#my apologies to old man arthur but i chose not to include him as well. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yesttoheaven · 3 years

Text

I SEE YOU – chapter IV

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.3k

warnings – idk... misty being a b*tch with arthur?

a/n – hi everyone! I hope you are well because I'm brazilian and I cannot say the same lol the president is a piece of shit and he can't rule the country in the middle of a pandemic (not even without the pandemic, in fact)

anyway enjoy the chapter!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

chapter one. chapter two.

chapter three. chapter four.

"What are you doing here, Misty?" The surprise was notable in Y/N's words.

Many people could walk through that door, but Misty was definitely not one of them.

"I should ask you the same question..." The woman came over and put her hands on the actress' shoulders, smiling amiably. "But we don't have time for that right now. You have a dinner to go! And it is not right to keep a man like Charles waiting."

"Charles?" Arthur asked, trying to find a way to join the conversation. "Is he also an actor?"

After these simple words, the redhead burst out laughing and Arthur didn't understand what he had done wrong this time. He was just curious and a little interested to know who was the man who had a date with Y/N that night.

"Actor? God, have you never heard of Charles Lewis Tiffany?" Misty questioned how if the fact that Arthur didn’t know the man was an offense to humanity and Arthur just shook his head, too embarrassed to say anything else.

Who the hell was this man? The Pope? And why did Y/N have a dinner with Pope?

"It's okay, Arthur." Always so graceful, the actress reassured him and left Misty's side to be close to him. "Charles owns Tiffany & Co., the one that appears in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's... Have you watched this movie before?"

"Oh, oftentimes!"

"Me either! And now Charles wants me to be the face of his new collection! I'm so excited, he came to Gotham just to follow it up in person!" The happiness shining in her eyes was contagious, but Misty didn’t like seeing Y/N squeeze the man’s arm gently.

"I hate to have to do this... the conversation is so pleasant, but we have to go, mon cher." With a smile, Y/N's manager adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She wanted to take the actress away from this freak as soon as possible.

"You cannot go without the VHS tape." Arthur objected, receiving a death glare from Misty, but the only thing that mattered to him was Y/N. "I'll get this for you." After these words, the man left the living room with a reason to make her stay a little longer in his apartment.

"Well, I think we're going to have to wait." Y/N shrugged, but inside she was beaming.

Feeling her mouth dry, she picked up the glass of water on the table, but that was her worst mistake.

"What are you doing? Don't drink this! That dirty glass is full of germs!" The glass was snatched from her hand and Y/N looked at Misty in disbelief.

"That glass is not dirty, Misty."

"How can you be sure of that? I heard that the Narrows sewer is one of the worst in Gotham!"

"Thanks for the lesson, but that didn’t come from the Narrows sewer. This water is from the kitchen tap."

"Oh my God..." The actress could have sworn that the woman's face turned green and she would vomit at any moment. "Why did you drink this? You'll be sick!"

Before Y/N had a chance to respond to these insanities, someone called her. She ran over to the bag and took out her cell phone. It was Charles.

"Hey, Charles! It's good to talk to you." On the other side, all she received were strange noises. The man's voice was being cut off and it was difficult to understand. "The connection is awful..."

"Why am I not surprised? Narrows is the end of the world!" Misty commented, rolling her eyes.

Without time for this discussion, Y/N said:

"Maybe in the corridor I will get a better signal."

"Be careful, you don't know what kind of neighbors there are in this place." She warned, listening to the door open and close, but Y/N said nothing.

Alone in the living room, Misty had the same disgusted look as when she arrived. For her this apartment is small even for an ant and this wallpaper is ridiculous, but in the midst of so much poverty, something on the couch attracted her attention.

"What do we have right here? I don't believe he has a diary..." The woman whispers to herself, laughing, after picking up Arthur's journal. She knew it was wrong, but she was bored.

The first few pages were OK, he had a shitty life like any other unfortunate person, but what came next scared the hell out of her. Misty knew there was something wrong with this man. The instant she saw him, she knew, but that... those words... were from a sick person. Arthur was a disgusting pervert. The redhead needed a moment to breathe and then she saw the magazines on the table and an scissors...

Oh no. He intends to include Y/N in this depravity show!

"I finally found." With bright eyes, Arthur looked for Y/N in the living room, but all he found was Misty... and his journal. "W-What... What are you d-doing?"

"Stay away from me!" She exclaimed, backing away for fear that he would do something against her. "I swear, if you get close I'll scream so loud and when Y/N comes through that door, I will tell her your little secret. She will be so disappointed, but she will finally find out who you really are... A perv!"

"N-No, please... You got it wrong." He tried, his voice taking on a desperate tone. Arthur didn't want to lose the actress's friendship. She was too important for him. "I c-can explain."

"Oh, can you explain? You will glue Y/N's head to a cat's body and then you will sit on that old sofa and touch yourself? You should be in Arkham! You're a sick person! I can't believe Y/N was alone with you..."

Arthur felt his stomach churning.

"You're wrong... I have a lot of respect for her. Y/N is special to me and I would never do something like that."

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" The woman threw the journal at him and Arthur cringed like a frightened dog. After hitting him on the back, the journal fell to the floor and when he saw those collages, he felt ashamed of himself. "Listen to me... I will say this only once: Stay away from her. It doesn’t matter what kind of fantasies you’ve created in your sick head, Y/N will not be a part of that. If I know that after today you keep talking to her, I'll call the police and when they find out you're a fucking perv, you will spend the rest of your days in Arkham." She warned with all the letters and threats, now it was up to him to choose to cooperate or not. This man is too old to play being a teenager. These images of naked women, these cats and those sad quotes in his journal prove just one thing. Maybe he's a sexual predator, but Misty wouldn't be here to find that out either. "Enjoy your pornography and leave Y/N alone. I hope I never see you again."

Arthur saw his world fall apart as soon as the redhead left his apartment with the worst assumptions about him. He was not a perverted monster. He would never touch Y/N without her consent and would never endanger her life. Never ever. Y/N was the only good thing about Gotham; she was a light at the end of the tunnel. So angelic and peaceful. Whenever she smiles, butterflies appear in his stomach and Arthur knows what these famous butterflies mean, but he doesn't know what those collages mean... If Y/N knew, she would probably be afraid of him.

In the corridor, the actress was trapped in a bubble, talking animatedly with Charles. The call had no specific reason, the man just wanted to make sure everything was fine for dinner that night.

"Okay... This is one of Gotham's best restaurants. Trust me, you will love the place!" She assured him, intending to make a good impression. It wasn't every day that she got a chance to dine with the genius behind Tiffany & Co. and represent that brand. This was an important step in her career. "Now I need to go, Charles. See you soon, bye!" Y/N hummed the ending, watching Misty approach where she was. "Why are you here?"

"It's just your friend's mom. She's not feeling very well..."

"Isn't Penny okay?" Concern crossed Y/N's face and she tried to get back to apartment 8J, but Misty took her arm, lying again:

"Y/N, don't be indiscreet. This is a family problem and Arthur is taking care of it." With those words, she guided the actress to the elevator, but Y/N kept looking at the door to Arthur's apartment. "You need to prepare for dinner... I chose a beautiful dress for you."

...

THREE DAYS LATER

"Put red on her lips... Don't forget the mascara... and on the cheeks use this blush... Not this one! The peach blush!"

