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squishmallow36 · 4 months

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It's Getting Dicey

Summary: It's the secret santa fic...Happy New Year @ultralazycreatorfan! I know I told @song-tam that it'd be here on the 30th and then that didn't happen and then I said it'd be here on the 31st and then I was struck down by a headache. Hooray. Anyway. Dex, Lovise, Sophie, and Keefe get together to play some bunco. "What's bunco?" you ask. A game that involves rolling dice. And swearing at dice. A lot of swearing at dice. Xe/xem Dex, it/its Keefe, he/him Sophie. You know how it is. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4398

TW: swearing, at least two (2) lewd jokes

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @i-loved-while-i-lied @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum @loveution

On Ao3 or below the cut!

It’s always a fun day when Dex finds xemself a new project. It’s an even more fun day when xe decides to rope other people into that project without telling them what they’re getting roped into.

Lovise is currently living in fear of what Dex has found this time. Xe’s not maniacally supervillain laughing quite yet, so that’s a good sign, though it’s certainly not removed from the realm of possibilities.

All xe’s done is drag Sophie and Keefe, presumably kicking and screaming, to Rimeshire. These three definitely can’t cause massive amounts of chaos. To be fair, with a Sophie comes a Sandor, so it can’t be all bad, but it’s still quite unsafe. Ro’s still off somewhere chasing down Cad, so she’s, thankfully, not a concern either.

“Hello, everyone. I thank you all for meeting with me on this fine evening against your better judgements—,” Dex begins.

Keefe interrupts, “That’s an understatement,” a smirk playing on its lips.

Dex gives it a look, a hard edge creeping into xor voice. “--The reason we are gathered here today is because I was recently informed about a human game by the name of bunco. I was also told that I would need to gather multiple willing victims in order to play. I think Sophie was simply trying to avoid me, but here we are anyway, so if you would please explain to us the rules.”

“I should just jump out your window,” Sophie grumbles.

“With or without teleporting before hitting the ground?” asks Keefe.

Sophie considers its question for a moment. “I haven’t decided yet. I guess we’ll see if I go splat.”

Lovise flinches as Sandor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Today’s objective is that we’re trying to avoid an Elwin call.”

“He’ll be so splat, there won’t be any need,” Keefe says, flipping its hair out of its eyes.

That really does not improve the situation by any meaningful metric.

Dex glances back and forth in the silence between Sophie and Keefe several times before asking, “The rules, please?”

Sophie leans forward and clasps his hands together. “Well, we aren't going to get very far unless you have six sided dice.”

Xe leans back, and without even looking, pulls out a clear box of more dice than xe should be trusted to have. And cards. And twenty-sided dice. And flat circles that probably have some purpose. Where xe got all this, Lovise doesn’t know. She doesn’t ask.

“How many do we need?” Dex asks, the dice clinking around in the hard plastic shell as xe digs them out of their prison.

“If we want to be nice and share, then three. If not, then we’re gonna need three per person.”

“Keep your grubby little hands off my fucking dice. Give me some d20s, baby.”

Dex blushes to xor ears as he hands out dice to everybody. Keefe pouts when it’s given d6s instead of the d20s like it wanted.

Sophie leans back to look at Sandor. “Are you sure you don’t wanna play?”

Lovise then takes that opportunity to make the very bad life choice of kneeling down to join their little circle. What’s the worst that can happen? They throw dice at me? I think that’s gonna happen either way.

Two matching dice and one mismatched die, all in shades of green, roll their way towards her and settle just shy of being in her lap. A slight twinge of disappointment flickers in her chest that she doesn’t get Dex’s gold-plated plastic one, but that’s probably lost under xor bed or something.

Sophie stares at Sandor for another long second before jumping into an explanation of how to play. “Bunco has six rounds—round one you’re rolling for ones, round two you’re rolling for twos, so on and so forth. So, uh, Dex, if you would roll your dice for us, please.”

Dex rolls xor metallic red Clan Sea Fox dice from xor adventures playing Battletech to get a 1, 3, and a 4.

“Very nice. I guess we should probably nominate a scorekeeper—”

Sophie is interrupted by the crashing sounds of Dex rummaging through the shit in xor room. Xe claims there’s a system. There’s no system. Miraculously, xe finds both a piece of paper that’s only used on one side and looks like it’s only been through a few avalanches, as well as a pen whose ink is almost guaranteed to be drier than ogre skin.

These get shuffled into Lovise’s responsibility because she seems “trustworthy.” Considering she’s thrown more games of Catan than one would think in order to make sure Dex doesn’t pout, that’s probably not ideal for integrity’s sake.

“So this is round one, so just kind of make a table tracking our point values with tally marks or some similar system if you guys don’t have that. The column headers can just be our initials or something. Be lazy. Just give Dex one point for that one xe rolled.” Sophie turns back to Dex. “You may roll again. And, yes, that does mean all the dice. We’re not playing Yahtzee, Keefe.”

Dex rolls again. 3,5,5.

“Because you didn’t get a one, the turn moves to the next victim. Do we wanna go clockwise or counterclockwise? Or are analog clocks not something that exist around here?”

