#couldn’t find more pictures but almost every part of the castle has stacks of books

[caitlynmeow]

ok I’ve been going through the castle again and there are so many books everywhere!! it’s very clear that house Dimitrescu is well educated and the daughters do love to read all kinds of books like- it’s not just a few books but there stacks of books everywhere and I love that for the girls really. Just three little bookworms enjoying their books in every corner of the castle this is just so precious.

[entishramblings]

The Restricted Section [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: hey guys! sO I ended up getting like super into this one-shot and it got a little off track but I feel as if it still matches up to the request! Also I do lowkey mention some “first age lore” but I pulled it out of my ass.....just go with it tho it’s fanfiction lol

Request: Anon — I've been seeing your AMAZING writing pop up on my dash and I love it!!!! If you're not too busy (and no pressure at all to write this in a timely manner), could you possibly write a short one-shot of Legolas' reaction to unexpectedly finding someone sketching him? Bonus points if the sketch is really good, and EXTRA bonus points (and digital cookies!!) if he secretly has a crush on the person sketching? Again, no pressure!!!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is Greenwood’s library archivist. Legolas comes to do some research. goddamn why does this summary sound dirty??

Word Count: 2,840

Warnings: none

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

Being Greenwood’s Archivist for the thousands upon thousands of treasured papers, scrolls, and books did have its perks one could say. (Y/N) not only wanted to be immersed in the secrets and stories of the world, but she was required to. She spent much of her time reading and cataloguing—not that she minded considering the knowledge she had obtained was vast and fruitful. Furthermore, she was basically permitted to do whatever she wished given that she only had to give reports to the King every couple of weeks. This left her with much appreciated free time.

Currently, the Greenwood castle was hushed as every elf was sound asleep, basking in their own dreams and memories, well...almost every elf. (Y/N) was wide awake. Her favorite time of the solar cycle was the silent hours of the night; because, here in the darkness of the sky, there was nothing more enticing than being alone in the vast silence of written secrets—especially when no one was around to catch you sneaking a peek in the restricted section.

(Y/N)’s preferred spot in the library was a very specific little nook for a handful of reasons. First of all, it was lined with tall shelves filled with different volumes and ledgers that created a private and secluded feeling. Furthermore, the lucky position of these paper-filled towers allowed for a clear eye-line to the main area of the library—an eye-line that could not be seen from outside the special little cranny. This, of course, was perfect for handling prohibited materials. Lastly, she was adjacent to a large stone fireplace where light and warmth were compelled to pour into her form. (Y/N) appreciated this, especially during the coldness of the winter months.

So here Greenwood’s Archivist sat, curled into a dark cushioned armchair within a shrouded crevice of the Library, sketching the forbidden monsters from first age lore.

The faint scrapping sound of charcoal against yellowing paper faded into the crackling of the flames while (Y/N) skillfully manipulated the material in her small, leather-bound, sketchbook. Every so often, she would pause to take a sip from the tea cup that she placed on one of bookshelves. The flavor of the warm liquid melded into the woman’s mouth; the taste of ginger and cloves folded around her tongue and initiated a warm sensation throughout her body. She really did feel at peace in this moment, cloaked in the secrets of the night.

However, that tranquility was reshaped into alarm at the sound of the large wooden doors creaking open. (Y/N) stopped her sketching and cautiously peeked through the shelves. Her lips parted and her brows furrowed when her eyes rested on the intruder.

What could the Prince of Greenwood want from the library at this hour?

(Y/N)’s eyes widened when yet another thought crossed her mind.

What would the Prince of Greenwood do if he saw a book—a restricted book—in her grasp?

Quietly, the archivist tucked the dusty green volume under the armchair and turned her sketchbook to an unmarked page. But, before she started sketching something new, her curiousness compelled her to watch the Prince.

(Y/N) smiled softly as Legolas’s calloused hand gently stroked the leather spins of every book as he strolled through the aisles. His brilliant blue eyes wandered across each title, clearly searching for something. His dark brows furrowed when he reached the end of the shelf, apparently not finding what he had been looking for. The Prince continued weaving his way between stacks of books until he was directly on the other side of (Y/N)’s shelf.

The young woman held her breath as her heart pounded.

What if he caught her in here?

She inwardly chided herself. Why would she—the archivist—get in trouble for being in the library? This was her domain, her job. Her anxieties were completely unrational.

(Y/N)’s frantic thoughts froze when one of the books began to slide away.

Still unaware of her presence, Legolas opened it to read the text on the first page. It seemed that he was content with his selection for he turned on his heal. The Prince made his was to the center of the library and sat down at one of the tables that was lit with candlelight.

After a couple moments, (Y/N) quietly stood up and walked towards the shelf. She laid her hand on the now spacious gap. The young woman frowned. He had taken a book on forestry—the sickness index. Was there something going on within the trees of her home?

Deciding to push her concerns aside, for now that is, she snuggled back into the comfort of the armchair.

From her position she was able to see the elvish prince clearly.

A little grin stretched across (Y/N)’s lips. She picked up her charcoal once more and began to sketch the outline of his form. As time went on, she shaded in the curves of his jaw, the bend of his lip, and the scowl upon his brow. It was coming together quite nicely.

She did not know how much time had past, but when she looked up from her sketch Legolas was gone. (Y/N) tilted her head slightly in confusion.

She was just looking at him.

He wouldn’t leave a burning candle and opened book unattended, would he?

The sound of paper-filled leather sliding from the shelf behind her made the archivist turn quickly. The person on the other side had sensed her movement and peaked through the hole where the book had previously rested.

“My apologies, Archivist (Y/N). I knew not that you were here.”

The young woman stuttered out a response, “Oh um, it is alright, My Prince. I....I...was just—

A smirk pulled at his pink lips when his gaze landed on her open sketchbook. “Is that me?” He questioned.

(Y/N) cheeks began to heat as she slammed the sketchbook closed, “No.”

He raised an eyebrow before walking around the tower of books that was between them.

When he entered the tiny nook he looked around at her set up—stacks of many books and ledgers piled high upon the floor, a thick blanket dangling off the armchair, and a hot cup of tea upon one of the shelves.

“I almost forgot about this space. It’s quite cozy with the fire, is it not?” He said.

Legolas made his was towards her and gently held out his hand. Nodding at the leather-bound sketchbook, he spoke, “May I?”

She couldn’t exactly refuse the Prince, now could she?

Wordlessly she passed it to him.

Ever so carefully he began to flip through the pages—birds, horses, forestry, flowers, creeks, pillars, stones, and, of course, people. There were a handful of sketches of elves that he recognized as maids and servants—likely her friends, he guessed. Additionally, there was a fair amount of pictures of the guards and even one of his father. The coroner of his lip pulled upwards again when he found one of himself, and another, and another. His expression then changed to surprised amusement at what looked to be a demon. Strange. He shot her a playful look and by her reaction he was sure she knew which sketch he was looking at. Legolas continued studying the charcoal art pieces until he turned to last marked page—to the one she had just completed: him.

“These are quite good, (Y/N). Have you ever considered abandoning the library for art?”

“Well, no. It is just a hobby of mine, I suppose.”

He nodded and handed the sketchbook back to her, “And the demon?”

“Ahh yes....um, well....”

She glanced down at the floor as she stuttered. Anxiety flashed across her eyes at the sight of the corner of the green volume peaking out. She kicked it under the chair quickly.

However, her action did not escape the observation of the Prince. Yet again, he raised a brow.

Legolas knelt down and tugged the book out. He read the title aloud, “First Age Index, Volume IV. Morgoth’s Experimentation.” A deep chuckle escaped Legolas’s chest, which of course was not the reaction (Y/N) had been expecting. The Prince spoke again, clearly entertained by the situation. “Let me guess—from the restricted section.”

“Of course not!”

Legolas stifled a laugh. “(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?” She responded while avoiding his gaze.

“You are a terrible liar.”

The young woman looked up at him, “I—I am not!”

Legolas rolled his eyes. However, the playful expression faltered and his face instantly melted into what looked to be a sudden realization.

He swiftly stood up and tapped his palm against the cover of the book. “Does the restricted section have lore on earth sickness and forest disease from the first and second age?”

“I—erm...I haven’t been in the restricted section, My Lord,” she stammered.

He shook his head, “Again, (Y/N). You are a terrible liar.”

She sighed in defeat before speaking reluctantly, “It does.”

“Take me to it.”

The Archivist led him towards the gated shadow-ridden corridor and stood still.

Legolas offered her a sideways glance.

She sighed; now her days of browsing the forbidden knowledge were over.

(Y/N) pressed her finger against the lock and slammed a closed fist on the latch. It instantly creaked open.

The Prince’s eyes shown with amusement but she just shrugged and stepped through the gate.

He was enjoying this way too much.

They walked into the circular room; light poured in from a high window, showing the dust dancing through the stale air. (Y/N) led him straight to the section he had requested. She then began to pull out books, ledgers, and scrolls; placing them in Legolas’s arms until they were piled high to his chin.

The two then exited the restricted section and (Y/N) locked up the gate once more.

Legolas then followed the young elven woman towards the table he had previous occupied. The Prince carefully set the overflowing stack of knowledge down. He opened one of the books and skimmed the beginning index before speaking.

“Ada (father) did not believe me when I said something has been stirring in our forest. My senses pick up a darkness nearing for the trees have gone silent and the animals run west. Yet, the insects increase—specifically the spiders.”

She frowned.

Interesting. Interesting indeed.

The archivist rocked on her heals for a moment, contemplating asking the question that persisted in her mind. “So, does this mean I am not in trouble for reading the restricted section?”

Legolas shrugged, “What Ada (father) doesn’t know, can’t make him angry. Besides, this is too important.”

(Y/N) hopped up onto the table and sat with her legs dangling over the edge. She grabbed a book from the pile and began reading.

What was making their forest sick?

.....

Legolas and many members of the guard had just arrived back in Greenwood after patrolling the east end of the forest. The Prince sat in the armory ridding himself of the countless weapons that clung to his body. He let his thoughts wander as he did so.

Two months had past since he had come across (Y/N) sketching in the library; and ever since, the two elves had met every night—well every night that Legolas was not on patrol. They had moved from researching at the table to scrutinizing in the comfort of (Y/N)’s favorite crevice of the library. The archivist sat in her leather armchair while the prince rested on the floor, leaning against a bookcase. The space was quite cramped, but he didn’t mind. Besides, it allowed him to study (Y/N) as she sketched and read. He would be lying if he said his heart did not yearn for her.

Additionally, the formality of titles between them was left behind as the two had become quite close. Legolas appreciated this; often many treated him differently because of his royalty, but not (Y/N). Furthermore, no longer was she concerned about the repercussions of reading material from the restricted section. Besides, if Thranduil somehow found out and was to punish her for it, he would have to punish his son.

“Prince Legolas!”

He looked up as his name was called. Legolas offered a warm smile to the guard who spoke. “Meludir, I trust patrol went well for you?”

The dark hair ellon nodded in response. “Are you going to the library after this?”

Legolas shrugged, “Perhaps.”

A light laugh fell from Meludir’s lips, “To see (Y/N)?”

The Prince’s brows furrowed. “Well, she is helping me with some research.”

Meludir smirked, “Research hmm? You are aware there has been some whispers flying around?”

Legolas tilted his head in confusion.

“Well, you spend much time with her. Enough to end up in her sketchbook—on multiple pages.”

The blonde elf bit back a smile. Of course Legolas was aware that during their research (Y/N) would put down the scrolls and ledgers and pick up charcoal and paper; and, quite frankly, he did not mind. But he was unaware of how Meludir knew if this so he opted to ask. “How do you know of her sketches?”

Meludir grinned, “I may have stumbled across it in the library very late one night.” He paused, “You can imagine my surprise when I went to find light reading material but came across the Prince and the Archivist throwing books at each other’s heads.”

Legolas looked down at his dirt ridden boots to hide the smiled that surfaced from that memory.

This of course did not escape Meludir’s gaze. The young ellon chuckled at his superior’s behavior and clapped him on the shoulder. “Best you head over there then.”

.....

The sun had set and the moon had taken its place. Legolas strutted into the library after he had washed up and changed into fresh clothes. He quickly made his way to the little nook filled with all their research.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned when he came to an empty space.

“Over here!”

He whipped his head around to see the young archivist thirty feet up a ladder; she was reaching for a book that rested near the rafters.

She called out to him again, “Come catch this!”

He walked towards her until he stood at the foot of the ladder. (Y/N) then let the heavy book fall through the still air; it landed perfectly in the prince’s waiting hands.

The archivist grasped onto two more books before gracefully climbing down. “Come on then, we must get reading. The sun won’t stop rising for us.”

She plopped down in her armchair and Legolas sat in his usual spot across from her. After a couple hours of endless reading and research, (Y/N) gasped.

“Legolas! I have found it!”

His head shot up, “What?”

“The—the sickness...the darkness. What you have described to me is exactly what a scribe wrote in an old Quenya dialect: Telerin. I’ve been translating it.” She stated as she moved the position of one of the three books in her lap. “It says it right here. Before the rise of Sauron.....animals fleeing, insect population stirring, trees going silent—“ (Y/N) stood up in excitement. “I found it, Legolas! I found it!”

The Prince leapt to his feet. Full of emotion, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her form up. He spun around quickly as little laughs left the woman’s lips.

Legolas set her down, but did not remove his arms from around her waist. “After all this time of researching....you—you did it!” He paused, “You are very brilliant, you know that (Y/N)?”

She shrugged, “Well, I don’t—“

He interrupted her, “You are, (Y/N). You are. You know this library as I know the woods. You were able to make connections between books and scrolls that I never would have seen. You were able to analyze data and translate languages with no trouble. You are incredibly intelligent....and I admire that.”

The young woman’s eyes drew to the floor and her cheeks heated.

“(Y/N)...” Legolas whispered while cupping her chin.

He lifted her face and the air seemed to still between them as their eyes locked.

“Legolas, I—“ She whispered.

He did not let her finish. He gently pressed his pink lips against hers and (Y/N) instantly responded. The earthy smell of dirt and trees filled the archivist’s nostrils as paper and fire filled the prince’s. It was almost hypnotic. As the two let their mouths dance against each other slowly, reality melted away. Legolas pulled her form closer and she obliged. (Y/N) snaked her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his loose blonde locks. The Prince let his hands wander down her back and across her hips, feeling every curve. The young woman could not help but feel a wave of warmth wash over her for she had craved this. The kiss was calm, gentle, and full of innocent love.

When the two reluctantly pulled away for air, (Y/N) rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“Do you know what this means, Legolas?” She whispered.

“You heart craves mine as much as mine craves yours?” He responded quietly.

“Well yes, but no....I meant about the forest. The sickness—it’s darkness. Sauron’s darkness. He is returning.”

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary

Legolas Tag: @dark-angel-is-back

If you wanna be in the tag list lmk

[thebadgerclan]

Transformation

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (Marauders Era)

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Remus is suspicious of how much time you’re spending with Sirius...

@once-upon-an-imagine​

(I know I’m tagging someone in this, but I just want to say that I will not be making tag list, sorry!)

A/N: there’s a picture of your animagus form at the end, it’s soooo pretty

Also this got pretty long, but I’m really happy with how it turned out 😊

Sirius set a stack of books on the table before you, a serious expression on his face.  “Alright, here’s everything I could find on Animagi,” he said, sitting down next to you.  “Are you sure about this?”  You nodded.  You’d never been more sure about anything else in your life.  You hated seeing Remus suffer every month and knowing there was nothing you could do.  All you wanted was to be with your man while he transformed, but it was too dangerous.  But when you expressed this to Sirius, he mentioned that he, James, and Peter were Animagi and they went with Remus every full moon to help him.

So that’s exactly what you decided to do, and with Sirius’ help, you knew you’d complete the transformation quicker than they had.  “Positive,” you responded, and Sirius reached into his pocket.  In his hand was a Mandrake leaf, and you took it.  “It has to go in on the full moon,” he explained.  “And you can take it out on the next full.  After that, you have to put it in a vial that ‘receives the pure rays of the moon’.  I’ll explain more when we get closer to those steps.”  “Thank you, Sirius, really.”  “Of course.  Me and James will help you whenever you need it.”

You slipped the small vial containing the leaf in your pocket just as Remus entered the common room.  He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, kissing your temple.  “Hey Rem,” you greeted happily, and Remus nuzzled his face into your neck.  “Bad day?”  He shook his head, tightening his arms around you.  “Not really.  Moony’s really agitated, he needs his mate near him.”  You coaxed his face from your neck and kissed him.  “I’m here, Rem.  Right here.”  He hummed contentedly, and you gave Sirius a knowing look, as if to say “This is why I’m doing this.”  But Remus saw that look, and while he tried not to read too much into it, but Moony snarled possessively.

***

Two days later, you were up in your dorm, the Mandrake leaf in hand.  The full moon was shining overhead, and James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius had left for the Shrieking Shack a few hours ago.  You heard Moony howl in the distance, and you placed the leaf in your mouth, pocketing it between your upper teeth and cheek.  Hyper aware of the leaf now that you couldn’t remove it, you laid down and fell into a fitful sleep.  The next morning you went to the hospital wing to see your boyfriend.  He was propped up in his usual bed, eyes closed in slumber.  

You sat next to him, taking his hand, and his eyes fluttered open.  “Hey love,” he said, voice rough.  “Hey.  How was it?”  “Bad, but it’s always bad.  Missed you.  Moony was going a bit mad without you.”   “I’m sorry, baby.  I wish there was something I could do.”  Remus squeezed your hand, bringing it to his lips.  “Having you here is enough.  I love you, Y/N.”  “I love you too, Rem.”

***

He noticed almost immediately: you were quieter since the last full, almost silent.  That and you weren’t eating much, picking at your food and pushing it around the plate.  “Are you feeling alright, darling?” Remus asked one night at dinner.  It was your favorite, and yet, you’d hardly touched it.  “Hm?  Yeah, I’m fine.”  The truth was, you were fearful of talking or eating more than was necessary in case you swallowed the Mandrake leaf or let it fall out.  Sirius smirked, stifling a laugh behind his napkin.  You smiled at him, and Remus furrowed his brow, a feeling of dread filling him.  Something was going on, but he just couldn’t tell what.  But somehow, he knew it involved Sirius.  

***

There was a note on your nightstand the morning after the next full moon along with a small vial.  Y/N, you can take the leaf out of your mouth now and put it in here.  I left it on the top of the astronomy tower last night so it’s been in the moon rays.  Tonight I’ll show you where you can get the dew for the vial.  It has to be from a place where no light or people have been from a  week. After that, you just add one of your hairs and the chrysalis of a Death’s Head Hawkmoth to it and put it in a dark place.  I’ll explain more later.  -Sirius.

Relieved that the month had passed, you peeled the leaf from your mouth and pushed it into the vial.  You locked it in your trunk and got dressed, getting ready to go about your day.  That night, Sirius, as promised, came up to your dorm to show you where you could get the dew.  Remus was well enough this month to leave the hospital wing, and as he was making his way back to the Gryffindor common room, you and Sirius were going to the grounds.

“What are you two up to?” Remus asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.  “Oh, hi Remus.  Sirius is just helping me with a Care of Magical Creatures assignment.”  “At 9 o’clock at night?”  “Yeah, we figured there'd be less people around.”  Remus bit back a snide remark.  “Alright.  See you tomorrow then.”  “See you, Rem.  I love you!”  You went to him and kissed him, which alleviated a bit of Remus’ anxieties.  “I love you too, Y/N.”

You parted ways, and Sirius led you onto the grounds and into the forest.  “Just around here,” he said, turning left and going down a small hill.  “Okay, it’s down there.”  Sirius pointed to a hole in the ground that you couldn’t see the bottom of.  “It looks deeper than it is, I promise.”  You took a deep breath and nodded, taking out your wand.  You sat on the ground on the edge of the hole.  Without hesitating, you pushed forward, falling three feet before hitting the bottom.  

Lighting your wand, you found a small pool of water, and you pulled the vial with the leaf and a silver teaspoon from your pocket.  You added the dew to the vial before corking it again and climbed from the hole.  Sirius was holding another vial when you emerged, this one containing the Death’s Head Hawkmoth.  You uncorked the vial and let him add it, plucking a hair from your head and adding it as well, corking it again.

“What now?”  “Well, now you put the vial in a dark quiet place and leave it there until the next electrical storm,” Sirius explained as you made your way back to the castle.  “In the meantime, every morning and night, and sunup and sundown, you have to put your wand over your heart and repeat the incantation: ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’.  After a while, you’ll feel a second heartbeat when you say it.”  You’d arrived back at the castle and were now at the door to the Gryffindor common room.  Sirius gave the password and entered, you following behind him.

“Know where you’re gonna hide it?”  “I do, actually.”  “Good.”  Remus was slouched in one of the armchairs, completely out of sight but able to hear everything.  “Thank you for everything, Sirius.  I couldn’t do this without you.”  “Of course, Y/N, it’s nothing.  Night.”  “Night, Sirius.”  Remus heard the portrait hole open and close and Sirius ascend the stairs to the dorm, and he felt tears fall from his eyes.  You were cheating on him, cheating on Remus with his best friend.

