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yasministration · 6 months ago

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(Not so) Friendly competition - Regulus Black

summary: Sirius asks out Reggie's best friend, and he is so bothered by it that he has to finally tell her how he feels. wc: 2.1k+

When Regulus saw Sirius leaning against the wall with his signature flirty smile right outside your transfigurations class, he literally felt his blood boil. You were holding your books close to your chest, laughing at something the older Black brother said. Regulus felt his jaw clench, a resenting glare on his face. He had sped walked all the way from his History of Magic class so he could walk with you down to potions, like he did every single week, only to find you with the one person he avoided at all cost.

Regulus didn’t understand why Sirius was speaking to you, and especially not why he was flirting with you. You were Regulus’s best friend, and everyone in this castle knew that, so why would Sirius deliberately cross paths with Regulus just to speak to you, when he could have any other girl in the castle? Regulus tried resting his face, though he found it to be a lot harder than expected. Instead, he puffed his chest out, confidently strolling over to where you stood with his brother. He intentionally avoided looking at Sirius while saying “Hey. You ready to go?” You smiled widely at Regulus’s presence, a relieved look on your face. You shifted your books to one arm, using your now free hand to slither down to Regulus’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his. You noted the way his face instantly softened, and you were sure Sirius did too. You turned to the older brother, smiling gently at him before letting Regulus drag you away from him.

Sirius watched your retreating form, sighing when Remus pushed himself off the wall behind him, commenting “Well that didn’t go too well, did it?” Sirius scoffed, turning to face his friends “She only pretended not to be interested because of Regulus. You can tell she wanted to smile.” Remus and James just stared back at Sirius unconvincingly. “Like, really smile.” He didn’t know when his affection for you started, but he never missed a shot at someone he liked. Even if you were his brother’s best friend, and perhaps crush. His brother, whose relationship with has deteriorated to almost nothing since he left the household. Behind him, Remus shot James a concerned look, before saying “Sirius, she held his hand!”

You were slightly concerned about Regulus, and his silence as he walked with you to class. You rubbed your thumb in circles on the soft skin of Regulus’s hand, hoping to slightly calm him down. Regulus was quiet all throughout your class, though you felt his eyes on you while you were taking notes down. His eyes bored into your side, as though trying to read your mind. He didn’t take the lead when you were brewing your potion together, which was unusual for him. He listened to you read out the instructions, and more than once asked you to repeat yourself due to his lack of attention. He just had so many questions. At the end of class, Regulus didn’t even realise class was over until you stood up, packing your things away, and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Regulus jumped up, scurrying to follow you out of the potions classroom, just a few minutes from the common room.

He followed you through the hallways and into the open portrait to the common room, sitting down next to you on the leather couch in front of the fireplace. Regulus felt your hesitation, mouth opening and closing before you finally asked “Everything okay?” Which triggered Regulus’s string of questions. “Why was Sirius talking to you? Was he flirting with you? No, why was he flirting with you? Did he want anything from you?” You put your hand over his, debating on whether you should tell him the truth or not.

Sirius was walking with Remus and James, debriefing the result of their most recent prank when he caught sight of you walking out of your lesson. He fixed his posture, calling out “Hey y/n!” You were obviously surprised by the call of your name from the boy, a look of confusion overtaking your features. You seriously considered ducking your head down and walking past the Black brother, but he already managed to strut over to you, leaning his side on the wall right in front of you. You blinked a couple of times, muttering “Black.” The boy had ran his eyes over your body, biting his bottom lip softly as he landed his gaze on your eyes. You had furrowed your eyebrows, glancing behind him towards Lupin and Potter, who were intently staring at your interaction. “Hey, you should hang out with us. We’d definitely appreciate someone with your beauty and presence. And, well, we’d be way better company than Regulus and your group of little Slytherin friends.”

Well, he definitely fumbled that one, he realised, by the way your eyebrows raised, face sporting an unimpressed look. “Because there’s nothing a girl appreciates more than someone insulting her friends.” Sirius raised his hands in surrender, adding “That came out wrong. Look, I think you're amazing. Would you go out with me?” You laughed in shock, eyes lighting up with amusement. You looked to your side, expecting a friend beside you so you could immediately make fun of the situation, but instead, you spotted Regulus on the other side of the room, glaring at the both of you. You looked back at Sirius and cocked your head to the side, a smile on your face. “No. I don’t think I will.” Sirius’s face fell, and he straightened up insecurely. “No?” You hummed, glancing to your side just in time for Regulus to pop up next to you. Oh thank goodness, you sighed.

“I don’t know why he was flirting with me.” You answered, and you saw Regulus’s jaw clench at your response. “I mean, well.” You inhaled sharply and smiled softly, trying not to overshare, but Regulus had already caught the fact that you were hiding something. “Well?” You pouted, lifting up Regulus’s hand and lacing your fingers through his. “Don’t get mad.” You pleaded, before adding “He asked me out.” You could see the redness travel up Regulus’s neck in anger. “I said no.” you whispered, hoping it would make him feel better. You cupped his jaw, watching closely as he placed a hand over yours on his face, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply. Regulus moved his head away from your hand slightly, just so he had enough space to press a kiss on your palm. You felt your cheeks heat up, leaning closer to Regulus and brushing a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to get angry. He just, he makes me mad. I don’t get why he’d ask you out. Even if he liked you!” He raised his voice, hands raised in confusion, before slumping back against the couch. “Even if he does like you, I don’t know why he would try to steal you from me when he can have anyone else.” You leaned forward, moving a strand of hair from Regulus’s face to press a kiss on his forehead. “He couldn’t steal me from you if he tried, Reg.” You reassured him, straightening up on the couch and opening a textbook in front of you.

Regulus observed you while you started up on your pre-reading for your next lesson, waiting until you were engrossed in the textbook, lifting up your wand to practice a spell, before he began his journey up to the Gryffindor common room. It wasn’t long until he finally reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, his fury allowing his legs to carry him at a faster pace than usual. But to be fair, nothing seemed usual about today. He waited in front of the portrait until a group of young boys finally walked up to the common room. “Hey!” Regulus snapped, catching the entire groups attention. “You,” He started, nodding at the boy at the front of the group. “Get me Sirius Black.” The poor boy frantically nodded, muttering the password to the common room before running through the big gap in the portrait.

It didn’t take long for Sirius to appear, a cocky smile on his face as he took in the view of his younger brother. “Regulus Black.” He greeted, opening his arms in welcome. Regulus trudged towards him, grabbing his older brother by the collar and pushing him back against the wall, seething “What the fuck is your problem?” Sirius threw his hands up in surrender, saying “Hey, calm down.” “Calm down!? You decide to ask out my best friend after not even speaking to me for five years, and you want me to calm down?”

“Mate, she literally laughed in my face when I asked her out, so yeah, I’d expect you to be calm.” Regulus loosened his grip on Sirius’s collar at the new information, but tightened it once more when he remembered why he was there. “That doesn’t fucking matter. You made the decision to walk out of my life, so stick with it. Stay away from my friends and stop fucking with my life.” Regulus spat, pushing Sirius into the wall as he let go of him, turning away from him and beginning his route to the common room.

When Regulus finally returned to the common room, he didn’t find you in your spot on the couch, and your things were gone. Regulus sighed, running his hands over his hair and making his way to his dorm. When he turned the knob to his dorm, pushing the door open, his eyes widened, finding you sat on his bed with your legs crossed. He says your name once, watching you watch him. “I heard something interesting.” You mumbled, standing up. Regulus’s eyes widened, and he immediately cursed whatever power allowed gossip at Hogwarts to travel faster than he could. “Did you?” He asked, his breath trembling. “Regulus, did you seriously wait for me to start studying to go yell at your brother? You know I would’ve loved to come with you.” Regulus laughed in nervous relief, dropping his head down to look at the floor. “Tell me what’s really wrong.” You whispered, taking both his hands in yours. Regulus took a step toward you, close enough to rest his forehead against yours, and he shyly mumbled “I like you.” You stepped away from Regulus, looking at him with an amused smile.

“Regulus, you think I don’t know that?” The boy’s cheeks flushed at the revelation, his face turning rosy. “I know you like me. I’m just more disappointed that you don’t know I like you too.” Regulus’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “For fuck’s sake, Reg. I thought you were upset for some other reason, not because you like me. That’s, that’s-” Regulus cut you off “So you’ve known I like you, and you like me back, and you haven’t done anything about it?” Your eyes softened, and you almost looked at him with pity. “I thought you knew too.” Regulus let go of both your hands, cupping your jaw, eyes slipping from your eyes to your lips. “Well since I know now.” He mumbled, and you trailed your hands up to his chest as he began to lean in. When your lips finally connected, you felt a surge of passion flow between you. Regulus slid his tongue into your mouth, and one of your hands fell from his chest so you could hook a finger in his belt hoop and pull him closer to you. Regulus’s lips separated from yours with a loud squelching sound, and you immediately burst into a fit of giggles that had Regulus blushing deeply, and mumbling “What?” Though he had a matching smile on his face, and was pulling you even closer to him by his grip on your waist. He pecked your smiling lips, and you chased his kiss, throwing your arms over his shoulders to pull him closer.

A few days later, when Sirius was making his way to his Potions lesson, he turned the hallway to find your back pressed against the wall, passionately making out with his younger brother who has his hips pressed against yours, arms locking you between him and the wall. Your hands were cupping Regulus’s jaw, lips melding with his. Sirius abruptly stopped in his tracks, and he huffed silently, looking away with disgust when he caught a glimpse of your tongues moving against each other. Sirius put his head down, walking past you both, and it was only then that Regulus separated from you, a knowing smile on his face.

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auroracalisto · 6 months ago

Note

Hey can you do a fiyero x reader where the reader is afraid of being vulnerable and he helps them?

yes, superfartninja, i think i can.

to be changed.

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 3.4k words summary: to be vulnerable meant to be defenseless. it was a liability and that's all it ever would be. fiyero couldn't have that, now could he? a/n: please remember that i only have movie knowledge, so this will be based solely on what i saw in the movie. :P also, shout outs to house song by searows (was on repeat for this fic). erm. this kind of got away from me. i started it was 12 AM and now it's nearly 2 AM. hope it's coherent.

It wasn't like you to be vulnerable. It just didn't happen. It was like... asking a fish or an elephant to climb a tree, or some other weird analogy that you heard oh-so-long ago, when vulnerability aged you more than it helped.

To be vulnerable meant to be hurt. To be ridiculed, to be laughed at, to be made a fool in front of anyone who cared to look your way. It was something that you knew was not needed. You would be fine living by yourself. You came into this world alone and screaming, and you would leave this world the same way.

If you cut out the wound before it began to fester, you solved the problem immediately. Or so they say.

So that's what you did, long ago, when you swore to yourself that the pain you felt would be the very last time. It would never happen again. It couldn't happen again.

Oh, Oz, it couldn't. Your heart couldn't take it.

What was left of your heart, anyway. Sometimes you feared you no longer had one, especially when you feared the pain that would haunt you if someone else came along and made you feel that way again.

It's not that you were afraid. No, fear of being vulnerable was foolish. At least... you believed that you weren't afraid of being vulnerable.

Perhaps that was an act of foolishness in itself. Pretending that you weren't afraid. Pretending that having few friends and few moments of happiness didn't pierce your heart with every passing second.

Perhaps you needed to be better. To be vulnerable, to swear off that silly promise you made to yourself so many years ago.

But it was so difficult.

Being vulnerable was to be in pain. To be lost to a world of sorrow. To be... hurt by the very thing you swore you'd never be hurt by again.

It wouldn't happen.

You wouldn't let it.

He existed in the back of your mind. His beautiful blue eyes, the way those pretty locks fell in front of his eyes when he actually studied his books (if he ever did, of course).

When was the last time he actually tried...? No. You couldn't think of him like that. Too much thinking about his pretty face would ruin you.

You had only talked to him a few times here and there, and the first time was to merely ask him to move out of the way. He took up quite a lot of space—or at least, maybe it was his confidence. It oozed from him like an air of upmost superiority.

No...

You were just being cruel. He was just standing in the way, out of breath from singing to Galinda in the library (because of course—who didn't sing to pretty girls in libraries anymore?).

The second time you spoke to him was over the essay you had to write in your literature class. Peer reviews were the bane of your existence, and this essay, because of course it did, had a simple prompt in response to one of your readings: Taking into account the author's sheer disdain for the idea of magic, write what you believe Oz would be like without magic.

Thought-provoking, yes. You wrote a decent two pages, handwritten of course.

He gave you a paragraph.

If the world of Oz existed without magic, perhaps we would all be better off. No more bickering over the usages of it all, no more idiosyncrasies, no more debates on whether you are intelligent or mediocre if you hadn't the ability to wave a wand or utter a simple spell. If we didn't have magic, perhaps life would be far more difficult, but I also feel as if we should see what it would be like. Maybe there would be less heartbreak. More happiness to go around.

Okay. A piss-poor paragraph that made you wonder how he was even passing Madame Lillabet's literature class.

Maybe he wasn't.

You didn't feel pity for the man—nobility had the ability to do so many things that you would only ever dream of. Why should you feel pity—vulnerability—for a man you didn't know, let alone understood?

Oz, even now, his essay haunted you. You did your best with your review, pointing out the obvious things missing—a decent thesis, body paragraphs that proved his thesis, and just in general, an entire essay that was expected of the entire class.

He merely read over your essay and made one simple comment: Excellent.

Oh, yes, excellent. It was excellent to know that he was just trying to help your essay, yes? Leaving that little comment, even though you didn't make full marks—how was it supposed to help you?

Pity be damned. He was a fool, through and through.

Things muddled in your mind like they often did. Thoughts racing, heartbeat close behind the quick pace.

If you had magic, you'd be sure to quell it.

These thoughts were the one thing that you wished you could squash under the heel of your boot. They were the bane of your existence, the utterance of a foolhardy penance to the god of whatever looked down upon you and wished for pain.

Perhaps that was what was meant for you.

A life of pain—of pity from others, of the amenability to be swayed by those around you even when you tried, desperately, to stay away from those who may catch your attention.

Like him.

Oh, Oz, just like him.

Fiyero.

The man who'd lose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders. The man who once told you in passing that if he hadn't a brain, perhaps classes would be easier—then he wouldn't truly be all there, and he'd easily get around the... well, specifics of it all. The man whom you felt tugging at your heartstrings, even when you told yourself no.

It would not happen.

It could not happen.

You would not let it.

In typical, terrible luck fashion, you found yourself wandering the halls of Shiz late at night, unable to sleep. The thoughts racing through your head of so many things, not just him (although they kept leading back to the fool), they just weren't stopping.

An exam was to be held tomorrow. Perhaps you could create a distraction—keep the professors from being able to do as they needed. There were a box of fireworks hidden in one of the many corridor closets, kept for special occasion. You could whip a few of them out and create so much chaos that they'd surely have to cancel the exam!

You leaned against the railing, looking down at the stonework of Shiz's courtyard. A chill ran down your spine from the cold breeze, and for once, all was silent if only for a moment.

His voice brought you out from your thoughts.

"Y/n," he said, an obvious smile playing at his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut and glanced back at him. Without saying a word, you acknowledged him.

"Doesn't look like your dorm," he continued. "What are you doing out here, all alone?"

"Thinking."

His eyebrow quirked. "Thinking? Oh," he softly hummed, coming to stand beside of you. "Well, that's no fun, now is it? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

He snorted softly. "You're thinking about... nothing?"

"Whatever I'm thinking is none of your business," you retorted.

He stared you down for a moment, tilting his head curiously. He hummed again and looked out at where you had been staring moments prior.

"You are right," he softly said, voice much quieter this time. "Let me lead you back to your room. We have an exam tomorrow, remember? You at least need to pretend to sleep."

You paused. Since when did he care about exams? You glanced at him, fighting the urge to question him. You let out a soft sigh and shrugged, allowing him to lead you to your dorm.

The walk was quiet, and you almost questioned how he knew where your dorm was, but you didn't. He seemed to pay attention better than most (it was part of that aloofness, you've noticed), and it wasn't the first time he had seen you near your dorm.

It was at least the third. The number had to be easy to memorize by now. 133.

As you opened your door, Fiyero spoke. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous thing for you, isn't it?" you quipped, not looking at him as you stepped inside.

He let out a soft chuckle. You amused him to no end.

"Yes, perhaps," he softly said. "But besides. I was still thinking. I've been... well, wondering if perhaps you would—"

"—no."

He blinked slowly. "What? No? Y/n, you didn't even hear what I had to say—"

"—the answer is still no," you said. You glanced up at him from the spot you had been staring at, frowning. "I don't know what this is, but we are not friends. Do not ask me for favors."

"Not friends, hm?" he softly hummed, leaning against the doorway as he locked eyes with you. So knowing your dorm number was just a fluke.

"Not friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably go and pretend to sleep."

His upper lip quirked in a faint smirk. Not friends, but you still joked with him as a friend would do. He rolled his eyes and gave you a rather joking half-bow.

"Of course," he said. "Do not let me keep you up. Perhaps I should find my dorm as well."

"You should do that," you simply said, shutting the door right after.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything else, quickly locking the door and heading back to your bed.

Heart pounding, mind still racing, but not with the thoughts of earlier. No, dear reader, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

So impressionable, so—so kind, so—well, was he really kind?

To you.

He was kind to you.

Nearly a week passed you by. The exam went rather well, without any kind of distraction. Passing marks and a somewhat decent night sleep.

You do everything you can to try and avoid Fiyero. Running this way and that, going through all of the longer corridors instead of the shortcuts you knew by heart. You did everything you could to avoid his handsome face.

You did everything you could to avoid the vulnerability that plagued your heart every time you thought of him.

If you simply embraced the wants of Fiyero, perhaps not having a brain would keep you from thinking this way. You'd still have a heart, sure, but it was much better than keeping yourself on your toes wondering if you'd see the damned man at any passing second.

On the hour of the rising moon, almost exactly on the dot, Fiyero spotted you. And this time, you were not evading him.

He practically took off after you, leaving his friends behind. They scoffed and called after him, but he didn't look back. His focus was on you.

He grabbed onto your wrist as you went to leave, not letting you go.

"Y/n! There you are," he softly said. "I have been looking everywhere for you. I wouldn't have thought it would be so difficult to find you, but—"

"—there you go, thinking again," you blurted, unable to stop yourself. Your tongue was wagging faster than your brain was working.

He weakly smiled. "Yes. I know. How ironic, hm?"

You watched as he stared you down.

"Look," he softly began. "I truly—I do not know what I did to deserve you ignoring me at any which way, but I wish you would tell me why. What did I do, Y/n? I thought—well, I assumed that we were friends, but perhaps I was wrong. I find myself wrong quite often nowadays."

"I—well, Fiyero, I—" you paused. You squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath. "I don't have friends."

He blinked slowly. "You don't have friends? What of the one girl you were with the other day? Milla?"

"I do not have friends," you repeated. "I have... acquaintances. People I do not get attached to."

"That is sad."

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. It seemed like a commonality when he spoke with you. The staple eyebrow raise had to happen or else he wasn't really chatting with you.

"It is sad. Why wouldn't you want to get attached to people?"

"I don't want to have meaningless relationships," you said. You avoided saying, I don't want to have relationships at all. "Not everyone can be as friendly as you, Fiyero."

He rolled his eyes. "Friendly. Yes. I talk to people, but I would rather not have all the attention that I do."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "You play the popular little prince and then claim you do not want it? What is that, Fiyero?"

Fiyero pursed his lips. "It is just—this is not a conversation about me. I wanted to have an intervention for you since you seemed as though you were avoiding me every which way. Now. Just—"

"—an intervention? What? Please. You sound ridiculous."

"So do you!" he returned, hands to his hips like an older man scolding a child for something they broke. "You vex me, Y/n! You act as if you are interested in me, then run away hiding like a scared little pup. You act as if you are afraid to get close to anyone."

You stared at him, lips parted ever-so-slightly. But it was enough. You were done for.

He let out a curt laugh. "You are."

"What?"

"You are. Scared. I can see it in you. You listen to what I have to say, even when the others don't. I've made an effort to pay attention to you. To see what you—"

"—Fiyero, stop."

"Do not tell me to stop, Y/n," he said, voice low with conviction. "Not now. Not when I've finally figured you out. You are scared. But of what? Being close to someone? Having a friend?"

You frowned. "I am not scared—"

"—you look at me like if I were to touch you, you'd melt."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"I can see it in your eyes, Y/n," he said, not looking away. He held eye contact with you and hoped that you would continue to do the same. "You—you're scared. To open your heart to the people around you."

You frowned, again. It was perpetual anymore. "And you're a sad man who dances and pretends everything is fine because Galinda said you looked pretty one day."

He blinked slowly, a smile quirking on his lips. "Maybe. But this—this isn't about me, Y/n. This is about you."

"What even is this? I didn't agree to have you psychoanalyze everything I've ever done."

"Neither did I, yet here we are," he said. "I've had a lot of time to think, to mull it over, and I know it. I know it now. You are scared. I don't know what happened to you. I don't know who hurt you in your past, or if something tragic happened to make you so cold inside, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with being... with being vulnerable, Y/n. There's something... magical, even, about opening up to others."

"Oh, and you would know, wouldn't you?"

He frowned. "Y/n—"

"—no. Absolutely not. You do not get to sit there and ridicule me for not wanting to be close to people and then not take what I give you," you said. "You do not let anyone close to you. Sure, Galinda, but what does she know about you? Does she know how you half-ass everything? How you hardly even talk to your 'friends' and just let them float along with you like everything is fine and dandy? You're as sad as I am, if that's what you're trying to say. Don't try to fool yourself."

