as he watched Slughorn exit the Great Hall.

Severus snickered.

"Don't look so smug. It wasn't too long ago that he was calling you Sylvester."

Sev shrugged, keeping that well practiced mask of indifference plastered on his face as he stood. He wouldn't give Mulciber the satisfaction to know that a fresh wave of shame was crashing over him at the reminder. Instead, he waggled the piece of parchment, the silver embossment glittering in the candlelight, "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Mulciber."

"Are you really going down to the dungeons?" Avery asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Severus nodded, "Yeah, he wasn't joking about my potions score. I got an O but I know I can do better."

Avery shook his head but didn't press the matter further so Severus made his way down to the potions dungeon.

Years ago, he would have relaxed the moment he entered the space, letting the smell of various ingredients and the remnants of finished potions assault his nostrils. This place had been a safe haven for him, a refuge from the chaos and insanity that was Hogwarts. Here, he could hide amid the cauldrons but he had never been alone.

No.

This had been a place for he and Lily. No matter how different they seemed on the outside, the two of them had solidified their friendship amongst the simmering potions.

She always looked so beautiful.

His heart skipped a beat as he thought of the wisps of her hair falling loose from her ponytail as she sliced ingredients or the way her face, shining with sweat, would light up in awe as a potion would subtly change with each stir.

Before her, Severus had never thought of potions as being magical. He had thought it was just glorified cooking until he had heard her speak. Her words were more magical than anything, anything, that came out of one of these cauldrons. He knew that nothing would ever compare to the way her green eyes would spark in excitement and wonder as she discussed how subtle changes could strengthen or destroy the potions integrity and stability completely. Sev rolled his neck. He had to get to work if he expected to make any headway before their first lesson.

Hours later, Severus stood beaming at his text book.

He had made mistakes. The skin on his left forearm was still raw from the green flames that had erupted from the black potion as he put too much Valerian root in. But still, he had made progress that he was proud of.

Other students filed in.

Avery slid into the seat next to him and handed him a sandwich as a greeting.

Sev's eyes went wide and he began to take large bites.

"Thanks." He managed between mouthfuls.

Avery just chuckled. "I figured you'd be hungry. You barely touched your breakfast and being down here through lunch..."

Avery trailed off when Lily entered, his eyes narrowing at her and Potter. Sev was less than pleased to see that she didn't look all that annoyed by his presence. In fact, she almost looked upset when he didn't take the seat on the bench next to her.

He watched as she turned to Abigal once more, a faint flush on her cheeks.

Mercifully, Slughorn bounded into the room.

"Welcome, welcome, to the first course of your N.E.W.T. potions. I'm not going to waste your time. Scales, cauldrons, and books out! Turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We are making the Draught of Living Death. Best one gets fifty points to their house."

They all stared at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Time's already started!" He exclaimed.

Everyone started moving at once, chairs scraping against the stone floor as they all rushed to get ingredients.

Severus was feeling smug, alright.

He had gotten a tip from one of the seventh years that Slughorn always started this course out with the Draught of Living Death and a 'friendly' competition. Severus began to work on his ingredients, tipping things in and stirring as called for. Nearly forty minutes had passed and, by the random updates being shouted out by Slughorn, he and Lily were neck and neck. When he got to the velarian root, he pulled out a silver knife and pressed it along the side. He heard a soft chuckle from beside him as Avery watched the shriveled thing produce more juice than seemed reasonable.

"You're something else, Sev. Share your notes with me once this is done, yeah?" "Always." Severus said with a wink.

Severus scooped up the juice and carefully poured it into the cauldron. The effect was immediate.

The potion, which had just been black as night, turned a lovely shade of lilac. "Oh-ho!" Slughorn shouted, "Looks like Mr. Snape is the furthest along now!"

He couldn't help himself, he looked over towards Lily and met her gaze. She scowled before turning back to her own cauldron.

Severus knew he should get back to work but his eyes were fixed on her. She had already added in the velarian root juice and had begun to stir. He watched intently as she stirred seven times counterclockwise. There was a slight pause and he watched as she straightened her shoulders. She stirred once clockwise.

Nothing exploded.

Lily began to stir faster, seven counterclockwise, one clockwise.

Severus jotted down the note in his textbook before even trying it himself. Seven was a magical number, after all, and the two of them had found that it either lead to utter chaos or improved results in potion making. There was no in between, though.

If the Draught of Living Death was going to have a bad reaction to the clockwise stir, it would have already happened.

He repeated the motion, seven counterclockwise stirs, one clockwise. The potion turned from lilac to pale pink.

Severus beamed.

"Times up!" Slughorn shouted.

He walked around from cauldron to cauldron, shaking his head with a laugh once he finished.

With a wave of his wand, both Severus and Lily's cauldrons floated to the front of the room. The whole class remained silent as Slughorn looked between them.

"Perfect, perfect as always you two." He beamed at them both. "I did say I would decide on a winner and, this time, I have to go with Severus. The coloring in both is textbook but Mr. Snape's has the most incredible iridescent quality. Frankly, I don't think I have ever seen it done quite so well in my life. Fifty points to Slytherin!"

Avery clapped him on the back while the other Slytherin's burst into applause. He was still being congratulated as they filed out of the dungeon classroom. Severus was looking over his shoulder, not paying attention, when he ran straight into someone.

"How?"

Lily was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. Abigail was standing on the steps behind her with Potter at her side.

Her eyes flicked towards his copy of Advanced Potion-Making tucked beneath his arm and he shifted it into his bag. She knew of his habit to scribble notes in the corner.

"Move along, Evans." Avery said, voice low with warning.

Lily glanced at Avery once before turning back to Severus. She starred him for a long moment before she turned on her heal, red hair fanning out behind her.

"Don't let her ruin this for you." Avery muttered as the pair began walking up the stairs together. "You're a great potion maker, you never needed her help. You don't owe her a damn thing."

Severus nodded but his heart was racing.

An idea began to formulate in his head. He began digging through his bag, looking for his schedule so he could see the next time they had a free period.

He bit his lip. Not until Thursday but their next potions class would be Wednesday.

No matter.

He would go down tomorrow evening, perhaps even tonight. He would wake up early and skip meals if he had to.

Hell, he would live in the damned dungeon if that's what it took.

Hope bloomed in his chest. Lily had spoken to him.

And he would make sure it happened again.

#harry potter #hp fanfic #lily evans #severus snape #severus #snape #young snape #mauraders

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rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Warning: This chapter implies dark themes during Hermione’s passage, but it is very briefly mentioned and not graphic. If that bothers you please skip!

Chapter Twenty Seven

Harry’s initial shock seemed to wear by the time they were in the Transfiguration corridor. Before that, Ron had been silent, clear dead set on making it back to the tower unnoticed.

This wouldn’t seem to be the case as the chosen one came to an abrupt stop.

“Ron, I know where she is.” He spoke in a broken voice.

All thoughts suddenly left his head.

He could give a shit less if Malfoy marched up to them right now and hexed their bollocks off. If the entire Chudley Cannons team flew in and announced they’d won the World Cup, he wouldn’t even bat an eye.

No, the only thing he could think of right now was Hermione.

Seeing her again. Looking around a room and knowing she’s safe. Telling her all he wants to say. To hold her...

“W-what?” He chokes after a second. It’s the only coherent thing.

“Sort of,” Harry adds in a whisper, suddenly feeling sorry for obviously getting Ron’s hopes up. “I’ll explain everything but not here. We need to find Neville and get back to the tower.”

And if that’s what needed to be done for Ron to get some sort of bloody explanation, then you better believe that’s what he was dead set on now.

Because of Draco's impromptu appearance at his dorm, they finished earlier than anticipated. Neville was surely still at the pitch doing all he could. Thankfully, they weren’t very far so they jogged outside for him.

“Neville!” Harry called after spotting him in the stands, waving his arms manically.

Neville looked shocked at their presence but tried to hide it as he clambered down the stands.

“Harry, Ron, I thought you still had a half hour? Is everything alright?” He whispered worriedly.

“Fine, it’s fine. Look, come on, I’ll tell you everything,” his green eyes flicked to Ron’s, “both of you, just not here.”

Neville nodded anxiously as the three rushed hurriedly back to Gryffindor Tower. Soon enough, they reached their dorm as Ron was ready to burst in anticipation.

“Okay Harry.” Ron said before Potter could even shut the door.

He hurriedly ruffled through his robes and smacked the picture atop the nearest surface, someone’s trunk.

Like before, the ginger can do nothing but stare at it in confusion.

Neville voices as much, “I don’t understand...”

Harry’s eyes lock with Ron’s. There’s a fire behind them, one he hasn’t seen since that day he ran after Bellatrix, vowing to avenge Sirius.

“Do you remember Ron that night at the Burrow. That night it happened, I saw him, I saw Hermione.” He spoke rapidly.

In response Weasley nodded, “yeah, he came twice. Once right after, once that night.” He recalled.

“Do you remember what I said? When Mad-Eye asked who was there? What I saw?” He encouraged.

Ron isn’t keen on the fact Harry’s trying to place guessing games rather than just blurt out an explanation, he supposes he’ll play along. “Yeah, you said it was just a big cold room.” Every detail of that night was burned into his brain and revisited often.

The raven haired boy nodded in encouragement more than anything else, as he cocked an eyebrow.

It was evident the chosen one was coaxing something out of him, “And...” he screwed his eyes in thoughts. Harry’s strangled voice echoing in his brain.

“The only thing I remember was a chandelier. It was the only thing shining in the room, you couldn't miss it.”

“Blimey, a chandelier.” Ron almost laughed. So overcome with a sense of hope on the realization.

A small smile struck Harry’s lips, “this,” he pointed to the photo, “this was the chandelier I saw.”

“So wherever the chandelier is, that’s where Hermione is, yeah?” Neville voiced, having caught on.

Harry nodded vigorously. “That’s where I saw her.”

The excitement that had been bubbling deep within them soon dropped, “only problem is, where is that chandelier.” The brunette Gryffindor whispered.

At this Ron’s own hope seemed to dwindle a bit, but he wouldn’t let it stay that way for long. No, they were onto something, they had to be.

Think Ron, think! What would Hermione do, come on...

It came to him a minute later, “I saw that picture in The Prophet. Over the summer.”

“Okay...” Harry said not really understanding where this was going.

“There was an article on the lower corner of the same page. It mentioned Percy. Dad was right pissed off after he read it. He incendioed the damn paper. Said he couldn’t believe his own son was apart of such trash that he was sharing a page with the Malfoy’s.” He explained.

“Ron?” His friend pushed again.

“Every article, every picture, in The Prophet article cites a place, an author, a photographer. There has to be something.”

“Mate you just said it yourself, your Dad set it on fire. Either way, I doubt your folks hoard The Prophet.” Harry reminded sounding a little defeated, but the spark was still evident.

“You're right, they don’t,” he paused, “but the library does.”

Neville’s face lit up like it was his Birthday, “he’s right! When we started up the D.A. last year, Hermione and I went through archives from the first war to pull pictures for the board. That’s brilliant Ron!” He exclaimed excitedly.

They turned to Harry, gaging his reaction. Soon, a grin etched his way onto his lips, “what are we still doing here? Let’s go to the library.”

They all began racing out.

“Blimey, spending my night in the library. If only Hermione could see us now.” He whispered to himself.

...

Her mind may be muddled but she isn’t stupid. Far from it.

There’s a small crack in the cell next to hers, right on the ceiling. If she strains her ears enough she’s sometimes able to hear what they’re saying.

“When?” She swears she hears Bellatrix ask.

“Two nights. I need time to prepare. The Order has been around.” Voldemort hisses.

“Of course my lord.” Hermione can visualize her bowing in compliance.

“Until then, not a word of this to the girl, understand?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. You have my word.” She hears Bellatrix promise.

Hermione gulps as she hears the cracking of disapparating and stomping of boots from above.

Painfully, she slinks back into the far corner to rest. It’s an absolute miracle she’s even conscious after everything upstairs.

Teeth. Nails. His hands, oh god, don’t think-

She screws her eyes in thought, pulling roughly at her shirt with her less injured hand.

Her clothes are mangled and tattered. Practically shreds at this point. Her entire body is exposed and that alone makes chills dance along her spine.

She doesn’t know if the blood covering the expanse of her most personal spots are a good or bad thing. Either way it makes her wretch.

She hears footsteps come down the steps. The candle flickers on which makes her ease a bit. It only does that when Natali- no, Narcissa, comes down stairs.

She takes a moment to berate herself. Maybe she’s not as smart as she once thought.

Stupid, stupid mind, you’re supposed to be brilliant! She scolds, the voice in her head almost sounds like Bellatrix.

She’s broken from her thoughts as a large clinging of metal practically makes her jump out of her skin.

Hermione looks up to see the woman with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in fear.

Carefully Hermione surveys the room, trying to find what has her in such a state.

She soon realizes it’s her. This causes her to self consciously throw her arm over her breasts.

“Oh child, what did they do to you?” She cries out, dropping to her knees.

The brunette cowers a little at her words, silent tears streak her cheeks.

Like last night, she can tell Hermione needs comfort now more than ever, as Narcissa thoughtlessly throws open the bars and drops to her knees.

Welcoming the soothing touch as opposed to the burning she gets when Greyback or anyone else touches her, she falls onto the woman’s shoulder.

They sit like this for a while. Narcissa strokes her matted, disgusting hair, soothing her.

It isn’t until Hermione calms down that she realizes Missus Malfoy has thrown her cloak around her frame.

