#do you ever think about how similar leaf is to meat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

general-mahamatra · 4 years

Text

It’s a World of Your Spectrum

Focus: George

Genre: Fluff

TW: N/A

Pairing: Platonic Dreamnotfound

Wordcount: 1791

Read it on AO3 here

Note: This was done for a trade with the AMAZING artist @floofdoesart / @floofdoesfandomstuff ! Please make sure you check them out!! They’re absolutely WONDERFUL!

Dream wanted to do something special.

After hearing side comments from George about a pair of special classes that could supposedly help his colorblindness, Dream began to research. He spent hours trying to figure out how well they worked and what exactly they could do. Price, reliability, everything. And to his gleeful surprise, they supposedly worked the best for those who were red/green colorblind.

...It just happened to be a surprise George didn’t expect.

Crouching in the bushes was a young man. Brunette, fair-skinned, average height. Shrouded by the undergrowth with a bow in hand. He was silent, staring blankly into the dark light, white glasses perched on top of his head. It was risky, going out during the night, especially with such bright clothing, but it was worth it. After all, it was almost dawn. Any minute now, the sun would start to rise and the world would grow warm.

Carefully, George pushed the foliage away. Creatures in the forest were peculiar but not uncommon. Wild versions of domestic animals, tougher than the ones who graze in fenced-in pens. Longer tusks, more aggressive natures… They were much more difficult to handle than the farm animals back home.

Not that he cared really. It just made it that much more fun.

With the sun coming up soon, the animals would start to wake up. They’d be tired and slow-moving but out nonetheless--one of the perfect times to hunt if it were up to George. So much easier to get a catch and take it home.

Time passed by, the young man staying in his hiding spot. Waiting, watching, wondering.

The rustle of undergrowth alerted the man, making him perk up and peer out into the clearing. A couple more seconds and the snout of a wild pig jutted out.

Notching an arrow, George raised the bow. An inhale. A step. An exhale.

He let go of the string. With a thwap, the arrow found its new home in the side of the boar, striking a nerve and paralyzing the animal. It collapsed to the ground, wailing and screeching at the initial pain.

Perfect. Didn’t even need a second shot.

Getting to his feet, he shouldered the bow and made his way to the dying animal. It wasn’t much, but there was enough meat there to last him a short while. Better than the cheap shit he could buy when it was easier and far more fun to get his own catch.

George kneeled down, pulling another arrow from the quiver. Grabbing the tusk of the boar, he jerked its head to the side and slit its throat with the metal head. One final squeal and it fell limp.

The preparations of the carcass weren’t too difficult. It was rather fast getting it ready to move. He was maybe a half an hour walk from town, meaning he would have to carry the animal quite a distance. Not something he wanted to do and risk getting blood on his clothing. Especially his blue shirt.

He was finishing up wrapping the creature in leather when a twig snapped nearby.

Immediately he was to his feet and alert. Looking around, he tried to find the source of the sound, acutely aware of the faint sunlight now poking through the leaves. When nothing was immediately in his view, he carefully reached for the bow.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

If it were an animal, there would be more noise.

“Who’s there?”

A couple of seconds passed before a head popped out. Glimmering eyes and a grin laced with mischief greeted him. A white mask sat atop the newcomer's head and a plain hoodie wrapped around his tall frame.

Dream.

“George!” the blonde exclaimed, darting out of the thicket. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

George scoffed, slinging the bow across his shoulder yet again. “Have you now?”

“Yeah, I have.” Dream nudged his friend’s shoulder, earning a small chuckle from the shorter man. “You didn’t tell me you planned on going hunting! Okay, that’s a lie, you did, but you didn’t tell me when!”

“Because I didn’t think I had to!” joked George, earning a whine from Dream. “Besides, since when did you care? You never wanna come hunting with me.”

The taller man gasped, placing his hand across his chest in shock. “That’s a lie! Of course I wanna go hunting with you. I’m the only reason you’re good with a bow anyway.”

George raised an eyebrow.

“You know I’m right!”

George sighed. “Uh-huh, sure. I like to think I taught myself.”

Another offended gasp from Dream. “You were terrible before you met me. C’mon, admit it, I at least helped you somewhat.”

“Meh.”

“George!”

The brunette laughed, placing a hand over his mouth as he said, “okay okay! Yeah, you did help.”

“Aha!-”

“But!” George interrupted. “I taught you how to be better with a sword.”

Dream narrowed his eyes, looking at George for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope. I was already amazing with one.” Silence followed as George stared. And, eventually, Dream caved. “Fineee, you helped me too.”

George smiled softly, finding his friend’s stubborn ego oddly amusing. “Glad to know I could help the almighty Dream.” He squatted back down, returning to tending to the carcass. After a bit, he paused and looked back up. “What did you want?”

For a moment, a blank expression crossed Dream’s face, his train of thought gone. He forgot why he was there, that was clear enough. The silence was enough of an answer as it was.

Then he lit up and seemingly started to vibrate with excitement.

“I have something for you!” he declared, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. “I don’t know how well it’ll work, but I wanted you to try it.” Carefully, he pulled out a small box, covered in Christmas wrapping paper with a lopsided, haphazard attempt at a bow. “It’s not much, but I couldn’t just wait to give it to you.”

A small frown formed on George’s features as he carefully took the package. It was nowhere near a holiday or his birthday, only causing him to become confused. “What-”

“Open it!” Dream pressed.

George obliged, pulling the wrapping off and removing the cardboard box inside. It looked reused, as though maybe Dream had removed whatever was inside from its original packaging.

Opening the box revealed that to be true as he pulled out a glasses case. Scrawled on the top in a special professional font was a word he thought he’d never see.

EnChroma.

Special glasses, made to help people like him see the world differently.

“Dream…” he murmured, glancing up. “You can’t be serious.”

The blonde nodded, a bright smile nearly taking up his entire face. “Come on, try them on!” he urged, motioning towards the case.

Looking back down, George carefully opened the case. Within it was a pair of sunglasses, discreet with its simple frame and dark lenses. Something so small yet so significant… He was nervous.

He pulled the glasses out and stared at them before turning them over in his hands. After everything he read about them possibly not working, he was scared. No matter how many videos and recollections about them working, he always had that nagging worry. It was what kept him from purchasing the pair himself.

What if they didn’t do anything? What if Dream expected him to react? What if-

George shook his head.

No, it’s fine. Even if they don’t work for everyone, there was nothing wrong with giving it a shot. Besides, the chance of him missing out on something if he didn’t try them on greatly outweighed his worry of failure. So, he slid them on.

And God, it wasn’t what he expected.

He didn’t know how to react to what he saw. He didn’t know what to, he didn’t know what to say… So much was different and bright and…

He was speechless.

Slowly, he reached out, brushing his hands across the grass. It felt the same: coarse, sharp, flimsy--but it was just… different. The way it looked; he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It was nothing he’d ever seen, not in the way he has now.

What he saw he couldn’t describe. It just… was. It existed, it was before him, and it was vibrant. Something he’d seen all his life and yet never before.

When George glanced up, it hit him even harder.

The trees were the same. Blaring and in his face, illuminated by the sunlight that now breached the canopy, lighting each leaf.

Oh, how he wished he could describe what he was seeing.

Getting to his feet, he turned, gaze trailing over everything it could possibly take in. It was overwhelming just how different the world looked, even if it was somehow so similar. As if someone dialed up the vibrancy and showed him a world that he used to be unable to see.

And he had no idea how to take it.

When his eyes landed on a bush, he nearly whimpered.

Intense. Brilliant. Psychedelic. The only words he could think of as he started and the flowers now popping off the bush. A color he’d never seen before. Thrust right at him, throwing itself at him as he barely managed to keep up with everything now bombarding his senses.

Reaching up, he lifted the glasses, proceeding to look at the hedge without the lenses altering his vision. It was back to normal, the flower petals blending in with the shrubbery despite the fact they were in his face just moments before.

George went back and forth multiple times, just trying to figure out how it was possible.

Is this what others saw?

Turning to Dream, he choked out a sob.

There his friend stood, the vibrant jacket the first thing George noticed.

Approaching the blonde, George ran his hand along the jacket sleeve. And, again, he removed the glasses to get a sense of just how different the colors were.

It was green.

This was green.

He was seeing green.

Lifting his head, he was greeted by Dream’s soft smile, only illuminating his green eyes.

Green eyes.

“You’re kidding,” he managed to get out, only making Dream’s smile grow. “You have to be kidding. It’s so… it’s so bright… everything’s so green.”

Dream nodded before motioning towards the bush the shorter man had been looking at earlier. “It’s all green, but that? That’s red.”

George vaguely knew what red was already--he wasn’t completely red/green colorblind, which meant he knew there was at least a difference between red and brown. But… he didn’t expect it to be so different.

It was just as intense as blue. Vibrant, colorful… red.

All the times Dream and Sapnap had talked about red… the times they would point something out and George would brush it off… and the nether…

God above, the nether must be something else.

He turned back to Dream, once again ignoring the bush and wrapped his arms around the taller man. Clenched fists wrapped in the cloth, head buried in the crook of his neck. He clung.

He murmured, “thank you…

Thank you so much.”

#dream team rpf #dream team #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dreamnotfound #platonic #colorblindness #fluff #prince's writing

80 notes · View notes

enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Wanted Dead or Alive

Prompt #10

Subject: Weapon play Monster: Orc

Orc hunts a criminal through the woods, get a little in over his head

------------------------------------------

He isn't subtle, not that one should expect an orc to be. Though thinking himself as being stealthy is cute, after a week of this it becomes less so. I'm almost tempted to confront him and get the meeting over with so I can be on my way. Still, this game hasn't grown tiresome yet. Perhaps a few more days, to test his patience a bit.

His limbering steps echo in my ears, making them twitch every time he interacts with a crunchy leaf or twig. At this point, I'm just curious if he knows I'm aware of him or he is just that stupid. Perhaps I give the man too little credit, maybe he is playing the long con. Make the enemy underestimate you. Though I don't believe him smart enough for that. Today though I assume he feels bolder, getting close enough for me to hear his breathing. Hear his heart fluttering around in his chest. His nervous beating catches my attention though. A new exploit I look forward to using.

He is young, and now I'm intrigued.

Hunters, especially bounty hunters, have a tendency to keep towards the older generation. Nothing against young adults, it just this career favors the experienced over that untried. The middle-aged have the triumphs of safe ventures under their belt, not likely to fret over the nerves of a hunt. this may explain his tedious stalking and loud as hell steps.

The sunset holds a captivating sight as I set up camp. With the tent pitched at the peak of dusk and fire burning bright I settle with my dinner. Some dried meats and nearly inedible bread. Not a meal meant for a queen or any such royalty but one fit for an outlaw. All I need now is some wise-cracking henchmen and I will truly be worthy of such hateful praises the good folk spit my way.

As I mindlessly nibble on the stale bread I hear my friend lumber about again. He fidgets with some leave before ceasing his extremely loud actions. Seems he is also settling for the night. As he has grown bolder with his nearness I feel that tonight is the night he will make his assault. I smile into my food at the thought. I have been eagerly awaiting our meeting ever since I first heard his steps.

Waiting has always been one of my strong suits; patience is truly a virtue. This virtue pays off tonight as I fight off rest in my tent to finally catch eyes with the ever 'talented' hunter. I pinch my skin and wiggle my fingers and toes to keep awake. This buffoon might have fallen asleep, I think as midnight approaches. I swear if that idiot leaves me waiting again I will-

A snap of a branch stops my inner monologue. The annoyance gets ghosted by anticipation as the sounds get closer. When I hear his labored breathing then do I shut my eyes and feint rest.

The tent flap is gently brushed aside as the orc enters. I can hear the soft steps the come nearer. I can almost taste his nervous energy in the air, his sweat suffocating the space. Each little step ramps up my heart, almost convinced he could hear how excited I am to finally meet him. His breath ghosts over me, the barely noticeable sound of a blade being taken from its sheath echoes in my ear. He takes in a large inhale before I leap from the bed.

I catch him off guard, knocking the blade from his hand as my own startles him back. He falls to the ground with a thud, landing on his rear before I force him on his back. I straddle his chest, keeping my knees on his bicep. My knife rests at his throat, a wild gleam in my eye as I finally look upon the vermin who has been stalking me.

My first thought is of his attractiveness. I was correct in assuming he was young, perhaps at the limit of my guestimation but still considered youthful. He is definitely well above age to be wedded, nearing his more trying years. His facial hair is cleaned kept, close to his chin but still full. His hair has a similar cut, kept shaved close to his head. It's an unusual look for an orc, most I've met have had long flowing locks decorated with braids and beads. He is outside the norm on many fronts it seems.

"Well, handsome, we finally meet," I tease. The man doesn't answer, instead snarling at me as if that would will me to get off him. At my unflinching gaze, he takes to lifting his arms, trying to roll my knees off him. I press the blade closer to his throat, nicking him a bit. As his blood trickles down his throat his efforts cease.

"If you wish to kill me then get on with it already," the orc growls out. He holds my gaze, glaring hard with a brave front.

I scoff at him," you assume I wish to murder you?"

"Of course," he tsks, "What else would a criminal do with a bounty hunter?" I snort at his words, too amused with his confidence when he says 'bounty hunter'. He is hardly worthy of the title but it's still adorable.

"A criminal could do a lot of things with a bounty hunter such as yourself. Especially such a handsome one," I grin. His brave sneer twists to subtle confusion. My grin widens at the sight," something wrong about what I just said, orc?" for the first time since he has shown up he looks away, nibbling on his lip as he does. I'm almost convinced to say he is blushing. The sight thrills me, empowering me to grab his face and point it back towards mine.

"Such a handsome, rugged face," I stroke my thumb over his lip, guiding the flesh away from his teeth," clearly haven't seen many fights. Your face holds no scars unlike your kin normally does. It makes me curious if the rest of you has any battle wounds." I trail my thumb over his tusk before going lower to the wound on his neck. I roll my knees off his arms, wiggling down his chest so I can lick the blood off of him. His body stiffens, his neck going taunt. I can't help but sit up, meeting his confused face with a grin.

"What are you doing," he asks. I don't bother answering, instead, looking down at his shirt. He has forgone armor, having only normal clothes on. A light-colored shirt with laces at the top is all the keeps his torso safe. Either he is smart enough to wear this in the hopes of silence or stupid enough to enter danger with no protection. I notice a bit of chest hair poking through the top. Investigating further I trail the knife from his collar to the shirt. The tip of the blade flicks the laces, cutting it easily. Out the corner of my eye, I see the orc's hands raise slowly.

"Don't think about it," I dig the tip of the knife into his sternum, twisting it slightly. His arms fall flat, his body still stiff as I continue. I shred the top half of his shirt, parting the fabric with a interested quirk of a brow. His chest is broad, strong, and littered with hair. Burly man. Curious, I pet a finger down his chest. I investigate his torso, parting the clothing more to find his nipple. The pebbled nub is barely visible amongst the forest of hair. I can't help but lean down and take a lick. The instant my tongue touched him his stomach clenched, his heart beating loudly against his ribs.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time with a strain to his voice. Once again I don't answer. I sit up, looking up at his extremely conflicted face. I pass him a grin before sliding down his body again. Resting over his lap I rip the rest of the shirt in half. The sound of the shredding fabric makes him jump, bucking his hips into mine by accident. Still, I feel a bulge against my ass. Though not fully hard enough to tent, it still holds notice. I grind into him, feeling his semi-hard cock. Meeting his eyes I grin smugly. He turns away with another blush.

Now too interested in his growing erection I slide over him once more, revealing the ties to his pants. Grabbing the knife again I take to unfastening him. The laces fall apart easily, his bulge helping the fabric part. I pull his clothes down to his thighs, completely lost at the sight of his cock resting against his stomach. He is just as hairy as the rest of him.

"Well isn't that a sight," I purr. Nearly drooling I grab him in a loose fist, holding his hardening member in my hand. I feel the weight of him in my palm, my crotch throbbing at the view. "Not the smartest of the bunch but you are gifted in other places I see," I tease. I look up at him, grinning at his flustered face. His hands are clenched at his sides making the sight more fulfilling. I think I'm quite taken with this orc.

Grinning from ear to ear I decide to lay on my stomach between his sprawled legs. I rest my arms on his stomach, his erections nestled against my shoulder close to my cheek. The knife hangs lazily in my hand, the tip indenting the skin on his hip. I think for a moment, listening to the uneven breathing of the orc below me.

