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werezmastarbucks · 4 months ago

Text

running scared

masterlist - part 4 of 6

in which Yoongi comes clean

yoongi x reader

word count: around 3000

author's note: Yoongi's pov present

music: let me know by bts, instant lover by aleph

For the three weeks, Yoongi was hoping you'd call. He didn't hope for his baby, his favorite dog, to fall ill, or get hit by a car. But maybe... maybe he'd do something so unbearably funny that you'd want to call him on video and show. So he'd see your face. Hear your voice. He was feeling something apart from irritation and stress for the first time in a while, and it was good. Warm curling snake in his stomach, clear view inside his head. He knew he had to do something about it. Because at first, this feeling was like a mosquito bite. Stang and wouldn't let him focus on things, and he tried to shoo it away, but once he woke up at night to discover that it has spread into his body. He hadn't seen you for the whole September and then four months after, and somehow the imprint of your face was stuck on the inside of his eyelid. He still chuckled when he thought of Namjoon's birthday, and it bothered him. Finally he realized it's actually good. It felt right. A human to a human, what's so criminal about it? Doesn't he deserve someone smiling at him?

He cherished the feeling so rare for him, understanding it doesn't happen often, and he honored it, decided he has to know. The dogsitting op moved slowly and was kind of disappointing. Nothing happened, except he knew Holly was in good hands. The fact that he had to drive all the way to Daegu, beg his parents to give Holly up for a month, and then drive back all in the same day, still seemed a little insane to him. He hoped it didn't put a strain on the dog.

So, he decided that once he returns and sees you again, he'll ask you out. For once his idol card might be useful, he didn't care, if it helps him, then fine. He just needs one chance.

You didn't call. You texted him diligently, every other day, updating him about Holly. His camera roll once again was full of his dog's pictures which also felt right. He only wished you'd want to hear his voice like he wanted to hear yours.

He had big hopes for a show. If seventy thousand girls lose their freaking minds when he tilts his head and smiles, then surely one will be moved by it, too. The vibration of the floor, the loud music, him together with his band, this was the peak of what he could be. There was nothing else he could give. It's been three weeks of texts from you, and now he finally got to see you again after the show. He searched for the confirmation in the subtle movements of the other members, as if they could know. To some extent, they did. They were aware that Y/N was coming to see the show tonight. Namjoon was very happy about it, in his usual sibling way. That's great! Platonic and pure. Yoongi saw that there was nothing between him and you. Minji probably had knitted that out of the air, and the socials follow was friendly. If there had been something, Yoongi would've bowed his head and stepped away. He hoped he would have.

As he left the stage, the throbbing in his chest just started. The anxiety just now hit him. His heart was beating in huge gulps with the adrenaline and exhaustion, and yet his head only started spinning now. He puffed a portion of it away, wearing his usual post-show face: happy, relaxed, content with himself. He walked in line behind Jin and looked around once the stage and her blinding glow, and deafening wail, was out of sight. He spotted you hiding in the cavity between the two now-empty equipment boxes, in the shadow. People were running to and fro, the post-performance commotion in full. Somewhere, a bottle of champagne popped, and he nodded at Jin asking to scurry a glass aside for him. He stepped away from the course and waved at you.

You watched Yoongi emerge from blue light. Your heart was pumping fresh blood that was about to burst out of your nose because of how tense you'd been. The environment was so new, and you didn't have Minji with you to pacify you. And also this one, lower lip in between his teeth, still high from stage on which he just totally, completely shattered your world just half an hour ago. Your mouth went dry. Drama.

"Hey! How was it?"

Yoongi stood before you, glistening with sweat, his eyes wide open, wolfcut styled to compliment the shape of his face, and so picture-like that he could be a hologram.

"How was it!" you couldn't utter anything, "well, you guys suck, that's what I tell you!"

You slurred on your words trying not to sound too insane. Thankfully, Yoongi saw through you and gave the widest smile. Everything slowed down like in a music video. You felt like a goddamn overgrown princess while he smiled at you. People moved around, the light flickered, sounds drowned you, and he was the only stable thing, smiling so wide that he looked like a child.

"I get it now, I mean, the BTS thing, it's massive".

"Yeah? Did you see when I", he imitated his own gesture when he dropped the microphone at the end of a song you didn't know the title of.

"Yes. Badass. I don't know what else to say. It was really cool. You were all synchronized completely, the whole time. Whoever does your choreography is a lunatic".

He continued with laughter,

"It's Hoseok".

"O-o-oh".

He was still panting a little, mouth slightly open. You wanted out of here, your mind clutching you in iron fixators. Someone called his name, shrieking:

"Yoongii-i-i-iee-eah!"

You hoped he would fuck off and stop torturing you with his agape mouth, with glistening tongue mindlessly slithering inside, but he completely ignored it.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say. I am really impressed".

He nodded like he was hungry for your words.

"Hey, if you wait a little, we..."

His chest heaved with a huge breath he took, and you put your hand up between you:

"I need to go home to Holly. I'm- I don't need to be here, I mean, you probably have your post-show routine".

He gave several small nods and finally closed his mouth. The huge body in front of you, the things it did for two hours straight, it should be dead now, but it wasn't.

"Yeah, of course. I'll pick up Holly in two days, alright?"

You agreed and thanked him for letting you see the show. You bowed to each other like you usually did, only, Yoongi still seemed agitated. As he was leaving, you said,

"Hey, tell everybody I said hi, and that you're great!"

He smiled again.

"I will".

You had to think about it straight. You didn't want freshly used goods and you didn't want anybody whose dick used to be inside your best friend. Simple. Minji meant much more to you. She was your comfort and your shelter, and your happy person. She was the protective shield around you against the world. You picked her up like a... human pet, and now she was yours. Yoongi wouldn't take it away. His stupid low voice wasn't worth it.

You bit your lips clean off and got to the meat by the time he came around. You were looking forward to never seeing him again and recuperating after him. God forbid they get married.

Minji looked happier than ever these days, so you didn't hold your breath. And even though she refused to speak about her affair, you saw that Yoongi did her well; she was only worried about her brother's reaction.

You gathered and packed Holly's things with a small sad spot glaring in your chest. He was a very good dog: sleeping with you at night, helping the quality of your sleep. Walking close to you on the street and always looking at you with these beady eyes. He wiggled his tail so hard that it hit against the furniture, and was playful like a little puppy. Yoongi took good care of him because he was a very happy and naive, carefree dog. It made you respect him a lot. Now it was time for Holly to go home, and you asked yourself, when there's a next tour - and it will come sooner or later - will he call you again?

Yoongi expressed a very similar thought that you had just an hour before he arrived:

"You should get a pet. They help a lot with PTSD".

You nodded gratefully,

"I slept very well with him. I actually feel less tired".

Yoongi raised his face and smiled.

"I can rent him to you from time to time".

He let Holly lick his face so that the dog calms down seeing his dad return. Yoongi wouldn't want to get one on the mouth, so he winced funnily and turned a little away from his long pink tongue.

"Listen, I'm sorry for how I acted after the show".

The eyes opened wide.

"I was honestly flabbergasted and really had no words".

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I'm just glad I set the record straight".

"Hmm?"

Yoongi smiled sheepishly.

"Every citizen of Seoul has been to a BTS concert at least once".

You chuckled.

"I wanna go see PSY now".

"I can arrange that", he said simply, and you got seriously impressed. Maybe not then, maybe you'll buy a ticket like people usually did.

"Can you help me get his things downstairs?"

Together, you went out of the flat, leaving Holly inside for now, hands full of his food, towels, blankets, his sleeping pillow, toys and clothes. You weren't even surprised to see Yoongi's Range Rover sitting out of place on your narrow street. The car was just too big and too clean for it. He took Holly's things out of your hands, brushing his fingers against the back of your palm. You felt like you had to ask something, make conversation, but instead, just kept silent.

You kept silent on the way back up in the elevator.

You kept silent when you opened the door to your apartment and let him in behind you. He gave you a moment to say goodbye to Holly.

"I am serious. If you want, I can give you contacts of a good shelter".

"I have always been a cat owner", you mused, "you don't need to walk cats in the morning".

"They have cats, too".

You got to your knees, and Holly, already used to your touch, and your face, put its snout on yours.

"I will miss you, Holly", you uttered and realized it was an actual problem. The withdrawal from having a pet in your apartment, and then not having it, was going to be real. It would get lonelier than before, by a fraction.

"You can always go on a date with him", Yoongi said in his usual low voice. You thought that somehow his English improved over three weeks.

"Or with me", he added.

Your throat got tense. For a second you looked at Yoongi from your knees, then stood up sharply. His mouth formed a straight line as he hid his lips, shy. He didn't blink and looked you straight in the face, making it impossible to pretend you didn't hear it.

"Oh hell no", you snapped. Your breath became hot in your nostrils. Yoongi's eyebrows flew up, eyes so innocent it was nauseating.

"Oh-kay".

His eyes were searching the rest of your face.

"You don't have to be that mean about it".

He finally dropped his gaze but still didn't budge.

"I love Minji too much. She is important to me", you said coldly. The same vigor in your fist that once made you pick up a soju bottle. Yoongi frowned and looked up again, acting amusingly confused.

"Minji? What's she got to do with this?"

"Tsk".

"What?"

"She told me about your relationship".

Now he looked scared.

"We're friends?"

"Sleeping with no strings attached is still a relationship, Yoongi".

If he could, Yoongi would probably detach his eyeballs and throw them at you, that how far his brow went.

"Mwo?" he almost yelled. No, he did yell. His mouth formed a perfect O. So local, perfect. Holly got scared because Yoongi probably never yelled in his presence. You blinked.

"Get out. Don't fuck with me", you demanded, and Yoongi changed his pose, putting one foot in front, so that you wouldn't be able to ram him out of the apartment even if you tried.

"Hold on", he said, his voice so high now that it must hurt his throat.

"Having sex with Minji?"

With his free hand, as he still held Holly's leash, he took out his phone. His sculpted face was slowly turning into expression of a stone. He avoided looking at you directly and only blinked blankly while he waited.

"Minji-ah!" he yelled again and crunched his nose like Minji could see him. This was all a little much for you. You were confused so hard that you barely understood the fast rap-like speech he gave her on the phone. Maybe he was scolding her for cracking their dirty secret to you. Maybe he was asking when he started sleeping with her, because he had no idea. You were hyperventilating a bit.

"Please leave", you said weakly, trying to push him in the shoulder. Yoongi moved your fist with the back of his hand.

"Wait. Wait a second. Minji!"

He turned on the speaker on his phone and looked at you. However, he was speaking with the girl.

"Minji!"

"Oh my god!" the phone nearly got torn apart with her squeal, "What the fuck you thought I was sleeping with Yoongi? I am so sorry, Y/N!"

Your heart dropped. You felt stupid. You were panting.

"I am so dumb! I was so drunk I must have told you it was Yoongi? Did I? Y/N, we never slept! Ew, he is my hyung!"

Yoongi was silently staring at you as if this whole thing was your fault somehow.

"It's Jin!"

Now he suddenly looked at the phone, dumbfounded.

"You're sleeping with Seokjin?"

"Yes, yes", she clarified, "is Y/N there? I can't hear her, is she there?"

"I'm here", you managed to utter, the walls of your throat glued together.

"We were sitting, remember? And Yoongi must have been in my sight, I was trying to say Jin, and I said Yoongi because I looked at him! No! No! He really likes you!"

Yoongi's ears went a little pink. But he was still in shock from hearing what he heard.

"You and Jin?" he repeated, "Does Namjoon know?"

"No", she said timidly. "Anyway, do you hear? He likes you, I even-"

Yoongi's swift finger pressed End and the call went silent. You couldn't look at each other for some time, but he was braver.

"Please leave", you said again, numb. The only sound was him unlocking and opening the door and Holly's steps. You hadn't cut his nails because you didn't know how. Yoongi's stare was still blank as he closed the door behind him, head low, like he was about to bow to you.

Minji nearly went crazy with guilt. You had a video call that afternoon, as soon as she had a free minute at work, and she rattled on about how she nearly messed everything up.

You watched her small hand with delicate nails cover her face. The gem in the ring on her middle finger (her own gift to herself for being the baddest bitch) flickered with white flash. For how knows which time in a row you thought that she seemed like a premium version of a human.

"I am so du-hu-humb!" she whined, "I am never getting drunk again!"

"You are", you retorted. Still didn't know how to feel. The weight of phantom guilt which turned out to be baseless after all, still had a grip on you, and in a twisted way, it was turning you off from Yoongi. You needed a big push now. It still felt really wrong, like his image was smeared.

"You see, he came to be after Hobi's birthday", she explained. The corridor with glass walls was flying behind her as she walked fast, searching for a vacant room to sit down.

"He said, I can't stop thinking about her".

Your heart fluttered somewhere in your stomach, an impulse so strong that you actually felt pain and wiggled, lying on your bed.

"Really? Are you for real?"

"Yes, I had no idea but he really liked you, like almost from the very beginning!" her eyes were huge on your screen. "And I was so stupid because I told him you liked Namjoon..."

You moaned.

"Minji... you pulled it out of me at the party".

"I know, I know, but I had to make sure, because who needs a love triangle! But then I reckoned you just said it because I pressed you. But Yoongi was like, super hesitant then. Then I told him you don't like my brother".

You did like him. Just, not the romantic way. Minji rolled her eyes at herself and continued,

"God, how did I manage to mess this up? Yoongi is a naturally hesitant person, you know. He takes time to make decisions. I don't wanna say he's slow or anything... but he did take six months to make a move on you, you see".

"Why did you tell me you were having sex with him..." you muttered. Minji gasped in suffering, theatrically. You suddenly thought that it's pretty similar to how Hoseok gasped sometimes, with a flare of overplaying it.

"I was so drunk... literally, I was pointing at Jin. And you were looking at Yoongi. I think I barely heard you, I thought you saw where I was pointing!"

You buried your face into the blanket and stopped breathing. You were, all three of you, in your thirties. How embarrassing: fools all round. No, not Yoongi. He was completely innocent in this. Did nothing wrong, was perfectly adequate and comfortable to be around. And he paid the most, for the both of you. You lifted your face, one eye wrinkled by the force you were pressing it into the bed. Minji was tensely looking into the camera at you.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you like him? He was trying so hard".

"I kicked him out, Minji".

She shook her head violently.

"Just drop him a text".

You chewed your lips hard, realized: there's no need to lie to yourself anymore, you can cautiously step out of this cage.

"I really really like him. He is so handsome, Minji. I was feeling so fucking guilty for liking him, because I thought you're DATING!" you yelled the last part, and Minji made the most adorable empathizing face.

"I am sorry... but that's awesome though, right?"

"Minji, is that why I was the dogsitter?" it suddenly dawned on you.

"Well, yes".

"Are you even allergic to dogs?"

"...no".

You turned around onto your back. The sun was filling the bedroom, empty without Holly's click-clack steps and quiet whining. The boy had a habit to hum under his breath like his dad. It was the first dog that liked to sing, that you've ever seen.

"You know what, I won't get further into this", Minji decided, "I feel like I've done enough. He is so angry with me. You're adults, work it out. Text him. I promise he is great".

You noticed that much. Yoongi knew how to keep his distance while teasing himself to you carefully. Knew his way around words, and even the way he used English, so focused on avoiding mistakes, never giving himself a break with the phonetics of it, was very appealing to you. You had a feeling he didn't just ask about the books you liked, to say something. That he really memorized stuff about you, even if he wasn't sure he'd need it. He almost seemed too good to be true.