“They’re planning something. I don’t know what.” Narcissa tells her in an honest whisper, “it won’t be good for you.” She says next.

And the words should really evoke some terrible fear deep within her, but they don’t. She’s just numb to the pain at this point.

“Was it worth it?” She pulls away to look at Hermione’s dull, almost lifeless eyes, “was what you did today worth all this?” Narcissa has to know. She’s not patronizing her, she’s just trying to understand.

Momentarily she can see a spark in the young witch's eyes as she nods.

“W-worth e-everything.” She stutters out, having trust that Harry was doing something. Anything.

All the days she’s spent here she’s felt useless. Like some damsel in distress waiting for her prince to come get her out, but today was different. Today she felt like she controlled her own fate, if even a small portion.

The consequences were dreadful, unbearable, but in that moment when she called for Harry, she felt like herself again. If only for a second.

She hasn’t felt that way in weeks.

Narcissa nodded at her words and then returned to hugging her small frame.

Neither knew that what Hermione did today would cost her nearly everything.

…

Madam Pince gave them no trouble when they requested the archives. Ron imagines it’s pretty empty here considering it’s most common occupant has been away.

The book is an enchanted one. You tell it a date or just a general period time and it’ll open to the exact copy from the requested time.

Harry currently had it in front of him at the table.

“What do we say?” He asked, eyeing it curiously.

Ron thinks, “well, the article was over the summer. It was after school, but before Hermione arrived. So I reckon it was between a two week period.” He thinks aloud before deciding, “The Daily Prophet, June Twenty-Seventh 1996.” He told it.

Suddenly it’s pages fluttered to life, lightly ruffling the boys’ hair as it flicked hurriedly. It stopped after a few moments with a large headline labeled, ‘Dumbledore due to Retire after Ministry Break-In!’

“Rubbish.” Neville mumbled reading it.

Knowing this wasn’t it, he told the book to keep flipping.

Most of the headlines were shite. All boasting about how wonderful the ministry is, how awful Hogwarts is, even mentions of Harry.

‘The Boy Who Lies, Again!’ The title for June thirtieth read with a picture of Harry from the Ministry.

Upon seeing that, Ron only hurried his calls to the book.

“Next day!” Nope. “Next Day!” Another page down.

Just as he prepared to call for it to move on, Neville yelled out, “stop!”

His blue eyes peeled from Harry and to the book. In front of them sat the picture of the Malfoy’s, above it read ‘Malfoy Mentality’ in thick capital letters.

For good measure Harry shakily held up the photo from the dorm next to it.

A complete match.

Wordlessly, the three moved closer and anxiously began to read the contents of the article.

It was a load of rubbish. Just going on and on about how the Malfoy’s manage to remain so respectable during these times (their words not his). A few quotes from Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were also sprinkled about.

Ron can’t say he was shocked when the whole article was written by one Rita Skeeter. Even more maddening, not once did they talk about wherever the hell that picture was.

Next, he flashed his eyes to the photo in question, squinting to make out the small font underneath it.

Photographed by-

“Balthasar Bartolo Brimblehawk!” Neville yells out, causing someone to shush him from nearby.

He flushes red and drops into a whisper, “Brimblehawk, I know him.” He tells them.

“You do?” Harry asked, astonished at their luck. It’s almost as if they raised Slughorn’s stash of Felix Felicis prior to coming here.

He nods a little madly, “he was a big deal way back then, with The Order and all. Those pictures, the ones we had from the D.A. I reckon he took all of those.”

“Then why the hell is he now taking pictures of the Malfoy’s?” Ron asks before he can help it.

Neville goes on, “he took my parents wedding photos, my Gran’s too. He even took some photos of me when I was little, my Gran owl’s him from time to time. Last Easter she was having tea with Mrs.Criswell and I heard them talking. I mean normally it’s just gossip mind you, you know about other women or-“

“Neville.” Ron says gently, trying to steer him on track.

“Right. Sorry.” He says, “anyway, I zoned in because they mentioned You-Know-Who. When The Prophet had their little, uh, change, they wanted only the best. Brimblehawk is the best photographer for this type of thing I reckon, war times and all.”

“But?” Harry interjected knowing it was coming.

Sadly, Neville nodded, “but, apparently he refused to be a part of it. Next day his shop was broken into, ransacked. They never said who it was, of course one can only assume...” he trailed, “scared for him and his grandkids, he agreed to do work for them. Reckon he didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Bugger.” Ron mumbled. He wasn’t naive, he knew how wars worked. His Mum lost her brothers to the last one, but it didn’t make the fact innocent people. People like Brimblehawk, like Hermione, were paying the prince.

“Last I heard he stills develops photos from time to time down at his shop, he lives above it. Heard he takes less pictures now because of everything, plus he’s rather old, probably around Dumbledore’s age now.” Neville finished with a shrug.

“And could you get in contact with him? Your Gran maybe?” Harry questioned anxiously.

He sighed and shook his head, “If I sent an owl he’d surely be confused, tell me Gran and all. Then my Gran would demand answers, well, you know how that goes. I don’t wanna ruin this whole thing, it’s a bit of a secret.”

“Yeah a bit.” Ron scoffed sarcastically.

The dark haired boy monetarily glared at his friend, “okay, so that’s out of question, I think face to face interaction would be best. Where’d you say his shop was?” He asked.

Neville looked a little defeated, “I didn’t. It’s in Diagon Alley.”

“Diagon Alley! The next time we’ll be allowed over there is Easter holidays. I can’t wait that long!” Ron exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

“I know, shite.” Harry mumbled, nibbling nervously on his finger nails.

“Maybe someone else could? I mean, you guys said McGonagall and Dumbledore-“ the brunette started.

“No.” Harry dismissed, “they’d ask too many questions. If too many people knew, word could get back to whoever has her. They could move her. We need someone who understands how important this is. Someone who knows Hermione as more than the Brightest Witch of our Age.”

“Who?” Neville asks after a moment, thinking the chosen one was onto something.

Harry didn’t speak, but Ron did.

“Fred and George.”

#Ron Weasley #Ron and Hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #ron x hermione #Hermione Granger #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year

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barbika1508 · 4 years

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Hiwaga (Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader)

Part 2

Words: 11,2k

Genre: Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, Enemies to Lovers, Action, Romance, Smut, Flufffffff

Pairing: Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader

Warnings: More cursing, Nightmares

Summary: Life was good, playing out better than it has been ever before. My future was bright and full of promises and wishes coming to realization. All up until she showed up. She stormed though the front doors ruining everything along the way by her mere presence derailing my goals and purpose in life. A puny mortal, a child, a complete nuisance, and yet…The key to an unimaginable life, to the truth all along.

Author's note: Hiwaga – mystery; full of wonder Words in italics are dialogues or thoughts that Jeongguk reads from others. So I’ve done research with this fic, and used certain words that need explanation…given that there can be A LOT I’ve put a dictionary just below the fic if anyone is interested :3

Jeongguk’s POV:

‘’YOONGIIIIII-YAAAHHH!!!’’ comes the call not really disrupting others, but it does pull the gained momentum to a full stop, everyone now straightening up, eyes and heads turned towards the entrance. We all observe as the owner of that annoying voice comes in sight, dressed in none other than Yoongi hyungs favourite red hoodie that he mostly lounges around in.

‘’I’ve figure it out!’’ she continues on oblivious to the others stopping because of her. Our elder simply smiles and turns his attention completely onto her, as she offers up a thick book that at first glance leaves me wondering how she was able to pick it up. Frankly if you look at her you wouldn’t assume that she’d be able to lift much.

He simply hums in acknowledgement, eyes scanning the page his smile gradually fading. Namjoon appears at the doorframe a moment later, the girl not jumping or flinching at his sudden presence like most humans would normally react to. Wordlessly she accepts a notebook from him, her own eyes darting left and right a frown drawing itself across her features. Hmmm she’s kind of cute…

‘’What’s going on?’’ Taehyung asks frowning as he shifts the spear he’s using to train, between his hands. We’re all dressed the same, in black tank tops and grey sweatpants most of us barefoot too. We came to the fully equipped gym which we’ve transformed into an arena its purpose clear – practice martial arts and combat between another. Hyung had just started teaching us new techniques honestly surprising us all as he joined in from the beginning.

We don’t necessarily need the fitness or practice – nobody even broke a sweat in the last hour we’ve been training – but the impending tension that has settled after the ball two nights ago, doesn’t seem to loosen up so this is the best next thing to relieve some form of built up frustration. Even though neither Yoongi nor Jin hyung revealed anything yet, both of them are hiding their emotions back but everyone just knows that something is happening. Fighting is a temporary distraction.

Most vampires don’t actually need to fight or simply never learn how to because they rely solemnly on their powers or abilities. And half of us could lean onto using our powers, but Yoongi made sure we had a good solid base of self-defence before he had us train our abilities. For example, his power is scary and rare and doesn’t require of him to ever lift a finger whilst fighting. Others had to learn the hard way how to control their powers. That includes myself – mentality and people’s minds are tricky.

‘’Research.’’ Its Namjoon that replies handing over a regular pencil that he usually sticks behind his ear whenever he’s working on something in the library where he has been spending a lot of time lately again at. The human accepts it, and is quick to start and scribble something over a page. Being the only one left out of this round I approach them first, eyeing Yoongi for a moment further his eyes darting over to Namjoon.

‘’This is bothersome.’’ He comments offering the book to Namjoon who accepts it nodding silently. The girl curses out of the blue, the swear words that spill from her mouth unfamiliar to my ear, and judging by other hyung’s faces they are stumped too. Some curses don’t even sound like words, but once she shuts up and looks at the platinum blonde elder, she looks beyond annoyed while he burst into chuckles shaking his head ‘’Yah, Y/N-ah there are kids here.’’ He teases back the occurrence and light-heartedness that he shows to her still unfamiliar. He must be the only one who understood whatever came from her mouth.

I spare a glance at Seokjin who is shaking his head, two fingers pressed against the inner of his eyes. Okay he understood her to, but to what degree I’m not sure.

‘’Aish.’’ She intakes a breath ready to smack Yoongi with the notebook but refrains from doing so, her eyes darting over to us. Maybe it’s just my imagination but I get a feeling as if they linger on me for a moment longer ‘’Not funny. They called me a child.’’ She ends up pouting and showing her notebook over to Yoongi. Glancing at Namjoon he’s awkwardly smiling, eyes averted down onto the thick book ‘’And other things I don’t need to translate.’’ Grumbling she adds looking upset as she glares at him unamused. Everyone offers soft chuckles in return finally relaxing more as they step closer.

Hyung’s arm rises wrapping around her shoulders reassuringly ‘’Well that was the plan was it not?’’

My eyes dart over to Tae and Jimin, exchanging looks between both of them in question and sort of answer at the revelation ‘’Yeh.’’ Her reply is curt arms crossed over while she turns her eyes towards Namjoon ‘’We’re close to figuring it out. Its trickier than I thought. Haven’t practiced Gaya in so long…Kaya…aish even my pronunciation is completely off.’’ She signs looking exasperated.

‘’Wait…’’ Hoseok starts tensing up taking barely half a step towards her in the uneven circle we’ve created ‘’Kaya as in the language? Karak? Like 5th century, dead long and forgotten language?!’’ he looks at them in complete disbelief mouth hanging ajar. He’s almost on his toes. I immediately look at the human, that nods fingers tapping against the page of her notebook impatiently or out of nerves.

‘’That one yes. Why? Do you know it???’’ her eyes sparkle for a moment, but hyung is quick to turn his head away and raise his hands in defeat.

‘’That’s way before my time.’’ he mumbles pouting. I watch as Y/N enthusiasm diminishes instantly. She sighs heavily looking at Yoongi who’s already staring back at her.

‘’Aigo.’’ She complains pouting ‘’It’s all on us then buddy.’’ She adds on offering Namjoon a soft smile. I can see her disappointment clearly in the way her shoulders lower sag. I narrow my eyes as I watch her, not really comprehending that there’s a chance that she actually knows a dead language. The name of it or the know how about it. She barely speaks proper Korean!!!!! And to know of a pre-Korean language makes zero logic!!!

‘’Uh huh. I’m sure we can handle it. Easy.’’ Namjoon replies trying to sound positive but, we all know he’s putting up a front for her sake ‘’I’ll head into the city right away. Go to my usual places to snoop around for any fragments. There should be at least something somewhere.’’ And with that, and a silent confirmation from Jin and Yoongi, he bids us goodbye’s and heads out disappearing quickly as he appeared before.

‘’What are you even translating? Did that douche-ling make another cryptic speech?’’ Jimin asks looking annoyed, tapping both fingers against the handles of his dual swords which are resting against the ground. Y/N instead of quickly replying looks over at Yoongi, who takes her notebook and closes it. Is she waiting for permission or is she actually being respectful for once?!?

‘’In the beginning yeah, he bounced with Karak but then switched to Latin mid-way.’’ Yoongi snorts smirking but there’s no amusement to his words ‘’Y/N-ah already translated his official scripts and the other speech, and the propositions he gave us.’’

‘’Lots of politics involved.’’ Jin confirms looking lost in thought, holding his head propped up with one hand, the other remaining crossed across his chest.

‘’There’s something else isn’t there.’’ I pick up on the lack of explanation staring straight at the human. Her lips go into a tight line eyes averting looking anywhere else, while she shifts her feet in line with her shoulders, stance defensive with her centre balanced. That much I can read out once her shoulders square up, and her leg muscles clench and unclench. Why is she wearing a hoodie and shorts again?!? Her bare legs look very nicely defined, I never noticed it.