***

A week passed, each morning and night you repeated the incantation with your wand over your heart.  The double heartbeat was terrifying at first, but you took it in stride.  Then, one day at lunch, the bright, sunny day turned cloudy, and lightning streaked across the sky.  “Y/N,” Sirius gasped, and you stood from the table and bolted from the Hall.  “Care to explain?” Remus asked, but Sirius shook his head.  “It’s not my place to say.”  

You ran as fast as you could to the seventh floor corridor, pacing thrice before the wall.  I need to get to my vial you repeated in your head, and when the door appeared, you threw it open and sealed it shut behind you.  There was a small cabinet on the floor, the rest of the room was a large open grassy space, specifically made for your transformation.  You opened the cabinet, crying out in joy.  The dew, leaf, hear, and moth had turned into a blood red liquid, just as Sirius had said.

Touching the tip of your wand to your chest, you repeated the incantation: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” and drank the potion.  You dropped your wand and the vial as you screamed in pain, feeling as if there was a second heart beating in your chest.  Then, the image of a cross fox, its fur a beautiful combination of orange and black, entered your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile.  

You felt yourself shoot downward, your hands and feet changing shape, and your nose elongating.  You opened your eyes, they’d shut from the pain, and you were about a foot from the ground.  There was a mirror directly in front of you, and you saw your form for the first time.  You had done it, you’d finally transformed!  You shouted with glee, which as a fox, sounded like a yipping noise.  Calming yourself, you focused on your human form, and you felt yourself shift back.  

Grabbing your wand from where it rested on the ground, you ran from the room, a massive smile on your face.  Sirius was waiting outside, clearly eager to hear how it had gone.  “I did it!” you exclaimed, and Sirius broke out in a smile.  “Y/N!  That’s amazing!”  He pulled you into a hug, elated for you.  But at that moment, Remus had come up the stairs, his heart plummeting into his stomach.

“Y/N?” he said, sounding simultaneously heartbroken and enraged.  You left Sirius’ embrace, your smile falling when you saw the look on his face.  “Remus, I-”  “What are you doing?  Are you cheating on me with him?”  You couldn’t help but laugh, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.  “No!  Why would you say that?”  “You’ve been sneaking around with him, not telling me what you’re up to, looking at each other like you know something I don’t.

“I heard you the other night.  Sirius asked you if you knew where you were hiding ‘it’.  You said you did.  After the last full, you were going out onto the grounds, and I know it wasn’t for class.  Y/N, if you’re cheating on me, just tell me, don’t lie to me.”  “Remus, baby, no, please.  I’m not cheating on you, I would never cheat on you!”  “Then what the hell have you been doing?!”  He looked at Sirius, but he shook his head.  “Y/N, it’s your decision.”  “Tell me!” Remus shouted, immediately regretting his anger.

“Alright,” you said, stepping forward.  “I’ll show you.”  You paced before the wall three times, the door to the Room of Requirement appearing.  “What are you doing?”  “Trust me, Remus?  Do you still trust me?”  “I do,” he said at once, following you into the room.  Once inside, you closed your eyes, focusing on the image of the cross for, and you felt yourself shift.  Remus gasped, and you opened your eyes, looking up at him.

Remus crouched before you, and you padded over to him, sniffing his hand and crawling into his lap.  He began stroking your soft fur, and you purred.  After a few moments, you crawled out of his lap and shifted back.  Remus was crying, his face in his hands, and you knelt before him.  “I wanted to become an Animagus to help you during the fulls,” you explained, coaxing his face from his hands.  “Sirius had been helping me with the transformation where he could.  Remus, I’m so sorry you thought I was cheating on you, I would never hurt you like that.  I love you, Remus, so much, and I did this for you.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry I ever thought you’d cheat on me.  I love you so much, baby.  I love you, I love you, I love you.  Thank you for doing this, you have no idea how much this means to me, you being there will make the fulls so much easier.  I love you.”  “I love you too, Remus, I love you so much.”  You stayed in his lap for a while, letting Remus hold you, kissing your head.  Sirius had left the room, a smile on his face.  Remus’ heart had gone from nearly shattering to being fuller than it had been in years, now that he knew you could now be with him when he needed you most.

[howling-harpy]

A gift from the heart

Pairing: Malarkey & Skip Rating: G

Word count: 2520 Summary: Skip and Don have a day in Paris, and they are on an important quest. [ao3]

A/N: Happy birthday @lyselkatz! This is for you, I hope it’s to your liking.

*

Skip had clearly taken his pass to Paris with a plan in mind. “You have got to help me find the perfect present for her!” he begged as soon as Don walked up to meet him, his hands crossed in a prayer that was surely blasphemous. “What is she going to do with a present at this point?” Don argued back. “You’re shipping yourself back home soon enough.” His heart wasn’t in it, not really. He was arguing more for the sake of arguing, but it was true that they had this one afternoon off and their chances of success were pretty slim.

Paris was a great place to rest and pretend to work at an airplane exhibition, the city was nearly bursting with emotion and will to go back to peacetime, and any heartsick soldier was bound to find something good to send back home to his sweetheart. Don wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk his way out of a shopping trip, or was he simply relieved about Skip’s energy and how he displayed it despite the broken arm and cuts and bruises and drawing the banter out. “With that attitude you will be very unlucky in love!” Skip declared. “My mom said that men who think of themselves as the greatest of gifts will find themselves very lonely indeed, and I plan to make the most of this mortal life and make sure that my girl has nice things!” “Fine then, since you’re the romance expert out of the two of us,” Don gave in and finally allowed a grin to spread on his face. “But what would she like to have?” “That’s why I need help,” Skip said, raising a finger to make an important point. “I’m the romance expert, yes, but small gifts are not my area of expertise.” The thought both did and didn’t make sense, but Don was past arguing over the title of romance expert and instead tried to think of the kind of gifts girls liked. His idea of a good time was an ice cream date and listening to good music, but that was something you did in person, not wrap in brown paper and ship across an ocean. “Uh… Perhaps a good record?” Don said uncertainly. That was more like something he would have liked to unwrap himself and then be delighted about how well his girl knew him, but it was a thought. “Nah, I’d get you a record,” Skip said, nudging Don’s side with his elbow, and flashed him a knowing smile. “No, this has to be a Faye Tanner-gift. I can’t give her a Don Malarkey-gift.” Don shrugged, then gestured at the streets lined with shop windows all around them. “Maybe we should ask around?” If possible, Skip brightened up even more. He seemed to be almost trembling with excitement and ready to explore the city. “That’s great! But we need some places to hit. Make it a proper mission.” Don smiled indulgently. He had had enough of missions and objectives for a lifetime, but Skip was feeling as playful as ever and he knew it was a joke, so he allowed it. “Alright, fine,” he said, then paused to think. “Let’s think some things that she likes and what she’d like to get, and then think where we’ll find it.” “Oh yes. A guest for a true love’s gift! Onwards!” Don smiled for real then. That made it sound like an adventure in a jungle or perhaps across castles and fields and forests instead of an all too real endeavour in current time with real consequences. It almost felt like they could have been friends since they were children and run wild in the woods playing adventurers and wild children. Together, they took to the streets of Paris, Don leading the way as he sometimes knew where they were and where they were going. The list of things that Faye might have liked was growing slowly: Something distinctly European, something pretty or something sweet. Something pretty would have probably been their best bet, given both could recall a dozen times a girl back home had referenced European fashion or make up, but that was quickly becoming a dead end for them. Post-war Paris was many things and there was no doubt about fashion coming back, but right then it wasn’t exactly a priority. At least not at a reasonable price. There were shops open and some driftier places sold many mismatched piles of treasures Parisian ladies had no doubt emptied from their closets while trying to make the ends meet, but Skip and Don quickly realized they didn’t know enough to make a good judgement about them. “This is just… Not Faye!” Skip huffed as they strolled down the street after the fourth shop. “She is pretty and I think she wears cute clothes too, but it’s just… Not like this.” Don didn’t know about fashion either, just of what looked pretty to him, but looking at Skip and knowing him he could imagine Faye was probably not the beauty queen type. “Okay, forget about dresses and hats,” Don thought out loud. “How about a ribbon? Or a scarf? Or jewellery?” Skip thought it over, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t really do her hair, says it gets soaked and flops down anyway, so why bother.” “Okay, so something distinctly European then.” Aside from the airplane exhibition Don was consulting at, several other local cultural exhibits were also opening. Curators at Louvre had apparently cried when their looted treasures started to return in their collection from Germany, and museums and galleries had started to open again, even if only to clean and air the premises. It seemed people missed beauty in their lives, and Don couldn’t fault them on that. They all did. Still, the only thing sold at Louvre were postcards and other souvenirs. There was a certain charm to them, and perhaps sending some cool trinket home along with perhaps some photos and a letter with loving regards would do. Faye sounded like a girl who appreciated the personal touch and the thought more than anything material, so a breeze of culture from France might be the thing they were after. There were plenty of soldiers buzzing around the museum and the park, plenty of them apparently caught by the same idea, everyone trying to decide which artwork was the most suitable one to convey one’s feelings. Skip didn’t pay too much attention to anyone there, but Don had learned to recognize plenty of soldiers by their uniform, and a familiar one drew his attention right away. “Hey! Lieutenant!” Don called out as he recognized a familiar profile and a set of broad shoulders. “Do you know what’s the best gift for your lover?” Lipton jumped in surprise when he was spoken to and nearly dropped the stack of postcards depicting some old, cracked paintings of Roman soldiers. “My what?” he asked, immediately flustered. Skip giggled and skipped over to join them. “Not yours, sir,” he cackled, the entire idea absurd, “we’re trying to find something for Faye before I go home. She will feed me to her cats if I don’t send her a nice present beforehand.” “Oh,” Lipton said and cleared his throat, awkward and jittery on the spot. He set the postcards back to the holder and turned his back to the photographs of Roman generals and Greeks in aggressive military formations. “A wise choice,” Skip solemnly advised him with a heavy nod. “I don’t think any girl will like those. You ought to pick something more… Elegant! Beautiful! Something European.” Lipton smiled politely and shrugged. “Technically Roman Empire used to cover most of the continent what we now call Europe, and what we even consider Europe varies through history.” When Skip and Don just stared at him, he became flustered again. “I… Uh, I’ve been listening to some radio programs at night,” he explained. Skip laughed again. “Getting a history lecture is just about the most boring thing I can imagine doing in bed,” he chuckled, and Don joined in for the plain amusement of the mental image. Lipton lowered his eyes and blushed scarlet. “Well, to each their own,” he allowed diplomatically while swaying on the heels of his boots.   “Sure, sir,” Don said, then reeled them back on topic. “But the gift! Skip needs a gift for Faye.” “Oh, right,” Lipton said, visibly more at ease now that the attention was turning away from him. “Well… I don’t know Ms. Tanner, but you do, so you should use that. Whatever the gift is, the most important thing is that it makes her feel like you have listened to her and know what she likes.” “Uh-huh,” Skip said, and Don nodded along. It was a wise piece of advice, but not concrete enough to actually help them. Judging by Lipton’s smile, he realized exactly the same thing and shook his head at their impatience. Don was almost ready to appoint Lipton as the new romance expert if it wasn’t for his choice of Roman art and Greek pottery. Lipton sighed. “There’s a postcard of just about every European masterpiece here. Why don’t you look at those and pick one that makes you think of her?” Even though Lipton slipped away with a postcard depicting Marcus Crassus battling the rebel leader Spartacus, his advice was actually good, and Skip and Don started browsing the many pictures of various beautiful ladies and princesses and queens. They didn’t understand about the styles or periods but trusted their own eyes to tell what was really beautiful. Momentarily Skip was taken with a painting of a golden-haired woman wrestling a large book from a brown eagle with two heads, but even if beautiful she was too distressed, and the painting was too dramatic anyway. Eventually Skip picked up a postcard depicting a fairly modest painting of a girl dressed in simple clothes and a blue scarf on her head. She couldn’t have been more than ordinary, but the longer you looked at her gentle eyes and lips parted like in a half thought out question as she looked at you over her shoulder, the more convinced you became that she was by far not only the most beautiful but also the most intriguing of all women pictured there. “This one,” Skip said as he held the card. “She looks a bit like her too.” Still, having a simple postcard wasn’t a gift yet. It was a greeting, a simple souvenir, and it needed something more, so the quest went on. “What does she like?” Don asked Skip again as they strolled through the gardens outside of Louvre. “I think that based on all your tales of your bets and highjinks all I know is what she doesn’t like, and that’s you being an idiot.” Skip threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe so! Well, let’s see… Faye likes… Me. Cats. Baseball. Homemade pies. Milkshakes. Dancing. Pretty normal stuff, I’d say.” Just a normal girl, with normal interests, she seemed to be. Don was again at loss. It was a beautiful and hot summer day, and there was a small café on the street by the garden, and just the sight of it made them both feel suddenly thirsty and their sweet tooths ache. Mostly the café was serving coffee in tiny cups, but their display was also showing signs of revival as they served cakes, flaky pastries and chocolate treats. The prices were high and there wasn’t enough to fill the display completely, but what there was looked delicious and made with great care. They got two small éclairs because they looked nice in the window and the little sign in front of the tray had the word “chocolat” in it, and with their little treats they ventured back to the streets. Don was almost used to French baked goods after three weeks in Paris, but Skip savoured his from the very first bite. It was no wonder, the soft, fluffy dough alone was a treat, but the chocolate icing that cracked softly when you bit into the pastry was perfect, and from the face he made Don could tell that Skip hadn’t expected the cream filling. Skip chewed on the éclair slowly with his head tipped back towards the sun, and for a moment Don led him by the arm because he refused to look in front of him. “If only I could send something like this back to the States for her,” Skip sighed around a mouthful. “That would solve literally all my problems. Get a box of these or those little pink cookie things and that would be it. Too bad they wouldn’t make it to the States.” “You’re right, but maybe something else might,” Don said, his eyes already scanning for another shop. “Something sweet would do nicely.” They had to try a few shops for what they were looking for, but eventually Skip managed to find a metal tin filled with hard fruit toffees in candy wrappers. The candy itself wasn’t an extraordinary delicacy like fresh pastries were, but just as important was the beautiful tin they came in. It was like two gifts in one, European candy and a new decorative tin for buttons or letters or whatever Faye fancied. It was nearing evening, and Don had an early morning ahead of him and Skip had to report back to his commanding officer too, but the quest wasn’t yet done. “Don’t forget to wrap it up nicely too,” Don reminded Skip. “Sure, the postal office will put it in brown paper, but that’s not good enough for a gift for your girl. You got to at least find a ribbon to go under the boring paper and string so that she knows you’ve thought about it.” “Good point,” Skip said. “I’m sure I’ll find someone with a ribbon to trade – even something that doesn’t belong in some another dame’s underwear set. Thanks for the tip.” “Sure,” Don said. “Should I see you back to the station?” “No, that’s okay, I’ll find my own way,” Skip said. It was sensible that way. Don’s hotel was in the opposite direction and if he were to walk with Skip, he’d triple his own walk, and Skip knew it too and wouldn’t accept such a bother. Still it felt bad to part ways before they had to since things were uncertain, a discharge and a ticket home might come at a day’s notice, and then they wouldn’t see each other again. Not being able to say goodbye loomed over Don and kept him lingering. Skip seemed to sense it from him, because he smiled and reached to gently touch his arm. “Don’t worry, we’re headed in the same direction eventually. And when we get to the States, I’ll mail you the best present you can imagine.” Don was implored to smile, and despite the melancholy played along. “Really? What’s that?” Skip grinned bright as a summer sun, spread his arms and gestured at himself.

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (3/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General Audiences, no warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 3/? (2262 words)

Author’s notes : Eris starts to explore, and starts to understand castle and Count both hold some mysteries she is not sure she wants to resolve.

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My eyes fluttered open, and it took me a second to make sense of my surroundings. Sitting up with some difficulty, the soft mattress seemingly trying to keep me in, I set the covers aside, and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. The room was bathed in a strange light, almost green, and if the rain had stopped, the sky was still low with bulging clouds, threatening to burst open at any moment. The fire in the hearth had died out, only leaving a few red coals to shimmer softly.

I changed back into my new outfit. My usual clothes might have dried out overnight, but I had to admit I really loved the skirt. It had pockets, for hell’s sake. I had no idea what time it was, the dark skies making it impossible to assess the position of the sun. I figured if I were going to do anything, I might as well go check on the damage in my bag, which I decided to forget about last night. I left the room, trying to find my way back to the main hall. After a few hesitations and turnbacks, I finally found the main stairs, and reached my bag, still sitting near the door. As I feared, most of everything was soaked, even the food I’d taken with me. Had to throw that out, at some point. I found my phone, that I had miraculously put in a waterproof case. Still working, though on concerningly low battery, and had no signal. I sighed, and set it to extreme batter saver mode, hoping it would last until I could get back to civilisation.

I grabbed my remaining clothes to have them dry with the rest, and went to the dining room. There, the fire was still going strong, with a couple of fresh logs. At the end of the large banquet table, I was surprised to see a steaming pot of tea, and a plate of something close to scones, I believe. It was accompanied by a sheet of thick, high quality paper, folded in half to stand on its own, marked with my name in a neat, graceful handwriting.

“Dear Eris, I expect you had a pleasant sleep. I have left for the most of the day, and will certainly not return before dark. Please enjoy some breakfast, as you must surely be famished. Feel free to explore should you wish it, as I have left the keys for you along with this letter. I hope you will forgive me for my absence, and trust you will find the means for distraction. Your devoted host, Count Vlad Balaur.”

As I read the letter in a half hushed voice, warmth spread across my chest as I finished on his name. A glance at the table confirmed the presence of said keys. If I had to fumble through all of them every time I wanted to open a door, exploring just might take the whole day after all. I slipped them, along with the letter, in my pocket, and poured me a cup of tea. It was a different blend, black, yet flowery and soft. Perfectly well infused. The scones seemed to be fresh out of the oven, which made me wonder if he baked them himself, or had staff. I didn’t see anyone last night, but then again, it was late. If he was as rich as his house suggested, he just might. I figured I would look out for them. If anything, I had to compliment the chef. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday at lunch, but eating these scones felt somewhat close to a religious experience.

After I became physically unable to eat any more, I decided to follow the Count’s idea, and explore. The castle was old, that much I could tell. I wasn’t an expert on architecture, but I was more or less convinced that the most ancient phase of construction had to be around the 13th, 14th century. The village probably built itself around it, so that would make some sense. Obviously, it had been updated, rebuilt, but the main structure was still visible. A lot of the rooms seemed almost… Stuck in time. A bit messy, crowded, as if the people who last left could come back any moment. Even so, the thick layer of dust dulling the colors made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

I couldn’t help but feel some nostalgia. 15-year-old me would have been thrilled exploring a place like this. Not that I wasn’t, but at that time, I was so into urban exploration that I almost got dragged to the station a couple of times for tresspassing. My parents never knew, and just thinking of their reaction if they ever had had to go bail me out of jail for being a bastard goblin made me go into hysterics. Couldn’t help but picture my father, stilted up into some sad brown corduroy suit, mouth pinched in a lip-less line, having to pick up a ratty kid who just could not, would not, keep her grubby hands out of dangerous, rat infested abandonned houses. Or shut down psych wards, that one time. Pretty anti-climatic, that was. 

I stifled a laughter, and shut the door behind me. Most of the rooms were boudoirs, spare bedrooms and such. There was one large room, covered in hunting trophies and animal skeletons. This one interested me the most. Inside, I noticed it was close to a cabinet of curiosities. Glass and wood shelves hosted a variety of skeletons, egg and sea shells, fossils, even some weirdly misshapen baby animals, floating in yellowed jars. The taxidermied animals seemed almost real, and at any moment, I expected them to start moving around. One shelf, built along the whole length of a wall, was dedicated to various skulls, ranging from standard game, elks, boars and whatnot, to more exotic things. One in particular caught my eye. At first glance, I thought it might be human, but I was very quick to change my mind.

The skull seemed fine, strong jaw still attached to the cranium, even a bit of mummifies tissue still attached in some spaces. However, the teeth… The teeth made no sense. Too many, too sharp, like they had been filed into curved, pointy shapes you only see in great apes, or carnivorous animals. Reviewing every strange cultural rite that could explain such a bizarre thing, I started to feel more and more uneasy. I almost felt like it was staring at me from the shadows, behind the hollow eye sockets. Not necessarily wanting to linger any more, I slipped out of the room, and locked the door after a few tries. Just to be sure, you know.

I had visited most of the rooms, but still one was pinching my curiosity. If I understood right, I could see its windows from those of the corridor leading to the dining room. Tall windows, almost church-like. I passed its door a few times, but was never able to find the key that unlocked it. The mind works like it works, and by the thrid time, I was almost ready to find a way to pick the lock, or break it down. Frustrated as ever, I gave a kick to the frame, that made me repress a cry of pain.