You lay on your bed, body still unused to not having Holly in your hands. Miraculous how quickly you adjust to having a pet. Maybe you'll get to see him more and cuddle him again.

You spent your Sunday in thinking, and would've spent the whole night before a working week pondering how you can apologize to Yoongi without being needy, or if he will even want to talk to you. But in the evening, your phone screen lit up with a message which knocked the breath out of you. So, here we are, Y/N, you thought to yourself, huh. No drama, huh. That's how we react now to messages from him.

You tried to look at yourself from a perspective. He is an idol, someone you swore to never get involved with, even hypothetically. You were still sure the amount of headache this connection will entail will come back to bite you. You had no idea about the depth of trouble. With that, you took your phone.

I'm sorry I like you

It took away a lot of pride to tell him that he didn't have to apologize; your selflessness towards people usually manifested in acts of service, like saving their life or buying them a coffee; but you weren't good with words. So, when you texted him that phrase, you felt like you were growing, and actually had to make the choice to be serious about it. As long as he was. You decided to go on a date. You made a confession: I don't really like coffee. I'm more of a bubble-tea person. Yoongi took it well, like everything else.

I know a place I will pick you up from work on Tuesday, right?

#yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #min yoongi x reader

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meabh-mcinness · 1 year ago

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Dream of You (Naberius Narnia x GN!Reader) Commission

Summary: Raised to distrust and despise humans, Narnia's heart hardens against the inherent danger they represent. Yet, as he observes your quiet confidence, your kindness, and the respect you command among the demons of Babyls, he finds himself captivated. Your presence brings light to the shadows, challenging everything he has been taught about humans.

Amidst the whispering trees of the Babyls school forest, where shadows danced with the playful light filtering through the canopy, Narnia prowled with silent intensity. His dark hair and clothes blending seamlessly with the dappled shadows, eyes gleaming with a predator's keen awareness.

From his concealed vantage point, Narnia watched as you, a young —human— woman with hair like spun silk and eyes that sparkled like stars, moved gracefully across the courtyard. Carrying yourself with a quiet confidence, steps soft against the courtyard floor, unaware of the curious eyes tracking your every movement.

Narnia's father had warned him time and again of the dangers posed by humans—their deceit, their ambition, their relentless pursuit of power, all things a demon should encompass, wrapped in a tiny fragile human body. As a child he couldn’t understand how he was supposed to hate a creature that embodied the very traits that his patriarch tried to make him live up to.

Were his ancestor’s jealous of them? That these delicate creatures were better at being a demon then demon themselves were, despite the human’s inherent weakness that led them to being easy food? Or perhaps they had tasted so good they had unintentionally nearly drove the Netherworld to utter madness as they fought over who could eat the supple human flesh. Tales of ancient conflicts echoed in his mind, reinforcing the instinctive distrust bred into him.

As he grew older, he started to encompass his father’s hatred of humans.

Yet, as Narnia observed you, a strange sensation stirred within him. It was a fluttering in his chest, a constriction of lungs, a heat traveling throughout his veins, feelings both unfamiliar and unsettling. Much like the night when he met you at the Deviculum, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, even as his logical mind protested.

"Humans are the enemy," Narnia muttered to himself, his voice a low growl that only the trees could hear. "They all deserve to die for daring to taint the Netherworld with their presence."

But your laughter, carried by the wind, reached his ears like a haunting melody. It was a sound of pure joy, untainted by the darkness that Narnia associated with humans. He found himself captivated by your spirit, by the way you seemed to bring light to the shadows around you. Your carefree nature allowing you to feel nothing but happiness, even as you were surrounded by literally hundreds of predators of your kind.

Sharp eyes trailed after you, watching every move carefully as you helped your students with the lesson being held outdoors. Despite your innate care and benevolent nature, it was obvious that it provided you strength rather than a weakness like he had been taught it would be.

Every demon knew that large amounts of kindness was a weakness that only led to being used and eventually killed for one reason or another, but to you, and that Iruma kid, it seemed to be empowering rather than an infirmity. Collecting demon after demon around you, earning their respect and protections rather than their wrath that was commonly seen amongst each other should a demon displayed the same traits.

From the weakest Aleph fledgeling to some of the highest-ranking crowns – you had demons willing to protect and even potentially die for you. A boon that not even many demon kings could claim.

Later that night, Narnia found himself haunted by visions of your radiant smile and the genuine kindness you displayed towards the students and fellow co-workers of Babyls. His dreams were tangled with conflicting images—tales of human destroying – tainting- the Netherworld with their presence, intermingled with your compassionate gestures, working to strengthen and better every demon you came across.

The next day he once more took up his place among the trees for what now was an almost daily routine for him, he waited for you to appear for your walk across the courtyard to the clearing that you had practically claimed as your own for your class time. Only today was different, — not only was your class doubled its usual size, but you weren’t alone. This time it appeared you and his brother had a joint class today. While irksome that Kalego got to be closer to you than him, it would have been fine since they were co-workers after all. It was expected for you and other teachers to work together on occasion, especially since there were a lot of classes that could overlap in their subjects.

Yes, this would have all been fine – if you hadn’t come out with your hand resting carefully on Kalego’s arm as he escorted you across the courtyard to your waiting students. Judging how none of the students were surprised this was not a new thing to have developed, you two must have exchanged romantic gestures for a while, and he had no idea how he had missed it.

His teeth grounded together, eyes narrowing as his lips pulled back into a snarl. Fangs flashing in a territorial display as he contemplated this new development. Logically it was entirely possible that as a supposed child of Sullivan, Kalego was simply offering proper etiquette to a demoness of higher standing than him. Ranked or not, Sullivan was the closest thing they had to a demon king at the moment, and your position as his descendant left you as essentially a princess, demonic royalty in the eyes of those who didn’t know your true background. Considering both your and your son’s achievements since you’ve been revealed to the world has now left many demons wondering if you were hiding your rank from the world for whatever reason and were far more powerful than even the average demon, much less a no ranker.

After all, Bablys had a strict rule of only demons ranked Vav and up could be hired as a teacher, and even family members were not exempted from this rule.

Well, most family members at least.

You were a clear exception to this rule, and Narnia couldn’t help but grudgingly think it a clever idea to hide you there. With everyone assuming you were at least rank Vav, and probably even higher since your father was ranked Tet and your son already ranked He and just entering his second year, it was not a far stretch to assume you were also a high ranker. Making other demons think twice before attacking you, since it most likely meant you could beat them in a fight. Whether or not you actually could was up for debate.

Though considering you taught a magicless defence class, making sure each fledgeling under your care could safely defend themselves, even under the case of having run out of their magic reserves, it was safely assumed that you might actually be able to beat the average demon, especially as you threw around fledgelings that were three times your size like they were nothing.

To be fair, he wasn’t aware that technically, to a human, demons did weigh practically nothing. A combination of bones with holes in the marrow, much like a human world bird, with a lighter gravity force and aided by inherent magic, that was as subconscious as breathing, made their bodies light enough to be able to fly but still containing their natural strength. If a demon crossed over to earth unprepared, they likely would have ended up flattened by the unexpected gravitational pole that your world exhibited compared to their own.

A fact that you consistently used to your advantage, much to yours, and Opera’s, amusement. The first time you had fought Opera as practice had left everyone startled when you had grabbed their arm as they reached to grab you, turned and ducked underneath before using the force of turning with Opera’s unbalanced position to whip them across the yard. They had of course landed on their feet, but your ability to do even that much to them had left everyone wide eyed, Sullivan and Iruma’s jaws slacked as they glanced back and forth between the two of you.

Unfortunately, you quickly regretted having done so. Opera had a feral gleam to their eyes and what almost amounted to a smile from them, the next time you had met up for your lessons. You only had a second to register the shiver of fear that ran down your spine before beginning the most brutal teachings you had ever received. A shudder still ran through your body every time you thought of it.

On the plus side—at least you could take on a fair few number of demons barehanded, even if you weren’t certain the absolute hell you went through for the skills was worth it.

Narnia would disagree had he known. The idea of a partner who could potentially take on Sullivan’s security devil of all demons, was definitely someone to behold.

As it was, he had no idea of such things, nor did he even care at the moment. For right now every nerve in his body was alight in a fiery heat at someone, even his little brother, daring to touch you in such a familial way. His wings had popped out and taken flight before he had even registered what was happening.

One second, he was in the surrounding woods, the next he had passed through the forest edge, wings beating powerfully until he had joined the others in the courtyard below. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Cerberion already summoned, three large heads snarling furiously in his direction. Electrical sparks flashing at random intervals as the dog crouched protectively over you and in front of the students.

Narnia touched down a few meters away from Kalego and Cerberion, a cold smirk on his face as he regarded his younger brother and guardian dog. "Hello, little brother," a touch more fang protruding in his smile than was strictly intended. How much this little human causes him to lose control of such things that he had mastered for years. He hadn't failed to fully commit to the role of the prim and proper Naberius since he was a young fledgling.

“Kalego-kun,” your voice softly called out from behind his little brother, slicing through the tension built between them like a hot knife through wax, as one of your hands rested softly on his shoulder. You peaked out from behind him, no longer standing under the protection of Cerberion—even if one head was stubbornly following you as well, ready to whip you out of trouble at a moments notice.

Narnia’s eyes widened slightly in panic at registering that he was seeing you up close once more, a light flush covering his nose and spreading out to his cheeks as your scent surrounded him for the first time since the Deviculum.

It was as if every piece of you was designed to lure him in, from the light sweet, but unknown, floral scent that wafted off you — a plant from your native world perhaps? — to the way your eyes glittered up at him in complete trust despite Narnia obviously being a dangerous predator built to kill your kind and oh so very differently than the way that had burned into his Fenrir cosplay, ready to tear him into shreds for daring to even imply harm to your child.

All because you trusted his relations to little Kalego -- who was now currently lifting an eyebrow at him in confusion, having never seen his older brother in such a state before. Narnia quietly cleared his throat and stood up straighter, trying desperately to uphold his untouchable reputation. Narnia’s hands slowly clenched into fists. Seeing your delicate hand resting so casually on Kalego’s shoulder incensed him more than he cared to admit. He wanted it to be his shoulder your hand was on. Narnia fought the animalistic snarl of possessiveness that wanted to roar out of him in a display that would have done Cerberion proud.

This female...this human female was turning him into a primal beast. One ruled by instinct and emotion, a demon that would let out a swipe out at every living that and sent prey trembling. His blood was hot and his skin was tingling, briefly his mind wondered if this was how demons who returned to origin felt. On one hand he wanted to know how they could stand it, but on the other he couldn’t help but revel in it.

“Hello. I’m Narnia, Kalego’s older brother.” His head tilted, purple eyes swiping over your body analysing and cataloguing every bit of you that he could. He slowly trailed forward until he was only a few steps from the two of you, Kalego getting more and more tense with every inch closer he came. Leaning forward slightly his hand reached out until it lightly grabbed your own unoccupied one, clawed pale fingers wrapping delicately around yours, pulling them forward and bowing over it, placing a light kiss over the digits. He would have preferred snatching the hand on his little brother’s shoulder, but that would be too obvious. Leaning back up he flashed you a far more genuine smile than he had given Kalego, “and who might you be little bird?”

Suddenly realizing he was holding on for even a few seconds longer than necessary Narnia reluctantly let go, after all it wouldn’t do to chase you away to early simply because he wanted to never let you go. You gave him a blinding smile as you glanced up through your lashes to be able to see him more clearly, “Hello Narnia, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” giving a slight bow before him, before introducing yourself. A small chunk of your hair fell forward with the movement and as you lifted back up it covered a small portion of your face. His hand twitched as he refused to give into the same movement your hand took of pushing the strands back behind your ear, before looking back up at him. Seeing your face peering up at him like that struck him with the knowledge that he was going to have to contact Baal and back out of his fellow 13 crown member’s plan. It wouldn’t due if he had a part in the intentions of destroying his chosen one’s life.

After all he needed the time spent planning and scheming with Baal to set up protections and securing his hopefully newfound mate’s future.

Alternate Ending

His claws grasped the tree branch that sat in front of him, hiding his presence from those on the campus below, with such fierceness that it groaned and creaked under the pressure. Fangs dug into the flesh of his plump lips, producing drops of blood that trailed slowly down the pale flesh of his chin. Sharp eyes trailed your figure as you walked across the campus field again only this time with the addition of his own little brother on your arm. Tears welling in his eyes and a whimper tearing from his throat with the knowledge that he would never be able to walk across that courtyard with you. Would never being able to experience the sound of your laugh or your laugh up close. Never feel your touch grasping his arm as he led you around his newfound territory, much as you were doing with Kalego now, or with you wrapped in his arms – perhaps slow dancing or maybe laying down for bed.

Even now he could picture it.

Nose buried in your hair while you snuggled up closer to his chest. His wings would protrude out of his back and wrap around the both of you, shielding you both away from the world throughout the hours of the night.

Narnia watched your interaction with Kalego intently, his gaze fixated on the sight of your hand resting gently on his brother's arm. A pang of jealousy and possessiveness welled up within him. Just what was the meaning of this? Was it what he feared or was it just his imagination running wild? No, it couldn't be. Why would you and Kalego have anything like that between you? But what if...what if it was true? The thought alone made him clench his fists in frustration.

A sharp hiss passed through clenched teeth as pain flared through his palms. His gaze never leaving you as he watched you both interact with one another and your students. As the minutes past he could feel himself falling further and further into fear and envy, as class continued. The two of you were clearly far closer than just Kalego escorting to class. Your small hands on his shoulder when you calmed him down from irritation, one of his clawed hands pushing strands of your hair back from your face when the wind shifted, brushing gently across your cheek as he did so. Small movements like that continued on through the lesson until he had no choice but to admit to himself that more than likely there was something going on between the two of you.

Narnia's heart sank with each intimate gesture passed between you and his brother. The pang of jealousy and possessive feelings welling up within him only intensified, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't stand the sight of you and Kalego being so chummy. He knew he should look away but he couldn't. He was fixated on every tiny detail of your playful banter and tender touches. It made him want to rip Kalego limb from limb and carry you away to some safe, secluded spot. Away from all eyes until you were only his.

Narnia's heart sank further as the class went on. Every little interaction between you and Kalego—your on his arm as you showed how to flip a demon bigger than you, his touch brushing against your waist as he attempted to hold you in his grasp—felt like a dagger to his chest. Logically he knew that these tiny movements could just as easily be to show the students how to move, but at the same time his mind argued with itself that Kalego would never lower himself to touching another demon if he didn’t like them in some capacity. The only demons that Narnia had ever witnessed Kalego touching willingly were himself and that Balam pup that he went to school with.

Narnia wanted to intervene, to rip his brother away from you and claim you for himself. But he couldn't. He cursed silently as the realisation further sunk in that there was indeed something more intimate sharing between you and Kalego. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he continued to watch the two of you until his hands crushed the branches he had been grasping, the loud snapping noise startling himself enough to realize that something wet was trailing down his face. Lifting a hand to wipe it away he came to a sudden realization that he was crying and snapped his teeth in further agitation at the fact.