It was possible to say that Charles Lewis Tiffany was taking the place of the makeup artist. The woman was losing patience, Y/N realized this, but he wanted to participate in every second of it. When she finished, Charles smiled, admiring Y/N's beauty through the mirror.

"You see? You're genuinely beautiful... I think I finally found my muse." The actress was flattered by the compliments and that reflected in her smile when Charles took a blue box, but this was not a simple blue box. This is the famous Tiffany Blue Box. "I want you to meet my new creation..." He opened the box, stealing Y/N's breath instantly. "Dramatically plunging down the decolletage, an incredible emerald-cut bicolor zoisite that shifts from violet-blue to purplish-red, depending on the angle. The pendant is over 48 carats and it's wrapped in a halo of baguette diamonds and suspended from a diamond rondelle chain of over 37 total carats."

"Oh Charles, this is absolutely beautiful. I'm speechless..." She confessed, watching him take the necklace and offer to put it around her neck. Y/N accepted immediately and when the pendant touched the white fabric of the dress, she smiled at the mirror.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend" Charles whispered, eliciting a giggle from her. "Now I need to speak to the photographer, but take a few minutes to prepare yourself." The man smiled one last time and Y/N walked to the door, opening it for him. She took the opportunity to spy on what was happening on the other side and it was possible to say that there was a little sadness in her eyes.

"What are you looking for?" Misty's voice echoed and she closed the door quickly.

"Huh... nothing!"

The woman was checking the contract – something about image authorization – and when she took her eyes off the papers, she found Y/N with a half-hearted smile.

"Go ahead... Spill the tea."

Brian was probably smoking, so Misty was her only option.

"Arthur was busy these days, but he called me this morning... He looked nervous and said he would like to talk to me, so I invited him to accompany the photoshoot, but..."

"You did what?!" Misty left the chair, interrupting her. Not wanting to start a scene, the redhead looked at Dariela, the makeup artist, and said: "Get out." The woman immediately stopped organizing her makeup and ran out of the dressing room.

"Was that necessary?" Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

"And was it necessary to invite that maniac to come here too?"

"Jesus, Misty!" She walked to the other side of the dressing room. "Manic? Really?"

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Based on what? His bank account?"

"Based on his journal." Misty replied and the actress looked in her direction with a frown. Shaking her head, the redhead let out a bitter laugh before confessing: "He doesn't use it just to write jokes... I found a lot of pornography on those pages."

Y/N felt a little uncomfortable with that. Certain things do not need to be exposed... She didn't need to know about that part of Arthur's life and Misty just invaded his privacy.

"Well... many men consume pornography daily."

"Y/N, pornography is not the point here. He makes some weird collages... women with cat heads... skulls... one of these women was tied up in a compromising position... Can you see how problematic this is?" Misty was trying to open her eyes and consequently was scaring the actress, but that was not all. "I saw the magazines. That man will probably do the same to you... your face on the body of these naked women or on a cat's body! You have always been uncomfortable with the way men see you only as a sex symbol... and now Arthur is using you as a sex toy!"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Y/N demanded, using an edgy tone of voice. That was too much for her to assimilate. "You're saying this because you do not accept the idea of Arthur being my friend! All that matters to you is status, but it doesn't matter to me! When are you going to let me live my own life?"

"This is not about social classes, this man is a pervert! I'm trying to protect you!"

"Enough, Misty!" That was enough to make the redhead shut up and Y/N found her way back to the mirror.

To complete the look, inside the blue box was a beautiful diamond ring and a pair of shiny round diamond earrings, just waiting for her. Putting on the ring was an easy task, but she couldn’t say the same about earrings; her hands were shaking and this is all the fault of the stress.

"Let me help you." The manager approached and at first Y/N refused her help, but after another failed attempt, she handed the earrings to the woman. "I know I can be a bitch sometimes..."

"Sometimes?"

Misty just sighed, shaking her head.

~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~~

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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nafeary · 4 years

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Cheating!MC Headcanon with Leonardo Da Vinci

⚬ Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci/Reader

⚬ Characters: Leonardo, Comte; mentions of Arthur and Theo

⚬ Warnings: Intoxication

✧✎ A/N: First and foremost, I DO NOT condone infidelity. It’s vile, revolting, and can absolutely destroy a person’s entire life.

I chose to focus on the prospect of cultural differences they could have, especially considering our very casual dating standards nowadays (a lot of people don’t see sex as a very serious thing, do they?). Thus, MC isn’t cheating per se, but someone from the 16th century (aka Leo) might just perceive it as that.

I got the idea from our lovely @teatimemols, and she allowed me to use it for a headcanon. Thank you sweets (and make sure to drink water, everyone)!

You had kissed him... which wasn’t unexpected, considering the hungry glances you’d often exchange with him

You had embraced him, just as he had enbosomed you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he mumbled how absolutely adorable you were.

And you had smiled at him. That smile, acting as the final culprit in the heist to capture his heart

Unaware of the courting standards you were used to, he determined it would be for the best to simply go with the flow

From what he had picked up from both you and Sebastian, women in your time had finally been allowed the rights they were entitled to (feminism they had called it)

He could only assume that his confident cara mia would sort things out

Which might have been a mistake... as he watched you accompany Arthur and Theodorus on their late night bar trips, only to return late at night with obvious signs of intimate activity, the Renaissance man felt his entire demenour shift

Were kisses in your time meaningless, the amalgamation of breaths unimportant to the heart?

Distance grew between the two of you, and his heart yearned in painful pleas; on the other hand, his muscles contracted at the thought of strangers’ hands working themselves under your skirt, unwrapping your layers

The last straw for him was the golden hair he noticed adorning your garments, the familiar scent of musk he knew ‘Comte’ to favour assaulting his nose when he stood close to you

Unbeknownst to him, you had initially thought of your... engagement with the polymath as nothing more than a fling. And yet, you couldn’t help your heart from falling for his charms, but you were reluctant to open your heart to him. After all, you had your own time to return to. Nothing good could result were you to act on your fantasies.

You were aware of him having discovered you multiple times on your late night escapees with Arthur and Theo, deciding to assay the author’s method of forgetting troubles

Aka, indulging in brothels as a distraction from your heart’s desire to be close to the Italian

And one evening, you committed a rather grave mistake— no, you couldn’t call it that under the booze’s influence. You had, after all, enjoyed the illusion the alcohol has painted

After a particularly busy night, you had returned to the manor alone, drunken stupor rendering you almost incapable of proper action

Le Comte, ever the gentleman, discovered your situation and chose to carry you to your room, assisting you with changing your grimy clothes (and closing his eyes when it required, we stan a respectful man)

Just as he was about to leave, you had caught him by surprise as he conceived Leonardo’s name leaving your lips in a tired mumble, pulling his arm rather roughly to crash your mouth atop his own

He had left after wishing the girl bonne nuit (as she had passed out the moment she had kissed him), smiling at the prospect of... supporting a relationship including two of his favourite friends

Alas, le Comte has an idea that might just aid the coping methods his guest had chosen... and his old friend’s worsening mood

“Cara mia,” the deep voice of your dream’s protagonist resonated outside your door the next morning. “Are you awake? ‘Comte’ told me you you were feeling unwell and asked me to bring you breakfast.”