"I am not trying to fool myself," he softly said. "I am only trying to make it known that I see you. I see myself in you."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "The rich, popular boy sees himself in little ol' me. That's perfect."

"Y/n—"

"—no. Don't. Stop. Just. I don't want to talk to you anymore. We're not friends. We never were friends. Just leave me alone."

It's simple, but it shuts him down. And with that, you run from his side, rushing to hide away in your dorm.

You couldn't believe what you did. Blowing up at him instead of listening to what he had to say. He read you like the children's book your heart truly was—while everyone else focused on the words, he focused on the pictures. The minute details that seemed to pass by everyone's mind because the story was flowing far too quickly.

He saw the delicate brush strokes, the intricate colors, the pieces of you that the words did not show.

He knew you.

And it scared you.

Only you knew yourself. If anyone else were to know who you were, deep inside, well, that would be disastrous.

It couldn't happen.

You couldn't let it.

Fear.

Perhaps fear was the best way to describe the way you felt.

You sat by the edge of the lake in the forest just beyond Shiz's campus, fingers gently brushing against the water. The surface rippled, sending small waves to the end of the shore.

You were afraid.

Of what?

Of a man knowing you?

Of Fiyero knowing you better than even your family once knew you?

You sat there, thoughts racing through your mind. It was as if you couldn't avoid them anymore.

Days had passed since you blew up at Fiyero and ran. You couldn't avoid him forever, you knew that, but it seemed as if your thoughts believed the same.

Tears pricked at your eyes. The warm, salty tears began to fall before you could even try to stop them, and a soft sob bubbled at the back of your throat.

"Y/n?"

Shit.

You quickly wiped your tears away and looked back at him—at Fiyero. But your tears wouldn't stop. A soft sob rippled through you and you turned your head away.

Fiyero came to your side, kneeling down in the soft earth beside of you. He inwardly grimaced at the dirt, but he said nothing of it. He'd bathe in mud if it meant you would stop your tears.

He reached forward, gently placing a hand to your cheek. He turned your head to face him.

"Y/n," he softly said. "It's alright. You... you're alright."

Another sob.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him. You didn't pull away, melting into his embrace as he said you would before. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, situating himself so he would be more comfortable near you.

He softly hummed a soft tune—you remembered it. The one thing he hummed quite often when you caught him alone, or trying to focus on his school work.

Dancing through life, skimming the surface... Life's more painless for the brainless.

He was just a sad boy with needs of his own, much like you were scared of being seen. Of being known.

Of being loved.

Oh. Oh, that's what it was.

It terrified you to no end.

Fiyero pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"What's got you so upset, love?" he softly asked, wiping your tears away gently with his thumbs.

You shook your head. "I... later," you mumbled. You leaned into his grasp, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften.

He released a soft, shaky sigh of his own, before he pulled you back into his arms. He'd hold you until the end of the world if that's what you needed him to do.

Being vulnerable—it was the one thing you had told yourself you would never do. Ever again. And here you were, letting this man hold you and practically lull you into a calmness you'd never felt before.

Is this what it felt like? To be... weak? To be... frail?

No.

Vulnerability... it didn't mean that.

It meant that you were... open. That you had managed to open your heart to a more... malleable form.

To be changed.

To find the one thing in life that you knew would keep you going for as long as it could.

To be vulnerable meant to be loved.

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p0orbaby · 9 months ago

Text

Do Not Disturb (Unless You're Drunk and Nosy)

summary: privacy? you wish

warnings: suggestive, alcohol, literally everyone being a little shit, angry ale (hot)

a/n: may or may not be inspired by real events…

word count: 1.6k

You always thought getting walked in on would be, you know, mortifying. Like, your face turns tomato red, you start stammering, and then you spend the rest of your life avoiding the person who caught you with your pants down—literally. But it turns out that, in reality, it’s way worse than that.

Here’s the thing: Alexia Putellas is perfect. You know this, because you’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time cataloging her perfections. Her perfectly toned legs that could crush a coconut. Her perfectly sharp jawline that could carve Mount Rushmore. Her perfectly soft lips that could silence an entire stadium with a single kiss. And when you’re drunk at a friends house party, it’s easy to forget that this perfection isn’t something you should casually indulge in right now, in a random upstairs bedroom, while everyone else is downstairs playing beer pong and comparing their World Cup tattoos.

But when Alexia grabs your hand and drags you away from the chaos, her eyes all dark and dangerous, any rational thought you have dribbles out of your ears like last week’s gossip. So here you are, in this bed—well, on this bed, because you didn’t even make it all the way under the covers—desperately trying to remember how to breathe while Alexia’s tongue is doing things that would make a priest reconsider his career choices.

You’re about to reach the kind of nirvana people write songs about when the door slams open. Not opens—slams. As if someone was just waiting for the right moment to ruin your life.

“Oh my God,” someone says in a tone that suggests they’ve just witnessed a murder, except, of course, that would be preferable.

Alexia’s head snaps up so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash, and you have about two seconds to see the wild panic in her eyes before her entire body goes rigid like a cat that’s just been sprayed with water. She’s still on top of you, which would be hot if you weren’t currently wondering whether you’re legally obligated to register as a sex offender for being caught like this.

And who’s standing there in the doorway? None other than Jenni, who you’re pretty sure was voted “Most Likely to Show Up Uninvited” in high school. She’s holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone in the other, like she’s been documenting the worst possible moments of the night, and this one’s going to top the list.

“Holy shit,” Jenni says, blinking as if she’s trying to reboot her brain. It doesn’t work, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

That’s it. You’re going to die. This is how you die. Not from the embarrassment but because Alexia is going to murder you both. You can see it in her eyes. She’s doing some very fast maths in her head, and it ends with Jenni’s body floating down a river somewhere.

“Close the door,” Alexia snaps, and it’s the first thing she’s said in what feels like hours. Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Jenni just stares at her for a moment, then at you—still half-naked, because of course you are—and then at Alexia again, like she’s debating whether the smart move is to leave or to stay and further ruin your life.

But of course, Jenni’s never been one for smart moves.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, waving her tequila bottle around like it’s a magic wand that’s going to make this situation less awkward. “This is gold. I’ve got to tell the others.” She turns around and yells down the stairs, “Hey, guys! Get up here, quick!”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl under the bed and maybe live there forever with the dust bunnies and whatever sock the last person to use this room lost. But you don’t get the chance to do any of that, because Alexia has now flipped the fuck out, and she’s off the bed and across the room in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Are you insane?” Alexia hisses at Jenni, who looks like she’s genuinely surprised that Alexia isn’t finding this whole situation hilarious. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jenni, who’s clearly never learned to read the room, just grins, leaning against the doorframe like she’s auditioning for the role of “World’s Biggest Pain in the Ass.” “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who decided to get frisky in someone else’s house”

You’re still lying there, half-dressed, your shirt tangled up with some lacy thing that definitely belongs to Alexia, watching the two of them bicker like you’re not even here. You could say something, of course. You could try to diffuse the situation, maybe crack a joke or two, but that would require actual brain function, and right now, all you’ve got is the mental equivalent of elevator music.

Alexia’s about to bite Jenni’s head off—probably literally—when, as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with your current level of humiliation, there’s a knock on the door.

“Jenni? What’s going on?” You recognise that voice. It’s Mapi, followed by a snicker from Patri and what sounds like Ingrid trying and failing to shush them. Great. Just great. Now you’ve got an audience.

Before anyone can react, Jenni swings the door open with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to introduce a sold-out concert, and your teammates spill into the room like they’ve been rehearsing this all night.

“What the—” Mapi starts, then stops dead when she sees you, then Alexia, and then your clothes all over the floor like some kind of chaotic breadcrumb trail. Her eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Oh, wow”

There’s a moment of silence that’s so uncomfortable you could bottle it and sell it to masochists. You’re pretty sure you’re about to melt into the bed and become one with the mattress. Meanwhile, Patri has the audacity to wolf whistle, which earns her a glare from Alexia that could stop a freight train.

“So,” Ingrid says, doing a terrible job at hiding her amusement. “This is…unexpected”

“Unexpected?” Mapi echoes, looking at Ingrid like she’s just suggested that the earth is flat. “This is fucking hilarious”

Jenni’s practically doubled over with laughter now, leaning on Mapi for support, which only sets her off too. Pretty soon, all three of them are giggling like schoolgirls who’ve just found out their teacher’s dating the P.E. teacher.

Alexia is standing there, jaw clenched, probably wondering if anyone would notice if she threw them all out the window. You, meanwhile, have reached a state of embarrassment that transcends space and time. You’re floating above the situation, looking down at your life and wondering where it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?” you ask, even though you know it’s hopeless. “It’s not like we were…” You trail off, realizing that there’s no good way to end that sentence. Not like you were what? Sorting laundry? Rearranging the furniture?

“Having sex?” Patri supplies helpfully, still grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “You totally were. We walked in at the good part, didn’t we?”

Alexia makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, which is probably the only thing that stops her from committing actual homicide. “Out. All of you. Now”

But no one moves. Because why would they? They’re having the time of their lives. Jenni’s already pulling out her phone, probably to tweet something like “Just walked in on the most awkward team bonding experience ever #FML”

“We’re not going to let you live this down, you know,” Mapi says, her smirk so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t split in half. “This is going to be the story we tell at every team event from now until the end of time”

“Your kids are going to hear about this,” Patri adds, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Hell, your grandkids. This is legendary”

You’re going to need therapy after this. Maybe a lot of therapy. But, honestly, that’s future you’s problem. Right now, you just want them to leave so you can salvage whatever dignity you have left and maybe finish what you started with Alexia—assuming, of course, that this hasn’t killed the mood entirely.

Finally, because even she knows when enough is enough, Jenni straightens up and nods toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.” She winks at Alexia, who looks like she might actually be considering taking up a new sport just to avoid ever having to see Jenni again. “But don’t take too long. We’re going to need the play-by-play downstairs”

With that, they finally—finally—file out of the room, still snickering and whispering like they’ve just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century. As the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well,” you say, turning to look at Alexia, who’s now standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “That went as good as expected”

She gives you a look that could freeze hell, but then, after a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We are never doing this again”

“Sex?” you ask, and the horrified expression that crosses her face makes you burst out laughing. “In someone else’s house,” you clarify, still giggling. “I think that’s a solid rule”

She rolls her eyes but then moves back toward the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells you maybe the night isn’t entirely ruined after all. “Well, we’re here now,” she says, climbing onto the mattress and pulling you toward her. “Might as well make the most of it”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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mageknife · 2 months ago

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the point of me doing all of that timeline nonsense is to talk about the letter from alexius to halward shortly after alexius takes dorian in. there are two primary takeaways i have from this and they both make me crazy. first:

He's rather despondent over the life's path you've charted for him—if I may speak frankly—and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself.

this sentence is. it’s a lot. in knowing dorian for such a short time, alexius understands him far better than his parents ever have. (“I know my son.” What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble.) dorian acts out because he’s miserable, he’s angry that he’ll never be what his parents want, angry at both them (for setting such unachievable expectations) and himself (for never being enough, for his inherent inability to be enough). alexius can see this so clearly. alexius genuinely cares for him. whether his parents at all care for the man he’s become or just for the man they wanted him to be is debatable.

and secondly, we have this sentence:

The boy had enough cheek, even in his inebriated state, to invite me to join him.

alexius tells halward that dorian propositioned him for sex. dorian is at this point, what, 17 or 18? this is likely the first evidence halward has that dorian likes men. alexius basically outs him. subtly, but it’s there. halward knew for a long time, or at least had a suspicion. but it was in private. only admitted in alexius’s correspondence.

in 9:37, when dorian is 26, he’s caught in bed with a lord’s son and essentially taken captive by his parents. he runs away a few months later, never to return.

below are two quotes from dorian during last resort of good men:

But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to change me!

He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left.

“the first thing you did.” this implies that halward only truly confronts dorian about his homosexuality and moves to act after the incident with lord abrexis’s son.

as dorian says in his sex scene:

Where I come from, anything between two men… it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.

maybe it would have been fine behind closed doors, but it’s been made extremely public. word has spread quickly among halward’s enemies. just look at this letter:

Halward: I only wanted what was best for you!

Dorian: You wanted the best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!

when dorian says this, he’s exactly right. halward might not understand dorian, but dorian understands him. halward knew dorian slept with men for 8, 9 years before this, thanks to alexius’s letter detailing how they met. it hasn’t been an issue before. but it’s only now that it could pose a threat to halward’s reputation that halward decides it has to change. he goes back on his word, his teachings against blood magic, to protect himself, his legacy, his image. it’s disgusting. appalling.

finally, i want to address this banter between cole and dorian:

Dorian: You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn't want to hurt you.

Dorian: So you feel betrayed. You say things you can't ever take back.

Cole: “Get out. You are no son of mine.”

Dorian: Yes, like that.

Cole: He wishes he hadn't meant it.

world of thedas says dorian “escaped,” “fled.” even dorian says he “found out [and] left.” but this banter, given the above context, is elucidating. dorian didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. he confronted halward. he stood his ground. he refused to let halward change him. he had hope, even if just a sliver of it, that halward would understand, would still love him, even if he wasn’t everything his father wanted.

and for staying true to who he was, he was given rejection. wholehearted rejection. halward said that dorian was not his son, and he meant it. if dorian couldn’t behave in a way that would uphold house pavus’s perfect legacy, if he couldn’t “put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away,” then he couldn’t be a pavus.

dorian left having tried everything. having desperately pleaded with his father to still love him for who he was. but halward never truly loved dorian. he only loved the man he hoped dorian would become, the man he tried to force him to become by throwing money and disciplinary action and strict schools at the problem because he never truly cared about what dorian wanted, the man he was entirely willing to abandon his abandon his principles to use blood magic to change dorian into.

dorian was not halward’s son, because he fought against the life he was forced into since birth. dorian was not halward’s son, because he dared to put dorian before pavus.

#if halward’s magisterium enemies didn’t already kill him i’d do it myself #AND DORIAN STILL LOVES HIM. STILL HUNTS DOWN HIS FATHER’S KILLERS #IT HURTS. IT’S TANGLED WITH THE LOVE. I CAN’T TUG IT LOOSE WITHOUT TEARING IT.#their relationship is so so awful and it makes me so insane.#dorian pavus #halward pavus #dragon age #eliasposts

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velvetvisionsaurora · 3 months ago

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Pairing: Hongjoong x reader, Seonghwa x reader, Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, Wooyoung x reader.

Summary: Five eight-year-old boys aboard the slave ship Crimson Serpent form an unbreakable bond with five-year-old y/n. before she's sold at auction. Despite their failed rescue attempt, they swear a blood oath on her teddy bear to find her. Fifteen years later, now feared pirates leading the ATEEZ

Warnings: Slavery/Human Trafficking, Separation/Loss, Violence, Eventual Smut. SA(not by any main characters) y/n gets switched to a real name but it has a purpose. More warnings to be updated.

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Masterlist

Chapter 6

Echoes of the Past

The officers' mess was bathed in morning light as Ella approached. Conversation drifted through the partially open door, along with the smell of fresh bread and something spiced.

"Absolutely not!" Wooyoung's protest carried clearly. "You can't possibly think dried fish is an acceptable breakfast food."

"Nutritionally superior," came Mingi's response.

"Nutrition isn't the only thing that matters at breakfast," Seonghwa countered. "Morale affects crew performance."

"Which is why we need both," Yunho said. "Wooyoung's pastries and Mingi's proteins."

A chuckle—Hongjoong, Ella guessed—followed this solution. Their easy banter created an unexpected tightness in her chest. She lingered outside, reluctant to interrupt what felt like a private moment.

Before she could decide whether to enter, Wooyoung appeared in the doorway, a basket of bread in his hands. His surprised expression turned to welcome.

"Ella! Perfect timing—I was just taking these out of the oven." He gestured for her to enter, adding in a whisper, "Save me from these heathens who think breakfast should be practical rather than joyful."

His easy inclusion momentarily disarmed her. Ella found herself smiling despite her carefully maintained barriers.

"Surely there's room for both," she suggested, stepping inside.

The other officers turned at her entrance. Hongjoong straightened slightly. Seonghwa nodded politely. Yunho offered a gentle smile, while Mingi's gaze briefly met hers before shifting away.

"Join us," Hongjoong invited, indicating an empty chair. "Breakfast this morning has become quite the debate."

"Only because some people don't understand the importance of properly spiced morning pastries," Wooyoung declared, setting the basket in the center of the table.

The bread was golden-crusted, spiral-shaped, and dusted with cinnamon and sugar. The sight triggered a memory—a small boy arranging similar spirals on a makeshift plate, calling them "magic wheels" that would carry them away from danger.

"Cinnamon wheels," she said before she could stop herself.

Wooyoung froze, his hand still on the basket. "You recognize them?"

His tone carried such hope that Ella immediately regretted the slip. "The shape is distinctive," she said carefully. "And the smell is unmistakable."

"My specialty," Wooyoung confirmed, though his expression showed disappointment. "An old recipe I've worked on for years."

As they ate breakfast, Ella noticed a shift in the atmosphere. The easy banter had diminished, replaced by more careful conversation. Hongjoong discussed the day's sailing conditions, Seonghwa commented on supplies they needed at their next port, and Yunho detailed repairs scheduled for the rigging.

The change wasn't obvious—nothing in their manner suggested suspicion—but Ella sensed she had altered the dynamic by recognizing the pastries. Wooyoung, normally chatty, seemed particularly affected, his usual energy slightly subdued as he watched her break one of the cinnamon wheels in half.

Ella participated in the conversation carefully—offering useful information about shipping routes and trading patterns while watching each officer's responses. Seonghwa's questions revealed his methodical mind as he asked about Blackwell's security protocols. Yunho inquired about navigational markers used by Southern Trade Company vessels. Even Mingi occasionally asked precise questions about weaponry or harbor defenses.

Throughout, Hongjoong watched with that searching gaze she'd noticed since their first meeting. Unlike previous interrogations she'd endured, his questions never pressed into territory she was reluctant to discuss. When she hesitated over details of Blackwell's private quarters, he immediately changed the subject.

This consistent respect for her boundaries continued to unsettle her. Fifteen years of captivity had taught her that all information extraction had its price, that apparent consideration usually masked more sophisticated manipulation. Yet the pattern aboard the ATEEZ suggested something different—a genuine respect for her choice to share or withhold.

"The weather looks perfect for stargazing tonight," Yunho mentioned as breakfast concluded. "If you're still interested?"

Ella nodded, finding herself genuinely looking forward to it despite her usual caution. "I would enjoy that."

"Great." His smile warmed his features. "Sunset on the observation deck, then?"

As the officers dispersed to their duties, Hongjoong addressed her directly. "You're welcome to explore the ship today," he said. "The crew knows you have access to non-restricted areas."

"And what areas are restricted?" she asked, testing the boundaries of this apparent freedom.

"Only the munitions storage and my private navigation room when I'm not present," he replied without hesitation. "Standard security protocol rather than specific limitation for you."

The honesty of his response further disrupted her expectations. No false pretenses, no illusion of complete freedom later to be revealed as conditional. Just straightforward boundaries that acknowledged both trust and reasonable precaution.

"Thank you, Captain," she said, the formality shielding her growing confusion. "I appreciate that."

Hongjoong studied her for a moment, as if about to say something more, then simply nodded before leaving. Ella found herself alone in the officers' mess, the remnants of breakfast still scattered across the table—evidence of communal living so different from the rigid hierarchy she'd endured under Blackwell.

As she helped gather the dishes, a habit from years of service, she noticed a small wooden object that had been hidden beneath Mingi's plate. A tiny, perfectly carved compass rose embedded in wood, its points meticulously detailed despite its small size. She picked it up carefully, studying the craftsmanship. Something about the small carving tugged at her memory—not just from her brief time aboard the ATEEZ, but from somewhere deeper in her past.

"He marks everything he creates," Wooyoung's voice came from the doorway, startling her. "Mingi's compass signature."

Ella carefully set the carving back where she'd found it. "It's beautiful work."

"Always has been," Wooyoung agreed, moving to collect the remaining dishes. His hands worked with practiced efficiency despite his theatrical personality. "Even as a child, he could make wood speak."

The casual reference to their shared childhood created an opening too valuable to ignore.

"You've all known each other since childhood?" she asked, keeping her tone casual as she helped stack plates.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression softening. "We grew up together aboard—a ship, all of us cabin boys before we formed the ATEEZ."

The confirmation sent a quiet tremor through her carefully maintained composure. Five cabin boys? Five protective boys, where she had given them special nicknames, where she had entrusted Mr. Hugs to them before being sold at auction.

"That must have created strong bonds," she observed neutrally, despite her quickening heartbeat.

"The strongest," Wooyoung confirmed, suddenly serious. "We became family—the only one any of us had." He hesitated, then added casually, "There were six of us, originally."

Ella's hands stilled momentarily over the dishes. "Six?"

"Yes, six captured children." Wooyoung explained, watching her reaction. "They were separated from us during an escape attempt in Halazia. We... lost them."

The reference to their shared history hung in the air between them. Fifteen years of survival instinct screamed at Ella to deflect, to maintain her protective disguise. Yet something else—something buried beneath years of calculated self-preservation—urged acknowledgment.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, choosing words that offered sympathy without confirmation. "That must have been devastating for children to experience."

"It defined us," Wooyoung admitted, a rare solemnity replacing his usual animation. "We made an oath that night. To find them, no matter the cost."

