#of deep sorrow. one story especially that made me feel today is a woman and her husband who she could only be married to for a month.

[astriefer]

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[marwritesgood]

Only You | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One

Summary: While Y/n prepares to leave London, Simon is confronted by Philippa.

PART ONE

masterlist

A/N: One more part after this :)

Y/n sat with the eldest of her cousins in the drawing-room. Despite the number of workers present and eligible, young Elizabeth begged her older cousin to braid her hair before she left. Y/n could not resist her sweet smile. She also knew she would miss Philippa’s children terribly, just as she would Philippa.

“There you are!”

Y/n and Elizabeth jumped at Philippa’s abrupt call. 

“I’ve called for a carriage as you requested, my dear,” Philippa began as she sat with her niece and daughter. She could no longer bring herself to hide her concern and sorrow. “Though I hope you know there is still plenty of time to reconsider your decision.”

Even if it were at the very last moment, if Y/n were to say she wanted to stay, Philippa would be ready to call it off in a moment’s notice. 

“My mind is decided, aunt Philippa,” Y/n responded monotonously. She intentionally averted her eyes from her aunt. Philippa knew her niece far too well. Y/n’s best chance at concealing her genuine emotions was to avoid looking her aunt in the eye.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Y/n had become accustomed to floating through seasons with no intention of marrying anytime soon. The prospect of finally accepting a marriage proposal, to a man she had no sincere desire to marry, was frightening. She could not let Philippa know for fear that she would convince her to do otherwise. 

“Lizzie,” Philippa whispered to her daughter. “Dear, please join your siblings in the other room.”

Y/n sighed defeatedly. She should have known better than to think she could keep anything from her aunt. Her cousin exited the room in a half-done braid, leaving Y/n to stare at her hands while her aunt studied her intently.

“You must understand the magnitude of what you plan to do,” Philippa said worriedly. That is what she feared most of the situation. She could not bear the thought of Y/n being miserable because of a decision she made in the heat of the moment. “I know you are hurt, dear, but you do not have to leave so soon.”

Y/n sniffled, taking her aunt by surprise. She could no longer hold back her tears. Not after the exhaustingly painful week, she had endured. 

“I do, aunt Philippa,” Y/n cried, laughing bitterly. Philippa’s brows knitted together in both confusion and concern. “I cannot bear to stay in London another day... The longer I stay here, the harder it will be to leave.”

Philippa frowned, lifting her hands to wipe Y/n’s tears away. She had not yet found out what happened between her niece and Simon. All she could conclude was that Y/n’s heart was broken finally again.

“He admitted to courting Miss Bridgerton,” Y/n explained. It pained her to recount what Simon said the night before, but she felt it was the only way to put rest to Philippa’s attempts to keep her in London. “- and he admitted he intends to marry her.”

Philippa inhaled sharply, closing her eyes tightly as she did so. Though she did not have an incredibly close relationship with Simon, she always believed him to be a good man. A man who cared deeply for her niece. 

Glancing back to her niece, Philippa pursed her lips and pulled Y/n into her arms, hugging her closely. As she cried softly into her shoulder, anger began to erupt within Philippa. Y/n was the last person she deemed worthy of such heartbreak.

“The carriage will be here before evening,” Philippa informed Y/n, who was grateful that she would no longer keep her from leaving. “I have one matter to attend to, but I will be home before you to leave.”

Y/n nodded before returning to her younger cousins. Once she left, Philippa called for a carriage to take her to the Danbury estate. She had more than a few unkind words to offer the Duke of Hastings.

***

Simon found himself, yet again, standing idle in the maze’s centre outside the Danbury estate. He had barely any rest the night before, so he headed straight to the maze once there was sunlight.

Before he could leave, however, of Daphne being introduced to Prince Friedrich reached him. Thus there ruse was no longer necessary, subsequently leaving Simon in dire need of a moment alone with his frustration.

If he had only told Y/n the truth the night before. If he had only kept her from leaving. If he had not rejected her in the first place. Perhaps he would not be in the situation he was in. 

“Your grace.”

Simon’s train of thought was abruptly broken when a worker approached him. He turned to face the man, eyebrows raised. The worker held his hands behind his back.

“You have a visitor waiting for you in the sitting room,” he explained. When Simon remained silent, the worker specified who it was. “... Lady Bennet.”

Simon’s heart began to pound. He nodded and returned inside with haste. Philippa Bennet, though kind and friendly by nature, could scare him half to death. Simon remembered watching how she would fearlessly berate and humiliate any man who so much as treated Y/n less than kindly. 

He never imagined he would be one.

Once he was inside, he halted outside the entrance to the sitting room. There was no telling how Philippa would treat him, especially after the way he had treated her niece before. Simon took several deep breaths before he cautiously entered the room.

“Lady Bennet,” he greeted as he walked in, his head bowed partially in shame and partly in fear.

“Your grace,” she responded, her tone sharp and piercing. 

She stood from her seat and glared at the duke as he made his way in. She spoke previously to Lady Danbury, who left just moments before Simon entered. It wasn’t until the worker exited the room, closing the door behind him, that she began to raise her voice. 

“You can be of no loss to understand why I am here.”

Simon remained silence, which provided Philippa with as much of a response as she needed.

“My niece just informed me today of your revelation to her at the gala,” she stated, referencing to him admitting to courting Daphne with the intention of marrying, which was not the truth. “I assume you have an explanation, your grace... Otherwise, you truly are the deceitful, heartless man I never imagined you would become.”

Simon winced at the description. It resembled too much of his father, which was the last kind of man he ever intended to become. Philippa raised her brow and remained silent, waiting for the explanation she knew would eventually be provided.

“I was dishonest,” he confessed, his expression overcome by the shame and guilt he been burdened by for the past week. Philippa remained puzzled, though relieved that there was more to the story than what her niece was led to believe. “My courtship of Miss Bridgerton was all an act... To help attract more suitors for her, and to improve my image in the public eye.”

Philippa folded her arms. While she was glad to hear that he was not actually courting another woman after Y/n, she was still angered by what he had done. Not to mention the immense pain it inflicted upon her niece.

“I assume you lied to my niece as a means of upholding your ruse?” 

He was taken by surprise, having expected her to scold him for his stupidity, just as he believed he deserved. His expectations were not necessarily misguided. Philippa intended to do just that. However, she first sought clarification.

“Yes,” Simon admitted sheepishly.

“I heard from Lady Danbury that Miss Bridgerton will soon be courted by Prince Friedrich... Does this mean your lie will no longer continue?”

Simon nodded, causing Philippa to sigh. Her line of questioning made incredibly clear to him how unnecessarily reckless he had been with Y/n’s heart. She was astonished by his foolishness. He could tell.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Bennet-”

“I do not care for your apologies,” Philippa hissed, causing Simon to sink back. “You are to explain this to my niece yourself... She must hear the truth from you.”

Though Philippa was desperate to race home and tell Y/n the truth, she knew there would still be heartache on her behalf. Only Simon could indeed amend the issue.

“I cannot,” Simon cried, before inhaling sharply as he went to complete his sentence. “-I cannot bear to face her... I imagine I am the last person she wishes to speak to.”

“You are mistaken, your grace,” Philippa said flatly. He could not have been further from the truth. “I have often, particularly now, struggled to understand why... but she cares for you. Very much so. Even despite all the pain, you seemingly continue to cause her.”

“That, I struggle to believe,” Simon mumbled.

Philippa scoffed. It was a wonder Y/n was in so much pain. He seemed to consistently underestimate just how much she cared for him. She pondered for a moment, thinking of the best way to clarify to Simon the extent to which Y/n loved him.

“This is her second season,” Philippa stated, slowing her speech just to make absolute sure Simon could understand her point. “-and she has yet to be married... why do you think that is?”  

He stared blankly at Philippa, which only infuriated her more, though she continued, despite it.

“I was incredibly confused when I received a distraught letter from my sister at the end of last season,” Philippa began. “-She informed that Y/n had received 3 proposals... all from, what she described as, honourable men.” 

Philippa studied Simon’s reaction closely, hoping he would catch on soon. He was taken back. During Y/n’s first season, he feared the day she accepted a marriage proposal. 

“My confusion was then, of course, put to rest when I remembered Y/n confiding in me about her affections for you.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. It was not possible, he believed. After he turned Y/n away following her confession, he assumed her feelings would fade. 

He deemed his love for Y/n inevitable because loving her was easy to do and difficult to avoid. But he believed loving him was a challenge; a chore. He saw himself as broken. Haunted by the trauma inflicted upon him by his father. His vow to never marry was, truthfully, not the only reason he rejected Y/n.

Simon did not believe Y/n truly loved him. He struggled to imagine anyone could.

“You cannot possibly insinuate that I-”

“You idiotic fool!” Philippa blurted, interrupting Simon from, yet again, downplaying just how much Y/n cared for him. “Forgive me, your grace, but she confessed her feelings to you, did she not? Thus surely you must know how much she cares for you... you must know, Simon.”

He was dumbfounded. Overwhelmed by the prospect that Y/n’s love for him was true, tears stung the corners of his eyes. Philippa could not believe it. She knew of Simon’s past, but she was shocked to see how much of an effect it had on the poor duke. How unwilling he was to accept that he was loved. 

Sincerely and unconditionally.

“She intends to leave London this evening,” Philippa sighed sadly. Before she spoke again, she moved closer to Simon, looking him in the eye intently. She felt sympathy having understood why he acted the way he did, but she would not let him continue to do so. “If you truly care for my niece, you will not allow her to leave today without knowing the truth... She deserves as much after all she has done for you.”

Philippa exited the room briefly afterwards, leaving Simon to contemplate how on earth he would earn Y/n’s forgiveness and her trust.

***

Lady Danbury was puzzled as she watched Philippa Bennet rush out of her estate hastily. They had shared a brief conversation before she left, just as Simon arrived in from outside. Philippa had informed Danbury of Y/n’s plans to leave London and accept Mr Graham’s marriage proposal. 

While she knew the situation was tense, Lady Danbury sat with ease, on the outside seating area towards the left side. Of the many roles she played in her life and society, the matchmaker was one she most enjoyed. 

She hummed to herself as she took a sip of her earl grey tea, amused by the thrill of the current situation. Once Philippa’s carriage was out of sight, Lady Danbury began to count backwards from twenty. As she reached one, the sound of Simon’s quick-paced footsteps became increasingly loud.

“What seems to be troubling you, your grace.”

Most would have been startled by how Lady Danbury spoke with her back to Simon, but he had grown used to her being a step ahead of him. In fact, that was the very reason he found himself turning to her.

“I presume you already know,” he answered as he sat in the chair beside her.

Danbury chuckled, placing her cup back on the table before turning to her pseudo-nephew. He loved him as her own son, but she was far from oblivious to his flaws. 

“I expected you to be eager to follow Lady Bennet.”

“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he frowned, glancing down at his hands that could not seem to stop trembling. For most of his life, he carefully considered every decision he made to ensure perfection. This was unchartered territory.

Simon half-expected Lady Danbury to laugh, or to smile warmly at him before offering her advice. She had done just that for as long as he knew her. 

However, Lady Danbury did not respond in such a manner. She scoffed loudly before gripping her cane and turning to Simon with a disappointed glare. 

“Well then you are a fool,” she spoke harshly. 

Simon’s eyes widened. If he were not already sitting, he likely would have stumbled back. Despite his apparent shock, Lady Danbury was not fazed. Instead, her glare grew more intense. 

Similar to Philippa, Danbury was subject to Simon’s countless confidences regarding his feelings for Y/n. She was past waiting excitedly in anticipation for the two to finally be united. Now, she was irritated at how long it was taking Simon to act on his affections. Mostly after Y/n had already made clear hers.

“You care for her, do you not?”

“I do,” Simon answered, not a moment after Lady Danbury spoke. 

Silence fell amongst them. Danbury’s eyes narrowed in both confusion and frustration. Was it not clear to Simon what he needed to do? She held her cane with both hands. Simon sighed.

“That is precisely why I cannot go to her,” he explained. Lady Danbury groaned audibly, prompting Simon to further clarify his defence. “After all the pain I have put her through, do I not owe it to her to give her peace?”

“She will not have true peace until she knows.”

Simon averted his head slightly, his posture slumping down significantly. Lady Danbury began to realise that there was more to it than he was admitting to. 

Simon looked out towards the maze’s direction, and all he could think of was her, and the night before. All he could see was her expression when he lied about the nature of his relationship with Daphne. Not to mention how she walked away from him crying, and the way he let her go.

“I... am terrified,” Simon whispered, his voice shaky. Danbury inhaled sharply, before looking at him intently, remaining silent all the while so that he could continue. 

After a moment, Simon turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, and the wrinkle on his temple deepened as he furrowed his brows. He was no longer trying to defend himself. No longer trying to uphold a ruse or a confident demeanour. 

He was exhausted from doing so. All he wanted was to fix what he had broken.

“Every attempt I have made at explaining myself only seems to hurt her more,” he frowned. “She is leaving today because she seeks to be away from me... and I will honour her wishes, so as to not subject her to any more pain than I already have.”

It made sense to him. He had no luck when it came to making amends with Y/n. He felt incapable of fixing anything. It was clear that, as well as happiness, he was also incapable of giving her peace. And she deserved that, at the very least. 

“And then what will you do?” Lady Danbury questioned, curious to know the extent to which he believed what he was doing would fix anything.

“I... will wait,” he replied, confident in his response, leading Danbury to worry. He did not have the luxury of time, and it seemed she was the only one out of the two of them who knew this. “When she is ready to speak to me, I will explain the truth to her... and hopefully by then I will be able to do so in a way that does not hurt her.”

“Simon,” Lady Danbury said gently. She knew she was right to have called him foolish. However, Danbury realised that he was foolish out of his love for Y/n and lack of trust that he could love her. “She is not leaving London because she seeks to be away from you... She is leaving to accept a marriage proposal.”

Simon’s blood ran cold. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Before, he sat content in the comfort of knowing he had time to wait. Now all he could sit with was the terror of uncertainty.

“Your life decisions have been largely based on fear and on vengeance, but you do not have to continue to live this way,” Lady Danbury said, reaching out for his hand and taking hold of it firmly. “However, you cannot do so if you continue to deprive yourself of what brings you joy.”

She had held onto these words for a very long time after Simon announced he would not marry or have children. Danbury had always hoped that Simon would have a heart change eventually, but it was clear that they were running very short on time.

“You deserve an abundance of happiness and of love, just as anyone else in this world does, your grace,” Lady Danbury said with conviction. She was ashamed; it took her so long to realise how badly Simon needed to know this. “But you will only receive as much as you pursue. So allow me to ask again; what will you do?”

Simon lifted Lady Danbury’s hand and kissed it affectionately- his way of thanking her for, yet again, talking sense into him. Without waiting another moment, he raced towards the stables in search of his horse. 

***

Philippa stood sadly as she watched Y/n say goodbye to her cousins. Significant time had passed since she arrived home and Simon still had not arrived. However, despite the dire circumstances, she refused to give up hope.

As Y/n pulled away from her cousin, Elizabeth, she turned to Philippa, who stood between her and the carriage. Her bags had already been taken into the carriage. Everything was in line for her departure. All she had to do was say goodbye to her aunt, yet somehow that seemed to be the most challenging step.

“Aunt Philippa,” Y/n said cautiously, after noticing her sorrowful expression.

“You do not have to go,” Philippa cried, reaching her arms out and placing her hands gently on her niece’s shoulders. She did not care if she sounded like a broken record. “Please, my dear, if you possess even an ounce of doubt, you mustn’t go.”

“I have already made my decision,” Y/n replied, trying to comfort her aunt, who she knew was only concerned for her well-being. She wanted desperately to put Philippa’s mind at ease. “He is a good man... I will have a good future with him.”

“But you do not love him,” Philippa argued. Y/n quickly realised just how much her aunt had rubbed off on her. She could not yet figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

“I cannot be so naïve as to base my choosing on love,” Y/n criticised.

“Yes you can,” Philippa insisted.

“How can you be so certain?” Y/n inquired, trying her best to refrain from scoffing at the irony in her aunt’s argument. “You are married to a Lord. You will never need to worry about bearing financial burdens, and it is because you accepted the proposal of a man mama matched you with.”

Y/n expected this would end her aunt’s argument against her marrying Mr Graham. 

“Your mama did not match me with Lord Bennet,” Philippa confessed, taking Y/n by great surprise. “Your mother asked me not to tell you at the time, but... Lord Bennet and I met during one of our visits to London. We remained in contact for the better half of my first season, and we eventually married because I fell pregnant... with Elizabeth.”

Y/n’s internal conflict increased significantly in intensity. She always admired the love shared between her aunt and her husband. She always admired the life they had together. However, she also accredited this to her mother’s strong-willed matchmaking and stubbornness.  

Her aunt noticed her reaction and sighed. She reached out and took hold of her niece’s hands, gripping firmly. Philippa had been saving that revelation for when her niece was grown enough. It frightened her how quickly that moment arrived.

“I know that the odds have always been stacked against women like us... but that does not mean we settle for men who do not care for us,” Philippa posited, challenging what Y/n previously believed to be true when it came to love and marriage. “You are allowed to prioritise what you want in a husband as well as what you need.”

Y/n’s heart began to pound. She had craved to hear those exact words ever since she prepared for her first season. If only she had heard them before she found herself in the situation she was in.

“You deserve to be with a man who you love and who makes you happy,” Philippa added, causing Y/n to flinch. She knew where her argument was headed. “A man like-”

“-Like Simon?” Y/n questioned in annoyance.

Philippa sighed, answering her niece’s question. 

“I know that you hoped it would be his proposal I would be accepting... I hoped for the same,” Y/n sighed. Having her aunt as her confidante meant their hopes for her future coincided—all except this time. “But I have waited for too long. I cannot keep putting my life on hold out of hope that he will have a change of heart... and that he will show up at the last minute on a white horse. I cannot do it.”

“Then disregard Simon for a moment,” Philippa said. “- and answer me this, will Mr Graham make you happy?”

Y/n scoffed. She could not keep relaying the same message to her aunt.

“I have told you, marrying him will guarantee me a good life-”

“I have no doubt that he will provide you financial stability,” Philippa interrupted.