“Well now, what has that poor door done to deserve this ?”

I nearly jumped at the sound of the Count’s voice. He was standing behind me, a manner which seemed to have become a habit on his part.

“It was resisting my best attempts to pierce it’s secrets, which is a grave offense in my book”, I replied.

“Ah, I am afraid it was entirely my fault”, he admitted, and produced a key from his pocket, twisting it between his long, slender fingers.

A mischievous smile playing on his lips, he unlocked the double doors, and pushed them open, dramatically turning back to face me, his coat flaring around him, arms open.

“Welcome to my library.”

The room was filled with the last rays of the sun, setting on the mountain ridge, under the clouds. It caught the dust the Count must have raised as he entered in golden specs, floating up all around him. Everywhere, bookshelves stretched out up to the high ceilings, accessible by ladders and small bridgeways. The floor was covered in richly woven carpets, and at every comfortable corner sat armchairs and reading tables, agremented with chandeliers. There had to be a lifetime’s worth of reading within these four walls, and for a moment, I was unable to even walk in.

As I finally regained control of my limbs, I stubled inside, jogging to the nearest shelf. Leather-bound books, stacks of rolled parchment, gilted, worn, intricate, small, large, I didn’t even know where to look first. There were so many different languages, I couldn’t even recognize half. I let my fingers trail along the backs of the volumes, deciding on which to pick first.

“Do you like it ?”, the Count softly asked, as if not to disturb my frantic search.

I turned towards him, unable to stop smiling. He looked almost surprised, almost moved. The sun caught his eyes, revealing their deep blue color. I noticed his hair was now dark as night, cascading on his shoulders. Not a single gray hair in sight. He looked almost exactly like his portrait in the dining room, now that I thought about it. He must have noticed my internal trouble.

“Is there something wrong ?”, he asked, stepping closer to me.

“Nothing”, I replied, shaking my head. “You seem to be… Well, for lack of better terms, younger than yesterday.”

“Ah, a bruise to my ego !”, he exclaimed as he carried a hand to his heart. “I know I have left my younger days behind, but I have yet to be an old man.”

It had been a dark, stormy night, and I figured that by candlelight, my mind could have played tricks on me. Maybe I had been expecting a lonely old man so much, that he appeared that way, in my slightly frostbitten mind. I decidedly turned my attention to the shelves, and picked a volume. A bit worn, but the dark green of the leather, and the tiny golden patterns still vivid on the spine. As I read the title, it had me laughing to myself. Ὀδύσσεια, Homer’s Odyssey, in the “original” speech.

“Do you read ancient greek ?”, the Count asked, now looking over my shoulder.

“I have had the misfortune of learning it. Since then, I fell out of practice, I think.”

I turned over the pages, the familiar words coming back to mind without having to really read them. It was with this story, and the Illiad, that my parents taught me. I knew them almost by heart at that point. His tall silhouette, behind me, felt almost protective. I was nearly tempted to let myself lean back against his chest. I could feel soft strands of hair brushing past my shoulder, making a shiver run down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”, he asked. “I am afraid these walls tend to not hold the heat very well. I could have a fire lit here, if you want.”

His tone was almost tender, concerned. I had no time to answer, before I heard the rustling of fabric, and felt the weight of his coat placed over my shoulders. His hands lightly slid down my arms, flattening the soft, tightly woven wool over me. The sudden warmth did nothing for my shivering, and I nervously turned another page. My finger slipped on the edge, which cut right through the soft skin.

I cursed under my breath, watching red bead at the cut, and run toward my palm. The hands of the Count, still over my shoulders, suddenly gripped them tight, almost enough to hurt me. I could swear I heard a growl from deep inside his chest. He took my hand in his, examining the wound. A slow stream of red came trickling down his own fingers. He was leaning closer to me, so much that I could feel his breathing on the nape of my neck, heavy, trembling.

“You should be more careful”, he told me, his voice barely more than a whisper, deep, and dark.

I turned back, freeing myself of his grip, and tried to step away. My back hit the shelves, my injured hand held up to my chest, the other still holding the book so tight my knuckles went white. He once again took my hand, this time holding a cloth to the cut, red slowly seeping into the white cotton. He kept his eyes riveted to the makeshift band-aid. They didn’t seem so blue anymore. He took a deep breath, which sounded almost like a snarl as he let it out. He whispered something in romanian I couldn’t make out, let go, and suddenly, he was gone. Leaving me breathless, confused, holding the now mostly red cotton square to my hand. The edges of the shelf dug into my back. I inhaled sharply, as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time, which could easily have been the case.

I closed the book, and slipped it back onto the shelf. The library was silent, if it weren’t for the faint sound of a crackling fire, in the hearth.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Imagine Vexen was doing a experiment that backed fire and turns every single member except him into children.

@nopantssaturday is such a babe, guys, you don’t even understand

oOoOo

Oh No. This was not Good. Vexen watched as his latest creation shut down during its most crucial test stages. The scientist quickly ran to the machine and pried open the doors as a dense pink vapor inside of it’s chambers flowed out. As the doors begrudgingly opened, the academic waved his arms, trying to clear as much of the fog as possible to find his test subject inside. Thankfully the scientist was wearing his sealed suit or he would have been choking on the gas himself.

This machine was one Vexen was working on for himself; one to slow and eventually stop the aging process, but not because he was worried of aging himself. Oh no, The scientist merely was just trying to find a new way to defy the forces of nature with science, something he effectively loved doing. 

But as the smoke cleared from the lab, the subject, a white rabbit he had found, did not look any younger. “Shit.” The scientist huffed to himself.  He was sure that his calculations were correct. He knew they were sound, and yet here he was with the same adult rabbit he had started with. Ugh. The scientist slowly lifted the rabbit from the floor of the machine and held it in his arms as he carried it out of the chamber and to its small cage on the other side of the lab. But as he placed the rabbit in it’s holding, a loud unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the castle. 

“VEXEEEEEN!!!!!” The voice was high pitched and whining, like a woman or child. But it wasn’t Larxene. Curious, the scientist quickly removed his suit headed up the stairs to the main room of the castle. But never expected to see what lay ahead. 

There, sitting in the gray area, were 13 little toddlers. And not just any toddlers, no. They were all of the members of Organization XIII. The only reason he could tell it was them, was that they were all were still attempting to wear their cloaks that are now MUCH too large for them. Some of the children sat on the floor, some were crying. But there, sitting on the highest chair was a tiny Xemnas, arms folded and looking very angry. At him. 

This was supposed to be terrible, but Vexen couldn’t help but smile that this was his doing. His experiment had worked. Well, somewhat. But how was this possible? But a simple gaze upwards provided the answer. The vents! When the vapor exited the chamber of the machine, it probably traveled upward and into the vents to the rest of the castle. That must have been it.  Though this was a miracle, it was clear that no one was happy about this but Vexen. The tiny superior looked up at him with his little arms crossed. 

“Fix this. Now.”

So, after scooping up all of the toddlers and bringing them to his lab, Vexen got to work examining the effects of the pink anti-aging vapor. Of course, this task would be nothing for someone as intelligent as Vexen, but doing so while also babysitting 13 toddlers proved…. Difficult. Some of the children like Ienz– - Zexion were well behaved and sat with books. While others were.. More difficult. 

“Number VIII! Stop running around the lab this instant!!” The little troublemaker continued to scurry around the lab, stopping only once to turn his head and stick his tongue out at his captor.  The scientist quickly caught up, and lifted the rowdy little redhead into his arms before placing the boy in a small caged in area of the lab that the Academic was able to have the dusks put together as a suitable place to corral the children. Those dusks sure are capable when it comes to stealing from people, it seemed, for within a couple hours, they were able to put together a fairly suitable area to distract the children. Well. Most of them. 

“Noooo!!! I don’t wanna go in there!!!” The redhead loudly whined before being placed inside of the cage. 

“Well, that’s too bad, Number VIII. Because you need to say in there.” The scientist said, matter of factly. Fighting with this child was not much different from fighting with the real Axel it seems. 

“Well why does Xemnas get to sit out there!?” The toddler whined, even louder than before, pointing his little finger at the chair near Vexen’s lab desk where the tiny superior sat stoically, crossing his arms in a pensive stare. 

“He gets to sit there because he is the superior and gets to do what he wants.” The scientist stood and turned to walk back to his desk. The little flame’s face started to scrunch in disgruntlement before tears formed in his eyes and he let out a pained wail. 

“AwwaaaHhhh!!!!” The boy cried. “That’s not fair!!!!” But as the boy let out his whining scream, the high pitched cry of two babies carried in from the other room. 

“Oh great, you woke the infants….” Vexen sighed as he walked into the other room to soothe the crying babies.

Without the major distractions, Vexen was able to figure out two facts about the effects of the pink vapor. The first was that the anti-aging process seemed to be relative to the original ages of the person that inhaled the gas. For instance, Roxas and Xion, the youngest members of the organization, after inhaling the gasses have reverted to mere infants. Whereas Xigbar, Xaldin, and Lexaeus, as well as the superior, have reverted to a child that seemed to be about 4 or 5 years old. And all of the others in between seem to have become toddlers between the ages of 2 and 3 years old. This was fairly easy to understand by how the child acted and the cognitive functions the children possessed. 

The second thing that Vexen was able to discern was that even though each subject was able to remember what had happened to them and what was happened, they still displayed the behaviors, mannerisms, and priorities that a child would. This was able to be figured out by how Demyx has been able to watch the same Lucky Emblem Sing-A-Long-Song’s VHS on repeat for the last 2 hours with the same captivation and interest as the first time he watched it. It was also easy to tell by the way that Larxene smiled and laughed, at all. The fact that the girl was smiling was enough to say something about her had changed. 

The only child that didn’t seem to display this kind of behavior was that of Xemnas. It was as if the superior had the mind of someone well beyond their years and that only his body was his age. This phenomena was strange, yes, but further examination of the superiors mind would have to wait. For this man of science had to figure out how to fix the problem at hand first. As soon as he placed the now sleeping infants back down in the crib, Vexen left the darkened room and started to head back to the main part of the lab to continue his work. But before he could reach his lab desk, a tiny hand reached out and tugged on the bottom of his pants. One look down to his ankle revealed that it was Lexaeus tugging on his pants. 

“Yes, Number V, what do you need?” Vexen asked. The small boy didn’t talk much, of course he never really spoke in general. But the boy looked up at Vexen with big pleading eyes and placed his hand down over his front and pushing his knees together urgently. Vexen was momentarily confused by the dance but then understood. “Oh… OH!” The scientist then quickly took the child and walked him hurriedly to the nearest restroom before he had to ask the dusks to clean his floors. Again. 

Ugh this was going to be a long day. 

–

After a few hours, Vexen had started to get the hang of handling 13 children. At least enough that he could get his work done. The young superior sat in his chair and handled himself in all ways as if he was an adult. Xigbar was precocious but would quickly grow bored with the mischief he was causing and would turn to playing with whatever garbage he could find. Xaldin and Lexaeus were very quiet and both seemed to have no problem playing with the toys that the dusks had found at a moments notice. Lexaeus seemingly had a small rabbit plush he seemed focused on. Zexion had a small stack of picture books that seemed to be able to keep him entertained. Axel was a bit of a trouble maker, but it seemed that the redhead was able to keep himself distracted from causing mischief if he had Saix nearby. Something about the blue haired child seemed to keep Axel from going buck wild. 

Demyx has been watching the same VHS for the last 4 hours and even though the music was annoying, Vexen knew it kept him quiet, so he persevered. Was just kind of playing with the game board that the dusks had found, something called ‘Apologies!’. The pieces were missing, but that didn’t stop Luxord from repeatedly popping the bubble at the center of the game board and watching the dice inside bounce around. Marluxia and Larxene liked playing together most of the time and were able to be distracted by the dolls and dressing them up. And the last two are infants so while they required the most feeding, they were able to be kept fairly contained and didn’t get into trouble, sitting in chairs near the desk when they were awake, watching the scientist with wide eyes. 

After about a good amount of time testing and working at his desk without much interruption, the chilly Academic made it with a breakthrough, coming up with a bright blue liquid in a vile that could easily be turned into a vapor and once inhaled. Should negate the effects of his previous experiment. Thankfully this nightmare would be over. 

But as soon as that thought came to his mind, vexen looked up to the small boy with the periwinkle hair over her face looking down intently into his picture book and the scientist curl of a smile grew on his lips. He had almost forgotten how Ienzo used to love his books. It made him almost wish that the experiment didn’t have to end. But then another scream echoed through the lab. 

“VEXEN!! XIGBAR IS PULLING MY HAIR!!” 

“No! IM NOT! SHE STARTED IT” 

“NO I DIDN’T!!” 

“YES YOU DID!!” 

Okay. Never mind. Forget that. It needs to end now. 

Vexen quickly loaded the children with their original clothing draped on lazily into a vacuum sealed room of the lab (one that he probably used at the beginning of all this to have prevented this enter faux pas.) and pumped the room full of the blue vapor. The fog was as thick as its predecessor and soon the entire room went opaque with the gas. At first there was silence, but then the fog dissipated and it was clear that the reversal was a success. Soon the members all filed out of the room. 

“Ugh.. What happened?” Axel murmured as he stepped out, placing a hand up to his head. 

“I don’t know…” Demyx replied. “But I’m really in the mood for some chicken nuggets…” 

“Don’t you eat that every day, tyke?” Xigbar snickered. 

“Hey!” The younger boy whined as most of the members left the lab in a group. The superior gave Vexen a silent nod before leaving the lab as well. And soon the only ones left in the lab were Vexen… and Zexion. 

“So..” The younger member paused. “Was that whole afternoon real?” 

Vexen gave a dry chuckle in response. “Ah.. Yes.. Not my proudest failure. But yes it did happen.” 

“Oh man… “ Zexion sighed. “How did you deal with 13 children, Vexen..?” 

“Oh.. With great difficulty.” Vexen laughed again, tired from the day he just had. “But you know what? It was not as catastrophic as it could have been. And.. It kind of reminded me of when you were small in Radiant Garden. Of course, back then it was just you, and not all of the others as well. But sometimes it’s nice to remember the better times. You were always a well behaved child, Ienzo– I- I- Mean..” The scientist fumbled on the name a moment before the young man stopped him. 

“No. No. Ienzo is fine..” Then a pause hung in the air a moment before the schemer spoke again. “You know.. I never thanked you, Vexen. For raising me in that castle with Master Ansem and the other apprentices. I mean, my parents died and I could have been sent to suffer the fate of so many other orphaned children in Radiant Garden, but instead you all cared for me and raised me. And if today wasn’t proof, raising children is no easy task.” 

For a moment, the Chilly Academic didn’t know how to reply. His throat almost went dry. He had never expected something like this from the boy, honestly they barely spoke anymore outside of work, let alone spoke of the past. But.. somewhere deep inside of him, Vexen could swear that he felt an inkling of… happiness? 

“I– You’re welcome, Ienzo.” The scientist smiled. And as the boy slowly left the lab, a thought came to Vexen’s mind. 

Maybe this experiment ending in failure was not the worst thing.

[thenovelartist]

Letters to Ladybug,pt 1

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~ AO3 ~ Fanfiction ~ Support me on Ko-Fi ~

This is a prize for a contest/late birthday present for @mini-minou who wanted to see a fairytale-esque story. So, she got this one ;) Hope you like it Mini!

Had you told Adrien that by the age of eighteen, he would fall in love with a girl he never met, he would have scoffed and shook his head at the absurdity. Yet, as the eighteen-year-old prince clutched her newest letter to his chest, staring out the window of his room, his mind mulling over the words that were so elegantly written on the page, he found that was precisely what had happened.

How this secret correspondence started was truly a mystery. He certainly wasn’t trying to start a correspondence when he hid his notebook full of poetry in No Man’s Forest between his kingdom and the adjoining one. It was to keep that embarrassing hobby from his father. However, two weeks later, when he returned to fetch it, there were notes hidden with it. The note had to have been written by a female if the paper decorated with ladybugs and perfumed with flowers were any indication. It had started with an apology for taking the book and reading it, hoping she did not cause trouble to him, yet that she found the poetry enthralling and wonderfully romantic.

His mother often teased him for being as curious as a cat, and in this instance, his intrigue was too high to simply walk away. He took the book back to his room, having discovered a place he knew his father would never find it, then proceeded to write a letter. He placed it as well as a copy of his newest poem in an envelope titled “For The Curious Ladybug” and hid it in the same spot he had hidden his poem book despite not knowing if she would ever return to the spot.

But she did.

Three years, their correspondence had gone on with a letter being exchanged once a week. He’d kept every single letter and drawing—she was an absolutely incredible artist—she’d ever sent him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she, too, had a chest of his letters and poetry hidden in her room.

A knock from his door startled him out of his reverie. “Yes?”

“It’s Nino.”

Adrien relaxed. “Come in.”

The door opened, allowing his best friend to enter. He quickly spotted the letter in Adrien’s hand and gave a shake of his head. “Your lady love has responded?”

“Plagg just retrieved it for me,” Adrien confirmed.

Nino’s smile grew. “You are so smitten.”

“I can’t help it!” Adrien said, tossing his hands in the air with all the pent-up passion he had for this woman. “She’s incredible, Nino. She’s witty and clever and creative and—”

“Buddy,” Nino said, halting Adrien’s rant. “I know. I hear you argue in her favor all the time.”

Adrien sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s just…” He shrugged, knowing if he said a word, he would launch into another rant.

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“I don’t need to to know my feelings are real.”

Nino gave him a pitying smile. “I think your head is too far up in those clouds.”

“Well, you aren’t the only one,” Adrien mumbled. Plagg said the same thing. Constantly. The cranky knight was always complaining about going to fetch letters when Adrien couldn’t or how he had to listen to Adrien be a romantic sap.

“I think you should meet her before you determine that.”

His ears must have been deceiving him, for there was no way Nino would encourage such behavior. “If I could, I would, Nino,” he said. “In a heartbeat. Unfortunately, despite my wildest dreams, I doubt she would agree. She was the one who came up with the schedule so we would never see each other.”

“I know,” Nino assured, his tone belaying his exasperation. “She prefers to remain anonymous.”

Adrien nodded, turning toward the window once again.

“Which is why you’ll be happy the ball your father is determined to throw is a masquerade.”

His heart nearly stopped as he whipped around to face Nino once again.

His friend was smiling, something borderline cocky but mostly smug. “Ask her to meet you there.”

His heart skipped once, then twice. Hope suddenly bloomed in his chest. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? And at a masquerade, too. She was insistent upon not revealing herself, so she never would. Yet they could meet. They could talk in person. He could ask a question without having to wait a week for a response. He could dance with her, hold her, create poetry in person about her beauty.

For she was sure to be beautiful; he knew it.

Before Nino could say another word, Adrien was at his writing desk, hurriedly gathering the materials he needed to respond and ask her if she would do him the honor of meeting him at the masquerade. Whether she would agree to it or not was a mystery he preferred not to ponder over at the moment. He much preferred to lose himself in his writing.

…

Marinette felt as though she was floating on air. She wasn’t allowed to leave the castle today due to lessons she’d been postponing, so Tikki swore she would retrieve the letter for Marinette. She lived for these days, to read the letter her mysterious Chat Noir wrote to her. His poetry always sent her heart racing, and as of lately, his writings were about her and his love for her. How they could be so in love despite having never met, she didn’t know, but she would never question if their love was real.

A knock on the door startled her back to reality. “Marinette?”

She startled for only a moment before she recognized Tikki’s voice, which had her running to the door. “Yes?” she said, swinging the door open.

Tikki’s expression was pure delight as she extended an envelope to her.

With a squeal, Marinette snatched it and threw her arms around Tikki. “Thank you, Tikki. You are the greatest and I am forever I your debt.”

The young woman chuckled. “You’re quite welcome, Marinette,” she said, briefly returning the hug before putting Marinette back at arm’s length. “Now, go read it and tell me all about what scandalous poem he wrote you this time.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm. “It wasn’t truly scandalous.”

Tikki hummed in challenge. “Clandestine meetings between two forbidden lovers?”

If Marinette’s face wasn’t ladybug red, she would be surprised. She had to chastise Chat Noir thoroughly in her last letter for that. It was almost too easy to picture the two of them together, dancing to the song of the night, fireflies lighting in tune with the chirping crickets, moonlight illuminating the features of her lover.

And that hadn’t been the most salacious part. She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her lips just recalling the way he’d written a kiss. She had been red to her chest after that.

Tikki giggled. “Let me read the poem and we’re even.”

“Fair enough,” Marinette quickly agreed before retreating into her room with Tikki in tow.

Settling down on her chaise lounge, Marinette wasted no time in opening the letter, pulling out the multiple pages. The poem was always first, and she always read it first.

Once to devour, twice to absorb, three times to truly appreciate.

“Considering your blush, it must be romantic.”

