#light a candle next to it and really what would you lack for many spells?

[wittywallflower]

Lol ok so I just read a scene in a story where a character needs to summon a local wizard and is like “let me grab what we need” and then just grabs a dish sponge for the summoning spell, and it made me wonder if magical spells that require various mundane items and ingredients would still work if you just threw the entire contents of your junk drawer into a summoning circle. As long as the few REQUIRED items are among the clutter your spell should theoretically work, right? As long as your intentions are clearly set. could I just do a spell over my overfull trash can after roast chicken night to save the effort of gathering various herbs and the bones of a bird?

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

We've created a Monster Pt.II

Diavolo laughed at the screen of his DDD, hurriedly gesturing for Barbatos to join him.

'Come see this, Barbatos, Lucifer just shared the most delightful video!'

'I'm sure it must be of great importance for you to neglect your paperwork, my lord.'

Sheepishly, Diavolo turned to screen toward him, presenting the still image of an envy demon dwarfing their powerless exchange student.

'Oh my, lord this image is far from amusing.'

'Trust me, just press play.'

So he did, and was very much not expecting what came next. 'I see, it seems MC has grown rather more capable than I gave them credit for.'

'According to Lucifer they were rather unbothered by the threat, he even called a family meeting to address the event and MC just...laughed them off?'

Barbatos couldn't help but smile. 'How remarkable, expected though. MC has seen demons far more frightening than a lesser envy demon.'

'That's what they said to the brothers, though Lucifer seems to find it far less amusing than we do.'

'I imagine, it is not the sort of scenario he would find at all pleasant. Threat to our young human cause him a great deal of unrest.'

Diavolo grinned a conspirator's smile. 'Just him?'

'...fair point.'

'Why are the incantations so long? I'm trying to light a candle not summon a hurricane.' MC huffed, slouching into the armchair with the grimoire laid open across her thighs. 'It's like a religious text.'

'Magic's way of making sure you mean to get what you're asking for.' Solomon's smile was beguiling, almost sweet, but not.

He's a menace, and no one knows that better than MC, who's been taking magical instruction for him for months.

The sorcerer crossed his legs, flipping through a new spell book MC brought over from Satan. 'So, I hear you had some fun at RAD this morning.'

MC rolled their eyes, reluctantly going back to memorising incantations. 'You too? Does the entire Devildom know about that by now?'

'I'd say so, everyone who matters at least. We haven't told Luke, poor thing would loose his mind if he had actual proof of how dangerous the devildom really is for you.'

'I'm not in any danger, you're starting to sound like Lucifer.' MC huffed. 'Next thing I know you'll be off on a lecture about my lack of self preservation and needing to be careful.'

'I would never, watching you get in trouble is my favourite pass time.' He winked teasingly, kicking his shows up on the coffee table. 'I am curious though, what was going through your head when he threatened you? I remember being a little intimidated the first time a demon tried to kill me.'

'I'm honestly surprised you remember your first anything anymore.'

'Don't change the subject.' Tutted Solomon with that congenial smile of his that was neither friendly nor threatening. 'What were you thinking?'

MC sighed, closing the grimoire and turning their attention to the plate of cookies Luke left for them. 'It was annoying, I went into RAD early to get ahead on a project I was supposed to be working on with Simeon. Could have expected that reaction when I told him Levi wears envy way better. That time he tried to kill me gave me nightmares for days.'

'...MC, how many times have those lunatics nearly killed you?'

'Pfft, you think I keep count? Between Beel's tantrums, Mammon's schemes and just existing in Lucifer's radius I nearly die at least twice a week. It was way more when I first met them though.'

Solomon had to resist the urge to gape. His sense of normal may be a few thousand years past twisted, but this is... odd even for him. A human this young should not be this comfortable with domestic danger, let alone love those who put them there.

Several, times, a week.

MC carries on eating their cookies happily, reaching for another one when their eye catches something on the table, half hidden behind a book, but that beastly silhouette is unmistakeable, and they immediately curl into the chair as though they've been burned.

Pitching a whine to alert the house, their wide eyes fixate on the eight legged monstrosity, arms coiled tight around themselves as their skin immediately begins to crawl and twitch as though being assaulted by hundreds of the tiny beasts.

'What?! What is...oh, hello there.'

Solomon is almost left a aghast all over again. Here sits the most desensitised human he's ever met (besides himself), curled up in a ball, over a spider.

Fair be it a decent sized spider, probably the size of his thumb, but a mere spider nonetheless.

'You looked a 20-foot snake in the eye, you take Cerberus for evening walks with Lucifer...' he trailed off, carefully nudging the arachnid into an empty glass and caging it with a book '...and you're afraid of a spider?'

'Fuckin' right I am! And I'm not going to justify it to you so get rid of it before I set you on fire!'

Solomon laughed, and laughed until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, wiping a tear from his eye, but when next he looked up, MC was still staring at the spider, eyes so full of genuine terror and brimming with tears, he felt guilt strike him.

'This...genuinely frightens you, doesn't it?'

MC nodded, lip jutted in an involuntary pout, skin raised in goose bumps. 'I wish it didn't.'

'Alright, I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it.'

And he did, and made a point of making sure everyone knew about MC's phobia, and didn't make fun of them for it.

Was it ironic that someone who looked death in the eye and waved was afraid of spiders? Absolutely, but no one chooses fear over comfort, and MC has chosen to be brave one too many times for anyone to begrudge them one or two irrational fears.

[fweasleyswhore]

Let Me Take Care Of You - G.W.

a/n: this popped up in my brain and I wanted to get it out, this is with George because I felt like he fit the idea a bit more also i deadass haven’t written smut before like not as a joke haha funny so im so sorry if this is ass

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!Reader

summary: Reader confesses her feelings for George after the disaster of Bill and Fleur's wedding and spend a night together for the first time, which they can only wished would have happened earlier.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: Slight dom!George, slight sub!reader, mostly passionate smut, 18+ themes

The night was winding down. It was a beautiful ceremony, candles were floating around in the tent giving off a soft glow. A few straggling couples slow dancing. I was sat admiring the tent and the company when I felt a presence behind me. I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. George stood behind me, his hands placed in his pockets and the goofy grin he adorned everywhere was plastered on his face despite the bandage wrapped around his ear. 

I turned in my chair so I could see him better. “Hey, George.” I beamed up to him. 

“Hello, darling, would you want to dance?” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to me. My breath hitched in my throat as I nodded and he pulled me out to the dance floor. I had liked George since I met him, he always seemed to bring light in my life that I lacked, but I had never acted on my feelings. I didn’t want to lose him. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” He whispered in my ear as we slowly spun around the room. His hand was placed on the small of my back, the other interlaced with mine. My free hand rested on his shoulder, our fronts were pressed flush together. I felt my face heat up at his words and our proximity. 

I put my head on his chest and locked my arm behind his neck. “George?” I said softly. I decided now was a good time to tell him how I felt. I needed to. I wanted to say this, look back up at him and kiss him. He hummed and I felt the way his chest rumbled as he did so. “George I think I lo-” 

My words were cut off by a loud crashing noise. I whipped around to see the cause of the crash. In the middle of the dance floor was a blue light. 

“The Ministry has fallen. They are coming.” As soon as it had spoken it was gone. The tent went quiet for a moment until flashes of black smoke started appearing. I watched as Ron, Hermione, and Harry apparated away. I grabbed my wand I had placed in my dress pocket and held tightly onto George’s hand. 

Bill grabbed Fleur and started dragging her away. I watched a death eater begin on them. 

“Stupify,” I yelled and he shot back into a table and collapsed. 

“Y/N, we need to leave, there are too many.” At George’s words, I looked around, wizards and witches were fighting or apparating away. I looked up to him and nodded seeing as there wasn’t much we could do other than get hurt. He grabbed my hand tighter and started bounding towards the Burrow. We started a protection spell on the house once we got there, it finished with enough time for everyone to get in. 

Bellatrix Lestrange stood outside, I saw her from the kitchen window pacing outside. “Where did Potter go?!” She screamed. I wasn’t sure if it was aimed at us or her henchmen. Soon enough all the death eaters disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. 

Molly was sobbing at the kitchen table, Arthur was consoling her. Fred was having Ginny clean a cut on his leg. Bill and Fleur weren’t around, I assume they apparated somewhere. Lupin and Tonks were arguing about if it was worth it to apparate home. 

I couldn’t find George. My eyes scanned the area once more but I couldn’t find him. I felt my eyes tear up as I turned back to look out the kitchen window. I tried to remember if he had left the house after we cast our spell. Deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. 

“Y/N?” His voice was soft and gentle. I whipped around and immediately jumped on him. He returned the gesture, his arms wrapped around me and pulled me up so my feet were off the floor. I wrapped my legs around him to pull him closer afraid that if I didn’t he would disappear. 

“Where were you?” I whispered harshly into his neck. 

“Making sure my ear wasn’t bleeding. Y/N are you alright?” His grip on me tightened. I felt him move away so I pulled my head up to look him in his eyes. His eyes were scanning my face looking for a sign of injury. 

Then I felt like it was the right moment. I unwrapped my arms from around him and cupped his face. His eyes stopped scanning my face as they looked directly into mine. I let my eyes flicker to his lips and then back to his, he repeated my action almost like he was communicating the same words. 

I closed the gap and pushed my lips onto his. He kisses me back with no hesitance. His grip on me tightened, one of his arms traveled down to hold my thigh and support me. Our lips moved a few times, finding a rhythm with each other. Once we did it was a new experience. George sucked and bit on my lips as we kissed causing me to let out a soft moan. I ran my hands through his hair and tugged lightly earning a soft groan from him. 

We pulled away to breathe and he set me on the kitchen counter. Suddenly remembering his family was there I looked around making sure no one was watching our moment before I put my eyes back onto him. 

“Do you know how long I wanted to do that?” He asked with a slight chuckle. His hand found my thigh and he pushed up the skirt of my dress to draw small patters above my knee. 

“Why did it take you so long?” I panted out. He was making it harder to catch my breath. 

“Tonight I watched my family fight to stay alive, and I realized that there is so much happening right now,” He gulped as he showed his vulnerability. “Y/N, I want you. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember and I don’t want to fight this without having you beside me.” His eyes moved from the floor to my eyes and I saw him, the real him. He wanted to be loved, he wanted to share his love, and with the war building up he was afraid he was never going to be able to do that. 

“George I can’t imagine fighting this without you. I can’t imagine my future without you.” I grabbed his hand that was on my thigh as I said this. With each word I said I watched as his scared expression molded into a smile. 

“Really?” He whispered. 

“Definitely.” I replied. His lips were back onto mine and we shared a short but passionate kiss. 

The rest of the night we helped clean up. I helped Arthur get Molly to bed where he stayed with her then I helped Ginny clean up Fred’s leg and set him up a temporary bed on the couch, not wanting to climb the steps to his room. Once everyone was taken care of I found myself in George’s room. I wasn’t staying in here but I wanted nothing more for him to hold me while I fell asleep. 

The door creaked open to a very disheveled George. His purple and white speckled shirt had been rolled up his arms, the vest piece completely gone, his tie hung loosely around his neck. 

“Hey.” He spoke gently once he noticed me. I was sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“Hey,” I replied taking him in. “I’m sorry, I know you're tired I just don’t want to be alone tonight.” I began to wring my hands in my lap, waiting for him to tell me to leave. 

“I was hoping I would see you again tonight.” He made a few strides and sat next to me on the bed. I leaning into him immediately, resting my head on his shoulder. He snaked an arm around my waist and we sat like that for a few minutes. I turned my head so I could look at him. 

“George, I don’t know what this war is going to take from us.”

“Hopefully not my other ear.” He butted in. I couldn’t help but laugh, he pulled me closer as I did. 

“I was trying to say that from here on out I want to be with you, I-I want to be there when you go to sleep and be there when you wake up. I want us to have little moments with each other when we can, I have spent the past few years wanting something with you and I won’t continue without letting you know. I don’t know what that kiss meant to you downstairs but that was everything to me.” I spoke slowly and I stared at my hands. I was too afraid to look at him in such a vulnerable moment. 

“That’s all I want. That kiss downstairs was my future Y/N.” I picked my head up to look at him grinning wildly. 

“I’m your future?” I asked sheepishly. 

“You’ve been my future for the past couple of years, the plan at least. Y/N I’m in love with you.” I threw my arms around his neck and tossed myself into his lap. I peppered kisses on his cheeks while smiling. Pulling back I looked at him, he was smiling back at me, his eyes were looking into the darkest parts of me but he was smiling. I knew I would always be safe with him around. 

His hands began to rub into my sides gently. He leaned up, closing the gap between us. Our kiss was slow, methodical, and passionate. It quickly escalated into more hungry and fast as we continued. Without thinking I rolled my hips into his earning a groan from him. We broke apart. His face was flush, lips parted and slightly swollen as I bet mine was too.

We stared at each other for a moment trying to gauge each other and plan what to do next. Keeping eye contact I rolled my hips again. His jaw clenched and his hands tightened on my hips. 

“Do you want this?” He asked. His voice was deep and husky. His eyes were dark and it sent shockwaves through my body, straight to my core. 

“I need you, George,” I whispered back. That was all it took for him to tighten his grip on my hips and kiss me again. The kiss was hot and fiery. I began to grind into his lap again causing us both to groan. I could feel him harden beneath me as I rolled my hips into him. I continued to roll my hips, throwing my head back as he nipped and sucked at my neck. 

“George...” I moaned out his name, I could feel him smirk against my neck. 

Before I could prepare he flipped us over, I was laying on my back and he hovered over me. 

“You’re so beautiful Y/N.” My face began to flush as he looked at me with pure adoration in his eyes. He began to pepper kisses onto my face and the butterflies in my stomach dispersed as I began to laugh. 

“Are you sure?” He asked pulling back to look at me in my eyes. 

“Yes George, please,” I whined, I could feel the familiar feeling in my core that felt both like butterflies and sinking. I desperately needed his attention on my body. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” I nodded and he attached his lips back to mine. His hands traveled down my body, he pushed up my skirt up my thighs and it pooled around my hips. I broke the kiss and pulled it up above my head. Looking back up to George he took me in, trailing his fingers around the lace of my bra my breath hitched much like his own. My heart rate sped up as his fingers trailed down from my breasts and to the waistband of my matching lace panties. 

He pulled on the waistband of them, letting it bounce back onto my hips. Leaning back he pulled his shirt and tie over his head. I took him in, his toned chest and stomach eyeing the ginger trail of hair that could be seen down both. 

He undid his belt, pushing down down his trousers while maintaining eye contact. I watched him until my eyes flickered down to the tent in his underwear. I could hear him chuckle as I eyed his length, my eyes widening as he grew under my gaze. 

He moved again to sit in front of me on the bed. His hands moved up my legs and rested on my things, lightly kneading them, his lips soon followed. He repeated his assault on my neck on my thighs, nipping and sucking until he reached my covered core. 

His eyes flickered up to mine as he halted his actions. I nodded permitting him to continue. His hands came up and they traced my lips causing my breathing getting heavier. He pushed my panties to the side and reached out to delicately lick my clit. I dropped my head back and let out a loud moan. 

“My family is in the house you know.” He laughed against my core, his breath fawned over me sending shivers through my body. 

“Sorry.” I whipped my head up to see him smiling at me. 

“It’s ok, I want to hear you.” He said and summoned his wand. He placed a quick silencing spell on the room. “Don’t hold back darling.” My face heated up at the nickname and I quickly nodded. 

He turned his head back to my core and started to aggressively lick and suck at my clit. I couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from my mouth as he continued his attack. His fingers came up, tracing the entrance to my core adding to the pleasure I was feeling. I reached behind myself and unclipped my bra to massage at my tits. 

He inserted a finger into me making me exclaim as he pumped it slowly while curling it. He pulled his face back to watch me as twisted and pulled on my nipples, adding to the overwhelming feeling crashing around me. 

“So pretty.” He fawned. I didn’t have time to have to be flushed at his comment as he inserted another finger into me making me scream out his name. He gently licked at my clit now and again as his fingers mercilessly pumped into me. Curling his fingers to hit that one spot over and over again his attention picked up on my clit. 

“George, I, f-fuck! I’m gonna...” I breathed out. The ability to make words passed me as my legs began to shake, the familiar feeling of a knot filled my stomach and my eyes clenched shut. 

He hummed onto my clit, acknowledging my plead and that was enough to send me over the edge. I came hard and saw stars as he continued his attack, milking my orgasm for all it could give him. He pulled his mouth away, soon after pulling out his fingers, massaging my shaking legs as I caught my breath. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asked. I looked up at him, propping myself up on my elbows as I looked down at him. The tent in his underwear looked bigger as ever and his chin was glistening with my arousal. 

“Please.” I nodded. I grabbed him and pulled him on top of me. One of his hands propped him up while the other cupped my face as we kissed. Our tongues fought each other for dominance, I moved my hand down and palmed him through his boxers. He let out a groan which I used to my advantage to explore his mouth. 

He moved his hand from my face to grab my wrist. I halted all my actions and watched as he pulled his cock free of his underwear. My eyes widened at the sight of him, I felt myself grow wetter and rubbed my thighs together at the sight. He pumped himself a few times as his eyes raked over me, chuckling lightly to himself.

“Needy, are we?”  He taunted. He started to move his hand slower around himself, his eyes were dark as they looked into mine. I wiggled under his stare again letting out a whine. 

“George, I need you.” I managed to breathe out I heard him groan at my words. 

“As you wish.” He crawled on top of me, I linked my legs around his waist. My breathing intensified as he trailed his lips up my torso until he was trailing his lips along my jaw. He nipped and sucked behind my ear causing me to let out a breathy moan. I could feel him pressing against my entrance so I shifted my hips needily trying to take him in. He lifted his head and looked at my face as though he was committing it to memory. 

“Please…” I whined. He smiled down at me and reattached our lips. One of his hands found mine and he pulled it above my head, interlocking our fingers and leaning against it. His other hand trailed down my body until he found my hip, holding it steady. Our lips were still pressing against each other when he pushed into me. I moaned into his mouth causing him to pull away and smile at me. He continued to push into me, filling me up to the hilt. Being quite large, I involuntarily clenched around him trying to adjust to his size. He groaned and placed his head in the crook of my neck. He peppered kisses to my neck and didn’t move, letting me adjust. I felt quite full, in a good way, the stinging sensation I felt at first passed quickly. I ran my free fingers through his hair, beckoning him back to me. I kissed hard signaling for him to start moving. 

Slowly he pulled out halfway then pushed back in with more force. I moaned out his name as he repeated these actions, each time thrusting into me with more force than before. Hoisting my leg around his shoulder he continued his pace, this time hitting that spot deep inside of me that made my toes curl and my lungs lose the air they once retained. I was a moaning mess, saying George’s name like a mantra. Each feeling was both too much to handle and not enough. The familiar feeling of a knot was building up in my lower stomach. My legs began to shake and my breathing sped up as I felt myself tighten around him making each thrust leaving me feeling more full. 

“George, p-please, I need…” His hips snapped into me cutting off my sentence and turning it into a moan. He trailed his hand up and cupped my face. He picked up his pace causing my whole body shake begging for release. 

“What do you need baby?” His voice was husk and sent shockwaves through my body. As he continued his brutal pace and didn’t grant me my release I felt tears prick my eyes as it all became too much to handle. 

“F-Fuck, please George. Please.” A few tears fell as I tried my absolute hardest to hold back from falling apart. 

He leaned his head down and nipped at my ear. “Go on darling, cum for me.” He whispered into my ear. At his words I let myself fall apart, shaking and clenching around him. He continued to thrust, slowing down and stuttering until he filled me up, thrusting a few times as the aftershock of my orgasm made me spasm and let out a few small moans. 

He slowly pulled out of me and laid on top of my chest. Picking up our intertwined hands he placed a kiss on the back of mine. Brushing my fingers through his hair I tried to catch my breath. 

He rolled over and pulled me with him, now resting on his chest I could hear his heartbeat go back to a normal rhythm. 

“Y/N?” I hummed as a response, waves of fatigue fell over me and I traced small patterns onto his pale chest. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you, not anymore.”

I smiled at his words, shifting slightly so I could look up at him I beamed. “That took too long to happen,” He nodded eagerly and I laughed at him lightly. “I just mean I’m ready to fight for us.” 

He grabbed my hand resting on his chest and interlocked our fingers yet again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We fell asleep, tangled together breathing in each other and I never felt more complete than I did at that moment. 

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part II

First | Next | Masterpost

He went straight to Vizima to find Triss, once he’d made his way out of Kaedwen. It wasn’t directly on the way to Oxenfurt, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel he was making an unreasonable digression. Though he was nervous about locating his bard, he needed to know what this Ida person could tell him.

Triss was as welcoming as always, greeting him with a brief press of cheeks and a light embrace. Yennefer had told her of Geralt’s mission, but she was unable to assist him on the first day, busy with treating several commoners who had come down with a sickness. Nothing of a magical nature, but it did detain her for much of the day after Geralt’s arrival. He busied himself in the city, restocking on potion ingredients that he’d run low on over the long winter, dropping his armor off to be reinforced, and picking up a slim cloth bracelet for Jaskier. It was a soft blue color, with silver beads spaced evenly over the surface, and Geralt thought it would please him.

Gods. He was in trouble.

That evening he dined with Triss in her quarters, despite the fact that it was wildly inappropriate. Geralt asked after it, and Triss laughed dismissively.

“That is a delightful sentiment, but no one is questioning my dalliances,” she said with a grin. “They’re too afraid I’ll turn them into toads if they irritate me. And besides, half the Continent believes that you’re courting Yennefer because of the bard’s silly songs, and the other half thinks you’re courting the bard.”

Ah. “Well,” Geralt said, articulately.

Triss smirked at him over her wine. It was exceptionally good, a vintage from Toussaint that was nearly as old as Geralt. Triss’ quarters were fairly large, befitting a court mage, but decorated in a way that made them seem almost cozy. She favored muted colors that turned rich in the light of the candles scattered around the room. There were dozens of tables and shelves crowded with books, herbs and knick knacks that made the space feel distinctly lived in. It was a stark contrast to Yennefer’s lodgings, which were always immaculate and finely organized. The clutter was a refreshing change of pace. “Yennefer told me that you’re trying to make the bard immortal,” Triss said. One of her eyebrows rose, and Geralt wasn’t sure if the look she gave him was impressed or judgemental.

“Not necessarily,” Geralt said defensively. “Just not so, uh.”

“Excessively mortal?”

He hummed. Triss sighed.

“I don’t know of anything to lengthen a human lifespan to that of a witcher’s,” she said. “But the elves have been dealing in things relating to life force for longer than there have been human mages on the Continent. If anyone has any knowledge of what you’re after, it will be the Aen Saevherne.”

Geralt nodded. “Yennefer told me to ask after a woman named Ida. A sage?”

Triss set her goblet down, looking grave. “Ida Emean. An old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps one of the last elven sages alive, though they’re so secretive it’s difficult to tell. She works occasionally with the Brotherhood, when their goals align. But you need to know, Geralt, even if she has an answer for you, this kind of magic comes with a price. Always.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, he’s—”

Triss interrupted him with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand on the table. “I know what he is to you. I want to help. I just want you to be careful.” Geralt wondered when he’d become this transparent to, apparently, half the Continent and every one of his close friends. The sorceresses were probably gossiping behind his back.

“How will you contact her?” Geralt asked, pushing through his embarrassment. He wished saving Jaskier’s fragile human life didn’t involve so many conversations about his unrequited love.

“Megascope,” Triss said, rising. “We’ll need to do it soon, when the moon rises. It will make the connection stronger; I’m not sure where she is.”

Geralt followed her into a room off of the main sitting area, a small space that was almost entirely dominated by Triss’ megascope. He’d seen its like numerous times at Kaer Morhen, where Yennefer had set her own up in the highest tower still standing. The large crystal disks swam with a cool blue light as Triss waved her hand through the air. Three brass arms rose up to hold them at shoulder level, facing inwards to form a triangle. The soft light filled the dark space, throwing Triss’ face into sharp relief before Geralt snapped a finger to light the candles in the room.

Triss stepped up in front of the negative space between the stands, uttering a few words in Elder that Geralt wasn’t familiar with. After a moment the light began to shimmer and twist around itself, slowly solidifying into a human form.

The figure was indistinct, as they usually were in megascope projections, but Geralt could tell that the woman was beautiful. Used to dealing with elves in the south, whose genes had been diluted with human blood over so many centuries, Geralt was taken aback by the sharpness of her features. Her neck was long and elegant, and her hair fell in sheets around her alien features. He was reminded suddenly of his encounter with the elves of the Blue Mountains so many years ago, the inhuman angle of Filavandrel’s cheekbones.

The smoky figure turned towards Triss first, her head dropping in a brief nod. “Triss Merigold. Keidmil.” Ida said in greeting.

Triss nodded in return, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Keidmil, Ida. I apologize for summoning you with so little warning. I have done so as a favor to a friend.” At this Ida’s eyes, empty orbs of swirling blue light in the megascope, fell on Geralt.

“Vatgern,” she said, with the tone of someone who has just discovered something fascinating but slightly repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. “You have friends in high places, wed. What business does a witcher have with me?” Her accent made the words almost musical.

Geralt’s nod of acknowledgement was more of a bow. He wasn’t normally one to show deference to those with power, but this time his heart was pounding in his ears as he leaned forward. If Ida wouldn’t help him, he would be back to square one before he’d even really begun. “Keidmil, Aen Saevherne,” he said as demurely as he could, which probably still came out sounding like gravel. “I was told by Yennefer of Vengerberg that you might have some knowledge on extending human lifespans.”

Ida’s head tilted a tic to the side, clearly intrigued. “Witchers already live near as long as any half-elf on the Continent,” she replied. “There is no spell that could give you the lifespan of a true Aen Seidhe.”

“It isn’t for myself,” Geralt said quickly. “It’s for a human. Someone I… care deeply about.” He ignored the way his face flamed at this admission, no matter how clear it was that Triss obviously knew about his infatuation. He’d barely admitted it aloud to himself, let alone anyone else.

Ida hummed, the sound vibrating through the megascope. “This has precedent. But the spell you seek does not come without cost.”

“Tell me,” Geralt said firmly.

“There has always been conflict between humankind and the Aes Seidhe. Our peoples have crossed gweld an gleidyf many times over the millennia. But there were always times when there was peace, coexistence. In the early days, before the blood of men diluted our own, the Aes Seidhe could live through half a dozen human lifetimes or more. It was taboo to form relationships with humans, and many did not bother. But there were, of course, exceptions.

“It is unclear where the ritual comes from, but the tales say that one of the Aen Saevherne fell in love with a human woman, who then fell gravely ill as she entered her twilight years. The sage, terrified of losing her, bound her lifeforce to his own, effectively extending her life at the cost of some of his own longevity. Over the years the ritual was refined by others. It has fallen out of practice, in this age; many of the Aes Seidhe’s bloodlines are so diluted that they live for no longer than twice a human lifetime. But the ritual remains.”

Geralt swallowed. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I can,” Ida said, her chin raising slightly. “But I do not need to tell you, vatgern, that all such magic comes with consequences. You cannot create those years from nothing; they must be drawn from somewhere. And you will be binding yourself to this human. I cannot say how this ritual will impact someone who is not of elvish blood.”

He could feel Triss turning worried eyes on him. She too knew the price that magic could demand. “Will Ja—the human, could he be harmed?” Geralt asked.

Ida’s head shook back and forth, her hair swaying. “You assume the responsibility of the ritual,” she said. “Is this human worth so much to you?”

“Yes,” Geralt said instantly, surprised by his own lack of hesitation. “Anything.”

Ida looked at him for a moment, as if judging his truthfulness. “Very well,” she finally said. “I will give you the words, but the ritual requires additional pieces. Gaes carraigh, an oathstone, for the vow; ghealachlíon, night’s linseed, for the binding; and ionad, a place of great power or great personal meaning. Once these elements are combined, you bind your hands with the moonflax over the oathstone and speak the incantation. It is straightforward, but your pronunciation and your intent must be exact. Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt repeated. The words were easy, close enough to their modern counterparts that he was certain it would be nearly identical in southern Elder. It was almost too easy, romantic in its simplicity. Ida nodded, satisfied. “And that’s all?” Geralt asked, breathless.

“That is all. There need be no officiant, no further ceremony. You will be bound by Chaos herself.”

“Officiant?” Geralt blinked, confused. “Why would we need an officiant?”

“I have been told that human marriages tend to involve quite a few witnesses,” Ida said, sounding amused. “Ours are a bit more personal.”

“Wait. This is a marriage ritual?” Geralt felt his heart starting to sink down into his stomach.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ida replied. “Now, if that is all you require, I have my own business to attend to.”

“Me grasha, Ida, for taking the time,” Triss piped up again. “If you ever need a favor in return…”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ida said. “Va feil.”

“Va feil,” Triss replied, and the megascoped dimmed and cast the room back into darkness.

Geralt stood in utter stillness for a moment, blinking into the dark. “Fuck,” he burst out. “I have to marry him?”

Triss just laughed.