‘’I wrote down notes of the conversation that Wangseja had with his advisor.’’ Everyone takes a double take at her disclosure clearly none of us expecting something like this of her. Maybe she isn’t a clueless bimbo after all.

‘’That still wouldn’t fully explain the usage of Karak.’’ Hoseok speaks up thoughtful ‘’Do you think them speaking out loud was deliberate or simply a foolish error?’’

He has a point there. It could be a trap, but Yoongi is quick to shake his head in denial arm now having shifted around Y/N, his hand placed on her hip ‘’I don’t think it’s either of those. It’s safe to assume for certain than none of you assumed that Y/N-ah here spoke more than 3 languages, let alone Karak in the mix right?’’ the other hyungs nod along eyeing her suspiciously, except for Jin that offers a smirk and Taehyung that seems to be revaluating his stance over her again ‘’Point made then.’’

That boulder in my stomach reappears again, as with prideful eyes Yoongi turns to look at her with a wider smile, while she shakes her head instead twirling the pen, he hasn’t confiscated from her. She’s shifting from one foot to another lulling side to side impatiently making him retreat his arm away.

This girl never seems to be able to stand still even for a second ‘’Yeah, yeah I’m more than meets the eye, bla, bla.’’ She shows her tongue at her supposedly life-term friend ‘’Never heard that one before.’’ she mocks, and slides the pen smoothly behind Hyung’s ear who doesn’t blink twice at her antics. Even more so as she reaches for his Geom that is sheathed on his left hip ‘’So instead of wracking our brains uselessly with the lack of information that we are stuck with, I would like to lay of some steam as well.’’ she draws out the double-edged sword, with poise, letting the handle go while she maintains the balance of it, flipping the sword around a single digit, capturing it successfully once it does a 360 turn.

She looks pleased upon capturing it, perking up and giving of an almost goofy smile. Oh no. Don’t tell me this is something else that she isn’t going to take seriously?

‘’You wanna play with us little mortal?’’ Jimin pips up looking enthusiastic and livelier all of the sudden. But he doesn’t slide forward and move closer to her like I know he would prefer to. It brings a smile to my face, the thought of him being so afraid of hyung that he doesn’t dare approach her in his presence all that much.

Looking at the girl, she’s preoccupied with hyung’s sword, trying to find the balance of it as she holds it by the handle horizontally keeping it steady. At his comment, she lets the sword fall but catches it before the tip can hit the ground.

‘’Jagi?’’ the nickname has everyone in the room freeze on spot. There are two reaction that she grants herself. Chuckles of amusement, that aren’t as quiet as the hyungs wants them to be – nobody in their sane mind would want to experience Yoongi’s wrath. Tae ends up ducking behind Hoseok as he’s the loudest, hence why the elders glare is instantaneous as he turns to glare at both giggling men.

Jin hyung straight up turns around hand covering his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking badly. Hoseok ends up grinning wider and starts too coo instead, teasing in between but mostly telling Y/N how adorable she is for some reason. Jimin settles for kneeling on the ground hands still holding into his own dual swords grin present over his features, eyes having disappeared from how much he finds this whole situation amusing.

I on the other hand hold back the bile that gathers in my stomach. Ew. Just no. Why? Seriously why. I cringe and listen to the way Yoongi is quick to defend her and not himself! He’s advocating for her, coming up with excuses as to why he is allowing her to use this nickname on him. Looking at her, she’s grinning widely clearly amused by the situation she has created.

I seriously feel sick to my stomach. It’s wrong it’s all just wrong. I seriously don’t like her. Just as I was starting to, I don’t anymore I really don’t. She’s way to cocky right now, acting as if she has hyung wrapped around her finger. He storms after our so called ‘dance line’ with the exception of me, as they start teasing the two louder and bolder. Unbothered she remains put just watching blurs go around, her eyes not able to pick up much on what’s going on as the chase begins.

If she wasn’t here – hyung would be chasing me too with the others. I let a few good comebacks die on my tongue knowing first-hand what it’s like to get silly punishment from Yoongi after badmouthing him or anyone else. Her mere presence right now is to put it in simple words; extinguishes my will to live. And yeah, I’ve been a vampire for almost 200 years but fuck does she weight me down. Is it because I can’t read her thoughts? I shift on my feet, dropping my arms from the crossed-up position I’ve had them. While my left hand reasts against my hip, I let my right rest over the handle of my own Geom. I’ve decided to build upon my skills with it, even though it’s not commonly used anymore, it’s still gives the thrill like no other.

That familiar itch raises in my throat slowly, prickling at it mostly. I think this type I haven’t felt since I’ve been freshly turned. But that was another story as my hunger for blood then was insatiable. When all I could think about was blood, and the constant pain that held me in its clutches. It’s starting to appear somewhat, but not necessarily for blood alone which is puzzling as to what’s happening to me.

‘’You look like you’re having fun.’’ I raise an eyebrow as I look down at her in surprise ‘’The whole brooding thing you’ve got going on right now, is a good strategy. I commend you on that dude.’’

‘’Strategy?’’ I ask bemused eyeing her carefully as she steps right next to me and turns to watch the chaos that’s still unfolding across us. Her approach is like – if you were sitting on the very edge of a couch, she’s the person that would sit right next to you. Can she get even more annoying than this?!

‘’Well yeah.’’ She starts and looks at me slightly losing the edge of confidence she has ‘’To avoid this mess that’s happening. Wasn’t that…’’ she trails off clearly doubting herself ‘’Never mind then.’’ she’s quick to look away, left hand reaching up to scratch at her cheek, but she keeps it there avoiding to look at me.

I can’t help but to smile at her behaviour. Is she blushing?!

Odd. Humans are weird. Narrowing my eyes as I continue watching her, I can’t help but to relax a bit. Her hair is a mess as always, falling over her shoulders, clearly uncombed or unattended. Not that she’s dirty, she smells fresh and like she bathed fairly recently that strawberry hint present underneath the artificial flavour of honey scented shampoo.

The hoodie is too big on her body as it’s too big for hyung himself but on her it easily reaches her mid tights. Having said that the branded shorts with white stripes at the side of her legs peek just from beneath the red hoodie. Otherwise her legs are exposed, and following the curves from her meaty thighs, down to her calves I can see she’s back at being restless her left foot tapping against the ground the rubber of her sneakers making faint noise against the wood of the ground.

Shouts raising has me turning up, ready to defend myself from blatantly staring at her or crudely said ogling her. To my rare luck Yoongi has both Jimin and Taehyung pinned down, clearly having fun as he fake scolds them. Hoseok has given up and is sitting on the ground, hands propping himself up as he’s leant backwards. Jin hasn’t even participated in whatever they have going on, and is sitting in the corner of the room, kneeling against the wall with his new pink coloured Samsung Z in his hands, typing furiously on it with a small smirk on his face.

‘’Hey do you know why did the scarecrow win an award?’’ Jin starts getting everyone’s attention eyes rising after he asks the question. He even glances towards us. And we all know what’s coming it’s clear as a single cloud on a clear sunny day ‘’Because he was outstanding in his field.’’

I roll my eyes instantly, biting onto my lower lip because it’s ridiculous. Jimin burst into laughter first, Hoseok and Tae groaning but ending up laughing more so because of Jimin that rolls away from Yoongi who has let go of both vampires and is staring at hyung with a scrunched-up expression.

‘’Seriously hyung?’’ he breathes shaking his head. But a smile is present.

I’m genuinely startled when Y/N places her hand on my shoulder, body trembling as she tries to keep her own giggles down, but is not having much success with it. I stare at her confused but slightly fascinated by the rosiness that covers her cheeks, and face. Her eyes crinkle as they shut, mouth twisted into a grin. Her hold on my shoulder is surprisingly firm, again in the back of my mind making me revaluate the estimate I put on her about her strength.

‘’You’re laughing at that?’’ I ask trying to sound unimpressed but fail at it completely as I smile all due to her own amusement, the joke not being that drop-dead-funny.

She shakes her head instead and let’s go of me taking a step to the side hand readjusting the hold on hyung’s Geom once more ‘’The delivery was A+.’’ she points out as she starts to calm down.

‘’Thank you, Y/N-ah! You see brats? Someone appreciates my jokes! It’s why from now on Y/N-ah is my favourite creature ever!!!’’ he shouts out acting bratty himself. Jimin and Tae are both on their feet making their way over to Jin, probably with the intention of convincing him that they are his favourite whatever.

‘’Gee thanks.’’ Y/N chuckles bringing my attention back to her ‘’Never been called someone’s favourite ‘creature’ but I’ll take it.’’ she ends up grinning happily as she turns to me, warmth still lingering on her cheeks. As well as over my shoulder where her hand was ‘’Anyways you wanna practice Sour boy?’’ I immediately frown at that nickname as does she scrunching up her nose adorably for a moment ‘’Sour creature?’’ she tries ending up chuckling to herself as she shift left and right, the calmness leaving her while her jumpiness coming back ‘’Can’t use Sour wolf those right are reserved obviously…’’ I tilt my head not having a clue what’s she’s referring to ‘’…sour…ah never mind.’’ Again, she’s shaking her head but isn’t hiding away. She twists the sword again putting her left foot forward balancing her centre first, hands and sword following suit ‘’So you wanna try going against me?’’

It’s a dare.

I want to burst into laughter already imagining 3 moves alone to disarm her in a blink of her eye. But hyung’s words in my head stop me from over reacting at the preposterous challenge that’s right in front of me.

Humour her Jeongguk-ah. It will do good for your patience.

Taking a hold of my own blade, I spare a glance over towards Yoongi first noticing that everyone is watching us. They are going to be entertained I’ll make sure I will…

In a blink of an eye and my own, as my reflexes are enhanced mind you – I find myself dumbfounded, as her sword flashes due to the light and clashes against my own, knocking it sideways proving that my hold on it wasn’t as tight as it should have been.

As I look down at her burning but non-glowing human eyes, she’s glaring at me with some sort of fire in her irises. Her hand is back on me, firmly holding onto the inside of my forearm, while her blade is angled in a seemingly awkward position right arm positioned over her left body twisted to the side. But the most important part is; the tip of her sword is located right under my chin. The body of the Geom is strategically positioned in a way that would block any stronger and direct attack from myself.

The cheers burst out of the blue interrupting the silence that happened due to her unexpected actions.

My tongue darts to my cheek as I snort and tilt my head narrowing my eyes at her, as she ends up smiling but look serious doing so. She ends up pulling her hand and sword back, rising it up in triumph.

‘’Lesson number one; always be ready for the unexpected.’’ Jin speaks up oddly enough giving me a more serious look.

I don’t even bother looking towards others, and focus on the girl before me that’s literally skipping on her spot 2 steps away from me. She wiggles her eyebrows at me, sword getting placed to rest against her shoulder angled at an around 80 degree ‘’Lesson 1000-something-something never lose focus.’’ She imitates Yoongi’s pattern of speech clearly making fun of him making me know that he trained her as well. Her head turns to the right to give him a look.

I twirl my Geom keeping in mind that even though I’m about to surprise her as she surprised me, I a voice screaming at me to keep my movements slow. It would be an easy defeat – like taking candy from a baby – if I use my regular speed and agility on her. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

As I raise my blade, she instantly blocks it spinning with elegance at the perfect time. While I’m holding the leather wrapped handle with both hands, she only uses one and efficiently blocks me, her blade only briefly losing a hold twitching backwards and then coming to a still.

‘’To rough?’’ I tease, as she grabs for the long handle with her left hand the pressure against my blade turning prominent. Fuck. I didn’t expect in the slightest that she would be even able to push against me. But that’s maybe because I didn’t focus on taking a hold of my Geom in a proper way like I should have. I underestimated her.

She doesn’t reply initially, but offers a smirk jaw locked tight. To my astonishment she unpredictably steps back, and raises her Geom ready to strike down, which I block successfully intercepting her attacks from the get go. The fact remains that tips the balance contradictory to my own belief and those of my hyungs as with my brief lack of concentration, everything changes – words fill my mind – because she has managed from the get go to legitimately push me backwards. She has me moving, whole body getting in tune and reflexes to work as two close calls of the metal coming in contact with me have me focusing solemnly on her.

It isn’t until she’s out of breath that she jumps back like in the beginning, and simply breathes harshly through her nose. That’s the weakness of being a human. Getting tired. I know it’s not fair but I take my chance and charge forward, confident that I’ve got an easy win under my belt.

But as I move forward faster than I should I’ll admit her left hand reaches and gets in line with where my sword is pointed at. She’s reaching forward as if she is about to pick an apple, the action itself insane. That has me stopping right before the blade can touch, forcing my whole body to a halt. That’s when she strikes, finger wrapping onto the top of my blade against the blunt part of it.

It all happens so fast even for me, as she holds onto my weapon and just like the first time, she’s finds herself right up in my personal space, her blade finding a home under my chin it seems.

Her face is almost feral – that’s how I’d describe it the easiest. She’s showing her blunt teeth as she breathes fast heart absolutely pounding in her chest, as she glares at me the fire I saw before has turned into some sort of a blizzard, and hunger. The cheers that erupt of disbelief and glee get all muted - her blood is calling out to me. I can feel it vibrating in her veins, pumping steadily though her heart. It sounds like a forgotten lullaby her speeding but regulating steady heartbeat. It brings a taste of nostalgia forward.

The smile that stretches across her lips seems newly unique, only for my eyes – there’s of course that prominent sense of victory, happiness that’s prominent in her whole being still only inches away from me.