Lip between her teeth, Marinette bashfully looked up at Tikki. “It is.”

With a grin, Tikki extended her hand, and Marinette parted with the poem. Only then did she read his letter to her.

My Dear Ladybug,

I must apologize for letting my writings become indecent. It was not, nor is it ever, my intention to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps I let my feelings run away with me too far, so I humbly beg for your forgiveness.

Marinette bit her knuckle in shame, for it hadn’t been his writing that made her uncomfortable.

It had been the way she had wanted such affection from him.

She was almost sad how he swore he would temper his writings, but it was for the best he did. They were strangers in a sense, and wishing for a stranger to kiss her passionately while laying along the grass in the night was not acceptable for a princess.

She continued to read through the three-page letter he’d sent her, leaving as little out as he could. They had agreed to keep their identities secret, meaning that she had no idea of his station just as he had no idea of hers. The only thing she had to go off of was the quality of paper and how practiced his handwriting was. She could determine he was of the upper class, but nothing beyond that.

Finally, my dear ladybug, I have one last thing to ask of you. Seeing as I am uncertain you will even be able to grant me this wish, I write it hesitantly. In the Papillion Kingdom, there is to be a masquerade ball that will include most members of the upper class of both Papillion and Miraculous Kingdoms. I hope beyond the greatest of hopes you will be able to meet me there. It will afford you the secrecy you wish to keep, yet indulge me in my strong desire to meet you in person.

I will not lie to you by saying I will not be saddened if you cannot attend. Though I know you may realistically not be able to grant me my wish, my hope is still very high. Should you respond positively, I will be leaping with joy until the masquerade. There are few things more I want in the world than to be able to meet you in person.

With all my love, Chat Noir

Her heart was fluttering, and her cheeks were warm. She couldn’t temper down her smile at the thought of meeting him. While she had wanted to keep secret, she couldn’t deny her desire to meet him, too.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by the poem reappearing in front of her. Marinette took the page from Tikki and stacked it reverently with the letter.

“Marinette,” Tikki said with a sigh, “You should know I still don’t fully approve of this love letter writing, but for all that is good, his poetry is the finest I’ve ever read.”

Marinette giggled, her cheeks thoroughly pink. “Isn’t it, Tikki? It makes me feel warm inside.”

“As such writing should.” Tikki placed the back of her hand to her forehead in a mock faint. “Oh, tis so romantic.”

The girls shared a giggle before Tikki took her leave. “I know you have a very busy evening ahead of you, after all, responding to his letter. Just be sure not to stay up too late into the night. You have duties to attend to in the morning.”

“Thank you, Tikki.”

With a smile, Tikki shut the door behind her, leaving Marinette alone to respond to his letter.

…

Adrien walked out of his father’s office, his heart breaking into smaller pieces with each step. His father hadn’t done anything wrong this time around; Adrien was a prince, and it was his duty to protect the kingdom in any way he could. In this case, it meant forging an alliance between his kingdom and the Miraculous Kingdom.

And that was done through marriage.

Plagg met up with him as he walked through the halls to his room. The man was normally stoic and snarky, but he could always tell when Adrien was upset. “What happened?”

“I’m engaged to be married, apparently,” Adrien answered.

“To whom?”

“Princess Marinette, the sole heir of the Miraculous Kingdom.”

Plagg gave a single nod to show he heard.

“There are rumors of war going around,” Adrien said. “Not anyone waging war against us, but rather war between two kingdoms up north.”

“And I’m afraid I’ve heard those rumors, too,” Plagg confirmed. “A couple royal guests were complaining about it. Things are growing tense.”

“In order to stand a chance should things grow out of hand, we are allying with Miraculous to strengthen our army.”

Plagg simply nodded. “Understandable.”

The young men were silent as they marched into Adrien’s room. Plagg was quick to shut the door and pull an envelope from his black vest. “As ridiculous as this letter writing is, I think you’ll appreciate a distraction.”

Adrien looked at the letter, his heart beginning to flutter until he realized he would have to stop correspondence with her soon enough. It wouldn’t be proper for a married man nor would it be fair. He may not know Princess Marinette, but he would be a perfectly respectable husband to her.

He took the letter, though his heart was breaking into tinier pieces with each passing moment. “I can’t keep writing her.”

His admission, though quiet, was enough for Plagg to frown in sympathy. “I know. But what are you going to do if she accepted your invitation to meet?”

Adrien’s gut sank through the floor while his heart completely missed a beat. “I… I don’t know.”

Plagg gave him a pitying look. “You’ll think of something.” With that, he left Adrien in peace.

…

She had, in fact, accepted his invitation stating she was to be there, too and she couldn’t stand being in a room full of people knowing he was there yet not knowing who he was.

Which left him with the decision that he would meet her, spend a good portion of the night with her, and inform her that no matter how much it broke his heart, their correspondence would have to come to an end. He could only hope she would understand.

However, there was one catch to his plan. Namely, that his father had recently become insistent that Adrien spend the entire masquerade with Princess Marinette in order to get to know her better before the wedding.

“That,” Nino said, launching an arrow at the target, “places you between a rock and a hard place, my friend.”

Adrien nodded, absently noting how Nino’s recent shot put him in the lead. “I’m fully and dreadfully aware.”

Nino hummed in thought as Adrien set up his shot. “Maybe you could slip away long enough to meet her.”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, right before he let the arrow fly. It struck the outside of the target, but Adrien couldn’t bring himself to care. “I don’t know how insistent this Princess Marinette will be to stay by my side. Furthermore, I fear my reputation will proceed me.”

Fiddling with his bow string, Nino grunted. “Possible. But it’s also possible this girl isn’t like Lady Bourgeois.”

“Or Lady Rossi.”

“Or Lady Raincomprix.”

“Or the countless other women who’ve made a hobby of throwing themselves at me.”

“To be fair,” Nino said. “You are a good-looking fellow who just happens to be in line for the throne.”

Adrien snorted. “Is it too much to ask a woman have some decency?”

While nocking his arrow, Nino hummed. “I don’t know much about women. It possibly could be.”

Adrien could only shrug while Nino sent his last arrow flying towards the center of the target.

With a winner’s grin, Nino turned back to Adrien. “Four rounds out of seven?”

Adrien snorted with a smirk. “I don’t think I’m up for it. I don’t think I was up for the first three.”

“You weren’t.”

“Some friend.”

Nino smirked.

With that, Adrien called the servants to clean up the arrows. “Thank you,” he and Nino both said when the men came to take their bows.

“My main fear,” Adrien continued once the two men were out of earshot of the servants, “is that Father is demanding I stay by Marinette’s side the entirety of the night. Even if this Princess Marinette lets me go, Father will not be happy. I doubt I’ll even get the chance to greet Ladybug.”

Nino hummed thoughtfully. “Knowing your father, I’m going to say that’s a very likely possibility.”

Adrien grunted his agreement.

“What if…” Nino paused in the hall to think. “What if I stole her away from you for a dance or two?”

“What if she’s stubborn and won’t go?”

“Who’s stubborn?”

The two men turned to see Plagg siding up to them.

“Adrien’s complaining about having to dance with Princess Marinette instead of his Ladybug.”

“How dare you betray me,” Adrien scowled at his friend, Plagg sniggering in the background.

“What is the issue?” Plagg asked, his amusement settling. “You don’t have to spend the entire night with her.”

“I might,” Adrien corrected. “And worse yet, Ladybug already agreed to meet me. She is already going to be attending the dance, so even if I tell her I cannot make it, it will be torture knowing that she is still there.”

“Shame you can’t be in two places at once,” Plagg snarked.

And that’s when inspiration struck. “But what if I could?”

Both his friends halted, meaning Adrien had to turn around to face them. “What?”

“Whatever plan this is, leave me out of it.”

Adrien frowned at his friends’ chorus. “Please, one night.”

“What do you even have planned?” Nino asked.

“I don’t think we want to know,” Plagg chimed in.

Nino then completely betrayed Adrien by nodding his agreement to Plagg.

“It’s a masquerade,” Adrien said. “Meaning that no one is truly going to know who’s behind the mask—”

“No,” Plagg quickly said. “No, no, no—”

“I never finished asking.”

“But I know you enough to know where you’re going with that thought and for the last time, no, I will not don a mask in your place.”

“Please, Plagg.”

“No.”

“And that’s a no for me, too,” Nino spoke up. “Not happening.”

“Ah, please,” Plagg dismissed. “Your skin tones don’t match. Even if Adrien did convince you, you’d be outed by his father immediately.”

Adrien scowled, meaning he really only had one option. “Plagg, please. I’ll never see her again.”

“You shouldn’t have started talking to the girl in the first place.”

“But I am, and now I asked her to come and she’s going to be there and there’s no way I’m not going to be able to not search for her and—”

“Buddy,” Nino interrupted. “Take a breath.”

Adrien did as told, biting his tongue for a good moment. “Please,” he begged.

Nino and Plagg exchanged a look before turning back to Adrien. “Look,” Plagg began. “Even if I agreed, that puts you in a bad position because there is no way the princess isn’t going to ask questions and start conversations. And then… what? I act like you best I can then she meets the real you that doesn’t recall anything that she talked about with you—rather, me—that night? There’s no way she’d believe it.”

Adrien frowned as his plan fell apart at the seams. He looked up at his friends: Plagg who was hiding a slight winner’s smirk and Nino who looked like he would beg Adrien to reconsider this whole scheme.

“What if…” he said, plan forming in his mind. “Nino, what if you went with him—”

“Why do you have to drag me into this?”

“Because I need you to convince the princess that Plagg is me and then vouch for me when we meet again outside the mask.”

Nino groaned, rubbing his hands down his face slowly. He mumbled something completely unintelligible before letting his hands drop. “We aren’t getting out of helping you, are we?”

“No,” Adrien said matter-of-factly.

With one last exasperated look exchanged between Plagg and Nino, they sighed. “Fine!”

“You guys are the best friends a man could ask for.”

…

Marinette felt numb. Some part of her mind recognized that the only thing keeping her upright was the fact she was leaning against the door to her room. Her breath came in long draws, not staccato bursts caused by near tears. It was as though she was in a trance she wasn’t going to surface from any time soon.

She was engaged to be married. To a man whom she’d never met.

Slowly, she sank to the floor, the world seemingly blurring away. Usually, meeting her parents was never an issue. They never asked anything severe of Marinette and were always immensely kind, but her stomach had tightened when she entered her father’s office only to see the pitying looks on her parents’ faces.

They told her she was to marry Prince Adrien of the Papillion Kingdom, the one across the way from No Man’s Forest. Her parents never wanted to force her into a union, however, their kingdom was small, as was the Papillion kingdom. They needed to unite if the rumors of war between two other kingdoms up north turned out to be true.

“We’re sorry,” they had repeated several times.

Despite her heart breaking and her stomach full of nerves, she had nodded. “I’ll do what is needed for my kingdom.”

And she would, even if it meant breaking off correspondence with a man who had somehow captured her heart.

A knock on the door startled her back to reality. “Marinette?”

Marinette gave a soft sigh of relief at the voice of Lady Alya, her closest friend. She forced herself to stand in order to answer the door. “Yes?”

Alya’s expression was sympathetic. “I heard everything,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Marinette quickly tugged Alya into the room and shut the door.

“I hear Prince Adrien is a kind man,” Alya offered, forcing a pitying smile. “Handsome, too.”

“But does he write poetry?”

Alya’s expression fell again.

Marinette collapsed on her chaise lounge. “Worse yet, I am supposed to dance with this prince the entire masquerade even though I agreed to meet Chat Noir.”

Alya bit her lip, though quickly corrected the behavior she’d been scolded for many a time.

Marinette’s frown grew. “I wanted to meet him, Alya.”

“You already swore you would.”

“And I want to keep my word.”

Alya pursed her lips in thought. “We’ll figure out something,” she eventually said, voice full of determination that was so common for Alya. “Don’t you worry.”

Another knock on the door called their attention.

“Who goes there?” Marinette called out.

“It’s Tikki, your highness.”

“Come in, Tikki,” Alya called before Marinette could answer. “Please, and help us with something.”

Tikki entered the room, her brow already knit together in curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

“Marinette is arranged to be married.”

Tikki gasped, nearly dropping her tray of tea. “To whom?”

“Prince Adrien of the Papillion Kingdom,” Alya answered.

“Oh,” Tikki said, setting the tea tray down before she did drop it.

“But that’s not the main issue, Tikki,” Marinette said, sitting up from the chaise to look at her maid and close friend. “You know I already promised to meet Chat Noir at the ball.”

“But supposedly,” Alya finished, “she is supposed to dance with Prince Adrien for the night.”

“And I want to meet him,” Marinette continued. “I want to meet Chat Noir, but… but what if the prince insists we stay together the entirety of the evening? What if he won’t let me sneak away?”

“Surely, there’s a way,” Tikki insisted, her expression firm.

“We know there is. There has to be,” Alya said. “If we could only distract him with a dance, maybe.”

“Could I pass him off to you, Alya?” Marinette asked, hope suddenly filling inside her heart.

“A dance is hardly enough time,” Tikki said. “And Marinette promised to meet Chat Noir during the beginning of the night. Lastly, what if the prince is upset because he’s not dancing with Marinette. That would only sour the relationship between you and the prince.”

Alya scoffed. “If he’s upset he doesn’t get her the entirety of the night, that is not Marinette’s problem.”

“True,” Tikki admitted. “But this is the first impression. It has to be a good one.”

Alya frowned, tapping her finger to her lips in thought. “There has to be a way for Marinette to sneak off to meet him for the night and meet her masked ma—”

Marinette and Tikki regarded Alya curiously. “What is it?” Marinette asked, dread sinking in as she watched a smirk grow across her best friend’s face.

“What if,” Alya slowly spoke, her smirk growing more and more devious, “you don’t dance with the prince all night because we give him another ‘princess’ to dance with.”

“And where do you suppose we find another princess?” Tikki snipped sarcastically, her hands on canted hips and brow quirked challengingly.

“Not a real princess,” Alya said. “Just someone who could appear as one for the night.”

With a smug look, Alya stared at Tikki. And Marinette felt very lost as she looked back and forth between the two women.

In a flash, Tikki’s expression turned to horror. “No!” she said. “No, I am not going to pretend to be Princess Marinette.”

“For a night, Tikki,” Alya said. “And you’ll be wearing a mask, no one will know.”

“Oh please, Tikki,” Marinette begged, hope sparking within her. “Would you?”

“The prince won’t have it,” Tikki insisted, shaking her head.

“Not if I’m beside you the whole time making sure everyone believes you are the princess,” Alya said. “Trust me; nothing could go wrong.”

Instead of responding, Tikki leveled Alya with a doubtful glare.

“Tikki,” Marinette pleaded. “I’ll never get the chance to see him again. And I already gave him my word I would be there. I do not want his last memory of me to be believing me to be a liar who toyed with him. Please.”

While she stood with her arms crossed resolutely, Tikki’s resolve did not last long. She couldn’t argue with Marinette’s sad expression. “I’ll do it,” she relented. “Just because it’s you.”

With a squeal, Marinette leapt from the chaise lounge to engulf Tikki in a hug. “Thank you, Tikki!” she said. “I owe you all the cookies in the world.”

…

“I can’t believe you made me do this,” Plagg hissed at Adrien.

“And that I have to play along,” Nino mumbled.

“Quit your whining!” Plagg snapped. “You have the easy job of the two of us.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Adrien interrupted before the fight could intensify. “Honestly, you’re acting like children.”

Plagg whipped around to glare at Adrien. Or, so Adrien assumed. It was impossible to tell with the black mask Plagg wore.

“I owe you two for this,” Adrien said.

“And we’ll remind you until that debt is repaid,” Plagg growled.

Before any more bickering or complaining could arise, Adrien grabbed his friends’ shoulders to give them a thankful squeeze before disappearing out into the back gardens.

…

“Thank you again for this, Tikki.”

Fiddling with her dress, Tikki sighed. “It’s so fine,” she commented.

“Of course, it is,” Alya said, slipping on her mask, one that was colored a vivid orange and decorated with black and white designs. “You are supposed to be a princess for the evening.”

“Don’t worry, Tikki,” Marinette assured, grabbing her friend’s hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Everything will be just fine.”

“I hope so,” Tikki said, worry clear in her tone. “I certainly hope so.”

…

Considering that he’d looked all over the expansive gardens and had yet to find one other person, Adrien knew he had to be the first to arrive. His Ladybug had not yet showed for the evening. Until she did, Adrien was certain his palms would be sweaty and heart would continue its rapid pace. It was odd how excited he was to see her, but tonight, he was nothing if not nervous. Why, he didn’t know. This was his Ladybug, the woman who brightened his day—nay, his week—with sweet letters and lovely drawings. His favorite had been a dancing couple, simply because he could easily see it being them.

And tonight… tonight, it would.

But his heart sank because he knew he would have to tell her tonight that this would be their one and only meeting. That after tonight, their correspondence would be no more. He would have to tell her of his arranged engagement, but he wouldn’t until the end. Tonight was a night he was determined to enjoy.

“Chat Noir?”

His heart may have been galloping before, but now it was completely stopped. He was frozen, rendered useless by his nickname said by the sweetest of voices coming from behind him.

He forced himself to move, to look behind him, only to discover a petite lady in a red dress that made her skin look particularly milky in the moonlight. Her hair was piled on her head in thick, black curls that gleamed blue. It was truly a shame her eyes were covered by an ornate red mask. He was desperate to know what color they were.

However, that thought only lasted a second, because his next thought was just how similar the red of her mask was to the red of her lips.

He forced himself to swallow. “My Ladybug?”

Those lips curled up into a smile that made his knees week. He’d only written about such reactions, but to experience them himself, to be at his Ladybug’s mercy…

It was a whole new experience.

“’Tis a pleasure,” she said, her voice gentle and sweet and smooth, “to finally meet you in person.”

That voice would ring in his head for years, he was certain of it. “The pleasure, my lady,” he said, taking her hand in both of his, bowing low over it, “is all mine.”

He then pressed a kiss to her knuckles and swore she gasped at the contact. But then again, it was entirely possible his ears were playing tricks on him.

He better keep his heart in check tonight because he knew if he wasn’t careful, this woman would end up stealing it, whether it was her intent or not.

…

Marinette laughed as he guided her around the gardens with surprising ease. She discovered he was light on his feet. It was the second thing to have discovered about him, the first being he was very handsome with his golden hair and well-tailored black suit. Even though his mask was stunning as well, different from the typical domino mask worn by men at masquerades, she found herself sorely disappointed that it covered his eyes. How she wished to see what color they were.

However, his looks or dancing ability or even his heart pounding poetry had nothing on his tongue. She quickly discovered that it was the one thing she had to be immensely careful about. Her heart couldn’t take his constant teasing or his flirting. And his voice.

Oh, his voice.

Smooth and rich and happy. So happy.

Her heart was already captivated, she knew. And breaking it at the end of the night would be torture. She made it a point not to look at the clock tower, but she knew their time would be over far too quickly.

Far, far too quickly.

“My lady, what is the matter,” he purred, concerned. His hand gently guided her jaw so she would be forced to look at him. “Your smile is so lovely. Why the frown?”

It was a struggle not to bite her lip. They had barely been together an hour, yet he already knew her. “Nothing,” she assured. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

He looked at he skeptically. “Only if the lady insists,” he said, his tone proving he was not convinced.

“I do,” she said, forcing on a smile. “Now, lead me around once more before we go exploring.”

“Exploring?” he asked, the curious lit in his voice so alluring.

“Yes,” she said, smile widening. “I do have a penchant for gardens, particularly at night. They take on a whole new life in the moonlight.”

“The flowers close, though, do they not?”

“Not all of them,” she said. “And the ones that don’t, they look striking in the cool tone of the moon.”

His smile was another very dangerous thing about him. It would be far too easy to get used to that smile. “An artist through and through.”

She grinned. “You truly enjoy the drawings, then?”

“Very much so,” he assured. “I keep them protected and safe, for such a collection of works should be preserved to the best of my ability.”

“You preserve them?” she asked, surprised.

“With every last one of your letters.”

Her heart was pounding, and her head was light. Heaven help her, she just might pass out at his confession. He kept them. Just like she kept his, he kept hers.

“What caused you to become a poet?” she asked, hoping to direct the conversation elsewhere.

He smiled. “My mother,” he answered. “She loved poetry, but never took the time to write it. So I began writing it for her. Even after she passed, I couldn’t contain myself. It was my escape, even though my father disapproved of the activity entirely. Thank goodness for a friend who warned me to hide my poetry before my father discovered them in my room. And…” he trailed off, looking at her with what she would guess was reverence. “And I was blessed enough that my hiding spot led me to you.”

Her heart was in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow. “You weren’t upset with me, were you? I know you said you weren’t but you could have lied to me.”

His smile widened. “No, I was never upset with you. I couldn’t be, not when you validated me as a poet. My new favorite hobby had become writing poems for you, my lady.”

She was certain she was blushing.