*

Triss, luckily, knew the locations of most of the components Ida had mentioned, though the last location would be up to Geralt to determine. The first of these, the oathstone, was used frequently enough in larger elven settlements before their people were displaced. She had recommended the ruins of Ban Aine as a likely findspot, and it was situated not too far from Oxenfurt. That was to be his first real stop, to collect Jaskier and convince him of Geralt’s plan.

Hopefully without revealing too much about the exact nature of the ritual, which still made Geralt sweat when he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t help but think of it with a strange mix of giddiness and dread, churning together in a nauseating concoction. Marriage wasn’t something that witchers got to do, ever. Their lives were transient and drawn out, and often ended in violence. Even if any of them had the time to court lovers, it wasn’t the type of life that one would wish on someone they cared for. It could only end one of two ways: the witcher outlived their paramour, or their love was left to grieve them after they were gutted by some beast or strung up by an angry mob.

Even when Geralt had been infatuated with Yennefer he hadn’t truly considered anything like marriage. He had imagined a kind of loose commitment, maybe, but he had always known somewhere deep in his own mind that Yennefer would never stand to be tied down to anyone for long. He had been desperate enough for her love that he’d been willing to settle for anything she could give him.

He had never dared to hope for more, no matter how he might want it. Still, once he had come to understand his own feelings towards Jaskier, he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about it at times. He wondered what things might change between them, if they tied themselves together. Things might stay much the same; Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen most years, and journey with Geralt when he could throughout the rest of the year. He would bring trinkets and books and stories for Ciri, and teach her how to be human, and trade quips with Yennefer and the other wolves when they all gathered. He would still help Geralt clean up after a hunt, help him stitch his skin back together and wash away the grime and curl up at his side when night came. But maybe he would also let Geralt wake him by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s eyelids like he had so often yearned to do. Maybe he would reach out and hold Geralt’s hand as they walked through a new town; maybe he would close the distance kept between them when they lay in tiny rented beds.

Maybe he could be Geralt’s, and no one else’s.

He was successful, most of the time, in keeping these kinds of thoughts at bay. It did a witcher no good to dwell on what could not be.

Now it would be, if only technically, and only if Geralt could convince Jaskier to perform the ritual without giving away its origins. He considered telling Jaskier the full truth of it, of course. It was probable that Jaskier wouldn’t even care. In his mind, they were only friends; it would be easy enough to set aside the implications of the ritual in favor of practicality. It would be ridiculous to turn down the chance at potentially doubling his own lifespan just because hundreds of years ago an ancient ritual was used for romantic unions.

But every time Geralt thought of telling Jaskier, and of hearing him dismiss Geralt’s concerns, he felt something black and dreadful crawl up his throat. Jaskier would think it was silly, the idea that he could ever be married to a witcher. He would laugh, with that sly grin he always got when they were sharing a joke between them—isn’t that funny, the look would say, the idea of you and me.

No. If he said nothing, Jaskier would never have to know, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Geralt would never hold him to any sort of bond that the ritual created between them; he would be happy knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be taken from him by time and old age, at least not yet.

And at least he would have something of Jaskier for himself, even if he’d had to steal it.

[critrolesideblog]

Evening falls in the Pearlbow Wilderness with the last of the autumn leaves. A bitter wind heralds the coming of winter as it rattles its way through the skeletal trees, and the veil of gray that has been pulled across the sky all day awaits its cue to blanket the world beneath with snow. So, when a golden-amber light shines briefly in the wilderness, halfway between Erdeloch and Kaltenloch, there is no mistaking it for dying sunlight, which has not been seen by these tree trunks for some time, and it is little surprise at all, when a man with hair the color of a hearthfire appears out of the light with the soft crunch and thump of sturdy boots meeting forest floor.

The man looks north briefly, and then turns in a slow, clockwise circle, his azure eyes, bruised from lack of sleep, searching for any sign of his quarry. He hears the familiar, chittering call of an elf owl, and watches it take to the sky in a flutter of feathers and rustle of tree branches. A smile pulls on one side of his lips, and he hopes the bird is a good omen as he turns the slow circle again, but he finds only trees, trees, and more trees. The wind, delighted to have a new orange toy at its disposal, tugs excitedly at his hair. "Go where the wind blows, I suppose," he says with a sigh, and the leaves on the ground agree quietly that it is really the only sensible way to be getting along.

As he sets off west-northwest, he reaches into one of his coat's many pockets to touch the trinket housed there. It is a small thing, barely larger than a gold coin. He stole it over a year prior from a place far east of here. He turns it over in his pocket four times, before methodically tracing the design on its face with his thumb, a new habit he has picked up in recent weeks as he has searched for the woman it reminds him of.

Night arrives quickly in the autumnal wilderness, and cold quickly follows suit. Luckily, the man knows a thing or two about light and heat. He produces a flame in his unpocketed hand as quickly and easily as most people breathe. Most trees would be perturbed at the sudden appearance of fire in their midst, but the trees of this forest are old and delight in the man's bright magic. You are so close, they whisper as the wind glides across their branches. She is just there. The snow, sensing its cue, begins to fall then, kissing the man on the top of his head, shoulders, and cheeks, melting against his skin like a lover. Come, come, the flurries beckon. You are very close. He does not hear them, but he feels a renewed determination, or perhaps stubbornness, as he sets his shoulders and forges ahead.

It is the light he notices first. He extinguishes the flame in his hand, thinking it a possible trick of eye, but no, he can definitely glimpse a glimmer of light up ahead. He notices the trees next, the way they have created a path for him, their branches curling elegantly overhead like living archways. Finally, pace quickening, he catches the scent of woodsmoke and food on the air. As he gets closer, the glimmer coalesces into a series of arcane lights, like too-still fireflies, leading a path up to the door of a home, now visible in the clearing, and wreathing it in gold. He feels a pang of nostalgia as he is reminded of a tree, far away, glowing with daylight in a city of eternal night.

He blames this rush of sentimentality for his lack of caution as he steps through the final archway. He does not sense the arcane wire until he has already tripped it. He hisses in pain, flinching backward, as bright, white light sears his retinas. Old habit brings his hands instinctively level with his face, palms outward, a position of readiness disguised as surrender. He hears what can only be the door ahead opening with a groan, and a woman's voice calls out from the light, full-throated and wary.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Caleb, Caleb Widogast." He replies, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm, despite his mounting discomfort at the fact that he cannot see. "I mean you no harm. I am looking for someone. I believe her name is Torvi. I met her once, some years ago, and I wish to speak with her, if I may." He pauses to allow a reply, but all he hears is the wind in the branches and the faint crackle of a fire. He can feel his pulse thumping nervously in his throat. He ventures to speak again. "I," he pauses, considering how direct he should be. "I met her in-- in a place called--"

"I know what the place is called." The woman's voice is not soft exactly, but it is no longer quite so sharp. The lights dim back to their firefly glow. "You are not the first person from Vergessen to find their way here." He thinks it might be sadness he hears in her voice and ventures to open his eyes slowly.

As the black splotches on his vision reduce, the woman comes slowly into focus. He notices first the book in a sling on her hip, dark leather stark against the golden yellow of her dress. Next, the dishcloth in her hands, giving the impression of being caught in the middle of a chore and undoubtedly hiding any number of spell components. It is not Torvi. Torvi's face is the first clear memory he has after ... after. He thinks he sees a resemblance, in the shape of her eyes, the sweet-apple roundness of her cheekbones, the broad curve of her nose, the pointed slope of her ears. Her jaw is different, though, more square, her shoulders more broad, her stature just a bit too tall. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Maeve, Torvi's sister." She beckons him with a tilt of her head. "Come on in."

Caleb approaches with greater caution this time, as Maeve steps back, opening the door further. He casts Detect Magic with a practiced twist of his hand and spots no further traps on the path ahead of him -- at least, none that are currently activated. There are, however, a dozen different wards that he can see around the perimeter of the clearing and a dozen more traps besides. It is some of the most intricately woven Abjuration magic he has had the pleasure of witnessing, and he regrets, for just an instant before he steps through the doorway, that he does not have time right now to investigate it further.

His beleaguered eyes adjust to the candle and firelight of the interior to take in a simple but well-appointed home. There are cabinets and a large work bench along the far wall. Herbs of all varieties hang from the rafters. There is a bookcase filled to bursting with books of all sizes, some of which glow with magic. There is a large dining table, crowned with a steaming cauldron of stew, and there, in a chair by the hearthfire, is Torvi. She has a blanket pulled around her, and she is leaning against one side of the armchair, her arm curled beneath her chin as a pillow, gazing into the hearthfire, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps, just lost. She gives no indication that she has noticed him enter.

He has had weeks to get used to the idea of her being alive and not dead, as he had assumed her to be from the moment Ikithon took posession of her holy symbol all those years ago, but no amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for the experience of seeing her there exactly as he remembered her.

"This will hurt." The first words to cut through the clouds in a decade, as the heart-shaped face of a half-Elven woman, with dark-brown skin and sunlight-on-honey eyes, comes into focus, her warm hands caressing his face. "Like saltwater on a wound, it is necessary. There is so much you may yet do." Her expression shifts, then, from an apologetic smile to slack-jawed awe. Her eyes are bright as they rove across his face. "I see the face of Corellon in you."

Now that he is within the warmth of the home, Caleb cannot attribute the tingling numbness in his face and hands to the cold. His heart pounds against his ribcage, as desperate to escape as he suddenly is, but he manages to draw in a deep, shaky breath. Breathe, he reminds himself. He  grips the charm in his pocket with all his strength, such as it is, and takes a deep breath again. Eins, swei, drei... It takes him a moment to realize that Maeve is looking at him expectantly. "Sorry?" He croaks.

"I said, if you want to speak with her, you'll have to wait, but if you're not in a hurry, she'll come around soon enough."

"Ah, ja, I can wait." He picks a point on Maeve's cheek, just below her eyes, to fix his gaze upon. Stay on task, Widogast. "I had hoped to speak with you as well. Perhaps, we can do that first." One of her eyebrows quirks upward.

"Alright," she says, after a moment. "We can do that over dinner. You can set your coat and things there" Though her words are phrased as suggestions, her voice rings with the authority of someone used to being listened to, as she motions to a coat rack by the door. Her eyes flick to his pocketed hand. There is still a wariness in the set of her shoulders, and the dishcloth still partly obscures one of her hands. Ah.

Caleb nods in acquiescence and acknowledgment, one paranoid arcanist to another, and removes the hand from his pocket slowly, palming the trinket as he does so. He turns away from her and divests himself of his scarf and coat, keeping the trinket in hand all the while. He keeps his eyes on the wood floor, the cob wall, the curling leaf design of the wooden coat hooks. When he turns back, Maeve has set three places at the dining table. "Ah, none for me, please," he says, waving a staying hand as he crosses to the table. She pauses, ladle suspended in midair, and her eyes pass over his thin form, even thinner now that he no longer has his coat, in frank, skeptical appraisal. Judging by the unimpressed look on her face, she finds him wanting.

"We feed our guests around here," she says, in the same authoritative tone, and ladles soup into each of the three bowls. Caleb's lips form a thin line, briefly, the only outward indication of his inward prickling at this insistence, but he quickly clears the frown from his face. He wants her amenable to his request, and if he has to eat a little, in spite of the knotted nerves residing where his stomach should be, so be it. He notices that his bowl, at least, is more broth than vegetable as Maeve retrieves a large loaf of crusty bread from a cupboard, tears off a large piece for each of them, and settles into the seat across the table from him. "So," she says, before digging into her bowl. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Caleb takes a deep breath. "Are you familiar with a man by the name of Trent Ikithon?"

Maeve stills. Her eyes meet Caleb's, wary and discerning. "I know of him -- he is one of the members of the Cerberus Assembly -- but I have never met him."

"Count yourself lucky," Caleb says, forcing his face into a wry smile. He launches into a monologue he has rehearsed many times over the past few weeks, detailing some of the crimes of his former mentor, how Ikithon used Vergessen as a base of operations, the ordeal of his trial and imprisonment, the nigh certainty of the involvement of other Assembly members in Ikithon's crimes, and the painstaking, fruitless search to find anyone willing to testify against them. Maeve's eyes stay on him all the while as she takes in every word with a quiet, steadfast focus that reminds him of another wizard he knows. "So," he says at last, after pausing to eat a small bite of broth-soaked bread. "If there is any evidence you can offer, any testimony of anything you or your sister might have witnessed --"

"No."

Caleb blinks once, twice, three times. "No?"

"No," she repeats, softly. "I admire what you are doing, but we cannot help you."

"If you are afraid of reprisals, I can assure you--"

"I'm fairly certain you can assure nothing where the Assembly is involved," she says, with a cynical smile, "no matter how powerful you or your friends with the Cobalt Soul are. But, nevertheless, I have no evidence to offer. I witnessed nothing, aside from my sister's declining health, which is too circumstantial to be helpful, and any evidence she might offer would not stand up in court of law."

Caleb's shoulders and head curl forward as her words hit him like a blow to the chest. He hazards a glance at the woman by the fire, who has not moved over the course of their conversation. "Is she so unwell?"

". . . No." Maeve drags the word out into two syllables. "She is much better than she was, but..." She taps a quick staccato rhythm against the side of her bowl with her spoon, before gazing across the room at her sister. "Torvi was not insane before she went to Vergessen, only inconvenient. When she was a teenager, she began performing miracles and wonders around our village, and she was not shy about declaring their provenance. She was always blessing people that they may 'walk in Corellon's beauty' or 'may the light of the Archeart guide them.'" Caleb's heart sinks as he guesses where this story is going. Maeve shrugs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl. "We got fined every time the Reapers came to town. The villagers didn't care, so long as their kid was healed or their shop brought in coin -- a blessing was a blessing. But she didn't stop there. She also went after the priest to the All-Hammer that kept the shrine in our village. She said he worshiped the Empire, not the Gods."

"I bet that made her a lot of friends in high places."

Maeve gives a snort of humorless laughter at this, her cynical smile returning. "No kidding. My parents made a deal with the lawmaster: instead of sending her to jail, they agreed that her worship of "false gods"--" she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers "-- was a sign of her obvious madness, and sent her to Vergessen instead." She pushes her soup around the bowl with her spoon. "They thought they were doing her a kindness. But, regardless," her eyes flash up to catch his, hard with grim certainty. "Even if she was completely well, I think we both know the word of a convicted heretic and idolator is worth very little in the eyes of the law."

Caleb rubs his tired eyes with a sigh, as his left hand worries at the charm. He has so much work yet to do. Da'leth, Margolin, Tversky -- they were all too close to the Volstrucker program not to have been involved. They had to be removed from power for any real change to take place, and his search for concrete evidence and testimony had been so fruitless. When he had found record of Torvi's discharge from Vergessen, it ... it had felt like a sign, he admits to himself, cringing a little at the irrationality of it. A sign that perhaps he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He unfurls his hand to reveal the trinket: a small disc of silver engraved with two moons backed by a four-pointed star.

Maeve, glimpsing the symbol, tilts her head curiously. "Are you a devotee of Corellon?"

The idea that someone could mistake him for a devotee of any god is strange enough to make him fumble the charm as he turns it over again in his hand. "Ah, I cannot say so, no. I have never been much for religion."

Maeve's gestures with her chin toward the book holstered at his side. "Why bother with the fickle will of Gods when us mortals can achieve so much on our own?" It is not really a question. There is a book on her own hip after all.

Caleb nods. "That is part of it." He turns the charm over in his hand again, and a memory rises to the surface of his mind: the soft, rhythmic clack-clack of wooden prayer beads as they sift through his mother's clever fingers. She kneels before the shrine of Pelor, eyes closed, the dawn light shining off her burnished copper hair, prayers whispering earnestly through her lips. Much good that it did her. "For a long time, it seemed to me the supposed benevolence of the gods was nothing but a cruel joke." Bless my son that he may live always in Your light. "My view is a bit softer now, but ..." Bless our Empire that we may bring light to the dark corners of the world.

Maeve nods. Her eyes gleam with a cold anger. "I rage at that one, sometimes," she says, her eyes darting toward the moonlit star in his hand. "And argue -- one-sided." A wry smile twists her lips.

The sudden scrape of metal on metal makes both of their heads turn at once toward the front window. It opens with a creak and in hops a tiny elf owl.

Maeve rises and crosses quickly to the window. "You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?" She asks, as she closes the window with a sharp snap. "It's very rude to keep your guest waiting." The owl's head swivels to gaze at Caleb, and he recognizes immediately the familiar glow of Fey magic in the bird's eyes. With another little hop, it takes flight from the window sill and lands on the table a foot from him. There is a long moment of silence as the bird looks him over, this way and that, and -- pip, pip, pip-- hops a little closer, faerie fire still burning its eyes.

Caleb remembers well the safe, comforting distance of viewing the world through a familiar's eyes. "I had a little owl like you once," he says, softly. A smile tugs at his lips as he remembers Frumpkin perched on Beau's shoulder, his tiny feathers ruffled by the ocean breeze. "Well, he was a cat really, but he was an owl for a little while."

"She is a bigger owl really," says the first voice he remembers from Vergessen. "But she is small for right now."

Caleb takes a deep breath. Eins, swei, drei... He forces himself to tear his eyes from the safe visage of the little bird and face her. She is not quite looking at him, but she is facing his direction now. He can see clearly now that the light reflected in her upturned eyes is not fire but Fey. "Do-- do you remember me, Schwester?"

"Of course, I do," she says, voice soft and warm.

Caleb rubs his thumb over the design on the charm one last time. "I brought this for you," he says, holding it out for the owl to inspect. "To replace the one that was taken." The owl bobs its head this way and that in a circular motion, and then snaps up the trinket so quickly that Caleb barely has time to worry for his fingers before the bird is midair again. She lands on the back of the chair, dropping the charm onto Torvi's waiting palm. Her hand closes around it, and as it does, the light in her eyes grows and brightens until they shine like twin stars from her face. They are bright enough that Caleb is not able to look at her long without needing to avert his weary eyes. It is not unlike the ways he has seen Jester and Caduceus' magic manifest at times, and he wonders what visions her deity is granting her, as Maeve resumes her seat across from him.

The room is quiet for a long while, save for the crackle of the hearthfire and the occasional scrape of Maeve's spoon against her bowl. The tiny owl is beginning to doze on the back of the chair, when the light disappears from Torvi's eyes with a blink, and she looks down at the trinket with her own eyes for the first time. "Beautiful," she whispers, as errant tears spill down her cheeks.

"Schwester..." It feels cruel to ask, another sin to add to the pile, but she is here now. Really here, and he has traveled all this way. He has to ask. "Schwester, is there anything you remember about your time at Vergessen, any evidence you can offer, any direction you can point me in, to help me bring down those who used that place for evil?"

Still gazing at the talisman, she tilts her head in a way that reminds Caleb of a curious bird and seems to consider his question for a moment. "You were the first one I restored in that place," she says at last. "Half mad and half cursed, so young and so full of Corellon's beauty and magic." The ghost of a smile curls around her lips as she rubs her thumb over the design on the charm in much the same way Caleb had a moment before. "And now you have done so many beautiful and important things." And ugly and terrible things, Caleb thinks wryly. The scales are not yet balanced.

"I just need to do a little more, Schwester." A phantom, stinging itch starts up in his forearms, and his fingers worry against each other for lack of the charm to turn between them.

Torvi's eyes meet his without warning, and he is caught like a startled creature in the sudden glimpse of sunlight.

"Fuck, if I ever have to sit in a courtroom again, it'll be too fuckin' soon," Beau says, stretching in the dim lamplight outside the tavern. He makes a noise of agreement, and she glances at him. "Y'know, Yasha's got some unfinished business in Xhorhas. We've been talking about taking off for a few weeks, few months maybe, to go back to her old stomping grounds..." She looks at Caleb sidelong, and he can read the concern in the slight shift in the pitch of her voice, the rising of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, though she plays it off well. He knows he looks like shit. It turned out listening to weeks of testimony against his abuser was not a great aid to his already-fitful sleep.

"Gut." He says, and he means it. "It will be good for her to get some closure. She deserves it, and you both deserve some time to yourselves." He offers her a smile he hopes is reassuring.

She nods, and between one breath and the next, her arms are around him. He allows himself to lean into her vice-like grip, hugging her back as hard as he can. "Take it easy, while we're gone, alright, man? We'll kick some more Assembly ass when we get back." She releases him at last and gives him a pat on the cheek. "Get some rest, man. You deserve it."

Caleb feels the heavy weight of his allotment of Trent Ikithon's platinum and gold in his coat pocket and knows that he does not. "Ja," he says. "I will. There's just a little more to do."

"And then what?" The question snaps Caleb's attention back to the present. Torvi is peering at him, her eyes seeming to search in his for an answer. "A little more, and then what? After you find this evidence you need, will it be a little more still, or will you rest?"

If he found evidence against Da'leth and the others, there would be more trials. The web would unravel further still, and he would have new threads to follow. Not to mention, the problem of the ex-Volstrucker scattered to the winds. "Well, you know what they say," he says with a sardonic grin. "There is no rest for the wicked." Torvi does not return his grin.

"You are not wicked." She says this with such certainty that it sparks a small flame of anger in his chest.

"How do you know?" He asks, more than a little petulantly.

"I know." And there is something in the compassionate depths of her sunlit eyes that makes Caleb think, inexplicably, that she does know. She knows what transpired before Vergessen and since. The flame in his chest is quenched thoroughly. He tears his gaze from hers at last, eins, swei, drei... "Alas," she continues, once his breathing has evened out again. "My memories from Vergessen are... muddled." She concludes quietly. "But if I think of anything helpful, I can contact you." He nods, his eyes on the floorboards, as disappointment washes over him.

"I suppose I'll be on my way then." He says, quietly, and rises from his seat. Maeve rises with him.

"I'd like a favor from you before you go," says Torvi, as he turns from the table. He looks up, in surprise.

"Name it."

"I'd like you to hold onto this for me," she says, holding the talisman out with a smile. "I'm always losing mine."

"It's true," mutters Maeve. "I'm always finding them in strange places."

"This one means a lot to me," Torvi says. "I don't want to lose it." She holds the charm out toward him insistently. "Keep it safe for me."

Maeve looks at him sidelong and sighs. "If you don't, she'll just find some way of sneaking it into your pocket as you leave."

"It's true," Torvi agrees, and there is mischief twinkling amidst the warm affection in her eyes, a particular mix that reminds him strongly of Jester. He crosses to her to take the trinket back, and as he does so, her fingers catch his. He feels a familiar warmth settle over him. "May you walk in Corellon's beauty, Bruder." When Maeve had said the words earlier, they had sounded trite to Caleb's ears, but Torvi's benediction was infused with such sincerity.

Caleb bends forward slightly, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Danke, Schwester." She smiles at him warmly, as he releases her grasp and pockets the trinket.

Maeve opens the door for him as he hastily dons his scarf and coat and steps out into the frigid air. To Caleb's surprise, she follows him out onto the step, closing the door behind her. The clearing is now covered in a thin layer of snow, and their breaths create little puffs of fog in the dim glow of the arcane lights. Maeve leans out past the eave of the house for a moment to look up at the sky, but the stars are veiled with clouds. She frowns and straightens, crossing her arms. "Can I give you a little advice?" She asks, her voice pitched low, eyes following the meandering descent of a snowflake.

Caleb watches the snowflake, also, watches it spiral and drift, until it is lost in a sea of shadow. He is not sure he wants advice. He wants evidence, a direction to go in. He has lost his only lead, and now, he is back at square one.

"When I'm stuck on a spell," Maeve continues. "I find the best thing to do is take a break. Then, when I'm doing laundry or gardening or whatever, the solution will come to me." She reaches out a hand past the eave to catch some of the falling snow. "Even the Wildmother can't bloom all the time." A strong gust of wind swirls around them then, trying its best to push Caleb northward. Caleb adjusts his scarf and coat to stop its icy fingers from trailing down his neck, and Maeve shrugs. "Take it or leave it."

"Thank you," Caleb says with a nod. Maeve nods back and turns to re-enter the house, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.

Caleb steps off of the porch, re-casting detect magic with a twist of his hand. He wants to be well clear of the Abjuration magic before he attempts to teleport. The snow crunches under his boots as he makes his way down the row of lights, and the wind whistles in the tree branches and tries, once again, to tug him northward, pulling at his hair this time, loosening it from its tie.

The sharp, clean smell of the fresh snow reminds Caleb of Eiselcross... of Essek. The thought of reuniting with Essek had been a light at the end of the tunnel, during Ikithon's trial. He had even spent time crafting his own Sending spell, so he could contact Essek once the trial was over. When the day came, it had felt too selfish to use it. There was still so much to do.

And Essek isn't the only thing awaiting him in Eiselcross. In the underworld of Aeor lies a crucible, a final test of his tentative, hard-won, untrustworthy goodness.

Caleb walks much further than he needs to. The snowflakes try to kiss his worries away. When this doesn't work, they stop falling, leaving only the wind carding its fingers through his hair with alternating sweetness and frustration. It whistles some more to catch his attention, but he is too lost in his spiraling thoughts to hear it.

He does hear another noise, though, or thinks he does. He cannot find the little owl when he looks up to the tree branches, but he does see a star. A single star, bright enough to shine through a thinning in the veil, twinkling, safe and familiar...

Caleb swears under his breath and yanks a copper wire out of his pocket, before he can think better of it. He shapes it much like he has seen Jester do numerous times and takes a deep breath. He visualizes Essek, his lilac eyes, his high cheekbones, the iridescent freckles dusted across his twilight skin, the elegant curve of his jaw, the small dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles, really smiles, and speaks the magic word. "Hallo, Freund, I--" It occurs to him suddenly that, although it is a very reasonable 6:13 in the evening in this part of the Pearlbow Wilderness, it is much deeper into the night at Vurmas Outpost. "I apologize I didn't think of the time. I hope I'm not disturbing you." Nine words left. "Thinking I'll travel to you soon... to exchange theories?" The words leave his lips with the ghost of a smile, and he thinks he hears a smile in Essek's voice as well, when he responds:

"Caleb Widogast, it is good to hear your voice no matter the time of night. I can think of nothing else I would rather do."

.

.

.

Notes: I rather extended the limits of Read Object and Read Mind from the Knowledge Domain descriptions, because.

[hello-everyfandom]

"Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

Warnings: ***Severe Trigger Warnings*** Disordered Eating Habits. Restricting Food Intake. Depression and Anxiety

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: The world is going to shit around you.

Fred Weasley may be many things. He may be too loud. He may be too big headed and cocky. He may not understand emotions as well as his twin. He may be internally anxious about the fastly approaching war which he knew would be nothing but deadly. But, if Fred is anything, he is utterly mad for you. He could not find any answer that could solve how you could possibly be with a boy like himself, the boy whose laughter bounces off the cobble walls, the boy who grins toothily. 

The war, nearly at your fingertips, had taken an emotional and even physical toll on the students at Hogwarts.  Fred was worried. He wouldn’t fully say it outloud as he believed in such tumultuous times as such humor was the best coping method. However, he was worried. Worried about you. As confident as you may have seemed, Fred knew full well of the internal demons you’ve suffered the wrath from. If he could, he’d whip out his wand and defeat them all, but it wasn’t like that. He could not even wish them away, even if he shut his eyes as tightly as he could. 

Those who believed Harry Potter began preparing for battle, learning defensive spells and attacking hexes to protect themselves and protect their home. You were the first to sign up for Dumbledor’s Army alongside the twins who promised all the younger students to prank the ever loving hell out of any Death Eaters who dared roam Hogwarts. 

Fred began to notice a change in your demeanor when training had hit a month or so. You were working yourself to the bone, studying as many protection spells as you could and studying the herbs and potions needed for quick healing. You assured Fred with a kiss on his cheek that you were merely getting as prepared as you could. Fred couldn’t really do anything or think of anything to argue back with, but he watched with wary eyes. 

“Freddie,” you laughed, “You can wipe that worried look off your face. I’m fine!”

“But-”

“Seriously.” You patted his cheek kindly, “Go on and join the boys for dinner, I’ll be there in a moment.” 

Fred nodded, slowly walking away from where you sat. He waited for you at supper, even made you a plate and made sure no one took the last chocolate pudding as he knew that was your study snack. But, you never came. 

Okay, Fred thought. You must have been too buried in a book as you sometimes were. When night began to grow and he hadn’t seen you for a few hours, he began his search and bid his whining twin behind. He found you where he had last left you, still studying the words of numerous textbooks.

“Missed dinner,” Fred said softly.

“Did I?” you asked, surprised, quickly looking to the clock that hung on the wall you saw that it was nearly ten past eleven. “Oh, bollocks.” You laughed at yourself.

“Yeah, bollocks.” Fred mocked, pulling you to your feet. “Come on then, let’s sneak you something from the kitchens, yeah?”

You bit your cheek, thinking in your head, “I’m really not that hungry.”

“Really?” Fred’s eyebrows raised, “But you’re always hungry after reading, especially big, boring smelly textbooks like these.” He waved his hand accusingly at the books on the table.

With a grin, you shook your head, “Really. I had a large lunch and I’m actually rather tired.”

