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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

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Love Potion + Bailey’s Irish Cream + purple twist

Includes — Iwaizumi Hajime

Warnings: sacrilege, demon!AU, choking (with a rosary), defiling the altar (once more), another statue of Mary, creampie, hickeys

Being born into a cruel and unforgiving world was not a decision you’d wish to impart on anyone, not even yourself. Those blessed with bountiful lives and loved ones beside them should be thankful, yet they took things for granted. Kneeling at the pew, you find yourself unable to properly pray to God, as you’ve never seen His work with your own eyes. A sigh breaks from your lips, frustration evident in the tone. Nobody is there except for you.

And the priest.

Father Hajime, he told you to call him. There was something unsettling about him, but he seemed to be checking to make sure you were okay. Or not stealing, either way. You came with a hope to be forgiven for some sin and be blessed with a happy life, but your goal seems to not have been accomplished. Yet, you continue to kneel as you pretend to pray once more, hoping Father Hajime would leave so you could escape.

“Does something seem to be troubling you?”

Your body jerks from its position, standing rigid as you greet Hajime. He looks concerned, but you attempt to wave off his concern. “I’m just— I’ve had a bad week. Thought I’d go back to old roots. It- It seemed like a good idea,” you don’t add anything to the sentence, keeping it back. Maybe this way, he’ll let you go. He doesn’t budge, but he does sit down on the bench and pats the spot next to him. Sighing, you comply.

“Would you like to confess for your sins? Or would you prefer to vent out your frustrations?” His tone is calm and encouraging, giving you a sense of calamity. Shoulders heave as you glance at the door, then to him, sighing again.

“It’s just been a bad week. I’m a poor and unfortunate soul who has happened to be stuck with the short and sticky end of the stick. I doubt God would be willing to forgive me after I abandoned my faith at such a young age, but I thank you for trying to make me feel better. I should probably go, Father,”

“There’s no need to go so soon,” his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from leaving. His grip isn’t tight, but rather it’s almost as if it’s a plea to not go. At least, not yet. “Please, I’m here to help you,”

“You can’t,” your words can’t be changed, nor can your mind. The deal has been sealed, deciding to go home and cry yourself to sleep, binging shows and drinking until your body can’t feel. Hajime doesn’t let that happen, his concerning look turning into a much more sinister look — grin stretching to something mischievous.

“I could give you everything you ever need or want, all you have to do is let me have a bit of fun,” his words echo in your mind, the implication making your face hot. While he’s attractive for such a corrupt and boring position, you didn’t think it’d be like that. Yet, when he stands and positions his hands on your shoulders, you find yourself no longer in the presence of a priest or the Father who welcomes you in. No, before you stands a demon with glinting sharp teeth and nails that could pierce skin. His eyes have a raging fire inside them and his head sprouts horns that befit the title of a demon. “Will you let me indulge myself?”

Your place was no longer in the pews, split open on the bench as Hajime leaned over you. No, rather he made it known he would worship you as he indulged himself, placing you upon the altar and lighting the candles. Flames flicker and sputter, but they don’t completely go out and Hajime litters your skin with love bites, claws being careful to not damage your skin. His tongue flicks out and laps at the sweat on your skin, his cock plunging in and out of you.

He was big and broad, but his cock was something else entirely. It was long enough to reach deep inside you but it was thick enough to feel like he’d split you apart. Eyes closed in bliss, you let him know you were feeling good with moans and squeals of pleasure, walls spasming as much as they could around the intrusion. Squelching sounds filled the almost empty space of the sanctuary, your defiled and sinful body telling any listening ears that you were indulging yourself and letting someone else indulge. Hajime grunts, hand coming up to grasp at the rosary around your neck. A final touch before entering the holy grounds, the last hope for a deity in the sky and the heavens to give you less hardships, yet now it was being tugged to cut off your air supply, but Hajime wasn’t aiming to kill you.

“Pray, pretty girl. Pray for what you want me to bestow upon you. Pray to the god you believe in, not the God others believe in,” he growls out, hand tightening the grip on your rosary.

“I pray- I pray to the being before me,” you manage to gasp out, feeling his other hand pressing on your clit. The nerves sends tears to your eyes, a familiar sensation of an orgasm rising. “I pray for less hardships. I don’t care about love or luck. I want to be rewarded for the work I put in. I want to find stability,” is what you finally get out, a prayer that came much easier than had you knelt for God. The pace and rhythm of Hajime’s thrusts get faster and although his grip stays, he’s not applying more pressure. Feeling your air being controlled by someone else added to the height of your pleasure, your orgasm hurling quickly.

Toes curling and eyes rolling, your head turns to the side to see a statue of Virgin Mary, her position in the shadows of the place seemingly like she’s abandoned you. As your walls flutter and your cunt creams on Hajime’s cock, you find it to be true as your fingers grasp his biceps as he buries himself all the way in you. He’s big and overwhelming, broad shoulders completely covering your body from candlelight as he spills his cum inside of you. He ruts once, twice, and thrice, making sure to keep it as deep inside of you as it can go.

As the high comes and goes, your fingers tracing over the muscles of his back, you can’t find yourself to remember why you came here. Funny, how he did exactly what he said he’d do. The devil is a blessing in disguise.

#BB.❤️#BB.Kinky #tw.alcohol #tw.sacrilege #heavily inspired by Oh Lord by In This Moment #and I have been given consent to say this story was given blessing by my best friend #who loves Iwa-chan very much and wants him to bust down her iron walls #tw.choking

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writer-dreams · 5 years ago

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Love Potion (End) (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Love Potion is finally coming to an end. It feels so bittersweet that I finally have to finish this fic. I hope you enjoy this final part.

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / End

Update Tags: @celestialceci @marvelobsessedteen @imaginesforthepeople @danidomm @marvelrose @vogueworthy-barnes @glossysoph @stevesvibraniumshield @bi-mama @fiveisadorable @paulalucianap1 @drama-llama-04 @mellow-delight @hahaboop @awesomehannaha @stantalentstanclc @queenskyster @outsider-underwater @babebenhardy @imaginespnr5er @riddikuluslypotter @pitkins @bughug1999 @drawlfoy @onyxbunny22 @sorgenprinzessin @vivianhuynh77 @dauntlessdracarys @jellyfishbeansontoast @frenchkpoplover @kaibie @starvinggaywriter @lunathepettuna @accio-rogers @summer-wasteland @storymage-danganronpa @daintyyukhei @writerandee @accio-perseus @fightpain-with-morepain @dracoboimalfoy @cynthianokamaria @lune--chaos @outsider-underwater @ellojustafangirlhere @never-trusthugs @mariensky @cyrraluu @someone-you-dontknow @accio-rogers

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Possible swearing, light angst

Note: The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns

Word Count: 3,085 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Day

3rd Person POV

Y/n was happily walking down the halls, humming a soft tune to herself. She was feeling especially giddy to see Draco, considering last night's events. The sensation of his lips on hers still lingered, giving her butterflies. Suddenly, she nearly walked into somebody, stopping herself just in time before she slammed into their chest. She looked up, hoping it was Draco, but was instead greeted by the two mischievous Weasley twins.

"Hey, Y/n." The two chirped, "You're looking quite cheerful this morning."

"Of course I am." Y/n answered, raising an eyebrow at their almost sinister grins.

"Alright, alright. I suppose you've waited long enough for this. Here, you deserve it." Fred handed her a small glass bottle.

"What is it?" Y/n asked, inspecting it curiously.

"It's the anti-love potion of course!" George said smugly.

Y/n's heart almost stopped. The world around her suddenly felt too confining, it was practically suffocating her. The walls seemed to be shrinking, threatening to crush her. She gasped, staring at the bottle in her hand. The pink liquid inside glowed menacingly, almost as if it was laughing at her.

"Y/n! Hey, Y/n! Are you okay?" George waved a hand in front of her. She snapped out of her trance and quickly looked around. The large walls of the corridor were back to their normal size and showed no signs of changing. The bottle in her hand wasn't glowing anymore and the twins in front of her were giving her concerned looks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Y/n waved them off. "Thanks for the potion, guys." She immediately turned away and began walking away, leaving the two twins staring at each other in confusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Had the seventh day really come that quickly? The past few days felt like a blur, she wasn't ready to end this. They only finally admitted their feelings to each other, and now she had to lose him. The Draco that she had grown to love was going to disappear and she would never see him again. If she decided to avoid giving him the potion, not only would she be in love with a lie but it would also raise questions from others.

Speaking of Draco, she noticed him waiting for her at the end of the hallway. Slowly, she approached him, trying not trip over her own feet. He grinned at her, walking up to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her body. Y/n cautiously returned the hug, as if he were made of glass. Draco noticed how loose the hug was, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Is there something wrong, Love?" Draco asked.

Oh, how her heart ached knowing this would be the last time he would call her that nickname. She opened her mouth, her hand moving to her pocket, grazing the outline of the potion to give to him. However, she then looked up into his eyes. Those damned grey eyes that were filled with concern and she found that she couldn't bring herself to grab the bottle. Her hand curled into a tight fist in her pocket as she cursed softly to herself.

"Nothing's wrong." She beamed at him.

Draco seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway, linking his arm with hers. He pulled her along excitedly, taking her up to the seventh-floor corridor and then up to a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet.

"Draco, what is this?" Y/n asked, trying not to laugh at the banner in front of them.

"Watch, princess." He smiled warmly, letting go of her hand. He began walking back forth in front of the blank wall next to the tapestry. As he turned around for a third time, a door suddenly appeared on the wall. Y/n's eyes widened as Draco opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

"Ladies first." He joked.

"Then I suppose you should go first, right?" Y/n retorted.

"Just another reason I love you; your wit. Always able to answer with a comeback on the spot." Draco chuckled, "Just go through the damn door."

Y/n laughed and walked through. The sight on the other side of the door left her speechless.

At the back end of the room, there was a grand fireplace against the wall. A warm fire was blazing wildly, much like the one in the Gryffindor common room when she came to visit her friends. There wasn't much else in the room except a large knit rug on the floor and a sofa in front of the fireplace. The fire was the only source of light in the room, which gave the room a sense of comfort. She looked to Draco, who was already looking at her with a smile.

"I didn't want to do anything too extravagant. So I went for simplicity." He explained.

He led her into the room and they sat down on in front of the fire. Without thinking, Y/n rested her head on Draco's shoulder, staring into the flames. The boy next to her pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her gently.

"You don't mind that this wasn't expensive or somewhere more fancy?" He asked worriedly.

Y/n shook her head, leaning more into him; "As long as I'm with you, I don't care."

Draco lightly gripped her chin and tilted it up so she looked into those beautiful grey eyes. He smiled again at her before connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting this moment to ever end. Screw Fred and George, screw the dare, screw the potion, the only thing that mattered to her right now was being here with the boy she was in love with. The two ended the kiss and Y/n snuggled against Draco's warm body. She could hear his heart rhythmically beat in chest and realized that her heart was beating in unison with his. She just wanted to stay like this, with him. But she could feel the outline of the potion in her pocket, a constant reminder that this had to end, no matter how much she wished it wouldn't. Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to give it to him now.

I'll give it to him later.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many hours and 'laters' had passed and Y/n still could not bring herself to give Draco the damn potion. She leaned against the sink in the girl's first floor bathroom, avoiding the second floor so Moaning Myrtle wouldn't see her. Tears flowed down her cheeks, as she sobbed to herself quietly. Sooner or later, she had to do it. There was no more delaying it. Though it tortured her heart, Draco didn't deserve to be taken advantage of. If she truly loved him, she knew that she had to let him go.

Sniffling and drying her tears, she made herself a little more presentable before she left. She had to find Draco and do the right thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until dinnertime that Y/n found Draco. She was seated next to him, dreading what was going to happen next. Seeing him turned away from his goblet, she quickly snatched it. Her hands shakily grabbed the potion from her pocket as she twisted open the cork. She took a deep breath, settling her nerves as she poured the potion into his drink. She placed it back on the table, trying her best not to break down. Draco turned around, glancing at her with worried eyes.

"What's wrong, Love?"

There it was again. That damned pet name. Her lip trembled but she refused to show Draco how upset she was. In a few moments, he wouldn't care anyway. In fact, he'd probably taunt her for how she was feeling. She forced a smile, putting her hand over his.

"I'm just so happy that I can call you my boyfriend." Y/n said, willing her voice not to crack near the end.

Draco grinned softly, pulling her into a hug. "I love you so much. I can't believe that I can call you mine, even after all these years..."

The words were like a knife to Y/n's chest. He let go of her before grabbing his goblet. Y/n held her breath, before realizing that it was probably best if she left before he came to his senses. She whispered to Draco that she needed to go to the bathroom and got up. As she was exiting the Mess Hall, she could feel the tears running down her cheeks.

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. Her mind begged her. Y/n couldn't help it, she wanted just one last glimpse of the boy she loved before he disappeared forever. She turned and caught Draco's eye. He was in the middle of drinking his pumpkin juice before he noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. He placed the goblet down quickly, standing up suddenly. Y/n, noticing she had been seen, turned around and began sprinting away from him. She didn't want to hear his teasing or his mean insults when she was so used to hearing his compliments. Her heart was already torn to shreds and she wouldn't be able to handle the reality that the boy she loved was gone.

She didn't know where she was going nor did she care, she just ran away. Eventually, she found herself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She had ran to the only place that would provide her any source of comfort. She looked around at the familiar walls of the tower, feeling her heart ache as she reminisced about every time that Draco would bring her here. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Draco sneaking up behind her and taking her hand in his, ensuring that she could not run away from him.

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts and she was met with those stupidly beautiful grey eyes again. They were full of worry, love and pain and she felt as though she were drowning in them.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Draco asked, worriedly.

Y/n was about to reply before she realized something.

"Wait a moment. Aren't you suppose to be hating me right now?" She asked.

Draco gave her a little smile before replying; "I guess your anti-love potion didn't work."

"You knew?!" Y/n shrieked in surprise.

"That you slipped a potion into my drink because of a dare? Yeah, I knew."

"When??"

"Since the very beginning." He replied calmly. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. As Y/n squinted, she noticed it was the poem he wrote during their date. He held it out for her to see, hovering his wand over it. He muttered a spell and some of the letters began to cross themselves out while some turned green.

(Y/n), we haven't been together for long,

Yet, I feel obligated to write you a song.

To confess the deep affections I hold for you,

And I hope you feel the same way too.

This may seem quick, yet I know you are the one.

You may scoff at me, but my heart cannot be stolen by just anyone.

My feelings for you have changed so much,

Switched with a simple touch.

This love you have given me is a drug,

Intoxicating, addicting and given by hugs.

I assure you that my love for you is not fake,

No, there has been no mistake.

A goblet of pumpkin juice,

Raised to you in truce.

You return the gesture, as if it was planned,

A cup of (f/d) in your hand.

I love everything about you,

I could not say anything more true.

I love how clever you are or how beautiful you always look,

Merlin, if I could write it all down, I'd write a bloody book.

Know that this is no joke.

Your love envelops me like an invisibility cloak.

We've stitched our love together with needles and red thread,

It's about time we've set aside our differences and learned to accept them instead.

The world has given me such an amazing girlfriend.

I never want our time together to end.

Love is often called weak, useless, something you should not feel.

You have shown me the hidden strength that love has concealed.

Potions class was where our love first began,

If I were to leave it now, I'd be a mad man.

I wrote this poem for you, filled with endless rhyme,

To show that I love you, (Y/n), until the end of time.

Y/n felt like a fool. All this time she had been played with by Draco Malfoy. She wished the floor could swallow her whole so she could escape this embarrassing situation. She hung her head in shame, feeling her cheeks turn red.

"So....all this time...you were just faking it?" She asked, her voice cracking.

Draco lifted her chin so she looked back into his eyes. Instead of them being cold like she had expected, they were warm and full of affection.

"Who said anything about faking?" He said softly.

He pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shoulder. "I love you, Y/n. I'm sorry about the past and how nasty I was to you. I've truly changed and I am deeply in love with you."

Y/n sniffled but didn't reply. Her head was spinning as she was still trying to process everything. This whole time, he knew and he was....in love with her?

Draco released her, fumbling through his pockets before he took out another piece of paper. He looked back at her with a smile.

"I have one last thing for you." He said as he straightened out the paper and read what he had written.

Our love began with hatred.

We hated each other right at first sight.

Constantly bickering and starting fights.

Hatred, such a powerful emotion,

Until you spelled me with a love potion.

Our first date was at Hogsmeade,

Where I gave you my coat to keep you warm.

Perhaps, it was then where my hate began to transform.

At the end, I gifted you a (f/c) quill,

Which gave you quite a thrill.

Our second date was at the Astronomy Tower,

I had a surprise waiting for you, excitedly dragging you higher and higher up the stairs.

Quickly going up, with no time to spare.

I had prepared a picnic for us, with a wonderful view.

While you enjoyed the sunset, I couldn't take my eyes off you.

It was there that I had gifted you with a necklace made of silver.

It shined like a sparkling river.

Then, I had to save you from a jealous Parkinson, who bound you in ropes and stole the gift.

Which had the both of us quite miffed.

Our third date consisted of a study date.

You had an upcoming Potions test,

Which gave you quite a lot of stress.

Together, we reviewed everything,

From Unicorn Blood to Billywig Sting.

The next day, you wrote your test and came out with an Outstanding, just as I had proudly claimed.

Your smile that day was something that simply couldn't be contained.

Our fourth date was not exactly a date, nor was it a very fun day.

You had come to watch my Quidditch game, after I had practically begged you over and over again.

Though, that plan went down the drain.

You were pushed off the stands by that jealous twat.

Falling closer and closer to the ground like a graceful acrobat.

Everything stopped, and I didn't care if you hated me.

I saved you and managed to get you to safety.

Our fifth date was at the Black Lake.

I had you brought you there in hopes of simply spending the day with you.

There wasn't anything else I wanted to do.

The date was cut short when Parkinson showed up,

Trying to get us to breakup.

Though, we quickly managed to get our revenge on her.

Watching you, I felt something in me begin to stir.

Our date ended with you falling asleep in my lap.

The sixth date was at Zabini's party.

I had asked you for a dance, which you had accepted,

Which was quite unexpected.

We swayed to the music and danced all night long,

To a romantic love song.

That night was the first time I had ever kissed your lips, something I had secretly wanted to do for a long time.

And I knew then, that I wanted to be with you for a lifetime.

Our seventh date is this one.

The one where I finally revealed to you that I had known all along.

I can't hold it back anymore, it felt wrong.

The one where I finally confess my hidden feelings for you.

Where I hope you feel them too.

What I'm trying to say is that I love you,

This love overwhelms me until I don't know what to do.

Nothing was faked, that I promise.

I swear that I'm being honest.

Everything had been real; my feelings, how much I cared.

Surely, you can remember all those good times we shared.

I hope that everything has been real from you; how you blushed around me,

The smiles you give me that were so lovely,

How you loved my gifts, how you defended me from Potter,

This sounds like a love story written by an unknown author.

I have always claimed that I loved you.

This was always true,

Y/n, what about you?

Now, I must ask you the same question but with more courage than ever,

Will you be my girlfriend, for now and forever?

He finally looked up from his paper to see her shaking with tears still running down her cheeks. He truly loved her and he was asking her out for real, this wasn't a dare anymore. She didn't consider them enemies anymore, she had forgiven him so long ago.

"What do you say, Love?" Draco asked with a hopeful expression.

Screw it. To hell with it all. She had fallen for her enemy and now she could say she was absolutely, madly in love with him. Nothing else mattered as she uttered her answer.