At the mention of le Comte, your brain had to do a double take; you suddenly remembered the events of the previous night. The host of the mansion had found you in a probably more than likely disgusting state— and you had the nerve to kiss him

In your defense, you thought it was Leonardo; but considering the fact that they’ve been hinting at having been lifelong friends, you weren’t confident that you could bare to face any of them ever again

Nonetheless, you invited him inside

After you were done with your breakfast, you gazed at Leonardo dozing away on your carpet, just about to voice your confusion as to why he was still in your room, when he stood up and said, “I should be honest with you. The main reason I came was because ‘Comte’ told me something rather interesting.”

You could only gulp as he came to stand in front of your bed, kicking of his shoes. “You kissed him, in quite the rowdy manner from what he told me.”

You were remembered of you slip up once again, and you could only mutter in defeat, “I was drunk and confused, Leonardo.”

By now, ants were crawling up your legs as he lay down beside you, tickling your ear as he nuzzled it. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You kiss me, yet you indulge in other mans’ arms.” All tranquility strained from the scientist’s orbs, and you could only lift your eyebrows in annoyance. “You make it sound like I cheated on you. Whoever I spent the night with is none of your concern.”

“So you are allowed to be a constant resident of my mind.” He trapped you with his arms, appearing to me ignorant to your growing exasperation. “Don’t you consider that to be—“

Enough was enough

You strongly pushed at his shoulders, rushing to stand up as you glared at him lying on your bed like a goddamn male Venus

“Leonardo. Please listen to me for a moment.” Seeing him nod, you proceeded. “Yes, I did kiss le Comte. Yes, I was spending the night with strangers. And yes, I did kiss you. However, you have absolutely no right to lecture me on these actions. We aren’t together, you didn’t ask me out, and I can kiss whoever I want to.”

You exuded calm anger with your crossed arms and stern gaze, but his utterly confounded face wavered your resolve... he almost looked like he had no inkling as to why you were so upset with him

Well, at least until realisation fell across his expression the way it was wonted to whenever he figured something out.

“I’m sorry, cara mia,” he said, sitting up in a more dignified position, “I was unaware that these are the type of courting standards you have grown up with.”

Courting... standards...

God are you stupid. You hastily replied with an apology from your own side, embarrassment blazing across your cheeks at the prospect of almost forgetting the fact that you were indeed in the 19th century and talking to Leonardo fucking da Vinci, when courting standards were so much more self explanatory and determined by matchmakers

You sat beside him as you elaborated the procedures you were used to, fiddling your thumbs at the scene: a world renowned artist, your... crush, perched on your bed and listening to you discussing 21st Century Dating for Dummies

The hushed breathing of the man was the only thing occupying the room, and you couldn’t help but hyper focus on the disparity of your own erratic puffs

Perhaps, despite your flakiness, you still had this wish, hidden deep within your mind, that you could still have a chance with Leonardo. And— you couldn’t help but sigh as the reality of it crashed upon you

You two were way too different, after all. Different time, different manners, different everything

“I have another question,” the smoky voice of the polymath whispered, the pleasant scent of cigarillos dancing beneath your nostrils, “How you do you conduct this... asking out, cara mia?”

You whirled around to meet his chiseled face, speechless at his inquiry. Surely, he couldn’t still want to? “Well, you... you ask the person whether they’d like to go on a date with you... and then, if the date went well, you could ask if I’d— that person would like to start a relationship with you.”

“I?” He smirked at your blunder, mirth pulling at his cheeks. “If you wanted to ask me out, you could have just done so earlier.”

Heat waltzed across your cheeks as you tried to stay composed, but you only managed to hang your head in defeat.

“Are you free after your chores today? I’d love to show you an invention I’ve been working on.”

Lifting your head ever so slightly, you muttered, aware if he were to deny your question that you wouldn’t lose any more dignity, “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” And the most beguiling smile encountered your own

I hope this was kind of what you imagined? They were going to be shorter (and including more characters), but I’ve wanted to explain the situation properly, ya know?

Anyway, have a nice day everyone!

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uniasus · 3 years

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While technically a very delayed day 12 for summer of whump, the ‘reliving your death’ part turned into something much bigger.

BBC Merlin, Mordred POV. Read here or the whole 2K on Ao3.

-----

Mordred remembered it all. They all do, obviously, even if the memories didn’t kick back into place until they all sat around the new round table. He could tell by how the other knights – could he even call himself a knight? - shot him shy glances.

The worse was the small looks Leon or Guinevere gave him. Every time their eyes slide his way Mordred remembered locking eyes with Arthur and sliding his sword through the king's gut. Arthur had been too stunned to see him he hadn't brought up his sword to defend. And Mordred, too stunned at actually running his old liege lord through, had similarly put up no defense with Arthur returned the favor.

Arthur might acknowledge the complicated situation that led them to Camlann, saw the path that led Morgana there, Mordred there, Arthur and all the knights, but it was Mordred that essentially prevented Arthur’s Golden Age. Worse, as Mordred watched Merlin serve them all lemonade, saw his flinch, learned that the other man had the same justification for violence as Mordred and didn't take it, Mordred knew he could have chosen not to wield that dragon-forged sword.

Even knighted, he was still a child, wasn't he? Acting on impulses, putting his needs and wants first despite the oath he'd taken. Once, he had sat at Arthur's Round Table. Had been so proud to be among such renowned men. Now, he felt ashamed. Unworthy.

Arthur sat tall in his seat, a man more understanding and compassionate than Mordred could ever be, completely unbothered by sharing a table with his killer.

And worse, behind him stood Merlin, Emrys, the man Mordred had wanted to impress above all others, the man who had faced the same trials and chose the opposite choice every single time.

I shouldn't be here, Mordred ran a finger along the edge of this new, modern table. Yet, he didn't know where else to go.

Mordred stayed close to the group, but out of the way for the rest of the day. The new knight, or new to him would be a better term for Lancelot, and Mordred absorbed the stories the other told, completing each other's histories. In explaining Camlann to Lancelot and Elyan, Arthur made no effort to hide the fact that he died on Mordred's sword. But the king – ex-king? – glossed over the event and Leon took over, explaining how an aggressive Essetir had forced the druids into Camelot, Camelot's alliance with the druids, and the ensuing war that united Essetir and Camelot into a single kingdom.

Leon spoke of Merlin fighting with the knights, of marrying Guinevere, and Percival took up the tale of Merlin's kingship and how Camelot flowered.

Guinevere, by that point, had disappeared, but Mordred could tell Arthur wished desperately to find her.

Mordred, for his part, sat silently on the floor of the room and listened to what sounded like a truly Golden Age for Albion. A sorcerer-king. Magic helping the kingdom grow. Acceptance, or progress toward it.

It wasn’t anything like the prophecies had led him to believe it would be like.

It was better.

He hated himself so much for having missed it and dreamed of how it could have been with the Once and Future King at the helm.

Mordred woke with the sun, the magic of the Earth waking in the light and stirring his own mind. He blinked, not understanding the ceiling above him before his memories caught up.

Arthur’s knights, Mordred included, had risen again to aid with an unknown threat.

Groaning, he sat up. His sleep hadn’t been peaceful between thoughts and dreams and the unfamiliar bed, but he was up and there was nothing for it. Might as well go outside and enjoy a bit of peace.

Merlin’s house was larger, a castle in its own right, though it seemed to be made of less sturdy material. No stone here, but he appreciated the smoothness of the walls and floor.

Downstairs, he wondered trying to find the door that opened to the garden with the table in it. Thankfully, the first floor was smaller than the second one. He found the strange clear door that let outside, but he found his attention caught by Merlin.