The implications were impossible to misinterpret. This wasn't casual conversation; it was deliberate disclosure—an opening offered without demand for reciprocation.

"And have you?" she asked, the question emerging before she could stop it.

Wooyoung's eyes met hers with unexpected intensity. "Possibly, only time will tell," he said simply. Then, before she could respond, his characteristic smile returned as he gathered the stacked dishes. "But that's a story for another time. Enjoy your exploration today, Ella."

He departed with his usual flourish, leaving her alone with implications too significant to process hastily. The conversation had confirmed what she'd begun to suspect: these men believed she was the lost girl from their childhood. Their behavior—the careful consideration, the absence of pressure despite clear interest in her connection to Blackwell, the subtle tests of recognition—reflected this conviction.

As she finished tidying the breakfast remnants, Ella considered her position with new clarity. If they believed she was y/n, why not confront her directly? What purpose did this elaborate dance of hints serve?

And more importantly—what would happen if she confirmed their suspicions? Would they expect the frightened five-year-old they had known, unaltered despite fifteen years of captivity and calculated survival? Would her value to them diminish once curiosity was satisfied and childhood oath fulfilled?

The small compass marking caught her attention once more. She picked it up again, running her fingers over its smooth surface. Something about this specific design triggered a deeper memory than she had initially recognized—not just from brief observation aboard the ATEEZ, but from somewhere in her fragmented childhood.

She returned the compass to its place, a decision forming in her mind. Today's exploration would have new purpose: not just observing the ATEEZ and its crew, but seeking evidence to confirm or refute Wooyoung's claim. If these men had truly searched for y/n for fifteen years, tangible proof would exist somewhere aboard this ship.

With this resolution guiding her, Ella left the officers' mess, stepping into the corridor with renewed determination. Whatever game was being played aboard the ATEEZ, she would uncover its rules before deciding whether to acknowledge her true identity—whether to become the y/n once more after fifteen years.

Sunset painted the western horizon in orange and purple as Ella made her way to the observation deck. Her day of exploration had produce useful and jarring knowledge.

Despite the ATEEZ's reputation for ruthless efficiency in battle, its internal culture reflected principles beyond mere piracy. Guards maintained careful watch for danger without unnecessary intimidation. Weapons were meticulously maintained, with gunners practicing precision drills with calculated force rather than chaotic violence.

More relevant to her personal investigation, she'd discovered subtle evidence supporting Wooyoung's claim: a locked sea chest in the captain's cabin glimpsed through a partially open door, navigational charts marking systematic search patterns through ports known for slave trading, and most significantly, a worn ledger in the quartermaster's office listing auction houses visited repeatedly over fifteen years, each entry containing the notation "N.F." in carefully maintained columns.

None meant definitive proof, yet collectively they added up to commitment beyond mere coincidence or recent fabrication.

Yunho awaited her at the observation deck's railing, his tall frame silhouetted against the fading light. Unlike their previous encounters, he appeared slightly nervous, his usual gentle confidence edged with tension.

"You came," he said as she approached, relief evident in his voice.

“Of course," she replied, somewhat puzzled by his uncertainty.

He smiled, relaxing slightly. "Some find other priorities as sunset approaches. The sky changes quickly this time of year."

The observation deck provided clear skies in all directions, with specially designed railings that incorporated Star gazing tools. Technology typically reserved for military ships rather than merchant or pirate craft.

"This is impressive," she acknowledged, running her fingers over a calibrated sighting apparatus. "Not standard equipment for most vessels."

"The ATEEZ was designed for specific purpose," Yunho explained, pride in his voice. "Navigation and tracking capabilities were prioritized during construction."

"Tracking slave ships?" she asked directly.

He nodded, neither surprised by her intuitive leap nor hesitant to confirm it. "Among other targets. Captain Hongjoong has particular interest in disrupting the Southern Trade Company's operations."

"Because of Blackwell's business practices? Or something more personal?"

The question hung between them as the last sliver of sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Yunho considered her for a long moment.

"Both," he finally answered. "Though the full explanation is the captain's to share when he chooses."

Darkness gathered around them as the first stars appeared, tiny points of light emerging against the deepening blue. Ella tilted her head back, absorbing the vast canopy with familiar wonder. Despite fifteen years of captivity, the stars had remained constant companions—visible through high windows, from ship decks during transfers between owners, even reflected in harbor waters during rare moments alone.

"There," Yunho said softly, pointing toward the eastern sky. "Orion rises early this season."

The familiar constellation took shape as her eyes adjusted to the darkness—the three aligned stars of his belt, the four corners marking shoulders and feet, the nebulous glow of his sword.

"And there," she responded, gesturing toward the southeast, "Canis Major follows faithfully."

"With Sirius leading the way," Yunho completed, genuine pleasure warming his voice. "You really do know your stars."

"They were... consistent," she explained, choosing words carefully. "When everything else changed—owners, locations, circumstances—the stars remained the same. They provided stability when nothing else did."

The admission revealed more than she typically allowed, yet something about the quiet darkness and Yunho's gentle presence encouraged it. Unlike her calculated openings with Hongjoong or Seonghwa, designed to extract reciprocal information, this felt genuinely conversational.

"They guided us too," Yunho said quietly. "Through some very dark periods."

The statement seemed weighted with significance beyond its literal meaning, but he didn't elaborate further. Instead, he pointed out other constellations as they appeared—Cassiopeia's distinctive W, the Great Square of Pegasus, the faint cluster of the Pleiades.

For nearly an hour, they engaged in astronomical observation, Yunho occasionally adjusting a small telescope mounted to the railing to show her particularly interesting features. His knowledge was impressive, combining navigational functionality with genuine appreciation for celestial beauty.

"That one," she said eventually, pointing to a relatively dim star near the horizon, "what's its name?"

Yunho smiled, something bittersweet crossing his features. "It doesn't have an official designation in most navigational charts. But... I've always called it y/n's Star."

The direct reference to her true name created a momentary silence between them. Ella's heartbeat accelerated, though she maintained her outward composure.

"Why that name?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral despite internal turmoil.

Yunho's gaze remained fixed on the distant point of light. "Because it's small but resilient, easy to overlook unless you know exactly where to look." He paused, then added softly, "And because I promised someone once that I'd give her a star of her own."

The memory surfaced unbidden—a tall boy lifting a small girl to see through a porthole, telling fantastic stories about the night sky, promising that one day she'd have her very own star "right next to mine, so we can always find each other."

Ella swallowed against unexpected emotion. "A meaningful promise."

"The most important I've ever made," Yunho confirmed, finally turning to look directly at her. "One I intend to keep, even if she doesn't remember making it."

The implicit acknowledgment hung between them, an opening without demand. Ella felt the weight of potential recognition—the vulnerability of being known after fifteen years of necessary anonymity. Part of her urged acknowledgment, craved the connection this gentle man offered without pressure. Another part, forged through years of calculated survival, counseled continued caution.

Before she could formulate a response that balanced these competing impulses, a flare of light streaked across the sky—a meteor burning briefly before disappearing into darkness.

"Make a wish," Yunho said softly, the childhood phrase emerging naturally.

Despite herself, Ella closed her eyes momentarily, an old ritual from before captivity had taught her the futility of wishes. When she opened them again, she found Yunho watching her with gentle curiosity.

"Did you wish for something?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted. "Though I know better than to expect fulfillment."

"Sometimes wishes do come true," he countered, his voice gentle but certain. "Sometimes people find what they've been searching for, even after many years of looking."

The pointed reference was impossible to misinterpret. Like Wooyoung's earlier disclosure, it offered recognition without demanding acknowledgment—a space for truth without pressure for immediate revelation.

"And sometimes," she responded carefully, "what they find isn't what they remembered. Time changes people, Yunho. Especially difficult time."

He nodded, accepting this caution without offense. "It changes everyone involved. The searchers as well as the sought."

Another comfortable silence settled between them as more stars appeared overhead. Ella found herself increasingly at ease in Yunho's presence, his patient approach creating space for reflection rather than tactical response. Unlike most interactions during her captivity, this conversation flowed without underlying power dynamics—a genuine exchange between equals despite the circumstances of her rescue.

"May I show you something?" Yunho asked eventually. "A navigational technique specific to the ATEEZ."

At her nod, he guided her to a particular sighting tool mounted to the railing. "This was designed by Mingi and Seonghwa together," he explained. "It allows us to track specific star patterns and calculate our position with unusual precision."

As she examined the device, Yunho pointed out a small symbol engraved near its base—a simplified compass rose with five distinct points.

"Our marker," he explained. "It appears on all our specialized equipment."

"Five points," she observed. "One for each officer?"

"Originally, yes." His fingers traced the familiar pattern. "Though the symbolism has evolved over time."

She studied the engraving more closely, noting how four points formed a protective circle around the fifth. The design suggested more than mere representation—it implied relationship, purpose, commitment. Protection.

"We should head back down," Yunho suggested as a cool breeze strengthened from the north. "The temperature drops quickly once full darkness sets in."

As they moved toward the stairs, Ella was struck by sudden dizziness—a wave of lightheadedness that forced her to grasp the railing for support. Yunho immediately stepped closer, concern evident in his expression.

"Are you alright?"

"Just dizzy," she assured him, though the sensation persisted. "I'm fine."

"You're pale," he observed, professional assessment replacing casual concern. "How long has it been since you've been in open air for extended periods?"

The question gave her pause. Under Blackwell's ownership, her movements had been strictly controlled, outdoor access limited to supervised transfers between properties or occasional garden duties under guard.

"Some time," she admitted reluctantly.

"Come with me," Yunho decided, offering his arm for support. "You need to see our ship's doctor. This could be simple adjustment to sea air after prolonged confinement, but better to have you examined properly."

Ella initially hesitated at the mention of a doctor—medical examinations during her captivity had rarely been pleasant experiences—but the persistent lightheadedness suggested genuine need rather than excessive concern.

"Very well," she agreed, accepting his offered arm with measured trust. "Lead the way."

The medical bay occupied a surprisingly spacious compartment on the ATEEZ's lower deck, equipped with ventilation systems more sophisticated than Ella had observed elsewhere on the ship. As Yunho guided her through the doorway, the clinical space revealed itself to be unexpectedly welcoming—well-organized but softened by small touches that distinguished it from the other medical quarters she'd encountered during captivity.

"Yeosang?" Yunho called, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. "Are you here?"

Ella's breath caught in her lungs hearing that name. Her eyes moved around the space, searching in a practiced way that wouldn't alert Yunho to her frazzled state.

Movement from an adjacent small room answered his question as a young man emerged, wiping his hands on a clean cloth. He paused in the doorway, his gaze locking with Ella's in immediate, unmistakable recognition.

In that frozen moment, an entire history passed between them—seven years in Blackwell's household, a young boy's gentle hands treating a frightened girl's injuries, subtle kindnesses offered at tremendous personal risk.

Yeosang—the eight-year-old healer's apprentice who had become her only friend and ally under Blackwell's cruel ownership. The teenager whose forced separation had been deliberately orchestrated to teach her the futility of attachment.

His eyes widened fractionally, the distinctive birthmark near his left eye momentarily crinkling with suppressed emotion before his features smoothed into professional composure. It happened so quickly that Yunho, glancing between them, noticed nothing amiss.

"Yunho," Yeosang acknowledged, his voice betraying nothing despite the storm Ella could see raging behind his carefully controlled expression. "What brings you here?"

"Ella experienced dizziness on the observation deck," Yunho explained, unaware of the silent communication happening before him. "Possible reaction to extended exposure after prolonged confinement."

Yeosang nodded, his assessment appearing purely clinical though Ella recognized the subtle softening around his eyes that had always betrayed his true feelings. "Sit," he directed, gesturing toward the examination table. "When did the symptoms begin?"

As Ella complied, she maintained her own composure through years of practiced concealment, though her heart raced with the effort of containing her reaction. This was the boy she had once called "Angel" in the privacy of their whispered conversations—her protector and friend, the one whose forced sale had broken something fundamental in her twelve-year-old heart.

"Just a few minutes ago," she answered, watching as he gathered examination tools with the same precise movements she remembered from childhood, when he had treated her injuries with materials secretly collected from the manor's gardens. "It came suddenly."

"Any nausea? Visual disturbances?" His questions were clinically specific yet delivered with the gentle intonation she remembered from countless clandestine treatments in the shadows of Blackwell's mansion.

"No," she confirmed, carefully maintaining the pretense of unfamiliarity for Yunho's benefit. "Just lightheadedness and slight disorientation."

Yeosang's fingers pressed against her wrist to check her pulse, the touch containing the same careful respect for boundaries he had always shown. His eyes fixed deliberately on a point past her shoulder rather than meeting her gaze directly—a precaution she recognized as self-protection against revealing emotion.

"Your pulse is elevated," he noted, releasing her wrist. "Breathe deeply, please."

As he continued his examination, Ella noticed what Yunho could not see—the slight tremor in Yeosang's normally steady hands, the careful maintenance of physical distance beyond what medical procedure required, the deliberate avoidance of extended eye contact.

Most telling was a small wooden object partially visible within a half-open drawer near the examination table—a small wooden trinket box with distinctive compass marking inlaid on its lid. The same compass design she had noticed at breakfast, the one that had triggered deeper memory she couldn't quite place.

"Your blood pressure is likely affected by environmental changes," Yeosang concluded, stepping back slightly. "Prolonged confinement followed by sudden exposure to open sea air, combined with potential nutritional deficiencies common to..." he hesitated briefly, a flicker of shared memory passing between them, "...those who have been in captivity."

The careful phrasing registered as their old code—clinical terminology that disguised deeper meaning. During their childhood under Blackwell, Yeosang had developed a system of double meanings, medical terms that conveyed warning or comfort without alerting their captors.

"I'll prepare a tonic," he continued, moving to a shelf containing various prepared medicines. "Mild adaptogens with mineral support. It should stabilize your system while you adjust to ship conditions."

He selected a small bottle, measuring its contents with precise attention before adding drops of another substance and shaking the mixture thoroughly. His back to Yunho, he allowed himself a single unguarded glance at Ella—a look containing such complex emotion that her breath caught momentarily.

Recognition. Relief. Residual pain. Protective vigilance. All compressed into a single moment before his professional mask returned.

"Yeosang joined us two years ago," Yunho explained, apparently noticing nothing unusual in their interaction. "Best doctor in the seven seas, though his bedside manner occasionally lacks Wooyoung's charm."

"Fortunately, medicine doesn't require theatrical flourish to be effective," Yeosang responded dryly, the familiar deadpan delivery so characteristic of the boy she had known that Ella nearly smiled despite her carefully maintained facade. "Unlike cooking, which apparently depends entirely on dramatic presentation."

Despite his deadpan delivery, something like affection colored the doctor's tone, revealing genuine connection with the crew despite his carefully maintained professional distance. Ella found herself wondering at Yeosang's journey from Blackwell's household to the ATEEZ—whether the officers knew of their shared history, whether he had recognized her immediately or only upon seeing her in his medical bay.

"Drink this," Yeosang instructed, returning with a small cup containing amber liquid. "All of it, please."

The directive—one she'd heard countless times during childhood illnesses—carried the same gentle authority that had always characterized his care. Ella accepted the cup without hesitation, recognizing the familiar aroma of his signature healing blend, and swallowed the contents.

"The taste is better than I expected," she remarked carefully, a coded acknowledgment of recognition that Yunho would interpret as mere politeness.

"I've refined the formula over the years," Yeosang replied with equal care, taking the empty cup. Their fingers brushed momentarily, the brief contact conveying more than words could safely express in Yunho's presence.

"Thank you," she said simply, the gratitude encompassing far more than the immediate treatment.

Yeosang nodded, his professional demeanor maintained despite the slight softening around his eyes that only she would recognize as emotional response. "You should rest for the remainder of the evening. I'll prepare a week's supply of the tonic for continued support."

"Is that necessary?" she asked, the dizziness already subsiding. "I feel better already."

"Prevention rather than crisis response," he replied simply. "A philosophy that extends beyond medicine."

The phrase was one he had often repeated during their childhood—a principle he had taught her when treating minor injuries before they could worsen into conditions that would draw unwanted attention from Blackwell. The deliberate echo of their shared past confirmed what his expression had already revealed: he remembered everything.

"Here," Yeosang said, returning with a small bottle containing amber liquid. "Three drops in water, morning and evening."

As she accepted the medicine, their fingers brushed again—a contact that appeared accidental but conveyed deliberate reassurance. The gesture was so familiar, so characteristic of how they had communicated under surveillance, that Ella had to force herself to maintain a neutral expression.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said formally, the professional title serving as shield for Yunho's benefit.

"Rest well," Yeosang replied with equal formality, though his eyes held promise of future conversation outside watchful observation.

As Yunho escorted her toward the door, she glanced back for a final assessment. Yeosang had moved to his desk, making notes with practiced efficiency that revealed nothing of the emotional recognition she had witnessed in his initial reaction. Only the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed inner turmoil carefully disguised beneath professional detachment.

"He's an excellent doctor despite his reserved manner," Yunho commented as they moved through the corridor toward her cabin. "The crew would face far worse fates without his skills after battle."

The casual reference to combat reminded Ella that despite the ATEEZ's unusual culture, it remained a pirate vessel—its black sails feared throughout the maritime world, its reputation built on ruthless efficiency against chosen targets rather than indiscriminate violence. These men were not merely sailors but fighters, their hands equally skilled at healing and harm depending on circumstance.

"He seems very proficient," she agreed neutrally, her mind still reeling from unexpected reunion despite outward composure.

"Especially considering his past," Yunho added, then stopped suddenly, as if realizing he might be revealing information beyond his right to share. "But that's his story to tell if he chooses."

The hesitation confirmed what she had already suspected—Yeosang maintained privacy about his history, his connection to Blackwell unknown to the crew despite their campaign against the slave trader. The realization created additional complexity in her already complicated situation: not only did the ATEEZ officers believe she might be their lost y/n , but they had unknowingly brought aboard the one person who could confirm her identity through separate experience.

"I appreciate his assistance," she said simply, redirecting conversation away from dangerous territory.

As they reached her cabin door, Yunho hesitated. "Will you be comfortable alone? I could have someone bring you dinner if you'd prefer not to join the officers this evening."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," she assured him. "The tonic is already working. I simply need rest."

He nodded, accepting her assessment without pressing further—another example of the respect for boundaries that characterized the ATEEZ officers despite their fearsome reputation. The apparent contradiction continued to intrigue her: men known for ruthless efficiency in battle showing such careful consideration in personal interactions.

"Sleep well," Yunho said, stepping back from her doorway. "Our next conversation with the stars will wait for another night."

As he departed, Ella entered her cabin and closed the door firmly behind her. For several long moments, she simply stood motionless, allowing the carefully maintained composure of the past hours to dissolve into genuine emotion. Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed them against her face, breath coming in short gasps as the shock of recognition finally registered fully.

Yeosang. Here, aboard the same ship that had somehow collected five boys from The Crimson Serpent—the five who had tried and failed to protect her, followed now by the sixth who had sustained her through seven years of captivity under Blackwell's control.

The coincidence was too precise to be accidental, yet Yunho's casual introduction suggested the officers might not know of her connection to their ship's doctor. The implications raced through her mind as she paced the small confines of her cabin. If Yeosang had joined the ATEEZ two years ago as Yunho claimed, he had arrived long after the crew began their campaign against Blackwell. His presence represented separate convergence rather than coordinated search.

Did he know they sought y/n? Did they know his history with Blackwell included connection to the very girl they had sworn to find?

As she sank onto her bunk, the dizziness returning briefly with the emotional impact of discovery, Ella's mind drifted back to her childhood years in Blackwell's household—to the unexpected ally who had been ripped away from her like everything she cared for.

—————

Blackwell's Estate - Fourteen Years Earlier

Six-year-old y/n crouched beneath the servants' staircase, her small body contorted to fit the narrow hiding space as she waited for the household's daily inspection to conclude. One year in Victor Blackwell's ownership had taught her which moments permitted temporary invisibility, which infractions earned tolerable punishment versus genuine danger.

"You shouldn't be here," came a familiar whisper as a shadow fell across her hiding place. "Blackwell's inspecting the east wing personally today."

She looked up to find Yeosang—no longer the uncertain child from the auction house but a more confident nine-year-old who had established himself as valuable through his expanding medical knowledge. His position as the doctor's assistant gave him mobility throughout the household denied to most child servants, freedom he regularly risked to check on her welfare.

"Cook said I took extra bread," she whispered back, fear evident despite her attempted bravery. "I didn't, but she needs someone to blame for the missing loaf."

Yeosang's expression darkened momentarily before smoothing into practiced neutrality. "Come with me. The doctor's quarantining the laundry staff for suspected fever. No one will check the medicine storage today."

He extended his hand, offering assistance she had learned to accept despite initial wariness. Unlike other household staff who viewed each other as competition for limited resources and favor, Yeosang had demonstrated consistent protection without demanding payment or submission in return.

They navigated the mansion's servants' passages with practiced stealth, utilizing routes mapped through shared exploration during rare moments of unsupervised time. The medicine storage—a small room adjacent to the doctor's office—remained one of the few spaces where Blackwell rarely ventured personally, his aversion to illness known throughout the household.

Once safely inside, y/n relaxed slightly, her small shoulders dropping from their defensive hunch. "Thank you," she whispered, the gratitude encompassing more than just this current assistance.

Yeosang nodded acknowledgment, his own posture remaining alert despite their relative safety. "I found something yesterday," he said after ensuring the door was securely closed. "In the garden, near the west wall where the old oak fell during winter storms."