Fred hummed, interlocking your fingers, “Shall we head to bed then? Have a good little cuddle?”

You nodded in response and began to collect the books to take back to your dormitory.

“No, no!” Fred protested, “Don’t bring the bloody books.”

“Don’t insult the books, Freddie, lest you want a big, boring, smelly textbook in your crotch.”

Fred grumbled and complied, even taking a few of the heavier ones in his arms. Fred slept soundly that night, with his arms wrapped around you. It was only until you were tossing and turning and eventually getting up to light a candle and begin reading again. Fred looked at your hunched figure with bleary eyes.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing love?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d read a bit instead. Go back to sleep,” you whispered back. Fred didn’t think much of this, even though he should’ve, but instead he watched you read until he unwillingly fell asleep again.

Weeks passed, more training sessions and lessons and homework upon homework. Fred kept a smile on his face, giving encouragement to the young D.A members and laughing when George would get blasted back by their little sister. You laughed as well, making Fred grin even larger. He saw you improve beyond belief, able to detect spells thrown at you. He believed wholeheartedly that you could duel with a blindfold on and shamelessly win. But to you? Your form was wonky and your wordless spells needed extreme practice. You brought it upon yourself to take extra practice times in the Room of Requirement, in the space between doing homework and studying. Those times, to Fred’s utter dismay, were usually meal times. 

“But-”

“Swear on my life, Fred, I eat when I get back to the dorm, you’re usually asleep by then!”

“But-”

“Freddie, you’re going to wear yourself thin if you continue to worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.” Fred argued, “Is something wrong? Anything I can help with?” 

Shaking your head, “No no, just want some time to practice, that’s all.”

“Can’t you take a little break? George and Lee haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “that’s not true. George and I sat next to each other during Divination and I helped Lee with his girl troubles last night.”

“Oh, but... you can still take a break! At least come to dinner?”

“Maybe,” you reached on your toes to press a kiss to Fred’s lips, “We’ll see.”

As you walked away, Fred yelled, “So see you at dinner?”

“Goodbye, Freddie!” you answered back.

Now is the time to be truthful. Standing in the Room of Requirement, alone to your own thoughts. Something was wrong. You weren’t exactly sure what and couldn’t pin where you felt anxious, but you knew something was off and was beginning to fear your love would notice as well. To be honest, you had gotten frightfully used to skipping meals. At first, it bothered your stomach as it growled and rang, but the more you ignored the ache the more you could withstand. Hunger only seemed to be a nuisance to you, distracting you from focusing. The only thing you wanted was to become stronger. Practicing and moving toned you down, but it didn’t seem enough. The girls in your year and below you were smaller, able to move quicker and think faster. Time seemed to serve you well as you put all your focus and will into exercise. When Fred and even George would approach you with plates of food, you’d fawn and smile, thanking them profusely for thinking of you. When they left, or turned an eye, you’d enchant the food away, not wanting to smell the scent of mashed potatoes and roast. The lack of food in your body displayed a false sense of security as you began to feel better and better everyday. 

Fred, oh Fred, such an innocent, oblivious boy could only notice your change in routine. Had he noticed the baggy sweaters you stole from him and the sudden change in your cheeks, perhaps he would’ve cursed himself. But, he basked in the fact that he thought you were happy. It wasn’t his fault either. You did a terrific job at hiding behind large sweaters and cups of hot caffeinated tea that filled your belly. 

“I’m exhausted.” you moaned, falling backwards onto your bed. Fred joined you, lying sideways so he could look at his beautiful girlfriend. To him, you were effortlessly pretty. Enchanting he may even say. Fred leaned closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing the skin of your exposed neck.

“Shall we have a nap then?”

“Maybe,” you yawned, “but you better be careful, I’m quite sore from lessons today.” 

Fred joked playfully, “I know, saw you take quite a spill after Hermione spit that spell at you.”

“You would think she would’ve gone easy!” you laughed back.

“Come on, up then.”

“No, why!” you cried, refusing to take his hands.

“You buffoon, I’m going to give you a massage. You know, since I’m such a loving, perfect boyfriend to his seemingly ungrateful girlfriend.”

“You may call me ungrateful but buffoon? That’s going too far.” you bit back but nevertheless agreed and sat up so you were seated between Fred’s open legs. Fred’s thumbs quickly found your shoulders, rubbing your muscles. You moaned with the pressure of the pads of his thumbs. 

“You’re more tense than a horse’s arse.” Fred commented, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Will you just let me enjoy this?” 

“I think,” Fred touched the hem of your sweater, which was actually his from third year, “I may be able to help more if this were off.”

“Is that a pick up line?” you asked sarcastically, “Not quite bright with the ladies, are we?”

“If I was not in love with you, I’m pretty sure I would have dumped you by now,” Fred joked. Of course, that wasn’t true at all, but his comment would be something you’d think about for days on. 

“Alright, but I’m only wearing a bra under this, cover your virgin eyes if you must.” 

Fred scoffed and began to take off your sweater, “Virgin eyes, my cock and balls.”

The cold hit your bare skin making you shudder. Fred couldn’t see much as the low light only seemed to cast shadows. But, as he began to massage your tired muscles, he could not ignore the feeling of your shoulders in his hands. He could feel the curve of your bones and your collar which was prominent against his touch. The straps of your bra were loose. You were silent, unknowing and enjoying what you thought was a nice massage.

“Y/N,” Fred said slowly, making you open your eyes. 

“Hm?” you hummed back. Fred stood from the bed making you turn to look at him with questioning eyes. Fred quickly lit a candle next to your bed, illuminating the space between you two.

“Oh my god.” He whispered under his breath.

“Well, that’s not very nice to hear, is it?” you responded, feeling a little hurt.

“No, no,” Fred said quickly, trying to assure you. But he had seen you already. Upon the skin of your back, you were littered with bruises from practice. Spots of black and blue touched you and curved with your spine. He could nearly count every joint and sucked in a breath of harsh air.

“Darling,” his voice slower and slower, trying to grasp and piece together what is happening.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” you asked frantically, trying to look at your back. You breathed a breath of relief, “Oh, the bruises? Those are just from practicing from dueling.”

“No...” he swallowed, “Will you... turn around for me?” Fred asked. You turned and sat to face him, completely unsure of what was happening with your usual bubbly boyfriend. As you shifted, Fred nearly fainted to his feet. You had grown thinner, he could see the tops of your ribs and the thinness of your arms. 

“What is it? Freddie, honey, you’re worrying me.”

He thought. A million thoughts fastly flying through his head, his tongue going dry and swelling. “When was the last time you ate?”

Immediately, you covered your body with your arms, attempting to hide and searched for your sweater that Fred had thrown somewhere. “What are you talking about? Fred, that’s a little rude.”

“Be honest with me.” Fred said sternly, sitting down in front of you. You tossed your sweater over your head, shying into the safety of the fabric.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fred, what the hell?” you asked, angrily and frankly, a little embarrassed. To you, it didn’t seem like a worried boyfriend but a judgemental boyfriend, scanning your body for imperfections and flaws. But Fred was nothing but worried, fearful and terrified.

“You need to tell me, right now. No bullshit. Have you been eating?” Fred’s voice was never serious, never as serious as now where his tone made you shake and cower. Fred noticed your face drop and the scared emotion in your eyes and mentally kicked himself. He was quiet, thinking again.

“This isn’t healthy, Y/N.” he whispered. His words made your stomach drop and your hands become cold with sweat.

“Fred-”

“You haven’t been eating, have you?” Fred asked, already knowing the answer. He began to desperately file through his memories. Like a shade drawn up, he nearly threw up. These few days, you were exhausted, couldn’t stand as well, shaking when standing. He thought of himself as foolish.

“Answer, please.” Fred begged. He grasped your hands in his, only now noticing your skinny fingers. “Please, my love, please. Have you been eating?”

Fred’s begging made you whimper. The sadness in his tone made your eyes well and your throat close until you could only spit out the words, “I can’t.”

“Tell me,” Fred cried out.

“I can’t eat. I feel sickly when I eat.”

Fred choked out a sob. He rarely cried but seeing how oblivious he was to your pain made him stricken with grief.

“But, it’s okay.” you said quickly after, nodding your head, “I’m fine.”

“No,” Fred gripped your tighter, “You’re not fine, darling.”

“I can eat anytime I want,” you tried to persuade him, or you, you weren’t sure which one.

“But, you won’t.” Your boyfriend said. The truth, the truth you had been cowardly hiding from was there, in front of your face, and this time you could not hide. Your silence was all the answers he needed. You couldn’t control yourself. You began to cry alongside him, sorrowful for everything that lived.

“What happened? Love? Tell me,”

“I-” you stuttered and struggled to breath, Fred moved so he could rub your back, still looking at you, “I don’t know. I. It started one day and then I guess, well I. I don’t know. I guess, I guess the stress and...” you cried harder, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Fred hushed you, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping his long arms around your wracking figure. “I’m here now, I won’t leave you. I’m here. I’ll help,”

“You can’t help!” your lips quivered, pulling back harshly in a state of disarray. “You can’t! I- I don’t. You can't. I don’t know.” you couldn’t say anything. Fred placed his hands, gently, on your cheeks, staring into the eyes of the woman he adored.

“We’ll try. I’ll try, and so will you.” Fred assured you, rubbing your cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can.” you said, hiccuping through cries.

“You can. You’re so unbelievably strong, I’ve seen you whoop several old sods in our year’s ass. And I know,” Fred moved your head softly so he could look at you better, “I know my words may not help, but I think you are so beautiful. Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

It wasn’t an exact solution and it didn’t automatically nor immediately solve anything, but it was something. It was what you needed to hear at the moment. To know you weren’t alone facing not only the physical battle of the external world but the internal one. It would take time, time needed, to be yourself again. Even still, on the days you felt worse, Fred would squeeze your hand in his and press a kiss on your lips. 

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 15

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: mild violence

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine – his pick during the social season – the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with more than he bargained for.

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for the beta read.

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

Supposedly, the more a person suffered in the name of love, the more it showed they really cared. 

At least, that's what Riley thought. 

After nightfall of this particular evening -- when she least expected it -- she never realized how much truth that belief held. 

Or how much it would hurt to sacrifice the one person who made her believe she was worthy of love and saw who she really was on the inside.

Her dainty arm -- a delicate bronze in color, sleek, with a glittering red strap across one shoulder -- linked through the arm of the man she had grown to love more than life itself as they entered the palace ballroom. Working tirelessly over the last week to ensure everything went off without a hitch had taken its toll on her. All she could think about, as she shook hands and charmed dignitaries with a sparkle in those twinkling brown eyes, was how much sleep she planned to make up for after the ball ended.

This ball was to introduce the King and his new bride to the Cordonian court for the first time. A show of solidarity and, hopefully, strength. A way to establish that what happened in a tiny chapel 10,000 miles away weeks ago between two strangers wasn't a careless mistake, and that she could handle the duties bestowed on her as a common American woman. 

Or at least pretend she could for now.

However, for the King and the "Jewel of His Heart" whom he escorted through the curious crowd of pretentious naysayers in extravagant gowns and tuxes, with their fake smiles and tedious posturing ...

It was nothing less than fate. 

Riley was the key that unlocked that safe space deep inside Liam's heart that had been sheltered for so long, waiting for the perfect person to come along and open it. This was the place where he kept his most sacred feelings: a genuine love, never-ending laughter, joy, romance, ecstasy, and every dream he ever held for the future -- one he presumed would never exist in any form he longed for. 

But she didn't just unlock it. Riley shattered it wide open, where everything came flooding out at once and consumed him like a raging wildfire. 

And it was the most remarkable, intoxicating experience of his life. 

Liam showed her off all evening as they mingled during their rounds, danced, and conversed with the variance of nobility. She was the sexiest woman in that room, and he'd dare say the looks of envy shot in his direction from high-class men as he proudly cavorted her around didn't bother him in the least. Not that that was her only quality -- far from it. There were so many things about Riley that were special. But he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride that she was all his.

And without question, he was all hers.

Seated at the head table, Riley swallowed a morsel of the veal medallion she wanted to be served for this occasion. When given a choice between fish and lamb, the fish never stood a chance. The memory of that smelly, god-awful lunch with Regina three weeks ago was not something her palate had forgiven her for yet. As wonderful and savory as this extravagant meal, covered in a light brown mushroom sauce and served with a side of broccoli rabe, was, it couldn't hold a candle to what she craved the most: a slice of white pizza from Carmine's back in Brooklyn.

Or a slab or two of the New Yorker.

With maybe some cheesecake.

Covered in chocolate.

And a sausage rice ball. A Frito pie smothered with sour cream. Definitely a rainbow bagel from The Bagel Store. Barbecue ribs and beans from the mom-and-pop diner hidden just off the strip in Vegas. 

Of course, her grandma’s country fried steak with white gravy sounded delicious too.

For sure, a fried Twinkie like the one she ate at the New York State Fair in 2013. 

"You've outdone yourself, sweetheart," Liam marveled while wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "The meal was delicious, and our guests appear to be enjoying themselves." The others seated at the table looked up, adding their compliments.

Still dreaming about a fat slice of New York-style pizza, Riley smiled graciously back at him, until she noticed the server refilling Liam’s glass with merlot, causing her to do a double-take. 

Hot tears pooled in her eyes, and a heavy feeling of sadness swelled in her chest as she panicked. "I asked for the Pinot Noir. Not the merlot,” she rasped meekly. “You don't like merlot, Liam. And the Pinot Noir was from the 'C' place where Duke Hakim lives. He'll be so disappointed and think I'm slighting his duchy. They’ll all hate me forever and ... wait a minute." She trailed off as a realization hit her, and Riley quickly glanced down at her plate before scanning each of the dishes from those seated around her.

The anxiety intensified; she could no longer suppress the heartbroken sob that wailed out of her. "Where are all the potatoes? We were supposed to have the potatoes, Liam. They didn’t serve the potatoes. Now the whole night is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault. I'm such a failure as a queen, and you should just send me to the dungeon now and throw away the key. I apologize to all of you for my incompetence and the lack of potatoes with your meal." Riley’s red-hot face, full of tears, plunged into the palms of her hands, then quickly sprung back up as Liam hesitantly tried to place a hand on her shoulder. A strong urge to use the restroom ended her crying spell as if it never happened. “Oh, oh. I gotta pee so bad. I’ll be right back.” She gave a warm smile and excused herself as she pushed her chair back and scurried merrily toward the nearest restroom.

Liam, Regina, Leo, Maxwell, and Olivia watched with confusion as she happily took off, not knowing what to say or what to make of the sudden shift in her moods.

“What the hell was that?” Olivia scowled, her eyes fixed on Liam.

“Is she all right, dear?” a concerned Regina asked.

Liam scratched the back of his head, nearly at a loss for words. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve never seen her that upset … especially over potatoes.” He paused in thought. “She was a little on edge this morning. Still, she’s been working a lot on the preparations and everything else going on. It must have gotten to her.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Maybe she just finally snapped.” 

Leo shook his head, swallowing a forkful of beef. “Or maybe she has the premenstrual syndrome.”

“Leo!” The group admonished.

“What?” Leo bit back, taking in each of their disappointed glares. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Trust me, when I have cramps and bloating, I can go from a happy little Leo to a Bertrand, just like that.” He snapped his fingers, following it up with a frown. “It ain’t pretty, you all.”

Maxwell looked across the table at Liam and agreed, “He has a point.”

Wanting to shed his skin and slither away, Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we not discuss something so personal and private, especially while several hundred people are dining around us?”

“I’m just saying, little brother, that you need to be understanding and gentle during this special time of your wife’s 'lady business.' You should speak softly and slowly to her because Shark Week messes with a girl's mind, man. Their brains short-circuit, and there’s nothing left up there but a couple of crickets and man-eating rattlesnakes. One second, you think she’s fine, but if you’re not careful, in the next second, you’ll find yourself with two venomous fangs rattling from your nut sack, dude. She will tear you apart and spit you out like a rabid dog. You can make it through these next few days, but only if you take my advice.”

“That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Olivia spat, boring her eyes into him. “And you’ve said a lot.” She turned to Liam, whose face was slightly pale and void of expression. “Don’t listen to his sexist drivel. Why you haven’t declared him insane yet is beyond me. You should have sent him away with that filthy hairball to Valtoria you had caged earlier.”

“IT WAS MONGO!” Leo erupted, causing the dishes on the table to clatter as he jumped to his feet and hovered over the redhead. Every head in the ballroom whipped around to see what was happening, and a deafening silence filled throughout. Even the orchestra stopped playing their classical tune.

A wide-eyed Regina smiled sheepishly as she glanced out at the quiet audience who were waiting to see what all the fuss was about. She thought fast before calling out, “We were just playing a little game of … 'It was Mongo.'” The former queen snatched Maxwell’s Sunset Rum punch from his hand, thrusting the drink up at her stepson, towering beside her, and instructed in a grandmotherly tone, “Be a good lad, Leo. You lost this round. It's time to chug-a-lug, my boy.” With his face burning, Liam slid down in his seat.

“Ooooo, I wanna go next.” Maxwell bounced excitedly while the guests resumed the festivities. "How do we play?"

“I think I want to go, too,” Liam replied, straightening back up before hurling his napkin on the table. “I’m going to go find Riley.”

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

Riley exited the ladies' room, clutch in hand and a fresh dab of clear gloss gleaming on her pink lips. She stopped walking just as the door closed behind her and smiled with a look of surprise at seeing Liam leaning against the opposite wall. "What are you doing out here?"

He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them and meeting her in the middle of the empty corridor. They wrapped their arms around each other, indulging in the warmth of their lovers' embrace. "Would you believe me if I told you I just missed you?" he answered, placing a tender kiss on her lips that skimmed lower to her jawline. 

"I missed you, too," she moaned with each gentle pressure of his seductive lips, suckling and nibbling along the spot that trailed behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. "But something tells me that's not the only reason you left the ballroom."

Their gazes met simultaneously. "Leo."

Riley chuckled softly. "Do I even want to know?"

Liam sighed, smoothing back a loose hair behind her ear. "You know my brother and his wonderful words of wisdom." There was no way in hell he would tell her what they really discussed after she left; he could only imagine her embarrassment. "Everyone was just a little worried about you, that's all."

"I didn't mean to scare everyone. I just wanted tonight to be perfect. Instead, so many things went wrong. I can only assume what the court thinks about me now." She lowered her gaze to the red carpeting where they stood. "I let you down."

"I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Riley, sweetheart, you can never let me down. Do you understand that?" Liam lifted her chin; her tentative eyes stared back at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. And just so you know, our guest are used to bombings, stabbings, kidnappings, shootings, and terror plots at most of my palace events --"

"Wait. What?"

" -- I assure you, just the fact alone, that none of that took place tonight, and they're all going to leave here soon -- alive -- will be huge for them. Not having potatoes with the meal or the right wine was the least of their worries. They will consider this night a success. And a testament to their new queen. You should, too. I'm so very proud of you."

"I have so many questions about everything you just said."

Liam smiled, caressing Riley's petal-soft cheeks and lowering his head to kiss her again. "All in due time, my love.”

Riley let out a deep, drawn-out yawn she lightly covered with her palm before stretching and rolling her neck. A couple of weeks' worth of planning and endless decisions had left heavy tension in her shoulders and overwhelming exhaustion like nothing she'd felt before. None of it went unnoticed by Liam, who placed his hands on her shoulders and gingerly kneaded the taut muscles. 

"What do you say about heading back to our quarters, taking off all of your clothes, and I'll be up soon to massage this gorgeous body from head to toe? And hopefully, when I'm through, you'll massage parts of me, too … with any part of your body that you'd like." His lips curved into an inviting smile.

"Mmm, that's tempting," she purred, rubbing her hands over his ample chest. "But I can't just leave. It's the Queen's Ball. Without me, it's just ... The Ball." She chuckled, despite herself.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little panties over the ball. Just go upstairs and take them off. I’ll handle everything down here. Then … “ He squatted down to her eye level. “ … I’ll handle you.”

Her heart fluttered every time Liam spoke to her that way. The way he desired only her. She bit the corner of her lip teasingly. “I love you so much.”

Liam smiled. “You better. You’ve got one hell of a husband. I’d even venture to say you’re the luckiest woman on the whole damn planet right now.” Before Riley could respond to his jest, he put both of his hands on her cheeks to hold her head still and began placing playful, wet smooches all over her face, causing her to laugh riotously. After a few seconds of her squirming around and cackling at his antics, he paused to look at her. “You know I love you, too. Now go on up. I’ll be right behind you soon.” 

With a pat to her backside, they went their separate ways.

---------

Liam returned to the ballroom, having offered to finish what little time was left without her. He would offer his apologies for her absence, but in reality, the King couldn’t have cared less what anyone there thought. Since his bachelor party weeks ago, he had grown from a man who had no choices to one who made his own. His marriage and relationship with Riley came first. Her wellbeing was the main priority -- to hell with anyone who had a problem with that.

As Riley placed a hand on the elegant wooden handrail of the grand staircase and took the first step up, her thoughts meandered to where she had been in her life one month ago and how vastly it had changed in such a short time. For the first time in years, she was happy, and it felt so good to be in that place where she could finally let go of the past and move on. Liam was a game-changer, and she was thoroughly convinced he was the only person on the planet who could have gotten her out of her own head and to this level of blissful existence.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she reached into her clutch to pull out the key card to her quarters, exhaustion slowing her strides. Shuffling past a row of closed office doors and framed artwork, she made her way to the residential wing. 

The squeak of a door behind her and the click of heels drew her attention, causing her to stop and turn to see who was there. 

The color drained from her face as Madeleine casually stepped out, her hands behind her back and a devious, unsettling grin cemented on her face. 

It wasn't the fear that made Riley's heart pound with a sickening thud, but more shock than anything. No one had seen or spoken to the Countess since the confrontation in Las Vegas when she showed up unexpectedly after finding out Liam had married Riley the night prior. 

Now, suddenly, there she was, as if out of nowhere, a gleam in her eye, looking all too pleased to have this run-in with Riley.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" Riley scoffed, taking one step back the closer Madeleine approached. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she answered contemptuously. Her green eyes drifted to one of the cameras mantled at each end of the hallway. Riley placed a shaky hand over her stomach, letting out a low, relieved breath, hoping that was the truth. "Not physically, anyway."

"Well, that sounds promising," Riley replied sardonically. "Now, if you don't mind ..." She turned away, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation and make it back to her quarters. 

Madeleine reached out and grabbed the Queen by her elbow, pulling her back and harshly twisting her around so they were now face-to-face. "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," she hissed with an icy glare. "I told you I would make you regret what you've done."

Riley jerked her arm, trying to free herself. "Let go of my arm, Madeleine!" 

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say! Now LET ME GO!" Riley hoped someone heard her yell or at least witnessed what was happening on the camera. Where the hell is security?

While continuing to struggle to free herself, she reached up with her free hand in an attempt to pry off Madeleine's bony fingers that were squeezing tight grooves around her elbow, her manicured nails digging deeper into Riley's skin. "You're hurting me. I said to let me go."

"Very well, then." The woman, who had twice lost her chance at the crown, released her firm grasp, knowing that the momentum would cause Riley to stumble back as soon as she let go. 

Just as predicted, Riley planted a foot behind her for leverage before drawing her arm back as hard as she could, one last time. Her eyes grew wide, and she let out a sharp gasp that sounded well down the corridor. Riley sailed backward, tripping over herself and toppling to the ground. She finally landed with a hard blow on her backside, the rear of her head just inches from slamming to the floor.

A shockwave of pain coursed up Riley's spine from hitting so abruptly. Before she had a chance to respond or process what happened, Madeleine crouched down beside her, holding a DVD up and gaining Riley's attention. 

The pain had morphed into a throbbing ache that was soon forgotten as the Queen stared quizzically at the object displayed in front of her like a grand prize. 

"What is that?" her voice trembled.

"It's my ace in the hole," Madeleine stated, then wagged a finger. "Someone used to be a very naughty girl." 

Furrowing her brows, Riley responded. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know precisely what I mean, but just in case, please allow me to refresh your memory," Madeleine smirked before rising to her feet and prancing around as if she were having the time of her life. "I did a little digging after my brief visit to Las Vegas and came across a man who knew you very, very well at one time. I made some calls. We exchanged e-mails, a transfer of money or two. And he was all too eager to accept my offer of payment for any dirt he could give me on you."

There was no point in asking "who" -- she already knew; the thought made her nauseous. Riley closed her eyes and muttered. "Tyler?"

"Yes," Madeleine beamed, " Your ex-husband. He had a lot to say about you."

"I'm sure he did. Does it even matter to you that he's a liar and a cheat -- not to mention greedy? He would make up anything if he thought he could profit off of it."

"Oh, it matters. Personally, I don't believe a damn thing he had to say. Honestly, Riley ... even someone like you could have done better than that slime."

Riley cringed in pain as she pushed herself off the floor and turned to her oppressor. "Just get to the point, Madeleine. Clearly, he gave you something you thought was valuable enough to use against me, so just spit it already."

Madeleine smiled, "How very astute of you. You're correct. He did." She held up the disc as Riley regarded it suspiciously. "On this disk are several hours of the two of you ... together. Very graphic, if I do say so myself." Riley's jaw dropped upon hearing those words as Madeleine continued, "Now don't worry. I only watched it long enough to make sure the video was legit --"

"Give me that!" Riley reached out to snatch the DVD, but Madeleine pulled it away just out of her grasp. A burning sensation filled inside her chest and spread across her face. "You're lying. I never made videos like that."

"Oh, I think you did," the blonde countered with a mirthful tone. "You just didn't know about it. Your ex admitted as much to me ... an asshole move, for sure. But nonetheless, I purchased the copy from him for a hefty sum. And ... well ... here we are now. You're more than welcome to take this disc and see for yourself; I have it downloaded as a backup, knowing you'd want proof."

At that moment, all Riley wanted was for Liam to walk down that corridor where she now stood, pick her up in his arms, whisk her away to safety, and tell her it was all a bad dream. Not that she did anything wrong -- she was married at one time to the man, presumably on the video, and would have been a consenting adult. 

No, it was the fact that Tyler Brooks had taken intimate videos with her during their marriage, without her knowledge. Now Madeleine had possession of them.

God only knew what she planned to do with them, but Riley had a pretty good idea. "What do you want?" she whispered in defeat, afraid to hear the answer.

Madeleine grinned from ear-to-ear. "For you to leave Cordonia tonight and never return, or I release everything to the press."

Riley shook her head. "No. As much as I don't want anyone to see that video, I did nothing wrong, and I won't be blackmailed or intimidated by you so that you can get your grubby little paws on the crown."

"Is that so?" It wasn't a question so much as a remark meant to convey who was in control. 

Maintaining her position, Riley raised a brow, refusing to give in.

Madeleine was far from giving up, though; she had manipulation in her blood. "Very well, then. I'll release the video in the morning. It should be interesting to see how the world reacts to yet another scandal by this monarchy. Their Queen plastered all over the internet again, except this time, uploaded on every porn site on the web. 

"The news will run the story with your blurred-out silhouette in the background. Your father will see it, and his business will become a target.: Your friends. Family. Students. They'll all be inundated with your sexual proclivities. But the worst part will be the tribunal. The council will have no choice but to question Liam's decision-making abilities after not only squandering his pick of queen on some American nobody, but now one whose ass will be featured on the desktops of teenage boys across the world. It's a shame that he'll lose his reign, all because of you. Would you really do that to Liam? Do you genuinely believe you're worth all the trouble it will cause him?"

Riley froze. She knew Madeleine was taunting her with the people she cared about the most. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass each of them. But to possibly cause Liam to lose his legacy, his birthright, and the rulership of a country he loved so much? It was something she couldn't shake. 

Staring blankly, twisting the bands of gold that belonged to Liam's mother, she couldn't get the question Madeleine just asked out of her mind: Did Riley believe she was worth the trouble it would cost him? 

Nothing was damning on that video, aside from the fact that she never knew it existed. But she already had so much to prove; another video in the press' hand would tarnish Liam. Maybe the Countess of Fydelia was right: He would lose it all.

"Time is ticking," Madeleine reminded Riley as she tapped her watch. "What's it going to be?"

----------

@burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @jessiembruno​ @texaskitten30​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @mskaneko @callmeellabella​ @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie​ @theroyalheirshadowhunter​ @princessleac1​ @kimmiedoo5​ @graceful-leah​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin​ @gkittylove99​ @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis​ @pink-diamond13​ @walker7519 @natureblooms24​ @yourmajesty09​ @gabesmommie1130​ @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801​ @debmcg1106

Liam x MC: Cordonia-gothqueen

FRI Series Tags:   @narrytheworld​​  @queenwalton​  @cordonianprincess​        @zaffrenotes​ @zilch3​  @drrookie​ @sfb123​​

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Kokkuri-san (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: You are on your way back to the Tower when you sense a strange energy emanating from it. Loki is there to help.

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 1,718

Warnings/Disclaimers: Opens with description of being unable to breathe.