With a snarl Narnia turned with one last look at you and took off, wings pumping hard as he resolved to throw himself further into his work and forget anything and everything about you that wasn’t necessary to his plans. Never noticing the blood red devrose that had fallen from his pocket and floated on the wind only to be picked up gently by you.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #mairuma #welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita manga #mairimashita iruma kun #welcome to demon school! iruma kun #m!lk #welcome to demon school #marimashita iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun x reader #welcome to the demon school #welcome to demon school spoilers #welcome to demon school iruma x reader #naberius narnia #narnia naberius #naberius narnia x reader #narnia x reader #narnia naberius x reader

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beware-of-pity · 11 days ago

Text

Pythia Hiereia VII

Masterlist I Ao3 link I Chapter six - Chapter eight

Harry James Potter x Reader

Summary :

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves"

Tw: Mature and Explicit/Graphic depictions of violence. Check further notes at the end of the chapter.

. Something wicked this way comes

. And as I set to face it, I'm unsure. Should I embrace it

. or should I run?

. ARCANUM VIII : THE MAGICIAN (ALEPH)

. ⚯ ͛

“Do you often dream things that happen just as you dream them?”

Cassiopea Black, a woman hardened by age, loss, and plights only she can tell the tales of, sits in a heavy wooden chair, her aged face ghostly against her black, dramatic gown. Her eyes glittered as she studied you.

You were six when your grandmother asked you those sworn words.

“Not always” you'd responded, and it was true. You'd never know, never until you closed your eyes, what dream you'd encounter. The world of the sleeping was elusive, like a pool of water with deep depths whose bottom could not be seen, “Sometimes.”

You studied her. She took the measure of you in turn, your stance, your stare, your smallness.

“Do you dream of things that are not real?” she asked, her slender, porcelain hands, clear of wrinkles despite her age, so unlike the ones you'd gotten from your mother, gripped her cane. She looked at you, hard but not unkind. She was cautious with you, as she had been with your grandfather, her husband, long before in days where they’d been but strangers, not daring to put too much trust in anyone with this great burden. You were young, barely out of infancy, and she was wise enough to know it was her job to teach you the limits of your power first before teaching you how far you could push it. She owed you that much.

“They may not be when I dream them” you'd said, “but they become real.”

She’d paused, her lips pursed in a hard line. It was hard to impress your grandmother, always had been; this was no exception. Sure, you were no ordinary child, but neither was she any ordinary woman. She knew you understood well the meaning of her words, their message well crossed by your little mind. She'd been wise enough, and long enough in touch with your family’s great heritage, that she knew what the powers coming from the depths of your body were about to mean.

“How so, child?” “My dreams come true” And in your own wisdom, you’d answered her question well. There was nothing your grandmother hated more than people wasting her time. “And you are sure? Tell me of the day at the Burrow, then. Did you dream that too?” “I had. I dreamt of being in the field by the house as the sun set, and that day I stood there as I had just when I had dreamt it.” “And what of what your father told me? Is it true?” “I had a dream. I was watching the others play by the table set outside. I crossed eyes with the young Weasley boy and suddenly...the light from the sun blinded me, and everything got so bright I couldn’t see anything but the light. When I returned to my senses...I was lying in the field with Papa looming over me”

She'd stared, her gaze locked with yours. She did not doubt the words, not truly. She was merely cautious because if there was a thing Cassiopea Black did not like messing with, it was fate.

“And you were certain in what your eyes saw? The truth of what came and passed, the same you dreamed of? Did the Weasley boy interest you so?” “No” you shook your head “The one in my dream did.” She raised a brow, intrigue dancing in her eyes. “Another boy?” You’d shrugged, your gaze set on the carpet below your feet, avoiding your grandmother’s inquiring one. “I do not know his name. He had black hair, green eyes, round glasses and a scar on his forehead, like a thunder... no, a lightning bolt scar running down his forehead.”

She opened her mouth, a ghastly whisper of a name on the tip of her tongue. She bit it back, holding her tongue.

“He was in a forest” you continued on “Older than the last time I saw him. A man by now.Something…..someone was standing in front of him, but I could not see who. He looked at me, but the moment he turned to his opponent, he was hit by a strong, blasting, green light. He fell to the ground, not quite dead but not so quite alive. Alas, he breathed not.” You said, “but his soul lived on.”

“His soul?” she echoed, the interest on her face growing, eyes wide at your words. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing but knew, she just knew. A young boy with a scar on his forehead, green eyes and black hair?

It surely couldn’t be, could it?

“Of course it's him, you dimwitted Black.”

The voice coming out of your mouth was not your own. Old, manly and withered like the trees on a cold winter morning. One that haunted your grandmother's sleep.

“Don't waste my time and that of my vessel with a show of strength to give your grief reason to live on. The reason for your husband's death lives in front of you. He was growing old and feeble, a new chosen one had to be born. No one in this family gets to choose their deaths but me.”

Cassiopea’s face drained of all colour. She sat there, frozen, a look of pure horror on her face, her ears unable to believe what sound had just left your mouth.

“You-!” she croaked, her eyes wide and wild.

The room was silent, the only sound breaking it was your grandmother’s ragged breaths mixing with the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

“Get out of my grandchild!!!" “I go where I please” Ominis said, using your lips to answer her. They twisted in a smirk, baring your small teeth in a sinister smile. He chuckled, a grating sound, like chalk being rammed on a board. It rattled through your bones, reverberated in your ears and made your hair stand on end. “Your grandchild is the vessel I require. Her powers are beyond her years, and I require her to fulfil my purpose.” "No!" she raged,with a slam of her fists upon the arms of the chair. Her whole body trembling with white, hot, blinding hatred. “You- You’re not allowed to do this. She's a child-“ “Who has witnessed the end of the world” Ominis crooked too calmly “You know of whom she just spoke of. Don't deny it.”

Her breath hitched, voice lost as she was forced to admit the words to be true. The boy the Order worked so hard to protect, the only one destined to defeat Lord Voldemort. And you, somehow, had seen the battle before it even happened.

“Harry Potter is the one who will lead the way to victory” Ominis reasoned “She will pave the way for him to. It's destiny.”

The finality in those words burned, like a molten brand searing them into her skin. She knew of destiny, how inescapable it was. She herself had never been one to toy heavily with it, but even she knew how powerful it could be.

“Please..." she begged, on the verge of tears “Don't take any more of them away from me. I beg you.” “I have no use for your pleas, woman. The course of fate is already set in motion. There is nothing you can do to stop it.” “What of the other one?” she asked “Why not him? He's gone. Use him. He'll do more for us to the cause than a thousand dead at the hands of the man who's taken him from us and turned him against!” “Not every choice we make bears the same weight. The one you speak of is not an option, never was. He can not bear the same burden as she can. His path is different, fated to walk his own, as she is walking hers." “He is her half!” she argued “He can do much and more before he bears any harm on us.” “He is not the one who can make the greatest sacrifice” Ominis contended “He is not the one who can turn the war in our favour. He is not the one who will change the tides. That duty, that destiny, is hers and hers alone.”

The silence deafened the ears and the mind, rendering Cassipea without a word to refute whatever truth Ominis claimed to his words.

“Can you not spare her?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “There is no mercy in destiny” Ominis assured, a freezing coldness in his tone. “This is her purpose, and she will fulfil it.”

A choked sound escaped her throat as she sank into her seat, her hand gripping at her cane for support. She could not fight the voice, and she could not fight destiny, but she could try to give you as much life as she could before the end.

“Please, don't take her from me.” she pleaded. “You’ve taken so much from me already.” “You will have her for as long as fate wills it” a pause “Whether the time will be short or long, depends on the choices you both make. For now....I'll make sure she's in safe hands.”

Cassiopea halted, looking at you with glinting eyes.

“Thank you” she whispered, a strained syllable of the tongue. When she once again cast her eye on you, only you stared back at her, with the simplicity of a child, wide-eyed and mouth pursed in a contemplative pout. "Grandmama" your voice, once again that of a child, eased her soul "Are you alright?” She swallowed thickly, pushing the hard lump in her throat back down. A shaky hand rose and tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek, her slender fingers shook under your chin, the rings on her fingers leaving deep imprints on your skin. She was not alright — Cassiopea Black didn’t think she could ever be, but the best she could do was to not worry you.

Ah, to be young once more. Whatever happened to being a child not being a sin?

“I'm fine, dearest.”

Because you were her dearest.

She loved you. All of you.

Your frame. Your flesh. All the way down to your bones. Despite the filth and the ugliness and the repulsiveness, those eyes of yours gutted her insides. Loving your family, that’s what it is, no? To love you wholly, unconditionally, to the bone and all that comes with it. Even if that love is soft and dark like a fruit gone bad, with flies flying around it waiting for the moment to lay their fingers upon the rot to devour it all.

Because good fruits never taste quite as good, do they?

Innocent, ruthless, bloodstained. Had you ever had the chance to be that which you were never meant to be?

A girl.

“Just an old woman, worrying over nothing.”

You only stared, because that’s all you could do, as you’d come to know, to be the only thing that your grandmere did not get uneasy about, despite the clear discomfort it still gave her. You were smart, too smart for your age, and you could tell lies from the truths. “Don't look at me like that” she’d tried to smile, but those were lines that did not reach her eyes. “You'll worry that pretty head of yours with things you have no need to worry about.”

A warm kiss that lacked warmth on your forehead before she sent you off. “Run along now. Go play with your brother.”

You ran off, rushing outside, running through the hallways of the old house, your little feet pitter-pattering against the wood of the floors. There was nothing more that Cassiopea could do but keep a watchful eye over you and to hope and pray that she'd be able to do that for years to come, as your small form disappeared from the room, leaving Cassiopea alone, to despair.

You thought of that as you stared up at Harry, feet still deep into the water, as he smiled at you.

The same boy you'd told your grandmother about years ago.

Older, his features more defined, stronger, more hardened, escaping his boyhood. But his eyes were the same, the ones you'd known since your very first dream.

This time they did not gleam with boyish mischief, and they did not show the innocence of childhood. This time, a certain wariness and weariness to them was held in those eyes of his, the heavy weight of the world heavy on his soul. Vibrating, enchanting, the embers of your earth, dark with specks of fire which you’d dreamt of thousands of times before you’d ever met him.

Your favourite sight to seek in a dream.

You drank him in, you could not help but marvel at his presence, for he was a wonder even more magnificent in the waking world than in the dreamland. This is what you had always waited for, and now, finally, you were getting to meet face to face with the one you had been dreaming about since your earliest memories.

You smiled in turn. You felt like he gave you no other choice. His smile was always warm, like a balm on a wound. You liked how he looked at you, like you were the only one that existed, like everything else was merely an afterthought compared to you.

You part ways with the unspoken promise that everything that transpired at the lake would remain the knowledge of only your tongues. There was much still left unsaid, but you and Harry both believed there was enough time in the world to stall the inevitable. Every conversation, every new little bit of information, came with a knowledge, a perception, a liability you weren't sure you wished to impose on an already tormented soul. Despite words coming easy to you, there was much you, too, were reluctant and unsure of. It pained to admit, it stung your very core, that Ominis was right in saying your abilities were limited and those of a child compared to his or those that came before you. You'd trained, put your mind and powers to the strains of their abilities, and yet it seemed it was never enough. All the suffering they came with, and you could not make the most of them? Ominis was right, you had no right to dictate the usage of what you were born with if you were not worthy of exploiting it as it should be.

Just what were you missing?

What is it you were not seeing? That was not shown to you? Why did the eyes that'd been blessed by solemn stardust upon your birth deceive you now so?

You've existed in dreams only, the reality of the world you live in being sometimes too much to bear. Betrayal runs deep when done by hands whose only touch you've come to know as gentle. The feelings of not properly knowing the world your bare feet touched, walked, sunk into did not come as a surprise, as it perhaps should have. You'd never found much interest in it either way. It's a dark, dark world, the one you live in. You thought no joy could be found in it. The peace of your paradise was all you needed. Your sanctum. But despite how you wished to leave the mortal remains of your body, you could never escape your nature.

You do exist, don't you? Despite how it often feels as if you're not there, you are. You fill in a space that's been there for you even before you'd been there to fill it.

The world has made it so. It wants it so. You're not a casualty, an error, a mistake. No, you're a creature of design. Of long-planned, calculated breeding. You're no longer a fragment of a dream, of a thread of fate that had once been but the flick of one man's imagination. You exist in all that you live and what came before you. You wear the faces of your own mother and father, of their own, and of those before them. Of women and men whose faces you've never known, whose lives are by now lost to time. In the reflection of your mirror, staring at you, there are thousands of you. Thousands of different lives met by the same fate.

Death.

But which of your feelings are real? Which of the you's is you?

No matter how deep you search, it seems as if the real you has never shown. But how could you believe in yourself when you don't even know yourself? Which part of you is supposed to be the real you? The reserved, quiet, withdrawn, tired and impassive girl you've always been known to be or the ravenous, impulsive, angry one? Or perhaps it's neither. You thought of yourself to be quite a simple person.

You like books of all sorts, from fiction to encyclopedias, everything the library has to offer will be read, with no exception. That muggle author, Jane Austen, was among your favourites. You thought she wrote terrific romance novels despite never having married herself. Your father had gifted you a collection of all her works for your eighth birthday and had become a dearly beloved possession. You especially liked running your fingers through the illustrations, occasionally popping in between a chapter or two. Ribbons, of all colours and fabrics. You thought an outfit was never complete without a touch of colour from the silky strings falling like waterfalls through your hair.

The piano, which you’d been taught to play in a duet with your brother’s violin. Your father wished for you both to be gifted in at least a instrument and while Leyton had trouble remembering a note or two on the piano, and you’d nicked yourself on the strings of the violin too many a times to count, both found a perfect suit in the other’s orginial choice of instrument. Flowers of all kinds, especially the wisteria that grew all over the walls of the house when it was its season, though baby’s breath always went along well with every bouquet and flower crowns you’d make for everyone in the house, servants included.

Angel’s trumpets, lily of the valley, and lilies being among your favourites. Swimming by the ponds as the sun glistened over the surface of the clear water, in the garden where fishes and turtles fed off the stale bread you threw at them. And despite sometimes the lines of your pencil falling in the wrong direction and place, you enjoyed a little bit of drawing as well. Your pick for muses? The birds by your windowsill on a cold spring morning, the fish in the pond. Your brother, as he played the violin in the drawing room while your father read the daily issue of the Daily Prophet, sat in the green leather chair he preferred above the rest. As of recently, a certain green-eyed boy had been at the unfortunate hands of your most scrawny sketches.

You like clothes of linen and embroidered cottons and threads of cold colours adorning the silks of your chemises.

But you seriously don't understand the girl Harry is turning you into. This calm, smiling girl, who is somewhat meek under the pretence of this gentle touch of his.

You don't like that you like this, that he makes you feel this. You don't like how every little touch seems so deliberate, so carelessly thought out. And you definitely don't like the way his eyes roam over you like he'll never have enough of you. He drives you mad in the very best way, his very touch making you feel the kind of things you weren't sure you were capable of feeling at all. He's breaking you, he's making you feel. And it's scary, scary how much you let him do it, how much you welcome it.

It's a conflict of interest.

You were supposed to approach him only to prepare him for the future that awaits him. Those were the instructions. Maybe that's why you were the way you were — why you found it difficult to connect on such an intimate level with anything or anyone. That you'd come into the world predisposed, a sentiment being, with a set of instructions flowing in your veins. How to live, how to conduct yourself. And yet those same instructions lacked the fundamental basis on how to be a human being. Feeling always came with such a nerve-shattering sensation that it overwhelmed you to the point of nausea.