"Yes." Y/n said, feeling all the tension leave her body as Draco came closer to her. He lifted her chin and connected their lips in a passionate kiss. There was so much love shared between the two. When the two broke apart, Draco held her tightly in his arms.

"I love you, Y/n." Draco whispered.

"I love you too, Draco."

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

And with that, the Love Potion series is finally complete! I didn't realize it but this series took me a year to write. I'm incredibly sorry to have made everyone wait so long for each part. I also want to explain that Love Potion was always meant to be super cheesy and fluffy. It wasn't suppose to be really angsty, it was just going to have some light angst. This is the reason I chose not to write an ending that would leave everyone feeling sad. I know the story is rushed, but the plot was only suppose to be a week. I hope this story didn't feel too rushed. I also may have rushed the ending but I really wanted to get this out, as I had realized that I made everyone wait long enough. Thank you to everyone for reading this series and enjoying it! Thank you for sticking with this story until the very end! Now, I can get on with the requests piling up in my inbox! If you have any requests, feel free to message me or leave it in my inbox. Until next time.

-Jade

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

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Mirror, Mirror Finale (P.1...)

masterlist (catch up on parts 1-5 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw!reader

summary: y/n has had a crush on draco malfoy from afar since--well, forever. what will happen when they’re paired up for prefect rounds and run into a special mirror?

warnings: language

a/n: heyyy guys...how are you doing...so i’m sure you’ve noticed that i have p.1 added into this even though it’s marked as a finale...yes i am aware of the fact but it is not even close to being done and i do not want to give this a half baked ending. i thought you guys might like seeing what i’ve been sitting on for a long time. more writing will be coming soon! i promise! i’m actually working on another oneshot soon that’ll be fun to put out there !

overall tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry

mirror mirror tags: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp��@kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99

word count: 2.9k

music recs: i sink i sink -- living hold ; wishes -- beach house ; could this be love? -- saturn 17

Y/N played with the cup of tea that sat steaming before her, running the tips of her fingers around the golden rim. The soft chamomile scent rose up to her nose in charmed yellow tendrils, something that would’ve been calming had she not been sat in front of Professor Trelawny, answering uncomfortable questions and averting her gaze from her loony eyes.

“Dearie, I know that you may not want to share, but it’s incredibly important for the healing process. Even more important than the potions and the tea leaf readings.”

“Er...when I first fell asleep, all my dreams were just of past memories. Aft--”

“Excuse me.” Trelawny held up her hand as she scratched a heading on her parchment. “If you want to get better, you must add more details. What memories? Of what?”

Y/N swallowed, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “Erm...I saw Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” Her breath hitched as the professor furrowed her eyebrows. Suddenly the teacup felt scalding in her hand. “I saw our rounds together. When we ran into the mirror, that is.”

“What mirror?”

“The Mirror of Erised.”

Trelawny raised her eyebrow--a quick motion but not entirely unassuming. “Interesting. Very, very curious indeed. Go on.”

“I saw us...together. I didn’t think that it was a special mirror until afterwards because it looked the same. We were...uhm...together.”

It took a few seconds of staring at Trelawny’s googly eyes before she realized she’d just repeated herself.

“And after that….” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to draw out the rest of her memories. “I don’t remember everything else. I’m sorry. It was just everything that I remember about Malfoy in particular...like, the first time I saw him, what it was like to talk to him for the first time, running away from him in the Slytherin dungeons that one night I had to stay overnight for potions...that’s it.”

Her professor nodded gravely, shifting in the only chairs that the hospital wing provided to visitors--hard, cold mahogany wood. “Well done. And after? Once Miss Severyjn woke you up?”

Her throat felt dry. Of course I’d have to recount what happened. Of course I have to tell them about how I had a dream about making out with him in my dorm. Of course. Just my luck.

“I’m sorry,” said Y/N. “It’s just...weird. It felt too private.”

Trelawny seemed slightly empathetic at this; her eyes seemed even kinder (albeit still dreamy) than usual. “I’ve heard it all, love. No need to be ashamed.”

“Okay.” She took a steadying breath. “I...well...it’s fuzzy. I can’t remember exactly why we ended up ditching our rounds and why we decided to go to my dorm instead.”

It was difficult to continue when she saw her companion’s eyebrows shoot up a few inches, but she steeled herself.

“It took me a long time to unlock my dorm door--I think I was nervous, or something, because my hands were shaking too hard to hold my wand steady. He moved my hand aside and said something--I can’t quite remember what--and he just unlocked it himself. I think I dragged him in by his tie, and he told me that I was trembling, and then before I knew it he was cupping my face. I remember being surprised by how warm his hands were. I thought they’d be colder.”

“Go on, doll. I only need a little bit more.”

“It’s awfully embarrassing, you know,” said Y/N. “I hardly know him.”

“Don’t you worry. Your dream was created by whatever traces of magic the Mirror of Erised left on you. This has nothing to do with how you view Malfoy.”

She dared to smile at this point, mostly as a way to pretend like she wasn’t mortified recounting her tale. “He kissed me. I don’t know if you need any more details, but that’s the grand picture of it all. He kissed me, and I didn’t stop him, and now I feel like a proper creeper, having fantasies about a boy who wants nothing to do with me.”

The wrinkles on Trelawny’s forehead deepened. “Don’t fret. The Mirror of Erised is a very powerful thing. You couldn’t have influenced that dream to work any different than it had. On that note…” She brushed herself off and rolled up the parchment. “You’ve given me enough to work with. The reason why I ask is because sometimes certain dreams can be prophetic--sometimes regarding important wizarding events that the headmaster ought to be aware of--or potentially deadly. Both instances require a bit more...of an intensive treatment regiment, if you will. I’m happy to report to you that your bout of Dream Sickness shouldn’t develop into anything more sinister. I’ll recommend that you stay here for a bit longer, just to ensure that you don’t slip into it again, but you should be able to have visitors and wean yourself off of Dreamless Sleep. Rest up, darling. You have a lot of sleeping to do.”

Y/N smiled weakly as she allowed Trelawny to pluck the teacup from her hands and swirl the leaves about.

“Nothing but good news in your future, just as I suspected. Good night!”

oOo

Life in the infirmary led Y/N to walk a wobbly line of consciousness. Once Madame Pomfrey lowered the doses of her potion, dreams began to once again tickle at her sleeping mind. Sometimes people she knew would appear next to her bedside, and she was never able to tell if it was real. During one of these instances, Rena appeared to hold her hand and recount the hottest gossip that she missed.

“...And after that, Parvati told Lavender Brown that she was nothing but a ditz whose only acts of Gryffindor bravery had to do with the fact that she left her room every morning wearing THAT disaster of a cloak…but I’m boring you, I can tell.”

Y/N, or perhaps Dream Y/N, whichever one she was, sent her a soft smile. “S’okay. Tell me more.”

“Oh, I totally forgot!” Rena squeezed her hand. “I talked to Flitwick about the whole incident. He sends his condolences. He also says that you’re excused from rounds until we reassign partners. No more late nights with Malfoy!”

She rolled her eyes, shuffling further under the blankets. This was just a dream, just a dream.

“Sucks to be him. He’s gonna have to walk all those big, scary halls alone at night.”

Rena cracked a grin, but something flashed across her eyes that Y/N couldn’t quite decipher. “Yeah. He already had his knickers in a twist over having to do it the first night. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he missed you.”

“He missed having someone to harass, you mean,” corrected Y/N.

“Yeah, I suppose so. He’s not all bad all the time though, you know. I mean, granted, he is a rich little prat, but he has some good in him.”

“Got a crush, hm?”

Rena’s eyes shifted again. She was nervous thought Y/N. But why? She quickly decided to ask Madame Pomfrey for a higher dose of Dreamless Sleep the next time she saw her as a lucid member of society. This stuff is getting out of hand.

Before Dream Rena left, she dropped off a bouquet of flowers--white roses, her favorite. Y/N tried to thank her, but she felt herself being tugged softly to a different dream, away, away, away from her dear friend.

It took a rough shake of the shoulder from Madame Pomfrey before she was awake again.

“Drink,” she said, forcing a goblet of something foul into her hands. “You’ve been delirious. You need to wake up.”

The taste that hit her tongue was bitter and laced with the nostalgia of O.W.Ls season last year--Wide-Eye Potion. Her consciousness came crashing down on her like a cool tide and she became aware of how much sweat was dripping down her back.

Gross.

“Feel better?”

Y/N nodded, but as she turned to set her now-empty goblet on the table next to her, her stomach lurched.

A vase of white roses stood, unimposing in nature but anxiety inducing when she considered the implications they carried. Rena’s visit hadn’t been a dream--and her last excuse to see Draco, the boy who had made her life hell for the last few weeks, was gone.

So why did it feel like she’d just been punched in the stomach?

oOo

Exactly a week and one day after she had been admitted to the hospital, Madame Pomfrey allowed her a special privilege--the chance to take a walk around the castle grounds. After breathing the same stale hospital wing air, Y/N was eager to fill her lungs with something colder and fresh.

“Stick close to the gravel path,” said Madame Pomfrey, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening with each word she spoke. “Do not, and I mean, do not, get near a single magical artifact or so help me Merlin. If you feel the slightest bit feverish, you will come right back here and you will not--under any circumstances--lie down and shut your eyes. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Madame Pomfrey.” The words fell out of Y/N’s mouth without her really taking any notice; instead, she watched the way the trees moved outside, swaying softly with the wind. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

The nurse nodded--a brisk, tense motion. “Good. Be back here in 30 minutes. Any later and I will employ the entire staff of this castle to come track you down so I can personally drag you back here.”

Y/N had forgotten how air could be crisp--crisp she thought giddily--as she waltzed her way down the steps and into the courtyard. Her loafers made a satisfying tap on the stone that she almost missed when the pathway turned to gravel, the rocks crunching under toe instead. But regardless, she was stoked. In that moment, she had never felt more alive, not even after she’d gotten near straight Os last year...but seconds later, she was hit with something other than euphoria: namely, a silk clad black shoulder.

“Ow.” Y/N went face first into the ground, her cheek bouncing off the hard floor.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” A posh voice, no doubt the owner of the silky shoulder, sounded from above her. “Oh, oh my god, Y/N? Is that you?”

She rolled over on her back and looked right up into the concerned eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“Er...Hi,” she said. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at her. “Are you alright? Why are you out of the hospital wing?”

“Madame Pomfrey let me go for a walk. She said that it’s good for me. Also she told me not to...fuck, I’m not supposed to lie down!”

The flash of terror in her eyes seemed to say enough, and before she knew it, he was hauling her up off the ground.

“Why are they letting you walk out all alone?” asked Draco, his tone demanding but not entirely uncaring.

“I think they presumed that everyone on the path would have the common decency to avoid a poor sick girl coming out for her first walk in a week, but clearly they thought too soon.”

Draco still hadn’t completely let go of her shoulders, where his hands were clasped firmly around the sides in a gesture meant to steady. He snorted at that moment, a bit of his old self shining back through as he narrowed his eyes down good-naturedly at her. “It’s hardly like the entire school has been issued a warning that you’ve been released.”

“Oh, quit stroking my ego like that.” Y/N tilted her eyebrow to examine him. For the most part, her old rounds partner looked no different--same strikingly light eyes, same aristocratic features, same expensive and fashionable apparel--but the bags under his eyes were new. “Have you been sleeping? Like, at all?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who else?”

His hands moved away from their supporting position to scratch the back of his neck. “Oh, er, not much. I keep worrying about getting what you came down with. Rena told me about the Dream Sickness and how it was because of the mirror, and it’s just hard for me to sleep.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah.” He shifted his weight back and forth, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What exactly did Rena tell you?” Y/N’s words snapped Draco back to attention. “And if you say everything I will lie down on the ground, go back into my dream coma, and tell everyone it’s your fault.”

“Well, then.” A smirk danced across his lips. “Nothing. Rena told me nothing.”

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds before lowering herself to the ground, never breaking eye contact.

“What--what are you doing?”

His face went out of her eye line as she lay flat on the ground, stretching her limbs out to vaguely resemble a starfish and exhaling a heavy sigh. “I’m going to sleep right here. When Madame Pomfrey finds me, barely toeing the line between life and death, I’ll have rehearsed a speech in my mind about how Draco Malfoy knocked a poor sick girl over in the gravel pathway and then harassed her to the point of exhaustion.”

When Y/N opened her eyes, she could see Draco come into vision. His green and silver striped tie swung in the air above her as he leaned over her, a slight grimace on his face.

“I don’t think you were sorted into the right house.”

“Keep your comments to yourself,” she said, shutting her eyes again and taking in a deep breath. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“I thought you were--Y/N, wait!” A hand reached out to gently shake her shoulder. “Wait! I thought you were kidding!”

“I never kid. I’m very serious. Leave me be, now. I have a speech to write.”

She heard a loud and rather over dramatic sigh above her before a hand started tugging at her arm, lifting it up over her head and pulling.

“Draco! Stop!”

“Calling me Draco, now, huh? Awfully intimate when you’re about to frame me for attempted murder,” he said, his tone surprisingly consistent and clear for someone hauling a whole adult woman off the ground. “Can you at least try to help me? A little bit?”

“Fuck off,” was the only thing coming out of Y/N’s mouth as he pulled her to her feet for the second time in less than 10 minutes. Once they were both standing, just barely a meter apart, Y/N found herself at a complete loss for words. Draco was looking down at her with an emotion displayed across his features that she could not quite place, and it made her stomach twist.

“You have gravel stuck in your hands.”

His voice took her by surprise. It had softened considerably, almost to a whisper. There was none of the usual snottiness or nasal judgement present--just a breathy declaration that made her knees weak from the sudden shift in energy.

His hand moved towards hers, and he met her eyes with a gaze that asked “is this okay?” Y/N couldn’t help but just stare, wide-eyed and unable to blink, as he gently took her hand and began pulling out the rocks.

“I have to tell you something,” said Draco, still quiet and unimposing in tone. “I...I know that this might come as a surprise, and I know that you...er...probably don’t care to hear this, but, erm…”

Y/N just stared.

“I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I just didn’t really figure it out until you, uh, you got sick, and I know I’ve been a proper prat to you and that you have no need to reciprocate anything, truly, but, ehm…”

His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he squeezed his eyes shut, like he was in pain or something.

“Spit it out, Draco, I don’t have all day,” added Y/N lightly.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

A voice boomed across the courtyard, making Y/N nearly jump out of her skin. A quick turn revealed that it was Madame Pomfrey. And a furious Madame Pomfrey at that.

“You foolish, foolish girl,” said Pomfrey, seizing her by the arm and dragging her away. “Speaking to the same boy in your dreams? Why don’t you just go and lick the Mirror of Erised and fall asleep right after? You give me migraines.”

“I’m so sorry Madame Pomfrey! I didn’t mean to!” Apologies rolled out of Y/N’s mouth at a rapid-fire pace, not stopping until she’d been escorted back to her bed.

“I am so disappointed in you,” the older lady snapped as she stormed over to the neighboring bed, angrily wringing out a washcloth. “No visitors. Not until you have a perfect bill of health.”

Hospital air had never felt so stale.

final a/n: whew this was a long one and definitely not all. this was about half of my draft and i’m still working on it, so we’ll see how long the next one is. i hope that you guys enjoyed! comments/thoughts on this chapter will definitely give me more motivation to finish this series strong, so i’d love to hear what you guys thought of this :) thanks for reading!

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #draco lucius malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #mirror mirror

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another-snape-story · 4 years ago

Text

Some Things Need Treatment

Chapter XVI

“Eyes still a little swollen,” Snape smiled softly, once he met you at your door. Being the first person he saw in the morning, you filled him with strength and desire to make it through the day.

“And you’re still limping,” you answered sympathetically, shyly hiding your face.

“Last night left unpleasant reminders,” he agreed.

He was right. But these would vanish soon, while something more important would remain indelible. This was the price you payed to find out the man you so much cared for cared for you no less. After the long midnight talk you still didn’t know much about each other, but connection between the two of you got stronger. None of you was perfect – you both had dark spots in your past, but nothing of that mattered, unless your hearts were capable of remorse and compassion.

“But I like the way it ended, anyway,” you looked up at him, hoping he was the same opinion. Although his glance fled far ahead, the corner of his mouth slightly leapt up. “Thank you, Snape...”

“You know my name, don’t you?” His tone lacking in expressiveness was back again, and sarcastic arch of an eyebrow so typical of him. With this, you felt the remnants of strain and tension which still nested inside swiftly and lightly flit away.

“I think so,” you chirped playfully.

“Maybe it’s time to finally start using it? Just an assumption.”

“Highest time! But I like calling you Snape,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“How’s your leg? Hurts too bad?” So discomposed you were the day before – you didn’t ask him if he was all right. Even he himself forgot about this minor inconvenience.

“I can bear it.”

“You’d better visit Poppy,” you insisted, seeing how much pain it actually caused him.

“I’m fine, I’m telling you!” Snape groaned displeased. “Besides, I’d prefer keeping it undisclosed.”

“Oh I see! You want me to help you with it,” you giggled.

“What?” he frowned. “NO!”

“Ugh! Come on! I won’t faint seeing your wound!” you puckered, jokingly moving fingers before your face in a sinister manner, as if it was one of the most terrible things in the world.

Snape coughed. “I don’t like the way this conversation unfolds.” He looked embarrassed, which highly amused you.

“Severus… You need treatment!” through with fooling around, you suddenly got serious again. “I mean it! I have some really good remedies…”

“I am a Potions master. Do you believe I can’t make one myself?” Although his expression suggested nothing bur annoyance, Snape’s heart melted at the sound of his name coming from you.

“Please?” you didn’t take your pleading glance off him, and resolute, adamant, menacing Potions Professor had to give up.

You spent the whole day – apart from classes you regrettably couldn’t skip due to being a teacher – brewing an improved Wound-Cleaning Potion by your own recipe, which you hoped Snape would not only appreciate as a token of your attention, but also asses it from professional point of view. Making something for him was extremely enjoyable – beside all your efforts, you seemed to put a grain of your soul into this process.

It was late in the evening when you set off your office right to the dungeons, a vial with purple liquid in your hand. You haven’t seen him for too long and were impatient to finally meet him.

“POTTER! GET OUT! OUT!” you heard familiar voice thunder through the hallway, which – unlike its usual measured tone – now seemed to reach the highest point of irritation.

Luckily, it happened when you were about to go downstairs, and therefore saved you from roaming the castle in search for your colleague so dreadfully stern-looking, but really kind and understanding. Smiling to yourself, you headed for the source of the sound.

Meeting Harry sprinting back to the stairs was no surprise.

“What are you doing here?” you stopped the boy, who looked at you wide-eyed.

“Just wanted my Quidditch Through the Ages back,” he explained, short of breath.

“Immediately return to your dorm,” you railed strictly, “it’s too late for reading!” but tumbling to the reason he needed this very book before the upcoming match added leniently:

“Moreover, what you might find there won’t considerably affect your performance during the game, while the lack of sleep definitely will.”

The boy beamed, eventually finding your argument convincing and wishing you good night hurried away.

“Thank you Filch, I’ll handle it myself,” Snape was saying, when you stepped into the staff room.

“Professors,” pressing crumpled blood-stained fabric to his chest, the old caretaker bowed slightly and left.

You understood at once what he and Filch were doing here. You didn’t feel hurt Snape rejected your help, but accepted his. You were even glad this procedure escaped your intervention. Not that you found it repugnant, of course not! – you only wished to refrain him form any kind of distressing experience.