A/N: I tried to provide enough information for this to be a stand alone, but it does still act like a follow-up to Sorceress. And if you would like more information on the game Kokkuri-san, I highly recommend checking out the podcasts Kowabana and Toshiden both created by Tara A. Devlin at Kowabana.net. Just a heads up, this is NOT sponsored by anyone. I just enjoy listening to scary stories, and this became one of my favorites.

Masterlist

Molasses had seeped past your skull, compressing your brain uncomfortably. Or at least that’s what it felt like. A wavering darkness flowed around you as if you were underwater. Your lungs were sluggish to take in air, and it was getting worse. The longer you were forced to endure this pressure, the harder it was for you to focus, to breathe.

-up...

A voice muddled through the inky blackness.

Wa- up...

It sounded so familiar...

Wake up...

Nat, maybe? Were you asleep?

WAKE UP!

Your eyes shot open, unwillingly taking in the light of the Quinjet. The air you sucked in felt like gravel in your throat. Nat’s steely grip on your shoulders were beginning to ground you in reality.

“Wha- What happened?” Your throat burned as you spoke.

“Some kind of dream.” Her concerned eyes bored into you as you tried to blink yourself to full consciousness. “You were breathing heavily before you just stopped altogether. You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you half lied. You didn’t feel nearly as bad in the dream but it still felt like sludge was creeping across your mind. Whatever energy you were getting close to was some kind of nasty. “How far are we from the Tower?”

Nat released you from her hold. “About an hour out.”

The pressure on your head was only growing worse the closer you all got.

“Okay...” you sucked in a deep breath.

Sitting in the seat across from you, Nat eyed you wearily. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pulling out your phone. “Just going to break one of Fury’s rules. Something is going on at the Tower.”

An eyebrow shot up her forehead. “One of those sixth sense things, again?”

“You could say that...”

You pulled up Loki in the messenger app. You could astral project yourself to talk with him, but that could be more dangerous with whatever energy was infecting the Tower.

You: Hey. We’re almost back. What’s going on there?

Loki: Good evening to you as well, Darling. You can feel the energy from where you are?

You: Yes, it’s very... Palpable. ☹️

Loki: Well, we could use the extra help. It seems that the Ant-Man’s daughter played some spirit summoning game before joining him here for the summer.

You: And it followed her... Great... Is she at least okay?

Loki: She is unharmed. More spooked than anything.

You: Good, good. Did she mention any specifics? Like which game?

Loki: She did, yes. Although, she is unsure if she remembers it correctly. I believe she said it was Kakariko.

You: That can’t be right... That’s a village from a video game series.

Loki: So I learned recently with the Spiderling’s assistance.

You: Did she mention anything else?

Loki: She spoke of strange symbols as well as numbers being written in rows on a piece of paper. A coin was used as a conduit to pick each symbol.

You huffed and smacked your head in realization.

Kokkuri-san

Similar to a Ouija board in nature, missing or mucking up a step could be dangerous. Summoning spirits really should not be a game, something you concluded after cleaning up several messes on campus caused by the students who believed themselves master magicians despite their lack of experience. You couldn’t blame them too much for wanting to try since you had played a variety of those games in traveling with your family as a child. In Japan, Kokkuri-san was all the rage in schools.

Bumping your head on the back of the seat impatiently, you checked the time on your phone for the millionth time. You were about twenty minutes away now. Estimating the physical distance, you debated on just teleporting to the Tower instead of waiting in agony during the small amount of time.

Your phone pinged with a new message.

Loki: How are you faring?

You: Better than before. Energy barrier helps. How’re things there?

Loki: I have Lang and Cassie in her room with protection. The spirit cannot reach her there. However, it is lurking about. Stark is none too pleased.

You: He’s not blaming you, is he?

Loki: He tried. It did not last long.

You: Good. We should be there shortly.

Loki: I’ll be waiting, Dove.

Placing the phone in your pocket, you huffed.

“You know,” Nat chimed in, “We should be pretty close now. Just go already.”

Contemplating a moment, you answered, “I don’t know... I’ve only practiced long distance teleportation a few times.”

“And you were successful. Count this as extra practice. Now get out of here.” The harsh sound of her words was mitigated by an encouraging smile.

With a nod, you took a deep breath and teleported to the landing pad. You were about a foot away from the floor when you reappeared. Loki was already there to catch you. The god knew you too well.

“I dare say you might be getting the hang of this.” He held you close like he was making up for lost time.

You reached up and cupped his face to pull him in for a kiss. “Only because I have a very patient teacher.”

“I have missed this,” he breathed, his lips brushing against yours. “But I believe there is a young girl waiting for our help.”

Aside from Stark’s ranting about how ghosts weren’t real, setting up the library went off without a fuss. Between the salt, candles, charms, your spells and Loki’s seiðr, there was no way this could go wrong.

After confirming with Cassie that she had indeed played Kokkuri-san with a new friend who had recently moved to the States from Japan, you had coaxed the whole story out of Cassie. At their slumber party, they had started to play and were spooked by a sudden power outage and strange noises, causing them to let go of the coin used to slide over each symbol. With their connection to the conduit broken before properly closing the game, the kami/spirit latched onto Cassie and followed her here. The best bet was to re-summon the kami in a more secure environment and properly close the game. Luckily for all of you, she had kept the 10 yen coin her friend accidentally left behind, something you needed for all this to work.

You were quadruple checking the last set of charms when Loki snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your hair. “Everything ready, my little sorceress?”

“As ready as it will ever be,” you huffed before turning on your heel to face him. “This always makes me a bit nervous.”

He pulled back to look at you while he spoke. “Everything will go according to plan. Besides, you have me here. Nothing could possibly go wrong,” he chuckled, a teasing grin painted his face.

“What an ego,” you exclaimed and lightly smacked his chest. You couldn’t help your own smile. “Just go get Scott and Cassie so we can get this over with.”

“As you wish,” he relented, teleporting away after stealing a kiss to leave you flustered. It was certainly one way to lighten the mood.

The summoning had gone well enough. Both you and Loki knew for sure just by the feel of the energy the right kami had come. It was getting it to leave that was the problem.

“Kokkuri-san, please return.”

The coin slid to いいえ/iie no matter how many times you all reset it to the middle of the board.

No.

While you and Loki both grew in frustration, Scott was busy keeping Cassie calm. As level headed and clever this girl could be, the repetition was getting to her. Loki decided another tactic was in order. A few unintelligible words under his breath that you barely heard and the kami was visible on the table.

A tall kitsune clad in white and red robes hissed and glared at Loki, but made no move to attack. It knew it had no chance with all the preparations you two had done. Its four tails flicked in annoyance and its white, almost silvery ears pressed back. You held back a sigh of relief. This kitsune was not as strong as it could be, having not lived long enough to acquire its maximum nine tails and its full power.

“What is it you desire, Spirit?” Loki spoke loud and unwavering.

“Same as Mischief God. Fun,” it growled through its broken English. Despite the ability to hear it now, none of you dared remove your fingers from the coin.

“Well, you certainly have had your fill. Now begone! Return to your realm,” he challenged.

The kitsune’s tails waved wildly as it contemplated its next move. Its eyes flitted to Cassie, softening almost apologetically as it gazed upon her. Similar to its Western Fae counterparts, it did not fully understand that its version of fun was not the same as it was for mortals.

“分かりました。/Wakarimashita,” it huffed, bowing as it turned its attention back to you and Loki.

Understood.

You felt the coin move again. This time it was to the top left of the paper to hover over はい/hai. Yes.

It then promptly glided to the torii gates drawn in the top center. The kitsune vanished from the table, the energy it left behind dissipating rather quickly. You all said, “Thank you,” in unison before pulling away from the coin.

“So... Is that it?” Scott asked with a mixture of confusion and the need to ensure his daughter was safe.

“Not quite,” you mused while picking up the paper.

“What do we do?” Cassie chirped.

Your raven-haired god looked to you curiously. You didn’t tell him about the next part.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you grinned, “The next two parts are easy.”

Picking up the paper, you began tearing it. You counted as you went until you hit forty-eight.

You held up the coin for all to see. “Now. Part two is going to be more interesting.”

“Do tell,” Loki purred.

“We have to spend this within three days.” Your grin slipped into a more mischievous smirk.

Cassie’s eyes sparkled with hope. “So does that mean...”

“Uh-huh. It’s time for a vacation. Who wants to go to Japan?”

[writeformesinpie]

You Belong To Me Now

Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Word Count - 6.1k

Genre - Demon AU

Summary -

You are after something special. Something only a supernatural being can provide. You don't believe in demons, but that won't stop them from entering your room uninvited. This one has set his eyes on you and now he refuses to let you go.

Warnings -

Suggestive / implied sexual content, blood

A/N -

Just a one shot of Jungkook as a demon that I was meant to post for Valentines Day. Enjoy ❤❤❤

KPOP Masterlist

  You sliced your hand with the small, bejeweled dagger, the blood dripping onto the symbol you had created earlier that day with some old art supplies you found in the basement. Just like the last dozen ‘spells’ you had used to try and summon something from another world, you doubted this would work. You wanted something different, you wanted it bad and you would do anything to get it. Anything.

  You sighed - it was another failure.

  You had known before you even began it would be. As if any of this could be real. When you had gone through your grandmother’s belongings after the funeral you were shocked to find her appreciation of the dark arts. It hadn’t been the mere drabble you see in the bookstores around town, no, this was some next level shit. This was a collector’s dream. She owned old occult items from every continent. Your mother told you to throw it away and hadn’t gone into detail as to why they were in your grandmother’s possessions, only that it was time to burn the items to the ground.

  You had, of course, decided not to follow through on her wishes and had brought them back to your dorm where you had been trying out different spells and rituals ever since. Of course, you didn’t really believe in any of this stuff and so far it had proven you right.

  You started to wrap an old shirt around your scarred hand, skimming through the next ‘spell’ when you felt a breeze brush across your cheek. You had closed the window earlier, the shades drawn tight (this wasn’t the kind of activity the school encouraged, after all) since you didn’t want to alert campus security to your current vocation. As you looked over to the window, confirming it was indeed closed, a flash of light from the corner of the room caught your eye.

  It was brighter than the sun and like the sun it felt like the more you tried to look at it, the stronger it became to the point you were sure your eyeballs were eroding within your skull. You turned with a rapid twist, your neck clicking with anger as you did so. The light was still bright even with your eyes closed, the heat from it burning your eyelids. Your grip loosened and you heard the sound of metal bouncing on the ground.

  Swearing under your breath, you stumbled towards the bed and draped the first blanket you could grab over your head. Your breath was loud in your ears. The heat from your exhalations warmed your arms as your hands searched aimlessly for your grandmother’s dagger. You felt the smooth texture of a knife between your fingertips and yanked it into your hand before turning to face the… the light? or whatever it was head on.

  A small chuckle filled the room. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you realized what must have happened. This was a prank. Of course it was. Your family had been watching you the entire time and now they were making their grand entrance. Why would your grandmother have so many occult items anyway? She was a nice little old lady from a small tight-community-type town.

  You pulled the blanket off. The light was gone, the candles were out and you found yourself in complete darkness. Images in yellow danced around the room as you tried to get used to the darkness, your eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light. The only sounds you heard were the far off giggles of the other girls who lived on this floor, muffled by both the door and the old towel you had crammed under it. The blackout curtains did not help the situation.

  Realising you couldn’t rely on your eyes, you stayed close to the floor. The carpet grinded against your knees as you shimmied to the opposite side of the room until you reached where you knew the light switch to be. You sprang up onto the balls of your feet and slammed your fist against it with an, ‘aha!’ on your lips before your mouth flung open.

  “Who?”

  You gripped the small ritual knife tighter in your hand, the blanket still around your shoulders. The hair on the back of your neck tingled as you looked at the stranger in your room. He was gorgeous, but that wasn’t important right now.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Are you going to stab me with that?” he nodded towards the knife in your hand, the flesh around it going white from the pressure of your grip.

  “If I have to,” you almost stuttered. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, the swirls of extinguished fire dancing around your head. You swatted as it burned your eyes, clouding them with the sudden prick of tears. You held your dragger up a little higher and stood a little taller as you tried to lower your voice to sound more intimidating. “How did you get in here? What do you want?”

  He smiled. “But you invited me.”

  “I think I would remember inviting you,” you said, looking him up and down. He leaned against the bookcase, flipping through your old, half-read copy of The 4-Hour Workweek, his long legs supporting a leisurely stance. His confidence was both justified and frustrating. “How did you get in here?”

  “You.”

  You waited for an explanation. He didn’t offer one. That was all he said. ‘You’. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  “I think you should leave.”

  “Is that what you want? You called me all the way here and that is your request?” The grin again. You could feel your lip curling, your hands scrunching up into lopsided balls by your side, the dagger temporarily forgotten. You wanted to wipe that smile off his face.

  Then you realized that this is probably still just a prank. Just because you didn’t know this man didn’t mean this wasn’t a prank. Your family was messing with you. They had known how you would react and they were watching and probably recording this interaction right now. You looked the man up and down.

  His black hair parted slightly on the right. His smile widened to reveal perfect, sexy teeth. He was well proportioned. His black suit clung to his body and confidence oozed through his flawless skin. You didn’t know where they had found him but you were impressed.

  “What do I want?” You said the words as you thought about it. You knew the one thing you wanted he couldn’t provide. No one was able to provide the peace of mind you needed. To know that you would be safe and never have to die? He couldn’t provide that, no matter how good looking he was.

  “I’ll give you anything. Just ask and it is yours,” he said, edging himself closer to you, circling to your side of the room. Once he was within touching distance he stopped. He looked down at the knife then back up to you. “What do you yearn for? What does your body demand be satiated? What fills you with dread and keeps you up at night for fear you will never receive it?”

  “What do I yearn for?” Your arm was at your side, the knife loose as you thought about the question once more. His scent was on your tongue. He tasted sweet and forbidden. He leaned in closer, raising an eyebrow as he waited for the answer.

  You wanted to live forever. That’s what you wanted. That’s why you were trying to summon a demon. Yet the words that escaped were foreign. “To be happy?”

  He laughed. “Let me guess, you also want world peace.”

  “What am I meant to want?”

  He slid over to the table a few feet away, breaking the spell. His lack of closeness brought you back to your senses. You straightened up, your hand tightening on the dagger once more. He was looking at the books from your grandmother. He tossed them carelessly down onto the floor as he searched. When you made a move to stop him he raised a finger without turning. You felt your legs stiffen and you stood still. It wasn’t that you wanted to listen to him, your limbs just felt as if they had been filled with concrete. You ignored the feeling, deciding it was your own decision to stay in place.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “This.” He held up a book with an ancient symbol that you had assumed was Egyptian. You hadn’t read that one yet. It hadn’t been translated (like most of the others) and you had not really wanted to try figuring it out yourself.

  “Why that one?”

  “It’s the only one in this collection worth anything. We’ll take it with us when we leave.”

  “And pray do tell, where are we going?” You rolled your eyes as you edged back closer to the wall. “What makes you think I will go with you?”

  In the blink of an eye, his face now hovered over you. You gasped, bumping into the wall behind you. He was fast. Too fast. You hadn’t seen him move. How was he in front of you? How was this possible? The pumping of blood in your ears was loud enough that you could no longer hear your breaths but you were almost certain you were panting. You were still trying to figure out how he was able to move so fast when you felt fire crawling up your arm. He was burning. You shrugged him off, your eyes darting to the door. His breath was now behind your ear.

  “Once you get what you want you belong to me.”

  You looked up at him. Between the heat radiating off his body and your anxious heart, beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead and upper lip. You assumed it wasn’t the cutest look but didn’t dare move, either. You were starting to think this might not be a prank after all and instead starting to think this nutjob had found his way onto campus and you were unlucky enough to have been the one he had found.

  “I don’t want anything.”

  He chuckled, tickling your ear. He whispered your name before digging his fingernails into your wrists. Just as you were about to yell out he turned you, his warmth flush against your back as he leaned in, pointing you towards the mirror.

  “Everyone wants something. Dig deep. Tell me your deepest, darkest wish.”

  You mumbled something and tried to turn away. His thin fingers found your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself once more. He asked the question again.

  “Louder this time. We don’t want to grant you the wrong wish,” he said, that grin back on his lips as he swayed you back and forth in front of the full length mirror.

  “I can’t.” When he raised an eyebrow, you went on, “I can’t say it. I’ve never said it before.”

  “We’re the only ones in the room. No one else needs to know.”

  His breath was back on your neck. His long fingers were still holding your jaw and forcing you to look at yourself, but now his other hand was holding your wrist. His aroma was filling your head. Sandalwood? Coconut? You couldn’t quite place it but it gave off the scent of the calm before the storm and it terrified you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, however. It also excited you.

  You realized you had been leaning into his chest, his muscles holding your weight with ease. You pulled your shoulders back, attempting to put a little distance between you and this stranger.

  “What do you yearn for?”

  “I want someone else to take control for once. I am sick of worrying about everything. I want someone to take the reins.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, your true wish of wanting immortality temporarily forgotten.

  His smirk faltered before being replaced with a huge grin, his teeth catching the light. “Is that really what you want? That is your wish?”

  You thought about it for a moment, admiring the curve of his jaw. Maybe immorality wasn’t what you wanted after all? Maybe this was what you wanted. You looked at his beautiful brown eyes through the mirror as you continued, “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is life. This is just the way it is… but a girl can dream.”

  “Indeed.”

  You pushed back against him, breaking his grip on your wrist. “I don’t know who sent you, but I want you to leave.”

  He laughed.

  “I mean it.”

  “Get your affairs in order,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I’ll be back for you tonight.“

  You turned around to say something else, but he was gone. Running to the closet, you threw the door open and rummaged through one of the old shoe boxes on the floor. There. You found it! It was right at the bottom of the box. You grabbed out the taser you had bought last year on a whim.

  You better hope you don’t come back tonight. I will be ready.

  You stayed up late that night, parked against the wall, taser in one hand and dagger in the other. You wouldn’t admit to yourself but you were terrified. You had searched every inch of the room and were still unsure how he had gotten in. Or how he had gotten out. You had even let the silly notion into your head that maybe you had conjured him up.

  Wasn’t he everything you had always hoped for? Someone to take away the pain. Someone to make you feel safe, to stop the constant thoughts? Someone to take the rein. You had wanted it all to be real, you had wanted him to make this all go away.

  But no, he must have been sent by them. There was no way any of this mumbo jumbo actually worked. You would not believe something so contrite. No, he was an intruder. Once you caught him, you would call the police and have his creepy ass thrown in jail where he belonged. He would rot in there while you moved on with your life. Well, as much as you could with the shackles you were weighed down with. You were drowning, but you couldn’t let anyone else in on that little secret. That was something you needed to keep to yourself.

  You would drown until the day you died.

  You heard a steady breath over the sound of your own. Your upper body tensed. It couldn’t be. You had been watching the entire time. You had been vigilant. The faint scent of sandalwood and coconut drifted towards you as you felt your body heat rise. You swallowed hard and turned your head.

  You let out a sigh of relief.

  He wasn’t there.

  Looking back towards the door, you gasped. His toned body leaned against the bed frame, claiming it as his own. As if this was his room, not yours. His aura screamed confidence and, to be honest, it was sexy as hell. As if he could hear what you were thinking, that frustrating toothy grin was back on his face.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Are you?” You countered, holding the taser in front of you.

  “You are… interesting,” he almost whispered the words as he took a step towards you.

  “You better get out of here,” you said, holding the dagger tighter in your other hand.

  “I can’t leave now. I accepted your request. You belong to me now.”

  You laughed, using the wall to stand so you didn’t take your eyes off him. You took a step towards the door, gesturing for him to leave, “This is your last chance, pal.”

  “And what will happen if I don’t use this last chance?”

  “Ask the last guy who tried to mess with me,” you said, hoping the words sounded steady, your heart pulsing in your ears.

  “The last one, huh? And just how many others are there like me?”

  “Like you?” You looked him up and down. Another black suit. This one had a black turtleneck. Even though he was covered, somehow this outfit looked more seductive than the last, the curves of his body bulging in all the right areas. His eyes stared into your own. You closed your eyes for a moment to calm your thoughts.

  He was grabbing your throat before you had time to register that he had even moved, the bones of his fingers stabbing you as you tried to breathe. You could feel your eyes widen as a puff of disbelief flew out of your mouth that was clenched closed.

  The man before you?

  The man?

  His long limbs had stretched beyond that of human proportions. Light brown horns sprung out from each temple, his teeth slick, white, and jagged. Large black wings like those of a bat were flapping behind him as he trapped you within his grasp. The warmth intensified. Your flight or fight reflex gone, all that was left was your broken brain. Somewhere in the distance you heard the taser and the dagger clattering across the floor as he carried you to the window.

  “Don’t worry about anything. I will not let you decide a single thing on your own. I will make sure you are completely under my control, just as you wished,” he chuckled again as he took flight. Stars and the dark sky was the last thing you remembered seeing before you passed out.

  You didn’t regain consciousness again until the next morning when you were woken by what you can only describe as a small frog-like man, the slimy pads of his finger tips hitting you hard in the head.

  “Wake up, human.” The distaste in his voice was evident. He ignored your surprised yell, instead yanking you out of bed. “I don’t have all day. I will show you around the house only once, so you better remember where everything is.”

  “Where are we?”

  He rolled his slick eyes. It was unsettling, since they bulged out of his head and drooped to the sides. He didn’t answer. Starting out the door, he didn’t bother to look behind him to see if you were following. You kicked the bedding off and ran after the small creature. His houty walk almost made you laugh but you decided it was best to keep that particular emotion to yourself, at least until you could figure out where you were.

  You walked down a long hallway. The ceilings were vaulted. You were told this was the first floor. He waved his small arms around the room as he spoke, “These rooms are where the help sleeps.”

  “Everyone lives here?”

  “Besides the Master, of course,” he replied with a glare.

  “Master?”

  “You sure are dumb. I don’t know what he saw in you,” he muttered, shaking his head as he rounded the corner leading into an open area that looked like a mudroom. You were about to walk into the room when he pulled you back, his pad like fingers somehow digging into your skin hard enough that you yelped. “You must not go past this point without permission and never, ever by yourself.”

  He led you down another hall that transitioned into the kitchen. You ate a croissant that was offered to you before being ushered further along. You were shown where all the bathrooms were, where the food was kept, and the cleaning supplies. You were then led back to your room and told to wait. When you asked what you were waiting for, the frog man just shook his head before rushing off once more.

  You looked around the room in confusion. It was clearly a room set up for you. It had the same queen sized bed that you were used to, a bookcase with your similar taste in books with a few extras thrown in. The closet had outfits you wouldn’t hesitate to wear. Everything was different but not enough that you wouldn’t be able to get used to it. But why should you get used to it? It had sounded like you had come here to be the maid. What kind of wish was that?

  That’s when it came flooding back. He was some kind of monster. He had kidnapped you and brought you here to his… his harem! You were going to be one of his sexy maids and he was some kind of monster.

  No.

  Not a monster.

  Just a manipulative man. He must have drugged you. You had been drugged and that was why you had seen weird things. He was just a man. A man with a horrible smirk. You refused to stay here with that creep. You were obviously still hallucinating which is why you were seeing frog boy. Maybe he didn’t exist at all. Maybe you were wandering around the house by yourself. Yet you didn’t even get to see the whole house? How was that fair?

  You slipped off the bed and put your shoes back on before cracking the door open and peering through. You opened the door a little wider and nudged your head through before you confirmed that it was safe and entered into the hallway. You scurried past the staff bedrooms and made your way back to the mudroom.

  Nothing really stood out about it. It was just a mudroom in neutral colours. There were shoes and coats. A typical mudroom. You pushed a finger past the threshold and waited. When nothing happened, you stuck your head through the opening and waited. Nothing. There was no magic here. Just a room.

  You chuckled under your breath at your stupidity before walking into the room and looking at it close up. It was beautiful. Lit up by several lamps that seemed to float above, it was bigger than your dorm room, which you thought was a little silly considering it was only meant to house shoes. You walked further in, straining to see what was in the adjoining room. You listened for a few moments before deciding to venture inside.

  Your chest tightened as you passed through the entryway. It felt as if someone was squeezing your heart. The sound of a lightbulb bursting brought you back. Yet as you looked around, you couldn’t see what had broken. You took a few deep breaths. Had you been that nervous about entering this room? You shrugged as you walked into the foyer of what looked like the main part of the house. It was gorgeous.

  There were marble floors that led to marble stairs that twirled up to the next floor and beyond. It was massive and empty, each step echoing as you made your way to the staircase on the left. The art along the walls were breathtaking, each piece more unique than the last. There were doors between the first and second floor landings. Secret rooms? You resisted the urge to walk into one and it wasn’t long before you were at the same height as the crystal chandelier.

  You were almost to the second floor when whispers coming from behind one of the doors brought you back to your situation and you realized you had better return before anyone saw that you had broken one of the rules on your first day. You leaped down the stairs on your tiptoes and rushed back into the mudroom.

  “Where are you rushing off to?”

  You spun around and came face to face with what could only be described as an angel. His bright features beckoned you without uttering a single word and you found yourself in his arms before you realized what you were doing.

  “And who do you belong to, little one?”

  “I don’t belong to anyone,” you murmured, lost in the eyes of the being that now engulfed your neck with his long fingers. He had coiled himself around you, making it difficult to breathe.

  “How convenient. Then you can be mine,” he whispered with a boxy grin as he opened his mouth to reveal two white fangs. “You look delicious.”

  “No,” you tried to yell but your throat was coarse and it was only loud enough for the two of you to hear. He didn’t stop and soon his fangs dug into your neck. A tear fell down your cheek as you tried to seperate yourself from him but he was so entwined around you that you were starting to have trouble remembering where you began and where he ended. His smell was clouding your thoughts. You closed your eyes. You felt so tired. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept but now felt like the perfect time to start.

  “Delicious?” You heard the word, but it was muffled, as if someone was talking underwater. You felt the limbs slither further around you tightening to the point that you saw bright dots under your eyelids. Then you were on the floor. You hadn’t dropped, it had been gentle. You felt soft, as if you were laying on a sofa. “Do you enjoy taking things that aren’t yours?”

  “So sorry J, I thought it was a gift.“ The undertone of amusement in the voice made you think he was lying. You tried to open your eyes but your lids were too heavy. You made a move to sit up but you couldn’t feel your body. You felt like you were floating, or rather sinking. “She will be fine. It will wear off soon. My bad.”

  You heard footsteps getting softer before a hand grabbed your face and pulled you up by the chin. “What a waste.” It was him. It was your demon. He lifted your face to his before he breathed you in deep. “You smell of fear.”

  “Nnn.” You tried to deny it but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “I don’t want you to be scared of anyone but me. You are mine.”

  Once you were back in your room, you started to get more feeling back into your limbs and tongue and you were able to open your eyes again. Once you were sitting up, you noticed you had been placed under the covers. It was a sweet gesture. One you didn’t need. Where did he go and how were you meant to contact him if you needed him?

  “Did you need something?”

  Your ponytail whipped you in the eye from the speed of your turn. “Fuck,” you said, rubbing at your eye.

  “Maybe later,” he said, a smirk on his face. He was standing next to the bed, his lean legs covered by his long leather jacket.

  “I’m good,” you said narrowing your eyes as you looked away.

  “What do you want?”

  “Huh?”

  “You want something. You were thinking about me. Unless,” he coughed under his breath and raised an eyebrow.

  You took a moment to realize what he was implying. Your mouth dropped open and you threw the nearest pillow at his head. He sidestepped it with a shrug.

  “I want to know why I am here.”

  “You are here because you asked to be here.”

  “I don’t remember asking to be brought to some demon world,” you said the words and knew they were true. He was not a man. He was a devil.

  He laughed, striding over to you. His face was close enough to see the pulsing of the vein in his neck, his arms trapped you on either side. “You called out to me and practically begged to be taken away.”

  “That’s-”

  He brushed his fingers across your lips. “No, don’t deny it. You were done with the responsibilities, remember? You said you wanted someone to take control of you. And I have. You are mine now. You will do everything I tell you to. You will not make any decisions while I’m here. Just like you wanted.”

  You glared up at him, unsure of what your next step would be. You were in an unfamiliar place with powerful beings surrounding you. One of those beings was holding you down in your bed. And it was your bed, you now realised. You would be here for a long time, perhaps even until you died.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered against your lips. “You won’t age while you are here. You will be here with me forever.”

  “Or until you die.”

  He laughed before pulling away, a smirk back on those lips. “If you need anything just think of me and I’ll come.”

  “Who are you? What do I call you?”

  His eyebrow quirked quickly before he drew a symbol in the air. It was the letter J.

  “J?” The sarcasm was strong.

  His grin dropped as he strolled over to the bed once more. His face was close to yours, his voice a mere whisper, “You are not strong enough to say my name. You will never be strong enough. You are to stay here and do what I tell you to and you are to like it. Understand?”

  Once he was out of the room, you threw another pillow after him. It hit the door and flopped down to the ground. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to know he had gotten to you anymore than he already undoubtedly suspected, although you were starting to think that he knew everything you were thinking. You had to admit it got under your skin. He knew everything about you but you didn’t even know his name.

