#id love to find out if my suspicions were true. id be smiling with the most smuggest grin.

[snekdood]

honestly i should’ve known something was wrong with my abuser, aside from the many, and in retrospect, obvious red flags, like drawing rape porn, they also both told me some guy was a creep who essentially wanted to rape rich women and get them addicted to drugs to “ruin their lives” and then acted like this guy was shitty and that we should avoid him and then ALSO take me over to the place where he lived.

#vent #funniest and strangest part to me about that though is the guy called himself zero too #like. ig its zero if he was low income and actually had a reason to be resentful even though he's still getting 'justice' in the wrong way #but anyways its so weird to me idk. just such a coincidence i guess. idk. but honestly. it would be soooooooooo funny if i found out that #this guy and my abuser and plenty of other people from highschool were stalking me online all throughout highschool #and decided to pull some sort of weird fucked up kiwifarms shit on me like. that would be so deeply entertaining to me #like please. lay out the red carpet fro all the low life no life vapid and insecure pieces of shits who hide in the shadows to talk shit #that would be great #id love to find out if my suspicions were true. id be smiling with the most smuggest grin. #even if its not truie so many of yall are so fucking constrained by your internal cringe reaction that you cant let yourself breathe #i imagine it would take many shroom trips to make you realize you shouldnt give a fuck about what other people do or are like #i imagine you probably suck rn to trip around too if you're like this. oof. #imagine. tripping around someone who's so deeply insecure they cant even just let the trip overtake them and have fun #just over thinking the whole time. sad shit.

[blueiight]

wheel inside of a wheel — continued (lighting out for the territories<3)

ingrid and annerose both having nightmares…..

Blindly, Ingrid’s hand found Annerose’s, curled up in a fist on the side of the bed. Ingrid uncurled her fingers gently, then linked their hands together. Her palm was sweaty, but Annerose didn’t mind. Ingrid didn’t answer the question for a moment, and when she did, her voice was almost desperate. “Because it was good there,” she said. “We say it’s a perfect place, and we believe it, because we don’t have to think about it. It’s good to have something like that to hold on to, to push out everything else. It’s mindless. It’s heaven. Don’t you understand, Fraulein von Müsel?”

“Annerose,” she said. “Call me Annerose.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Ingrid said. When Annerose said nothing, Ingrid said, “It’s this place where time just passes. And you don’t have to be afraid of anything, because you know that everyone feels the same way as you. There’s no schemes. There’s no one who’s going to hit you. And they say, ‘You’re home! A home you never have to leave! Even when you die, you get to return to Mother Earth, and live forever in Her arms.’ You don’t have to think about the future. There’s just this… now… that takes up all the space in your head. I thought it would last forever. I really did.” She squeezed Annerose’s hand tightly. “Don’t you understand?”

“No,” Annerose said. “I don’t.”

….💔💔💔💔💔💔 oh wow this just confirms my sotp suspicions..

“You would do the same,” Ingrid said, but Annerose had to wonder if that was true. Despite being a member of the Rosenritter, and the fleet, Annerose had never killed anyone. She had never been tested like that. And she had always thought—

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. “Someone once told me that I’ve always been a little too good at enduring.”

Ingrid nodded. “You’re stronger than I am, then.”

“No,” Annerose said, emphatic. “Don’t say that.”

SHE HAS A CAPACITY FOR ENDURING… YK WHO ELSE HAS A CAPACITY FOR ENDURING???😭😭😭😭😢😢😢

the trouble finds u on heinessen as always girl😭😭and that FUCKING BISHOP.. id kill for ingrid’s POV on this situation and situation alone ik that girl is in love (cant even understand the alliance language just sees a pretty girl soldiering behind her) . the parallels of maggie and ingrid both having things for str8 girls😢maggie & ingrid once being an item … wow

i need some thyoxin ngl

“I’m just trying to protect her,” Annerose said. “There’s no point in bringing her through all of this if she’s going to be in just as much danger on Heinessen as she was on Odin, or Earth, or Phezzan, for that matter. She’s spent the last five years or however long having every independent thought poisoned out of her!” Annerose shook her head, frowning. Ingrid glanced over at her, concerned, and Annerose smiled, a little grimly.

They were pulling into the parking lot of the medical center now. “I won’t say anything against it,” Schenkopp said. He shrugged. “But let’s keep it professional, Müsel.”

She had no idea what he meant by that.

schonkopf dont be jealous ya girl is 1 of 2 ppl in space dat is undeniably het…

“And if I was her, mom? Would you say the same thing, if this was all happening to me? Would you tell me that this is all for my own good?”

Her mother’s face pinched a little, the professional facade broken for the first time. “I protected you.”

I Protected You!! why wont u play the long game & let ingrid be a useful tool .. being in an environmentalist cult that drugs its followers is just like the army if u think abt it… ur brother has fantasies of riding on odin in a conqueror’s ship.. and in canon lotgh he got that. wiaw will make his ass work for it tho lol

ice cream right after curry? human stomachs have evolved to be strong af

trunicht might actually be just as bad if not a bit worse than an earth cultist dropping on in😭😭 wiaw annerose getting all kind of (subtextual) gay allegations im obsessed… straight girl shoehorned in a political &!/ homosexual rigmarole

“I hope that Erwin is as sweet as your boy is.” Well hes giving some poor maidservant HELL in the empire 😭😭😭

annerose coming to this.. understanding of sorts after it being a lingering . conflict? issue? pre conflict but a line of dissonance btwn rein& anne in loob to now understanding reinhard’/ protectiveness over her situation a tad bit in dealing with ingrid & julian is rly nice. its rly nice. in a way, canon annerose kinda ended up losing both + was propped up as a political raison d’etre for reinhard (even deemed as space’s mother & responsible for reinhard’s own decision making) so its interesting that shes watching those parallel situations in julian+ ingrid n being so upset abt it like GIRL THAT WAS U.. IT WAS..😢😢

omg. ur brother’s an econ bro right? ask him to riddle me this. gotta love schonkopf😭😭

empire:alliance::noble families:elite corporations. forgot how the proper analogy format worked but ygwim.. reading about a heat planet while living under historical heat levels… nat rome u told the future big bro signed I.F. (he dont even know nat rome in this case hes just a bozo)

schonkopf’s tone being slightly disappointed when he heard julian cooks& not annerose…he came back down 3-0 with the flowers respectful manly man-ness & clocking ingrid’s tea tho LOL. getting confirmation that annerose is the only straight girl on this side of space is heartbreaking but annerose seeing ingrid as this sad wet pitiful baby cat is somehow.. idk..its even funnier to me.

Almost on a whim, Reinhard spent an afternoon putting together a fake resume and submitting it to companies on his shortlist who did have offices on Phezzan. He made up a degree for himself in structural engineering from PNU, gave himself a reasonable GPA and a scattering of skills, a fake year of experience at a local building firm as an intern, and a cover letter detailing his passion for challenging work in tough environments. He got one call back about it after a few days, and Reinhard showed up to his scheduled interview wearing a tie and a large pair of non-prescription glasses, his fake Phezzani ID card that he had borrowed from the High Commissioner’s office in hand.

reinhard canonly being unusually attractive (read: white bishie) tryna put on average joe disguises but being so bad at it is the funniest thing to me. u cant use ur boyfriend’s name to pretend at being both a prospective cultist AND a prospective engineer man!!!! if only frederica was here shed do reinhard’s face so he could at least try to blend in LOL. remember how she put makeup on a corpse? rly love how reinhard is sneaking around & pretending to be ppl throughout.… + obligatory nat rome engineering mention. sorry I.F popped out (except hed never be sympathetic to rvl he hates rvl cuz hes a tryhard extremist & a nat rome fanboy.)

A DUEL? these dumb nobles need to leave my yang out this mess (but itd be a boring story if he wasnt in the mix LOL)

Im actually crine at reinhard being bossy & demanding toward his foe in espionage😂😂😂well he did it ONCE he can do it AGAIN !! He The Blonde brat indeed

Muller scowled. “Salesmen always come when you’re eating dinner, because you’ll do anything to make them go away so you can enjoy your meal in peace.”

this line made me chortle. and the following dialogue is even funnier. unlike his beloved sister tho reinhard is NOT beating the gay allegations. what would rvl’s drag name be? he didnt get what he want exa-ctly. cuz miss muller dont put out easy but he got something~now will this intel make sis in time?

“I think you and your brother have the same kind of crazy,” he said. “You just haven’t had much of an opportunity to let it out.”

“What kind is that, Captain Schenkopp?” she asked, turning towards him. As he opened his mouth to answer, she reached up and grabbed his flyaway scarf, pulling him towards herself with it.

“The kind that I appreciate, Lieutenant Commander,” he said. woooo go straight people!

#wiaw read #wiaw

[purple-babygirl]

First of all… who told you that you could toy with my heart over your latest work: SamBucky and the injuries Little. Talk about the angst but fluff. Just mwah!

But will all that angst especially with Sam and Bucky—they are just a perfect combo, btw. I now am needy for angst to fluff (oops…). All I can think about is an insecure little who think that her daddies don’t love her after a misunderstanding, so she pack up her things and runs away. (But a happy ending is ensured) when Sam and Bucky are able to find her

Love you.

Pairing: SamBucky x little!f!reader

Word Count: 2,796

Warnings: polyamory, ddlg dynamics, a dash of angst, and a pinch of fluff

A/N: Hello, Nonnie! Thank you for reading, and thank you for sharing this idea with me and allowing me to toy with your heart over it!💜💜 I was a puddle writing this one. I'm really sorry if this took me too long; I hope it's to your liking and I love you too *ghost kisses*💜 please enjoy xx

~~

unwanted

“That's enough. Go to your room.” Sam demanded angrily, looking down at the cheerios covering the kitchen floor that he now would have to clean up.

“Papa-”

“All you do is cause trouble and I'm done! To your room, now!”

She's been bad again. It was the third time this week. She has been disobedient and impatient. Whenever Papa and Daddy told her to do anything she somehow managed to mess it up. Sam had told her not to touch anything but she wanted to help nevertheless. She couldn’t reach the cupboard though and ended up spilling the box of cereal all over the place.

Her gaze dropped and she walked to her room without another word and a few minutes later, Bucky came to give her lunch and collect her phone and tablet, taking away her screen time for the day.

“But daddy-”

“No, doll. I'm taking them away. You never listen anymore and it needs to stop.”

Papa and Daddy are mad at you. They don't love you no more. They're sick of you. You never listen and you're always bad. They could be so much happier and calmer if it wasn't for you always riling them up. They were done. It needed to stop. They don't love you no more. They don't want you no more. They don't love you. They don't want you.

She sat wallowing in her room, tears gathering in her eyes as her own mind attacked her. Maybe it was all true. All she does is cause trouble.

So maybe if she left…

She got up and got her big girl backpack out of the closet.

Maybe if she left Papa and Daddy would be better off without her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gathered and pushed items into her bag.

Maybe if she was gone they would be less angry.

She zipped the bag up before sloppily slipping her socks on and picking up her stuffed friend.

Maybe if she escaped the house she could escape her thoughts too; leave them all in her room and go.

She wiped her cheeks, tiptoed out of her room, found her shoes by the front door and quietly got into them. She could hear Daddy and Papa lowly laughing together while they got things done in the backyard. Leaving really was the right decision then; they were happier without her.

Taking one, last, tear-blurred look at the house, she stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her. She held her small white bunny to her chest and sniffed before taking off, walking to the only place that would bring her comfort.

~

“She's going to be so happy. I can't wait to see her face.” Sam smiled proudly, hands on his waist as he took one last look at the swing he and Bucky have put together for their baby girl in the backyard.

“I really hope she likes it.” Bucky smiled back in agreement before opening the door for Sam and walking inside behind him.

They felt they were too hard on her that morning and she was usually a good girl, only intending to do good for her Daddy and Papa. So they decided to build the swing earlier than they’d previously planned to lighten things up again.

“Is it just me or is it awfully quiet in here?” Bucky murmured, bringing the water bottle down from his mouth and looking around the living room in slight suspicion.

“I mean, she is in a timeout and you did take away her phone,” Sam reminded him, trying not to let himself panic as he got himself a water bottle from the fridge.

But it wasn’t that. Bucky could still hear her presence no matter how quiet. He could hear her crayons gliding on paper when she would sit down to color. He could hear her hum as she organized her toys around the table for tea parties. This quietness wasn’t normal.

Bucky jogged up the stairs to her room and just as he feared, she wasn't in there. Her sandwich was untouched. Her closet was open and her backpack and favourite blankie were missing.

“Sam!” He called for his husband, taking long strides to their bedroom to find she wasn't there either.

Sam ran up the stairs at Bucky's freaked tone and saw him pacing through the hallway.

“She's not here.”

“What?” Sam’s heart sank into his stomach.

“I can't find her.” Bucky shook his head at Sam, running his fingers through his hair in growing panic.

“Hey, calm down. We're gonna find her.” Sam rubbed a hand down Bucky's back, trying to hide his own fright for Bucky's sake as his mind ran to every single place she knew how to get to on her own.

“How? How are we gonna find her? We don't even know where she went or if she's okay-”

Sam put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the other cupping his cheek.

“Hey, breathe,” Sam instructed, slowly breathing so Bucky could copy him, trying to send away the panic attack ready to take over him. Bucky nuzzled his palm, his breath coming out shaky.

“That's it, Buck. In and out.” He moved his hands to Bucky’s.

“But she was so little when we sent her to her room and she probably doesn't even have any ID or money with her-”

“Bucky,” Sam squeezed his husband’s hands.

“We can't lose her, Sam. I can't- I took her phone away- if she's in trouble, she won't be able to-”

“Bucky, baby, we're gonna find her and she's gonna be okay. I promise.” Sam reassured him with words he himself wasn't sure would turn out to be true, his large palm stroking up and down the tense muscles of Bucky’s back, “I need you to keep breathing for me.”

Bucky tried to manage his breathing, slightly calming down to the thought of getting to hold her again.

“She couldn't have gotten that far, so we're gonna look around and I'm gonna call Steve, okay?” Bucky nodded at Sam's words, glossy eyes closing as Sam planted a kiss to the side of his forehead, “okay, baby. Let's go.”

~

Sam took the car, driving slowly, roaming the neighborhood to see if she was anywhere around the area. He was asking anyone and everyone who passed by his car if they've seen her. But apparently, no one has. Not even the old couple at the end of the street with the dog she loved to pet so much.

Bucky chose to go on foot as he walked in the other direction, preferring to depend on his enhanced senses instead of talking to other people. Even if he did talk to them for help, no one would understand that while her picture looked like that of a grown lady, she was a mere baby. They would never understand their panic.

Sam rubbed his forehead in frustration, leaning it against the wheel. He’d just hung up with Steve. He said she didn't come to his place; didn't even stop by. In fact, he hasn’t heard from her at all and got worried when Sam called. He took an uneven breath, trying to maintain his cool before he lifted his head up and started the car again.

~

Leaning back on the big tree, she wrapped her soft blankie tighter around her frame. It was getting kind of chilly and she was starting to regret leaving now that it wasn't that sunny anymore. The tears drying on her cheeks made her shiver even more and she sniffled, kissing her bunny's head and tugging the stuffed animal under her chin. She hoped Daddy and Papa were feeling better now that she was no longer there with them.

“Doll?” She heard Bucky's voice and before she could wonder if she'd imagined it, she was pressed to a hard chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky sighed, kissing the side of her head over and over again, his hands tight around her back, holding her and her bunny close to his frantically beating heart.

“Baby, why'd you leave like that? We were so worried! We looked everywhere, we called everyone.” Bucky kissed her forehead a bunch before “-oh right!”

He got his phone out of his pocket with one arm, the other still firmly holding her to his chest. She kept holding onto her bunny, not really getting what was happening. Was she in trouble for leaving unannounced or not? Why would Daddy and Papa want to find her? She was nothing but trouble.

“Sam, I found her! We're in our secret place in the park.”

At Bucky's call, Sam took a sharp turn, stepping on the gas to get to the park as fast as he could.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you hurt anywhere?” Bucky asked her after hanging up, anxiously checking her head, face, arms and legs for injuries.

She shook her head silently, fresh, hot tears burning at the brims of her eyes.

“Thank god.” Bucky hugged her to his chest again, “we were so scared, doll. We were so scared.”

He kissed her damp cheeks and chin as she kept biting her lip, quietly sniveling.

She'd scared them. She'd worried them. Why was it always that she did something wrong while trying to do anything right? She was no good.

“It’s okay, love. I found you. I’m right here.” Bucky kissed her eyelids, then her nose, thinking she was crying because she was lost alone.

He pulled her on his lap and adjusted himself in her place, his back to the tree trunk as he held her close, fearing she’d disappear if he were to loosen his grip around her.

“Sugar!” Sam’s voice echoed through the empty part of the park when he saw her burrito-wrapped body in Bucky’s lap.

“Papa’s here, doll. It’s okay.” Bucky whispered to her when she didn’t stop crying.

She turned around and her eyes met Sam’s watery, brown ones.

“Hey, sugar,” Sam greeted softly, getting down on his knees before her.

Her lower lip jutted out further as new tears soaked her pretty face. It hasn’t even been a whole day and she’s missed Papa and Daddy so much. How was she ever planning on running away from them or being without them?

“Aww, no, no, baby, it’s okay,” Sam cooed, bringing her to his chest and engulfing her in a protective hug.

Her blanket fell in Bucky’s lap and she dropped her bunny to cling to Sam, barely quieting her sobs.

Not able to hold himself together any longer, a tear escaped Sam’s eye his gaze met Bucky’s. He buried his nose in her hair and squeezed her closer to him, sighing in relief that they’ve found her. His mind kept torturing him with scenarios of her getting hurt and not getting help. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if they’d actually lost her.

“You’re okay, sugar. Papa’s here with you. I’m sorry it took us so long, baby. We were looking in a lot of places.” Sam sniffled, pulling back to pepper featherlike kisses all over her face.

“You wanted to find me?” Her small, brittle voice asked, doe eyes staring up sadly.

“What? Of course we wanted to find you, baby! Why would you think otherwise?!”

“But I was bad. You w-were done. It needed to stop,” she repeated his and Bucky’s words on him and Sam felt shame cover him from head to toe, Bucky not any different as he bit down to stop his tears.

“Doll,” Bucky went to hold her hands only to find they were freezing.

“Shit! She’s too cold,” he told Sam, who immediately started taking off his jacket.

“Dada, bad word,” she softly reminded Bucky, covering her mouth with her hand before Sam got out of his jacket.

Sam slipped his warm jacket on her and pulled the zipper up, her small hands disappearing inside the long sleeves.

“Good girl, sugar. It is a bad word.” He rolled the sleeves back just enough to get her palms out so she could still hold her bunny.

“But you don’t see me asking daddy to leave because he was bad, do you?” Sam asked tenderly and she shook her head no.

“Exactly, I’m not. You know why?” Sam pressed kisses to both of her hands multiple times, rubbing them between his palms to warm her up.

“Why, papa?” she asked as he carried her in his arms; Bucky gathering the rest of her stuff.

“Because I love him so much." Sam wiped her tears. "And both me and daddy love you so so so much, sugar.” He pressed a firm kiss to her temple.

Bucky handed her the small bunny back after patting any dust or leaves out of it.

“We never want you to go, doll.” Bucky pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Even when I’m really really bad?”

“Even if you’re really really bad,” Sam guaranteed, kissing her temple again.

“But- I thought papa and daddy would be happier and not so angry no more if I left,” she mumbled innocently as Sam started walking to the car with her in his arms.

“That could never be true, doll. We’re only happy as long as we have you,” Bucky reassured her, opening the backseat door so Papa could slip in with her on his lap.

“And you still love me?” Her pout, teary puppy eyes and words were just killing both men inside.

“Of course we love you, doll! We will always love you. We can never afford to lose you,” Bucky told her, his eyes searching hers to offer them comfort.

“Baby, we love you so much it’s uncountable, remember?” Sam ran his thumb over the knuckles of her stuffie-holding hands.

She nodded, her eyes teary but her smile comforted and reassured. “I love you too, Papa,” she mumbled, grabbing onto Sam’s thumb, her eyelids barely staying open.

“I’m sorry I left,” she sniffled.

“It’s alright, baby. We’re all together now and we're going home.” Sam kissed her forehead once more, wanting her to forget all about it and know everything was okay again.

“Told you we’d find her,” Sam said, drawing Bucky inside the car by the cheek and brushing his lips against his.

“You did.” Bucky nodded, pressing his forehead to Sam’s and kissing him again.

Bucky pulled back and smiled adoringly at her sleepy eyes fighting to stay open as she leaned onto Sam's chest before getting in the driver’s seat to take them home. Sam was caressing her hair and before she knew it her eyes were fluttering closed.

All the crying all day had drained her and her body could finally give up and relax now that she was in Papa’s hold; she was out like a light.

“You’re so important to me and daddy, sugar. Never ever forget that,” Sam whispered against her forehead before pressing a slow kiss to her skin.

She might've had no idea how adored and cherished she actually was, but that was okay. Sam and Bucky had a lifetime ahead of them where they could show her again and again that they loved and needed her just as much as she did them.

~

“Dada! Papa! Wake up! We have a swing!”

She’d fallen asleep pretty early in the car last night and neither Sam nor Bucky had the heart to wake her up when they got home. So they took her shoes and socks off and tucked her in in their bed.

Now they had to deal with her waking up way too early. She’d gone to the bathroom on her own like a good girl before her stomach hungrily grumbled. And when she got to the kitchen for a cup of water and maybe the plate of fruit in the fridge, her eyes fell on the swing showing outside the small window on the kitchen door.

Bucky rolled over and opened his eyes first, her jumping on her knees on the bed beside him pulling him out of his dreams. Sam, however, didn’t move a muscle. The man slept so soundly that sometimes Bucky was jealous. How heavy of a sleeper could a person be?