“Is everything all right? You missed dinner.” Snape awkwardly adjusted his frock-coat.

“Oh, did I? Lost the track of time working on this,” with a proud smile you handed him the vial. “Don’t worry, I’m not insisting you use it right now,” your voice so soft and somehow reassuring.

“What a relief,” he grunted not without sarcasm, taking a closer look of the bottle’s content. Internally Snape was deeply touched by your kind gesture. Used to being neglected his whole life, he found it hard to believe that someone might care for him, and even harder to express his gratitude. On the other hand, the man hated showing his weakness, he hated even thinking of it, thus your excessive attention to his wounded leg made him feel a little uncomfortable – really uncomfortable – no less grateful though. The prisoner of this highly embarrassing situation, as he would classify it, Snape let his defensive habit take over.

“You’re welcome,” you flopped on the sofa, expecting him to join you, what he leisurely did.

“Thank you,” he uttered quietly after a short pause.

Your hand landed on the furrowed cord cushion, unconsciously shortening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t mention…”

“How are you?” The question bothered Snape the whole day. “Feeling better?”

“I guess,” you sighed. “But I’m still thinking... If it were not for me…”

Snape’s hand found yours. “What is done – is done. You can’t change it. But you shouldn’t feel responsible for everything that happens in the world you can’t change!” He leaned back, looking at the ceiling, yet his mind travelled somewhere miles away. “The guilt,” he spat, hating the anguished experience standing behind a short simple term. “It will eat on you. Destroying you slowly. Mercilessly. Unless there’s nothing left but an indifferent, apathetic carcass.” His fingers tensed as he spoke the last words.

He was far from being indifferent, you could tell. What he had to go through? Poor, poor man. Hiding his pain, he convinced himself he was incapable of having feelings, but you can’t fool one’s heart. The whole time you’ve been here, you tried to perceive why he appeared so distant, so cold and reserved, why he showed no particular interest or concern about his surrounding, but now you seemed to find the answer.

You wished you could help him, just as he did the night before, take the burden off his shoulders, relieve his heart. But was there any chance he would accept it? No way, you knew it for sure.

“Let’s get drunk,” you suggested ardently, shoving all the troubles aside for a while.

What Snape truly appreciated, that you’ve never pressured him, trying to fish out what was his bother. He couldn’t explain how you’ve always managed to make him feel better with just one phrase, which, however, fitted the situation surprisingly perfect.

He turned his head towards you, a subtle smile on his lips.

“I have a bottle of firewhiskey in my chambers,” you put a convincing argument into his consideration, before he could say something.

“Do you realize you’ve just invited me to your private quarters?” his eyebrow gave a leap.

“I just said there’s a bottle in my quarters, and we’re drinking in your office,” you stated cheekily, “because mine lays in the other part of the castle. Come on!” You started up to your feet, pulling his hand.

Was it inappropriate? Was it wrong? Snape didn’t give a damn. He just trusted himself to your will, wishing to stay with you the longer he could, without thinking of the consequences. Without thinking of anything else.

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Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof @amywright @redrehab @space-helen @fluffymadamina nadiigh @theworldisugly-22 @lukaerith-morningstar @sighsinkhuzdul @67-chevy-baby @rustypotatospork @aquila-leo @dandyrua @majusketch @sevyythebeanqueen @writingmi @s00nhi @pinkininja @shizuethedragon @chocolattefrog awkwardaxelotl @bionic-otp @samnblack @sailorstupidsblog @purpledragonturtles @xwaterproofx @lokistann @psycho-howell @planetmystery @lovelyravenkite @taschaschwarz @grimrapper11 @xpissbabyx

#snape #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction

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itsthe-neo-zone · 4 years ago

Text

Wands and Potions: NCT dream & WayV

Please read the Masterlist before continuing ahead with the chapter, thank you.

Chapter 18:

[02:16PM]

[20th of October]

“Do you even know what he was using the tentacle juice for?”

The huffs became frequent and the more Lyra questioned the more Selene became tired. Was this really necessary? And why was she being so unbelievably nosy?

“No, and frankly I don’t need to know.” the walking stopped halting the trail the two created in the thick fluffy snow that covered the earth. “because I don’t care.”

“You should, Liu could be plo-” a snicker stopped Lyra’s chapped lips from blurting her thoughts. “Plotting? Is that what you were going to say? He’s plotting against me. Or maybe its against you? Or even Jinsoul.” The words spat back at Lyra.

The brunette took her lips between her teeth, her fingers took the red and golden threads of the scarf wrapped across her chest, fiddling with the bare edges. Selene was already on edge and the change of demeanour pushed her off.

“Hey, I’m not going to feel sorry for you, so don’t give me that pathetic look.” Her fingers ran through her golden roots, her hair had turned a shade darker with the coming of winter making it lose the fiery glimmer in it.

“You all need to stop telling me how to act or feel.” She rolled her eyes leaving the brunette standing there stiff and alone, the only speck of colour on a blank sheet of white for miles.

The creaking door slid open letting a gust of cold biting chill mix in with the heated warmth of the shop. The three broomsticks was a place where the youngsters could chill and relax. The ancient and rustic feel made it close to home for some.

It wasn’t the same for Selene.

“You need to start talking to her again, Scorpius you can’t just igno-” “Oh but he can,” she shuddered, the witch dropped the scarf and slid the robes off her shoulders setting them next to her. Sparing a glance at Albus, Selene sympathised with the blonde boy before her.

“And why is that?”

“She’s being awfully nosy, quite bitchy too.”

“Just because you aren’t on good terms it doesn’t mean he has to ignore his own sister.” Albus shuffles closer his tone drops to a minimal whisper. Selene rubbed her hands trying to heat up the ice cold blue tinted flesh.

“Also, what happened to innocent sweet Selene?”

“Oh her?” her arm lifted to signal the server, “she’s usually what most see if they don’t know me too well. Ask Scorpius.”

The glance left Selene and moved towards the empty blonde boy next to him. No response came. His head lulled above his fist pushing the skin upwards, hair covering his glacier orbs.

“You ok?” the ginger placed her hand upon his, she felt his fingers twitch, there was no warmth in his touch. Inside her chest, the breathing became a little harder, an exasperated sigh left her.

“It’s hard, I know. but you have to believe your father did this for a good reason. And now you can let her move in, you’ve always said you wanted a sister.”

“Move in? After my mother’s death?” his voice dripped with poison. It was a little loud gaining attention from the tables nearby. Jisung sent the most blood curdling nape shivering stare at Selene from across the bar. His eyes were hard-rimmed and fixed, so much so that it was as if he was not able to move his eyeballs.

If looks could kill. The ginger would have disintegrated instantly.

So would Albus have with what Scorpius was sending him.

“Keep it down a little.”

“I am not going to replace my mother any time soon.” He spat back.

“You need her, Scorpius think about it, she will help you and your father get through this. Lyr-” the death glares the two sent made him rethink his choice of words. “Ehem… I- mean she is a girl after all.”

Selene sipped the jug of glowering orange liquid letting it sting the back of her throat slightly. She needed it. Secretly, it was the only thing she was feeling nowadays.

“Rose Weasley can take her in. After all, the two are half-sisters.” His voice was stiff and cut at the end, it was like his throat was clogged. Scorpius hated this topic. He didn’t want to talk about it.

The others sensed that.

“And you, cut the long night walks with that German Durmstrang boy.”

“Whys that? Am I bothering you in any way?”

“No actually, its not me you’re bothering but-” A hand slapped the two lips that were moving of their own accord. Selene didn’t think nothing of it, but she missed the alarmed state that Albus was in.

“You shouldn’t be walking around he grounds late at night. Its dangerous.”

“Did little miss snitch tell you I was sneaking out late? I knew it!” she turned to the deflated boy. “This is why you shouldn’t talk to her just yet.” She finished her words with another gulp taking in the tingling sensation.

“Selene, I’m being serious, it shouldn’t matter who told me, this is for your own safety.”

“Why does everyone hate him so much?” the witch continued taking larger gulps the farther she got towards the bottom of the cup.

“Can you calm down; you must be really thirsty.”

Selene chuckled but before a word could be uttered, she lifted the closest free hand towards her head, she felt dizzy and her eyes were going blurry.

“Why’s everything spinning?” a murmur left her lips. It was mumbled aloud. A chair dragging across the wooden polished floor was heard in the distance and someone’s figure made their presence known next to her.

“Did she drink from this?” snatching the cup from the table Chenle grabbed it sniffing the few sips left in the cup.

“Yeah, why?”

Selene didn’t see the glare sent towards the table chenle was situated at before he came over, she also didn’t see the way he dropped the few paper bills on the table.

She did feel his strong hand grasp tightly onto her arm and shoulder helping her out of her chair. The daze she was in was getting stronger. Her knees felt week from the sudden force of standing but she pushed through on his command.

“Whats going on?” the question was left unanswered as she was dragged out tumbling next to him as they ventured into the freezing cold.

She had left her robe and scarf at the bar, shivering and dizzy Selene moved to lean onto his arm. Sliding the other across her waist he pulled her to a nearby stable.

“Why did you drink it knowing its full of poison?” he strained. She wasn’t on good terms with him. Actually, she despised the blonde mixed boy.

“Answer me!” his voice rose. Selene couldn’t really see that well her head was pounding, and it was starting to get even worse.

“I-I can’t see clearly. My eyes…” “What… whats going on?” she lifted her fingers to eyes level but all she saw was a messy blur of what used to be HD clear vision. Thin strips of cream-brown against white.

“You took a morbus potion. From your symptoms only a few drops, too much could have killed you.” A silent pause registered between the two, she was confused and the last few words he had said really hit clear. I could have died; I never finished the glass. I could have…

“I’ve taken no such thing.”

“It was in the drink,” his voice was hard, it was like he had a rock lodged in his mouth. “Someone must have slipped it in.”

“I feel like I-” holding her lips shut with her hands she felt something sinister crawl up her throat it blocked her breathing and restricted her normal body flow. Defying gravity and her disaccord of its appearance. Please no, not here…

“Get it out of your system.” His tone lightened slightly, or maybe it was her hearing things. Why would his tone change anyway Selene was over listening into things that didn’t matter right now.

“Take this.” He handed her a bottle it contained a liquid of some sort that didn’t look too familiar, she stared at it cautiously as if it would transfigure into a centipede.

“I don’t want to.”

She was able to push down the thick trickling of crimson blood

“It’s already gone this far, how do I know this isn’t going to kill me?” Selene didn’t move her head she just lifted her eyes staring him up, the trust was gone. It was hidden, locked away until he took the key out. But she didn’t expect the answer he gave her…

He sighed dropping his hand before looking away his eyes glanced anywhere but her face. The breath that left his dry, chapped lips evaporated into smoke coalescing itself into the air.

“Good point,” he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Why would I stop you from drinking the rest of the jug back then?”

Selene glanced down, his face had no show of remorse and it had a blank expression plastered onto it. She couldn’t maintain eye contact at all. It felt pointless.

His words made sense though…

“Drink it all.”

Listening to him, she took the first sip hesitantly, not minding the bitter taste. It felt heavy on her tongue but she too it in accepting it was good for her.

“You’ll be alright.” he muttered the words, in the wintery cold that surrounded them Selene felt her heart warm up slightly. She would never admit it now but it felt nice having someone look out. Even if it was with a frown and a dry response.

[09:15PM]

Selene felt drained. Absolutely exhausted and while she did love nothing but a good rest she still had to do her night duties before she finally could rest this included the lengthy check and route of the whole 2nd floor and near the library.

It would have been 10 times easier- not to mention faster- if it wasn’t for the bratty 3rd year that refused to help her out. The job was specifically made for two yet she never showed up. But the ginger couldn’t bring it in her debilitated self to spend any longer than necessary looking for the young student.

“For fuck sake…” selenes face fell completely. She was aggravated to the max now, which can be added to the list of emotions she was feeling. The last thing she’d expect to see was the young student supposed to be helping her helping her own needs.

The sound of lips against lips filled the air and half of her internally cringed, the lewd sounds filling the air too fast to comprehend. God did she wish to wash out her ears with soap. But as she left a figment of her imagination removed the figure of the male student much older than the girl and placed a charming and devilish German student that had been taking up to much of her mind lately.

For a short second, it was barely comprehensible. his light caress and soft touch was all she yearned for. She shook her head continuing all the rounds she needed to finish. The guilt inside her built up daily but she pressed it down.

During the cold and wintery days. The gloom that was slowly being foreshadowed around the castle, Yangyang was the only source of happiness and joy she found. He filled her with something so intangible and sensual it was so difficult to describe.

And Selene felt herself change bit by bit, she tried to subconsciously hold back. Avoiding him on certain days and cancelling scheduled meet ups but it was inevitable, Yangyang was slowly yet voraciously devouring every inch of her being. She could feel it in the way she looked at him. The way her thoughts where changing. Her desires were developing.

Something once so innocent – a touch from him – a simple sensory fondle. Turned into a carnal and instinctual hunger that he had awoken in her. What was I turning into?…

[Selene Pov]

I felt that relief I craved for when I entered the dorms. Red or green it never mattered when I was weak in the knees. I looked at my bed like a man who was stranded in the dessert looked at fresh water.

“Look who’s here...”

“Please don’t start.” I knew this was going to be rough getting past the two crow-like girls at their beds but I didn’t expect their beady eyes glaring in the pitch dark the cool toned shadow casting harsh shapes across their faces.

“What?”

“We know what you borrowed.” A sigh left her lips as Jinny finished speaking, but the sly raven next to her muttered “She really stole it…” “Ravelle!”

“I didn’t do anything.” A frustrated exhale left my own lips. They wouldn’t know a thing because I never let them know about anything. It wasn’t their business.

“Does this ring a bell to you?” Ravelle stood up waving a slither of tentacula its sticky residue dripping from its end.

“Yeah.” I simply muttered, shrugging and to Ravelle’s shock. She probably thought I was going to deny everything.

“It’s what you mix every morning to slap” I lightly tapped my fingers onto her cheeks “onto your face, what was it for again- oh right. Your beautiful visuals… right?” I rolled my eyes after feigning thought.

The sniggers didn’t go unnoticed from Jinny who had rolled back onto her bed fully. The glimmer in her beading eyes was picked up by the light rays of moonlight sheathed inside.

“Don’t you dare make fun of my natural face masks and answer me truthfully.” Her voice picked up in volume.

“You’re pathetic.” Ravelle spat back after no response from me.

“You’d really love to know what was in that wrap I held before, don’t you?” I edged coyly. I loved having her on edge like this. But it wouldn’t last too long…

“Sit down.”

I motioned to sit down pointing for her to do as I say.

“There’s no point in getting mad now since it’s already over. There is nothing you could do about it.” I couldn’t help but stop myself from giggling slightly. It was too good.

“I gave the wrap of tentacula away. It wasn’t for me anyways.” I smiled

Ravelle started feeling uncomfortable, she shifted from her position awkwardly. Blinking multiple times.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean Gryffindor or any house for a matter of fact is going nowhere. This year belongs to Durmstrang and I just made sure they got a head start.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Ravelle’s eyes went as wide as saucers, “What have you done? Selene!” Jinny’s voice piped up for the first time, the shriek in her voice prominent.

“You’ll find out soon.” I sniggered, a smirk coming up to form at my lips.

“Shit shi- Guys! You won’t believe this!” the doors to the main dormitories slam open and in came a breathless and beyond petrified Irene, the young girl held her posture against her shaking knees.

The worry evident in her chewed dry lips and pale yellow face. A few more moments and it looked like she was about to throw up.

“They, the- oh god.” It’s like realisation flushed her face, Irene was gobsmacked she frowned glancing at the two girls that were accusing me. Jinny flipped over to see the ghastly expression Irene adorned.

“What is it, spit it out already!”

“James. And uh- Well James potter and his friends they got severely injured.”

“WHAT?” the screech was pitched so high I was surprised it didn’t shatter the clouded glass of the window. All three of us flinched.

“Calm down Ravelle,” Jinny pushed past, fixing her hair. She smiled gently towards the terrified girl. “How did they get injured, tell me what happened clearly” after a few seconds of sharp breaths, Irene spoke shuddering the words I had wanted to hear since I gave the plant to him.

“Well, they got injured last night in the pre battle for the lead in the tournament. Someone had put a certain strange plant in their soup.”

“It was- uh… it’s almost fatal for some.” The last few words were muttered but I heard everything as clearly as I could.

At some point I doubted myself, my ears had to be making up sounds for me to hear and feel accomplished. It couldn’t have worked that well.

“It wasn’t just them. The other houses reported similar symptoms to them earlier.” Another young Gryffindor peeped through the wooden door squeaking quietly.

“Get lost pipsqueak!” Ravelle threw the remains of tentacula at the doorway, “I’ll deal with you later. You’ve done something!”

Her eyes screamed anger she was Enraged, Ravelle hit boiling point. Her body buzzing with a fury that could only be calmed with the sight of her secret lover safe.

“Yeah yeah,” I waved my hand swatting her as she stormed off. She couldn't do a thing.

This was only the beginning of things…

@ajuniceuajuniceu @kkuljungwoo @sensiblebutch @kangkinoa @nctzen2020 @mystic-jungkook @merryandhappylele @bcbymingi @mochischeeks @rilakunma @jaehyunspaghetti @commentgirl @99jjh @johnnys-wifeu @misaraem @apricottulips @h2ogamergirl@angelsnowflake

(if you want to be added to the taglist please send in an ask or direct message me thanks)

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anistarrose · 5 years ago

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the years wore on, and changed my heart (The Owl House)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/23366812

Summary: A Boiling Isles fairy tale about two sisters, a curse, and the demon king who did the cursing.

Characters: King, Eda Clawthorne, Lilith Clawthorne, Luz Noceda

Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & King, Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne

you ever think of a theory so unlikely yet so sad that you feel the need to write a fic about it immediately? that's basically the origin story here. (title is from "East" by Sleeping at Last because boy oh boy does that song have some King vibes)

***

(This is the part of the tale that a few parents still tell their children, to scare them into behaving.)

Once upon a time, there lived two Witches. Two sisters, the same blood and same bile running through their hearts of stone. They loved each other, and protected each other, and even in their dreams of the future, they never left each other’s sides.

But the firey-orange-haired sister had a fierce and rebellious spirit, chafing against authority and conformity of any form. The dark-haired sister still loved her, of course, but love slowly turned to worry, and worry to fear — after all, there was no room in the Emperor’s Coven for someone who openly questioned the foundations of the coven system itself.

Once upon a time, there lived a mighty King of Demons. Fur as black as shadows, hypnotizing round eyes that shone like two twin moons, and a cold uncaring heart, drawn only to conquest and brutality.

But a King is no Emperor, and despite his might and his magic, he found himself ousted. To reclaim his usurped throne, he could not simply act alone — he needed an army of ferocious servants, loyal servants, powerful servants.

Once upon a time, the King spied a head of red hair questioning the Emperor’s authority. He donned a mask to approach her — a two-horned skull that fit neatly over his own head, concealing his royal identity — and invited her to meet him at a later date, for he believed they had many views about the Emperor in common.

The naive Witch accepted his offer, and agreed to meet him on the night of the next full moon. When she told her sister about the conversation, the dark-haired Witch begged her not to go — it’s a trap! There could be agents of the Emperor waiting for you! You could be arrested — and then how will we ever be able join the Emperor’s Coven together? Please, stay home! Don’t throw your life away!