  Later that night you were in the dining room - the one for the staff, of course. You had been told again the importance of not going into the mud room. This time they told you it was because the mudroom was the barrier that protected the new staff against the “masters” guests. You had told them you wouldn’t try and leave again but you were already forming a new plan to get out of here. The front door was right there. Right next to the mudroom. You could just walk right out and try and find your way home.

  The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to make it happen. It wouldn’t be long before you started to crack, or worse, until you got used to living like this and if what he said was true, you may be here even longer than you thought.

  You hated that the rest of the staff seemed so content with living here. They went about their business as if they weren’t stuck in some hell dimension. You realised they probably weren’t, though. How many were like you? You doubted many, not when they all looked so different. You were trying not to judge, but it was a little intimidating. They were so confident in their life here.

  You would leave. Tonight.

  You waited until it settled down. You waited until it was quiet and had been for over an hour. You were sure there would be people still awake in a house this size, but it would be the best time to try and escape. Less opportunities to run into others in the halls. You would just have to be very quiet.

  You opened the wardrobe and rolled your eyes. The short time you had been here your outfits had been laid out for you. No decisions. This was too much. The wardrobe extended out further than it looked from the outside. It was a walk-in closet.

  You brushed your fingertips up against the fabrics as you walked further inside. It was bigger than you were used to but it wasn’t overwhelming. If this was what the staff was provided, you wondered what the inside of the closet of the guests and people who lived here looked like.

  Sighing you let go of the Prada dress you had been pawing and grabbed a pair of black jeans and a black top. You finished your look with a pair of black sneakers. You needed to be practical but that didn’t mean you weren’t taking the leather jacket. It was a perfect fit. In fact, everything in here was a perfect fit.

  You shrugged off a small shiver. It made you sick. You were not going to be controlled by any man especially because of a thing you had said while under duress. You would go back home and find something to cancel this contract. That was the plan.

  Get out. Go home. Destroy the contract.

  You rubbed the back of your neck then closed the wardrobe. You held your head high as you walked out the door, rushing down the corridor on the tips of the sneakers, trying to keep as quiet as possible as you half skipped, half jogged.

  You were at the mudroom but on the other side than the first time, by the main entrance, when you saw that light once more. That familiar tight feeling squeezed around your temples and chest. You shook it off and went straight for the door. Your hand was on the knob when you heard a hiss coming from behind you.

  “He let you out again? No-” the voice was deep and close to your ear, “-he didn’t let you out, did he? You decided to come to me on your own.”

  You swallowed, trying to open the door but his body trapped you up against it, making it impossible to maneuver. You tried to turn but his chest was pinned up against your back, the feeling of losing your breath and the closeness of this demon made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Tears welled up in your eyes as he bit down hard on your neck. You were going to die in this shithole and it was all his fault. He had brought you here. The smug one that wouldn’t tell you his name.

  “Do you need help?” You heard the words dripping with amusement to your left. It was him. Of course it was him. You had been thinking of him, hadn’t you.

  Your eyes lolled over to the left, widening a little before they closed. You willed yourself to say something but you couldn’t open your eyes, let alone your mouth. The tears continued to roll down and to your surprise, instead of helping you, he brushed a hand across your face and moved your hair out of the way. His tongue darted at your cheeks and eyes, a groan coming from his lips. “J” was licking your tears as they fell. The rough feel of his tongue lapping at your face as your life force slowly waned threatened to become your last sensation.

  Right when you were certain you were about to lose consciousness, the snake behind you was ripped from you, hissing as he slammed against something behind you. Then you were in his arms. Your demon. He took you to a different room, walking up what had to be the marble stairs if your memory served you right. You still couldn’t open your eyes but you could feel the soft swaying as he took each step, his feet silent on the marble floor. He closed the door and laid you down on something soft, a bed perhaps, and he laid next to you. He continued to lick your face as you regained your thoughts.

  ‘You are so beautiful when you cry,” he whispered the words as his lips traveled from your face to your neck. “Cry for me. Only for me.”

  You were starting to regain feeling. You tried to push a hand against his chest but he shooed it aside before pinning you down. You wouldn’t be his pet. You refused to give in but you couldn’t move enough to run.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? There is nowhere to run. There is nowhere to hide. You will stay here and you will endure all the pain I bestow upon you.” His lopsided grin was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. “Do you hear me? You will beg and plead and never be happy. This is the gift I offer. Your tears are what I crave. Your tears are what shall keep you alive. You belong to me. And what I want from you is tears. Enough tears to fill this house. You will cry until you have no tears left.”

  His smile widened, his teeth showing before it fell abruptly. “Shall we begin?”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Sleepy Holloween, Part 2

A/N: Muse unexpectedly decided Ichabbie’s Halloween story needed to continue, so here we are with more floof and cutesyness. Part 1 found here.  Also on AO3.

Abbie poured the leftover candy into a Ziploc bag to take to the office in the morning, thinking over the day as her Captain rinsed out their wine glasses and left them to soak in the sink. Quite a few years had passed since she'd squeezed so much Halloween celebrating into one day. The jack-o-lantern carvings, the pumpkin seed and cookie baking, passing out candy while sipping a nice Merlot, showing Hocus Pocus to Ichabod for the first time. Which reminded her... "You know...I really thought you'd relate to the movie more," she mused aloud. Ichabod snatched the towel from the oven handle and faced her as he dried his hands. "Oh?" She nodded, then motioned for him to follow her. "Yeah, there are a lot of things I thought you might empathize with." She opened the front door and pointed to the fiery jack-o-lanterns adorning their porch steps. "We need to put these out," she explained. "By my recollection, you only allowed me three grievances," he recalled, pausing to follow her lead and blow out a candle inside of one of the pumpkins. "And no discussion with which to further detail my deeper sentiments about it and the many aspects that reminded me of myself." She put out another candle. "My apologies, Captain," she demurred. "I'd very much..." She extinguished the last candle with a puff of air. "…like to hear your thoughts on the ways you identified with Hocus Pocus." He held the front door open for her, and she went back inside, him following closely behind. He locked the deadbolt, then stood at military attention, a fine seamen specimen if she'd ever seen one.

"Are you referring to how I resemble Master Butcherson, who was called out of his grave by some witch's spell into a world that couldn't possibly comprehend what that experience is like?" Abbie heard the seriousness hidden in his self-deprecation but couldn't resist teasing him. "Aww, come on, babe, you look infinitely better than Billy Butcherson did. Your centuries sleeping did a body good." 

Her flirtatious gaze traveled from his sailor-capped head to his booted feet, and he watched her perusal of him, prepared to counter her move. "You get no points for that one," he scolded. "Even as a benevolent soul, the man was a walking, rotted corpse with moths festering in his mouth."

"My point exactly: I definitely wouldn't've kissed him! But you..." She reached for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, drawing him down to kiss her briefly before she moved away. He stared longingly after her but continued the conversation. "Then perhaps you meant I'm like the Sanderson sisters." Noting the intent to tease him written on her face, he threw his finger up in the air. "Not in purpose or lack of intellect or gender," he rushed to indicate before she had a chance to cut in, "or—again—re-emergence because of a witch's spell, but in their struggle to understand the modern world, even with supernatural forces and a guidebook in their arsenal." Abbie hadn't considered that angle and smiled indulgently at him. "Fair. Though you've done considerably better than those three. Combined." He dipped his head once in thanks, then continued. "May I also present my resemblance to young Master Binx." "An old, mangy, black-for-bad-luck cat?" Her disgusted look morphed into something sultry. "Ohh, or the knowledgeable pussycat of a relic who wants nothing more than to protect the people he cares about from evil?" She slid her hand from his shoulder to his wrist as she strutted by him, heading towards the stairs. "Madam, I'll have you know—” "Mistress," she corrected him, throwing a flirty look over her shoulder. She wanted to play now, did she? His gaze turned predatory, and he slowly trailed her up the stairs, several steps behind. "Mistress..." he repeated dutifully. She'd reached the second floor landing and turned to face him. "Yes, Captain?" His foot froze mid-step as he drank in the sight of her regal air, fetching dress, petite frame, innocent smile. His beautifully stunning wife who'd procured a costume just for him that had taunted him all night. He promptly lost all train of thought. Abbie saw his eyes glaze over as he stood in awe of her. At least the feeling was mutual. She'd just had a lot more practice at open flirtation than he had and could still function while stunned by him. She waited a moment, indulging in his open attraction to her, before helping him out. "So far, you've compared yourself to a zombie, a trio of witches, and a cursed cat." His eyes narrowed at her as she amusedly reduced his comparisons to their most basic elements. "While you clearly don't think that highly of yourself, I, my dear one, do. Would you like me to tell you who I think you resemble, Captain?" "Most assuredly," he affirmed, holding himself in check a few moments longer. "Have you considered that you're most like Max, the hero of the tale? A gentleman who finds himself in the same country but a new place that doesn't quite feel like home? Interested in a woman who doesn't know what to make of him at first?" Her voice turned dramatic as she continued. "He's harassed by the locals as he tries to find his way in the world, gets wrapped up in something he didn't know could be true, then fights like hell to protect himself, his family, the world, and the woman he loves from evil—not to mention witches��bent on destroying them. And in the end, he saves them all. And gets the girl he's pined after and loves." She dramatically clasped her hands over her heart with a flourish. His eyes never leaving hers, he recovered only enough to move towards her, slowly stalking her again. "You think I'm the hero, do you?" A contented, sweet smile breaks over her face as she walks backwards at his same pace, the sight of him in his sailor's costume trailing after her making her heart beat fast. "Ummhmm."

"And the girl..." "A ravishing beauty," she stated cheekily, throwing the back of her hand up to her forehead in a fainting pose. "Never disputed." His eyes wantonly swept over her as she continued playfully leading him towards their bedroom, the colonial gown far less revealing than her normal wear and all the more tantalizing for it. "Strong and intelligent and wildly brave...a heroine in her own right." "Undoubtedly," she agreed as her back connected with the bedroom door. She absently reached for the doorknob and twisted it, flipping on the bedroom light as she continued backing away from him. "Deserving of some kind of reward, I'd say." "As much as her Captain deserves a warm hero's welcome." He turned off the hallway light as he entered the bedroom, the shadows and light playing deliciously over his devilishly handsome features, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "If that's all he wants..." Abbie stopped in the middle of the room, waiting for him to reach her. "That's only the beginning," he promised with a low growl as he approached her. "I seem to recall..." He ran the backside of his finger along her cheek, soft and cool to the touch, dropping his hand to her collarbone and running his fingertips across her bare skin as he prowled around her. "Telling you..." His hand never leaving her, his touch trailed heat across the back of her neck. "How I couldn't wait to take this off of you." His whispered breath teased over the skin beneath her ear, the sensuality of it heightened because she couldn't see him, didn't know what to expect next. Still, he barely touched her, his fingers slowly grazing their way around her shoulder and back to her collarbone as he completed his rotation around her. She peered up at him heatedly, anticipating, yearning for his next move. 'Crane on the brain,' she'd called it once--and had had it ever since. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, satisfaction and desire written on his face, and he leaned down towards her. She tipped her head up, craving his kiss and everything that came after it, but he stopped a hair's-breath from touching his maddening lips to hers. "How does that sound?" he whispered, tantalizing her with his breath against her lips instead of his mouth. "Exquisite," she breathed on a sigh, willing herself to wait for him to ravish her. She was on the edge, as was he—she could feel it. She wouldn't have to wait long. "Enticing. Hot." He couldn't wait any longer, silencing her with his lips, gently at first, then more insistently as she drew his hat off his head, dropped it to the floor, and ran her fingers through his hair. She moaned, and the sound her passion vibrated through him, his hands roaming down her sides and hips to then splay across her back, drawing her into him. His hands set her ablaze, and she expected him to make light work of the dress since he'd wanted to divest her of it all night. Instead, he lingered, his kiss ardent and sensual, his touch exploratory and slow. He reached for the back of her dress where the stays were...should be. His fingers found a zipper instead. "Mm, how very modern," he murmured appreciatively as he withdrew from her, again moving behind her. Abbie waited, senses alert, body tingling, wondering what his clever mind and hands had in store for her.

His finger traced her skin along the back neckline of her dress, sending gooseflesh racing up and down her spine. He kissed her neck, and her head fell to the side, allowing him more access.

“Tell me,” he whispered near her ear. “What does a hero’s welcome look like?”

She eased away from him only far enough to turn around. “Like this.” She collided with him, pressing against him, drawing him down to kiss her as together they moved towards the bed. She felt the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders, his back, his leanness belying his strength.

As they reached the bed, Abbie laid her hand flat against his chest, and he let her push him lightly, falling to his seat He reached for her, his hands gripping her waist as he peered up at her and the satisfied look on her face.

“Do all captains receive this treatment?” he queried.

“Not from me. But you’re lucky.” She winked at him, threading her hands through his hair, mesmerized by her forever-military man.

“Well…not yet,” he smirked at her with a lifted eyebrow.

"If the boat's a'rockin..."

He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head. “Nevermind, Captain. Just kiss me.”

“As you wish, Mistress.” And he did.

[98prilla]

To The Dead

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He was trying.

 He really, really was, trying.

 But he couldn’t get Roman’s words out of his head.

 And he’d heard the others, talking to the air, talking to him, they probably thought he didn’t, but he’d always been good at lurking in shadows, in pretending to not exist, he wasn’t surprised, he was able to mask his presence well enough no one could sense him near.

 He’d heard Patton and Janus’s pleas. He’d heard Logan’s well reasoned arguments. He’d heard Roman’s apologies. He knew Roman was blaming himself, that it was tearing all of them up inside, but the thing was, Roman was right.

 There were too many things, that could go wrong. Too many ways he could hurt them, too many ways he could destroy them, and he refused, he refused to drag them into his self-destructive spiral.  

 So, he stuck to the shadows, where no one could find him. He hid in the corners and under the couches and under the beds. He didn’t use his room, not since then they’d know where he was, and he stayed away as much as he could. He was exhausted and unfocused and half even deader than he already was, but he couldn’t let himself rest or he’d fizzle into view.

 The closest he’d gotten was that night, with Patton. Everyone else had already been in their own rooms, and he felt guilty, Patton was staying out there for him, after all, and the least he could do is make sure he was comfortable. And now Patton’s words were rattling around in his skull, too, fighting against Roman’s, and he felt torn in two entirely different directions.

 Maybe that’s why he found himself here, lurking in the shadows of Patton’s room, melted into the ones in the corner of the room. He heard the door open, and he took a deep breath as Patton came in, flopping face first onto the bed, slightly alarmed to hear sniffling emerging from the pillow his face was shoved into.  

 Slowly, he emerged from the wall, his inky, tarlike form slowly forming into something more solid, something that almost felt right, though it had been so long since he’d been anything other than a blob of darkness or a splotch of shadow. But as his form settles, it feels more and more… right.

 “Pa… Patton?” He asked, voice rusty and hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. Patton gasped, shooting upwards, and all at once Patton’s eyes were on him.

 “Virgil!” he flinched back at the volume, form already destabilizing, it was harder to hold now, that he hadn’t in months. “sorry, sorry. I’m just… I’m glad to see you, kiddo. We've been worried.” He said softer, wanting to lunge, pull Virgil into a hug, but knowing he'd run if he did.

 “so-rry. I-" he flinched, a strange feeling coming over him, an almost nausea, almost vertigo, and he found himself on the ground, gasping as cold washed over him.

 “Virgil!” he could tell Patton had yelled his name several times, but he couldn’t seem to hear right, the world was blurring and going fuzzy. Not just the world, he was blurring, his form bleeding away like a water color painting. He felt Patton's hand on his arm, trying to say something, then the world shifted out from under him, Patton's hand swiping through empty air as he vanished.

…

He stumbled hard, shoulder ramming into the wall, as he heaved in several deep breaths, trying to keep from full out panicking.

 He felt weird. Solid. His body had weight, his form wasn’t flickering, he was leaning against the wall, but it wasn’t their wall. The house, he was in the house.

 His breath sped again, remembering, shaking, crying, pulling at his hair as he screamed into a pillow, His words echoing in his head, he hasn’t been back here, not in the living room, since then, since he'd done it. He could feel the shadows darkening, starting to move of their own accord, starting to whisper.

 “What the fwuh?” His eyes snapped open at the question, frantically taking in the scene.

 Staring at him were two guys, both wearing twin expressions of shock and fear. Around his feet was a star in a circle outlined in chalk, a candle at each nexus.

 “Summoning circle? What amateur fucking shit is this? Watched full metal alchemist a few too many times?” He choked out, biting sarcasm masking his fear and panic, trying to get the shifting tendrils of shadow slowly climbing the wall under control, succeeding in at least halting their growth.

 “We… we were trying to summon Patton.” The shorter one said. He huffed, vision spinning.

 “Well good job, dipshit, you summoned the literal opposite of that ray of sunshine. Now get me out of here!” He demanded, teeth grit against the strange cold seeping into his bones, the dark tiredness starting to fill him.

 “Um. We don’t actually know how.” The taller one admitted sheepishly.

 “Who are you, anyway? We only knew Patton and Roman.”

 “Uh, no. You don’t get to interrogate me after practically kidnapping me.”

 “Kidnapping… you showed up!” the short one, who seemed to have an attitude.

 “oh yes, because I looove getting dragged to the physical plane of existence and talking to two idiots who think the funnest thing to do is harass people who probably don’t want to have memories of their recent demise brought back to the surface!” He shouted, breathing picking up again, hands clenched into fists, shadows wavering and breaking over the room, though he kept it in enough it didn’t attack, claws and glowing eyes and teeth ready to bite.

 “You’re… Virgil, aren’t you?” He flinched back at that, shaking harder. “Oh shit, dude, I’m-"

 “What? Sorry? Yeah, me too, now let me out!” he snarled, eyes flashing dark voids of shadow, his shadows writhing, and he found he had the anger to control them, and he hissed as one swiped through the chalk, releasing him from its hold as he struggled to stay standing, the circle giving him a truly physical form, draining his own energy to do so.

 “We aren’t fucking toys. We’re people. We all died horrifically, at our hand or at others'. So next time, leave me the hell alone.” He snapped, his shadows encasing him as the solidness faded from his limbs, as his form fell to shreds, as the last of his energy was sucked from him, realizing the circle draining him dry, the crackling electric backlash of breaking the spell hit him full force, sending him reeling.

…

He fell, unceremoniously, crashing down from the ceiling and landing hard on the floor, crying out at the pain that shot through him, his vision flickering. He felt cold, icily cold, exhausted, drained, empty, barely, barely there.

 “-il…-ear me? Virgil!” Roman’s panicked voice cut through his haze, though he found he couldn't answer, couldn't even nod. He was so purely exhausted, he was barely staying together at all. “Oh, love… it’s ok, I’ve got you.” He felt Janus lifting him up, and realized he must have landed in the living room. He thought he should be worried about that, for some reason, but his mind was already hazing over with fog. “Logan! Patton!” He called, the spirits appearing after a moment, any reprimand at being disturbed vanishing as Logan took in the state of Virgil, unconscious and form flickering, not the usual black, but a soft, faded gray. The same kind of gray that he’d seen on the others, on himself, when the wraith was draining them of their soul’s essence. Something had very badly damaged Virgil.

 “What happened?” he demanded, trying to be steady, to keep Patton beside him from panicking.

 “I don’t know. He… he showed up, in my room, then vanished, like he got pulled away, I tried to hold on, but I fell right through him!”

 “Then he fell from the ceiling and crashed to the ground.” Roman finished, lacking his usual bravado.

 “Lo, is he-“

 “No, he’s not fading. Whatever started the drain has stopped, he’s stable, if very weak. An attempt at summoning, if I had to guess. Likely, they didn’t use anything to power the spell itself, so it used Virgil himself. He’s lucky he was able to break out, as he must have, for it to hit him this hard. Otherwise…” Logan trailed off, unwilling to finish that sentence, knowing from the silence the others knew his meaning.

 “He was going to talk to me.” Patton said softly, tucking back a strand of Virgil’s hair, who didn’t seem to register the motion at all, lying still and pale as stone.

 “He still may. He just needs to rest and recuperate, Patton. He will be all right.” Logan reassured, resting a hand on Patton’s shoulder for a moment, before turning away, trying to hide his fondness behind a frown. “Though we should figure out what exactly they did, and stop them from doing it again.”

 No one noticed the green eyes glowing in the corner, alight with anger, at the state of his friend, because Virgil was a friend, whether he liked it or not. It was long past time the humans take notice of him, after all, and this would be a much needed… learning opportunity.

…

“well that could have gone better.” Thomas muttered, shivering slightly. The darkly moving shadows had vanished along with the ghost, the circle now smudged beyond recognition, the icy cold temperature of the room slowly returning to normal.

 “No kidding. How’d you know that one’s name?” Joan asked, still staring at the spot he'd vanished.

 “He… the real estate agent. He had to tell me, the previous tenant, Virgil… died, here. To suicide.” Joan let out a low breath, collapsing back onto the couch, grabbing a pillow to hug to their chest.

 “shit. No wonder he wasn’t happy to be here.”

 “It looked like it was hurting him.” Thomas murmured, remembering how Virgil was clinging to the wall, barely staying upright.

 “That's what happens when you do your research through google search, you silly billies.” They both stared at the glowing green eyes floating above them, the slow Cheshire grin forming out of nothingness to accompany it. “Someone gets hurt.” The voice growled, and suddenly it wasn’t a single pair of eyes, it was thousands, a towering mass of writhing tentacles and blindingly black light, a cavernous maw and a million gnashing, reeking tooth beaked mouths screaming.

 They both gasped for air as the vision vanished just as quick as it came, a few mere seconds, a glance at the clock revealed, though it had felt like they had been trapped with that Lovecraftian creation for hours. Thomas could still feel the vibrations of the clacking beaks, hear the echoes of distant screams, and he could tell from Joan’s horrified expression, they had seen it too.

 “I’m not exactly a fan, of people hurting my friends. Especially when they can’t do much in way of defense or… retaliation-“

 “We didn’t mean to!” Thomas blurted, before the sinister presence could throw them into another nightmare. “We didn’t… we didn’t mean to hurt anyone. We just… Patton seemed lonely. So we were trying to find a way to actually see him, and… and we obviously didn’t do it right. And I’m sorry, for hurting him… Virgil.” He finished, a frown on his lips, thinking of the pain on the ghost’s face. “Is he… is he ok?” He asked, heart pounding a thousand beats a second, terror racing through him.

 “Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting. The human has a conscience.” The voice echoed from every direction, bouncing around the room in the most disorienting pattern, one moment directly in his ear, the next all the way in the kitchen, the next above them near the ceiling, those green eyes and grin always in the corner of their eyes, always vanishing as soon as they turned to look.

 “And what about you, short stack? Got anything to say for yourself, before I decide what to do with the two of you?” Joan gulped, holding the pillow tighter, knuckles white.

 “Uh. He was right. Virgil. It’s not… we shouldn’t treat this like a game. You’re people. Not entertainment. But we do really want to get to know you all… to help, if we can. Even though we’re generally pretty shitty at showing it, that’s what we were trying to do. Help.” They managed, wincing as a dark chuckle rang through the room.  

 “Help, huh?” They yelped as they felt something cold wrap around their ankles, suddenly yanking them off the couch, dragging them across the floor, across the kitchen, to the basement door. Blinking their vision clear, adrenaline racing, they both practically held their breath as they watched a shimmering outline form, cringing as it was filled in with bones, then veins and arteries, pulsating flesh and decaying organs, finally a layer of skin growing over it all, putting a face to that Cheshire grin, the electric green eyes, as the being towered over them, smile wild and manic, eyes ablaze, a morningstar resting over his shoulder, his outfit some weird mix of sparkling satin and menacing velvet. They both flinched back as he leaned down, examining them, before extending a hand.

 “Seems like you two can use all the help you can get. Now, if you’re gonna go full in on this, you gotta learn the basics, and if you abuse what I teach you…”

 They shivered, seeing crimson blood splash across their hands, teeth ripping into their jugulars, shadowy creatures clawing them to shreds, screaming though no one else could hear, unable to move their bodies as inch by inch, their skin was stripped from their flesh, ants eating them from the inside out.

 “And it’ll be twice as bad if you harm any of them ever again. There won’t be anywhere you can hide, that I won’t find you, and believe me, it’ll be a pleasure.” Their vision cleared, the images wiped away like fog on a bathroom mirror, forgotten nearly instantly, though the feeling of dread and terror lingered. “So. You in, or are you pussies?” Joan snorted despite themselves, earning an eye roll from Thomas, and a slight upturn of the lips from the being, though he still glared daggers at them. Thomas took a deep breath, accepting the outstretched hand, surprised as he made contact, and it helped pull him to his feet, solid, though it didn’t feel quite… real. Joan followed suit a moment later.

 “Ok. I want to learn.” He answered solemnly, Joan nodding in agreement, gaze serious in a way it rarely was.

 “Me too. If we’re gonna be the crazy ghost house people, we might as well really go for it.”

 “It’s been a while, since I had such willing students. Oh, this’ll be fun!” He clapped, eyes swirling, teeth slightly too sharp.

 “So… when do we start?” Joan asked, and Remus tsked.

 “Patience. I have to get back before they wonder where I’ve went, and you have to start living like a normal person and not staying up until two scrolling tumblr!”

 “What does that have to do with ghost summoning?”

 “Nothing, just good life advice. Take from me, who’s never actually been alive!” Thomas and Joan exchanged a puzzled look.

 “Aren’t you a ghost?” He cackled, a wild, howling sound, that sent shivers down their spines, as he wiped away tears from his eyes, floating on his back in midair.

 “Oh, sweet summer children, you naive innocent fools, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood, otherwise it would be so very easy to break you. No, no, no, I’m not a ghost at all. I am a poltergeist!” He declared, suddenly close to Thomas’s face, gently booping his nose, those swirling eyes far too close for comfort as they stared into his. “And you may call me Remus.”

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 77

It was the start of a new month and like the first of every month Nozel was awake before sunrise.  Seated in the personal study of his chambers, he went over last months final reports and figured quotas for this month to send to the twelve properties his father entrusted him in overseeing.

A knock at the door halted his writing.  Nozel looked up eyebrows pulling together.  Who could be calling on him?  Captain Pyter was the only other person in the Silver Eagles base that occasionally woke this early before sunrise.  And the Captain was away on a mission, not expected back for another couple of days.

Suddenly the door opened.  Two uniformed men rushed, cloaked in mana, ready to attack.

“What’s the meaning of this!”  Nozel’s shock quickly changed to anger when he saw that the two men were from the set of six guards his father had sent to protect him when he wasn’t preforming his duties as a Magic Knight.

Seeing the Silva heir was safe, the higher ranking of the two bowed.  His comrade saluted, caught sight of his superior, and hastily bowed as well.  Nozel sighed.  Not only were the guards an unnecessary nuisance and embarrassment.  But they had no idea how to treat him, caught between his status as a Magic Knight and a royal.

“We saw light from underneath the door, Your Highness.  When you didn’t respond to our knock we thought--”  The guard fell silent, feeling foolish.  “Please, Your Highness.  Forgive the intrusion.”

“If I was set upon in my quarters by assassins, do you really think they would take the time to light a candle?”  Nozel questioned, acidly.

“No, Your Highness.  We are truly sorry.  I take full responsibility for entering.”  The man said, glancing at his subordinate.

Nozel gave the guard a cold look.  “See that it doesn’t happen again. If you enter without my leave again I’ll see your hands removed so you can never open another door.”

The man swallowed and bowed.  “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Get out.”  Nozel ordered, turning back to his work.

“Yes, Your Highness.”  The two men bowed again and back out, closing the door behind them.

Nozel leaned back and sighed.  He felt mildly bad for the threat; but after ten days for dealing with hovering guards his temper was nearly non-existent.

The Silva guards would stand outside whatever room his was in while in the base.  Yet if he left the base on Magic Knights business, they didn’t followed him out.  Nozel had quickly figured out and made use of the loophole.  Now every time he left, whether it was true or not, he said it was for Magic Knights business.  The guards weren’t fools.  They knew what he was doing but didn’t dare challenge their Prince.  And with Captain Pyter gone, there was no one they could go to to verify what he said.

Nozel understood and appreciated that his father didn’t want the guards to interfere with his duties as a Magic Knight.  What Nozel didn’t understand was why his father had sent the guards at all.  If this gang hired to kill him weren’t complete fools then all they had to do was watch and see that the guards didn’t follow when he had a mission and make their move accordingly.

As for having the guards follow him around the base and stand outside every room his was in.  What did his father think?  That one of his comrades was a member of this hired gang?  His father had once been a Magic Knight so he knew that there were spells and traps set around a bases property to ward and alert of intruders or attack.

Nice as it was to know his father cared and was concerned for his welfare. Nozel couldn’t help but feel as if the guards had been sent more to annoy and offend.  He was a Second Class Senior Magic Knight. While the Silva guards were no doubt highly capable.  What protection could they offer him that he couldn’t provide for himself?