He stood in the strange modern kitchen, leaning against the center island and looking out the window into the nearby woods. His fingers played with a coin and it was obvious he wasn’t thinking about what he was doing, yet items move through the kitchen guided by his magic.

On the counter beside Merlin, a large bag of herbs was tipped into a small metal strainer. The strainer then gently inserted itself into the mouth of a teapot, which itself silently floated out of a cabinet to land on the center island.

It was such an effortless use of magic, maintaining several spells at once, and Merlin – no, Emrys, he really was Emrys in this moment – didn't seem to know he was doing it. How had he looked in Camelot, as its sorcerer-king? Even as Mordred thought it, a stray sunbeam brushed Merlin’s brow through the window, making his skin glow to match the steady glow in his eyes.

Instantly, Mordred dropped to his knee. The desire was instinctual, automatic. Before him was a warlock in command of more power than anyone else would have, who ruled Camelot for forty years. This man, with his sharp face, wise eyes, and deep magic, could rule the world if he wanted. And because he didn’t, people had loved and trusted him.

“I’m sorry,” Mordred choked out.

Emrys started, turning to see Mordred kneeling on the floor, kitchen items frozen where they were. Mordred couldn’t see his face, eyes on the floor.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For killing your king.”

“Are you really sorry for that? Would you have done anything different that day?” Emrys’s voice was dry, flat.

Mordred cast his mind back and found the answer. Yet even as he did, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. For him, the murder of Arthur had been days ago. For Emrys, over a thousand years had passed.

Emrys seemed to think the same. He gave a deep sigh and Mordred looked up at him. He looked tired, worn. The pressure of figuring out what had called the knights back? The return of knights? The glances Arthur had sent his way all last night, watching Gwen and Emrys interact? Did he even sleep last night?

“You can stand, Mordred. You never did anything else in Camelot anyway, no need to change it. I was going to have tea outside. Join me?” As he said it, the magic in the room faded and the royal aura that had filled the kitchen drained away. Merlin physically moved around the space, pulling out mugs to place on a tray along with several other items. Mordred watched, the man before him now no more than a physician's assistant or servant preparing something for his master. It grated in a way seeing the same thing in Camelot never did.

Probably because, Mordred thought, he now knew how high Merlin could climb.

Mordred hurried to open the door to the back garden. Merlin nodded in thanks as he led the way, heading not to the large stone table he’d anchored his spell to but a small table surrounded by a bountiful herb garden. He took one chair, Mordred the other, and Mordred hurried to pour the tea before Merlin could. Merlin rolled his eyes, but let him.

“The answer is no, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, stirring honey in his mug.

“Yes. I... am sorry. I’m sorry I never got to see the Golden Age. I’m sorry things happened the way they did. But if I was thrust back to that day, I think I would still do it. I don’t... I don’t understand why you didn’t.”

“Didn’t do what?”

“Kill him yourself. Arthur killed Kara. And he killed someone you love too.”

Merlin stared into his tea, face blank. He’d been fairly easy to read in Camelot, but Mordred had also seen him pretend nothing was a miss more than once. His years as king must have given him a lot of opportunities to practice controlling his emotions and how to display them.

“Arthur was involved in the death of several people I loved, but as I love him too and understood his choices, I couldn’t hurt him in return. I was made aware of the prophecies soon after my arrival to Camelot, and it didn’t take me long to learn how strong those prophecies are.”

He sighed and locked eyes with Mordred. “I tried to stop several prophecies and failed each time. They can perhaps be delayed, but they will happen. I came to terms long ago that Camlann was supposed to happen, that nothing I could have done would have stopped that. You can’t apologize for that, Mordred. You would have always done it, whether you wanted to or not. Destiny is not something you can escape. Weirdly enough, that has given me a sense of comfort.”

"Because they said you’d see Arthur again,” Mordred guessed.

“Yes. While it didn’t happen the way anyone expected, Arthur shepherded in the Golden Age. He had stopped prosecuting magic, he’d set Camelot on the path to accept it again. He had allies, shaped Gwen and Leon and me into who we needed to be. We built Camelot with Arthur in mind, always imagining what he would want, what he would say or do. And -” here Merlin winced, “I don’t think that Golden Age would have happened if Arthur had lived. There are things Gwen and I did he would have not.

“I’m not offering you forgiveness, Mordred, if that’s what you’re looking for. This morning. But I don’t think I can blame you either, any more than I blame Arthur for a number of things. Especially considering you’re here. You hate it.”

Mordred grimaced. He did hate it. Hated knowing what he missed, knowing that Arthur had thought highly of him up to the end, hated that he didn’t deserve any of what the two kings of Camelot offered yet desired all the same.

“There are no prophecies now though,” Merlin continued. “I have heard nothing spoken of since before Camlann, and crystals or pools that might give me a vision have not. Do you know what that means?”

Mordred shook his head.

“It means Destiny is not guiding our actions. Your path might have been pre-ordained in Camelot, but they’re not in Britain. I will a hundred percent blame, judge, and punish you for things that happen from here on out."

“I understand, Emrys.”

“Good.”

“And Arthur?”

“What about him?”

“If Arthur was destined to die at Camlann, if he was never supposed to helm the Golden Age of his kingdom, never be a champion of magic, you can’t fully blame him for his actions then. But now that he knows things? Knows better? Are you going to hold him accountable?”

Merlin froze, mug an inch from his mouth, before setting it down on the table between them. “I’ll teach him, I suspect I won’t be the only one. But I’m not going to judge him until he makes a choice. I can’t hold him accountable for the past, Mordred. But yes, like you, his fresh start began yesterday.”

Mordred frowned, thinking of what he learned in Camelot, what he learned last night. “I can’t follow him, not like he used to. Maybe it was Destiny, maybe it wasn’t, but it still hurts. But Merlin, Emrys, knowing what you have done, knowing what you can do -”

“Arthur’s the Once and Future King, Mordred.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s why he rose.”

His tone was final, but Mordred had never heard the actual words of the prophecy. Had Arthur risen because of Albion’s need? Or had something else triggered Merlin’s spell? Was the one who rose the Once and Future King, or was that title separate from Arthur’s destiny? Was now even the ‘future’ of the Once and Future King? Maybe in another five hundred years, Merlin would wear another crown.

In his past life, Mordred had followed Arthur because of the hope he stood for, because he had Emrys at his back. In this life, why not follow Emrys himself? He had the track record Arthur lacked.

#bbc merlin #fic rec #summerofwhump #summerofwhump12 #death #add a seat to the table #my fanfiction #mordred #merlin emrys

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 24

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-23 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Suicide attempt, swearing, drunken stupor. Lyrem needs his own content warnings, seriously.

This includes the FlashBackFever #1 from the Masterlist, but also contains valuable information regarding the plotline. This picks up directly after Chapter 22.

Dedicating this chapter to @myst-in-the-mirror for their wonderful name suggestion for the TimeWorm, Opus! Xx.

-Alpaca.

----------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

“Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

“My essence was spared as a favor to Kronos, if you recall.” Lyrem sniffed and snarled. “Is this really the type of greeting I get for pet-sitting little Opus all those years ago?”

“Ha! Did you think I would allow you the privilege of eternal life because you took care of Kronos’ Time-Worm for a few measly hours? Please.” Hades tutted amusedly. “Regardless, you’ve become quite a different man since then. I am not sure I would ever want the essence someone who murdered and then ate the heart of his own father… But at least your memories retain a certain value to me at this time.”