I’m left blinking in confusion, the hold of my blade being let go as someone pulls her backwards the cold blade that was located under my chin retreating as well as her warmth and now prominent smell of fruitiness, and something else that I can almost taste in the air – something that kind of remind me of the smell I remember that came from my own clothes when I was still a human.

‘’Ah our sweet Golden Maknae, it seems you have meet you’re match in at least one category!’’ Jin cheers throwing his arm over my shoulders, looking extremely gleeful as he starts poking my sides. I twist at his ministration but keep watching as Hoseok lifts Y/N up onto his shoulders, her hands free from weapons and desperate to hold onto something as she dangerously shifts and tries to balance herself on his shoulders. His oblivious jumping spree continues despite her cries of protests with Jimin standing behind the two ready to catch her as Taehyung dances along with the vampire that’s carrying her.

I can’t shake off the tingles that seem to entrap me in a sense, running over my skin prickling at my long stopped beating heart. I stare almost dumbly listening to the shouts and cheers from the human girl, that decided to act along with the boys’ antics easily following and mimicking them having the time of her life judging by the giant smile she has on, and adorable chuckles that raise. But the smile she gave me doesn’t resemble this one, one bit. The one I got was more – her.

‘’Good effort, Jeongguk-ah.’’ Yoongi speaks up appearing finally on my right, hand holding onto his Geom once more. Meeting his eyes, they seem soft the smirk he has not too promising for my dignity ‘’Of course you’ve managed to accomplish all the don’ts than do’s in what I’ve taught you, but it was a good lesson nonetheless.’’

Jin stars laughing immediately agreeing with Yoongi, the jokes and mockery following after.

I hate losing, I despise it with my whole being given that I’m not sure if I still have a soul. And even though irritation is brewing under my skin, I can’t find myself to feel real anger of any sorts. She threw me off too much to completely understand the feeling I’m experiencing, in regards of her.

Of course, I still don’t like her, why would I pfffff. This is only a reason more that I need to start and upstage her frankly speaking. I’m not jealous of her being in hyung’s good graces or anything childish like that but…I’m the golden maknae. I need to knock her down a peg or two.

I find myself watching her like a hawk, awaiting the anger and frustration to hit me…it doesn’t. And that’s concerning me slightly.

*A few days later*

I squint automatically at the spill and change of contrasting light that floods into the room. My eyes are quick to adapt but my brain forces me to react humanly. Rounding the corner, I’m met with a wide and open door that leads to the side of the mansion, into the gardens and towards the pathway that leads towards the garage. I sigh annoyed that someone is trying to start a prank war again. It’s a poor prank just leaving the doors open, but the sun that’s shinning inside is frankly bothersome enough to diminish my mood.

I was having a good match going on the whole night, winning every time of course setting new records. The peckish-ness appeared out of nowhere – I fed 2 days ago, there’s no reason why I’m feeling hungry again. I should be fine and yet, my throat itches uncomfortably enough so that I need to take plan B; Take a blood bag from the fridge to calm myself down.

I rarely do this, hating the cold and very artificial taste that the bag leaves on the blood. But the blood bags are there for this exact reason.

I stand at the entrance of the lavish kitchen and dining area on my right and place my hands onto my hips just contemplating my life choices as one does in the middle of the day – or night for some. Why does it have to be so sunny, why can’t it just keep raining. Of course, it has been a while since I’ve seen sunlight, but I sure as hell didn’t miss it that much. It’s absolutely glowing against the polished marble flooring, and reflecting all over the clean white kitchen.

There are bowls on the kitchen island, the presence of them making me listen in a focus for a moment if someone is close and trying to scare me. Silence. Strange. Approaching the kitchen island and avoiding the stray odd ray of sunlight that stretches across the room, thanks to a curtain being moved, I see pastry has been laid out on a wooden desk. Two banana’s lies on another chopping board still intact, while a gooey brown substance resides in a pot next to the pastry.

I’m so confused. What is this supposed to be?

Looking around for Jin hyung I’m left wondering if he’s back at experimenting with human food and trying to impress our annoying temporary human resident. Last time he baked 10 cakes, of different flavours, which the human did thank him over hundreds of times for, but barely made a dent in them. We had to throw them out after 4 days, with Jin hyung reasoning that it’s logical as they were going to go bad. Sounds like bullshit to me as in my time cakes were a delicacy to get often, but I feel as if they are more compact and longer lasting than 4 days but what do I know about human food. Eh.

Glancing towards outside keeping my eyes trained on the marble flooring I pick up on someone talking fast and thoughts of How lovely and kind, she is flooding my mind That girl has a knack for flowers, and it helps that she’s extra nice unlike most of Mr. Min’s friends I block out the gardeners thoughts as they continue wandering about Yoongi…yet again. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I take the chance squinting and frowning at the brightness even more prominent, my eyes trained to the outside watching as Y/N stumbles over her feet but recollects herself. She’s carrying a small bouquet of what seem like lavender coloured roses. I didn’t even know we grow those. The flowers don’t look that nice during the night I’ll admit that. But I know Jin hyung wanted multi coloured flowers, and I know there was a Boquete of blue roses placed on this very kitchen island some time ago.

I watch as the girl jumps exaggeratingly childish and cheerful onto the concrete ground of the mansions floor and short patio. Her bare feet make barely any noise, as she approaches.

‘’Oh, hey what are you doing up still?’’ she asks squinting but due to the contrast she must be experiencing. I’m surprise she spotted me outside. She kinda looks that sort of an adorable-ugly.

‘’You do know that we don’t sleep right?’’ I ask hesitant not sure if she knows this fact. I stare at her, ready to bolt to her aid as she stumbles again once she steps inside closing her eyes and taking 2 steps blindly ahead.

‘’I know that, I meant as in up now. Everyone is usually closed off at this time.’’ she’s quick to explain opening her eyes carefully, looking around still squinting the ugliness still there.

‘’I should be asking you why are you up instead. Aren’t you usually dead asleep by this time?’’ I turn the conversation around, watching as she reaches the counter and places the roses on it, turning back to the doors. I snort to myself at her choice of clothing being a white shirt with jean overalls that hang slightly lose on her.

‘’To be honest I drank one energy drink or two too much, so I’m wide awake.’’ She replies turning to look at me, expression relaxing into a normal one, eyes still blinking quickly a few more times glossiness present in them ‘’Do you mind the doors?’’ the question has my brows rising in question ‘’Is the light bothering you? I can close them, if it is.’’

Surprised I contemplate for a moment, preferring that she does close the door off but there’s something more to her unusual question ‘’I’m fine with them as they are.’’ I lie and sit myself on the second bar stool from the right corner of the kitchen island, making sure I’m keeping a safe distance from the pesky sun.

‘’Oh good.’’ she sighs in relief perking up ‘’To be honest I didn’t even know how much I’ve missed the sun.’’ the short explanation is happy as she practically skips over to the doors anyways.

‘’Hm I bet you do.’’ I mumble reaching out for one rose, seeing with the corner of my eye as she slips into a pair of slippers that she has left near the wall which I didn’t even notice were there.

‘’Do you?’’ looking up she doesn’t seem like she means anything ill with the question. I think she’s naïve enough to be genuinely curious.

I take a moment to think about it looking out at the brightness, while she goes to rummage around the cabinets ‘’I’m not sure.’’ I admit ‘’I miss sightseeing certain places in day-light. It’s just easier going at night, instead of putting a ton of cream to my skin, and having an umbrella along.’’ I ramble remembering the time when I visited Paris alone. I put a ton of sun cream on, and picked out a designer umbrella, but the curious looks and people randomly asking me to take pictures with them as they thought I was a model or something got tiresome really fast.

‘’Hmm, that would guarantee unwanted attention I’m sure.’’ Her comment has me turning to her again curious as it’s like she read right through my thoughts. She’s filling out a vase or just a tall ornate glass up with water, face portraying her concentration with the matter.

‘’So, whenever you aren’t hanging out with vampires are you usually acting as a regular human being then?’’ I ask interested in her answer and maybe to learn more about her. Even though hyungs have quickly grown to thrust her, I still have my reservations. She talks a lot like A LOT but she never really reveals to much exclusively about herself.

I get a snort in reply eyes meeting my own briefly with a slight glare and edge before she turns to the vase and flowers ‘’It differentiates.’’ She starts ‘’I used to have a job high up somewhat, so yeah, I’ve spent the last couple of years just working. Working, sleeping and eating.’’ I’m taken a back at the new information not having expected her to reply seriously ‘’Had to be on point and available 24/7. You know how greedy humans can get.’’ She sighs tiredly. I can’t argue with that statement so I simply offer a faint nod, watching as her fingers work delicately over the flower petals, rearranging them around neatly. She accepts the flower I was toying with, with a small smile ‘’So one day when I was going to a library to do some research for a project I was doing, I stumbled upon a revelation and just decided to quit.’’

Taking a step back she cheers up instantly ‘’Ta-da.’’ I observe her mirthfulness observing her as she steps over to the sink, letting the water on as she runs her hands under it ‘’So with that done, and wanting to avoid confrontation as any normal human being…’’ I roll my eyes at that knowing what lengths humans are willing to take to avoid confrontations ‘’…I hoped on a plane and, after 5 hours from landing I walked right through your front door.’’ She ends her explanation, whipping her hands with a kitchen cloth.

‘’Just like that huh? No attachments nothing?’’ she nods immediately as I tilt my head shifting after to rest it over my bent left arm ‘’Aren’t you humans known for unnecessarily attachments to people and objects?’’

She chuckles at my statement nodding and smirking amused, hands set in motion as she stirs the gooey substance in the small pot. Smells like chocolate but the melted kind ‘’You’re right about that for the most part and people. But I’ve been sort of a nomad my whole life. Never stayed in one place for too long.’’ She shrugs spreading the substance all over the pastry working meticulously and evening it all out ‘’Didn’t find a reason to settle down.’’

‘’Why thought? Did your parents move a lot so that’s why you can’t find a place you genuinely like?’’ having studied a bit of psychology I pick up on her not fully revealed and rounded answer. She’s generalizing herself a lot. Her movements don’t stop or pause in hesitation at my question.

‘’The second part is more correct in a sense. My parents eh they were what they were.’’ Again, she shrugs, placing the two bananas on the edge of the pastry ‘’I moved a lot with my partner actually. We went on adventures and whatnot, ready to marry and all that jazz.’’ I raise both eyebrows feeling perplexed not having expecting that from the likes of her. That sounds a lot harsher than I intended it to but…I would have never expected her to want to marry, or well be serious about it.

For some reason I can’t imagine her being paired up with any regular man or woman, specially not human for some reason. It feels wrong, feels like nobody ordinary like that can handle her.

‘’Tragedy?’’ I ask assuming the progression of her story.

‘’Yep!’’ she replies too cheerfully for the theme of the conversation, popping the ‘p’ childishly ‘’Wasn’t meant to be.’’ She offers a smile as she looks at me, not looking that particular sad. It must have taken her a long time to get over it thought, because her eyes aren’t matching the mask that she has put on. I can heart the almost pitter patter of her slightly speed up heart. And the shakiness to her hands isn’t missed.

‘’Most things aren’t.’’ I agree remembering my own human experience. I was meant to marry a girl from my village. Being a fisherman, third generation I was meant to uphold the family tradition, and have managed to snob the prettiest girl. But yeah. Not everything is destined to happen as you expect them to. Although looking back I know Na-yeon was wrong for me in all aspect. Even back then with my human set mind and precepting I was mostly doing it as it was expected of me, and not because I genuinely wanted it ‘’Also what are you even doing?’’ I find myself frowning as she starts to roll the whole thing together, bananas disappearing inside the roll.

She doesn’t even respond for a moment, and has stopped breathing. I’m about to stand up and help her out force her to breathe when she straightens up grinning widely again that triumphant expression I’ve seen before present.

‘’A HA!!!!’’ she cheers removing her hands away carefully looking extremely proud at the brown coloured roll that’s left on the tray ‘’I present to you, a perfectly made chocolate banana pudding roll!!’’ she presents’ hands pointing at it dramatically.

I glance at the severely unimpressed desert ‘’Judging by that crack right there, it isn’t as perfect as you claim it to be actually.’’

‘’What no!’’ she rushes leaning over it, bumping her hips into the stone counter. Curses raise, sounding way to rough for the image of a soft girl that she’s unintentionally portraying as of today. She preoccupies herself with inspecting the roll ending up frowning as she straightens up hands placed on the counter while she glares at the desert as if it has offended her.

‘’If it’s any consolation if I were still human, I’d eat it.’’ my words have her shoulders softening up as she shifts and eyes it some more. Her lower lips juts out slightly mouth forming into this sort of adorable hurt puppy pout.

But it only lasts a few seconds, lips quick to turn upwards onto a thankful smile ‘’Thanks.’’ Once her eyes meet my own, I get this odd warm sensation in my chest, seeing her brighten up thanks to my words and encouragement.

‘’Your welcome.’’

*A few days later, later*

‘’I don’t understand why I have to be the one to check on her.’’

A pause ‘’Probably because you’re the only one to dislike her the most. And the most probable to not make any advances.’’ At this I immediately fake throwing up, Taehyung chuckles following as on que ‘’See?’’ he points out smirking ‘’Namjoon hyung got almost punched when he accidentally told a pick-up line yesterday. She didn’t even register it, but Yoongi hyung just went off on him. Poor Namjoonie.’’ He tuts shaking his head finding hyungs predicament funny judging by the smirk he has on.

‘’As perceptive as she is, she can be so annoyingly dull.’’ I half snarl exasperated groaning to myself.