The firey-haired witch was not swayed by her sister’s pleas, and when the night of the full moon came, she drugged her sister with an illicitly brewed potion and slipped out of their house unnoticed. The icy nighttime winds howled, as if they to were begging her to turn back, but she ventured onwards, through the forest and towards the lair of the deposed King.

The masked King cordially welcomed her inside, and invited her to sit down. He had a plan to overthrow the Emperor, he explained, but before he could trust anyone to join his rebellion, he needed to pose them a few questions:

Do you hate conforming? he asked. Do you hate the expectations this world has for you?

I do! the Witch replied. I always have! I knew you’d understand!

Would you like to be something original? he continued. Something unprecedented? Something fierce and powerful and chaotic that the world has never seen before, something that’ll shatter all their dumb expecations of what a witch or a demon should be?

Of course! the starry-eyed witch exclaimed. That’s everything I want to be!

The King smiled as he cast aside his mask, and the concentric circles within his eyes lit up one by one. Then thank you for enlisting.

Before the skull-mask even struck the rocky ground, one of its horns breaking upon impact, the curse had been cast. Like an extinguished flame, the Witch’s orange hair turned gray in the blink of an eye. Her teeth and nails sharpened into fangs and talons, while two wings sprouted from her back, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream so loud it woke her sister from her slumber back in town.

After she fled the cave, the cursed Witch’s sister found her first, and smuggled her to the house of a friend Potions track who could brew an elixir and slow the curse’s progression. But for a complete cure, they would need to beseech the Emperor’s Coven themselves for help — and the cursed Witch refused, for such was the fury that she held for the Emperor. She was too proud to let any coven brand her with their magic, even if she turned into a monster without their help — and turn into a monster she did, as the years passed by.

Some say the Owl Lady still dwells in the Boiling Isles even as her curse worsens, spreading dissent against the covens by day and feeding upon unsuspecting witches by night. Do not stay out to late, young Witchling, or she will steal you away and drink your blood.

Even more importantly, do not make trouble for your elders, or the deposed King will lure you away and curse you. Give thanks to your Emperor, for freeing us from that wretched demon’s reign of terror.

***

(This is the part of the tale that no one tells their children because the only two to ever know it were the Witch and the King, and they forgot it all as soon as it happened.)

Once upon a time, a King cast a spell, and once upon a time, a Witch fought back. As the Witch’s hair turned gray, so did the world surrounding her. As she was plunged into the void, she did not go quietly, and she dragged the King down with her.

Surrounded by darkness, the King still laughed. With each ripple of magic reflected in his eyes, the Witch transformed further, feathers bristling and fangs elongating, but the King paid little attention to the nails at his neck transforming into talons.

You’re my beast now! he roared. You’re going to help me regain my throne!

The Witch drew no circles in the air, but something dark and primal ran through her transforming heart — and with it, she tapped into the foundations of the cursing spell itself. It was a rare type of magic that she performed that day, fueled just as much by spite as it was by bile.

The King had cursed her with a spark of his demonic essence. Well, she was going to take it.

She was going to take everything he had, everything ferocious and bestial and intimidating about him. She was going to take everything except his orders.

You want to make me a demon?! she screamed. Fine! I’ll make you powerless!

The King realized, too late, what was happening. His body, made more of ichor and magic than of flesh, was losing its form, liquifying and reshaping within that blank gray void, and he screamed too as he lurched forward and his head collided with the head of the transforming Witch.

Upon impact, a bolt of pain split open two minds, and in an instant, the Witch and the King both forgot.

A mighty demon and a puny mortal walked into the deposed King’s lair that day, and a mighty demon and a puny mortal left it. Neither looked the same, nor remembered as much, as when they had entered.

The Owl Lady left first, scampering out of the cave on all fours and practically bounding into her terrified sister’s arms. She had clung to just enough of herself to hold it together, and restrain herself from lashing out at what by all means should have been her prey — but as the years passed by, her control would wane, and she would come to depend on higher and higher elixir doses to stay herself.

The deposed Demon King awakened more slowly, as the sun began to rise and turn fateful night to ordinary day. He felt tiny and out of place in this lair, dwarfed in stature by mere stalactites and startled by every shadow — but most of all, he felt confused.

What am I doing here? How did I get here?

As little as he remembered, he knew that something was wrong. He was more than this runt of a body, more than these cowardly instincts. He was important. He was a ruler. He was a King — so where were his offerings? Where was his might? Where were his powers?

He didn’t remember how, but he knew he had been humiliated. He couldn’t be seen like this, he couldn’t be recognized. He needed to hide —

Frantically pacing in tiny circles, he nearly tripped over a skull lying on the floor, one of its horns intact and the other broken. It would do nicely to hide his identity, he realized — and maybe, just maybe, strike terror in his enemies’ hearts.

For the second time in recent history and first time in recent memory, the King donned his mask. Then he set out into the surrounding forest, in search of answers and royal subjects that he would not find.

***

(This is the tale no one tells their children because it’s only just now happened, and no one knows how the story will end.)

Once upon a time, there lived two Witches, torn apart by a curse. They both thought themselves successful, and believed the other was throwing their life away. They still loved each other, of course, and would never wish grave harm upon each other — but oh, were they loath to admit it.

Once upon a time, there lived a puny, impish King. He loved dreaming of conquest, and of sacrifices made in his name, but most of all, he loved the gray-haired Witch who’d taken him in off the street. The Owl Lady was what they called her, and The Owl Lady and The Demon King had a wonderfully ominous ring to it, after all. They made a good team, especially once the Human arrived to complete their sinister triumvirate.

Sadly, the Witch was afflicted with a curse, and this upset the King and Human greatly. Though the King often spoke of ruling with a cold heart and iron fist, he hated seeing the Witch upset — and he’d never seen anything upset her more than her worsening curse, no matter how insistent she was that she was fine, and there was nothing to worry about.

When he took back his throne, the King decided, he would convene a royal panel of investigators to track down whoever did this to the Witch. Then he would throw them in the dungeon until they agreed to undo the curse, at which point he would allow them to do so, before throwing them back in an even darker, smellier dungeon for the rest of their natural life.

He decided as much within an hour of learning of the curse’s existence, and informed the Human of his plan very matter-of-factly. She patted him on the head, and told him he would make a great ruler one day — but the King was more perceptive than he seemed. He sensed the doubt in the Human’s voice, and the sadness in her eyes.

She didn’t think he could do it, and he wasn’t quite sure if he blamed her.

The King was weak, and he knew it. Even from beneath his grim mask, he could hardly inspire fear, much less inspire ferocious warriors to listen to him. He was in no position to command an army of demons.

But once upon a time, while plotting revenge against an usurper his equal in size, he made a discovery: the Witch, while only half-transformed, would obey his commands with no hesitation. Knowing not of the spell-gone-awry that had tied them together a lifetime ago, the King was surprised — but the surprise stirred familiar feelings.

Confidence. Determination. Vengeance.

The Owl Lady was the most powerful demon the King had ever met, and at first, he feared this development was too good to be true. But a ghost of a memory had already returned to haunt him, presenting itself not as a recollection, but as an idea too tempting to resist:

He would use her to take back his playground throne — a logical first step towards world domination. It would be over quickly, and the Witch wouldn’t be hurt — she didn’t seem unhappy in this cursed form, after all — and no one would be the wiser. He would do this just to prove that he could, to prove that he was still a natural-born leader. To prove that he wasn’t as weak or as puny as he looked.

But upon reaching the playground, the Witch once again did what she did best — she rebelled. The King’s vague memory had prepared him for this possibility, and he had half-consciously resolved not to make the same mistake twice, but he hadn’t expected the backup elixir to fail him. He hadn’t expected demon hunters.

Most of all, he hadn’t expected to do the unthinkable, and abdicate his newly reclaimed throne. But the King loved the Witch more than any throne or kingdom or offerings, and deep in his heart, he knew there was no other choice he could make.

He squealed with all the rage he could muster — far more than a demon his size should’ve been able to contain. It was anger with the person who’d cursed his Witch, and it was anger with himself, for using the Witch in his own selfish scheme… and against all odds, it worked. The Witch remembered — not the truth of the past, but the truth of the present.

The King was her friend. She didn’t want to hurt him.

Later that night, the Witch admitted to the King what she’d never admit to the Human — whether it was because she’d known him longer, or because he’d clearly already assumed as much, the King didn’t know. But, for whatever reason, the Witch admitted that her elixirs weren’t working anymore, and as she spoke, her confident facade cracked and split open like the King had never seen before.

He hugged her. He didn’t know what else to do. How could he feel so helpless, so powerless, yet so guilty?

She hugged him back, cradling him in her arms and tucking him just beneath her chin, but even that felt just wrong and undeserved. He’d schemed, and manipulated, and hurt his dearest friend — and if this was what it took to be the King of Demons, then he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to be, anymore.

He told her, an admission for an admission. How he’d discovered that she would listen to his orders. How he’d been so power-hungry, and desperate for the reclaiming of his playground throne, that he’d used her. How inexcusable the whole affair had been.

I’m sorry, Eda, he sobbed. I’m so, so sorry —

I know, King, the Witch murmured, running her fingers through the fur on his back. That’s why I forgive you.

#the owl house #eda the owl lady #the owl house king #edalyn clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #luz noceda #the owl house spoilers #the owl house fanfiction #rosalia writes fic

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pilyarquitect · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone! Here I bring you a new chapter of this Asterix fic, Poor Asterix, he’s truly confused with all what’s going on to him, but has had him finished getting news? Okay, probably you all guess not, and you’re right, so, let’s see what else is going Asterix to discover now. Also, in this chapter there’s a reference from another comic, will you be able to find out what am I talking about? I hope you’ll like it! 😊

Well, I’d like to give a special thanks to @drummergirl231-2 for helping me editing this story. I’m really, really, really grateful to her, she’s awesome!

Okay after say all this, here you have the fifth chapter of this story, I hope you all will like it!

Chapter 7. Everything will be fine, you'll see

It was dawn in Totorum's camp and Overanxius was furious, filled with rage he could barely contain. How could this be? A whole camp ruined because of some… mustachioed savages! And on top of that, his prisoner – the one who was going to be the key to these unfortunate people submitting once and for all to the power of Rome – had escaped. Why were the gods so cruel?

The senator was pacing the Centurion's tent, which seemed to be the only one left intact by the Gauls’ destructive force. The legionaries had given it to him to sleep there when he decided to stay the night in Totorum's camp. The envoy from Rome had practically not slept all night, as indicated by the dark circles under his eyes, and also, the stormy night that had just passed did nothing to help his situation. By Saturn, how could the situation have been so complicated?

But despite all these calamities, Caesar's envoy wasn’t willing to leave Armorica or Gaul without that child, and didn’t care what it would cost. In the end he’d have him back in his possession, and take him to Julius Caesar as a present.

This thought – imagining him presenting himself triumphantly before the Emperor of Rome with a hostage that could mean the surrender of the people who had been the thorn in the side of the Empire – caused a sinister smile to appear on Overanxius’ face. Yes, very soon all his dreams would come true… all thanks to a little Gaul boy.

With new hope, the Roman senator left the tent only to be greeted with the sad vision of a ruined camp being rebuilt. Does this happen every time the Gauls attack? The man asked himself. To be honest, it was hard to believe that a fortified camp like this could have been reduced to dust so suddenly.

According to what the legionaries had told him, it was the pet of one of the Gauls that had led the entire village to the boy. He had also investigated a bit and now knew that the dog's owner didn’t need to take magic potion to fight, because for some reason, he possessed the superhuman strength at all times that magic potion confers. So, unlike the rest of the village, it wasn’t necessary for him to drink this substance. If that was true, it would be difficult to get ahold of the Gaul that interested him, especially knowing both Gauls were inseparable friends.

He also knew the druid was in charge of preparing the potion. Upon discovering that, he thought of kidnapping the druid to force him to make the magic potion for them, or at least prevent the rest of his village from having access to that potion. But his joy fell knowing others had already tried such a plan, several times, and had always failed. But as far as Overanxius knew, all those failures were due to the fact that even though they lacked their druid, the villagers still had Asterix. Yes, that short blond Gaul was able to supplement the druid's absence with his cunning and determination, and even rescue his friend on all occasions when the old bearded man was kidnapped. It was all because of the blond warrior who watched over the safety of the entire village, and that naturally included the druid…

But now, the warrior was nothing more than a helpless child… if they captured the druid, the rest of the town would have no magic potion, and without potion, and with continuous attacks, the fat Gaul wouldn’t be enough to fight against all of them. So, in the midst of confusion and chaos, he could send a small patrol to take his prize! It was the perfect plan! Without his druid, and without the cunning of the blond warrior, the rest of the village couldn’t defend themselves well enough from Roman attacks… not to prevent the capture of Asterix.

With this new idea still fresh in his mind, the envoy from Rome immediately went to speak to the Centurion to tell him his idea and thus be able to carry out his plan. The Gauls would soon be under the rule of the empire.

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

Getafix's eyes widened at the question Asterix asked him. Sick? By Belenos, why did Asterix ask such a thing? His eyes were locked on those of the blond Gaul, almost as if he expected to find the reason for the boy's question in them. Knowing this was quite impossible, the old druid got up from the stool and sat down on the bed next to the little Gaul again.

"Why do you ask if you are sick, Asterix?" Getafix questioned.

"I don't know, I feel… confused…"

"Confused? Explain in more detail, please.” The village druid was worried about Asterix and wanted to get to the bottom of the matter, and for this he needed the warrior to tell him everything.

"Well… I had… weird dreams last night… I saw places I've never seen in them, and people I've never met… and also, in lots of the things I saw… the man who was with you yesterday, in the tent when you came to get me… he was there, too… and even though he looks like Obelix's dad, I know he isn’t him… I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s going on,” explained the little Gaul tremblingly.

"You don't have to be afraid," the druid assured him as he gently hugged Asterix and allowed the boy to do the same. Asterix buried his head in the druid's beard, as he did the day before in the Romans’ camp. Getafix also realized the young Gaul trembled slightly, which deeply saddened the old druid. He wished he could somehow alleviate the anguish the blond Gaul surely felt.

Getafix looked at Asterix with fear, too. Apparently, there were still latent memories of the adult Gaul in the child's mind. The druid supposed for Asterix that was like living two different realities… only one of them remained in his subconscious, just showing itself in his dreams. Honestly, the old druid hoped if that was what was happening to Asterix, it wouldn’t get worse… Getafix really wanted Tutatis to help them with that, since he himself didn’t know how to exactly help Asterix. Asterix had always owned an insatiable curiosity. That’s why, right now, not knowing – not being able to find an explanation for what was happening – made him confused and scared. At least that was what the druid supposed it was happening to Asterix.

"Getafix…" Asterix suddenly said, pulling his head out of the druid's beard.

"What is it, little one?" Getafix asked with a smile on his face.

"I was wondering if I could go see my parents… I… I'm hungry," admitted the little Gaul timidly.

The village druid’s face paled noticeably at the mention of the little Gaul's parents. How was he going to tell him his parents weren't there? How would the child react to such news? But on the other hand, it wasn’t fair for Asterix to keep him in ignorance. No, sooner or later they would have to tell him the truth, even if it was painful for him. Still, Getafix decided to be as gentle as possible with how he said it.

"You see, little one… your parents… aren’t in the village at the moment…"

"What?!" Asterix asked with a shrill shriek.

Asterix’s scream caused both Obelix and Dogmatix to wake up suddenly. The great Gaul looked at his surroundings in confusion. Then his eyes widened and immediately rushed towards the bed where Asterix was, with Dogmatix very close to him. The little puppy climbed onto the Gaul's bed and whimpered as if to indicate he didn’t want to see his owner's best friend sad. Then Obelix asked worriedly:

"Asterix, are you alright? Does something hurt?”

"...No, nothing hurts… I'm fine…" answered Asterix, clearly surprised and at the same time scared by the presence of the red-haired Gaul, whom until now he hadn’t noticed.

For Obelix to see his friend afraid of him… it was a hard blow. He’d never have imagined one of the people closest to him could be afraid of him. Slowly he stepped back and stared at the two Gauls in front of him with deep sadness. Dogmatix looked back and forth between Asterix and his owner, not knowing exactly who to go with.

Getafix gazed upon Obelix with understanding. He knew the menhir carver must be going through a moment almost as difficult as that of Asterix himself. He looked down at the Gaul boy again and said:

"Asterix, you have nothing to fear, he is Obelix, and he has helped me to take care of you tonight… as I’ve already told you, your parents aren’t here. They… they had to go on a trip and they asked me to take care of you. Obelix was helping me. That's why he's here.”

The blond Gaul looked Obelix up and down. He wore the same clothes as his best friend, but much bigger than his. He had the same hairstyle as him, although the man in front of him had a mustache, something that neither Obelix nor he still had. Asterix was confused, the Gaul in front of his eyes was just like his best friend… only much bigger than him and also… they both had the same name.

"Getafix, I don't get it… why’s he have the same name as my friend Obelix? And how come you trust him so much? I never saw this man before… yesterday was the first time."

"Well, you see, Asterix… he actually is Obelix, your best friend…" said Getafix, knowing there was no other way to tell the little Gaul the truth.

Asterix's eyes widened as he heard the words of his druid. His gaze shifted from Getafix to Obelix several times, trying to discover if what he was saying was true or if they were only trying to play a joke on him. But when he found no trace of lie on their faces, his breathing hitched, like he was panicking.

"What? No! By Tutatis! That’s not true! You’re lying!” Asterix began to scream, his mind was confused, and Getafix’s statement along with the expression of the two adults weren’t helping him. A sudden headache attacked him, so the boy brought both hands to the sides of his head trying to stop that pain. But his efforts were futile, and soon tears began to flow again from his eyes.

Getafix saw Asterix's reaction and immediately regretted telling him. Perhaps it would have been better to wait a little while for everyone to get used to the new situation. But now the damage was done, and they should find a way to solve the problem.

For his part, Obelix's heart broke seeing his friend in such a situation. He would gladly switch places with Asterix, since he knew very well that as a child, he himself, unlike Asterix, hadn’t been one of the cleverest boys there had ever been, and he hadn’t been one of the most adventurous. Surely, he wouldn’t be suffering as much as the blond Gaul was. On impulse, Obelix approached Asterix and hugged him gently. Surrounding him with his huge arms and whispered:

"Asterix, it's me, Obelix… please don't cry… we'll find a way to fix all this…"

"No… please… stop talking…" Asterix said. It was very difficult for him to accept the one who was speaking to him was actually his best friend.

Then something happened that no one present would have imagined: the guts of the menhir dealer protested their hunger, demanding the great Gaul for food… and abundant food, apparently.

Asterix parted in surprise from Obelix's embrace with a surprised expression. Obelix blushed, slightly embarrassed by the noise his body had just made.

The blond Gaul looked at the menhir deliverer. Then a shy smile appeared at the corners of his lips that progressively evolved into laughter.

Both Getafix and Obelix, along with Dogmatix, were surprised at the reaction of the little Gaul. They looked at him and then they looked at each other. Finally, they did the only thing they could think of: They joined Asterix in his laughter.

When Asterix managed to control himself, his headache was practically gone… at least for now. Then, he looked at Obelix, and with the smile still adorning his face, said:

"By Tutatis, are you hungry, too?"

Obelix looked at his friend, and for a moment it seemed that he had recovered the old Asterix. Then, blushing even more at the question, he timidly agreed. Obelix didn’t think he was capable of getting the words out of his mouth.