The song floating faintly from the castle came to an end, and she and Chat bowed to each other, as was custom.

“Come,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I know the garden’s well. I’ll guide you.”

“Thank you, Chat Noir.”

The resulting smile caused her own to grow. “Anything for you, my lady.”

…

Adrien wanted to curse the clock, the one that was showing how little time they had left together.

Ladybug was nothing short of miraculous. If he wasn’t engaged, he would have proposed to her on the spot. He would have begged her to let him see her eyes, to take off her mask so he could know what she looked like when she smiled. Even if she wouldn’t grant him that wish, he’d thoroughly enjoy the push and pull teasing that would transpire between them.

Alas, he wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t. Meeting her, he determined, was hard enough knowing he had to end their possible romance tonight, all correspondence along with it.

“Chat Noir,” Ladybug spoke up, her voice still so sweet but hinting at nervousness.

“What is it, my lady?” It was a struggle to bite back his urge to call her his love. She was a ladybug, as evidenced by her red dress with black accents, but she had to at least be a lady. That title was appropriate and therefore created a distance. One not afforded with the endearment ‘my love’.

Because she would never be.

“I…” she paused, looking away before finding the strength to look back at him. “It is with deep regret that I tell you this.”

His heart sank. “What is it?”

She sighed, clearly gathering her courage. “I answered your letter with the desire to meet you,” she began. “To know who the man behind the poems was. However, days after I responded, my parents informed me that they… they arranged a marriage for me.”

His heart clinched. The fact that he, too, was engaged wasn’t lost on him, and he found it now as good of a time as any to admit it. “Then, that makes my unfortunate news easier to bear,” he began. “For I, too, have just been arranged to be married. I only discovered very recently, after I had already invited you to meet me.”

Her smile was bitter, a look he did not like on her. “Then what an unfortunate coincidence,” she determined. “That both of us must cease our correspondence.”

He nodded. “It broke my heart when I discovered it. Your letters were the highlight of my week. The thought of loosing it will be so disappointing.”

“Likewise,” she agreed. “I’ll miss your poetry, severely. You are such an incredible writer. Your poetry was always full of the sweetest romance. I’ve never read anything like it. But, it seems fate was cruel and the only poetry of yours I will ever read again is the poetry I’ve stored under my bed.”

His heart leaped. “You mean… you mean you’ve kept it?”

Her smile was one he wished to kiss. “Of course,” she said. “I couldn’t bear parting with it. Not then, and not now. They are my own collection that I will treasure forever.”

His heart swelled with pride and adoration for this woman. This beautiful woman he wanted to have for his own but knew he couldn’t.

“I suppose, then,” Ladybug continued. “This is good-bye.”

No. He didn’t want it to be, no matter how right she was. He looked at the clock again, then listened to the music floating from the castle. “No,” he said, standing from their seat. He extended a hand to her. “Grant me one last dance, my lady, before our good-byes become official.”

She looked at his outstretched hand long enough for the last few notes of the song to come out into the night. Just when he thought she was going to turn him down, she gave him a smile and placed her small, soft hand in his. “How could I refuse?”

…

Marinette was a coward. Truly. After that song ended, she was too scared to leave him and therefore granted him one last dance. And when the time came for them to part, she nearly ran from him.

But he stopped her.

“Grant me one last wish before midnight,” he begged.

She couldn’t say no. “What?” she asked, her voice week and whispery.

“What color are your eyes?” he asked. “I’ve been desperate to know all night, and I thought I could resist, but I was wrong.”

She wanted to know his, too. She wanted to know what color eyes she’d been staring at this entire night, but she couldn’t allow herself to be privy to such knowledge. She couldn’t. For her own sake.

“Blue.”

The clock chimed midnight, breaking the spell between them, and she ran.

She ran even though her heart was breaking with each step and tears wanted to spill over.

She avoided the ballroom. Instead, she scurried through the halls of the Papillion castle, her new home, and to the room that would become her own. The one that was connected to Prince Adrien’s room.

Tears threatened to spill over, and she barely made it to her room before they did. Ripping off her mask, she tossed it onto the bed, then leaned against the door, slid down it, and let her tears overtake her.

[p-artsypants]

The North Tower- New Enemies

FF.net | AO3

Previous 

After staring at books for the last three days, Astrid decided she needed a break. She took the time to do things that are a necessity for a millennial who works from home to do that a ghost from the 1st century wouldn’t know how to do.

Set up technology. The cable went up fairly simple, considering that Finn had cable at one point. But she would have to have a man from the cable company set up the internet. The castle gravely needed wifi, an essential in this era. Especially if Astrid wanted those 5 star reviews. And she wanted them badly. More good reviews, more guests, more money. It was a healthy cycle.

She turned on the flat screen TV in the main room to a game of rugby. She didn’t particularly like the sport, but it was the closest thing to American Football there was here. She supposed she’d get used to it.

When she turned around, couch was occupied by several ghosts, all entranced by the screen.

She was almost startled.

Gobber looked at her with a gleam in his eye. “Finn had a television, but not one as glorious as this.”

“I wouldn’t think so. This is state of the art.” She patted the side of the screen. It stood on top of a wooden bureau, as wires peaked out the sides. Hopefully when the cable guy came, maybe he’d make it look nicer.

The front doorknob jiggled. The ghosts in the room turned invisible.

A tall man, with broad shoulders and an even broader chin stepped in, and suddenly made eye contact with Astrid. “You must be Finn’s niece.” He said with a smile.

“I am,” she replied. “And you are?”

A specter rushed passed her and threw a pair of ghostly arms around him. “Eret! My love!” Cried Ruffnut.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” He said, somewhat resigned. He looked back at Astrid, “Eret, the groundskeeper.”

Astrid grinned, “I guess you’re acquainted with the…permanent guests of the house.”

Ruffnut climbed over Eret and clung to his muscly back like a koala bear.

“Uh, yeah. I grew up here, with my dad and my grandfather. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I met the ghosts. The day of my 18th birthday, my dad sat me down and said, ‘Son, now that you’re a man, you have to know the great secret of the castle.’ And before he could say anything else, Ruffnut leapt on me from out of nowhere, and has haunted me ever since. This vacation was my chance to get away.”

“Why did you leave me for so long!?” Ruffnut moaned, “It wasn’t the same without you!!”

Eret shrugged. “I have to get out and about sometimes.”

“What about me?!?!” She howled.

Astrid watched the exchange with a smile, glad to see that the ghosts had a little bit of human company. Hiccup appeared next to her. “The children that are raised here really have the raw end of the deal.” He spoke quietly.

“Why’s that?” Astrid watched as Eret fanned his arm through Ruff, like he was wafting a bad order away.

“The castle itself has an evil that persists even if the door is locked.”

“You mean nightmares?” She wondered allowed.

“So you’ve had them too?” He sighed. “I had hoped…that being in the same room as you, that knowing I was there, if that would make them go away. But I guess not.”

Eret finally walked outside, as Ruff stood with her arms reaching out for him. He was just getting another suitcase.

“There’s always something about the unknown in them. Like, last nights, I was on a slide, and I could hear a buzzsaw in the distance, but I couldn’t find where it was coming from.”

“Finn used to have them. As well as every Hofferson before him. It appears there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Good thing I have NyQuil.” Astrid laughed emptily. “What’s some bad nightmares, anyway?”

“There’s more than just nightmares though, there’s also—“

“Hey Astrid!” Eret called, “did you need to get any groceries? The Tesco’s like 20 minutes from here, if you wanted to come with.”

“Hold that thought, Hiccup.” She smiled, “yeah! I do. My parents are coming tomorrow. They’re going to help me prepare for guests. Although, they were going to help clean, but as you can see, I got plenty of help in that regard.”

Eret nodded. “How do you think Finn did it without any hired help?”

Astrid raised an eyebrow. Really, besides Eret who did work outside, she couldn’t remember anyone working in the castle during the several times she visited as a child. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Well, now you know.”

Astrid glanced over to the ghosts all piled up on the couch. “Alright Hiccup, you’re in charge until we get back. Is there anything you want from the store? I know you can’t eat or drink anything…”

Hiccup’s eyes widened slightly, before he smiled. “No, thank you, Astrid. I’m fine.”

Eret rested his suitcases by the East Tower entrance. “Now Ruff, don’t go snooping through my stuff while I’m gone.” He reprimanded, like she was a dog.

“Oh, of course not.” She assured. “Why would I do that?” Her glance darted over to the suitcase and back to him with a smile.

Eret shook his head then looked at Astrid, “Ready?”

She prepared the affirmative, but then stopped with realization. “The internet guy!” She almost shouted.

“What about him?”

“He’s coming in like an hour, I have to be here for him…can you wait to go? Oh, what time does the store close?” Looking at her phone, she found it was 3 o’clock.

“It closes at 6.” Provided Eret.

“Crap…”  

Hiccup came up beside her. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of him. Go get the groceries.”

“What do you mean, you’ll take care of him…?”

“I’ll make sure he gets let in and finds everything he needs.”

Astrid looked at him skeptically. “Fine, but don’t do anything that would put my business in jeopardy before it even opens.”

“Oh of course, Milady.”  

—

The ride into town was pleasant and quiet. Navigating the winding roads of the town was still new to Astrid, and she allowed her new friend to drive.

“So, how do you like the castle?” He asked, as they headed into town.

“It’s nice,” she said amicably, “big. Very fancy. Mysterious.”

“Yep, I’ve lived there my whole life, and there’s just so much I don’t understand myself.”

“Have you ever been to the North Tower?” It was a stupid question.

“I met Toothless once in my life, if that’s what you meant. He was waiting for me as soon as I opened the door.”

“And you didn’t run screaming?”

“I never said that,” he laughed. “That was…terrifying. To be sure. What about you? I’m assuming you did, since the gang was out and about. Last I knew, Finn had locked them all away.”

“The first night I was here, I saw a light on in the tower, and wondered if it was an intruder. Turns out it was just a bunch of really really old men playing Rummy.”

Eret snorted. “Must have been scary.”  

“I…don’t know. I don’t remember that night all that well. It was only a few days ago, but some of details were fuzzy.”

“Probably from shock.”

“Probably.” She agreed. “I didn’t really accept that the castle was haunted until the next day…I still don’t know. Like, Hiccup and Gobber and the others…they act so normal. They just look…transparent. In every ghost movie I’ve seen, the ghosts are invisible and they’re stacking chairs and stuff. Not…helping you clean to make room for guests.”

“What did you think of Stoick?”

“Never met him. Hiccup said he left a few days ago.”

Eret was quiet before uttering a gentle, “oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How many are left? Do you know?”

“Um…I think I met most of them. So, Hiccup and Gobber, Fishlegs, Ruff and Tuff and Snotlout. That’s six.” She counted on her hand. “Gothi, Agnar, uh…Gust, Cleftjaw, Gunnar, Silent Sven…that’s 12.”

“Spitelout?”

“Nope, he’s gone.”

“Uh…Jorgen? Lars?”

“That’s 14.”

“Oh, Bucket and Mulch!”

“Both gone.”

Eret gave her sad sideways glance. “Really?”

“Hmm…” She hummed. “And Magnus. I think that’s it.”

“Only 15 left?”

“Well, there was 19 when I moved in.” She winced, “to be fair, I’m mixing a lot of them up in my head.”

“It’s okay. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Astrid shifted in his truck uncomfortably. He was still a stranger, and a man at that. This situation should rightfully make her squirm, just a little.

“What’s it like?” He finally asked.

“What?”

“The North Tower. Finn…never talked to me about it. No matter how much I asked. He just said I was a child and what was in there was not for children. You don’t need to tell me every detail…I’m just curious.”

“I’m sure you would be…” She assessed. “Well, it’s kind of like…if you took the West or East Towers, and stripped them bare and let them stagnate for a thousand years.”

Eret huffed. “That’s a vivid picture.”

“But the bottom level goes really…really far down.”

He looked sideways at her. “What’s down there?”

“No idea. I went down a few floors with Hiccup, when Bucket left…but that’s as far as I got. Honestly, I never want to go anywhere near there again.”

“Why? Was it just sad?”

“Sad and…I don’t know. I felt like I was being watched.” She carefully left out the part about the figure with the long bony fingers.

Eret made a sound like ‘yech’ deep in his throat. “Well, that solves my curiosity.”

“Really? Just a few words from me, and that’s it?”

“I mean, I still wonder what’s deep deep down…but if the water level from the lake is anything to go by, it’s probably like the Berkley Pit down there.”

“The what?”

“You know, The Berkley Pit? The armpit of America?”

“The armpit of America is New Jersey.” She corrected.

“I guess you would know,” he chuckled. “You’re from the US, right? Or is that not an American accent?”

“I’m from Michigan, by Chicago. What’s this pit?”

“Oh, it’s a pit. In Butte Montana. It used to be an old copper mine, but it flooded and now the water is black and so toxic that anything that touches it instantly dies.”

“Ew gross. I think that’s more like the butthole of America.”

“Butthole in Butte.” He chuckled.

“How do you know about that? Since, well I wouldn’t take you for an American tourist.”

He grinned at her. “I’m a landscaper. I study the pH balance of soil for fun.”

“Weird.”

“And you rent out your Uncle’s haunted castle for fun. We all have our kicks.”

“I don’t do it for fun!” Astrid argued back. “It’s my lively hood!” She crossed her arms. “I study the history of the ghosts for fun.”

“I rest my case.”

—

Back at the castle, a rotund man in a large white van pulled up the drive. He looked at the castle in excitement. Rumors were that the building was haunted, and he had never serviced a haunted house before. He knocked on the door, “Spectrum Internet!” he called.

It was a moment before the big door unlatched and creaked open. No one was there.

“Hello…?” He called out. “My name’s Ioan, I’m here to set up your box?” He took a few steps inside. “Astrid Hofferson? You called this morning?”

The door suddenly slammed shut and locked behind him.

He gulped heavily, definitely considering the possibility of these so called ghosts.

A clanking sound made it’s way to him from under the stairs in front of him. It got louder and louder until a suit of armor was marching towards him.

Poor Ioan dropped his toolbox in fear, and stood frozen in place, his knees knocking together.

“You’re the internet guy?” The armor spoke, his voice echoing with a hallow ring.

“Uh yes, sir.” Ioan nodded.

“Great!” The armor clapped with a clink. “What do you need from me?”

“Uh…there should be a place where the cable connects to the outside, it’s called a drop spot. Do you know where it is?”

“It’s probably in the library, come with me.”

So poor, terrified, confused Ioan followed the suit of armor into the East Tower and down the stairs. In the south corner, there was a cable line hooked up to a splitter.

“Uh, thanks…” said Ioan, as he got to work. “Where do you want the modem? In here?”

“The closer we can get to the South Tower would be the most beneficial, I think.”

Ioan scratched his head. “Well, I could do that, but these walls are solid stone. You’d have to get a contractor in here to drill a hole to run the line.”

“If I got someone to drill the hole right now, could you run it?”

Ioan looked at him like he was crazy. “I…guess.”

“Okay, give me just a second. You do what you can right now.”

And the suit of armor left the room, clanking all the way.

“I need a vacation…” Ioan whispered to himself.      

—

The shopping trip had proved to be a good bonding experience for Astrid and Eret, and she was now relaxed at the prospect of sharing a tower with him.

Astrid quietly shamed herself. Here, she was nervous around a young professional male, while she had willingly fallen asleep twice in front of a male ghost. She should have been more comfortable around Eret, since he had skin.

But there was just something about Hiccup that set her mind at ease. His voice, maybe the way he spoke? Maybe the wisdom of a thousand years? Or maybe it simply was shock.

Either way, she now had two guys she could depend on in this strange new life. Not that she really needed them, but it was a nice idea.

When she and Eret returned, a police car, as well as an internet van, were sitting in the driveway.

“Oh no…” Astrid muttered to herself.

“Did you lock the door?” Eret whispered.

“I think so…I’m pretty sure…” Astrid jumped out of the truck quickly and hurried up to the door. Pulling on the handle, she found that it was still locked.

“Good afternoon.” A deep voice spoke from around the corner. A familiar face came around.

“You’re…the officer from the other night.”

“Viggo Ryker,” the man held out his hand. “Sorry for startling you.”

“Is everything alright?” She asked, nervously.

Eret, not bothered, had began bringing bags of groceries over and setting them by the door.

“Yes, I think so,” responded the policeman. “I was just coming to check on things. I wanted to make sure that home invader situation was handled.”

All her life, Astrid had trusted the police. Her uncle was a policeman back home, as well. But this man…he was not to be trusted. There was something about him…that just didn’t sit right in her gut.

“Oh yeah. My Uncle had a generator to that part of the castle. It’s a storage unit. There was a motion detector light up there. There must have been a mouse or something. It turned off not long after you left.”

The Officer Ryker didn’t look convinced. But he chose not to say anything. “Well, that’s good to know.” He took a notebook out of his pocket and started jotting down some information. “If there’s ever any sort of problem that requires someone to be escorted off the premises, please don’t hesitate to call this non-emergency number.” He handed her the piece of paper. “But of course, 999 is still appropriate for life threatening situations.”

“I—uh, thank you.” She responded.

Eret had finished bring the collection of food over, and waited to unlock the door.

“Have a nice day, Miss Hofferson.” He nodded with a tip of his cap. Then he wandered back to his squad car.

“Hmm…” she pulled out her phone as Eret watched him leave. “This number he gave me…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not the emergency number that Mala gave me.”

Eret was quiet a moment. “Does it matter?”

Astrid considered, “It probably doesn’t. But, he rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Ditto, that’s why I didn’t unlock the door.”

“You are one smart cookie.”

Eret unlocked the door and stared ahead at the strangest sight he’d ever seen.

One normal portly man was poised on a latter, and screwed fasteners into the wooden molding around the ceiling. He was surrounded by three suits of armor, all helping him in various positions, either holding up the cable or the ladder.

“Oh, Astrid, Eret, you’re home!” Hiccup spoke from one of the suits. “Internet is almost up. We’re going to put a modem on the table right beneath the stairs.”

Eret covered his mouth with a fist, trying in vain to hold in his laughter. Astrid smiled, and shook her head. “I should have never doubted you when you said you had this covered.”

“Are you Miss Hofferson?” Ioan asked, coming down the ladder.

“Yep,” she smiled. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Oh it was no trouble at all! You’re staff here is so helpful! I wish I had help like this at all my jobs!”

“Well, we’re vacant right now, so they have nothing better to do.” Astrid laughed.

Ioan came a little closer. “You can be honest, are there actual people in the suits?”

Astrid laughed. “If you want to think so, go ahead.”

“Are you going to fasten this line or not? I’m not going to stand here all day!” Called Gobber, from another ladder.

—

At night, Astrid curled up in bed with her laptop, and made sure the Castle had a Facebook page. Tomorrow, she’d take pictures and make sure everything was ready to start taking reservations.

Hiccup floated in, and sat cross-legged by her feet. “Was that okay?”

“Hmmm?” She looked up at him.

“What we did with the armor? I know you don’t want us to be known to everyone…”

“I think it was fine. What do you think? Do you want people to know you?”

He was quiet for a while. “Hiding for a thousand years can make you want a lot of things.”

Astrid closed her computer and set it aside. “How old were you when you were cursed?”

“20.” He answered simply. “How old are you?”

“21. I was only asking because you look about my age. Well, when you’re in the North Tower, you do.”

He hummed slightly. “I’m glad I look human at least a little.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, but is it that you have a body there, but not out in the castle?”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “The form I take in the tower is tangible, but it’s still not whole. If you wanted to, you could walk through me even in there.”

“Oh…I just assumed…”

“It’s alright. Looks can be deceiving.” He shrugged.

“Are you always this chummy with the Hofferson’s, or am I special?”

He leaned back on his arms, considering. “At first, when this whole thing happened, I was pretty upset. I spent that first lifetime by myself…really, I was the first one to leave.”

Her eyes widened.

“My whole outlook on life was my freedom. Growing up, I was the smallest in the tribe and I would do anything to belong. After I lost my leg, I came to realize that I would always be different, and there was nothing I could do about it. So I embraced it. Then I came to realize that I had a chiefly duty to my people, so I tried to balance my solitary life and helping the tribe.”

“It must have been suffocating.” She sighed.

“It still is. There’s days where I wander through the North Tower just to get away. But it’s never enough.” He met her eyes and then blushed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just unload that on you.”

“It’s alright,” she assured. “But the question still stands, do you treat all the Castle Masters like this?”

He smirked. “Not usually this close. I just think you’re cute.”

Astrid burned red. “I—I that is, I’m flattered…”

He chuckled. “Sorry, we are kind of blunt. Viking trait.”

She shook her head. “I’m just not used to be called cute.”

He leaned forward, toward her. “What? Do you not have a boyfriend?”

“Nah, I had a few dates in college, but no one I really connected with.”

“Oh.” He bored his big green eyes into hers. “Do you connect with me?”

She smirked back. “Sure. But don’t get too used to the idea. We walk very different paths of lives.”