Before this devolves into a shouting match, Lovise suggests, “You go next so then I’ll go last.”

Sophie picks up his dice and begins shaking them. “In case I forget to mention it, three of any number that isn’t the round number—say I roll 3 fours right now—that’s worth five points. Rolling three of the target number is 21 points and is called a bunco. And we’re going to keep rolling until someone hits 21 points, and then we go to the next round rolling for twos, et cetera.”

He lets the marbled, matching blue dice go. 2,5,6.

“Damn it. You gave me the cursed dice, didn’t you? Whatever. Keefe, it’s your turn.”

“You better have given me the good dice.” Its dice don’t match by any means—one black and blue, one marbled brown, and one beige—but they’re all stolen from Munchkin, made obvious by the helmet representing the number one. 1,4,5.

“Lovise, please mark down a point and Keefe, you go again.”

1,2,4.

“One more point. Roll again.”

“Again? Exile.” 2,2,3.

“Holy fuck, I just thought you got five points. Don’t do that again. Lovise, it’s your turn whenever you’re ready.”

The unfamiliar plastic dice are awkwardly light in her palm as she rolls. 1,2,4. “Can someone count how many I’m going to have to add so I don’t have to keep pausing?”

Dex nods and puts a finger up—thankfully not that finger—as Lovise scoops the dice up again.

1,1,2.

Sophie leans forward, his head in his hands. “If you had just gotten a bunco, I would have jumped out the window.”

“Is that worth one point per one rolled, or some other weird stacking rule like rolling three?”

“It’s one point per one rolled. So in total, she’s gotten three points this turn. One-seventh of the way to the end.”

“One-seventh of the way to one-sixth of the way to the end,” Keefe corrects.

“I’ll do my best,” Lovise says as she scoops the dice up again, only to roll a 3,5, and 6. She marks down her three points. “To be fair, I did try.”

“That you did. Just not enough,” Dex says. Xe rolls a 1,1, and 2, prompting another Sophie-stroke. On the reroll, xe gets a 1,6,6. On the next reroll, xe gets a 3,5,6. Lovise writes all this down, bringing xor total up to 4.

Sophie’s turn again. 2,2,5. “This shit is so fucking rigged.”

“No, that’s just how probabilities work sometimes,” Dex says as Keefe rolls. 1,4,6.

Sophie counts on his fingers as Keefe’s streak continues with a 1,5,5.

1,1,5.

2,2,4 and it all comes crashing down. Those four points bring its total up to six.

The turn comes back to Lovise, who rolls a 2,4,5, leaving as quickly as it arrived.

Dex seizes the opportunity to get a 1,4,5, followed closely by a 4,5,5. Sophie is blessed with a gorgeously useless 3,4,4, paralleled by Keefe’s 2,5,6.

Lovise follows that up with a 1,2,6, forgetting to ask someone to count and instead pausing to write it down on the scorecard. The next roll is a 1,4,5, which doesn’t get written down, and then 3,3,4, which has no reason to be marked. This brings her up to tie with Dex, though the both of them are still trailing behind Keefe.

Dex fumbles this opportunity to take the lead with a 2,5,6.

Sophie, on the other hand, is sulking something fierce when the turn comes back to him, convinced the ones on the dice are never going to appear. It turns out, with a roll of 1,1,5, they do, in fact, have ones on them, and those are his first two points on the board. They’re also his only two points on the board as his next roll is a 3,5,6.

Keefe and Lovise get a grand total of zero points during their turns with a 2,3,4 and a 3,4,6, respectively.

They do, however, learn that having a straight of numbers like Keefe’s does not count for any points. This is bullshit and should be amended to make this a more enjoyable experience for everyone involved.

And that’s when Dex decides to show off. Xor first roll is 1,3,4. Standard. Normal. Trustworthy. The next is 1,3,5. Like. Okay. You’re being a little extra there but go off I guess. And then the third roll. 1,3,6.

Stringing together three points in three separate rolls is a little absurd, which is why it gets nuked by a 3,3,5 moments later. This one turn didn’t net that many points in the grand scheme of things, but it does bring xem ahead to eight. More than a third of the way to the end goal.

The ones fall off the dice for an entire cycle, rotating around the entire group until Sophie’s next turn before any more points make their way onto the board. He does get a 1,1,4 so it’s not nothing, but the excitement quickly fades as the reroll of 2,3,6 materializes.

This brings him to four, narrowing the gap between first and last place without changing any placements.

The ones don’t appear again until his next turn, revealing themselves with a roll of 1,2,4. The reroll is a 5,5,6.

“Damn it. I really thought that was gave me five points.”

Keefe tilts its head. “I guess you just can’t count.”

“You’re right. Dex, do you have any integer dice?”

“No changing dice in the middle of the game. What happened to last time when you cried for the blue ones?”

“You’ve cursed the blue ones since the last time we played Munchkin!”

“Or maybe I just wanted to make sure that you could successfully run away instead of getting violated by a tongue demon next time!”

“That’s just because you transed my gender and the fucking tongue demon got rid of my cheese grater of peace!”

Munchkin is an…interesting game, Lovise will give it that.