The mark that Lyrem bore on his chest- the brand that Maria would always say looked like a wine glass carrying a single grape- well… it began to burn. Lyrem grimaced and seethed through his teeth as he felt the brand sear through him like a thousand small razors cutting beneath his chest. It was the same feeling as when he first received it.

Slowly, the searing pain faded away, and Lyrem was able to straighten himself once again, and he touched his chest. The mark was gone.

The warm scent of chai drifted over him. Hades was holding a large mug in his hands and he lifted it to his white bearded face. Lyrem studied the hulking God, unsure of his purpose here.

“Perhaps I should apologize for acting so rashly. When I heard that you were coming to collect, I understandably panicked- you know Maria and I had only just bought the house together and I wasn’t ready to go yet.”-

Hades smiled lightly as his head shook slowly. He sighed impatiently as Lyrem continued in his nervous frenzy-

“I mean, now that I think back about it, I’m not sure I should have listened to Paimon when he told me what you wanted. He’s a demon. Does he even consort with your kind? I didn’t mean to be a nuisance for you – truly. I wasn’t fully aware of what I was agreeing to at the time you brought me back from the dead, anyways. That was all Kronos’ insistence. You remember. I was young and naïve, of course”-

“It’s alright.” Hades hushed him unexpectedly. “Being stuck in one corner of a Labyrinth for thirty years is not really worth avenging in my book. To you humans, it’s akin to being stuck in a line-up for five extra minutes. Would you like a coffee? A tea perhaps? Persephone makes a wonderful chai from scratch, though the plants take a little while to grow first. This place… isn’t exactly kind to her.”

Lyrem searched around. A small couch appeared behind him, a deep blue colour. Hades motioned for him to sit, and so he did. It would be foolish of him to refuse.

“A… a coffee would be very much appreciated,” he finally answered. “Where is Persephone?”

Hades sat across from him in his own chair and he cleared his throat.

“She can only be seen by living souls. I, on the other hand, can only be witnessed by the dead. But we can still hear each other and create for each other, without any problems.”

“Oh,” Lyrem nodded. “That must be…”

Nice? Sad? Actually, Lyrem wouldn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t know how.

“It’s annoying,” Persephone finished. “We can only ever see each other in our own realm. Our real realm- the one we created ourselves- and who knows what that creature is doing to it!”

Hades tsked. “Persephone, that is not how you address family- whether they are with us or not.”

He sipped his tea and allowed Lyrem to watch as his coffee materialized for him in a small ceramic cup. Rigidly, Lyrem sat there, unsure of whether to be comforted by the hospitality or suspicious of it.

“Sorry it took so long,” Persephone apologized. “I haven’t grown a coffea in ages! I chose arabica for you, I hope that is fine.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Lyrem said. “I-I’m sorry, God Hades, may I please understand why I am here? You wanted Arthur to bring me here for a reason. Do you want me to release you from this place? Send you back to your proper realm?”

“Ooh he’s a quick one,” She exclaimed, the sarcasm was not lost with the absence of her face. If she was visible, Lyrem would have seen her sit beside him on the couch. Instead, he only felt the pull of the upholstery dipping next to him.

“Well, unfortunately, you cannot release us from this place. It’s not under your control.” Hades answered, causing Lyrem to be taken aback.

“Yes, it is. You may have been able to co-opt it to your liking, but I can certainly…” Lyrem paused with a hand suspended. He pushed his hand around, almost playfully through the air. “Uh… Open… open a door…”

Nothing happened. He brought his hand back down. It worked the last time he was here, dropping these two away in the hole. Of course, Paimon needed to help him at the time. Regardless, he was told he had control. Of course, why would he ever test it when a God who wanted his essence was trapped here? Paimon knew he wouldn’t try to release Hades. It would be a death sentence.

“Perhaps, I am less powerful as a dead man,” Lyrem surmised.

“Oh love, no,” Persephone coddled him in the effort to raise his spirits a little higher. “If anything, you should be more powerful than ever as a dead man. But those hearts you’ve been taking like vitamins? They do you less good than you think… You know, what, Uncle? I think he knew it too. I don’t think he wanted him to be strong.”

Lyrem turned to her space for clarification. “I’m sorry, who knew what?”

“My nephew, Pan,” Hades answered.

“He’s always been a trouble maker,” Hades remarked. “This place is a little caged corner of his Labyrinth. I was not prepared for his increased strength as he transitioned to adulthood. It’s quite a solid construction. I have yet to devise a way out.

It’s also why I needed you to die. Your soul is linked to me, not to the Underworld. And you are innately knowledgeable of Pan’s motivations. We needed to talk.”

Lyrem sipped at his coffee, growing more and more confused by the moment.

“I would honestly be quite impressed by Pan’s work if he wasn’t so notoriously cunning, and quite frankly, annoying about it. But that was always his way, you know.” Hades continued in a nostalgic fashion. “He would do all sorts of silly things- start music contests; him with his little flute, he loved that thing though I can’t remember the last time I saw him play it. He loved those little competitions- especially with family”-

“Ohh. I remember when he came around Mount Olympus showing off the wood nymphs he caged”- Persephone shuddered. It could be felt more than seen. “He plucked off their wings and forced them to race, that creepy bastard”-

“Persephone!”

“I’m sorry. He was just so horrible sometimes.”

“Who are we speaking about, again?”

“Pan.” “Pan!”

“Pan?” Lyrem shook his head, remembering his knowledge on classic Greek mythology. “…Isn’t the Great God Pan, dead?”

The God and Goddess let out a mighty good chuckle, leaving Lyrem annoyed and confused, and off to the side.

“Okay,” Persephone caught her breath. “That was a good prank; Convincing the world he was dead… Oh it never gets old. I can’t believe it stuck around this long. I guess it fits that he’s disguised as a spirit from a false religion now.”

Lyrem stole looks from Hades to the empty space, and then back again in growing disbelief. Hades continued.

“Pan is one of my nephews. A childlike God. And like all children, he grew bored with the course that his life was taking. In order to amuse himself, he began toying with the lives of innocent humans and facilitated humanity’s suffering on a massive scale. Played people against one another and started wars between great nations. He would place bets on who would win and he would become angry and spiteful when no one would bet against him. He stole children away from their families just to watch their reactions when they found the bodies- he would corrupt the most innocent to hurt at his command – what is more is he tortured people into taking their own lives- and the more he did these things, the easier it all became… I won’t blame his parents,” Hades nodded sympathetically to the ‘empty’ seat, “But he needed intervention a long time ago, desperately.”

The tone had suddenly shifted to one of melancholy as Hades explained his nephew’s troubling past.

“Trying to reason with him became more difficult and each time I tried to help him, he would push me away. Finally, being as resourceful and unbelievably stupid as he was, he swept my realm clean, leaving myself and Persephone locked in the equivalent of a closet in the void of the Underworld- that would be what he likes to call the ‘Labyrinth’.” With a shudder, Hades looked away, shamefully. “One powerful human who bears my mark and a few sacrificial hearts were all he needed to help him with that little task.”

“Me…” Lyrem placed the pieces together slowly, his life flashing before him in a new light, a new context. “Are you saying, what I think you’re saying? Paimon… Paimon is Pan?!”

Hades nodded.

“He gave me a reason to fear you, and then he showed me how to trap you...” Lyrem reasoned. “I’ve known him for thirty-two years. How could I have not known this?”