“Yes, we do, baby.” Bucky chuckled. “Me and papa built it just for you.” He smiled sleepily at her excited face before annoyingly poking Sam’s back, “Sam, wake up.”

“Tank you, dada.” She settled back on her ankles though still buzzing with joy.

“You like it, sugar?” Bucky opened his arms wide for her.

“Yes, I love it.” She nodded happily before perching herself on his hard chest, cutely kissing his jaw, “and I love you, dada.”

“Sam.” He affectionately punched his sleeping husband’s shoulder, smirking when he heard him groan, “she likes the swing.”

#sambucky x little!reader #sambucky x reader #sambucky x f!reader #sambucky x female!reader #sambucky fic #sambucky fluff #sambucky angst #sambucky fanfiction #poly!sambucky #sambucky imagine #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky x reader #daddy!bucky barnes x little!reader #daddy!bucky barnes #daddy!bucky barnes x reader #daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x sam wilson #bucky x reader x sam #sam x bucky x reader #sam wilson x little!reader #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x f!reader #daddy!sam #papa!sam wilson #papa!sam wilson x little!reader #sam wilson angst #sam wilson x reader

[uncpanda]

Hoodie

Pairing: Derek Morgan X GN!Reader 

AN: It’s a little chilly here, and the idea of sharing a hoodie with Derek Morgan is keeping me warm! 

Derek’s been looking for his hoodie for half an hour, he’s gone through his go bag for it no less than three times, and he KNOWS he packed it. He’s just on the edge of frustration, he’s in Colorado, and it’s the middle of winter, so he really needs that hoodie. He just about to throw the bag across the room when his phone lights up and your caller ID flashes on the screen. He feels the frustration ebb away, as he answers, “Hey Sweet Thing, how are you.” 

“Tired. These long nights are killing me, but I don’t need to tell you about that.” 

He chuckles, “No, but I’m happy to listen for as long as your sweet voice goes on.”  

“Something tells me that the serial killer you’re tracking won’t wait for me to shut up.” “Probably not, but he is going to have to wait until I find my hoodie. It is like the set of 

Frozen in this state.” You don’t say anything, not even a comment on the Frozen thing. He’d been referencing it nonstop since the two of you had watched your nieces last weekend. The girls had gotten a kick out of it, and you had lovingly teased him about being the perfect girl-dad one day. He’d be lying if he said his chest hadn’t puffed out, proud of the praise. And one day he hoped it would be true, but right now . . . he liked having you all to himself. 

An ounce of suspicion settles in his chest, “Hey babe, have you seen my hoodie? The black one, that says BAU on the front?” 

He knows you won’t try to deny it, you’re not a good liar, and you don’t like lying, “Maybe.” 

He groans, “Sweetness . . .” 

“In my defense I found it on the floor. It must have fallen off the bed when you were packing a fresh go-bag. It smelled like you, and it made me smile, so I’ve been wearing it ever since you left.” 

His smiles, that’s a pretty good excuse in his book, “Keep honey. I’ll buy a new one here.” 

There’s silence before you ask, “DO you think we can trade these out sometimes, I like wearing your hoodies when you’re gone. They make me feel safe. . . loved.” 

He puts a hand over his heart, “Sweetheart. You are killing me. How am I supposed to focus when all I want to do right now is run across the country, climb into bed, and snuggle with you?” 

“Because, you’re Derek Morgan: Top profiler, bad-ass extraordinaire, extreme cuddler, and love of my life.” 

“Yeah, and you’re going to see that extreme cuddling when I get back, so make sure to clear your schedule.” 

Your laugh is like music to his ears, “Affirmative Agent Morgan.” 

“Love you sweetness. Sleep tight.” 

“Love you too.” 

When you hang up, he takes one more look at his screensaver, a picture of the two of you snuggled together on the couch, and then goes to buy a new hoodie, and if he buys it in your favorite color, well that’s really nobody’s business, now is it? 

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan and reader #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Out of Everyone Else

Summary: Sometimes, your suspicions prove to be true. 

Features: Angst, Cheating

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Reader

Notes: Based on ‘Hailey’ by  WRENN. If you haven’t heard it, you need to go listen. The ending of this one leaves it open to a follow up 

Word Count: 1332

A glass of whiskey sat half-drank, condensation dripping down the side as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You had moved into the compound at her urging, her desire to keep you safe. You’d been together for four years. You had known for a while things were off. Touches that no longer lingered, kisses that felt more robotic than passionate. At first, you wanted to believe it was just the ending of the honeymoon phase, that it was just the growing pains of a mature relationship.

You had met Wanda not long after she had started courses at the same university as you, both taking a 1PM class on the science of cooking, once a week for three hours. She had been with the Avengers for a while at that point, and it had been Steve that encouraged her to take college courses. You two sat beside each other, middle row, and were always paired together. It took her until midway through the semester to ask you out.

You and Wanda were tasked with making mozzarella cheese with your group. While someone else watched the temperature, the two of you spoke in hushed tones as you finished answering what questions you could for your lab report.

“What are you up to this weekend?” she asked, a hesitant smile on her face. You could practically feel her nerves. You knew Wanda had had her apprehensions before she started going to school at the university, especially after the incident that had led to the Sokovian Accords, which had been thrown out not long after Sergeant Barnes had been cleared of wrongdoing due to the fact that he had been brainwashed. People had warmed up to her and the two of you were part of the same social circle at the university. 

“Nothing much. Was thinking of finishing up my paper for McPherson's Business and Economic History of the US class. I got a C on the last paper and I need to bring up my grade. I love his class but he is such a hardass with the grading,” you replied. Her smile grew and she relaxed more.

“I was thinking we could grab dinner? Like a date. I want to take you on a date,” she said, starting to stumble over her words. You thought it was adorable how her accent thickened when she was flustered. 

“Yeah? I’d like that...I’d like that a lot,” you replied. 

The two of you had been together since. You both had since graduated from university. You had been thinking of buying a ring but something always held you back. It wasn’t as if the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You had been talking about it for a while before things began changing. 

Then your birthday came, a night you wouldn’t forget anytime soon, just a couple days before. Tony had insisted on hosting a party with your friends and the team. Including your best friend. It was the first night you realized something was wrong. 

You were the birthday girl and yet your own girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Bucky had pulled you away for a dance and a drink. You figured Wanda would find you eventually. You had gone to look for Wanda, only to find her in a hallway, near the bathroom, holding on to Hailey Adams, a friend from college who you knew had always had a thing for Wanda. 

You had asked Tony not to invite her. The two of you had had a massive falling out after you had been hired by Stark Industries over her after graduation. You were the only one between the two of you with qualifications for the position. 

Mascara covered Hailey’s face, but you could see the smirk on her face when she saw you. Wanda gave you a pleading look, guilt on her face. You turned on your heel and went back into where the party was, making a beeline for the bar. 

The next morning saw you and Wanda engaged in the worst fight the two of you had ever had, to the point that FRIDAY had alerted the others. The AI knew allowing the argument to continue would lead to a hurt you could never take back. It was a protocol in place to mitigate the chances of something happening that could fracture the team again. 

“Why was she there Wanda?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“She’s our friend. Whatever problems the two of you had--,” she said before you cut her off.

“It was my birthday party, Wanda! I told you I didn’t want her there. How did she even get in? They were checking IDs at the door,” you replied.

“I put her on the list. She felt left out! She was the only one not invited. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have been upset too,” she said, 

“No, I wouldn’t have been. We haven’t spoken since she and I got into the fight after I got the Stark Industries job and she didn’t. Or do you not remember that I had to get stitches?” you yelled. It escalated from there. Before you knew it, Steve and Bucky had arrived with Nat. Bucky took you to cool off while Steve and Nat hung back to talk to Wanda. 

It had only been forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours since the fight. And now you had the proof you needed. Wanda had never used missions as an excuse, no. She knew the others would expose the truth. They loved you like you were one of their own, a sister, a daughter. Natasha had done some digging. You were hesitant to see what she had found. Wanda had gone on a mission with Bucky, Steve, and Clint and would be gone for several days. It had been intentional, taking Wanda away from the compound. It gave Natasha time to do what needed to be done. 

“You can’t put this back in the bottle once you watch it, once you listen. But I think you deserve to know,” Natasha said. She didn’t feel guilty for what she had done. No. Unethical and illegal though it may have been, you had become dear to her. She didn’t view you as a sister or a daughter like the others, no. Her feelings toward you ran deeper. She was convincing herself she wasn’t doing this for her own gain. No. If she was in your shoes, she would want to know too.

“Tasha, how bad is it?” you asked, looking at the redhead. Natasha held your gaze for a minute, debating on what to tell you.

“I think you know,” Nat said. You nodded. Tears began to gather behind your eyes.

“FRIDAY, play the recording, please,” you said. Your heart shattered as you heard Wanda’s voice, coupled with Hailey’s. Confirming what you knew. Wanda was cheating on you and had been for some time. Hailey had been pushing her to break it off, something Wanda refused to do.

Natasha called your name. You were too lost in your thoughts, in your anger, in your hurt, to respond as the tears fell. Four years shattered around you in the blink of an eye. Even if you had been suspicious, the confirmation tore through you like a fire through an old wooden building. Blinding and destructive, dismantling everything in its wake. Natasha held you as you cried. 

You hadn’t moved in with Wanda immediately upon moving into the compound, the two of you had only been dating a year when that move happened. You had moved in after an incident with someone who was out to get the Avengers by any means necessary. Your old room was still vacant, in between Natasha and Bucky’s rooms. Natasha helped you pack and move your things. 

You stared out your bedroom window, still unsure of where things would go, if it was an ending or a fresh beginning, your thoughts a mess, and a glass of whiskey in front of you. 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff/reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff reader insert #scarlet witch/reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #marvel

[haravath0t]

A Christmas Heist  Pt. I - The Briefing

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff in the end! (I am truly a sucker for fluff)

A request made by @hailhydra920 !! Thank you so so much!

A/N: Hello, lovelies! Wow, a day early! Welcome to Part 1 of the Christmas Heist! I truly truly hope that you guys enjoy this as much as I did writing it! Much much hard work was needed, so feedback and commentary is very much appreciated! Happy reading, lovelies! :)

Request: “Bucky X reader where a Hydra agent dressed up as Santa and Bucky has to fight him, but the only way he can get close enough to “Santa” is dressing up as an elf. Thanks!”

*Introduction to this multi-part request can be found here!

“With all due respect Fury, we’re going to put the public at risk just by stepping into that mall.” Bucky chimes in, analyzing the map of the mall, the responses making Fury smirk and scoff. 

“You wouldn’t be putting the public at risk if you are part of the public, now would you?”

This made all of you now confused. “What are you trying to get at, Fury?” Steve questions, leaning over now onto the table. “What I’m saying is that you all will be working in this mall. Rogers, you’re going to be their new employee-” You stop Fury’s explanation right on with your snicker and a shake of your head. “But Steve knows nothing about technology-” “Which is why he’s the one going in that store,” Fury cuts you off this time, his eyes widening as he replies with a “duh” attitude. You hated to admit it, but he had a point. 

“Cap will be disguised as an employee. Cap will only be making sure that the customers are welcomed and should they need any help, you refer them to another skilled employee, as the agents who have put this together have said. In the meantime, you can blend and wander around the store in order to find the hard drive” Steve nods, pursing his lips as he processes his role. “Alright, but what would be the use of the other two?” 

“That’s where the other building across it comes in,” Fury replies, circling it with his pointer. “Now, this is the toy store across the apple store, which is highly popular now as it transformed to a Christmas toy store. From what our agents have observed, Hydra agents are disguised in this as well. The main concern applies to the one disguised as the Santa Claus that lets kids sit on his lap. Ho, ho, ho.” You couldn’t help but snicker. “Seriously? Santa Claus? You gotta be joking, Fury.” Fury shrugs. 

“Laugh all you want, agent. It is in truth quite an interesting tactic because,” Fury raises his hands as he lets the diagram of the floor be shown through a different angle, enabling you three to see the mall as if you were walking in it, only to see the apple store across from where the powerpoint stops at. “You are looking at the apple store right from Santa’s chair. The hydra agent can look over the store and see if there are any forms of suspicious activity. You got to hand this one to them, although we are not in an easy position, obtaining the hard drive is still possible.” “So where do we come in on this Christmas toy store business then,” Bucky then questions for you two, watching Fury carefully. Your guess was probably a regular employee at the cash register. Maybe a manager? Security guard? 

“Well let’s just say that the store had open positions for Mrs. Claus and an elf.” Is the reply that comes out of Fury’s mouth. 

Now that was definitely not what you were expecting.

Your eyes went big alongside Bucky’s, the two of you looking at each other in disbelief. “Fury, I know we’ve known each other for a while and I know your humor, but this has gone too far for a joke-”“Oh this is no joke, L/N. You and Barnes need to stay close to this “Santa” of ours just in case there is any communication going on behind the scenes.” Fury says, a hint of a smile being visible as he tries his best not to snicker. Steve did not help the situation, as he quietly chuckled and looked down and covered his mouth, clearing his throat to hide the laughter. Bucky was not pleased at all, glaring at both Fury and Steve. “You really call this a dire mission when you’re playing dress up with me and Y/N?! Are you kidding?” Bucky questions, eyes fixed on Fury and clearly showing his disappointment. 

“I did say we have to hide you three from hydra’s and the public’s eye right?! Or do you immediately want to be spotted and targeted by these agents, Agent Barnes?!” Fury says strictly, the hint of laughter and smiles now gone and replaced by a pointed look, one that most would be intimidated by. 

Although you hated what was being asked of you, you saw why it needed to be done. You placed your hand on top of Bucky’s arm, giving him a knowing look, causing Bucky to pause and ground himself. This would be better explained later. Fury huffed before handing each of you three manilla envelopes. 

“Look over these. They have your fake IDs, information about you that the staff knows about, as well as the files we have found on the hydra agents actively participating. We are putting you in the job early on to avoid suspicion. Two apartments will be available to you three in the meantime so that they can’t track you back here. The hard drive, according to a call we have intercepted, will be picked up in less than two weeks to be taken to their base, so that the specialists can handle the rest and be up to date. One suspicious slip up, and we’re done for. Are we clear?”

The three of you nodded, allowing Fury to adjourn the meeting and leave the room with the already waiting Agent Hill, leaving the three of you watching each other. “I guess we’ll pack up, and meet at my office, and we’ll decide what to do from there. Meet me in 45 minutes.” Is what Steve says, before exiting out, leaving just you and Bucky to yourselves. You sighed and held his hand as you two walked out. “Gee, you would think we would catch a break during the holidays,” You say first letting yourself be guided by Bucky into the elevator, pressing the button to your floor. Bucky kissed your knuckles and offered you a little smile. “I know, sweetheart. But we make a good team, you, me, and Steve. That’s why we got called in. So that we can come back home sooner since we’re going to do the job much quicker.” You leaned your head against his arm and chuckled a bit. 

“So an elf and Mrs. Claus… how great… it’s just reminding me of that movie elf.”

This made Bucky smile. He was always amazed by your optimism.

“That movie we saw the other day, right?” He questions as the two of you made your way to your shared room, already grabbing your duffle bag and suitcase to pack weapons and clothes. “Yeah, that one!” You say, a small giggle leaving your lips and shaking your head. “Goodness, if the costume you wear for the mall is something similar to that I am only going to hope that I can keep myself together.” This made Bucky’s cheeks slowly turn red in embarrassment, thinking about Buddy’s tight yellow tights and green wardrobe. “Gosh, sweetheart, I really don’t think it’s great to think about right n-”

“Oh my gosh, what if you have to be eating spaghetti covered with maple syrup and marshmallows, and then even more candy and-”

“Really, doll? Ya gotta include embarrassing me in this last minute mission of ours?” He questions, face now red from hearing your laugh as he packs his essentials. “Whatever, we have a mission to do, so I know you wouldn’t be able to look at my elf costume so much.” You giggle and smile at him, zipping up your duffle and getting your suitcase ready. 

“I think I can get a peek or two. Besides, what about this is new? I personally think this should be a piece of cake compared to raiding hydra bases,” You say reassuringly, kissing his cheek as you pass by him to get some clothes. Bucky couldn’t help but give you a small smile, watching you as you get ready. 

He hated to admit it, but the guy could not help but worry for his girl no matter how many times you two have partnered in assignments. Sure, you might have found this funny and easy, but the concern of you possibly getting hurt was always in the back of his mind even when you went over to where you three would be staying for the meantime. He was now watching over your sleeping figure, tracing your side delicately with his vibranium digits, sighing upon the realization that he is yet again sleepless, worrying about you. 

“Mmmm Buck, stop worrying about me and go to sleep,” you mutter sleepily, halting all of his concerns. You always knew what he was thinking. His blue eyes met your sleepy ones, but he couldn’t help but smile at the state you were in. “Come back to me, Buck. You’re like a million miles away up in that head of yours,” you tease with a cute sleepy smile that he could not resist to admire. He let out a sigh and shook his head and shrugged, bringing you closer to him. 

“You know… should anything happen to you, it’s my fault. Anything that-”

“Stop that talk, James. You know that that isn’t true. You and I are professionals at this, and we are going to make sure that nothing wrong happens. Okay? Trust me, trust us. You, me, and Steve are going to do just fine. It is not our first rodeo, okay?” You whisper reassuringly, delicate fingers lightly caressing his cheek. A soft smile kisses the man’s lips, watching you in awe. You did always know what to say, hitting his concerns one at a time effortlessly. “You’re right, sweetheart, you’re right.” You smiled before you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently into his in a soft and comforting kiss, pulling away to nuzzle your nose against his. 

“I always am. Now why don’t we sleep? You and I have a mission to do and you know how much Steve hates us lollygagging. Or must I read you a bedtime story?” You tease, eyebrows wiggling, causing you both to giggle and ultimately relax. “You’d love to do just that, wouldn’t you, doll?” You smiled once again, giving your lover one more small peck before you nuzzle into his neck, allowing the scent of his cologne to surround your senses. “You and I know how I’d answer that,” you manage to mutter, before quickly returning to your wanted slumber. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, combing your hair ever so gently as sleep slowly starts to take over. “Mmm… you know me too well. Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers into your head, holding you close before he also falls into his sleep. 

Boy, were you three in for a treat.

Tags: @whew-oh-em-gee​ @world-of-aus​ @world-of-aus-reads​ @tomholland-96​ @lordyitsjordy​ @letstalkaboutsebbaby​ @thee-soom-soom​ @lookiamtrying​ 

*if you would like to be a part of my tag list, please let me know! ☺️

Part 2: Going Undercover

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #buckybarnesxreader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes scenario #mcu #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #the christmas heist #fandom-basurero fics

[coveredinsweetpea]

me and you [ross butler imagine]

A/n: This is cheesy don't mind me. I finally have time to write again and I'll probably be here A LOT so hmu! Let's talk, tell me what you thought!

Summary: Ross comforts you after you receive online hate due to the age gap in your relationship (requested)

"What're you doing over there?" Ross asked, mindlessly walking through the living room. He didn't get you a chance to answer before he walked into the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room and call for you again, "Babe?" "Hm?" you mumbled, tilting your head in his direction, even if your eyes never actually left the screen of your laptop. "What are you reading?" he questioned, now leaning against the wall, eyes trained on you. "I wanna cook something" you said softly, your attention divided between your boyfriend and the recipes displayed in front of you. "Why?" Ross laughed. "Stop" you scoffed, amused, "Our cheat day turned into a cheat month, and I'm really in the mood for something home cooked and healthy." Still unconvinced about your motives, he reluctantly accepted to help you choose a dish. Eventually, you settled for some fancy stake with brown rice. About half an hour later you were both in the kitchen, laughing your asses off. It all started with Ross trying to fake an Italian accent as he read the instructions for the sauce, and it ended with him posting three different videos of you two to his Instagram story. In the first one, he wasn't completely prepared, and his shyness came to light. His cheeks bright red and the room filled with his nervous laughter - it was definitely your favorite of the three. In the second one, he had gotten a little bit more in character, and he may or may not have done an adorably sweet impression of The Godfather. "He's Italian, right?" Ross laughed over your shoulder, as you watched the videos on his story.