Then again his father hadn’t exactly been thinking the all that clearly since receiving the news.  Nozel had been both pleased and disappointed that Sir Jorah had managed to keep Yami’s name out of it when telling his father.  If Sir Jorah hadn’t, there was no doubt in Nozel’s mind that his father would’ve had Yami immediately arrested.  His father might not have even waited to see Yami executed the next day.  Instead seeing that some accident befell the foreigner shortly after being toasted in a cell.

Of course Nozel still wanted to see Yami dead, within the bounds of the law.  But Yami had come forward with all this when he could have kept silent.  It left Nozel feeling like he owed the foreigner his life. Not that Nozel would’ve had trouble surviving any attack this gang presented, whether he knew they were coming or not.  After all Yami had managed to survive two such attempts and he was far better than Yami Sukehiro.  Still, the thought of Yami being imprisoned and executed on his father's order after Yami had come forward to warn them...  It would have been more than Nozel could’ve stomached.

Nozel only wished that there was a way he could convince his father that Lord Vermillion hadn’t hired these people.  Why his father would think such a thing in the first place was beyond him.  Nozel had argued with his father.  Wrote several lengthy letters to him.  He had even written Teris’ brother Fyntch.  All in an effort to convince his father that Lord Leonidas Vermillion had nothing to do with this.  There was absolutely no reason the Vermillion patriarch would do such a thing.

Like any good family, Nozel’s parents had produced what was commonly called an heir and a spare.  While Solid was seven years his junior and lacking in many ways; he was a Silva and therefore capable of rising to any challenge.  Added to that, his father was young enough marry and see another son produced to act as spare to Solid if he should die at the hands of these hired killers.  With that being the case there was no way this was done in an attempt to reduce House Silva and raise House Vermillion in the line of succession.

Even then Lord Leonidas never would have done such a thing.  When the perpetrator was discovered.  And they would be discovered.  It would ruin more than the person and their House.  It would destroy anyone distantly related to them.  Hiring these people might not have been an attempt at regicide.  But as far as Nozel’s father, King Agustus, and Sir Jorah were concerned, it was close enough.  This was an attempt on Nathyn Silva’s heir.  Lord Silva was second to the King which effectively made Nozel third.  Lord Leonidas wouldn’t chance the consequences that would come from hiring people to kill him.

More concerned with finding out who had truly hired these people and why. Nozel had wracked his mind trying to figure out who would be bold and aggrieved enough to do such a thing.  It was difficult considering he didn’t know all of his father's dealings.  And it became all the harder when Fuegoleon mentioned that the person who made the hired could be looking to get back at Nozel himself and not his father.

At least they had a proper and perfect sketch of Cin’s likeness and the thee men he and Fuegoleon had seen assisting the man.  Advisor Ellara’s memory magic and some other Investigations Mage had proved invaluable in that.  The images of the four men had been sent out to every Magic Knight, Sentry, and Investigations Mage.  Every city and town in the Clover Kingdom had the four men's images displayed in their town hall and market, as well as in every bar and gambling den. The reward his father had ordered put on the pages was probably enough to entice Cin’s most loyal followers to turn him over. Nozel doubted his father had paid half the offered amount to the two groups he had hired to kill Yami.

Nozel’s lips thinned into a line at that thought.  His father might not show his love in word or physical affection; but he did care in his own way.  The reward offered for the four men.  The guards he had sent. His fury when he had been told of all this.  The way he aggressively set about trying to find both the person who had done the hiring and the hired gang.  It all proved to Nozel that his father did indeed care about him.  Either that, or his father saw all this as a slight against himself and was furious someone thought so little of him as to dare to threaten the life of his son and heir.

77.2

Breakfast done, Teris got up from the dining table.

Yami lifted his head.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To clear my plate.”  Teris said, moving to do just that.

Tobin gave his friend a quizzical look.  Yami wasn’t the clingy type. And he was smart enough to know that his stern tone would irritate Teris.  Was he purposefully looking to start a fight with her?

“Don’t get smart with me.  Where are you going?”  Yami called after her.

“Relax man.”  Tobin told.

Ignoring Tobin, Yami got to his feet and followed Teris to the kitchens.

Looking over at Gendry, Tobin asked.  “Do you know what that was about?”

Gendry shook his head and went back to eating his breakfast.

Reaching the kitchen worktable Teris spun around.  “You’re following me now?”

“I don’t like being ignored.”  Yami told.

“Fine.” Teris snapped.  “What do you want?”

“I want to know where you’re headed.”  Yami said.

“Why? You have plans for us?”  Teris asked.

Yami gave a shrug and tempted.  “I could.  If you want.”

Teris looked at him.  She knew full well what he was doing, yet was tempted nonetheless.  She shook her head.  “No.”  She told herself as much as him.  “I already have plans.”

“And those are?”  Yami asked.

Teris sighed in frustration.  “I don’t see why you’re so worried. We’ve faced far worse than your old friend and his gang of thugs. Do remember the Agents of Chaos?  What we went through?”

Yami stared, unblinking.

“You said it yourself.”  She went on.  “You beat this guy down in the past.  Said you could do it again.  I don’t see why I’m required to have someone with me when I leave the property.  Or why you’re readily going along with it.  It hardly seems fair.  Especially when the same it’s required for you.”

“I beat Cin and Damon, not an entire gang.  As for why I don’t need escort.  I already gave him my answer.  He won’t come bugging me again.  You on the other hand...”  Yami stepped to her, hand reaching for her waist.

Teris turned and stepped away.  Yami gritted his teeth, hand closing and falling to his side.

“You could be used to get to Nozel.”  Yami said.  He hated having to acknowledge Nozel’s tie to her almost as much as he hated Teris spitefully denying him.

“I can take care of myself.”  Teris said.

“I know you can.”

She turned back around and questioned.  “Then why the worry?”

“I told you.”  Yami said.

“I’m just as capable as you are.  I out ranked you for a time.  Remember?”

“Teris. Don’t be silly.”

Teris placed a hand to her chest, temper and voice rising.  “So now I’m incompetent, weak, and silly?”

“No one called you weak or incompetent.”

“But I am silly?”

“You are right now.”  Yami snapped, his own temper rising.  Why was she being so difficult?  Didn’t she realize the possible danger this put her in?  He was just looking out for her.

Teris glared, arms crossed.  “You can be a real ass sometimes.”

Yami ground his teeth, silencing an arguing retort.  He didn’t want to fight with her; but it seemed that was exactly what she was looking for.

Teris made for the stairs that led up to the dining hall.

Yami followed at her heels.  “Teris.”

“Back off.”  Teris snapped without turning back.  She went to the serving table and opened up a cloth placing a couple sweet breads on top and tying it up.

Yami watched her head for the door.  “I mean it, Teris.”

“I said back off!”  Teris told, looking over her shoulder at him.  She bumped into Jax who was entering the dining hall.

Jax looked from Teris to Yami and back.  “What��s this?”

Guilty, Teris tried to avoid her Captain's gaze.

Seeing the cloth package Teris held, Jax raised an eyebrow.  “Going somewhere?”

“Just into town.”  Teris told as if it were nothing.  Which it totally should have been.

“Which town?”  Jax questioned.

Teris’ faced twitched.

Jax stared.  Did Teris think he didn’t know all the tricks?  He had been Captain for nine years.  Heck, he had come up with several tricks himself back in the day.  It was somewhat insulting Teris even dared such a lame attempt.

Taking a breath, Jax quietly told her.  “And after I was kind enough to discuss it with you at length before making the order.”

Teris lowered her head.

“Or maybe you got word that this mess is over.  Did you?”  Jax asked, sure she hadn’t.

Teris shook her head.

“Then unless you want to find yourself stuck here without any chance of leaving until the mess is over I recommend you obey.”  Jax told. He looked passed her and at his squad seated at long wooden table. “Venice.  Bran.  Go into town with Teris.”  He looked back down at Teris, voice turning quiet again.  “You are not to leave their sight.  Understood.”

Teris looked away and muttered.  “This is stupid--”

Jax cut her off, voice raising in volume.  “Understood.”

“Yes, sir.”  Teris clipped, glaring at a distant wall.

“What’s going on, Captain?”  Venice asked, she and Bran stepping beside Teris.

“I already told you.  Go with Teris into town.”

“This those Chaos guys again?”  Bran asked.

“Are all of you incapable of obeying basic commands?  Just do as I say.” Jax told.

Bran ducked his head.  “Yes, sir.”

Jax stepped out of their way.  “Off with you.  Be back before lunch.”

Yami sighed when Teris didn’t so much as look back at him.  He didn’t like her leaving while still angry at him.  But she would be back soon enough and they would fix it.

77.3

While Cin hadn’t been sure if Yami would take him up on his offer despite the sizable sum he had tempted Yami with.  Cin had never imagined Yami would snitch.  It was disappointing.  It certainly made things far more difficult.  But more than that it was a betrayal of their friendship.

Sure Yami had attacked him and told him their ties were cut.  But this was different.  They didn’t need to have a ties for any sense of loyalty to continue.  In going to his superiors and warning them of the order put on the Silva heir Yami had broken the word he had given Cin all those years ago.  Yami had further broken Cin’s trust by giving the authorities his description.  Now his face was plastered everywhere.  He and his way of life was ruined in the Clover Kingdom. He had already had to hide away from lesser members of his gang because of the price put out for him.  After this job Cin would have to move to one of the other three kingdoms and begin anew, taking whatever trusted followers of his that were willing of come along.

Cin wanted to get Yami back for the betrayal.  But with the pressure of having his image posted in every bar and town square, along with the crazy reward for his capture.  He needed to get this job done as quickly as possible and move on.  He would just have to come back, possibly years later, and seek vengeance on Yami Sukehiro.

Or so he had thought.  Thanks to his right hand and closest friend, it had been discovered that Nozel Silva’s Intended was the same woman from the bar.  The woman Yami had been so protective of.  Teris Nova. A royal who had willfully chosen to become a member of the worst squad of the Magic Knights order.  And a kind and generous creature of habit.

Cin watched Teris walk down a street with two fellow Magic Knights.  The information Stehen had acquired was clearly accurate.  Teris carried a fabric parcel and was headed to an alley where a pair of urchins lived just as his second had said.

Cin hadn’t asked the kids to do anything they or the Magic Knights would suspect as bad or dangerous.  He had simply told them to give Teris the ribbon bracelet he provided and make sure she put it on. Easy and benign enough.  Especially when a coin was offered to the kids as payment for such an easy task.

Someone passed.  Cin stepped deeper into the shadows of the side street. Pulling the hood of his cloak higher to better shield his face, he continued to watch the Magic Knights across the street.

77.3.2

“So this is where the extra sweets disappear to.”  Venice said, walking beside Teris.

“Just a couple every the first of every month.”  Teris replied.

Venice rolled her eyes.  “You’re too kind.”

“How can you make that sound like a bad thing?”  Bran said.

Venice shrugged a shoulder.  “Easy enough.”

“Well I think it’s admirable.”  Bran said.

Teris looked away in a mix of embarrassment and shame.  Sure she brought treats to the kids and assisted when their pride allowed her to.  But the reason she started doing it wasn’t completely noble.  Magic Knights Captains, and even Vice Captain's were known to have informants on the streets.  That went doubly so for someone like Commander Greywright.  If Teris wanted to be a useful Vice Captain to Jax, and have a chance at making Knights Commander she needed to have her own share of informants.

“You two stay here while I drop these off.”  Teris said.  Jax had said she wasn’t to leave their sight.  He didn’t say anything about staying by their side.  It wasn’t as if she were bending the rules for the heck of it.  The kids were skittish.  Besides, she would be but ten meters away at most.

“You still haven’t told us why Jax ordered us to come with you.” Venice said, sure that it was for Teris’ protection.

“But I already told you that the reason was stupid and they’re overreacting.”  Teris said.

“That doesn’t sound like something Captain Jax or Yami would do.”  Bran said.

Teris turned to him.  “What do you know Small Potato?  Now stay.  Or do I have to pull rank and make it an order?”

Venice leaned against the wall of the alleys entrance and crossed her arms. Satisfied, Teris made her way to the kids crate home.  She knocked on the exterior wall of the structure the wooden box sat up against and waited.

A head stuck out.  “You’re late.”

“And you’re filthy.  What of it?”  Teris shot back playfully.  Her heart squeezing at the truth of it.

Venice watched her friend interact with the two ragamuffins and grumbled. “Don’t know why she bothers.  It’s not like she’s making a difference.  This town alone has dozens more just like those two.”

“Look at those kids and tell me she’s not making a difference in their lives.”  Bran said, the sight of the kids making him miss his younger siblings.

Venice watched the two kids eat their treat.  One inhaled the sweet bread, while the other savored it.  Teris stood before the kids listening attentively as they chattered.  Occasionally she appeared to ask a question or admonish them.

“Big softy.”  Venice huffed.

After a while Teris waved at the kids and returned to her friend’s side. “See.  That didn’t take long..  And I’m as safe as I ever was.”

Venice noted an added bracelet around Teris’ left wrist where she wore the one Zara’s kid had sent.  “What’s that?”

Teris smiled fondly at the thin ribbon.  “A gift from the kids.”

“That’s nice.”  Bran smiled in return.

“Probably has lice and fleas.”  Venice pushed away from the wall and led the way out of the alley.

Teris followed.  “I don’t get you.  Why are you so sour about a couple of kids?  Jealous?”

Venice looked back at her.  “No.”

Teris laughed.  Entering the main street, she teased.  “That’s it. Isn’t--”  Someone bumped into her.  Teris felt a hand grip and steady her.  At least that was what she had thought the person was doing.

“Teris.” Bran reached for her.

“Teris!” Venice yelled.

Teris and the man holding her disappeared.

77.4

Teris woke up with a splitting headache.  Her face itched where blood from a gash on her temple had dripped and dried.

“Ah, good.  You’re awake.”

Teris pulled her head back even as the speaker brought his face closer to hers.  She instantly recognized him as the man Yami had been speaking with at the bar.  The one hired to kill Nozel.  Her eyes hardened.

“Cin.” Teris sneered.

“You know my name.  But of course you do.  I have to know, did Yami tell everything right away?  Of did he mull over his betrayal?”

Teris looked passed him, taking in her surroundings.  She hadn’t gotten a good look of the place before she was knocked out.  But it didn’t appear as if she had been moved.  Only tied up.

Teris turned her eyes back on Cin.  “Got a magic negating mage on your team or something?”  It disturbed her that she was unable to access her magic.  Between the encounters with Calen, being locked in a mana blocked cell in the Diamond Kingdom, and now this she wondered if this horrible trend was some type of curse.

Cin stepped back, eyes dancing with amusement.  “Or something.  You can thank your urchin friends for that.”

Cin smiled, watching her change in expression as understanding dawned. Teris glanced up at her bound hands.

“Clever girl.”  Cin praised.  “Although that hint was quite the giveaway. I must admit, catching you was far easier than expected.  A charmed bracelet to bottle your mana and coin to a couple urchins to put it on you.  Has no one ever warned you such compassion and charity would leave you exposed and venerable?  Surely Yami has having spent several years on the streets himself.  If he hasn’t he’s done you a disservice not telling you how real life works, Princess.  Or are you simply too proud and stubborn to heed such advice?”

Teris glared at her captor.

Cin smirked at her futile anger.  “In any case.  So long as that thing is around your wrist, my charm magic will hold and your mana will build up within with no way of release.  Rendering your magic useless.  A pity too since I was interested in seeing your light magic in action.  I remember three years ago that the entire kingdom was a buzz.  Everywhere I went, all I heard was people talking about how a light and dark magic user had nearly destroyed half of Castle City during the Magic Knights Entrance Exam.  Little did I know the dark magic user was my good old friend, Yami.”

Teris tugged at her bonds.  If she could just loosen the bindings enough to reach the ribbon bracelet and tear it off.  “What’s the play here?”

“Play?” Cin echoed

“You were hired to kill Nozel.  What does that have to do with me?”

“You mean other than your being his Intended?”

Teris scoffed, tired arms letting her toes bear most of her weight. Feeling heated, she breathed through her mouth.  “Yami was right. You are impatient and don’t do your homework.  Nozel’s parents and mine may have intended us to wed.  But Nozel and I hate each other.”

Cin smiled, wryly.  “Is that so?”

“He would never put himself at risk to help me.  Nor I him.”  Teris told.

Cin tisked.  “A shame.”

“For you I suppose, if you’re looking to get to Nozel through me.” Teris said.

“So I should cut my losses and just let you go then.”  Cin said, playing her game.

“I’d certainly be for that.  But I doubt you will.”  Teris said.

“You would be correct.”

“What I can do is take you to him.”  Teris offered.

“You would take me to your Intended?”  Cin questioned.

Her hate for that word meant she hardly needed to act.  “Told you.  I hate him.  If he’s dead then I don’t need to refuse the order to marry him.”

“So I’d be doing you a favor killing him.”  Cin said.

“You’ve abducted and are keeping me against my will.  I’d call it more of an apology than a favor.”

Cin chuckled.  “Even magic-less and at my mercy you got a mouth on you.”

If she could get Cin to agree and get out of this dimensional space Yami would be able to sense her mana.  She could slowly lead Cin to Nozel, giving Yami and the Black Bulls enough time to get to her and help.

Cin had to admit the offer was tempting.  Especially since he knew she couldn’t take off the charmed bracelet even if her hands were free to try.  It was a good second option if his plan didn’t pan out.

Smiling at her, Cin gave a wink.  “Why don’t we table that and see if either man accepts my invitation first.”

Teris’ eyebrows pulled together.  “Either man?  What invitation?”

“I sent Yami and Nozel a message informing them I had you.  Their instructions were to come to the location alone.  I have people watching and waiting there now.  If they show they will be brought near enough to where we are for my Spatial Mage to bring into this space so we can continue undisturbed.”

Heart hammering in her chest, Teris managed to keep Cin’s eye without blinking.  A clammy sweat beaded on her brow from both worry and a rising fever.  “Why would Yami come?  We might be comrades but--”

“Yami’s an honorable sort.”  Cin said, cutting over her words.  “Loyal and protective of his friends.  At least he was.”  He muttered sourly, still upset by the perceived betrayal.  He looked Teris over a devilish smile playing on his lips.  “But I have a feeling you’re more than Yami’s friend and comrade.  He mentioned a girl the first time we met.  Reunited.  A girl that kept him from accepting my first offer, to have him join up with me.  I even told him he could bring her.”

“Join up with you?  As in under you?”  Teris huffed in derision. “Apparently you don’t know Yami as well as he made it sound. Even I know he doesn’t follow well.”

“So you���re going to continue with the act that the two of you are nothing more than comrades.”  Cin looked her over again finding it easy to understand how Yami would be so smitten with such a girl that he was willing to chance his life.

Teris took the weight off her cramping toes, hanging fully by her wrists. “I’m a royal.”

Cin nodded.  “That you are.  You see it all makes perfect sense if you are the one Yami spoke of and you care for him in return.”

“Untrue and far fetched as that is, how does it make any sense?”  Teris asked, trying not to shiver as her fever mounted.

“After what Lord Silva did, or attempted to have done, I find your hated and willingness to help see Nozel Silva dead completely understandable.”

A sense of foreboding coiled in Teris’ chest.  She hardly felt the bonds cutting into her wrists or the sweat stinging her eyes.  “Why? What have they done?”

“Oh.” Cin blinked.  “You don’t know.  But of course you wouldn’t. Yami wouldn’t tell you.  He’s too proud.  Too noble.  And far too protective.”  He smiled devilishly.  “Wouldn’t it be fun if I told you?  Especially if they both showed up.”

“I told you.  They won’t come.”  Teris said, feeling weak and drowsy after the slight adrenaline rush.

“Let’s just wait and see, shall we.”

“Or--” Teris began, halting when someone appeared.

“Cin.” The person said.

Cin turned.  Stehen gave his leader a nod.

Cin glanced back at Teris.  “It appears you didn’t give yourself enough credit.”  To Stehen he said.  “Give it a few minutes.  See if the other shows.”

Teris watched Stehen disappear.  “That your Spatial Mage?”

Cin looked back at her.  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That is why people ask questions.”  Teris said, blinking back fatigue. The burning sweat not helping her endeavor to keep her eyes open.

Cin smiled.  “There’s that mouth of yours again.  I can see why Yami likes you.”

“He--” Before Teris could refute, the man from before appeared again.

Cin’s smile widened.  Eyes on Teris he told.  “That’s two for two.  You either have no clue what you mean to these men or are a liar.  My guess is a bit of both.”  He looked her over and tisked at the state of her.

She was a mess.  Pale and sweaty.  Dried blood caked on her face.  Cin didn’t know about Nozel; but Yami wouldn’t be happy by the sight.

Seeking to make her more presentable, Cin stepped to her.  Moistening the cuff of his sleeve in his mouth, he grabbed her chin and began to scrub her temple.

Teris pulled away only to have Cin grab her again.  His hold and scrubbing rougher than before.

“I know.”  Cin sighed, the hard glint in his eyes belying the conversational tone.  “My mother use to do this exact same thing and I hated—Ow!”  He jerked back holding his hand, barely able to believe the royal woman had bit him.

Teris’ legs pulled up and wrapped Cin’s neck, squeezing.  A magical attack hit her from the side.  The force and pain of the blow caused her legs to loosen.  Cin broke free and stepped away.

Holding up a staying hand to his followers, Cin looked Teris over with a new appreciation.  “I can definitely see why Yami likes you.  You’re much more than just a pretty little royal face.”

“I’ll kill you!”  Teris spat, body swinging as her legs kicked out.

Cin chuckled at her fierceness.  “You’re one fine, fiery cat aren’t you.  I get why Yami’s willing to chance his life just to be with you.”

Teris stopped kicking, wondering at his meaning.

Cin turned to Stehen.  “Bring them in.”

Not wanting Yami and Nozel to see each other until they were brought into the dimensional space, Cin had ordered them taken to different waiting locations.  The two men now appeared along with what was left of Cin’s gang who had met and escorted Yami and Nozel to those waiting locations.

Seeing Yami, Nozel demanded.  “What are you doing here?”

“You sound accusatory.  What?  Think I set you up?  Braid Face, idiot. I’m here for the same reason you are.”  Seeing Teris tied and hanging from a rope brought back images of the Summer Solstice. Tamping down his rage, Yami called to her.  “What did I tell you this morning?”

“Really? You’re gonna say I told you so now?”  Teris called back, both relieved and hating that he was here.  Her head dipped for a moment. The exertion of attacking Cin taking way more out of her than it should've.

Yami’s eyes narrowed.  Something was wrong with Teris.  What had they done to her?  Keeping his nonchalance, he shrugged.  “May as well in case we don’t make it out.”

“Well aren’t you two cute.”  Cin teased looking between Yami and Teris. His gaze focused on Nozel.  “Makes me wonder how you fit in.  She said you two hated each other.  But if that were so, why come?  Some sense of duty and pride?”  He looked to Yami and frowned.  “But if they hate each other, why not accept my offer and agree to help? Why betray me to protect a man who has claim to the woman you want? Surely his death would make things easier on you.”

“It’s a pointless endeavor to try to understand Yami’s reasoning.  He’s a crass, violent fool who doesn’t think before he acts or speaks.” Nozel said.

“After what your father’s done you’re in no place to talk.”  Cin told. He examined Nozel a moment and wondered.  “Or are you like Yami’s girl here and in the dark about all that?”

Nozel’s lip curled at Cin calling Teris Yami’s girl.

Seeing the sneer, Cin teased.  “Or maybe you’re the reason for all of that.  Did you go to your Daddy crying about the foreign peasant that was edging in on what was yours?”

Nozel ignored the taunting questions.  “You have me.  Let her go.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”  Cin said with a lopsided grin.

Yami felt a cold prickle run up his spine.  He took a step forward. “Cin.”

“You don’t get to talk to me!”  Cin snapped.  “Our ties are cut. Remember?  You ratted me out to the Magic Knights.”

“What did you expect?”  Yami asked without regret.

“I expected you to be the man of honor I remembered and not betray me.” Cin told.

“How can you speak of honor when you kill people for money?”  Yami questioned in disgust.

“As if you’ve never killed as a Magic Knight.”  Cin challenged.

“That’s different.”  Yami said.

“You’re right!  It’s worse!”  Cin shot back.  “You kill for them. Royals.  Nobles.  People who step on folk like us.  Who have literally spit on us.”  He gestured to Nozel.  “People who obviously still don’t give a damn about your life or your service as a Magic Knight.”

“I don’t do it for them.”  Yami took another step forward.  “Cin--”

“No!” Cin cut him off.  “I took a job.  This is happening.  And you can’t buy your way out of it this time.”

“Don’t make me stop you from killing this wound up Ball of Pride.”  Yami rumbled.

“Stop me?”  Cin laughed.  He grabbed Teris by the hair and pulled her head back exposing her throat to the knife he kept strapped to his thigh.

Teris’ eyes rolled.  Weak and half out of it, she didn’t struggle.

Cin bared his teeth in a sinister grin.  “You misunderstand me, Yami. You’re going to kill the royal.  Either that or die trying and we’ll finish him off.  That is unless you’d rather see your girlfriend die.”

Yami growled.  It was small comfort knowing Teris was Cin’s only leverage and therefore wouldn’t hurt her unless pressed.  “Don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.  Kill or be killed.”  Cin told.

Yami felt Nozel eyeing him warily.  Keeping his gaze on Cin, Yami questioned.  “What happens if I win?  You kill me too?”

“You and your royal girlfriend get to walk away.”  Cin answered.

“And if I lose?  What happens to Teris?”  Yami asked.

“She gets to survive having seen you and the Silva die.  I’m not a monster.”  Cin said.

Lashing fluttering, Teris croaked groggily.  “Could’ve fooled me.”

Teris had seen the rage in Cin’s eyes.  She knew there was no way he would let Yami live.  This was all her fault.  If she had only listened to Yami this morning.  Or heeded Jax’s order without twisting and making allowances.  If she hadn’t been so trusting. It was the spelled ribbon around her wrist that blocked her magic. If she had only paused and questioned the gift of it.  There had to be a way to get it off.  To be useful.  She couldn’t let Yami and Nozel fight this alone.  She couldn’t let them fight each other.

...the ribbon was blocking her magic.  No.  That wasn’t right.  What was it Cin had said?  Teris shook her head trying to think clearly.  Why couldn’t she think clearly?  Why was she so weak and hot?  It felt like she was burning up from the inside out.  Almost like a muted version of how she felt the morning of the Summer Solstice…

‘A charmed bracelet to bottle your mana...’  That’s what Cin had said.  Not block.  Bottle.  Why was that difference so important?  It had to do with something Julius had once said.  But Julius was always going on about magic and key differences between spells.  Her lips moved in silent curse of her brother and herself for not paying better attention to his ramblings.

“Shh.” Cin breathed when Teris began to squirm.  He took a small step away from her feeling over warm and needing space.  Looking back at Yami, he asked.  “What’s it gonna be, my friend?”

Yami watched Teris for a moment wondering again what Cin had done to her. He could easily feel the growing heat coming off her as her mana stormed and built within her.  Then again his cooler than normal temperature was keyed into hers.  As much as he would have rather tried to figure out a less risky plan, Teris was literally starting to lose control.  He glanced at Nozel wondering if the royals heightened sense of mana could tell what was happening.  That the powerful force within Teris was beginning to awaken as her mana built up inside her.

Yami rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  “Much as I don’t like it.  It’s going to have to be your way, isn’t it.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that.”  Cin grinned.  He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.  “Well then, Yami.  Let’s see if you’re good enough to kill a royal.”

Taking a deep breath, Yami turned to Nozel.  The surrounding gang members backed up, giving them room.

Nozel watched Yami cautiously.  He could sense Teris’ swelling mana but figured Cin had done or threatened something to stop her from using her magic.  Cin would pay for taking and tying his Intended so.  But first it seemed he would have to fight Yami.  Something Nozel would've relished any other time but not on this occasion.

It wasn’t that he worried about losing the duel.  There was no doubt his mercury magic and mana control could best the likes of Yami Sukehiro.  But when faced against a group of adversaries and a man holding a knife to Teris’ throat, he would've welcomed Yami as an ally and been glad for it.

Given that Yami was the reason they knew Cin had been hired to kill him, Nozel was somewhat surprised to see Yami capitulate to Cin’s demands.  But he supposed the threat to Teris was enough to make Yami comply.

Yami met Nozel’s eyes.  His gaze hard but baring no aggression.  Rolling his shoulder, pretending to loosen it, Yami tapped his chest.  He then gripped the hilt of his katana, thumb twitching to Cin and Teris.

Nozel’s eyes narrowed, head tilting.

It was a subtle message but all Yami could do with so many eyes watching.  He just hoped the Braided Bird understood, or at least knew he wasn’t going to attack him.  If Nozel lashed out with his mercury it would certainly make things more difficult.  He wasn’t sure which of Cin’s people were creating the magical shield he sensed around Cin and Teris.  But such a shield should only defended against magical attacks, and his katana wasn’t magic.  He just hoped Teris wouldn’t lose herself in the next few seconds.  That she kept it together long enough for him to act.  Wait for me, Princess, Yami thought.  I’ll see us out of this.