Y/n was startled. Until then, all she was focused on was securing a promising future for herself. Until then, all she equated that it was a future free of any financial burden.

“But will he make you happy?” Philippa asked, narrowing her eyes. “When you are forced to endure his arrogance, his ignorance and his temper daily. When you are inevitably made to bear his children, thereafter reduced exclusively to their mother and his wife, and are no longer your own individual person. When it dawns on you that you will be stuck in this position for the rest of your life... Do you truly believe you will be happy?”

Y/n could not answer her aunt. Philippa knew her answer. They stared at one another, each with an expression far different from the other. While Y/n was started and frightened, Philippa remained concerned yet hopeful that her niece would finally change her mind.

Before either of them could speak, a worker approached Philippa and beat them both to it. 

“My lady, the carriage is ready for Miss Y/L/n’s departure.”

Y/n was quick to turn away from her aunt. She glanced at the other worker who stood by the carriage, holding the door open for Y/n to enter. She turned back to her aunt, who visibly feared what she was about to do next.

“Goodbye, aunt Philippa,” 

Y/n pulled Philippa into her arms and hugged her tightly. She knew her aunt was still very much worried and concerned for her. However, she hoped that Philippa would cast them aside for just a moment, and let her see this through.

When Philippa hugged her back and smiled wearily at her as she walked away, Y/n knew she was doing just that. And for that, she was extremely grateful.

As the doors to Y/n’s carriage closed, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the future she was going to commit to the day after. In an attempt to forget what her aunt had said to her, Y/n waved goodbye once before looking away. 

She glued her sight to the road ahead, refusing to look back to the street behind her, or the gates to her aunt’s home.

The very gates Simon would ride through moments after, only to realise that Y/n had already left. That he had spent so much time hesitating and waiting for the right moment, he missed his opportunity to see her before she left.

That he was too late.

NEXT PART

@deakesthegreatest @smol-grandpa

[manndo]

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away. 

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud. 

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful. 

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there. 

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you. 

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time. 

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you. 

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren. 

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet. 

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you. 

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”  

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him. 

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child. 

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?” 

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while. 

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn. 

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

taglist (for pedro characters):

@over300books​

[aquarii-writes]

History on repeat(Dream x f!reader)

Ngl this was inspired by a dnf piece on tik tok. While I don't ship it the art was beautiful and the song attached inspired me to write this. This also includes my headcanons for Dream/his parents and I'll elaborate on it in a different post if enough people ask lmao

Notes: I should mention to look at my 'DSMP headcanons' especially Dream's part because that's where I kinda explain that I don't believe that Dream himself is a dreamon but that his mask contains one. I also used Dream's real name as his fathers name. I don't really like using the dsmp members real names if it's not in their user but I had to think of a name

WARNINGS: none I can think of aside from death and stuff of similar manners

WC:1,005

Genre: Angstyy

Two people sat together along the shoreline of a river. The colors of the sunset danced on the water. Turning the already beautiful area ethereal. Warm summer air tickled the woman; her blonde hair jumped with the wind.

"You're so beautiful [REDACTED]" the man spoke. His amber eyes held a love for the woman beside him; his lovely wife. Her green cloak acted as a pillow for her.

"You're too kind my darling" a smile played on the woman's lips. Her mask discarded beside her. The painted smile similar to the one she held.

"I love you with all my heart" a smile danced on the mans face. His lovely wife sat up and hugged him. Falling back into the grass the happy couple basked in one another. Masks long forgotten beside them. "Stay with me forever [REDACTED]?"

"Of course my darling dream" the twos faces were close as the wife spoke. It felt as though time sat there frozen to preserve the lasting moment.

Smiling towards you Dream held out his arms to get you to come towards him. As you got near Dream pulled you on top of him. His arms circling around your waist.

~~~

"Dream~" your voice was loving. Dreams mask was off as he watched you jump in the stream water. The sun was setting over the horizon and the light gave an other worldly glow to you and the water.

Playing with the locks of hair that fell into your grasp, Dream watched you. A deep seeded longing in his eyes. Out here away from everything was when Dream was the most caring. His affections unrestricted when he wasn't in the eyes of his friends. When he could easily sneak away.

Though the future had many plans for the two of you, but here in this moment the future could wait.

"I would do anything for you (y/n)" Dream's amber eyes looked like the sun. Specks of gold shined like they were directly in the sun. Nodding to his statement you kissed the man before you. An adoring hum escaped him.

Pulling away you mumbled out a response. "I love you with all my heart~"

"Will you stay with me forever?" with a teasing smile Dream rubbed your sides: tickling you along the way.

"Of course my darling Dream" an unknown feeling of deja vu came over the two. Seems as though something similar happened in the past.

~~~

"My dream!!' [REDACTED] screamed for her husband. "Don't take him away! Please!," the woman covered her small sons ears. The child didn't know what was happening. huddling into his mother arms the woman kept screaming for her husband.

Huddled under her cloak the small boy held a hand over his mother stomach and whispered to it. The boys father struggled against the men who held him away from his family. "CLAY! LET HIM GO! He didn't mean it.." [REDACTED] dropped to the ground crying. Her son hugging his mother. "Oh my baby Dream"

Dream's mother held onto him for dear life. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his father get taken to the gallows. As a final goodbye his father threw towards them.

Crawling away from his mother, Dream grabbed the mask; his fathers mask. The plastic was cracked in a few placed, and some of the paint was chipped, but it was probably the last thing he would ever have of his fathers.

"Please just let my husband go" [REDACTED]'s mask was similarly painted though the tears the spilt from under it spoke another story. "It was the Dreamons who did it.. not my Clay.. not my lovely dreamer.." her whimpers drew her son back over to her.

"Mommy what's happening to daddy?" Dream wouldn't get an answer from her. Just wails and whimpers about how cruel the world was.

~~~

"Dream what did you do..," Tommy and Tubbo huddled behind you. A fearful look settled in your eyes. Dream's mask was just that, a mask. Behind it he held no remorse for what he had done and what he said.

He did plan on killing Tubbo, but the look in your eyes made his thoughts stutter. Should he not kill Tubbo? When Dream said he doesn't care about anyone it planted a seed in your heart. Did he really not love you anymore?

Dream didn't answer you. All he did was stare at you through the mask. "Take off your damn mask and answer me Dream" when your voice jumped at him all Dream could do was stare. He didn't talk and he didn't react. "Why aren't you answering me?! Dream WHY did you do it?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Like hell you didn't mean to!" your tone was sharp. It made the boys behind you move back as you came forward to hold Dream's face. This felt too familiar. Why does it feel so familiar?

Knitted brows went unnoticed behind the mask. His annoyed expression hidden to the world; to you. His everything. Before he lost it he wanted to marry you. He even joked about you being his wife. His darling wife.

"Do you not care about me anymore? After everything that's happened between us?" a certain sadness pushed your pain to him. It was the same sorrow his mother screamed from the top of her lungs. That's why it felt so familiar.

A desolate look decorated your (e/c) eyes. The same eyes he would've fought wars so see happy. The very eyes he believed he would love forever.

"It's not my fault- sweetheart it's not my fault" his words became more rushed as Sam pulled Dream away. Dragging him to Pandora's Vault. All the way to his box.

The misery and heartache Dream saw on your face reminded him of his mother. The heartbreak he never wanted to see again.

~~~

{REDACTED] held a baby in her arms as she watched her son play on the hill with her friends son. The baby girl in her arms slept peacefully as she spoke to her friend beside her.

Puffy had been a good friend of [REDACTED] for a long time now. "Puffy you have to promise me something"

"Anything [REDACTED]" Puffy watched the baby in her friends arms. The poor thing had been born months after her fathers hanging. The family had to go into hiding.

"Please after tonight take my babies with you.... I don't think I can carry on much longer with out my Clay.." despair was the only way Puffy could describe her once vibrant friend.

The woman's once vibrant green eyes now only held melancholy. The satchel that sat beside her only contained a few things; one thing being Clay's mask.

"Dream my beloved!" [REDACTED] called out for her boy. The mask that once adorned her face constantly had been vacant since her husband died.

Running up to his momma Dream reached out to hold his baby sister. Passing baby Drista [REDACTED] kissed her sons head before pulling something from her satchel.

"Dream listen to me. The world is a cruel and it will hurt you-" holding out Clay's mask to her son said everything to the small boy. Giving baby Drista to Puffy, Dream took his fathers mask away from his mother. "Wear this.. it was your fathers..," a sadistic smile rested on his mothers face.

It scared him, but it was the first smile he saw from her since his father died.