"Then let's have breakfast," said little Asterix happily. He got out of bed and started running towards the stairs. He was wearing the same clothes as the previous day. Obelix hadn’t dared to change his clothes fearing to wake him up. His clothes grew too big, and Asterix tripped and fell flat on the floor with a thud.

Getafix, seeing what happened with the Gaul boy, rushed to his side to see if Asterix had been hurt. But instead of crying, the blond Gaul was laughing once again. Internally, the old druid was happy about it. He hated to see any of those whom he considered his friends… his family, sad. Especially someone like Asterix, who by his way of being, had become one of the most respected people in the whole village… and maybe part of the world.

Despite his short stature, or perhaps precisely because he was short, his other attributes were more noticeable in everyone’s eyes. Getafix couldn’t say it with certainty… but, something he could say, is he would never give up all those years he spent next to the blond Gaul, next to Obelix, or next to any of the other villagers in town. They were all, and always would be, part of his life.

"Are we going, Getafix, or not?" Asterix asked, eager to eat.

"What? Ah yes, yes, we’re going. Let's not make our stomachs wait any longer,” replied the town druid.

When the three Gauls descended together with Dogmatix, Obelix offered to prepare the food. Just then, a woman unknown to the little Gaul appeared at the door of the cabin.

"Hello? Good morning Getafix, good morning Obelix, and good morning Asterix,” greeted the new arrival.

"Good morning," Obelix and Getafix replied at the same time. Asterix, meanwhile, stared at the woman not knowing what to say.

"Getafix, who’s this lady?" Asterix asked, looking at the brown-haired woman in a green dress at the door of his house.

"You see, she's –"

"Ah, he's so cute! I’m Mrs. Geriatrix,” said the woman, cutting off the druid and introducing herself. Asterix's eyes widened and he stared at the newcomer almost in disbelief. Then he looked at Getafix and said:

"By Belenos! I didn’t think it was possible for Mr. Geriatrix to get married!" Asterix spoke again genuinely amazed.

Now it was Obelix and Getafix's turn to open their eyes wide to the boy's comment and they instantly looked at the newly arrived woman slightly embarrassed by what the blond Gaul had just said, but Mrs. Geriatrix seemed to take it well. She approached Asterix and knelt before him. Then she said softly:

“Yes, I am Geriatrix’s wife, and despite the age difference that separates us, I love him very much, and nothing in the world will make me change this love I feel for him. But that isn’t the reason why I have come," she said. "I’m here to make you new clothes, because it’s clear you cannot go with what you’re wearing."

Asterix looked at himself at that moment, and his face turned redder than that of a tomato. No one except his mother had seen him without clothes. And now there was a woman he didn't know who said she was going to make new clothes for him. This meant for the little Gaul, she was going to see him without clothes. Asterix didn’t want that. He wanted his mother! It was she who had always made clothes for him.

"I want my Mom," he said in a whisper.

"Excuse me, little one, what did you say?" Mrs. Geriatrix asked, not understanding what he’d said.

"I want my Mom." Asterix repeated a little louder.

"But Asterix, your Mom –"

"No! I want my Mom!” the blond Gaul suddenly shouted.

Getafix decided to intervene before the situation could get worse. He approached Mrs. Geriatrix and said:

"My good lady, I think right now isn’t a good time. Asterix hasn’t yet had breakfast. Perhaps we can talk about it later, when our young friend has eaten, if that's okay with you.”

The woman in the green dress considered this for a moment and then said:

"We could also do this: I can take measurements of Asterix now and I’ll make him clothes while he has breakfast. This way, when he finishes, I’ll probably have finished sewing and he’ll have new clothes."

The village druid opened his mouth to refuse the offer, but closed it again when he realized this was indeed the best option.

"Well, truth be told, this is a good idea."

"But I…" began the little Gaul, who was very aware of what the two adults said. He sincerely hoped Getafix would be able to make the woman leave. But now he wasn’t so sure.

The old druid knelt in front of Asterix and looked him straight in the eye. Then he said softly:

"Yes, I know you want your mother to do it. But as I’ve already told you, she isn’t here at the moment… Mrs. Geriatrix is a good woman, you’ll see that you’ll be fine with her."

Asterix stared at the ground for a while and then nodded slowly. He knew Getafix was right, but he didn’t like the situation at all.

Getafix smiled slightly at his small triumph, then got up and said to the brown-haired woman:

"Perhaps it’s better for you to go upstairs to take measurements of this little one. This way nobody will bother you."

Mrs. Geriatrix nodded in agreement with the druid's decision. She held out her hand to Asterix who first looked at her and then hesitantly took it. He wasn't sure he wanted to go with her, despite having agreed to what Getafix was saying. To be honest, the little Gaul didn’t feel like going with the unknown woman upstairs. But he decided to think that while Getafix and Obelix were downstairs, nothing would happen to him. Lady and boy went upstairs to the top floor, leaving the rest of the occupants on the ground floor.

It was still very difficult for the little Gaul to accept this big red-haired Gaul with Getafix was actually his friend. But he knew Getafix would never tell him a lie like that. Besides… that Gaul was certainly very similar to Obelix, so there seemed to be no reason not to believe it was really him… yet he still had a hard time accepting it as an irrefutable truth. Besides… if Obelix had grown older, that meant his other friends were probably older now, too. Why? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he couldn't remember anything from two days ago? Could that also explain his strange dreams? All these questions and many more filled the mind of the young Gaul, and he hoped that in a short time they would all be answered.

There were also other questions that populated the blond Gaul’s mind. Who was he going to play with now? Should he make new friends? Would the other children accept him?

Getafix followed them with his eyes until they disappeared. So, to distract his mind from what was happening above their heads, Getafix decided to keep Obelix company while he was preparing breakfast for the three Gauls and for Dogmatix.

It was only when he was by his side that the old druid realized Obelix had blushed again. Intrigued by this fact, Getafix asked:

"Obelix, is something wrong?"

"What? Ah, no, no, it's just that seeing Asterix with Mrs. Geriatrix, well…”

"Yes?" Getafix asked again, wanting to know what Obelix tried to say.

“It has made me remember when she had to make clothes for me. I was also very embarrassed when I had to… you know…"

Getafix didn’t need more details to know what the menhir dealer meant.

"And now the same thing is happening to Asterix, even though he is a child…" continued the great Gaul. "I just hope that when Asterix gets back to the way he was before, he doesn’t remember any of this… well, that he won’t remember this part,” said the great Gaul, blushing even more than before.

Getafix nodded in understanding. It certainly wouldn’t be very pleasant for the blond warrior… discovering this fact when he returned to normal…

That reminded him… Getafix went to search the bag he had left hanging by the cabin door, just to make sure the canteen with the potion that caused all this trouble was still in there. After breakfast, he would return to his cabin and immediately start to work on an antidote for Asterix.

Once he was certain the canteen was still there, he returned to Obelix, who, for his part, had almost finished preparing everything. As soon as he had, the two Gauls brought the plates to the table and waited for Mrs. Geriatrix and Asterix to come down. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long for that. Mrs. Geriatrix descended with Asterix just behind her. Then the brown-haired woman said goodbye and that she had what she needed and she’d get to work right away to have the clothes for the little Gaul ready as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, the blond Gaul went straight to the table to eat. He was certainly very hungry, which was understandable, since the boy hadn’t eaten anything in a day... well, except perhaps a little piece of bread and some water the Romans gave him to eat. It was either that or nothing.

Getafix and Obelix observed Asterix’s every move. The boy seemed to be in a good frame of mind, so they decided to talk about anything and everything, except the part of taking measurements for his clothes. Better not to relive the past, they both thought.

When everyone was sitting at the table, they began to eat. Asterix noticed the little dog that was at Obelix's feet eating from his own plate. The young Gaul quickly identified the animal as the dog that licked his face when they came to rescue him from the Romans’ hands.

Asterix looked again at the two adults who were sitting with him at the table and, clearing his throat, asked:

"Who… whose dog is this?"

The druid and the menhir dealer stopped eating and looked first at Dogmatix and then at Asterix. Then Obelix spoke up and said:

"This puppy is mine, and he’s called Dogmatix."

"Ahhhh, what a cute name! Hello Dogmatix!” said the little Gaul cheerfully.

Asterix remembered having seen his friend dragging a small wooden carving in the shape of a puppy several times, so he had no reason to doubt the truthfulness of Obelix's words. The truth was that this puppy looked a lot like the one the red-haired Gaul had in wood.

Dogmatix barked happily in response to the greeting of the little Gaul. Despite the fact Asterix didn’t remember him, the puppy was happy to see that he himself seemed friendly in the eyes of the Gaul boy.

"Do you like Dogmatix?" Obelix asked then.

Asterix looked at the menhir carver and with a broad smile, he nodded vigorously. Obelix looked at his pet again and bent down to pick him up from the ground, since the little puppy had already finished breakfast.

The great Gaul cradled Dogmatix in his big hands and immediately handed him to Asterix, saying:

"You can play with him whenever you want. He’s a good friend and he’ll never disappoint you."

Asterix held out his small hands and was thrilled when Obelix put Dogmatix in them. Then the blond Gaul brought him close to his chest and began to caress him. Immediately Dogmatix began to lick his face again, causing new laughter in the youngest Gaul.

Getafix had fun watching the scene, but he also knew they couldn't carry on entertaining themselves. There was a lot of work to do. So, although he didn't like being the one to end the fun, he said:

"Well, that's enough. Asterix, leave Dogmatix on the floor and finish your breakfast. When you’ve finished and you have your new clothes, you can play as much as you want with him."

The blond Gaul couldn’t suppress a groan of frustration, which caused slight giggles in both adults. The boy then left the puppy on the ground and continued eating faster than before so that he could play with Dogmatix as long as possible.

Getafix looked at Asterix and was inwardly glad the young Gaul seemed to be fine as long as he remained in this state, at least for now. Still, the old druid knew he must find a cure as soon as possible.

Welp, Overanxius isn’t going to leave so easily. Those can’t be good news, can they? Also, how many of you have realized what was I talking about? Oh, and now Asterix will have new clothes! Who wants to see Asterix with clothes that fit him perfectly? Also, I don’t know why, but I love every time I see Dogmatix with a child, and now that Asterix is a child, I wanted to see moments with those two too 😊I hope I won’t be the only one wanting this. 😉

Okay, after say that, I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I also would like to thank to all the people who’d read this story and: @elianemariane17 @theholypencil @alyxox02 @lilacivories @coconuttyglittersmurf for their likes

See you in the next chapter 😉

#asterix and obelix #Getafix's mistake #overanxius #Roman camp destroyed #getafix #asterix #obelix.#dogmatix #mrs. geriatrix

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jay-and-dean · 5 years ago

Text

Rescue You Chapter 4 : November 4 and 5.

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Injuries, swearing, a hint of Angst, fluff.

Words : 3k

***Rescue You Masterlist***

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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November 4, 6:14 am

“Y/n ?” Dean’s voice calls me softly.

In my dream, I’m not afraid to cling to this voice with all I am. Somehow not afraid of what he could do or be… I’m floating in this world where music can be seen and where Dean’s smell can hold and carry me…

“Y/n ?” This voice is not in my dream…

I open my eyes and my breath gets stuck in my throat. His smell is not really holding me, but his arms are, and the only music is his breathing.

“I’m sorry to wake you… You’re crushing me” he says low.

My arm is wrapped around him, nails dug in his opposite side, like I harpoon him. My eyes widen, I let go of his chest in a gasp.

“I’m… I’m sorry” I say sitting up.

“No I am” he sighs. “I just… each time I pushed your hand you grabbed me tighter and… I’m sorry, it…”

“Hurts” I cut him. “Of course.”

Getting out of the cover I feel the violent bite of the cold and rub my face. It’s snowing, already. I sight and look at the table, my breath short, my burned skin still hurting, anxiety getting high… I just hope they won’t make my day too busy.

“I have to… find food” I say, trying to hide the trembling in my voice. “And another blanket. Okay…”

“Hey…” Dean’s voice pierces the fog of panic suddenly suffocating me. “It’s okay Y/n. I can wait, you need to take care of you.”

A sarcastic laugh escapes me. Take care of me…

November 5, 9 pm.

I run. I can’t really run because the snow slows me, but I go as fast as possible. My lungs are burning with the frosty air I’m breathing fast, my ears hurts and my fingers too, the tears on my face are the only warm thing I feel.

They trapped me. My mother trapped me at home, I couldn’t get food and I couldn’t get a blanket for Dean. I had to work like a dog and to beg, I had to lie. She never let me go out, even when I yelled, even when I cried ; until now.

I reach the door and open it with shaking hands, if he’s dead…

The room is cold, but not as much as the outside. I fall on my knees. Dean is on the floor, pale, cold, he tried to get up and failed.

“Dean ? Dean !” I reach him, checking his pulse and touching his face. “Dean… Please” I sob.

And he opens his eyes, frowning when he sees me. I take his face and squeeze it against my chest, silently thanking whoever listens.

“I was worried…” he mumbles.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry” I sob and I feel his hand rest on my hip.

We stay just like that for a little while. Me on my knees, and him against me, holding me back the best he can, my tears falling on his head, his hand gently stroking my side, like he was trying to comfort me.

Then I laboriously help him back on the bed and open the large bag I brought. I wrap him in covers, and put water to boil. I give him something to drink and he finishes it really fast. Then I take my hot water bottle and fill it with the boiling water, with the rest, I make the magical infusion I stole.

Dean just looks at me, busy like an ant ; he’s clinging to the covers and sometimes trying to speak, but I don’t give him time because I know what he will ask : Where do the bruises come from. And I have no answers, just that Diana came again. At least my mother feels guilty now that this ugly witch beat the shit out of me, and she will leave me be a little.

“Here” I blow on the bowl a little, making the steam moisten his forehead. “Sorry” I smile, wiping his face. “This is a potion I stole, it makes you heal faster.”

He looks at me, suspicious, and smells the mixture with a disgusted face.

“Where did you found that Y/n ?” he asks and I lower my head.

“I stole it” I sigh, not saying I stole it from the old lady Stinson, who broke her neck of the femur. They will give her more anyway.

“I don’t trust witches” he says and my heart sank.

“You don’t…” I can’t speak more, the intense fear and pain I felt sine yesterday, exploding at contact of his words.

I put the precious bowl cautiously on the table and turn my back on him.

“Y/n… I trust you” he sighs. “But this is witchcraft and…”

“Shut up” I say coldly. “J-just shut up.”

I take a deep breath and try not to cry.

“I won’t be able to protect you for long” I start with a sinister tone. “I… You have no idea of the s-sacrifices…”

“Yes I do” he cuts me.

“SHUT UP ! I-I DON’T WANT YOU TO HEAL ! I DON’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE BUT IF YOU DON’T…” I turned to face him and tears are running down my face now. “They will kill you… I don’t know how to heal you without what I know…”

“I’m sorry” he grunts.

“I can’t let them find you… B-but what if next time they lock me up for a week ?”

“Come here” he simply says and I hesitate, looking away. “Please.”

As I come closer, he sits up more in a groan of pain. I sit on the chair and he puts a hand on my thigh. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to breathe despite the intense pain and the weakness.

“I’ll drink it” he states. “I trust you. But you have to promise me you won’t ever put your life in danger for me.”

I turn my head and catch his eyes with eyebrows frowned and my lower lip between my lips from trying not to cry. His handsome eyes searching mine. And here it is, the moment I can talk for the first time in my life. The person I can trust enough to refuse a promise.

“What life ?” I state low.

November 5, almost midnight.

Dean ate and drank. It took an hour but I helped him to the bathroom, using the chair as a support, and for pauses. He wanted to, and while he was sweating bullets because of pain, I clenched my teeth and gave him that because he asked for help. As usual, I talked a lot, at first about nothing important, but now, an hour later, as I help him back on the bed, I’m talking about Diana.

“Every witch has one, a godmother… I was so jealous when I was a child… Now not so much” I grunt when he hisses, sitting down. “Here, the pillow is good, you can lean on it…”

“B-before I met you” he pants, trying to hide his pain. “I hated witches… Now it’s worse.”

“I know…” I sigh, leaving a short silence. “Are hunters as cruel as they say ?” I finally ask shyly.

“I guess some of them are… But the ones I know, they’re good people.”

I stare at him for a while, and can’t decide if I can smile right now, I want to, I always want to when he looks at me, but this talk is treason.

I’m checking on his wounds, and am satisfied to find them healing. His hoodie is open, and he doesn’t wear a t-shirt underneath it, it makes it easier for the bandages. I’m sitting on the bed, against his thigh, cleaning the massive cut on his stomach, when I feel his warm hand on my cheek.

I look up and find his gaze. His hand flattens on the side of my face and I close my eyes for a second. What is this rattle inside of me ? Like a swarm in my stomach. When I’m deprived of sight, my other senses cling to him, and the skin of his chest under my hand becomes the softer thing I ever touched, the smell irradiating of him…

“You’re cold” he whispers.

When I open my eyes again, everything has changed, my eyes can’t look away, I sit up straighter and stare at his beautiful face.

“I don��t want you to go and come back with bruises again” he admits, his thumb brushing my jaw.

“Tonight I’ll stay” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. “Hey, you will get sick if you stay like that” I finally manage to tear myself off of his charm.

I close his sweater and give him his toothbrush.

“You have to eat something too” he says with his mouth fool of toothpaste before he spits on what I gave him, his arms unable to brush longer.

“I bought like ten chocolate bars, just in case, I’ll eat one” I smile, searching my bag. “Hey look, razor !”

He smiles, his bright white teeth lighting the room. Everything changed since he touched my face, but I can’t explain it, he’s just… I want him close.

I sit on the bed and put a towel on his chest. While I take foam in my hand, I try to ignore him staring, try to focus. When I put it on his cheek, his eyes are a little too close to mine, almost drowning my will to be careful.

“Where am I supposed to put it ?” I chuckle.

“Everywhere you see beard, and try to avoid my mouth and nose” he smiles.

I start spreading the foam on his face with excessive caution, brushing his jaw, his upper lip, gently grazing his throat.

If my gestures are very slow, my thoughts, them, are going thousand miles. And yes, this is a freckles on his lip. I just wish I would have met him differently, I wish I wasn’t born a witch, the most useless witch of all times. I wish I could have seen him with all his strength one day ; but I won’t, because the minute he can walk, he will leave me forever. At least I would have known whatever is happening now, and I will have a memory to cherish.

“Against the grain, neck last” he says low.

“I’ll try not to cut you” I state and put the razor on his cheek, making his skin appear behind the foam and hair. “I love the smell of shaving foam” I say absent-mindedly.

“Why ?” his Adam’s apple dances before my eyes.

“I don’t know, it’s manly but soft…” I smile. “Kinda comforting.”

Like you.

I get closer and now I can smell the mint of his breath too, I rinse the razor in the bowl of water on the chair and come back to his face slowly. When I come close to his mouth, he forms a thin line with it, hiding both his lips to make it easier for me.

“Oops” I chuckle when a bit of foam falls on his lips after he made them appear again.

I wipe it with my thumb, immediately freezing when I realize I’m touching those lips. My shy finger just lingers on the plumb pink flesh, and even the awareness of him staring, probably wondering what is wrong with me, doesn’t make me look away…

His face comes a little closer, slowly, he doesn’t need to move much to make his face touch mine.

His lips capture mine in a shy kiss.

My heart stops, my world crashes on itself, but not in a bomb-destructive way, more in a revelation. I put a hand on his good shoulder and come closer, desperate to feel him more, to taste him more. His mouth against mine opens just a little to grab my lower lip, his hand comes back to my cheek.