Yami unsheathed his katana and readied his stance as if preparing to fight Nozel.  He went so far as to cloak the blade in dark magic hoping the act would lull Cin into thinking he truly was going to fight Nozel. Taking a breath he pictured the distance and location of the rope Teris hung from; grateful Cin hadn’t changed his ways all that much.  Back in the day when they use to break into noble's castles to steal food or clothes for warmth, anyone that happened upon them would get tied up and gagged by Cin and Damon.  They didn’t do so magically but physically.  Cin confessing it gave him a greater sense of power over the person.  To physically bind and restrain them.

As soon as Nozel created a pool of mercury Yami threw his katana.  He tensed, Nozel’s mercury forming into spears and lashing out. Yami’s katana flew through the air circling hilt over point, horizontal to the the ground.  It sliced the rope Teris hung from. At the same time Nozel’s mercury spears stabbed over Yami’s shoulder, taking out two of Cin’s people and wounding another.

Teris fell to the ground with a plop.  Even if she wasn’t so out of it she would've had trouble catching her weight after hanging for so long.

“His blood!”  Yami hollered at Teris.  He pulled free the thin, flexible sword hidden in his belt and cloaked it in darkness.  “It breaks the charm.”  He didn’t know what Cin had charmed and put on her but hoped Teris knew.

Cin grabbed the hilt of Yami’s katana and pulled it free from where it stuck.  He looked down at Teris who was still on the ground.  “Good luck making me blee--”

Teris lifted bright glowing eyes up to him.  Cin cried out in pain.  The light of her eyes burning and blinding her abductor.  She rose to her feet.  The charmed ribbon burning up with nary a speck of ash.

Vision spotty, Cin brandished Yami’s katana before finally throwing it in Teris’ direction.  He backed away and tripped over his feet, falling to the ground.  Inching back, Cin held up a hand trying to keep her at bay.

“Can—can we just…  Wait!”  Cin pleaded.

“Call your people off.”  Teris ordered, voice void of emotion.

When Cin didn’t immediately comply she raised a glowing hand.  Cin squinted and squirmed.  The heat coming off her blistering and burning his skin.  His clothes started to smoke.

“Now.” Teris commanded, the light coming off her intensifying.  She could barely remember why stopping this insignificant moral was so important.

Cin screamed for his people to cease.  But he hadn’t needed to.  They had all stopped mid attack.  Too distracted by the near blinding light that was coming off Teris.

“You.” Teris turned to the Spatial Mage.  “Return us to normal space.”

Yami saw the Spatial Mages skin peel and burn under Teris’ gaze.  He had to calm her.  He had to call her back from the force that had built and woken inside her thanks to Cin’s charm bottling up her mana.

As soon as they were returned to normal space, Yami told Nozel.  “Bind them.”

Nozel stared at Teris in awe.  He had seen the beam of light on the Summer Solstice.  He had heard a partial report of the events.  But to see Teris literally glowing with the power inside her...

Yami didn’t wait to see if Nozel complied.  Instead he slowly made his way toward Teris.  It was a fight to restrain his mana.  The Darkness inside him churned and clawed, trying to connect with her Light.

Cin writhed on the ground, screaming.  Teris looked down at him, face expressionless.

Yami breathed between clenched teeth.  As he got within a meter of her, sweat began to bead along his brow.  She would cook Cin if this continued.  She would lose herself completely.  He needed to call her back.  “Teris.”

Teris’ head snapped to him.  Her bright, white glowing eyes focused on him. Yami’s own eyes flicked black for a fraction of a second.  His mana lunged toward hers.  The force of the pull so quick and powerful that he staggered forward.  Yami growled and took a step back, battling to keep the magical force inside him in check.  His body reacted to defend itself against the literal heat of Teris’ gaze.  The beads of sweat on his skin froze.

“It’s over, Teris.  The bad guys lost.  I didn’t even get to kick the Ball of Pride’s ass.  We’re all fine, Ikigai. Nice and safe.  So what do you say you stop and come back to me.”

Yami wanted to go to her.  To hold and reassure her that they were indeed safe.  But he couldn’t touch her.  Not with as raw and heightened as her mana was.  The first time their magic had clashed, during the Magic Knight’s Entrance Exams, they weren’t anywhere near as powerful as they were now.  If their mana made contact who knew what kind of destruction it would wreck.

Even as Teris’ built up mana began to ebb she continued to stare at Yami with unblinking eyes.  Yami began to fear she wouldn’t return to him.  No!  He refused to accept that.  They had surpassed their limits and survived so much worse than this.  He had called her back from death, getting her to breath and return to him the morning of the Summer Solstice.  He wasn’t about to lose her here.

“Damn it, Teris!  You’re stronger than this.  Pull yourself together and come back to me.  Now!”  Yami snapped.

Teris blinked.  Her eyes returned to their normal dark brown.  She smiled at the sight of him.  “Yami.”

Yami’s name had barely left Teris’ lips when her eyes rolled. Unconscious, her knees buckled.  Yami moved on instinct to catch her collapsing form.  Lucky for all of them Nozel was there to both to catch her and stop Yami from touching her.

Nozel lifted Teris into his arms, bridal style.  What he had seen had unnerved him.  But it didn’t change the fact that Teris was his Intended.  Still, he could not longer willfully deny the connection Teris and Yami’s magic had.  Yami had withstood Teris’ glowing gaze with little to not effect.  Where as he was red and sunburned, and she had never glanced his way.

The two men looked at each other.  Yami gave Nozel a nod of thanks. Nozel gave a returning nod of recognition.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

NOTES:

The wonderful @XYZ25 over on ao3 asked about Teris’ gown for the King’s ball in the last chapter.  Also, I got an anonyomus ask on Tumblr about the layout of the Black Bulls base.  The ball gowns pic and base layout are both on my Tumblr’s main page.

For those of you wanting to know more about the details about this fic @XYZ25 is a super sweet and faithful commenter on ao3. They ask (feed me) lots of great questions about characters, events, and relationships that don’t always get fully shown or make it in this mammoth of a fic at all.  So if you want to dive a bit deeper I HIGHLY suggest you check the comments on ao3 and read their asks.  ...OR ask some of your own.  Nothing makes me happier than getting questions about my fics.

Anyway, THANKS again @XYZ25!!! You’re the best and I couldn’t be more grateful for your comments and questions.  And THANKS anonymous!  My diagram skills might not be all that great but I had fun making the layout.

Next chapter snippet:

Nozel stared at the over muscled foreigner thinking that Yami couldn’t always be such a difficult ass.  The man wouldn’t have any friends if he were.  “I heard you tried to visit Cin the day before the execution.”

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (1/13ish)

Based on a rp I’ve done with the insanely talented @monsterlovinghours , here’s 13 chapters + 2 supplemental stories featuring my Beetlejuice, her OC, and a surprise guest star . . .

 SFW and NSFW chapters, Beetlejuice/f!OC, smut, trespassers, violence, comfort and care

Enjoy!

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice  @dilfyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul

~

The air felt charged, heavy with static and anticipation as she set the final pieces of her altar in place. Herbs to attract, to sanctify the space and make the veil between the living world and the next paper-thin, easily breached. Incense, to purify. Sigils to charge her magic, like amplifiers drawn in white chalk to channel and to cast. Lastly, she set three tapered candles in separate jars, evenly spaced, and lit them from right to left. First, the black candle, for grounding and focus. Then, the green, for good fortune in her endeavor. And finally, the white, for goodness and purity. There was no way the ritual could fail. Right?

Molly took a deep breath, in for three, and out for five. The incantation she had spent the entire day memorizing ran through her head, line by line; she knew it by heart, but even so, her heart wavered. There was no guarantee it would work the way she wanted to, or even work at all; magic was tricky that way, she had found. Spells of this magnitude were just a little beyond her pay grade; she had stuck mostly to kitchen magic, green magic, safe magic. Things to help her garden grow, to bring a sense of peace into her empty home.

 Empty.

She cleared her throat. Steeled her resolve. She had faith in her ability, and if there was anything her home needed, it was a good spirit to help fill it. Another deep breath, and the spell began to spill from her lips, palms placed flat upon the altar. The words filled the quiet space, gathering momentum, until the final syllable dropped like a guillotine, and the candles blew out, plunging the room into the darkness.

 Did it work?

As always, there was the bittersweet taste in his mouth and a pressure in his gut that made him want to curl up and stretch at the same time. He grimaced at first, but the sweet grew stronger than the bitter with each recitation of his name, and by third syllable of the third repeat, he felt like he could take on the world.

With an ecstatic laugh, Beetlejuice stepped out of the nowhere and into here, wherever here was. His amber eyes landed on the breather who'd been so kind as to call him.

"Baby, you have made my day!" he crowed, and swept towards her, arms open wide for a hug.

She screamed. She couldn't help it. The laugh was answer enough that her spell had worked, jarring and maybe just a little bit unhinged. Not the gentle chill or whisper that she had been expecting. And then, to see something so very solid and un-spiritlike come charging out of the darkness, arms open as its eyes and teeth glittered in equal measure? She scrambled backward, heart hammering in her chest. That was not the result she had been hoping to yield.

Pressed to the wall, she paused a moment, willing herself to settle down; there was no reason to believe she was in any immediate danger. After all, it had called her baby, seemed practically giddy to be here in her living room, and had approached her with gratitude. Very intimidating gratitude.

"Wh . . . who are you?"

Her heart still galloping in her chest, she fumbled for the light switch, flooding the room with light and getting a better look at her new houseguest. At first glances, yes, he seemed terrifying. But, as she looked closer, the less imposing he seemed. Tall, wearing a dingy, threadbare suit in garish black and white carnival stripes, chipped nails a dull black, his hair a mossy green.

"Are you . . . you're not a spirit, are you?"

"What is that, sage?" Beetlejuice asked the woman who was half cowering against the wall. "Smells good, baby, but not as good as you, I bet."

He winked and swooped in, giving her a hug that squeezed her arms to her sides. She was cute. To be polite, he should answer her questions.

"Am I a spirit?" he replied. "Like the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come? Nah. More like the Ghost with the Most. The spirit of here and now and let's have some fun, ya know? But first things first--you called me up. Who do I need to kill?"

Before she could reply that yes, that was sage, sage and lavender and palo santo and a host of other herbs, he had swept her up into a bone-crushing hug that nearly pushed the air out of her lungs. Her spine creaked in protest, groaning as the smell of him surrounded her, wet earth and moss and a hint of something sulphuric. Unusual, but not altogether unpleasant. And there was that pet name again; he certainly was a flirtatious . . . whatever he was.

Her eyes widened when she heard the word kill leave his mouth, and she frantically shook her head.

"No! No, no, no one, no one needs killing!"

Despite her arms being pinned, she did her best to grasp at him, managing to grab his hips and try to push him back just enough to allow her to take a full breath.

"Let's . . . whoa, okay, slow down a second. So you are a ghost? You seem pretty solid to me." The Ghost of Here and Now, he had called himself, and she didn't want to think about the kind of fun he was alluding to.

"And you don't have to call me baby. My name is Molly."

Her hands on his hips were a trigger to press into her more tightly. He couldn't help it; it just felt right.

He barely listened to her list of whatever ingredients she was talking about, but his ears perked up at the word "kill", only to realize that once again, that was off the table.  As to her other question, the one she seemed stuck on, he replied,

"Ghost, spirit, demon . . . Does that really matter? You called. I, uh, came. And I like calling you baby. If that doesn't vibe with you, there's always ‘baby girl.’ How's that for a compromise?"

He grinned at her, and tried not to show too many pointed teeth.

Now not only were his arms pinning her, his body was as well, crushing her against the wall. Okay. Wrong place to grab. Molly instead wriggled her arms up to press against his chest, hoping to push him back a hair so she could breathe.

"'Baby' is fine," she muttered in defeat; 'baby girl' was a realm she was not comfortable stepping into only knowing him for a minute and a half at most. "And no, I . . . I suppose it doesn't matter."

She sighed in defeat; the spell had done its job, and it wasn't her guest's fault she didn't specify exactly what kind of spirit she wanted.

"Can, um, can you let up a bit? I'm getting lightheaded."

Her gaze lifted to his face, noticing now that there were patches of green on his jaw and by his nose. Moss? Mold? Rot? Each possibility seemed more disturbing than the last. Yet, past the unidentifiable substances, he wasn't half-bad on the eyes. Eyes the color of honey, framed by dark lashes. Grinning lips that held a distinct purplish hue, and rather sharp teeth. Huh. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't afraid of his inhuman appearance, no small amount of fascination creeping into her gaze. Well, he may not be the spirit she had wanted, but she could be happy with what she got.

"Is there something I can call you?"

Her wiggling felt nice, until he remembered breathers needed to breathe, and he relaxed his grip. He only took half a step away, though, she was too warm to just let go!

"What to call me?" Beetlejuice mused, licking his teeth. "Honey or lover are good. Sweetheart. Love of my life! Don't laugh, but I'm a little partial to lambkins, even if it's from like the fifteenth century. "

He'd seen the slow interest growing in her eyes disappear like candy floss in water, and reined it in.

"You can call me BJ. Or Beej," he quickly amended. "So what made someone sweet as you call up someone like me?

Much needed oxygen filled her lungs as he took a half-step back, his arms still pressed around her. That was fine, as long as she could breathe. As it was, her hands were still on his chest, despite the sought-after distance. It was just . . . nice. Despite the lack of warmth or discernible heartbeat, it was nice to touch and be touched. When was the last time she had actually experienced deliberate touch?

Molly couldn't help it; at the offered pet names, she let out a short laugh.

"Sorry, wow, but lambkins?" She hadn't meant to laugh; it had slipped out before she could catch it, and for the first time since his arrival, she was able to slip into a small smile. "Beej is good. Or, y'know, I used to call people 'honey' all the time anyway. That's fine with me.

"Well," she started, nodding to what remained of her altar; she had accidentally kicked it as she had scrambled backward, knocking the candles and half the herbs to the floor, "I was attempting to summon a spirit that would be good for my home, a . . . calming presence. I don't think I did it right."

She sighed. "Still learning the big stuff. But you're here anyway, and honestly? It's just . . . it's nice to hear someone else's voice."

It may have been a trick of the light, but what could have been hope glinted in her eyes as she looked up at him. "So, I mean, even though you're not what I meant to summon, you're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Beetlejuice smiled as she laughed, even at his expense. It had been a while since he'd spent time with a warm living person, and the fact that she hadn't actively pushed him away was nice. Nice enough that she was going to feel the effect she was having on the ol' Sandworm in his pants, if he couldn't will it away.

"You have a pretty voice," he told her, before shaking his head. "A calming spirit? Like a brownie, uh, house spirit or some kind of fey? What the hell for? Those things aren't calming, they're like goddamn raccoons on speed, getting into all your stuff. And if you invite them in, then piss them off?! They'll make your life a living hell, baby."

He stared off into the middle distance for a second, then gave himself a shake.

"So. Yeah. You're lucky you got me instead! You did a good job wrapping your tongue around those syllables . . . I bet it'd be good wrapped around other things too."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Despite the alarming oddness of her current situation, the compliment caused a petal-pink blush to spread across her cheeks, eyes dropping as he admonished her against inviting spirits into her home. At least, the troublesome sort, of which she was not fully convinced he was not.

The pink quickly flushed to red at his very thinly veiled innuendo, choking on air at the insinuation and the suggestive arch of his brow.

"U-Uh . . . " She had nothing. Not a single response. Her brain short circuited at the thought. "Well, th-that . . . is not outside the realm of possibility, but . . . Jesus, I haven't even talked to another person face to face in almost two years. Let me get to know you a little better before I wrap my tongue around anything, huh?"

Her hands gave his chest a gentle pat, then dropped, indicating that she wanted to move from her spot against the wall. "Do you wanna go sit down? Personally I could use a drink. Do you drink? Can you drink?"

His eyes flicked from her lips to the color on her cheeks and back to her lips again, amused at her cute flustered stuttering.  The rest of it though; he pursed his own lips for a moment and cocked his head.

"You haven't spoken to anyone in almost two years? Did you take some vow of silence? Did talking to me break that vow, and--" he dropped his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, "--now you're going to hell? Let me tell you, it's totally worth it, minus the smell. All the demon dick or snatch you might want. Everybody swings both ways, sexually."

In case she wasn't one hundred percent sure what he meant, he released her and made two hand gestures, one to each side to give a visual demonstration. He glanced back up at her with a smirk before it came to him he may have overstepped a little, and he reeled it back in.

"But you know what? You've probably got your reasons," he said, waving the whole thing off.  "What've you got to drink? Absinthe? Gin? Corked wine? I'm not too picky."

With that, he finally backed away, spinning on his heel to investigate the room she'd called him too. He knelt and picked up a candle that had fallen to the ground, the green one, and twirled it between his fingers. He pinched some of the scattered plant material he found too, and sniffed it; to his disappointment it was not weed. Standing again, he righted all the candles and set the green one in its place.

"How'd you find my name, anyway?" he asked casually, lighting the green candle from the tip of his finger, and then extinguishing the flame  again. "Usually people pronounce it differently and, uh, get this shorter version. Of me."

He lit the candle again, then smashed the flame between his thumb and fingers peevishly, imagining it was the other guy's face. Suddenly, though, he whipped around to her.

"Where are my manners? What's your name, baby?" he asked, as if he'd been horribly rude.

The gesture made her flush deepen a shade, a strange knot forming low in her belly, and she shook her head.

"No . . . no, no vow of silence. It's . . . well, it's a long story, and I'd prefer to have liquor in me if I'm gonna unpack all of that." She took a deep breath, willing the burning in her cheeks to fade before starting for the kitchen. "I have strawberry whiskey. Pink as French whore but it kicks like a rifle. Or I have regular whiskey, but that's not as fun."

She quickly poured drinks, the familiar sound of ice crackling as she poured whiskey over it into two glasses helping her calm back down. Okay. She had a ghost in her living room. A very solid, very bold, and admittedly very handsome ghost. This was fine. This was good. This was basically what she wanted, and the fact that she could touch her guest? A perk.

She came back out with glasses in hand to find him at the altar, settling the candles back in place, lighting one only to snuff it out again. Apparently he can produce fire from his fingertips. Neat.

"Well . . . I had to do some digging, but . . ." She sighed and handed him his drink. "This is embarrassing. I searched for a spell that would attract a good spirit . . . to a lonely soul." She grimaced and jerked her thumb toward herself. "Three guesses who that is.

"And my name is Molly. Nice to official meet you, honey." With a smirk, even daring a wink at the suggested nickname, she sank onto the couch and indicated that he should do the same.

Beetlejuice accepted the glass and sniffed the pink liquid in it suspiciously.

"It's a nice color," he told her. "Matches that pretty blush of yours.”

It smelled like alcohol, with a faint top note of sweet, so he shrugged and threw it back.  The familiar burn of booze gave him faux warmth on its way down. Then the ice hit his teeth and it dawned on him people put ice in drinks that were to be sipped. Breathers and their weird social rules.

"Molly. Nice to meet you too, baby," he said, holding up his now empty glass in a toast. He sank onto the couch, like this was a proper social visit. "Lonely? A hot babe like you? I have a hard time believing that. But--"

He paused and dropped his gaze to the glass in his hand.

"--it's something I'm familiar with. That spell might've worked just fine, baby. Connected two lonely people. Brought 'em together."

That was a little more personal than he tended to get. He'd toss it off as an effect of the booze, if she asked, but one glass of whiskey wasn't enough to affect him. It was just her and the fact she called him.

He lifted his eyes to hers again, although he didn't pick up his head, gazing at her from slightly under his brows, slightly from the side.

"So, Molly, what were you hoping would come out of inviting a spirit into your place?"

Hot babe? She scoffed derisively, sipping her drink as he settled into the couch beside her. "Dunno what's hot about a social recluse with emotional baggage, but whatever you say, hon."

Her brow raised as he admitted that her spell might have worked better than she thought, that he was just as starved for company as she was. Did ghosts get lonely? Where were all the other dead people? Molly couldn't help a small smile, her heart feeling tugged toward him. When he cast his gaze at her, looking aside as if afraid to face her directly, she scooted closer, cross-legged on the couch facing him.

"Mostly I was hoping to feel less alone. I cut off contact with people for my own reasons, but that doesn’t keep me from getting lonely. I figured if not the living, try the dead." Gently, her touch feather light, she reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Honestly? I wasn't expecting to have a guest I could touch. So I'm glad I got you."

It was foreign to him why someone would purposefully choose to not be with people. That was a driving force in his existence; a need that was only marginally met, and usually only a fraction of the time he wanted it.

He lifted his head more properly and looked her over more fully. No matter how she scoffed her own personal opinion of herself, she was pretty.

Her shifting closer on the cushions and even going so far as to put one of her hands on him sent a thin electric jolt through him. He could even imagine the warmth of her palm seeping through his jacket sleeve.

"A guest you could touch, huh? Some beings can become corporeal, baby, but not all of them are willing to let humans touch them. You're lucky you didn't call something celestial," he said with a grin. "Luckily, I'm not one of them."

Her grin seemed to mirror his, though hers was decidedly less sharp.

"Honey, I'm still small time, I don’t think I have the juice to call something celestial."

Her hand rubbed his arm, noting the interesting texture of his suit, ragged and coarse. Already, the house felt less cavernous, less empty, less haunted with him here, and how was that for irony? It may take some adjusting, but she was looking forward to him staying here.

If he even intended to stay.

Her hand faltered a bit at the thought. No one stayed. That was the point. As if wrapped in iron bands, her chest suddenly felt tight, and she looked down as if noticing his empty glass for the first time.

"Let me top you off," she said quietly, taking the glass, the ice inside barely melted, since there was no body heat to warm the glass. "You wanna try regular whiskey this time or are we sticking with the pink stuff?"

The petting was nice. Even if it was to just feel the texture of his suit, he could imagine it was for him.

"Don't think you couldn't catch the attention of something celestial, baby," he told her sincerely, before dropping his voice as if maybe one of them was listening in. "Like demons, they're whores. Always looking for attention. But with their aversion to being touched by a human, they're more Dommy than anything else."

He threw her a wink, but his smile faded at her sudden change in demeanor. She'd become smaller, somehow, as she took his glass. Still, he couldn't help but try again.

"You can definitely top me, Molly," he replied as he gave up the glass, deliberately leaving any reference to drink out.

His bold joke made her somber expression break into laughter suddenly, a quick chuff as she hid pinked cheeks behind her hand. Molly pretended to scold him, though her eyes smiled, a grin twitching on her mouth.

 "Behave."

In the kitchen, she poured him a measure of the regular whiskey, which unfortunately was cheap. The plastic jug it came in sloshd half-empty as she filled his glass. His various suggestive comments and innuendos hadn’t gone unnoticed, or, frankly, unappreciated. The thought, ghost or not, made heat shiver down her spine, a feeling she was very unfamiliar with. But still, Molly remained doubtful that he could actually mean it. Sure, it was all fun and games until he figured out her story, understood the weight of the burden he'd be taking on with her.

Why was she even worrying about this? He was dead. What higher standard could he possibly have? Molly rolled her eyes and took a swig straight from the jug, grimacing at the bitterness. She'd spend all night in the kitchen fretting at this rate.

Refreshed drinks in hand, she settled back on the couch, in the same position as he before, her folded knees brushing his thigh. Her unoccupied hand reached for his, the chill of his flesh less of a shock now, with the warmth of the liquor in her blood.

 tbc

[january3693]

Someone We Used to Know - Part 44

(Surprise Monday Update! Because time has no meaning right now and it’s been months anyways, schedule schmedule, right?)

(This is a Marauders Era AU about what might have changed if Sirius was expelled after the Prank. Here’s the Master List if you’d like to start from the beginning or find a specific part)

(One last note, I’m adding a warning to this and some other future chapters for alcohol abuse because, well, because Regulus is not handling this AU in a healthy way, but hey, at least he’s still alive...for now.)

Regulus Black is not having a good day.

It starts with a toddler on his lap at breakfast.

Regulus stares down at the child and tries not to scowl. It looks up at Regulus with a similarly skeptical expression.

“Aren’t you two adorable,” Narcissa coos. She’s the one who plopped her son in Regulus’s lap, though he suspects it’s a conspiracy between her, Aunt Druella, and his mother.

Neither Regulus or little Draco respond, though the child can speak now. Narcissa coaxed it—him, Regulus supposes—into saying several words throughout breakfast.

“Lovely,” Walburga says, though her tone is more appropriate for someone who’s just found a fingernail in their porridge. She claims she wants to see Regulus married and giving her grandchildren, but Regulus thinks she wants it more in theory than practice. She wants the family legacy assured, but she doesn’t actually want a daughter-in-law or babies invading the dour quietude of Grimmauld Place.

Marriage and babies.

To be honest, Regulus isn’t sure what he thinks of those things either.

He doesn’t know what to do with the child he’s currently holding. Where are his hands supposed to be? What is he supposed to do if it starts crying? What is he supposed to do if—Merlin forbid—it starts to leak? He’s already trying to avoid Draco’s tiny hands, which are constantly grasping at things and are somehow perpetually sticky. How are they always so sticky?

“I’m sure you’ll have one of your own soon, Regulus darling,” Aunt Druella adds.

Regulus can’t imagine having a child of his own.

He can’t imagine loving it, caring for it.

Draco is the most important thing in Narcissa’s world. She would burn down all of London for him; Regulus can see it in her eyes.

That sort of love terrifies him.

The only thing more frightening would be having a child and not feeling that love.

Carefully avoiding Draco’s grasping, sticky fingers, Regulus picks up his teacup and drains it, taking comfort from the burn of liquid that most certainly isn’t tea.

Things only get worse from there.

*

There are responsibilities that come with being a member of a proper pureblood wizarding family like Regulus’s, especially when you’re the last one carrying that family’s name. When the entire future of your house rests on your shoulders.

Not that this burden was ever supposed to be Regulus’s. It was supposed to be Sirius. The heir and the spare. That’s how it was supposed to go.

Regulus spent years wishing it was otherwise though. He spent years wanting the honors and glories and even the responsibilities that came with being the firstborn son of the House of Black. He hated how Sirius dismissed them with his self-righteous sneers.

Regulus used to wish they’d been born in reverse. Sometimes, he even wished Sirius had never been born at all, or that he would just disappear altogether.

Regulus has never heard the Muggle adage “be careful what you wish for,” but he’s living the truth of it.

They’re all watching him.

His family, his fellow Death Eaters, everyone.

They’re all watching him, and they find him lacking. Regulus can see it in their eyes.

He hasn’t quite fallen to a “Sirius” level of familial disgrace yet, but even his mother is beginning to look toward the next generation to redeem the House of Black.

Hence the child on his lap at breakfast.

*

Distressingly, Bellatrix seems to be the only one who hasn’t given up on Regulus.

She invites him to spend the afternoon “Muggle-baiting” with her and a few friends.

It’s not really a request.

Just like it’s not really Muggle-baiting when it involves torture and death.

Regulus brings a flask with him. He holds out some hope that if he slurs the spells they won’t work properly.

As he has so many times before, Regulus fails, even at failing.

*

It’s evening by the time they’re done.

Everyone else goes home to dinner as though they aren’t leaving three bodies in the middle of a wooded park.

Regulus doesn’t want to go home.

He’s too sober for that.

Thankfully, that at least is easy to solve.

*

The Leaky Cauldron isn’t Regulus’s pub of choice. It’s too normal. Always full of ordinary witches and wizards looking to unwind from ordinary lives where they’ve never had to watch as people were tortured and murdered. Ordinary lives where they’ve never had to participate in the torturing and murdering.

However, the Leaky Cauldron does have one thing Regulus values: immediacy. It’s the gateway into Diagon Alley, literally the first place he can get a drink.

He gets more than one.

In fact, he stays until toothless old Tom hesitates to serve him another firewhisky. Thankfully, there are pubs where the barmen don’t give a fig about their customer’s health and safety. Regulus stumbles through the barrier in search of just such a pub.

Somehow, his day manages to get even more fucked up from there.

*

Regulus finishes puking into a toilet and squints up at the little bathroom.

He doesn’t remember how he got here. He’s not entirely sure where here even is. The lights are too bright though, and they don’t look like any candles or torches or spelled lanterns he’s seen before.

When he lets go of the toilet bowl, Regulus tumbles gracelessly back onto his arse.

A cup is pressed into his hands. It’s full of water.

Scowling, Regulus looks up at the man who handed it to him. “You look like father,” he says. It’s disturbing actually, especially since Orion Black has been dead for a year now. Although, Sirius was supposed to have been dead for five.

“Aging potion,” Sirius says flatly. “It’ll wear off in a few hours. Drink your water.”

Regulus drinks his water. He was supposed to be the obedient son, after all. He was the obedient son. He was obedient and happy and proud to be his parents’ son, a son of the House of Black. It’s all Sirius’s fault that he’s not any of those things anymore.

When he finishes the water, Regulus sets the glass aside and glares up at his brother.

“I thought you were dead,” Regulus says. He makes it sound like an accusation.

I thought you were dead, and I thought our parents or someone in our family had done it. I thought you were dead and it made me doubt everything. I thought you were dead and it broke my heart—it broke me.