"I like you," I nuzzle against his cock with my cheek," not many catch my attention but you are very different from the hardened warriors I've met before. I think I might keep you."

The orc huffs," as much as I'm flattered by your admiration I have to decline the offer." I snort, leaning back a bit to press a kiss to his cock. He grunts at the gesture, his thighs twitching.

"That’s cute you think you have a choice," I grab him, slapping his cock to my cheek before pulling the skin back to press a kiss to his tip. His eyes nearly roll shut. His stomach, along with his thighs, clenching. "Yea, your mine now," I lick up his shaft before letting him go. As his cock rests back against my shoulder he chokes on a whimper, seeming to fight it off at the end. It was damn cute of an attempt.

I look to my knife resting against his body. Holding it firmer in my hand I raise it over his stomach. He tenses for a new reason, the worry almost palpable. I press the tip firmly into his skin, enough to breakthrough. He grunts as I trail it down, making a bleeding line.

"The orc who stalked me for weeks, it's almost flattering," I joke as I continuing carving up his stomach, " the orc with no armor, short cut hair, and a huge dick. It feels almost like a gift." he grunts and twitches, watching me slice into his skin. His lack of thrashing and fighting is nice, his precum dripping from his tip is more so. A grunt of pain sounds more like a moan of pleasure when I dig just a bit deeper on the next line. I pause in my assault, looking up at him with a sly grin. He blushes once more, turning away with a guilty look. "Kinky, cute, and strong. It must be my birthday," I laugh.

I sit up, looking down at my handy work. My name scrawled across his stomach is a view to behold. The orc even looks down, rolling his eyes before he falls back to the ground. His hips roll, his tip poking at my neck reminding me of my previous task. I switch my attention, sighing gratefully at his leaking cock. The sight would make a nun faint, perhaps even make his own kind weary. The orc cut up with a criminal's name now tattooed onto his skin with his pants torn around his thighs and his cock about to be in someone's mouth. Oh, what a sight he makes.

I admire his cock some more, even taken with the view of his balls. The bloodied knife trails down his hips to his thighs. I use the flat part to lift his sack, leaning down to press a kiss to them. His musky scent is prevalent now, almost dizzying. I carefully slide the knife out from under his sensitive anatomy before applying it to another sensitive area. His most pronounced vein is the perfect spot to trail the tip of the knife against. I keep full attention on my blade as his cock twitches against it. Be a waste to ruin the fun before it got to finish.

"Woman, have pity," the orc growls out. I almost forgotten about him, way too focused on admiring the way his prick jumps and throbs, dribbling drool down its shaft. Beautiful.

"Hmm? You need something," I rest my cheek on my hand. I wiggle his cock using the flat of the knife, watching as a drop of precum slides onto it. He grunts again, trying in vain to hold his hips back from bucking against such a dangerous weapon.

"Cease with your teasing," he snaps. His tone is demanding like he has any say in how I give my attention. I glare up at him, he glares back. It is almost adorable to see him try to be threatening, especially when I'm the one holding the knife. With a fighting grin, I lift the knife up, raising it well over his cock. His glare fades as worry takes its place. His eyes bounce from me to the knife, a fearful question attempting to leave his lips as his body fights against itself to sit up and run. With a flick of my brow, I bring the knife down.

The knife cuts through the air towards his scrotum, barely missing it as it punctures the ground below. The sigh of relief is amusing, as well as the sight of the knife hidden between his legs. I look from that to him, almost baiting him to snap at me again. Instead, a chuckle erupts from his throat.

"Please, you wild woman you, will you please make me cum," he smiles. The toothy grin is precious; heartwarming and panty-dropping. I fall for his plead, grabbing his cock and stroking him. The sigh of gratification is loud.

I admire the way his stomach twitches roles as I jerk him off. The drying blood on his stomach is beautiful against the letters. A thrill of satisfaction rolls through me at the possessive statement. He is mine now.

Growing more giving with the pleasing tones of his rising groans I take his tip into my mouth. I clean the precum off him, slathering him with my spit before taking him further in. his back arches as a cry rips from his mouth. I see his hands raise up to grab me but fall back down into fists. I give pity, reaching over and letting him grab a fistful of hair. He pets a strand from around my face before grabbing his fistful, guiding my head along his cock.

His cries and whimpers thrill me. I palm his balls as I bob, racing him to his finish as quickly as possible. I want to taste him, to feel his load jet down my throat. Just the thought of it makes me needy. He pulls my head up to his tip before he quickly thrusts his hips upwards. He uses my mouth for his pleasure, using me to reach his end.

With a few more thrusts he slams my head down onto him. I choke at the suddenness of having my throat clogged. The forceful action is forgiven as he treats me to his cries of peaking pleasure. His load spirts into my throat. I swallow it, gulping around him as I take all he gives. He keeps my head down while he slowly relaxes. Soon letting go and falling lax to the ground.

I sit up, wiping the bit of drool and seed from around my lips. I grin up at him, watching his relaxed face. I take to standing up and looking at the mess I made. His shirt is ripped down the middle to present is broad chest, my name carved into his stomach. His pants are kept around his thighs just above his knees, the knife still resting between said clothing and his balls. His cock rests flaccid on his hip, covered in spit and cum. Now, this is a sight I could treasure always.

I finally meet his eyes as I once again admire his body. His grin is lazy but relaxed. He reaches a hand up to me, asking me without words to join him on the floor. I agree, falling to my knees beside him. He grabs my shoulder, forcing me down into a kiss. The sudden action is alarming, especially after what I've done to him. His lips are soft, the tusks are strange, and his taste is similar to that of ale.

"Thank you," he mumbles against my lips.

"For what," I ask, stealing a kiss before he could answer.

He scoffs," For what? For everything you have done. I would have never guessed that something as threatening and terrifying as you would be so damn sexy."

"Kinky bastard," I laugh. He laughs along with me, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me to his side. He tries to tease a finger under my nightshirt but I stop him.

"Not tonight," I scold playfully.

"then another night," he asks hopefully. The idea of a future night like this is nice. Though some errands have to be ran first before that.

His ruined shirt is removed along with the knife that still rests between his legs. We find ourselves resting on the floor though a perfectly good cot sits inches away. Shortly after he falls asleep, worn from the night he had. I give him one last look before sneaking out of his arms.

The light shines through the tent entrances as morning comes. I watch as the orc comes to, groaning as he wakes. He starts to lift his arms but finds them bound together over his stomach. His confusion grows as he notices his feet bound in the same fashion. The orc quickly looks around the room settling his sights on me with a sneer.

"What are you doing," he asks. I look him over lazily, twirling our knife in my hand.

"Saying goodbye," I answer before adding," for now." he glares, beginning to fight against the ropes as he sits up.

"Like hell you are," he growls. I watch him try to wiggle his hands-free, knowing he wouldn't be successful just yet.

"relax, I said for now. You think I'm going to claim you then ditch you. That's just trashy," I scoff," no, I just have some things to take care of before I can whisk you away, or whatever a lovely way of saying that is."

"So you are just going to leave me here defenseless till you come back," he snaps as he continues fighting the binds.

"Course not. I want you alive when I come back," I walk towards him. He ceases his pointless struggling as watches me with frustration and anger in his eyes. I can't help but cup his face, leaning in to peck his lips. His anger fades but frustration still stands proud.

"Don't go," he grumbles. His tone makes my heartthrob. I pet his cheek once more before lifting the knife to catch his attention. He sits up, excited at the prospect of being untied. Instead of doing just that I toss the knife across the room. The weapon sticks into the ground, standing up just in the corner of the tent. He growls once his attention falls to me.

"I have some things to deal with and I don't need you following me so here is what is going to happen. First, I'm going to leave then you are going to crawl to that knife and get yourself free. By then I'll be long gone but don't fret. In one week I want you to meet me by Spearhead River near Hartford. I will set up camp there and patiently await your arrival. Is that clear," I ask. He doesn't answer, keeping his anger despite all I said. "I said am I clear," I say louder. He slowly nods.

I give him one more smile and a kiss before grabbing my things and leaving. At the tent's entrance I give him one last longing look. I'm going to miss that handsome face.

"You better be prepared when I find you, there is going to be consequences," he threatens with an amused sneer.

"I look forward to it," I blow him a kiss before stepping out of view.

A week later I sit in my cabin reading near candlelight. The storm outside rages, tinging against the glass with great vigor. I try to invest in my story, ignoring the pang of anxiety nestled in my chest. It's hardly been a day since I've come home but the fear of being rejected is fierce. That night was hardly something that anyone would come back to. It was very demeaning and emasculating, I imagine. Though he never rejected my advancements and seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed it doesn't really mean anything. It's not a given that he would want to come back.

As my mind wanders I hear the clap of thunder, startling me from my wanderings. The sound wasn't like the ones before, too close and deep to be thunder. Before I can think more about it the sound echoes again. This time I know where it's coming from. A new fear sits in my stomach as the door rattles on its hinges. It bangs again and again until the door swings open to slam against the wall.

The silhouette of a tall man fills the archway, the lightning brightens his features just briefly. The sight is thrilling, erasing the fear from before.

"Found you," he purrs.

"So you have."

-----------------------------------------------------

It took a lot to stop myself from writing more on this. i kind of like them.

Last weekend! almost done with all the prompts, just two more left.

Complete Series

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#orc boyfriend #orcs are hot #Enigma-IM #Prompt series #prompt 10 #exophilia #monster boyfriend

89 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Honor.”

So translating my own language is a bitch. Yes I know I don’t have to do it, but also it is more fun that way. Although I added in translations for everyone accept on one or two parts on purpose. But you can still enjoy it, no need to worry. you don’t need to know the language to read this!

Also this is an action scene so it’s cool. Go on read it :)

You know that feeling where you studied for an exam and you thought that you knew the material, but then you get into the exam and it turns out you had no idea what you were doing?

Yeah, this is nothing like that.

Well, I mean it kind of is, but the result of screwing up is death and not a stern talking to from your parents about being more focused. Then again, perhaps I would get a stern talking to form Hijan.

When we crest over the hill --not gonna lie-- I feel like I’m going to shat myself. Granted loose bowels has never been a problem of mine, generally I have a pretty impressive butt clenching ability, you sort of have to as a fighter pilot, but this is a whole different level of terrifying.

It’s like one of those old movies where the hero is tied up by his hands hooked onto a rail line in a slaughterhouse and they are watching as the spinning blades slowly get closer and closer to their junk.

What I am saying is it’s like walking towards a meat grinder. The Drev are aggressive and violent spinning blades at each other, four arms flailing as they crash into teach other with the clattering of steel. Right in front of my eyes I watch as one of our clam members is violently speared through the throat after a minute slip up with his form work.

HE falls to the ground wide eyed and choking.

His opponent nods before continuing on his way.

Holy shit! Fuck!

Shit Shit shit!

“Nahasinsazh!”

Our group breaks into a slow job, and then into a full out sprint. I struggle to keep up, but surprisingly I manage to keep time. The Drev are bigger and stronger, but I'm smaller and more nimble, and I navigate the rocks faster. I make sure not to be at the front. I know that I won't be able to take that first hit.

The fighting line rises up in my vision.

And then the world erupts around me.

The first clash is so violent that I more than expectit to rent the earth and shake the very foundations to where I stand. A shape looms over me and I duck just in time for a spear to go cything past my head. My maneuver is followed by an absolute eruption of steel on steel. Hijan catches his spear on the shaft of her weapon and violently shoves him back. I see an opening to attack, but then that moment is gone.

I’m not sure If i can just kill someone like that.

“Tsata! Laza tach Zheengish!” Fight or yourclan

I’m still not sure about the clan, but…. I can do anything for Hijan.

My feet skidd over bare rock as a spear cuts towards my head. I dodge to the side again and Hijan takes the brunt of the force, but I use her distraction to rush inwards thrusting my spear point forward.

I feel it as it cuts through flesh, a jolting ripping sensation that vibrates up through the shaft of the spear and then into my hands.

The Drev warrior looks up at me with surprise on his face as I draw the spear from the wound and orange icor begins pouring down his front. Looking at his eyes, he doest sem scared, merely shocked. A shco which is replaced with…

Satisfaction

Peace

Hope?

I don’t know as I am drawn away from him a moment later and into the tide of the battle.

My feet pass over rough hewn stone as Hijan and I fight her acting as the muscle while I act as the spearhead.

Things are working out for the most part though my heart pounds in my ears making it difficult to hear anything but the pulsing of my own blood. HIjan turns to catch another spear with hers, and I turn to take the offensive when I hear a war cry from behind me. I turn eyes widening just in time as a spear point trusts towards my head. I throw myself to the side as the massive leaf blade bites into the ground where I just stood.

The hulking silver goliath stands over me his wide orange eyes filled with battle rage.

He swings his spear again, and the tip of the spear scythes past my stomach casting sparks as it goes.

I roll backwards landing on my back in the moss and rolling to the side only to gain my feet.

I look around for Hijan, but don’t Immediately see her.

The battle cry comes again, and I turn watching as another wild swing rockets towards my head.

He is using stone technique. It is slow and precise but when it hits it hits like a freight train. I raise my spear at the last moment, and when that downward momentum makes contact, I am plowed right into the dirt. The stele of my armor cracks against the stone and I can feel the ground give way under my shoulders and back. The power is incredible like getting hit by a speeding bullet train/

I have no idea how I manage to block it, and hold him off me.

His beak is just inches from my face, his wide orange eyes staring.

He presses downward with all his might, and I scream as I try to push him off me.

I watch him flinch as the power of my voice vibrates his ears.

Hmm, gonna have to remember that for later… if there is a later.

My arms tremble as I hold him away fro me. If he gets smart and stops pushing and just strikes I am done for.

I need a distraction.

Ah that’s a good idea.

I spit directly into his eye.

He was not expecting that one bit and reels back in shock.

I kick him square in the fork of the legs. I am not entirely sure if Drev have balls. I mean I heard their reproduction is similar to that of humans, so It can’t have been a nice feeling, and he doesn’t seem to like it leaping back onto his feet and staggering backwards. I come at him again, darting towards his side.

My hands are still throbbing from the last impact, my fingers are almost numb.

I catch him on the back of the knee and he roars in pain and panic crippling is far worse than death to a drev, however in his fear, I only make him more angry, he lunges for me, so fast and so wild that I barely have time to dodge out of the way.

I hit the ground again, spending way too much time here. The spar is thrust towards me. It cut s into the ground at my side. Near my shoulder

And between my knees as I scramble backwards.

I kick the shaft of the spear catching him off balance standing as…. A spear sprouts through the center of his chest. I can hear the horrible crunching noise the ripping of flesh as the spear is drawn back out, and he falls dead to the ground.

Hijan holds up her weapon covered in orange blood.

I am breathing hard.

She steps forward and I scramble up into her shadow. We are back together again, and like before we are back as a unit, cutting through the whirling crowd with near impunity.

But I can see that the battle isn’t going well, at least not for our side.

Hijan and I are now surrounded. Three of them and only two of us.

I didn’t actually believe I was going to die here.

But why hadn’t I thought that

It was a distinct possibility.

I realized at that moment that maybe I hadn’t had the respect for their culture that I should have. Did I think it was just some kind of fun game, go down for a little fun and then come hoe with some cool stories to tell. No, I was entering a warzone. I had made myself part of a clan and that meant that I had to either ride or die with it.

All around us comes the screaming of the dying and the moaning of the near dead. Bodies litter the ground, the air above us is filled with the little white moss spores kicked up like a cloud of dust.

Hijan and I retreated falling up against a short rock face. Pink moss climbs up it’s side.

Three attackers come in fast. I block one and she blocks the other, but the third spear catches her hard on one of her back armored plates.

My blood runs cold as I hear hijan scream in agony.

I spin on the spot kicking the third attacker away.

Hijan is on the ground, she isn’t bleeding but a spear is headed straight towards her chest.

I fully admit that I don’t feel adrenaline rushes easily.

I think it is a product of my flight training, but at that moment I don’t think. The world around me goes red my vision tightening to a single point blac around the edges.

My lips go light and it feels as if my entire body is held up by a thousand balloons or a gravity generator making me less than half my weight but twice as strong.

Before I know it I have leaped in font of the downward cut catching the blade on my spear. Metal rings, sparks fly.

Three more spears come in contact with the shaft of my weapon.