"Yes, he is, babe" you laughed, leaning your head back, "Or was" "Did he die?" he asked, genuine curiosity visible in his eyes. "Haven't you seen the movie?" "Nope" "Well, then I'm not gonna tell you!" you exclaimed, turning around. You discarded his phone, carefully placing it on the counter. Your hands met behind his neck, your fingers intertwining. Ross looked down at you with a smile that was hard to read, but it warmed you up nonetheless. "Tell me" he begged, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his, "I wanna know" "What kind of an asshole girlfriend would I be if I spoiled one of the best movies ever made for you?" Ross cocked his head to the side, and pursed his lips, "Pretty sure you'd still be the best girlfriend...." "Sweet talking won't get you anywhere, babe" you giggled, pulling yourself up on your tip toes. He met you halfway, leaning down to press his lips to yours. It was really sweet at the beginning, even though he tasted like the garlic he swore he didn't steal from your plate. But you didn't really care. The taste faded away quite rapidly, and soon, you were already clinging to his chest, your body asking for more. His tongue pushed past your lips and you welcomed him with no intention to hold back. Much to your dismay, things didn't go any further. At least not until you feasted on the food you worked so hard to make. This was probably one of the most relaxing nights you've had in ages, and were beyond thankful for it. For the past few months, your schedules had been hectic, but you just enjoyed a night in, and in the morning you were ready to head out for breakfast. You and Ross were supposed to meet your parents at a café nearby. Despite the short distance, you two were again running late. You ended up brushing your teeth at the same time, bumping shoulders and playfully bickering until you were actually too late for your own good. Ross had to physically drag you away from your make up table, "Babe, it's just our parents, they won't care when color your eyelids are" "Oh my god" you laughed, and hurried to apply the last touches of mascara, before he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you to your feet. "Ok! I'm done, I'm done, let's go!" Giggling, your sprinted to the hallway, hurrying to slip your shoes on. "Where the fuck is my wallet!?" you heard Ross's muffled voice echo through the apartment. "Jeans?" "Which ones?" he yelled back. "Jesus-" you laughed, rolling your eyes, "I have mine, leave it" "What if I need my ID?" Ross asked, finally coming back into your line of sight, eyes all mopey and shoulders all slumped. "What are they gonna do?" you taunted, "Assume you're not old enough to have alcohol for breakfast" "Good, point" he shook his head, and started putting his shoes on. To be fair, this was what most of your days were like, and you loved it. There was a specific air of comfort and acceptance between the two of you that you never had with anyone else. The safety he provided and the love he had for you, were the only things you needed to keep going. About 30 minutes later, you and Ross were seated on a small terrace, across from your parents. It was their idea for all of you to go out today, considering the last season of 13 Reasons Why just dropped, and even if was just a croissant and a cup of tea, it called for celebration. "I've only ever been once to the set" his mother shook her head, sipping on her smoothie, "And I feel like I'm gonna miss everything about it" "I know what you mean!" you smiled, "I've gotten the chance to meet most of the cast and they're all such amazing people!" "They love you, you know?" Ross grinned, elbowing you in the side. "Oh god" you giggled, feeling your cheeks catch a new shade of pink. "It's true" he shook his head, looking at everyone around the table in turn. A devilish smirk popped up on his lips, "Apparently we're perfect together, or something?" Everyone at the table ended up shaking their heads and chuckling at Ross's attempt to make a joke, and it only warmed your heart. Unconsciously, you leaned into him, and cuddled against his side, ignoring the looks yours and his mother gave you as he turned and kissed the top of your head. "We get it" your dad playfully scoffed, "You're young and happy and all that crap. But where are my grandkids?" Although he didn't really have a very exquisite sense of humor, you all laughed, some out of amusement, some out of nervousness. You're sure the parents didn't take it seriously, but the thought of a little Ross running around your apartment brought a ridiculous smile to your lips. The breakfast date didn't last much longer after that. About 30 minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of your car, as Ross drove the two of you home. Out of habit, you pulled out your phone, your thumb mindlessly tapping the Instagram icon. That was when you saw the amount of tags and mentions you had. Thousands of them. Your stomach filled with dread in an instant. This was never good. And even so, you still always checked what people had to say. You were not a celebrity, having people talk about you still made your skin crawl. When the comments were good, you'd just get a rush of anxiety that you started to manage better and better over the last few months, but when the comments are bad, it feels like your lungs are on the edge of collapse. And that was the case now. You only got a chance to read a few comments, all of them, without exception, picking at the age gap between the two of you. Your eyes watered instantly, forcing you to lock your phone and turn your head towards the window. "Hey, baby girl" Ross called lovingly, placing his hand of your thigh, "You good?" You just nodded. "Tell me, love" he pushed, squeezing your leg, "Come on" "I'm fine" "Obviously you're not, angel" "I'm good" you repeated yourself, and forced a fake smile. You did your best but it wasn't enough to fool him. However, he did drop the topic. The rest of the car ride was spent in perfect silence. But once you got inside, you felt him eager to pick the topic back up. So, you did the only thing that you felt was able to help you dodge the situation, and excused yourself, claiming you needed a shower after spending so much time in the sun. It would have been a great lie, but it was 11am on a cloudy July morning, you all had breakfast under a big umbrella that kept you cool in its shadow, and the AC in the car kept the unwanted high temperatures away from you. As you jumped into the shower, you hoped Ross wouldn't look too much into it. As the water poured down your body, you let your mind wonder. It was not a wise choice. If his fans managed to only find flaws about you and bring them forward, you had the upper hand - you knew yourself, and knew all the other flaws you had, the ones they couldn't pick apart. But you could. And that was what you did. For at least an hour, you soaked yourself in hot water, feeding all the negative thoughts that consumed you. When you finally decided to get out of the shower, you were by no means in a better mental state, but you didn't want to let Ross see that. Even though you had some specific opinions about yourself, you felt like opening up about them only made you a victim. So you decided against it. You got dressed up, put on one of your own shirts instead of his', something you never did inside the house, and then walked in the living room. Although you felt like ignoring him, you knew that would only raise suspicions. "What're you up to?" you asked, as you stopped right before you headed into the kitchen. Ross hadn't heard you come in, and only looked up when your voice reached his ears. "I was productive" he grinned, standing up from the couch. "Oh, what did you do?" He laughed, and walked over, "Literally nothing" Quite impossible for you to understand how his little dumb lines like these, could always make you loosen up. Of course, he noticed your faint smile hid a lot, so he leaned down to kiss your forehead and placed his fingers under your chin to get you to look up at him, "I'm not gonna ask what you were mad about earlier, because I know" "Ross-" you tried to excuse yourself, and pull away from his hold, but he was by no means having it. "You know you're my whole fucking world, ok?" he said softly, his breath fanning over your skin, "I'm the only one that gets to decide who's good for me. Falling in love with you is only up to me. Not them, ok?" "I know..." you sighed, your insecurities overwhelming you again. "But?" he nudged you, obviously aware of how much you were holding back. "But what if you're wrong?" "What do you mean, wrong?" Ross questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What if you only think I'm good for you? What if they're right, and you just can't see it?" He sighed, obviously deeply hurt by the lack of trust and confidence you showed, "They're not right, I'm 100% sure. But even if they were, I'd have to see for myself, wouldn't I?" "Even if what they're saying is more rational?" you asked, voice all choked up by the lump in  your throat. "I'm not gonna listen to anyone talk shit about the woman I love" he explained, "I really do see myself living the rest of my life by your side, what's a stranger gonna do? Convince me otherwise? Right now, in my life, you come first. Anyone could come and tell me anything they wanted, and still, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. My opinion on you is based on what I know, on who you are, and you're the only one that could ever change it" His words managed to get to you, and although your knees were weak, you were still not quite there yet. "What if that's what's gonna happen? More time will pass and you'll see I'm not right for you" "That's how relationships work, love" Ross shook his head, "And it certainly does not have anything to do with you being younger than me." Too many things were coming at you at once. He made a good point, but your mind was already drunk on all the possibilities, and on all the things that could go wrong. Accepting that he might actually be right, and acknowledging the fact that in your current state, you couldn't possibly think straight, you hoped he'd understand you when you ask to continue this conversation later in the day. "We can talk about this whenever you want, baby girl" he said, and unlike before, now he sounded defeated. As if he realized he did not manage to et his point across, and that you were still down. If you had your eyes open, you would've probably noticed hurt in his expression when he failed to lift your spirits, but your vision was clouded and all you did was leave the room without a single word. What was hard now, was the fact that deep down, a part of you knew he was right, and that he made a legitimately fair point, and that of all things, breaking up was the last thing you wanted. But you backed out of situation like these before, and all you did in the end was regret your choices. Regret the fact you didn't fight and didn't believe the person next to you, who spent their days proving just how much you mean to them. Exhausted and in need of a break, you opened up your phone to call your best friend. When the screen lit up, your Instagram feed popped up, refreshing as it hasn't been used in hours. Out of habit, you allowed the posts to load, and thank god you did.

Words could not describe the storm of emotions taking place inside your belly. You knew Ross, knew he would never lie, deceive or manipulate, and the fact that he posted that for his 8.5M followers to see, had to mean something. And when you checked the time, you saw that the picture was posted while you were still in the shower, before that little conversation you tow had. As cliché as it sounds, it really did it for you. Him standing up for you in front of his own fans, meant everything in that moment. You only realized you stormed into the living room when you were already slumping down into the couch, grabbing Ross's hand into your own. "Thank you" was all that came out of your mouth, despite the monstrous battle of thoughts that was going on inside your head. "For what, baby?" he asked, voice all soft and loving as he leaned his head to the side. "I saw the post and I wanted to th-" "Don't thank me for that, ok?" he cut you off, his free hand coming up to guide your chin. He searched for you with his stare, and only continued to talk after your eyes met his, "I didn't do it because I thought that was what you wanted. I felt like doing it. I did it for you, because you're my girl, and I hate seeing you down. And I did it for me too, because there is no chance in hell I'm ever allowing anyone to poke into our private business like that" As stray tears roamed down your cheeks, a small giggle came out too, "I feel kinda stupid, you know?" you snorted, "I don't know why I needed to hear you say this to everyone. It should have been enough that you said it to me. I'm sorry" His eyes softened even more as he opened his arms. You crawled over, and rested against his chest. In this position, where we felt the safest in the world, you started to wonder how on earth you even doubted him. "Listen to me-" Ross said sweetly but with an affirming tone. "Fears and insecurities? We're working through them. Together. Whatever it is, I got you. You're my world, Y/n, the love of my life, I really want the best for you. I have a lot to learn, but I really wanna make you the happiest. I am always here for you, and always will be, ok? I really need to know you know that" "You're an angel" you nodded, cuddling deeper into his chest, "I love you" "You're the angel" Ross laughed, playing with your hair, "And no more hiding, ok? It's me and you, that's it" "Me and you"

#ross butler #ross butler imagine #13 rw imagine #13 reasons why imagine #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #zach dempsey #zach dempsey imagine #zach dempsey angst #zach dempsey fanfic #ross butler fanfiction #ross butler writing

[sunsinrinn]

Secrets Part 7.

Bakugo x reader, Bakugo x Uraraka, Kirishima x Reader

Fluff- ish, language, angst

Word Count: 1,183

Idea: Y/n has a secret to share with bakugo not expecting a secret from him. She leaves heart broken and attempts to move on. But how will she move on if her secret can no longer be hidden? She fakes a relationship hoping its enough to not expose the true origin of the secret. (This is a terrible summary but I cant say much without spoiling future parts. 🙃)

Meanwhile, after Bakugo leaves everyone stands there a bit shocked with the news but Mina urges them to continue having a good time and an inconvenience like that shouldn’t deter their fun.

Kaminari walks over to you and boldly asks, “So, how does it feel to be that huge?”

You glare at him, “I am NOT huge Calamari- How’s it feel to be a phone charger?” He laughs at the nickname but continues, “What are you going to name the baby? Can you name them Denki? That’s a great ass name” he raises his eyebrows and you shake your head, “Nah, I don’t think I want my kid to be associated to a phone charger”

He feigns being hurt, “Oh, well no more free phone charger for you” and laughs.

“Oh, no please Kami, please charge my phone! I’ll name my first born after you.” You joke. His eyes light up and then realizes you were kidding, “Wow, y/n you wound me” making you both laugh.

Kirishima on the other hand was a bit jealous that Kaminari was talking to you and making you laugh. Well,,, he didn’t think he was jealous just overprotective. He walks over to you and hugs you from behind. You smile and look up at him as he looks like he has been derived of attention for years. You shake your head and know instantly why he’s acting like this.

Kaminari after a while of talking to you goes off to find the next person to annoy. You stand there for a while and suddenly feel someone pull on your dress. You look around before looking down and see Mineta. ‘Yay’ you think.

“What do you want Mineta”

“I was just wondering, if your boobs get bigger now that-“ He never got to finish his sentence because Kirishima yanks him away and locks him in a closet. You look at Kirishima and thank him for saving you. He nods and decide to stay by your side through out the rest of the party.

Bakugo is disgusted at the sight in front of him. He can’t believe this bitch brought a man to his fucking house. Sparks are released from his hands causing the man to flinch and hurriedly begin to change.

“Baby... He means nothing to me-“

“SHUT THE HELL UP YOU BUBBLEGUM BITCH!!!! I WANT YOUR ASS OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE BY THE END OF THE DAY- IF I SEE YOU HERE ANY LONGER I WILL BLAST YOUR ASS TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING WORLD!”

She looks taken aback but smirks, “Fine, I was just using you to hurt Y/n anyways. But then she just had to go on and get with Kirishima leaving you’re pathetic ass alone. I just wanted her to hurt. You can’t fucking believe all the trouble I went to to manipulate you into cheating on her. And then for her to get over it and get knocked up? That wouldn’t work. So guess what I did, baby? I had to make everyone think she was a cheater. I thought she would hurt then. But she fucking didn’t. I was getting tired of not getting the satisfaction of seeing her hurt so I decided to see you hurt instead-“

“HOW DID YOU MANIPULATE ME, BITCH?”

“Oh, you expect me to fucking tell you? As if, I will keep that a secret” she says and smiles eerily. “Now that I’m done with you, I think I might go and try and fuck Kirishima, maybe then I will see her hurt.” Bakugo twitches with anger and sadness as Uraraka walks past him.

As soon as she leaves he breaks down. He continues to cry until he passes out on the floor.

Throughout the next couple of weeks Bakugo attempt and fails, to remember the moment Uraraka manipulated his mind. He is confused and falls into a depression. Everything that happened was because he was weak enough to allow someone to manipulate him.

Finally he gets the guts to text someone

‘Hey... I want to talk to you.’

After a minute they respond.

‘For what’

‘I want to apologize. I just discovered a few things.’

‘Fine, we can meet up this Monday at around 12:30 pm at the cafe near the park’

‘Thank you so much..’

You are just waking up from your nap to Kirishima looking at you awkwardly.

You look at him and ask, “Kiri, what’s wrong?”

He becomes nervous and stammers out, “So... um... “

“Kirishima spit it out”

“Bakugo texted me.”

You look shocked but its replaced by a calmer feeling, “That’s it?”

“Yes, he wanted to meet up and talk about-“

“Kirishima, you don’t have to explain to me anything else. If you want to meet up with him, do so, he was your best friend after all..”

He smiles at you and hugs you, “You are the best girlfriend I could ever hope for.”

You smile and hug him back, “So when are you planning on meeting up with him?”

“This Monday.”


“Okay.. yeah that’s fine. I have an appointment that day But I can I ask Mina or go alone” you smile at him softly.

“I still don’t understand why the gender of the baby has to be a secret” he pouts


“Baby, that’s why mina is going with me Monday. She will know the gender and throw a gender reveal party.”

“Oh good, we really have been putting finding out about the baby’s gender off its been what? 7-8 months?”

“To us yes, to them 4-5 months. Im surprise they aren’t suspicion yet...”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we haven’t gone ourselves.”

You just smile and nod.

Soon Monday arrives and you make your way to mina’s house and Kirishima gets ready to meet up with Bakugo.

As you arrive at Mina’s home you knock and wait patiently for her to get out so you can make your way to your appointment. As soon as she locks her door she becomes excited because she will get to know the baby’s gender before The Godfather’s do.

You laugh and walk side by side as you make your way to the office.

After normal check up occurs, they angle the screen away from you and whisper to Mina what the gender is and Mina just screams in excitement.

“OH Y/N! THIS IS SO EXCITING!” She is given an envelope and she tucks it into her purse. You laugh at her enthusiasm and wait for the appointment to be over with.

After the appointment Mina walks you home so she knows you made it home safe. When you arrive you get a phone call.

You put them on speaker and answer, “Hello? Kirishima? What’s up?”

“Hey Y/N! How was the appointment? Is Mina there? MINA WHATS THE GENDER?”

“IM NOT TELLING YOUR ASS ANYTHING, KIRISHIMA! YOU KNOW THAT!”

You laugh and shake your head, “What’s up Kiri, why’d you call?”

you hear silence and then a sigh come through the other side of the phone and it makes you nervous.

“Kiri?”

“Y/n.. I need to ask something of you.”

SERIES MASTERLIST — Part 8

A/N- ANOTHER CHAPTER? Lol This one I think is a bit wacky and everywhere but I hope you enjoy this chapter and I probably will have another one out by 11 pm est :) I already have it thought out

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts or future works dont hesitate to dm, ask, or comment! I hope you guys had a lovely day today! Also if you asked to be tagged and I didnt tag you send me a dm so I can fix it :) also any tags in italics and bold, I couldn’t tag you :/ I’m sorry </3 but I’ll work on it <3

Secrets taglist: @hero-ink-pillar , @silentw-lkr , @ushiwakatrash , @purple-rabanito , @chaelysian , @puppycat714 , @fake-id-69 , @adaydreaminganon , @jessie9008 , @sam-i-am-1025 , @purple--nebula , @curiouslilbeast , @httpswwwtbhkcom , @setup-the-ace

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x uraraka #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha

[livvywrites]

[ ID: the image depicts a knights helm with a pointed face looking to the right. it’s been edited to look like an oil painting, and overlaid with a pale grey-green color. over the image is written ‘a conspicuous lack of dragons’ in a script front, and beneath that, ‘livvy moore’ in a serif font. /end ID. ]

i posted an excerpt of this with the placeholder title “the perils of taking quests from little old ladies who live in the woods.” i’m still rather fond of that title, but it’s a little too long xD

this was written mostly as an exercise to kind of... shake the mental cobwebs off, after seeing a post about accessibility + princesses in towers. i really liked how it came out, so i decided to polish it up and post it :D i meant to have it up sooner, but... life :p

you can also read this on my website :)

a conspicuous lack of dragons

The tower is exactly as the old woman described. White brick, with a deep purple roof, standing on a mountain at the edge of a prosperous kingdom. Only a few windows adorn the top of the tower. The rest is bare, and unadorned. You are… a little relieved. The old woman had said that this tower belonged to a dragon. You weren’t particularly looking forward to fighting it—and though you’re sure you still might have to, at least you have time for a little more reconnaissance.

Save for the base, where there is a plain wooden door.

You… cannot say you were expecting that. You swing off of your mare, and stow your more important belongings with her, keeping with you only your sword, shield, and medicine kit. You examine the door carefully, and find that—at least from this side—it is as plain as it appears.

You open the door, and step inside.

The base of the tower is rather bare. There are a few crates and boxes, covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. There is a conspicuous lack of traps. You frown, step further in, and wait for the door to slam behind you.

It does not.

Suspicions piqued, you start up the twisting and winding ramp (not stairs!) that lead to the top. You draw your sword as you do, ready to strike if anything—or anyone—pops out at you.

Nothing does.

There are still no traps; no guards; and no hints of magic. The most arduous thing about it is the trip to the top. Another plain, wooden door is there; though it has been painted a pale lilac. There is a small peephole near the top.

You see no strange mechanisms. No glowing runes. No door knockers with faces, ready to entice you into a battle of riddles.

Your frown only deepens. You push the door open, fully expecting to be greeted by the most heinous monster you’ve ever faced.

Instead, you find a young woman. You can only presume that this is the princess. She is seated on a plush couch, reading a rather thick book. She looks up at the creak of the door, and gives you a brief once over.

One brow raised, she asks, “Well? What are you doing here?”

“I’m… here to rescue you?” you say, but it comes out as more of a question. You feel dumb. Also numb. Off-balance. You aren’t sure what’s going on at all. Nothing here is what you expected it to be, and you’re not sure how to take that at all.

“Oh,” the princess says. She looks disinterested again. “Mm. Thank you, but no thank you. I am perfectly content where I am.”

“I… but…” You stop. You’re not really sure where you were going with that.

The princess sighs. She marks her place, and lays the book on a side table. She gestures to one of the chairs. “Let me guess,” she says. “A lovely little old lady hired you. Very sweet, greets everyone with a plate of cookies. She shuffles more than walks and leans on a cane. Very harmless. Very unassuming. She told you a sob story about a poor princess, shut in a tower for… Oh, I can’t imagine what she used this time. Someone was jealous? They were afraid I would be stolen away? I’ve been cursed?”

“Um.” You’ve taken a seat now. “A dragon had taken you and hid you here, to hold you for ransom.”

The princess rolls her eyes. “Ah. We’re stereotyping dragons, now. Lovely.” She rearranges the blanket on her legs. “The truth, then. I am a princess, she did not lie to you about that. However, I am not in this tower because of dragons, curses, jealousy, beauty, or whatever reasons she can dream up. This tower was, in fact, my idea.”

“Why?” you blurt.

The princess smiles. There’s something a little secretive about it, like she’s letting you in on something. “You see,” she says, “I was born a little different from the rest of the world. Not much, mind, but enough to make it hard for me to function in your world. I’ve got a touch of power in me. I can, of course, cast spells. But that is not why I am here. I am here because I also have a touch of the Sight. And that… well. It makes me a little… sensitive.” She drums her fingers on the arm of the sofa. “It is hard to explain, because I can do so many different little tricks, but I will try. Since you came all this way.

“The main one, I think, is being able to sense emotions. This one is not something I can turn off. Being in a crowded room is… overwhelming. I can feel what everyone else is feeling, and they are hardly ever feeling the same things. It is enough to drown my own emotions out, and it is—I am sure you can imagine—unpleasant.

“I can also sense surface thoughts, sometimes. When they are very loud, or when I care to turn an ear to them. When I was younger, I could not control this, and… thus, crowds of people were, once again, very uncomfortable.

“And, of course, I can predict things. With an object—clear or mirrored, preferably—I can see things going on in other places. It takes focus, and practice, and it helps if I’ve been there or have a clear idea of what I am looking for, but it is possible. I can catch glimpses of things that will happen, or could happen.

“I can also see the future of an object, if I touch it. Or look into its past, see where it’s been. This was another thing I could not control as a young one, and made things very, very unpleasant.

“There are other things, too, but these are the three that made me seek solace here. I get visitors. I leave sometimes. But, yes. My being here is very much a choice. I thank you, again, for your concern. But it is not warranted.”

“I…” You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I do not understand why I was sent here, then. If you are not in danger.”

“Ah. Well.” The princess smiles wryly. “The old woman who sent you here is not an old woman at all. That is the disguise she dons, when she sends people to me. I believe because it makes her seem more trustworthy… or perhaps because she thinks its funny. I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. She sent you here, the same way she did the others, because she wants to use you to get past my wards.” She turns her gaze from you, and looks at the door you came in. “Isn’t that right, Muriel?”

In the doorway stands a woman who is nothing like the little old lady who plied you with cookies and a sob story about a kidnapped princess. She has long golden hair that shines in the window light. She walks with a finely carved staff; a glowing orb at the top. When she gets close, however, you can see her eyes. And those—those are the eyes of the old lady. Warm brown with a touch of humor. She sits in the empty seat.