“Well, first of all, you certainly have a reason to fear me, I am the God of Death and I will still claim your essence one day.” Hades finished his drink, and the mug disappeared. “But I am slow to anger. Zeus would certainly have struck you down by now, and Poseidon has already put you on a list for that ridiculous prank with Perseus you pulled.”

Hades chuckled softly. “It was quite funny though.”

With widening eyes, Lyrem sat back, and tried to find what little was left of his honour and dignity with these Gods who spoke of his life like it was a mere sitcom for them to be entertained by.

“This is ridiculous. Whether or not Paimon is Pan, I am a man who stands by those who are loyal to me,” Lyrem scoffed, “If you wish for me to betray him in any way at all, I shall simply refuse.”

He sat up and crossed his arms like a petulant child, just begging for a scolding.

Hades went silent, as well as Persephone.

“He’s really not terribly bright, is he, Uncle?” Persephone whispered harshly. “It’s beside the point. We need to find Apollo! Let’s open up his mind again.”

“What? No! Please, don’t”-

---------------------------------

Beijing, China. 1989.

“You will never know true love.”

The Eastern Oracle looked up from the bowl of still water, perched atop the short table from where the three sat on the pillows and watched her client with interest. His dark brows were neatly knit together in a scowl and clearly disappointed. The client did not understand what she had spoken. She could tell.

She glanced to the translator next and then looked back to the man who began to speak.

“Oh…” he quietly accepted. “I see.”

He swallowed. The incense smoke drifted up through the air, condensing their little area in a thin fog. The Oracle said something else in her native Cantonese; her tone rather insistent this time. Urgent, even. Lyrem could tell.

The translator paused, then spoke: “she says that your fate was never to be loved, only to be respected. It is the only thing that matters to you.”

Lyrem blinked. Respect was a value of his, yes- but the only thing that mattered to him?

“But… love, true love…” he started feeling silly even before he uttered the words. “It exists?”

The translator repeated his words and then the Oracle watched him carefully.

“For you.” the Oracle spoke in Cantonese. Unfortunately, Lyrem was not well versed in the language at all. “Only for you does true love exist.”

Lyrem glanced to the translator.

“She says, ‘Only for very few, does true love exist.”

He sighed. At least he wasn’t the only one, he thought. He stood up, paid the two in full, and bowed before making his exit.

Thankfully, there was a local merchant of alcohol nearby. Lyrem stopped there first to buy himself a case of sake before returning to his hotel room. Eight floors up, he was.

It would be quick and easy to find his way to the ground.

He cracked open his first and played himself in a game of solitaire on the table by the window. Reflecting there on his last several weeks of hunting for a sacred stone in the Himalayas. It had already been delivered unto Cáishén, a Chinese god of wealth and prosperity several days before now. He wouldn’t get anything in return for his sweat, tears, and blood- only his clients would. At least they paid him well enough. But it had been several days since he returned from the peaks and Lyrem hadn’t bothered to book himself a flight back home to receive his cheque.

At his second bottle, he ordered dinner up. It didn’t matter what was on the menu, but he was craving something richly flavoured and warm. Pork buns, he thought. They were often his favourite and would do well as a last meal. He had finished his second bottle before it was delivered.

Yes, they smelled heavenly.

And then he lost his appetite.

He opened a third and flicked the bottle cap across the room- damn- he missed the trash bin.

At some point, he had sat on the bed to read a paper he had picked up from a stall that day. It was mostly in English- except for the ads.

President Bush signs $166-Billion-dollar corporate bailout, the article read.

“Didn’t trek across the mountains for nothing then. You’re fucking welcome, everybody,” he muttered rudely to himself.

He opened his fourth drank it, and then got up to take a long piss. He washed his face and ran a wet hand through his head of soft brown hair. His face still burned with the cold from an altitude he was not accustomed too- it left his cheeks pink and dry.

The wind had pick up. The mustard yellow curtains flipped around wildly bringing in the stale scent of dust and inner-city smog along with it. Lyrem didn’t remember opening the door to the balcony- at least he hadn’t bothered to, yet.

But now was a good a time as any… Wasn’t it?

What was the point of living if not for love?

He heard the rush of traffic below and the honking of horns, and then he tried to remember what the point of making any sound was, if no one cared for what you had to say. He flipped on the radio that was bolted into the side table. Tuned to a station catering to American music, it crackled through the middle of Hotel California with great effort.

He stepped over the threshold and looked out across Beijing and their neon lights with his hands tightly gripped to each other behind his back. He sniffed and considered his next move.

Hands forward, he gripped the railing tight.

He bit his lower lip as the lights blurred ahead of him.

He became angry with the Oracle, but only for a second.

He lifted a leg and found his own perch.

The sake had really done a good job of calming his nerves. Lyrem was actually quite surprised that he wasn’t more unstable. Perhaps that was the unique charm of the drink. Or perhaps a bit more adrenaline was pumping through his veins than he cared to realize.

Lyrem held his breath at the edge of the railing, and then closed his eyes.

He tipped forward, welcoming the rush.

He was caught. His eyes opened, and he was suspended in mid-air staring down at the busy street below. Life, he saw, flashing by… but not his own.

He was lifted back by a pair of strong arms and then the savior let him fall to the floor with a sudden thump!

“You sad, sorry bastard,” the voice of the saviour said. “You need help.”

Perhaps a neighbour saw him attempt suicide, came to the rescue. But Lyrem could have sworn he locked his door- and he didn’t hear a soul break in. The guest sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against a cane to support himself on the way down.

Lyrem grunted against the floor.

“Go away,” he groaned out.

The guest rolled his eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked. Part of him may have been genuinely asking, but he didn’t wait for a response. “You have everything you could ever possibly desire in this world! How old are you? Forty? Maybe? You still have a long life ahead of you to do absolutely anything you want!

Women! They ought to be climbing all over you- unless of course, the men are more your thing- I don’t mean to judge of course, love is love.”

The guest continued on as Lyrem struggled to his knees.

“Riches! You’ve got that! Wine, cocaine, parties, travelling the world? My man, you have yourself a slice of heaven on Earth! You’re like a bloody rock star!”

Lyrem glared up at the black-bearded wonder sitting on his bed, in his room, who opened the fifth bottle of sake that was sitting next to him.

The guest grimaced at the taste, but kept it balanced on his knee.

“I guess, what I am really wondering,” he continued. “Is what the hell drives a man like you to the edge like this?”

Lyrem struggled to stand, and leaned against the chair, slowly and shakily, he climbed into it, and then studied the stranger best he could. His eyes drifted away from him each time he tried to focus. He swallowed carefully. Feeling sick, he might not ever answer the man.

“L-love. True love,” he managed.

The stranger balked.

“True love?!”

“Fuck off.”

Teetering on the edge of the bed, the stranger leaned forward.

“It’s just so funny though, isn’t it? Love… you’d think a man like you could find it anywhere”-

“I don’t want to find it just anywhere,” Lyrem reasoned, cradling his head into his hands. “I want it to be real. I want it to be true. I want it to be perfect.”

“No love is real, or true, or perfect. It’s just… Love.”

“Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

“It’s supposed to snap you out of this depressive episode. It’s degrading. Just by looking at you, I want to throw myself off this balcony.”

Lyrem scoffed, managed a smirk and looked up.

“You’re an asshole.”