"Okay mommy" Dream slipped on the mask his father once wore and winced. It felt like strings were licking his face. It felt wrong. This wasn't his mask to be keeping was it?

~~~

The prison vault was deafening. Nothing was a really annoying sound when all that surrounded you was lava and crying obsidian. Though he had one thing to look forward to.

You promised to see him today. His lovely wife. Well you weren't married. He fucked up that chance when he lost himself to the mask. The dreamons that whispered to him constantly.

Ever since he came in here the whispers stopped. Except for when they speak about you.

The pistoning sound of the bridge coming brought Dream from his head. A sadistic smile grew on him. Throwing off the mask the threads retreated back into the plastic.

"(y/n) my beloved!" a crazed look adorned Dream's face as he looked at you. His beloved wife. "I love you so much~"

"Dream.." with a heavy heart you held Dream's face. His eyes held a look of longing love.

"Dream love.. listen to me. The world is cruel.. and it's going to hurt," your voice cracked as you held Dream's hands. Worry filled him as Dream dragged you towards him.

Pushing back Dream dug around in the chest of his room. A ring sat gently between his fingers.

"Wear this... it'll protect you.." a hopeful look held on to Dream's face. All his love and adoration for you.

"I'm sorry Dream.. I love you so much but maybe it's better if we split ways.... I.. why do I trust you so much? Your hands are scarred with murder, but I trust them completely.." crumpling to the ground you sobbed. Conflictions and pain battering against you for weeks.

Dream held you. He had seen this all before. History was repeating. He witnessed this happen between his parents. The very thing he never wanted to happen to him did. He's losing the love of his life.

Why does history have to repeat?

[ssson-of-sparda]

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music.          Never thought he would come back here one day.                   His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries.     Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle.          “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.”           Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda.           “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.”           “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided.       “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be.   “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.”        “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him.        “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!”  If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.”        Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was.       “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his.             “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?”           New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash.    “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out.       “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?”          “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile.          “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.”           “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?”   Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!”            “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.”          “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.”     And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that.           “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was.             God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue.            “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.”            “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there.      “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes.  “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.”            Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were?    “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but …         “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should.            He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was.    Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all.            “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits.         “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence.             “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference.           “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son.         “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right.  “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them.         “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.”         “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive.      “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.”    In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time Of Magic Chapter Two.

This AU is so much fun to write! And I'm glad people are enjoying it so far 💜 Here is the next chapter!

Taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships @spicycreativity (Hope this is okay, Spicy- just thought this would be the easiest way to keep you up to date!)

If you would like to be added to this taglist- let me know! 😊

Summary: ‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Virgil's second day in Camelot is even more eventful than the first. Can he get through it without getting into danger, or trouble?

Tags: Mild language, threat, death mention, weapons, food. Merlin/Human/Fantasy AU.

Word Count: 3,047

Read on Ao3!

Chapter Two: A Dark Warning.

'In a time of magic, the destiny of the mythical land of Camelot rests on the shoulders of a young warlock. His name… Virgil.’

Virgil heard the bells ring out within the castle walls and sat bolt upright. As it chimed six times, he realised how early he fell asleep yesterday. He needed to go and apologise to Logan for not being a very good guest. He closed his eyes and listened to see if Logan was awake. Luckily he could hear bottles bubbling and the sound of Logan humming a tune, so he got dressed and headed out of his room. He looked around, but Logan was nowhere to be seen, Virgil frowned in confusion since his bed was freshly made, but where could he have gone?

“Logan? Are you here?” He called out into the seemingly empty room. He jumped as he looked up and saw Logan perched on a ladder re-organising a bookshelf up a small balcony.

“Ah, Virgil! You’re up early. Good mor-“ His chipper greeting was cut short by an excruciatingly loud snapping sound as the ladder Logan was standing on caved in and he was sent flying backwards over the banister, hurtling towards an unforgiving floor.

Virgil acted immediately, without a word his eyes began to glow a rich, deep purple. Logan was suddenly moving in slow motion, buying Virgil more time. He frantically began to search around the room to find something, anything that could cushion the fall. His eyes glowed one more time and he dragged Logan’s bed across the room, he sighed in relief knowing it would be okay. Virgil smiled as he blinked and let the scene run in real time. Logan cried out before landing in a crumpled heap onto the bed . He stared in shock for a moment before patting himself over, relieved that he was not injured. Logan leapt up and stared at Virgil in fascination.

“How… did you do that??” He stared at Virgil, almost looking right into his soul. There were no words, Virgil just stammered trying to desperately come up with an answer that didn’t sound completely crazy.

“Did you express the incantation in your mind?” Virgil was trying not to panic, he knew that Logan wasn’t angry with him, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Uther about his magic… but he couldn’t explain why he could do everything he does, it just… happens.

“Where did you study?” Logan’s last question stunned him into silence. Study? You can study magic? Virgil had never heard of that before. He took a deep breath and finally got an answer in before Logan’s next question.

“I… I was just born this way.” His voice was timid, and Logan continued to stare at him, stunned at the unexpected answer. Hunith was right, Logan thought. Virgil really was a gifted boy. He glanced over at the open letter on his desk surrounded by vials and strange looking chemicals.

‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Logan sighed, believing his word to be the truth. He put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder gesturing for him to sit down at the table for breakfast. He walked away before returning with a delicate bowl of fresh berries and Virgil began eating them enthusiastically. He smiled with gratitude and when Logan sat down with his own bowl, his face had a serious expression on it, and Virgil couldn’t help but panic slightly.

“While I am completely and utterly fascinated by your powers. I need not remind you that you will need to be incredibly careful, especially while you are in the castle grounds. If anyone was to catch you, you would be executed without a second thought.” Logan’s voice was laced with worry, but Virgil couldn’t stop a bitter laugh escaping from his mouth.

“Believe me, Logan. I am well aware. I watched it with my own eyes yesterday.” Logan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but he shook it off and just nodded sympathetically. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it from Virgil, but he hoped that he could have explained it to him in his own way. Virgil had only been part of Logan’s life for roughly one day, but it already felt like he was the son he never had, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him already. He made a silent vow that if anything ever happened, Logan would try to protect Virgil in every way he could, no matter the cost to himself. Enough of that now though, he needed to create a distraction.

“Well, as you’re up. You can help me with my rounds! I have several draughts and medicines that need to be delivered to people who live in the castle grounds. They are all labelled, and I’ve put in a map with their quarters marked out. Make sure you tell Mr. Duill to not drink the vial's contents in one go… he tends to do that.” Virgil was nodding along in agreement as Logan began pottering around adding liquids to different bottles while watching them bubble and change colour. Virgil grabbed the basket and headed out, it would give him a good chance to finally acclimatise to just how large this castle was.

“Oh and Virgil. Stay out of trouble.” Logan called out as the door slowly came to a close.

Virgil took his time wandering around the castle, he explored the different passageways and climbed multiple staircases to look out at the town. Virgil stared in awe at some of the stained glass windows and the stories that were being told within the glass. He was surprised that he managed to find everyone on the list considering how much time he had just spent procrastinating. As he reached the final door of Mr. Duill, he remembered what Logan had told him as he knocked loudly. The man swung the door open violently and Virgil guided his hand to the medicine. He heard a pop of the cork on the vial as he turned to the man.

“Oh, Logan said don’t drink it all at on-” but it was too late. The man drank the small vial’s liquid vigorously like it was a tankard of mead and Virgil just stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” The man looked at him confused and Virgil just smiled as the man closed the door in his face. He sighed and slowly wandered down a corridor.

It was only eight in the morning, but Virgil was already exhausted. He sat down in one of the corners of the castle to take a breather. Despite the constant coming and going of the castle staff, it was actually quite peaceful. It must have been about an hour later when the same bugles from yesterday began to ring out across the courtyard, and Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly increase. ‘Not again.’ He ran out and sighed in relief when there was no stage and chopping block greeting him. Many people began to flock around facing the balcony as the King, Uther strolled out, that same smug look on his face. The feeling of dread was indescribable.

“As I announced yesterday. Twenty years ago today, we banished the Great Dragon from Camelot and lived in peace, free from the evils of magic. We also executed one more sorcerer who deceived you all and committed evil acts in Camelot. Because of this; I have decided to declare not one day of celebration, but three days. Preparations will begin shortly and there will be a grand feast in the castle tomorrow evening, everyone is invited. Let the festivities begin.” He clapped his hands together and everyone began to cheer at the news. Even Virgil couldn’t help but feel excited, it would be great to see inside the Great Hall.

A horrific wail shattered the joy instantly and Virgil looked around trying to find where it was coming from. A window opened and Logan looked down on the courtyard searching for the noise too. Even Uther showed a hint of concern. The crowd parted and there was a woman standing, staring at Uther with tears streaming down her face, the sorrow in her eyes was apparent. She was hunched over, wrinkles covered her face and her skin was sagged. Blonde, wire-like hair blew around her and the brown torn dress she was wearing accentuated how thin she truly was. She cried once more, and Virgil immediately felt sympathy for this woman even though he wasn’t sure why.

“There is only one evil in Camelot, Uther Pendragon, and it is not magic. It is you! I promise you that by the end of these celebrations, you will be shedding more tears than me. An eye for an eye... A son for a son.” Virgil’s eyes widened as he realised that she meant every single word. She must be Peter Robert Sclator’s mother, the executed man from the previous morning. He had to admit, he couldn’t blame her for being heartbroken… but threatening a King like Uther Pendragon was a terrible mistake. He looked up and was surprised to see fear pass through Uther’s eyes too.

“Seize her! She cannot be allowed to leave.” He roared while pointing down at the woman. Several guards attempted to approach her but she let out a shrill scream and they were thrown backwards onto the ground. She grasped a necklace securely fastened around her neck and her voice broke into a low and vicious tone.

‘Uranun caripe baglen ol. Gemeganza de-noan chiis gosaa. Zamicmage oleol ag-sapah arphe. Oresa ethamz taa tabegisoroch.’ Her arms were thrown backwards as she levitated off the ground and began to disappear. A harsh wind surrounded her body and lashed at anyone who attempted to come closer. As the final fragments of her ragged dress faded from view, Virgil smirked ever so slightly at the fact that she had left Uther looking powerless, but he recognised that incantation. It was Old Magic. Worse than that, it was Dark Magic. This woman was dangerous and she wanted revenge, he hoped he wouldn’t have to intervene… but if she harmed anyone, especially if any harm came to Logan, he would have to protect them, even if it cost him his life.

Uther stormed inside the castle, and Virgil glanced up to see the same window open with the same face timidly looking out. His eyes filled with worry. They looked at each other for just a moment, before the man looked away and he reluctantly closed the window carefully due to the cracks made by anger during the execution. He looked over to the next set of windows and saw an equally worried expression on Logan’s face too. Did he know her?

Virgil ran back to Logan’s quarters, and nearly collided into him in the process. Logan put his arms on Virgil’s shoulders, it immediately helped him calm down. They sat down and Logan waited patiently for questions.

“Who is she, Logan? Why is Uther afraid of her?” Logan put his hand on his head looking for his glasses, but he realised they weren’t there. So he sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.

“Her name is Mary. She used to be something called a High Priestess of the Old Religion. They were incredibly powerful, and during the Great War… Uther was powerless against them to begin with. Only brute force allowed Uther to win, so she has many reasons to hate him with every bone in her body, but executing her son… that was the final straw.”

Virgil nodded, he could understand how Mary felt. He started to try and formulate plans in his head about how he could fight her if he needed to.

“I know what you’re thinking. You cannot face her, Virgil. We have not even discovered how your powers work. It’s too dangerous.” Virgil nodded again, he was right. It would be too reckless, he couldn’t risk being caught. He smiled, a silent promise was made between the two of them.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you today?” He had to admit that he enjoyed running errands for Logan, it gave him a chance to be nosy and look at areas of the castle others are not allowed to.

“No. Everything is done for today, but thank you for the offer. How about you have another wander around the castle? Have you seen the training grounds yet?” Virgil shook his head and listened as Logan gave him directions. He stood up and waved as Logan as he headed out the door once again. He walked down the now familiar corridor and walked towards a spiral staircase he must have missed this morning. Before he walked down, he peaked over the wall to check that he was definitely going the right way this time, he didn’t want another incident like yesterday. Virgil could clearly see the training grounds below him, and as he looked closer, his blood began to boil.

There were a group of knights, roughly Virgil’s age crowding around a young serving boy. One in particular dressed in a loose red shirt with silver armour on his shoulders and brown trousers with what looked like new brown shoes was spearheading the entire event.

“Where is the target?” The leader demanded.

“Over there, sir.” The boy pointed to the large target timidly, while the leader raised his arm in front of his eyes dramatically blocking the sun.

“It can’t be there… The sun is in my eyes.” The boy who was clearly used to being treated like rotten fruit just sighed and he walked over to move the target by picking it up. The guy smirked and turned to the others while saying he’ll teach him a lesson. As he was handed some daggers by one of the entourage, Virgil decided that he had had enough and stormed down the staircase to the training grounds. When he got there, the serving boy was running around with the target in front of him, desperately trying to avoid being hit. The guy kept throwing dagger after dagger at the target while the others laughed at the boy’s expense. As the seventh dagger hit the centre, the boy tripped and the target rolled away with a loud clatter. Virgil put his foot on it, before taking a deep breath and letting a fake smile grace his lips.

“Hey. Come on now, that’s enough… You’ve had your fun, my friend.” The leader looked at the others and pointed a thumb at Virgil like he had grown a second head.

“Do I know you?” He swaggered over until he was standing directly in front of Virgil. Virgil had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid showing his disdain for the arrogance in this guy’s voice.

“Oh, I’m Virgil.” He held his hand out for the man to shake, but he just looked at it in disgust before rolling his eyes.

“So I don’t know you… and yet you called me… friend?” The guy paused waiting for an answer to his audacity. Virgil knew that he should have just walked away at that point, but he was too riled up, and this man needed to be taken down a peg or two.

“That was my mistake…”

“Yeah, it was.” The man thought he had won, and Virgil knew he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth… but this guy was a pompous prick, and he deserved it.

“Yeah… I’ve never had a friend who could be such an ass.” He mustered all the sarcasm he could and poured it into every word. The guy stopped short, and Virgil winced as he realised that he had absolutely gone too far. When the guy began to chuckle and readjust the armour on his shoulders, Virgil gulped, but he had gone this far... so he needed to roll with it and hope that he would give up soon.

“Tell me, Virgil… Do you know how to walk on your knees?” He was getting in Virgil’s face now, his arrogance really was overpowering.

“No.”

“Would you like me to show you?” He took a step towards Virgil and he stepped back so he couldn’t be grabbed unexpectantly.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Virgil shook his head, he shouldn’t be making threats but he couldn’t contain his irritation any longer. The guy laughed loudly in his face, and his entourage joined in boosting the guy’s ego even more.

“Really? What are you going to do to me?” He held his arms out in an antagonising fashion, encouraging Virgil to make the first move. He had to clench his fists to ground himself, Virgil knew he couldn’t attack this guy, not if he wanted to live.

“Oh you have no idea.” Virgil muttered with a smirk.

“Come on, hit me! Weakling.” That was it. Virgil saw red and lunged at the guy, but he misjudged the distance between the two of them. There were gasps from spectators as the guy grabbed Virgil’s arm and twisted it harshly behind his back.

“I could have you thrown in jail for that.” The guy spoke directly into Virgil’s ear as he tried to free himself from the grasp.

“Who do you think you are? The King?!” Virgil shouted mockingly. Who did this guy think he was anyway?

“No… but I’m his son… Prince Roman.” Roman called for guards and pushed Virgil into their path. They bowed at the Prince before grabbing Virgil’s arms to restrain him. They dragged him through the castle and down a broken staircase leading to darkness.

The walls constantly dripped with water and the smell was repulsive. The guards opened a heavy metal door and shoved Virgil unceremoniously onto the straw floor before slamming the door shut behind them. He got up and shook the metal bars before angrily kicking them. He’s only been here two days, and he’s already made an enemy within the monarchy. Virgil sighed, he knew he wouldn’t get out today, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders before trying to sleep.

As the sun set and darkness seeped in, Virgil was sound asleep, but a low growling voice began to call out.

“Virgil… Virgil… VIRGIL.”

He shocked himself awake as his eyes glowed purple, he looked around frantically but there was no one there.

Who was calling out to him?

[weepingvoidpenguin]

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

  You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions. 

  What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you. 

  You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

  You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

  You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

  Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

  You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

  She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

  She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

  “So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

  You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

  She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

  Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

  “Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

  You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~   That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

  He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time. 

  That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

  And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently. 

  How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled. 

  That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

  No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you. 

  And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

  Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero. 

  Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically. 

  But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

  He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

  (Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~   You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc. 

  She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday. 

  Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

  “What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold. 

  MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

  You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

  A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

  In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman. 

  “Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see.   Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

  “Do you remember what I told you that day?”

  MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

  “That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

  Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on. 

  “You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

  “Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

  “I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

  “A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

  “A liar-”

  “MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

  “I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

  “I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