I see their eyes widen their bodies falter.

As one single human holds all three of them off. My vision darkens, goes even more read as I hear Hijan behind me. I remember who I am protecting, and I scream. Power like nothing I had ever felt surges through my body. The kind of power that can rip your body in half if you're not careful enough.

And I throw them off me.

Three Drev weigh almost three hundred or more pounds each, and I throw them off me. Two of them stagger away and trip backwards, and one of them is lifted half a foot from the ground and thrown more than two feet backwards.

All the muscles in my body are on ire, my legs to my back to my shoulders and biceps.

Even the muscles in my chest and abs are screaming.

And then it hits.

I am going in for another attack when a second wave of our Drev come barreling through. They take over the field like a tidal wave absolutely demolishing any who stand in their way.

I am left standing in the moss breathing hard, gasping for air.

I look down at myself only now realizing that I am bleeding. I know the blood is mine because it’s red, though I don’t feel anything.

More shuffling on the rocks behind me, and I turn.

“Hian!” I rush over kneeling next to her as she slowly sits up.

One of her hands is gently clutching the back plate which took the brunt of the impact.

I brush away her hands to look,, though I am not sure what I am looking for.

“Tsa Jirhash?” I prod at the injury

She winces but brushed me off

“Je je zhe ta’anini.”

I know she is going to live, but I worry she is going to be crippled. I know what that means.

She must see the fear in my eyes for she takes my hand and holds it between two of hers. Her eyes are wrinkled the way that Drev do when they smile.

“Tsa zheengish yahan. zhe leeni.” I feel my face flush just a bit. Her pride in me is…. Well it’s almost overwhelming. I realize now that the battle is over, the adrenaline starts to wear off and my hands begin to shake.

My legs are twitching so badly, that I have to take to my knees so I don’t fall over. My breathing comes in hard gasps.

Pain is returning to me, and I realize why I am bleeding.

There are cuts on my face and parts of my arms where the armor does not exist. The straps that hold on my armor leave deep bruises. My hands throb as do my bones/ Hijan pulls me a bit closer to her examining me herself as I kneel on the moss.

Looking for some cool air, I pull off my helmet letting a cool breeze blow over me.

My throat buns as I look towards the sky. The distant battle is beginning to fade.

As we kneel there on the moss, I turn to watch as our sentinel steps over broken bodies. He is painted in orange and his eyes are bright with the glee of a last battle.

“Lodnajasta.” The two of us bow our heads respectfully as he comes over

He looks down at me with surprise, “Tsa aninish. “ He seems almost impressed, and then he ruins it, “tsa dadarish yahanan huka zhe takasi tsa dee.” you did better than I thought you would.

Well thanks for that bro

I watch his expression fall a bit, and in surprise I turn to find Hijan glowering at him.

Raise an eyebrow incredulously as I turn back to look at the sentinel.

He looks almost apologetic, “Tsa yaheen zhankeel datasajish.” you showed great honor.”

He turns and walks away, his back stiff.

I wait for him to leave before I begin to laugh incredulously and turn to look at my companion, “Hijan. Nin tsa darish.” What did you do!

She looks almost sheepish.”nee nehzhankeelan datadich.” He was being dishonorable

She had to be insane.

She reminded me way too much of my mother in that moment.My mom would call out the president if he disrespected one of her children, and apparently so too would Hijan

I take her hand and smile, “zhe tatazi zhe tsa rekazi.”

Her eyes wrinkle again and she takes my hand.

Hijan was one of the best people/drev I had ever known.

If anything happened to her I would probably go on a homicidal rampage John Wick style.

But barring that, I was getting some great ideas.

Sunny needed to meet hijan like yesterday

333 notes · View notes

theroundbartable · 3 years

Text

Dragon island (part 3)

Stars in your hands “Do you think it was wise to send Arthur on this mission? It's dangerous.” A light breeze cooled the air within the not quite empty throne room. Two figures were present.

One, with broad shoulders and a long unnecessary cape, stood to look outside the giant window. The king of Camelot wasn't really looking at anything.He just watched the casual movements and interactions of his people sometimes. It gave him peace. Uther Pendragon was painfully oblivious to all the chaos and disturbances the purge had caused in his kingdom. He was oblivious to their suffering, their starving, their poverty. All of which he caused.To him, this was normal. And it was calming and peaceful to him. It was an achievement. The king was too stuck up to be corrected. Too insistent on his successes to see his wrongs and his failures. He thought himself smart.

And because he was king, there was no one to proof him otherwise.“Arthur is Camelot's best warrior. He can handle it.”, he said and his hands were crossed behind his back, as if he were absolutely relaxed.“Sire...”“I send Sir Leon with him.”, Uther sighed, as if that explained anything and nodded at the window as if to reassure himself.Gaius nodded with concern. “Do you think that wise, Sire? Sir Leon will suffer from the curse like his father did. I don't think they will be welcomed at the island. And I certainly don't think Leon can fight the dragons all on his own. Especially, if he is weakened like that.”Uther sighed. Half admitting that the situation wasn't exactly ideal. “For once, I wish Sir Leon was less like his mother.”Gaius eyes moved downwards, regarding the floor with disinterest. “Sir Leon's father has sacrificed a lot to ensure Camelot's win against the dragon lords.”, he agreed. “But he has also proven himself to not be very trustworthy. And Leon lacks the knowledge that his father possessed. I'm not sure we should count on him too much.”Uther nodded. “I should have killed him where he stood, when I had the chance.” He didn't clarify whether he meant Leon or his father. “I suppose the attempt itself could have doomed Camelot.”, Gaius commented simply.“That is true.”, Uther hesitantly admitted. “But it would have saved us the upcoming war.”Against that, Gaius could only nod. Gaius was aware that Uther didn't mean that the war could have been avoided. He meant, it wouldn't have to take place at all. Because the war would have already been won.Neither of them were aware of the startled figures that were hiding in the nearest closet. What Gwen an Morgana had been doing in the throne room before Gaius and the king disturbed their girl time?

The answer is as simple as it is obvious. If there was any light inside the closet, you could see that their necks were covered with “bug bites”, as they would later explain. Not to mention their clothes needed some serious repositioning (if not repairing, in Gwen's case, cause Morgana had sharp nails).Anyway, both had been forced to hurry inside the fortunately giant closet and overheard everything. They exchanged glances, as they tried to hold their breaths to not be heard by those unwelcome figures outside.

-------------------------------------------------------

If Arthur had ever known what a tropical island was, he would have something to compare the giant leafs to that seemed to grow from almost everywhere.The trees didn't look like trees at all, more like giant straws and it had giant nuts hanging from them. There were other plants with yellow fruits hanging from them too. The sight itself was bizarre. But absolutely fascinating. If only Arthur wasn't facing a said to be invincible creature that could kill them each within a second.Arthur had seen a dragon precisely once in his entire life. And the damn thing had been the size of a castle, with claws made to squish him like a bug and a mouth that was meant to eat horses or cows. It had been giant and terrifying and murderous.The thing that stared at him right now, was tiny. Small enough to wrap itself around his arm and fit it's small head snugly into his hand. It was covered in blue scales that flapped up and down with each movement and shimmered golden in the sun light.By the way, it was considerably warmer outside than it had been inside the cave. It was like walking from a winter snow land into a warm living room. Their skin buzzed from the sudden warmth.The dragon's eyes were green and it's teeth round, as if meant to eat vegetables, not meat. It's wings were wide, but it had them pressed tight to it's long and thin body. And it looked at them with curious, but not unfriendly eyes. It tilted his head. Arthur assumed that was, because the eyes were attached to the side. To look at what was ahead of it, it had to move it's head in all directions.Despite it's unexpected friendly appearance, Arthur found himself breathe in a panic. He had positioned himself between Merlin and the creature – as he always did when faced with dangerous monsters – and pointed Excalibur at the thing. The dragon just looked at him with tired unblinking eyes. Like a snake, it had no eyelids and was therefore unable to blink at all. So Arthur couldn't tell if it was judging him or not.“Merlin, stay back.”, Arthur whispered. Not for the first time today and he could practically feel Merlin pull at his own arms. “No, Arthur, you won't.”, Merlin growled, knowing exactly what Arthur was doing and pulled at his sleeve to drag him away. Which resulted in Arthur and Merlin to fight each other to who was to face the vile creature and get eaten alive. Because, you know … that's their entire dynamic. (2)Okay, maybe not eaten. The creature hadn't moved or done anything yet. It just watched them curiously.“You wield the mark of Kilgharrah.”, the dragon suddenly commented.This finally distracted Arthur enough to be pushed into the dirt beneath them. His hair was a bit disheveled, because Merlin used unfair methods in a fight. Unbelieving, he stared at Merlin. Most of all, because Merlin had managed to push him to the ground. A lot less, because he didn't know the word Kilgharrah. “What are you talking about?”, he huffed out. What he thought he had heard made no sense. It came out of absolutely nowhere. And admitting that he had lost was an absolute no go.“I didn't say anything.”, Merlin waved his arms in front of him, crossing them repeatedly to underline his point. He – however – didn't appear to be as startled as Arthur was as he turned to frown at the dragon. Which Arthur should noted as odd. Why would Merlin look at the dragon? Then, however, Arthur realized what Merlin was implying. The dragon talked! (They always do that, Arthur. Yet, you're always surprised.) Arthur gaped, incredulously, before jumping to his feet and holding up his sword yet again. (Obviously, it had hindered him in the fight against Merlin, because he couldn't exactly use it against him, right?)“Hmm”, the dragon suddenly flapped it's wings and flew in a circle around Arthur. Paranoid to equal amounts as curious, Arthur twisted around himself to follow it's movements. “Did he send you?”, it asked him, as if Arthur somehow knew the answer. In reality, Arthur didn't even get the question. Before Arthur could open his mouth to reply, the dragon's attention shifted to Merlin.In a similar way as it had around Arthur, the creature snaked it's way around Merlin's neck. Much much closer than he had been to Arthur as it was now sitting directly on his shoulder. But Merlin made no sign of discomfort or surprise. He only eyed the creature with suspicion. Arthur could only marvel at such bravery.“This can only mean one thing.”, the dragon continued. Arthur blinked. It's voice was strange. It didn't waver when it came to high or low. But somehow sounded more feminine the one moment, more masculine the next. It's richness, it's smoothness and softness, roughened and loosened from sentence to sentence. Yet the voice was unmistakably theirs/ hers/ his. (1)“You must be the once and future king.”, the dragon's voice finally settled into something more masculine, while some of his scales flipped and turned a rich purple.He flapped his wings against Merlin's face, and tilted his head in a way that allowed him to look at both Merlin and Arthur at once.“The what now?”, Arthur felt lost and confused once more. And he was fighting the urge to stab the creature, because it was far too close to Merlin's neck. Which is why he settled on … not doing that. The dragon snickered amused and swirled around Merlin's neck further.“The old bastard kept you in the dark, didn't he? Let me guesss...”, he hissed out the last word, as if to keep them silent while he thought things through.

“You're the other half, aren't you? Hmm.... Your presence is clouded, young man. Tell me. What does destiny have in store for you?”Merlin swallowed, while Arthur began to sweat with nerves. 'The other half? The other half of what?', Arthur asked himself.“Hmm... it's not easy to get that old bastard on your side. How did you do it?”, the dragon hissed out a snake like tongue and scented the air around Merlin's cheek while staring at Excalibur, instead of explaining further. Arthur slowly came to the realization that the creature was talking to himself and just examining them. He wasn't expecting answers. Furthermore, he seemed to know they didn't have any.“I don't know what you're talking about.”, Merlin tensed and stiffened his shoulders as the dragon's stare started to make him itch all over. Arthur blinked. Merlin was a horrible liar. And his defensive stance just now, proved that he knew more than he let on. This couldn't be. What did Merlin know?Finally the dragon seemed to have had enough and had decided that Arthur and Merlin were not worth any further suspicion.

“Welcome to Drakonier, the dragon island. Where the last dragons hide and the last members of destroyed and powerless dragon lord families reside. My name is Ciril. I am the master of the gate you just stumbled through.”Ciril bowed to them both, his snarky voice giving away just how honored he really felt to see them. And that introduction was perhaps the most straight forward sentence Merlin had ever heard a dragon utter.It was silent for a few more seconds. Which turned into minutes. Arthur was still uncertain whether or not it was okay for him to move. Let alone attack the creature. Merlin was frozen still in his position, as if contemplating whether or not to save himself or risk getting eaten alive, so Arthur had a chance to flee.After all... who was to say the dragon was actually friendly? + Merlin decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as the dragon was clearly just confused why Kilgharrah was helping them.

Knowing the great dragon and his very dramatic appearance, his riddling tongue and the way he killed a few dozen people after being freed, because he was so hung up on revenge on Uther, Merlin couldn't say he was surprised. They didn't really start of on the right foot either. Manipulation here, unkept promises there.... well.Ciril tilted his head, before he blustered up his scales and their color changed into red for a few moments. “Are you going to tell me your names? Or should I introduce you as Dumb and dumber at the village?”Arthur blinked, before straightening his back. “I'm Arthur. And this is Merlin.” Arthur made the wise decision not to offer his last name and therefore reveal himself as an enemy. The dragon didn't appear to hostile at the moment and Arthur didn't want to risk getting on his bad side.“Merrrrlin.”, the dragon hissed and swirled around Merlin's neck once more. Merlin only followed him with his eyes in suspicion. “You're an interesting one.”“He's just a servant.”, Arthur commented, hoping to get the dragon to stop. He wasn't supposed to see Merlin as a threat. Or in any way important. That wouldn't exactly increase Merlin's survival chances. “Let him go.”, Arthur added.Ciril snapped his head to him. Then his eyes softened, as did his/her voice. And then she sounded a lot more comforting than before. “I mean him no harm.”, she said and her scales turned green, before she jumped off Merlin's shoulder and lay herself around Arthur's neck instead. Arthur was still confused about her intentions, so he let her. Her scales felt warm and inviting and their claws softly sat on his shoulders, without hurting him in any way.Arthur – who wasn't used to such close proximity – (he even struggled with dogs. Because his father had said their animals were tools for hunting. If he treated them too nicely, they'd soften and become useless at their job.)- tried to wiggle himself out of the situation. Ciril seemed to notice his distress and flapped her wings to fly between them instead.This act of awareness, caused Arthur to pause and take a deep breath. “Alright then.”, she said and nodded at them both. “You too should dry up, before you get to Senvilla. (3)

I'll tell them of your arrival. But you should seal your sword, young king. It can seriously harm us. Some of our kind may see you as a threat.

But do not hide it anywhere. You are under the protection of the great dragon Kilgharrah. This sword was made for you and you alone. Therefore, we can not attack you, unless you prove to have ill intentions. I advice you, to not attack anyone. Understood?”, Ciril eyes Arthur warily who nodded in confusion and slight panic. “And you boy, stick to your partner. They may not treat you nicely, if you wander around by yourself.”With that, she flew off, leaving Arthur completely flustered at the word 'partner.'They stared after her for a few minutes, before Merlin decided to clear his throat. “She's right.”, he said. “We should dry up. I'll get us some firewood.”, he said and already turned around to walk into the forest, when Arthur stopped him. “She just said, we should stick together. I'll help you.”“Since when do you know how to collect firewood?”, Merlin asked casually, one eyebrow raised. Arthur frowned and the implied insult. “Shut up, Merlin.”It wasn't exactly difficult for them to find firewood. Mostly everything in this forest was dry enough to burn and there was more than enough for them to carry around for a whole night. But Arthur had never seen plants like these. The forest could hardly be called a forest, because non of these trees looked like actual trees.There were bushes, everywhere with some plants he recognized, and there was plenty of fruits and nuts and the like. But trees? Nope.Arthur and Merlin kept bantering the entire time, but eventually they found a place to make a fire without endangering all the wild life here. They had seen lots of wild animals too. And none of them seemed scared by Arthur or their weapons. It was like people weren't hunting on this island at all.Finally the fire was made and Arthur realized that the day was starting to fade anyway. It was probably a good idea to make up camp for now. So they built themselves a small pyre and burned the wood like stuff they had found in the forest. And because Arthur had no armor anymore and was therefore unprotected anyway, he decided to take of his still wet clothes and put them on a rock beside him to let it dry.