‘’That’s mean Jeonggukie.’’ He raises a complaint ‘’Don’t be so cocky. There’s always more than meets the eye. Even in regards of humans.’’

‘’Yeah, we’ve all seen that but…’’ looking at Taehyung that’s still walking besides me, arm brushing against my own mischievously now and then – he’s giving me this fond look as his eyes take me in. We start to slow our steps down, as we’ve reached the doors that led to the library.

‘’But?’’ he insists as I shrug stuffing my hands into the front pockets of the oversize black hoodie I have on.

‘’I just don’t like her.’’ I mumble, glancing towards the door lowering my tone.

‘’Yeah why is that?’’ glancing up I’m surprised at the way he narrows his eyes, and gets sort of serious, licking his lips quickly.

It’s easy to let the frustration rise up again, get a hold of me around my throat choking me up for a moment as I have to think what to tell him exactly. He’s smarter than he looks, always two steps in front of you, catching Yoongi and Jin hyung of guard even though the two of them have practically seen it all in all the years they’ve been alive. This isn’t said in vain when others warn against Taehyung. He’s as cunning as he is stunning.

‘’It’s the way she is! She just gets on my nerves you know.’’ I try lamely frowning gaze going to the doors ‘’The way she breathes is exaggerated, the way she talks, her voice is way to scratchy and of pitched, the lack of manners towards hyungs ugh…’’ If I was human, I’d shudder from anger but I simply close my eyes in frustration that part of her still irking me greatly ‘’…and the way she keeps on wearing hyungs clothes, and not sleeping enough. Does she even eat enough? What is that all about.’’

I end up glaring at Taehyung who nods once holding his serious demander but soon after ends up smirking widely eyes sparkling almost. He arches an eyebrow clearly having thought of something ‘’There’s also the fact that she almost beat your score in Overwatch.’’

‘’THAT TOO!!’’ I half exclaim throwing my hands in the air, then proceed to step up and don for a moment ‘’With my reflexes how is that possible?!’’ Taehyung just keeps nodding in understanding ‘’She’s a child that’s what she is! Doesn’t reach any level where we are, mentally and maturely.’’

‘’Pfff says the late bloomer himself.’’ I stop moving around and give hyung a challenging glare.

‘’I wasn’t that late. Just had extra on my plate in regards of my abilities.’’ I pout going into a similar pose as the beginning just standing closer to the doors.

‘’Aigo, Aigo, Golden maknae.’’ He tuts affectionately walking closer hand coming up to place it over my shoulder as he leans close to me ‘’You’ve got a fair point there yes, but don’t you think that we’ve had to accept you too in the beginning? That there weren’t any let’s say fractions of hesitance’s from our parts?’’

At this my nose scrunches up as I know it’s true, about their reservations when it came to me. My telepathy came at a disadvantage in the beginning, strength easily frightening even Hoseok hyung who is considered to be the best fighter in our clan.

‘’That’s it Jeonggukie. I see how your clogs are starting to turn. Do you see my point?’’

‘’She’s human hyung. There’s a difference.’’ At this he waves his hand straightening up.

‘’Meaning it’s in your favour if you really despise her that much. She’ll die judging by her bad lifestyle choices in a decade or two. Maybe three.’’ He shrugs attitude way to uncaring unlike our conversation a few days ago where he praised her and defended her loudly against Jimin who was upset at her yet another refusal. So, the switch has me second guessing him, and myself as…I didn’t even think about her dying.

It causes that boulder that hasn’t left my stomach to churn and twist, burning even at the thought of imagining seeing her lifeless body.

I don’t even notice that we’ve fallen silent until hyung speaks up again ‘’Anyways I’m gonna go find Jin hyung and maybe convince him to go to the city with me. I need new pair of shoes and a new collection is rumoured to be just on the verge of launching.’’ He wiggles his eyebrows patting my shoulder for a moment in consolation before he’s backing away, right hand stuck in the pocket of his pants whilst he gives me a finger gun with his left-hand winking a cold breeze of air whooshing past me, his eyes for a brief second turning icy blue ‘’Good luck, Bunny. And be nice to our human. They are fragile creatures after all.’’

I tilt my head in confusion staring at him ready to ask what he means by that but he disappears in a blink of an eye taking off leaving me alone. Even though I don’t exactly need air to breathe I do take it in and sigh, recollecting the confusion that are my emotions and have been for the past few days. Spinning on my heel I glance towards the double doors which are decorated with golden motifs, having been painted into white the wood barely peeking through unlike the inner side that displaying the many years the tree had before it was chopped down.

Pressing onto the handle of the left door I silently without making any sounds enter the big room from another perspective, the other entrance being in the ballroom whilst this one leads inside from a corridor that connects to the music room in the back of this huge house.

Nothing seems out of the usual as I take a look at the ground floor. Nothing moves either. I can hear her speed up heart and breathing, murmurs now and then cutting of the serenity. I walk over to the table that has been left since the “party” we’ve had. The name plates have been removed from its surface but it has been filled up by different books, and scrolls even. I glance over the few notebooks and stray papers here and there easily recognising Namjoon’s handwriting as well as Yoongi hyungs. The cracked screen of the iPad is mocking me as it lays unsafely on one corner of the table.

What has my immediate attention is a different looking notebook. I smirk in amusement as this handwriting is as of a child, words scribbled down in a fast pace, letters somewhere half formed or just distorted, even smudged. There’s an ink stain from a hand near the edge of the page, which I brush my own fingers over it. I can’t read through the text as it’s written in another language, and the choice of letters themselves are unusual. I don’t think I can even pronounce any word.

I’m not really here to offer my academic assistance as I barely speak any English myself, but it’s kind of nice to see that her character is clearly portrayed in the way she writes, and how she fills the page up irregularly. She’s as chaotic in real life and on paper.

Musing for a moment further spotting glasses and bottles of water on the other end of the lengthy table, I do glance upwards towards the second floor, hearing as a pen or something small as a pen clatters hitting the ground. By the lack of movement, I already figured she was asleep.

Silly human. Her life style is really un-well and extremely badly planned. Stepping around the table my intention on getting the girl and carrying her to her bedroom, gets postponed as my eyes shift onto a book, that for whatever reason has my feet stopping.

The gold of the cover is unusual between the rest of the books with used and dried up leather and yellowed pages. I pick it up, buried in between a stack of smaller scrolls and encyclopaedias actually. I frown at the title; it’s about mythology. Every kind actually.

What’s the most puzzling is that it’s written by hand. And the handwritings differentiate. Multiple people worked on this, and judging by the smell of the ink and paper things have been added or pulled out. Pictures are drawn here and there, and languages vary from all around the world from what I can judge by some symbols and added explanations in English.

There’s a myth about Thor, expanding at least 20 pages. Another myth about Pele a Hawaiian goddess covers well over 30 pages with many illustrations, and instructions from what I can assume for tattoos.

Shifting around I do recognize myths from the hand drawn images instead of their native titles. Nearing almost the end of the book, as I sniff at the pages and feeling like a complete idiot for a moment, I have to sit down as these are completely new pages added to this. Taking a look across the table, I find the A4 format pages placed near the corner just ahead of me, along with an old type-y looking pen with ink next to it.

Turning a page, I recognise the writing as being Jin hyungs which completely catches me of guard. Is this what they have been working on? Writing about myths?!

Don’t we have a coven war brewing?

Shuffling through the many written pages coming to the last one, I stare blankly for a moment the myth about Dangun which I know as it’s of Korean mythology. And as appropriate it is written in Korean.

What am I missing here? Why have they been working on this?! Why did other people work on this?! I pull the pages going slowly backwards, seeing stories actually unfolding. It’s not hard to connect the dots after a few pages, that these are from Yoongi hyung. But these are dating WAYYYY back in the millennia it feels like when hyung was as young as we are now it seems. But he was more mature definitely.

I frown at a half empty page where a sketch has been drawn into a half finished only the golden frame being finished. The sketch though - I can tell that linear lines are spears and, some even arrows that are sticking from what seems to be a pile of bodies on the floor? Only one figure is standing in the centre of the picture, with their back towards us armour robust and yet slim in a sense. I narrow my eyes at the handle of the soldier – the pommel is shaped like a pouncing lion.

Battle of Hwangsanbeol

That’s the title. I know about it from what hyung told me, but this is written much more in detail. The main explanation is from what humans are being told in schools, I remember it from college when I studied mechanics years ago. But the new ink underneath and Yoongi hyungs writing, is an indicator that this is where his story begins.

He didn’t take sides in particular, changing armours as he shifted from a Silla’s soldier into a soldier of the Tang army. The similarity is there with added commentary to make you know more about how life was then. What gets my attention is the comradery between hyung and another fellow that name is very generalized. They’ve struck a friendship and have covered for one another in battle, which had him switching sides and to remain with the Silla side out of curiosity and maybe even naivety he describes it. He didn’t have as much experience then as he does now to have judged everything smartly enough, even though the odds were clearly in Silla’s favour.

The praise towards the human soldier is tremendous, giving him full credit of saving his life more than once. And even though he was a turned by that point into an immortal, the praise has even me feeling grateful towards the man.

He did raise up in ranks, but he never left Yoongi behind. During the main battle after the slaughter, he describes his fellow soldier as being remorseful, as they stared across the field of many fallen soldiers and warriors and manslaughter that stretched miles away it had seemed at the time. It was brutal but necessary – I forget that hyung is from a completely different timeline sometimes. It’s easy to mistake him, and others for younger vampires.

The solider…tilting my head I spot a few notes written lightly over hyungs hand-writing. My frown deepens as the anger I felt before towards her starts to simmer - it’s not hard to see that this is Y/N’s handwriting. Her comments are absolutely ridiculous, playing hyung’s praise off – she’s dismissing it. How dare she? What does she know about wars, she was born in peaceful times, I bet to a good family! She hasn’t never experienced the horrors of wars, the stench, the travesty the fear the…

‘’No!’’ a shout has me glancing up stiffly. I notice how my fingers have curled into fists and how tight my jaw has locked together from anger ‘’…don’t…’’ she breathes out her heart beat now hammering. Confused I glance upwards thinking that she’s playing a joke on me. I’m ready to fucking snap at her – if she really is pulling a joke on me right now, I’m going to kick her out of the house myself.

‘’Ah no…’’ her words shift a cry following. What? Standing up I wait for amount further listening to her speed up breathing that’s sounds like hysteria ‘’NOOOO DON’T TAKE HIM NOOO!!!!!!’’ her cry is of terror and panic. It absolutely shocks me to my core but has me moving upwards, reaching the second floor and top of stairs in a second ‘’NO HE’S MY SOU…’’ she continues to shout switching to another language panic rising.

I’m completely disoriented by the mess that I find on the upper floor, books pulled and settled in piles on the ground, as posters of maps hang up over the book’s shelves. The 2 floor is sort of a balcony going half around the room above both entrances. After legit 2 spins around myself, I pick up on a mattress actually located in the very corner of the library. There’s a sheet stuck to the bent down ceiling, and a ton of blankets are thrown around the mattress.

I can see her finally, leg sticking up shoulder peeking over as she shifts onto her side ‘’Agápi mou, agápi mouuuuu…’’

‘’Shhhhh Y/N-ah.’’ I whisper as I run to her side, kneeling right next to her, my hands coming in contact with her overheated skin. She’s drenched in sweat, and twitching like crazy as if she’s fighting someone ‘’Wake up Y/N-ah it’s just a dream it’s not real, it’s not real!’’

‘’No…don’t go…’’ I pull her body into my lap without a second thought. As I brush her hair away from her face she flinches away probably because of my cooler hand. She’s overheating. What catches me of guard and has me whining is the tears that are running down her cheeks.

‘’Y/N-ah wake up, please wake up! It’s not real okay, it’s just a nightmare! You’re here with me in the library safe and sound! Come on you silly human wake up.’’ I urge her on rambling shaking her gently. She startles awake, eyes flying open hands in fists ready to fight. I half expect her to punch me but once her eyes find mine, she ends up smiling tiredly body immediately going lax in my hold.

‘’My love.’’ She says in Korean right hand reaching up, left palm pressed flat against my chest where my heart is.

‘’Don’t fall back asleep.’’ I try as her eyes fall close back again, her breathing having stabilized somewhat ‘’The one time I legit want to hang out with you, you suddenly want to sleep ah? The disrespect.’’ I laugh worried as I take her in. The bags under her eyes are prominent, and her cheeks which looks sort of more sunken aren’t reassuring me with her wellbeing at all.

I stare as her eyes blink open, taking me in clearly her hand that’s resting over my chest raises up shakily to cup my other cheek.

The blissful expression that settled before turns into a frown and a pout, as her eyes take my features in the change in mood confusing me with what to do. I readjust my hold gently, holding her steadily in my arms, making sure I’m not pressing to much of my skin against hers. I’ve heard from others that humans don’t like our colder skin in particular.

‘’Jeongguk-ah.’’ She states to which I offer a smile immediately as she seems to be coming back from wherever her mind took her.

‘’Yep. That’s my name.’’ I reply feeling her body tense up but not prominently. She’s waking up slowly at her own pace. She hums suddenly and pulls her hands back. I have to stop myself from wanting to tell her that it’s fine if she wants to touch me. That only conflicts my emotions all the more.

‘’Sorry am…was I making too much noise?’’ she asks gathering her thoughts, eyes darting around getting clearer as she notices the odd position we’ve fallen into.

‘’No, not at all.’’ I says wanting to immediately start reassuring her that everything is fine and she didn’t do anything wrong, but I have a hunch she’s not going to believe me either way ‘’Hyung wanted to see where you were exactly, and I was bored so. Two birds in one stone.’’