All of those things tumble through Regulus’s head. He’s not sure if he says them out loud or not.

Sirius, who really does look frighteningly like their father right now, watches him stonily, his face offering no clues as to how much of his soul Regulus has just drunkenly poured out.

“Well, I’m not dead,” Sirius says simply. He stretches out an unnaturally wrinkle hand toward Regulus. “Come on, let’s get you into bed before you pass out here.”

Regulus lets his supposed-to-be-dead brother help him to his feet and out of the too-bright bathroom into an equally strange but more dimly lit bedroom. Regulus still doesn’t know where he is, but there’s a bed and Sirius deposits him onto it.

He wraps himself in the blankets and curls up on his side. Back in the bathroom Regulus hadn’t felt tired at all, but now that he’s lying in a bed that must be Sirius’s, the weight of the day all seems to press down on him. Sleep is the only escape, and Regulus sinks gratefully into it.

I’m glad you’re not dead.

Once again, Regulus isn’t sure if he says it out loud or not.

(Part 45)

[neoarchipelago]

Citrus, Cauldron and Gun Powder Chap 1 (John wick x Witch!Reader)

AN: Here’s the first part of my new serie! OMG I really didn’t expect so many people to want to be tagged, it makes me super happy! I hope I won’t disappoint you guys, please leave a comment and tell me how do you feel about it.

Word count:  3948

Warnings: cursing, blood, violence

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

The street was empty, just as you had expected it to be. After all it was supposedly closed after a nearby Hotel had a gas leak. The... Continental? Was it? You shrugged it off. At least no one was around and you'd get home faster walking through here. You had your headphones on your ears, music blasting. You had passed through the security all around the street with ease, placing an easy delusion spell on you and you hoped through the street. You weren't afraid of the gas leak. You needed much more than gas to hurt you. The weather was slightly colder than you had thought that day. Your red skirt and white shirt made you feel slightly cold, but you'd be home soon enough, and you'd nest by the fire of your chimney while drinking a hot chocolate. You were still walking through the empty streets. Passing through the hotel in question you froze for a second, the smell of blood hitting you hard. You cursed at your witch's senses for a second before quickly starting to walk again. 

It was odd for the cops to cover human massacre with a simple gas leak. You shrugged it off, it wasn't your business after all. Rule number… you had forgotten the number but clearly you remembered a rule saying that no Witch had to meddle in Human affairs. You had of course not followed this rule very often but you recently tried to stick to it at all cost. It wasn't your business. It didn't matter. Walking past an alley however you froze again. You watched wide eyed, as a pit bull was barking at you. Pulling down the headphones from your ears, letting them lay around your neck, and you snapped your fingers lightly making the music stop. 

"Well where does that one come from?" You whispered to yourself. 

You glanced around again, trying to find a possible explanation. The smell of blood hit your nose again as a gust of wind blew from the alley. You shielded your nose with your hand as you frowned. God, what's going on around here? You watched as the pup turned around and ran into the alley. 

"H-hey!" You tried to call. 

You groaned as you trotted in his path, trying to see where it would lead you. After all, helping an animal was not helping a human right? The smell of blood however was getting stronger and stronger and your gut feeling was telling you this was all a bad idea and going home to crash on your couch was wiser. You kept walking however, finally seeing the dog stop near something. You now cautiously stepped forward, taking your time. With each step the silhouette of a man was becoming more and more defined and you frowned even more at the aggressive amount of blood in the air. You finally reached the man laying on the ground. You glanced at it, taking in his pitiful state as the pit bull laid next to him. 

"That's your master huh? He doesn't look very fit for a walk" you said, kneeling down. 

"Is he even alive?" You whispered to yourself again. 

You raised your hand, letting it hover over the body, just a few inches and closed your eyes taking a deep breath. The aura you perceived was faint, but you took note of the enormous amount of injuries he had. Broken bones, bruises, internal bleeding's. You sighed opening your eyes again. 

"I'm sorry buddy. I can't help you." You said rising up to your feet again. "No meddling into human affairs." You finally said, taking a few steps toward the direction you came from. 

Your mind was rushing over your current dilemma. That man was such in bad shape and it clearly had to do with what was happening inside that hotel. The dog's presence was a mystery to you. You wanted to help him. You really wanted to. Your steps were getting smaller and smaller as you were dying to rush back to that man lying on the concrete. You closed your eyes and bit your lip trying to repeat to yourself the rule you had broken too many times when you froze again. The distinct sound of heels and voices were heard. You could position them at the entrance of the hotel and they were getting nearer. You gasped and turned around. Making up your mind in a second when you heard the woman talk about ' finishing the work if he had managed to survive'. You groaned at your own stupidity as you ran back to the body. You kneeled next to it, placing your hand on his, noticing the lack of a finger, and placed your other hand on the pup's neck. The sound of steps were growing louder and louder and you didn't hesitate, whispering the spell as you vanished, you, the man and the dog, in a turmoil of black, heavy smoke. 

----

Teleportation was not what you enjoyed doing the most. Your vision of the world twists and turns around you as it gets swallowed by black smoke and the same process occurs in reverse when arriving to your destination. You wouldn't recommend it to any claustrophobic person. You sighed, taking in the familiar smell of home. You stood in your living room, glancing at the man. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" You softly asked yourself. 

The sound of paws were heard as you glanced into the hallway and at the staircase. Neko, your familiar was walking down to you and stopped when he noticed your new companions. 

"What have you done again?" You heard his voice resonating through your brain. The black cat, jumped on the living room table nearby and sat down looking at you. 

"Bullshit. Again." You said out loud, throwing him an annoyed look. 

You heard him chuckle as you sighed. 

"You could have at least transported him on your bed. It's gonna be fun watching you levitate him to your bedroom upstairs." The voice echoed again and you groaned to yourself. 

Today wasn't your day no. You put down your headphones on the coffee table and your backpack on the couch. You sighed, planting your hands on your hips. You looked down at the pup who seemed to have made himself at home already next to the chimney. You rolled your eyes. 

"Of course. I always end up doing all the work…" you once again whispered to yourself. 

With the snap of your fingers, a bright fire lit in the chimney. You then turned to the man, focusing on your intentions carefully. The body slowly lifted from the ground. You kept eye contact as slowly, very slowly, you started to make your way up to your room. 

----

You sat down on the bed next to your new patient. You were slightly out of breath, the spell required a lot of focus and he was so big you almost hit his head against a wall a few times. 

"Fuck.me." you cursed. 

You stood up and made your way into the hallway and then downstairs. You could have placed him in another one of the 3 vacant rooms, but yours had already a few necessary things for the healing ritual. Reaching for the kitchen you took hold of a few bowls you could find and brought them upstairs. Neko followed you, his paws making almost no sound at all. You walked into the bedroom and opened the door on the left, leading to the common bathroom. It was pretty big, and a lot of candles and crystals laid around. The bathtub was in the center of the room, and one of the walls was covered in a Wooden shelf that contained many Jars. Those shelves were laying quite a lot around your house, one in the living room, two in the kitchen and the utility room next to the kitchen was just an enormous cupboard for jars, plants, and other questionable items. Looking through the filled jars, some with simple petals others with oils and some with ointments. Some labels were pretty old, you took mental note to clean up some of them and bake a few batches of the necessary potion or oil. 

Finally grabbing two tiny vials, one in deep green, another in plain white and a jars that had a translucent liquid in it, you walked back into the room. You then proceeded to curse at yourself again, for forgetting to fill the bowls you just brought up with water. Walking back into the bathroom, you filled the bowls one by one and disposed them through your bedroom so at least one was in each corner. The ritual was pretty simple. You needed a symbol of each 4 elements. The bowls of water, the candles around the room, the many green plants lying around and a big open window. You sat down next to the man once again eyeing him. 

"He looks dead already." You heard Neko say. 

"I know. Let's hope this works." You whispered, opening the first vial. "That should help the internal bleedings." Softly parting the man's lips, you poured the liquid into his mouth making sure he swallowed it. You opened then the second vial, the smell hitting your nose and making you nauseous. "This one is not so sweet darling." You whispered as you poured the liquid again. This time the man was shaken by coughs, and you threw your hand on his mouth making sure he'd take the potion. "That one's a bitch i know, tastes awful, hurts like hell, but it'll fix your bones." You found yourself almost explaining every little action. Finally you simply took off the lid of the Jar that you had placed on the nightstand next to the bed. A sweet smell of almond filled the room. 

"Oh. Using a potion that evaporates? What is it?" You heard your familiar ask.

"Eve's tears." You simply spoke, getting up to open the window and light the candles. 

"Oh! Powerful painkiller. Extremely hard to brew though.-"

"Yes yes, has less interference with other potions, works much better on humans etc.. we're not at grandma's lessons anymore neko." You interrupted finally ready to start the ritual.

You sat down on the bed, and took off the man's tie, and opened his white bloodied shirt. You placed both of your hands on his chest and took a few deep breaths before once again cursing. 

"I forgot the damn incantation!" You groaned, making Neko laugh hysterically at you. 

You jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, reaching for a door that supposedly led into an office, that you had re-used as a personal library, making the door swing open in soft movement of the hand. You looked around at the shelves filled walls for a particular book where you knew the incantation was. It took a few seconds of scanning the room before finally noticing that specific leather bound book with the silver lettering. You grabbed it and ran back upstairs. Sitting back on the bed, slightly out of breath you repeated your previous actions, this time with the book open at the right page for you to read the incantation. You took a deep breath and started whispering the spell. Soft blue light surrounded you and your patient, and you knew you'd have to keep your focus. You could feel threw your fingertips how the aura changed as the potions, mixed with the spell were slowly doing their work. 

It took a few minutes for you to be finally done. Most of the worst injuries were healed and only a few bruises and cuts remained. You let your eyes roam over the man's face. The way his half long hair fell into his eyes, his beard. You brushed a few strands away from his face. You had to be honest he looked amazing. Even with everything. You softly smiled at him. 

"Don't melt darling." Neko's voice rang, waking you up. 

You looked at the black cat standing by the door. You sighed before standing up and walking back to the bathroom this time to grab simple cotton balls and two jars. One was an oil for the cuts and another and ointment for bruises. Walking back to your room you put down everything on the bed before climbing up as well. You had to now undress him almost entirely. His defined chest looked perfect and you let your fingers softly caress his skin for a second. You shook your head though, making you focus on your task. Getting his shirt and jacket off of him was not an easy task but you managed, throwing them on the ground right after. He looked even more… handsome. You smirked at the thought. Getting down to his pants however you froze. You frowned, and Neko jumped on the bed, curious of your reaction. 

"Oh my… is that a…?" 

"Gun." You interrupted him. "It's a gun." You repeated, taking hold of it. 

You watched it, a simple gun. You looked at the man's face then back at the gun. You didn't even thought that maybe he was dangerous. You sighed putting the gun next to you on the bed..you decided to finish patching him up, but to keep the gun with you, just in case he might be a bit more unpredictable than you thought.

----

You were lost in thoughts looking down at your recipe book. Your thoughts going back and forth about the man laying down on the bed upstairs. Neko was on the kitchen counter a few inches away, laying down like a king. You spun around looking back to the stove where a pot was, filled up with something that was softly boiling. The wooden spoon flew through the air, stirring the soup you were making. It'd be almost done and perhaps your sleepy man would wake up soon enough to eat. 

The sound of paws were heard and you watched as the pup walked into the kitchen. 

"You must be hungry too. I got something for you." You said softly. 

You took hold of two bowls who were already full, one with raw meat and the other with grilled steak and a few vegetables.  You gave Neko his plate, before kneeling down and giving the pup the cooked steak. 

"Hope you like it, I don't have dog food, it's homemade." You simply spoke, but the pup was already eating hungrily. You snickered, and froze when a sound was heard. 

Finally, your little man was awake. You turned back to the pot, listening to him walk down the stairs very slowly, probably trying to sneak up on you. You grabbed the wooden spoon, stirring it yourself and cancelling the charms it was under. You weren't about to pretend you were surprised to hear him stir around your house, probably looking for his gun or pocket knife. You smirked again to yourself. You hummed the nice soup, made of many vegetables, meat, and 2 slices of orange. You turned off the stove, grabbing a bowl in the cupboard and filling it up with soup. You placed it on the kitchen counter where the high chairs were and softly cleared your throat finally creating a contact with the man. You heard him froze and almost chuckled, as you folded your arms and leaned unto your side of the kitchen counter. Hearing him walk to you made you smirk again, and finally you watched him appear at the doorway. 

He was highly confused, frowning a bit, he had put back his pants on and bloodied shirt and just stood there. You made a questioning movement of the head, looking in his direction.

"Aaare you going to stand there?" You asked. You were met with no answer at all, and you rolled your eyes. "I made soup, you must-" 

"Who are you? Sorry.. it's just.." he interrupted. 

You nodded your head towards the bowl and turned to grab another one from the cupboard. 

"My name, is (y/n) (y/nl/s). I found you in that alley in a pretty fucked up state. Your dog led me to you. You should thank him." You spoke as you poured yourself a bowl of soup as well. Placing it next to the other one you kept fussing around the kitchen not paying attention to the man. Taking two spoons, grabbing two cups…

"I'm John Wick. Where are my weapons?" The question made you freeze, as you rose your dark gaze to meet his. The tension was electric, like two predators eyeing each other. 

"Kept away. Until I know who you are and make sure you won't do something stupid, like attacking me." You answered in a cold tone, resuming your action. 

"What tells me that you won't attack me?" You heard.

You laughed a bit. You remembered how humans were paranoiacs and how fast they were scared. But fear wasn't exactly what you were getting from the man standing in front of you. You eyes him up and down, your stare lingering on his face for a second, his dark eyes, the small cuts, the warning look. It wasn't fear that made you soften and smile at him. It was the tiredness you could read in him. The healing wasn't completely done yet after all. 

"If I wanted to harm you in anyway I would have done it when you were unconscious. And I wouldn't have wasted a lot of my energy helping you and patching you up." You underlined in a softer tone as you sat down in one of the high chairs ready to eat. 

You started to eat, and it might have taken him a minute to finally move and walk to you. He sat down next to you groaning a bit and stared at the food. You looked up at him. 

"I know it doesn't look very good but you need it, you're recovering." You told him, making him look at you. 

"It's very good thank you." 

"Awww look who's warming up.." you joked nicely, trying to ease up the tension. You succeeded on making the corner of his lip twitch but nothing else. He started to eat at least and you felt a bit relieved. You both ate your dinner in silence, with no words spoken. 

"He's very quiet isn't he?" You heard neko comment. 

You eyed him warningly, making sure he didn't let is slip out loud. When you were both done you cleaned up the bowls and got ready to do the dishes, your back turned to him. It took a few minutes for him to speak but you had felt him scan the room and even you before speaking. 

"I need you to give me my gun." 

You sighed. 

"Don't worry. I don't want to keep it, I'm not a big fan of guns." You said sarcastically. 

You turned to him looking at him in the eyes before sighing. You put down the bowl you were drying and folded your arms again. 

"How are you feeling?" You asked, truly wanting to know how he was. 

"That's something else I want to know." He said as you frowned in confusion. "I fell off a building, and I'm feeling almost too good for the injuries I have." He stood up, trying to intimidate you and walked around the counter, closer to you. "What have you done? Drugged me?". 

He was too close to you and you were starting to feel uncomfortable. You tried to back off but your back hit the sink. 

"I asked the faeries in the backyard for help." You spoke out trying to get away from him. You felt his hand grab your wrist, not roughly but enough to keep you from running. 

"I'm in no mood for jokes. Please." His voice was rough, it seemed you only noticed it at the moment but his voice was raspy and you enjoyed it. 

"I'm in no mood for you at all, please let go." You said just as roughly. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to fully try to heal him, perhaps you should have gone step by step, but you wanted to get rid of this mess as fast as possible. You still mentally slapped yourself for this situation. "it was just some meds and you were very lucky that's all." You added trying to make him let go. Eventually he did, but still eyed you suspiciously. You rolled your eyes, but still walked towards the utility room. 

However even your senses couldn't have predicted the gun shot that rang through the house, broke the window of the kitchen and passed next to your ear before hitting the wall behind you. You stood in shock mostly from the annoying loud noise but were quickly pulled to the ground behind the counter by John. 

"Are you ok?!" John asked scanning you with his eyes. 

For a second the worry in his eyes made you warm up, and you nodded letting out a shaky breath. You could now hear many people trying to walk into your house. 

"What's going on John?" You asked. 

"They're after me they must have seen me through the bedroom's window." 

"Through the bedroom...window…?" You smirked. 

This was almost hilarious, you couldn't even believe the mess you've put yourself in! Just by helping a human. You were staring at him, his deep obsidian eyes making you slightly loose time. They were determined, rough, but behind all of the anger you could almost notices the amount of pain hidden there. Maybe that was the moment your heart sank and you let him take your hand as he tried to lead you upstairs, avoiding a few more gunshots. You were mostly unfazed by the bullets and the whole... threat, but the loud bangs made you frown and they were seriously starting to annoy you. Before you could even reach the stairs, you fell face to face with one of the men. John pulled you behind him and was ready to lash at him when the dude pulled the trigger. Maybe was it out of pure reflex and you still mentally scold yourself but the protection spell almost cast itself and the bullets hit an invisible wall in front of John before falling to the ground. The guy was shocked and John used it to grab him and throw him to the ground. You watched in awe and almost didn't notice another man drawing near when dog ran in front of you and jumped at him. 

It suddenly brought you back to reality. 

"Neko!!" You yelled running, dashing to the living room, passing next to John who failed to pull your arm. 

You reached the entrance and froze, two men were standing pointing their guns to the couch were a hissing black cat stood. It took a few seconds to lose control and you didn't even feel the usual burn in your eyes as they turned into dark orbs, the air was electric and few knives came whistling threw the air from the kitchen, reaching the two Targets who had been staring in shock. You took a deep breath and blinked a few times, making the energy around back down while you were gaining back control over your magic.

You let yourself fall to the ground and neko ran to you nesting in your arms as you hugged him. Tears stung your eyes, the thought of losing your familiar was unbearable not after losing… everything. You finally glanced back and saw John standing, watching you wide eyed. Your eyes weren't back to normal yet, and you knew what he was thinking already. You were just a monster.  

 ----

Tags: @fanficsrusz @keanu-fics @glamorizedtrainwreck @celestiaelisia @baphometwolf666 @drunkonyellow @thatlibrachild @loohsouzar @idk-alli-it @keanuchillz @freshoutthebox @lustforfern @imblackmagicwoman @theolsdalova @linwavez @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska 

[bittersweetsongbirdsworld]

Jimin thought Yoongi only had a closet full of witchy things, like outfits, books, and maybe even witchy potions. He didn't expect Yoongi to shove everyone into his closet, close the door behind them, then shove clothes aside to reveal a door. Jimin was always in that closet, grabbing sweaters that belonged to Yoongi so he could feel comfortable while his meister was gone on missions with Lord Death. Not once has he seen that door before, so it wasn't a surprise that he was just as shocked as everyone else in the closet. With a chuckle, Yoongi reached over, wrapped his fingers around the door knob before pushing open the door. 

The place was huge with a large workstation on the first floor, the second floor being a loft. The first floor was full of plants, a large floor to ceiling window showing nothing but deep forest, a blue lake to the left, a small clearing to the right. It looked to be a cottage in the woods, a small set up outside with a table and chairs out in the clearing. Fairy lights strung high in the trees and a fire pit dead center in the clearing, it looked to be a cozy place, especially if there was only one person living there.

Tens to hundreds of plants crowded the small cottage, many plants hanging from the ceiling, their deep green leaves nearly touching the wooden floor. Potted plants sat in the windowsill, cactuses and succulents crowding most to all of the windowsills in the cottage. Even the work table Yoongi had hidden in the corner was surrounded by large potted plants, smaller potted plants crowding ninety percent of the table. Small trees sat in corners of the cottage, the sun rays leaking through dusty windows, the late evening light shining gold on the plants in the room. 

There were countless bookshelves in the cottage, the shelves packed full with what seemed to be spell books that Yoongi had either written himself or bought from his fellow witches. They ranged from pastel yellows, pinks, blues to dark emeralds, browns, greys, and blacks, a soft pastel yellow one grabbing Jimin's attention almost immediately. There was a book on the crowded workbench, a long forgotten ink and quill by the open pages of the book. It seems like Yoongi was interrupted mid dip because there were drips of black ink on the white pages, the quill resting on top of the blank white page. 

There was a small kitchen as well, the living room and kitchen nearly sharing a room if it wasn't for the wall between the two. The bathroom was off to the side, the tiled walls and floors shining bright, not a smudge in sight. The place was clean, very clean to be exact. Yoongi was messy when it came to anything with the kitchen, forgotten food left on the counter, leaving Jimin to put it away so it wouldn't spoil. But this cottage though, it was spotless. Things were places they should be, counters cleaned off and scrubbed clean, floors swept and mopped to a shining finish, walls clear of any stains with pictures hanging up all along the long walls.

Don't even get Jimin started on the loft upstairs now, he doesn't even have the words to describe it. The walls came to a slant, the ceiling coming to a point at the very top, leaving the room to look triangle in shape. It was comfortable, the space big enough for twenty people, so it left the group of eight to feel extra cozy once they climbed the stairs up. Two pieces of large cloth took up one wall, the right wall to be exact. They looked to be tarot cards, but black and white. One read 'The Moon' and the other read 'The Star'. It honestly looked like Yoongi just liked the design of the two and got them for decoration, nothing else. 

There was a large rug that took up most of the floor, the white and black rug covered with books scattered about, pillows piled up against the wall and some placed carefully in the center of the room. There were three windows, all shaped like triangles, green leaves and small birds peeking around the corners of each window. Countless blankets lay forgotten on the floor, the colors of said blankets ranging from pastels to forest tones to gothic tones. There was a peach blanket laying by his book, a fuzzy black blanket folded up nicely by the fireplace, and an earthy green blanket laying next to the peachy blanket. 

What seemed to be mini lanterns were strung together, at least three lanterns dangled from the cord above, the other six reaching back as to plug into the wall. Pages of what seemed to be an old spell book were attached to the cord, the writing unreadable to everyone in the room but Yoongi. Though, that wasn't the thing Jimin worried about. When he first walked through the door, he spotted a candle. As they walked through the cottage, Jimin gave himself a mission and counted all the candles in the cottage. When they were finally shown the last room, that being the loft, he counted a ridiculous amount of candles, sixty four to be exact.

To the left of them was a bed. It was placed dead center of the wall, the bed on the larger side. It looked to be a king size, the blankets deep tones of grey and black, the sheets soft a yellow and green, the pillows being a mixture of the two. Fairy lights were also strung up high above the bed, even more candles crowding the night stand to the right side of the bed, Yoongi's preferred side. The bed was made, the pillows all arranged nicely and no wrinkled to be seen, not even the comforter. There was a throw over blanket on the bed as well, this one being a light grey in tone, small fluff balls of the same color sewn to the ends of the blanket. 

Last, but more certainly not least, was Yoongi's closet. There was a small room off to the side, a door separating the group from the said room. The door was a darker color, not black, but most certainly not white either. Let's just say it was a darker shade of grey and go because no one was focusing on the door color, but what was on the other side of said door. Yoongi was the one to crack the door open, his arm reaching in to flick on what seemed to be a light switch off to the side. It looked to be as if he was hesitant, something he wasn't feeling when he was showing them around the cottage. Maybe it because he was showing his vulnerable side in a different way; that way was showing them his true wardrobe. 

To say anyone was surprised by the lack of color in Yoongi's wardrobe would be a lie. All the clothes hung up high on the walls lacked life, lacking any color that he needed in his life. Black sweaters, black jeans, black sweats, black hoodies, black everything. It was a cute set up though, white shelves, white carpet, a white body mirror, and white walls. To their surprise, there were plants in the room, more candles placed with care on shelves that remained empty with nothing but picture frames and candles. There was a large window on the ceiling, the afternoon sun also casting golden rays of sun into the room.

There was a separate area for his accessories, necklaces, bracelets, rings, glasses, anything really was placed neatly in their assigned spot. This setup was also nice, candles sitting neatly on the desk, a small potted plant sitting next to the display that held half of Yoongi's bracelets. Different colors could be seen in the sea of black clothes, which was surprising to say the least. There was a yellow bracelet, there was a pink bracelet. There were purple rings and blue rings, but there were also gold chain necklaces and silver chain necklaces. There were so many different colors that it struck the group as odd. 

Yoongi stood anxiously in the center of the room, the elder seeming embarrassed of how messy the place actually was with all the plants, books, candles, blankets, and pillows. Jimin could see that Yoongi wished he had cleaned up more, put plants away, put candles away, done more so there was more room for everyone but his plants. It was cozy to him, but he honestly didn't know what his friends liked and that made him all the more anxious. But someone broke the silence, and it surprised no one that it was Jeongguk. 

"I honestly counted seventy five candles." Jimin watched as Yoongi's mouth opened as if to say something to only quickly shut his mouth, his face bleeding with confusion as he stared at Jeongguk as if he had grown another head. 

"I actually counted eighty one," Sangwoo said from the back, Yoongi growing even more confused. Then Jin piped up.

"What? I counted fifty two!" Yoongi looked petrified. He was looking at everyone like they were insane for yelling about his candles and not the fact he's kept his cottage a secret for how many years. 

"You guys are counting candles? Me and Taehyung were counting plants and we got to one hundred and thirty eight," Namjoon chirped, Taehyung nodding proudly as he stood tall next to Namjoon. Poor Yoongi looked so confused, petrified, but he almost looked relieved as well with their reactions, Jimin's especially because he's the only one who hasn't opened his mouth yet. 

"You guy.. You're not mad? Disgusted? You're not scared of me?" Yoongi looked anxious again, his hand shaking softly as he pointed at himself to make himself clear that he was, indeed, talking about himself. With the confused looks everyone gave him, especially Jimin, answered Yoongi's question for him. Now it was Jimin's turn to speak his mind. 

"I think we're all overjoyed that you shared something this big with us, hyung." Everyone agreed quietly, murmuring quiet behind Jimin. "This is your safe place, a place where you find comfort. You brought us into a place that holds your vulnerable side, the real you, the you that you feared would scare us away. How could we possibly fear you when you've taken such great care of us? I think we should be thanking you for showing us such a lovely cottage, so lively of plant life and it's also a part of you. Yoongi hyung, thank you for showing me a new side of you and I'm so proud of you for showing me something this important to you." 

It was like a flip of a switch, a complete one eighty. The once powerful meister, strong hyung, caring friend broke, shattered under the pressure. Jimin watched as a single tear fell from Yoongi's right eyes, a tear of happiness, a tear Yoongi has been too afraid to shed. He watched as his meister broke down and fell to his knees to only start sobbing, the years of pain seeping out through the cracks in the wall he built nearly two decades ago. It was Jimin who helped crack that wall, guide Yoongi out of his comfort zone, save him from himself who he feared. It was all Jimin, it was always Jimin, and Yoongi was a damn fool for letting himself hold that damn fool close. 

And he'll be damned, it was Jimin who knelt down next to him and put a comforting hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles as Yoongi sobbed incoherently into the carpeted floor. It was the first time Yoongi felt safe, felt loved, the first time he felt at home, and he couldn't be anymore thankful for Jimin and his friends. Yoongi could hardly get out his shaky sobs, his shoulders rising and falling with every sharp inhale, his soft 'Thank you's drown out by his airy sobs, his body trembling as Jimin continued to stay by his side. 

He's never felt so relieved in his life. He never thought this side of him would show its nasty face to him again for a long time. But this time, he reached out, wrapped his arms around the feeling, and embraced it. It wasn't just him breaking his own walls down, it was this nasty side breaking down it's own walls too. It was the same as Yoongi and he finally allowed himself to embrace it and hold it, care for it, love it just like he was learning to do himself. They are the same, scared children who still fear the dark, who fear his family, who fear losing someone they hold close, someone they love.

Maybe Jimin will be the person to show Yoongi love again, maybe in the friend way, maybe in the lover way, Yoongi won't know till the time is right. Things happen for a reason and Yoongi found himself blessed with a caring weapon, but also a caring friend who will be by his side till the day completes his mission and makes Jimin a death scythe. But, why does that hurt? Giving up Jimin after building a bond so strong that it physically hurt Yoongi when he was separated from Jimin for long periods of time to only have him ripped away from him? Why does that sting like salt being poured into a fresh wound? There is one thing Yoongi knows and that is he can't give Jimin up to anyone, not even Lord Death. Why, you may ask? Well-

Min Yoongi, shadow witch, three star meister at the DWMA, one of the world's best meister is in love with his weapon, Park Jimin. 

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

A sound soul

Dwells within a sound mind

And a sound body

.

. .

. . .

The DWMA is was widely know around the world, even in Korea. Every child wanted to be either a weapon or a meister, but only a select few were blessed with such a golden opportunity. These students were admitted into the DWMA as soon as they could walk and talk, many of them not showing any signs of weapon form till years on. Yoongi was a meister, a scythe mister to be exact. How is he going to feel when he finds out there is only one in the school and the kid just so happens to be fucking annoying?

🖤 21/?