“I was just being accurate to the real world!” Dex argues.

“The real world hadn’t figured that out yet! You just wanted the -5 modifier during my next combat phase.”

“Maybe I have a new ability that’s predicting the future. Did you ever think about that, Mr. I-have-five-abilities?”

Sophie looks at Keefe, who shrugs. “I can’t tell what people’s abilities are, dude. After they’ve manifested, fucking forget it.”

“Oh, please. Like you two haven’t had your hands all over each other since we were staying at Alluveterre.”

“Yeah, but my ability’s on the newer side, so there’s not a whole lot I can do. Now, can it be my fucking turn, please? I need to show all of you how you roll dice.”

Sophie huffs. “Sure, whatever.”

Keefe gives him a bright false smile as it rolls. 1,6,6. “Lovise, if you would mark that down, I’d appreciate it greatly.”

She had already written it down and is waiting for it to roll again. 1,3,3.

Keefe’s confidence hits the rafters as it scoops up the dice again, only to have it come fluttering down in tatters with a 3,5,6. It’s currently tied with Dex for first place.

It passes the turn to Lovise with a not-insignificant amount of grumbling. She gets a point with a roll of 1,3,4, but doesn’t have the necessary luck to get a string of rolls as her turn dies with a reroll of 2,2,4.

She’s up to six points, and at this rate, the gnomes are going to get Ravagog back before the first round is over.

Dex doesn’t choose to help this problem with xor roll of 3,5,5. It was so close to being promising.

Sophie and Keefe each pick up a point on their next turns. Keefe’s currently working on getting three dice to show the same face and it isn’t working quite yet, with two doubles in a row. (The first roll was a 1,3,3 and the second was 4,5,5.)

It’s a whole cycle through their turns—Lovise 2,3,4; Dex 2,4,5; Sophie 3,3,6; Keefe 3,5,6—before Keefe officially declares, “The ones have fallen off the dice.”

Lovise proves that to be not quite accurate by finding a 1,4,4 somewhere in there. Then, just to make sure, she finds a 1,1,3. That’s the last of the ones on her dice for now, however, ending her turn with a 3,4,6.

That brings her up to 9 points and into the lead, though not by much.

Dex rolls a gorgeous, worthless 2,3,4 on xor next turn, and Sophie follows that up with an equally beautiful 3,5,6.

Keefe can’t let this stand any longer with a turn composed of rolls of 1,3,6; 1,5,6; and 2,6,6. Its total comes to 11 and they’re nearing the halfway point. Though, dice will be thrown if Keefe wins, so trying to lengthen the game any way possible is advantageous.

That’s Lovise strategy as she rolls a nice, normal 1,4,4 and scratches it onto the scoreboard. She picks the dice back up to get a 4,5,6.

Straights really should count for points, but when you’re playing with a bunch of gays, they don’t. Also that’s what Sophie says the rules are, but that’s the better reason.

This turn brings her to a total of ten points. A nice, round number.

Dex, on the other hand, has other plans. Xor starts off by rolling a 1,4,6. As one does. Xe continues by rolling a 1,3,5. As one also does.

And that’s when shit gets tense. Xe rolls again, but doesn’t get a one. Xe does, however, get a 2,2,2.

Five points.

Keefe’s bloodthirst is gleaming in its eyes as Dex picks up the dice again. Thankfully, Lovise doesn’t have to hold it back as xe rolls a 2,3,5, killing xor streak.

That doesn’t reverse the past. The damage is done. Xe’s at fifteen points after pulling off that move.

“Always keep in mind that anyone can get a bunco at any time. Three ones and this is all over.” Sophie then takes his own advice and tries his best to make that happen. He’s actually fairly close with a 1,1,6 and an aneurysm from Keefe. His second attempt, a 3,5,6, is notably less successful but still brings him to eight points.

Keefe is not successful in its own 4,6,6 attempt. The grumbles that the dice are cursed have begun once again in greater force this time.

Lovise and Dex both pick up a point on their next turns and then the ones fall off the dice for two entire cycles. As in, it goes through Sophie, Keefe, Lovise, Dex, Sophie, Keefe, Lovise, and Dex before another point is on the board.

Where do the ones go? Nobody knows. They’re definitely still on the dice—Keefe checked. Loudly. They just don’t appear. For eight rolls in a row.

Sophie interrupts this spiraling trend with a 1,2,3 like a light in the darkness. Then, he gets a 1,3,6 with significantly less symbolic meaning behind it. He follows this up with a 2,3,5 that makes the veil of inky blackness fall over them once again. He’s up to ten points, so he’s still in last place, but less firmly so than before this last turn.

It’s Sophie’s next turn before the dice bless the group with a holy one in a roll of 1,3,6. It’s strangely fitting how the forgotten middle child of his previous round is now the roll that slows the encroaching emptiness.

Its luminescence is snuffed out almost as soon as it began like a candle on a windy night with a 2,4,5.

“Come on, you worthless sons of bitches,” Keefe mutters as it shakes the dice. 1,3,4. “Ooh, swearing at the dice is the answer? You should’ve told me this earlier. You pieces of shit better give me a one.” 1,3,4.