  “Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!” 

  “And why would we-”

  “Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

  You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead. 

  He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

  Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

  You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

  “Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,” 

  MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

  The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

  You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

  This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

  With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

  “Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

  “So, you didn’t-”

  “Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

  “Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

  Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

  You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~   Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.  

  MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

  You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

  “Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

  You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

  “Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

  “Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

  You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

  Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

  “What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

  “I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

  She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

  “You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

  “What are you talking about?” 

  “Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

  Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

  Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

  “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

  “Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

  “I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

  Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you.   “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

  “(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

  “Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

  The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend? 

  “(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

  “No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

  “Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

  You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from? 

  “(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

  The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it. 

  “(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house. 

  The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

  Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house. 

  “Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

  Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

  “(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?”   It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

  “Who was she?”

Tag List: @the-ducks-umbrella @free-pool-trash @wherewecomealive @eridanuswave @watson-emma @imjuliabtw @powerstrangerdacre @chess-anon @le-yona @dear-selena @becausewelie @myr5heart @michaels-endtime @lastupidebichette @yetmeema @bisexualfangirlsblog @akabaneyuriko @allthings-sandy @foreverpark @courtmarie2016 @maya-t-13 @copxland04 @lostinwonderland314 @theolwebshooter @alainabooks143 @dark-night-sky-99 @shameless-dani @memequeend @chewymoustachio @thewayilookatbacon @rvgrsbrns @jaimewho @sexysamsungl @stitchers-in-stitches @spideyyeet @mira-9-rose @racewife2004 @eternallyanxiousandstressed @lost-xim @notavintagecliche @peteysbaby @awkwardnesshabitat @lushalternative @deans-1967sbaby @phrogtheguitarist @xwackk @theatergeek2000 @elenatalia @littlechillies @l-a-a-e @a—1—1—3 @herondalism @jxhnnysbxby @jessyballet @astralnyx @the-nonsenseblog @ornella0910 @parkeret @utterlyconfused-tm @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @fishswimbetterunderwater @reysclana @notavintagecliche @homosexualjohnwayne @procrastinatingmurder @delicately-important-trash @honeybutterparker @chelsxxsworld @herstolenheart @petalduck @utopiamiroh @roses-raindrops-and-writing @qxeen-of-hearts @beansat3am @buckysjuicyplums @champagnesugamama @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @primsa-the-pretend-avenger @used-avocado @martinafigoli @ramblingsnfandom @zofty15 @colorfulartbywriters @keitkeat 

[ahatintimepieces]

The Start of New Moons

Soooooo I really wanted to write something for @fedoraspooky‘s weresnoodle au especially after reading the rp with @lovelycoris so here’s Lukas’ first night transforming into a weresnoodle hungry for souls! Beware painful transformation scenes and a fox does not make it out of this alive but there’s not a too graphic depiction of it but fair warning all the same! Please enjoy!

Lukas ran a hand through his reddish-brown curls, scratching absentmindedly at his scalp, as he tried to focus on the textbook in front of him. Usually, studies or a good story were enough to distract anxious thoughts but today was different. His heart occasionally skipped a beat, causing his chest to tighten uncomfortably, and he found himself sighing frequently due to forgetting to breathe. His teeth, particularly his canines, ached from what he assumed was clenching his jaw too much.

Scratching at his chest, he closed the textbook with a sigh and pushed to his feet. He stretched out his arms, favoring the still tender spot on his right bicep. A quick glance out the library window told him it was late in the day. Remembering that Vanessa had retired to her room early for a nap, he figured he best go check on her and see if she was ready for dinner.

Though he often had a difficult time eating when nerves overwhelmed him—evident by his forgetting to eat lunch earlier that afternoon—he found he was famished and yearned for some protein. Eager to join his love and eat, he walked briskly through the manor, heading to her bedroom.

“Princess?” He tapped on the door that was opened a crack. The door squeaked open and he hesitated before peering in. He found her room was empty but noted the electric blue forget-me-not she had tucked into a vase on her desk. Smiling, he calmly backed out of the doorway. He shut the door and decided to stop by his room to grab his surprise before heading down to dinner.

In his room, his suitcase was half-filled at the far corner by the bookshelf. He had started packing few days ago, hoping to return to Lucidia to spend some time with his father and brother. But Vanessa had insisted he stay for the weekend in Subcon, after a woeful reprimanding from her mother.

It had been his fault, really. Lukas had convinced Vanessa to sneak out into the village with him and took her to a flower field. Her mother had found out and Lukas could hear the yelling from his room. As soon as he had been able, he hurried to Vanessa’s side, finding her trembling with the tips of her fingers blue. Upon seeing him, she had immediately clasped her freezing hands around his right bicep and the ice burned through his shirt and into his skin. He had to grit his teeth to avoid wincing, but when he saw her features, he found it easier to forget about the pain in his arm. Tears had streamed from her eyes, coalescing into snowflakes that floated down to their feet. She had begged him with a cracking voice to stay, reminding him that he had suggested the excursion in the first place and that she was so miserable without him. He had agreed to stay, desperate to help his beloved feel safe and sound.

Regardless, he hadn’t unpacked his suitcase, as if stalling would magically open up a chance for him to return home. He loved Vanessa, but he missed his family with an ache.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he crossed over to the bookshelf and removed a book of poetry he had purchased from the village. He opened to the page with a collection of forget-me-nots he had pressed for Vanessa.

The sunlight streaming in through the window blazed orange as dusk began to stretch across the sky.

While Vanessa didn’t usually read poetry, he had thought the collection of love poems might cheer her heart and make her think of him, whenever she read them.

His heart lurched in his chest as a wave of anxiety washed over him. He frowned, scratching at his shirt as he tried to figure out what was making him feel so unsettled. Shades of pink and purple painted the twilight.

Closing the book gently, he took a step forward, intending to start for the kitchen, but the restlessness itched from his core and through his entire body. Dread overwhelmed him and he found his hands were quaking. Placing the poetry book down on his bed, he stared, bewildered, at his shaking hands. What—?

Nightfall covered the land and Lukas’ spine snapped as pain blazed in his chest.

He yelped, bringing his hands to his chest and hunching over. His stomach felt as hot as molten steel and his insides felt like they were melting. Horrid pops and cracks resounded as bones shifted under his skin. Dropping forward, Lukas gripped at the carpet, yelling as his clothes shrunk and pressed painfully at his flesh.

Tufts of purple fur bled from his hands like shadows. His reddish-brown locks in his eyes shifted into a similar shade as his chest expanded. The rip of his shirt and pants accompanied the tumultuous tear of muscles as his back lengthened and his legs stretched. Fingers melted together and claws slid against the carpet. His legs melted painfully together, and he stretched out his neck as his jaw split and reassembled into a glowing maw, his canines shifting toward the front of his mouth.

Lukas let out an inhuman scream, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the pain.

“Lukas?” Vanessa’s clear voice called.

The door slammed open and the beast open his eyes, which glowed as golden as the harvest moon. He only felt two things.

Pain. And hunger.

The creature let out a low growl, pushing a step back with drawn claws. Golden liquid dripped from his hanging jaw as he eyed the woman’s bright, enticing soul. A quick sniff told him the soul would be cool but soothing enough to ebb the pain of the shifting shadows that made up his body. Drool poured from his maw and he hunched into a hunting position.

“Lukas?” The woman’s eyes darted to the tattered clothes surrounding him and fearful tears welled up in her eyes, her features contorting into despair and horror.

The creature hissed, tail wiggling as he readied to pounce. Since she was distracted, it would be easy to snap the soul from her body and swallow the enticing supper. He was so hungry.

An ache in his chest urged him to stop. The creature paused as the woman started hyperventilating. Suddenly, the creature felt a wave of sorrow and guilt larger than his hunger. He whined, pawing unhelpfully at the carpet.

“What did you do?” Vanessa screeched, her hands becoming swallowed in the same pale blue that matched her soul.

The creature flinched back, tail thumping anxiously as he felt a phantom ache on his arm that he didn’t understand. He looked towards the window, locating the escape route. With one last hungry glance at her soul and one last pulse of shame, the creature crashed through the window.

Being as the bedroom had been on the second floor, the creature dropped down clumsily into the rose bushes below. Thorns cut into his fur and he whined. But hunger pushed him forward and his claws tore at the earth as his tail snaked behind him. He crossed the bridge as the warm summer night grew considerably colder.

There was a village in front of him. A plethora of souls could be sensed, and his mouth watered. But… no… something stopped him with a drum of an anxious heart. The beast pawed at his face and growled before turning towards the forest.

Yes. Good. Animals to hunt.

Not people. Anything but a person.

The creature practically flew into the woods, growling as the air began to frost. The creature, uncomfortable, hissed and flames licked at the corners of his glowing mouth. Warmth filled his core and he moved on, quickly locating the soul of fox already fleeing from the cold. Licking his flaming jaws, the shadowy beast took off after the fox and swiftly caught up to it.

Clamping burning jaws around the fox’s neck, the shadow beast sucked up its soul in one bite. The soul merged with the beast’s consuming shadows, curbing his itching appetite. Then, the creature finished off the fox in easy bites. While he crunched his meal, he barely registered the thickening frost in the air.

Bark of the trees cracked as ice formed in tree rings. The frozen grass chipped under the beast’s weight. Storm clouds formed overhead.

The creature, satisfied with his meal and suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion on his eyelids, let out a noisy yawn, stretching out his back before coiling up. The beast fell into a deep sleep as snowflakes started to fall.

The beast slept until the sun began to rise. Discomfort itched through his body and he stretched out his tail, uncoiling as he felt himself shrink. Growling, he rolled onto his stomach, clasping at grass as claws receded into human hands. Awful sounds of bones popping back into place disrupted the silence of the forest. Lukas tensed as his tail divided back into legs. When the transformation finished, he let out a worn sigh, aching all over.

His mind was fuzzy and his mouth felt dry. Wanting nothing more than to lay there, he would have until something icy brushed his hand.

“Nnngh?” Lukas jerked up, his back popping painfully. Holding himself up on trembling arms, he winced as bright white snow assaulted his vision.

“Snow?” He wondered; his tongue thick in his mouth. In summer? Wait. Why was he in the forest?

And where were his clothes?

He yelped, turning around and staring at his bare legs. Panic gripped his chest as the ice encroached upon the patch of grass he had been laying on. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs felt as steady as a house of cards. Dropping back down onto the ice, he shivered.

“Calm down,” Lukas muttered to himself, forcing steady breaths. He could figure this out. The last thing he remembered was grabbing the poetry book he wanted to give to Vanessa. He remembered he was heading to the kitchen and then—

Oh. Oh no.

It was difficult to discern exactly what had happened, but he remembered changing and hurting and then he remembered Vanessa coming in. Vanessa. The snow must have been hers.

He willed himself onto shaking and now shivering legs. Taking a cautious step forward, he managed to keep himself upright despite how his weak legs threatened to buckle. He stumbled through the forest, leaning onto frozen trees and grabbing frozen bushes as he went. Every movement aggravated his sore bones and the closer he got to the manor, the colder the air got.

Nearing the edge of the forest, he looked down at himself, flushing. Snapping a nearby cluster of branches from a bush, he awkwardly held it over his waist for cover. Once he left the forest, the frozen land before him caused his heart to drop to his stomach.

“No,” he gasped, his warm breath milky white. “No, this can’t be.”

The stone bridge to the manor had crumbled, with large boulders encased in the river of ice below. Massive shards of ice surrounded the manor, closing it off from the world.

Lukas shook his head, his breathing becoming more and more panicked as he recalled the fear in Vanessa’s eyes when he had almost—the thought made him feel sick.

Nausea twisted his stomach and he felt something rise. He raised a fist to his mouth, coughing. A thick wad of acid and ashes entered his mouth and he hacked up a bundle of singed orange fur. He spat the wad out of his mouth, groaning at the stray hairs on his tongue.

Ugh! What was—?

The memory of his teeth around a fox’s neck flashed to the forefront of his mind and he paled.

He had really—He had really turned into a monster.  

He gave one remorseful look at the manor before turning to the village, swallowing thickly.

Vanessa’s magic had always been fueled by her emotions. The frost scars on his shivering body were consequences of it. But… he usually was the one who comforted her and helped her tame the ice. He had never been the source of her fear. And now, there was so much ice because of how he had frightened her.

Concerned for the villagers, he trudged carefully across the ice. The pads of his already-tired feet ached with each step and being naked in a frozen village was less than ideal but despite his chattering teeth, he was somehow okay.

When he got close enough to the road, he ducked behind a bush and snuck behind objects as he adjusted the placement of the frozen bush in his hands, looking for anyone also confused by or investigating the ice. But the village was coated in an eerie silence.

“Excuse me?” Lukas called, getting more and more worried. Finally, he spotted someone in the street, arm outstretched. The person’s back was to Lukas. Lukas ducked closer, realizing he was by the bookstore. He hid modestly behind an ice-encased fence.

After all, it wouldn’t do for a prince to appear indecent!

“Hello? My sincerest apologies, but I—hello?” Lukas’ heartbeat quickened when the person remained unmoving.

Modesty be darned, Lukas hurried forward.

“Sir—” he reached out a hand but paused when he realized a layer of blue ice coated the person before him. Lukas darted around the frozen statue and found himself looking at Tucker, who had been waving at one of the village children—also frozen—with a book in their hands.

The petrified scene before him nearly tore his heart in two. No. No. He whipped his head around, his bangs tumbling into his eyes. He brushed back his hair and noted a couple more statues.

Had everyone been frozen?

Why was he okay?

A tightness squeezed his chest as a lump formed in his throat. He shivered in the cold and he realized whatever kept him from becoming an ice statue himself would probably not last much longer.

Since he couldn’t get into the manor, he would have to scavenge for clothes and—he added with a rumbling stomach—food. He glanced at Tucker. Having spent long hours discussing literature or studies with the shopkeeper, Lukas determined Tucker wouldn’t mind him borrowing some clothes.

It took a couple yanks, but Lukas finally managed to pry open the frozen door to the bookstore and he slipped inside, relieved to be out of the cold. He quickly found Tucker’s bedroom and got dressed in a simple tunic and pair of pants. Lukas found Tucker’s old cloak, no doubt from his days as a traveler. Lukas paused, rubbing a trembling thumb over the cloak as he remembered the tales of the world Tucker had often shared with him.

“Forgive me, Tucker,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

He tied the cloak around himself and set to work. He felt awful for essentially raiding Tucker’s shop, even grabbing a book about curses and a book by an author he had been eying for awhile and adding them to the pack he had filled with food and a handful of coins. Promising he would compensate Tucker if a few miracles occurred, he snagged a few more articles of clothing and even some parchment and a quill with a small vial of ink.

“Apologies,” he offered sheepishly to Tucker’s frozen statue as he left the bookstore with a hefty pack on his aching back. The sky above him darkened with storm clouds and he glanced back at the manor, where the clouds seemed to be thick with snow. Lukas bit his lip and yelped at the sharp pain that accompanied it.

Lifting a wary hand to his mouth, he tapped his canines, which had sharpened considerably since the last time he had checked. He frowned, his heart pounding.

Vanessa—Vanessa should be okay in the manor. The ice wouldn’t freeze her. And while he ached to go and make sure she was okay, the memory of how she had looked at him in his monstrous form gave him pause. He couldn’t face her now, not when he was so confused and… well… scared himself.

With a new wave of ice magic threatening to further bury the village in snow, Lukas fled.

He fled the frozen villagers and his princess, promising he would return as soon as he figured out what had happened to him and how to fix it. He anxiously scratched at his neck as Subcon disappeared behind him.

[lorilu]

I wrote something so I am sharing it because I can

They say life is hard, especially when you are immortal, but I used to have a more positive view of the curse I was born with. People would look at me in both fear and admiration when the truth was discovered and that’s why I started avoiding the subject. No, it’s not easy, but what else are you supposed to do when the entire world is both terrified and jealous of you?

It doesn’t matter, because in the end it will be the same. One can’t avoid the questions once everyone sees you look the same after years and years of knowing them, and no matter how much you make up, they are bound to know who you really are. And so you run away before time decides to play against you, you start a new life, forget the people you know, become a new person, only to repeat that cycle again later. It isn’t too exciting any more.

I remember like it was yesterday, even when it must have happened hundreds of years ago, this one time when the smallest chance of something happening happened.

I met someone like me, a woman so tied to death she couldn’t die, ironically. A goddess of the afterlife.

Do not ask me how I became aware of this knowledge, as that would compromise her and I do not wish to harm her in any way, not at least more than she already has been, but I will say it was not intentional for me to discover her secret.

In the end I asked her to be the one I spend my life with. What made me do it? I don’t know; maybe it was the hope of finding some peace after all those years of hiding, maybe the realisation that I was not alone in this, maybe even because she was the loveliest person I had ever met, possibly a combination of all of them, who knows, but I don’t think it really matters.

There is this feeling that grows in you, an empty and dark one, a sensation of void that drains you and makes everything look grey and worthless. It takes your determination to do things and it’s so deep that it never seems to end. You think everything is going to be like this forever, and I cannot blame myself for having lost hope on every single aspect of life after so many years of trying to get rid of it. It was not my fault there was nothing to live for.

But her. After the first time I talked to her I thought there was something special. The conclusion to why I thought so that I came up with was because she was beautiful, breathtaking, more than any other person I had ever seen in my entire life, and that was a lot of time.

I needed to know her. I needed to talk to her. I needed to be close to her. I needed to have her in my life. Something about her called me and I didn’t hesitate at all to follow it, and after every secret was revealed, she feared I would run away from her, that she would see in my eyes the same terror she saw in the eyes of the ones she had trusted enough to show her true self. She hated what she was, but there was no possible cure for what she was suffering from. Just like me.

And I am happy to announce that this time it was different for the both of us. She didn’t see hate or disgust, I didn’t back away or turn around to avoid eye contact, no. I looked at her as if she were the most precious creature in the world, which she was and is to the day of today. I could see her teary eyes, she was so scared, but if there was a time when I had to be true about myself, it was this one. I reached for her hand and took it between mine, and closing my eyes so she couldn’t see all the years of pain and misery slipping through my eyes, I narrated the story of my life. We both were shaking, either in fear or in relieve, and a strong bond was created that night. We spent hours and hours explaining some of our most interesting life stories, narrated the lives of people we used to know that died a long time ago, we shared how we had been living and what we were planning to do on the future. That was when I told her I needed her. I gave her the choice to join me, the choice of company, the choice of love.

And she took it.

I experienced true happiness for the first time in a long long time, I felt like the world was a new brighter place to live in. I could finally feel alive. All because of her. I will never be grateful enough for what she did to me. I will never be able to thank her enough for bringing me the piece I was lacking. There is nothing that can demonstrate how much I adore her and how little she has to do to make me realise life is worth living it.

With time we had a child, a beautiful boy. He was radiant. I had never felt so much love towards someone so little and fragile. I promised I would protect him with my life, I would never let anything bad happen to him. All that mattered was his happiness and well being, nothing else, and I know for a fact his mother was thinking the exact same thing.

No one had told us raising a child would be easy, and after thousands of years of life we both knew it would be a challenge, but we managed to do it. We were so proud. Our son was growing, and he was happy and healthy. He was artistic and his soul burnt with the determination of someone who knows what they are doing.