“The name’s Paimon,” the stranger grinned. “And you’re right, I am an asshole- but I’m also exactly what you need.”

Lyrem shifted his head back. He wasn’t a man with a variety of tastes. He preferred wom-

“A demon,” he finished.

“Pffffft.” Lyrem opened his mouth. “You think I need you? A demon?”

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“Then we were always meant to be.” Paimon surmised. “Listen, I know you’re a man of many talents, gained the favours of many gods, and many powerful human souls- I’ve been tracking you for quite some time.”

Lyrem rolled his eyes up at the ceiling where watermarks dotted around in various sizes.

“Here’s my proposal- and if you don’t like it, then you are free to fling yourself off the balcony again and this time, I won’t stop you”-

“I don’t consort with demons. I have a rule about that,” Lyrem said, beginning to sober up at the mention of something more work related.

“’course, you do,” Paimon winked at him. “But what if I told you that I could find you your true love? What if I could promise you that? What if I told you that all you would need to do is sit beside her on this flight”- He pulled a plane ticket from the inside of his jacket pocket. “-from Beijing to Lisbon, tomorrow afternoon?”

Lyrem stared suspiciously from the ticket and then back to Paimon’s unearthly aura. He didn’t notice it until now.

“This is a trick,” Lyrem stated. He then turned it to a question. “What do I do for you in return?”

Paimon’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head.

“Nothing at all,” Paimon could see that Lyrem knew he was bullshitting. “Alright. Here’s what I require in return: your… friendship.”

Lyrem reached out, pulled the ticket from the demon’s hand and stood. Studying it in the light, it was real. It was the very same company he had traveled with to get to China about a month back.

“If I don’t give you the true love that you desire,” Paimon proposed. “Then I will leave you in peace and never return.”

“Still sounds like a trick.”

“Some deals are just too good to pass up,” Paimon chortled. “Trust me, I know.”

Lyrem took a deep breath. Paimon wanted his friendship in return for giving him true love? He scratched his chin, stubbled and dry. If he refused, the demon might only return one day when he was even more desperate- and Lyrem couldn’t exactly guarantee he would say no then and Paimon would almost certainly raise his expectations for him.

“You have a deal,” Lyrem settled with nothing to lose. “Friendship it is. Name’s Lyrem.”

Paimon smiled, knowing that the money he had spent to bribe the translator was well worth it, and clasped the man’s hand tight.

“Lyrem… You won’t regret this,” he grinned through shining eyes.

--------------------------------

Labyrinth Cage, present day.

Lyrem lifted his head off the back of the couch that had supported him this time through a most unpleasant journey down memory lane.

“… He lied.”

Many years had passed since he had first travelled to China- and since then he had been hired to return enough times that he had to learn some basic Cantonese for himself.

The Oracle had told him how to find Maria- not that he would’ve had to try very hard. There was a job, just off the coast of Portugal that he had been asked to do, not long after he had arrived in Lisbon. He thought it to be a simple coincidence at the time and nothing more. The people who hired him to get it done probably had his plane ticket waiting at the front desk. He was just too self-absorbed to check in with them about it, but it was more likely that Paimon had gotten to it first.

But… he understood now. The demon who he called a friend, wasn’t a demon at all.

It was Pan. And Pan was playing him. He had been playing him from the very start.

If he had heard the Oracle correctly the first time, he would have known that his true love would be found. He wouldn’t have drunk himself half to death and he wouldn’t have dangled himself off the balcony of his room. And if all of that was true- then he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to consort with something like him, demon or not. Paimon-Pan- wanted him desperate. Wanted Lyrem to need him. He needed Lyrem to see him as his one and only salvation.

There, for when Maria couldn’t be.

“I need to speak to him.”

A firm hand pushed him back down in his seat. It was invisible, but strong.

“He’ll annihilate you like an ant, Lyrem. Believe me, I’ve seen it many times. You’re not the first human he’s trained this way.” Persephone cooed, softly.

“Trained?!” Lyrem repeated emphatically, insulted. “No, no… I just need to talk to him. He’s…”

“-your friend?”

Lyrem paled, and then swallowed.

“Yes! Yes, he is! And when I speak with him, then… I’m sure everything will be explained”-

He cut himself off. There was no reason for him to make excuses for Paimon. He lied to him, and he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

“Arch is with him now. You don’t think he would hurt, Arch, do you?”

Hades’ face became painted in concern for Lyrem and his friend’s well-being. He didn’t want to answer the poor man. Persephone interjected.

“He also has one of my brothers- Apollo is trapped in our realm. We have to save him from Pan. I have no idea what he’ll do to him,” Persephone turned to Hades in urgency, though, neither Hades nor Lyrem would have known it. “Uncle, this whole time we’ve assumed that it was Maria who had a connection with Pan and therefore Apollo. But how likely is it that Apollo used Arch to send his call?”

Hades lifted his eyebrows in consideration.

“If this Arch is important to Lyrem and has a connection to Pan, then it is quite likely Apollo would find a way to use them.”

“What’s his call for? Why are you searching for it in me? In my head?” Lyrem asked. “If you can explain to me what to look for then I might already know what it is. I could show it to you!”

“And that could be enough to help you find him and release him,” the sound of Persephone’s smile resounded through her words. “Once Apollo is released from his prison, he could open a door into the Labyrinth instantly and release us.

His call, it would have been something musical. Something special to you. Arch would have been present for it.”

“A song playing then? Or maybe an earworm?” Lyrem suggested.

Hades shuddered. “Oh, I don’t want to know what that looks like- if it’s anything like Opus and its iridescent coloured slime”-

“I don’t think I recall any earworms… Wait…” Lyrem had a sudden stroke of genius; something bizarre that he had remembered ever since he had met Arch several months ago. “’Everyone knows City and Colour’.” He repeated Arch’s words slowly back to himself.

“Cities and colours?,” Persephone questioned, "What do they have to do with this?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with this. However,” Lyrem refuted. A small smirk curled itself alongside his face. “I do believe Segovia might…”

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years

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Severus Snape x Reader- Starstruck (2/2)

Part 1 found here---> Ta Da

Previously:

Wand still posed against your neck he dragged you back to the abandoned house. Only when you were safe inside, having cast a protective charm on the place, did he release you. Spinning on your heel you brought your palm up to his cheek swiftly, the sound of you smacking him ringing out against the silent night. “That was for acting like a pig,” You sniffled, pride wounded.

And then, you grabbed the front of his robes, lips slanting against his, all teeth and tongue. His hands stalled just above your hips, unsure of what to do next. “And that, was for saving my life,” You panted.

Too concerned with your safe arrival it went unnoticed by all in the order, including yourself, that for the first time since he was a schoolboy, Severus Snape was a little bit flustered, and a whole lot starstruck.

You wished that you could say the days after your rescue had been peaceful and filled with bliss. In reality, you found yourself overwhelmed during the day and terrified during the night. Molly was darling and you appreciated her to no end, but you were growing weary of the questions and constant attention. When she realized you weren’t fond of answering her prodding inquiries, she pretended as if nothing was wrong. You were glad for it but you caught her long glances and pitying stares.

Sirius tried to be helpful too, having more insight on what you might’ve been through than Molly, but his attempts also fell flat. His best idea was to coax you to eat, encourage you to put the weight that you had lost from being withheld from food and water for all the time that you had been tortured and on the run. You wanted it to help but you had no appetite, but the demons in the back of your mind made your stomach churn with memories you wanted to forget.