I never felt anything like this before. This dream is the most powerful and beautiful I have ever had, and it’s not even a dream. I wish I could stay like that forever, just feeling those lips on mine.

When the tip of his tongue wets my mouth, I open it, allowing him to caress me the way he wants. His hot tongue meets mine in a sensual skim at first, then in an eager dance. I grab his face and keep him against me while he devours me, breathing only the air he gives me until it’s not enough for both of us and he breaks the kiss to inhale.

He stares at me and, for the first time in my life I don’t have any doubt. If he regrets, I will just keep taking care of him until he can be safe, thankful for that day I felt alive in my life ; if he wants to kiss me again…

He does. Slow and tender, smiling in the kiss, cutting all my thoughts.

“That’s disgusting” he chuckles with a grin and, once again, I have no doubt, because he can’t mean anything unkind, he’s just Dean. “We have shaving foam everywhere. I think I have some in my mouth…”

I laugh through my nose and put another shy and chaste kiss on his lips. Taking the towel, I wipe my face and the rebellious strand of my hair that fell from my bun, now sticking to my cheek. Then I take the razor in my hand and smile in awe.

“Only half your face is shaved.”

He turns his head slowly to grant me access to the hairy side of his face.

In concentration, I stick my tongue out a little but don’t realize it before he kisses the tiny tip of it. My eyes widen and I blush, pecking his plumb lips once again like we were a thing, like we were usual and natural.

Several times during the minutes it takes me to shave him with caution, he steals a kiss or two. Until it becomes a little game : me giving him a smile when he catches my lips, or escaping to give him my cheek or nose, just to tenderly kiss him when he grunts… He gives me his throat like he gave me his cheeks, with a trust so pure ; and the razor blade caresses his skin while I put an audacious kiss on the naked side of his Adam’s apple.

When comes the moment I wipe his face with wet towel, our lips have met a thousand times. And I know now that it never will be enough.

I lay close, this time slipping between the wall and him, my daring hand coming under the hem of his hoodie to touch the skin of his stomach, he kisses the top of my head and silence slowly wraps us, a peaceful calm, swathed in a snowy night.

“This witch thing…” he says low. “Do you know how fast it works ?”

I shrug and look up to meet the subdued light of the oil lamp reflecting in his bright eyes.

“My ribs already hurt less” he states.

I sit up and smile wide.

“Really ? Oh great !” rubbing his jaw, I realize the cut on his eyebrow is almost healed. “I should steal more…”

“You’re not going back there for now, Y/n” he frowns.

I bend to kiss him, unable to stop tasting him, unable to stay away. His hand grabs my thigh when I kiss the corner of his lips, his cheek and jaw. He turns his head to make me focus back on his mouth.

I have no idea how long we have been kissing, but I feel like a teen, lips swollen from making out too long. His hand is under my own sweater now, just calmly motionless on my lower back.

“Mh that mouth…” he murmurs. “We will make it, Y/n… They won’t hurt you more.”

We. They.

We means we’re in the same side, and I agree. From now on, I’ll be in our side. I snuggle against him and put my hand on his heart, hiding the anxiety on my face : If I manage to save him, I will have won this battle, and I will be happy just knowing he is okay ; but sooner or later, they will learn of Dean being alive… And I will burn.

He’s not stupid, I know he realizes that, we both know.

“I heard them talking about you” I say, trying to sound lazy when I’m suddenly a little sad. “They were saying you had an angel…”

“Have an angel ?” he chuckles. “I don’t own an angel, like I would have a cat… He’s my friend. Cas, Castiel. He saved me from Hell, and we went to Purgatory together…”

I stay there, listening. He tells me about his brother, and how he became a hunter, how he was raised like a soldier, he tells me about crappy motels rooms and that archangel that made them believe he was the Trickster. I met the actual trickster, he’s not as powerful. He tells me about this witch Rowena, I heard of her once, but the Coven don’t like her because she doesn’t respect the rules…

I tell him about these rules. About what they did to my father, how this messes with people’s brain, how broken he is now. I tell him about my only friend, Aiden, and our past together, the way they treated me, and convinced him his marriage was for the best. And I start to betray my blood even more : The delicious safety of his hand stroking my back, I start telling him about the Coven operation, about Mam Griffin impressive powers…

A gust of freezing air carrying snow suddenly enters the room when the door opens. Dean protectively wrap his arm around me even more when I sit up in terror, trying to see clearly if someone just found us.

The world is about the crash.

I frown to discern who is that shape, staying outside, staring at us.

And when it moves, I finally can see.

“Aiden ?”

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lowkeyaesthvtic · 5 years ago

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Evil Karma - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Word Count: 1,883

Summary: A quick look into Sofi’s past ends in a messy room

Pairings: OC x father!OUAT Peter Pan, poly!Harry x OC x poly!Uma

Rating: PG (no swear words but some angsty content)

Warnings: description of child death, mention/description of physical abuse, basically Peter Pan is an abusive douchebag and Sofi deserved much better

Tags: @hookedradge @descendantofthesparrow @curse-brekker @newtshairdryer @amityravenclawelf @kirbiejayhook

Author’s Note: Not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about this chapter. I just wanted to say that I take all kinds of abuse incredibly seriously and that it’s not something to be glamorized/romanticized. What Sofi endured from her father happens to people every single day and it’s for that reason that I proofread this a million times to make sure it was taken seriously. Also, if you need help or someone to talk to, my DMs are always open.

Ironically enough, I had fallen asleep shortly after telling Uma that it was something I didn’t usually partake in. Uma must have stayed awake, as when I woke up I was not lying on the chair that I was in before I had drifted off. The three of us now lay in a brown, mildly dusty bed with a thin blanket draping over us. Somehow, I had ended up in the middle once more. My arm was draped over Harry’s chest and my head rested gently in the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent with every breath I took. He smelled...different than usual. Rather than carrying the scent of crashing waves trying to tear a ship apart, he smelled like a ship calmly drifting through an even sea. His hair was just as messy as before, if not messier. He definitely was not a still sleeper. I could feel Uma behind me, dancing her fingers across my back, tracing circles and hook-like shapes as if I were her empty canvas. It felt nice, truthfully, but it was all so...new. “I bet you got this treatment all the time back on Neverland, didn’t you, Island girl?” I hear Uma mumble behind me. A small laugh huffs out in response.

“Nothing like this…” I could feel my voice drifting as I cast my mind back to the crowded island I once called home.

It all started off so wonder-filled. I was the second person to be born in Neverland rather than being taken there by the Shadow. People were still wondering how it all happened, my own father included. For the first eight years, I aged as regularly as any child would. Obviously, I don’t have much recollection of it, but one of the older boys once told me that I was relatively peaceful and I could make even my own father crack a smile. I wish I could go back to it all, just to remember it again. There was only one thing about my childhood that I could recite by heart.

Her name was Delilah. She was the first to be born on the island. Her mother fled home soon after, just as I believe my own mother had done. If the boys thought I was peaceful as a child, Delilah was an angel. Her skin was fair and practically blemish free apart from small brown freckles splattered across her nose and the apples of her cheeks. Her hair was not light enough to be called ‘blonde’ but nowhere near as dark as mine. I swear her smile could light up even the darkest regions of the Echo Caves. She made me want to be a better child. If Neverland were some kind of movie, she’d be the leading lady there to steal everybody’s hearts.

Even as young and naive as I was, I was rendered surprised when she was so eager to be friends with me. The first thing I remember hearing from her was her asking if I wanted to race her to the shoreline. “Last one to the beach is a crocodile!” She yelped out. She almost always won. Maybe because she was faster than me, maybe because I just loved seeing the smile on her face when she got there first. Either way, she was a winner. Soon, we started doing everything together. We’d eat together, swim in the ocean together, I had even persuaded my father to let us share a tent. From that night on, we were inseparable. The boys would try everything they could to get us to crawl out of our tent and hunt with them, but to no avail.

One night, a blistering storm came rushing through the island. Pan had commanded everyone to stay in their tent no matter what, promising that he would take care of dinner and anything else the boys needed to rest easy. Everyone quickly obeyed, knowing the dangers of the island’s angry rain. The only one I had yet to see come into their tent was Delilah. It worried me to my very core. When everybody had fallen asleep, I snuck out of my tent to look for her. I had climbed mountains and scoured the forest and even dug through the sand to find her. But, there was one place that I had yet to look. The Echo Caves encompassed the darkest area of the island. Delilah would tell me stories of how her mother went to the Echo Caves to steal pixie dust and fly home. From what the boys had told me about those caves, Delilah’s mother might not have been the only one. Boys had tried to fly from the Echo Caves, believing that the power of their homesickness would bring them home to their families. What nobody ever told me was what happened if they failed. I found that out myself when I found Delilah’s body bloodied and bruised at the edge of a cliff by the Echo Caves’ entrance. In her cold hand was a bottle with a letter inside.

“Dear Delilah,” it read. “I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but if you do, you need to read this very carefully. Neverland is not the paradise you think it is. Your mother, your uncle Michael and I all ventured there as kids under that same belief. We didn’t want to grow up, either. But we started to miss home, your mother especially. Pan wouldn’t let her leave. That’s why you were born here. He’s a curse, Delilah, a demon that will do anything for power and control. Go to the edge of the Echo Caves and cut one of the vines, a black liquid will start coming out of it. Put the black liquid into this bottle but do NOT let it touch your skin. Then, when Pan is drinking, slip the liquid inside while he isn’t looking. After that, you’ll be able to do whatever you want. If you want to come home, write us a letter and seal it with a kiss. Your uncle Michael and I will come and get you along with anybody else you want to take. We love you, Delilah Darling. Be careful. Sincerely, your Uncle John.” It wasn’t until after I had read the letter that I saw the black liquid oozing from her wounds.

Since that night, I didn’t want to be young anymore. A part of me thought that if I could grow up, I could leave. The other part of me was telling me that if I didn’t grow faster, stronger, and smarter than I was as a child, I’d end up just like Delilah if not worse. At first, I followed the island’s logic. If you believe in it hard enough, it will come to you. I wished to grow up each and every night for what could have been years, but nothing happened. So, I did what I thought was the only thing left to do. I went to my father.

“Dad...can I ask you something?” I asked, quietly peering into his tent. He was drinking wine, a usual hobby for him. A husky scoff erupted in response.

“What is it, Sofia? You clearly see I’m busy with something.” He turned his chair around and faced me. I never realized it when I was younger, but he was always angry with me. Every time he looked at me or even said my name, there was a glint of rage in his eyes and in his voice.

“Well...I really want something. I’ve tried believing in it, like you’ve said, but I’ve been wishing for this for a really really long time and nothing has been happening.”

“Get on with it, child.”

“I...I wanna grow up. I don’t want to stay a child forever anymore. It’s scary.” Silence. He swiftly stood and towered over me, glaring down with a laugh so deep and sinister you’d think he was a tiger hunting its prey.

“You think eternal youth is..scary? You stupid child!” A burning pain arrive on my right cheek as his backhand sent me to the ground. “Do you have any idea how hard I work to keep this paradise for you and the boys? Now...you’ve come to tell me that you don’t want it? I should throw you to ocean and see which of the mermaids is fortunate enough to snatch you for lunch!” He turns back around and walks to a desk by his bed. At that moment, I didn’t know what to focus on. I didn’t know if I was going to live or die, but I was so scared that I couldn’t move to escape. The next time I saw his face, he had a tiny bottle in his hand filled with a purple shimmering liquid. “Fine...you want to grow up? Drink this, and you’ll be the only person on this island who won’t be young forever. But I’ll tell you now, dear Sofia, all magic comes with a price. If you don’t pay it like a good little girl, you’ll end up just like Delilah. You hear me?” He throws down the bottle with near enough force to break it. “Now pick up your waste of space potion and get out of my sight before I really give you something to be scared of!”

“Sofi..? Sofi? Sofi!” I was shaken back to reality by both Harry and Uma’s voices calling to me. By the time I was back in reality, the room we were in had been near completely trashed. My knuckles had become bloody and any glass surface in the room was shattered. Moments after coming back, my knees buckled and I collapsed to the floor. I didn’t want them to see me cry. Nobody is supposed to see me cry. Crying is a weakness and if you possess weaknesses, you won’t survive anywhere.

“Hey, duckling...it’s just us. Your dad’s dead, remember?” Harry leaned down and took one of my hands into his. They were big, veiny, strong..but somehow, in this time, they held such a gentle air to them. They were warm in a room that couldn’t be any colder. Then, it came to me.

“How much did you hear?” I tried to keep my voice strong and deep, but it couldn’t help but quiver and crack. There’s no way they would ever see me the same. “I’m not weak..I promise you I’m not weak-”

“We know, Sofi. We know. Honestly, you’re probably the strongest girl I’ve met. Next to myself, of course.” I let out a small laugh. She had a point. “We don’t know everything you’ve been through, Sofi. You don’t know everything we’ve been through, either. But if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that the three of us are the strongest this Isle has ever seen. Nothing from our past is going to change that. Okay?” I nodded my head and felt my breathing return to normal. Harry helped me up to my feet and walked me to a tall, dilapidated wardrobe.

“Let’s go ahead and get dressed. I think Lady Tremaine’s place is due for a quick robbing, don’t you, duckling?” I smirked and nodded my head.

“Let’s get into some trouble.”

“That’s my girl,” Uma replied as she placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

#descendants uma #descendants fic #descendants x oc #uma x oc #harry x oc x uma #uma x reader #harry x reader x uma #harry hook x uma #uma daughter of ursula #huma #harry hook x uma smut #harry hook smut #harry hook x oc #harry hook x reader #harry hook

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krystalreverb · 5 years ago

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Something Human (Fic Preview #6)

Meanwhile, Hubert had just gotten the message from the soldier who had been sent to look for him, and sighed as he looked at his limited potion ingredient stock. If they rationed it carefully, he would have enough for all of them, but it was close. He had done some routine background research on the girls when they all joined the Academy, and had found out that Bernadetta suffered from a condition in which scar tissue tended to build up around her ovaries, causing her intense pain for prolonged periods of time while she was menstruating, and therefore would need more of Hubert's potion to counteract the effects of her condition, and Hubert would have to make it strong. And he had no margin for error.

“Tell the Emperor that if she requires enough potion for everyone, then she'll need to find me more ingredients. Give her this.” Hubert scribbled down the ingredients he needed on a scrap piece of parchment and handed it to the soldier. The soldier snapped into a salute and scurried off with it.

Edelgard sighed upon opening the note. After torturing the soldiers with work and making them all run laps for about an hour or so, she'd grown bored with tormenting them and decided to relax in the mess hall and await Hubert's return. The girls had followed, if only because they, too, found themselves bored and without anything to do that day. It was Byleth's day off, and they had chosen to stay in today. Something about the Sword of the Creator repairing itself somewhat when Byleth wasn't using it, thus saving them time and money getting it repaired manually. Besides, not many of the Empire’s blacksmiths could manually repair a divine sword. The ones that could always cost more, and Hubert (who was in charge of financing the whole thing) had given Byleth a bit of a tongue lashing about wasting the Empire’s funds and maybe if Byleth would just learn some bloody magic they wouldn’t have to use that blasted sword anyway. “Hubert says he'll have enough for all of us, but only barely, and only for today. He needs more ingredients to make enough to last all week.”

“I shall be finding the ingredients for Hubert.” Petra piped up. She took the note from Edelgard and hurried off in search of the ingredients. She would check the marketplace first. There was a woman there who showed up every once in a while that had very special and interesting items for sale on her person at any given time. Anna, her name was? Perhaps Anna would have the ingredients.

“At least he has enough for all of us today.” Edelgard said. “I didn't realize Hubert's stocks were getting so low. Apparently Hubert didn't realize it either. It's his job to keep track of his own hobbies. I am certainly not doing it for him.”

Bernadetta whimpered softly and curled up on the bench, her head in her knees, holding her stomach in pain. Edelgard put an arm around her and rubbed her back soothingly. “I know, Bernie. I know. Hubert will be back soon.”

“Oh, no... don't worry about me, Edelgard, I'll be fine....” Bernadetta whimpered unconvincingly. “I've had worse than this...”

“Bernadetta, you can hardly move.” Edelgard said. “You can't fight in the condition that you're in, and I'm going to need you in the upcoming battles. What do you usually do when the pain gets this bad?” She asked, helping Bernadetta lay down on the bench.

“Ahh...” Bernadetta whimpered. “I usually just lay down and hope for the best... there's really nothing else I can do, right? I can't make it go away.”

“Bernadetta, I promise that Hubert is not going to bite you or hurt you or react negatively in any way if you ask him to brew you potions for this. I know he makes you nervous, but he's really a big sweetheart. All you have to do is say, 'Hubert, I need some more of that potion you make for cramps' and I guarantee he will make it for you.” Edelgard explained. “After all, he doesn’t want to face my wrath if I ever were to find out he wouldn’t.”

“I-I know, but... isn't it kind of icky to tell boys when you're on your period?” Bernadetta said. “I mean, I know it's not quite proper. Boys don't have to know all that stuff.”

Edelgard chuckled. “Hubert doesn't mind. Believe me, I apparently bled all over his trousers last night and he didn’t seem to care much this morning. It's not like he's going to think of you any differently because you're menstruating. If anything it means he'll be nicer to you. He might even offer to carry your weapons or escort you to the infirmary.”

“I... I know. I know I have a lot of issues, okay? Having a crazy, abusive father kind of does that to you.” She sighed. “I'm really trying to get over them. I come out for breakfast every day now, have you noticed? And I haven't missed a training session in two whole weeks!”

“I have noticed, yes, and I'm very proud of you. You're doing really well.” Edelgard praised her, letting her lay her head in Edelgard's lap where she could rest a little easier. Edelgard stroked Bernadetta's hair soothingly. “It's gonna be okay, Bernie. Don't you worry. Hubert will help us. If I will it, he will make it happen.”

Petra delivered the ingredients she'd gathered to Hubert. It had taken her roughly two hours to find everything, having to go both to the marketplace and the greenhouse to find everything on the list. Luckily the marketplace had most of it, that lovely Anna woman having most of it for sale, and at a bargain, too! “Hubert! I am finding all of the items you are needing.” She put them on the ground next to him.

Hubert picked up each jar and pouch and inspected the contents, looking impressed as he nodded at them. He held one jar up to his eyes for inspection, turning it in his hand so he could see the contents at all angles. He regarded Petra with a cool eye. “Excellent, this was exactly what I was looking for. And they're quite good quality, too. I don't know where you managed to get all this in this season, but you simply must introduce me to your potions stock dealer. With this I'll be able to make a brew strong enough to relieve even Bernadetta.”

“You are knowing about Bernadetta?” Petra asked. “About her condition?”

“Of course I do.” Hubert said, sitting down to brew. “I did a very thorough background check on all of you when I got the class list for the Black Eagles back in the Academy. Everything from family history to medical history, to specific likes and dislikes to your very food preferences. It's my job, Petra. I do feel bad for Bernadetta, really, I do. Having to menstruate already isn't fair to a woman, it's even more unfair that Bernadetta deals with this sort of suffering. It's akin to torture, and anything I can do to help, I will. I'm just glad it's not happening to me. How on earth do you women live with it?” Hubert said. He sighed and looked at Petra with a surprisingly soft expression. He looked vulnerable in that moment, his eyes holding a warmth and a certain glimmer they usually did not hold. He looked a little pained, as if her eyes were peeling away his very outer skin to reveal something less sinister and more nurturing beneath. His hands actually trembled somewhat as he spoke, as if what he was saying made him crawl in his skin somewhat.