He'd do the same with his pants. But should they get attacked, he'd rather not defend himself in his underwear.Merlin watched him, causing Arthur to get that unnerving feeling you get, when you undress in front of clothed people. Arthur bit his lip and then moved closer to the fire, to warm his cold skin. Finally, Merlin followed his example. And step by step, he removed first his scarf, then his jacket and, after a considerable amount of hesitation, his shirt as well.Arthur pointedly did NOT watch him doing that. He stared at the fire instead and Arthur begged and prayed that Merlin wouldn't notice how uncomfortable he started to feel again.

They took off their shoes to let them dry at the fire as well. And stretched out their toes to dry their wet socks.Silence stretched between them and Arthur started to feel weirder and weirder under his skin. The night was a strange thing. The stars lighted the sky, as well as the moon, and it had the effect to make people dream. No matter were they awake or fast asleep. And it made Arthur nostalgic and strangely emotional. And he wondered, if he should talk about these things with Merlin. These things that worried him.

But maybe, opening up to Merlin would only push the man away? Or maybe it would make their entire dynamic too strange? Would they always have to be emotional and open with each other, if Arthur started with that now?Arthur – for the first time – looked up at Merlin, his mouth open to say something. But then his mouth clapped shut immediately. Merlin was comfortably resting against a rock, his toes playing how far they could get to the pyre. And the fire light flashed golden in his eyes and on his scarred chest.Scars. So. Many. Scars.Arthur sat up, confusion and startled alarm widened his eyes as he finally noticed. There were burns and cuts and bruises and all kind of things marked into that skin that did not belong there. That Arthur couldn't explain the heritage off. Earlier, Merlin had seemed like he knew things that he wasn't supposed to know. About the dragon for example. Things he pretended not to know. Then there was Freya, the woman Merlin never cared to mention. Was there more that Arthur ought to know? More he was so horribly oblivious to?Whatever it was, it proved one thing once again. Arthur had no idea who Merlin really was. Arthur stared at him, unable to open up now. What had Gwaine said again?

Merlin was the most affectionate person he knew. And he was open about his feelings.

Obviously, he wasn't open about them with Arthur.“You're keeping secrets from me.”, Arthur finally pointed out. Merlin looked up in a daze, suddenly aware of Arthur's presence again. He followed Arthur's gaze and froze comically. Had he forgotten those scars were there? Did he think them nothing? Unimportant? How old were they that he was so used to their sight?“I don't know what you mean.”Arthur looked at him one moment, then he looked down and fiddled with his hands again. “You know exactly what I mean.”, Arthur said and bit his lip yet again.“I'm serious, I don't -”“It's okay to have secrets, Merlin.” Merlin stopped, confusion and startled surprise written all over his face.“I think, everyone has stuff they don't talk about. Or … can talk about. Even you.”, Arthur picked up a stray branch that they hadn't burned yet and started playing with it in the fire.Arthur didn't look at him. He felt... ashamed that Merlin didn't trust him. But, he had to admit, he wasn't much better himself, was he? He was hiding his feelings from Merlin. His feelings about how his father actions wore him down. About how Arthur felt about Merlin. The way he felt about this entire mission. About Merlin sacrificing himself for him again and again. About his fears, stuff like that.

Occasionally Merlin figured things out, of course. And he always reacted perfectly. Which only proved that he deserved the truth. Even if Arthur was never really ready to tell him.Arthur had managed nothing like that in return and he was painfully aware of that. He didn't think he deserved that Merlin shared such personal information with him. “You don't have to tell me whatever it is. I just... I thought I knew you.”, Arthur said and already regretted his wording. “I thought you trusted me.” That.... made it worse. Arthur cursed his own mind and turned his head away once more.Merlin stared at him for a moment, before he stood up and walked around the fire to sit beside Arthur. The prince didn't move an inch, as Merlin finally sat down. “I do trust you.”Arthur hated how Merlin sounded so pitying towards him. How he didn't deny that Arthur didn't know him fully. Yet, it was so comforting. So much, it felt wrong as well.

Merlin was the one with the personal problems that he couldn't share with Arthur. Arthur should be comforting Merlin, not the other way around. He should be the one who picked up on the other man's distress and pat his shoulder and what not. But no – Arthur was wallowing in self pity once again and Merlin had to play therapist as usual. Arthur hated himself sometimes. This had not been his plan. He took a deep breath. He had to do this differently. But how? Arthur didn't know.“You didn't trust me with Freya.”, Arthur pointed out and it felt like an accusation. Arthur held his breath. Why was he always sounding like that? He didn't WANT to sound accusing!Merlin pressed his lips together. “You're right. I'm sorry. I should have told you.”“What do you know about the great dragon?”, Arthur averted the point, because... Merlin shouldn't be the one apologizing. Merlin looked at him in confusion that the topic was suddenly changed. “What do you mean?”“Ciril said, the sword was the mark of Kilgharrah. That I'm under his protection, because this sword was made for me. That's the great dragon, right? This makes no sense. I found this sword in a stone.(4) The dragon was supposed to be dead by then. And the sword is supposed to be stuck inside that sword since king Bruta.

As you told me. Because it was Bruta's sword. Even if the great dragon is a few thousand years old and gave the sword to Bruta, there is no way he knew I would be born one day. You don't owe me the truth about everything, Merlin. But please don't lie to me.”Arthur watched Merlin flinch at that last line. And another wave of regret formed in his stomach. Merlin shouldn't feel bad. Arthur didn't want him to feel bad. He was supposed to feel comfortable sharing the truth. He should have never felt forced to lie. That's what Arthur meant and what he failed to explain.Merlin took a deep breath. And then he exhaled, as if for once, it was him who was actually unable to deal with his feelings. Arthur waited and watched and realized that some of those scars made no sense either.

He fought the urge to trail his hand over that one scar on Merlin's back that looked suspiciously like a serket sting.(5) But that was impossible. Nobody survived those wounds. Not without the help of magic. And Arthur didn't want to think that Merlin in some way had been saved by magic. Because that would be another thing Arthur ought to know. Another thing that would change Arthur. Perhaps it was a change that needed to be made.Arthur was a lot more mad about those secrets than he wanted to be. That he thought was fair to be. He meant it. Merlin didn't owe him that explanation. But it hurt so much that Merlin didn't seem him worthy enough for it.Merlin looked down. “Alright. It's true. I do have secrets.”, he admitted and closed his eyes. As if the confirmation of that was a secret in itself. Arthur sucked in a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. And his frustration melted away a little. Finally. Some truth. “But I can't tell you about them.”, Merlin looked down.It stung. Arthur looked away. “Not yet.”

Arthur waited, but Merlin was obviously nervous. “Why not?”, Arthur asked and sadness washed over him once again.Merlin seemed to fight with the answer. Arthur had already decided to tell Merlin to just leave it be, when Merlin finally found one that startled Arthur enough.“I couldn't bear to loose you.”, Merlin finally said and looked at Arthur with an open honesty that Arthur had never seen on his face. A fact which he was horribly aware of. And it was this openness, that gave Arthur the courage to share a truth himself. “I don't think there is anything you could do to lose me.”Merlin locked eyes with him. Arthur felt vulnerable again. Too vulnerable. Like he had cut himself open. It burned. It was a humiliating truth and he was almost certain that Merlin would question it. That he wouldn't understand it at all. But Merlin suddenly grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Causing a shiver to run down Arthur's spine. He should really put his pullover back on. Maybe it could protect him from this feeling. Deep down he knew, he would feel naked either way. Regardless if he wore armor or not. Had it been anyone else, Arthur may have thought the gesture was meant in a romantic way.

But Merlin was affectionate with everyone. This was normal for him. And right now he needed comfort.For Arthur it was completely different. But he let it happen anyway. Despite knowing for sure, that Merlin couldn't mean it the way he wanted him to mean it. At the same time, he DIDN'T want him to mean it. Because that would cause even more problems. The heart can contradict itself. That's why it's hard to make sense of it.“You don't know what you're saying.”, Merlin said and looked at their intertwined hands almost in confusion. As though it had been a mere instinct for him to grab it and he was surprised that Arthur hadn't slapped him away yet. To be completely honest, Arthur felt just as surprised.Arthur looked up at Merlin. “I mean it.”, Arthur admitted, but pulled his hand away from Merlin's grasp. It was too much after all.Merlin watched after it in thought. “You don't.”, Merlin shook his head and Arthur sighed with barely contained frustration. Merlin, however, didn't stop. “You can't.”“I know you think you love me, but you don't.”, Merlin said. Arthur startled immediately, his face paled and then flushed in utter shock. They had never talked about that before! And there Arthur had thought Gwaine was right that Merlin didn't know about his obvious affection for his servant. Clearly that idiot was wrong. Merlin knew. He clearly knew. And now Arthur had gone and -Wait a second.... “think?”, Arthur asked out loud and cursed himself. That was as good as confession. What on earth was he doing? Giving Merlin every chance to tease him about it!“I overheard you talking to Gwaine.”, Merlin sighed and looked away. Which gave Arthur more than enough room to realize, that …. nope... Merlin REALLY didn't know before.

Which meant.... Merlin wanted to talk about it with him now. Oh hell no. That was even worse than teasing. Before Arthur had been certain Merlin knew and was fine with it and just left him alone. But now that he just figured it out.... Arthur felt like his head was served on a silver tablet and Merlin was ready to eat him skin and hair and all.“You don't know what you're talking about.”, Merlin shook his head and stared at the fire now. “You don't know me after all.” Really, Merlin was thinking about destiny. And how destiny had forced them to be two halves of the same coin. Always together, but never meant to be.Somehow, Arthur had the feeling they were talking in circles. Contradicting themselves at every turn and being completely lost in their own thoughts. But that one.... that 'you don't know me', felt like a slap to his face. Because it was exactly what Arthur was afraid of.“I know you enough.”, Arthur finally said, because now that it was said out loud, he didn't believe it. But Merlin shook his head. However, Arthur's didn't let him interrupt him again. “You've changed my entire life, Merlin. I wouldn't be who I am today, had you not walked in and insulted me.”

Merlin scoffed. And it was clear that he didn't understand what Arthur meant. At least not at the level that Arthur meant it.“I wouldn't be alive today, had it not been for you. And I cannot imagine my life without you anymore. You challenged me and I accepted that challenge. And for that I have changed the way I look at people, the way I look at myself, the way I make decisions. Everything I do, I do for you. Or because of you, or with you as a guide. Because it feels right. Nothing ever felt this right. I know it's selfish. But there is nothing you can do, to change what you've already done. The way you changed me and Camelot for the better. You could be a murderer, a thief, a spy, I wouldn't care. Nobody can replace you. Even if someone came now and did the exact same thing. They wouldn't be able to replace you. They couldn't, because they weren't there, when Camelot, when I needed you most.There is only a life before you. And a life with you in it. Even if you were to leave, I could never forget you and you would never leave me. You have shaped me to be the man I am today and I am proud to be that. And I would never be able to not talk to you every day. Even if you're not there.I don't love you, because it's some kind of infatuation, there is no condition or anything, Merlin. Just being yourself, means everything to me. And I hate that you can't be that completely. I love you on purpose. There is nothing you could do to change that. You could hate me, leave me, betray me, try to murder me even, it wouldn't change that I want you to be happy. And if possible, I want to be the reason for it. Don't ever hold back because of what I might think. But you should know that the way I feel will never change. Hell, I know you love this Freya woman that you never told me about and I'm so sorry that she's dead, because you deserve to be happy, Merlin. Just... don't tell me, I couldn't love you, just because I don't know everything about you yet.”Merlin looked at him with wide eyes. Arthur however, had to look away again. What was with him and confessing all these embarrassing things lately. Maybe it was the almost dying all the time thing. The... my father send me on a mission that he knows I cannot survive thing. Or the, I thought I lost Merlin part. Probably the latter. Merlin should know that he was loved. He shouldn't live, having to hide or keeping secrets.Finally, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand again. And now, that Arthur had told him all that, it suddenly didn't feel out of place. Instead, it felt reassuring, as if Merlin was saying he understood. And he wouldn't leave Arthur for anything in the world. It was a promise.“I would never betray you.”, Merlin said and he locked eyes with Arthur.

Arthur smiled embarrassed. “Then what secret could you possibly have that makes you think you'd lose me?”Merlin stared at him. Eyes still wide, face flushing and his breathing fastened. “And I've moved on from Freya years ago. She knows that too.”, Merlin tilted his head and Arthur nodded silently. “I believe you.”, Arthur said and hoped desperately that wasn't a lie.“But -”, Merlin closed his mouth, as if he had multiple things to say and confess and didn't know where to start. He looked close to panicking too, because he had not expected to be ready to confess now. “Arthur, I...” Arthur nodded, waiting, as he put a free hand on Merlin's scarred shoulder.

“I have magic.”

The bomb dropped so suddenly, that Arthur had no time to evacuate his feelings. Arthur had expected, or rather hoped, for anything. Just not that. And yet.... Arthur couldn't say he felt totally surprised. He didn't lie when he said, he would accept Merlin for anything. That there was nothing that could make him lose Arthur. Arthur was prepared for anything. Even this. The bomb had dropped, but it didn't explode.The hand Arthur had held on Merlin's shoulder now wandered up, to cup Merlin's jaw. Merlin leaned in to hit, panicked tears in his eyes. For a moment Arthur wondered why. And then he realized that Merlin just admitted to having magic. He finally registered, this meant Merlin was a criminal. That – according to the laws – Merlin should be hanged or burned or killed in another similarly disturbing way. And Arthur? Arthur marveled at the fact that Merlin was still here. Still at his side. He didn't run away. He lived directly under Uther Pendragon's nose, at Arthur's side. And now he told him this. Even though Arthur immediately understood why he shouldn't.Not for a second, did Arthur think that Merlin was actually a criminal. Not for a moment, did he feel betrayed by that. Because there was no way that Merlin would ever use it against him. Arthur just knew that. And if he did... he'd do it for a good reason.“Okay.”, Arthur said and tears spilled from Merlin's eyes in utter disbelieve. “Okay?”, he asked, utterly shocked. “I told you.”, Arthur nodded, even though he struggled to imagine Merlin using magic. “It doesn't change a thing.”All of a sudden, Merlin jumped at Arthur and buried him in a sobbing hug. Once more today, Arthur felt completely overwhelmed. But he also didn't push Merlin away. “Thank you.”, Merlin whispered in Arthur's ear. Arthur, however, was completely occupied by the fact that they were both pretty much shirtless and Merlin already knew about his feelings and obviously didn't give a damn. “No. Thank you for telling me.”, Arthur mumbled back and tried not to show just how overwhelmed he actually was. First<< Previous< Masterlist> Next ------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------------- :(1) Ciril (the blue dragon) is genderfluid. Any nonbinary folks in this story express themselves however they feel through other means than pronouns and dress codes (because … duh... dragons don't wear clothes.) This counts for appearances as well as behavior. As far as dragons go, dragons shapeshifters in general. Ciril, the blue dragon, has used this advantage to change their voice on will as a means of gender affirmation. Meaning, that upon meeting strangers, they will let their voice shift freely, so the stranger takes note of the shift, and remembers to change pronouns, whenever the voice noticeably differs. Many dragons do that. Later on, when the stranger has turned more familiar, the dragon will settle on the voice that fits their gender at the moment best. Of course, there are alternative methods, for example if a dragon is deaf or blind. Obviously, neither behavior nor appearance define what gender is, but it works in an affirmative way. It's functional. And what is gender anyway, beside a social construct?It won't be addressed much. It's just a little background information about this tiny character. I don't really make up characters. They just appear out of nowhere. And they are who they are. I am always surprised myself when they introduce themselves.I know I use they/them pronouns a lot in my stories and I am well aware that there are many variations other than this. I do that, because I find gender neutral terms fitting for everyone. They neither confirm nor deny anyone's gender and I like that. I'm not familiar with the combination of multiple pronouns yet and before I go and mess up every sentence, I'll stick to these first.(2) I rewrote this entire chapter at least 9 times, because their reactions didn't fit the situation. At one point I had Merlin hide behind Arthur. Which isn't totally OOC, but they both just almost died. I'm pretty sure Merlin doesn't really give a damn at that moment. He gets reckless when he's nervous and afraid for Arthur. And that's what he is right now. (3) Honestly, I have no idea how I come up with names anymore (4) the entire story doesn't really line up with canon. I just picked out stuff that fit the story. I mean, by all means, Uther should be dead, when Arthur has the sword. (5) Look at (4). Morgana isn't evil in this one. So where would he have gotten the serket sting? Morgause everyone?