I help her up, as she starts to shift wanting to sit on her own. Silence begins after my brief explanation and after I’ve helped her sit back down onto the mattress. Without her permission I grab for a warm looking blanket and pull it over her shoulders, sitting down properly right next to her having this need to be as close as possible. Maybe I should offer a hug? Please say yes.

‘’What time is it even?’’ comes her question before I can ask her my own. She starts sifting more towards me, in the beginning of her sudden restlessness keeping the blanket around herself as she reaches with both hands upwards to rub her fingers across her eyes.

‘’Around 10AM.’’ I reply glancing towards the curtains, that are letting through sunlight from outside across the polished wooden floors only ‘’I think Jin hyung missed you at breakfast today.’’ I offer a smile while she pulls her hands away, running one through her messy hair quickly. She’s hunched forward into what seems like an awkward position – her gaze still seems far off like she’s not fully present yet.

‘’Oh yeah breakfast.’’ She mumbles glancing to the end of the mattress, to which I notice more pages and a silver notebook that has slid from the edge of the makeshift bed the papers all sprawled on the ground clearly by accident ‘’I didn’t mean to sleep.’’ She starts clearly her brain slowly starting up as she looks at me finally absently scratching the back of her head ‘’My back started to hurt, so I figured I should lay down or lean against the wall.’’ Ah so that’s why there are so many blankets piled up against the wall behind us.

‘’You should think more about getting proper sleep.’’ I comment ‘’I’m sure as great as this place is and cosy, I bet a proper bed would feel a lot nicer.’’

My heart and stomach flutter as she breaks into a small smile looking back to me amused ‘’Heard that before.’’

I shake my head immediately ‘’Uh huh. And if you’d listen, I think that would magically stop too.’’

She chuckles at my words, the gesture filling me with sort of pride that I actually made her smile and laugh. Oddly I want to comfort her properly. I want to make sure that she’s alright. Seeing her so distressed it…I can’t help but to still feel a bit freaked out myself. Her state is worrisome. Traces of her tears are still present over her puffy cheeks.

‘’So...’’ I start awkwardly ‘’Are you okay?’’

At this she looks away smile disappearing slowly ‘’I’m fine.’’ Another smile raises over her slightly dry lips this one clearly forced. She’s putting up a front – I just want to help her.

‘’You…’’

‘’I’m fine!’’ she’s quick to add not even looking at me swiftly pushing herself away, crawling over to the fallen notes, hands prompt with gathering her things ‘’Its fine. Totally fine.’’ She repeats it like a mantra, almost doubling over when she attempts to stand up ‘’I got it!’’ after the exclamation she’s up on her feet, proudly smiling goofiness making an appearance ‘’Totally A okay!!!’’

Frowning I’m quick to stand up following as she starts walking forward, feet slipping into her slippers before descending down the steps.

‘’You sure are saying that a lot for someone that just woke up screaming.’’ I don’t hold myself back this time. Even though I can’t see her face as she’s slowly descending down, the spring in her step isn’t present as much. She always walks with a bounce to her.

‘’This is the first time, it happened.’’ She huffs walking straight over to the table once her feet reach the ground. I grimace at her blatant lie, having heard her before in similar states that make much more sense now. But it’s always Yoongi that’s was at her side, specially whenever she went to sleep. It is different completely different to hear her from across the house, than from seeing her up close. It gives new meaning to her as a person.

‘’Yes, but it’s the first time that I’ve seen you sleep and wake up like that.’’ I point out as she places her notes on the desk, probably noticing the opened book I’ve left behind in my haste. Her head remains turned towards it, eyes going over the opened page ‘’You have nightmares every time you sleep, don’t you?’’

Taking the last two steps my feet touch the ground floor. I wait for her response as I make my way over to her left side, standing near her but putting enough distance to give her personal space. She flips the golden book to a close, placing a random one atop of it, shoulders shrugging in the meantime. Is she trying to hide it away from me? Or herself?

‘’A lot of people have nightmares, Jeongguk-ssi.’’ The serious look she gives me, irks me in a bad way. And not as in before where I felt agitated selfishly thinking of myself, but in a way that she’s treating me distantly - like I’ve been treating her more or less. The honorific is just the cheery on top. I think the phrase ‘give him some of his own medicine’ is appropriate to point out right now.

‘’Not like that.’’

She keeps staring at me upholding the glare she settles on. It’s so different from what I’ve seen her be and act around others. For the first time, I feel like I see another side of her which she clearly doesn’t like to reveal to anyone. Or anyone that’s not hyung. It’s starting to really bother me. Of course, I don’t really want her hurting or in pain, what just had occurred is something I’m ever going forget, but I’m sort of glad that I was here to snap her out of whatever nightmare she was in. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. She looked completely heartbroken, and lost.

Seeing that she has taken up a stubborn approach, it’s hard to miss the way her body trembles. Wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt the difference in temperature has her obviously chilly maybe even cold.

Given that she doesn’t intend to lose whatever staring contest we have going on, I end up breaking it and reach for the end of my hoodie, tugging it over my head smoothly ‘’Here.’’ I say offering. She doesn’t reveal how surprised she is on the outside – only her heart jumping slightly does – but she does raise an eyebrow in question ‘’You look cold and neither of us need hyung to scold us if you’ll catch the flue.’’ If I was a human, I know my cheeks would be bright red as my reasoning is clearly lame.

She accepts the hoodie with a quiet ‘thank you’ and tugs in on quickly ‘’Okay so, where was I? You can help me move some stuff and get books I need…’’ I’m pleasantly surprised that she’s quick to fall into her work after what just happened. I do keep myself quiet as this is clearly a distraction. But the smile that raises over my lips I cannot stop. Even with her back turned towards me, she looks good in my clothes. My hoodie suits her. And I’m sure my scent will mix better with hers than hyung’s.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Dictionary: Dangun - was the legendary founder and god-king of Gojoseon, the first Korean kingdom Gaya also rendered Kaya or Karak - is the presumed language of the Gaya confederacy in southern Korea Geom - is the generic term for "sword", but more specifically also refers to a shorter straight-blade, double-edged sword with a somewhat blunted tip Lavender roses - is often a sign of enchantment and love at first sight. Those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have used lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions. Agápi mou /Greek/ - My love

#jeon jungkook x reader #bts vampire au #BTS jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts vampire #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungkook #jeongguk x reader #bts romance #bts jeon jeongguk #yoongi vampire #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fluff

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mx-3nglish · 4 years

Text

My Hair! (One-shot)

~An idea I've had for a silly one-shot has been "what if Lucy had long hair?"

Well the answer to that is she'd promptly chop it all off. But for this short, let's pretend she didn't. I guess this counts as an AU.~

When people ask you to name one thing you like about your physical appearance, what's something you say? My answer is normally something along the lines of "I don't really know. I've never thought about my appearance that much." Or "I don't really have a 'favorite' physical attribute about myself." It's not because I'm self-centered. It's not because I only care about my appearance. In fact, it's quite the opposite.

I don't really like my looks. My eyes are too big for my face, my bust size isn't big verses my hips and ass which are, I'm kinda short, my hands and feet are tiny, I never seem to give off a completely "clean" appearance, and my hair...

Oh God, my hair.

It has to be the worst part of my appearance. The absolute rats-nest that I had to call my hair was so long it reached down to my tail bone. My showers took forever, having to wash so much hair. The mess took ages to comb, and then it would stay nicely brushed until a half an hour later when somehow, it would become a mess again. It took forever to do any sort of hair stiles. And it got in the way during cases. I can't recall how many times I had missed something or had gotten caught in things because of my ridiculously long hair!

I hate it so so much.

"Well if you hate how long your hair is, why don't you cut it off?" I would if I had the time. Being an agent of such a small company on the rise (the rather quick rise) required a lot of work. I didn't have much time to myself.

In contrast to me, my boyfriend loved my hair, messy length and all.

Lockwood often told me how nice it was. "Soft and fluffy, Luce!" He says, and I roll my eyes at him.

He's told me how he loves combing his fingers through my long hair. He enjoys doing it up for me when I don't have the time or don't feel like doing it. He says it's part of my charm.

Well I don't exactly know what "charm" he sees in this knotted and tangled mop that's attached to my head, but he sees a lot of things about me that I don't.

The only good part about long hair that I can see is that during the winter, you don't necessarily need to wear a scarf. Just wrap yourself up in your hair. However, this is the tail end of spring, turning into summer. It gets hotter everyday and the sun is actually starting to peak through the clouds. Long hair serves no purpose.

I collapsed onto the couch, face first into one of the pillows at the end, trying to catch a break from paperwork and practicing on Esmeralda the Second. I was hot and sweaty from the workout I had just gone through. I hadn't even noticed Kipps was in the room until he spoke up.

"Quite warm today, wouldn't you say?" He spoke, looking up from the book he was reading. I groaned out a "yeah". The wonderful thing about the library was that it was the coolest room in the house. The ventilation worked wonders for that room. In summer, it was my favorite place to be, seeing how I hate the heat.

"You've been working out?" He assumed. Again, I groaned out some sort of "yeah" towards him.

"Are you dying of heat stroke?" He joked.

"Maybe." I finally sat up right and looked at him. My hair had fallen in my face and I had no intention to fix it.

He chuckled at me and how I looked. I was wearing a plain white tank top and my normal black skirt. My hair was cloaked over my face, rolling down my body like a waterfall of murky, brown water.

I exhaled sharply, which forced some of my hair out of my face, allowing me to see Kipps.

"Don't laugh at me!" I demanded.

"I'm not, I'm not." He promised while still giggling.

"God, I hate my hair." I groaned while combing my fingers through the knotted mess. "It's too long."

"So hack it off then." Kipps stated.

"I would if I had time and trusted anyone." I mumbled. And God, I wish I did have the time.

"What do you mean by that?" Kipps asked.

"I mean that Lockwood and Holly love my hair to much to ever bring any sharp object to it and I don't trust George with a pair of scissors." I explained.

"I'll cut all of that hair off for you then if you wanted." Kipps offered. I practically jumped out of my seat at this.

"Absolutely not, Quill!" Lockwood snarled. He walked into the room, quite upset with what he just heard while walking past the library. He loves my hair too much to let anyone do anything to it.

"You are not going to touch Lucy or her hair." He walked around the back of the couch, leaned down and wrapped his arms protectively around me. Lockwood held a lot of pride in his hair. So much pride, that no one was allowed to touch it if there was even the chance of going out within the next two or so hours. And to be fair, his did take a while to arrange. Unlike mine (which I typically settled for brushing and putting it up in a ponytail) his hair could take hours for him to do. Why it took hours, I had no clue. His hair was shorter than mine.

I guess that pride now extended to my hair too. Or maybe he though I looked nice with long hair. Whatever he thought or felt though, it ment that I was not going to be getting my hair cut off any time soon, which honestly made me a bit sad.

"Hypothetical situation: She wants her hair cut short. Then am I allowed to touch her hair?" Kipps pondered.

"No!" Lockwood spat. "If she wants that, then I can help her with that." He buried his nose in my hair.

Well, the problem here is that you love my long hair so much that you would probably try to convince me to keep it long.

Kipps rolled his eyes, also knowing this information. I gave a small sigh. As much as I love my boyfriend, he really can be a dumbass sometimes.

The sun had just set, and I was ready for tonight's case. I had checked and double checked my belt and bag to be sure I had everything I needed. I was fully decked out in my agent gear as well as I had changed into my normal work clothing; a deep purple turtleneck sweater, my black leggings and skirt, brown boots, worn jacket, new gloves, and a light scarf just in case. And because I was lazy, My long hair hung uselessly off of my shoulders and back.

Lockwood called out to me from the kitchen. When I peeked my head in to see what he wanted, he didn't look the most pleased.

"The client Quill was supposed to investigate canceled. I figured you'd need the extra help tonight since you're possibly dealing with two ghosts." Lockwood informed me before turning on his heal and pointing sternly at Kipps. "Don't touch her hair." He growled.

Kipps held up his hands as if in defeat. "I can promise you that I will not touch her hair." When Lockwood relaxed and turned away, Kipps rolled his eyes and looked at me. He jerked his thumb in Lockwood's direction as if to say "Get a load of this guy!"

I covered my giggle with a gloved hand.

"I suppose I don't need to say this, but be careful tonight." Lockwood had turned and started walking over to me. "Don't go doing anything reckless or dangerous."

Kipps busied himself with checking his tool belt while Lockwood and I had a quick moment before leaving. Having these short romantic moments before leaving each other to go on cases was becoming more and more common, not that I was complaining. A nice reminder to stay safe, a sweet "I love you", and a quick kiss before leaving to face the cold dead gave me a new form of strength when facing the night.

"That goes for you too." My hands found his. "Stay safe, don't get yourself killed."

He pressed his forehead to mine. "And don't let him touch your hair." He whispered to me. I couldn't help but give a quick and quiet laugh while a smile crept onto his face.

"I love you." I said first.

"I love you too." He stated, then gave me a quick kiss.

We tore away from each other. I took my leave with Kipps, taking the cab that had just arrived.

"You're becoming more okay with his affection, aren't you?" Kipps asked.

"Don't make fun of me." I demanded while opening the trunk to store our bags in.

"I'm not." Kipps smiled at me. "I think it's sweet that you two are starting to accept the fact that you are an item." I gave him a light shove before closing the trunk and getting in the cab.

The ride took a while, the client lived halfway across London. I payed the driver while Kipps got out and got our bags from the trunk.