Despite so, you loved your family. How could you not when they loved you this much? The love of a father, whose hands and love crafted you alongside those of your mother. The love of a brother, whose protection and love have kept you safe on many occasions. A friend you can replace, but no one can grow you a new brother and father when you would not replace the ones you have with anyone else. A love so pure, so innocent and warm. Nothing could compare to it.

Despite the hole of emptiness that has formed inside you, urging you, telling you, insisting that there’s a missing piece of this love and family you’re yet to know.

But what was it to love deep within the soul another being whose blood you did not share? To belong, wholly, every part, every bit of body and soul to someone that felt as deeply for you as you felt for them? The girls in your year are but girls. Children, really, you thought. They are silly little girls, even your cousins. They've never seen a battle, they've never seen a man die, they know nothing. None of the horrors you’d been borne witness to. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way yours had been in your childhood.

You pitied them. You envied them.

But Harry, he almost made you feel like them. A girl, whose only worry was to check if her hair was pinned in place, no frizz or unruly strands falling in the wrong direction. And that the balm on her lips still moistened the soft skin just in case….

He unbalanced you. He threw at you, anything and everything. But when push came to shove, he tended to you with all of his loving, simple self. He can make you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world, then turn around and make you feel like you're the only one that exists.

He's driving you mad, but he's also setting you free.

You cannot seem to contort yourself back into the shape of a dutiful child. You're becoming unravelled, undone, willing to defy orders given to you before your very own conception to follow the path you thought fit to take. Maybe that's just what it means...to be human — irresponsible, impulsive and sometimes hardheaded by your pride and beliefs. You're made up of so many little oddities, so many pieces and parts of yourself that do not quite fit together but still hold onto one another to form that which you are, shaping you, making you, creating you in all that you are and in that which you exist. You cannot disown, disallow, tear from your flesh, what you are. To deny your nature is first to deny how you've come to exist, and your very existence holds its significance in this world.

'We all have our parts to play,' you often told Harry, but have you been playing yours well enough to retain your place in the play starring your lives into the endless theatre that is the world?

You are not good, you are not virtuous, sympathetic, gentle, generous, evil, angry, bereft of sense.

You are simply you, with all your imperfections, all your differences. A person of infinite feelings, who experiences everything and yet nothing at all, because it is better not to than to burn in the fire that their passions scorn. It's easier, is it not? To feel nothing than to feel everything. To watch from the sidelines and observe, to refrain from getting involved. To simply watch the world turn and time pass. To conceal oneself behind an illusion of nothingness to avoid the very real pain that comes with feeling. But it also means not knowing love, not experiencing the simple happiness that arises from having someone to share your thoughts and heart with.

Because how can you love someone else if you do not allow yourself to feel love, first?

Each time, each year, with the passing of time, every moment, every second that Harry ever got in trouble, those past six years that you've been watching since you were a child. Trailing after him like a constant shadow, hidden to his knowledge, doing nothing had always held a scion to your good sense of will.

"It doesn't feel right, with what we can do, to do nothing when he faces danger.”

You were only a child then, when you made the inquiry to your great-great-grandfather, who'd been looking after you and your dreams since you could remember. But at eleven years old, in your first year at Hogwarts, you already knew the danger that Professor Raptor posed and were ordered not to do anything about it, for it was neither of your or his concern.

"To do nothing is the hardest job of all", Ominis had said "You have to be impartial in these matters. If he cannot make his own way into the world and face trivial dangers, how is he supposed to one day be the saviour of the wizarding world? We must allow this to run its course.”

His wisdom was always so clear, so precise and proven true each time. He had been right, after all. Harry had managed to overcome Professor Raptor all by himself, even though it pained you to see him struggle and be in danger. It always went against your nature to do nothing and just sit and watch. To do nothing was to do as you were told. To hold true to your duty and keep yourself away from the inevitable. You'd accepted the words, as you'd accepted words the wise always spoke, at the time. Now, older and perhaps less naive than you’d been as a mere child, you look back on the years past, you feel a sting in your chest. How different would things have been had you not just stood by and watched as everything fell apart around the young boy? You could have done something — maybe not much, but something. At least he would not have gone at it alone.

Your biggest regret came in the form of Cedric Diggory. There'd been no need for the poor boy to die had you been more capable in your prowess. Your fourth year at Hogwarts had been anything but predictable, and with your less-than-conscious mind left in a somewhat comatose state empty of thought all together as the result of a panicked reading you made after Harry’s name was pulled from the goblet of fire, the second coming of the dark lord had slipped each reading you made for the remainer of the year or the one that followed.

Your fifth year was spent being mostly either bedridden or lying in one of the beds of the hospital wing as Madam Pomfrey watched after you, unable to do much with this mysterious condition of yours. Nothing was wrong with you, per se. Cedric’s death riddled you with guilt. You took no fondness in sweets, books and the forest as you used to. Hogwarts had dulled. The childlike view you had of the castle had shattered alongside your first taste of what your role in the world meant. Each new sight, glimpse, speck into the future had your body to its strain. A toll on your health that only deepened as a result of more frequent and frenzied readings fueled by your frustration over your own limitations and capabilities.

And while you recovered, you allowed Harry to play at being the leader of men he had to grow into. There was not much you could do about Dumbledore’s army while lying in a hospital bed, could you?

Oh, but there was one person who had not been so unaware of such thing.

You'd all but raged at Ominis for his obscurity, for his secrecy, for his unwillingness to use the power of the oracle to do good and stop this before it got too out of hand, too hard to control. He'd used his sibilistic serpentongue to command you quiet and ordered you to never cross him in such way again.

You hated him for it. You hated him.

He could have done something, anything! To prevent the death of a boy, a child who did not deserve to die. You hated how Ominis knew better, and you hated yourself for letting him order you into complicity, for being so powerless, even though you were gifted with the ability of prophecy, because despite the knowledge that your dreams contained, none of it mattered if it wasn't acted upon.

Once Harry figures it all out he'll be mad at you. He’ll be so angry he could possibly come to hate you and you had done a good damn job at squelching the squeamishness he held over your family name and the blood that ran in your veins, connecting you to the most hated wizard of all. You had to sacrifice the secrecy of your mind palace to show him you were no fraud, no seer pretending the impossible, because you were very much the impossible made possible through magic that people could only dream of.

And, despite your own fears and doubts, you found that you were prepared for his anger. You would stand there, tall and firm, and watch him face you, and take all the anger that he had to offer in his young, angry heart. You were ready to answer his every question. Despite you wishing so dearly, he never did. But you did not care if he hated you. You did not care if he thought you to be a freak, a liar, an abomination and a monster. Even if he came to hate you — even if he came to despise you and the way you were born — then at least you would have done all that was in your power to save him. Because you came to treasure his life more than your own, more than anything in this world.

That's the price people pay for love, no?

Love is the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

But he had destroyed your duty. He was your one purpose. You knew that your job was to prepare him for the future, to keep him alive long enough for him to fulfil his destiny. He was your duty, but he was also your love. He is your duty, as is your love, and you’ll be his death.

But you've no choice in the matter. Love is not a choice one makes, no more than duty is. He's chosen you, and you've chosen him right back, whether you like it or not. There is nothing you can do but love him, just as there is nothing he can do but love you as well.

You are the inevitable, the certainty of the outcome. It’s not a matter of if, but when.

He had ruined everything the way you had known it, but you could not bring yourself to care. He'd made you feel, made you feel things you had never thought possible, and despite what the future may hold, you knew that it was more important to you that he would be there and that he was alive, rather than him fulfilling his destiny and dying against Voldemort. He was more important than the prophecy, he was more important than anything.

He was more important than the wizarding world.

But there are those who do not understand it, still. Your brother among them.

He viewed Harry as something akin to a reckoning, a danger you all should stay away from, and you understood why. People standing by Harry's cause were not known for living long or lasting in their resolution. After the events leading to the battle in the Ministry of Mysteries, Leyton had all but grown paranoid of Harry's presence, if not outright existence. He had told you, asked, if not commanded, as your brother and caretaker in the absence of your father, that he did not wish to see you a mere breath away from the boy.

But you had always been ordered around too much to listen to him, not when higher orders to do the opposite were given by Ominis himself. You were loyal to Ominis first, even above your brother. Not now that your views finally aligned with the stars. Despite your differences, Ominis had always treated you with such respect, even though he had the power to force your obedience. You supposed that was his way of love.

But Leyton - sweet, old Leyton. Oh, how your heart ached for him and sang sweet songs of your love for your brother that could make women weep and men fall to their knees. You knew your brother was more concerned about your safety than anything. He’d always been, even when you were still young children, he was the one to look after you, to protect you. He'd been father, mother and brother all at once, and you owed him your life for it. But you could not tuck your tail between your legs, turn your way, and head to another call than the one you were given.

Duty is the death of love. You did not want to choose between the love for your brother, your love for Harry, and your loyalty to Ominis. You wanted to have it all.

In times of doubt, those lost often look for a reliable, wise figure to guide them through the darkness of the forest they find themselves in. Your crone takes the figure of the wise, old Dumbledore. The only man you can confide your worries about the nature of the world you inhabit with.

It feels good to tell the old man your feelings. Dumbledore is a good listener, and his wisdom feels like the calm before the storm. He understands your predicament, your struggles, but you think he knows more than he lets you know he does, that the words he speaks hide a whole world of knowledge away from you, but that is something you'd expect from a man as old as he.

“Why did you tell him to come to me about the oracle?” you asked “I thought you would tell him everything. Yet you didn’t. Why?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were kind, a small smile on his lips.

“I am an old man. In what way would I possibly be able to help, when my time is near passing anyway? I think, perhaps...it is not my place to interfere. I thought it best it'd be you telling him all. I've learned it is quite rude to speak of those who cannot speak for themselves. I did not wish to take that from you. A white lie necessary for the greater good.” “That is most thoughtful, professor.” You said, “But I do wonder what Harry would think about being deceived into quests he may not be willing to embark on.”

Something in his eyes turned solemn, as if the weight of the world had suddenly come to sit on his shoulders.

“Young men often think it is their duty to do as such,” he said, his voice carrying the exhaustion of his age, “and while I may not agree with their actions, I will always appreciate their good-natured heart, and the will they hold to fight. Sometimes, things are destined to be, and the decisions we make can have no other outcome, despite our efforts to steer the river a different way. I like to believe that I did not lie to him, but merely, simply, didn’t tell the whole truth so that he would seek it himself.” “On your orders” you finalised “I knew the moment he asked me that you were behind his words.”

Dumbledore chuckled, the sound low and deep. But he nodded his head.

"I knew you'd have figured that out yourself. But I wanted to test something...about the boy.” “I don't suppose that might be his loyalty. He's proven that plenty.” “No, my boy is loyal. That is not it. There is something else about him that I've come to suspect. Rather, his trust. Not in me or my words, but rather in others. In you." "He has his doubts, as anyone would. As you and many others have. The stain of a lineage is hard to get rid of. His scepticism is welcome, I do admit. Anyone who doubts is intelligent enough to overcome their confidence in the unknown to doubt the known.” “I suppose so. A great mind is a curious beast to carry.” His eyes turned thoughtful. “How he perceives the world...and people, I believe, is what will save him and those he loves.”

“He’s...stalwart, " you struggled to put your words together, “....a kind...soul, deprived of every kindness he's been lacking since the loss of his parents. He seeks it in those he can see them in, without even knowing what he's seeking.” “I am afraid so,” Dumbledore said. “He has been lonely, alone. His life has not been the most fortunate. But it is his burden to carry and to fight through. You, too, know of how heavy one's own burden can be.”

“The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity,” you conjured. “He has neither. His mind is simple. I just do not think he knows that yet with that much that he ails in it.” “Is that such a bad thing?” He asked. “There are many times one's heart may be a burden, and their mind a blessing.” “Both are necessary, aren't they? Heart and mind. The mind is the rational, the functional, the right. While the heart...is the human, the sensitive, the vulnerable. But at the same time, one cannot exist without the other — rationality without empathy, care without the understanding, the living without the feeling...is just…nothing.” “The mind rules the heart,” Dumbledore took on your thought and words “as the heart can rule the mind.” “It's the relative human balance.”

You both smiled at the other.

“Deadly weapons against those that live without one of either”, he said “make good use of them.” “I will” you said, “as I will make sure Harry does, too.”

He looked at you curiously, cocking his head to the side.

“I see you've...grown to care for the boy” he mused “I can't seem to ignore that you speak of him…most fondly, indeed.”

Unsure of what to say, you had let a straightforward "He’s become important to me, I will not deny it.It goes against...what you'd advise of me...but he makes it hard.”

He gave you an almost knowing smile.

“It seems...the heart does win over the mind, after all.” The irony cut like glass through the air. “It's not like that” you shook your head “it's just that...there's much of him I see.” you said “that others do not. It is a hard thing to ignore.” “Do you not think you see what you wish to see, perhaps?” “Maybe so,” you suggest, “But maybe that's what makes people who they are, and sometimes they need someone to see what they wish to see in them.”

A shadow cast itself over his face, a strange look loomed over his hardened features, as if your words had struck much closer to home than he'd expected. He contemplated and contemplated, thinking deeply — and yet, just as you were about to delve into their thoughts, he spoke.

"We will never be able to understand who we truly are" he said, "There will always be questions left for the future and answers for the past. One day you will come to understand, and you shall no longer be afraid of what you do not fully comprehend.”

A nagging curiosity gnawed at your mind. What more will there be to understand? you thought.

“Should I take that as a warning?” You broke a small smile. “I like to think of it as a promise,” he said, returning your smile. “A promise is something that's made to be kept” you said, thoughtfully “I shall hold you to it then.” “You might have to” he chuckled “but I might have to ask for another from you, if I may.” “What kind?” you asked, dabbing the blackened skin of his hand with a damp, warm cloth. “Don't let love get in the way of doing what is right.” He said, his words leaving a strange pit in your stomach, and a bitter taste in the back of your mouth you could not gulp down.

Too late, you had to resist the urge to say.

“What is right and what is wrong often differs from person to person” you murmured, your words betraying nothing of the things stirring at your insides and wretching at your organs. “You are very much right” he sighed against the feel of the gentle caress of the cloth “But you do see the world through a very unique pair of eyes. I trust you, my dear, with everything you'll have to face. You'll find strength and wisdom in places you don't even expect.”

Your lips curled upward in a small smile.

“I suppose I should hold you to that too, then…professor”, you teased. “You should” he said, reaching out to grasp your hand that wasn't tending to his. “Trust me, darling girl.”

A wave of affection washed over you, as he held your hand in his, a certain comfort in the feeling— a soft, warm thing.

Lying in your bed is all you can do that night, even as the other seven filled beds are lounged quietly by their inhabitants, your roommates. Your bedsheet offers little to no comfort for the cold that is sipped deep within your bones. When your feet touch the carpet surrounding your bed, you realise you'll get little to no sleep that night. Your feet padded around the castle, in all its quietness and emptiness. If anyone were to find you, you're in line for a good reprimanding, but you're stealthy to the point you know it won't happen. After all, this was not the first time you would not be found in your bed.

The Ravenclaw Tower may be an infinite maze to the untrained eye, but to those with an eye keen enough to figure their way around it, it is fast to become their place of respite.