“To be fair, I’m kind of surprised it took you this long to figure out that secret,” Dex says.

Keefe ignores xem. “Please, motherfuckers.” 2,4,5.

Unfortunately, Lovise doesn’t get to learn new swear words from Keefe’s newfound Polyglot ability with the end of that streak that took it to thirteen points.

It’s said that some humans find thirteen to be an unlucky number. It’ll be interesting to see if the dice agree with this superstition by grinding Keefe’s point gains to a halt.

Lovise rolls on her next turn—2,2,4. It’s getting real fucking old rolling and rolling and having nothing new to show for it.

Dex’s turn is filled with as much excitement as Lovise’s just was. Which is to say, none. Xe rolls a 4,6,6. Lovise thought xe got three 6s, but no. If xe had, the round would be over and Dex would be inventing a new victory dance.

Sophie, however, doesn’t let that stop him. 1,6,6. 1,4,6. 1,2,6. The dice seem rigged—almost like he isn’t even rolling them, but different ones are ending up as the ones and sixes. The only reason Lovise even bothered to notice was that she doesn’t trust any of her company that much.

Then Sophie decides to roll a 2,6,6, proving that all of this was meaningless speculation. But he is up to thirteen—tied with Keefe—so that’s nice for everyone except for Lovise in last place.

It takes a whole cycle of grumbling, swearing at dice, and definitely not purposely rolling them at others before Keefe gets another point. Actually, two points. 1,1,4. It ends up only being those two points, as its next roll is 2,3,3 and a couple of tears that it wasn’t worth five points. That brings it up to fifteen, gnawing at the back of Dex’s heels for the honor of being in the lead.

The dice giveth and they taketh away.

They taketh away Lovise’s, Dex’s, Sophie’s, and Keefe’s next attempt to get points.

“Bless me with your golden glory,” Lovise whispers, eyes skyward as she shakes the dice. 1,2,6.

She scratches her twelfth point into the paper before returning to the translucent cubes taunting her. She rolls again. 2,4,6.

Then it’s Dex’s turn once more—3,4,5. A roll that has absolutely nothing.

Then it’s Sophie’s turn once more—3,3,6. If only four threes would count for something. Saw the dice apart. Do whatever it takes.

Then it’s Keefe’s turn once more—2,4,4. It’s a sharpie away from drawing extra dots. If every side has six dots, every roll is five points.

Then it’s Lovise’s turn once more—4,5,6. Straights still don’t count for points. With the way this game is going, it seems like the gays don’t either.

When the turn returns to Dex, expectations are on the floor. Then xe rolls a 1,5,6. That’s xor seventeenth point. Four more and this is over. Four more and two becomes the magic number.

Xe rolls again.

2,2,2.

Lovise’s breath catches in her throat. Five points. Bringing Dex to 22 and the round to proceed forward.

It’s almost poetic how the first round ends with the next magic number, come to bestow them with its splendor before it disappears from the dice forever.

Sophie, a smirk playing on his lips, taps on his Imparter in what looks like a very controlled fashion until an ear-splitting bell noise echoes through Dex’s room.

The only reason Dex merely flinches away and doesn’t banish him immediately from the premises for all eternity is presumably because rolling dice game fun when you win.

“My family’s bunco game has a bell that comes with it. That’s the closest I can do. Technically, I think the rules say you’re supposed to ring it only when you get a bunco. But we used to ring it at every available opportunity.” He turns to Keefe. “Which is why it’s as far from you as I can possibly get.”

Keefe pouts overdramatically, a feat considering it was already doing that at Dex’s accomplishment.

But Dex’s accomplishment means nothing. There’s five more rounds before Dex starts arguing that they should play the extended edition with the d100s xe inevitably has stored somewhere.

The following rounds feel as though they race by.

The twos round, Dex wins once more by rolling a triplet of 2s, except this time it’s worth a full 21 points. Keefe made it to 20 before Dex pulled that one out of xor ass, which is highly suspicious, so a dice trade is initiated. A diagonal cross results in Lovise getting Sophie’s blue dice and vice versa with Lovise’s green ones.

The threes round, against all odds, Dex wins again. If xe isn’t cheating, that’s one Exile of an accomplishment, and if xe is, xe’s not doing a very good job at hiding it. Dice are traded again, and Lovise ends up with Dex’s metal Battletech ones.

The antepenultimate fours round, Dex takes it upon xemself to win again. Xe has the audacity to get a triplet of 1s and 3s in the same roll streak. The fact that xe hasn’t been burned at the stake like the witch xe is is a fucking miracle.

Lovise having to fight off a feral Sophie and Keefe is not a fight that’s going to be pleasant. Don’t get her wrong, she’d still win, but she might get a couple of bite marks.

They switch the dice again, and Lovise ends up with her original green dice, traitorous in their assistance of Sophie and Keefe over the past two rounds but magnificent in their return.

The penultimate fives round, Keefe finally gets to stop the waterfall of crocodile tears and replace them with actual tears as the dice finally decree that it’s worthy of winning. Dex has already won the game beyond defeat but it’s not about winning anymore. It’s about not losing and second place is still better than last place.