One day he asked us for a guitar and we decided it would be good for him to have something fun to do in his free time, he would have a lot of it having in mind who his parents were. What we didn’t know was the musical talent was in his veins. He almost instantly learnt how to play it and soon he started creating his own music. There was nothing compared to listening to him, it was hypnotising. When he would play for others they would not leave until he had finished, and if he wasn’t there they would cheerfully sing his songs by themselves. Everyone loved him for what he did, and he made sure he returned that same love with kindness and more songs.

If only there were something else special about him.

I think it became obvious way earlier than when we decided to acknowledge the truth, we were too happy that way, so happy we stayed in denial for years. We didn’t want to see it, it was too painful for us to handle. We needed him to be immortal.

But one day he would die.

He, of course, was not aware of that, he thought he was just like us! Just like we told him before we knew what was happening. But we were in shock. The sudden realisation that he was going to die, just like everyone we knew, hit us in the worst way possible. We fought, we cried, we even tried to keep ignoring it again, but it was too much to handle.

I’ll admit it, I did blame his mother for his mortality. The pain in her voice as she told me she thought I was different and the pain I felt when I saw her go away with the promise of never coming back is something I will never be able to forget. It still took me some time to come to my senses and see the depth of what I did after she left. Everyone around her died, not only because of her immortality, but because death followed her. I blamed her for her bad luck and ignored all the things she had suffered because of it. I decided it was alright to get angry because of the one thing she hated so much but couldn’t change, all because I couldn’t handle the hard truth reality is. I attacked her in the worst way possible and refused to take it back when I still had the chance to, only because something bad happened. I lost everything that day... and it was my fault.

All the brightness became dull again. I tried to stay positive around my son, but he was just like everyone else now, the one difference was I could see her in him, her and death. His mere sight was enough to drown me in my own feelings of guilt and sorrow. I had never wished I was dead as much as I did. But of course, I had a child to take care of, and death was not an option for me, and it would never be.

Years passed and I had no way to hide anything from him. He was clever, way too clever. And so when he finally asked about it, I told him why his mother left. I told him the reason why he found no light in my eyes when he looked at me any more. I talked about how he should go live his life instead of wasting it next to me, that he deserved to have a normal life like everyone does. I told him that even knowing he would not be in the world forever, that I am happy he doesn’t have the curse me and his mother had. I told him that I love him and that I only wish the best for him.

After that talk there was nothing else for him where we lived, and so he left with the promise of writing me letters to narrate the adventures he was planing to have. He had great aspirations, so I didn’t doubt for a second he would. And he did fulfil that promise.

After he left too I lived in solitude, avoiding as many people as I could. I moved to another place far away from everyone, not without telling my son where I was going first, so he could keep sending the letters. I decided if I had to be alone forever, that at least I would make sure I had no one to miss at all. It was hard, but nothing in my life had ever been easy, I thought I could live up to my expectations.

Then he sent me the letter telling me he was a father.

All the flashbacks from when we all were together flashed in front of my eyes and punched me in the guts with the same intensity of the pain I felt when I last talked to his mother. I had to find her.

It took me less time than I thought, although I am not saying it was easy to do it. She looked exactly the same way she did when I first met her, and so did I, but now things were way different. Hesitantly she accepted to listen to me, the years had made the bad feelings easier to handle, but never vanish. I updated her on my current situation, and so did her. I talked about our son and how he had been doing. She had to take a moment to calm herself when I showed her a picture of him and his child. She regretted so much having left like that, but there were too many things happening at once, and the feeling of betrayal kept her from coming back. She had also been through a lot of pain, and I couldn’t blame her for acting in the way she did. Immortal or not, a god or not, we were still human, and humans commit mistakes. At least that’s how we saw it.

It took us time to regain the trust we had in each other, but we were progressing each day that passed. I wrote to our son about his mother and he told me he wished to go back home to see her, but that he was way too busy starting a big new project no one had before. He refused to tell me what was it for some time despite my questions, but he finally attached a picture of him, his son, and other people I had heard about from other letters, posing in front of a black and yellow wall, all wearing the same outfit, all except his son and one of the other people in the photo, as context.

He had started a nation. His symphony he called it in the letters. His mother and I could never be more proud.

I had told her that she could always write something to him, that I thought it’d be fair if she wanted to communicate with her own son the same way I was, but she told me that as much as she loved him, talking to him directly would only cause her pain, that she didn’t think it was fair to go away for so long and only come back now that he was gone. She kept repeating that she would talk to him once he decided it was time for them to reunite, that until that, she’d let me be the one to write and read the letters, and I did not argue back because she was right.

Then the letters stopped.

I did not know what happened. The letters had never taken so long to come. Our son had been writing about all the conflict that had been happening on his nation, and despite all the reassuring words he wrote telling us he was doing fine, we could not help but worry about him. There had been wars, he could have been harmed. We decided to wait some more time in case there had been some issues with the letters or he had not had time to write anything, I even sent him some asking if everything was alright, but an answer never came back.

The first day of November I took all the things I needed and said goodbye to my loved one. “I will be back as soon as I can” I told her. She nodded and closed the door, fearing what I would find once I found our son’s nation.

Sixteen days of travelling was the time I took to get to him. Sixteen days of worry and stress. No matter how much I repeated to myself things would be better than I thought they would, I still had all kind of horrible scenarios in my head. And it just happened that reality was way more close to them than I would have ever wanted.

November 16th, the day when I reunited with my son.

November 16th, the day when all my worries were confirmed.

November 16th, the day when my son asked me to kill him.

November 16th, the day when I broke my promise to protect him.

...

They say life is hard, especially when you are immortal.

I have never agreed more.

[dacuslucy]

Sobiana Dorothea au????

HELL YES

Summary: Sophie has a simple job, a simple life, but her ex has risen to become a ‘viral’ philanthropist. Sophie reflects on her relationship with her. (basically: sophie is very gay and biana ie very rich. yearning. lots of it.)

do you ever stop and think about me? - sophiana, but it’s mostly just sophie yearning. 1.3k 

ao3 link

~

Sophie turned on her tv as soon as she got home from her job, as usual. 

Her heart skipped when she saw what was on. She didn’t know why she had expected something else.

She’d seen all the magazines at work today. Everyone in her (admittedly small) friend group had talked only of it at lunch; in hushed tones, of course. No one talked to her about it. No, they must’ve assumed she was too fragile for conversations about her ex. 

Her rich, charity making, dream selling ex. 

I can handle it. It’s not like I'm still that crying schoolgirl. 

Ignoring the shaking in her shoulders, she unmuted the tv. 

“...Biana Vacker, founder of the Moonlark charity. Kelly, don’t you think it’s incredible what she has accomplished? A project to help, house, and feed children in need! I am shocked she has come this far, being so young and all.”

A sharp stab of anger flared inside of Sophie, distracting her from the crushing feeling in her heart. How dare they question her accomplishments? She’s done this all on her own. She deserves so much more than these people.

But, however much she disliked the way these hosts talked about Biana, she still wanted to see. She wanted to see her.

“...And now we have the woman herself!” The stage audience claps, and Sophie freezes. 

She was as beautiful as ever. She wore a stunning dark purple dress that perfectly complimented her dark skin tone and a yellow ribbon amongst her curly hair. 

Biana made her way onto the stage, and turned and smiled and waved at the camera, blowing a kiss, and a small wink. 

Sophie blushed.

“Miss Vacker, it is such an honour to have you on the show today!”

“Thank you so much, the honour is mine!” She brushed a small part of hair that had escaped the ribbon behind her ear, but it just popped back out again. Biana giggled.

She used to laugh like that with me.  

Sophie didn’t realize how hard she had been squeezing the remote until Kelly started talking again. 

“So, Biana, we were just discussing how amazing it is that you’ve come so far in this industry, especially so young!”

“Oh, I didn’t do it alone! My incredible friends helped me so much, and I would love to thank them, particularly-” Sophie shut the tv off before she could hear any more. 

Hands shaking, she hurried upstairs to her bedroom.

She sat down on her bed, brushing her fingers across her faux fur pillows to calm herself down. 

They’re right, i suppose. She thinks of her friends. I am too weak to talk about her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots her box.

The box.

Their box.

Sophie took a few deep breaths, before walking across the room and grabbing the box. 

Once she was back seated on her bed, she gently ran her fingers over the top of the box. It was covered in peeling stickers, polaroids, and writing. 

In her scrawl, it read: “Sophie”, and in Biana’s beautiful script, “+ Biana’s memory box” with a little heart at the end. She carefully lifted the top off of the box.

Inside, there were photo booth strips, pressed flowers, Biana’s origami birds, and the letters.

Oh.

The letters.

Not particularly thinking about the emotional damage it may cause, Sophie unfolded the first letter.

“My Dearest Sophie,” it read.

“We arrived at Mom’s cottage today! Fitz is utterly bored, but he knows nothing of the woodlands here! I found a bunch of mushrooms, and many types of moss on the trees!

I also found a truly beautiful clearing (or it would have been beautiful, if it were not full of dying chrysanthemums!) behind the cottage. Mom said that the people that lived here before were extremely fond of the chrysanthemums, but she had never really liked them herself.

I was obviously horrified, so I took to caring for them myself! It gave me great sorrow to cut this one, but I told myself it was for the greatest cause ever.”

Pinned below was a dried, pressed, red chrysanthemum. 

“Sophie, dear, I have been reading up on the language of flowers. Everyone says that roses are the flowers of love, and they are! but chrysanthemums are the only ones that mean ‘I love you’.

~ Biana.”

Sophie sat there, for a little while, in silence.

And then the tears came.

She shook, covering her mouth, as to make no sound.

It took her a few hours to calm down, but when she did, she made her way downstairs, and made herself some tea. 

Spiced tea. Herbal tea. Biana liked-

No. You will not do this to yourself, Sophie. focus. 

Long story short: she did it to herself.

She soon found herself back upstairs, the contents of the box spread all over her bed.

She had met Biana at a football game she had been convinced to go to by her friend Keefe. (Though in all fairness, Keefe only went to watch Fitz play.)

Biana had been hiding under the bleachers, avoiding the players at all cost. 

“Hey, why are you down here?” Sophie had asked. (she had spotted Biana down there when she had gotten up to stretch her legs.) She kind of found it hard to start a conversation, though. Very pretty girl and all that. 

“Oh, you know.” Biana shivered, she was only wearing a dress, and it didn’t even have substantial sleeves. “Avoiding the boys. Apparently, they can’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “I’m sorry. Um, do you want my jacket? Actually, no, that’s not a question. here, take my jacket.” When Biana opened her mouth to object, Sophie quickly said, “I have a hoodie underneath anyway. I guess Keefe overestimated how cold it would be.”

Biana laughed, and took the jacket gratefully. “Well, I suppose I underestimated, then. Thank you!, Uh, for the jacket. What’s your name? I’m Biana.”

PrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmyname- “I’m Sophie,” she managed to say.

“Well, Sophie, I have a feeling I’m going to be here awhile. And I don’t think Keefe and Fitz are going to be in a hurry soo…”

“...So?”

“You’ve been to our house before, haven’t you?”

Sophie shrugged. “Yeah, once or twice to help Keefe and Fitz make some posters. Why?”

Biana grinned. “Would you like to go and have some herbal tea with me?” She squints playfully at Sophie. “Or…are you more of a hot chocolate person? We have that too!” She got up from where she had been sitting on the ground. 

Sophie couldn’t help laughing at this girl’s energy. “Sure,”

Biana beamed. “...Maybe I could braid your hair as well? I know quite a few, and your hair is pretty long, so-”

“Uh, yeah! That’d be really cool!” Sophie smiled dorkily. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Biana looped her arm through Sophie’s.

Sophie sighed, her dramatic flashback coming to a close.

She slowly started to put the assorted letters and trinkets, finally coming back to the red chrysanthemum.

It’s the only one that says ‘I love you’.

She stuffs it in messily with the rest, then shoves the box under her bed. 

A buzz from her phone startles her. Oh, it’s just Keefe. 

She quickly responds to him, and then exits back into her contacts. 

She scrolled down her text chains, down, down and down until-

There. 

She hadn’t even changed her contact name.

Bia 💜

Sophie opened the chat. 

Her fingers hovered over her keypad for several seconds.

She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Do you ever stop, and think about me?

Because I do. I think about you every fucking day. And it kills me. It kills me, Bia.

A few minutes later, she closed the chat.

Later, she found herself strangely wishing there was a red chrysanthemum emoji.

[thedumbguywithaheart43]

Boomlord weird adventure

Chapter 8 what time is it?

It was early morning in the omnispace void. Boomwood had gotten to the kitchen to start brewing coffee as the footsteps of a yawning purple hair woman enter the room."morning Twilight."Twilight mearly gave him a wave before sitting down. Looked at her noticing the look on her face. To be honest she looked exhausted.'ah shit'he quickly poured a shot glass of the Cuban coffee and handed it to her. She stared at the coffee for a minute."I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this is going to do much for me."good Lord gave out a chuckle."Twilight trust me this is Cuban coffee any more than this and you'll be wired."He gave out a chuckle before Twilight downed the shot, unsurprisingly her face scrunched up. This was probably the most bitter thing she ever had."bleh! Why would you drink something so bitter!"Boomlord shrugged."honestly I only drink it for the caffeine. If it helps I think I have some orange juice in the fridge."Twilight just looked down rubbing her head . Not long after the other girls walked in each of them heading into the fridge grabbing various fruits mostly apples. Pinkie pie was the only one who grabbed something else, looks like she found the flan and was in heaven."oh my Celestia this tastes so good!"At least she wasn't breaking the fourth wall again.

2 After everyone ate they all headed to the living room again."ok girls this is it we are heading to the next world. Now before I go this mission is not meant to be dangerous however the world we're entering can be a bit chaotic so be prepared for anything."The rest of the girls nodded they likely had assumed as much from the previous conversations."so where are we going anyway"dash blurted out as boom pulled out his pen."yeah I'm with Dash partner id hate to go in blind."Aj took a step forward to make her point."we're going to a place called ooo I spent a lot of time there and it's the only place I can really say I have friends anymore...."booms voice got deep as a sorrowful look overtook his face for a minute. This was enough to make Applejack back off. Twilight in particular took a mental note of this.'guess friends are a touchy subject for him.' boom grabbed his notepad An drew another circle, in the center he wrote °adventure Time 1°as always the golden electrical ring formed with a blackened middle. Boomlord jumped into the portal and when he landed his feet were on solid ground. Solid green grassy ground. He surveyed the area around him noticing he was in a grassy clear field however the ends of what looks like old nuclear bombs stuck out overtaken by the grassy plains. The girls enter next each of them still in their same outfits however 4 of the girls had notable changes to them . Twilight and rarity each had a sword at their side. Twilight sword with a sleek and purple short sword with her cutie mark on the hilt. Rarity sword on the other hand looked as if it were made of blue crystal with a white metal hilt her cutie mark also on it. Fluttershy and rainbow Dash had also had the return of their wings which Dash took this opportunity to fly up into the air a bit doing a few loops and swirls."Hell yeah I missed this!"boom couldn't help but smile."Real fly girl up there."a few of them awkwardly smile."so where's our destination?"Twilight asked giving him a quick grin knowing that he's trying his best to make everyone feel better about being in a strange world."we're going to see princess bubblegum at the Candy Kingdom."and just like that he found himself lying on the ground being pinned by pinkie pie."DID YOU SAY CANDY KINGDOM! A KINGDOM MADE OF CANDY IS THIS PLACE PARADISE O.M.C O.M.C."Twilight practically had to pry pinky off of him ."yes the entire Kingdom from the trees to the ground is made of candy including the people."He started to brush himself off as pinky smile only widen."but please don't eat the Candy people or I will probably have to stop you"pinky reluctantly nodded.

3"rainbow do you mind taking an aerial view try to find the place that looks like it's surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees.... Well because it is surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees."boom called out before stopping looking at the ground a large Shadow now loomed over them. It was Spike. All the ponies turn to look back in both shock and horror. Spike mostly remain the same with one slight difference... He was absolutely Giant. His whole body in total was about the size of a two sorry house and his wings could probably cover all of them with ease."oh yeah I forgot dragons are huge here but at least he still looks different from them normally they're just Giant tube dragons with big ass butts."The ponies/girls stared for a moment but in silent agreement they chose not to address it not that Spike would mind he was too busy checking himself out."oh crap I'm HUGE you guys look so small from up here!" It was the most adorable giant grin in the world. Rainbow decided now was a good time to take him to the air as she being flapping her wings disappearing above the clouds. Surveying the land below she was able to make out what looks like pink trees and a large structure that looked somewhat like a castle."guess that must be what I'm looking for."she kept looking around noticing in One direction was a rather large tree that almost looks like it had Windows in it and in the opposite direction she noticed tall mountains made entirely of ice."heh heh heh what do we have here"a voice from nowhere stated in a malicious tone from behind her. Is she turned to look behind her she saw a giant monster with a bat like face and long blue limbs with crooked nails.'OH SHIT'at this point rainbow Dash started nose diving down towards her friends with the creature in pursuit who was maliciously chuckling the entire way down. The rest of the group saw the creature and the girls had various reactions. Applejack rarity and Twilight look like they were getting ready to fight with rarity and Twilight pulling out their swords. Fluttershy and Pinky had decided to stick near Spike who is now using his wings to shield them.Then there was boom standing out in the open as dash passed him and he just smiled. Apon seeing him the creature stopped a look of surprise on our face."hey Marceline it's been a while"the creature began to shrink taking on a human form she had pale white skin and incredibly long black hair which reached down to her feet a simple jacket and jeans and her ,guitar-axe strapef to her back and a nice big floopy hat which covered her in a shroud of darkness. She give out a wide smile revealing her fangs before wrapping her arms around boom giving him a hug."holy glob dude!your back it's been like 4 months!"he returned the embrace from his old friend as the rest of the girls started to calm down noticing that whatever that thing was it seemed friendly at least now it did."oh that's right."he turned to the girls and dragon."everyone this is my old friend Marceline... The vampire queen"a few of the girls jaw started to drop."your freinds with a literal blood sucking vampire?"Marceline shrugged at Twilight comment."actually it's just the color I'm after."Marceline started floating on her back around them."so boom what brings you and your new friends back to ooo."Boomlord got quiet."I found it Marcy.... I found the Rose fire and they're here because Twilight here"pointing at the slightly flustered purple pony girl."is the key to everything."Marceline stopped moving for a moment the words settling in her mind."oh we need to get to the Candy Kingdom right away then."then without word Marceline started floating off towards the direction of the Kingdom and boom followed along with the girls and the giant dragon...... Yeah that might be a problem.

4 After a few hours of walking they all managed to reach the candy kingdom with Spike deciding to hide in the trees to avoid unwanted attention. Pinkie pie look like she was about to go crazy or more crazy."o.m.c so m-much candy!"she was practically foaming at the mouth."look pinky just eat the sidewalk or something just please don't start eating random people I don't want to deal with any drama today especially because we need the princess's help."the pony started walking forward into the rather nice town and to boomlord credit every building and every person was made of candy, And many candies citizens passed by. Mr cupcake crunchy punch bowl guy."wow this is actually really fascinating I can't help but wonder what they're DNA is like how do candy people procreate do they need to breathe or eat its quite fascinating"Twilight then begin rambling about a whole bunch of science jargon that boom did not know but he found himself listening to every word she spoke it wasn't until arsenaline tapped his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance."I see you found a real good friend~"she whispered in a teasing tone."w-what no she's just um cool you know for someone who was a horse the other day."Marceline rolled her eyes."horse or not you always did have a thing for a Smart ones~."boom felt his blood pump. "Oh you're one to talk."Marceline then backed off she knew how far she could go before boom would made her regret it. After a while of walking the group then found themselves at the castle as a pink cared and pink skinned princess in a long pink dress noticed them."oh my! Boom you have returned and with.. many female companions huh"princess bubblegum gave a smirk."oh don't you start now too!" Boom was probably going to say more before pb gave him a warm hug."so I assume this has to do with the rose fire."bubblegum look down at him and while she kept a smile her face was full of worry."yeah Twilight here um it's kind of a long story."bubblegum nodded."it always is."about an hour had passed after this meeting and boom had explained to Marceline and bubblegum how we came to meet the girls and discover the fire leaving out the parts where he burned himself or threw a skillet at Twilight."interesting I'll probably have to run a few scans on Twilight then with her permission."Twilight nodded."good we'll start by using the rejuvenation tank to monitor your body and vitals while I conduct a few scans"boom notice that she was pointing to the large tank filled with water and knew that this meant that Twilight was going to have to strip down which he then took his cue to leave. "I'll be back soon gonna check on stuff."and before anyone could say anything he left the room.