“You turned the last three away at the door,” Muriel says. “I was beginning to think that you were angry with me.”

The princess hums. “I don’t know why you bother with the pretext,” she says. “You could just have them deliver a letter.”

“I could. But then however would I test their virtue?”

“Virtue?” you ask, before you can stop yourself. You are still so terribly confused. You lost the plot somewhere around when you opened that first door—and you don’t think you’d ever quite caught back up.

Muriel looks at you, as if she was surprised that you were still there. “Well, yes, darling,” she says. “First to see if you were willing to face a dragon to rescue a princess you’d never even met. And then to see if you could get through the doors. They don’t let you in unless you’re pure of intention.”

That doesn’t really clear anything up.

“But why?”

“I presume to keep the princess safe.”

“That’s not what our good knight is asking, and you know it,” the princess chides.

Muriel grins. “Because I’ve need of you, good knight. We’ll get to that. For now…” She looks back the princess. “What do you think, dear? You know I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s.”

“Speak more plainly, Muriel,” the princess says. “I’ve no idea which scheme you’re speaking about now. I can’t possibly keep track of them all.”

Muriel huffs. “The knight, dear.”

The princess gives you another once over. “Depends,” she says. “What is it you’re needing?”

“The gryphon, I think.”

The princess seems to consider that, then sniffs. “No. You’d be better off asking one of the other three.”

You feel indignant.

“I would send this one for the unicorn.”

Less indignant. But only just.

“Oh, truly?” Muriel looks at you again, and there is a new appreciation in her eyes. “Well. You know best, on the subject of unicorns, I suppose.”

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the flattery, because I do. However, I really must ask you to drop the pretense. You didn’t come all of this way to ask me that. Speak true, Muriel.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to see you.” Muriel’s tone and expression goes coy, almost coquettish.

A ghost of a smile appears on the princess’s mouth. “If you wish to engage me in courtship, Muriel, there are far less roundabout ways to go about it. Which, mind, I would appreciate far more than the games.”

Muriel flushes, almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

The princess inclines her head, and in a gentler tone says, “Your affections would be welcome.”

“Truly?”

“I would not lie to you, dear,” the princess says. “However, once again, I must ask you to speak the truth. Why have you come?”

Muriel sighs. “Your perceptiveness grates, you know?”

“So you have said.”

“Fine. I have come to steal you away again.”

“Ah. Where to?” The princess looks remarkably calm at that comment, though your hackles have raised. Wherever Muriel wishes to go, you do not think the princess should have any part of it. You have a feeling, though, that if you said anything, the princess would—kindly—tell you to mind your own business.

“The Wilds,” Muriel says.

This means nothing to you, but the princess nods.

“Of course,” she murmurs to herself. “Right, well. When do you wish to leave?”

“Once I’ve gotten this one packed off,” Muriel says. She gestures to you.

“Do I get a say?” you ask. Demand.

“Well of course, dear,” Muriel says. “You’ll either take the mission I give you or… go off to do whatever you do when you’re not taking quests from strange women. Either way.”

You huff, but nod.

“Very well,” the princess says. “I am agreeable.”

“Excellent.” Muriel sends her a quick flash of a smile. The glimpse you catch is soft and subtle. The princess’s own lips quirk in response… and then suddenly, both their eyes are on you again.

Muriel is looking at you like she’s a cat and you’re… something small and skittering. You don’t know if she’s going to pounce, or if she just wishes to watch, but either way—you’re more than a little unnerved.

The princess, on the other hand, looks kind and a little amused. “Any questions?” she prompts.

“Why did she—you—need my help to get in the tower? If you two are friends, I mean.”

“Because Muriel practices dark magic,” the princess says plainly.

You start; sitting up right as if a rod has just been plunged through your spine.

The princess laughs. “That does not mean that she is evil. Your knightly virtue is still intact. Dark magic is simply a tool, like any other, and Muriel wields it well.”

“But…”

The princess reaches out, and lays a hand on yours. You can feel the weight of it through your gauntlet, though not much else. “Muriel is something of a trickster, it is true. She lies. Sometimes for a good reason, and sometimes simply for her own amusement. She does not mean any harm when she does it… and so, she will never quite be sorry for it. It is her way. But let this be a lesson to you. If you work with her—or, truly, anyone else—do your research before blindly following what they tell you.” She pats your hand, and withdraws. “Now. Muriel will explain what she wants you to do, if you let her, while I get ready.”

She stands, folds the blanket she had been using, and takes her book off to another room. You are left alone with Muriel, and you eye her warily.

Muriel does not seem to mind your distrust. If anything, it seems to amuse her more. “So,” she says. “Unicorns.”

“I won’t kill one,” you say, immediately.

Muriel laughs. “Nor would I ask that of you,” she says. “I do not wish for you to kill one. Nor maim one, capture one, or any other nasty thing your mind has conjured up.” She reaches into a satchel, and pulls out a small vial. Inside is a beautiful, shimmering liquid. “You are familiar with Eaton’s River, yes?”

You nod. You’d been, once.

“Mm. If you follow the river north, to its source, you’ll come to the mountains. More specifically, to the forest at the base of those mountains. Keep going, and you’ll reach a waterfall—and, of course, a lake. The lake has a dock… and likely, a rowboat. Do not take the rowboat, though you may be tempted. Instead, pour the contents of this vial into the lake.

“When that is done, make camp by the lake. You may drink from it, but do not bathe in it. Go further down the river for that—past the ring of trees surrounding the area. You shouldn’t have to stay for long. No more than three days. Eventually, you will see a unicorn. Do not worry about missing it. Its presence will wake you up.

“Do nothing to it, unless it does something to you, first. If it speaks to you, those words are yours alone. If it lays its head in your lap, that moment is yours to keep. When it leaves, you are free to go as well.

“However, there are things I wish you to keep an eye out for. First, a white deer. Stag or doe, it matters not. Only that is pure white. Do not kill it, but if you see it, I wish to know about it when both you and I have returned.

“Second, the unicorn itself. I wish to know the color of its horn; whether or not it has any markings; and if it is alone or not.

“Lastly, the water. Tell me if there is anything built on the mound in the middle; if there is anything strange about the boat beyond the urge to get in it; whether anything happens when you pour the water in; and most importantly… whether or not you see anyone or anything inside the water during your time there. Even if you believe it is a hallucination.

“Am I clear?”

You blink, but nod.

“Excellent.” She pulls out a piece of paper, and she hands that to you as well. “These are the instructions I have just stated. Now. Tell me, knight. Will you do this?”

“Why?” you ask.

“A vested interest in magical ecology,” Muriel says primly.

The princess emerges, a bag slung over her shoulder. She approaches you both. Whatever she sees on your face has her smiling. “You’ve gone and confused the poor thing, Muriel. Are you allergic to explaining yourself?”

“Yes,” Muriel says. “You can’t see it, but my arms have broken out into terrible hives.”

The princess snorts, and looks at you. “The unicorn needs to be checked on. They’re quite rare, you know, and it’s good to make sure they’re still healthy. I imagine Muriel also wishes to know if it has made any friends, or reproduced.”

Muriel inclined her head.

“The lake has its own creatures within. They’re not friendly, so do not engage with them. They’ll drown you. The potion she’s given you is… highly magical. In this case, it does many things. It will… the closest I can think of is ‘get them drunk.’ They will still overpower you if you get in the water, but they won’t actively pursue you.

“It is also power enough to attract the unicorn, to ensure that you get a look at it. And, it has the added bonus of cleaning the water out a bit.” The princess shrugged. “An ingenious little vial.”

“And the deer?” you ask.

“Attracted to the presence of the unicorn,” the princess says. “Or perhaps caused by the unicorn’s own magic—I’ve never been quite sure. Either way, it means that the land there is responding to the presence of the unicorn. It’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

Muriel said you had a choice in this, but… the way they spoke, it sounded like you already decided to go. Which… you will, of course, because while this is not the quest you had envisioned for yourself, it still sounds important, and befitting of your training. They way they assume is a bit grating, but… Whatever. Your instructor had once told you that, of those who give you quests, magical folk rank just behind nobility in how grating they could be.

“Right then,” Muriel says, at your nod. “Time for the lot of us to be off. We’ve got things to do.”

You stand. “I still don’t quite understand who the two of you are,” you admit. There is more going on here than you understand—context that you’re lacking.

“We’re a Seer and a Witch,” Muriel says, as if this makes things plain. “A trickster and a truth-seer. A commoner and a princess.”

“We are what we are,” the princess says, laying a hand on Muriel’s arm. “And what we are works very well together. That is all that matters.”

“But… I mean… what do you do?”

“What needs doing,” the princess says. “Whether that is relocating unicorns, closing portals to the abyss, or removing curses.” She shrugs. “Don’t worry about it too much. Either it will become clearer to you one day… or it will not.”

“Then you mean to see me again?”

“Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it?” Muriel asks. “Whether you decide to work with me again.”

You suppose that’s true. You give a nod, and this time it is Muriel who smiles at you.

“Off we go, then,” she says.

The three of you exit the tower, and part ways at the door. You retrieve your things where you left them, and look on towards the horizon. It’s a long way from here to the river.

You shoulder your pack, and start walking.

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writelr #fantasy fiction #my writing #a conspicuous lack of dragons #short fiction

[possiamo-andare]

No More Divisions - Chapter One: Helping Out a Friend

JJ x Original Character

Hey everyone, this is my first ever piece of writing ever so please give your feedback really appreciated. I'm hoping to maybe do another chapter since JJ and Callie (my oc) barely get to talk in this. I just wanna set up the story first. Thanks.

MASTERLIST

~

Living on the Kooks side of OBX did have it's perks. For one, Kooks had generators. This meant that when the storm hit a week earlier, it almost went unnoticed in my house. I had slept through the storm and I slept through the generators picking back up in seconds after the lights went out. A generator, which most Pogues went without, was not even a luxury where I lived. Another thing that I didn't see as a luxury but actually was is the air conditioner. I was deeply unaware of the Pogues situation when it came to sleepless nights because of the ghastly heat. I never knew what it felt like to not be able to sleep because you felt as if your body was on fire. I even slept with blankets on because the air conditioner was making me cold.

Although I had these luxuries growing up, I had one thing money couldnt buy; true friends and real life experiences.

Since my family was wealthy, I had never needed a job. I soon came to realize that if I was ever going to learn about discipline or build on a work ethic, I was gonna need to get a job. I knew Mr. Heyward needed an assistant since his son Pope had recently become unreliable during this summer so I applied for the position and got it the same day I applied. I actually loved working for Mr. Heyward. Although a bit standoffish at first, he is a complete marshmellow once you get to know him. The other thing I got to know was how much he loved Pope. Mr. Heyward suffered greatly to provide his son with the skills he needed to get a scholarship. While we worked, he told me of his sacrifices as a father but also as a person with dreams. I told him that one day his dreams would come true and Pope would help him. For someone who's father rarely shows any semblance of interest in them, it was so touching to see Mr. Heyward talk about his love for his son.

As for the friends, I couldn't make friends at the academy and I knew it was for one reason; surfing. I had been obsessed with surfing since I watched the movie Soul Surfer when I was a kid and had been eager to hit the waves ever since. With lots of lessons paid for by my parents, I was a natural now and spent most of my free time surfing. Many of the Kooks at my school could care less about surfing and more about material things so I got along with virtually no one at school.

That is, until I met Rafe. Rafe was in my science class and very polite to me when we first met. He was the first person to talk to me as if I hadn't just came to OBX from outer space and I actually enjoyed our conversations together. Eventually, after many conversations in science, he invited me to sit with him at lunch. This is where I met Sarah, my now best friend. Sarah and I quickly became thick as thieves; Sarah and I's love for the environment what was initially brought us together but not long after we met we began talking about everything. And eventually, I told her about my crush on Rafe. And she told me his crush on me.

Rafe and I dated for 6 months, which is long when you're 16 and never had a boyfriend before. This was the old Rafe. The one before he graduated and started changing. Before he started sniffing crack and hanging out with drug dealers. We had been having problems towards the end of our relationship, right after he graduated, and I was naive to believe that maybe it was my fault. When I saw him snort crack for the first time at a party, I knew for sure that it was him and not me. I broke up with him that night.

I didn't tell Sarah about the drugs. I wish I did but it never felt like the right time and although I was getting over Rafe, I still felt obligated to hold onto this secret for him.

Sarah and I continued to be friends and we were the closest we'd ever been. Until she met John B. I had nothing against Pogues but Sarah had been with Johm B. for most of the summer on a wild goose chase that turned into a summer romance, and I was getting tired of being the third wheel. For too long I had been cast aside and stood up. Whenever we'd make plans, it was always another lame lie from Sarah. First it was that John B. and Sarah needed to get onto the ferry to read the archives, then John B., his Pogue friends and Sarah needed to sneak into a house to find hidden treasure. I knew that all of her stories were too preposterous and that there was no way in hell that any of these stories were true.

That is, until the night Sarah called me from her house.

It was 8pm when she had called me and I was just catching up a show I was watching. When I looked at the caller ID, and I saw Sarah's name, I almost didn't want to pick up. She had neglected me so far this summer I almost felt as if I should teach her a lesson. This mentality didn't last long because I had already accepted the phone call before I could talk myself out of it.

"Hey." I stated bluntly, secretly hoping Sarah was calling to apologize for lying and blowing me off for the beginning of the summer.

"Hey Callie, I need your help."

"Really? You need my help -" I was about to go in on her for ignoring me and lying but then I heard her cries and I stopped.

"I'm sorry, but I really need you right now."

So Sarah explained everything. Most of what she had told me was the actual truth and not a lie like I thought. They had found the $400 million in gold and before they could retrieve it, John B. had tried to kill her father on a boat. He had come to her and tried to tell her that her father was lying but she was so upset and confused she couldn't hear it at the time. Now, two hours later, Sarah was starting to have her suspicions and needed my help.

"Well, what do you need my help for?"

"You're helping Mr. Heyward with the landing strip tomorrow right?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to make it longer because the plane is heavier." I answered, confused on what this had to do with John B or her father.

Sarah gasped. "Of course... heavier."

"Sarah, what's wrong?" I couldn't understand how the plane tied into all of this.

"Callie, I need you to get to John B. tomorrow. I'm supposed to get on that plane tomorrow but I can't. I need you to get to John B. and tell him where I am and I need you to stall the plane from taking off." Sarah spoke quickly and quietly, almost scared that someone could hear her.

"Okay, I'll find John B. and stall the plane. But Sarah, what's on the plane that's making it heavier. I got to know?" I'm almost one hundred percent sure I already know the answer.

"I think you know Callie. Bye."

And I did know. Sarah's dad got his hands on the gold.

~

When I finally got to the land strip the next morning, everything was in order and ready to go. We only had to wait for Sarah and Ward Cameron, her father. I tried to think of ways to stall the best I could. Mr. Heyward entrusted me and was long gone by the time I arrived. At least he wouldn't be here to see all the mischief I would create.

As I watched the dozens of men starting to transfer the gold onto the plane, I stared off into the distance and planned. As I stared off, something caught my eye. A hundred yards away, behind a fence and trees was a wagon with four passengers. One had binoculars on, watching me. Or more specifically, the plane getting loaded on. I recognized the wagon immediately as John B.'s and dropped my clipboard and ran to him.

I remembered Sarah's words. I knew this was my chance to help her and be the friend I knew I could be. She had told me this was between life and death and the way she said it made me believe it.

As I got closer to John B., his friends and the fence, I could see them start panicking and back away from the fence. The last thing I wanted was for them to get nervous and drove away so I decided to shout at John B and his friends.

"Hey! John B.!" I looked at John B.'s friends. I noticed a girl from my school. "Kiara!" Then I looked again and noticed Pope Heyward, my boss's son. I then looked one more time and saw a blond boy I didnt know the name of. He was the only one not backing away. It was almost as if he knew me but I didn't know him.

As soon as I said their names, they stopped and watched me approach the fence. Once I reached the fence, John B. spoke first, mostly because I could see he recognized me and didn't see me as a threat.

"Callie!" He smiled and waved, walking closer to the fence. "Where's Sarah?"

"She's coming here. Ward is putting her on a plane with the gold and they're leaving today." I panted, trying to catch my breath from running all the way here.

"I knew it!" Pope was gleaming with joy.

John B.'s face wasn't as happy. "We have to make sure she doesn't get on that plane."

"I don't know how to stop it." I shrugged my shoulders and then looked again at everyone. "Any ideas?"

Kiara gasped and pointed to something behind me. "We don't have much time to think. Sarah's here."

I turned and saw Sarah getting out of her dad's car. She had a short conversation with him then walked off towards one of the men loading the gold onto the plane. Before I had time to react, her father was pulling her onto the plane as she screamed for help.

"Back away from the fence!" John B. screamed as he ran back into his car and started it.

I did as I was told and watched as John B. put his car in reverse and then drive forward as fast as he could into the fence. I was surprised when he knocked it down in one blow, but then again I wasn't so surprised. John B. was very determined.

I turned to Kiara, Pope, and the blonde haired boy who, on closer inspection, I determined had to be the hottest guy I've ever seen. He had a chiseled jaw and two slits for eyes. He seemed in a perpetual state of his eyes being in slits that I thought either he needed sunglasses or he was upset too much. He was watching me watch him and before anything could get too uncomfortable, Kiara spoke up.

"Sarah told us about you."

"Really?" I was so surprised. There was this little, annoying voice in my head that told me that Sarah might've been embarrassed of me. Sometimes I could be embarrassing.

"Yeah. She said how amazing you are, just that you couldn't believe her at first."

I smiled awkwardly. "This is all just very hard to believe."

"Sarah!" I heard a scream from behind me and I whipped my head around.

Now, John B. Had his car in front of the plane, blocking it from leaving the strip. He was trying to get Sarah out of the plane but Ward had gotten out first and was yelling at John B. and pushing him. Sarah had then emerged from the plane and was trying to calm both of them down. Before anything could get too physical, police sirens were heard from a distance and I looked back to Kiara, Pope and the blonde haired boy.

"I got a scholarship..." Pope said as he looked to where the sirens were coming from.

"I just posted bail." The blonde haired boy said, chuckling to himself.

Kiara looked to me. "Go help John B. and Sarah. John B. knows were to find us after. I'll get these guys outta here."

I nodded and gave each person a little salute before running off, heading into the dragon's den. As I got closer, the screaming got louder and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a fight I had no place being in.

"Callie?" Ward said to me, surprised to see me here even though he knew I worked for Mr. Heyward.

I ignored Ward right now. Mostly because I was mad at him. If all of what Sarah has told me she thinks is true, Ward is a terrible human being. Now I know where Rafe gets it from.

"Sarah, are you ok?" I asked, touching her should.

She smiles and nods at me. "Thanks so much. I love you." She grabs my hand and squeezes onto it. I squeeze back.

John B. was too into yelling at Ward right now that he didn't acknowledge me. I didn't blame him though. If anything, this was very normal way to react when knowing the information John B. did.

"You're gonna pay for what you did!" John B. yelled again, stepping in front of Sarah and I too protect us. Even in time like this, John B. was selfless. I regret not getting to know him better.

"You hear that? Those sirens are coming for you John B.!" Ward yelled back, turning around to point at the Sheriff's car driving to a stop behind Ward.

As the Sheriff gets out of the car, Ward calls out to her and starts pointing fingers at John B. "That's him, Sheriff. He almost tried to kill us!"

"That's not true!" I yelled, now getting angry with Ward. What makes him think he's charismatic enough to lie when there are witnesses here?

"Callie..." The Sheriff calmly raised her hand at me to silence me. "I know who the culprit is."

She raised her gun in the air and pointed it at Ward. "Ward Cameron, raise your hands in the air. You're being arrested for the murder of Big John Routledge."

Sarah and I gasped. Although we all had our theories, seeing this all unfold in front of us was another level of surreal. I grasped onto Sarah's hand tighter as she cried into my shoulder and as John B. looked to us for the first time. I could tell he was holding back tears. I could not imagine what he was going through. After all this time...

"Get on your knees," The Sheriff warned and Ward did as she demanded, slowly turning around and kneeling in front of us.

I couldn't believe I had slept in the same house as a murderer. I tried to count the number of times I had a sleepover at Sarah's in the last year. It was too many too count. And the whole time, something sinister was happening through the cracks of the walls.

I was almost she glad to see something so traumatizing for Sarah happen because at least a murderer was getting put away for good. I was so wrapped up in how Sarah, John B., and myself felt that I didn't notice, as the Sheriff was reading Ward's Miranda Rights, he had turned around and tried to over power the Sheriff. Before anyone had time to react quickly enough, a gunshot was fired from the Sheriff's gun.

I had closed my eyes after the shot was fired and I imagined Ward's body dropping to the ground. I felt the gravel shake as a body fell to the ground but when I heard John B. gasp, I had a sickening fear it wasn't Ward's body that was falling.

When I opened my eyes, my suspicions were proven to be right. In front of us lay the Sheriff's slowly dying body, a bullet wound from her chest bleeding out onto the landing strip. Sarah was screaming and John B rushed to apply pressure to the Sheriff's wound. I, on the other hand, could only cry.

I cried because of the Sheriff's wound and of the death of John B.'s father and how Ward, a man I trusted and looked up to, killed him. But I cried mostly because it wasn't Ward holding the gun. Ward hadn't shot the Sheriff. The guy standing in front of me did.

Rafe, sweaty and eyes bubbling over with tears, was holding the gun that shot the Sheriff.