From his pocket, he withdrew an object wrapped in clean bandage cloth. With careful movements that suggested treasured discovery, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal a small wooden carving—not the rough bird he had given her at the auction house, but a more sophisticated animal figure. A tiny wolf, perfectly proportioned despite its miniature size, its details remarkably precise from pointed ears to textured fur.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, reaching out but stopping short of touching, afraid her hands might somehow damage its delicate features.

"Look at the bottom," Yeosang urged, gently turning the carving to reveal its underside.

There, carved with remarkable precision, sat a tiny compass rose—five points arranged in perfect symmetry, the craftsmanship suggesting specialized tools rather than improvised implements. The symbol stirred something in her memory, a fleeting connection to her time before Blackwell that disappeared before she could fully grasp it.

"Who made it?" she asked, finally daring to trace the compass marking with one careful finger.

"I don't know," Yeosang admitted. "It was half-buried in disturbed soil near the garden wall—like someone tossed it over from outside the estate."

The mystery of its origin added to the carving's significance, transforming it from mere object to potential message from the world beyond Blackwell's controlled domain. For children whose movements were constantly monitored and restricted, such connection to unknown outside forces represented rare hope.

"Keep it," Yeosang said, pressing the wolf into her palm. "Hide it somewhere safe. When things become difficult, remember that beauty exists beyond these walls, that someone took time to create this even though it served no practical purpose."

She clutched the carving carefully, its solid presence providing comfort beyond its size. "But you found it," she protested weakly. "You should keep it."

Yeosang shook his head slightly. "I have more freedom than you," he said, wisdom beyond his years evident in his assessment. "More opportunities for small pleasures through my duties. You need this more."

The generosity—giving away his discovery despite its obvious value—sealed the connection forming between them, transforming cautious alliance into genuine friendship. Unlike the calculated exchanges that characterized most relationships within Blackwell's household, where every favor expected repayment and every kindness concealed potential manipulation, Yeosang's gift came without evident advantage to himself.

"Thank you, Angel," she whispered, the nickname emerging spontaneously. When his expression registered confusion, she explained shyly: "Because you help when no one else will. Like guardian angels in the stories my mother used to tell."

Something shifted in his carefully controlled expression—surprise followed by unfamiliar warmth. No one in Blackwell's household used names beyond functional designations; personal identifiers represented connection that their owner deliberately discouraged among his property.

"We should return before they notice our absence," he said finally, though his tone carried new softness despite the practical words. "Different passages to avoid suspicion. You take the service corridor, I'll go through the main hallway."

As they prepared to separate, y/n impulsively pressed the wooden wolf back into his hands. "You keep it safe for now," she said. "My hiding places aren't secure enough yet. We can pass it between us when either needs it most."

The suggestion—sharing their sole treasure rather than claiming individual ownership—created connection beyond simple friendship. Through this exchange, they established their first deliberate resistance against Blackwell's systematic isolation of his household staff, their first shared secret that belonged to them alone.

Yeosang accepted the carving with solemn understanding of its significance. "Until next time," he agreed, carefully concealing it within his clothing before checking the corridor for witnesses.

Neither child recognized that the wooden wolf with its distinctive compass marking represented connection beyond their immediate circumstances—that its creator was one of five boys who had sworn blood oath to find a lost girl, that its compass rose symbolized promise rather than merely decorative detail. For them, it simply represented tangible proof that somewhere beyond Blackwell's walls, beauty survived despite cruelty—a small hope that sustained them through increasingly difficult years ahead.

Present

Exhaustion finally overcame her. Tomorrow would bring necessary decisions about potentially revealing her identity, strategic assessment of her position aboard the ATEEZ, and careful communication with Yeosang away from watchful eyes and ears.

But tonight, cradled in the gentle rocking of a pirate vessel feared throughout maritime waters for precision and ruthlessness, Ella whispered her nightly ritual with new understanding of its significance: "Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy."

And for the first time in years, she added without hesitation, "Angel."

Six names. Six protectors. Six separate threads of connection woven together against impossible odds into a single pattern she was only beginning to comprehend. The compass that had guided five cabin boys toward vengeance and purpose now pointed toward recognition and potential restoration—if she found courage to claim identity long buried beneath necessary disguise.

Outside her cabin, the black-sailed ATEEZ continued its relentless progress through night waters, its fearsome reputation flowing before it like shadow across waves, its crew unaware that the sacred oath driving fifteen years of mission had already been fulfilled.

Taglist: @hopeless-lovex0 @frankielou02 @jilxxasu @kur0kki @lezleeferguson-120 @uniquecloudbread @miniverse-zen @symmieangela

#ateez fanfic #ateez pirate au #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong #jeong yunho

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timeforaneclipse · 8 months ago

Text

Falling Apart (Lilia Calderu x reader)

Chapter Two

Available on AO3

Warnings? - Angst hehe

"Right, Mins, Time... to do your thing!" Agatha urged as she waved you on. A sigh left your lips as the coven looked at your with expectance. Feeling like an idiot you stared back. An awkwardness in the air. Your thing? Right... your thing. Forcing your shoulder's to relax, you turned away from the coven and faced the road ahead. Closing your eyes, you stood for a moment before reopening them to discover a trail of.... bright green smoke? Agatha smirked like the devil when she noticed your eyes change from it's normal hue to a gentle golden. "You see it don't you?" She leaned in close and whispered. Then, without another word, you began to walk. Agatha and the boy by her side, Teen, wasted no time in following. The others lingered slightly behind but followed all the same.

As you walked, you jumped as the woman at the back spoke out. Breaking your focus. "You know what this is?" You raised an eyebrow at her raised voice as you turned back to look at her. "This is a kidnapping, And I think it is about high time we involve the local authorities." She announced as she rummaged through her bag. A frown left your lips, confusion laced in your eyes. A kidnapping? Then it hit you. Your mouth became thin as you glanced to Agatha. She looked at you as if to say 'what?' before shrugging off your silent conversation. Not that it surprised you. It was Agatha after all. Yet, you felt a little bit of pity for the poor woman Agatha had tricked into coming.

Jennifer, seeming having enough of holding her tongue, looked around in slight annoyance. "Are we gonna ignore the fact that something chased us down here?" You couldn't find it in yourself to disagree with her. She had a point. The Salem Seven weren't something to just be.. ignored. Sharing a subtle glance with Agatha, you hid your concern. You still remembered the time that your sister, brightest transformation witch that had ever dared to be, was once approached by them. She had barely escaped with her life. Alice turned her body weight to Agatha, gesturing to her as she corrected that they had chased Agatha. Mrs hart, who was messing with her phone, frowned and slightly panicked when she discovered there was no cell service.

"Well, Whatever chased Agatha down here, it's our problem now." Lilia's tone was sombre with a slight hint of annoyance as she sent a side glance towards Agatha. You held your tongue as you continued to take the lead in the walk. Debating whether or not you should say something about the Salem Seven and who- No, what they really were. You decided to keep walking. Following the path lay out before you. Zoning out, you didn't bother to listen to the present conversation. As you walked, you kept your eyes on the trees around you while the group continued to bicker amongst each other. Jennifer caught your ear as she was complaining about not knowing what the group was up against. You paused. She had a point. No one, besides maybe Agatha, had an idea on what you all intended on facing. Lilia, deep in thought, looked down for a moment. "Tame your fears." she said, her eyes dawning with realisation. You looked back to her. "That's what we're up against." she frowned. "Our worst nightmares."

You felt yourself grow nervous. Our worst nightmares? Swallowing, you tried to hide your feelings and remain unnerved. Agatha seemed to catch on, however. blue eyes scanned your frame. Yet the older witch seemed to share your... feelings. Alice then asked Agatha what the trials were like. "The... road will test us." She began. "And our knowledge of the craft." Everyone seemed to share a look. A silent conversation. "One trial for each skill." Agatha finalised, studying the group. Jennifer looked absolutely appalled as she questioned how they were to pass with no magic. You frowned and gave a side ways glance to Agatha.

Teen, who seemed to be ever full surprises, stepped forward. There was a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "Well, there's always analog magic. You know, labour-intensive, manual acts of magic." He said like it was obvious. "Witchcraft!" he practically sang once her realised he had lost the group. "Emphases on the 'craft'." He forced a smile. Jennifer then asked the question that had been scratching your head since you met the boy. Who was he? "I'm-" Silence. You noticed the Sigil run across the boys mouth after he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed. How... Unusual. "Well, Ill be." Lilia smirked. "Someone's put a sigil on that boy." Then everyone, yourself included, looked to Agatha. You knew her well. It wasn't unlike her to do something like this. But the looks from the group only made her scoff.

"Don't look at me. I didn't put that clumsy glamour on him." She shrugged. "Sigils are beneath me."

As Teen looked confused, he asked what a sigil was. You were done observing the group and decided to let your own mouth loose. "A sigil is a type of spell, yes." You forced a smile to the boy. "In your case, the sigil appears to be a redaction spell." You began, adjusting your glasses. "Which means to... remove words or information." Your explanation was rather simple. "So... for better or for worse, you are hidden from witch folk. it's rather interesting." You summarised. "the only question is... why?" You hummed, your clawed nails drumming against your arm.

Jennifer watched you as you finished. "Looks like Agatha brought a sparkly little mystery with her." She sassed, ignoring Agatha's slight glare of annoyance.

"She was probably trying to keep him all to herself." Lilia hummed, with slight false amusement in her tone.

Agatha pulled Teen behind her as he asked why someone would want to hide him. But the question went unanswered. "Look," Agatha began, looking toward the group. "I have no idea what's under that sigil. He could be something special or he could be a pest that some cranky witch stashed under a rock. We can crack him open later." you smirked slightly, only slightly, at her words. "The real value lies at the end of the road." She smiled. she then gestured to Jennifer. "So, if you want to unbind," you noticed the potions witch take in a breath. "And you want to reverse your fortune" Agatha went on to Lilia as the older woman looked slightly uncomfortable. "And you," She continued to Alice. "Want to find out what happened to mummy. And you...." Agatha paused. Mrs hart was gone? Agatha scoffed, unamused. "I mean, you take your eyes off of her for two seconds..." She rolled her eyes.

You looked around. Scanning the area for the woman. "Can't you just sniff her out." Jennifer asked as she turned to you. Looking down at you like you were dirt beneath her feet. "That's the whole reason you're here, right?" she spat out as if blaming you for the situation.

Staring gob-smacked, you glared. The gold in your eyes becoming more prominent "Do I look like a blood hound to you, potions witch?" you hissed. "I'm your guide. I am not some glorified baby sitter." Just then, there was a scream. You looked up towards the sound then to the path. At least she went the right way. "This way." You urged the group. Alice was hot on your tail as you followed the path. Speeding ahead of you, Alice got to Mrs Hart just in the nick of time. The poor woman was nearly earth food. Sinking deep into the mud. Teen went to help as Alice pulled her out of the sinking mud. You stared for a moment. Well, that.. could have gone worse.

Mrs Hart attempted to wipe the mud off but it was mostly unsuccessful. Not that you were surprised. "You can't just walk off the road like that." Alice scolded lightly at the older woman. The older woman in her shock complained about it being a horrible party and you felt your lips form a tight line. Glaring at Agatha out of the corner of your eye.

Agatha sighed and tried to keep a level head. "Well, I thought this was pretty obvious." She hummed. "But for the uninitiated, rule number one - Do not step off the road." Agatha announced clearly. "So if we just follow the instructions of the balled, We'll be as safe as kittens." She smiled widely and winked at you. You rolled your eyes. "Okay?" she smiled but Mrs Hart, and understandably so, was slightly upset with the whole affair. You noticed Jennifer walk off slightly and kept your eyes on her. She called everyone to look. There was something different about her voice. Something light.... hopeful. Following her gaze, you noticed a large beach house. Where-? You found yourself taken back. How did such a thing... just appear?

Taking Agatha's lead, you followed the older witch onwards. The change of ground made you shiver slightly. sand had never been your favourite thing to walk in. especially when it got in between your toes. Staring in wonder, the group approached the door. Lilia traced the markings on the door and you caught yourself accidently staring at her hands. You cleared your throat and looked away, ignoring your slightly flustered face. "The phases of the moon." Lilia's words hung through the air.

Teen looked in interest. "Its full... the water phase." he smiled brightly. Lilia looked at him, her brown eyes bore how impressed she was with his comment. It only made him smile wider. "So... what do we do?" He asked curiously. Mrs hart went ahead and rung the doorbell, claiming that we didn't want to surprise anyone. But that was short lived as Agatha just opened the door anyways.

Once inside, you were caught off guard. You looked down to your clothing. Your red tartan coat was gone and was replaced with something... plainer. A grey blazer hugged your form. The black trousers you were wearing were tight and the t-shirt match with silver markings. The heels were grey and matched the blazer. You hair was loose and you ran your clawed fingers through it. It was new... You noticed Lilia looked noticeably different. Her tight curls were gone and she was dressed in mostly white. She was wearing a silk scarf though. Having a look around, everyone took in the new surroundings. It was a fancy place. You looked to a few of the paintings and tilted your head. Just then, Mrs Hart exclaimed her love for the kitchen. Scaring everyone in the process. You took in some deep breaths. Trying to relax yourself. This was fine. It was calm.

Teen then called from the dining area of the house. It didn't take long for the group to gather into the room like a bunch of rushing hens. "What is this?" Agatha asked as she snatched the card from his hands. "A wedding? Please God, not a baby shower." She groaned before Jennifer snatched it from her. Frustrated, Agatha threw her hands up. Wondering where she got the audacity.

"The witches' road cordially invites you to the first trail." The potions witch read clearly before flipping the card over. Her eyes lighting in wonder. "It's a riddle." She spoke softly before beginning to read the riddle. "My age has value. I'm no fun alone. I mess with your mind, my tricks are well known." She then looked to the group. You were no luck in riddles, unfortunately. Your sister used to be so good at them. She could've made the mighty sphinx run for her money. Jennifer then passed the card on to Mrs Hart. You smiled softly when the woman examined the card.

"What does it mean?" Teen asked, curious.

"That it's really expensive." Mrs hart hummed out. There was something in the way she said it that made you laugh. Agatha's eyes were immediately drawn to your face when the laugh left your lips. It had been years... beyond years since she had heard that sound come from you. It made her a little relieved that after all this time you still had that same humour about you. Even if was buried deep deep within you.

Alice, who now held the card, repeated it's contents. "It sounds like a witch." Agatha said as she rolled her fingers. Jennifer made a snarky comment about it sounding like Agatha and Agatha paid in due by mimicking the potions witch.

Mrs hart, who had turned around, sang the word wine and Alice's eyes lit up. "That's it, ten points for Mrs Hart." She smiled. Turning around too, you saw the wine on the dining table. Accompanied by six glasses. Immediately, you didn't trust the liquid and it would seem you weren't alone on that train of thought. "Wait, we don't know what will happen if we drink it." Alice said, worried, as Mrs Hart grabbed the wine bottle. It made the blonde woman hesitate and she went to set down the bottle.

Agatha looked to Alice. "Oh, sure we do. Something terrible." She said with a straight face. "But if we don't follow these obvious breadcrumbs, we cant move forward and we wont get to the big prize." Everyone shared a nervous and unsure look. "So, does anybody have a cork screw?" She asked and grabbed the wine bottle herself. Teen offered to go get one from the built in bar and Jennifer accompanied him. When they returned, you noticed a slight change in the boy. You adjusted your glasses wondering what had gone on between the two. Once the bottle was opened, Agatha poured everyone a glass. You stared at the glass. Unsure whether you really wanted to drink it or not. "If you're waiting for a charcuterie, I don't think its coming." she smiled widely. With that, Mrs hart wasted no time getting the red liquid down her. You stared at her as she chugged it down before telling everyone not to judge her.

Just then, the timer beeped. Thirty minutes. You swallowed as Agatha raised her glass. You copied and the group followed suit. Toasting. After clinking your glasses together, teen approached and asked if he could have some. An echo of 'No's filled the room. "Should we take the girl talk to the sofa?" Mrs Hart asked. You all followed suit. There was tension in the air. Swishing the liquid in your glass, you frowned. It didn't smell right. But then again, what type of alcohol ever did smell lovely? Ignoring your instincts, you took a sip. Agatha sat down beside you as Mrs Hart began to talk. You noticed her wine glass was not in sight but decided not to question it. "Okay. So, a witch is really just another name for a bad girl? Is that right?" She asked and for a moment, you smiled gently.

"That is extremely reductive." Lilia began, her legs crossed on the arm chair. she sat like a queen. "We are not a Monolith." She hummed. "And, you know, I blame Halloween. Do you see any pointy hats in here? any green skin? any brooms? No, sir." She ranted before taking a sip. You smiled. A genuine smile. You took the second to admire her. Agatha eyed you, a look in her eyes told you that wheels in her head were turning. You decided not to look in her direction. Agatha didn't back down, giving you a knowing look.

Mrs hart stood and walked off slightly. "Well I am not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles." Mrs Hart said as she wondered. When she turned back to face the group, a sharp gasp left your lips. Staring like you had been slapped, you looked over the blonde's face. It was swollen. A mummer of 'oh my god's uttered through the room. "Oh, you are so sweet." Mrs Hart gushed. "I don't really think I need it either." She laughed, seemingly oblivious to what had happened. Alice tried to gently approach Mrs Hart, or rather Sharon as she called herself, about the swelling. "Is it bad?" She asked lowly. Bad!? It was horrendous!

A light glare graced your face when you looked at Agatha as she said that Mrs hart looked fantastic. Jennifer stood up suddenly and looked beyond terrified. "We've been poisoned." she said in a panic. You felt yourself crumble. Everyone ran to a mirror. You traced over your skin. No no no... no way. You looked like a grape. You hated how swollen you looked. Like too much Botox gone wrong. "Mrs Hart, you are so pretty." Jennifer forced out to Mrs Hart. "But since you were the first one to drink, you're our canary in the coal mine." Jennifer explained. However, Mrs Hart took another sip of the wine in her panic.

"Oh for crying out loud, she's lost her wits." you groaned as teen snatched the glass off of her. Reminding her it was poisoned.

Agatha, who was on the other side of the room, shouted across. "Why don't we just let her drink it all!" The group looked at Agatha with slight disgust. "uh.." You tilted your head as she began to fiddle with her hair. "It just... serves our best interest is all." she said trying to keep her hair out of her face.

Jennifer went back to questioning Mrs hart about the symptoms. You watched nervously but your attention was soon drawn to Lilia. She looked dazed out. "I love you guys." Your eyes widened slightly. What? Your lips became thin as you watched the older witch. Unsure where that had just come from. But then you noticed how her eyes began to adjust once more. As if they were coming back to the present reality. "What?" She asked when she noticed everyone was staring at her like she had three heads. Did she not remember what she said? Just then, Mrs hart said that she felt better. Immediately, you went to check your face. It was seemingly back to normal. You sighed, relieved.

However, Jennifer was quick to burst your bubble. "Not yay... very much not yay..." She said into herself, thinking. "The fact that the face swelling decreased so quickly mean it can only be one time of poison." You felt your palms grow sweaty. this was bad. this was very bad. "Alewife's revenge." She spoke, the concern clear in her voice. "Face Swelling is just the beginning. Next is dizziness, delirium, loss of motor function." You shared a nervous glance with Agatha. A silent conversation of panic. "Also hallucinations and eventually..." She hesitated. "Death."

The blue eyed witch wasn't having it. You noticed a change in Agatha's eyes. A change you had seen too many times. "Agatha." You scowled, slightly nervous as the older woman raced over to the window. "Agatha, wait!" You panicked. Agatha picked up an onement and began to bash it against the window. You rapidly approached the older witch as the group yelled at Agatha. "Stop it!" You hissed and tried to claw the object out of her hands but her desperate grip was tight. During your tug of war, Alice grabbed Agatha from behind and pulled her away.

With Alice's aid, you yanked the object off the older witch's hands. Ignoring her yell.... roar? of frustration. You held the object close to your chest. Keeping it far from Agatha. Jennifer told Agatha that she couldn't run from the poison. Then, Teen held a full wine glass. You stared at it then to Agatha. "She didn't drink the poison... " The boy said as he approached slowly. "You can't cheat, Agatha." He frowned.

"Why?! who says!?" Agatha demanded. You scoffed. Nothing had changed. You were a fool for thinking other wise. God, you were an utter idiot for doing this.

"The road." Lilia said, her voice strong, clearly frustrated with Agatha.

Agatha rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Oh that's ridiculous!" She hissed at Lilia. You scoffed. No, her behaviour was ridiculous. "We don't all have to suffer!" You felt yourself lose a few braincells. How, after all this time, was she still acting like a child throwing a tantrum. "Teen didn't drink!" Agatha argued. You rolled your eyes.

Jennifer was quick to argue back. "He's not in the coven and he's underage." She gestured to teen. It was clear everyone in the room was seething with anger.

"I'm gonna shove it down your gullet, so help me-" Lilia snapped.

Agatha snatched the glass out of Teen's hand. "Oh, you know what!" She grunted and threw the glass to the floor with a force. Smashing it. The red liquid stained the white sofa and carpet. Well, well done Agatha. Jennifer yelled as it it the ground. Alice told Agatha that she had to drink but the older witch was having none of it. "Well, I would but there's no more wine." She smirked at them. "So?" She shrugged. The noticed your disapproving look. Alice picked up her own wine glass and and stared at it. Just then the empty glass began to fill out of of nothing. Red liquid filling half way. As Alice held the glass out for Agatha, the brunette twitched. Clearly uncomfortable. "So cute." She muttered. Teen stepped forward. He held eye-contact with Agatha his eyes stern as he told her to drink. He scoffed then threated to drink it himself. "No!" Agatha yelled then grabbed him back. You watched interested by the desperate changed in Agatha.