#Merlin bbc #bbc merlin #dragon island #chapter 3 #my works #my fanfiction #fanfiction #merthur #fluff #feels #writing #merlin #arthur #arthur pendragon #emrys #ciril

10 notes · View notes

facialteeth · 3 years

Text

A Sky Full of Stars | Ao3.

Magnus looks up at the sky and Alec looks over at Magnus. This was written for the @malecdiscordserver’s fic crawl. Malec, cowboy AU, soft and fluffy.

Magnus had always been fascinated by the stars. The life that they both lived didn’t leave them with many constants, except each other. They were always traveling, never spending more than a few days in one place. They spent the majority of their days on horseback, hunting, cutting through cities and villages they’d never seen before and would probably never return to again.

They made enemies and friends as they went, pissing people off as they got involved in situations they had no business in, helping those in need of help, ripping off those who deserved it. They were wanted in quite a few counties they’d never venture back to but not for anything Alec would be ashamed to repeat and not for anything he wouldn’t be willing to do over again.

It was a fun lifestyle, one that was dangerous, exciting and rewarding in a way that a mundane life had never been for either of them. Alec’s parents had wanted him to become a lawyer. To him, running away with Magnus was a far better option. They traveled through the mostly unclaimed wilderness of North America and they were tied down by nothing but each other and their horses, who would get fussy if they tried to ride for too long without taking a break.

But no matter where they went and no matter how long they traveled, every night as they laid curled together on the ground, their horses grazing nearby, their stomachs full of whatever they’d manage to find and cook by the fire, the stars above their heads were always the same. Alec was pretty sure that’s where Magnus’ fascination with the stars started and Alec had to admit that it was neat.

They were pretty. He thought it was cool but Magnus thought it was more than cool. Where Alec’s fascination started and ended with glancing at the sky and finding it neat, Magnus fasciation grew into a blazing passion. He’d sit for hours at night, staring at the sky, watching the way everything moved, pointing out familiar stars to Alec who inevitably thought they all looked the same no matter how many times he tried to look up and see everything Magnus did.

“That one is more red,” Magnus would say. “We couldn’t see that one last night, it was behind the clouds.” He’d murmur, then he’d follow it up with, “Hello again, old friend.”

Alec always found Magnus far more interesting than the stars themselves but Magnus loved the stars, so Alec found himself gazing at them and thinking of Magnus, finding them all too similar to the flecks of freckles across Magnus’ cheeks.

“In another life,” Alec would say to him sometimes, “You’d live in the city and be a fancy astronomer, studying all that-” Alec would wave his hands towards the sky vaguely as he said this. He didn’t really understand what astronomers did if he was being honest. What could they possibly learn from looking at the same sky every night? But Alec didn’t need to understand what they did to know that Magus would thrive at it, in a world where he hadn’t become a degenerate with Alec.

But Magnus didn’t seem to regret the life he’d chosen. He’d laugh as Alec said this, as if the thought was as much a fantasy as living on the moon, which Alec supposed it was. They were wanted men. There was no turning a new leaf and making a new life for them now but still, every night, Magnus peered up at the sky.

He had a journal that he liked to sketch the stars in. He’d mark where they were in the sky at night, which ones he could see, which ones seemed brighter. Alec didn’t quite understand what drawing the same specks over and over again did but Magnus liked it, so Alec peered at his sketches every night and pointed to the stars he’d come to recognize.

In that same sketch book, Magnus would draw the cliffs and waterfalls they’d come across. He’d draw their horses, grazing wherever they settled. He’d draw Alec, asleep next to him or sitting upon his horse with a rifle strapped across his back and in every sketch, above their heads or scattered across their faces, Magnus would draw the stars that greeted them that night.

It was poetic in a way. Alec had never been into poetry and he certainly couldn’t write it but if he could, he thought he’d write about Magnus, with his eyes full of stars as he gazed up at them. No, Alec never really understood Magnus’ obsession with the stars but he knew he’d never again see one and not think of his lover.

That’s when Alec hatched a plan, one that involved hiding exactly how much money he had from Magnus and one that lead to Alec leaving Magnus in a bar one night, insisting he was going to buy some supplies before the shops closed and that no, Magnus didn’t need to come, it would be boring, he was fine.

Alec didn’t really go to buy supplies. What he actually did was head towards the edge of town to a small shack, where he tied his horse up and headed inside. The man he found inside was a strange, reclusive man Alec had tracked down after hearing what he made.

The man turned as Alec walked in, stretching his arms out in a familiar greeting. Alec had come here before, nearly a week ago when he’d managed to sneak away from Magnus with a very similar excuse and he’d left with his pockets nearly a hundred dollars lighter.

“Alec,” the man said, nodding his head.

Alec inclined his head slightly in return. “Ragnor,” he murmured.

Ragnor turned and led him over to a desk without another word. He reached for something and when he turned to Alec again, he was holding a slim, golden rod - the very thing Alec had spent so much money on.

Ragnor held one end of it as he pulled, stretching it open before holding it up to peer through the looking glass. Apparently satisfied with what he saw through it, he then held it out to Alec, who took it hesitantly, suddenly scared he was going to drop the expensive, fragile thing.

Slowly, Alec brought it up to his eyes, peering through the glass at the world that had been magnified. Alec eased it down again, holding it back out to Ragnor and feeling relieved when the man took it and started to wrap it up, so it wouldn't break.

Alec didn’t think that it was worth a hundred dollars but Magnus would think it was and that’s all that mattered. Alec left a few minutes later with the small telescope tucked securely in his saddle bag. He made his way back to Magnus a few minutes later and found him a bit drunker, picking a fight with a man across the bar who seemed just as eager as Magnus was to cause trouble.

The man was prejudiced or something, Magnus told Alec as Alec dragged him away. “Most are,” Alec responded simply. “You can’t fight every one of them.”

Behind him, Magnus scoffed. “I can try,” he murmured in response and Alec knew Magnus well enough to know what he would try but tonight, Alec had managed to spare that poor man Magnus’ wrath.

They made it back to their camp a half an hour later. Alec took out their cooking pot and threw the meat they had left in it, along with a bushel of vegetables they’d collected the day before for just this purpose.

Magnus went to feed the horses as Alec did and then when he came back, he sat on his sleeping bag and pulled his little canvas journal out of his pocket. Magnus opened it and peered up at the sky, as he’d done every night before.

Alec followed his eyes up but all he saw was the same specks of stars. That's all Magnus saw too but Magnus had always had more of an artistic eye than Alec. Alec saw specks. Magnus saw something beautiful worth capturing.

“I got you something today,” Alec said as he stirred their soup one final time before he put the spoon down and moved towards Magnus.

Magnus looked down from the sky, a soft smile coming across his face. Alec didn’t think anyone had ever bothered to give Magnus gifts before Alec came along. Magnus hadn’t had anyone to do so before, so Alec found himself doing it often.

Most of the time, it was little things. He’d buy Magnus a candy he liked at the store. He’d buy him a postcard he thought he’d like. Clothes Alec strayed away from but everything else Alec saw as fair game and he always tried to come back with something for Magnus, whenever they parted.

Magnus was probably expecting that, a candy or a trinket, not something Alec had made personally for Magnus, not something Alec had saved money for months to buy.

Alec pulled it out of his bag and slipped it into his pocket and as he moved over to Magnus, it felt heavy where it rested. He hadn’t managed to break it yet but as he sat down, he still did so slowly, terrified of breaking the glass when he was so close to giving it to him. Alec had never bought something so delicate in his life. It would only take falling once to shatter it but Alec knew that Magnus would take care of it, if Alec could get it into his hands unscathed that was.

Magnus leaned into Alec’s shoulder as soon as he was close enough and Alec felt a warm fuzzy feeling blossom in his chest. They’d been together for so long and still, Magnus never stopped making him feel like a teenager, tingling at any small innocent touch, feeling breathless when he looked at him, feeling his heart race at the slightest bit of attention Magnus gave him. It would be pathetic with anyone else but with Magnus, it was simply inevitable. Of course, he made Alec feel like that. He was so beautiful, smart and breathtaking. It was a blessing Alec didn’t have a heart attack every time he remembered that he somehow got to kiss someone like him.

No matter what else Alec did, Magnus would always be the best thing that had ever happened to him. That’s why Alec liked getting Magnus things so much. He could never buy Magnus anything that would express just how deeply Magnus meant to him but if he kept trying, maybe someday all the gifts would come close.

“I thought you might have,” Magnus murmured as he nuzzled his nose against the side of Alec’s neck. The cold chill in the air along with the warm touch of Magnus’ skin made the sensation all the more prominent. “You were gone quite a while,” Magnus hushed in his ear. Alec felt his hair tickle at the side of his neck as Magnus curled closer into him, hugging his arm.

Alec pulled the small canvas bag out of his pocket before he offered it to Magnus, who instantly looked more alert than he had been a second before. It was obvious whatever Alec got him wasn’t a candy or a trinket, like it normally was.

Slowly, Magnus reached out for it before he looked up and met Alec’s eyes. “It’s heavy,” Magnus pointed out, a vague accusation in his tone.

Alec couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I had it made for you actually.” He nodded his head towards it as Magnus’ eyes widened. “Open it,” Alec said, his palms suddenly a little sweaty. He always got nervous the moment he gave Magnus something. Some deep part of him was always scared Magnus wouldn’t like it but this time, Alec knew that Magnus would like it. Still, he got nervous in a way that wouldn’t disappear until Magnus saw it and clearly loved it.

Magnus looked down to the bag and slowly eased it open. In the next moment, he was holding the thin metal object in his hand, twisting it around as he tried to figure out what it was.

Alec was sure he would have figured it out but he couldn’t help but lean into Magnus a little closer. “It’s a telescope,” Alec explained quietly.

Instantly, Magnus’ fingers stilled where he’d been toying with it. He froze, as if suddenly scared of breaking it, which Alec very much understood. A hundred dollars for a chunk of metal with glass inside. Granted, it was a pretty chunk of metal but it was just a chunk of metal nonetheless.

“Alec,” Magnus said, his voice alert. “You had to have spent so much money on this,” Magnus turned to look at him with a wide eyed expression.

Alec shrugged, a small smile coming across his face. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said even though they both knew that wasn’t true. Magnus was well aware how much something like this would cost. “Besides, it’s worth it.” Alec nudged Magnus’ shoulder with his own. “You like it?”

Magnus looked down to it again, holding it as gently as if it were at risk of breaking apart at the slightest blow of the wind. “I love it,” he murmured and Alec could tell by the tone of his voice that he did love it. Magnus only sounded like that when Alec had really outdone himself.

Alec reached for it and gently opened it before holding it back out for Magnus to take. “Try it,” he encouraged softly.

Carefully, Magnus took it into his hands and lifted it up to the sky to peer through it. He moved slowly, entirely silent as he took in every single star he’d grown to love. “They’re so beautiful,” Magnus said at last, his eyes still locked through the glass, up to the sky.

His soft hair was tousled from their ride back to camp. The jacket he was wearing, Alec’s jacket because he’d gotten his dirty and they hadn’t had a chance to go wash their clothes off yet, was slightly too big for him and it draped off one of his shoulders, revealing a small patch of honey skin that disappeared under the shirt he was wearing. Alec could see the curve of his collarbone and he had the inexplicable urge to dip his head down and kiss at that patch of skin there, peeling away the rest of Magnus’ shirt until he was laying bare, his skin shining in the pale moonlight.

Alec glanced up to the stars again. They looked the same to him as they did every single night. After a moment, he glanced back down to Magnus. Alec could never quite understand Magnus’ obsession with them but when he looked at him, he could understand that awed feeling when you saw something so much more beautiful than yourself, so much more beautiful than anything you’d ever seen before, so much more beautiful than anything that had ever existed and would ever exist again.

For all the years Alec would live, he knew that he’d never see anything more beautiful than Magnus, peering up at a sky full of stars, having no clue that Alec was watching him and seeing something just as beautiful.

Alec leaned into Magnus' shoulder, pressing a simple kiss to the warm skin that he could reach there. Alec wanted to push the telescope away and tilt Magnus’ head down, until he could press their lips together but Alec refrained and simply curled into the warm touch of Magnus’ skin, content to breathe in the feeling of him.

“I love it,” Magnus murmured at last.

“I knew you would,” Alec responded simply.

A moment later, Magnus was lifting Alec’s head up, forcing him to take the telescope and look, excitedly directing him towards a particular star that Alec wasn’t even sure if he landed on, rambling about the hue of it and how that meant something.

Alec hummed and peered through, trying to follow what Magnus was saying about it but really, his head was thinking about anything else. Even through the telescope, he still could never quite see what Magnus did when he looked up at them.

Alec handed the telescope back over to Magnus and curled into his skin again, humming as he listened to him talk about them. Alec peered up at Magnus from his shoulder, catching the corner of his eyes twinkling in the moonlight, the subtle slope of his nose that Alec had always found adorable and the soft freckles across his cheeks.

Alec would never understand what Magnus saw in the sky but he knew what it felt like to look at something and be overcome with love and awe. Alec pressed another gentle kiss to Magnus’ skin before he closed his eyes, listening to Magnus talk about things he’d never be able to see in the sky and dreaming of his lover’s cheeks, scattered with stars that twinkled across his face and in his eyes when he smiled.

They were dust and they were stars someone had said once. Alec didn’t quite get that. They very clearly were not dust or stars but Magnus had always liked that quote and Alec supposed the thought of being a star was rather pleasant. Alec thought that maybe someday he and Magnus’ particles would be up there together long after they’d left the earth. Alec could think of no better fate than an entirety with Magnus.

“I love you,” Alec murmured, when he knew that the lure of sleep was too strong to stay awake any longer.

“I love you too,” Magnus murmured in response and when Alec finally did sleep, he dreamt of stars and he dreamt of Magnus and he woke, he thought that his dreams still paled in comparison to waking up with Magnus at his side.

“I love you,” Alec whispered into the morning air. This time, Magnus didn’t respond but he didn’t need to. Alec held him close, pressed a kiss to his nose and then closed his eyes again, content with laying there for as long as it took for Magnus to finally wake up.

Alec did not love the sky the way Magnus did but he loved something just as much and he was fine with never understanding what Magnus saw when he looked up, as long as Alec could stay there and peer at Magnus as he did so. He was beautiful. He was breathtaking and well, Alec supposed he did understand what Magnus felt when he looked at the sky, at least somewhat.

#malec #fluff #shadowhunters #my fics #Magnus Bane #alec lightwood #cowboy au

7 notes · View notes

bluerosesburnblue · 4 years

Text

It’s just now occurring to me that Seren/Talbott makes significantly more sense if you know how I’ve re-written several sidequests to better fit Seren’s personality, which I keep forgetting is not how canon went because half of these quests came out way too long ago and I’m far too attached to my rewrites

The only things that Talbott knows about Seren in Year 1 are that when she was announced for their sorting ceremony a LOT of people started whispering (about Jacob, the Dwyn Family getting kicked off of the Sacred Purebloods list, etc.) and that she sits in front of him during Transfigurations. Once he hears about what Jacob did, his curiosity is settled and he doesn’t think about her at all

I’m putting the Hagrid’s Birthday timed quest to Year 2, after you help Hagrid save Fang. That would make sense of the fact that Fang has a name and Merula’s dialogue about Dumbledore giving MC 100 House Points. And Hagrid’s birthday is December 6, so… that’s when the quest happens! December 6, 1985. (Probably starts a few days earlier, like the 3rd or 4th to account for party planning time)

This is relevant because of the moment where MC is keeping watch of Fang while Merula and Ismelda are teasing Talbott in the background by levitating his clothes and flinging him around. In the canon version of that quest, a Niffler (possibly Sickleworth since the quest came out after he was introduced?) chases them off. But, since I’m putting it in Year 2 before Rakepick is at Hogwarts there’s no reason for that Niffler (assuming it is Sickleworth) to be there

In my rewritten version it’s Seren who goes over and chases them off, because she’s not oblivious and even in Year 2, when she’s still super shy, she’s not just gonna let Merula pull something like this. It’s one of those rare moments in the early years where you can catch a glimpse of who Seren’s going to become, where she gets very assertive and fearless. It’s only because she’s defending someone else at this time, it’ll start to become her default state in later years

Of course, she’s still extremely shy and awkward and so is Talbott, so when she asks him if he’s okay he just... freezes and doesn’t say anything. And Seren doesn’t know what to do so after, like, 30 seconds of silence and just staring at each other she just kinda nervously screeches “OKAY, GREAT,” and jogs off with Fang

This is the moment that Talbott starts taking real notice of Seren. He hasn’t had anyone stick up for him like that. He remembers her sorting, now he’s trying to put together a profile of her. Figure out what she’s all about. He’s so curious, she seems so similar to him sometimes, but then she gets these bursts of confidence. Part of him wants to drop it, he figures it doesn’t matter. But then Penny (who is both Seren’s friend and her roommate) starts tutoring him in Potions and she’s telling him all these stories and he’s just getting even more invested in figuring out “what’s the deal with Seren Dwyn?”