Now, to be fair, second place is the first place of losers, so maybe it’s just trying to say that it’s the top loser in the world. That would make a lot of sense.

Dex is also, notably, allowed to keep xor dice. All of the useful rolls were used up and xor seven points at the end of the round didn’t seem like enough of a threat.

And it is finally time for the grand finale. The ultimate challenge of dice throwing. The sixes round.

Lovise gets so, so close to winning. She has twenty whole fucking points. Yes, all of the points are fucking.

And then Sophie just decides, “oh, yeah, I’ll get a bunco. No big deal” as the dice settle into a 6,6,6.

It is, in fact, a big deal.

Sandor will be hearing about this moment for all eternity. Lovise will make him suffer. He deserves it for his charge’s utter impunity.

It may or may not have been Lovise’s mostly-unintentional death glare that caused Sophie and Keefe to fabricate reasons to not be at Rimeshire anymore as they light leap away.

Dex begins stuffing the dice back into the box, clinking as they slide down unwillingly, forming a lopsided hot mess.

As soon as she’s certain Sophie and Keefe have vacated the premises, Lovise turns to xem and asks “How’d you cheat?”

Xor hands fly up, framing xor face with xor palms out. “To be completely fair, I only cheated in the second round.”

“I didn’t ask ‘did you cheat?’ I asked ‘how did you cheat?’”

Dex digs out the Battletech dice xe was using in the first two rounds and rolls them around in xor hand. “It’s really easy to load metal dice, especially when you’ve got magnets to turn it off when someone wants to check if they’re loaded. I haven’t figured out how to load high numbers with it yet. And, besides, I forgot to do it in the first round and it only shifts the probabilities a little bit. It’s not cheating that much.”

“Yes it is.” Lovise pauses for dramatic effect. “Next time, if you have loaded dice, I expect some too.”

Dex throws xor head back, laughing. “I’ll make sure to get around to that as soon as possible, but first: I gotta go get some snackies from downstairs.”

#kotlc #kotlc secret santa 2023 #keefex #kotlc fanfic #kotlc dex #dex dizznee #lovise #kotlc lovise #kotlc keefe #keefe sencen #sophie foster #kotlc sophie

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kpopwrites · 4 years

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Drowning in A Dream Chapter 6

A/N: It’s here! LMK what you guys think of this one. It’s a little more angsty, but it had to happen at some point!

TW: Possible smut in upcoming chapters, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, slight gore

You couldn’t believe this. How could you? You just happened to be saved by the ghosts of the same 7 men who haunted young children's nightmares? The most infamous town legends? You looked down at the paper article again, hands shaking as your eyes scanned over the only known picture of the men. It was them alright. They looked the same, for the most part, just… Happier, filled with life. “Richard, are you sure this is the correct picture?” You ask shakily, looking up at your boss as he carefully framed the documents. “Of course, look at the date, the headline. It’s them alright, why do you ask?” He didn’t even look up from his work. “I… Nothing. I was just making sure.” You whisper, clasping a hand over your mouth. What was going on? Had you finally lost it? Did you die when you jumped? Was this hell? “Jesus kid, you look sick.” Richard walked over to you, concerned for your well being.

“Do you need to go home? I’ll have Sean take over for you.” You shook your head quickly. “What do you need, kid? You know I’ll do anything.” Richard had always been a family friend, someone your grandmother kept close her whole life. He was like a father or uncle to you, offering you a job and money when you needed it most. “Would it be possible to borrow your four wheeler tomorrow after work?” You ask, looking up at him. You had to see for yourself, had to see if you were losing it. As if reading your mind, Richard looked over at the newspaper clipping. “You saw something, didn’t you?” He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder slowly.

“N-no… I just left something in the woods the other day, I want to go get it without having to do that hellish walk again.” You joke weakly, gulping. Richard clearly didn’t believe you, but he nodded anyway. “You can take it tonight, in case it rains and whatever you left gets ruined. Finish up this project and then head off. Take the walkie with, in case you need help.” With that, Richard walked away, pulling his cell phone out and making a call. You quickly finished framing your section before snapping a picture of the clipping, wanting to make sure. You snatched the walkie and keys from Richard’s desk and took off, climbing onto the four wheeler and placing the helmet on your head.

The journey back to the cabin was long, even on a four wheeler. The cabin was pitch black inside, much more rustic and dingy looking than you remembered. The rocking chair on the front porch held Namjoon, sitting calmly as he read from his book. “(Y/N), back so soon?” He asked, not looking up. “You’re real? But, you can’t be.” Your voice was shaky and panicked as you looked at him. This caused Namjoon to look up, smirking. “I assure you dear, I am very real. I’m assuming you found out?” Lightning flashed ahead, and for that split second, you could see a pale, bloodied Namjoon before he returned to normal. You let out a scream, backing up quickly.