#jj maybank #jj x oc #jj x callie #outer banks #obx #obx rp #obx netflix #rudy pankow #pope heyward #jj outer banks #jj obx #john b routledge #kiara outer banks #kiara carrera

[dysfunctionalnerd]

I was wondering ... how would Randall react to Evil! Layton? or Monocle! Layton(by the way your drawings are amazing!)

ahhh thank u so much!! that means so much to me ;u; oh my GOSH MONACLE LAYTON!!! i havent thought about him organically in too long sksksks

well so ok if i had to make layton evil at any point in time, the way id do it would be after unwound future. it would be about 2 years after he found randall, but in this scenario he never worked up the courage to call randall or go back and visit after he left Monte D'or so abrubtly, which means losing that friendship was already weighing on his heart. so then after UF, losing claire and luke in the span of the same week... its too much for him. Crying in his room one night, he says "so this is it then? am i destined to always lose the people i love? i will simply never love again." and he snaps. he gets cold and distant, doesnt allow the kindness of others to reach him. all he wants now is vengance, and this man has been wronged by soooooo many people.

The only person still living with him is flora at this point. at first she lets things slide. things like seeing hersh withdraw into his study for too long, or drink too late into the night. but then she notices he stays in his room for days at a time, clearly working on something, but he gets so rude when asked about what. shes always met with answers like "its none of your concern" or "dont ask questions you're not prepared to hear the answer to", until one day she really puts her foot down. Demands to know whats going on. Shes so worried. But hershel screams at her to go away. an ugly, terrible yelling nobody deserves. and its so cold she just,, runs away crying. she cant think of anybody to reach out for help. she doesnt know anybody, she was never allowed to go out and make friends.

until she remembers the stories luke told her about the man they saved in Monte D'or, and she remembers how softly hershel would smile the precious few times he mentioned he name randall.

so she pulls up a phone book and looks up a Randall Ascot. Its not hard considering he owns an entire fucking town. shes crying and scared and alone, and when randall picks up the phone, he is of course concerned. hes never met this girl, but nobody should by crying this much, and then his heart breaks when he realizes its hershel who did this. He was always hurt by how hershel never said goodbye, and never called again to rekindle their friendship. at first he doesn't want to come over, but flora begs him.

"please, randall, you have to help. I know i hardly know you but... nobody else can reach him, i just know it".

so he grabs the nearest train. tells flora take take it easy at a bougie hotel for a night while he makes the trip over, pays for everything ofc. the two meet up. randall falls in love with this girl in .5 seconds (yknow in that "ive only met this girl for 10 minutes but if anything were to happen to her id kill everyone in this room and then myself" kind of way). They decide to just go to hershels flat and knock. he doesnt answer. they knock again. nothing. randall gets worried. he breaks down the door, shouts for hershel. Nobodys there. the place is empty. they enter hershels study to make sure, but what they find horrifies them. a GIANT charlie kelly style board with a bunch of pictures of different people, mostly people connected to bill hawks, and red lines connecting them stand before the two, and they both know in their gut its a hit list of some kind.

so they run to parliment or whatever building it is those goverment people all stay in, hoping its not too late, hope maybe their suspicions arent true. Theyre horrified when they reach the front steps and theres no guards or anything. sirens are blaring. they run down the halls. injured soldier's and police are telling them to turn back, its not worth it, this man is unstoppable.

"please dont let it be hershel, please dont let it be hershel."

flora stops when they reach the big door. she looks up at randall, crying. "im sorry... but i cant go in. i dont want to face him like this."

randall hugs her, reassures her. tells her its ok to wait by the entrance, that everything will be ok.

Flora rushes off, and randall takes a deep breath. He opens the door where bill hawks office is supposed to be. Randalls heart sinks. in the big chair is hershel, a sword covered in red, and tied to chains too close to the fire place is a beat up bill hawks.

hershel greets him coldly, like strangers.

"ah hello there. im sorry, but the prime minister cannot assist you today. please come back later."

"hershel, what are you doing??? that sword.... have you??"

"killed someone? no..." he hops off his chair and points his sword to bill hawks, far too close to the neck. "no not yet. but if youd like, you can join me for the first one."

Randall picks up a pipe or something close to him. "i cant let you do this hershel... i know youre better than this."

"ah, but you see, thats the thing." his blade lightly touches bills neck. "i could be, but then... whats the point?" then he scoffs, and pulls his sword away, pointing it towards randall in a battle stance. "never mind, you could never understand."

and he charges. AND THE EPIC SWORD FIGHT BETWEEN HERSHEL AND RANDALL THAT WE WERE ROBBED OF COMENCES! Randall, between parrys, is in total disbelief. "Hershel, stop it! i know how youre feeling, but this isnt the solution! youre tired, and scared, and unbelievably hurt. youre in so much pain... this isn't going to end that pain!"

clink, parry

"you couldnt possibly know what im feeling. ive lost everyone. but its no matter."

for a moment it looks like hershel is about to pin randall down, but he swoops away at the last minute.

"No, please hershel, you cant think like that!! youre not alone!! not anymore!! You didnt give up on the masked gentleman... let me return the favor!"

hershel gasps at this, and hesitates. its enough for randall to knock hershels sword out of his hands, and pin him to the ground. Hershel is afraid, his eyes are wide.

"r-randall, stop it!! leave me alone!"

"no!" randall throws the pipe he fought with aside. "not until you make things right!" he starts crying, his tears spill on hershels shirt. "not until i get my best friend back..."

hershel can't take it anymore. He screams, and starts crying uncontrollably. that ugly crying you reserve for your worst moments, and randall softens his grip on hersh, changes it so hes hugging his friend. And hershel just cries and cries and cries.

"i... i just dont want to live like this anymore..." he sobs.

"hershel.... oh hershel, im so, so sorry."

and they continue to cry. eventually randall asks what happened, how it got to this. hershel explains the events of the last few years. how luke left. how bill hawks sent men to beat him to an inch of his life 8 years ago, so really this is just him returning the favor. they talk it out.

"hershel... you owe flora an apology"

and hershel starts crying even more. "oh no, how could i do this to her?? im a monster..."

"nonsense! shes just worried about you, we all just want you to be ok. give her time, you two will be ok."

so slowly, randall convinces hershel to take his hand and walk out before some real irreverasble damage is done. they dont untie bill tho :) hershel comes face to face with flora at the entrance. starts stuttering some words, but jever gets around to saying anything bc flora hugs hershel so tightly, and cries into his chest. "professor i was so worried..."

"i.... im so sorry...."

and thats it!! the police dont do anything bc i dont believe in them, hawks eventually gets voted out. they all go home and randall decides to stay with hershel until he find a therapist. then decides to stay with him until he starts smiling again, then because i mean whos gonna help out with flora?? and then bc honestly hershel, this place is a mess! and then,,,,, well,,,,,, yknow,, 👀👀

#THIS IS SO LONG IM SO SORRY #professor layton #hershel layton #randall ascot #ranlay #flora reinhold #this is a fucking fanfic outline i stg #now i might actually write this skskksks #its a little messy and all over thenplace sorry i went on an adhd rant there sksskksk #gosh thank u for asking its been so long since i like info dumped like this aaaaaa

[tempest-toss]

“Recap” into teaser

[[Ozzie here! Just writing this author’s note to say that I’m really glad that this is finally done! It took three months (mostly procrastination) but it’s here! And if you’re wondering, it’s being posted here on the Tempest blog first because it is considered lore for Tempest. Before we begin I would like to say a few things:

1) The writing style is weird because it’s written in a recap sort of way 2) The writing style seems to switch partway through as it does start to lead into a teaser-sort of style near the end. Apologies for the weird switch, but it would’ve been harder to write if I had to stick to one style for this. 3) There are Content/trigger warnings including: mentions of blood/gore, death, mentions of suicide. If there’s more, please let me know so I can properly tag it.  --Ozzie]]

Sapphire woke up in a chamber. It was outfitted with a sink, a mirror, a bunk bed, and a metal door locked, needing a keycard. After getting herself familiar with her new surroundings, the room started to flood from a sudden pipe burst. With quick thinking, she looked around the room and managed to procure the keycard for her door. She quickly exited and shut the door. As she began to look around the new hallway she was in, seven more doors near her opened, and out walked people she recognized immediately: Bandage, Rewind, Neon, Sprockets, Goggles, Clack, and Pixel, code-named agents that worked alongside her for the MTF unit Omicron-5. The quick breather of reassurance that they got from meeting each other soon ended as Goggles pointed out that water was quickly filling the hall behind them. That was all they needed to bolt forward.

 They quickly found stairs and ran up them until there were no more stairs to use. A quick look revealed that they were at a level that opened up into a wide floor. Just as they were reaching the end of the stairs, they heard a commotion from up above. A quick look-up confirmed that there was a secondary set of stairs not attached to the ones they were on. Down from the secondary stairs arrived seven more people. It didn’t take long for it to be obvious that they were from GOIs.

The first ones to introduce themselves were an Alexylva student by the name of Gardenia Meadowood, and a Serpent’s Hand scholar by the name of Morty Aeron. Specializers in botany and embalming, these two were the first to introduce themselves to Sapphire and the others and were the only ones to not have any real immediate identifiers (Morty did have a snake tattoo that reached to his hand, but it was mostly obscured by his sleeves.)

The remaining five were easy to associate with a GOI considering they had their logos and/or markings on open display. Two of them, Iouli Thomaie and Vassilis Admetos, were Sarkites, easily identifiable thanks to their tattoos. Two other young men were members of the GOC, according to the picture they wore along with their ID badges, which identified them as Benny Smith and Jason Snike. The remaining three were a father, mother, and daughter trio all bearing the Insurgency’s logo on their matching hoodies; they identified as Blake, Cheryl, and Tina. Shortly after introductions were made, a part of the wall collapsed, revealing a young man who would identify as Jeremy Fairfield, a secretary for Dr. Wondertainment. 

After all, introductions were given (again), a voice was heard through speakers in the room. The voice identified themselves as “The Gamemaster'' and said that the eighteen of them were going to participate in a game of life and death. They were instructed to go through special numbered doors via numbered bracelets that they wore (something they didn’t realize they were even wearing), and that they could escape if they left through a door marked with a nine. They could only enter a numbered door if the digital root input equaled the door’s number; furthermore, the minimum number of people required to open a door was six, and the maximum was ten. When opened, the door would remain open for nine seconds, before closing on its own. Once the inputees entered through their door, they would have 81 seconds to find the deactivation panel. If they find it, they have to input their numbers and the countdown would end. If they didn’t find the panel, didn’t all input themselves, or if at least one person stayed behind outside of the numbered door, then those that were beyond the door would explode from bombs placed in their stomachs. The Gamemaster dropped two last bits of important info. Firstly, this game is timed. All players have nine hours to escape. Second, the transmitters that connect to their bombs are in their bracelets. The only way to get your bracelet off is to either escape or if your heart ceases beating. He then wished everyone good luck before the speakers signaled that they had been disconnected.

The eighteen began to talk amongst themselves. “What is going on?” “Why was I selected for this nightmarish game?” “We have BOMBS in our guts!?” Sapphire gave a sharp whistle, immediately quieting everyone. With the chatter quieted, and a deep breath taken, the conversation resumed, but now with a more logical focus. The first thing the group did was test to see if what The Gamemaster said was true. They tried to open one of the two numbered doors present to them with three, four, and five people, but found them unable to open. They tried one last time with six people, and the door was able to open. That’s when the first incident occurred.

Jason fell in after the door had been opened for seven seconds. He fell so quickly that no one was able to grab him as the doors shut. A methodic beeping was heard. Jason began to panic from the inside. He then told everyone to tell his siblings that he loved them before a sound of an explosion was heard. Shakingly, six of them opened up the door to reveal blood, tissue, and the clothes and bracelet of Jason. Nobody moved as the doors slowly shut themselves after nine seconds. His death meant that everything that The Gamemaster said was truthful.

After the reality had settled in, the overall motivation to continue had lowered. However, they knew that they couldn't stand around and do nothing because of the time limit The Gamemaster had put on them. They took a moment and figured who could go through which of the two doors and split up and entered them. 

After clearing the puzzles they had encountered in the rooms, (and after one group nearly exploded from being unable to find the deactivation panel early on), the groups met up again in an area reminiscent of a hospital room, except it was full of empty cots and had three numbered doors. A quick examination showed that the main power for the scanners had been removed, thus preventing them from going any further. Everyone agreed to split up and search for them, the only exceptions being Rewind, Gardenia, and Tina, who decided to assist Tina in finding a restroom. About an hour later, Goggles ran up to Sapphire to tell her that someone had restored the panels. Sapphire knew something was wrong when she noticed that Goggles was not smiling. As soon as she was about to ask why a scream was heard from the hospital room. Sapphire ran with Goggles back to see why a scream was heard.

In the middle of the room was Blake and Cheryl laying in their own blood. These two insurgents, father, and mother to Tina, now lay dead in front of the numbered doors. Suspicion was immediate amongst the now fifteen remaining “players''. After all, everybody had split up, so all alibis except for Gardenia, Rewind, and Tina were hard to trust. But it seemed that a culprit was found quickly, as Neon pointed out that Iouli had been obscuring her hand behind her back. A quick pull from Morty revealed that Iouli’s hand was stained with something red, which caused an argument as Vassilis defended Iouli, claiming that she was innocent. His words were swiftly eaten as Iouli pulled a blade from her pockets and lunged at Tina, only to be grabbed and suplexed by Vassilis himself, causing Iouli to be knocked out. Some rope was grabbed from a nearby room and used to tie her up; after affirming that she would stay put, the fourteen split up their groups and entered through the two rightmost doors. Fortunately, the puzzles this time around were a bit more straightforward. They soon exited back into the hospital room with relatively high spirits, despite the loop they realized they had made. 

Iouli was gone. They found her body lying in the hallway, stomach down. A quick test with Bandage and an examination by Morty confirmed the truth: Iouli Thomaie had no heartbeat, and she was killed by a sharp attack to her gut. Instead of suspicion, confusion spread amongst the fourteen; the only question that was floating in their heads was, “How could she be killed if we were all together?” It was a tricky conundrum indeed, as everyone except Iouli entered the two numbered rooms, and everyone was by someone the whole time, so there would be no possible way that someone could have left, murdered Iouli, and returned. Sprocket’s voice piped up, amplified by the silence.

“Well, what if she took her own life?” Everyone turned their heads toward him. How could he say something like that, and what prompted him to say that? 

“Sprocket may have a point,” Neon spoke. “We went through different numbered doors and we think we have each found half of a special document. We were discussing as we were leaving the hospital room a few moments ago.” Everyone gave their full attention to the duo as they began to speak. 

“Through my door, I found a document describing a neurotoxin called Korem-23,” Sprockets began. “It was discovered by Dr. Andrea Korem, and evidently, it’s very hard to create. It must be kept in temperatures at around 30- -10 degrees, otherwise, it’ll evaporate or solidify. It is also a very tricky toxin, as the resources required to make it are hard to acquire, and it can only be administered as a liquid.”

“Through my door, I found the other half that explained what it does,” Neon continued. “It would seem this neurotoxin is unique in the fact that unlike other neurotoxins, it is not fatal, however, it does interfere with certain aspects of a creature’s psyche. Mainly that it causes the victim to experience heightened aggression, stress, and desperation, which eventually leads to them becoming desperate to… y’know” she said, knowing that she needed not to expand further on the topic. Sapphire couldn’t help but look at Iouli’s body. Could that be true? Could Iouli have been injected with Korem-23? But if that is true, then wouldn’t the one behind all this, AKA The Gamemaster, have infected more of them? Sapphire wasn’t the only one that had this idea, as others were slowly coming to the same conclusion. The clock in the main staircase brought them out of their thoughts as the chimes were heard. They had a few hours remaining.

Panic began to slowly creep into the remaining “players”. Could they actually escape from where they were? After all, every single room that they had been in so far has made it seem like the location everyone was at was a ship of some kind in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. If they escaped, would there be a boat for them to use? Doubt was beginning to dampen their spirits, so to stay positive, Neon, Sprockets, and Benny decided to explore any remaining areas to see if they could find the number nine door since most of the ship was available to them.

About half an hour passed before a loud yell was heard. Without any hesitation, everyone ran down towards the general area where they heard, and the sounds of a pair of doors opening alerted them to what room to enter. The room they entered was designed in a way that resembled a celebration room, but nobody paid any attention to that, but instead the corpse of Sprockets. The mournful cry of Pixel echoed throughout the room. Tuning out his cry, Morty checked Sprockets’ hands, discovering a scrap of paper written with his blood. He showed it to Gardenia, and the two approached the door, drawing almost everyone’s attention. It was then they realized a possible motive for murder: The number 9 door. They saw Gardenia and Morty pull apart the panel and fiddle with wires, and an unlocking sound resonated through the room; using Sprockets’ final words, they were able to bypass the door without leaving anyone behind. With a promise to avenge him, Pixel was able to leave Sprockets’ body and join the group as they opened the door, and found the exploded remains of Neon. The sight alone prompted Tina to burst into tears, while a feeling of anger filled most of the others as the main culprit was now blatantly clear: Benny. With a few calming words, everyone continued beyond the door, eager to make sure that Benny could not escape.

Fueled on adrenaline, the remaining participants rushed forward, eventually reaching an open area with stairs and the murderous GOC member. A standoff was initiated, as Benny pulled out a gun, and threatened to shoot whoever moved forward. Then, presuming that all intel would die with them, began to monologue. He began a spiel admitting that he orchestrated almost every death and that he was part of a rogue cell of the GOC known as the Platinum Fangs, who were the puppet masters behind the Isolation Experiment. It was this experiment that caused them to separate from the GOC, as they didn’t approve of the human experimentation. As he continued, Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out Dr. Wondertainment's Stretchy Stretch Stretch String™ and with a quick whip smacked the gun out of Benny's hand and another attack brought him down. He was quickly restrained and was knocked out with a kick, for extra precaution. With that, everyone stopped and let out some deep breaths: They were finally going to end this experiment once and for all. With the mastermind tied up and with them, they bid a farewell to the building and their fallen comrades and then ran up the stairs. Soon the end was in sight and they burst through the door, expecting the sea breeze, only to walk out and see the barren frost land that was the wilderness of Russia. The ship was never real, but instead, all participants were in a facility built underground, most likely to withstand a nuclear event. A van, most likely having been used to transport everybody here was nearby. Using their skills, Goggles was able to hotwire it and Rewind was able to call in to Site-781, which was nearby, and let them know of their arrival. They then piled in and drove, all of them a mix of happiness and shock that they had survived the whole ordeal.

At Site-781, everyone was checked for injuries and the members of the GOIs were interrogated with the assumption that they had something to do with the earlier events. In the end, Morty, Jeremy, and Gardenia were allowed to leave, while Vassilis took Tina and vanished before the Foundation could decide what could be done about them. An encrypted message received later seemed to point to the idea that Vassilis took Tina to the Insurgent cell that she grew up at. Benny Smith was the main focus of the Foundations’ time; he was eventually incarcerated.

Unfortunately, the stress of the experiment took a toll on Pixel, who ended up slipping into a coma, in which his memories of the event were locked away as he eventually woke up with no knowledge of anything having happened. In order to heal and so to not trigger any horrible memories for him, Goggles, Clack, Bandage, and Rewind decided to go on temporary leave from the Foundation for several years, with the ultimate choice at the end to figure out if they would be willing to return or get amnesticized. With no more of her members to work with, Agent Sapphire pulled the plug on Omicron-5, and the name was retired.

It’s been nine years since the first Isolation Experiment occurred, but that didn’t mean it was the last. For a few years afterward, several other experiments occurred; some were short, some were done by other people, and one was so intense that it gained notoriety in the public eye. For each of these experiments, Agent Sapphire made sure that she was involved in their investigations so that she may be able to help end them once and for all. Five years after the initial one, the eighth Isolation Experiment ended up revealing a flaw that exposed the Platinum Fangs, and they, along with any possible connections, were apprehended. After this, Agent Sapphire became content with the knowledge that nothing that heinous would ever happen again. So she was hit with a horrible pang of unease when she received an email from an O5 with the simple subject of: “It’s happening again”. The rest of the email explained that Agent Sapphire would be a willing participant and would have to risk her life to put an end to this once and for all. After thinking about it, she obliged.

Elsewhere, different people were ending their days and packing up. Some were double-checking their bags, some went to the back of their room to check out a noise they heard, and some were simply on a drive. But each of them are met with the same fate of a white gas that puts them to sleep. When they awake they’ll each have to participate in a game of life and death, where teamwork is key but deception is much more profitable. Hopefully, they can all make it out alive when they go through The Isolation Experiment.

#tw: mention of gore #tw: gore #tw: mention of murder #tw: mentions of suicide #tw: death #SCP #Tempest Lore

[tessisawriter]

Going All Out (Cole Caufield ft. Carey Price)

Request (anonymous): I need more Poehling in my life!!!! 😍😍 The reader is Care-Bear’s (Price’s) 18 year old sister imagine please

A/N: I don’t know much about Poehling but I really like this concept so I wrote it for Cole Caufield, who is very underrated on this site and I can’t figure out why! This takes place in September 2020 and in this alternate reality, Cole left Wisco to join the Canadiens. Text messages are in bold.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k

“Hey, Y/N!” Johnny, the security guard at the door, greeted you by name.

“Hi Johnny.” You returned the greeting while craning your neck to make eye contact with the huge security guard. Then again, everyone was huge in your eyes because you were only five feet tall.

“The lineup is real good this year, I’m assuming your brother is psyched,” Johnny said.

“He definitely is. Have a nice day!”

People stared as you walked past Johnny and into the practice arena without having to show any form of ID, but you were long used to this by now. It came with the territory of being the younger sister of Carey Price, the Montreal Canadiens’ goaltender who was worshipped by practically the entire province. You were going to be around a lot more this year because you were starting university at McGill and your dorm was down the block from Carey’s apartment. 

You loved your big brother, but he had a lot of rules, including not getting too close to his teammates. You had no intention of dating a hockey player; you wanted to find a nice and normal guy, if such a person existed. But what really hurt was that Carey didn’t trust you. You were going to make sure he changed his mind by the end of the season.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you walked right into someone. You felt strong hands wrap around your waist, steadying you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” A guy with an unfamiliar voice asked. 

You looked up and realized the voice (and hands) belonged to none other than prized Canadiens prospect Cole Caufield.

You were so screwed.