Seren doesn’t remember the incident at all. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever chased Merula off from bullying someone, and her mind was preoccupied with party planning so she just never thought about it again. She won’t remember it even happened unless Talbott brings it up, and her response is just going to be “Wait. That was you? WAIT-”

After that moment in Year 2, they don’t interact again until Year 5. Talbott has been keeping an eye on her out of sheer curiosity for years and Seren hasn’t thought about him at all

So, that brings us to the Animagus quest, which I changed a lot. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with it, but it was the first Timed Sidequest and was teased for long enough that I’d... kind of already plotted out how I wanted most of it to go by the time it did. Also, a good chunk of it didn’t fit with Seren’s character at all

So, first of all, third year? For one of the most difficult pieces of Transfiguration magic? Uagadou school teaches it to 14-year-olds, so it’s possible, but they’re teaching it professionally and MC is flailing about with just Talbott and Penny figuring it out in the canon quest, so I’m gonna give that year a no. Also, it makes more sense for this to occur after the second Rita quest, otherwise why would Dumbledore have to explain Animagi and the registry if MC’s already an Animagus? Personally, I’m placing the start of it in late November of fifth year (1988 – maybe January 1989)

I’m also not a fan of the fact that we’re doing this just because Penny wants to brew a tough potion. Personally, I don’t see Seren and Penny as that close. They’re friends, but I generally play it more like Penny’s more invested in their friendship than Seren is. Not to mention it completely kills any sense of agency MC has, and I’m really not a fan of all of their friends trying to force a potentially dangerous, potentially illegal life choice on them for reasons such as “I want to brew a tough potion!” and “It would be cool!” If Penny or Seren messed up even a little she could end up as a half-human-half-animal amalgamation permanently! Think of Hermione’s Polyjuice Potion mishap from Chamber of Secrets but for the rest of your life. Seren would make a life-changing, potentially dangerous decision like this for Jacob’s sake only. So the rewritten motivation is looking for any edge on the search because she’s getting frustrated that it’s been five+ years since he’s disappeared and she still can’t find him, but she has found notes suggesting that he was an unregistered Animagus (such as the potion recipe being in his room)

She’s partially trying to figure out what Jacob’s Animagus form is. If it’s informed by your personality and everyone tells her she’s “just like her brother”… then maybe her form would be close enough that she could figure out what his is (or, in a lucky break, exactly the same as his)

She gets the idea after the second Rita quest, and spends the end of Year 4/beginning of Year 5 studying up on the Animagus process and looking for any opportunity to make it work

And, because Year 5 is the year she’s stuck in detention and thus, under intense scrutiny from the faculty, it opens up opportunities to sneak out for the Vault search if she needs to so she sees little downside in trying

Seren would not be open about doing this. So cut out pretty much any friends being told about it or getting directly involved. This is a Secret Seren Project, which is pretty typical of her, actually

She’s also not gonna have Penny just brew the whole dang potion. In fact, she’s not gonna involve Penny at all. (Seren’s capable of doing things on her own, game. She doesn’t need Penny to stand next to her and tell her what to do every time she tries to brew a potion). Because she has no intention of registering (it would defeat the point of using it to sneak around), she doesn’t want anyone involved because then they become accomplices. Also, Seren just likes doing things for herself. I think she’s a little offended every time Penny refuses to let her brew potions for the Vaults

Also, no McGonagall involvement! She’s not planning on registering. Why would you tell a teacher you’re gonna commit a crime?

The only time Professor McGonagall gets involved is Seren asking theoretical questions about the Animagus process under the guise of both OWL studying and because Seren’s just known to ask questions about theoretical magic (“Do potential Animagi keep the leaf in their mouth to absorb saliva from all parts of a biological lunar cycle, or is it more a demonstration of perseverance to focus the soul?”)

So the actual meat of the quest starts pretty much the same. Tulip and Barnaby bring up Talbott at lunch one day and Tulip mentions that he seems to know a lot about Animagi. Seren shows mild interest, but not much beyond that (“What? Seems like a lot of work for not much help, to be honest.”) Secretly, she’s ecstatic because she’s finally got a chance at making an Animagus transformation work beyond what she’s read about it (the potion she could do on her own, but he might be able to show her the spell and probably won’t turn her in to the wizard cops)

She asks Talbott about it at dinner when all of her friends are gone and she’s pretty sure nobody’s around to hear it. Talbott still overheard them, and still references it, but it’s more of an “I heard what you were discussing at lunch” thing. She asks him what he knows, they do their little back-and-forth. Then he brings up that she’s got a reputation for helping people with occasionally sketchy things with no questions asked (*cough*CHARLIE AND THE DRAGON EGG*cough*) and she’s pretty forthcoming about it (“Just keep in mind that I’m both a Prefect and in eternal detention, so request wisely.”)

Secretly, Talbott is very excited. Seren contacted him first and finally gave him an excuse to follow her around and finally get those answers about what her deal is that he’s been craving for years. He’s not even thinking about her as a possible friend or anything, he just wants to figure out what makes her just... act for the sake of others, completely without thinking about damage to herself, and with such wild conviction that every year she seems to outdo herself in wild success with tasks that should be way above the average student’s skill. Part of it reminds him of his parents, but he’s also just found her so interesting from afar (made even worse when Seren goes through her drastic change in presentation at the start of Year 4 and starts acting like she did when she chased Merula off all the time). She’s like the world’s most intricate puzzle

In this rewrite, Talbott is still looking for potion ingredients for Penny, but they’re not for an Animagus potion. They’re for the Draught of Peace that she’s making to help out Madam Pomfrey because she’s being overwhelmed with kids coming in overly stressed about OWLs and NEWTs, and Penny knows what it feels like to be so stressed that you feel you need the potion (but she also respected Seren’s advice to not take it to deal with the Beatrice situation, at least not without Madam Pomfrey’s supervision). It ends up being a “you scratch my back, I scratch yours” between Talbott and Seren. Help me break into Filch’s office to get confiscated potions supplies because Professor Snape won’t let Penny borrow enough to make all of the Draught of Peace that she wants to, and I’ll teach you what I know about being an Animagus. Talbott has them pick up the materials for the Animagus potion while they’re collecting stuff for Penny. He’s tempted to ask Seren about herself, but just ends up staying silent and watching how she handles getting the ingredients

Seren is way less pushy about being Talbott’s friend than MC is in the quest. She still teases him about his use of “we” but it’s more of a partners-in-crime jab. Like, it’s Seren. She can relate to everyone thinking you’re a weirdo. She can relate to wanting to go solo and avoid people. She’s not even sure how she has friends, they just sort of happened. So when Talbott says “I fly solo,” Seren doesn’t tell him “everyone needs friends,” she says “Understood. But I’m here to help if you ever need some.”

They deliver Penny’s stuff and she’s honestly surprised they’re hanging out. Talbott insists that Seren’s only there because he needed to get into Filch’s office, Penny buys it because this really isn’t the first time Seren’s helped someone without question. Heck, this isn’t the first time Seren’s done weird things to get potion ingredients for her. So Talbott gets to teaching Seren about the Animagus transformation (and supervises her. They’re not friends! But he doesn’t want her to get seriously injured doing this. This is the girl that stuck up for him years ago)

Because it’s Seren, she’s got the entire Animagus process planned down to the second. She’s scheduled her leaf-in-mouth thing to overlap with Christmas break, which she plans to spend in Hogwarts and won’t need to talk to anyone during (Wed. Nov 23 – Fri. Dec 23 1988, with Dec 23 – Sat. Jan 21 1989 as a backup date if she swallows the leaf. She’s praying for luck with the full moons). She’s got an old-fashioned windup alarm and an almanac to get the times for dawn and dusk right (and Christmas break means she’ll have the dorm room to herself, so she won’t wake up her roommates and give away what she’s doing). She’s even got some gum to secure the leaf to the roof of her mouth/under her tongue

Her plans get derailed HARD when Bill and Charlie decide to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas to keep her company because she stayed during fourth year to avoid going home to parents who were going to ignore her or yell at her, and who hadn’t had it in them to celebrate Christmas for years, when at least she gets decorations at Hogwarts (she told Charlie this, so naturally Bill knows). She’s forced to bring them in to what she’s doing (“But you can’t tell anyone! You’re accomplices to a crime now!”)

She actually really appreciates it. She tears up a little. But seriously, boys, this was not the best time to do that

They can’t help her keep track of doing the spell at dawn, but they can totally run shouting at her when dusk’s approaching. She ends up keeping the leaf in her mouth on the first try

Talbott also stayed over for Christmas because he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go

Heck, I could see Seren inviting him to sit with them for Christmas breakfast and the four of them just sharing a nice, happy moment for once. Seren gives out gifts. Charlie is DELIGHTED at the dragon sculpture that she enchanted to move around (and she’s delighted that it actually worked. She jumps up and cheers when it bursts out of the box like she planned). She even gives Talbott some cookies she baked (“Consider them a thank-you for all of your help with that project.”)

Also, Seren starts singing Christmas songs at breakfast and Professor Flitwick overhears. He IMMEDIATELY starts trying to get her to come back to the Frog Choir after she joined briefly in Year 4 and then quit at the end of the year. But, oh man, professor, she quit for a reason and now she’s a Prefect, too, and there’s just no TIME…

Gobstones with Talbott in the courtyard still happens, but this time it’s over winter break and there’s no one out there to hear him confess his backstory to her, and no one around to see him transform into an eagle and fly off. It’s a huge show of trust to Seren now, and not one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen bird boy do

Seren hides the Animagus potion at the top of one of the abandoned towers that she walks near during her Prefect patrols (probably the Lookout Tower due to the open area) and uses her patrol schedule to go hide it. Do Prefects even need to patrol during winter break? I mean, probably. There’s still kids there and likely a shortage of Prefects

Choses a thundersnow storm at some point during the break to complete the ritual. It is freezing, and very dramatic. Bill and Charlie are there just in case something goes horribly wrong

Seren transforms into a raven and it’s the happiest she’s been in a long freaking time. She perches on Bill’s arm, she perches on Charlie’s shoulder. She changes back and she’s laughing and crying and just so happy that it all worked so well and it’s like, a tangible thing. It’s physical proof that she’s getting skilled enough to get Jacob back. And it’s the best Christmas present she’s ever given herself

The three of them get caught by Professor McGonagall leaving the tower, but do a bit where they pretend that Seren heard something up there during a patrol and called them over to help her investigate it just in case, but it was just the wind knocking the loose door around. Bill does an excellent performance miming the door swinging back and forth while Charlie nods enthusiastically. It’s very convincing, I assure you. McGonagall does let them go, assuming they were just getting up to some Christmas fun

At some point a particular golden eagle hanging out in the Owlery gets his day rudely interrupted by a very loud and excitable raven. He can hear Seren giggle out a “thank you” when she leaves. He’d never admit it, but he found it charming. And then immediately tried to convince himself that he did not think that about her, because it’s dangerous to get attached (but it’s already begun to be too late for that)

(Side note, but Rowan eventually finds out by accident late Year 5. She stumbles into Seren transformed in their dorm, freaks out that there’s a bird in there, and Seren has to transform back and tell her everything to calm her down. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” “I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO BE AN ACCOMPLICE!”)

After everything that happens in the quest, Talbott’s started developing a friend-crush on Seren. She’s quiet and respects his space, she’s pretty damn smart (he’s particularly impressed at how much she knew about the Animagus process without him telling her), and there’s something about how dedicated she is to whatever she decides to do that interests him

Seren kind of thought that at the end of the quest, she and Talbott already were friends. And she was really happy to have a friend with the same sense of humor as her, who she could have some really interesting discussions with. But...

After worrying that he’s starting to like her too much, Talbott kinda ignores Seren for a couple of months, which makes her upset but she doesn’t know how to bring it up with him. Then Flying Solo happens around the beginning of April. It’s 80% the same, minus MC being pushy about being Talbott’s friend. Other minor changes are:

When learning Obliviate from Flitwick, Seren insists that both of them do the spell as it’s only fair, and she catches on easily since she’s started Legilimency training by then which gives her an edge with mind-based spells

Instead of telling Talbott some big secret, Seren goes on a five minute rant about how much she hates potatoes (”You’ll never forget how much I hate them when I’m done!”). Talbott tells her that he’s wanted to talk to her since their second year when she saved him from Merula but he didn’t know how. This elicits the above “Wait, that was you?” response before he Obliviates her

Seren ends up being really shaky and mumbling a bit after Talbott Obliviates her, and he’s terrified that he messed something up before she gets herself coherent enough to say that she felt this exact sensation earlier in the year (Pettigrew Obliviating MC). This relates to my headcanon that as a Legilimens, Seren’s more sensitive to mental spells like Obliviate. Flitwick recalls the incident and assures Talbott that Seren will be fine, Seren thanks Talbott for finally proving to her that she was Obliviated that night

Talbott and Seren agree to tell each other what they Obliviated. Seren tells him about the potato rant at the fountain that night when they’re waiting for Merula to show up, and Merula shows up just before Talbott can tell Seren about when she helped him in Year 2. He never does tell her, Seren forgets that he was supposed to entirely (though I think he will when they’re adults)

The thing about Year 5 Seren is that she’s... uh... constantly about to snap at any given moment, so the idea of Merula finding out about not just her illegal Animagus status, but Talbott’s (which, funny enough, is even better blackmail material because Seren prioritizes others over herself) sets her off. Bad. When it comes time to Obliviate Merula, Seren just tells Talbott to follow her lead, he already did his part getting Merula there

Seren successfully Obliviates Merula and then, less than a second after, Depulsos her into the wall. Talbott is just... stunned and confused as Seren walks up to Merula ranting about how she can’t do anything without Merula following her, makes a show of reluctantly apologizing “but you really startled the shit out of me!” and drags her up by her sleeve

The goal was to overwhelm Merula so that she wouldn’t even have time to process what was happening or that she could have been Obliviated. It works. A very disoriented Merula asks what happened and Seren pointedly pulls a notebook from her bag and slams it into Talbott’s chest “I was trying to help Talbott catch up on our Tranfigurations work when you came up behind me shouting! If you need Rakepick so bad, she’s not here. Can’t even do something as simple as this without you getting involved, can I!?”

Merula leaves after questioning what Seren even has to do with Talbott anyway, which lets both of them know that the Obliviation worked. Talbott’s kind of confused about his feelings because that whole display was both very smart, but very aggressive and a little intimidating. When he asks her about why she even helped him at all she tells him that she “wasn’t about to let Merula put you in danger, especially since it was my fault anyway.” It really clicks for him in that moment that Seren will genuinely go to any length she needs to to protect others, and that what’s been driving her though the Vaults is her loyalty to Jacob, that unstoppable sense of determination, and this overwhelming feeling of responsibility for everyone’s safety. He’d always though she was clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, but now he sees that the core of her is Hufflepuff ideals taken to the extreme. There’s a new sense of respect there. And then the “oh no I’m getting attached” fears kick in again

He tries to give Seren her notebook back, she insists he keep it. It’s actually just a copy of her notes that she made using Geminio that she was planning on giving him anyway to help with the classes he missed. Talbott still insists that they’re not friends. Seren doesn’t fight it. After all, she just almost exposed his secret. Even if she set it right, she knew that the breach of trust alone was probably going to be the end of things. Besides, she’s been pushing away everyone all year. What’s... one more? Especially if he’s going to push himself away

She wasn’t planning to pursue it anymore until talking with Penny over lunch and realizing that even if she kept Talbott’s secret from getting out, something’s still bothering him. And dammit, even if he doesn’t want to be her friend no one else seems to care that something’s up with him and no one deserves to be just left to struggle alone the same way that she was when Jacob went missing. So she talks to McGonagall, finds out about the necklace, firmly informs Talbott that she’s going to find it, no, she’s not leaving, just tell me where you were you don’t even have to come with me, but I am finding that necklace

The necklace search goes the same as it does in canon

During their talk at night after finding the necklace, Talbott asks Seren why she was so determined to find his necklace out of nowhere. She pulls her locket that she keeps under her clothes off and holds it in her hands for a few moments before responding “Because if I couldn’t bear the thought of losing mine, I can’t imagine what you must’ve felt.” She opens it up and hold it out for Talbott to take

He’s the first person at Hogwarts to see the enchanted picture inside that locket. Two kids, one as young as three years old, posing in front of an ivy-covered wall. The little girl is holding a plush baby seal in front of the bottom half of her face. Her brother tries to get her to smile and accidentally knocks the plush out of her hands. She looks like she’s about to cry before he scrambles to pick the plush up and starts tickling her face with it, saying something that can’t be heard. The little girl starts giggling and her brother hugs her before indicating the camera for her to smile at

“That’s him.” It’s not a question; Talbott can tell by their resemblance exactly who the boy in the photo is. Seren moves to stand next to him to look at the photo, too. “Yeah. That’s the boy who started it all. Jacob.”