The balcony by the topside is the quietest and emptiest part of the tower, and where you take it to perform your darkest of…activities.

This night was no exception, and your feet soon carried your body to the balcony, closing the door softly behind you. Moonlight streamed through the cold night, the stars shining bright through the clouds in the sky. You take a seat on the railing, your legs dangling over the edge, your eyes watching the ground below. The air was quiet, but in no way peaceful, for in silence, you can do nothing but think. Your eyes trailed to the dark sky above you, from star to star, tracing along the constellations of your favourite ones There are many who find comfort into looking at the celestial bodies, but to you, it was always a way for the sky to whisper into your ears the things your body failed to understand.

You'd let your hand hang in the air, the soft autumn breeze fanning your face, brushing through your locks. In many ways, it was peaceful. There was little sound except the whispers of the wind, rustling through the old trees of the Forbidden Forest, the gentle rush of the Black Lake, and the occasional screech of a creature, you knew, was flying over the grounds. You were in no way alone, despite the absence of people, but that was not what you were looking for. You merely sought some space, space to breathe, space to think and space to exist, just as you were. For there were few that let you be who you truly were.

“Do you believe it to be true?” you asked the air “Your dream. The Eclipse of the Eternal Night. You told me it was our duty to hold our family united against our common foe” You let the silence fall “I'm not sure I can do that any more. I'm not sure I ever could.”

You felt guilty for even speaking these words. It was the very first time that that thought had crossed your mind, and the fact that you had not told anyone, let alone vocalised it, made it all the more of a burden. What kind of person would that have made you?

A traitor, perhaps.

“It's-...It's not that i'm not able, and it's not that i do not believe in our dream. It's just” you gulped down a hard knot “....what If I'm not the one?”

The thought alone feels as if a cold hand had plunged into the pit of your stomach and squeezed every organ in a vice-like grip. To have come so far and to fail at the very goal you had been given from birth, simply the thought of it was painful.

How could you fail?

“I....I'm tired. I'm always tired” you whispered “If I'm not the one, if this is not my place to be, then what am I supposed to do? I'm scared.More now than ever before. I'm lonely," you said, your eyes trailing to the stars, “And I'm lost.”

“Just give me a sign.”

You waited...and waited. But nothing came. There was no rumble of thunder, no crack in the sky. No voice echoed through your head, no feeling filled your senses. No one to give you the answer you so desperately sought for.

Until it came. And when it did, it happened all too fast for you to realise what was happening. In a moment, the moon's bright light burned at your irises, rendering you blind to everything but its light as you tried to shield yourself from it before your limbs fell limp, your body crashing to the hard, stone floor of the tower. The pain that filled your head was the point of no return.

Darkness consumed your vision, a deep, endless darkness you'd experienced time to time before. You knew what was now to come, and you welcomed the sleep it brought you.

Your breath escapes you as you slam backwards, your heart thumping loudly in your ribs, a sudden coldness gripping you like ice. Your head spins, the world spinning around you uncontrollably, and for a good few moments, you’re sure you’ll throw up, and then it stops, just as fast as it came. You shielded yourself from the blinding light before you're engulfed by it, whole. The sequence before you played out like a movie on the big screen. It went by so fast, that were it not for your memory of steel taking in every single moment by bit as if it were its own, everything would have gone by and be forgotten, like every old memory that posed no importance to the present....

The voices around you were loud, but filled your ears with a beautiful melody despite the continuous and growing ringing that only fed into the itching at the back of your head.

The hospital wing before you is empty except for one bed, filled by the presence of a person whose face you cannot see, hidden beyond the white curtain drawn around the privacy the ill deserved. The light coming from the window, and the white snow raining down outside, rendered the scene before you almost sterile, sanitised in the worst ways. The fire that you see in the distance, at the outskirts, brightens the dark night sky, its light joining that of the stars and the moon, allowing the eye to behold the disaster. The soft bluegrass and dry hay leaves rustle along the cold, biting, winter wind as you stare up at it with wide eyes before you're pulled violently into another scene before you could identify the house.

Hagrid's hut is not a place you're entirely familiar with, but is one you'll get to know soon seeing as you're sitting by the fireplace as you petting gently Hagrid's dog, Fang, as Harry speaks to a Slughorn looking too defeated by life, staring at Harry with a face that told much of unspoken regret. You don't get to hear about what they're talking about before the windows burst open, the same air that flutters up the top of the astronomy tower, pulls you away from the warmth your cheek had flared from the warmth of the fire, the rosy skin cooled and forgotten.

Professor Dumbledore looked defeated, the sun setting behind him as a backdrop to the seriousness crossing his face. The words falling from his lips are meant for you, and Harry, you two standing solemnly in front of him. Words that get blurred along the lines of the real and the eventful, and what you're not yet supposed to know. The warmth of Harry's body against yours is one you almost feel against your own unmade body as he cries into your shoulder, like a baby deer, lost and helpless, as you gently caressed his hair while you both sat on his bed, in a room empty of life other than your own two.

Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time. Your head spun with all the images flashing past your closed eyes. It made you feel nauseous, but you kept looking, kept watching, kept taking in whatever you could. There was something you were missing, something important, something to focus on...but it slipped away every time you reached for it, like trying to grab sand with an open palm.

You smelled salt and heard rushing waves, but could not see a body of water if not for the bank of the great black lake that circled the rock you stood upon, so vast that you could not make out its beginning or end and without a wand to lit the cavern with light with, you were made to strain your eyes to the best of their abilities to make out where to put your feet and where not in order not to tumble into the almost still water.

Your mouth grew parched the more you lingered on the scene. No one was here, there’d been nothing to see, and yet you supposed you needed to be there.

You were meant to be there. Expect, perhaps you didn’t.

The ambience rejected you, and the longer your mind rejected moving to another vision, the longer the cavern expressed its displeasure with your presence. Sweat clung to your milky, cotton nightgown, your skin glistening in the light reflecting on the stone of the rock. Your breath heaved, small puffs of hot breath leaving your mouth as its cravices grew drier and drier of moisture. You’d wet your lips, trying to hydrate the dried skin, resulting in leaving you with less on your tongue. You stumbled down the rocky platform, your form unsteady and feet trembling, your hands coming to aid you in your endeavour as you made for the water, desperate for a sip of it.

Your hands were trembling and shaking as you reached for it, your dry throat screaming at you to drink, to get something down, to do something, anything to feel more alive. But the surface of the water reflected nothing but darkness, even though the water itself was perfectly clear, as if it wasn't water at all, but something else entirely. You leaned down, dipping your fingers into the crystal clear surface, feeling its smoothness around your fingers before lifting it to your lips with tremor.

The water was cool, and its taste refreshed your every sense.

It did little to settle the raging fire that had erupted inside you, but its coolness did calm the painful ache dulling inside of you as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over you on a hot summer afternoon. But no matter how much you drank, you never felt like you'd had enough. There was an itch under your skin, like your very soul was trying to rip your body apart. Something was missing, and it left you feeling empty and incomplete. The shadows whispered around your head, swirling and moving, and you wanted to grab for them desperately, to pull them close, to hold them in your hands like one would hold a precious jewel.

They chanted, but you could not make out what as your ears drummed horribly. Their voices rang in your head like a bad screwing.

"Shut up" you murmured harshly. ”Shut up!”

Your voice reverberated around the cavern, its booming almost making the stones around vibrate by the impact.

It did nothing to soothe the shadows and stop their whispers. They continued, growing ever so faintly louder and louder, their presence filling you and weighing on your shoulders. They slithered under your skin, danced over your eyes and slithered into your ears. You could've sworn you heard them speak, words that slipped in and out of focus, too faint to really understand. It made you want to scream.

Shut up shut up shut up.

"Silence!" you bellowed out, slamming your hand into the water, splashing it in the air all around you.

The water rippled where your hand had hit it, a ring of circles growing and growing as they creased the water's surface. But the shadows didn’t listen, their whispers getting louder, filling your ears, your head, your thoughts, and for a second, you almost gave in.

Almost.

Just when the water had settled once more, a bubble blossomed on the surface, floating languidly. You stared at the small bubble for a few seconds, mesmerised at the way it stayed still, even as the water rippled around it. For a moment, it floated, not moving an inch, and you were about to look away, write it off as a strange quirk of nature and the way the water moved. If not for another bubble, followed by another, joining each other.

You froze, your eyes going wide. Watching as more bubbles swarm upshore, merging together into larger ones, until all your eyes could see was a blanket of countless bubbles.

“No” you whispered, moving away from the surface “No, no!” You stumbled away from the water, your legs struggling to stay upright. The sound of your own breathing was too loud to your ears, the room suddenly feeling too small, too cramped, too silent. But too late; whatever was floating down the water had surfaced to take you down the depths with them.

You fought hard to get out of its grasp, to get back, but the more you struggled, the harder their hands closed around your ankle. Your legs kicked the thin air, and one of your hands came up to try and loosen the hold around your throat. Nothing worked, and your mind started to grow hazy, your fight weakening. Your lips, once as pink as the softest of poppies, paled white, and your kicks, which were once as fast and fast as a snake, started to slow.

The fingers felt cold and bony against the soft skin of your throat, like death's icy grasp. You felt every one of them, like they were digging into your flesh, tearing into your skin as they dragged you towards the water, dunking you in as water choked the last remains of air out of you. You struggled against such grip, hands clawing away at the skin of those wishing to kill you. They were strong and sure in their grasp, stronger than you'd ever be, and you could barely struggle against them, your fingers scratching at the cold flesh in vain. It was like a nightmare. Trapped, unable to move, unable to fight back, unable to escape. The voices around you grew louder and louder, chanting over and over again, a musical nonsense as air slowly gave away from your lungs. Faster and faster the visions came, one after the other, until it seemed as if the very air had come alive. But you understood none of them. Shadows whirled and danced, boneless and terrible, a woman's screams hollowed your insides.

“Child of three. Slayer of lies," the chants echoed in your head “Daughter of death. Revenge is yours.”

Darkness seeped into your vision like black ink, filling your line of sight till it was all you could see. You were losing consciousness fast, the edges of your mind turning dark, dark, and darker until you were falling further into the water. But just before it all went black, you felt something tug at your scapula. A touch hard but soft at once, and in a moment, you were sucked out of yourself, into another body, another life that should've been yours.

A light from beyond the surface blinded what remained of your senses, the darkness of the water brightening beneath it. The whispers, screams and screeches all overcome by a soothing, young voice.

“I did find you. I had promised I would.” The voice rang “from one womb we came and from each other's hands we'll die”

Out of your body, your mind went. The eyes you used were not your own as you stared at your own reflection in the mirror before you. Young, lean and beautiful. With long hair. A masculine copy of your own face surveyed your own wild stare.

“So, this is the story you made up about who you are” the boy standing before you said in an almost amused tilt of his psyche “It's a nice one. Too bad it isn't true.”

Your mind spun, struggling to understand what was transpiring before you. The scene in the mirror was almost bizarre, and you felt as though you were floating somewhere between consciousness and hallucination, between life and death. The boy looked oddly familiar, but the image was warped, a distortion of what must be the truth.

“What…?” You managed to croak through the tightness in your throat, your eyes unable to focus on anything but your reflection. “It's all a lie” the boy said, his voice carrying a hint of smugness, as if the thought amused him “Who you are, what you think you are - all of it. A beautiful lie, but still a lie nonetheless.” “You know not what you speak of” you spat “You’re dead.” “Maybe so” he said, his face growing dark, “But dead doesn't mean gone. You never mourned me. It is hard to die unmourned.” His words hit you like a blow to the gut. They were true, and they hurt more than you would have ever believed. You have never mourned him, for you had not known him in life, and yet... yet his words held more truth than they should have. “I...I'm sorry” you said, your voice small and quiet, “But I...I don't know who-“

He looked at you with what seemed like pity, like the way one would look at a lost child. His eyes, his face, were so familiar, but you were certain you'd never seen them before. “You can lie to the world” his voice echoed like drumrolls in your ears “But you should never lie to yourself.”

You swallowed hard, your body shaking as you stared at the boy in the mirror. Your throat felt dry, and your stomach was twisted in knots of guilt and grief. "Who are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That doesn't matter, does it?” he smiled “What matters is who you are, right?” “I thought I did” you admitted “but...but now I'm not sure.” “You don't know?” he asked, “Or you do know, but you're too scared to admit it to yourself?I know who you are. Do you? Or perhaps I should ask. Do you know who I am?” “I-“ you began, but you swallowed hard, your throat feeling like sandpaper. “You-“ you tried again, but the words died in your throat, leaving you with nothing but a feeling of uncertainty and fear. “I know what’s been bothering you.” He said “What’s my locket made of?”

"What?" you asked, honestly dumbfounded by the sudden change of questioning, not paying too much mind to what he's asked you.

As so, you answered as if not weighing the thought too much.

"Brass?....copper?"

When he didn't answer, but only continued to stare back at you, you grew fidgety. It wasn't often that the other entity in your head 'fought' back by gaining consciousness and defying their roles in your visions.

You grew agitated when he furrowed his brows.

"A light bronze?" a thought came to your head "rose gold?"

"You're close" he only shot back, but not quite satisfied by your indifference to the matter, "but too far yet. Look at it."

Your eyes trailed down to the locket for the first time that night, its chain glittering, resting against his breastbone. The locket ticks at the attention, trembling -- over-so-slightly, quivering in the air.

"Looks like silver.....gold? a mix of both-"

“Answer me”. The boy snapped, his words sharp and biting as his face began to melt off, like molten lava, as if something or rather, someone, had taken over him, his voice growing distorted. “What is it made of?!”

“Gold-“

But before you could get the word out, his neck snapped, like a twig under the pressure of a foot. He was gone as quickly as he'd appeared, his body morphing into a mist of shadowy black before evaporating completely before your eyes, leaving nothing but a faint sense of his presence.

And as if you were thrown out of the water you've been made to drown in, you gasped for breath as you awoke once more. You screamed, a guttural, angry sound, just as your heart gave out on its last beat, heading into the shadows that held you down and in a moment, there you were again, awake and yourself again. The sweat clung to your cold skin, the nightgown sticking to your body like a second skin. Every part of you trembled, your heart hammering in your chest almost as hard as your head was hurting, like a thousand drums were playing at once, loud and thundering and overwhelming your mind. The night was deathly silent as you lay on the floor where you’d previously dropped, save for the sounds of your deep, ragged breaths, ragged like the sound of a hunted, wounded animal. The darkness of the night was complete in the room, your eyes struggled to make out shapes in the shadows drifting. It was if you were in a world with no light, nothing to guide you, nothing to save you from whatever danger you were in. It surrounded you, and you were stuck in the darkness, alone.

The ghost of a long-haired woman drifted serenely past, unbothered by the scene.

“You look pekish” she commented softly “and you're perspiring. Whatever happened to you,child?”

You felt your heart skip a beat as the woman appeared, her pale face lit by the faint moonlight streaming from the windows. The air was still, and her voice echoed oddly around the room, like the sound of a dying wind.

“I had a vision.” you managed. “Oh, dear. Another?” she asked "The last one nearly killed you, if my memory does not fail me” “That was my own fault.” You sighed as you struggled your way from the floor. Her gaze was sharp, despite the soft smile on her face. Her pale skin glowed like white moonlight, illuminating her delicate features, her high cheekbones, and the strange beauty of her dark gaze. "Strange creature you are.So stubborn, too. You just don't seem to know when to give up.” “I can hardly give up. Can I?” you asked “When my destiny is what it is.”