Agatha scoffed as she took the drink, she forced it to her lips and drank. Twitching as she did. Once she finished, she held back a cough. Agatha muttered something about it being so cheap. Just then, You turned to face Mrs Hart as she began to mutter pleas to herself and someone called Wanda. You stared, Utterly confused. "Oh, god." You gasp when she fell. Alice caught the woman and sit her on the sofa.

"Hey, Potions witch." Agatha called, her face now as bloated as yours was a few moments ago. "it's time to brew an antidote." Agatha hummed. You kept your eyes on the older witch. This was going to be interesting.

--I_I<-)0(->I_I--

"All right," Jennifer began as she set the timer on the counter. The kitchen lights were dimmed. "Let's see what we're working with here." she said, deep in thought. "I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect." She hummed as she thought about the ingredients. Alice and teen took off quickly to find the frankincense and honey. She then looked between Agatha, you and Lilia. You stared at her, waiting for her next few ingredients. "I need a corpse that's been decaying for at least 30 million years." Your eyes widened. A what? Where would one even require that!?

Agatha seemed to share your train of thought as she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, is that just something that's available cause I don't know what you're talking about!" She exclaimed as she looked Jennifer up and down.

You looked between the two. The tension was insufferable. "Why do I have to translate?" She asked, frustrated. "It's zooplankton. It's in petroleum products." she explained and looked to Lilia for support.

Lilia nodded, taking the potion witch's words into account. Agatha took your arm as she looked to the Divination witch. "Lilia, come on." Agatha urged the older woman who was already walking at a fast pace. "After you. Let's go. Andale!" Agatha rushed out as she kept you by her side. Chasing after Lilia. As you walked by Agatha's side, you paused.

"Minerva." A voice hissed through the air. Ghosting across your skin. Making the hairs the back of your neck stand up. You knew that voice better then anyone else. "Minerva." The voice called out again. You stilled, staring wide-eyed. Agatha shook your arm, causing you to look at her. She was... speaking? yelling? yet you could not hear. Her face was smothered in concern. "Minerva." Your head snapped in the direction of soft voice. When you turned to look back for Agatha, she wasn't there. You swallowed thickly and adjusted your glasses. Nerves running through you. The voice called your name again. You licked your unusually dry lips and with a deep breath, you took a step toward the voice. Michelle's voice.

With each step you took, the walls seemed to... grow smaller. Placing your hand against the wall in attempt to steady yourself, you noticed how it changed from lavished wallpaper to dark hard wood. At the end of the corridor stood a door. You tilted your head. It looked familiar. Reaching for the handle, you hesitated. Closing your eyes, you opened the door. A gasp left you as fresh air entered your lungs. "Your late, lass." Your sister glared gently. Her accent was as thick as you remembered. You stared wide eyed, shrinking slightly under her green gaze. Tearing up, You looked upon your sister slim form. You suddenly felt much smaller. "Come now, it won't be long till Agatha comes back." She scowled. "If only Ma could see you now." She shook her head and turned her back on you while she continued to clean.

Deciding to approach with caution, you called for her but she didn't seem to hear you. "I didn't ask for any of this, you know." She scowled. "Don't you think I wanted a normal childhood? Instead.... of taken care of you. I never wanted to leave home. To leave home for this... clatty country! But Da found out. And what was I to do, Minerva? Ma had already been put to death by the local church." She hissed under her breath, the weight and build up of all her hidden thought coming to surface. You took a step back. You felt like a silly little girl all over again. You hadn't even felt the tears run down your cheeks until you touched your cheek. "I gave you everything and what did I get? I worked.... And I worked. I suffered!" She cried out.

You could take it anymore, you reached for your sister. "Michelle... stop it..." You whispered and tried to touch your sister. "Please, I'd never... I'm sorry, Michelle." She turned to face you, causing you to stumble back slightly. She... her skin... gods. You couldn't look. It was rotting. Your sister's once perfect and pristine face was crumbling, cracking and collapsing.

"I should have let father killed you then... Had I known.... " She sobbed, screaming. Your heart was racing. Michelle's skin was decaying. Worm eaten. "Look at me! Look at what you caused!" She screamed, spitting at you in the process. She grabbed both your arms and shook you. "I should've let Da throw you in the loch!" You sobbed. Her words hitting a cord within you.

Michelle continued to shake you. You closed your eyes. Why wouldn't it just stop! "Minerva!" Agatha's voice rang through your head. You eyes snapped open. Where Michelle had once been, Agatha was now in her place. "Snap out of it!" She hissed as she continued to shake you. You sobbed and launched yourself into her arms.

Agatha froze as you sobbed into her neck. "Aggie..." You cried. "Michelle... she..." You didn't dare to continue. Agatha was frozen for a moment before she stroked your hair and sighed. Nodding to herself. You calmed down quickly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed and vulnerable. You noticed Lilia's eyes were stuck on your form. Concern laced into those soft eyes. You cleared your throat and pulled away from Agatha. Your cheek's darkened as an awkward tension was left in the air. "Let's just continue, shall we?" You whispered and hugged yourself in an effort to keep yourself steady. Lilia nodded to herself and led the way. Agatha stared at you for a moment but you shook her off. Not wanting any questions.

Making your way to the garage, Agatha turned on the light. You panicked. There was no car. Lilia's lips became thin as her brows furrowed. "No car. No Gas." She frowned in worry.

You looked between the two. "What else had petroleum in it?" You asked, confused.

Agatha thought for a moment before running off with the word 'Jelly' leaving her lips. Finding yourself with no other choice, You shared a quick look with Lillia before following Agatha. Agatha led you both to a bathroom area. On the shelves was full of Jennifer's skin care. You raised an eyebrow. Really? "Ugh." Agatha groaned. "Of course, Jen's skin care made it to the road." She complained as she looked over the products.

Lilia looked confused as she held one of the tubs. "But it's all... organic. There's no petroleum in there?" she said as she eyed the product. Agatha shrugged and said about calling her bluff. You nodded to yourself and began to pick up some of the products. "Try to save Agatha." You were taken back at Lilia's sudden words. What did she mean? It was quite similar to how she reacted earlier on. The same dazed out eyes.

You blinked a few times. It felt like a staring test between the three of you. No one knowing what exactly to say. "um... Yes, I love this plan but.. I just think we should find the ingredients first." Agatha forced an awkward smile. You eyed them as Lilia slowly turned her back and picked up a few products. Once you had gathered some, You all went back through the halls. Trying to reach the kitchen.

As you walked, you noticed that Lilia was no longer behind the two of you. "Agatha..." You paused and she looked behind her to look at you. She looked at you expectantly. "Lilia's gone. We can't just leave her." You said like it was obvious as you eyed the corridor for the older witch.

"Can't we?" Agatha snarked with a smirk. However, when she saw your glare she frowned and shrugged. "You're no longer any fun, Mins."

You ignored her and retraced your steps. As you did, you felt a body clash with yours. Lilia yelped in surprise. You steadied her for a moment, Your eyes wide with worry. But she only pulled away from you and landed with her back against the wall. Trying to get away. Her chest was rising up and down. Whatever she had seen had clearly scared her. She looked like an injured animal and you didn't dare approach. When she spoke, it wasn't in English. It was foreign something you hadn't heard before. She closed her eyes. You shared a glance with Agatha. Even she looked concerned for the older witch, surprise in her eyes. When you looked back at Lilia you saw the utter pain in her eyes. She was still not looking the two of you. Perhaps expecting to be mocked.

For a while there was only silence. You let her calm down a little on her own. As you did, Her eyes slowly turned to look at you and Agatha. Both of you stood unmoving. Faces soft with gentle silent comfort. "Lilia..." You whispered softly. "It's okay..." You hummed and took a little step forward towards her. Her breathing was still uneven but you didn't dare push the woman. She swallowed and closed her eyes for another moment. When she was calm again, she looked to you and nodded. Agatha wasted no time in the leading the two of you back. You lingered behind a bit to keep an eye on Lilia.

Returning to the living room, you suddenly felt very loose. Agatha wasted no time in announcing that You three had successfully gotten the ingredients. "What's next!" Agatha barked. But as she did glass cracked. You tensed as looked towards the large windows. Agatha stepped forwards, her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out the cause. "What.. is that?" She asked and very slowly approached. Following her lead, your eyes widened as you got closer. Lilia wasted no time in staying by your side. Her expression mirroring your own. Your head was reeling as you came to terms with what you saw. The house appeared to be deep under water.

The water was leaking into the room through the crack. The crack Agatha had made earlier. Jennifer confirmed it was salt water. Alice glanced at the group momentarily. "How long is that going to hold." she asked with a slight twinge of fear to her voice.

You tensed. "I'd rather not find out." You hummed and glanced to the protection witch.

"No, thank you." Agatha rushed. The group, bar Lilia, ran to lift Mrs Hart. You held the woman's upper body, careful with her head. As you carried her into the kitchen, Agatha looked to Lilia. "Move those pears out of the way." She said like an order as you approached the table. Lilia nodded and acted quickly, rushing to move the decorative pears out of the way. Setting the woman on the table, Alice glanced your way. Seemingly thankful for your aid.

As you gathered around the sink, Jennifer took lead. "The elements need to be added in a certain order in a specific time." She clarified, You felt hot. Really hot. Like the sun had blasted you with it's flames. Your breathing became heavier. You noticed that Lilia, who stood beside you, seemed to be in a similar state. "Starting with gut and eye." Jennifer said as she dumped the ingredients in. Alice tried to aid Jennifer but the other woman waved her off. "No, no, no, no, get out of here." She quickly said. She then looked to Agatha. "Where's the zooplankton?" She asked.

Lilia wobbled slightly, loosing her balance before she fully leaned on the table. Agatha, in her poisoned state, smirked. "All natural or not, Jen?" You glanced to Agatha as she teased her while waving the skin care products. Jennifer looked conflicted for a short moment before telling Agatha to throw it in. "Knew it." Agatha said smugly as she and Lilia dumped the skin care into the sink. Lilia, who seemed to be completely... out of it, leaned against you when she looked her balance once more. You tensed but did not remove her. Alice struggled with the frankincense, so much so that she could not open the small tub. Just as Jen was Complaining about it, Teen offered his help. Then, after a few seconds, the water began to turn a shade of pink. "Its... working? it working, right?" Agatha asked desperately.

"What? What's wrong?" Lilia questioned, her brows furrowed. Her eyes full of uncertainty and fear.

"Any bright ideas on how to set this thing to boil?" Jen frowned nervously.

Agatha freaked. "You didn't think of this before!?" She snapped at the potions witch.

You stared wide eyed. Was Jennifer serious? "While I was in the middle of a traumatic hallucination?" Jen glared Agatha down. "No, Agatha, I did not." Hissed the tall woman.

For a moment, you found yourself twitching. Your jaw clenched and you stood to your full height. "We all had traumatic hallucinations." You gritted. Lilia glanced to you. Most of this time you had been quiet. She couldn't help but wonder what went on in your mind. So closed off, yet there were hints.. moments of vulnerably... frustration.

Teen, in an attempt to stop the tension, put himself forward. "Uh, is there a sous vide?" He asked as he began to rummage in the cupboards. Agatha cringed as she asked Lilia what it was. But Lilia looked just as lost. "It's a super fancy cooking tool. it heats water to a specific temperature so that you can cook your meat evenly." He explained as he found the object. Plugging it in the sink. "My dad loves his." He smiled briefly.

Jennifer called his name as she struggled. Now losing control of her body Like Lilia had. Teen grabbed the wooden spoon before returning to the sink. Waiting for Jennifer's instruction. "I need you to stir with your right dominant hand, counter clock wise." She said, out of breath while she came to his side. Hovering near the sink to keep an eye on him. Teen looked clueless and Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "To the left." She elaborated and he took in her words while stirring. "Everyone, pull a strand of hair out of your head now." She hummed. "A single hair only!" She hummed.

You winced as you yanked a strand out of your head. You were waiting for the next instruction from Jennifer when you noticed Agatha's change in demeanour. You called her name but she didn't seem to hear. Frowning you called again as she began to walk away. Jennifer shared a look with Alice. Suddenly, Agatha was kneeling her back turned to you. With a gasp, she sobbed and fell back on herself. Her hand covering her mouth. It looked as if she were trying to get away from something. You stared at the older witch. Worried beyond measure. "Agatha!" Jennifer snapped, drawing Agatha out of her vision. Agatha scrambled to stand up. She looked around her. Terrified. "Agatha, we need your hair." Agatha approached and yanked a strand out of her head. "Now." Jennifer told the group. You dropped your hair into the sink, watching as the others did the same. "Stop stirring." Teen stilled. "We need to clasp hands and clear your minds." You took Lilia's hand in one and Teen's in the other. Lilia was shaking. "Once our intentions our aligned, it will glow a bright cerulean." She said.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus. Shouldn't be too hard... right? "Wait, what our intentions again?" Agatha asked cringing hard, still taken back by her vision.

"To not die." Jennifer forced out.

Keeping your eyes close for a few moments. You tried to think of how nice it would be not to drop dead in a few minutes. You opened your eyes when you heard Alice speak. "I get cerulean and chartreuse confused..." She admitted sheepishly. "Is cerulean the green one?" Teen shook his head with a frown. Correcting her by telling her it was blue. "Then it's not working." Your body tensed. Great. this was how you died?! Absolutely fabulous. Teen panicked slightly and tried to explain it was like... a teal. You felt your heart jump in your chest. This was a disaster.

Lilia's hold on your hand tightened. You weren't too sure she realised she was still holding it. "It's green, teen!" she exclaimed.

"We only have a minute left! What have you forgotten?" You demanded, staring daggers at Jennifer. Your eyes held the fear lingering all over your body.

Her eyes mirrored your own. "I Don't know!" She cried. "I've never made this potion before!" You felt the heat rising. You took off your blazer and through it to the side. "I make retinol serums for Christ's sake!" She hissed. "There was once a time where I would be able to solve this a wave of my hand, but now? I'm bound!" She shouted, the panic and built up energy finally getting to her. "He stole my magic! We're all gonna die here! I do not want to die here!" Jennifer hissed and took a step back. "This is not where I die!" she yelled, as her breathing became even more uneven.

Agatha grabbed her by the shoulders in attempt to get through to her in some way. "I have always hated you." She admitted, keeping her grip tight on Jennifer's arms. "But I left you alone because what you were doing was important." She continued, the honesty dripping from her tongue. "Not this kale care crap. the real work. you can be that witch again. they can take your power, Jen, but they cant take your knowledge." Agatha finished. You stared at the interaction. Jennifer remained unresponsive for a moment. As if she wasn't fully processing Agatha's words or the meaning behind them. "Jen?" Agatha urged.

"Blood."

Smirking, Agatha's eyes filled with glee when Jennifer gave her an answer. "Who's and how much?" she questioned. When Jennifer mentioned the blood of the unpoisoned the weight of the room shifted. Agatha side glanced towards teen and you didn't know what to think. The boy swallowed nervously as Agatha went towards the knives. Grabbing one she stormed over to Teen and grabbed his hand. "Thanks for being underage." She said as she sliced his hand open, ignoring the short protests from Lilia.

Then, with the blood in the sink, the potion colour began to change. Bubbling like wild as it did. You grinned like the Cheshire cat as it settled into a bright blue colour. Perfect. With Jennifer's okay, You wasted no time in getting yourself some of the antidote. Chugging it down, You winced as it attacked your throat. The taste leaving a surprisingly bitter after affect as it scratched down your throat. However, once it hit your depths, you relaxed. Sharing a look with the group. You laughed in relief as you felt yourself return to normal. The victory was short lived. Jennifer noticed the timer was still ticking. "Mrs Hart!" Alice realised. In a flash, a small bit of Anti-dote was passed down the line to Alice as she carefully forced the liquid down Mrs Hart.

"DUMP IT IN HER MOUTH!" Agatha yelled desperately, hints of frustration in her tone. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Your head snapped in the direction of the timer beeping. "Did it work?" Agatha asked. Suddenly the oven door slammed open. Jumping, you stared at the open door. Clearly that was your way out of this hell hole of a trial. Slowly approaching, you stayed a little behind Lilia as she lowered herself to look in.

Lilia's face became a scowl. "I am NOT climbing in an oven." she grumped slightly. You raised an eyebrow at her out right denial. "That happened to a friend of mine once," She stood straight to look at the group. "She had a lovely house too, and she ended up-" Lilia was interrupted by the crashing of waves. The glass from the windows had smashed right through. You stared at the water, completely gobsmacked. No. You hated water! Lilia and the others screamed. Jennifer was not taking any chances as the water slowly began to fill the kitchen. She was quick to harshly push Lilia out of the way, sending her stumbling backwards, toward you. Luckily enough, you caught her without fault. You glared daggers towards Jennifer as she slid down the oven and disappeared. You guided Lilia towards the oven, despite her resistance. She out right refused. "Nope! NO!" She cried out.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and your lips became thin. "If we stay, we'll be worse off!" You yelled over the overwhelming noise from the water. "I promise it'll be okay but we need to go now!" You urged her forwards. She stared at you, horror woven into her gaze. She looked back at the sea water filling the room then bit her lip. Braving it, she knelt and climbed into the oven. Once she was in, You turned to look for Agatha. You wouldn't leave her. Lilia stared at you, waiting for you to join her. Walking through the water, carrying Mrs Hart, was Alice, Agatha and teen. You moved out of their way so they could put her in the oven.

"Just shove her in there! just shove her! Shove her in there!" Agatha yapped. Lilia helped take Mrs Hart before hesitantly sliding down with a terrified scream. Alice told teen to go and he did. Agatha rolled her eyes and shoved you forward after Teen had slid down. Forcing you to go after the teenager. You didn't dare protest and followed suit. As you slid down, a scream echoed through the tunnel. Agatha cringed when she saw more and more water flooding the kitchen. she pushed herself in front of Alice. "ME NEXT!" she yelled and slid down after you.

At the end of the... tunnel slide? You yelped as you bumped into Teen. Having domino effect on the ones in front. You groaned and coughed out. "Bloody gods above..." You muttered. However, Your peaceful moment it didn't last long as Agatha came sliding down at full speed, tumbling as she did, hitting you in the back. You hissed out in pain but the older witch didn't seem to care. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that Lilia seemed... alight. Agatha stood and pushed past you, you rolled your eyes as you watched her struggle to get through the tangled bodies. In her effort to get out of the mess, She pushed teen and Lilia to the side. You sighed. Typical. When Agatha passed Jennifer she kicked her rather hard. But what else were you really expecting?

Taking in a deep breath, you stood fully and gave yourself a once over. You were drenched like a wet dog. Lilia leaned against the wall as she tried to come to terms with what just happened. The near death experience hitting her deep. You took off your red tartan coat. The bloody thing was dripping with water. Agatha flicked some hair out of her face. "A little rusty there, Jen?" She snarked as she eyed the potions witch.

Jennifer glared at the blue eyed witch. "A little traitorous there, Agatha?" Jennifer sassed back.

You held back a bitter smirk and lowered your head. Before the two could continue to bicker Lilia hushed them. "Stop." She looked them up and down. "We're alive..." Her tone dropped... she was relieved... shocked... "We made it through the first test." Lilia turned to scan the group. Her eyes scanning for your face. "Everyone is safe." She nodded to herself when she saw you staring at her.

Teen voice interrupted the still moment. "Not everyone." He corrected, sorrow in his tone. "Sharon's dead." He closed the blonde woman's eyes. You stepped a little closer, your breath caught in your throat.

Agatha glanced around the group. "Who's Sharon?" She asked, confused. You felt yourself shrink at the older witch's words. Your hand came to your face. Oh god.

--I_I<-)0(->I_I--

Pacing in your other form, the wheels in your head were turning. Alice had suggested taking a break for a while... to adjust to recent advents. You had found a round patch for the group to rest for now. The leaves felt soft... almost pleasant under your small paws. As you paced, Your pointed ears flicked in the direction of the group. You couldn't believe that a woman was dead already. How? She drank the antidote, didn't she? Walking away from the group, you decided you needed some time alone. Properly alone. However, You didn't dare stray too far from them. To your surprise, it would seem your thought of privacy was shared. There, a short distance away, on a fallen log sat Lilia. She seemed deep in thought. You debated whether to approach or not. But with one first step, your mind was made up.

Approaching slowly, you waited for her to noticed you. With luck, she did. If she was surprised she didn't show it. The older witch simply stared at you, blinking occasionally. With a few more steps, You slowly transformed back into your original state. You frown and adjust your glasses. "May I sit?" You asked and gestured to the spot next to her. The older witch thought for a moment then nodded with a small weak smile. It was thin and you would have missed it if you hadn't been looking at her properly. She looked... Beyond stressed. Her curly hair was slightly dishevelled. As you sat down, you sighed. The weight of the day laying heavy over the two of you. "You shouldn't stray to far from the group..." You whisper gently hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

Lilia scoffed faintly but it only made you smirk. "I needed some time away." She admitted. You tilted your head when she said that. Your eyes softened. Of course, it was understandable why. The day had been... too much. You thought to your sister and frowned. "So... A tabby cat?" Lilia forced a smile trying to change the subject to something lighter. She didn't want to bring her problems onto you. You fondly shake your head as she spoke. "I had a friend once that was like you... a transformation witch, I mean. She could transform into a large grey wolf." Lilia's eyes became distant. Almost as if she were watching the memories right there and then. "She was a sweet woman despite it. She... was murdered during the trails. Saving my life actually. She lost control of it and... well, I'm sure you can guess the rest." She frowned, her fond memories turning sombre. You wondered what it must have been like. To live as long as Lilia had. To experience so much pain and loss. It would kill you.