After four years, Talbott finally gets what the deal with Seren Dwyn is. They talk a bit, he becomes one of the few people to learn that her father’s a Squib, her mother’s a Muggleborn, and her grandmother’s a Pureblood supremacist that hates all of them. She figures it’s only fair to share since he told her all about his parents. Seren admits that she’s jealous; she would’ve rather had parents that she believed loved her for a time, even if they were gone, than parents that she knew would never want her and that could easily come back to remind her even if she did leave. It’s a conversation that illuminates all of their similarities and differences. The mutual respect they have for how strong the other must have been to deal with the suffering, the appreciation for each others’ wit, the realization at how naturally they work together...

Talbott can’t deny that he thinks of her as his friend anymore. But to his surprise, she tells him no.

“Talbott, I’m going to strongly advise against that.”

“What? You can’t go to all this trouble and tell me we’re not friends now.”

“I just- I’m not- I can’t really stop you, but I get involved in dangerous situations every year and I don’t want you to feel you have to- to care about...”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“...I know.”

He thinks she’s cute when she’s flustered. Oh wait no oh no is this a crush???

After this it’s a little more flimsy. Not sure what exactly I want to do with them for Year 6 because I’m not entirely sure how much of Year 6 I’m going to want to rewrite. I know that I definitely want Talbott to find Seren, who still traumatized about the Portrait Vault, sitting on the ground when waiting for the Hogwarts Express. She clearly hasn’t slept and is only partially responsive. Even though she’s supposed to go in for a meeting with the other Prefects on the ride over, she ends up falling asleep in a quiet cabin that she got with Talbott. He doesn’t wake her up and hides her from any Prefects that come looking for her (which ends up just being Charlie and the other Hufflepuff Prefect in their year)

Full disclosure that I haven’t finished the Festival sidequest yet, but I’m considering keeping it sans Talbott revealing himself as Seren’s secret admirer. Not wholly sure where to slot that in, though it would probably be just after Flying Solo but before the Portrait Vault putting it... late April/early May of 1989 or so?

#harry potter series #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #seren dwyn #talbott winger #behold: talbott/seren the novel #the slowest and possibly most obnoxious slow burn ever #i have a document full of sidequest rewrite notes that i keep forgetting about #though it's mostly regarding the animagus quest and chiara's quests #quidditch could be its own document because seren doesn't join the team but i still want her to befriend at least murphy and rath #probably orion too but i can't see her getting along with skye at all #anyway for blacklisting purposes i'm gonna tag seren/talbott as #dwynger

11 notes · View notes

1-800-jmsbckbrns · 5 years

Text

faith on broken glass

‘fresh meat’

ii. bucky barnes’s file ends up on steve’s desk

Y/N had adjusted to life in the Rogers mansion very well. Steve had really made a point to get to know her, and gave her everything she wanted tenfold. Plus, he personally doted on her as much as he possibly could.

Though, he did have work he had to attend to. He couldn’t drop it all just to sit with Y/N by the pool. She understood completely, of course.

“Daddy, it’s really okay. It’s nice to have someone with me, but you have a job. After all, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” Y/N said. She lay on his bare chest, drawing little flower patterns on him with her perfectly manicured nail. Steve moved her hand so they were clasped together.

“I suppose. I just want to make sure you have someone with you, and I personally think I’m best for the job,” Steve noted. He loved everyone in the crew, but with her, he just felt best when he was with her. That was his girl.

“You’re right, sir. Though you could hire another person just to make sure I’m safe, should something happen.”

Y/N hoped he caught her hints. Through her string of Daddies, none of them protected her. She was a disposable pawn in their games. Hell, that’s how she ended up here. She just wanted to feel safe when she wasn’t with Steve.

Steve mulled it over for far shorter than Y/N thought he would. He nodded once before wrapping both his arms around her. A strong hold that wouldn’t fail her.

“You’ll have the best protection. Leave the rest to me.”

With that, Steve was on the search.

Steve looked through files and files of men and women alike. None of them looked like they could take down some of the enemies Steve had. As much, they had clean records and that wasn’t what he wanted either.

“Thank me after you meet him.”

A thick file dropped on Steve’s desk. He looked up from his computer to see Sam with a wicked smile on his face. Something was up his sleeve.

Steve opened the file and began to leaf through the papers. Quite the record them man had. Seen a few wars, helped a few of his own partners...

If Sam trusted him, he supposed he could trust him as well.

“Does he know his file is on my desk right now? Not gonna be a surprise if I call him after you leave?” Sam nodded.

��He asked me to give it to you if you were ever looking for a new addition. Figured he’d be a good fit to watch Ms. Y/N,” Sam said. He had full faith in Bucky to protect her.

“Fine. Get out so I can call him.”

Two days later, Bucky Barnes had replaced where Sam stood. It was evident he started analyzing the room as soon as he stepped in. Already a point in his favor.

“Mr. Barnes, I understand you’re interested in working with myself and those I associate with.”

A firm nod in response. He had a look of steel, build of a tree trunk. Bucky seemed like the man who was ready to face danger in any moment. Always on edge.

Good.

“That’s right,” Bucky said. Steve wouldn’t lie, his voice was attractive. He’d climb him like a damn tree, but that wasn’t what this was all about. Y/N and job first.

“You used to work for Tony, from what I understand. He and I are good partners, ya know. Didn’t bring you up himself, but when I asked, gave you a star studded recommendation. Hell, I’d make you my own bodyguard if I didn’t have one,” Steve said. He kept his eyes on Bucky at all times. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Who the hell am I guarding?” Bucky’s voice didn’t have disappointment in it. More like confusion, with a twinge of worry.

Steve began to respond when there was a knock at the door. Peggy stuck her head in briefly.

“Ms. Y/N has a question she’d like to ask. Shall I relay it or shall I send her in?” Steve motioned for Peggy to let her in. The door was fully opened, Y/N hesitant to flit in as she always did.

“What is it, baby?” He was testing out how she liked being called baby. It always brought a blush to her cheeks. Looked like this time was no different.

“Daddy- Mr. Rogers, I wanted to ask if we could have pizza for dinner. I really wanted a thin crust pizza, if that’s okay,” Y/N stuttered at first, blush turning deep red. Calling him Daddy in front of a potential business partner. Oh, bother...

Steve took her hand in his, one glance shot at Bucky before looking at Y/N. He hoped Bucky picked up on what his job entailed.

“Of course, baby. Tonight we’re having dinner with Barnes over here should he accept.”

Bucky looked between Steve and Y/N equally. She was an absolute doll. He couldn’t possibly say no to dinner, especially with two very attractive people.

He was so wrapped up in thinking about accepting that he barely realized Y/N was right next to him. She smiled warmly at him.

“Please stay for dinner. We’d love to have you. I make a mean pizza,” she placed her hand on his shoulder, near his neck. “and I’m more than happy to make whatever you’d like. Please stay.”

It was easy to say whatever steel was in Bucky had absolutely melted. Y/N had that affect on people. Steve had watched a man literally nicknamed the Hulk succumb to Y/N just by asking if she could pass by him to get outside. He mentioned to Steve that if he had to, he’d give her his own life.

“I’d like that.” Should he say more, he’d say too much. Y/N jumped a little. Her excitement was evident.

“Perfect! I’ll start making the pizzas!”

With that, Y/N left the men to themselves. As she was leaving, they could hear her recruiting Peggy to help make pizzas. Of course, Peggy would do it without question.

“What a doll. You’re a lucky man.” Bucky was right. Steve was more than happy to give some measly deal to a man in order to keep her happy and safe.

“I am. And you could be too, if you play your cards right at dinner. If you become a part of this, I need to prepare you. Your job is both simple and the hardest thing you’ll do. You need to protect Y/N and keep her happy above anything else. She’s asked to have a bodyguard, and for her, I’d give her a hundred. She didn’t want that, so I need like you to be ten times the bodyguards I’ve got around here.”

Steve stood from his desk to move so he and Bucky were a few feet away. There was definitely some tension there, but it wouldn’t be acknowledged.

“However, that’s not the only part. I’m gonna be blunt with you Bucky. Y/N and I are in a very open relationship. You are in no way obligated to participate, nor will either of us pressure you into anything. With that being said, if Y/N finds you worth her time and attention, you have my blessing to do. Knowing her, she may have a similar conversation with you. All I ask is that use the head on your shoulders, not the other guy.”

He gave Bucky’s shoulder a hard pat, but didn’t remove the hand from his arm. Steve looked him dead in the eyes. God, this man’s eyes were the color of the sky on a cloudy day.

“You’re talkin like I’ve got a job here.” Bucky smothered the smile with ease. Though he couldn’t smother the red in his cheeks. He was glad his hair covered his ears. They were hot to the touch.

“Barnes, you’ve got it as long as you last through dinner.”

Sounds like a piece of cake... or at least it’s easier said than done.

author’s note: Part 2 for you guys! As mentioned in the story, it is an open relationship, but it will predominantly center around Steve and Bucky. I hope you guys are enjoying the series!

requests + tags (mob & forever): Open!

tags -

mob: @doctorswife221b

133 notes · View notes

no6secretsanta · 4 years

Text

From @origami10 for @gyrthil. Happy holidays!

Note: I’m not sure what version of the names you’re familiar with, but Nezumi=Rat and Inukashi=Dogkeeper~

----------

A chill had crept into the air outside, so Shion was nestled on the sofa with his feet tucked up for warmth, as Nezumi stirred a pot of soup on the stove.

Shion closed the hardback book he had been reading. “Nezumi. You should do this as a play at your theater!”

Nezumi didn’t bother turning away from the soup to give his dry, sarcastic reply. “And what play would that be, Mr. Director?”

“A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. See, there used to be this holiday called ‘Christmas,’ which was all about giving things to other people instead of hoarding them all for yourself. I think it would be great if you could tell more people in West Block about it! It would be ideal if some people from No.6 could see it, because they have the most resources to share, but we could at least-“

“No.”

Nezumi had heard enough of Shion’s foolishness by now to let most of it slide in one ear and out the other, but this was beyond ridiculous. He had read A Christmas Carol, and it was a fine story, but hardly one with a moral that the residents of West Block could do anything more than jeer at.

“I’m not saying you’d need to recreate Victorian England. I think I could rewrite it and make it relevant for the people here!”

“You? Rewrite? Charles Dickens?”

“There’s no harm in trying, right? You’re always encouraging me to learn more about the world, and I think it would help me understand life in West Block to try and get in the mindset of the people who live here.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes, and kept stirring the soup. “Fine, I’m not stopping you. There’s even some scraps of paper you could use tucked back there behind that stack of books. But don’t let it make you late for work with Inukashi, or distracted when walking through town. West Block is no place for daydreaming.” He figured he’d have to trail Shion to work tomorrow, just to make sure he didn’t get lost in thought and wander into danger, as he was still prone to do.

——————

Only three short days later, when Nezumi was sitting in bed reading, Shion jumped up from the corner of the sofa where he had been madly scribbling for several hours not just tonight, but both of the previous evenings as well.

“Nezumi! It’s finished!”

Nezumi considered feigning that he had forgotten what Shion was working on, but that wouldn’t serve any purpose, and honestly he was a little interested to see if this boy from the bubble could put any semblance of creativity into words. He took the stack of papers that Shion offered him, and began to leaf through it.

The handwriting was easily legible (no surprise there), and without realizing it, Nezumi found himself lost in the story.

In place of Scrooge, a character representing No.6 itself was confronted by another character from the correctional facility, who took the place of Scrooge’s late business partner, Jacob Marley. The Marley character warned the No.6 character that unless it heeded the warnings from its past, present, and future, it would be the next to get thrown into the hell represented by the correctional facility.

Shion had used what little he knew about the land, town, and people living in West Block before No.6 was created to depict the ghosts that showed what mistakes No.6 had made in its past as it slowly shut out the people beyond the city walls.

The ghosts of the present were the current residents of West Block, some based on recognizable characters from town. They showed the No.6 character the starving children and freezing households that it ignored everyday just outside its walls.

Shion had been smart enough not to use the parasitic bees word-for-word in the story, but the ghosts of No.6’s future showed a similar kind of looming destruction if No.6 kept up its trend of looking only inward. Nezumi couldn’t help but notice that the character laughing in the face of the No.6 character about its imminent downfall wore a leather jacket and quoted some lines of Shakespeare....

Nezumi hadn’t meant to read all of what Shion had written in a single sitting, but when he reached the final curtain call, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

He shoved the pages back at Shion. “Nope. Won’t work. They’ll never put it on.” He wriggled down into bed and pulled the covers up to his nose, hoping Shion hadn’t seen the way his mouth had hung open in amazement before he had remembered to put back on his usual sneer.

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” Shion flopped on the bed and said, close to Nezumi’s ear. “I think you could be in it. How many people do you usually have to do productions at the theater? Maybe I could get Mr, Rikuga to be in it. I bet he could at least help me look for costumes.”

“Shion, for the second and last time, the theater manager is not going to put on a play written by you.”

“But don’t you think it would lift people’s spirits in the cold, dark winter? We may not have Christmas anymore, but it could give them some hope, and remind them to look out for others.”

Nezumi rolled over and turned to stare coldly at Shion. It was so hard to maintain his severity every time he looked into those warm eyes that melted his heart even now as he spoke, but he reminded himself it was for Shion’s own good. “Hope is the last thing you should be giving people here. It’ll do them the opposite of good.”

“But-“

Nezumi sighed loudly and turned back away from Shion. “Enough buts. I’m trying to get some sleep, and you should too.” He closed his eyes for emphasis.

He could feel that Shion was a little miffed at his reaction and how abruptly he had cut short the conversation, but Shion must have been getting a better read on him than Nezumi dared allow himself to believe, because Shion simply straightened the pages, left them on the table, got ready for bed, crawled in beside Nezumi, and fell asleep.

Nezumi listened to his soft breathing for a long time before he finally sank into darkness.

——————

By the time Shion awoke the next morning, Nezumi was already gone. He looked briefly at the table, in case he had to make some edits, but as he had suspected, the papers were also gone. He fixed himself some breakfast and got ready to leave the house. He’d stop by the clothing store with Mr. Rikiga on the way home.

——————

“Mommy, pick me up, I want to see!”

The theater was packed with adults with children, adults without children, and children who acted like adults. It had been Shion’s idea to have the admission charge be an item of food that would be redistributed amongst the spectators once it was time to leave. It was standing room only.

It was unlike anything Nezumi had ever seen in the theater. Not that he was nervous with all these people here, of course not. But the atmosphere was charged with something he had never felt before. Could it be-? No. Still, soon a hush came over the audience, the lights went down, and it was time for A Christmas Carol to begin.

——————

The curtains reopened for the final group bow, and Nezumi was amazed to see that even the people who had gotten a seat were now standing up, clapping. Maybe a story about revenge on the oppressor had more appeal to the masses than he had originally cared to consider. Even so, the expression on everyone’s faces wasn’t merely anger, but... joy?