Cole was the only hockey player you had a weakness for. Last June, you were sitting on the couch with your family watching the draft, and your eyes were drawn to a sad-looking boy sitting in the audience. The commentators then provided a name for the face: Cole Caufield. They talked how talented he was, but that his short stature meant he had to watch his teammates and other inferior prospects get picked before him. You noticed from his soulful eyes and mouth pressed into a thin line that he was desperately trying to keep it together, and you felt badly for him. What sealed the deal, though, was his radiant smile when Shea Weber called his name at the podium, making him the newest member of the Montreal Canadiens. It was in that moment you knew you were in trouble, and you developed a huge crush on him afterwards.

You were hoping you wouldn’t see Cole today (or ever), but fate clearly had other plans.

“I…I’m fine, thanks for asking. I’m sorry, I should’ve looked where I was going,” you blushed.

“No, it was all on me. I was so busy looking at all the photos on the walls that I didn’t see you coming.”

You smiled at that. They had fascinated you, too, when you first started coming to practices here. “Yeah, they are amazing.”

There was a moment of silence before Cole broke it. “I forgot to introduce myself before, I’m Cole. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiled at you before his cheeks flushed red, and he dropped his hands from your waist, where they had remained since they steadied you. He extended one of his hands to shake yours, and you took it. “So, are you from Montreal?”

“No, but I’ve lived here since high school and I’m a first-year at McGill,” you replied, intentionally vague about what, or rather, who, brought you here. “What about you?”

“I grew up in Wisconsin before moving to Michigan for the NTDP program, and I went to Wisco last year before turning pro and coming here.”

“That’s awesome!” You acted like you hadn’t conducted countless searches about him on the Internet in the past year.

“McGill’s a really good school, what are you studying?”

“English literature.”

He only nodded this time, and you wondered if you said something wrong because he got really quiet and looked super nervous. Or maybe he figured out your last name.

“I know we just met,” Cole began, and your heart started beating rapidly in your chest, “but I was wondering if—”

“Y/N!” Of course, at that particular moment, your brother had to come down the hall and wrap you up in his arms as if Cole wasn’t standing there. When he finally let you go, he finally noticed Cole, whose eyes were darting between you and Carey. You could tell from his face that the pieces were fitting together in his mind.

“I see you already met my baby sister,” Carey said with a note of suspicion in his voice, and he actually puffed his chest out in an attempt to look intimidating. Your brother’s behavior made you cringe.

Cole opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “I crashed into him as I was walking down the hall.”

Carey visibly relaxed and ruffled your hair, which you immediately smoothed back down. “Y/N, I love you, but you’re a klutz.”

“Hey, not all of us have superhuman reflexes like you,” you said, hands in the air.       

Cole laughed out loud. “You got that right; your brother’s the best goalie I’ve ever seen. He made some wicked saves during practice today. Well, uh, I’d better get going. It was nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, smiling shyly at both you and Carey.

“You too,” you said, but he had already put his head down and started walking down the hall.

It took all you had not to sigh out loud. You were convinced that Cole was about to ask you out when Carey showed up. Now, he was probably never going to ask you out. You were the “baby” sister of the franchise goalie, and he didn’t even find out about it from you. You were absolutely crushed. You wanted to get to know him better, go on dates with him, maybe even be his girlfriend, but you doubted that would happen now. Cole seemed smart, and there was no way he would risk upsetting your brother.

“Are you okay?” Carey snapped you out of your trance.

“Yeah, totally fine. Can I have dinner at your place?” you asked. After only a few weeks at McGill, you were starving and Carey’s wife, Angela, was an amazing cook.

“Of course, shorty.”

“I told you not to call me that!” you said indignantly.

“You’re my baby sister; I have to have at least one embarrassing nickname for you,” he responded before putting his arm around you and guiding you out of the practice arena and into the cool and crisp Montreal afternoon.

***************

That night, you were in your old room at Carey’s place because you had received a text from your roommate, Leslie, saying she was having a guy over and that you had make yourself scarce. It had taken you about a week to hate her guts, and that hatred increased every day. You already requested a dorm transfer for the spring, but you were in the lurch for this semester.

After you received the latest text from Leslie, you had called Jesperi Kotkaniemi, otherwise known as KK, and commiserated with him. He said he would’ve let you crash with him, but Cole was his roommate for the year. You quickly agreed that wouldn’t be the best idea and had now come to terms with the fact that you’d probably be staying with Carey this semester.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table and you picked it up with a sigh, thinking it might be another passive aggressive text from Leslie, but it was an unknown number.

The text read: Hey it’s Cole, I got your number from KK.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, and you scrambled to unlock your phone and respond to the text. What were you going to say?

Then, another thought popped into your head: you never told KK about your crush on Cole. That son of a bitch had figured it out, you thought wryly.

Before you could get your thoughts straight, another text popped up on your screen: Is it safe to FaceTime?

Now you were convinced that your heart was going to burst out of your chest. You typed, Let me check, before throwing the phone down on the bed and tiptoeing down the hall. You saw Carey and Angela cuddled up together on the couch watching a movie, so you went back into your room and texted Cole: Coast is clear.

Before you knew it, your phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. You took a deep breath before accepting the call.

Cole’s smiley face appeared on the other end. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you said, only partially successful in sounding calm.

“I’m sorry our conversation got cut off earlier,” he said.

“You’re sorry? If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” you responded. “Carey is my brother, after all.”

It was very subtle, but you saw Cole’s jaw clench. You mentally kicked yourself for mentioning your brother. It was like you were trying to self-sabotage.

“Well, that’s true,” he laughed nervously before clearing his throat. “Listen, I was going to ask you something back at the arena before he showed up, so I’m going to do it now before I lose my nerve.” He took a deep breath and then continued, “Would you like to go out for coffee or something tomorrow?”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t, I totally understand—”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off. “I’d love to! I’m just surprised you asked me after finding out about Carey.”

“That’s what KK said,” he replied. “Well, he said I had to be insane, but the connotations are the same.”

You rolled your eyes. “And he’s supposed to be my best friend,” you said sardonically, and Cole laughed.

“I’m sure most people would think the same thing, but when we met, we just clicked,” Cole said before gasping. “Oh God, I sound like a weirdo and I’m putting words in your mouth.”

“Not at all, I thought the same thing,” you reassured him. “So, what time should we meet up tomorrow?”

***************

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Y/N,” Angela said as the two of you waited outside the dressing room for Carey and Cole.

“I do,” you replied, looking at her steadily. She was eyeing your jersey nervously as if she wasn’t convinced.

It had been a month since you and Cole went on your first date, but it felt like you had been together for a year. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend two weeks ago, but this was their first home game since opening night due to a long western road trip. He had also given you his jersey that night, and you were wearing it instead of your brother’s #31.

“We can’t hide this from him forever,” you continued, “and Cole scored his first goal tonight and the team won, so hopefully Carey’s in a good mood.”

You told Angela earlier today, and while she was happy for you, she was understandably nervous about how her husband was going to react. Carey looked like a teddy bear, but he was capable of being downright ferocious if he thought someone would hurt his family, especially you.

“We’re about to find out,” she replied, angling her head toward the dressing room from which your brother had just emerged. He was smiling, which was good. How long that was going to last…you knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Great game tonight, babe!” Angela exclaimed, hugging her husband. He hugged her back fiercely, then let her go and pulled you into a hug.

“You were amazing out there, big bro,” you said into his chest.

“Thanks, shorty,” he retorted, and you let the nickname slide. Carey let go of you while simultaneously saying, “I’m always better when you guys are—”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at your sleeve or, more specifically, the #22 on it. “Why aren’t you wearing my jersey? Whose number is that, anyway?” he asked before realization dawned on his face. “Cole.”

“Carey, I don’t want you to be mad, but—”

“Y/N and I are dating,” you heard Cole say. You looked over Carey’s shoulder to see him standing behind your brother; you hadn’t even seen him come out. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, but we were both afraid of how you would react, so we figured it was best to tell you after the roadie.”

Carey’s expression was, for once, unreadable. You could generally tell what he was thinking, but now? Nothing. “How long?” he asked, the words clipped.

“A month,” you replied before continuing. “I’m sorry for not telling you, too, but I wanted to make sure this was going to work out before upsetting you, and then you guys went on the road, so I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“Is that why you were glued to your phone the whole time?” Carey asked Cole, turning away from you.

“Yeah,” Cole admitted.

“Are you happy?” Carey spun around to face you again.

“Happier than I ever thought I could be with anyone.” Conviction rang clear and true in your voice.

There was a long pause before he looked at Cole, who had walked over to your side and taken your hand in his. “If you ever hurt her, I swear to God, Caufield, I’ll kick your ass,” he said.

“I won’t. I go all out to protect the people I love,” Cole replied, smiling at you. You just barely stopped yourself from gasping in response, instead smiling back at him and squeezing his hand to convey that you felt the same way.

“You scored your first NHL goal! I’m so proud of you,” you whispered. Cole grinned before looking at your lips and leaning in.

“And no PDA while I’m around,” Carey interrupted.

“We’re just holding hands!” You protested without thinking. Carey stared at you, and you looked at the ground, suddenly finding the concrete interesting.

“I know, I’m just messing with you!” Carey reached out to ruffle your hair, which you smoothed down with the hand that wasn’t holding Cole’s. “Why does everyone think I’m so scary, anyway?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” This time, it was Angela who spoke, barely suppressing a chuckle while she did so. “Do you remember the time you thought you saw Y/N’s prom date kiss someone else at the pre-party?”

You cringed at the memory, and Cole looked at you. “What happened?”

“He lunged at them and ripped the guy away, only to realize he wasn’t my date,” you replied. “The principal flipped out. If Carey wasn’t who he is, he would’ve been banned from school property.”

Cole looked at Carey, who shrugged. “I go all out protect the people I love.”

“And I love you for that,” you cut in, “but I’d prefer not to see you end up in jail one day.”

Everyone laughed, including Carey, and the four of you walked out of the arena together.

#cole caufield imagine #cole caufield x reader #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #montreal canadiens imagine #montreal canadiens #cole caufield #c.caufield #ntdp imagine #usa ntdp #ntdp boys #ntdp #nhl #imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl oneshot #nhl oneshots #nhl one shot #nhl one shots #carey price #carey price imagine #nhl one-shot #nhl one-shots #jesperi kotkaniemi

[thenightgazer]

The Epistle of Forgiveness

Almost a month after the event of The Finding of Almagest, Vergil takes his visit to the library. Instead of reading, he wants to apologize to Lyra. What will Lyra do? Will Vergil get his forgiveness?

--

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

-Oscar Wilde

 The Literarium looks a little bit crowded today.

It’s not a regular view for Lyra.

Some guests are reading and enjoying coffee at the reading sections. Others are gather around sale section. Some of them approach her to ask for book location or her book recommendation. While walking around the reading sections to offer coffee refill, she spots her co-worker—Nate— is busy flirting with a group of school girls, completely forget his duty to rearrange book display. Lyra rolls her eyes in disgust, but do nothing since she doesn’t like being bossy.

Lyra was going to change her direction to the Rare Section before she remembers the loyal guest of that section isn’t present today.

Almost a month, she ponders. New record.

She starts to think that maybe she made a mistake for trusting a stranger.

Because the truth is, she knows that Vergil gave her a fake ID on their first meeting.

A true bibliophile won’t betray another bibliophile, Mr Steiner had said that. A way too innocent perspective, but this time she believes it.

Maybe because it’s Vergil, not anyone else.

“Your eyes, Librarian,” she remembers Vergil’s odd words. “Those eyes spoke nothing”

Lately, she finds herself drown to those vague words. No, more like haunted. Why did he say that? What does he mean about ‘I’ve seen thousand stories behind every eyes, but yours telling me nothing’? Does he sees something in her that she herself can’t see? But whatever it is, Vergil said that with suspicious tone. A kind of tone which Lyra translates as a potential danger.

But how could that man be a danger to her? He is indeed an intimidating man, but what she sees is just a gentleman who has a divine passion in literature and using poems as his unique way to express his perspective towards the world like a man of letter. A man with profound knowledges who held flowers delicately— a lenient manner which reflects nothing like his stern appearance at all.

Is it a mistake, she laments. To offer him a friendship?

“Lyra!” Mr Steiner shouts from receptionist table. “A little help here, please.”

“Just a second!” Lyra hurries her steps back to the receptionist table, making mental note to not accidentally spill anything about Vergil and Almagest in front of the owner of the library or she would get herself into bigger trouble.

--

The elder son of Sparda is furious.

He was on his way to take a brief visit to The Literarium after weeks of exhausting mission at Fortuna before a sudden demon attack ruins his day. Doom will always come upon those who try to mess with him, and that demon chooses the wrong person to deal with.

But this time is different.

Because the demon scatters something important for him.

He slaughters that demon out of rage, unlike his usual calm demeanour when he’s fighting. He wasn’t just stab it; he sliced it into dusts.

I was angry with my foe

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

He sheathes the Yamato and mentally curses himself.

Will I ever get my atonement?

--

As much as she loves her job as a librarian, Lyra loves closing time more than anytime.

It was almost an hour since Nate left this place, and yet Lyra hasn’t finished her task to account today sale. Tomorrow is Saturday, so she takes no haste in her work. Not that she has plan for weekend—in fact, she rarely has any plan for anything— she just prefer to do her things in her own pace. That’s why working in this small library suits her. It grants her more personal space without abandoning her passion of literature.

She grunts in annoyance whens she hears the doorbell is ringing.

“Sorry, we’re closed.” Lyra says, her eyes still focus on her paperwork.

Her suspicion grows when the person says nothing as she sees a shadow of a tall man looms behind her. She turn around to see the man and gasps excitedly.

“Oh! Hello again, Vergil!” Lyra greets him. “What a surprise! You know it’s closing time—wait, tell me it’s not blood on your glove.”

Vergil glances at his stained glove, “It wasn’t my blood.”

“Uh… good then,” Lyra nods anxiously when she sees Vergil is holding the Yamato. “I thought you were hurt.”

“I did not,” the hybrid assures her. “And you may put that thing away. I mean no harm at all.”

Lyra lets out a sigh and reveals a cutter she hides behind her back, “My apologies. You look like a hitman who wants to rob this place, by the way.”

“So I’ve been told,” Vergil admits, sending the Yamato into thin air. “I didn’t mean to scare you in any way. Please put that thing down. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“I don’t fear you, Vergil. I’m only making a prevention. Though I assume the cutter won’t have any effects on you,” Lyra lowers the cutter and put it back on her desk. “So… what brought you here, all that with katana, blood stain, and pale face?”

It’s difficult to instantly get a direct answer from Vergil’s stoic face. For a moment, the hybrid doesn’t say anything but flip his hair frustratedly. Expressing feelings isn’t easy for a man who avoids any interactions like him. He’s a man of action, not words. He might have the ability of memorizing and reciting poems in splendid way, but poem is poem. He recites because he can’t find any better words for himself. For once in his lifetime, he regrets his choice of mastering demonology and martial arts rather than improving his communication skill.

He sighs more than three times in less than a minute, must be a terrible problem, Lyra thinks suspiciously. She actually wants to rant about how Vergil could send his katana into thin air like magic, but she holds her tongue.

“Uh… do you want a cuppa? If that could help you a little bit relax,” Lyra offers. “I can brew it now if you—“

“No, thank you,” Vergil declines hastily. “I need to tell you some—“

They hear a crack from the office door. Mr. Steiner’s whistling as he wears his coat. The old man stops his whistle when his eyes catch the presence of a tall, menacing man who looks like he wants to murder someone. He glances doubtly to Lyra, who’s hiding her panic behind a polite smile.

“Mr Vergil here wants to return a book,” she explains in white lie. Her hand quickly grab a book from her desk as she reads its title, “The Interview with the… Vampire? Right, Mr Vergil?”

She counters Vergil’s unapproval glare by glares back at him, like she’s trying to tell him to be quick and answer before Mr Steiner suspicion gets any higher.

“Yes,” he finally answers without stopping his glare to the librarian.

“I’ll take care of this quickly, Mr Steiner. Don’t worry,” Lyra reassures her boss.

Mr Steiner nods slowly, “Alright, then. I want all the entries done for Monday. Lock the door when you’re about to leave.”

“Understood.”

“See you around, child. Don’t sleep too much.”

“Be careful on your way back home, Mr Steiner.”

“Good day,” Mr Steiner says to Vergil as the hybrid steps back to let the old man make a way. He and Lyra wait in anticipation until the owner of The Literarium heads out from the library and they can’t see his figure anymore.

“Whatever is that vampire book from all the books you could come up with?” Vergil scolds.

“I just grabbed whatever book I could grab at that moment!” Lyra surveys the front cover of The Interview with The Vampire. “Anyways, do you still want to tell me your unfinished story?”

“… about that… I’m obligated to tell you… my sincerest apologies.”

The man looks terribly grim, like he’s choked by his own words. Whatever reason behind his apology, Lyra can spot a heavy guilt inside his voice. His absent for almost a month and the sudden, buffling arrival give her an amount of hunch. Perhaps he lost the Almagest? If that’s true, I swear—

“For what? You lost the Almagest? Or broke it into pieces?” she chuckles jittery, half-hoping that her hunch is nothing but a mere negative thought. But her smile is fading when Vergil says nothing, confirming her question.

“I didn’t lost it,” Vergil takes out the Almagest from the back of his coat. The book looks horrific with the front cover is almost ripped off entirely, revealing the front page of the book. “I was attacked. A demon clawed the cover off. I managed to save the rest of the book, but still…” he sighs frustratedly. “I will pay the fine, no matter how much it takes.”

Much to his surprise, Lyra doesn’t even make a sound. She takes the book and inspect it carefully, flipping pages in silent. Her silence isn’t really a new thing for Vergil, since she isn’t a loud person. But this time is different. The silence is colder. There is no serenity behind it up to the point he finds her demeanour… almost intimidating.

Look at that eyes, Vergil surveys. It’s getting more hollow than usual.

“… well, well,” she mutters after a quite long silence. “Aside from the front cover, the contents are still complete. I guess this is your lucky day.”

“Which means?”

“I won’t charge you the fine.”

“… thank you?”

“You’re welcome. But you are not going anywhere before I fix the cover, sir. Hurry up!”

He follows her to the office, which is larger than he thought it would be. There are dishwasher, pantries, coffee brewer, old bookshelves, a large desk and a set of traditional bindery tools. Lyra tells him to take a sit while she collects some equipments.

“So… you are a devil hunter?” she asks.

“Apparently I am.”

“Ahh! Now I remember where I thought I’ve seen you around before! About five months ago, there was a devil hunter who has the same hair colour as you exterminating demons in the neighbourhood. His stature somewhat looks like you, except he has longer hair and rugged face. But I know it can’t be you. He talked too much.”

The picture of Dante bragged around this neighbourhood makes Vergil gets dizzy, “How unfortunate for you to meet my brother in such a manner.”

“Oh that’s fine. I wasn’t the one who call for his aid,” Lyra giggles as she cuts the strands of old binding threads of the Almagest to separate the old cover and the sections of assembled pages with a scalpel before she realized that Vergil just said something about ‘brother’. “Wait! That man was your brother?!”

“A younger twin brother, to be exact.”

“Ahh, so both of you are sons of Sparda!”

The half-devil narrows his eyes, “How do you know that?”

“The wealth of information of this neighbourhood is quite impressive. When your brother was around, they whispered something about ‘son of Dark Knight Sparda’, ‘strongest devil hunter’, ‘owner of Devil May Cry’ and ‘the legendary devil hunter’. I remember they mentioned his name, but I can’t recall it…”

Dante would blabbered rubbish if he heard this.

“Then you realized I’m a hybrid,” Vergil concludes.

“Righty-ho.”

Vergil waits in anticipation. People who know about his true identity mostly will pretend he doesn’t exist because being a descendant of Sparda means danger and dangerous. Only a few of them will taking interest in him for the sake of power and benefits, like Arkham and The Order of Sword to Nero. He’s ready for whatever Lyra’s reactions after this confession, but the librarian does nothing but cutting strands from Almagest. He catches no apprehensive reactions from her.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he murmurs curiously.

“Should I?”

“Most of people do. A common reaction when they discovered that I’m son of Sparda.”

Lyra shrugs, “I don’t find any reason to fear you.”

“Even when you saw the blood on my gloves and my sword mere minutes ago?”

“Told you already, I was only making prevention. And to be honest, I actually suspected it since our first meeting. I heard Sparda’s human form had white or silver hair like yours. No wonder you try so hard to cover your true identity.”

“You know my ID card is fake.”

“Yup.”

“And you still made me a member card, knowing I could be a threat to this library.”

“I just wanted to know what are you going to do in this library, yet nothing happened. You read and borrow books like normal people. You were never late to return the books and never complained. You bought one and two books with real money. Had you do something malicious to this library, I would’ve report you to the authorities. Though I doubt they could handle you, but at least this library has insurance,” she giggles mischievously.

“You could let a man cause trouble because of your curiousity, Librarian.”

“But you didn’t. And that’s that,” she winks. “Now I’m going to make a new cover. We don’t have modern equipments to make this process quicker. So this is the only way. Cutting the strands of all seven-hundreds pages.”

“I… uh… sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s been a long while since the last time I do the bookbinding. It’s fun, actually. Strengthen the philosophy of never judge a book by its cover, because cover is replaceable.”

“All readers have different understanding of the book,” Vergil adds.

“Ahh, you are right!” Lyra glances at Vergil. “Like all books, you may find people who’s not interested in you, fear you, taking advantages from you. But it will take fewer people to really understand you, flip the pages carefully and waits for another chapter from you. You could change your cover, Vergil, but you are what you are now. As you said earlier, all readers have different understanding of the book. But that doesn’t mean the book is ill-favoured. The reader can only concludes the essence of the book, and decide whether they’d like it or not.”

“Your point is…?”

“That you being a hybrid and all doesn’t change anything to me. You’re still my friend.”