It all came to a head one night when Arthur had joined you all for dinner. He was a bit too boisterous, a bit too excited. He was a fun and loving man and you never wanted him to change, yet the way he slammed his silverware down on the table as he told another joke you weren’t quite listening to startled you and his long and deep laughs unsettled you, reminding you of the taunting you had endured.

Your hands began to shake and you felt your heart begin to pound relentlessly. You stood, hands quivering and face pale as you looked apologetically to the friends in front of you. “Excuse me,” You squeaked, leaving no other explanation as you ran upstairs, finding the room that Sirius was allowing you to stay in “for as long as you needed” he had said.

Severus watched with what appeared to be boredom but deep beneath the surface he felt some...concern. Ever since you were a first year in Hogwarts, Severus had been able to see a fire within you, it seemed as if current events had been steadily stomping that fire out. It caused an ache in his chest where he hadn’t thought one possible.

“Oh dear,” Molly sighed beside him, worrying at her apron as she began to gather dishes. “The poor dear,”

“No use in pitying the woman,” Severus vocalized.

Molly ground her teeth together, rounded cheeks flushing red. “She’s been through-”

“I didn’t say she hasn’t been through difficult and unspeakable things,” Severus remarked, taking no time to apologize for his interruption of Molly’s oncoming scolding. “But pitying her will not take that away. Y/N needs space,”

“She needs care!” Sirius interjected. “Something I don’t think you’d know about,”

Severus bristled, his steely gaze locked on his old tormentor. “I shall be turning in for the night. The meal was filling as always Molly,” He chose his words carefully, knowing the balance in grimmauld place was an unstable one. The rest of the order let him retreat in silence, keeping their mouths closed, lips pressed together in thin lines.

Severus took the room across from yours, lingering in the hall for just a moment. He heard nothing and assumed you must have fallen asleep despite the horrors that were clearly plaguing you. You had opened his eyes to something new that he had never considered before: opening his heart again. Your kiss had left him rattled to say the least.

He told himself it was simply out of relief and appreciation but you always had a kind word for him, a sympathetic smile, when everyone else in the room only had cold shoulders and clipped sentences. You were objectively, a pretty woman. He could appreciate the shape of your body, the lilt of your voice, the edge to your wit. You had intelligence and nerve but you didn’t use it to ground others beneath your feet. Your kindness was given freely.

Which is why it had begun to pain him, pondering of the weight of your torture and how it must be eating away at you. He would take your struggles and burdens onto his own shoulders if he could and that is how Severus knew you had captured his heart. It had been decades since he had cared for anyone other than himself.

Being unable to rest, Severus took out a book and settled against his headboard for the night, his readers slipping over his nose as his head started to nod some time after ending the seventh chapter. The words blurred on the page but suddenly snapped back into focus as he heard a scream that melted into a whimper and ended with a cry. He was at full attention now as your senseless pleas and screams rang from your room.

Had you begged and cried in a similar way when you had been tortured? Severus couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Climbing from his bed he padded across the room, rough wood floors creaking beneath his feet. It seemed your cries didn’t only wake him, for when he opened his bedroom door he found Tonks and Remus peering out of their bedroom with bleary and sleep glazed eyes.

“Should we wake her?” Tonks asked, looking between Severus and her husband, a yawn tugging itself from her lungs. Remus gave Severus a long look as he closed his bedroom door behind him, taking a step forward to your room.

“I can help her,” He explained as the werewolf continued to eye him wearily.

“I thought she needed space,” Remus had an argument resting heavily on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, your voice rang out clearly, “S-severus please, help me, I’m so scared.... so scared.... They’re coming!” It seemed you were still dreaming but you had spoken. It seemed you wanted Severus.

Taking small pride in this, Severus tried to give Remus a reassuring look that appeared more like a sneer. The couple retreated back to their room as you continued to cry out into the night. Opening your door slowly, Severus surveyed the room, turning on a small lamp that stood in the far corner of the dusty bedroom. It cast a warm glow over the room that hopefully wouldn’t bee to strenuous on your eyes.

You tossed and turned in your covers, the sheets spinning themselves around your legs and your pillows having fallen to the floor. You whimpered, pressing your face into your mattress as your imagination brought up something despicable to you. Your cheeks were stained with the clear tracks of your tears and Severus prodded himself to approach you.

“Y/N,” He spoke clearly and sternly but it seemed you couldn’t hear him. “Y/N, you are only dreaming,” He tried again, hand resting gently on your shoulder as he shook you awake, the sudden and foreign rocking waking you in a panic as you shot up. Severus stepped back quickly and narrowly avoided your forehead colliding with his.

Your breaths were coming out sharp and quick and your head dashed from side to side rapidly, taking in your surroundings. You relaxed some when you realized you were in grimmauld place, safe from any death eaters that may want to harm you. “Oh god,” You cried out, dropping your head into your hands before your head popped up a second later, eyes finding Severus’ as if you were surprised to see him there. “Please tell me you were the only one I woke,”

“Then I would be lying to you,” Severus answered honestly and you grimaced, guilt filtering through you. “They don’t mind, it’s understandable that you haven’t been sleeping well,”

“And you? Do you mind?” You had to asked, wiping at the remnants of your tears that had crept past your eyes while you slept.

“If I was asleep when the commotion began, it might have caused some upset,”

“Why weren’t you asleep?”

“Why did you call out for me?” Severus asked instead, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in curiosity. Heat crept up your neck in an obvious blush and Severus liked the rosy color on you.

“I don’t remember,” You lied. You were fixed with a pointed stare and your defense crumbled. “Because you saved me, I feel better around you. You arrived in my time of need, when you’re around it feels like no one can hurt me,”

Your honesty, however slow coming, was without filter and Severus could feel his stomach flip in a pleasant way. You felt safe with him.

Sitting at the end of your bed, Severus set a steady hand on your knee and you seemed to appreciate the gesture, a small smile working it’s way on your lips. “Would you-” He began but clammed up as you continued to look at him. Shaking his head, he decided to abandon his proposition.

“Would I?” You prompted, voice still shaking from your wicked nightmares but you were starting to tease again and Severus took that as a positive sign.

“Would you- That is to say-” Severus stumbled, cheeks now rosier than yours.

“Yes I would like you stay with me,” You finished for him, hand reaching for his.

“Then I will stay,”

You held tight when he intertwined your fingers with yours as he maneuvered your bed, laying on his side and holding his arm out straight in front of him as you pressed your back against his chest that was rising and falling with slightly quickened breaths.

You kept his hand in yours and pulled his arm to rest across your waist and wrap around you. Severus relaxed and tugged you tighter against him, legs tangling with yours. “Is this only because I was the one to your rescue? If it had been someone else-”

“I didn’t want it to be anyone else,” You said simply, not leaving room for argument and too exhausted to say more.

It was all Severus needed to know as he kissed the back of your neck in a shy show of affection, the both of you drifting off into a long and peaceful rest. You dreamed of a hooked nose and inky hair while he dreamed of floral shampoo and a kind smile.

It went unsaid even as Severus crawled into your bed the next night, and the night after that- and many more nights to come- but you were both a little bit starstruck and certainly falling in love.

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary Those who might like part 2: @paigelin @starofthedawn @giveusbackourbucky @purpledragonturtles

#severus snape #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #fluff #awkward snape #same tho #drabble

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