(oh and before I forget I'll be opening asks for boomlord and Friends so if they appear in the story feel free to ask them a question ask box is officially open)

[micheswife]

media belongs to the rightful owners.

It is good to have you back.

Warnings: fluff, angst, chpt 139 spoilers, romantic????

Ship: Levi x civilian OC.

Summary: Mira has managed to stick by Levi's side ever since he got out of the underground. Now, they finally meet.

Times were simpler back then. Back when the Eldians were unaware of what laid beyond the walls, when salt was a luxury and oceans only appeared in fiction. Mira was just nineteen year old civilian with an ordinary life. She woke up, cooked, cleaned, studied and sewed, enjoying everything life had to offer.

This was until her eyes caught the sight of a certain soldier, he looked rather cold, little did she know she would come to read the smallest changes in his expressions in a few months. The scouts had been returning from an expedition the first time she saw him, he looked devasted and she knew why. She had felt sorry for him, for them all. She so desperately had wanted to do something for them, but alas, she lacked the guts to stand up to the crowd jeering at the soldiers. Nor did she have the funds to donate, nor the courage to join them in the battle. She had been sad when she returned home that day, and her brother's portrait made it worse. He had lost his life outside the walls five years ago, on his first expedition. She ran a thumb over the wooden frame of the drawing, before writing a letter that would be the start of the painful journey that had left her with a heavy heart today.

It was a long expression of her support towards the survey corps, her sorrow towards her own lack of strength and everything in between.

"This is pathetic." She had exclaimed after having gone through the letter, ultimately tearing it apart and discarding it in the fire. The soldiers didn't need to hear her sob story.

The next month, she had rushed to the gates upon hearing the bells, a warm meal and a little note packed in her piece of rag. She secured it with her pink ribbon, tying it in an overly elaborate knot to indicate that it was present. She cringed as she recollected asking a kid to deliver the package. Having a crush does make people desperate afterall.

It was a particularly noisy group of kids she had approached, they were enamoured with the soldiers, but she was certain they were no longer alive today.

"Hey kids, I need you to deliver something." She had crouched down.

"Um...what?".

"You see captain Levi there? This is his lunch, could you please give it to him for me."

The kids were more than happy to have an excuse to interact with their hero, so the box was grabbed immediately. The innocent children never once wondered why the perfectly healthy lady couldn’t deliver that lunch herself.

"That girl wants to give you your lunch! Captain!" Mira heard one of the excited children as she scurried away into the dark alley, rushing home as fast as she could. She was terrified of having any sort of attention on her, more so when there was the possibility of rejection involved. She tucked her feelings in the back of her mind, assuming that the captain had indeed rejected her present. Mira was a pessimist like that.

But she had been wrong, because Levi was more than grateful to have received a warm meal. Even though it had resulted in a lot of annoying comments for the rest of his career, some soldiers had even claimed to have seen the mystery woman. It didn't help that the kids had described her as a thin, brown-haired woman. That was all they remembered, too excited to have spoken with Levi.

He had opened the package to find a note inside. His hopes were shattered when it revealed nothing about the sender, except for her shabby handwriting.

"Tch, could have written it neatly."

He muttered as he kept the note aside and opened the container, food still warm inside. He couldn't help but smile when he tasted the soup, there were tiny bits of meat inside. The vegetables and the freshly baked bread had fixed him for the day. He had washed the container when nobody was looking, but not before folding the note and securing it in his wallet. It was rare for people to address such gratefulness towards him, even after everything he had done.

He'd cherish those words forever, "thank you, captain Levi." Fortunately, people became more grateful after wall Maria had been reclaimed. But by that point, Mira's little notes were the only thing that comforted him. He had a friend who stayed. He would write to her after every expedition, pouring his grief, sadness and anger in it, making sure to leave out the any confidential details. In exchange, she gave him an invisible shoulder to lean on, hoping that the narration of her mundane days would somehow provide comfort. And it did, he liked knowing about the next embroidery she planned to make, he always waited for the next meal to fill his stomach, her next letter to fill his heart. She had a slightly different personality than him in that she smiled a little more, she had more innocence, but they both were equally distant, burying their need for companionship into oblivion.

They used to talk about their days, about their hobbies, but never about their relationship. They never acknowledged their type of relationship they had, but a few feelings would slip out.

Levi had stopped telling her about Hange after he felt a tinge of bitterness in her next letter, he wanted to let her know that him and Hange shared a deep but platonic love. He avoided it, however, not wanting to make things worse. It was at that moment, Levi had made a decision. If him and this mystery girl ever survived their cruel destiny, then he would pursue her. He would ask her name, and invite her over to the same place she kept his lunch box every week. Under a lone tree not far from the headquarters.

"Don't forget the dessert this time, and keep it under that tree with yellow flowers, it is behind the headquarters." He had placed his note in the clean box, and shoved it back into the hands of the same starry-eyed kid.

"Give it to her next time you see her." He wondered what happened to the little boy after their little arrangement was made. He had taken a leap of faith that day and it had worked, the girl had come back next month, she had been looking for another group of enthusiastic kids but the little boy from last month had approached her.

"The captain told me to give you this."

She had to convince him to not go up to Levi and cause and commotion. Little did she know, Levi had already seen her bribing the kid with some homemade candy which was meant for him instead. Over the next few months, Levi would try his hardest to remember her face, contemplating the decision to ask Moblit for a sketch. But he knew that Mira wound not agree, she, just like him was scared of getting too comfortable. Perhaps that fear had been the reason why they both had established such a weird dynamic. They had soon fallen into a routine of exchanging letters, and preserving them. Levi soon found comfort in the increasing familiarity, Mira's behaviour becoming more and more predictable. They both had their own set of circumstances that had prevented them from meeting in person, including the fear that it would ruin the sacred relation they had built. They could not afford to lose each other, Mira had deliberately approached him, and he had actively seeked her out in return, going as far as dealing with a noisy little brat to see the girl for once. They were not meant to cross paths, they were not soulmates, they were hardworkers. Levi barely had the time to sleep, and it took a lot of courage to talk about his feelings, get, he made himself vulnerable in those letters, grateful that someone was willing to listen.

Mira, on the other hand, had to sneak around to deliver the meals. She was poor, a mere house-helper for some rich families, but she worked extra hours to buy those fancy ingredients. Hiding letters from her parents required a lot of tact, so did rejecting each and every man her father introduced her to. All with the awareness that Levi did not and would not love her, ever. She had forced herself to find comfort in her loneliness, unlike Levi, she never poured out her emotions. She only wrote about the things she did, the funny little dreams she saw, but her feelings were a taboo topic. To top the emotional labour, the fall of wall Maria had driven her faraway from the new headquarters, so Levi would sometimes slip in some money to help her out. It felt good to provide for her, to take care of her, especially after she had lost her parents.

The relationship had went on for years, until Levi had finally expressed feeling fearful about his impending death.

"I may never come back, also, do not reply to this letter... I will have gone to Marley by the time this reaches you. Please live a long life." A tear dropped onto the letter, smudging the ink. Levi had been to Marley several times, but this was final. He needed to save the world, not just Paradis. She had cried until her lungs gave out, until she felt lightheaded, but not because Levi would possibly not return. She was scared about the pain he might experience in his final moments. Would it be a titan? A bullet? An explosion?

"God, please let there be someone to save him." she had prayed, and her prayers had been answered. The woman Mira would get jealous of had found Levi in a horrible condition. She had lost her cheer, no longer wanting the responsibility of her position. She had even suggested running away together to the Captain, and honestly Mira would have preferred for him to do that too, afterall, Hange knew him better and longer than her. But the Captain had a promise to fulfill, and he would never just give up.

Mira never knew any of it, she refused to look at the newspapers, too scared of facing the new world of extremists. The walls were gone, some scouts had returned, but she did not see the Captain. Her pessimistic mind assumed the worst, and soon enough, a little plant was dancing on her window in honour of a soldier she had presumed dead.

It had been a long time since the last letter was sent, and Levi was now in a wheel chair. He wondered about the girl, he had never bothered to ask her name, instead he had start calling her Lily, since she always wore one of those in her wavy hair.

He remembered his decision, if they survived the titans, then he would pursue her. This was his last mission life, little did he know, Mira had started pushing him out of her mind. She had been struggling with a phase, she would write long letters addressed to him and keep them tucked away to cope with her thoughts. The cold, lonely nights had been harsh on her, and she was losing her appetite. It was going to be okay though, Levi was already on a ship to Paradis, ready with a ring in his coat. For now, he would go over his speech for the first peace summit in Paradis, and then straight to Mira. He was sure he could find her.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 7.1

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well do I have an update for you now this chapter is PRETTY LONG so I apologize in advance, which is why this chapter has been broken up into 2 parts. Now I would like to thank some users who have helped me with the face cast decision in each of the family members and I think it’s safe to say for certain characters some of you will already get (hehehe). Now like I said this is a lot because it contains background info on our two main leads John and Serafina and now for the warnings.

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, child abuse (WHICH I THINK IS VILE which is why I’ve put a trigger warning in my taglist below so anyone with that blocked from their suggestions may not be able to read this chapter).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@dancingcoolcat​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@kinole009x​

@wormzteef​

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

The truth of Serafina Black and John Deacon

*May 28th. Nighttime 3rd Person POV*

It was a full moon tonight; the spring wind softly blew against the trees outside and across the grand lake which rippled in the wind’s direction.  Inside the manor however was a different story.

At around 1:30am, the walls began to tremble, almost as if it were crying.  The moving pictures soon became fearful as they felt their portrait homes shaking with the walls.  The wooden snake décor along the stairs was now hiding itself down on the ground trembling in fear.  The lights soon came on one by one down a certain hallway and a long snake like tail slowly slithered down the hallway.

Freddie had come up from the basement, sensing and knowing just exactly what was behind the house acting like this, especially since this wasn’t the first time to happen.  He slowly continued down the hallway and faint whispers from the pictures began to echo out.

“Back to bed. All of you. Stop gawking and back to bed. Come on now back to bed.” He told the pictures as he slithered past them till he saw Brian standing at the last door.  When the Naga now stood beside the Elf lord, Brian opened the door and inside they saw the culprit behind the house’s anxiety.

Lying in her bed was Serafina, tossing and turning as her whole body was caked in sweat. Whimpering frightenedly like a lost puppy.

“This is the worst I’ve seen her.” Brian whispered softly.

“It’s another big milestone this year Brian. Those are always the hardest for her.” Freddie merely replied. “As always do not let John come into this room, and also keep our Knight away from this wing. They don’t need to see her like this.” Freddie soon slithered into the master bedroom of John and Serafina.

When the tip of his tail entered the room, Brian closed the door and stood guard of it.

Inside the dark bedroom, Freddie slowly slithered towards Serafina, all the while looking at the walls as they began to burn and boil up like sores.  

He then stared at the young witch who was still tossing and turning, trapped in her own mind like a caged animal.  His forked tongue tasting the air as he could literally taste the heat in the room as well as Serafina’s fear and anxiety rising higher than he ever saw before.

When he got right up to her bed, his hand slowly reached out for her and as he touched her wrist, he was suddenly hit with a vision.  All around him he saw nothing but fire.  A blazing hot fire surrounding a cozy little home.  

He also heard various levels of screaming.  Ranging from ages of either a full grown men, women, young adult men and even small children.  They were filled with nothing but pain and sorrow.  

Flashes of green lights also shot up at him and Freddie knew all to well just what that green light meant.

As Serafina kept whimpering and panting away, Freddie tried to call out to her trying to get her to snap out of her nightmare.  Then with one final call, he managed to get Serafina to wake up and the both of them were now gasping for air.  Freddie lying across Serafina’s legs exhausted from the vision he had seen while she looked up and saw Freddie lying before her.

“I—I s-saw it. I could…..feel their pain…….hear their screaming.” She choked out frightenedly.  Freddie composed himself and stood beside her.

“It was only a dream.”

“No. It was a memory. Like your visions I—could see everything. Feel. Everything.”

“Visions like mine have dire consequences. Now you are indeed the most powerful witch I have ever known, your powers of the mind alone can convince anyone—”

“No Freddie it’s not my powers, I know what it is. Just like last year these memories continue to burn into my brain. And they’re getting worse!” she pleaded to the Naga.  “I thought the Hydra test cured me of this.”

“It did. Instead of degrading yourself with your guilt every day you’ve only resorted to doing it once a year. And you know it wasn’t you’re……”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be the last of your family by murder! To know that you were forced to stay alive while your own family dies!”

“Actually, I do.” Freddie told her in a low, serious but velvet-like voice.  The young witch looked at the Naga as he continued, “For the very same bloodline that took your family away from you, took mine as well. One man, slaughtered my entire race. And I was forced to live with that.”

Serafina’s eyes filled with tears as she lay back down, her back facing Freddie and her hand clenching her pillow.

“I should never have let John take me away from home.” She whimpered out as tears dripped down her face.  There was a moment of silence in the room, except for the faint sobs that came out of Serafina’s lips.  She soon felt coils beginning to wrap around her.  She was taken out from her blanket and soon found herself wrapped up in Freddie’s coil.

Instead of squeezing her nearly to death like he’s done to millions of others in the past, he kept a comforting embrace around her as he now wrapped his arms around her.  Holding her like a parent holds a crying child.  Looking down at her, he could see that she had now mentally reverted to the frightened child she once was when she first had to deal with this.

“Being the last of your family is a lonely, dark path.” He gently cupped the side of her face while the tip of his tail tucked the strands of hair that stuck to her face out of her eyes. “You will learn why it was you that survived. And when you do……you will know peacccce.”

She looked up at Freddie and saw as his eyes began to shift in a hypnotic pattern.

“You can mourn in the morning. For now, ssssshhhut your eyes. Ssssslip into sssilent ssslumber.” her eyes slowly began drooping tiredly as she couldn’t look away from Freddie’s gaze.  Finally her eyes shut and the house was now at ease.

Freddie kept her in his coils for the rest of the night and stood guard over his young red witch.  He looked out of the balcony up to the stars and for the first time in what felt like eons, a single tear slipped down Freddie’s face as he stared at a specific constellation in the sky.

*2nd Person POV. The next morning*

After you wake up and make up the bed, you walk down the stairs to see that for the first time since you moved in, breakfast hadn’t been made. In fact no one was in the kitchen.

“Serafina? John?” you walk through the house but in each room you could see that no one was there. “Hello?” you then go out into the backyard.  Thinking that maybe they could be in the gardens, after all it was a beautiful day today for gardening.

“(Y/n)?” you turn around and there stood Brian.  His face looked shocked to see you out here in the garden.

“Brian there you are. Where’s everyone else? Was there another problem at the club?” you ask him.

“N-no. No. I—I thought you had your internship today?”

“I only work Monday through Friday. Today’s Saturday Brian.”

“Bollocks.” He muttered.

“Is—everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. No need to worry your head dear one.” He tried his best to assure you.

“Great cause I was hoping Serafina could teach me how to do some transfiguration. John told me she was always the best at it and even taught him. I’ve always wanted to change into my favorite animal. Where is she?”

“Umm (Y/n). I don’t think today’s a good day for a magic lesson. Let alone the rest of the week for that matter.” He muttered the last part.

“Why?” you question with a tilt of your head.  Brian looked towards the gardens and sighed heavily.

“We didn’t want you to see this but…..there’s no use in hiding it.”

“Hiding what? Brian you’re starting to scare me here.”

“There’s no need to be frightened mellon. But just promise me that when we find Serafina you won’t speak a word to her. In fact don’t even let your presences be known to her.” His tone that always filled you with warmth and comfort now gave you anxiety.

He places a hand to your shoulder and guides you deep into the garden.  Further than you ever went before until your eye caught the sight of Serafina and Roger standing close together under a large willow tree.

Play video

Roger had an arm wrapped around Serafina but this didn’t seem like Roger trying to make a pass at her.  It was almost like he was trying to comfort her or something.  Brian presses his finger to his lips as he gestures for you both to move closer.  You both crouch down behind the shrubs and through the green curtains of the willow you could see Serafina in a state you had never seen her before.  Normally she always appeared motherly, welcoming, and caring to those around her.  Like she was the kind of woman who would never betray your trust or break you down.

But all that stood before you now was a shell of the woman she was.  Her red eyes were now red with shedded as well as unshed tears.  Her mind seemed to be elsewhere as she just stood there frozen in time in that broken state of hers.

Roger tried his best whether nuzzling her or even giving her a comforting kiss to get her to snap out of it.  But she was long gone.  Lost in her mind.

You turn to Brian confused and sad wanting to ask why Serafina was this upset but he once again pressed his finger to his lips before pointing back towards them.  It was then John soon arrived at the Willow tree.  His expression solemn and eyes full of regret as he stared at his wife.

Roger turned to John and glared at him but before he could do anything, that’s when Serafina turned to John.  Her expression never changing as she stared at him with solemn, broken eyes.  Roger backed off as John slowly walked towards her.

The couple stood silently before each other.  Not one of them saying a word.  It was then John fell to his knees, his head bowing in shame before Serafina.  He stayed in that position and you watched as Serafina just looked down at him.

She then raised her hand up and a red beam of light started to form from her palm as she looked like she was about to strike John down. Your heart began to race with anxiety, was she really gonna strike him when he was unarmed? Not even wanting to fight? And why did John seem to want this to happen?

But when you saw Serafina’s hand tremble and shake you knew then she wouldn’t do it.  And it was only confirmed when she closed her hand into a fist before turning away from John as more tears seeped down her face.  Her biting her tongue to keep from sobbing.

That’s when Roger came back, this time in his horse form. Serafina wrapped her arms around Roger’s powerful stallion neck and he lowered his head onto her shoulder.

You and Brian were now back at the mansion in the living room. A cup of tea was in your hand as Brian prepared himself his usual cup of wine.

“I’ve never knew Serafina could be so broken like that.” You muttered solemnly.

“She tries to keep her optimistic and motherly nature. But on this day, she can’t help herself. Be thankful she’s only managed to keep it for this day. When I first met her, she was like that almost every day.” Brian said before taking a sip of his wine.

“What happened to her that made her so broken?”

“Today is the 900th anniversary of the day she and I had something in common.” Freddie’s voice spoke up.  You quickly turn and surprisingly for the first time since you’ve been here, Freddie had come out from the cave of the basement and was now slithering towards you all.

“And what is that?” you ask the Naga.

“To tell you that would take forever. But if you wish to truly know, follow me and you will see what I’ve seen.” He slithered away.  You turn to Brian completely confused.

“Does he always speak like that?”

“Nagas always love to speak in riddle-like manner. It’s just their nature. But you should go with him. He can tell you more than even I ever could.”

“You really think I should go with him?” he nodded. You let out a whine as you stand up and you muttered. “I don’t want to though! He nearly killed me last time I was alone with him.”

“But he didn’t. Trust me if Freddie really wanted to kill you, he’d never let you know.” Brian said sternly before trailing off in a darker tone.

Swallowing the last bit of your tea you set the cup down and walk in the general direction that Freddie had slithered off to.  You heard his voice in your head telling him to come up to the attic.

When you got there, all around there were additional shelves filled with even more ancient trinkets, spell books, weapons, and even some wizard photographs (apparently when wizards take pictures with a camera, the pictures move about in that moment in time).

You then see Freddie standing right before a beautiful fountain.  The bottom of it was pure stone and trailing up towards the top was an intwining pattern that resembled tree branches twisting and turning over each other.  A silver bowl encompassed the top part of the fountain, shining as bright as a star in the sky.

“A gift of the Eldar. Brian’s grandmother’s mirror. This shows you things that were, things that are, and some things…..that have not yet come to pass.”

“Is this how you see the future?”

“I’ve been seeing the fates of all creatures long before this fountain was created. But when Brian was able to bring this along, with a little bit of my magical knowledge, I helped improve on just what this fountain can do.” He pulled out a tall silver pitcher and poured the water that was inside it into the fountain, while with his tail, it reached over to one of the shelves and took out a small vile with barely a quarter of what looked like water.