“You mean I’m dead and you aren’t?” The way he said it held much contempt, and lacked his usual teasing tone.

“Yeah, that.” She simpered. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” He assured. “It’s just something I’ve had to come to terms with.” Then he smiled, genuinely. “I do like you though. I’d like to get to know you more. Maybe you are the one that’ll break the curse.”

Astrid reached out, and overlapped his hand with hers. “I certainly hope so.”  

[evangelene]

To Take (Pt.2)

Summary: With all your memories gone, and the sudden information that you are now a vampire–who do you trust? Do you trust your mind that says to hate Yoongi? Or your heart that says you could never?

Part One / Part Three

Three weeks after your sudden awakening into the life of a vampire, you finally found the library. Turns out the entire basement of the castle was a maze of libraries--of which, none were labeled. The unhelpful nature of the castle and its books did not aid in your quest to remember/ figure out whom the hell you were supposed to be/ what were you now that you were a vampire.

The first room you stumbled upon was a mess: dusty and cluttered to the point that some rows of tables were positively littered with books, scraps of papers, quills, modern pens, random notes in languages you couldn't read nevertheless speak, texts that were in equally strange tongues, and piles upon piles of printed images ranging from frayed old parchment to newer, sleeker photographs. The mildew in the room caused you to sneeze practically every two feet; if there was one thing about immortality, it was that it did not clear your allergies.

You strode past the nearest length of shelving, brushing your fingers delicately over the spines of books covered in dust; several of them were so old that you could see the uneven pages aged and yellowed.  There were centuries worth of mystery and gunk that came off on your fingertips. These millions of books contained a history of worlds and universes that you were no longer aware of; it scared you to think that one of them could contain information of your past--information that was taken from you. You were sure that you could find answers within the pages, but you were aware that they wouldn't be the answers that would bring back the old self that everyone was so anxiously waiting for you to rediscover.

It felt like you were stepping into shoes three sizes too large for you.

You strode through to another library. This one had a table that drew you in almost immediately--on top of it was an array of withered lilies in different colors and varieties. Spread around the decayed plants were stacks of books about flowers and gardening, and large swaths of blueprint paper drawn out with different sketches for flower beds and garden designs that felt too familiar. As your fingers toyed with the edge of a white lily petal long since crinkled with mold, you heard the sound of a woman's laugh echo through the back of your mind. You tried to picture her face, what she sounded like or what she meant to you but, as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

"Ah, I found you."

You nearly jumped to the high, vaulted ceiling, whirling around to face the ecstatic voice. Your hands ripped themselves from the table as if you were caught doing something you shouldn't. Hoseok only chuckled softly, keeping his distance from you until you calmed down enough that he deemed it safe for him to approach you. "Sorry, sorry! I tend to have light footsteps." He eyeballed the table that you had been staring at when he first entered, noting the way your hands twitched with want to touch the lilies again.

"Ah, that was Yoongi's last project. Aside from Namjoon, he's the only one that comes down here on a regular basis. The books were a source for him to search for an escape route out of this castle. He stopped coming down here for a bit, but, while you were out, this was practically the only place we could go to in order to find him." Hoseok grabbed a book from the table, flipping through page after page of intricately labeled seed packets. His hand fanned out on the blueprints as he snapped the book closed with a dusty thud. "These are for the flowerbeds outside in the clearing. Did you see them?"

You thought of Yoongi, his face illuminated by the sun as he saw you for the first time after you'd awoken.

"Yes." You whispered.

"He worked hard on those gardens for months; before his project, it used to be just a gazebo and millions of dandelions and crabgrass. He cleared it all, gathered the stones, planted and tended to those gardens as best as he could. He did so much research that we had to check that he was eating enough to survive. He may not look like it, but Yoongi is neat and meticulous--he never goes halfway on anything."

You stared at the lilies on the table, feeling your fingers already reaching out once more to grab it. The petal crumbled to dust under your touch; once more you heard that laughter, but this time you closed your eyes, visions of flowerbeds outside a small cottage overlapped with the sensation of a hand smaller than yours gripping onto the back of your dress. You opened your eyes, meeting Hoseok's gaze; he looked like he already knew exactly what you had seen and was waiting for a million questions to flow off your tongue.

"What do you want to know?" He murmured, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder-blades; firmly grounding you from the loose flashes of memory.

"I--why can't I hate him for making me like this?"

"That's not a question that I can answer for you." He chuckled, the moment of sadness suddenly disappearing as his arms wrapped around your middle. You found sunshine in the basement as he lifted you off your feet and spun you in tight, quick circles that had you both dizzy and elated. You screamed at first, but the shouting turned into bubbles of laughter that mimicked his own. Something about the sound of Hoseok laughing infected the confused synapses of your brain and you no longer knew why you were laughing; it was as if there were a thousand inside jokes that your body knew but your mind no longer remembered. And you didn't really care; Hoseok made the darkness seem bright.

You liked how you felt when you were around him. It wasn't heavy like it was with Namjoon, it wasn't confusing like it was with Yoongi, it wasn't brotherly in the same way that it was with Seokjin--with Hoseok it was like there could only ever be smiles. Tears weren't a concept in a world with this man.

He captured your face in both his hands to get a better look at your face the second he let your rubbery legs hit the ground, his eyes glittering with laughter that didn't make it past his lips. "You were--you are still--something special to all of us. We all needed you here in the castle for different reasons, you're not just a friend to us all, Y/N. You're our sister--and to Yoongi you're something far more. You were the warmth that melted the glacier Min Yoongi--we'd been trying to reach him for so long that we thought it was impossible until you came along." He softened. "But what we want and who you were isn't important because who you are now is still our sister. This new person is still precious to all of us regardless if you hate or love Yoongi."

You stared up at him with furrowed eyebrows, cupping his face in your hands much like he was doing to you. It made him chuckle and, in turn, it loosened the knot growing in your chest. For some reason, you couldn't find it in yourself to allow this man to be sad for even a second.

"Please forgive us. What happened was mostly out fault, but we couldn't watch you die."

"I died?" But there wasn't any fear in it; instead you were using your thumbs to smooth out the worry wrinkles on Hoseok's forehead.

"Almost; you almost did."

You couldn't find any words to say--partly because the fact didn't seem to surprise you and partly because it felt like an answer that you already knew. Instead, you just let out a small hum and waited for him to continue.

"He--he can't let anything slip out of his control. Yoongi, he needs to make you happy--it's in every pore and cell of his body. He wants you to live a life free of pain and sadness. Everything that Yoongi has done has been to protect you. Therefore, we're all afraid to ruin his work by telling you too much." His smile grew into something warm, something that reminded you of the sun; you couldn't help but beam a grin back up at him.

"It's not life without pain--you need the bad to appreciate the good." You whispered, dropping your hands from his face to cup them around his own on your cheeks. "Yoongi..." Something flashed before you and you were back in the garden meeting the stare of the man with the cold, hard eyes that both drew you in and pushed you away. "Yoongi only wanted me for this castle...he only wanted me because...because..."

"Because you reminded him of your mother?"

As your stare shot up from a point far off in the distance to the reality of the man before you, Hoseok continued; he had already anticipated your questions. "I can't tell you too much, but your mother was very close with Yoongi's family--she would bring you to this castle often. The you who doesn't know any better is probably thinking that he only wants you here because you remind him of his deceased parents."

"They--"

"Y/N, to many people we are monsters--some of us deserve that title and others don't; the village that you came from is blind to that fact." He sighed. "Your mother stopped coming when you were old enough to speak and that had been the last that we'd heard from either of you."

There was a ghost of a red ball bouncing off the floor once before landing into tiny, child hands that led up to a pale face with little fangs. Those eyes were bright with innocence and almost nothing like the darkened impassivity of the ones that haunted the male now.

"Yoongi chose you, Y/N--not because of his parents and not because he needed to fill an empty role in order to survive--he chose you because you are someone special. Like your mother, you find humanity in monsters and you love them for it--but unlike her, you are not blinded by it."

"My mother." You murmured, feeling tears slide down your cheeks--tears quickly wiped away by Hoseok's thumbs and then his shirt as he pulled you in for a tight hug. He was the glue that kept all your pieces together in that moment--you wanted to thank him but flashes of white lilies lying on a grave stopped you. "She's dead...isn't she?" You whispered, hating how your voice cracked.

"No matter how hard your mother tried, she couldn't believe that there were monsters who didn't deserve to be loved."

"Lilies." You sobbed into Hoseok's shoulder. "She loved lilies."

"Yes," he chuckled softly, swaying with you in his arms. "But they are also your favorite flower. Both are reasons why Yoongi made that garden for you; he wanted to see you smile when you awoke."

~.~

You stood at the very edge of the forest, staring into the dappled depths of the woods where sunlight slipped between the leaves. For some reason, you couldn't take that first step forward into the shadows. There was something in your chest--some sort of déjà vu that had you feeling like you would throw up if you even dipped a toe past the first line of trees.

Those woods meant something to you--leaving the castle was something the past you dreaded to the point of sickness. 'Why?' was a question that you didn't want to find the answer to just yet, but the call of the woods was stronger.

You swallowed down your doubt despite it all and stepped forward, your bare feet digging into the mossy and woody ground. You weren't wearing shoes purely because you couldn't figure out where the hell your shoes were; you didn't feel like asking either--something told you that the boys didn't want you to go into those woods by yourself.  But it was that fact that made you all the more motivated to see just exactly what they were hiding.

The second your skin became shrouded in the shadows, goosebumps spilled across your spine. You continued forward despite how heavy your body felt. The farther you got away from the castle the more dangerous the woods felt--the trees seem to reach for you with branches for fingertips, clinging to your hair and your clothing.; the very grass beneath your feet felt sharp and the air was musky and hard to breath in. You swallowed, hearing whispers in the noises of the animals of the forest. The woods were deep and thick; there was seemingly no end to how far you could walk. Even though it had been morning light when you entered, it was now starting to darken. Then and only then did you see hints of fire in the distance and, suddenly, the trees broke to a meadow no man's land.

You stayed within that ending line of trees, staring at the cottages and cobbled roads lit by lanterns and shrouded with fields of crops. Ghosts of yourself as a child came running at you from the misty dark, only to pass through you with giggles. Cold fingers seemed to tap up your spine until you shivered just to shake the feeling.

This had to be your village--the place you came from; the place that you grew up in. Despite the answers that flickered in the torch light, you couldn't make yourself leave the woods to find them.

You were gathering the courage to move your foot, the energy to press forward even though the weight of the air felt like it was trying to drive you deep into the earth, when you heard the hurried crunch of footsteps running through the forest behind you. The labored breath and hiss of your name startled you out of your skin, causing you to spin around only to have a warm body crash into you. You were wrapped in muscled arms, held so tightly that you believed--if you were still human--you would have broken something; as the vampire you were now, it was somehow a comforting pressure.

"Jungkook." You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.

"What are you doing out here?" He hissed into your shoulder, but it sounded more like worry than a warning.

"I--I wanted to see my village." You whispered. "But in the end I couldn't go all the way."

He let out a sigh, leaning back to stare at you. "You scare us too much, you know that?"

You grinned up at him as an answer to his rhetorical question, cocking your head to the side. "Why are you here? Did the others send you?"

"I came when I couldn't find you."

Your eyes softened on him, on this boy in front of you; your heart seemed to be entirely aware of what he meant to the you that had been erased. Even though you couldn't remember any of your time spent with him, you knew instantly you would do anything to protect him from the world.

He's the youngest. You don't know where the thought came from, but it was there all the same and you knew that it had to be true--all flashes and whispers in your head had been true so far.

"Jungkook, I won't go to the village yet, okay? I--I'll let you know when I decide to."

His eyes lit up, a small bunny smile brightening up his darkened features. "You will?"

You nodded, unable to help the way his grin infected your own. "I will." You smoothed out his wild hair, brushing it back off his forehead. "These woods are dangerous aren't they? And you ran here all by yourself."

"For me they're not--for you...it's different."

"Different how?" You bit your cheek, feeling dread leak from the village up into your chest.

"Female vampires are rare--very rare; something about the breeding process and/ or turning process makes it extremely difficult to produce a female. Because of this, it makes you prime prey for the monsters in the woods--both human and not."

You stared at him, about to open your mouth with a snappy retort when he cut you off.

"Y/N, please. There's a lot you don't know right now, so please just promise me that, when you decide to come back here, you won't go alone."

You knew that you couldn't keep that promise, but you agreed to it anyways--if only to ease the youngest's mind for now.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pausing when he felt your bones through your skin. "When was the last time you drank blood?"

"I--"

He didn't hesitate to bite the inside of his wrist with his teeth, holding it out to you. "You need to drink--I know it's hard at first, but it's important."

"No...Jungkook--please don't make me." You tried to shove him away but he was much too strong for you in your weakened state.

He brought his wrist closer to you, just under your nose. You caught the hints of copper and suddenly your lips were on his skin and you were drinking in thirsty gulps.

The smoke ripped you from the moment of ravenous hunger.

You were a smoky ghost watching yourself amongst seven boys--all seven boys. Quickly your gaze searched all their faces until you found the one that you hadn't met yet.

Taehyung.

You found him just in time to watch him pick the past you up by your waist, hoisting you up over his shoulder only to run with you into the water. Unceremoniously, he crashed down in a heavy splash, surfacing with you with laughter. The you from Jungkook's memories giggled and splashed wildly as you screeched his name with crazed laughter and chased after him. You had barely gotten a few trudging, watery steps before Jungkook burst from underneath the water and wrapped his arms around your middle, yanking you out deeper into the lake with him.

The lake--it had to be the one from behind the gazebo. When the smoky you turned over your shoulder, you could barely see the outline of said structure across a field of grass and dandelions. Though you didn't remember this lake's name, you felt that there was something sacred about it--at least sacred to the boys and yourself.

The past you kicked at the youngest until suddenly there was another pair of arms around you, pulling you free from Jungkook's grip. Yoongi twisted you around, hiking your legs around his hips so he could look up at you. With your wet hair dangling down on his face, he leaned up to kiss you--almost jealously eyeing the maknae. It was a sight that made your chest twist and drop; there was so much kindness, so much love in Yoongi's eyes that he seemed like an entirely different person than the present Yoongi.

Taehyung grinned devilishly and kicked the back of Yoongi's knees, knocking both of you into the water. "Get a room you two!" He chuckled, his hand snatching out to grab your arm in order to keep you above the surface; he seemed to care less about Yoongi who came spurting up water moments later.

Jungkook, who appeared almost sullen that you were taken from his grasp, turned his back to you--giving you the perfect opening to splash your way on over to him like a bull in a china shop; it was clearly apparent that you were a land mammal. You clung to his back, reaching up with one hand to ruffle his hair. "Yoongi's a butt, isn't he?"

His chuckle vibrated through your chest. "Y/N, you love him."

"And I love all of you too, ya know? There's more than just one type of love."

"You're going to make an annoying cousin-in-law."

"Sister-in-law sounds better." You giggled, squeezing your thighs and gently kicking him in the shins with your heels. "Now giddy up! We have a Yoongi to wrestle! Chicken! Chicken!"

Jungkook's wrist was taken from you and, immediately, you were out of his memory, back into the reality where you were no longer human.

Something in your heart tugged at the pain in Jungkook's eyes; you wanted to fix it but you couldn't place the cause--as a result you could only stare up at him hopelessly.

"Taehyung." You managed to choke out even though you already had this horrible feeling that the answer wasn't one you wanted. "I want to see Taehyung."

Jungkook's eyes filled almost instantly, leaving you to move on instinct--your hands coming up to cradle his face and feverishly wipe away his tears. "What? What's wrong?" You said. "Are you okay?"

The youngest's lip quivered, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder so you couldn't see him break. "You're back--I can see it in your eyes. A part of you is back." His breath was hot and tired. "Taehyung would love to see this version of you again."

"Where is he?" You choked out.  "Jungkook, where is Taehyung?"

He didn't say anything for a while; he just stood there with his face buried into your shoulder. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and pleading. "Let's go back to the castle, Y/N. We can still go back--this can still be okay."

"Jungkook--"

"Please, Y/N. Don't make me show you."

"I want to know. I need to know."

His wrist was in front of you once more; even though you were no longer thirsty, you let his blood pass your lips.

The smoke wasn't gentle; this time it took you violently--ripping you forcefully from the safety of Jungkook.

"Taehyung." You felt an immense sense of déjà vu watching yourself stand in the woods with a man curled over on the ground. It was difficult for you to see past the way the past you stood with shaking shoulders. When you finally got a good look at what the man was holding, you felt the urge to throw up.

Blood. So much blood. Even as a vampire this blood smelled like flowers--overly perfumey in a way that made you shudder just thinking about drinking it. It was the blood of someone important to you.  

"Taehyung, it's not your fault." Your shadow self stepped to the side to get a better look at the past you's face, your throat constricting at the sound of your past self on the verge of tears. You couldn't recognize the body beneath Taehyung--it was too bloody, twisted, and bruised beyond compare. "Taehyung." Your past self practically shouted, trying to bring him back to you. "You know it's not your fault."

"Maybe...maybe we could have saved her--you don't know that!" He screamed back at you, his eyes flashing a vivid red as he snapped his head up to meet your gaze. "If I hadn't tried to turn her maybe she could have--"

"She asked you to!" You shouted back, your chest heaving with the effort it took to make the words come out. When you turned away from the scene to let your present self catch your breath, you spotted past Jungkook crouched by a tree, his hands in his hair as he looked on in shock. He was frozen; you were positive he wasn't letting any air get to his lungs.

"Us vampires, we kill, Y/N." You whipped back around to see the sorrow in Taehyung's eyes, the absolute hopelessness. "We kill so fucking easily. How am I supposed to believe that this isn't my fault?"

"She asked you to." You whispered, your past self's fingers twitching as if you wanted to reach out to him but couldn't. "She asked you to turn her even though she knew that it wouldn't work--she asked you to turn her because she wanted you to have all of her memories. She wanted to live through you."

"Why would she do that?" He hissed, his fingers tightening around the body. "Why? She knew that 99% of females won't turn--she knew that she would die and she wanted me to suffer--she wanted me to--"

"No, Taehyung--" You dove for him but it was too late, he was dropping Jia's body to the ground and taking off into the woods on a howl that broke what was left in you. The past you, instead of breaking down in front of the body like you wanted to, turned to take care of the frozen Jungkook. "Hey--Hey Kookie, it'll be okay, it'll be fine." But you were crying all the same.

Jungkook's lip quivered as he looked up at you, glassy-eyed. "But what if you don't make it when Yoongi turns you?"

You grinned at him despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'll stay human, Kookie. I'll stay human and then you will never lose me."

You felt Jungkook's arms around your waist, the dampness of his blood seeping through the side of your dress--but you couldn't see; the smoke still blinded you. It was too much, all too much. "Y/N." Jungkook sounded so far away, but he got closer with each repetition of your name until, finally, you were back into the woods, staring up at the darkening sky.

"Jia." You croaked out, feeling unconscious tears dribble down your face and dapple your dress. "Jia is gone."

"Yes." Jungkook whispered. "Yes, she is."

"She--she was my sister." You croaked, unable to help the way your entire body wracked with the beginning of sobs as you stared up at Jungkook. "She...she didn't die because of Taehyung, did she? She didn't." You don't know how you knew this for sure, but something about the sound of her name and the image of Taehyung's back curled over her body had you positive that the words tumbling out your mouth were true. It was a fact that made you sob harder.

"He didn't." Jungkook whispered, this time it was his turn to be the rock for you. He held you up, wiping away your tears with his free hand. "Taehyung didn't kill her--she was already dead when she asked him to turn her. But, he loved her so much that when she ultimately died, he couldn't take it. He stopped drinking blood entirely."

"Where is he?" You whispered. "Where is Taehyung?"

Jungkook licked his lips, shaking his head. "We had to keep him chained in the woods and force feed him blood so he wouldn't become an uncontrollable vampire driven only by thirst. There are monsters in these woods that have fallen to such lows--we couldn't let him become like that. We--we couldn't we couldn't let your village hunt him down and kill him for turning into a monster."

You clutched Jungkook's shoulder tightly, whimpering. "Where is he now--I want to see him. Jungkook, I need to see Taehyung."

Jungkook lifted you up onto his back, hooking an elbow under either leg. "Hold onto me." He murmured softly; he was so grown up now--even if his appearance didn't show his true age. Somehow you wanted him to be back to that innocent child that you comforted in the woods--but the current you wasn't bred to be strong enough for all this yet.

"Where is Taehyung?" You cried into his shoulder-blade. "Where is he?"

"One step at a time, Y/N." Jungkook murmured. "One thing at a time."

And it was the first time that you felt so incredibly safe and broken at the same time that you grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook's shirt and thanked him even as you sobbed into the silken fabric.

~.~

You treaded through the halls, trying to make your way to the kitchen. Unfortunately, the map of the castle in your head was horribly flawed and that left you somehow on the third floor staring into an open room where Yoongi sat asleep at a desk completely littered with scraps of paper. He was a mess; for some reason Yoongi not being an absolute neat-freak surprised you.