“You’re dead! You’re dead, I’ve lost it. Oh god, oh god I’ve lost it.” Tears of fear fell from your eyes as you paced around the yard nervously. You looked up at Namjoon again, growing frustrated when you saw how calm he was. “How are you here?!” You scream, thunder booming behind you. Namjoon’s calm facade broke as he looked up at the sky. “You need to calm down. I can explain everything, but you need to calm down before you tear down the city.” Anger flushed through your body as the storm got worse and worse. “Do not tell me to calm down!” You snarl dangerously, storming up to the tall man. “I just found out I’ve gone insane and started imagining the ghosts of seven dead guys.” Namjoon laughed as your smacked his chest over and over. He grabbed your hands, ignoring the rain falling heavily from the sky as he looked you in the eyes.

“If I wasn’t real, would I be able to hold you like this?” He whispered, face mere inches from yours. “If you’d stop with your temper tantrum and come inside, I could explain to you everything.” He let your hands go roughly before turning around and walking inside. You whimpered, following slowly behind. It felt like a bunny walking into a wolves den. The other six men were all sat in the main room, staring at you with blank faces. Even Jimin and Jin, who you were so used to see smiling, stared at you with little emotion on their faces. “Take a seat.” Namjoon instructed, pushing you down into an armchair by the fireplace. “So obedient.” Jimin hummed, a flash of lust in his eyes before Yoongi slapped his head.

“You’re all dead…” You whisper, feeling any and all fight drain from your being. “Yes. We are.” Namjoon hummed. “Sort of. Yes, we did die so many years ago, just as your little story said, but there was more to it than what people say.” Yoongi added. “When this town was first settled, it was founded by a man and a woman, husband and wife. The man was a strong Christian, loved God and placed it upon himself to say what was wrong and right in the village. His wife, however, was a witch, the head witch of a coven, in fact. That woman’s name was Emily (Y/L/N).” Namjoon handed you a book, opening it to the first page. There was a small painting of a family, a mother, a father, and three children. He pointed at the woman. “Her husband, Clyde, found out she was a witch, he freaked out, banishing her from the village as well as all of the other women, just in case. Even the young children.”

Sympathy flooded your being for the poor woman. “Was she practicing the dark stuff?” You asked, looking up at Namjoon. He shook his head. “No. Not at first. When her husband kicked her from the village, she wanted revenge. It was their magic that was helping crops grow. And it wasn’t only women who practiced magic. There were men in the coven who would sneak food out to the banished group, keep them healthy.” You sniffled. “What does this have to do with you?” You ask, looking at the group. Jungkook rolled his eyes. “So impatient.” He grumbled. “Emily wanted revenge, so she signed her soul away to the devil in exchange for his seven nastiest demons. She released the sins onto the village, letting each demon take the lives of any adult male who wasn’t in the coven. After that, she released the sins, letting them roam the forest.”

You began to realize what he was going to say next. “The sins plagued the forest, so when you guys came, they…. Took over you, didn’t they?” You asked, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He smiled and nodded, adding another log to the fire. “Yes. We were once seven innocent immigrants. However, the forest changed us. Wrath chose Jungkook, causing him to kill all of us. The other sins saved us, each inhabiting our bodies.” You tensed in fear. “You’re demons, holding the bodies of seven dead men.”

You could hear one of the men snicker in amusement. “No. Think of it as what your people call a superhero. We gained eternal life and powers and traits in exchange for our humanity.” Namjoon explained. “So… All the missing hikers, all the bodies found, you were responsible.” You whispered in horror. Namjoon shrugged. “Yes. We are. Some of us kill for fun, others only when necessary.” Thinking quickly, you grabbed the iron fire poker, holding it against Namjoons throat. “I don’t plan on dying today.” The iron seered into his flesh, causing Namjoon to hiss in pain, his eyes turning black. The others stood up quickly, ready to defend their brother. “Iron. Smart. Someone knows how to defend themselves.” Namjoon growled out. “We aren’t going to hurt you (Y/N).” Taehyung said, his hands up as he tried to calm you down.

“If we were to kill you, I would have done so when you let me do your makeup.” Jin said. Your eyes widen with horror. “You are the one who cuts up peoples face, leaves them horribly disfigured…” You whisper, whimpering as fear fills your body. Jin smirked proudly. “I couldn’t let them remain as attractive as they were. I am the most handsome, simple as that. I couldn’t bear even the thought of doing it to you. I had full intentions, but something stopped me.” Taehyung piped up. “V would have eaten you in a moment if you weren’t special. We all want to protect you.” You scoffed, pressing the iron deeper into Namjoon’s neck.

“Why should I believe you, hm?” You glare weakly, trying to make sure your courage was intact. “What makes me so different from any of the others you murdered?” Namjoon struggled against the iron, trying to get away. “Because you’re her reincarnation. You may not look like her, but (Y/N), each human is reborn. Sometimes as human, or animal, male, female, or anything in between. Each person has been thousands of beings, and you are Emily. You hold her powers. When she summoned our sins, part of each of them attached to her. When she died, she wasn’t reborn as a human for a long time, until you.” Yoongi explained, causing you to slowly release pressure on Namjoon.