“What’s in there?” you ask him.  He put the pitcher down and took the vile from his tail and responded.

“The key to you seeing what all has been in the lives of your teachers. This my darling, are the tears of Serafina Rhea Black and John Richard Deacon.” He then opened the vile and tilted it over the fountain and soon the two teardrops fell into the fountain.

He turned to you and gestures towards the fountain.  Slowly you walk towards the fountain and look at Freddie.  He gives you a soft nod telling you to look into the fountain.  You look down at the water to see ripples forming and expanding throughout the entire fountain.  Smoke began to form from within the water and all of a sudden it felt like you were being pulled in.

It was so fast and so quick you almost didn’t even know what was happening.  Until finally you landed before a large forest.  The sun was shining high above the sky, birds were chirping and flying about through the forest trees.  Suddenly you heard the sound of a child’s giggle.

Coming out from the trees was a young girl around 5-6 years old.  She had very long black hair, right about to her mid-back and she was chasing a butterfly. Her bright brown eyes gleaming with child-like innocence as she chased after the butterfly.

“Hey wait! Come back! I just wanna play!” she called out to the butterfly before chasing after it once more.  For some reason this child looked familiar to you but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

“She looks different. Especially to how you know her now but it is her.” Freddie’s voice said beside you.  You look to him before turning back to the little girl.  Your eyes widening in realization!

“Wait that’s….that’s Serafina!?”

“Indeed it is.”

“But her hair’s not red, nor are her eyes.”

“All will be explained further on. Keep watching. This was the day that changed both their lives forever.” You both continue to watch as little Serafina run after the butterfly before crouching down in the tall grass as it now landed on a boulder before her.

“The mighty huntress……has cornered her prey.” Serafina whispered lowly.  You watch as gets into pouncing position and she leaps over the grass but over shoots her mark and soon knocks into someone.

A boy around a year or 2 older than her.  He had short brown hair but there was no mistaking from those eyes of his.  That mix of blueish grey, this was John Deacon as a little boy.  The two of them rolled around till Serafina ended up on top of him and the two of them groaned in pain.

“Sorry. I—get a little enthusiastic when I chase after butterflies.” Serafina apologized.  You saw as little John Deacon just stared up at little Serafina in pure awe.

Like she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

A light blush blossoming across his chubby face.

“What’s wrong? Can’t you talk?” little John’s stunned face continued to grow redder. “Hey, I don’t bite.” Serafina told him assuringly before getting off of him. “My name’s Serafina. What’s your name kid?”

“Pretty.” You hear him whisper.

“Pretty? What kind of a weird name is that?” Serafina asked with a tilt of her head.

“Wha? No. No I mean……my-my name is-it’s I meant to say. John. My name is John Deacon.”

“You’re part of the Deacon family!? My daddy says I need to be careful around you.” she said stunned before trailing off lowly.  You watched as John’s expression grew sad and he lowered his head in shame.  And you thought you saw tears in his eyes but that’s when Serafina suddenly exclaimed. “I like you!”

“What? But didn’t you hear my last name?”

“Yeah I did. My cousins Fred and George Weasley say that they’re stuck up trolls that don’t know how to have fun. But you seem like you do.” She then poked him in the chest before jumping back from him. “Tag you’re it!”

She jumped in circles around John who just looked at her confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Wizard tag. I tagged you now you gotta come tag me!” Serafina giggled happily as she continued to hop around him. “C’mon don’t you know how to play?” when John looked down once again, Serafina stopped hopping and stood in front of him. “Ohh.” She said solemnly.

“Mother and Father don’t allow fun.” Serafina then began to ponder for a moment before she exclaimed.

“I got it!” she took his hand and dragged him out of the forest.

“Wh-where are we going?”

“To the masters of fun. They’ll show you how to have fun!” they soon disappeared from sight.

You and Freddie stood there and you say to him.

“She was pretty resilient as a child wasn’t she?”

“Serafina always did want to get her way. And being the only child from her mother and father she did get that. But it was a good thing she persisted in wanting to being friends with John. His family is……to put it lightly. Not a great bunch of characters.” The scene then faded away into smoke and now you stood before a large mansion of some kind.

Unlike the mansion you currently lived at, this one was dark and gloomy.  Hardly any light came in through the windows (even though they stood as high as the ceiling).  A large fireplace was to your right and up above you a large diamond crystal chandelier.

Suddenly coming around the corner was John who looked much older this time (roughly around 11 or 12 years old) but you watched in horror as a woman dragged him by his ear before tossing him down to the ground and she hissed out.

She seemed to be around her 40’s maybe 50’s and wore a long black raggedy dress with a black corset around it.  Her hair was dark brown like John’s, and it reminded you of Brian’s to a degree but her hair was almost unkept and madded around her face like a rat’s nest.  What really frightened you the most were her eyes.

Her dark brown eyes that almost appeared black were just wide with insanity.  Even the most insane person that had ever been convicted and had those same crazed eyes couldn’t compare to the eyes of the woman before you.

“You’ve been with that filthy half-blood again weren’t you?”

“No I—”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!!!” she screamed at him.  Hearing her voice was like hearing nails running down a chalkboard.  It almost made your ears bleed and send fear up your spine. “You know it’s never good to lie to mummy Johnny boy.” Whoa wait what? This crazed psychotic woman was John’s mother?!

You turn to Freddie, your eyes filled with shock and he nodded once to you.

“So why don’t you tell me again, were you with that filthy half-blood?” she hissed at her son’s face all the while holding a knife!? A freaking knife at her own child!

“What is with all the shouting now Bellatrix?” a deep baritone voice echoed through the walls.  Soon a very tall and lean man soon came into the picture.  His posture showed that he held great status and power with his hands behind his back as he slowly walked towards the woman known as Bellatrix and John. He had long platinum blonde hair that went down to his back and piercing blue eyes.

“Ask your son Ronan. I caught him gallivanting with that insult of a witch Serafina Black!” Ronan soon turned to his son.  John fearfully turned to his father who only looked down at him like he was an insect.

“And what were you doing together?” he asked John.  When John refused to answer his father all he got was a hard slap across the face sending him to the ground.

Alright that’s it! You race towards John’s father to tackle him to the ground when Freddie’s tail wrapped around your waist.

“Let go of me I’ve got to help him! They can’t do this to him this is child abuse Freddie!”

“These are the shadows of things that have been. The past cannot be altered nor changed not even erased. No matter how much we try to bury it.” You slump down and watch helplessly as John tries to pick himself back up.

“They were skipping along holding hands making lovey-dovey eyes at each other. And I even saw John give Serafina a thistle.” Soon a young teenager that almost resembled his father to a T said as he came strutting in the manor. “Honestly it made me feel sick to my stomach.”

“Well done Draco.” Bellatrix whispered to the teenager’s ear almost seductively.  You made a disgusted face as you turn to Freddie, questions buzzing through your mind like a swarm of bees.

“His older brother Draco. And Bellatrix is incapably of showing real motherly love as you can see. She’s unquenched by her bloodlust and any love she may try to show comes out as lust. Like for her eldest son whom she molded into the perfect killing machine.”

“How could John have remained the type of person he is today with a family like that? If that had been me I would’ve been locked away in some asylum or thrown in prison for the crimes I would’ve committed.”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Freddie told you.  You pondered and pondered till it finally came to you.

“Serafina.” He nodded and the world around you vanished once again into smoke and a new picture was formed.

This time however it was a large field in front of you. Nothing but green as far as the eye could see.  A little farm was just to the corner and you could hear the sounds of horses, cows, chickens, ducks and pigs.  When you turned around you saw what looked like a stack of houses on top of one another.

Wooden and all with many doors, windows and finally the stereotypical triangle-shaped roof with a little chimney on top.  The sun was high above the sky on this beautiful sunny day but there wasn’t any people around or showing up yet.

“Where are we?”

“Welcome to the Burrow. The home of Serafina and her entire family.”

“Just how big is her family to live in a house like that?”

“Remember darling they’re wizards. Not everything is as it seems.” Suddenly something landed behind the two of you and drove right through you both.  You at first were startled as you tried to make sure you were still there but then you remembered what Freddie said.  That this was in the past and nothing could see or hear us, so it would make sense that nothing could really touch you.

“There they are right on time.” Freddie said. “This happened the next morning after what you just witnessed.” The carriage soon came to a stop and coming out of it was Serafina and John along with two teenage boys.

Identical twins with the brightest red hair you had ever seen on anyone else.  It came down just short of their shoulders and they grabbed John’s stuff from the carriage while Serafina checked John over before taking his hand and leading him towards the Burrow.  The four young wizards walked quietly towards the house when you turned to Freddie.

“Go see.” You follow behind them and when you entered inside, it was like visiting a cozy cottage.  Antiques of pottery stacked along the shelves, a cute little table was set up with a plate of biscuits at the center.  And of course like Freddie said the house did seem to be bigger on the inside.

Not as big as John’s manor home but it was homey enough. Like being wrapped up in warm hugs homey with enough space to walk about.

“Do you think it’d be alright if we had some of these?” Serafina whispered.

“Yeah mum will never know.” whispered one of the twins. The three of them take the biscuits but Serafina grabs two and hands one to John.

“I—know it’s not much. But it’s home.”

“I’ve been here before Serafina. And I love it every time I come here. Thanks for getting me out of there.” He reached out and took the biscuit from her hand but allowed his fingers to linger on her hand a bit longer which made Serafina blush.

Oh my god how can these two kids be sooo cute together!? It was then you heard the sound of frantic footsteps and soon coming out from the corner of the stairs was a stout woman with long ginger hair.  Her eyes slightly narrowed as she spoke with a shrill in her voice.

“Where have you been!?” immediately Serafina and the twins hid their helpings of biscuits behind their backs as they stared like a deer in headlights at the woman before them.  When her eyes turned to John, they softened up and she came around as she spoke in a real motherly voice. “Oh John. How wonderful to have you back dear.” She then turned her attention back to Serafina and the boys, her hands at her hips as she lectured them. “Beds empty! No note! Carriage gone! You could’ve died! You could’ve been seen! Of course I don’t blame you John dear.” She spoke softly to John.

Her face then turned immediately concerned as she saw the bruising around John’s face.

“Oh, dear what happened to your face?” she walked up to John and cupped the side of his face, gently stroking the bruise which made him softly hiss in pain.

“He hit him again Aunt Molly. And they put bars on his window.” The twins nodded in agreement.  Molly continued to look John over and sighed.

“Alright, I’ll overlook this just this once. But be thankful I’m not your father cause otherwise you’ll have bars up your window Serafina Black.” The twins stared down at Serafina wide-eyed. “Come now John. Little bit of healing and then time for a spot of breakfast.” Serafina’s aunt guided John to another part of the room when her voice suddenly called back. “And you three put those biscuits back on the plate less you get the swaddle!”

Immediately you saw Serafina and the twins put their biscuits back on the plate and race back up the stairs.

As the scene went on you watched as Serafina’s aunt pampered John at the table telling him to tuck in as a large breakfast was now being set down along the table.

Another set of footsteps came walking down the stairs and soon a beautiful young woman with the same ginger hair color and honey brown colored eyes came down and she said.

“Molly have you seen my wand?” she asked in a warm, soft voice.

“Yes sister it was on the cat.” Molly told the young woman. When she saw John sitting beside Serafina at the table, her eyes slowly widened in fear.

“Hello Mrs. Black.” John greeted her with a smile.  Wait so was this…….Serafina’s mom? No wonder where she got her beautiful looks from, this woman was beautiful.  Ethereal almost like an angel.

“Young lord Deacon. What-what-what a surprise to see you here.” She then immediately raced off out of the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” John asked confused.

“Don’t worry about my mum. She’s always been freaked out a lot lately. In fact I think it was around the time we met. But I wouldn’t worry about that. She can sometimes act a little crazy at times. This one time Fred and George slipped this garden snake into her pillow and she refused to sleep in her bed for a month. My dad was not pleased about that.”

“Now, now Serafina don’t go insulting your mother like that. She loves you and you know it.” Her aunt Molly lectured her.

“Morning everyone!” a man’s voice called out. Soon coming through you was a stout man wearing the a green cloak and the traditional pointy wizard hat on top of his head.  It was the same color of dark green as his cloak but was worn down after probably years of being worn.

“Morning dad! Uncle Arthur! Arthur!” you heard everyone in the room chorus out.

“What a night! Nine raids. Nine!” the man known as Arthur said excitedly as he crossed across the kitchen to set his stuff down and take off his cloak and hat.

“Raids?” John questioned to Serafina.  She swallowed her food and said.

“You remember John, my uncle works with the Ministry of magic. In the Muggle artifacts office.”

“He loves muggles.” Said one of the twins that was with Serafina earlier.

“Thinks they’re fascinating.” The other twin joined in. Arthur went up to his wife and kissed her cheek before taking his seat at the head of the table.

“Well now,” Arthur said as he took his seat.  When he took notice of John sitting next to him he said, “Oh well John Deacon welcome back lad.”

“Morning Mr. Weasley. Hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”

“Nonsense. Besides I was wondering when your next visit would be, when did he get here?” Arthur waved off nonchalantly before digging into his breakfast.

“This morning.” Molly answered as she turned around from the oven. “Your sons and niece flew that enchanted carriage of yours to Leicester and back last night.”

“Did you really?” Arthur said in awe.  He then turned to his twin boys and asked enthusiastically, “How’d it go? Was it…..” as the twins began to talk over about how it worked out well, their mother stepped into the conversation.

“Arthur!” Molly scolded him as she slapped his arm and giving him a lecturing look.

“I mean……that was very wrong of you children! Very wrong indeed!” Arthur said in his best lecturing voice.

You saw as John and Serafina look at each other before smiling secretly at each other holding in their laughter.  Now that you’ve got more questions you stepped outside the house to see Freddie right by the pigpen.

“No wonder where she got her motherly side from. She’s almost exactly like her aunt. Serafina’s got a great family.” You heard Freddie softly laugh before it grew and he was now laughing hysterically.

“Great? Great is a loose term when describing families.”

“Well at least they treated John like one of their own. They were way better nurturers than his poor excuse of parents!” you exclaim at the Naga.

“That is true but Serafina’s parents weren’t any better than John’s were. I assume you’ve met her mother in there correct?” your anger faded as you say outloud.

“She did seem pretty freaked out about John. And Serafina said that it happened right after they met when they were little. So what is this really a Romeo and Juliet situation?”

“To a degree. It’s not so much as rivalry families. When one of John’s many great grandfather’s became the Sorcerer supreme, he sought out a hierarchy based line. In which Pureblood were respected and revered almost like Gods, while everyone else of either Half-blood or hybrid blood, in their case anyone born with a muggle parent, were deemed less worthy. But if you had a certain skill set then you were seen with a slight more advantage than the other families. But only by much.”

[retvenkos]

three times // theseus scamander x leta lestrange

Harry Potter: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald - Theseus Scamander x Leta Lestrange, slight fluff and angst

requested, few changes

A/N: am i writing all the requests that involve kissing scenes to try and (hopefully) figure out how they work? maybe. also, mentions of the holidays (i tried to keep it vague!) because anon asked! i know it’s july, don’t come for me.

Summary: “I know,” Leta whispered, her eyes closing for a half moment, long lashes kissing her golden brown skin, “and I meant what I said. Love can’t change me. But I want to be loved. I want to know what that’s like.”

the three times he told her he loved her, and the one time she agreed;

one, 1916

Spare time was hard to come by, in the thick of battle. Theseus had never known so much chaos, so much fear. He couldn’t help but feel he had made the right decision, disobeying Minister Evermonde’s legislation and joining the war. Even with the help of thousands of wizards, the war did not cease. He wondered, in between air strikes and word form home, if there was ever going to be an end. One day it would come, he supposed, but was it one day after tomorrow or one day after his death? 

He did not know. He couldn’t know, no matter how many Seers predicted ends through the glimpses they saw in crystal balls. 

Did they see this destruction in their foresight? Did they see these bodies, broken and bruised? Did they see him, penning letters home in the middle of desolation, his wand at his side just in case, a rifle in his bloody hands? Did the Minister of Magic, in his comfortable office with a large desk, hear their cries as he told wizards to stand by? 

Did his friends and family know that he loved them - that he was laying down his life for a better future, a possible tomorrow? Did they know that he was fighting to save them? Merlin, he loved them and hoped that they were safe.

‘No one is innocent in this war, Mum. Not the children pulled into battle, not the men planning the attacks, not even us wizards cowering behind wrongful legislation and poorly crafted excuses. Fear has turned wizards into something terrible. As an Auror, dedicated to the safety of our world (which includes Muggles, whether the Ministry recognizes that or not), I cannot come home. I will see this war to the end. I must.’

Theseus held his family in letters; the flowy cursive of his mother, the neat penmanship of his father, Newt’s messy scrawl, and the occasional word from Leta, her letters small but loud. Their words reminded him of simpler times, days when the world was smaller, hurt was shallower, and suffering was least common. 

The war was wrapping everyone in a storm and scattering them on the wind. Where would he be thrown? How would he land? On his own two feet? On his back? His own thoughts threatened to be his undoing, so he clung to those beliefs that he could forge out of the fire.

‘I have to save these men who fight alongside me. I know their stories and their pain. These men aren’t just Muggles, they are my brothers in these trenches. I know you all will understand my bleeding heart, it’s not like it hasn’t gotten me into trouble before, Newt knows that better than anyone.’

There were times his courage left him. When he was stripped of all soul and left as flesh and bone, bleeding from wounds that would never quite heal, some scars in areas that neither medicine nor magic could reach. 

Theseus wondered what he would become after this war. How much of him would stay intact if he survived this living hell? Theseus had met men who had been in wars before. They worked with him at the Auror Office, hardened men of the world and yet jumpy and fragile from memories. Would he understand them? Or find himself to be something else completely, so distant from that humane side of himself that he no longer recognized man?

He was being pushed every which way, burned in the fires of war. He had to cling to his love; he must hold onto his principles and beliefs that paled in the face of this destruction.

‘I am sorry to have left without warning, but if Father would have known, he would have stopped me. All of you would have, but none of you would have changed my mind. I love you all too much to stand idly by.

‘I will write again as soon as I can. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage as I always have. I do not want more days as these ones. I cannot continue to watch them come. I’m sending this to you with a bit of magic as our letters are read and censored by junior officers, but I can only send a few this way. Muggles aren’t completely daft. Stay strong and send Leta my love.

‘Theseus.’

--

two, 1921

It was dark when he returned home. Hours at the Ministry were long and taxing, enough to steal any and all daylight from his life. By the time he made it home, the rest of the world was fast asleep. Theseus entered quietly, thinking the woman inside to be dreaming, but she sat at the window in dresses of silk, her eyes glassy and sombre.

“Leta” —her name brought a smile to his lips— “I thought you would be asleep.” Theseus addressed her fondly as he set down his suitcase and shedded his coat. He sat across from her on the window seat, squeezing her shoulder as he passed. She allowed him, still lost in the seas of thought. She had been staying with him for the last week while her place was getting renovated, and in the meantime Theseus had gotten to know his friend better than before, recognizing odd behavior more often. “Is everything alright?”

Leta blinked twice, her eyes clearing and color flooding back into her brown cheeks. “Of course,” she said, “I was just...”

“Thinking. As always.”

She smiled, dipping her head in concession. There was something melancholic in the air that settled around her - deep and omnipresent, assailing her against her own volition when she least expected it.  

It reminded Theseus of that deep part of himself born from war and strife, hidden from those who passed by. Only with Leta did he bear that side of himself, that sorrow they both knew all too well.

“Are you alright?” She busied herself with fixing her skirts, smoothing out their wrinkles with care. 

“Yeah,” Theseus sighed, relaxing into the seat, “I’ve only had to deal with the idiocy in the Auror Office, rather than the entire Ministry, today.”

“So, a calm day, then.”

He nodded, his lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. “And you, Leta? How was Travers?”

“Besides his usual, terrible self?” Theseus scoffed at her comment and she continued, “Being his assistant is simultaneously the best and worst thing you’ve ever convinced me to do.”

“Worse than my convincing you and Newt to set the Erkling in the Hogwarts greenhouses loose?” Theseus raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes mischievous. “They eat children, you know.”

“I should know better than you! The bloody thing bit me! I still have a scar!” Leta held up her arm, pushing back her sleeves to show him a scar on the inside of her forearm, faded from time, but present all the same.

Theseus kissed it better and she swatted his shoulder.

“At least you’re feeling better.” Theseus smiled contentedly, his eyes searching her face for any lingering sorrow he might find. It was always there, if he looked hard enough. He had only ever seen it go away when she was with Newt, talking about the humanity of creatures. There were no monsters, he would always say, only blinkered people. 

“What are you thinking about now?”

“Huh?”