She gave an understanding smile, as if she too felt your inner turmoil as her own.

“Are you scared?” she inquired, with a tilt of her head. “Destiny is not the only thing you have going for you. You have a choice, you know. Even for the likes of you, there are possibilities.”

“But what happens if I go against my destiny?" you could not help but say. “If I try to fight it and fail? What will happen?” You felt as if you were begging, but you couldn't seem to care. Your heart pounded in your chest, the reality of the situation bearing down on you.

“You make your own" she said "Like I did. Like many did. You're afraid of uncertainty, of the same unknown you tell others not to be afraid of. What are you without your powers? You rely on them too much” “My powers are meant to be used!" you protested “They're meant to do good, to fight the evil within. I can't just stand by as the world caves in on itself.”

“You're right. You do have them for a reason. But you cannot let your powers consume you, and you cannot let the duties bestowed on you by your very birth define you.” She moved towards you, her feet light, as if floating across the floor, her hands coming to rest on your shoulder. You could feel her touch, surprisingly solid and comforting against your skin.

“That's not fair” Your voice was soft now, like a lost child's “I can't just... stop everything, not when I have the power to do something, to change something. What would you have me do?”

She gave you a sad smile, motherly in its disposition. Yet there was something in her gaze, something that said she, too had been in your position before.

“There are better choices, you just need to find them. You need to choose life, not duty. Before it's too late. But for now, I would have you go to bed. The sun will rise soon, and you need all the sleep you can get.”

“Sleep is a luxury I’m not used to much.”

“Then get used to it” she chastised “I do not wish to see you lying on the floor of the tower any time soon, again, for your little endeavours.” “I’ll try my best.”

“See that you do, dear. Now go on, to sleep with you.”

At the end, you know that when you reach the end of your path, none of this, all of this, will matter. When all of this is done, all your particles will disband, disperse, and you'll become, just like all those before you part of the pulse of another Gaunt that will come after you. If fate will be so lucky, may that pulse belong to your own child.

When that time comes, you'll make way for them until the day that they come. Until then, perhaps, the most you could do is make sure that your name will be remembered as the one Gaunt that restored your family's name and brought peace into the wizarding world. Because after all, you are the new past. You are the new future.

You are the answer this world has been looking for.

. Author's note :

I know, I know. I've been gone for more than a month, and I'm sorry for that. But outlining a story when you come up with all sorts of ideas is a difficult thing, and I hope you can all understand that. A lot has happened since I last updated this story, and I wish to premise this one thing again. I do not support Jk Rowling. I cannot stand that woman or her ideologies, and I'm not that much interested in Harry Potter and the franchise. I'm writing this for a friend of mine and she has wished for me to publish this online for others to enjoy and appreciate as much as she does. Therefore, those who do support her, please have the decency not to continue reading this story because we are proud haters who do not support a bigot in her multimillion euro campaign against a marginalised minority. That said, I've taken the liberty to do with the source material as I like, which means the story will heavily diverge from what's canon and not, changing the story as I like and please to do with it as I want. Yes, I'm doing it out of spite, and I don't care. Thank you very much. Anyways, for those that are still here because you share our views and opinions, I hope you do enjoy this really long chapter. I, as well as my friend, have decided to change the title since going forth this story will only continue to get darker and darker with heavier themes, and we did not feel like 'Cinnamon Girl' was an appropriate title to represent the story we decided upon. Stay tuned for future updates :) Also, viewer's discretion is advised for this chapter, it is quite disturbing, not to mention slightly graphic.

Btw reuploaded this cause i changed a scene from this chapter

Taglist: @dovellici @thehufflepuffwife @llunarpotter @xxxyukitoxx @stvrlavs @b4tm4nn @sisiididjxjd

The taglist is always open to those who wish to join it.

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lohotine · 1 year ago

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Do you...do you have any hcs for Milk Cookie? 👉👈

AN: Ofc! Such a cinnamon roll, am I right??

Milk Cookie x Reader

Headcanons

Warnings: None

You fell first while he stayed pretty oblivious

Everytime you tried to flirt with him, he wouldn't get it

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I first." ;)

"Why? It actually makes a lot more sense for A and B to be first since the Phoenician alphabet had Aleph and Bait first."

Painfully oblivious.

He only gets it when you finally confess to him, but even that goes kinda sideways

"I have feelings for you!"

"Oh? What kind of feelings?"

Yeah... Anyway. 🤦‍♀️

When you guys finally start dating, you go on lots of dates together

Sometimes you'll just walk around the kingdom

Other times you guys go to a fair

Very fun times

Milk always wants to be the one paying

You say that it's your treat, but he still won't let it go

You settle to split the price

Not the biggest on PDA. Maybe handholding but nothing else

Nicknames consit of; love, dear, or just a shorter version of your name

When cuddling, Milk is big spoon, but won't mind being the little spoon if that's what you want

A fantastic listener

Need to vent about anything? Vent to him

Actually pretty cold bc you know, milk.

All in all, very good BF. 9/10, he's just kinda oblivious.

#cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom headcanons #milk x reader #milk cookie x reader #milk x reader crk #milk cookie x reader crk #milk cookie x reader fluff #milk x reader fluff #milk headcanons #milk cookie crk headcanons #milk cookie headcanons #milk cookie x reader headcanons

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 1 year ago

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Announcements

Okay Darlings. I need to catch up on my A03 but fear not I will return.

Here are some things to look forward to in the upcoming week.

Unbreakable- songfic based off of "my heart of stone" from the musical six based off of a reader referring to the family relationship they share with him and iruma.

Guilt- also a songfic. This one based off of the song "look my way" from helluva boss. Aleph reader x Sullivan where Sullivan is the one singing.

Injured- that request for the Marbas x Eito x Reader where the reader gets injured while the two demons are play fighting.

Hidden Truth- request where Balam sees Iruma's scars, which causes him to run off and hide.

After I post these guys I'll have a handful of requests left so I'm looking forward to opening the shop back up for requests.

BUT NOT YET.

So please wait a little longer, Darlings I'll be ready for you soon.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #lord sullivan #iruma suzuki #ifrit djinn eito #march marbas #balam shichirou

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theowlhousefanboy · 3 years ago

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A Personal List of Video Games That Might Be Deemed as Obsolete If Not Inferior Compared to Its "Modernized" Follow-Ups:

Wolfenstein 3D < Return to Castle Wolfenstein and The New Order+The Old Blood; also, the likes of the entirety of Doom

Warcraft: Orcs and Humans < II: Tides of Darkness+Beyond the Dark Portal and III: Reign of Chaos+The Frozen Throne

Star Wars: X-Wing < TIE Fighter and X-Wing Alliance

Age of Empires < Age of Empires II and Age of Mythology

System Shock < System Shock 2; also, its own Enhanced Edition (with maybe the upcoming Remake)

Hitman: Codename 47 < Hitman 2: Silent Assassin onwards

Titanfall < Titanfall 2 (and even Apex Legends)

Star Control < Star Control II/The Ur-Quan Masters

Outpost < Outpost 2: Divided Destiny

The Marathon Trilogy < their Aleph One releases; also, the Halo games arguably up to Reach

Medieval: Total War and Shogun: Total War < Medieval II: Total War+Kingdoms and Total War: Shogun 2; also, Rome: Total War and Total War: Rome II

The entire Police Quest series up to SWAT 2 < S.W.A.T. 3: Close Quarters Battle and 4+The Stetchkov Syndicate

Silent Hunter I and II < III and 4: Wolves of the Pacific+The U-Boat Missions

Shadowrun Returns < Shadowrun: Dragonfall - Director's Cut and Hong Kong: Extended Edition

Zone of the Enders < The 2nd Runner

Meat Boy < Super Meat Boy

Saints Row < Saints Row 2 onwards

Just Cause < Just Cause 2

Hexagon < Super Hexagon

Dune II < its Command and Conquer spiritual successors.

(In the meantime, in case there are readers interested in this, feel free to comment on games that fit the criteria that I haven't put on the list either because of tag limitations, not ever playing them, or not remembering them.)

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togglesbloggle · 4 years ago

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A Kabbalistic Analysis of Scott's New Blog

As one might expect from a writer of Scott’s caliber, the kabbalistic forms in the new blog begin right with the name, “Astral Codex Ten”. The starting point is so obvious as to be almost textual, perhaps as a pedagogical device aimed at helping jumpstart the efforts of those (like myself) less familiar with the art. We begin with the ten sephirot, of course- surely an ‘astral codex’ if ever there was one. But already we see two possible interpretations, both true: first, that of the tenth sephirot in particular, and second, that of the sephirot *as a whole*, as in ‘the witches three’.

Let us begin with the tenth sephirot, Malkuth. This is considered the lowest of all sephirot, most separated from the divine whole. It is the Earth and the Kingdom, both complementary to and opposite from Keter, the Crown. Unlike all other sephirot, it is not an emanation of God, but rather, of God’s creation- the material world itself. Thus, Astral Codex Ten is a thing *from* the world, complementary and opposite to other ‘astral codexes’, i.e. scripture.

Malkuth is also strongly associated with royalty and law. Just as the Crown is where the law ‘comes from’, the Kingdom is what the law ‘is made of’; Aristotle might call Malkuth the ‘material’ cause of law just as Keter is its agentic’ cause. Compare to Scott’s own description of his writing:

Ṛta is a Sanskrit word, so ancient that it brushes up against the origin of Indo-European languages. It's related to English "rationality" and "arithmetic", but also "art" and "harmony". And "right", both in the senses of "natural rights" and "the right answer". And "order". And "arete" and "aristos" and all those other Greek words about morality. And "artificial", as in eg artificial intelligence. More speculatively "reign" and related words about rulership, and "rich" and related words about money.... The dictionary defines ṛta as "order", "truth", or "rule", but I think of it as the intersection of all these concepts, a sort of hidden node at the center of art and harmony and rationality and the rest. What are the laws of thought? How do they reveal themselves, at every level, from the flow of electricity through the brain to the flow of money through the global economy? How can we cleave to them more closely, for our own good and the good of generations still to come?

(This block of text is, of course, wholly redundant with the blog’s url; I assume that it is placed here again for pedagogical purposes, as an allowance for readers like myself who are less astute.)

But we do find confirmation throughout the blog that the plural reading of ‘astral codex ten’ is equally important, even though the blog is just beginning. The subscription price is ten dollars per month; a yearly subscription is $100, or ten squared up on itself, emphasizing the self-descriptive nature of the universe: “as above, so below”. Just as each individual sephirot contains the whole, so does each payment of ten dollars contain a further ten, and Astral Codex Ten is both ‘the tenth’ and ‘the ten’. Further, the Tree of Life has 22 lines connecting each of its nodes; in a nod to this, Scott opened the new blog on 1/21. (Here he’s separating the single connection between Malkuth and Yesod, from the more densely interconnected sections of the Tree above. An important reminder, and another one of Scott’s nice pedagogical touches.)

Comparisons to the previous blog, “Slate Star Codex”, are of course inevitable and proper. We notice immediately that only one out of three words from the original were preserved, no more, no less. One must immediately recall the rebellion of Lucifer, in which one third of the angelic host was defeated and fell to Earth. Scott contended against the great powers, and was banished. More interestingly, both ‘slate’ and ‘star’ were lost, evoking the earth and the heavens. Astute readers may object to an apparent contradiction between this failure of ‘slate’ with the higher associations of Malkuth with the Earth. However, on closer inspection this may be easily resolved. Just as Satan fell ‘to’ Earth, but was given the domain of Hell ‘under’ the Earth, so did Scott find his own kingdom in the website ‘substack’, the place below. Thus, the new blog is both sovereign and subaltern, passing both through the sky and the ground, until only the codex itself remains. Just as Lucifer Morningstar lost his heavenly status but not his origins, Scott’s kingdom-in-exile is ‘astral’ in nature, but no longer a ‘star’ as such. (Note also the 14 characters in both names, numerologically associated with chaos, freedom, and sensual pleasures, further echoing Luciferian themes.)

Naively, one might abbreviate Astral Codex Ten as “ACT”, a powerful acronym associated with both social reform and intellectual pursuits: ACT UP was a revolutionary anti-AIDS organization famous for effective protests and directing public attention to HIV treatment and research, just as the ACTs are a standardized exam for students in the United States. Accordingly, one might certainly see the blog as germinating a politically and socially consequential movement of public intellectuals, using the subject of ‘Ṛta’ to catalyze potentially wide-ranging cultural change.

However, Scott himself apparently prefers the abbreviation “ACX”. Kabbalistic analysis here is more subtle. The ‘X’ here, remember, is not English, but a Roman numeral inherited from more ancient empires, emphasizing continuity and inheritance just as “ACT” echoes rebellion and intellectualism. And though Rome is also known for its fall, it is also itself a symbol of law and powerful rulership, directing our attention even more to the monarchical associations with the tenth sephiroit. Once again, we see that although Astral Codex Ten may immediately seem to be in active defiance against earthly powers, deeper readings show fidelity to longer histories and higher truths.

Looking deeper still, we notice that the ‘X’ of “ACX” may not be solely an ‘X’ in the roman alphabet; it is the closest available representation of the Hebrew aleph, ℵ. In Hebrew, we read right-to-left; in English, left to right, and so “ACX” begins with the Alpha/Aleph in both modern English and ancient Hebrew readings. ℵ is also a symbol used by mathematicians to denote precisely understood infinities, most notably in the continuum hypothesis. It is a double-beginning, the Codex flanked by eternity on either side, every Omega revealed to be just another Alpha waiting to enter the world.

None of this is a coincidence, because there are no coincidences.

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amacaronexpert · 19 days ago

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Random Reverse 1999 Scenario (Aleph Edition)

Wouldn’t be funny if like Recoleta, who is a fanfiction writer in the “Modern AU”, introduced Aleph to [Name], who is essentially Recoleta’s literature teacher, and the antics Recoleta would have to endure from Aleph trying to interact with [Name] like it’s a high school crush all over again. Meanwhile [Name] is just confused on how Recoleta’s writing was rapidly improving, unaware that Aleph is Recoleta’s beta reader.

Like imagine, Recoleta, finally found her Beta Reader Aleph, after he recently got out of prison, then the wacky hijinx ensues and meanwhile [Name] becomes concerned about how rapidly Recoleta’s writing is changing and so they try to get Recoleta after class, searching for her, only to see her with a grown man that looks like he just got out of an asylum, and so Recoleta quickly lies and says that he’s a distant relative while Aleph is stunned but also finds [Name] attractive.

So Recoleta, being the wing-girl that she is, and also seeing Aleph acting strange around her literature teacher, (plus an inkling of writing all those fanfics) is a little misguided but she has the spirit of trying to push Aleph and [Name] together. (Whether to observe and write her more romantic fanfics, or just out of the fact that she wants to see an actual romance story play out, she may try to get other characters in the modern AU like Vertin, Urd, or generally any characters that she shares a friendship with to help out Aleph in pursuing [Name].)

Also imagine Recoleta being like “omg they look so cute” while someone like sonetto being all,”That guy has a criminal record….”:

Recoleta seeing her literature teacher being with Aleph: Awww aren’t those two so cute? It’s so innocent and sweet!

Sonetto looking concerned: That man is an ex-convict.. It’s anything but innocent and sweet…

Recoleta: Not with that attitude. Now shush they look like they are about to kiss!!!