"It must have been hard." you whispered and moved a little closer to her in silent comfort. "I'm sorry for it."

The older witch waved you off, not wanting your apologies. She'd rather hide that pain. "What I was trying to say was.. It must be nice to shed your skin and forget about.." Lilia hummed with a soft smile. "Well, I'm sure you know what I mean." She whispered. "I always did like cats. It must be exciting to have an ability like yours." She continued, still deep in thought.

You laughed and her attention fully snapped to you as if she were confused on what exactly was so funny. "Yeah." You chuckled. "It's all fun and games until your throwing up hairballs early in the morning." A wide grin appeared on the older witch's face. She laughed of to the side slightly. As if embarrassed that she was laughing in the first placed. You joined her and for a moment. The air felt lighter. You relaxed slightly and noticed how her posture mirrored your own. Despite being on such a risk filled journey you felt safe. If only for a moment. Brown eyes met your green. You swallowed. The two of you continued to stare for a moment until Lilia seemed to remember herself and looked away, turning her gaze to the sky.

Lilia, nervous, Fiddled with her rings. "You trust Agatha." She brought up after the moment had gone. The fact hung in the air. You glance at her before looked at your clawed hands. Yeah, you trusted Agatha. Many would call you a fool for doing such a thing but... After everything that had happened. "Why is that?" The grey haired witch asked curiously. Her eyes running over you with a little suspicion.

Taking a moment, you were quiet. Debating on what to say, you sighed. "Do you know the tales? Of my sister and I coming to America? The Smith sisters." You questioned. Lilia hesitated for a moment before nodding. She knew little of the tale and she doubted what she heard was accurate. "When Michelle and I fled from Scotland in 1710, I was only four. Our Ma had been killed a month before that. Michelle watched it happen. She saw our Ma strangled before they threw her into the flames." You clarified and continued to look a head, not wanting to face the older witch. "My sister was only sixteen. The only reason she had not married at thirteen was because she was rebellious and Da didn't want to give away an improper woman. She was scheduled to marry the priest's brother's Lad." you frowned. Lilia eyed you, Her eyed held an interest. In all honesty, this information wasn't entirely relevant but perhaps it gave some context. However, you were mainly telling it to talk about your sister. Her struggles deserved to be known. "But That never happened. After we fled, We spent four years traveling. Looking for a safe place to live. But with Michelle being a young woman with no money and an eight year old... Well, I'm sure you can imagine how hard things where." Your eyes became dark as you thought about it. You could still remember your sister being an utter mess as she would steal food and let herself starve so that she could feed you.

"Over time, Michelle became desperate for some kind of salvation. She stole money off some... lord of England." you continued with your tone lowered. "She'd never tell me how she managed to pull off such a feat but I still remember the ugly red bruises on her neck. With that money she bought us ticket to America. To start fresh. Took us two and a half months over sea but we made it. So many lower class had died on that ship. When we got there, we had stolen from the wrong pocket. Agatha's. She recognised the magic in us immediately. Well, more the magic in Michelle." Surprised laced in Lilia's deep brown eyes. The more she heard, The more she disliked. You held your coat closer. "I don't know how it all happened.. There was a connection between them, I guess. Michelle took to Agatha like a moth to the flame and before I knew it, our group of two became three." You smiled with hints of fondness. "Agatha would teach Michelle and help her with care of me and in return, Michelle would help with any tasks Agatha would need down. I'm positive there was more to their deal but I don't know what." You shrugged. Lilia looked conflicted as she heard about this.. side of Agatha. "I suppose, I trust Agatha because she was the one that aided us. Because she helped Michelle raise me. We probably would have died without her." You whispered, turning your gaze to Lilia. She looked... unsure. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes held a concern. Her lips were thin. You sighed. "I'm not saying you should trust her. But there's more to her then what meets the eye. If there wasn't. I wouldn't be here." You sighed.

Lilia shuffled a little closer. It was a small movement. One you would have missed if you weren't paying attention. "And where's Michelle now?" She questioned curiously.

A bitterness played in your eyes as you turned to look at the sky. "Dead." The word left a thickness between you. "She went on a... mission some years ago with Agatha and... " You frowned when you remembered Rio. You cleared your throat. "Well, she never came home. Agatha won't talk about. At least not properly. Whatever happened on that day still haunts her." You finalised deep in thought as the older witch nodded along.

The curly haired woman eyed you with slight you worry. "Do you think that Agatha might have..." She paused. Eyeing your body language before deciding to go through with her words. "Drained her?" The words hit a nerve in you.

It was a fair question. One you thought about everyday. It was the reason you stopped talking to Agatha and cut her off in the first place. Yet, you thought back to Agatha and Michelle's... friendship. Agatha would never mean to hurt Michelle. But what if they were in a situation where only one could make it out alive? You bit the inside of your cheeks. "Until it is proven that she did. I will remain by her side." You explained lightly. You sigh and stand. Taking in a deep breath. You turned back to look at the seated woman. "Come on, we shou-"

"Stop it!" you jumped slightly at Lilia's sudden change in demeanour. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the woman who was now looking very dazed. Tilting your head, you inched a little bit towards the older witch. She looked as if she couldn't even see you. Her eyes were so out of focus.

Debating on how progress, you very gently called her name. "Lilia?" She didn't respond still in her.. lucid state. Cautious, you kneeled in front of her. You didn't want to scare how when she was in this state of mind. Being slow, you very carefully took her hand. "Lilia? Can you hear me? What do you see, Lilia?" The woman blinked rapidly when she heard your voice and felt your touch. Her brows furrowed and she looked to the spot beside her, where you had once been. The older woman looked confused on why you had suddenly 'teleported' spots. She looked down to your hand in hers. Her mind catching up with what happened. You gave a supportive smile and pull away. Leaving her hand slightly reaching for yours. "Come on, it's about high time we return to the others. Lilia nodded to herself and stood, brushing down as she did.

The walk back was quiet, but not uncomfortable. As you returned to the group, Agatha watched you like a hawk. Her gaze questioning. You ignored it but that was short lived as the blue eyed witch approached you. "What was that about?" She hummed with her arms crossed. You said nothing and watched as Lilia said down on a rock near Jennifer and Alice.

"Nothing... Nothing at all."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This one is such a long chapter I was soo worried about it being too long and boring, so hopefully you've found it enjoyable. Thank you so much for reading this chapter!

I really hope you guys like it so far and I really cannot wait to get into the next chapter and to show you all what is to come. This is currently my favourite project. Also did anyone else panic for nothing over this weeks episode cause I was shitting myself thinking it was going to be Lilia's trial. 😭 I'm terrified for next weeks

I would like to point out that I'm dyslexic so I'm sorry for any mistakes and I'm assuming there will be a good few in this chapter because of the length. Please let me know what you think! I'm always reading the comments and looking for your thoughts and taking them into account and they help a lot with motivation.

Lot's of love and I hope to see you in the next chapter! 💜

(Remember to continue to thank and praise Patti Lupone in our prayers)

#agatha all along #lilia calderu x reader #lilia calderu #patti lupone #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #agatha harkness #ao3 writer #witches #archive of our own #alice wu gulliver #jennifer kale #teen agatha all along #mrs hart #w/w

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cre8inghavoc · 6 months ago

Text

Can't help it...

Part 9

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

Inumaki's POV:

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours now, and I don’t understand why I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve always had issues with sleeping—insomnia’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember—but I thought it was getting better. This past week, for the first time in years, I actually slept well. It was odd, sure, but I wasn’t complaining.

But tonight? Tonight, it’s back to the old ways.

Back to no sleep.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I glanced over at the clock.

4 a.m.

Great.

Should I even bother going to school later? Maybe I should just skip. But then… I wouldn’t see y/n.

Fuck.

The thought of not seeing her tomorrow... or today, technically... made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to think too much about. I let out another frustrated sigh and turned my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind running through all the reasons why texting her at this hour would be a terrible idea.

She’s probably asleep. You’ll wake her up. She’ll think you’re being annoying. Just leave her alone.

But then again… what if she’s awake too? What if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her right now?

Before I could overthink it anymore, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hesitating over the keyboard. I typed out a message and stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to hit send.

This is stupid. She’s not awake. You’ll look like an idiot.

But my thumb pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

Hey… you up?

I tossed my phone on the bed beside me and ran a hand over my face, already regretting it. But now all I could do was wait.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping she would respond. It’s not like I can sleep, so maybe talking to her would help. But at the same time… I kind of hope she doesn’t even see my message. Because… what if I’m being too much?

What if she sees it, rolls her eyes, and thinks I’m just some guy who can’t get a grip? Someone who’s bothering her at 4 a.m. for no reason?

I sighed, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen as it sat on the bed next to me. What was I expecting? That she’d magically be awake, texting back right away? And if she did… what would I even say?

Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?

Yeah, right. That would go over well.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration bubble up in my chest. Why was she in my head so much? Why couldn’t I just… let it go? Ignore it? Pretend I wasn’t thinking about the way she looked at me earlier, or the way her voice shook just a little when she was mad?

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side and staring at the phone again. One minute passed. Then another. The screen stayed dark, and the silence stretched on. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better if she didn’t answer.

Because if she did… I wasn’t sure what I’d say next. Or worse, what I’d admit.

But then, to my surprise, my phone buzzed.

I blinked, staring at it for a moment as if I’d imagined the notification. The screen lit up, her name glowing back at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated before picking it up, as if seeing her response would somehow make this real.

WARNING: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & HEAVY FLIRTING/TEASING

A/N

things are getting veryyy spicy now 👀

hope you enjoyed this little tease

im so sorry this took so look... it was very unexpected ive just been extremely busy and honestly haven't had the energy to write much

yes this is very short butttt i kinda just want some of yalls opinion on this... like would you actually wanna read the smut (next part)

ik its late ASF BUT ENJOY IT PLEASE OR ELSE ILL CRY FR

TAG LIST <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh @hansl0ver @miowxh

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robin-evry · 8 months ago

Note

Oooooohhhhh saw the robin yuu post, now how about a traveler yuu more specifically a lumine yuu that gets isekaied to twst?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓☀️🌙

A traveler from another world who had their only kin taken away, forcing them to embark on a journey to find The Seven.

NRC unofficial errand runner, traveler!yuu will accept any task or any errand as long as it comes with a price or it comes from the good of their hearts.

Academically traveler!yuu would be pretty much an average student, their grades are not bad as well not the top of the class, just basically in the middle.

Don't underestimate or try to downgrade them, by far one of the most powerful or not the most powerful and skilled warriors in NRC, Lilia admits himself saying that traveler!Yuu is not someone you should underestimate, he could tell they are a warrior even more skilled than him, sebek of course rejects this idea and challenges them and loses badly after a few seconds.

It's unclear whether or not traveler!Yuu is a human or not because they're not originally from this world. Many students have debates whether they are or not and when asking them what they are, they always shrug it off and continue on their business. Their age is also a mystery do they carry the appearance of a young adult their age has suppressed a human And there's a popular rumor that they are older than Lilia himself like a thousand years older than him.

During the dwarf mine cave moment with the ink monster chasing behind them and their friends to get the stone, traveler!Yuu summons their sword and strikes it down with ease.

Traveler!Yuu have the unique ability to use as well to copy peoples magic by just touching the person as well observing small amounts of mana from people but it usually causes no harms to anybody, they use Carter's unique magic by accidentally bumping into him during lunch, as well the ability to purify things from blot.

They are on a journey of looking for their sibling who they got separated from in this world. Lilia seems to know about them since during his youth he mentioned a person similar to traveler!yuu as well in the text book mention about a strong warrior and by far having abilities suppressing anyone in this world dating back a few hundred years ago.

Works at mostro lounge as a part time job, but Azul has been trying to convince them to work full time, bro is so desperate to hire them. During work hours Traveler!yuu will help Floyd clean the place or as well run some errands with jade.

Very popular in NRC, other than their title of being errands runner. They are very popular in school for being one NRC most trustworthy student and friends. They go gargoyle exploring with malleus, sword training with sebek and silver, help paint the roses with Carter, etc. traveler!Yuu is a trustworthy companion in NRC.

Tales are told across the world many adventures and accomplishments of a powerful and courageous hero that once passed in this world, that looks identical to them but suddenly disappears and their whereabouts is unknown ( their sibling )

The first years are usually people they talk about their adventures, traveler!Yuu is also pretty smug after listing all their accomplishments like aiding in the defeat of an ancient sea god during one of their adventures and the first years jaw drop the floor meanwhile their 😏

Trey, Jamil and them would cook together occasionally once a week, traveler!yuu would start to learn exotic delicacy from Jamil and learn how to bake sweets with trey. Even tho they do have some ups and downs in their skill but they are learning.

Jamil and traveler!yuu originally get along with each other, whether or not Jamil is too busy dealing with kalim he will ask traveler!yuu to do the errands for him, he started to abuse this ability more often asking them to run errands because he doesn't feel like it, but was asked to stop by grim because traveler!yuu has become more exhausted.

Grim asks Crowley to tell the entire school to stop relying on traveler!yuu so much it has become a burden towards. Grim cannot stand his favourite henchman coming back home exhausted and drained it's now officially forbidden to ask for traveler!yuu to run your errands. Vil also personally asks travelers!yuu to stop students doing other people's work since it's their own responsibility not them. Pomifiore has already established this rule because vil realized his dorm started to slack off and have more free time. And if there was anyone that is persistent on having traveler!yuu to help them, they will stop by rook and him.

Crowley was also devastated by this decree because he was also using them but look his precious student is tired of Always helping other people he has no choice so he put up the decree, how gracious and kind hearted man he is meanwhile grim looking at him with a 😒

Everybody in the school knows that traveler!Yuu is by far from being weak, they possessed stamina that suppress most of the students as well skilled in hand to hand combat. Not to mention their unique ability to copy and absorb magic. Not to mention their physical abilities also suppress some non-human abilities. During flight classes instead of using brooms traveler!yuu occasionally use their wings to fly around ( their wings during the game's first cutscenes ) it's pretty for them to pop up their wings tho only a few students have only seen them. During free times epel is approved to be trained by them in hand to hand combat by traveler!yuu.

Some troublemakers once challenge traveler!yuu on a spar but lose to them in a blink of an eye, very respected by the savanaclaw dorm every time when traveler!yuu walk by them, they will greet them with respect like a leader. Occasionally also have spars with the savanaclaw students including jack meanwhile Leona and ruggie watch from the side, ruggie has been teasing about Leona getting on a spar with them but he will shrug it off excusing himself saying he doesn't have the time, deep down Leona knows he will be out best by traveler!yuu but He also started to suspect them to have the potential of taking down malleus which he hopes one day will happen.

Some students started to suspect that they might be aliens that are similar to arch angels but it's unclear, many students Described traveler!yuu is very symbolic to a star, they will shine light upon those who need their guidance and they shine eternally bright in the night sky similar to how traveler!yuu shine bright in NRC.

It's unclear why they are still at twst, but it's related to finding their sibling who they lost during one of their explorations together. And by far their search has been non stop and after their graduation from NRC whenever or not their planning on graduating or dropping out Traveler!Yuu is planning on traveling the world of twst to find traces of their missing siblings.

#not canon #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenario #disney twst #twisted wonderland yuu au #twst mc #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst yuu au #twst x genshin #traveler!yuu #traveler genshin impact

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gin-juice-tonic · 10 months ago

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Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions.

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, so it would not be that far of a stretch in that vein for Ford to also explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening.

Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

I understand there are likely several varying reasons why Ford wouldn't want to tell Fiddleford about Bill, even if Ford DID know he was from a different dimension, however:

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature.

I'm not trying to say he would've actually fully revealed it to Fiddleford if this were the case, but I think the thought process around the concept of doing so would be different.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(A later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his prolonged abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

#book of bill spoilers #the book of bill spoilers #long post #(The following tags are later additions)#This post is very Ford centric but I neglected to mention Bill's perspective #Him revealing this to Ford would've put his whole plan in danger for no reason... so I don't think he would #bob investigations

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bing-whoops · 2 months ago

Text

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE CHANGED | DIAVOLO . *. ⋆ ⊹ ౨ৎ˚₊

chapter 2 : dogs days are over

꒰ summary ꒱ Leaving the baby at the police station should have been the end of your wild weekend. It wasn't. In fact, everything was just about to get a little worse and a little more cruel. At least you had the baby to keep you company.

꒰ pairing ꒱ diavolo x reader

꒰ warnings ꒱ swearing, semi-graphic description of injury, paranoiac thoughts, attempted harm upon you and the baby.

꒰ word length ꒱ 5.5k

꒰ author's note ꒱ imagine spawning and everyone is just out to get you. That's the life of Diavolo Jr. at least he's clinging onto someone who won't just ditch him for giving them the worst eldritch horror vibes!

꒰PREVIOUS꒱ ꒰ MASTERPOST ꒱

A finger continuously tapped the hard material of a seat. No other sound was heard in the vicinity where two demons were standing near each other. The extravagant windows, decorated with the finest materials in the demon realm, were tightly shot and seemed unmoved by the raging storm that was ongoing outside. Not that they cared too much about that particular detail.

The Young Lord of the Demon Realm was the first to break the silence after his trusted butler informed him of the situation in the human realm. Lord Diavolo sighed with resignation; he brought his hand to his face and let it rest in his temple.

“Why would they decide to do this now?” Barbatos listened to the manner the Young Master seemed to lament the timing of the incident rather than it happening at all. He could understand that sentiment. After all, finding possible candidates that were unlikely to develop any strong mental reactions to supernatural activity was already hard enough, and still one out of the three candidates for the program they had managed to find was dead. The reason?

A group of witches were not inclined to agree with Lord Diavolo’s ideals and decided that the most sensible thing to do was kill one of their candidates in retaliation.

That would be what Barbatos would believe if he was a fool.

Did they not believe that he wouldn’t realize the patch that formed in the future? It was as if somebody had used a flashbang into a specific timeline to avoid him looking at it. Barbatos would have found himself being infuriated with the issue at hand had he not been more interested in the magic that was used to meddle with his powers.

The report they had received went into specifics of the multiple dead witches and humans. All of them had been involved in a strange ritual. Whether they did so willingly or not was still up to debate. The more important matter at hand was knowing what their goal was and how they attempted to achieve it.

Barbatos was not unsure of whether they had achieved what they had attempted to do. He may be unfamiliar with this specific way of casting magic, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that the magic inputted into the ritual was still held tightly by the sigils. Meaning that the witches weren’t able to finish the ritual at all.

He didn’t doubt that Lord Diavolo had arrived to similar conclusions.

But the young lord was probably more ruffled by the death of one of the candidate of the exchange program. The prince had even gone ahead and met her in person. She had been the most likely candidate to be chosen at the time.

Well they certainly can’t do that now.

“The sigils that they were using,” Diavolo pondered before pausing mid sentence as he stared at the window, “Were they used for a sacrificial ritual?”

Barbatos crossed his arms over his chest and hummed in thought. “That may have been the purpose, but it was not achieved.”

Lord Diavolo furrowed his eyebrows; he looked uncharacteristically serious to anybody that knew him as the usual cheery but stern ruler. He raised his eyebrow surprised at the response he received from his butler who was more of an advisor than any of the official clan leaders that deemed themselves more important in court than his butler.

“Why would that be? That specific group has been quite—vocal regarding their oppositions to my goals.” Diavolo notes with a pause in his sentence as he attempted to express how utterly annoying it was to deal with that section of the witches specifically.

“That is highly likely to be intertwined with the ritual.”

Diavolo closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh that came deep from his century old bones. That wasn’t even their only concern. There had also been somebody else near the ritual who had rented a house that was a witness to a part of the ordeal if the three dead bodies was anything to by.

It was likely to be a human, but it could also be one of the witches involved in the ritual. Not all of them had died (regretfully), so it was likely that this would be attempted once again. Whether it was in a couple of months or in a couple of decades did not matter much. What mattered was that there were still witches out there who did a sacrificial ritual without consorting the higher-ups of their own coven which likely had to do with their recent outrage against his plans. There had been causalities by both sides. These deaths would likely be used against him by those that were still opposing his exchange program.

Diavolo can already picture it.

What a splendid situation.

He couldn’t wait!

You sighed as you threw yourself to your bed. The ringing headache that you had been nursing on your way here had finally ended and you couldn't be more relaxed even if you tried.

It had been a hard couple of days and you hoped that this would signify that the week would do a complete 180 to become spectacular. You rolled over your backside and stared at the ceiling wondering what you should watch in the TV. The best way to end the day if you had any say in it.

You rolled over the edge of your bed, and reached over to take the remote. However, just as you did so a resounding banging sound came from your door causing you to be startled and yelp. Sadly that was not all that occurred.

In the next second three things occurred. You were leaning with half of your body out of the bed while leaning to get the remote and the loud sound caused you to slip and fall onto the hard, cold floor. Secondly, you banged your head on the nightstand on your way to the floor. Lastly, your headache was back. Stronger than ever.