Leta was staring at him, her intense eyes alight with something Theseus couldn’t put his finger on. There was always something with Leta that he didn’t understand, something that no doubt came from her shrouded memories. Her own war that no one else knew. He often wondered how he was supposed to reach her when part of her was still lost at sea, turning in tempests he could not locate. He would be damned before he stopped trying, though. That much he knew.

“What’s on your mind, Theseus?”

“You,” he answered honestly. Her lips parted in shock, but her eyebrows furrowed in thought, “and Newt. You two were always quite the pair. I daresay you got along with him better than I did, try as I might.”

Leta sighed, her head shaking slightly, “Newt can love anything. Especially those things worst for him.”

For a moment, Theseus was stunned into silence. He knew she thought little of herself, despite his constant comments to the contrary, but to hear it so plain was something else. The truth was heavy on her shoulders, and only now did he see how far it had dragged her.

“Leta...”

“I’m a monster, Theseus.” Her tone was bitter cold. “You and Newt are too good to see it, but I truly am.”

“I don’t believe it.” Theseus shook his head, his voice firm if not the slightest bit angry when he spoke. “You have your secrets, Leta, but no secret can change who I know you to be.”

Then I’ve fooled you, too—”

“—Then I’ve seen the truth of who you are.” Theseus grabbed her hands, so small and smooth in his own, and looked deep into her teary eyes. “I know what it’s like to be changed into something unrecognizable. I’ve also had to move on, pretending you’re the same when you aren’t. But trust me, Leta, nothing has changed who you are at your core.”

“Theseus, please. There’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me and I’ll love you through it.”

Her breath hitched in a gasp, her mind acutely aware of her hands in his, their sudden proximity, and the fire in his eyes. Theseus did not pull back in fear of his thoughts being spoken aloud. It was time she knew.

If Leta could not love herself, then Theseus would love her until she could. 

Theseus had never found someone he couldn’t save.

He had seen so much loss in his life; so much sorrow had riddled the trenches, so much pain had permeated the air, so many people passed in and out of his life, all of them laying down their lives, all of them clinging onto something to believe in. He had chosen love. He clung to it like a chlld clinging to their mother, fearful of what he would be without it. He had learned early on that love saved men. It was those men with someone to go back home to that survived their trench foot and shell shock. It was those wizards with someone to keep safe that passed the Auror training programme. It was those people who loved that made it through this harsh world.

He loved Leta. He would love her until she loved herself. Then he would love her even more.

Leta pulled her hands away from him. “I know what you’re thinking, Theseus, but you can’t save me.”

“At least let me try.”

She shook her head, standing up from the window seat, her silks tumbling from the cushion, falling around her like a waterfall. “Love can’t change me.”

Leta walked out the door, into the night, and Theseus watched her with desperate eyes. He had so much love in his heart, but none of it could save him from being alone.

--

two, 1924

Theseus came down the stairs of his childhood home and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the island as he watched his mother rolling out cookie dough, chatting with Newt. Holiday music drifted through the air, the voice of the crooner deep and soothing. It reminded him of the happiness of a lifetime ago, when Newt, Leta, and he would sled down the nearby hill all day, only coming inside to steal cookie dough and cocoa, thinking themselves quick enough to not be spotted.

So much had transpired, since; Newt and Leta had grown up, no longer the impressionable kids that used to tag along on his misadventures. They were people in their own right, now, with depths he hadn’t seen. They were older now, not as easily forgiving of his rough nature, not as aware of what happened inside of his head. 

Some things never changed, though, and a Scamander Christmas was one of them. 

“Theseus.” Newt acknowledged him, his already bent head nodding further downward, his chin almost touching his chest. “These are your favorite, aren’t they?” His younger brother looked down at the cookies their mother was cutting out - gingerbread that would be frosted with a thick buttercream icing. It was always too sweet for Newt, but Theseus would always manage to get the cookie with the thickest layer of frosting.

Theseus was grateful for his attempt at conversation. It wasn’t easy for him and Newt, anymore.

Not since the war. Not since he changed.

“You haven’t been gone so long you’ve forgotten our holiday traditions, have you?” Theseus made sure to keep his tone light, teasing. There couldn’t be any more misunderstandings between the two of them.

“Not exactly, I’ve—”

“—Only been missing for an entire year,” the voice of Leta Lestrange echoed through the Scamander household, and the next moment she was in the kitchen, next to Theseus’ mother, her smile polite but her eyes bright with joy.

Newt let out a strangled sort of laugh, a mixture of surprise and happiness. “Leta, I-I didn’t—”

“That’s what makes it a surprise, Newt.”

“Of course.” The younger Scamander stammered, his eyes anxiously flitting across her face.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Leta.” Theseus finally spoke, saving Newt from his floundering attempt at reconciliation, and grabbing the attention of the young woman. She smiled at him, and the sight of it spread a warmth through his body.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Theseus nodded with a crooked smile of his own, color blooming on his cheeks. His eyes held hers for a long while, and she made no move of looking away. Theseus wondered what had changed inside her. Just a year ago she couldn’t look in his general direction when speaking and now it was common for her to stare at him as though no one else was there. What had changed?

Or, a part of him wondered, what has she resigned herself to?

Newt coughed and he blinked, dispelling the trance he had fallen into. Gathering himself, Theseus walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the fire burned bright and solitude surrounded him, leaving him to his thoughts.

It wasn’t long before Leta joined him, her footfall tentative and soft on the carpet. “Is there something wrong?” Her voice was low and without curiosity - almost as though she knew the answer to her question but thought asking to be a necessary formality.

Theseus swallowed. “No.”

She was still approaching, her voice drifting closer to him, like a song. “You can’t lie to me, Theseus. We’re too close for that.”

“Are we?” He turned to look at her, his voice strong with the slightest bit of hope laced in. Leta looked up at him, her eyebrows knit together. “I love you, but you told me I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Leta whispered, her eyes closing for a half moment, long lashes kissing her golden brown skin, “and I meant what I said. Love can’t change me. But I want to be loved. I want to know what that’s like.”

Theseus reached out and grabbed her hand, his calloused fingers brushing over her own. “Let me show you.”

Leta nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes wide with apprehension, her heart pounding in her chest. His lips met hers in a slow kiss, one hand on the small of her back, the other still intertwined with her own. She tasted sweet against him, like hot chocolate and candy canes.

“I love you.” Theseus whispered it when he pulled away, close enough for her to feel his breath across her lips.

She kissed him again.

[ankhashiva]

Heyaaa~ it's me again •~• Can you do angsty!kid! Julius (after the Midnight Sun Arc) x fem s/o ? But s/o loves him nonetheless. The world just need some more Julius stuff. There are so little ff of that hot guy. *-* Love ya! ♡♧

Hey ! :D I agree, the world needs more Julius stuff soooo I’m glad you requested again O/ Sooooo, I kept the same S/O from your first request, I enjoyed the idea of continuing somehow their romance. I also added one of my theories about Julius in this little scenario, I hope you will enjoy it! What I listened while writing your request: Undisclosed Desires  - Muse

_______________________________________________________________Heart and Soul

Clover Castle, 3 days after the siege of the capital.

The city resumed its life as well as possible, the Magic Knights clearing the debris thanks to their magic. But the city was like the victims of that terrible night: broken. A good number of Magic Knights of each company found themselves possessed by the Elves, the return to reality was terrible. Guilt, doubt, broken pride, anxiety. These feelings haunted these defenders of the Kingdom. And S/O quickly understood that they were also gnawing at the nation’s pillar, Julius Novachrono. 

Since his resurrection thanks to the Swallowtail, the artifact created by Secré, Julius was 13 years old again. S/O had passed from tears of sorrow to tears of joy in a fraction of a second, realizing that the man of her life was alive, in front of her, but by holding him against her, S/O felt like a void. It had disturbed her at the time but her doubt had been dispelled by Julius’s usual joviality. Three more days passed, in a new routine. S/O, herself Magic Knight at the Silver Eagle, helped to rebuild the city. The amount of astronomical work made her return to the palace late at night and completely exhausted. She had little time to give to Julius. But today, she was able to return earlier to see her lover.

S/O wanted to knock on the door when she heard Julius’s voice rise in power. She risked to enter discreetly and her heart tore apart. Julius was out of his mind, swinging the papers on his desk with a loose, fulminant gesture. S/O rushed to him and held him in his arms, to calm him down. He did not push her away. He accepted the embrace without flinching, and embraced her in return with extreme shyness. They stayed like this for a few minutes, S/O slipping his fingers into Julius’s hair to soothe him. When they broke the embrace, S/O picked up the papers, organized them before putting them on the desk. Julius observed it without really observing it, as if it were elsewhere. 

« Why don’t we take a break? Just you and me. » proposed kindly S/O. Julius nodded his head mechanically and both went to their common room. He sat on the couch, in front of the fireplace, and stared at him with his beautiful amethyst eyes. S/Oalso sat near his lover. She knew that Julius could be dispelled (especially if it was about magic) but this case was special. S/O broke the silence. « Julius… Do you know that you can tell me everything? That I am here for you? » Her tone was so sweet that Julius turned to his beloved, his eyes bright. 

« I dedicated my life to making the Clover Kingdom a kingdom where inequality would be one day in ancient story. I had sacrificed my personal life without regret, climbed the ladder to become Magic King. I worked tirelessly but I was careless. And it drove the Kingdom right into the brick wall. I cheated myself, many people died because of it, others are traumatized by the elven possession they suffered. I wasn’t able to protect the Kingdom, and now I’m stuck in my 13-year-old body.” S/O delicately took Julius’s hand, as if to encourage him to continue spilling his guts. He took a deep breath, then continued. 

“I have lost almost all my martial influence to the nobles who possess power and wealth, convincing them will not be easy.” The weight of the role of Wizard King suddenly seemed to become unbearable. Julius put his hand on his neck, feeling uncomfortable. “Worse, all this is not what worries me the most,” he replied, his piercing gaze on his S/O. Before the astonished expression of his beloved, he took gently her hands and confessed. « Ever since I resurrected with this body, I keep thinking you don’t deserve this. That you will be better off with a man who is physically adult. That I make you suffer. And by thinking that, I make myself suffer. Why would you stay with a teenager when you could live a happy life with someone who could back you up, not slow you down? These thoughts loop around in my head like a broken record and I can’t sleep anymore.” Julius’ hands trembled imperceptibly, but not enough to be unnoticed by S/O. She delicately took Julius’ face in her hands, with her eyebrows wrinkled, and looked deadly serious. Julius had never seen this expression on her face before and his heart skipped a beat. After what seemed to be an eternity, S/O broke the silence.« I fell in love with Julius Novachrono. With his personality. With his heart and, above all, with his soul. I won’t deny that your adult appearance also had a pleasant effect on me, but it was you and you alone that I fell in love with.  So now you’re going to listen to me. When I saw your corpse in the city, my world collapsed. I didn’t know anything about the Swallowtail, I really thought you were dead. A part of me died at that time. I never thought I’d see you again. And to have seen you the next day, physically adolescent and mentally the same, I didn’t believe it at the time. It was a miracle. I don’t care if you’re a teenager, because I’m in love with your soul. » Julius spread his eyes and then a shy smile appeared on his face. “Then, if it bothers you so much…” S/O went on, plunged into deep reflexion. Your resurrection spell remains a spell used thanks to an ancient artifact. I am confident that we can find information, people who can help get your body back and your powers.” Said S/O innocently. «Vanessa Enoteca of the Black Bulls is a witch, who knows what knowledge they possess at the Witches Forest» Julius had his magic-mania eyes back in just a few seconds, realizing what his beautiful and clever lover had just said. He was twitching on the couch, as if his fears had been dismissed. “Do you know how much I love you?” He said to S/O, his eyes bright with emotions. The young woman chuckled and he replied « I have my little idea… But do you know how much I love you?» And to turn the words into deeds, S/O slipped a light kiss on the lips of the man of his life. Julius blushed slightly, offering him a gentle smile. Nevertheless, he was lucky. As long as his soul mate was at his side, everything would be fine. “We’ll get through this together”

[gustafsnightangel]

Had to detour from Shattered Lives. I’m stuck on a section so it’s best to put it down for a bit and come back to it. Hope you enjoy.

💙💙💙

On Pointe Ch 1

He could almost guarantee he was more nervous than the dancers. This was a whole other realm of theater he wasn’t familiar with as well as he wanted to be. With the lead up to filming he was supposed to learn in six months what took them a lifetime to master. Fake it till you make it he thought.

“More like in over my fucking head.” He mumbled as he walked the steps to the studio two at a time. He was trying to stay positive.

It was a challenge he was looking forward to but at the same time it raised his anxiety to new levels. It was the one thing he still struggled with.

Battling addiction and alcohol was one thing but the anxiety was a whole other mountain to climb and overcome. It was there lurking in the background all day, every day. The meditation was barely keeping him together at the moment.

“You’re nervous.” Aidan said calmly as the pair walked into the main corridor of the dance studio.

“A little. You’re willingly open to the possibly of me crushing the toes on your prima.” He said honestly and his hands were sweating already. “Have you seen the size of my feet.” He grinned looking down at them and kicking them out slightly.

“I asked her personally, she accepted, and you’d be hard pressed to crush her toes. You’re more likely to drop her.” Aiden said with a smirk and chuckled at the blanched expression that crossed over Gustaf’s face.

“Not funny.” He said flatly, his panic rising.

“I’m kidding. You’ll be fine. She won’t let you drop her. Listen, learn. Do as she says and you’ll do fine.” Aiden clapped him on the back.

“And what if I do injure her? I’m out of my league here.” Gustaf asked as he ate up the corridor with his long strides. “I’m a clumsy, goofball when it comes to dancing, two left feet doesn’t come close.” Unless he was hammered, then he could dance, but not to the level or class they would be doing here, and there was no way he was resorting to the bottle because of it. He’d come too far. He would keep his shit together at all costs. Anxiety be damned.

“Gustaf.” Aiden said quietly, stopping at their destination as his hand paused on the door knob. “Truthfully I wouldn’t have asked her if I was worried, and she wouldn’t have agreed. She’s done this type of thing before. Don’t worry about it. Relax, breathe, learn.”

Aiden opened the door and Gustaf’s heart almost stopped as the anxiety flooded his system. I can’t do this he thought as he stepped inside the vast space.

He was mesmerized as he watched her spin en point over and over until he was dizzy, and then take off with her partner. They both seemed to glide effortlessly over the floor without taking a hard step. Her partner seemed to lift her as if she weighed nothing.

He let out a slow shuddered breath and tried to calm his raging anxiety of what he was about to undertake. Sure he could dance, when he had Dutch courage to fall back on, was the life of the party scene, or slow danced someone around a square of carpet. Now he didn’t, it was all him. Him, his two left feet, and the monster in his head. They were pros, he was the novice. How could this possibly end well he thought as he sat.

Aiden and Gustaf stayed to watch while they finished their class. Graceful beauty Gustaf thought, strong, defined, but with a grace and fluidity that swept him away. He now understood why she was the best in the ballet world. She was all the great dancers wrapped up in a five foot four inch package, and what a package she was.

She saw him now as her and Dane had stopped for a moment. A tall, lean body folded up onto the chair that looked slightly uncomfortable for his long frame. He looked nervous and anxious. Not a bad thing considering the task at hand she thought. Means he was taking this seriously, which she had made known to Aidan would not tolerate anything less.

She knew he’d never master it, didn’t have to, but he had to at least look the part he was playing. She was a hard task master, she knew it, owned it. But she wouldn’t tolerate someone, especially a Hollywood superstar, fucking her around or potentially injuring her because they didn’t take it seriously. It had happened before, she wasn’t allowing it a second time. Ever.

He was trying hard not to stare at her. That surprised her really. She wasn’t a model, or even a leading lady in a film where most were the painfully beautiful crowd. Or maybe it was just the anxiety, she could feel it flood out of him from over the other side of the room.

She’d admit to herself, only herself, he was easy on the eye and she had like him in Vikings. What wasn’t to like really. Tall, handsome, and from all accounts a kind and gentle soul, and those eyes. Yes, she’d done her homework as he had done his, no doubt.

She watched him some more as she gulped down water and talked with their piano player Maeve. She asked for something slower as a cool down. She wanted him to see the emotion you had to portray, the story you were telling with movement where words were never spoken.

Dane took her hand and they swept each other up. A slight smile touched the corners of her lips as they swept past their guest and he was enraptured by it. Taking it all in. She needed him to be invested in what they were about to do.

“Watch now.” Aiden said leaning over to Gustaf. “Your lessons have started.”

“They started when I walked in the building.” Gustaf said breathlessly watching the emotion pour out of her, out of them both. A tug of war, of love, of passion, and of sorrow.

He tried to watch both of them but watched the guy instead of the petite woman. It was difficult, as she made it look as easy as breathing and everything was so fast, but he needed to watch him on how he was holding her, keeping her steady. He needed to focus on something other than the anxiety clawing it’s way through his belly.

The couple finished and caught their breath before thanking Maeve and heading toward Aiden and Gustaf. It was only then he realized how tiny she was in comparison to his gigantic frame.

It was quick introductions today. He would be back tomorrow for the real work.

“This is Everly James.” Aidan said. “Gustaf Skarsgård.”

He shook her hand and felt the strength, the strength and power she held. On the outside she looked tiny and fragile but she was far from it. It took strength, dedication, and intense focus to achieve what she had done.

“The, Everly James. I’m honored.” He said honestly.

She didn’t shy away from him which he found intriguing. She stood tall and strong accepting his hand. It was strong, feminine, and silky soft. A woman in control of everything around her.

“Likewise. I’m looking forward to working with you.” She said softly and drank deeply from her water bottle. Her eyes never left his.

“I’ll warn you now I have two left feet.” He smiled trying to ease the monster coiling in his belly.

For fuck sake he thought, not now. Fall apart after you step out of the building. He forced the anxiety deep down and carried on. He’d deal with that demon later.

“We’ll work on that.” She reassured him and her smile although slight and reserved rocked his world.

“Tomorrow then?” Aiden said quickly as he knew Dane and Everly had a rehearsal to get to.

“Nine sharp, don’t be late.” She said and left to change.

“Aidan will get you some shoes.” She said as she headed out the door and there was a playfulness to her tone he hadn’t expected.

“Shoes?” He questioned Aidan staring him down. There were shoes he thought? Of course you idiot he chastised himself.

“Shoes. You can’t step on these floors with street shoes.” Aidan said honestly. “Don’t worry you won’t have to wear tights.”

“OooOh funny man.” He muttered and chuckled as they left for the day.

With shoes in hand he walked through the door to his accommodations, set keys and wallet on the counter, and pulled the shoes from the bag. He slipped them on and did as Aiden said. Walked around in them. They were comfortable but, new shoes were new shoes and he knew they’d pinch eventually.

He sat for meditation and let the panic attack that he’d held off successfully start to worm its way out. He breathed and let it consume him slowly, a piece at a time so it didn’t completely overwhelm him. He was in control he reminded himself, not the other way around.

He spent the remainder of the evening reading the material Aiden had given him. The basics. Feet positions, arm positions, body positions, steps, protocol, rules. It was like learning a new language and equally as frustrating.

Then there was Everly James. That woman stirred something in him he wasn’t quite ready to explore. He’d been clean and sober six years now and would be 37 this November. He wanted family and kids and Everly was the first woman he’d met that sparked that in him in a long time. But he had to get a handle on his life first.

He wanted her, his hands on her. She aroused him, captivated him. Her legs had caught his eye today. Long and slender didn’t cover it. They went all the way up and she had effortless flexibility. His thoughts drifted to her writhing under him, those legs wrapped around him, his hand caressing the length of them as he took her, and he had to get rid of those thoughts if he was going to get through this. Stunning didn’t begin to cover what she was.

He made good on those fantasies in the shower and flopped on the bed alone, naked, wet, and somewhat relaxed, for now. He had to keep that all under control tomorrow while laying his hands on her, being close to her, alone with her.

“Shit!” He muttered. “This is going to be fucking murder.”

She sat in the tub alone in her tiny apartment, easing sore and tired muscles, and thinking about the man she’d met today. Those eyes she thought, chewing on her lip. They looked slightly terrified at the prospect of dancing with her but there was kindness there. A gentleness in his touch too for someone so towering.

He had a body she wanted to explore, lips she wanted to kiss. She knew nothing would come of it, absolutely nothing. He’d be gone like the rest of them at the end of his six months. There was nothing wrong with a good healthy fantasy. She had bigger worries anyway.

Swan Lake opened in three months and she had to get her lower back to cooperate. She’d been stiff and sore for weeks now and wondered if she’d caught a bug or something. She was probably just tired.

“Maybe I should just fucking retire.” She muttered tossing the face washer into the water in disgust.

Her mind drifted to fantasies that involved the tall Swede. The hard reality was she was old and finding ’the one’ wasn’t exactly going to happen for her anytime soon.

Men had never courted her, never took the time to get to know a career driven woman that wanted it all. Career and family, and why the fuck couldn’t she? She had wanted a family, children, but now at her age it was a pipe dream. So she had to be content to keep dancing until her body couldn’t do it anymore.