The Fanfic writer Recoleta and Beta Reader! Aleph idea comes from ladyhyakinth on tumblr

#aleph #aleph x reader #reverse 1999 x reader #modern au #fanfic writer Recoleta #beta reader aleph #sorry for the long wait: I’m just trying to hook my literature teacher with my beta reader

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werezmastarbucks · 4 months ago

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honey badger

masterlist - part 5 of 6

in which you go on a date with yoongi and he turns out to be literally the best human??? who is surprised?

yoongi x reader

word count: 3073

warnings: yoongi speaking about his scooter incident (i will throw hands)

music: crescent moon by aleph, moonlight by anthony lazaro and marle thomson

You pushed the door, with the other hand struggling to push the disobedient strand oh hair behind your ear. You thought of that one absolutely insane lock of hair that always lies next to Yoongi's ear and got an unsurmountable desire to see it as soon as possible. The bag on your shoulder was heavy with your laptop, papers and folders inside, but you spotted him immediately on the sidewalk. Black cap on his head, but his shoulders were straight today, hands in pockets, head turning right and left: he wanted to be seen. Before you managed to even say hello, you noticed the car he was standing next to:

"Of course".

A thought wormed its way into your skull: how much money exactly does he have? Is it googleable? What do you need to brace yourself for?

"What? It's the best car I have".

You felt timid. Yoongi smiled a little shyly, like before, like he didn't choose to take you to a bubble-tea cafe in a Porsche. The type of car people have sex in. At least that's the stereotype. You craned your neck to look at his left ear, where the black crescent was, and satisfaction washed over you.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Nothing", you smiled, "I really like this".

You braved up and touched the strand of hair, brushed the tip of your finger over his cheek. Yoongi didn't budge, but tensed up a little. He didn't drop his smile though.

"Oh, that. I have full head of that".

"Do you know how many hairs an average human has?" you asked, as he circled the ridiculously slick car, sitting there on the road like an expensive toy, and opened the door for you. People were turning their heads.

"No, how many?"

"I don't know".

As he got into the passenger's seat, he looked at you clutching your bag on your knees and carefully took it from you and put it in the back.

"A million hairs?"

"A billion", you suggested, "billion trillion hairs".

He sighed.

"That would be so hard to brush".

"Very heavy", you agreed. You both grinned. He started the car with that pleasant purr, and the car moved, wheel smooth under his palms. Yoongi took off his cap and threw it in the back, too, shaking his head.

"Have you eaten?"

He was asking all these small questions, like, how was your day? What did you do? How did you sleep? You knew the last question was placed carefully in the end not to sound too concerned, because he definitely remembered. All your body wanted to tense up, sitting in this car, the circumstances of going on a date with a freaking millionaire, but as you glanced at him, every time, the nervousness took a step back. That was a good sign: the sight of Yoongi relaxed you. He drove calmly with a frog face, pulling his lips to the sides, entertained by the road, and chatting with you lightly. He didn't really make a big deal about it, spreading his chill to you, so you found it easy to speak to him.

"I was never good at this", he was finding a word, "switch, you know. When do I get to tell you that you look nice? Why can't I say it when we're just friends?"

You realized you were biting your lip when your eyes were on him, and released it.

"Because there's a code, there's friendship vocabulary, and there's romantic vocabulary".

"But girls tell each other that all the time".

"Do you tell Minji if she looks nice?"

The thought of Minji was still somewhat triggering to him, because he scrunched his nose, like at the unpleasant memory.

"Okay, I get it".

He thought a little.

"But I do, sometimes. She likes to hear it".

"You're a good brother".

"Namjoon forced us to be good brothers to Minji".

He stumbled upon his own thought, undoubtedly thinking about the same thing as you,

"Except Seokjin, of course. What the fuck", he whispered to himself.

"You know, she is much happier than she was last year".

He looked at you as if to check if you're lying.

"Really?"

"Yes".

"I love Jin. I do. He is a good man; but I always believed he only loved himself".

"There's always a Minji", you grinned.

"Let's not talk about them", Yoongi sighed, turning the wheel, and the car started slowing down to the curb. You looked outside.

"Because when Namjoon finds out and starts killing people, I want to pretend I didn't know".

He helped you out of the car, took your hand, and it was gentle and firm. The street was crowded, and he clearly was in a good mood, because then his hand pushed you lightly in the small of your back:

"Run, run!"

You sprinted towards the doors of the cafe; he left the cap in the car. Whether he really wanted to get out of the street, or just played, you went along.

He asked about your work; he pushed a little muffin towards you across the table, that he insisted you eat after the salad you'd ordered; Yoongi had a habit of looking to the side, at the invisible spot in the air, when he spoke about something serious. He didn't know where to put his hands, sitting his elbows on the table, then hiding them, then running his hands through his hair; like what he really wanted to do was to hold yours. But conversation went easily and the understanding you immediately caught back then, in September, was a great foundation for pushing out the awkwardness of a first date. Yoongi managed to immediately understand what you were talking about, and vice versa. You helped him with some English words, and he confessed that he always thought that 'unbearable' is connected with a bear, the animal. More bears, or fewer bears, depending on how hard it is. You told him his imagination was not too far off. You debated with yourself whether it's worth telling him what internal conflict you have, and decided he'd understand, too.

"I was very unwilling to go to the party in the first place", you explained.

"Namjoon's birthday?"

"Yes. And then, just, I have this negative prejudice against idols".

You looked at him honestly. Yoongi didn't seem shaken at all.

"I don't feel like an idol", he said, "I think of myself as a musician. That suits me better. I like music more. I would prefer to just make music, for myself and for people".

"How did you end up in the biggest band in the world then?" hearing this out loud was so scary that you thought, you should run. The way he laughed with only his shoulders stopped you.

"They tricked me. They straight up lied to me and said I will produce music. Next thing I know, I am dancing my ass off and Hoseok is yelling at me".

He bowed his head and scratched his temple, restless hands.

"You treat me like a normal person. Like a human".

"That doesn't happen?"

His eyes searched the space for an answer. It took him a while.

"No".

"What about the other members? It's very clear you are family".

"Yes, but they are all also... not human now. You know? They don't get to do normal things. Buy food in the supermarket", he paused after each sentence, "hold hands with someone".

"Don't you have any free time at all?" you wondered. He shook his head.

"It's not that. We have free time. We are just afraid, always".

You felt so bad for him, for the way the industry crafted them all, granted them with straight, white teeth, smooth skin, ethereal wolfcuts, perfect chins and the desireability of angels, and then severed their drive to live and use all of that. It was worse than claustrophobic, like they were all in chokeholds, all the time. It must be a very narrow path to choose to live like that, a path that only significantly unique people would choose. Yoongi looked at you like he was recording your face with his eyes, with a kind of anxious question, trying to predict what you'd say, what you'd think of him. You realized that he was as scared of you, as you were of his baggage. Then you realized your baggage was maybe lighter, and of different sort, but still nothing to be jovial about. You wanted to lift him up a little. He was, after all, yours for the day, and deserved to smile. It dawned on you that you might no have your happy ever after with him, but today would last for exactly as long as it's supposed to.

You left the cafe quietly happy, the both of you, and he took you home without asking for more. Only, for a second date? You nearly forgot your bag in his labyrinth-like car. He had to dive inside, his ass up, to get it out.

When you fell in love, you hated the way your brain handled it. You'd lose appetite completely, and you'd get very jumpy. You'd get dizzy occasionally, like the room would start spinning. The good side of it this time was, though, that the PTSD symptoms were absolutely rummaged and buried under the new stress factor. Now you couldn't sleep because you were nervous all the time, and not because the sounds of the street scared you. The nightmares changed: instead of the standard car crash, you started getting the weird dream in which you kept falling and falling into pinkish-dark abyss with nothing to hold on to.

You discovered that you could only eat when Yoongi was literally in front of you, like your brain used him as a hook to ground and distract itself. While it admired his face, you could stuff as much food in yourself as you could, replenishing involuntary starvation.

"Oh?" he was a little concerned.

"Why do you not eat?" he immediately pushed another plate towards you. The table was already full of it, but he wanted you to have meat in view.

"I'm too nervous", you replied, your face like a stone, "I think I am falling for you, hard".

You were too adult to mince your words about it. Plus, Yoongi said it first. Nevertheless, he got flustered and lowered his eyes, pouting a little. You noted this reaction.

"You should eat", was all he could muster.

"I am", you replied and put a huge piece of chicken into your mouth. He was chewing his upper lip for a second, then gathered his courage again.

"You are very beautiful when you eat", he said. You froze in your place, in between the two motions of jaws. He shrugged, like, I said what I said, and got to his own plate.

"Only when I eat?"

"No, not only when you eat".

"That's a strange kink to have".

He chucked into his dish and looked up at you.

"You know what I meant", then: "have you thought about a cat?"

You nodded,

"I keep postponing, I don't know, why. I have a stable job, really, I am just being cowardly about it. I just have to get a pet, a lizard, a rat, whatever".

"What's your favorite animal?" he asked. You didn't need to think even a second:

"Honey badger".

Yoongi made a face.

"Huh? What's that?"

He took out his phone and googled because the picture just didn't click in his head.

"Aah. He looks like... that... you know Hugh Jackman movie?"

"Yes, wolverine. Fun fact: the characterization of Wolverine in the comics and the movies is more suitable for a honey badger rather than a wolverine. Honey badgers are the psychopaths of the animal world. They will fight whoever, whenever, and they are incredibly tough. It's almost impossible to kill them. Some of them have such thick skin that some bullets can't pierce it. Also", you pointed the chopstick at him. Yoongi was listening with his perfect mouth open,

"The skin of a honey badger is not connected to its... uh, flesh? and muscles, so it can twist inside its own skin. If a tiger grabs it with the teeth by the neck, honey badger can twist and turn around and bite the tiger in the face. They are incredibly tough. They are savage. They are great survivalists".

He nodded, impressed.

"I thought you'd say a cat, or a butterfly, but I like it".

"What is yours, Yoongi?" He shook his head,

"Y/N, I haven't thought about his since high school. I have no idea. I love Holly".

"I don't see him much anymore", you complained, "why don't you take him with you?"

Yoongi looked caught up. He opened his mouth and stared above you.

"About that... I, ugh, had to take him to parents. They really... I decided that I travel too much, and just, constantly moving him is not good".

"Oh", you got upset, "I thought you'd ask to babysit him again sometime".

"I'm sorry. My mom also asked to see him. They really wanted him. He's very popular", he looked guilty.

"Alright", you sighed, "where do your parents live?"

"In Daegu. It's about three hours away from Seoul".

"Oh, long way".

"I like driving. I missed driving", he said, brushing his hand across his face, and smiled a little, hiding something in between his lips.

"Have you heard about it?"

You shook your head no.

"Oh right, you weren't here at the time". Yoongi's face changed to amused expression.

"I fell off a scooter and had my license revoked for two years".

"Electric scooter?" you clarified, shocked.

"Yes, I was a little drunk. I scarred my knee a little".

You chuckled.

"Dammit, some laws here are very tough. Dude, people who find it criminal wouldn't survive a day in Europe".

His smile was big and unsure. You gave him a long look.

"What?"

"I don't know if you want to hear this, with your hatred of the industry".

"Go on".

"People started sending me death threats and In was almost kicked out of the band".

"Sorry, what? For falling off an electric scooter?"

Yoongi laughed now. He was laughing now, but the tone of this laugh clearly showed what he had to go through to be able to laugh now.

"It's tough. It was tough. But I got my license back".

"So, you get it every time you do anything out of the ordinary", you concluded. He nodded. Right before your eyes, the missing pieces of the puzzle were joining and completing the picture. His quiet stoicism was coming through clearly now, explaining why he was so patient with his life and people around. Yoongi finished his glass of beer and said,

"The first time when we had a girl in our music video, we were boycotted for half a year, and lost nominations for MAMA".

You covered your ears with your hands because you wanted to unhear this.

"But it helps you to understand how to navigate in this world. It builds the character, you know, things like that".

"Hatred and death threats?"

He nodded,

"Yes. It always helped me work. You know, are you listening to music here while we're here?"

You nodded. The soft, toned down soundtrack from the radio was playing on the background, flowing from one song into another.

"We've been here, how much, an hour?" he looked at his phone for time, "Seven songs played, that I wrote".

It was nice to see him unlock this side. Yoongi's arms were resting calmly on the edge of the table. Even if he was trying to impress, you felt he had a full right. It weaved a meaningful message. It made you change the lense through which you viewed him.

"You are a honey badger", you realized. His eyes lit up a little, pleased with the unexpected words.

"That's crazy".

He lifted way more than eighty, that's what he meant. You hoped he understood that you'd never forget it, too. There was previously absent determination in his look, a shade of pride. Paired with the salmon-pink of his superior smile, it was almost completely irresistible.

You decided to walk off the weight of food after dinner. Your heels clicked rythmically on the sidewalk as Yoongi walked beside you. When he held the door for you, he took your hand to help you step over the threshold and never released it. He got tired of speaking about himself, quite pleased with the bomb equivalent of information he gave you, and switched to you, acting petulant if you asked something back. His dark cat eyes begged you to remove himself from the conversation as he silently gushed over you.

You walked to the river and took to the embankment. It reminded you of the night you walked with Holly in the dark park, and you told Yoongi about it. He smiled with the corner of his mouth, his long hair covering his eyes. You touched his right shoulder as the memory of his trauma came back, too. You were learning about his silent cues. He didn't lean forward but didn't flinch either, like a statue that craved to be in contact. As you approached a curve in the road, Yoongi's hand suddenly slid across your waits, and he lifted you up with his strong right hand. With that, he sat you onto the parapet. You adjusted the skirt of your bodycon dress to release your knees, and Yoongi stepped closer, holding you in place.

"Aren't I supposed to face river?" you asked. Yoongi stepped to your side, putting your knees against his hip.

"No", he said simply. The halo of dark-green trees behind him. May was swinging its heavy summer bat. The river smelt of grass and earth, giving strange, home-like comfort. Yoongi's hands were resting on your sides securing you in your place so that you wouldn't move, like he was aiming for surgical accuracy. Your lips touched his open plump mouth, and immediately you bit him, because you wanted to do it for the longest time, maybe even on the first day as you met him and his local pout. Maybe you should've thrown yourself at him back there at the bar, while you were in your SPOILT top, and he, in his full black mourning attire. Maybe he would've even refused to push you away.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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mystery-star · 4 years ago

Text

(K)night in Black Armor (Part 16) – Spock (Mobster!AU)

Pairing: Spock x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, implied smut, mentions of antisemitism and holocaust, mentions of death, murder and torture

Words: 3889

All parts: Series Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the Series taglist!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms.

Somehow you had never liked falling asleep next to a customer. Because then they could do whatever they wanted and you could not always react in time. So, when you woke up you got pretty mad at yourself for allowing yourself to fall asleep. But somehow, something was different this time. You opened your eyes and almost jumped when you noticed how close you were to the man next to you. And only then your tired mind comprehended what was really going on. You were not at the Stella and the man beside you was not a customer. He was your husband. With a smile you snuggled closer to him but that seemed to have woken him.

“Sorry” you whispered, tracing your fingers over his lips “I didn’t want to wake you”

“It is alright. I hope you slept well”

“Yeah, I did. Very much so. Somehow I can’t really believe that yesterday really happened” you brought your left hand with the wedding right in front of your eyes and stared at it with a smile.