You couldn't make yourself leave the frame of the study door and continue on your quest for the kitchen. Instead, you watched him. The icy Min Yoongi was completely and utterly passed out to the point that he was drooling on his papers. It looked to you that he hadn't slept in years; it was a complete 180 from the Yoongi you knew, and it was that fact that made the sight of the stoic man lying prone and sleeping was cute to you.

You knocked on the door, expecting him to wake up. To your surprise, he didn't even shift in his sleep other than the tiniest of snores.

He's normally such a light sleeper. Another thought that had to be true--he really must be exhausted.  You stepped deeper into the room, approaching him slowly as if he was a tiger that might wake up any second. It was the papers that had you curious; what could Yoongi possibly be slaving over at this hour to the point that he passed out on top of them?  

There were letters, years and years worth of letters written in his insanely beautiful scrawl. You read bits and pieces of sentences, finding the letters to be a diary of sorts--a diary entirely written to you about the happenings of his mind. Before you could sneak closer and read carefully, he started to sleep talk.

"Y/N." He whispered, your name ending on a snore. Yoongi's brow furrowed as he shivered and crumpled his hands into the papers on his desk.

Your mind empty and running on instinct, your hand reached out to press against his cheek.

Your skin had barely touched his when his eyes flew open and his head popped off the table. His hand snapped out to grasp yours--tightly as if he awoke to someone about to murder him. When Yoongi's eyes finally adjusted and recognized you, he loosened his grip.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was sharp, but it felt like a defense of false thorns thrown up to get you to leave--to forget that you saw him so vulnerable.

"You looked--I--the...never mind." You stared at where his hand met yours, waiting for him to realize what he was doing.

He followed your gaze when you stopped talking and let go quickly. "Don't come in this room again--if you do I'll take away your freedom to roam the castle."

Finding a bubble of rebellion in your chest, you lifted your chin to meet his stare for deathly stare. "But it's my castle now too, isn't it? You changed me, so now you don't get to decide what I can and can't do."

His eyes darted to you, something flashing across his irises too fast to catch before he was kicking his chair back with a sound that had you flinching automatically. Despite his size, he seemed to tower over you, causing you to back up instinctively.  He kept getting closer and closer until he backed you up against the nearest wall. Yoongi's body caged yours, seeming to tighten closer and closer until you felt that he was taking your air as well. Your heart told you that you were a rabbit and this was a wolf, its beat threatening to break your sternum at a rapid fire pace.

"You are just a changed being--I am born." He hissed like a wooden stake to your chest.

You dug your fingers into the wall, fighting against every nerve ending that told you to run. This was Yoongi--this was the man that was supposed to love you, the man that you were supposed to love. You couldn't run away. "But changed vampires are physically stronger, no?" You raised one eyebrow at him and tried your best to give him a smirk--but you felt it quiver at the last second.

The castle started to shake beneath you; it started off slow and low, building up to high-pitched tremors that seemed to ring in your ears. Yoongi's icy eyes captured you into tunnel-vision, making his stare the only thing that you could focus on. Your body trembled, but you were hypnotized by the man before you. "You may be physically stronger--"his voice seemed to echo and come from several different places at once "--but the castle listens to me."

"Y-You're scaring me." You whispered; your voice was so soft that you almost thought that you didn't say anything at all. Almost.

Yoongi leaned in close to you, his breath hot on the shell of your ear. "Good."

"You're too good for me, Y/N." You heard the flash of the past in Yoongi's voice--it was the only thing that kept you sane enough to bring your shaking hands up to Yoongi's face. He flinched at first, but you forced yourself to hold onto him until the castle snapped and cooled around you; you were no longer prisoner to Yoongi's gaze--it felt like two-ton weights had been lifted off your shoulders.

The man that had made you afraid wasn't the real person in the body before you; Yoongi was still in there.

"I will rip this mask off you." You hissed, your fingers pressing gently into his cheeks.

His eyes darkened immediately, shutting down the quick glimpses of the man the old you had loved. He pushed you away, whipping backwards towards his desk and as far away from you as he could. "You don't want to do that, your life will be much happier if you be who you are without your memories. Start over as you are."

"But I loved you, didn't I?" You said, your nails cutting into your palms from the loss of his cool skin on your heated hands. "And you loved me."

He didn't look at you; instead he scooted his chair closer to his desk and picked up his pen. "You did, but that Yoongi died with your human self. Leave, Y/N."

"I--"

"Leave." His voice echoed throughout the entire castle; this time you obeyed, the study door slamming behind you even though Yoongi was still seated and you had not closed it.

~.~

You found yourself back in that clearing, past the lily beds and at the very edge of the woods.  This time, you did not cross that line. Instead, you just watched the shadows dance with the wind. It wasn't long before you heard the light but tell-tale signs of someone creeping up behind you. For once, you were able to catch them off-guard.

"Seokjin." You said without turning around.

But Seokjin wasn't so easy to surprise--he was the oldest after all; he already knew all the tricks. "Are you alright? I felt the castle shift the other day and then I couldn't find you." You felt the protection in his voice, the readiness to hug you if you even started to show signs of fear or sadness.

"I'm fine; I was just talking with Yoongi." The shadows shifted as the wind rustled the leaves.

"Oh? How did that go?"

You turned over your shoulder to glare at him, your lip curling as he only grinned at you and patted your shoulder.

"He wants to protect you the best he can."

"I don't need protection, I need answers. Everyone wants me to be someone--even him; I just don't know what or who."

"You are yourself, Y/N. You always have been and still are, even without your memories. But, I am not one to keep you from doing what you please; you will do what you want regardless of what I say anyways."

You snorted, leaning into his shoulder--he was so tall; he felt more like a pillar to lean on than a man. "How did I ever fall in love with Yoongi? He's so....ugh."

Seokjin let out a laugh that seemed to reverberate off the trees. "Yeah, he's always been...ugh. But, that's where you balance each other out--you make him smile and he brings you out of the clouds."

"I..." you worried your hands in front of you, "he's cute when he sleeps."

Seokjin chuckled. "That's because he can't pretend that he wants you to leave when he's asleep. It's rare for him to fall asleep though lately. Did you manage to catch him in a moment of exhaustion?"

You looked up at Seokjin, half pouting, half glaring at your remembrance of how well that had worked out for you. "He said my name...and those letters..."

"Letters?"

"N-never mind." You murmured, lifting your gaze back to the woods with the intent to change the subject. "Taehyung is out there, isn't he?"

Seokjin sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "That is something that I am not going to tell you since it is not my place to do so."

You let out an impatient groan and lazily smacked the older male's chest. "Well, were we at least close?"

"You're close to all of us, Y/N--but Yoongi was the one you were most drawn to--the two of you were polar opposites who balanced each other out better than any of us expected. Yoongi, at such a young age, had never met someone with a heart crafted purely from gold; he'd only ever lived here and known the pain of people that hated him."

"I don't hate him." Your stomach twisted at the memory of the young boy with the red ball in his hands.  "I want to--but I don't think I can."

"You're not capable of hate--you're too much like your mother. You never broke despite everything that happened to you; because of that, you became the person that Yoongi wanted to be."

"Taehyung." You whispered, trying to forget the feel of Yoongi's skin on your fingertips. "Taehyung was close with my sister."

You could feel Seokjin's eyes on the side of your face. "Yes."

"Seokjin? What am I to you? To the boys here? To...to Taehyung?"

He curled you deeper into his chest as if he thought you might break once more--but you were tired and drained of tears. "To Taehyung you were the first friend he made with no strings attached, to Jungkook you were a big sister that he could always rely on--to the others you were an irreplaceable friend and cousin; though we all deemed you more sister than cousin."

It was your turn to stare at the side of his face while he got lost in his memories. "And you? What am I to you?"

"Someone I would give my life for." He murmured, turning to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling at you. "You are my most precious sister--I love the boys but I would never give myself up for their stupidity. You--you I'd do anything for."

There was something warm in your chest, like you'd found a long lost relative--a brother not by blood but by heart. "So I shouldn't go searching for my memories in those woods? Because that would be stupid, right? And then you'd have to come and risk everything and--"

"I won't say anything." He cut you off, squeezing your shoulder once before letting go entirely. "I will worry endlessly and do what I have to do to appease my aching heart--but I can't stop you from the inevitable. You are your own person, even without your memories. As long as you know who I am to you, you can be whichever version of yourself is easiest." He patted your head before turning back towards the castle without a second glance towards the woods. It was like he'd thrown a coin up in the air and was waiting to see what side it landed on--the truth, or momentary ignorance.

You stood there for a while--staring between the castle and the woods before you finally turned your back to the tree-line and ran towards the castle front doors where Jimin was waiting for you with a smile, and a maknae wrapped in a headlock.

[littlelonghairedoutlawllho]

5 Things About Me

tagged by @rue-scribe-siren  (Honestly I meant to reply to this days ago and I just didn’t get to it until now. Sorry Allie!)

5 things you’ll find in my bag

Unfiled sheets of paper and notes floating around it.

The scrapbook I currently happen to be filling, though I almost never work on it in college.

My laptop and charger and stuff.

A black notebook for writing writing and not college writing.

My folder of in progress original writing, with the most recent drafts of what I’m working on, and one of my novels in three copies arranged differently each time because I’m ~experimenting~

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom

Books. Far too many books. Stacked everywhere and in boxes and random drawers.

Clothes scattered around because my room is essentially organised chaos.

Sheets of paper EVERYWHERE. Often interspersed in stacks with books and DVDs and folders and whatever else.

A breeding chart on my wall, to keep track of what cow has met what bull and when. (I’m very proud of it. It’s my new favourite thing.)

Too many pictures stuck to my walls. Sherlock, The Knick, Gary Cooper, Harry Potter, Chris LeDoux, cattle, that one photo of Peter Karrie and Deborah Dutcher... I’m internally struggling at the moment over what one I want to add of Anthony Andrews, or should I just create a collage of him. I have not yet decided.

5 things I’ve wanted to do in life/ on my to do list

Go to Wyoming. I’ve wanted to for almost 9 nine years now. It started when I got obsessed with The Virginian, and only strengthened when I started listening to Chris LeDoux. But I’m slightly terrified of flying. And long-distance flying? *rolls off screaming*

Live in London, even if only for a few months. I’m just eternally drawn to it, which is a pity because London is Expensive, and Brexit will f*** up everything. I spent a weekend there in 2015 with some people I don’t particularly like, but I loved every moment of it. Plus, going to see Les Mis is how I ended up in the Phandom, so there’s that. I just feel like London suits my writerly ~aesthetic~.

Have a novel published. One would give me a sense of accomplishment, but of course I could never settle at one. I have too many ideas.

Get my PhD. It will take a while, but the thought of having one thing to research for 4 years is something that I love. Choosing a topic is the difficult part. At least part of the reason I want one is so that I can say that I, a humble farming girl, can go as far or further than those urban people in school who used to tease me. I’ve always been picked on and lonely, and so much of my academic career has been motivated by desperate desire to prove them all wrong.

Be able to play the guitar. I’ve wanted to for YEARS but I was never allowed lessons (or even a guitar) because it was felt it would be a waste of time and money and I’d get bored of it soon enough. But I still want to learn to play.

5 things that make me happy

Spending time in Big Houses. I don’t just mean houses that are physically big, but I do mean the ones that once belonged to aristocrats and the landed gentry. Aristocratic houses, and castles. Basically, places where I feel closer to history and as if all times are kind of existing at once. It’s difficult to explain but it’s very peaceful.

Writing, when it’s going well. Especially when I hit a good moment and then like, marathon write. There was day in March where I wrote 2,400 words in 2 hours, with the help of coffee, tea, and polo mints. And I mean handwrote. The Serious Writers that my department shares a kitchen with in college were astounded.

My cows. I like to spend time out around with them, just talking to them and saying hello.

Music. I love music. I don’t talk about it enough but I listen to music pretty much constantly, and it can be so soothing and just what I need. Music (especially popular music) isn’t celebrated enough for the comfort it can bring.

The peace of sitting in Starbucks when it’s quiet and sipping coffee and reading. It’s just so chill and good for the soul.

5 things I’m currently into

(I can only think of 4 because I’m really very boring)

Anthony Andrews (my cute, very English love). Need I say more?

Edward VIII. An old obsession of mine, but one that has returned with a vengeance. This also means that I’ve gotten fascinated with the British Royal Family in general, and also read too many Wikipedia articles.

Brideshead Revisited. I’ve been meaning to watch it for years. It’s one of those things that used to periodically come across my dash when I was in the Sherlock fandom (because of Subtextual Gays, though looking at it I think it’s less subtext and more One Sad Gay and One Sad Bi). Young Jeremy Irons was one of my primary reasons to watch it, but I never got around to it until Anthony Andrews gave me the push I needed and now I am Charles/Sebastian trash.

Phantom, naturally. Considering the amount of fic I write this is not surprising anyone.

5 things people may not know about me

I think the more I think about myself the more I feel like I’m biromantic grey-ace. I mean I’m just not. all that interested. in sex. It’s fine in a theoretical sense, but applying it to me just feels gross and unappealing.

For all that I’m not keen on sex, I do want kids. I’m good with them, and I always imagine myself sometime in the future with one or two.

I was thoroughly obsessed with the Normans for a while when I was 11. And when I say thoroughly obsessed, I mean I read an historical fiction children’s book about Strongbow and Aoife and suffered Feelings and then conducted as much research as an 11 year old with no internet and no proper library could. That old interest came back when I was 13, but by then my Feelings over Jewels had consumed my life and it just was not the same.

I didn’t get to like history in school until I was about 14. It was mostly the way it was taught because it was so dry and boring. But I used to read the Horrible Histories books when I was smaller and I loved history thanks to them. I just couldn’t muster the energy for it in school. My relationship with history has been complicated.

I spent most of 2014 thoroughly obsessed with foot and mouth disease (FMD). Part of it was my own vague memories of the 2001 and 2007 outbreaks, and part of it was the history nerd in me. But I read an extensive amount of it that year and conceived of so many writing ideas that I have not yet written. Contagious disease history is just something that I’m endlessly fascinated by.

5 people I want to tag: I’m tired and lazy so if you want to do this feel free to tag yourself.

[oops-my-fingers-slipped]

Finish the Story (Part 1)

Author: Admin Lex Characters: BTS + you Pairing: Namjoon X Reader X Taehyung Genres: Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Romance POV: First Person + Taehyung POV Description:
You offered to help Namjoon refurbish his old bookshop and in the process you find a peculiar book. Unknowingly, you end up diving head-first into a world of ink and parchment unlike your own. There, you meet a boy trapped in the bindings of literature and your life changes forever. I was followed into the bookshop by quarrels of Autumn’s leaves and the North Wind’s children dancing away with ribbons of my hair. The shop’s wooden door swung closed, shutting out the world outside but kept hundreds preserved in the room before me. Though tall oak bookshelves lined every wall of the store, thousands of books piled up in precarious stacks rising almost to the ceiling. Blinding rays of sun from the sky-light windows struck the mountains of literature and illuminated the specks of dust orbiting the air. In the back left corner sprouted an Acacia tree, coiling itself around a wooden beam, spiraling upwards towards the roof windows. It’s sunset-colored leaves joyfully basked in the sun amitting from the glass. However stunning the tree appeared, dead leaves from previous seasons decorated the floor and crunched beneath my leather boots as I approached the front desk.
Noticing no one behind the counter, I began to call, “Nam-” before a heavy thud sounded from under the polished wood followed by a muttered curse. Surely enough, Namjoon emerged from under the desk, scratching his head of lilac-purple hair with a pained look on his face. I failed to restrain a loud chuckle that bubbled up from my diaphragm. Namjoon rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Ha ha, very funny.” He eyed the four books enveloped in my arms and continued, “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Don’t tell me you finished them already.”
I smirked and replied, “I hate to break it to you but I’m only 3 more books away from beating your record of 16 in a month! You better step up your game. You’re getting your ass kicked by a sophomore.” I plopped the small stack of books down onto the counter and Namjoon slid the nearest one on its side, scanning the bar code suck to its spine. A curt “beep” was heard as each novel touched the device. “Well excuse me for having an entire bookstore to manage while you have all the free time to read in the world. Unlike you, I have responsibilities to handle and customers to deal with.” 
I looked around the shop, noticing how devoid of business it was.
“What customers?”
“You.”
The comment was meant to be sarcastic but a little pit of pity bloomed in my heart, knowing that I, in fact, was one of his only customers. I decided right then and there that I would no longer be the only one who’s footsteps echoed through this building every day, but rather the silence to be filled by constant turning of pages and friendly chatter about new releases. He needed customers and that’s exactly what he would get. “That’s exactly my point! I am your only regular client but”, I lowered my voice for emphasis, “that is about to change.”
Namjoon lifted his head, temporarily distracted from his task. “You’re so dramatic. Besides, I’m managing this place just fine without your help.”
I sighed and tried a different approach. “Uh-huh, if ‘managing a bookstore’ includes not picking up after your tree -heaven knows why you even have a tree in a bookstore-, not organizing your shelves, and there are so many dust clouds in here I can barely see three feet in front of me.”
I may have exaggerated a tad but I wasn’t necessarily wrong either. And he knew it. The roots of the tree had started to lift some of the floorboards and weave itself through the infrastructure. Eventually, the more damage the Acacia caused, the more it would cost to repair it and with no steady income, where would Namjoon find the funds to pay the fees? His predicament was challenging, to say the least.
I already made my point loud and clear so my voice softened a bit when I proposed, “Ya’ know I could help out around here if you’d like? For free, at least until you gain enough business.”
He scoffed at my offer, seeming unfazed by my my bluntness and challenged, “Do you honestly think you could handle this monstrosity?” Namjoon drummed his fingers against the table-top, obviously amused at my proposition.
Did he know something I didn’t? Probably.
Ignoring the thought, I lifted my chin high and said, “Challenge accepted. When do I start?” “Now.”
•~• It’s been three days and we’ve hardly made a dent in transporting every book to the back storage. Namjoon’s plan was to clear the shop of the literature temporarily until the interior was complete and restock the shelves later. So we began with the cities of stacked books towering over ten feet….
It was a start.
A very slow, gradual start. And the finish line seemed light years away.
The “free time” Namjoon claimed I had was nonexistent, now occupied by long hours of organizing and sorting through endless amounts of novels. The more days that flew by, the more our hard work progressed and the prouder we became. The time after school to long after dark were spent in the soon-to-be-bookstore with only each other as company.
I’ve always thought of Namjoon as ‘the purple-haired dude who runs my favorite bookstore’, that is, until he quickly became the person I spent the most time socializing with. The long nickname shortened when I began to refer to him as a newfound friend. It was almost impossible not to grow this fond of him when we worked together striving toward the same goal, not to mention the shared tastes in books and writing. His company kept the boredom at bay when working and though I wouldn’t dare admit it, I started to look forward to our extended conversations, unpopular theories, or book recommendations. To put it simply, maybe fixing up this old outdated bookstore would blossom both the business of the company and our overall relationship.
Due to Namjoon’s undeniable whit, we eventually developed shifts where every few hours we would switch off between finishing up schoolwork and progressing the bookshop. The system deemed itself very effective, as we both managed to maintain our spotless GPAs.
This particular night, I sorted books sat on the newly-swept hardwood floor, the moon’s silver shadow casted down from the skylight windows cloaking my hands as I worked. Tonight seemed like a regular evening until I reached for another novel, expecting a smooth book jacket to meet my fingertips but, instead, felt the velvet fabric of a book unlike any other. My eyes landed upon a hard-cover book wrapped delicately in crimson-red velvet. The title glistened a radiant gold and read: Finish the Story. I explored its exterior, searching for an author’s name but none was found. I also noticed how the spine didn’t posses a bar code stuck to its back.
Hmm, that’s odd. Maybe this is one from Nam’s personal collection…
The spine cracked as I opened the cover to reveal the title page, which was decorated in florals of bright scarlet roses sprouting thorns of gold. The blooms of flowers dripped black ink from their buds. The artwork was absolutely, positively marvelous and don’t get me wrong, I’m not an artist but the time and effort to paint this must have taken decades. I admired it a few more seconds before forcing myself to flip to the first chapter.
Compared to the art coating the title page, the chapter page seemed mundane. Regular script ran from one side to the next just any other book. Still a bit skeptical about the art, I turned a single page and sure enough, I gaped in awe at the scene that beheld me.
Another picture enraptured my attention. A glowing castle made entirely out of bronze nails and plates loomed over rolling hills of ruby red poppies, making it appear aflame. The sky was painted with varieties of violets, dark blues, and indigos. The two color schemes clashed with one another so perfectly, I almost didn’t notice the lone fox that parted the poppy fields curving in the direction of the palace. The animal’s head turned towards the corner of the page, almost looking…. angry? I followed its eyes over to the bottom left corner where a man sat back looking up at the sky, his neck craning so eager to touch the indigo painted stars. He looked so carelessly free while the fox’s eyebrows furrowed in irritation.
I let a little giggle escape at the bit of absurdity.
What a peculiar sight!
Suddenly, my eyes darted back to the man sitting at the corner of the page, catching a glimpse of movement. To my surprise, he no longer looked up at the sky but instead stared right at me, one ebony eye charmingly winked.
Huh?!?
I wasted no time slamming the book shut.
Ok, it’s official. I’m going completely insane. Maybe these long work hours are getting to me. Yeah, that’s probably it. Right?
However I may try to convince myself that I hallucinated what I saw… I couldn’t help but wish that it hadn’t been my imagination and that something incredible was about to happen. But that’s ridiculous.
Even so, I still found myself placing the book in my bag, swinging it over my shoulder, and briskly began walking down the street to my apartment. •~•
“Ouch! Hey!”
Taehyung flew backwards from the impact of his book rudely being slammed shut. His face was now thinly coated in yellow pollen from the poppy field. It tickled his nose, forcing a sneeze to rip out from his nostrils. “Aachoo!”
The fox bounded over the sea of red and gold to stand before Taehyung, a disapproving growl hummed from his throat.
“You didn’t get to your position on time! And to make matters worse you moved, you moved. This was our first reader in ages and you had to go ahead and blow it!”
Taehyung ran his nimble fingers through his hair, ready to sit through another lecture about how to always stand statue-still when a new reader opens their story. “Ah, I’m sorry Jin. We just haven’t had a reader in forever and I thought it might be entertaining to mess with them a bit.”
He stood up as a small smile carved itself across his features.
Jin flicked his tail, not taking this for a valid excuse. “As funny as that was, next time please do your job as I’m sure Yoongi and the others are doing just fine. Try learning a thing or two from their excellent example.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows slightly and giggled at the memory of his companions, “Last time I saw them, Kookie and Jimin were playing frisbee with the moon on page 84 and got it stuck in a palm tree. Your right, they are great exam-”
The fox bolted to the end of the page and glanced back at the man, warning him about his job as a book character one last time before he leapt through the pages, stopping on page 84, solving yet another problem.
Sighing, Taehyung plopped back down into the poppy pillows growing around him and peered up at where the reader’s face would usually gaze from. He wondered if the new visitor would open the book again. She was quite interesting, after all. Then again, all the readers were. Each one completely different from the last. Each one more exiting, new, and exotic. Each one, you know not trapped in a book like him and the other characters were. Each one free.
Taehyung knew that it was dangerous to be hopeful, to wish that the girl opened the book again. Because, well, after the little stunt he pulled today she will most likely not. But the little tug on his heart told him that maybe, just maybe she would investigate his book again. The way her eyes glittered and flew from one page to the next gave him the impression that she was a bit too curious for her own good. But, no these thoughts had no place consuming his head. He shut them out and instead focused on the stars above, daring to pretend they were her eyes.