“Your grandmother knew. She took you in, you and your brothers, saved you from people who would harm you and kept you safe.” Namjoon added. “How do you know all this, hm?” You asked, letting Namjoon go, but keeping the iron poker in front of you. “It’s been a legend for a long time. The mortal who would have Hell’s strongest demon’s under their command, willing to die for them.” Jimin piped up, wincing at the sight of Namjoon’s burned neck. “What do you mean? Why would you guys be so attached to me, huh?” You ask, the poker lowering as you grew more confused.

“To put it simply (Y/N), you are ours, and we are yours. I believe people call them soulmates nowadays.” Namjoon spoke, holding his neck as he looked into your eyes. “We will do whatever you ask, and if anyone hurts you, they have the wrath of seven of Hell’s princes to deal with.”

Taglist for Drowning in a Dream @jennyjq @boy9wolf @slutkoo @flakeypancake @leftflowerprunedonut @vickylamore @elenaramos1 @trinityautumn @blackgirlutopia @viralsoftspot @qween-of-trash

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squishmallow36 · 2 years

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Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Eighteen

Word count: 1.9k

Tw: oh stars fitz is feeling like an inadequate mess today

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee @jamesdeangf

On Ao3 or below the cut!

I’m not entirely sure what happened. One second, I’m watching some human movie with Dex, and the next it’s like I’m watching a memory.

All the bubbles and thinking caps make me think that it’s after an exam, either finals or midterms, but I’m in my white Level Six uniform.

My stomach is so knotted, I bet Keefe would be able to feel my emotions from here.

Wait—.

Keefe’s here. At Foxfire.

I know that shouldn’t be such a revelation, but when you run away with a letter saying that you’ll never see each other again, you kinda lose that right.

He sees me wandering around over here and waves me over, where he’s standing with Sophie.

She looks different, somehow. I figure it’s because she no longer looks at me with so many secrets, until I notice her and Keefe’s clasped hands, barely visible from being nearly hidden behind her back.

I want to get angry, which is always my first reaction to everything. Just one of the many reasons I’m not good enough.

But as I look deeper, I realise that I’m not angry at Sophie. Or Keefe, for that matter.

I’m angry at myself. I lost my opportunity with the prettiest, most powerful girl in Foxfire, if not the Lost Cities.

I had my chance and I blew it.

The little voice in the back of my head is trying to tell me that we would have been a Bad Match, which is unacceptable for maintaining the Vacker Legacy, but that little voice can—.

I’m not going to finish that sentence, but it knows what it can do.

I hear the parents being released into the sea of students, and I whip around, searching for mine.

So I can know how badly I failed this term.

I can feel the knots of dread and panic pulling themselves tighter in my stomach, which isn’t unexpected for me on exam days, but I know that it’s not going to have a good outcome.

Considering everything with the Neverseen, I’m sure I haven’t studied enough, and I can’t just coast on a photographic memory like some people.

I manage to find Dad in the crowd, and he doesn’t look too disappointed…

But maybe that’s Biana getting top of her class or something cushioning the blow that his only son that he’s still willing to claim as his own has failed out of the only noble school in the Lost Cities.

So there’s no way I can make it into the nobility, and I’ll never live up to what everyone expects of me.

Dad’s eyes meet mine and a flicker of something darts across his face. Not quite disappointment, but nearly there. I doubt even an empath could pinpoint it exactly.

It’s so brief, I probably imagined it, I tell myself, believing it about as much as I trusted Alvar had changed when he lost his memories.

When Dad hands me my scorecard—we have a tradition of writing it down because you should be able to experience it on your own, part of the Vacker philosophy that you’ll be on your own in the real world, so you better get used to it early—I panic, shutting my eyes. Too terrified to see how much I failed.

Biana squeals from somewhere behind me, even though I think we all knew that she would do well. She’s always fulfilled her expectations better than I have, and then goes beyond that.

She’s the youngest regent ever with extensive control of her ability.

And what am I? Just a probably-failed cognate with barely noteworthy telepathy.

I gather my thoughts and pluck up the courage to flip over my scorecard.

And…

My stomach drops out from beneath me.

My lowest was a ninety-one. I’ve never gotten that low in my life.

In Universe, the session I thought I did best, aside from telepathy. Tiergan won’t let me fail out of Foxfire, so unless my inadequate telepathy becomes too obvious, I don’t have to worry.

So the only hundred I got doesn’t even count.

Aside from that, I got ninety-fives in Alchemy and Elvin History, a ninety-six in P.E., ninety-sevens in Metaphysics and Multispecial Studies, and a ninety-eight in Elementalism.

Someone taps on my shoulder, and I whip around to find Keefe, smirking more than usual.

I didn’t know that was possible.

And, yes, I can tell the difference.

“So how badly did Wonderboy humiliate all of us?” he asks jokingly, but it hit a nerve.

I crinkle my scorecard, so it doesn’t fall to the floor as I jam it into Keefe’s palm. I may or may not have muttered some words that will get my mouth washed out with soap as I find a dark corner to hide.

Maybe I’ll stay there for a few hundred years.

Dex finds me within a few minutes, and before he can try to convince me that my scores are still good, I tell him, “Go away, son of a Bad Match.”

Well, maybe not in such nice words, but you get the idea.