“It is real and I am happy about that” he slowly rubbed his face and sat up, while you stretched yourself and then did the same.

“Part of me is hungry and I could eat all your food but on the other hand I never want to leave your bed”

“It is time you started to use the word ‘our’”

“What?”

“It is not just ‘my’ house anymore. Neither is it ‘my’ furniture or ‘my’ food. From now on, everything belongs to you as well” you giggled

“I don’t think you’d like it if I went into your sever room and stole one of your server-computers”

“Very well, anything that has not to do with Azienda business is yours and you may use it if you want as long it are not personal items”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to interfere in your business anyway. I might end up getting myself arrested or killed”

“Both options have no appeal to me” you chuckled and snuggled closer.

“Somehow I can’t believe you’re my husband now. I’d have never thought I’d marry and until yesterday I didn’t realize what it truly means”

“As I have told you many times, our marriage does not need to change anything between us”

“Well, it did ‘change’ one thing. We had sex” you chuckled “But how did you like it? I mean it was your first time after all”

“I have not really considered how it would be, yet I was pleasantly surprised” he pressed a kiss to your forehead “Besides, I now will not need to endure any more jokes from Jim or Bones about the fact I have never slept with someone”

“Or they might start to make jokes that you slept with someone now” you pecked his cheek and smiled “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly”

“Well, your tattoos” you ran a hand over the rounded arrowhead with two pointed ends at the bottom, located on his chest “What do they mean?”

“They show to which mafia family I belong to”

“Oh” he moved his hand over yours, to the one under his collarbone

“This is the logo of the Azienda and everyone who is at least a soldier has the right to get it but it is no obligation” then his hand moved yours over to the one that looked like a mirrored pi sign on his right arm. “And this is a symbol I have gotten because I have been part of the Vulcano family”

“And why is the pi mirrored?” he frowned

“I have never considered that it could be mistaken for this but you are correct, it does have similarities with it. However, it is actually the Hebrew letter Taw”

“Hebrew?”

“Yes. For some Jews, it has a special meaning since it is the last letter of the alphabet and there is a saying ‘from aleph to taw’, which means as much as ‘from the beginning to the end’. However, since not all people have joined our family from the beginning, the aleph is not included and only the end since the only way to leave a family is to die. Besides, Taw is the first letter of the Thora, the holy book of the Jews and the last letter in the word ‘emet’ which means truth”

“So this Taw has a great meaning in Jewish culture?”

“I would not say that it is the letter with the most meaning but your assumption is correct”

“So the Vulcanos were a Jewish family and not just your own family is?”

“Indeed. The first of them have fled Italy in the late 1930ies”

“Because Hitler’s friend was in charge there and prosecuted Jews too?”

“It was not as bad as it was in Germany, however, Mussolini has taken some measures against Jews as well. He has only more or less thought that foreign Jews should leave the country or should be denied privileges. There has already been a war against the Mafia about ten years prior to this and when the Sicilian Mafia found they should take care of the Jewish Mafia themselves, the family has fled to America”

“Do you think that this Nero has destroyed your family because they were Jewish? When you say that they’re Italian and that Italians didn’t like foreign Mafias?”

“I cannot say but I am certain it has been a reason he chose our family too, yes. But often family feuds reach much deeper than one can think” you gave a small nod.

“I hope Nero did suffer when he was killed”

“We made sure of that”

“Good” you let out a yawn and rubbed your face against his chest “I’m hungry. We should get breakfast”

“Indeed” he said, running a hand through your hair and you sat up, rubbing your face. You left the bed and noticed that you had no clothes here, except for your wedding dress which you eyed critically. “Do you need something?”

“I should get some clothes from downstairs. Or can I borrow something from you? After all you said I could use anything I wanted”

“Of course” you went to his wardrobe and scanned his shirts, then picked out a light grey one and slipped it over your head before you went to look where you had tossed your panties to yesterday. You heard him curse from the bed and turned to him

“Is something wrong?”

“If you keep wearing that jumper, I might rip it off your body and take you again, no matter where we are at the moment. If you take it off, however, I doubt we would be able to leave the bedroom in a foreseeable time”

“No” you said “I’m hungry. How about we go downstairs, me wearing your jumper and after we ate, you can tear it off me and fuck me right on the table?” you kissed the corner of his mouth “How does that sound?”

“Agreeable”

Since Spock had said he wanted to go shopping with you, you had to get changed again. Although you wanted to keep his jumper on, you knew it wouldn’t come good because he’d be distracted. All during breakfast his eyes had been on you and once the table had finally been cleaned he had already pressed you against it and was kissing your neck. To your surprise he had not even taken off the jumper because he had insisted that it looked too good.

“What did you want to buy?” you asked when you were in the car.

“Just a few things. I suppose that we should get you a phone as well”

“A phone? You mean a cellphone?”

“Yes”

“Oh that sounds great” of course you had never been in an electro store before and you eyed everything with great interest. They even had a huge collection of DVDs in front of which you spent quite a lot of time to see if you found something that interested you. But when Spock called you, you hesitatingly got up and went looking for him until you found him in the section with phones.

“Do you see one that you like?” you shrugged and made a tour through the aisle, touching certain of the phones or taking them into your hand. You really had no clue what to take but once you found one with a very beautiful color gradient at the back, you instantly fell in love.

“This one is nice” you said, pointing at it. He came closer and inspected it, reading the details to the product on the paper

“It is a very cheap model that has only little features”

“But I like the colors”

“We can ask if the other brands have different colors as well”

“But do they have a gradient too?”

“That I do not know, however, they will have many other advantages such as better performance or more storage”

“They’re the same size. How can they be able to store more?”

“It has to do with the compartments built in it, they have better quality”

“Yes but then also the photos you make or whatever will need more place to be saved, right? It’s like you want to put an elephant in a church or a mouse in a carton”

“I understand your reasoning, yet the data is not that different, therefore more storage is clearly an obvious advantage”

“But I don’t see the more storage. But I see the colors and I like them”

“We should get you a protecting cover for the phone anyways, then you will not see the colors either”

“But I can remove the cover and see them. But I can’t open up the phone to see the better quality”

“What would you use the phone for?”

“To call the Stella, call you, play games, maybe read something, take photos”

“To what extend would you wish to do said things?”

“Phew, I don’t know… mostly call or pass time. But no idea in which way. I mean I also got the tablet but it’s a bit big to carry around all the time”

“I suppose you have no issue with the black tablet?”

“No, I also don’t have a problem with the black phones but I would like one with a gradient” you heard him sigh “Or can you put the good stuff from another side inside this one? Or give the good one this back cover?”

“I doubt this will be possible. But as I said, how about we ask what other colors the different brands and models come in and then we might order you a cover according to your wishes? Because you can always see the cover”

“Hm. Which phone do you have?” you asked after walking away “One of those?” you pointed at the Apple phones on display.

“The model I have is not here”

“But I want the same like you. Or this one” you pointed back to your favorite phone.

“We need to ask if the model I have is still for sale”

“But you bought it, so it has to be”

“If a new model comes out, they often stop selling older ones”

“But that makes no sense. What if someone wants still the old one?”

“This is very rare. Everyone wishes to have the newest and best model”

“Does new always mean better? Besides isn’t that very expensive?”

“I suppose this is the point, to earn money” you sighed

“But then you again spend so much money for me”

“May I help you?” a seller who came asked

“Yes, do you have other phones with such a gradient?”

“I would need to check the catalogue, maybe we can order you one. What brand or model would you like?”

“I don’t know. One like his” he pointed at Spock who pulled out his phone and already told the seller that maybe it wasn’t for sale anymore.

“I’d need to look that up but it is likely that it’s not on sale anymore. Any other preferences?”

“No idea. I only know there is Samsung, Apple or a Nokia” before you knew it, Spock was pattering all advantages and disadvantages of each brand.

“However, you yourself must decide what is important to you”

“Meh. Not helping. I don’t care about anything that has to do with technology but I like the Android thing where you have more apps, especially for free. That sounds fun.”

“Then perhaps you should rather chose an Android phone”

“But won’t you be mad?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I heard that people who use Apple don’t like anything else”

“I see that both operating systems have their advantages but for a cellphone, iOS holds more advantages for me and my business. The whole situation is different, however, when it comes to computers and servers. Because there Windows is more convenable than Mac devices for our purposes”

“Ah” you gave a nod and started studying the Samsung models more carefully “Do they have gradient colors?” you asked

“She really seems to want a gradient one then” the seller said “How about a cover with a gradient?”

“How about a phone and a cover with a gradient?” you countered and you thought to have seen your husband wince. Also the seller tried to tell you about the advantages of a ‘better’ phone “First of all, who decides what is better? Secondly, how can I be sure that you not just want me to get a better phone so that we pay more?”

“No, it is my job to optimally advise our customers if they wish”

“Well, we didn’t actually wish to be advised”

“(Y/N)” Spock said and you instantly knew that you probably shouldn’t have said that

“But you’re both trying to make be buy something I don’t want”

“(Y/N)” he took your hands in his “I do not try to persuade you to do anything, I solely want to show you other options. If you truly want this phone and are convinced that you will like it, then we will buy it. We can even counteract the storage shortage by buying an SD card as well so that you can save more data.”

“Now that does sound great” the seller said as he winked at you

“Yes, it does” you said, not really knowing what an SD card was but obviously Spock thought it was good, so you found that you could get one. As long as you got the phone you wanted “I can’t wait to call the others at the Stella and tell them” you said as the seller opened the small cupboard to get you the phone and you held out your hand for the box. “But it’s black” you said

“The boxes look all the same for each model” he pointed at a number on the etiquette that was identical with the one on the product info paper “But on the inside they have the right color”

“Who says that? Maybe they mixed up the boxes?”

“That won’t happen because all the different colors have different barcodes and they are scanned so everyone always knows which phone is where”

“But what if there still is the wrong phone inside?”

“Then we will get a refund”

“Good” you gave a nod and received the box from the salesman who then offered to help you find a good SD card so that you then could take care of the paperwork. The only nice part of the paperwork turned out to be one part where you could choose out of five different phone numbers “Look, there’s one with 69 at the end. I want that one” you giggled and took Spock’s hand. He took everything onto himself so that he would be responsible for the factures and paperwork, which you were glad about because you had no idea what they even were talking about. Finally, he paid and then handed you the little bag with your things and you had to bite back a squeal. You bid the seller goodbye and he started leading you outside again. Instead of going to the car, you headed towards a little café, but before you ordered something, he got up again

“There is something I need to take care of. Please promise me to stay here”

“Business?”

“Yes” you gave a nod and he leant closer “In case anything happens, I slipped a knife into the bag with your phone. Use it if you have to” you glanced at him but nodded again, looked after him after he left. When he was gone, you had a look into the bag and swallowed when you saw the knife. Instead, you took out the box with your phone and opened it. A part of you was relieved when you saw that it was indeed the one with the gradient you had seen but the bad surprise came, when you tried to turn it on, it did not work. You let out a huff and turned it in your hand, considering what you should do. Something told you that the best option was to go back to the store and demand a refund. Or better said a working phone. Since no one had taken your order yet, you decided to get up and return to the store to do so. You hurried out of the café before a waiter saw you and then walked back to the shop, where you waited at the register for a couple of minutes until it was your turn. But as you started to explain what the problem was, the man pointed at another counter at the back of the shop

“Please address yourself to the customer care” you glanced at him but gave a nod, biting back a groan when you saw that you had to wait in line again. After you had listened to the most stupid stories, such as the guy who made a scene because the delivery company had damaged the package and demanded a refund, it finally was your turn

“Hi uh…” you started, then placed the phone on the counter “I was here a short while ago and bought this phone with my husband but it doesn’t work”

“What exactly doesn’t work?”

“Well I can’t switch it on” you pressed the button “see? Nothing happens” the woman took the phone to examine it

“Can you tell me what you did? For how long have you charged it?”

“Charge?”

“Did you not charge it?”

“No, we’ve only been here about ten minutes ago, Spock brought me to a café and I came here because I couldn’t turn it on”

“Ma’am, if you buy a new device, you need to charge it first so that you can just it for the first time”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, maybe for security reasons or because it is not the companies job to charge them”

“But how can they test them then?”

“I’m not even sure if they do that”

“So they just sell broken phones too? It really is just about the money then for these companies!”

“I admit that it is not very good but at times it just happens. But then the customer will get a refund, if it truly was the manufacturer’s fault”

“Okay, so if I charge it at home and then it still doesn’t work, we can come back again to get a refund? Or could I just get a new phone then? Because I really like the color gradient on this one”

“Of course but I’m certain that once you have charged it for about 30 minutes, you will be able to use it normally. If not, you can come back anytime and we’ll see what we can do”

“Okay” you gave a nod and considered if it was a good idea to ask if you could charge your phone right here. After all, you wanted to try it out as soon as possible.

“Are you done?” a woman behind you snorted

“I uh… probably”

“Then move on. Some people have an actual problem and aren’t just stupid”

“I’m not stupid! It’s just something I couldn’t know since I never bought something like this!” you crossed your arms and walked away.

“Your phone” the person behind the counter called and you turned back around to grab it and then put it back into your bag, letting out a huff. It was good to hear that it wasn’t broken but who knew…. As it appeared the woman’s ‘problem’ was that her delivery was two days late and you considered if you should throw something at her. Since you were here again, you decided to look at the movies again, after all you had to stop earlier when Spock had called you to choose a phone. For a long while you had a look at all the DVDs, not sure if you should buy some or not, until you suddenly heard someone call your name and you turned around.

“Just a second, Spock, there are so many movies here”

“(Y/N). What have I told you upon arriving in the café?”

“That you had to take care of something businessy?”

“And what did I ask you to do?”

“Oh right. You wanted me to wait there. Sorry but I noticed that the phone wasn’t working so I went back here to get a refund and all because I thought I could do that myself. Then I forgot to go back and that I had to wait there. Are you mad?”

“I am only relieved that you are safe”

“Okay”

“But please promise to listen to me in the future. I want you to be safe and sometimes when you do what you want, you could get into danger” he placed a hand on your shoulder “And I suppose that neither of us wants this” you shook your head

“But if you ever tell me to leave you behind somewhere or something, I don’t think I could do that. It would feel wrong to get away” he pulled you closer

“Then let us just hope something like this will never happen”

“Can we go home? I want to charge the phone and try it out”

“I was thinking that we could buy you some other items as well”

“Like?”

“A blanket and a pillow. Only if you want to continue sleeping in the same bed as me”

“Oh right that makes sense. Can I also choose a nice bedding?”

Somehow you were extremely tired once you arrived home and you didn’t mind that Spock had taken your phone to himself because he had to set it up first before you could have it. While he took care of this you were moving your things into his bedroom as well and saw to it that you could use your own blanket with the flower bedding you had gotten today as well. But once you were done, you suddenly felt the need to use your phone anyway, so you went downstairs and knocked at his office door, asking how long it would take.

“I suppose it will be fully charged in about 20 minutes”

“Okay. I think I’ll see what we can have for dinner in the meantime. And then I will use my phone and call my friends at the Stella”

Taglist: @love-wanderlust15, @chenellearose, @softsapphic-softdom, @softsapphicideals, @poemfreak306

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock series #mobster spock #mafia #mafia au #mobster au #mob au #spock imagine

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