[ellstra]

Ellstra’s One Year of Kylux Fic Rec

Exactly I year ago, I published my first Kylux fanfic, unaware what the year would bring me. I’m still in shock this ship stayed with me so long, that I still have tons of ideas about it and see it in everything. I’m emotional about this. I wanted to celebrate with sharing my love for some of the fics I’ve found and adored during the year. These are those I bookmarked on AO3, which means there is always a chance I read and loved others but forgot to bookmark them and my memory is shitty. I’m sorry. I’d arrange these like I’ve seen other people do, but 90% of them are porn so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Enjoy!

Wools and Silks, Satin and Lace (series) by @nerdherderette 

Words: 7,212 (2 works), Rated E; A Tailor Hux!AU, hot, it will mush your brain into puddle and you’ll be happy about it, tons of names of fabrics and product placement™ which warmed my nerdy heart (you’ll probably learn a word or two as well, I sure did)

The Vanishing: Being an Account of the Apotheosis &c. of James Allan Hux, Esq. (as culled from evidence presented at the inquest surrounding his disappearance) by @favomancer 

Words: 40,787, Rated E; James Allan Hux, Esq, is a veteran of the Great War turned private investigator in London, when a wealthy American widow asks him to search for her missing son. Kylo Ren is the true name of Benjamin Solo - once formerly a scholar at Miskatonic University. He has uncovered his true heritage and now seeks to recover the lost pieces of his patrimony so he can find his way back to a land where his grandmother was a Queen, and where he will be a prince. One searches for the other, who searches for things best left unfound, and neither will recognize the paths taken when they finally meet. This is everything your twisted perverted heart can wish for in a fancy wrapping of Lovecraft’s mythos, 100% worth the read for the writing style alone (if literary porn is a thing, then this is an obligatory read), the sex scene made me cry so there’s that

Crush by @deluxekyluxtrashcan 

Words: 8,766, Rated T; It's been years since Kylo last came home, and knowing he won't be able to take the plunge and actually stay with his parents, he agrees to let Han book him a room at a local hotel. The only problem? Han messes up and Kylo has nowhere to stay - that is until his high school crush Hux, who he hasn't seen in years, offers to let him share his room.Kylo has to navigate the feelings he finds he still has for Hux, the fragile new relationship with his parents, and the realisation that he isn't the only one with a difficult relationship with his parents.  Modern AU in which the boys both have a lot of issues and it’s painful to read it because it frustrates you - if they could just talk to each other aaaaah - but they resolve it in the end and it’s so soothing, very nice. 

the giggle at a funeral by @mistresseast 

Words: 20 591, not rated; Hux and Phasma have been running First Order Investigations since high school, and Dr. Snoke's metaphysical research graduate program seemed like the perfect opportunity to pursue their interests under the protective umbrella of academia. Unfortunately, that meant allowing Snoke's personal project, a taciturn medium named Kylo Ren, to join their team. Hux and Kylo mix like oil and water, or, more accurately, like fire and gasoline, and Hux is convinced that working effectively with Kylo is absolutely impossible. They hate each other, and Hux is content to leave it that way.But then, a case in the sweltering heat of South Carolina begins to change things between them, and Hux finds himself questioning not only Kylo's feelings, but his own as well.  I didn’t know I needed this AU but it seems like I did, Kylo’s mysterious and troubled, Hux is fed up with him but still has Feelings™, Phasma needs a break (or a drink) all in a thrilling chase after a ghost. I was almost late for school because of this. Apparently there will be a sequel which I can’t wait for. 

All The Way To Your Door (WIP) by @kyluxtrashcompactor 

Words: 37 315, Rated E; Six months ago, Hux lied to his father. He said the man in the picture he pulled up on his phone was his fiancé. Hux never anticipated telling his roommate, Ben, that he had been cast as Hux's lover, but when Hux's father dies unexpectedly, he is forced to tell Ben the truth, and ask him to play the role at Brendol Hux's wake.  The essential fake-relationship trope that no rec list can lack. It’s beautifully, gently written, with lovely metaphors and great details, Brendol is not actually the asshole he is in other fics which is refreshing and ads tragedy into the story. Hux’s relatives are fun, Kylo has a lot of issues from the military, lots of feelings.

Ride Or Die by @slutstiels 

Words: 8 796, Rated E; Phasma had asked him to do her a favor: stay behind and let Rey’s cousin know that Phasma was taking her on a movie date and would be bringing her home in a couple of hours. Hux hadn’t been able to say no. He is a gentleman after all. It helps, of course, that Rey’s cousin is fucking stacked. Six feet, two inches of broad shoulders and hard muscles covered up under layers of black leather, face always hidden by a black riding helmet. The first time Hux saw him it was like every porn, every wet dream, every fantasy he’d ever had come to real life. I’ll never admit reading this, a buddy of mine told me this fic was very filthy and very hot and had the worst case of slutty virgin Hux and Kylo with cheesy tattoos all over his body. This buddy of mine highly encourages you to read this fic but my chaste self would never be seen clicking that link.

Vivisect (WIP) by @firstordershitposting and @first-disorder 

Words: 56 690, Rated E; Lord Armitage Bathory Hux, pretending to mourn his late father, enjoys free reign over his castle and the villages it commands. Specifically, his tastes stray towards murder, torment, and sadism. To him, sensitive and devotedly religious Lord Benjamin Organa is but an entertaining new plaything. But Ben’s inner conflict only increases as he is torn between his cherished Catholic moral creed and his terrible attraction to Lord Armitage—as well as his own compulsion to kill.  Proceed with care with this one because it’s seriously fucked up but I promise that if you don’t have problems with any of the things you get warned about (there’s a list. it’s long) you won’t regret it. The dynamics between the pair of them if seriously twisted but so much fun.

Campfire (Baking Chocolate) by @piratical-princess

Words: 11 044, Rated E; Kylo convinces Hux to go on a camping trip. He attempts to melt the General's ice with good food and spooky storytelling, but it's harder than it seems when both of them are so good at hiding.  Everything you could possibly want from the pair of them going camping (canon-compliant). It’s all incredibly sweet and Kylo is a darling while Hux has Issues™. They share a tent (look at the rating if you’re not sure what happens next.) 

Oh, when you love it by @longstoryshortikilledhim 

Words: 7 676, Rated M; The Skywalker family seems fucked up beyond repair. They still try their best.  Modern AU of a troubled family that somehow works despite all odds. It’s poetic and will leave you feel serene. Intermingled with poetry which fits better than I’ve ever seen poetry fit. 

Stay by @42dicks 

Words: 1 815, Rated T; Two drunk teens grasp at comfort. High school AU, there are some emotions involved I can’t properly describe without quoting the whole thing so go read it.

The Fruits of Autumn by Gigi_Sinclair (couldn’t find you on tumblr sorry)

Words: 8 048, Rated M; "Everyone says college is supposed to be the best time of your life. If that's true,Matt thinks, yanking open the door to the coffee shop, then I might as well kill myself now." Yes, this is mostly Techienician but there’s Kylux too in the best way, there’s a coffee shop involved, Kylo recites poetry and Hux has his famous speech (although probably not in the way you’d expect.)

Ghosts of Your Past (never go away) by @evilblubber 

Words: 2300, Rated M; “So,” says Brendol, carefully, "So your dead father, who isn’t actually Force-sensitive, somehow came back as a Force ghost, and caught us having sex?” Kylo scowls. “I’m not crazy."Han Solo defies all logic and comes back to haunt his son, who really wants to stab something. Hux is confused. Phasma is still amused. Or, Ren really needs to stop stabbing people. Emperor Hux, Han has a cameo, truly inspiring and hilarious. There’s also a podfic by @kesskay which makes it 100% better, you won’t be able not to laugh.

To the Pure by @kdazrael 

Words: 27 929, Rated E; Dear sir or madam, I am General Hux of the Resurgent-class Star Destroyer Finalizer. I was recently strong-armed by a colleague into joining an order of mystic knight-warriors and now they want me take part in their team-building orgies. Please advise. The Knights of Ren are in this one and they’re adorable. Hux gets coerced to join the gang’s bonding exercises (against his will of course, mind you.) It’s beautiful. Worth a read for the knights alone (although the sex is great too so what are you waiting for?) There is a podfic by @kesskay too which you should check out as well.

Divided Desire by @kdazrael 

Words: 16 891, Rated E; Hux felt himself go pale, his muscles pulling tight and scalp prickling. “Why would I give a damn about what some foul alien has between its legs?"  This fic intends to be unashamedly filthy and is doing a very good job. Back from the days when Hux’s xenophilia was a number one topic in the fandom, this is a must-read. You’ll question your sanity if you read this but you’ll still be unable to put it down.

Screaming Colour by @solohux 

Words: 37 572, Rated M; For as long as Hux can remember, he's been able to see everything in brilliant, vivid colour. His mother tells him that it means that he's got a soulmate somewhere in the galaxy who's waiting for him and little Hux is excited to think that his soulmate can see things in the amazing colours that he can. But one day, the colour begins to drain from Hux's world. (Soulmate AU where you see everything in perfect colour until your soulmate dies)  Amazing concept with truly intriguing execution and lots of baby!Hux angst because who doesn’t love that. Hux’s mother is very lovely in this fic, although a tragic character. Also there’s lots of Kylo angst. But a lot of fluff too. So it’s a win-win basically.

Take the Dive (WIP) by @jinxedambitions  

Words: 52 775, Rated E; Hux is the top diver in the world coming back for his third Olympic Games. However, this time he's bringing more baggage than just his equipment. His former partner, Ben Solo, is also competing with his new partner, and Hux's greatest rival, Poe Dameron.Hux needs to prove he's still the best in the world, but more than that he wants to prove to himself that he can move past Ben. However, Ben seems dead set on reminding him about the past at every turn. A fierce rivalry, bitter exes, one big temper, some tiny swim suits, and a medal on the line...  Okay so who hasn’t watched diving during the Olympics and wished this fic existed, right? Well it does, and it’s even better than you’d expect. There’s angry sex, there’s jealousy, there’s Feelings™, there’s Poe who puts up with way too much, there’s tragic backstory and there’s Snoke who is an asshole. It’s a perfect mix.

Doctor’s Orders (WIP) by @jinxedambitions

Words: 117 205, Rated E; Hux may have too much on his plate. He's a successful surgeon. He runs the volunteer clinic his late mother started from the ground up. His father is constantly scrutinizing his work even though Hux is more successful than he ever was. His clinic is constantly under attacks whether by politicians with an agenda or fanatics looking to shut him down. It seems like everyone wants a piece of him. The last thing he needs is Kylo Ren constantly taking up space in his waiting room for every imagined illness he can come up with. Hux isn't sure if he hasn't been loved enough or he's got one hell of a doctor kink, and he doesn't particularly care to find out. However, Ren might just be the answer to some of Hux's biggest headaches. The question is whether Ren is more trouble than he's worth. The answer is most certainly yes, but against his better judgment Hux lets him keep coming back. Hux is a doctor in this one which is the best thing in the world and I love it (Hux using his fierce intelligence and dedication to healing people instead of killing them? Sign me up!) Leia is a badass in this one, Rey is very sweet and Phasma is just amazing. Kylo and Hux have a lot of issues of course but I hope they’ll solve them. Snoke is extra awful in this one.

None of Your Business by @samzillastomps 

Words: 20 316, Rated E; Hux is keeping his head above the water with his slightly pretentious bookstore, but just barely. When the next door neighbor (a young business owner who hasn't impressed Hux in the least) meanders over with a magical proposition for them both, Hux is in no position to deny him. A compromise to save his bookstore from bankruptcy may be just what Hux needs to feel at peace again-- and just what his neighbor was hoping for to get his foot in the bookstore door. Modern AU, very sensitive story which will warm you up like a cup of cocoa. There are old, precious books involved and it’s great, Hux is beautifully broken and so afraid of falling in love but he does anyway. 

Waste Isolation by @yeats-infection 

Words: 24 067, Rated E; Saltlands, Disputed Territory; 9421 CE. As sheriff of the Templum Flats, Hux prides himself on his irrepressible conniving - especially in dealing with the cultish Order and its feral lich mercenary, Ren. A dystopian AU with such a perfect setting that is apparently based on reality written so beautifully you’ll want to tear your own heart out of your body and eat it. The prose is magnificent, amazing because it’s just brushing the surface and lets you make connections on your own (also new words. yay!) The relationship between the pair of them is just brilliant, everything about this story is brilliant. 

Be a Body by @cracktheglasses 

Words: 5 114, Rated E; General Hux likes spending his shore leave somewhere anonymous, convenient and blessedly free of Kylo Ren. Somewhere full of men with big hands, and preferably with a good bathroom to do Mon Gazza spice in. Okay so obviously Hux’s leave is not as Kylo Ren free as he hoped and he still loves it, mostly because he has no idea what’s going on. Also Hux takes drugs so there’s that. It’s filthy and it’s gorgeous.

Cornflakes and Other Lists by @starkilleraflame 

Words: 35 969, Rated G; “Ben, what are you doing?” asked Rey. In answer, Ben just pointed to the window and said, “People.” “Yes, Ben, those exist.” “I know that, but they’re moving in. Who’s letting them move into the crazy neighborhood?” “Ben, we’re the crazy house. No one else is crazy. Just you.” “I’m not crazy, Rey. I was just kidnapped and brainwashed by an abusive militant cult leader. There’s a difference."  Modern AU, Ben is kidnapped and brainwashed by Snoke, the Knights of Ren are a bunch of teenagers with serious mental health issues and they’re great, Hux is the kid that moves in to the house beside Ben’s and for some reason doesn’t go to school either which works just fine for Ben. And boy, does this work. It’s beautiful and poetic but at the same time very real. Ben is so precious in this one.

Eleison by @saltandimes 

Words: 4 104, Rated E; When Kylo leaves on a mission, Hux begins to fall apart. Because he needs Kylo, and there's nothing else Kylo has ever wanted. Hux is so dependent on Kylo that he’s barely able to breathe on his own, which shouldn’t be a good thing but from some reason it is, most likely because of the amazing delivery of the idea.

Ace of Spades (WIP) by @bettydays 

Words: 57 362, Rated M; “Sometimes,” Ben says, “it feels like everything’s connected. Like with strings. And if I could just see the strings, I could pull them. I could make things do what I wanted.” “Are people connected too?” Hux asks. “Uh huh. But some strings between people are shorter than others. Like ours. I bet ours is the shortest string you can have.” Modern AU which follows the pair of them from early childhood as they become friends to very troubled teen years (and I hope a happy ending.) It feels very real, it’s well written without being cliche. Bonus points for Padmé.

Behind Schedule by @limit-breaker  

Words: 12 115, Rated E; Hux tries to micromanage their sex life, but even with exacting details it doesn't always go according to plan... Hux is afraid of catching feelings but somehow forgets to get vaccinated. Kylo is uncharacteristically patient. Lots of brilliant character development.

Control and Shush by @percjgraves 

Words: 2 484 and 2 437, Rated E; Hux knows perfectly well what he wants. A familiar pressure, a firm hold, the thrill of the struggle. Kylo Ren’s gloved hand around his neck. and “That all you can do?” Hux says, insolent to the last, and Kylo sits up, cups Hux’s jaw with something like tenderness as he leans to whisper in his ear.“Shut up,” he says, slowly. “Or I’ll gag you.” I put these two together because they are loosely tied together. Very intriguing dynamics and well, the living embodiment of my sub!hux headcanons so no real explanation here, just accept that it’s amazing.

Good Neighbours (series) by @thewightknight 

Words: 4 083 (2 works), Rated T; Hux rents the house on the sleepy cul-de-sac because the price is right, knowing the noise from the firestation across the street won't bother him. The firefighters, on the other hand? Consider him bothered. What a lovely setting, Hux is unapologetically stalking the firefighters and they know. It’s not a porn actually, even though I made it sound that way. It’s actually very sweet and leads to an awkward meeting.

Lygerastia by @sithofren 

Words: 2 331, Rated E; The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. Very sweet, very emotional porn. The best kind of porn there is. 

Academy Style by @eralkfang 

Words: 13 921, Rated E; “It’s not a question of desire, it’s a question of logistics.”  Kylo’s dick is huge and Hux is scared, though still determined to take the challenge. A truly magnificent classic Kylux™ with repressed emotions.

Ravines (series) by @badspacebabies

Words: 11 825 (2 works), Rated E A highschool AU, very poetic, immersing prose that will leave you grinning through your tears. It feels like you’re sitting on the curb with them as they share a cigarette. 

Our Fragile Co-commandership by @nightsofllyn 

Words: 13 128, Rated E; Kylo Ren and General Hux discuss the weather on Starkiller Base. This is a tricky fic to describe, since each of the chapters is a little different. It starts off playful and with the well-known rivalry we all love for this ship. Continues through sex dreams that somehow manage to seem like high arts. Finishes satisfying, although a little alarming. Overall a very pleasant read. The imagery in chapter 2 is spot on.

Life Sentence, No Cellmate by @hollyhark 

Words: 30 119, Rated E; Hux follows orders and loses his way. I don’t have to present CWU to anyone in the fandom, do I? I’m the only one who hasn’t read the whole thing yet (it’s intimidatingly long and I’ve been super busy but I intent to fix it soon.) I liked their first kiss in this story. So poetic, so emotional.

Imperial Majesty Hux (series) by @pkabyssian 

Words: 14 883 (2 works), Rated E As the title suggests, an Emperor Hux verse, where they defeat Snoke because Hux is fed up with him, and they have great sex in between.

rise, higher still, endless thrill by @lupevensies 

Words: 4387, Rated M; Then they had won, and what remained of the Republic soldiers scattered away in a disorderly fashion. Ren stood there, surrounded by maimed corpses and splattered blood, absurdly red against the snow. Hux wanted to peel off his clothes and wash all the blood and dirt off his body, slowly, reverently, until it was impossible to tell those long limbs had ever known the filthy mess of battle. He wanted to beat him to a pulp and drag him into the mud and see if he’d still look like an avenging angel then.  Ruthlessly brilliant MCD, one of the first Kylux fics I’ve read so I’m a little sentimental about this one. Every words is where it belongs and the ending will fuck you up (it will be good though.)