Will you still consider me as a friend, Vergil recalls all horrible things he did in the past. If you know I almost destroyed this world twice?

Yet he can’t deny the relief in his heart when she said that. Once again, he finds her philosophy charms him. He admires how she always perceives things in different point of views, never judges anything easily. Her silvery voice always calm him, as if it assure him that everything’s fine. His lips curve up into a subtle smile as he thanks her for her understanding. She just give him a playful wink in return.

“Let me guess then. Your brother’s name is…” she watches Vergil’s stoic expression attentively, searching for a clue. “… Dante?”

The half-devil says nothing.

“For real? Dante?!” Lyra laughs. “I was just having a thought about The Divine Comedy and guessed if you are Vergil—or Virgil, then your brother must be Dante!”

“It’s a common deduction,” Vergil’s eyes are soften. “My father fancied Dante Alighieri and my mother had an odd obsession of Virgil. She recited Aeneid for our bedtime story.”

“It’s better than those silly bedtime stories. My mother once read me Cinderella and I told her the prince was an idiot, because he searched for a girl based on her shoe size! He was supposed to be a king! He could have describe her face to a painter or distributing pamphlets, anything but running around the whole country and wasting resources only for searching a girl whose glass slipper was lost!”

Her cynic commentary amuses Vergil up to the point where he practically covers his mouth with his palm to hide his uncontrollable smile, “Since you said that, I guess you’re right about the prince.”

“Ugh—!”

“What’s wrong?”

“This shear machine is broken,” Lyra tries to operate the machine, but it fails to properly cut the papers. “I need to cut the extended part of pages to make the edges neat. But it looks like the shear wasn’t sharp anymore.”

“Let me handle this,” Vergil summons the Yamato and draws it. “Where is the part you want it to be removed?”

“Over here,” she points her mark on the page, then gazing to Vergil’s sword. “Please be careful. You don’t want the cut goes too far from the mark—“

— and a second later, the pages are already neat and free from the extended parts.

Vergil puts the Yamato back into its sheath, “Was that enough?”

The librarian blinks her eyes in disbelief, “That was… quick. Thank you.”

A smug grin curves on Vergil lips when he watches an awestruck Lyra, who’s still processing how fast Vergil’s slash was that her eyes alone can’t even follow its motion.

Lyra puts the pages into a book presser and draws lines across the spine of the book. Then she saws each lines carefully to make a groove of binding cord. Once she’s done, she reconnects the pages on a sewing frame. She sews a linen thread horizontally, looping it around the cords, linking each pages.

“Do you want to try sew it up?” Lyra offers, notice Vergil is silently observing her work. “It might seems complicated at first, but soon after you try it, it will get easier.”

Vergil doubtly glance at the sewing frame. His experience of sewing is zero, moreover to sew a book he just broke a moment ago. But again, guilt consumes him. He takes off his gloves and approaches Lyra as she immediately teach him how to sew and connect the pages. He feels something weird in his heart when his hands accidentally touches Lyra’s fingers. It’s getting weirder when his eyes meet Lyra’s. This kind of physical encounter always torture him since his body isn’t familiar with any physical contacts with humans for years except with Dante and Nero.

“You’re getting better, Vergil. Keep it up!” the librarian praises him, oblivious of Vergil’s reaction. “I’ll make the cover. Let’s hope we still have some leathers left here… ha! Here it is!”

As he sews, Vergil silently observes her measuring the cardboards and leather. She seems to enjoy her work, despite the fact that she should’ve leave for home at this time. I guess I owe her a little too much.

“By the way,” Lyra says all in sudden. “Speaking of Dante, I know a book that has the same theme as The Divine Comedy, but approximately 300 years older than it.”

“I thought The Divine Comedy was the first of… eschatological tourism in literature?”

“Well… according to the historians, this book was composed by an Arabic poet named Al-Ma’arri around 1033 while Dante’s The Divine Comedy begun circa 1308.”

“And what, pray tell, is the title of this book?”

“It’s called Risalat al-Ghufran in Arabic, but here we call it The Epistle of Forgiveness, or A Pardon to Enter the Garden. Some academics say that Dante was inspired from Al-Ma’arri, but there’s no evidence of it. The Epistle was completely unknown in Dante’s time, but those books have something in common; the journey of the protagonists through Heaven and Hell, as well as the encounter with the souls of illustrious people.”

“Curious… I’ve never heard about that book.”

“The book was banned for hundred years from its own country because many considered Al-Ma’arri as a heretic. He was famous for his skepticism and nihilism towards common beliefs and religions. Even his statue was beheaded by fanatics out of hatred!”

Vergil furrows his eyebrows, “Fascinating.”

“I can understand his bitter perspective. He was blind, bullied and underestimated by fellow poets. But in my opinion, he was one of the greatest freethinkers and his works are extraordinary!.”

The half-devil smirks, “Then prove your conversance. Recite one of his works for me.”

“Wha— no!” Lyra blurts. “Declamation isn’t my… thing.”

“Then I will take your explanations as nothing than a babbling chatter,” he grins smugly. He knows the librarian doesn’t like being considered as incompetent. His smirk grows wider as she stops her work and cross her arms.

“Fine. One poem it is.” Lyra clears her throat fitfully. She holds the urge to not slap the hybrid’s smug face as he pauses his sewing work. He leans himself on the chair in challenging demeaonour, ready to hear the librarian’s recitation.

The librarian takes a heavy sigh before she starts to recite :

“Had men followed me, confound them,

Well had I guided them to truth

Or to some plain track

By which they might arrive there soon.

For here I’ve lived until I’m tired

Of Time, and it of me;

And my heart has sipped

The cream of life’s experience

What choice has a man but solitude and loneliness,

When fate grants him nothing that he craves?

Do what you will, make peace or war

The days with arbitrary hand bestow

Their measure to warrior and man of peace.”

Lyra takes a slow exhales once she finishes reciting, her head turns over to Vergil to see his reaction. Poetry has never become her speciality, even though she is fond of it. That’s why she admires Vergil’s way of recitation. She pins it in her head, how remarkable he was when he recited poems on their last encounter. Her self-confidence drops to the lowest point when she notices Vergil isn’t even looking at her. His eyes focuses to nowhere in a weary manner, as if her recitation bores him.

“Ummm… Terra to Vergil?” she chuckles and waves her hand in front of Vergil’s face. “Am I that bad?”

“Interesting…” the hybrid mumbles. His voice is low and his brows are still drawn together in a frown, yet the blue eyes of his spark in enthusiasm.

“Pardon?”

“This poet Al-Maa’rri… he welcomed death and loneliness like old friend,” Vergil states. “He even craved for it. Even if he was blind—“

Lyra’s brown eyes widens as she continues Vergil’s statement, “—he saw things in the opposite perspective—“

“— and that lead him to see the true beauty of life itself. His bitter point of view wasn’t precisely tell people that everything is meaningless, in fact it was the other way around—“

“— he tried to correct human’s hypocrisy with his irony. Telling them that everything they do, it will measure—“

“— and create the person they are right now.”

There’s a quiet pause among them before the room surrounds by laughter.

“Blimey, Vergil! Did you just read my mind?” Lyra tries to hold her giggle.

“I thought you were the one who read mine,” the half-devil grins. “Now you are successfully making me want to read the book.”

“Oh, we have it! Have a look at it on the sale section!”

“Is this how your marketing technique works? Alluring your customer into deep discussion and out of nowhere, you mention a book you want to sell and trap them with your enthralling knowledges?”

Lyra’s giggle turn into louder burst, “That’s what all salesmen do!”

It’s strange for him. This small talk, the joke, the easiness of letting himself to interact with a human. Hell, he smiles and laughs even more than he ever did in his life! He watches Lyra laughs while she continues her cover-making work, wondering why he doesn’t even get annoyed of any jokes she throws at him. Maybe this is how friendship works—enjoying each other company by talking about anything and wisecracking. He thinks it’s good for his mental health, keep him sane and grounded.

Don’t ruin this, Vergil warns himself.

“I’ll give you The Epistle for free,” Lyra’s eyes twinkles in mischief. “Only if you agree with my terms.”

“I’m listening.”

“There will be syzygy tonight. Commonly known as ‘planetary alignment’. We can visibly see Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Venus and Mercury at once. All the planets sit on a flat plane but have different yearly cycles, so for those planets to line up is something worth seeing! The trouble is, it isn’t visible from this town. Thus, if you still interested in obtaining The Epistle of Forgiveness, join me to see the syzygy as my bodyguard.”

“And why would you need a bodyguard?”

“Because I should see it from nearest city that has a clear landscape and it’s quite… dangerous.”

“Which city?”

“Red Grave.”

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

“The city was abandoned since the tragedy of mysterious tree nearly two years ago. It’s basically a necropolis now, but I heard there are still some homeless people looking for shelter and fortune there. Not to mention demonic presence that still haunts the town. But since it will took only 30 minutes with train from here, I guess I have no option left but choose Red Grave.”

If anything in this world that Vergil wants to avoid the most, it will be returning to his hometown. Not because he hates his childhood memories, but mainly because Red Grave was his most abominable sin. He destroyed that city and killed hundred thousands of the citizen for the sake of the fruitless Qlipoth Fruit.

“Well… what say you?” Lyra asks. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

One must deal with his sin. It’s settled. He can’t run off forever from the past, “Alright then. I do believe we have a deal.”

“Great! You can go take The Epistle. It’s on the first line of left shelf. Here, I’ll continue the sewing. I’ve finished measuring the cardboard and the leather anyway.”

“It’s already done.”

Lyra examines Vergil’s work in awe, “Bee’s knees! This is the fastest book sewing I’ve ever seen! Thank you, Vergil. Now give me some space to work.”

The hybrid shrugs as he takes his step to open the door and goes to pick the book from the sale section. It takes him no time to find The Epistle. His knowledges about Middle-East literature isn’t much, although he did read Rumi in his youth at Red Grave library out of boredom. Luckily, the book has comprehensible footnotes and glossarium to help his lack of understanding about Middle-East references and vocabularies. He takes the book back into the office as he spots Lyra creates a headband and sew the threads in order to attach the headband to the spine of the book.

“Do you need help with that?” Vergil offers.

She shakes her head, “Thank you, but this pattern is a little bit complicated. I’d like to handle it myself. This won’t take long.”

“If you say so.”

While waiting for Lyra to be done with her work, Vergil starts to read The Epistle in silence. He appreciates Lyra’s understanding for being always super quiet whenever he reads. For a moment there is only the sound of their breath and flipped pages. Occasionally, he will glance to Lyra just to see what’s she doing right now.

“It’s written in prose,” Vergil mutters. “I thought The Epistle was just for the title purpose.”

“Yes, it’s an epistle written for a grammarian named Ibn Al Qarih who mocked Al Ma’arri. He replied Al-Qarih’s hypocrisy by imagining he has died and arrived in Heaven but had difficulty to enter it, thus he must seek the answer from poets and philologists from the past, various heretics, and the Devil.”

“This book is rich of linguistic complexity and concentration in grammar rather than depends on precise language like Comedy.”

“That because in Al Ma’arri’s age, writing became complex in its methods and syntax. Most academics see the complexity of language was intentional to hide his irony,” Lyra answers while sticking the book on the cover she has just made. “In the Comedy, Dante used simple and direct language in the poetry, which is easy for common reader to grasp his ideas. The Epistle, however, depicts Al Ma’arri proficiency but prevent the readers from understanding his real beliefs and intentions.”

Vergil’s nod concludes his approval for the explanation. He continues to read until Lyra finishes her work.

“Behold, the new face of Almagest!” she announces proudly. She shows Vergil the entirely new leather bound hardcover with beautifully written typography on the front cover; Almagest by Claudius Ptolemy. “Since you are the tallest person in this room, would you mind to put it back on Rare Section? I’ll clean up here, then we can go to Red Grave.”

It’s not a secret anymore that Vergil is a man of proud. If Dante or someone else asked him to do something, he will absolutely grumble and mostly refuse to do the favour. Why should he do something for anyone? He should be the one who tell people to do. He is the master of himself! Yet, right now, he put the book to the shelf just like Lyra’s instruction without any hesitation although he mentally curses himself for obeying a human.

“Ready?” Lyra says as she prepares to head out from library.

“Where are you going?”

The librarian furrows her brows, “To lock the door, of course. Then we go to the station.”

The hybrid sighs, summoning the Yamato and open a portal, “Get in.”

On four seconds, Lyra fixes her gaze from the Yamato to the dark portal. Her face show a mixture of excitement and confusion, “Is that…?”

“A portal. The Yamato cuts anything, including the space. The portal will lead us directly to Red Grave. Now, do you want to stare at it for eternity or free yourself from wasting your time for running to the railway station?”

“No—no, wait! You made an Einstein-Rosen bridge only with your sword! It’s not something I could see everyday! How could you do that?!”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “We can discuss about it later. Now get in. Don’t waste my time.”

He leads the way to reassure the still-in-awe librarian that he mean no harm and that the portal is really heading to Red Grave. He can senses Lyra’s creeping behind him until they’re arrived at the exit; a wide, flat horizon at Red Grave. A bit far from the city’s ruins.

The dark sky is clear and free from any light pollution. For a minute in silence, Vergil solemnly admires the night sky. He immediately catches the syzygy; the five planets almost align in a straight line with Jupiter being the pole of the alignment. They look brighter than the rest of the stars.

“In Roman mythology, the god Jupiter drew a veil of clouds around himself to hide his mischief,” he mutters. “It was only Jupiter’s wife, Juno, who could peer through the clouds and reveal Jupiter’s true nature.”

“Must be easy for her. The clouds on Jupiter are only 50 kilometers thick. Below those clouds, it’s just hydrogen and helium, all the way down.”

“And even though it’s rich of hydrogen and helium, Jupiter can’t become a star,” he adds, remembering some astronomy facts he read on the internet. “It doesn’t have nearly enough mass to trigger a fusion reaction in its core.”

“You did your homework,” Lyra affirms as Vergil observes her takes out a binocular from her backpack. It seems to him that even though he can clearly see the syzygy with his advanced eyes, it won’t be satisfying for human if they don’t use binocular or telescope to look at it even better. “And the Red Spot on Jupiter’s surface is a huge storm on Jupiter. It has raged for 350 years.”

“I wonder if my father witnessed the origin of Red Spot 350 years ago.”

“Surely he told you bits and bobs?”

“He never talked about himself and back then, I didn’t know he was a demon until one day I found a book of folklore about him. Here, at Red Grave Library.”

The fact hits Lyra immediately, “You should’ve tell me this city was your hometown. I should’ve realized it when I saw your hesitation at my office! Now I’m making you sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Vergil shrug off.

He really doesn’t feel sad about his family. The memories are always too far off like a shattered dream with a glimpse of familiar faces; Dante, Eva and Sparda. It’s getting worse after Mundus and his life in the Underworld, yet he cherishes it. He just can’t tell anyone his fear and guilt for going back to his hometown, Red Grave. The silent witness of his crime.

“Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at the joke?” Lyra abruptly asks after a long silence.

Vergil narrows his eyes, “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a riddle.”

“Didn’t I tell you I don’t like riddles?”

“You did. So, what’s the answer?”

If you are not a person worth my time, I’d certainly eliminated you. “I give up.”

“I never thought you would give up this quick!”

“Because I refuse to play your game.”

“That explains why you look like the gloomiest person in the world. Anyway, why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at the joke? Because… it was too Sirius.”

The hybrid can’t help but try his best to swallow his laughter, “That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

“But it makes you smile!”

“I am most certainly not!”

“You are!”

After a minute of struggle, finally the half-demon has retained his stoic face, “You are an annoying little creature, Lyra.”

“I take that as a compliment.” Lyra snickers before she looks at Vergil’s icy eyes. “Pardon my terrible joke. You look terribly sad. I thought I should breaking the ice. I’ll think for better jokes later.”

That wasn’t your fault! Vergil screams in his head. Is his sadness too obvious that it reflected on his face? Whatever it is, Lyra clearly notices it. She turns to observe the syzygy with her binocular, but in truth, she actually waits for him to spill his burden. She’s just too polite to ask. Vergil almost could sense the flight or fight instinct around them.

You tell her, and it will be endgame.

Yet he says, “I was here when the mysterious tree appeared and destroy the city.”

Lyra puts down the binocular, her brown eyes fixates on Vergil.

“In fact,” he continues, sensing the change of atmosphere between them. “I was the one who summoned the tree.”

He tells her everything. His childhood, his resentment towards Dante, his regret for not being able to save Eva, Temen-ni-gru, his defeat from Dante, his years of torture in the Hell, the creation of V and Urizen, Nero, and his time in Hell again with Dante. All of his sins. Unfiltered.

If Lyra hates him after this, it will be perfectly normal. Vergil appreciates Lyra so much that he couldn’t bare to hurt her in any way, so if leaving him could spare her from the burden for being his friend, he will do it. His sins were too despicable, repugnant. He feels like he doesn’t deserve any form of kindness, moreover from her.

Much to his surprise, Lyra still stands beside him. Her head motions small nods as she lost in her own mind.

The hybrid waits for her to say something. Anything is better than a dreadful silence. At least he will know what to do rather than just standing there like a statue.

“You… just….”

Here it is.

“… described me the extreme effect of a whole new level of dissociative identity disorder.”

What in the seven hells— “Pardon?”

The librarian shrugs, “Dissociative identity disorder. Some people call it multiple personality disorder. In the case of human, it characterized by alternating between multiple identities. Often this identities may have names, characteristics, mannerisms, and voices. It usually develops as a way of dealing with trauma and long-term abuses. Of course your case was different, not an actual DID but similar… splitting yourself into your human part, your nightmares and demon part because trauma and abuses…”

She’s still describing the overview of DID in almost child-like manner, a contrast with Vergil’s perplexion. He just told her about his sins, and all she does just describing a mental illness? She doesn’t even react to his crimes! Is she always this oblivious whenever someone tell her their secrets?

“I’m afraid I have to interrupt your explanation,” he says. “But, with respect, didn’t you think—“

“Do you expect me to get angry and insult you for your horrendous crime?”

The hybrid can’t find any words to reply the question. He doesn’t want her to get furious and leave him, of course. But he deserves it, and it’s totally a normal thing to do if anyone knows his secret. Yet her reactions aren’t exactly what he expects from her. She’s unpredictable and Vergil should’ve hate it, for the uncertainity is dangerous thing. Yet with Lyra, he doesn’t know why he let her surprise him.

Realizing Vergil won’t answer, Lyra continues, “Alright then. You are obviously a nutter. All those massacres and efforts only for a power fruit. You slaughtered thousands of people who weren’t even responsible for your family drama.”

Dante had mocked him about that too, and it still stings Vergil— he caused the devastation of thousands people and he might never get away from his sins—

“But that’s a good thing,” the librarian adds in softer tone.

“How could you say that?” Vergil bristles, his tone is harsh. “What is the good thing of massacre?”

“None,” she replies. “But should you never do that, you wouldn’t have realized what a scroundrel you were once.”

Vergil sighs dismissively, “It justify nothing.”

“It justify nothing,” Lyra repeats. “Yet you helped those humans in that tragedy. Trying to atone your crimes. You realized, if I may quote, ‘the gravity of crime’ you made. Your selfish agenda of using your son to defeat your demon turns into compassion and a vow to protect him forever. You put down your pride and rekindled your relationship with your family.”

“That’s still nothing but a selfish action. The fact that I did the genocide won’t change anything.”

“It won’t. It’s unexcusable, but I can’t fully blame you. Sigmund Freud said, ‘unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways’. And here is why; you are the eldest child and supposed to be the protector of your family since the disappearance of your father. You were not in the condition to know that the death of your mother was not your fault and clearly not your brother’s fault. All of you were attacked abruptly and there was nothing you could do but survival. You hate yourself for not being strong enough, and that lead you to swore an oath to never be powerless again and you will gain more power, no matter what the cost. Now I understand why you hated humans, because you saw them as a powerless being—a reminder to you that your mother was a human. And you were all alone that time. No one guide you. No one to support you or correct your mistakes. You thought you were right all along.

When Dante defeated you, he also defeated your ideology, your path of life, your beliefs. I won’t judge your resentment towards him. It’s normal, because what are we without what we believe? Then you jumped to the Underworld to validated your beliefs, yet you lost and tortured in Hell like… 20 years? No human would survive for two seconds there, but you did and still wanted to prove that you are right. That Dante was wrong. That humanity part in you is unneeded. That your nightmares are just obstacles. See, your humanity part, V, was everything you wanted it to be wrong and perished, but then your son showed up, proving that you were wrong. That even Urizen, your demon part, can’t even defeat Dante and Nero’s beliefs and forced to re-emerged again with your human part. Because you are one and the same. That you wouldn’t become Vergil without each other.”

Vergil stands astonished. It’s not just that Lyra shows no sign of anger or disgust towards him, but she also depicts his subconsciousness and predicaments in simplest way. She admits his crime, yet she also sees the reason behind it.

“Now, you see,” she continues after taking a deep breath. “I can’t really blame you. You already wrote your epistle of forgiveness.”

Then she does something which Vergil never expects her to do—she smiles at him. A warm, genuine smile, not a polite or playful one like her usual habit. She turns to look at the sky again, “Do you know what I like about syzygy?”

He can’t bring himself to answer.

“I always believe in the concept of synchronicity rather than calling it ‘coincidence’. I know the existence of time itself is debatable, but it still doesn’t change the fact that everything will happen in time and in sync. No matter how far those planets are from each other, they will be always synchronized in alignment eventually,” she states. “What you did was just in time, Vergil. Should you never do that, you would never find yourself again.”

The irony bites him, all these years he wanted to get rid of his humanity yet humanity saved him over and over again. All this time, and you still don’t get it, Dante had said to him—as Urizen. Now he’s being psychoanalyzed by a human who barely knows him but capable to summarized his entire journey in five minutes. It bites him, how humanity always give him more point of view to see the world.

“Thank you,” he finally says it sincerely. “You see right through me.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just trying to give you some insight.”