When I got out of the car, I took a look at the house we would be dealing with tonight. It was a standard sized house, probably made for the average family. According to George, this house wasn't the oldest. It was built within the last few decades. The client reported that there were objects being flung across rooms on their own, disembodied voices, and shadow-people. My agent mind was already at work deducing what types of visitors could possibly be waiting for us.

Kipps and I walked inside silently, inspecting what we would be dealing with tonight. I took to exploring the first floor while Kipps explored the ground floor.

Upstairs was where the bedrooms were, as well as a guest room and what looked to be an office. I opened my psychic ears (even though it may have been a bit to early in the night) in case something was already looking for us.

At the moment, nothing felt out of place. Everything was calm.

I walked back downstairs to check with Kipps and further expand my knowledge on the layout of the house.

When I found him, he was in the kitchen, looking out of the kitchen window. I decided to glance over his shoulder to see the backyard.

It was a large area with many plants. Some flowers, mostly fruits and vegetables growing in the back. Some plants looked ripe.

"They garden." I noted. Kipps nodded and hummed, acknowledging both my statement and my presence.

I had a quick stupid though and laughed to myself. Kipps looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What if the source is out there and we have to dig it up?" I jokingly pondered.

"Fingers crossed it's not. These are my last clean cloths and I haven't had the chance to do my laundry yet." Kipps half joked with me. And that was mostly his style of joking. Making statements that sound like they could be true but had a sort of irony to the level (or lack) of sarcasm in his voice. I had slowly learned that the hard way.

We set up base in the living room and waited. 10:04 P.M. was not normally when ghost made themselves problematic. It was the deepest, darkest hours of the night that made them active.

Kipps, being an adult with talent that had faded, had put on the Orpheus goggles, just in case something decided to show up. We had a quick conversation while in the iron circle in the living room, even though most of it was me complaining about my hair.

"Just to spite Tony," Kipps stated while leaning forward, "I'm going to touch your hair." His hands picked up a few locks of my long and useless hair, gently intertwining them with his gloved fingers. If Lockwood was here, he'd throw a fit at the moment. I half scoffed half laughed at Kipps when he pulled away.

Lockwood wasn't normally a jealous man. In fact, everyone knew him for being the opposite. He shared his skills and talents with the rest of the world. Sure he had a bit of an ego on him, but he didn't let that dictate how he treated people and how he shared himself with others. However, that charity seemed to only go so far. It stopped abruptly with me.

He didn't want to share me, as I've found out. He didn't want other men doing what he could do with/to me. And like with everything else, my hair was a big part of this.

I've felt men (other than my friends or Lockwood) touch my hair. It's typically just a quick brush of his fingers through my hair. Because I have so much of it and it's so long, they must think I don't feel them stroke my hair.

But I do. And I don't like it. It's creepy and rude. And I've found out Lockwood doesn't like it either. One recent incident had him almost braking another agents hand because he had tried to stroke my long hair.

I've also found out that Lockwood doesn't like George or Kipps touching my hair either. Why, I wasn't sure. Though perhaps today's indecent with Kipps offering to help me cut my hair is partial contribution to that.

We got up a little while after Kipps touched my hair, to make second rounds of the house. This time I was on the ground floor, Kipps on the first. For most of my round, I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. Kipps came back downstairs and shook his head.

"Nothing up there." He noted. I groaned. I was ready for the night to begin, I was ready for action.

I listened again, closer this time.

Still nothing.

"Let's check the backyard." Kipps spoke up. "I've got a feeling you might be right about something being back there."

So we opened the sliding door to the back and stepped outside. The first thing to take not of was the temperature. It was freezing cold outside, not the semi-cold of the summer night. The next thing to note was the noises. I heard something. It was a small noise. In fact, if I hadn't been exclusively listening with my inner ear, I would've missed it.

I informed Kipps on my discovery, and listened closer, trying to pinpoint where that sound was coming from. I followed my sensed closely. I couldn't even tell what the sound was. It was almost like some sort of small clicking noise. But it also sounded wet. A small, wet clicking noise.

I walked past a few beds of flowers, and a bed of strawberries. Something in the bushes, my gut told me. I began digging through the branches and leaves, hoping beyond hope that my hair doesn't somehow get tangled up in the bush.

The next event happened quickly. Kipps called my name, and before I could respond, I heard a deep gurgle from behind me. And then something behind me exploded, sparks and embers from a flare rained from behind me. I quickly pulled myself out of the bush and turned around to see Kipps standing a ways away from me.

"What the Hell?! Somethings behind me and you throw a flare?!" I hissed at him.

"I didn't think you were going to react in time." He reasoned. I took a breath. Okay, okay, you're trying to look out for me. That's good, that's fine. But with a flare?!

"How close was it to getting me?" I asked, pushing my anger to the side.

"It manifested pretty close behind you." He explained. "Even if you did react, you wouldn't have had much room to work with."

"Right, right." I mumbled to myself. I also took the note that something smelt funny, but that I also ignored for the time being.

"So what did it look like?" I questioned. I need to know just how grotesque this ghost is.

"It's a shadow person but it doesn't have a head." Kipps explained. I nodded. That smell was getting a bit stronger now.

"Did you find anything in the bush?" Kipps checked. I shook my head.

"Nothing. I was probably hearing an animal. It's gone now. I can't hear anything." I informed him. I had walked closer so we could regroup and think about what we should do next. But that smell was starting to get to me. Kipps hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, it's out here. Perhaps we should stay out here and start looking?" He concluded.

"Yeah, perhaps." I turned to go back to investigating the furthest of the backyard. I stopped when Kipps made a strange and startled noise.

"Carlyle, hold still. Don't move." He ordered.

"Huh?" I was a bit worried as to why he was so shocked at the moment.

The next event happened faster than the last.

I felt Kipps lift my hair, exposing it to the frigid night, and then three quick hacks nearing the base of my skull. I quickly pulled away, ready to fight back since he wanted to joke with me so much.

But this wasn't a joke. It was far from one. Kipps - rapier in one hand - dropped what he was holding in the other. What was now on the ground was my hair. My long, long hair that had been growing since birth. Almost 17 years worth of hair now lay in the grass.

On fire.

My hair had been on fire while we figured out what our next step in the case was.

How had it come to be on fire? I wondered for a brief moment before a realization struck me. Kipps had just hacked off my long hair while using his rapier. His sword was so close to the back of my neck. He could've killed me!

We looked at my hair as flames consumed the length of it. I felt dizzy. Not only had that been attached to me and could've cause major damage if I hadn't noticed, but Kipps had his sword cutting it all off. That sword was so close to my neck...

We stood there for what felt like forever, just watching my hair burn. Finally, after a few minutes, Kipps looked up at me and took off the goggles. He looked at me apologetically.

"I am so sorry." He apologized.

I just looked down at my hair. One of my hands snuck around the back of my head, feeling where my hair had been cut.

"I'm so sorry. I just saw it was on fire and did the first thing that came to mind. I'm so so sorry." He continued. I, unlike him, was frozen in my spot, just feeling the uneven cut of my now short hair.

"I'll fix it. I'll fix your hair up so it's even and it looks nice." He was probably panicking at my shocked state. "God, I am so sorry. I really am. I'm sorry."

The flare... I thought. The flare he threw. They normally burst into embers and sparks upon impact. Combine those two and you get a fire. Be it a clients house, someones cloths, or someones hair, they're going up in flames.

"Here, let's-" He walked over to me and began guiding my shock-struck body. "Let's go inside and let ourselves settle for a bit, have some tea."

So we walked inside. He sat me down in the iron circle we had made earlier that night and left to the kitchen. By now, both of my hands had found their way to my head. They were roaming around that territory, discovering how light and effortlessly my hair could be moved around now. A smile found it's way onto my face.

Maybe Kipps throwing that flare was a blessing in disguise.

This is wonderful! No more clogged shower drains because of how much hair I have! No more spending hours in the shower just to wash! No more having to sit in place for hours because Lockwood or Holly doing my hair up! No more creepy guys casually stroking my hair! No more getting caught on things during cases! No more putting it up in order to see properly during physical exercise! It's short now! It's perfect!

I found myself giggling. At first it was quietly to myself. Then it got louder. The more things I realized how short hair would make my life easier, the happier I got. It wasn't long before I was full on laughing. I was so happy! Sure, Kipps had scared the hell out of me, nearly gave me severe burns, and could've nearly cut into my spinal cord with his actions around the back of my neck, but this had turned out to have an amazing result!

Kipps rushed back into the living room with two cups of hot tea. He looked down at me, a bit terrified.

"Carlyle? You okay?" He cautiously asked.

"Okay?" I giggled. Then laughed some more. "Okay?!"

He set the mugs down, and he seemed to put himself in a defensive stance. Perhaps he thought I'd lost it.

"God, Quill, I'm absolutely wonderful right now!" I exclaimed. "My hair! My hair!"

I was overjoyed at the moment. My hair was finally cut short! I was finally free from the binds of that long rats-nest! I felt so free, so light.

He picked the mugs back up and carefully handed me one.

"Well I'm glad you're happy." He stated. "Tony is going to kill me when he sees this."

"He's not going to kill you because this was an accident and I love my short hair." I assured, sipping carefully on my hot mug of tea.

"You're right. He's not going to kill me because this was an accident. He's going to kill me because I touched your hair. More so, I cut your hair." He argued.

"He'll live." I stated.

"Yeah, but I won't." He panicked.

"Look, next time he sees me, he'll obviously want to talk about this. I'll explain everything to him then, he'll be calmer and believe it more if it comes from me." I planned. Kipps didn't seem convinced, but nodded, probably deciding to go along with my plan anyway.

I had only half payed attention the rest of the night. The source was a moldy, half-decayed decapitated head that had been buried in the back yard around where the visitor had first appeared. We took it to the furnaces and had it burned. Many agents did a double take when they saw me. Some who knew of me, and knew me previously with very long hair. Some who had just seen the uneven, choppy cuts at my hair and probably wondered what happened on this case.

For once, the stares didn't bother me. In fact, I liked it. I liked that they were noticing my shortened hair.

After burning the source, we both went to Kipps's flat.

"There is no way in hell Tony is going to find you with an uneven cut. I feel like that might piss him off further." He explained while he fished around for a pair of scissors. I sat still, happy as could be with my short hair.

It took about half an hour and I could tell how paranoid Kipps was about getting my hair right. After that half-hour, I left for home. I needed to figure out exactly what I was going to say to Lockwood when he saw me with short hair. I also needed to be prepared for his inevitable freaking out over my now lack of hair.

When I did arrive home, I took note that Lockwood's and George's coats were handing up on the coat rack. They were both home. The house was dark, all of the lights were out. I could only assume this ment they were both asleep. I decided that it would be much better to show them this new change in the morning anyway.

For once, I had spent all morning marveling at my reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at me looked beautiful without all of that excess hair always hanging in her face. Not to mention, Kipps did a good job with making it look stylish.

But now came the hard part of this morning; Lockwood.

He was expecting nothing different, he was expecting same old Lucy with her insanely long hair. Boy was he in for a surprise. Better get it over with.

I walked downstairs to the first landing, noticing that both doors to the boys bedrooms were closed. Though, they were probably up by now, I still foolishly hoped one of them would run into me on that floor, just to get it over with. Instead I progressed downstairs.

From the kitchen, I heard silverware and dishes clanking together, Lockwood laughing, and George laughing with him.

That laughter won't last long...

Holly stepped out into the hallway as I stepped off of the steps. She had a smile on her face, clearly enjoying whatever joke was just made.

Just get it over with, Lucy!

"Good morning Holly." I greeted nicely.

"Good mor-- AHH!!" She let out a shriek as soon as she saw me, then rushed to me and placed her hands on my head, feeling my short hair. The boys rushed out into the hallway to see the commotion. They both froze in their tracks when they saw me.

"Oh, you noticed?" I pulled my head away from her hands.

"Your hair!" She shrieked.

"Yes, well... There's an interesting story behind this." I began explaining.

"What, did you have a mental break down during your case and finally chop it all off?" George joked. "It does look good though..."

"What did he do?!" Lockwood stepped past Holly and threaded his hands in my hair. Horrified, he asked again; "What did he do?!"

"Please, calm down. I'll tell you what happened once we're all at the table." I promised. And all four of us took seats at the dinner table.

I told them everything that had happened last night. The accidental fire in my hair, Kipps's panic, finding the source, fixing my hair to look less sloppily done. When I was done, I looked at them. The were all so shocked.

"He could only think of cutting off your hair?!" Holly cried in outrage.

"Are you alright? You're not burned are you?" Lockwood interrogated me.

"Huh... Never though Kipps could actually give someone a good haircut. Maybe he should do that rather than being an agent." George joked.

"Now, I'm sure you understand this was all an accident." I rationed.

At that moment, we heard the front door open and close.

He decided to come in for work? Brave man.

Lockwood got up from his seat and mad move for the front. I panicked. I know he's angry that Kipps touched my hair, let alone cut it all off.

George, Holly, and I stood up, all knowing what was going to happen.

And sure enough, a conflict was happening in the front room.

Lockwood's hands were around Kipps's neck, while Kipps tried to pry Lockwood's hands off him. Lockwood was enraged, shouting profanities at Kipps while the man tried to defend himself. I wrapped my arms around my boyfriend, Holly wrapped her arms around Kipps, and George helped pry the two apart by getting in between them. Everyone seemed to be shouting at the moment. I held tightly to Lockwood, knowing he wouldn't do anything violent while I was holding him. Kipps was practically hiding behind Holly.