Had you been any less of a person you would have screamed in frustration. Instead you laid on the floor for a couple of seconds then slowly with the left over will you had to do so you got up and slowly creeped up to the door. Your apartment wasn’t that big so it didn’t take long for you to reach the hallway to the door. However, it was barely hanging by its screws, and as soon as you that you did a double take then sprinted towards the kitchen to get the biggest knife you had in there.

Once you grasped it tightly you quickly pondered whether locking yourself in the bathroom or in your room would be the best idea while you called the police. You held the knife in your right hand more tightly as you got ready to sprint right back to your room.

There was a small thing that you weren’t expecting, however. As soon as you faced the door to the apartment to try and sprint back to your dorm it went flying of its hinges. Weird thing? Nobody was on the other side. In fact, the only thing that you heard over the second bang that caused the door to go flying right into your perfectly clean, scratch-free wall was the laughter of a baby.

For a second you wondered if the way your stomach churned and flipped meant you were hungry. It wasn’t until your headache came back twice as ferocious that you realized that your body seemed to become physically ill after realizing which baby was in your front door.

You warily inched closer to the door. Both the phone and the knife still held tightly in your hands.

As you finally looked down at the same damn baby resting on a basket you let yourself close your eyes. Then proceed to bang your head against the wall. You didn’t scream, but that was only because your neighbor decided it was the perfect time to come and see what was all the ruckus.

The baby just titled his head then let out a loud giggle.

At least one of us is having fun.

You stared at the baby.

The baby stared back at you.

Between the two of you one was noticeably happier than the other. It certainly wasn’t the one that had to pay two hundred dollars to get the door fixed.

You smiled, and you didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know it looked more like a grimace than anything else.

“Well—I don’t think I need holy water to know you aren’t your average baby.” You muttered to yourself before suspiciously looking at the baby who was looking back at you with a gummy smile.

Your lips twitched upwards before you forcefully stopped yourself from smiling back. He was quite good for a demon baby. You sighed and leaned backwards in your sofa after you realized that you had caved in. You had in fact started calling the baby a demon baby. Just like that woman had done in her final moments.

It felt wrong

Whether it was true or not you doubted that the woman had said it with good intentions. However, how would you know? Its not like you could ask her either. She was dead.

You should probably call him something else in meanwhile. You stopped yourself; confused with your own thoughts you wondered when you had arrived to the conclusion that you would be keeping the baby for a while. That was not a conclusion that you personally liked, but you were unsure how the baby had arrived at your doorstep when he was supposed to be in police custody.

Your heartbeat was too loud. You could feel it clogging your ears as you stared nervously as the baby that titled his head back at you. You inched backwards suspiciously. Perhaps it was a fools’ mindset to do something once again after it already failed. However, who could blame you for attempting to contact the police once again to deal with this problem child?

A loud whine brought back your focus to the baby that you had placed across you in the other couch in your small living room. The baby had one of his tiny fists hold tightly onto the couch while the other one was out stretched towards you. His face twisted into a tiny frown that you almost cooed over before reminding yourself that this child was highly likely to be an eldritch being that was a hazard to your peaceful life.

Said eldritch being looked like he was about to fall off the couch while trying to reach you.

Without thinking it twice you lunged out of the couch and caught the baby just as he looked like he was slipping from leaning forwards too much. In your frenzy you failed to notice how the couch you were sitting on had been slowly inching forwards. Almost as if it was being pushed in a straight line towards the baby.

Once you you held the baby in your arms the pout that had formed in his face disappeared in the blink of an eye. Delighted laughter was heard across the apartment. You stared down at the giggling baby that was trying to be permanently glued to you with how tight he was holding your arm.

It was really hard to associate any evilness with the baby in your arms.

You didn’t want to associate any negative incident with the baby.

It was just hard to not do so.

“You’re a real pain you know?” You muttered to yourself while the baby in your arms titled his head. He seemed almost star-eyed by listening to you talk.

“Not sure whether you’re the unlucky one or I am.” You admitted as you maneuvered the baby to your side to only be needing to use on hand to hold him. You hummed to yourself as you eyed the knife that was still sitting in the couch you had been laying on. You’ll put it back in its place after calling the police.

“What should I call you?”

“It doesn’t seem like they bothered to name you at all.”

After muttering such sentence you winced. That was more depressing than you initially thought. Hopefully you were wrong and it was simply your ignorance towards his birth records that accounted for the lack of mentioned name. At all.

As you walked towards your phone (the second you burrowed from the police station after informing them of the accident that occurred to your previous one) you pondered whether it would be that bad to give the baby in your arms a name. Just momentarily.

It certainly couldn’t hurt.

But you know what can hurt?

The damn phone catching fire.

Not even a gradual fire that started from a trail of smoke. Instead, once you started walking closer to it, the phone instantly burst into flames. Not only startling you, but also causing you to take several steps back away from the fire. You tightened your grip on the baby in your arm and cradled him closer to yourself. Your hands felt shakier than they had been in a while.

As you rushed towards the kitchen to get your hands on baking soda to put the fire out you once again failed to notice an important. The baby that you had in your hands had been staring at the phone intently before it had ignited on fire. Afterwards, he had looked back at your face in confusion as you quickly sprinted to the kitchen.

Once again the baby seemed to be eerily calm in these type of moments.

The baby pouted in your arms. It would have been adorable had you not just lost a phone; the baby closed his tiny fists around your loose t-shirt and pulled on it towards himself.

“No phones for me I guess…” You mumble as you continuously patted the baby in the back after he started pulling your hair to bring your attention back to him. How did you know? Well, every time you looked away from him he started pulling on your shirt until you looked back at him. It was funny enough that you were tempted to look away just to get him to pout.

He was an adorable baby.

( a shame that he seemed to bring unfortunate situations to wherever he went )

( and unfortunate situations was putting it lightly )

You wouldn’t be saying that out loud any time soon, though. There was no certain proof that there was anything supernatural-related going on with the baby. The cult business you had been informed by the police did not count as the baby was probably being the victim to the whims of lunatics.

“We both really got the short end of the stick huh?” You said as you poked his side to watch him squeal and laugh.

You approached your phone that had stopped seeping smoke after having thrown the baking soda rashly over it. Your arms hurried to bounce the small infant you had in your hands to avoid him becoming fussy. ( It was unusual—every time you tried getting close to your phone he would start whining while looking to be on the verge of crying ) You hushed him just like you had seen some of your relatives do to their own children. Something you doubted you were able to replicate was the delicate way they handled their offspring.

But he hadn’t died yet so that had to count for something.

While you whispered softly spoken reassurances you used your other hand to hesitantly grab your phone from under the baking soda. It wasn’t a significant amount as you had hastily grabbed a coup, and scooped as much of the baking soda as you could then threw it over your burning phone. However, as soon as you saw the state of your phone you stopped just to stare at its state blankly.

Whatever that was couldn’t and shouldn’t even be counted as a phone. Without acknowledging the amount of money you would spend once again on another phone you simply grabbed some of the baking soda that you had pushed to its side and chucked it right over your previous phone once again.

Consider it a burial.

Somewhere in your apartment your wallet cried tears of blood.

You sighed dejectedly as you made eye contact with the baby in your arms once again. You were so going to have to go to the police station once again didn’t you—?

You stopped your pacing. You stopped the movement in your arms that was appeasing the baby. You stopped breathing for a moment.

Your breaths came almost reluctantly to your lungs as you incredulously stared down at the baby in your arms. Why haven't you questioned how he got there?

Why haven’t you thought about how the baby got to your front door?

A chill went down your spine as you realize there was something wrong with the way you’ve been acting. Weren’t you just a little too carefree with certain things that have been happening? You bite your lip hard enough to sting as you started pacing around your apartment — like a nervous chicken that was locked away for too long. Why had you been so willing to not think about the ‘why’ of the situation?

You looked down at the baby once again and wondered if your neck would start cramping with how repetitive the action had become. You almost wished the baby would reveal itself to be a misleading eldritch being so you could have answers as to who was tormenting you.

There was no other logical conclusion you could arrive to really.

Things seemed to be a little to coincidental for you to just wave it off. So, you just happened to be the one to catch the baby then witness the woman throw herself off a cliff? You just happened to have the luck of seeing the officer being squashed under a boulder and survive? You just happened to come across the weirdo in the convenience store? And you just happened to find the baby you had abandoned in the police station in front of your door? The door that had been blasted?

“Is this a cult ritual?” You theorized as you poked at the baby in your arms as if waiting for him to give you the answers you needed — he did not in act give you anything to work with because in the next second the baby in your arms had started sucking on your thumb while giggling — and desperately craved, “It has to be.”

“So, what is the deal? You torment your next sacrifice as much as possible to then give them to the Great Overlord?” You pondered while staring at your buried phone in the other side of the room.

If that was their plan, then it definitely worked. Just looking at the bills you would soon have to pay caused you to age a couple of decades in advance.

They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again then expecting a different result. However, you truly didn’t know what else to do than get to the police station again. The implications of the baby being in your own now were not lost to you. Although for some reason you hadn’t previously given it much thought you now were aware how utterly terrifying it was for him to be back in your arms. The reason for your new weariness? Simple, you had given the baby that from what you knew was probably going to be sacrificed for a dumb cult. Which means that unless there was someone in the police station that actively wanted the baby to stay with you there was no way for him to be now in your arms.

( and no, you weren’t letting your cult theory go anytime soon if you had anything to say about it )

Mia was an accountant that tried avoiding conflict. She lived next to two college students that usually were not a problem.

Usually being the keyword. Since a couple of weeks back weird things started occurring. First, one of them had started bringing odd-looking individuals to the apartment complex while the other one was out. Most of them wearing clothes that revealed the odd-looking tattoos in their forearms and even necks. She avoided going out of the apartment every time they were they came to visit that girl.

It was hard to pinpoint, but it was as if there was something screaming at her to stay put and avoid those people as much as possible. It was unsettling. If Mia was being honest, she was quite convicted it was her paranoia talking, yet she still avoided them like the plague. Whatever she had to do to avoid feeling this bone-shaking terror she felt every time they came to the apartment next to her, she would do.

This continued for two weeks. Until it abruptly stopped. There were no more midnight meetings between the girl and the other individuals that came over when her roommate wasn’t home. There were no more sleepless nights where she stared at the wall as she heard weird chants next to her apartment. ( She had always said that the walls were paper thin )

This peaceful atmosphere had lasted for a weekend. A weekend that she rejoiced with great joy. Of course this would not last long; the next day at midnight you had come over to your apartment looking like you had seen better days. Your clothes were dirty not only looking ruffled but also with specks of red stains in your sleeves. Perhaps the wort of it all were your eye.

Mia would never confidently say that she was someone who could easily read people; however, your eyes looked haunted. For the lack of better word. Your feet were dragged as you walked towards your own apartment. At that time, she had been on her way to open her apartment when she witnessed you walking sluggishly to your apartment.

To say you looked dead would not be an exaggeration. Death may as well be trailing your steps with how utterly drained you looked. Mia had almost been tempted to ask you whether you were okay after seeing you stare blankly at your door for a minute.

In the end, she had watched you lock your door after slowly opening your door. Deciding she wouldn’t get involved for the sake of her sanity she sent you a quick prayer.

Perhaps she should’ve prayed harder.

Because the same unsettling feeling settled in her bones near the afternoon where the sun was setting. This time it seemed almost more intense. As if something was telling her to sprint out of there in her mind.

This would cause for all the locks to be checked three times an hour and for all closets to be checked twice per hour. It was hard to put into words how utterly paranoid it could make her feel. It was as if for a while everything was out to get her.

Her fears were confirmed after she heard the loudest bang resonate in the apartment where you lived.

At that time she had been pacing anxiously around her own apartment for a while and such a loud sound had only made her flinch in fright. She could vaguely hear the sound of thundering footsteps and crashes nearby. However, she couldn’t quite process it as she was staring at her own door in dawning horror feeling that same unsettling sensation settle around her mind like an old friend coming back from a long trip.

Her fingers shook as she heard mumbling next door and the sound of loud laughter from an infant.

People did always say that the laughter of a baby lightened up a room. However, Mia couldn’t help but listen to the commotion and feel a sense of foreboding settle on her gut.

And she would be proven right in the following weeks.

It was as if light had seeped into your own being after starting to take care of that. Perhaps it was a little dehumanizing the way she referred to the baby ( not a baby—that thing couldn’t possibly be a human child ) ;however, it was impossible to not do so with how utterly nauseating it was to be near it.

If Mia had previously thought that whatever shady business was occurring left her feeling paranoid it was nothing compared to the suffocating feeling that had settled in the building after you had started taking care of that thing. Had she been a little less superstitious she wouldn’t be avoiding you like the plague. Had she been a little less superstitious she wouldn’t have been researching how to deal with skin walkers.

Had she been a little less superstitious she would have assumed that the flickering lights every time that the baby cried was nothing, but an odd coincidence.

She just couldn’t understand why you kept it around.

Did you not realize how utterly distressing it was to be anywhere near that thing you cradled with your hands?

How could you not become a lunatic after sharing a roof with that thing? Trusting it wouldn’t suffocate you with its madness while you slept. She used to think that you were a nice person. Someone who had their head on their shoulders, and knew when to keep out of people’s business.

Now?

She wasn’t even sure you had any survival instincts.

Mia, however, doubted you were truly in distress. It was sickening to the core seeing you act so domestic with the thing that wore a human’s skin to carve a place into your heart. She had seen it occur. Days where you stared at your car from outside, and stood standing with the baby in your arms as if pondering a deep thought. Some days you would get into the car and not come back till much later.

Sometimes you came back with the baby. Sometimes you didn’t. One thing stayed constant throughout it all, though.

The next day she would always see you in your balcony with the baby in your arms. These days she would avoid opening her own windows just to avoid seeing you with that thing.

She almost felt as if she was going crazy in her own lunacy. It wasn’t until she started seeing the way that some of the other neighbors started full-out avoiding you at all cost when you had that thing in your arms ( which was now the norm—there were no occasions where you were seen without that thing in your arms ) that she realized that she wasn’t the problem.

That thing was.

Mia had only felt revulsion as she saw you treat that thing like a normal child by buying clothes and small toys to play with it. Perhaps she would feel more pity for you had she not been deeply aware of what had occurred the last time she tried talking to you regarding that thing.

( those unnatural gold eyes stared at her without blinking over your shoulder as you dragged your most recent groceries to your house. Not realizing the dawning stare of horror as your neighbor trembled like a newborn deer as she stared back at something that couldn’t possibly be human. What she was staring at must have surely been spit from hell itself from being so wretched and filthy — by the time you had looked back it had been because of the sound of a loudly slammed door behind you that caused you to flinch and look back in confusion. )

Perhaps that was why she had been so willing to result to cruelty when it came down to it. Humans were usually inherently cruel towards what they did not understand. Crueler than they could even imagine.

The change in her horrifying routine did a complete 180 in terms of change. It all started like all things had began: in the middle of the night with a knock in her door. This time it was a blonde woman with a smile that was worthy of being put in magazines.

Mia reluctantly opened the door still being hyperaware of any sounds that came from your apartment. The woman in her front door smiled at her placidly and greeted her with a low voice. There was almost no part of her body that wasn’t covered. From the long-sleeves to the long shirts and even gloves made her seem ready to greet winter. However, whatever good will was accumulated was shattered after Mia heard this woman ask for you.

More specifically for the person that was taking care of a ‘baby with oddly looking yellow eye with a patch of dark red hair’. For a moment she considered the possibility that it may not be wise to tell a stranger where you lived. However, she also remembered that the lady wasn’t looking for you, but instead she was looking for that thing you had been letting leech of you.

Surely it couldn’t hurt giving her directions?

She looked like a nice young lady

Someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

This was the mantra that she repeated to herself as she leaned against her own door from the inside while trying to listen to what was being said. A hushed conversation was the only thing she heard for a couple of minutes until it started escalating. It started with your loud stammering. It almost sounded as if you were fearful while pushing your words from your own mouth.

Resentment shot through her before she could stop it. Now you felt fear? Not when you were terrorizing her by taking care of that thing? What did you have to fear for? It certainly didn't seem like the thing in your arms was looking towards your demise ( something that couldn’t be shared for the rest of the residents of the apartment building — many of them having suffered an unfortunate accident after confronting you for one thing or the other — at least nobody had died ) so that already gave you a better peace of mind than everyone else in this wretched building.

Mia had been lost too long in her thoughts too long because in the next second she had yelped in fright after hearing a loud banging sound and a scream that sounded suspiciously like yours. She hurriedly stepped closer to the door having instantly gone for the knob in the door to see if you were alright.

Her hand hovered with hesitation over the knob.

It stayed there as she heard uncertain footsteps run over to her apartment door. It stayed there as she listened to your frantic knocks on her door. It stayed there as she heard you attempt to get her attention from the other side of the door in order to help you. Your words were stammered as if terrified. Your voice had risen in volume as you pleaded for her to help you.

Mia let her hand fall from the knob. She waited and listened for another minute as you frantically tried to get her to open the door. Mia didn’t move from her spot until she heard your footsteps fade at the end of the hall. She wouldn’t open her own door until later; what would greet her would be something straight from her nightmares.

The woman that she had greeted not too long ago was laying on the floor. Her posture being as seated one on the floor in front of the wall where your open apartment door was creaking ad it was gently moved by the breeze.

Her hands trembled as she looked at the rest of the scene in the hallway. The blonde woman’s sleeves were raised giving further view for the tattoos that trailed up her arms. Similar to the ones that those shady men wore with confidence.

Perhaps she would have been more appreciative of the beauty of them had the owner of them not been currently bleeding out. A pool of blood grew by the second as the head of the woman continued to drip down the floor.

Like a constant reminder the blood continued dripping down the floor as the head of the woman was leaned towards the floor.

Mia gently closed the door and let herself fall onto her apartment floor. She stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night in silent horror. Even when she heard frantic conversations on the other side of her door. Even when she heard the sound of ambulance outside her window she stayed inside.

However even through her horror she couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Relief that such creature was finally away.

That night she cried tears of joy.

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theheartmold · 4 months ago

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The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 3

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6 | pt7 (FINAL)

DISCLAIMER: These posts I'm doing are my own analyses and are done with the intentional eye to examine the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. I try to source all my assertions from what the text is giving me. This is not Lucanis critical nor should it be taken as such.

Going to be a shorter post today because I have things to do this morning!

Starting off strong in the next scene with me… loving on the fashion notes <3 So glad to know that we get stiletto heels clicking against cobblestone. Surely hoping that no magister twists their ankle and falls and breaks their fucking neck because their shoe got caught in a gap!

Also, velveteen is in? Someone who knows fabrics weigh in and tell me if that would be an appropriate material for the climate.

"So the Wigmaker. Tell me about him." / "He's weird." ← Lucanis goes on to say that he 'finds the moment before a job crucial for focus, but Illario was never one for comfortable silence'. To me, that beggars the explanation that the following passage is Illario goading him a bit.

I: "Specifics, cousin. No one hires us to kill normal people." L: "I gave you a dossier." I: "Yes, but I want your assessment." L: "I wrote it. It is my assessment." I: "Humor me." L: "You'll see soon enough."

There was a little bit of debate in my previous post about whether or not Illario actually read Lucanis's dossier. I don't think that the text supports that interpretation, but everyone is allowed to interpret what they want.

I'll argue that Illario has read the dossier: throughout the story up until this point, Illario has made comments about the job that implies he has SOME understanding of what they are doing—even going out of his way to make arrangements with a tailor so that he can be prepared for the part of the contract that Lucanis asked him to help with.

He knows that they need to be in Minrathous, at a party, facing a 'premiere wigmaker', and aware of the fact that they're up against Venatori. He knew they needed to be at a mansion and all of this comes up previous to this point when asking about Lucanis's assessment.

Additionally, asking for more clarification on something that someone else wrote is actually normal when the plan has clearly changed several times. Illario has increasingly expressed confusion on how the navigation is being handled, and, when asking for more information, is specifically asking after the Wigmaker himself, not the entire plan.

Also, the narrator is telling us that Lucanis prefers to be quiet while Illario likes to talk. It was pointed out to the me that this is close third POV, so why would the narrator bring that difference up, and not reference the idea that Illario has a tendency to not read documents?

(A few paragraphs later, while balancing on the rooftops, it's stated that 'At least Illario was too busy concentrating to ask questions'.) ← I wonder why he'd need to ask so many… I'm not trying to be snarky, but I am trying to make a point and using the text to support it. This also is NOT Lucanis crit and I'm worried some people are interpreting it as such.

The commentary from Lucanis about the previous Minrathous parties is insane btw. Retching vases? Acrobats? An orgy? No wonder they kept us in Dock Town in VG… (shakes fist)

First mention of Lucanis's sensitivity toward the Veil. "The backs of his eyeballs itched like he hadn't blinked in days". I think he says this primarily about blood magic at some point in VG? Which tracks and keeps up with WMJ.

"Something's wrong." / "Yeah. We're up here, away from the fun." ← insane of illario to say this i'm sorry. bro there are blood mages down there.

L: "Focus." I: "I am." L: "On the job." I: "To be fair, you never told me the plan."

You guys get it at this point. (That last sentence loops back up to my previous point… Illario has read the dossier. He knows the contract. He does NOT know how Lucanis is going to HANDLE it beyond what he's been asked to do re: getting Lucanis inside).

Lucanis shrugged. "Find Ambrose. Slit his throat." "Sounds complicated." "It will be. The Veil's thin here. Thinner than I expected."

Illario seems pretty fine with this explanation so I am not going to keep dragging it out. I do like how in-tune Lucanis seems to be with his abilities! I wish we could've seen more of that in VG; iirc he doesn't comment on the state of the Veil or magic very often?