“Normally that would bother me, but I know you’re just trying to do exactly that, so you’re stuck with me,” he replies, sitting down beside me.

“Are you going to get on with all the jokes about how I always have to be so perfect?” I ask, burying my head in my hands.

“What? I just saw you in the corner, and figured there was a reason, and wanted to see what I can do to help.”

I peek out from between my fingers. “Really? You didn’t see my scores? I thought Keefe would be screaming it from the rooftops.”

He gave me a soft smile, showing just enough of his dimples that you can’t help wanting to make him smile more fully. “Technically if Keefe was screaming from the rooftops, then I wouldn’t have seen your scores, but I have neither seen nor heard anything about them. Really.”

With that, a tear streaks down my cheek, but I scrub it away before Dex notices, or so I think.

He wraps his arms around me, softly at first, waiting for me to snap at him, but I can’t manage to muster up the energy for that.

I close my eyes as I bury my head into Dex’s shoulder, and when I blink my eyes open again, I find myself in Dex’s room, groggy with sleep.

I give my eyes a few seconds to come into focus, and I’m in much of the same position as my dream. Without thinking, I bury my head into Dex’s shoulder a little deeper, and then realise what I’m doing and jolt away.

“Sorry. You fell asleep here, and I didn’t want to wake you up, so I let you stay where you are. Then I heard you swearing in your sleep and you started crying so I...sorry. Sorry. I understand if you hate me.”

I can’t exactly form words right now, but when I can again, it won’t be pretty. But, I’m not angry at Dex. I’m angry at myself.

I can’t let my imperfections show, and I definitely shouldn’t dump my stupid problems on other people.

Grizel reforms from the shadows as I stand up and dig out my home crystal,

“Don’t tell anyone. About any of this. Not. A. Word.” I manage to choke out as Grizel and I glitter away.

I can see she turns around and mouths something to Dex, although I didn’t catch what.

I storm up to my room, irritated that it’s the middle of the night and that means I can’t have a satisfying slam of my door because I’ll probably wake someone up.

Biana appears in the corner, saying, “Somebody was out late today.”

I’m done for the day, so I didn’t give her more of a response than a glare.

“Well, you’re no fun,” Biana pouts, but, thankfully, leaving me alone.

I flop backwards onto my bed, glaring at the ceiling. I realise that being angry is yet another reason why I’m not as perfect as everyone expects me to be.

Which makes me angrier.

Which makes me want to break something.

But then I’ll have to replace that something, and I don’t honestly believe anyone else goes through this many Imparters by the time they’re...however old I am.

Level six. Let’s just leave it there.

An exception to the rule is Dex, but he dismantles most of them when he’s working on whatever, though.

I look through my sheets for Mr. Snuggles. He’s the best way to throw things without breaking anything. Usually. Except for that one time when he hit that vase and started a chain reaction of other things being broken…

After what feels like an hour of looking, but was really probably a minute, or maybe less, I remember that I left him at Rimeshire.

I curse under my breath, because I doubt Dex will want to see me again anytime soon, and he may have already given Mr. Snuggles to the triplets to destroy.

My Imparter buzzes with a message, which I already know is from Dex because he’s the only person that would send a message instead of a hail. It said, If you want me to bring Mr. Snuggles over, I will. Let me know. Just tap the reply button at the bottom, type your message, and then hit send. -Dex

His being nice to me after I was such a jerk to him just makes me angrier, and it takes everything I have to not chuck it into my door and let it shatter into a million little pieces.

It’s actually easier to throw than goblin throwing stars. That, or I have more experience.

Biana opens my door, and I’m not going to deny that I am ready to burn those innocent little ears off, but she just gives me another pan of Mallowmelt without saying anything.

That’s probably the nicest thing she’s done for me...maybe ever.

Until she gives me a blue sparkly dragon, who looks suspiciously like Mr. Snuggles.

“Don’t tell me Dex figured out how to make an elixir to change the colour of Mr. Snuggles.”

“This is his sister, Miss Snuggles.” She shakes her head like I should have known that all along, but playfully, and somehow—it’s probably the dragon—it helps me get ever so slightly less furious. “She’s Lady Sassyfur’s best friend, so be nice.”

“Did Dex tell you anything or is this an actual case of being nice?” I ask, already pretty sure of the answer.

She snorted. “Obviously Dex. All I know is that you left in a hurry and forgot Mr. Snuggles, but he didn’t think he would survive coming over here himself, so he asked me to see what I could do. And, uh, you know.” She gestured at Miss Snuggles, clearly running out of words for the day.

“Why are both of you still awake? It’s like one in the morning.”

That resulted in a full laugh. “Fitzipoo, I’m going to tell you something that you should have learned a long time ago. People don’t usually go to bed at nine. Or get up at sunrise. Or get a full eight hours of sleep.”

She leaves after that bombshell that I already knew but thoroughly tried to ignore, leaving me to process that, but Miss Snuggles is really soft, and I can’t run on four hours of sleep.

Slowly, I drift into sleep again, dreaming of a continent where the entire population is made up of thousands of stuffed animal dragons, in every colour of the rainbow.

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