“You know, I may put up an air of you all being useful to the Empire, and all that, but the truth is, you are my ...f-friends and I do actually, genuinely... c-care about you all. I always did, I'm just not good at...people-ing.” Hubert admitted quietly and rather awkwardly. “I never was. You can blame my bastard of a father for that.”

He cast his eyes away, and Petra had never before and would never again see such a look of vulnerability in those golden, glittering eyes. “Why do you think I even bothered to try learning white magic? T'wasn't the Professor's will, I'll have you know. I'd like to keep you all around if I can help it. I've grown used to your antics, your dynamic. It's one I can't fathom living without anymore. If we were to lose one of us on the battlefield... Perhaps it's newfound love talking, or perhaps it's simply a dreamer's wish, but I know things would never be quite the same.” Hubert looked down and busied himself in his work. Petra decided to stay behind and watch him. Petra didn't have much of a magical potential herself, but the rituals and languages surrounding magic had always fascinated her. Hubert regarded her with a cool eye for a moment, just long enough to ascertain that she seemed to not be going anywhere, so he simply looked back down and continued to work, accepting that she seemed to be staying.

Hubert stirred his potion and muttered incantations over it, watching it bubble and boil and shine. It had turned the color of sewer sludge, and smelled....interesting. Petra couldn't quite tell if it was a good smell or a bad smell, but it was certainly a distinct smell. It smelled strongly of vinegar, or perhaps sour milk, perhaps curdled cheese mixed with asbestos. It seemed to keep changing, bubbling away inside the cauldron, the smell becoming more and more rank as it brewed. Petra ultimately decided she wasn't a fan of how it smelled, nor how it looked. When the potion was finished, he poured some of the potion into a vial and held it out.

“Here, drink this. Tell me if you feel any better.”

Petra made a face at it and did not move to take it, and Hubert wiggled the vial with his hand slightly, urging her to take it from him and drink it. Petra took the vial tentatively, put it to her lips and made a face at the taste as it slid down her throat with an audible gulp. She made a rather amusing and audible sound of distaste, but almost immediately the pain began to ease, and the tight, bloated feeling in her lower gut began to go away. She was able to better sit up straight without discomfort, and the tenderness and raw feeling inside her lightened. She breathed a sigh of relief. “It is tasting like sewage, but it feels very much better. It is working, Hubert.”

#something human #fic preview #number six #the girls have cramps #so hubert is helping #edelbert #petra #hubert #edelgard #fire emblem #three houses #i listen to a lot of billy joel while i write #please tell me if my petra sounds off #i'm not quite sure how her speech pattern works

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thesnapewecandreamof · 6 years ago

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400-Follower Ficlet (1/2)!!

I never knew so many people enjoy my shitposts and weird ideas! I never thought there are so many of us who love Snape!! I was going to post this when I hit 394 but it just kept rising and I was too lazy.

I would continue to churn out my shit and angsts for every single one of you!

Anyway, please enjoy this! This is a two-parter and the other one will be written most likely in Snape’s pov. Not sure when that would happen but I do have the draft half-way through!

When Dennis went to Hogsmeade without his brother to buy some sweets to owl his parents, he never thought that this would happen. When he wanted some moment alone and just take in the scene of Diagon Alley filled with so many magical folk, he never thought some of them had sinister ideas. When he was petrified and a sack was pulled over his head, he was hoping it was just his classmates playing horrible prank on him.

He never expected to be kidnapped by Death Eaters. He never knew he could feel so much fear. He was thrown to another Death Eater and nearly fell on his nose.

He saw a face and his heartbeat quickened. It was professor Snape! Dennies was sure he’d be rescued by then. But then the professor cursed him, the professor chained him to the wall, took his wand and smirked as he did during potions class. Dennis shivered as the potions master of Hogwarts put on a glinting mask, he hadn’t noticed the robes earlier, Death Eater robes reminiscent of the robes he has seen in the Prophet.

It was true then, Snape really was a Death Eater. Dennis has stumbled on a few articles about the first war and how Snape escaped Azkaban when he was claimed as a spy for Dumbledore. Dennis wondered if this was just a ruse. That maybe Snape needed to maintain his cover, and that Dennis would be rescued later when the professor’s position as a spy wasn’t at risk.

But then Death Eaters came and taunted him, mocking his muggle blood. Then they hit him, kicked him. Cursed him. Dennis was in tears as the cruciatus licked his battered body. How could anyone cast that curse? They were all wearing masks and he wondered if Snape was part of the group who beat him. Was he wrong? Did Snape fool Dumbledore, was he really a dark wizard? Dennis had his fair share of awful muggle teachers and none of them compared to Snape, but Snape no matter how horrible as a professor surely isn’t capable of all this pain?

Dennis continued to believe in the professor because what else could he believe in? He doesn’t no how much time has passed. He hears whispers about some ritual, he hears arguments about the possibility of something but he was too hungry and his body hurt so much. He broke his arm once, after falling from a tree. He wondered if both his arms are broken and if his ribs are cracked or just bruised. Madam Pomfrey would have to feed him so much skelegrow once he’s back in Hogwarts.

Back in Hogwarts with his brother, back to his friends, back somewhere safe, where it doesn’t hurt. His tears cloud his vision.

Someone quickly rolled him over and he winced.

“Come now, Mr. Creevey. Here I thought you were a brave gryffindor.” He knew that voice. He opened his eyes.

“Stay awake, boy. And keep your mouth shut.” Snape pushed something hard into his robes and Dennis was relieved to see it was his wand. It was kept in place by his trousers. He has to make sure he doesn’t fall on it and snap it. “Drink this.” He drank the potion despite how horrible it tasted and he sighed as the pain went away for awhile.

His binds were removed and he was picked up by his professor. He never thought he’d be so happy to be in Snape’s presence, much less in Snape’s arms.

But he felt safe. It would do for now.

But then they stopped, and Dennis was nearly thrown from Snape’s grasp.

He had his answers then. The Death Eaters called Snape a traitor and Dennis felt guilt for every time he thought his professor a dark wizard. Dennis felt shame as he recalled the rumors he heard and spread against Snape as his professor writhed on the floor as he was cursed over and over with the cruciatus. Dennis felt tears in his eyes when his professor was thrown in the cell with him and recalled the horrible moments he wished Snape to be ill so Potions would be cancelled.

It continued for what seemed were years but could have been mere days. The Death Eaters barely paid him attention when the traitor to their cause was in the same cell as boring Creevey.

He still heard whispers though.

He heard excited whispering, plans that would supposedly bring Dumbledore to his knees. Plans to recruit more followers for their Dark Lord.

He heard arguments that maybe they should remove some limbs from the hostages to make things more dramatic. Dennis thanked every deity he knew when a voice would deny it and say they had more class than common thugs, Dennis cursed them and yet rejoiced and he felt sick because of it.

There was one thing that changed though. The professor rarely spoke, often times because he was not conscious, but when he did, Dennis listened.

The professor told him about how the Light would likely have noticed their absence and would most likely be planning on rescuing Dennis.

“You mean us, sir.”

“What was that?”

“They’re planning to rescue us. Not just me.” He corrected.

Dennis saw his professor bow his head and his dark hair hid his expression. Surely the Light would work to save their spy, won’t they? They wouldn’t leave a comrade behind.

But the professor stayed silent, so Dennis did what he always did when they were sure Death Eaters won’t be barging in on their cells. He moved just a tad closer to his professor, enough so the man knew that Dennis was with him, that his student was there with him and not being tortured Merlin knows where the professor was dragged to. And Dennis made a vow that he would make sure the professor survives this and they’d escape together.

Dennis was no fool. The only reason Snape hasn’t been trying to escape was because Dennis could very well get killed if they were caught. Waiting for rescue seems relatively safer than trying to escape the Dark Lord’s stronghold. He wanted to plot for ways out but when he proposed doing such a thing the professor hushed him and reminded him that the Dark Lord has more spies than him and that the walls have ears.

There were times when they made Dennis watch though, as they tortured Snape just outside the cell. They said it must be a great show for a gryffindor like him. Dennis wanted to protest, to bang their cell and demand them to stop. But Snape demanded his word that he won’t do something that would endanger both of them. Revealing his emotions could get them killed, after all.

Dennis once again became a punching bag to the Death eaters but he heard they were warned to not damage him to severely. Dennis wondered where the rescue was. Where was the Light? His whole body hurt and he wanted nothing more than to go home, he almost can’t recall what home felt like anymore.

His professor returned in worse shape everytime and Dennis feared he’d be left alone with the Death Eaters if Snape doesn’t hold on. What would he be holding on to anyway?

The Day finally came. A Death Eater splashed water to wake both of them and Dennis put himself between the Death Eater and his professor. Snape was sluggish, he can’t have much strength left.

The Death Eater bound him and the professor and Dennis early screamed when the Death Eater stomped on his profesor. A bag was pulled down on his head before he was dragged away. His heart quickened in fear and he wondered where they’d be going. Were they going to be killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself? Were they going to be cruciod to death? Dennis was nearly shaking with fear when he felt a tugging in his navel, they apparated and Dennis felt his stomach drop.

He heard a chilling voice, laughter harsh to the ears, where were they?

Then he heard Albus Dumbledore and his heart soared. But why did they apparate near Dumbledore? Death Eaters, even You-Know-Who are afraid of Dumbledore, Dennis bit his lip.

The bag was removed from his head and he stared in horror as Hogwarts loomed before him, the faculty and many students stood behind the wards. He looked around and saw himself surrounded by masked Death Eaters, in the forefront was the Dark Lord himself.

What was going on?

Well, I’m not really sure where this came from or why I decided to add poor Dennis Creevey into this. It just, kind of fit, you know?Hope you’re intrigued though!

#Severus Snape #pro-snape #dennis creevey #whump #tw:torture #tw:child abuse #400 follower #400 follower fic #I love you all

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greetingfromthedead · 6 years ago

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Loki - Even in Death

Reader gender: Neutral

Summary: Thor wasn’t the only one to survive after Thanos’ attack on the ship and now you have just one mission in mind.

Author’s note: Hello! Maybe someone still remembers me… I’m the shitty Marvel writer. It’s been quite a while since I last wrote something. This is somewhat all over the place and is a bit longer than my usual stuff, but it’s just something that got stuck in my head. Plus I just really didn’t want to study for my exams :D

Author’s note 2 (rant): So apparently something has changed in the way Tumblr decides to show tags in searches. I can’t add any pictures to this text (I loved using special dividers + I always added a relevant picture), I also can’t link to anything (like my masterlist or tagging information). Basically Tumblr is just making it harder for me to like it anymore as it just limits my creativity.

***

You still hear the alarm ringing throughout the spaceship as you guide the Asgardians to the escape pod. Women and children are running for their life to get off this ship as something much bigger and very hostile looms over all of you.

The escape pod is filled to the prim, but half of the people are still on the main ship. You look with panic and worry, at the people who won’t fit into the pod and decide to do your best to protect them. You go up to Valkyrie and take her hand.

“Get these people as far away from here as possible, keep them safe.” you say and also look at Korg behind her. “Stay with them, they have to live.”

“Come with us. There aren’t many warriors amongst us, help us keep them safe.” Valkyrie demands, but you just shake your head.

“I have to try and fight here so maybe we get to live another day, these people here don’t deserve to die. Now stop wasting time and go.” your voice ice cold as you let go of her hand and push the release button next to the pod. It closes its doors and prepares to release from the main ship. With a heavy heart you watch them go knowing very well that everyone remaining on this ship is very likely going to die, including you… and Loki.

You draw your black bladed sword and make your way through the crowd who has fallen completely silent. You can hear fighting in the main hall behind the metal doors. You raise your weapon and are ready to strike. Just a moment later the doors open and a strange pale face greets you with the slightest hint of a smile.

“There you are,” the smooth voice says.

You sarge in with full force, but the figure just waves with his hand and metal wires from the ceiling bend and quickly wrap you up even covering your mouth. Your sword falls to the ground as you are pulled against a wall with no hope of escaping.

One by one the figure starts killing the people you swore to protect. You couldn’t watch this blood bath and nobody could hear your muffled screams over the panicked and afraid shouting. You close your eyes, but the noise alone is enough to make you want to vomit.

When the deed is done the figure walk out the door leaving you alone alive. You can hear voices talking somewhere in the distance, but the shouts of the wounded and the afraid are gone, meaning that they are all dead. Your face is wet with tears of grief. You don’t try to listen for the voices, you know everyone’s fate is already sealed.

Suddenly and without warning the wires holding you back loosen and you fall to the ground. You pick up your sword and run out the doors. You see glowing purple cracks appear all around you. Purple flames engulf your surroundings as you make it to the main hall. The last thing you can see before the ship blows to pieces is Thor crying over the body of his brother.

***

The sun shines brightly over the green fields, the river can barely be heard over the sound of blades clashing together.

“You have all your little tricks, but I’m still better than you,” you tease.

“You seem so sure about that,” the says as he pulls out two knives out of thin air and charges at you again, but you deflect his attack and even smack him lightly in the face with your free hand. Suddenly you are surrounded by an army of Lokis and you look around trying to find the real one.

“Your projections can’t hurt me, I just have to stab every single one of them until I find the real you,” you smile.

“Yes, but in the mean time I can sneak up on you,” his voice whispers in your ear as he wraps his arms around you. You let your sword fall to the ground and you turn around. He places his hands on your neck and kisses you. His lips leave a burning trace down your neck.

Suddenly you knock him over, he loses his balance and falls.

“You fight dirty,” he says with a hint of admiration.

“You already knew that,” you smile.

You push him on his back before sitting on him and kissing him, stroking your fingers through his hair.

***

You wake up on a lumpy bed, your body hurts as you sit up. You look at your damaged armour and everything is covered in ash and blood. You look around and see that you are on a spaceship. Everything starts to flood back to you, the image of your dead love burned into your eyelids.

You get up and limp to the door of the little windowless room. To your surprise it is open and you walk down the hall till you get to a big room. There is no furniture there, but on the floor there are uneven lumps covered with fabric and you realise these must be the fallen Asgardians. You look at the rows of bodies and are reminded of your grief. You can’t bare to look anymore so you turn around and head for the exit, but suddenly there’s a loud whistle. You see a Yaka Arrow hovering in front of your face.

“Who are you?” a voice asks.

“Y/n, an Asgardian warrior,” you say.

“What happened to your people?”

“They were murdered.”

“By who?”

“Thanos,” you almost growl that name.

You turn around and see a scruffy looking man.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Kraglin,” the man answers.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For giving the dead some decency and for saving me.”

“Well, you did almost join them and I couldn’t just leave them there. I just wish I were closer when I received the distress call.”

He whistles again and the arrow flies to him.

“You’ve already done so much for me, but I have to ask a little more. Do you have an escape pod I could borrow? I will repay you.”

***

“Oh, did I offend you, my prince?” you ask in a serious manner.

“Yes, very much, my dear.” His expression looks stern, but you can see through it, you see the actual joking kindness he has towards you.

“Then I’m very sorry, your highness,” you bow and laugh.

Loki takes your hands and with a smile he pulls you closer. He places his right hand on your waste. His fingers play with yours for a moment before intertwining. Loki leads as the two of you slow dance to a melody sounding from far in the distance.

“I wish it could stay like this forever,” you sigh, “Where our biggest trouble is me stealing the last pastry from under your nose.”

“Why do you think it can’t stay like this?” Loki asks as he looks at your expression.

“Because I can feel a war coming.”

***

You wake up in the small spacecraft you had stolen after getting denied by the Xandarian. Looking around in the small space you can tell that this was stolen before you got your hands on it.

Your body still aches from your injuries, but there’s no time to lose. You had already set your course and you can see that you are getting close. In just a couple more hours you find the gateway to the Lost Lands and land at the Sinner’s Market. You get out of your spacecraft and venture through the crowded streets. All kinds of creatures are here to sell you their sinister goods, but you had only one goal so you find the little storefront and walk in. You are greeted by all kinds of potions and magical trinkets. The blue skinned storekeeper smiles a toothless grin as he sees you.

“Do you have what we discussed?” you ask in his native tongue.

He takes two small vials from under the table and hands them to you.

“And this will work?” You demand as you look at the little potions.

“Most likely.”

“You are in luck today as “most likely” will have to do,” you say as you place a bag of money on the counter before leaving.

***

You lay in his arms. Loki’s hands holding yours. He moves his head closer till his lips are by your ear.

“I still think we should leave. I still think you should marry me.” he whispers.

You feel your heat ache. This is the second time he has brought this up after the big proposal.

“You know I can’t. You know why,” you say with sadness.

“Because you are part of the Asgardian elite force? There’s a simple solution - leave with me. You are my only light in this life. You hate this hell as much as I do. Let’s just leave, we could concur all of the nine realms and the rest of the multiverse and call it ours if we wanted to.”

“I hate the throne, I hate the politics, but I gave an oath to protect the people. They have done nothing to harm me and if protecting them means I cannot wed, so be it. A big ceremony doesn’t affect my love for you. Does it for you?” you turn your head to look at him.

“No, it doesn’t. I will love you the same. No matter what happens.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

***

You let your ship just drift in the fast emptiness of space as you sit on your chair and look at the vial in your hand. You take the cap off before putting it on your lips and drinking the sweet liquid. You feel the poison taking it’s toll on your body. You feel everything in you struggle, but the potion stretches out to every nook and cranny inside you and everything fades to black as it shuts you down.

You find yourself in a field. The long grass swaying in the wind. The sky of Valhalla painted with gold and rose colours. You are alone if it wasn’t for one other person. You take a step closer.

“My love?” you call out to the figure and Loki turns around.

“No, you can’t be here,” he comes closer, “Not so soon, you can’t be dead too.”

You approach him and stretch out your arms to hug him, but there’s a wall between the two of you.

“It’s not your time yet, it cannot be,” he says.

“Don’t worry, it is not. I just had to be sure you’re here,” you smile as you look into his brilliant eyes.

You feel a force pulling you away again, pulling you away from the wall, from your love.

“I will see you again, I promise,” you say before finding yourself back in your spacecraft.

The poison had brought you close enough to death to visit the land of the fallen, but now it retreats again until it is nothing more than just an empty feeling in your stomach.

***

You walk behind your spacecraft and open the storage compartment. You drag out the Asgardian. You push him back down when he tries to stand.

“Why? What have I done to you?” the man says not looking up at you.

“You are a murderer, a thief, and a traitor,” you say.

“Odin pardoned me after I acted as a spy for him,” he says, you hear the terror in his voice.

“Odin is dead, Asgard has fallen, half of our people were killed. Rules don’t apply anymore. And you have not earned forgiveness.”

You take the top of of the other potion you had brought with you from the Sinner’s market and force the criminal to drink it.

“Please, no, let me live,” he begged.

But you simply take your dagger and slit his throat. The man’s lifeless body falls to the ground with a thump and as his body turns into golden shimmer, but it changes colour to be green before disappearing. In it’s place a golden shimmering portal appears. and Loki steps through the gateway back into the realm of the living. He seems aghast as he looks at his hands. Then he turns his attention to you, he reaches out to touch you.

“Is this real?” he strokes your cheek.

“I did give you a promise,” you smile as you place your hand on his.

Loki steps closer and embraces you, kissing the top of your head and then pulling away just to kiss your lips.

“But how?” he asks.

“I damned an Asgardian soul to a eternity in Hel,” you say remembering the man you had killed just moments ago.