“And you did. You never fail to surprise me with your wit and the use of apotelesma philosophy.”

“Apo- what?”

“It amazes me that you, an enthusiast of astronomy, have no information of what apotelesma is,” he remarks. “It means the influence of the stars on human destiny.”

“Aah! Apotelesma… that’s an exquisite word!” Lyra exclaims. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it? What stars could give to humanity? Whenever we look at the sky, we look at the past— the very relics of the universe.”

“They guide humanity by simply existing. We are stardust brought to life, then empowered by the universe to figure itself out—and we have only just begun.”

“We are stardust brought to life...” she repeats.

Vergil shrugs idly, “I read it somewhere.”

“Speaking of the stars, I have another riddle.”

The hybrid groans in frustration, “I don’t want to hear another of your terrible riddles.”

“Why did the star get arrested?” she completely ignores Vergil’s caution.

“I’m warning you—“

“Because it was a shooting star!”

“I’m leaving,” Vergil walks away without waiting for Lyra, but he’s just teasing her. He hears her following him, giggling and pleading to wait for her.

“Alright, no more riddles then. But I have this short story,” she offers, following Vergil’s steps. “Copernicus’ parents might deserve some credit for his discovery.”

“How so?”

“At his teenhood, his parents said to him; ‘Copernicus, one day you will realize that the world does not revolve around you!’”

“Your jokes have potential to cause severe headache.”

“But you laugh at it!”

“Because no one will laugh at your jokes except me.”

“Is that a compliment or sarcasm?”

“Go figure it out yourself.”

“A compliment, then.”

“Whatever.”

They walk on the dark footpath through the ruins of the city. Vergil spots some homeless people taking shelter inside a building. They watch him cautiously, but do nothing. Those people just want to survive and live in peace. This view stings him. Even though he embraces his human part, he is still indifferent about human life. He cares a little about them, except for his family and a few of his acquaintances. But these humans in this ruins are victims of his greed. It’s his responsibility. He looks away, thinking of how tremendous the effect of his destruction, before he quickly catches a group of children. Lyra notices this too—glancing to them sharing their food. One of them approaches and gives her a stargazer lily hairpin. She realizes the boy hopes for a trade.

“Here,” Lyra takes out some of her money and a packet of gummy bears from her backpack. “Share it with your friends.”

The boy timidly turns his sight to Vergil, hoping for some trade too. His innocent face reminds him of Nero and Kyrie’s adopted children whose cheerful behaviour isn’t compatible with Vergil’s cold nature, but he tolerates them because children do childish things. The hybrid’s hand reaches inside his coat, then he hands the boy an amount of money.

The boy smiles delightfully, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As the boy takes his leave, Lyra turns her head over to Vergil and takes the palm of his hand, much to his surprise. Then she pours a little amount of gummy bears on his palm, “For you. It’s blueberry.”

The half-devil frowns and presses his lips, “This is the most childish thing someone had ever gave to me.”

“If you don’t want it then return it to me.”

He eats them all in one swallow, “Absolutely not.”

Lyra smiles smugly and eats her candy.

“It’s been almost two years after I escaped the Underworld and I still can’t get used to these taste of food…” Vergil contemplates, chewing the candy as his tongue tastes the strong mixture of sugar and blueberry extract.

“Do hybrids need to eat?”

“Physically hybrids don’t need to eat. But we can eat human’s food if we want. My foolish brother has an appetite for pizza and anything included strawberry.”

“I see…”

The two of them head out to the empty road as Vergil unsheaths the Yamato and open up a portal back to The Literarium. This time she allows him escort her to her house, which is quite far from the central of the town, located in a secluded suburban. He takes a note the distance between Devil May Cry office and Lyra’s house, calculate and store it inside his brain, just in case he needs a portal to her house someday. After almost forty minutes of walk, they arrive in front of a minimalist house, but seems comfortable with a small garden and pleasant fragrant of homemade foods. This house belongs in The Shire, Vergil ponders.

“Thank you for today,” Lyra smiles. “Next time maybe I’ll hire you as my bodyguard again.”

“I’ll think about that,” The hybrid says. “Besides… you are a pleasant person with whom to… spend time.”

Lyra chuckles, “I’m glad to hear you chose the word of ‘spend time’ rather than ‘waste time’.”

“Probably because you’re less infuriating than the rest of the people.”

“Well… thank you?”

“You are very welcome.” Vergil shrugs, silently happy to see a delightful smile on Lyra’s mouth. He notices the eyes of her twinkle in amusement. That suits her, he thinks. I’ve never imagined I have to do this ridiculous bodyguard roleplay to spark some joy in her eyes.

“Thank you,” the librarian cackles, tightens her grip on the strap of her backpack. “For being a great company.”

“The honour is mine.”

“See you tomorrow,” Lyra gives him a small wave before she turns around to get inside her house.

“What happened to your leg?”

The question sounds like a storm inside the librarian’s ears.

“Oh right, I forgot you’re a hybrid. You must’ve easily recognized my limp,” Lyra glances at her right leg. “I fell from a tree when I was seven. My landing position wasn’t exactly very comfortable. Then… voila,” she mimics her limping. “It was getting better time to time but somehow I could never get rid of this limp. Thankfully, it’s too subtle for human eyes, so people won’t notice.”

The hybrid has seen too many scars and injuries to know that her limp will be most likely permanent. The fall changes her bone and joint structure. Even if she was transfused by demon blood or planted demon cells, it won’t change anything because it was an old injury. Although magic or witchcraft might manipulate her leg to work properly, but it won’t cure the wound.

“I’ll get inside then,” her solemn voice shatters Vergil’s contemplation.

“Very well. Auf wiedersehen, Lyra.”

“Auf wiedersehen, Vergil.”

As the librarian closes the door, Vergil turns his back to the lonely road. The moonlight illuminates his way as he receives a call from Dante, who invites him for dinner with Trish and Lady. By dinner, he means more pizza and beer. Before Dante could finished his question about his twin brother’s whereabouts, Vergil quickly answers he’ll soon arrive at Devil May Cry. He draws his sword, staring to the dark portal. His face is somber.

Because when she told him the story behind her injury, he knows those eyes of her speak different thing. It’s not sadness nor joy. Not even a void one.

It’s the eyes of humans when they feel threatened. Or worse, when they tell lies.

“You didn’t finish your story,” his voices sounds like a whisper wind as he walks through the portal. “What are you not telling me, Lyra?”

We grow accustomed to the Dark

When light is put away

As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp

To witness her Goodbye.

--

List of mentioned poems and quotes:

A Poison Tree by William Blake

What Choice Has Man? by Al Maa’rri

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil deGrasse Tyson

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark by Emily Dickinson

In case you wonder Vergil’s expression when Lyra gave him gummy bears, @drusoona​ captured the perfect angle :

And thanks to @andieperrie18​ for this extraordinary work of art!

Special tags : @queenmuzz​ @drusoona​ @harlot-of-oblivion​ @andieperrie18​ @shiranyaaww​ @lovemadnessharleyquinn​

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc #dmc fanfic #vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x lyra #vergil x oc #vergil x reader #oc #original character #astronomy #syzygy #star #constellation #poem #classic poem #al maa'rri #friendship #astronomy riddle #astronomy jokes #mutual pining

[alllwritenow]

blame it on the stardust

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Elena stared at herself in the mirror, the shadows under her eyes long since covered by makeup and the exhaustion in her bones hidden by the curve of her smile. She knew better than most what time healed and what it didn’t. Her grief was far from spent, but life didn’t stop, not for anyone.

Turning away from the mirror, she tucked the journal in her bag and headed down the stairs for the requisite stilted morning banter with Jenna and Jeremy. Jenna was frantic and Jeremy was sullen and she refused to let her heavy heart weigh them down. She acted as explicitly normal as possible—fake it till you make it—and filled a travel mug of coffee for herself and Jeremy without comment, earning a reluctant smile.

“Ride?” she asked him after Jenna had left, and didn’t argue when he shook his head, ignoring the itch in her hands that wanted to drag him close and hold on until he broke down and cried like he hadn’t since they left the hospital. Instead she flicked his ear, hid a grin at his scowl, and went to wait on the porch for Bonnie.

Her friend’s smile was still careful around the edges, hidden worry in her eyes that Elena forced herself not to grimace at. Bonnie loved her, of course she was worried. Elena loved her back and she wouldn’t begrudge that concern. She returned Bonnie’s hug and held herself to the present by sheer force of will as Bonnie told her all about her Grams and their ancestors and her apparent psychic powers.

Elena knew what Bonnie was, knew the magic and potential, far greater than her own, that lurked inside her friend. She was prepared for this conversation, ready to be supportive and excited by turns. She was not prepared for the crow that slammed into the windshield, the spike of fear and unease that lingered.

She was not prepared for the handsome, chiseled face of Stefan Salvatore staring at her from across the hallway.

Her throat closed and her heartbeat tripled in pace and she knew he heard it, knew his senses, so much more than advanced than hers, could detect the effects of shock and panic and secret thrill of delight on her system. Her lips were numb as she agreed with Bonnie’s assessment of his hotness and listened to her friend’s theories on who he was.

What was he doing here? Who did he think she was?

Katerina had never spilled her secrets to him, had told him only what would make him love her, true or not. He knew nothing of doppelgangers and curses, of endless flight from brutal monsters until you became one yourself. Or he hadn’t, but then, her memories of him were incomplete, second-hand, filtered through Katerina, and over a century old.

The fear and confusion and sense of strained reality lingered throughout the day, enforced by the weight of his focused attention and broken only by her worries about Jeremy, Bonnie’s predictions, and Caroline’s forced cheerfulness. She didn’t follow through with her weekly visit to her parents’ graves after school and instead dug out the journals and sketches hidden beneath the floorboards under her bed, pouring over fragments of dreams and flashes of memories not hers as she scrambled for a sense of control in a world gone spinning off course.

She hadn’t thought she’d be lucky enough to go unnoticed forever. To have a life free of the supernatural other than her own magic and Bonnie’s inevitable awakening to the powerful witch she was meant to be. Not when she’d been unlucky enough to be born in the same town Katerina had fled to, the land where Tatia had once lived. But she wasn’t ready, and she hadn’t expected this. One of the brothers Katerina had seduced and fallen for and left behind. And if one was here, where was the other? Did he still live as well?

They seemed decent enough, in the bits and pieces of memories she had to go on, one more kind and one more sharp but both very human and very in love with Katerina. What would that betrayal, the loss of their humanity, and a century and a half of immortality have done to their natures? She couldn’t trust that her memories or her face would keep her safe, much less her loved ones.

Elena wasn’t just a doppelganger. She was a Gilbert and she knew what her ancestors had done to protect themselves from vampires, knew the secrets that lived in her purely human family tree, had suspicions about her Uncle’s oddly nomadic life.

Elena had been ingesting vervain since she was old enough to be trusted alone in the backyard, enabling her to cultivate a hidden little garden. She regularly dosed her brother and her friends and had become the unofficial punch spiker for school dances specifically so she could slip some in with the booze. Cheerleading and daily runs in the woods kept her fit and stronger than she looked. She knew Mystic Falls, knew the land it had been long before the town itself, could see the bones of what it had been during the Civil War beneath the modern structures. Her magic was limited in power, the curse of her bloodline, but she had centuries of knowledge to draw on in how best to use it. And she knew vampires, knew them as well as any human ever could.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Never wanted to kill anyone, even if it wasn’t their first death. But she and Katerina shared more than just a face, and if it meant protecting her family or her friends, she would do what she had to do.

Including going to a party by the falls when it was the last thing on her mind. She used to be good at parties. Used to be the party, her and Caroline and Bonnie. School wasn’t like Mean Girls, even in a status-obsessed small town like theirs. Outside of Founder events, no one cared about your last name. But they were cheerleaders and for a certain limited definition that mostly existed in Caroline’s head in a teen movie montage sort of way, they could have been said to rule the school.

And then her parents died and the legacy in her blood smacked her in the face with an only kind of dead boy and now she was drinking shitty beer laced with vervain and faking an engaged conversation and a smile so wide her cheeks hurt directed at whoever was next to her whenever Stefan looked her way. He had clearly not gotten the memo about her strong desire to avoid any significant interaction with him and his gaze prickled against her skin.

Later she would curse herself for her inattention, for her selfishness. If she’d been less concerned with avoiding an awkward and potentially dangerous conversation with Katerina’s ex, if she’d been more concerned with the danger to everyone else, oblivious innocents with no idea of the danger lurking in their midst, maybe Vicky wouldn’t have been bitten.

When she heard the scream, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jeremy’s voice shouting, her heart stopped in her chest, terrified that she was going to lose him. But he was fine, holding up a rapidly-sobering Vicky. Matt’s sister was bleeding from a wound in her throat, eyes glassy and hands fluttering wildly as she mumbled, barely audible over the commotion of the party. “What the hell?! What the hell.”

“What happened?” Matt demanded before Elena could, eyes darting between his sister and Jeremy as he pulled Vicky away from the other boy.

“I don’t know, man, I just found her like this. I know Tyler was giving her grief earlier, but I don’t think he’d do this.”

Elena stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Jeremy’s as Matt turned to his sister just as she checked back into reality. “Mattie? This guy, he, he bit me, Mattie! I think he was on drugs or something? He bit me and then he got really angry and said something about me being dosed and then he ran off.”

Jeremy flinched against Elena and she grimly hoped that this horrible night would get him to stop stealing her pain medication. “You should get her to the hospital, Matt. Human mouths have a lot of disgusting germs in them,” she told him, completely serious and also hoping that Vicky’s accusation of drugs and her own words were enough to keep anyone from digging deeper.

Matt nodded, still scowling at Jeremy, and Tyler who had joined the circle of drunken students watching the drama unfold, and started pulling Vicky toward the parking lot. Elena caught Stefan watching her again and narrowed her eyes. “Go home, Jeremy, I’ll meet you there. Caroline’s mom will probably want to talk to you, see if you saw anything that might help them ID the guy, and you need to sober up first.”

He shrugged her off, but didn’t argue, and she took it as a win as she stalked toward Katerina’s ex, giving in to the inevitable.

“I know you didn’t do this,” she told him, before he could speak, and ignored the way his eyes widened, leaning closer to ensure only he could hear the deadly intent of her next words. “But if you brought someone with you who did, Damon or anyone else, you need to get them out of my town. Mystic Falls is not welcoming to any vampires who feed without consent.”

She didn’t wait for his answer, if he had one, just turned and left, hoping to find Bonnie or Caroline to catch a ride from.

The next morning the news showed a very generic sketch, the reporter asking people to be on the lookout for a non-local man on drugs who attacked people in the woods. Elena grimaced and didn’t protest when Jenna turned it off, muttering something about an asshole ex who had a lot of nerve to warn people about other men instead of himself.

School was a mess. Jeremy didn’t seem to be high, for once, but he was avoiding her and so was Caroline, for reasons Elena didn’t understand. Stefan kept trying to get her alone, clearly wanting to know what she knew. She finally escaped with the end of day bell and took a moment to center herself in the bathroom, reaching out with her faint thread of magic.

It led her to the Grill, Caroline crying at a table as Bonnie awkwardly tried to comfort her. “How come he didn’t go for me? Why do the guys I want never want me?”

“Oh Caroline, boys are dumb,” Elena said, dropping next to Caroline in the booth. “So very dumb.”

Caroline whirled on her. “It’s easy for you to say that! You always say the right thing, I always say the wrong thing. I work so hard and got to know him and flirted and he still picked you.”

“Stefan?” Elena asked, shocked and mad at herself for missing this. She’d missed too much lately and it needed to stop now. “Caroline, I’m not interested in him. He just won’t leave me alone and I don’t know why.” She did know why, knew how much he’d loved the last woman to bear her face, but she could hardly explain that. And the rest of her statement stood.

Caroline, brilliant friend that she was, pivoted on a dime from heartbroken envy to protective rage. “Who does he think he is? God’s gift to high school? If he doesn’t leave you alone, we will ruin him,” she said furiously, already pulling out her phone to start the various text chains that would accomplish just that.

Elena laughed, pulling her in for a hug before she could hit send and roping Bonnie in too. “I love you. Can we save ruining for another day and have a sleepover tonight? I’m thinking rum floats and movies about talking pets.”

Bonnie snorted and Caroline giggled a little wetly into Elena’s shoulder before nodding, priorities realigning again. “Definitely. I just got some new gold face masks. We’ll be the fanciest drunk girls in Mystic Falls.”

Across the room, unnoticed by them all, Damon Salvatore reevaluated the usefulness of the blonde as a target and moved on to other strategies. Instead of the first of many nights of horrific trauma that would have lingered in the back of her mind for the rest of her life, Caroline went home with her two best friends and invented a drinking game based on how many animal-related puns were used in a given scene.

Elena fell asleep in a tangled pile with both her best friends, happiness sinking into her bones, warding off the grief and the fear that had been swallowing her. This was how it should be. This was how it would be, and no vampire was going to ruin it.

-

Chapter Three

#vampire diaries #elena gilbert #elejah #fanfic #my fanfic #blame it on the stardust #rebloggable

[planetjisungie]

jolie- l.mh (part 2)

continue from part 1

after you had finished with the gardening, you slipped your uncomfortable shoes back on and started walking back into the palace. jeno had left not too long ago for his own training so now you were pretty lonely.

"princess y/n" you turned your head to see prince taeyong, bowing at you. flashing him a bright smile, you waved your hands so he would stand back up. "prince taeyong" you nodded your head, not too sure what he wanted. as if noticing your internal questioning he looked around before looking back at you.

"is there some place more private we could talk?" he asked, causing you to furrow your brows. why the heck is he asking to go somewhere else. with slight suspicion, you nodded your head, silently walking with the taller male following your footsteps before entering your lounge room. the room itself was expectedly large, had bookcases, a desk by the window and two elegant looking sofas facing eachother slightly in the center of the room. this is where you went to study or just read whenever you wanted. taking a seat on one of the expensive dark green sofas, you gestured to the one opposite you for taeyong to sit on.

"is everything alright?" was the first thing you asked, keeping your posture straight and polite. taeyong seemed to frown a little, looking you in the eyes with an almost guilty look.

"i just wanted to ask a favour" he spoke softly yet maturely, and you nodded your head to show you were listening. with a sigh, he carried on. "im afraid i cant marry you" he spoke in a small voice this time, looking down at his shoes as if he was ashamed. this confused you, was something not right? did he not like you?

"and that is because..." you tried to prompt him in a gentle tone. if he was staying for a month, may as well become a close friend with him- besides, having multiple allies and connections proves to be rather useful, so you were taught.

"back at home i already have a lover. shes the most gorgeous woman ive ever layed my eyes on, i would do anything to see her smile and would give everything to hear her laugh" taeyong had a smile on his face, looking to the side as he couldnt stop it even if he felt guilty. what he hadnt expected however, was to look back at you to see you grinning, now slouched in your seat as your posture was no longer as ladylike as before.

you understood completely.

"no worries, taeyong if i may call you that. im actually not a stuck up bitch, and if i cant marry through real love, then at least one of us should. the way you speak about her, thats enough for me to not pick you" you explained. this wasnt what you were expecting but it was true. who were you to deprive him of his happiness? if anything, youd rather see him live a happy life than drag him down with you. seeing your carefree and friendly expression, taeyong also slouched, letting out a breath of air he didnt know he was holding.

"thank you so much y/n, but theres also another problem" he sheepishly avoided your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as you perked a brow, leaning forwards.

"and what might that be?"

"mark"

"mark?" you were definitely confused. who the fuck was mark?

"oh- its minhyung. he goes by mark when not in formal events" taeyong corrected himself and you nodded again, still confused as to why he was a problem. did he have a girlfriend as well? or perhaps even a boyfriend?

"and why would mark be a problem?" you cocked your head to the side, pouting slightly as taeyong huffed a little.

"he’s not exactly keen on this marriage thing. so far he is unaware of my relationship and is most probably hoping you choose me to wed. so i apologise beforehand if he- pardon my language- becomes a rude little bitch in the next month" you snorted at the grey haired mans choice of wording, leaning back and scoffing.

"yeah well señor mark will have to live with it because this isn’t exactly my cup of tea either. id rather choose who i marry myself so he can hop out of his pity party" you commented, hearing taeyongs own cute giggles of laughter. his girlfriend was definitely lucky.

"if he is ever too much for you to handle, don’t hesitate to find me. you sure are an amusing one and you seem like a good friend. please be comfortable around me even more now" listening to taeyongs words, you closed your eyes, throwing your shoes off your feet again and kicking your legs up to rest against the plush arm of the sofa, dainty feet dangling as you swung your legs. turning to taeyong, you waved him off.

"in that case, get comfortable with me too. we’re both going to be on the receiving end of señor bitch so why not just chill. call me n/n too, y/n is still too formal"

before taeyong could respond, the door to your room burst open, revealing a dressed up yuta as per usual, in his fancy black trousers, white shirt and thick navy blue felt jacket, medals and ribbons attached onto it.

"n/n~" he sung, squeezing in next to you despite your grumbles of disapproval. taeyong would be lying if he said he wasnt jealous. him and mark definitely were close, and would do anything for eachother but you and yuta seemed to be on a whole new level.

"jenos looking for you" yuta finished, throwing his own legs over the other sofa arm, his own long limbs dangling down as his eyes closed. he wasn’t necessarily worried about taeyong seeing as they were rather close themselves from previous meetings due to the both of them being the next in line to the crown.

taeyong smirked slightly, looking at your own smile.

"jeno?" he cooed teasingly, watching the scowl form on your face. you swung your legs back to sit properly and slide your shoes back on before promptly leaving the two older men, not forgetting to throw your middle finger up at taeyong with a sweet smile.

you slammed the lounge room door shut beforz spinning around, only to collide into a strong chest.

"mark?"

#nct #jeno #lee jeno #nct dream #mark lee #mark #yuta #lee taeyong #taeyong #nakamoto yuta #jolie #jolie part 2 #royal au