Somehow, and I'm not quite sure how (it took a lot of convincing from George and I), Lockwood left Kipps alone. It was decided that to best avoid Lockwood wringing Kipps's neck, they should not be in the same room alone.

For that reason, I took Lockwood upstairs to his room. And now we sat on his bed, his hands in my hair. He combed his fingers through my hair gently.

"It's not bad. I don't not like it." He stated. "But-"

"But you don't like other guys touching me." I finished the thought for him. He nodded.

"I get that. But it was my hair cut off or some serious burns on me. Aren't you glad you've only got the former?" I wondered.

"If he was a little more responsible, you would still have your beautiful long hair." He grumbled.

"I like it short." I grabbed one of my now shortened locks of hair, looking at it.

"Do you really?" He combed his fingers through my hair again. "Well, if you like it, I guess that' all that matters."

"I suppose this is a big loss for you, huh?" I looked up at him. "You can't do my hair anymore."

"I'll find other casual ways to touch you." He stated. I laughed. "Holly's going to be the one who's devastated."

"I thought you really liked it long? Like, it was your favorite part of me - physically speaking." I rambled.

He chuckled. "I did like it, yes. But it wasn't my favorite."

"Then what is?" I asked.

"I'm surprised you don't know." His hands dropped from my hair down to my hips. "I'm told I won't shut up about it."

I tilted my head. I then felt a tight squeeze on my hips, where his hands were placed.

"Pervert!" I playfully swatted at his chest.

#Lockwood & Co.#anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #quill kipps #holly muro #george cubbins #locklyle #lucewood #big brother kipps #oneshot #AU #longhair!AU #Author is venting a bit #comedy #silly oneshot

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skaliciascribbles · 4 years

Text

The Birth of a Demon

So I’ve been watching the Moon Blossom au and this week they gave a list of prompts, so of course this is my excuse to do nothing but write a bunch of content for it.

I may have zoned out for a while and gone a bit overboard...

Anyway, here’s Moon Blossom week - Bewitched Moon Blossom au belongs to @somebodyalreadytookthis2

Some would say he was possessed, but Sans was pretty sure he was still as clear-minded as before this all started. It wasn’t his research into “evil things” that was having a toll on his mental health. If anything, it was the bullying. Well, that and the passing of his brother which he suspected might’ve been caused by the very same person who led the bullying against him. There wasn’t much he could do with being one of the few monsters in this small village, and it was far enough away from the castle and its influence that anyone upset about something the royals were doing might seek to lash out at him simply for sharing an appearance with the princes.

His current obsession, and the reason people were beginning to avoid him more, was a demon. Demons were always said to be awful creatures, and yet he’d been seeing one regularly for months now. It wasn’t his fault he wanted answers, he was sure any sane individual would want to know more about the demon that appeared in their room at night with sweet-sounding offers. While the whole demon appearing to offer something enticing sounded about right for demons, it would always leave for the night with a small bow and a “call for your king if you change your mind” if he respectfully declined.

Any text about demons was something he did his best to get his hands on. Digging through the small library in the house of the village head to try and find anything that might help him or explain things to him. It was frustrating to him that all the books just talked about demons in broad strokes and referred to them all as volatile, bloodthirsty beasts that took pleasure in toying with mortals. Even the latest book he’d discovered which was supposedly about summoning the things. Not once was there a mention of demons going so out of their way to offer things to a mortal, nor a demon as polite as the one he’d met.

Closing his eyes, he could still picture the first night he’d met the demon with surprising clarity. It’d been after a particularly rough day. He’d broken down crying in a secluded corner of the village as the grief of his brother’s passing overwhelmed him, only to be found by his tormentors who’d lashed out at him worse than they’d ever done before that. After a day like that, a stranger in his bedroom hadn’t gotten much of a reaction out of him. In fact, the demon looked somewhat beautiful with the light of the full moon highlighting its inky form. The glowing blue eye was like a second moon as the two had watched each other. He could have gotten lost in that solitary eye, and probably would have, if it weren’t for the movement of the demon twirling what appeared to be a black rose in its fingers as it held the flower close to its chest.

“I know your plight,” the demon had said, “and I can offer you the power to oppose your oppressors. You’ll never have to live in fear again.” The voice had been deeper than he’d expected from the other, but it was a pleasant pitch that felt like it resonated within his chest.

He wasn’t sure how he’d ever found it in himself to speak, much less deny the demon. Though the denial was after a moment of hesitation he still felt bad for having. “I’m sorry, but I must decline. Accepting feels like admitting defeat, and I don’t want to let them win.” His voice had been even and calm, something he was even less sure of how he managed than his ability to speak at all.

“Very well.” The demon had nodded, then it gave a short bow to him that felt like something reserved for only those of higher class rather than something that should be aimed at a peasant such as himself. “Should you change your mind, simply call for your king.” With that, the demon had vanished in a blink. Gone into the shadows it appeared to be made of.

After that night, the demon would appear at seemingly random, though always after a bad day, to make the offer again. The exchange between the two of them felt almost routine at this point. Sans found himself finding some strange comfort in it whenever it happened. Any moment in the demon’s presence was comforting, but he couldn’t find it in him to break their exchanges to offer to let it stay. Not like he knew if it would accept a snack or drink, or if it even wanted to be around him beyond trying to get him to agree.

Sighing and opening his eyes, he looked towards the window. It was getting late out, so he’d have to end his search for the day. The book he was holding snapped shut and gently pushed back into place. It looked as though it’d be no use, but he kept a mental note of where about he’d been just in case. With a forlorn expression, he just rested his fingers along the book’s spine for a moment.

Footsteps quickly took off from just outside the door to the room making him cringe slightly. He hated how familiar he was with the gait of the villager head’s brat child. It was useful if he could catch it before it got to close as it usually meant trouble was coming as they led the torment against him. He had no doubt they were looking for some excuse for another reason to go after him, as they and their gaggle of mindless yes men friends had been quiet lately.

The walk had been blessedly quiet until his house was in sight. Just as he turned the corner to see it, the brat and their ‘friends’ were also suddenly right in his face. His next step was hesitant as he tried to think of a way out of the impending confrontation, but it was too late. “There’s the demon worshiper!” the brat yelled. Sans’s mind stuttered as he stopped in place while others from the village began to look over at the accusation. It was a weighty claim and not something you called somebody lightly.

Of course, that left the skeleton with only one way to reply. “What?” He couldn’t rid the dumbfounded tone from his voice as he watched the brat grin faintly as they stared back at him through a mop of neatly kept brown hair.

“He’s been reading books on demons for months, and today I saw him with a book on how to summon them! He clearly plans on cursing us all!” Sans didn’t know how to refute their claim. It was true that he’d been reading the books, but that was to research the demon that had been visiting him unprompted. Though saying such things while trying to deny the claims wouldn’t make him look any better. The fact that he’d met a demon face to face and was still alive would probably convince the people that he was some sort of demon worshiper.

Words failed him as the brat began to stalk towards him, calling at the villagers that they had to act now to rid their village of evil. Sans threw his hands up placatingly, trying to come up with anything to calm the quickly turning minds of those he’d grown up around as he backed up. At most he hated the village brat and perhaps their friends, but he didn’t hate the village as a whole. He’d never dream of cursing the only place he’d ever known.

A mob was slowly forming and they were driving him away from the safety his home could have temporarily offered. Panic was beginning to seep through his bones as frightened whispers mixed with jeers over the quick acceptance of the accusation. It didn’t take him long to realize what was happening. The brat saying to get rid of the evil was meant to spur the others towards the usual punishment for demon worships. He was going to die.

Hands grabbed at him, tugging him towards the village square. He struggled, pleading with those around him to stop. He wasn’t what they thought he was! He didn’t want to die!

As he was being drowned in a sea of chanting that had begun, calling for the demon worshiper to be purged, that the demon’s offer echoed in his head. If he did nothing, he would die. He’d rather admit defeat to the brat than die. He didn’t know what to say beyond the vague instructions to call for his king. Still, he took a deep breath.

“My king!” he shouted. “My king, I’ve changed my mind!” Despite his shouting, his voice was still lost among the crowd. He could only hope the demon somehow knew he was calling for it.

The shadows of the evening seemed to grow longer at his calling, growing a mind of their own as they began to twist. Startled cries began at the edges of the crowd as people stumbled over nothing and others caught sight of the strange phenomena. People both surging closer to the group for help, or scattering away to try and escape whatever was happening. Despite the noise, deep chuckling could still be heard rising above it all despite how low and calm it was.

“It’s a demon!” somebody cried in terror. “He’s already doomed us all!!” That had the crowd falling apart more as people hoped to escape what a demon might do to them. Sans was dropped in the chaos. He curled up on the ground, in hopes to avoid too much damage from being trampled.

Nothing touched him, despite the loud hysteria, and that caused him to slowly peak out of his protective position. Shadows swirled around him and would leap from the ground to lash out at anyone who grew near to his prone figure. Unthinking, he reached out a hand towards the darkness. It reached out back at him and twined harmlessly around his fingers. The cool touch oddly soothing, almost like it was eating away his fear and panic to leave only a gentle calm.

He looked up when the familiar voice of the demon spoke to him. “You chose an interesting moment to finally admit that defeat you’ve been avoiding.” A single glowing eye stared at him from the condensed darkness beside a nearby building. “However, I will not let you deny me now just because you’re safe.”

A quiet laugh left Sans. “Even if you left, they would just come back for me again.”

That appeared to satisfy the demon. It nodded before stepping from the shadows with a paper in its hands. “Gather the items on this list and return to your home. Only the foolish will dare approach you with the intent to lay hands upon you. Any that do shall be made forfeit.”

“I’ll be as fast as possible,” Sans said as he took the paper with care. Just a brief glance showed a list with the more uncommon items crossed out, and the remaining items were things he should be able to find quickly. He was pretty sure he had some of them at his home already.

Standing, he realized the demon had vanished. He supposed he better gather the items quickly so as to not upset the demon. Plus doing a short grocery run for a demon was a small price to pay for not dying.

Arms full of the seemingly miscellaneous items the demon had asked of him, Sans entered the small bedroom off of the main room of his home after the sun had already dipped below the horizon. The demon was already inside of it doing something on the ground. He made sure to carefully dance around whatever it was doing to place the items upon the bed. Shadows ate up the items he’d dropped off. Candles were arranged around the floor sporadically and lit the whole wooden surface which lit the room oddly, though part of that could be the seemingly sentient shadows moving about as well.

“Is that all?” he asked the demon as he turned to inspect what it was doing to his floor. Dark markings streaked about with strange runes he couldn’t read scrolling off in odd angles. It was beautiful if a bit strange.

The demon didn’t spare him a glance. “Stand in the middle,” it directed as it flipped a page of a thick aged tome. Not seeing the harm in a simple action, Sans followed orders and stepped carefully into the spot where the patterns seemed to flow towards. A brief glance and nod was his only assurance that he was right in his guess.

Unsure of what else to do, he simply watched the demon work as silence fell between the two of them. The movements it made were transfixing, but the demon’s familiar flower wasn’t in its hands. If it weren’t for the candlelight, he probably would have missed the fact that it was gently tucked into the sharp crown that sat upon the demon’s head. It was almost cute in how it reminded him of the frazzled old human who kept inventory tucking their writing utensil behind their ear only to forget where it was later. He only said almost because calling a demon cute seemed like a bad idea. Especially when he had no idea what the demon was doing.

Eventually, the demon stood. It held out its hand and Sans took the quiet message and held out his hands in return. Confusion pinched at his brow when soft black petals fell into his palm. “Place them in your mouth.” Sans wasn’t sure it was safe, but from his research on demons, he knew that the demon wouldn’t attempt to kill him until it gave him what it had promised him. With that to comfort him, he complied. The petals were strangely sweet in his mouth.

With the old tome in its hands, the demon began to speak in a language foreign to the monster. As he spoke, the sweetness in Sans’s mouth strengthened. The lines upon the ground had the colour of the demon’s eye begin to race through them, starting at the edges and working in towards him. He forced himself to watch as he repeated that the demon wouldn’t kill in his mind.

One of the demon’s hands reached out as it continued to speak. That same blue colour filling the lines began to overtake the white glow of what had been removed from him. Strangely enough, he could feel a cold discomfort as the colour and shape of whatever it was changed. His head was also feeling light and strange as if somebody was actively shoving cotton into it.

Wavering on his feet, Sans closed his eyes.

The newly born demon opened his eyes slowly. Fingers twitched as he looked slowly at the one who’d changed him. The other was watching him with a wide grin. “It’s just occurred to me that I never asked before now for the name of my new servant.”

Despite having all the memories of his past life, the new demon felt its old name was not enough for what it’d become. “You may call me… Killer, my liege.” The other nodded.

“Very well Killer, I have given you power. All I ask in return is you offer your services to me. I have grand plans, and they would do well with you to aid me.” The request was simple as far as the now named Killer believed. While he’d been blind before, he knew now that this was the king of demons himself.

He gave a low bow. “It would be an honour to serve you, my king. If I might be selfish enough to request one more thing? I’d like to use my power for the reason you gave it to me”

The king was silent for a moment. “If it would entertain you, my new demon lord.” Killer grinned. A village to torment as it had tormented his past self and being gifted a position as one of the lords of the demon king’s court? Truly today was the best he’d ever experience.

#MB week challenge #moon blossom week #moon blossom au #nightmare #killer #mb nightmare #mb killer #demon boys #i just went all out with headcanons #betwitched #my writing

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