“I love you more than anything,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Then let’s get married,” you smile.

He still holds you, but suddenly it feels as if your stomach dropped, an uneasiness takes over and gives you just enough time to ask:

“My love…?”

You don’t get to finish asking if he feels it too, if he knows what’s happening. You just turn into dust in his arms and all Loki can do is watch in horror as the wind blows your remains away.

***

Sadly I can’t link to my masterlist here or the post won’t show up in search, but you can find it on blog page.

***

Taglist

@spookycatqueen @jdm-is-dad @kbarnes-2001 @thefallenbibliophilequote @honey-anon @chris-evans-teamcap @justaplainfangirl @obsessed--with

#marvel #loki x reader #infinity war #ragnarok #avengers #thor #odinson #fanfiction #endgame #the dark world #mcu #guardianwrites

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gimmetheheadcanons · 6 years ago

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Empty - Day 4 (Gothic Klonnie)

A/N: So here is Day 4 and I’m kinda disappointed with it because it probably deserves to be a proper story and not a short piece hammered out like this and so blah. But anyway, I have to post it so post I shall. It is connected to Day 1,2 and 3 so feel free to read those.

----------

Day 4: Draugagangur : the walking of ghosts, a haunting.

The Sheila Bennett who sold her soul didn’t think it was worth very much at the time.

Twenty-four years old and dressed like a death wish, she always packed light for her journeys. Shivering under a street light and her feet firmly planted on a sidewalk full of cracks, she thought about the winding road that brought her here.

When remaining a troubled teen well into her twenties was no longer an option, she set out on her own; travelled across all fifty states, searching for the next sinister thing that could seduce her.

Sheila had always been hungry.

A higher high was out there. All she needed to do was find it.

Power. Purpose. The things her content parents could never understand.

As a child, they were helpless to stop her and simply stood by as their daughter dabble in darkness. Again and again.

First, it was small stuff. Just being bad enough to distress her dad, bad enough to dull the senses, to combat the daily dreariness of working in that damn family diner.

Then came the late sixties, a decade that demanded a little danger and young Sheila Bennett wanted a lot of it.

Finally, it was love; making a girl so lost and in the end so lonely.

His sex set her skin alit and for a while, in return, she would follow him down every avenue of sin. After years of ‘pretending’ to be bad, Sheila was finally ready to be so much worse.

She ditched the diner and danced all night. Every night.

Floating high enough to touch ceilings then punching it until her knuckles blooded up and she was forced to come crashing down.

He’d try to catch her. She never let him.

In the end, her dalliance with the devil and his music just didn’t cut it.

As he lay naked beside her, the magnetic frontman who stole her heart, picking away at what was left of her skin - Sheila became acutely aware of how many more layers his calloused fingers could never truly touch.

The jukebox in her head was done with playing covers.

She was more than a groupie but unwilling to graduate to girlfriend.

Doused in stench of yesterday’s drinks, he dared to ask for the impossible one last time.

“I love you but you need to slow down cher.”

Never, Sheila thought as she obliterated his guitar, grabbed his leather jacket, the last of his stash and split.

When it was all over she realized she’d outgrown New Orleans too and made plans to leave that very night.

But Sheila was a clever girl with so much wasted potential. Every seemingly impulsive decision really the result of hours of careful thought. The kind of thought her school teachers thought her incapable of.

The hours he spent recording, Sheila spent doing research.

Reading up on the symptoms of her illness.

There was something wrong with her - not medically but spiritually.

There was an enormous emptiness she could never seem to fill. Her grandmother, far more intuitive than her parents, had always sensed it and tried to throw scripture and prayers at it.

It tired Sheila because she knew the truth.

Whenever she slowed down she would notice it - the emptiness that used to house something old and powerful.

She looked for untried and wilder ways to break her body because it was just that - a body. A vessel made to host something more than her. Fashioned for a purpose that escaped her her entire life.

Sheila wasn’t going to find the answers on the front benches of a church, the front row of his show or on the bathroom floor of a seedy club.

However, she did think she could find it here on Bourbon Street, in the shop window of Nandi’s Specials and hopefully in the potions of the Magnificent Madame LaMarche.

Sheila wasn’t wrong.

It was waiting for her, in there.

She dropped her cigarette on the ground and crushed it under her heavy boot. Stamping out its heat and her only excuse to remain outside.

The old witch sat by the fireplace took one look at her, in that oversized stolen jacket and ridiculous hair, and just laughed.

“What? Is this not a good time?”

“Concern yourself not with goodness child. The things you are searching for will find you when you give yourself to the dark.”

Without hesitation, Sheila accepted the terms the witch laid out before her and together they burned the only thing she felt sentimental enough to bring with her.

The crone didn’t stop there however.

“There is more to give.”

“Then take it all.”

Sensing the elderly woman waver for a moment made Sheila almost sneer at her.

The stupid hag could have her soul and do with it as she pleased.

How would a girl like Sheila even notice the missing weight of a soul when she felt so untethered her entire life?

Madame LaMarche’s resolve returned, as did a frown Sheila wasn’t sure she’d seen before. From then onwards, the elderly woman worked in silence and Sheila winced at the thought of the witch having read her mind or something.

The sudden sight of a long ceremonial dagger appearing out of thin air, put enough sense into the reckless young woman to keep her mind blank and opinions for later.

“Your hands child.”

The witch pulled her closer and quickly drew blood from the center of each palm. When she finished the holes in her own hands wept.

Preparations complete, Madame LaMarche started her incantation.

“Release. Receive. Release….”

“Receive.” Sheila said without being prompted.

She was ready. The spell cast, connections made and Sheila Bennett’s empty husk found its purpose again.

It ended pretty fast - the human girl gone and a vessel fashioned in her place.

“When will I feel again?”

Careful to suppress her usual mocking laugh this time, Madame LaMarche shook her head.

“Oh my child! But you have! And always far too much too.”

Sheila left the shop without saying goodbye.

It was a clumsily phrased question and a ridiculous answer when all she just meant was her hands. Drained, damaged and with long crevices running towards the center, they felt alien against her face.

Cracks on the sidewalk, now cracks on her hands.

My poor mother.

Sheila couldn’t help cackle at the thought of her wickedness, the repercussions.

It would be worth it. She could feel their presence already.

Spirits, thousands of them flocking to her now and wherever she went next, she would always have company during the cold.

Beings lost as she was, lonely and longing to rise.

Rise…rise...rise…

And never again fall.

Her body would house them.

Sad souls, angry souls, any that sought her out really.

She would set off now, to build a home for them - a place where they could be together.

Time and this new purpose in life tamed Sheila Bennett enough to find success in the boring way her parents had always hoped for.

Their wayward daughter transformed into a celebrated writer.

The souls came with stories and Sheila happened to put some of them down on paper. Who knew there was such a market for pain.

Now she had more followers, living ones and some other luxuries too.

A rising star.

He walked into her life right before the money and right before the cynicism of celebrity kicked in.

But she could trust his intentions. He was more angel than devil; a tasty slice of something she never thought to try before. God, how he reminded her of the diner she fled from. Of the pies in the oven she prayed would explode and blow them all to Hades.

Starved for human touch, Sheila indulged a little and then a little more, not knowing how sweet things were often far worse for you in the end.

When he left her, Sheila knew it was because of the spirits.

The home she built for many hadn’t enough room for one.

Haunted and afraid by the unnatural things he saw and the secrets she expected him to keep - her love fled just as she had so long ago.

It was the ghost of a much angrier woman who then flung trash bags filled with clothes out of a balcony. Enraged, she cursed her modest angel for not having more things she could smash or burn.

Exhausted but not quite alone (she never was), she thought back to Madame LaMarche’s words.

Goodness was something she didn’t have to concern herself with; and so Sheila was more than a little surprised when it turned out that it was growing inside of her.

They were all wrong. Him because there was room and her because the emptiness could be filled with something pure and perfect without a price. Something she’d water and feed and love until it bloomed and bore more of its perfect self.

A daughter. A granddaughter.

Just like she had been, a lifetime ago.

And whilst she disappointed every person who dared to love her and grew bored with every role she ever played, her good little girls could never do the same.

They filled her life, they found their own and she fell back on old habits, destined to let them down.

Especially Bonnie, the beautiful baby girl born on a day as bright as the sparks in her mesmerizing eyes. Sheila should have kept her away the most. But the dreams began weeks before Abby even told anyone she was pregnant.

A man called from beyond the veil. He didn’t need home like the others, in fact he already had one large enough for all of them. That was when Sheila realized, the pleas for help this time were in fact an invitation to help her.

In all her joy as a mother she had forgotten the sad truth of motherhood.

Abby had her own life. The baby would one day too.

Sheila needed to keep the connection with the spirits strong, keep serving them, keep the emptiness at bay.

So she didn’t stop to ask any of the right questions. Age made her complacent and her old teachers all of a sudden were vindicated. The crone LaMarche, long dead now, mocked her too.

Still, she set out on a new mission. An expensive and long one where her growing wealth turned out to be very handy.

Each night, in her dreams, she’d discover a new detail about the alluring man and his divine promise of a grand home; and each day, she’d put it to paper, slowly carving out a map to take her and her family there.

Twenty states later, Sheila found it.

The house surrounded by a near perfect ring of white oak trees.

Sheila was about to step over the threshold and into her new home when she was met by one of the movers on his way out.

He took one look at her, a grandmother in oversized leather jacket, and laughed.

“Well, good luck to yah lady. This place you just bought? Fuck me, does it look haunted! Cursed, I’m tellin’ you.”

“Cursed.”

#klonnie #gothic klonnie 2k18 #bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #fanfiction

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twxlancelot-blog · 6 years ago

Text

♞ only myself to blame `

( backdated ` just before camelot’s fall tw: blood / death / drug use / near death /self harm )

his skin started to crawl. his knuckles bleed as he pounded his fist into the stone walls. he didn’t feel it. he didn’t feel the pain. he didn’t feel that his hand was broken. he didn’t feel any of it. the only thing he felt was the way his heart squeezed.

he choked back a sob as he fell to his knees, his hand moving to his heart as he clenched it tightly.

the way they looked at him was buried so deep in his mind now. he lost control. the aggression that was pent up within his being overwhelmed him and he had to be dragged back from the prisoner. the look in arthur and guinevere’s eyes when he was pulled back. his eyes glanced back to look down at the pain.

lancelot felt sick at the sight. the man’s face was barely recognizable anymore. he hadn’t even realized what he had done. he looked down at his hands and saw how the blood covered it.

he heard arthur’s voice, strong and authoritative, telling lancelot to go and clean himself up and to figure out what was wrong. it was a voice he followed without a second thought. one he respected and wanted to hear. he heard guinevere’s soft voice, calling his name and it was serene, like bells. he craved every time his name left her mouth.

how two different voices brought such pain to his being more than the broke hand he now had.

a hand pressed to his back and lancelot stood quickly, reaching out and grabbing the neck of the person. his fingers squeezed the neck of the hooded man. to this day, he still hadn’t seen the face. it was like there was voice under the burlap hood, yet, lancelot glared into depths. he felt the pulse under his hand.

“what have you done to me?”

there was a hearty, sinister laugh. it angered him more so he squeezed his hand. the man’s voice coughed, struggling a bit as lancelot pushed him back into the wall. a grey, old hand wrapped around his wrist. a jolt of electricity so strong shot through his body until he released the man.

“now, dear knight, is that any way to treat a friend?”

“you are not my friend. you are a swindler and that... liquid you have given me... it has changed me! it’s made me...”

“stronger?” the man offered, his arms crossed, “faster? ah! dashing in the eyes of women and men a like?”

“i almost killed a man!”

“you’ve killed before,” the man yelled back.

lancelot shut up for a moment, glaring, “they were criminals. they were against camelot. bandits and ruffians.”

the man laughed once more, “and in their eyes, you are a barbarian with fancy chainmail. everyone is a criminal in your eyes if you let them be, dear knight.”

he had no reply to that. he knew the truth. the man he executed in the name of camelot had caused far more harm then he had ever done. the old, hooded man can twist his words as artfully as he wanted, but that did not guilt lancelot. he was a knight of camelot. he had a duty to protect camelot.

“that man was a criminal, was he not?” the man question.

in all honesty, lancelot hadn’t been sure, but he had said disgrace words about guinevere. he had disrespected arthur. lancelot lost his thinking. he lost complete control of everything. he didn’t remember most of it. his vision had gone red and he...

he cringed remembering the man’s face and how bloody and bruised. he moved his hand to his mouth, his other hand moving to the wall. he felt sick.

“i can make it all stop.”

lancelot turned quickly, “i will not accept anything from you.”

the man chuckled cooly, “do not be so hasty. what i offer you is far better than before. it is much more potent. you will become the knight that camelot needs. truly, the greatest knight that the worlds will ever know. your name will echo over the hills.”

“i do not want fame,” lancelot threw back, “that means nothing to me. what i want-”

“is your king and queen to love you as you love them? as a lover, not as a servant?” the man taunted. lancelot’s hands closed into fists. the man laughed once more, “but alas, that is not possible. they are married. two of a higher status than yourself. you are merely their servant. a king and queen could not degrade their kingdom with such an act as what you want. so i offer a solution.”

the grey hand was held out to lancelot. instead of a blue liquid, one lancelot was often given, there was a bright red liquid. it seemed to glow. lancelot felt a strong energy radiate from it. he almost swore there was a soft hum, like a song. his was transfixed for a moment, his hand reaching for it.

he quickly pulled his hand away when he heard the man laugh. he glared, “what is this?”

“i like to call it... lyrium. it is a usually a crystal. it grows at the divide between this world and the next. what worlds you ask? i dare not speak of it, but, as a crystal, it is dangerous to touch, but as a liquid, it is similar to what i gave you before. it will make you stronger, quicker, but it has another added effect. it will curve your emotions. the aggression will be there, sadly, however, it will make you the perfect knight, almost devoid of emotions.”

“devoid of emotions? who would want that for for their life?” lancelot requested, not liking the sound of it, “can’t you simply give me some... anti-love potion?”

the man scoffed, “do i look like some pathetic witch, you ingrate? i am far more powerful than those wastes of a beings like that morgana... pathetic. no, this... this is what you need. this will crave not just your desire for your queen and king, but any desire. you could go days without food and water.”

lancelot hesitated, his eyes looking at the liquid in fear and need. his body told him to take, but his heart begged him to leave. and yet his fingers still reached out, but the man closed his hand over the vial. lancelot eyed the hooded figure, “what do you request of me?”

if lancelot could see the man’s face, he was certain there was a sinister smile on his face, “there will be a time in the future when i will demand you to do what i ask. when that day comes, you will serve me and my underlings. until that day, a vial of this liquid will be provided without charge. for each vial you drink, another demand will be asked of you.”

lancelot scoffed this time, “as if i would ever serve you.”

the man shrugged his shoulders, “so be it.”

as the man turned, lancelot’s heard himself tell the man to stop.

there was a quiet moment before the man turned, “i have one request.”

the man nodded his head, “you wish for me to not harm your king and queen.”

“or camelot.”

he wasn’t sure why, but the way the man spoke of other worlds and how powerful he seemed to think of himself, lancelot feared not just for arthur or guinevere, but all of camelot.

the man held out the vial, “deal.”

lancelot reached out for the vial. as soon as it was in his hands, the man was gone as if he never existed in the first place. he gripped the vial in his hands for a long moment before he pulled out the cork. he hesitated, wondering if he just offered his soul to the devil.

“maker, forgive me,” he muttered before downing the vial.

he wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep. hours, maybe days, but when he awoke, he knew he was no longer in the castle. he was standing on a hill miles from camelot, but it gave a view point to see the entire kingdom on fire.

above it flew dragons. two from what he could tell. he was certain he saw a giant as well from where he was. who knew what else was tormenting the people of camelot.

“what... have i done?”

“you saved camelot,” the voice spoke.

lancelot didn’t look to know it was the hooded man. tears poured down his face as he fell to his knees, watching helplessly as camelot fell. “how... how is this saving camelot?”

the man sighed, “those who are worthy will be allowed to come to a new world. one i have provided graciously.”

“y-you promised...”

a hand reached out, resting against lancelot’s head, “but i kept my promise. i have not harmed your king or queen or camelot. however, you never said i couldn’t allow others to do it for me.”

the knight moved quickly, throwing himself at the hooded man. the hood fell for a moment and for a second, lancelot thought he saw the face of an old man, but before lancelot could grip the man’s neck, he was gone, but a pain that lancelot had never felt shot through his body. every part of his body convulsed as he collapsed to the ground.

after a few more moments, the pain subsided, but the throbbing remained. he had been stabbed and burned, but there was no pain like what he felt.

“i forgot to mention. i enhanced the drug i offered you,” the man spoke, humor in his voice, “you are now under my control. you cannot harm me, physically or with words. you cannot speak of what you saw of my face. you will not be able to speak of what i have done for you or to camelot. by all means, try and clear your name, but who will believe the knight who disappeared and didn’t help camelot?”

hands gripped lancelot’s hair, tugging him up roughly. he was forced to watch as camelot burned to the ground. “arthur... guin....,” he sobbed.

the man leaned down, “oh, they are alive... i would not let them die. it would not be fun, otherwise.”

he was released, his hands falling to the ground. he gripped the dirt tightly as he cried for his king and queen and his kingdom. his mother had told him this could happen.

“i will offer you some solace. if one day, both arthur and guinevere offering you forgiveness for what you have done, you will be free from me, but until then, you can betray me, lancelot.”

the voice echoed in his head. he wasn’t sure how long he sat there, watching. he was there when the last flame was put out.

time stamp: fabletown - 1925

he arrived in fabletown many many years ago. he was one of the first. a gift from the hooded man. however, lancelot disappeared. he was not seen. he hid away in the depths of the new world. when civilization started to grow, lancelot hid close enough. just in case.

when the hooded man came for him, lancelot was living in the sewers of what was now known as new york city. he was bum as far as anyone could tell. no one knew who he was. he had a long beard and his hair was covered in dirt and twigs. any sign of the knight was washed away in whatever he had slept in over those years.

he was roaming the streets for food, going through the trash when the hooded man appeared before him for the first time since lancelot came to this new world.

“how pathetic.”

lancelot glared at the hooded man, “go away.”

“ah, my dear knight, have you forgotten our deal? when i call on you, you will answer.”

his whole body went rigid. with a sway of the grey hand, lancelot’s attire changed. he was now in a fine, tailored suit. his curly mane of hair was gone, turned into a stylish slicked back style. his beard was gone, leaving a clean shaven man. he was a handsome man again.

the former knight sighed dejectedly, “what do you want from me?”

“as of right now, i want you to live in fabletown. or outside of it. i want you to assimilate into their world. do not hide you are lancelot du lac either. i want them to look at you with disgust,” the hooded man laughed cheerfully, “i want you to suffer.”

lancelot rolled his eyes, “that’s all?”

“mm, when the real fun begins, you will know. now. go enjoy this new world. it is quite interesting actually. a gift to all of the fables,” the hooded man laughed before he disappeared.

the laugh still lingered. lancelot sighed, his hands slipping into his pockets. his fingers pressed against a glass vial and his heart sunk. on occasion, a vial appeared before lancelot, but it had been such a long time.

he truly had signed his soul over to the devil.

#!solo #s: only myself to blame #!important #( ngl i pictured hooded xehanort from kingdom hearts as i wrote this )#( tw: blood )#( tw: drug use )#( tw: near death )#( tw: death )#( tw: self harm )

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