This is the part of the story where we get to see their back-and-forth and how Illario is a bit of a rake! Which I personally enjoy. I love a manwhore (*said affectionately). Sorry.

"Plenty of time for some good, old-fashioned debauch—" I think he's funny. And maybe a bit distracted.

The narrator describes Ambrose as 'of average height and build' which is a description that pisses me off when fanfic does it and published works are not immune to my ire. What the hell is 'average'. That's so subjective.

The rest of the description is nice, though: hawkish gold eyes and a jaw that could break teeth. ← I know I said this was a breakdown of the brothercousin dynamic but I need to weigh in on other things sometimes. <3 Heart.

"They're never what you envision, are they?" Illario noted. "What did you expect?" "Hair, for one. Maybe a funny little dog." That got a chuckle out of Lucanis, if only briefly.

Stop being funny!!! I do like this banter back and forth because this feels like it's the least… leaden with underlying, complicated dynamics? I like it a lot and it feels natural for them.

Making notes on the fashion of the guard-captain. 'She wore an emerald gown with a high-waisted, low-tiered skirt and a fitted tulle bodice studded with champagne-colored crystals. Metallic body paint shimmered on her exposed arms and legs'. ← Fascinating.

It sounds like it might be a reference to the women's fashion from the Tevinter concept art. Bit gaudy.

Also it's described as silk-brocade. AGAIN PEOPLE WHO KNOW FABRICS WEIGH IN.

[shrek meme] she's not even wearing velveteen.

Lucanis "I need those keys" Dellamorte and Illario "your wish is my command, cousin" Dellamorte you will always be famous to me. Also it says that Illario 'flipped forward' which . why are we doing all that

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

#dragon age #dragon age analysis #dragon age meta #tevinter nights #the wigmaker job #my analysis #long post #illario dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte #house dellamorte (meta)

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tanoraqui · 1 year ago

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I thought I wasn't going to have strong opinions about the Laios-Shuro fight, but...

Laios was right about this! Yes, they had 2 physical fights first, but it's important to note that Laios was right about this!

^ -man who would literally kill to stay in this room and observe this private conversation.

Sir, your unfaltering little wide-eyed, amiable smile while seriously considering topics that are obviously un-smile-worth has charmed me utterly. I wish to study you like an climate-entomologist yearns for the butterfly that causes storms.

She seems fine.

If I start screencapping Laios's and Marcille's faces in this fight, I will never stop because literally every panel is devasting.

Kuro has done distinctly the most damage so far this fight, just stabbing and gnawing, and I think we should recognize and appreciate that fact.

I really miss the animation we got of Rin's lightning blast slicing narrowly past Laios.

I love how fast, if reluctantly, Laios accepts that if - not, that Falin is a true "monster", inhuman and hurting people relentlessly and unapologetically, and thus she needs to be killed before she kills them, like any other monster. I also love that Marcille doesn't accept this. Characters!

+1 to qualification to kingship! Kabru is one again surprised (you can tell by how he's not smiling) (though this might also be due to the significant injuries he just took).

I do have several emotions about how Falin immediately yanks away and kills Kabru, without touching Laios. That's her brother!!

I really like this little cluster because it says to me that Shuro still has very good "do what Marcille says when she abruptly shouts magic-related directions in combat" instincts. He's a mirror of the "You're already on the Christmas card, buddy" meme - more like, "You're still on the Christmas card." Just like Namari: no one really stops being fond of, and battle companions with, these weirdos.

I think the most painful part of this probably is that Marcille isn't certain. Maybe this IS her fault. At minimum, she knows she might have mixed the dragon's soul into Falin's, which enabled this even if it didn't create it. But she can't 100% rule out the possibility that it's more her fault than that - which is, of course, the absolute worst thing to say to all of these people looking at her violently askance for using dark magic.

yeahhhhhh "Lunatic Magician" REALLY lacks the oomph of "Mad Mage"

ANGRY LAIOS! It's such a rare expression on him, it's exciting to see.

Yesss look at my man Chilchuck use available tools in his environment and save this little goober who thinks it's cool to resent adults.

I really like how they show the social consequences of dark magic. Much beyond Shuro's anger: the other mages are now shutting Marcille down, especially where resurrection magic is concerned. She's made herself untrusted by her peers, whether or not the magic she used on Falin is truly "evil."

I really enjoy the, like, narratively obligatory, not actually real (well, maybe to Rin) "will they-won't they" between Kabru and Rin. In the story that this isn't, where Kabru is the protagonist with his quirky gang of found family who are helping him save the island and prevent another bloodbath like in his angsty backstory, she IS the One (Human) Female on the Team who is obviously his love interest - often the first to challenge him, battle mage rather than healer ie a Strong Female Character who nonetheless doesn't use unfeminine brute force, forced by happenstance to kiss...

Alas! Kabru is not the protagonist of this story, so Rin shall remain disappointed.

Also this montage of people healing and reuniting while in the background Laios and Shuro whale on each other remains SO funny. Flawless comedic timing.

Alright, hot take time: I feel like all the debate I've seen about the Shuro/Laios fight depict it as revealing the friendship basically shattered, and never real in the first place. Whereas I'm mostly warmed by how real it clearly was despite everything that just happened?

Shuro is operating on no food and less sleep, desperate to save the woman he idolizes without truly understanding her loves, who is now apparently a monster who nearly slaughtered his most loyal followers. In the past like 2 weeks, Laios has: watched his sister die to save his life (his little sister, whom he is supposed to protect), walked headfirst into a nigh-unwinnable fight to get her back, held her skull in his hands, got her back and held her in his arms, lost her again about 6 hours later in an even more unwinnable fight, which was proven even more unwinnable when the Mage twisted the dungeon itself against them, saw her again but as a murderous monster now (which might be due to the magic he agreed to use to resurrect her), swiftly and sternly resigned himself to fighting and potentially killing her (his little sister! whom he is supposed to protect!), had her recognize him (and no one else!) despite her monstrosity, watched her be killed (again!) in part thanks to him distracting her, except it didn't work and then she fled.

This is an immature, ignoring-immediate-needs (ie, food, healing) knock-down drag-out fight between two men at the absolute ends of their ropes, who, sure, have built-up resentments against each other and the world, and an inciting incident pushing them over the edge - but mostly neither of them can punch in the face the fact that they can't save Falin. So they punch each other instead.

I won't even address the prologue to the fight, where Laios tells him about the black magic and Shuro promptly tries to strangle him then levels a sword at him. Kabru already nailed that: Shuro was worried about Falin - that the magic had hurt her, that the social consequences would be worse. Laios knew this enough that he didn't fight back, then. But now?

The first shove is Shuro demanding, Don't you fucking DARE give me false hope.

I cannot emphasize enough how hard I would also slap someone for suggesting that I wasn't taking the death and monsterization of my younger sibling seriously.

Shuro knows it, too. He doesn't respond to this, he just punches, and Laios punches back. Shuro doesn't speak again until Laios knocks him all the way down, and

Shuro is at his absolute depth. The lowest point he (feels that he) can go. He cannot save Falin. He's shamed himself as a leader and heir by getting his people killed (they got better, but that's beside the point.) He's been beaten in hand-to-hand combat by this idiot northern peasant. He lets down his guard and pride enough to mutter this self-deprecation aloud...and the idiot northern peasant hears, compounding every shame - and it's infuriating especially because he doesn't even hear properly, just like he never hears properly - he's so frustrating in his friendly but oblivious constant irritation and THIS, Shuro can still be furious about, to avoid his grief/hopelessness/self-loathing/shame. This, he can still fight about!

So he does.

They're both wrong in this fight. They're both right. Laios was consistently inconsiderate; knowing this about himself - because it's not like by his early 20s he didn't know that he didn't Get people the way most people Get people - he should've made more of an effort, and picked up any of the hints Shuro was laying down. Shuro was too caught up in his own pride and out-of-place manners: when it was clear that Laios wasn't going to pick up on even the strongest "hint", he should've said something plainly instead of just letting his resentment build until he was effectively lying to Laios about, if not their entire friendship, certainly the shape of it.

But they were friends. They are friends. This isn't the posture or conversation of two guys who don't like each other.

It's two guys who are still, in fact, fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally - but they just got rid of a lot of extra, furious, helpless energy, so they're finally satisfied to just sit. Their posture is relaxed and casual; their conversation straightforward and companionable, if serious.

This is two guys who've sat like this many time at a campfire, in just these poses. Who've kept watch together late at night and stayed awake by talking.

Laios cares about Falin more than anyone in the world, and even after the words and blows they just exchanged, he's still willing to put Shuro's suit to her. Shuro didn't tell Falin he was interested in her until he proposed to her, but he's telling it all to Laios. Admittedly, this is because Laios is, Shuro assumes, the closest he'll ever get to being able to tell it all to Falin...but still. And he admits vulnerability, which he clearly wouldn't have done before, even to his most loyal and loved companions as they urged him to eat and sleep.

Yeah, they're buddies. If I had to describe it, I'd say: their relationship was built on unsteady, false foundations, but they built something sturdy on it anyway, and the sturdy thing survives even when the foundations shake and re-settle.

Lol at Shuro. "I'm going to report you to the local authorities for your crimes because it's the right thing to do. But if you survive, I'll totally use my power and influence to help you flee the country, and live peacefully on my estate beyond where an extradition treaty can reach you."

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #analysis

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pastanest · 2 years ago

Text

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: guess who’s back with another shrimp reid fic. that’s right, you guessed it, Im ovulating

gif from an unnamed source on google so if it’s yours please let me know and I’ll credit!! ♡

Mean It

The bond you have formed with the resident genius of the BAU is one that you treasure. Every morning, you are most excited to practically skip into the office with the brightest smile on your face, just for him. The wonder, the magic that is Doctor Spencer Reid, and you are lucky enough to call him your closest friend.

He is endlessly fascinating to you. Unlike the rest of the team, you have never once cut one of his rambles short, you have listened to each and every one in its entirety, with stars in your eyes.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, from the most mundane smalltalk to the deepest philosophical debates, and you enjoy every moment spent in Spencer’s company.

However, as you perch on Spencer’s desk in what has become a morning tradition, the look on your face as you glance around the office makes your dear friend’s heart sink, because he knows who you are looking for.

And right on cue, Derek Morgan strolls into the office, yelling an overly enthusiastic question that is - much to Spencer’s dismay - ritualistic, too.

“WHERE’S MY PRETTY GIRL?”

The beaming smile on your face as you hop off of Spencer’s desk and run into Derek’s open arms is worse than a bullet wound, which Spencer knows to be true without any actual proof.

He watches on, wondering if his skin is turning green with jealousy, as Derek picks you up and spins you around, the two of you laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. What’s so funny about that? Spencer thinks bitterly, frowning at his computer and forcing himself to shift his focus, though his subconscious continues to grumble. If he was ever allowed the privilege of holding you like that, the last thing he’d do is laugh about it.

Thankfully, the morning event is over as quickly as it began, and you skip back over to Spencer with a smile that’s different to the one you had for Derek. What shade of green is Spencer now?

“Sorry about that, Spence, gotta reach my daily hug quota!” You chime.

Spencer’s stomach drops. He wants so badly to offer his own services, to perhaps suggest some variety in who is allowed to meet your daily-hug-quota and enquire whether you’d consider his application, whether he meets your criteria. But, in what can only be described as the worst preconceived notion in human history, Spencer does not like physical contact in the majority of circumstances, as you have well known since the day you met him and he proposed a kiss would hold less germs than a handshake, which made you blush in a way his eidetic memory has never let him forget. He wishes, more than anything, he could travel back in time to that very day, to add a clause to the contract he’d bound himself to, some fine-print that said ‘physical contact from and with (Y/N) is the only exception to every typical circumstantial preference for no physical contact’. Alas, Spencer Reid had unintentionally doomed himself.

Today is a rarity, in which the team have spent the day confined to the BAU building, filing case reports and talking amongst themselves. You speak to Spencer most of all, because on the occasion anyone else speaks to him, he finds he is too distracted by you to fully focus his efforts on the conversation.

As per usual, you wait at the elevator doors for Spencer, never walking out of the office without him in an unspoken gesture of your sweet appreciation for his company.

“Oh, Spence, did you want to have a Doctor Who sleepover tonight?” You suggest suddenly, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen and his heart to skip simultaneously.

“Y-Yes! Of course!” He blurts out, perhaps a little too quickly. Perhaps, he should have paused for a beat, giving you the impression he had been able to form a degree of a coherent thought before he answered you.

Instead, Spencer spends the elevator ride down to the ground floor glancing at you with a dazed look in his eyes, like you are the first star he’s ever seen and he’s too shy to look at you for too long. Why would he be shy in the presence of a star? Stars are out of his reach, beyond the realm of his capability to hold. That metaphor had been far more applicable than he’d realized.

The drive to your house is spent in accordance with your typical pre-sleepover routine; Spencer says he doesn’t mind what music you play, and you select one of your many playlists at random, singing and dancing in such a theatrical way in the passenger seat of Spencer’s car that he truly wonders if he didn’t have an IQ of 187, would he be able to split his focus between adoring you and concentrating on the road?

In what feels like no time at all, you and Spencer are sitting on your sofa with a blanket each and a bowl of popcorn between you that Spencer finds himself internally cursing with every unkind word he knows, as he does each and every time that pathetic plastic bowl forms an impassable barrier between him and you. Occasionally, his fingers are lucky enough to brush yours if you happen to reach for popcorn at the same time. You always chuckle like it’s a coincidence, never quite catching onto the way in which Spencer studies your movements in his peripheral vision to calculate, down to a fine science, how long it takes you to finish one handful of popcorn before you’ll reach for another, and he can just so happen to plan his movements accordingly. All for a brush of your fingertips. In truth, Spencer would run through a burning building just for the chance to hold your hand, even if it wasn’t promised. The chance, that’s all he needs.

In the midst of what is otherwise a very traditional evening shared between the two of you, Spencer feels different. The more he thinks about how this evening could play out if Derek Morgan were in his place, the more Spencer wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him or if the skin of his hands is turning green with jealousy. Would the bowl of popcorn be in the same place? Would it be on your lap, or Derek’s, allowing the two of you to sit closer, considering you already showcase just how comfortable you are together? Or would it be on the coffee table, leaving no obstruction between you and Derek at all? Would his arm be around you, and would your arm be around him in return? Would you be telling Derek the pieces of movie trivia that Spencer had been the one to tell you, when you watched a movie with Derek that you had previously seen with Spencer? Do you wish Derek was here with you instead? ‘Nauseous’ is too small a word and does not contain enough profanities.

“I’m not gonna get through all this popcorn on my own, Spence.” You chuckle quietly, having noticed that your company hasn’t reached for popcorn in some time due to how cold your hand feels, having not flushed at the sensation of his fingertips in too long.

“Sorry, not hungry.” Spencer murmurs.

The sadness in his voice sets off alarm bells in your head immediately, and you pause the movie, discarding the bowl of popcorn that Spencer’s scowl follows all the way to the coffee table, while you turn to face him on your couch.

“Spence, what’s the matter? Do you feel sick?” You ask gently.

Yes, actually, viscerally.

“Nothing, I’m-“

You shake your head, the only time you’ll ever cut him off is when he tries to deflect. “Don’t. I can see something’s wrong, and if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but can you please tell me what I can do to help?”

Of course, Spencer’s feelings for you have a solid foundation in the perceptive and attentive person that you are, forever seeing right through him.

“Do you…Do you ever have movie nights with Morgan?” He asks timidly, his head hanging in shame, his gaze fixed on his lap.

Spencer’s question completely catches you off guard, and your jaw drops, an amused smile gracing your features in utter bewilderment.

“What? No, Derek’s never even stood on my doorstep, Spence, why do you ask?” You question the motives of his query, and he sighs in defeat.

“I just figured…you’re so comfortable with him, you must want to spend time with him outside of work, too. I guess I just don’t understand why you’d invite me instead. Do you pity me, or something?” Spencer asks in a dejected and small voice.

The cogs in your brain are turning, your expression softening in turn.

“Spencer, I don’t pity you, I invite you because I enjoy spending time with you.” There’s a delicacy to your words, recognising his fragile state.

And Spencer’s foolish, lovesick heart sings from beneath the ruins at your words, at the tiniest spark of hope that is immediately suffocated by his own insecurities.

One word from you has the power to make and break him, all at once.

“But you enjoy Derek more.” Spencer’s voice breaks on the last word he speaks, and he closes his eyes in a pained blink, turning his face away from you completely in an effort to shield himself from the kindness he’ll see in your gaze. “You sit with me every morning while you wait for him, and the second he’s there, you’re gone. The way you smile at him isn’t the same way you smile at me. I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me, but I don’t understand why you’d waste any time on me outside of work, based on that.” Spencer is trying his absolute best to phrase everything he says in his usual objective, matter-of-fact tone, but the hurt in his words is so clear.

“Spencer,” You sigh gently, “Will you look at me, please?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” You ask in the same soft voice that makes his heart ache.

“I’ll forget how much this hurts the moment I look at you.” Spencer mutters.

“Don’t you want to forget?” You question, almost pleading.

Spencer shakes his head. “If I forget, I’ll throw myself back into the same cycle of pining for you, living off of your smiles and glances and the instances where I make you laugh.”

Your heart breaks at his words, and for a few seconds, you don’t say anything. The very moment the idea enters your mind, you reach for Spencer’s hand, holding it gently in both of yours, and immediately, his wide eyes have turned to stare at you.

And your tears. You must have only started crying after you last spoke to him, because if you had been crying in the midst of your reply, Spender wouldn’t have been able to hear anything else.

And just like he predicted, the sight of you makes him forget every ounce of his own pain, his heart breathing a sigh of relief and reaching out for you in pure anguish at the sight of you, in tears.

“Why are you crying?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper. If it wasn’t for your tears, the way you are holding his hand would render him incapable of forming a single word.

“Because you have no idea that you’re my favorite person in the universe, Spencer.” You sniffle.

Spencer frowns slightly. “Please don’t say that if you don’t-“

“I mean it.” You cut his deflection short again. “I come into the office every morning excited at the thought of seeing you, and I stay sitting on your desk, as close to you as I’m allowed to be, until we’re forced to work; the only time I leave your desk in the mornings is to briefly greet Derek, because he is the only person who knows how I feel and he hugs me in the way I wish you would, to make me feel better.” You explain through your tears. “And you’re right, I don’t smile at you the same way I do at Derek.”

Spencer is uncertain as to whether his heart has given out entirely.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time. Then rapidly, six times, to blink the tears away that dared blur the perfect vision of you in front of him.

“I treat you differently to Derek because I adore you enough to never want to risk overstepping your boundaries with physical contact. I sit on your desk to resist hugging you every morning, I put a bowl of popcorn between us whenever we watch a movie because I’m afraid I’ll subconsciously lean closer to you, and it hurts to put those limitations in place, to feel the ever present distance between us, but I don’t care, because I do it for you, and I’d do it for you forever.” You add, the words falling from your lips so easily, Spencer can almost feel how long you’ve been holding them in.

“(Y/N)…” He chokes out the only word his heart and soul can remember in this moment.

“I never meant to make you feel like you are less important, or that I like you less- I’m so sorry.” The waterfalls from your eyes are too constant for you to manage now, and you let go of Spencer’s hand to hold your own face instead, hiding yourself and your guilt from him in your state of vulnerability.

Spencer glances at the popcorn bowl on the coffee table for a fraction of a second, before he shuffles over on the couch to occupy the space he had been aching to steal from that bowl since your very first sleepover, and very slowly, he wraps his arms around you. And it’s instinctual, the way your hands come away from your face as you wrap your own arms around his neck, your face finding the home it had always longed for in Spencer’s shoulder. As if slotting into place, you find yourself sitting on his lap with no real understanding of how you got there, because all that matters is that he is holding you there.

“I’m sorry for getting jealous, I had no right to.” Spencer’s apology breaks the silence, and he speaks into your hair, his every sense soaking in the sensation, the scent of you.

“I’m glad you did, but you didn’t need to. I’ve been yours since the day we met.” You say, as if your words are a casual statement and not life-altering in a way that changes Spencer Reid’s very brain chemistry.

“You’ve been mine?” He repeats your statement as a disbelieving question.

Wiping your tears with your sleeve, you sigh dramatically. “Yep. Just waited around for you to notice.”

And Spencer can’t quite believe it, but he laughs, shaking his nose into your hair and holding you tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry for being oblivious, in that case.” He apologizes, his tone more lighthearted now.

“I’m sorry too.” You chuckle.

“From what I understand of confession-scenes, they are not supposed to contain this many apologies.” Spencer muses, making you laugh heartily, his soul very nearly rising out of his body at the sound.

“Everyone knows the best confessions have a bit of angst.” You joke, and Spencer nods, laughing with you.

“And you do have a proclivity for dramatics.” Spencer teases, and you playfully poke his chest, the two of you sharing a giggle like a pair of giddy teenagers.

A pleasant minute of silence passes as you revel in holding each other, an intimacy once pined after finally being felt in full-force, until a question rises in you that simply has to be asked, or you will burst.

“Does this mean that, going forward, our sleepovers can include makeouts?” You pull away from Spencer’s chest enough to watch the shade of pink blossom in his cheeks, his pupils dilating as he looks into your eyes, and he nods.

“I-I believe that is a feature that is well-worth adding to our list of sleepover activities.”

And when he says it like that, how can a girl be expected to do anything but kiss him senseless in response?

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #Spotify

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