The curtains closed again, and by the time Nezumi had taken off his costume and crept around to the theater entrance, Shion, the theater manager, and the bodyguards who had been hired to protect the admission foodstuffs during the duration of the show were giving out chunks of bread and dried meat from a dwindling stack to the last of the spectators leaving the building. “Great job, Nezumi! You were fantastic!” Shion grinned and nearly threw his arms around Nezumi for a hug, before seeing his glare and thinking better of it. Still, Nezumi’s expression softened slightly, and he threw one arm around Shion’s shoulders. “All thanks to our writer. We might just have more for you, if the pay is right.” He nodded to the theater manager. Shion visibly brightened. “You mean...”

Nezumi raised his eyebrows and looked down at Shion. “All I’m saying is that there are a lot more books like the one this came from.” He grabbed some food from the pile, shoved some into Shion’s hands, and then grabbed Shion’s right hand with his left, heading into the crowd towards home. “West Block could be the birthplace for all kinds of stories yet to come.”

#origami10 #gyrthil #no6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no 6

14 notes · View notes

zenithlux · 4 years

Text

Cadence Update - CH 10

In which Vergil learns a little bit more. But it’s all business. Of course.

Catch up on the story here!

Welcome back to Cadence ya’ll! I know I’m posting this a day early, but I have a project I have to finish up tonight and tomorrow, so I figured, why not let everyone enjoy this on a (possibly gloomy) Monday?

See you on Friday!

Another twist of the knife, turn of the screws It’s all in your mind and it’s fighting you Arm yourself a storm is coming. Well, kid, what are you gonna do now? It’s your reflection looking back to pull you down

Phoenix - Chrissy Costanza

---------------

The first thing Vergil did was drag five half-dead demons to Roxy’s doorstep.

He’d waited an hour, of course. Long enough to make sure she was actually asleep and not starting to freeze again. Not that he would have known what to do in that situation, but he figured it was the thought that counted. At some point, Aki’s head had popped up, his eyes had narrowed, and he chirped rather loudly. Vergil had translated that as “what are you waiting around here for? Go do something”. In Griffon’s voice, of course. The two sounded nothing alike, but he knew he would never quite escape his old familiars.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately given the amount of time he had), that process had taken much longer than Vergil cared to admit. He wasn’t used to leaving enemies alive, much less in a semi-functioning state. But, after a few extra fights, he finally figured out what parts of each demon’s bodies he could cut without them evaporating. He wasn’t certain if it was quite enough. But he also wasn’t too keen on letting Diadona take more blood than she already had. At the very least, Vergil assumed this was a better option than dragging Roxy out hunting in what he assumed would still be a weakened state, no matter how long she slept.

But, for the briefest of moments, Vergil was annoyed when he found her still asleep after the hour and a half he had spent outdoors. This information of hers seemed far too important to delay any longer. But then he remembered that she had waited two weeks for him to even call her- twice- and quickly let that train of thought go.

So, after securing the demons elsewhere to avoid any prying eyes, Vergil took stock of her groceries and was rather impressed at the state of her kitchen. There was plenty of food, both fresh and frozen, with meats split into Ziploc bags and multiple containers of frozen fruits marked as ‘for smoothies’ in faded black marker. Everything else was all well organized, as it only took opening a few cupboards to find every pot, pan, cooking device, and utensil she had. At first, he wondered why a woman living on her own had so many supplies. But then he’d also have to wonder why Dante had so few things considering how many people visited, and that was not a rabbit hole worth traveling down. Instead, Vergil found what he needed for dinner (along with the very convenient recipe book on the table opened to the exact page for “hearty chicken soup”) and left the chicken to defrost. No use rushing things, as he assumed she’d be out for at least another few hours. Worst case, he’d scouted the town out while searching for the demons (it wasn’t much more impressive than Haven, if a little bit on the wealthier side) and knew where to find food if needed.

Then, he wandered around her house. She had, after all, encouraged him to do so before falling asleep. And if he couldn’t find any answers on her current predicament, at least he might be able to deduce a few things about her.

Professionally. Of course.

Why would he be searching otherwise?

Foolishness.

The generous living room led to a hallway with a modest-sized bathroom (Dante would be jealous of that Jacuzzi tub… so Vergil decided he’d never get to see it) and a small closet. At the far end were two doors, one slightly ajar, and the other shut tight. He peered cautiously into the first to find what he assumed was her bedroom. The wood floors matched the living room, but the walls were a few shades brighter with more artwork. On one side was a queen-sized bed with a blue comforter with what looked like painted flowers of all colors. The wall to the right of it had a nice sized, curved window with a comfortable place to sit and a pair of books in the middle.

The other wall, however, was what caught Vergil’s attention; multiple, beautiful shelves filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. Except she had clearly taken great care when organizing them, as similar sizes and colors were all paired together in one of the most aesthetically pleasing bookcases Vergil had ever seen. The only one out of place was a single shelf filled with textbooks, but even those were organized by size, including the ones piled on their side.

“Is the Son of Sparda snooping already?”

Vergil twitched, annoyed that he’d been surprised by the dragon’s voice at all. But when he turned to question how such a large dragon fit in such a tiny hallway, his eyes fell on something much, much smaller. Kuro was a shrunken version of himself, but still three times bigger than Aki. His scales were smoother. His horns were much shorter, and his tail flicked across the floor in what Vergil assumed was amusement. An adolescent form, maybe, but Vergil could still feel centuries of demonic power radiating from the dragon. Regardless, Vergil’s eyes narrowed. “Your mistress gave me permission, in case you weren’t aware.”

Kuro cackled with laughter; a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in the floorboards. “We are companions, though I understand if that is something beyond your mortal comprehension.”

“Is that why you’re freezing her to death?”

The dragon’s tail flicked to the side, but Vergil didn’t see any shift in his expression. “I am keeping her alive,” Kuro said. “This is an unfortunate consequence.”

“She is awake, then?”

Kuro snorted. “Not for another few hours.”

“Then how are you…?”

“My full power is limited by my summoner,” Kuro said. “But I am more than capable of sustaining such an inconsequential form.” His head tilted. “I am surprised you do not know more about familiars.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed. A part of him wondered if Kuro knew about V, but he refused to ask. “What are you getting at?”

“I had assumed someone with such demonic power would be more interested in such things.”

Vergil released a slow breath, disguising it with a small grunt of annoyance. “I know of such things,” he said as dismissively as possible. “But have never met someone with such… capabilities.” That wasn’t technically a lie, as he did not consider his own experience as “meeting” anyone. Kuro looked moderately unimpressed, but Vergil couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or didn’t actually believe him. “I intend on speaking to her as soon as she awakens.”

“Indeed,” the dragon said. A moment of awkward silence followed as the two stared at each other; Vergil with a slight scowl, and Kuro with a constant flick of his tail and snake-like tongue. Finally, the dragon huffed and said, “If you wish to know more about her, I suggest you check the room behind you.”

Then, the dragon simply walked away, head held high, not even sparing Vergil a second glance. And for the briefest of moments, Vergil simply stood there, unused to such creatures - or anyone really - acting so blatantly disinterested. Sure, the demon probably thought that Vergil should show him more respect, but he didn’t say it. Vergil didn’t know what he would do if such a thing was demanded of him. ‘Laugh and walk away’ seemed like the most likely possibility, but showing deference to anyone else wasn’t something he’d ever do.

At least… not willingly.

Vergil shifted his attention elsewhere before his thoughts drifted too far in that direction.

The second door was unassuming, but his mind raced with the possibilities. ‘Know more about her’ would imply something like scrapbooks, pictures, or maybe some kind of memorabilia. But, even from what little he knew about her, Vergil didn’t think she was that kind of person. She didn’t like talking about her family except for her father, so Vergil assumed she wasn’t too keen on reliving whatever those memories were. He could just peruse her bookshelf, as an individual's taste in literature usually told him more than enough. But he couldn’t deny his curiosity. There was something there. He just wished he knew her well enough to…

Oh.

Instead of kicking himself at the obvious oversight, Vergil opened the door. And even with his expectations - whatever those were - he stopped in the doorway, stunned. The room was a lot bigger than he expected; a repurposed master bedroom, possibly combined with another, unknown room. One wall was nothing by a set of windows with two blue curtains pulled to the side. Next to that was a large desk with an advanced computer system of some sort, two screens, a tablet, and multiple sketchbooks. Under that was a single, empty canvas, and he assumed that’s where the rest of the ones he brought would eventually go. The wall above that was filled with various sketches and reference pictures of dozens of different things. There were few finished paintings propped up beside it - intricate flowers, a painting of a cottage and garden, and a sweeping, rainforest landscape. There was the start of another painting on an easel in the center of the room; a sketch of a ladybug on a leaf-covered in rain droplets.

Then his eyes drifted to the far wall where Kuro himself had been painted in exquisite detail. His scales actually shimmered, and Vergil couldn’t figure out how she’d accomplished that. There were small bits of glimmer… but nothing crazy.

“Interesting,” he muttered despite himself. Her attention to detail was impressive, and he wondered if there was more to it than a few reference photos. But why Kuro? Surely this big of a piece would draw plenty of attention. Visitors would ask questions… wouldn’t they?

Unless she doesn’t have many.

As silence descended over the apartment - and Vergil was certain Roxy was still fast asleep - he decided to ponder his thoughts over some books.

-------------

It was midnight when Roxy’s eyes finally opened, and 12:30 when she could actually speak to him. It had been oddly unsettling at first, as she’d stared past him, eyes glossed over, seemingly unaware of his existence. Once he’d gotten over that, he’d gone back to his book - the same one Roxy had been reading before their meeting - and waited for her. Kuro was dozing on the couch beside her, and Aki was still on her lap, so Vergil assumed everything was fine.

It was her gasp that caught him completely off guard. Even he was confused when he found himself by her side, hand almost-not-quite resting on her shoulder. Kuro’s head lifted, and Vergil swore he heard a quiet snort before the dragon rested it back on her lap. “Breathe,” Kuro said. “You are safe here.”

Vergil pulled himself away, settling back in his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. And, considering how her eyes were now closed as she ran her fingers along Kuro’s scales, Vergil assumed she hadn’t noticed him. When Roxy finally met his gaze, she looked oddly sheepish. “I’m good now,” She said. Then, her nose wrinkled as her eyes flickered to the doorway. “Are there… demons here?”

“Yes.”

“...Why?”

Kuro scoffed. “Your makeshift caretaker brought them for you this morning.”

“I’m not…” Vergil trailed off, huffed, and changed the subject. “The soup is done as well, just as Diadona requested.”

Roxy stared at him, lips parted just slightly before she shook her head in what he interpreted as bewilderment. “You didn’t have to do all that,” She said, her cheeks flushing a very light pink. Vergil watched her, both curious and entirely uncertain why she was reacting that way. “But… thank you.”

With a curt nod, Vergil said, “Absorb what essence you can. Then we’ll talk.”

Roxy returned his blunt demand with a nod of her own. “Can you handle that, Kuro?” She said, glancing at the dragon. “Aki can go too. Let me know if we need more.” Aki chirped in excitement and glided to the doorway. But when Vergil expected the little creature to crash straight into it, he vanished. Perplexed, Vergil glanced back at Roxy just in time to see her cheeks flush a much darker red as Kuro said something in his demon tongue. “Shut up,” Roxy muttered. The dragon’s tongue flicked in amusement before he disappeared. “Dragons these days,” She muttered, implying that she knew more than one.

Vergil didn’t let himself fall down that rabbit hole either. “What happened?” Vergil asked. “And why?”

“Dia calls it stasis,” Roxy said. “It’s a side effect of my pact with Kuro.” Her eyes fell, and Vergil didn’t like the way his heart jolted at the immense sadness in them. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that fast though.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I”m usually paralyzed for a day at least. Usually more. I called you as soon as that kicked in, thinking I had more time.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now, I suppose.”

Vergil made a note to chastise her for it later. “Kuro?”

“He’s a blessing, really. But the human body can only handle so much, especially when a chunk of his energy is spent healing me.”

“Healing you?”

She nodded. “I’m technically a paraplegic” her hand drifted toward her back as she spoke, but she pulled it away with a surprising amount of force. “I was in an accident about a decade ago that severed the spinal cord in my lumbar. Dad said I was lucky, as I probably should have died. And it punctured low enough that my art career wasn’t ruined. But…” She trailed off, followed by a sigh. “I stayed with Dia for awhile, but it was hard for her to manage her other patients and me... “ She shook her head, took a deep breath, and met his eyes again. “That part isn’t important.”

Vergil had a feeling it was, but he was also painfully aware that he was the last person who should ever call out such a thing. “Then what?”

“Dia introduced me to Kuro, and he took an interest in me,” Roxy said. “I still don’t really know why. An arch-demon willing to pact with a paralyzed nobody? I really didn’t believe it until it happened. And, sometimes, I still can’t believe it. Even now.” She chuckled, but it was strained. “He tells me I’m overthinking it and he’s probably right.” She shrugged. “Long story short, he is able to use his magic to passively heal my spine, but the wound itself will never truly be fixed.”

“So if your pact was broken…”

“I would lose all control of my legs again,” She said. “And I wouldn’t freeze anymore, I suppose.” Her head tilted just slightly. “I don’t mind, though. What’s a few days of discomfort in exchange for a second chance?” She stared at her hand, fingers twitching. “It’s always a little scary though, no matter how many times it happens. Just that thought…” She trailed off.

“What thought?”

She was silent for a painfully long time. But Vergil was patient. He of all people understood how difficult it was to share such personal information. Except he, unlike Roxy, had yet to figure out just who to share that information with. A part of him felt honored, but the rest of him wondered if he deserved such trust from someone who didn’t know everything he’d done.

But…

“Sometimes,” Roxy said. “I wonder what would happen if I froze… and never woke up.”

Alarm swept through him. “You’re…” He didn’t want to say it, even though he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Suicidal?” She said. “No.” She pulled her knees to her chest, but kept her eyes on him. “Afraid, yeah. But not that. Not anymore. Don’t worry about that.” Her small, nervous smile once again caught him off guard. The sadness had not yet left her eyes, but she still tried to encourage him. How? How much pain was she hiding behind such a brave facade?

Helping one person did not feel like much in the grand scheme of things. Really, it wasn’t. But all Vergil could think of were Dante’s words of encouragement. Words that Vergil believed wouldn’t matter with the overwhelming weight of his failures.

If you never take a step, then how do you expect to get anywhere?

“I’ll help you,” Vergil said before he had a chance to think about it. But even after he paused to let his mind catch up to his declaration, he knew it was the right thing to do. After all, how often did someone like him have a chance - and the ability - to fix something so… personal? He could never atone for all of his mistakes. His own son had made that quite clear. But he could do something… he could be there for her.

“Are you certain?” Roxy said softly. “Not that I…” She hesitated. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But...”

“But?”

After another long moment, she sighed. “I was hoping we would get more time as friends before… all of this.” She rubbed her arm absentmindedly. Vergil saw a flicker of pain in her expression before she buried it away; a feeling he knew all too well.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” He said as he set his book aside and made his way to the kitchen. “Rest for now. Regain your strength, and we’ll discuss it more later.”

And for the first time in months, Vergil was certain this was what he was meant to do.

#zenni-writes #cadence #update #vergil #dante #nero #vergilxoc #vergilxroxy #kuro #aki #demon #summoner lore

3 notes · View notes

9uk · 5 years

Text

Where Are You?

⌲ summary : Kim Taehyung. That is the name of a nobody in school constantly carrying a camera around with him. Also, the name belonging to the guy who carried your last words

⌲ pairing : thirdeye!taehyung x reader

⌲ word count : 10k

⌲ genre: pinch of fluff, heavy angst

⌲ warnings : themes of depression, suicide, self-harm and paranormal activities. character death. taehyung can see ghosts that is.

⌲ a/n: this is quite different from what i usually write but i just needed to get the plot that has been bothering my head for months out of me. nonetheless, enjoy & feedback is always welcomed.

The way life works is a true wonder.

Expect the unexpected, predict the unpredictable. It's all bound to happen one day, at a certain point of time in our very lives. You just have to catch that split moment, the millisecond on the dot—where a mini twist in your words or actions can bring about a very drastic change. It can be a tiny alteration that causes the downfall or rise of a situation. The choices we make for ourselves or others, is very much alike to a heavy dew sliding off a leaf and carelessly falling into stagnant water. The mini waves of the impact send the lily pads nearby dancing, a floating hibiscus petal to drift further into the unknown and push a sleeping fish a centimetre away from entering the opening of a heron's beak. It's the butterfly effect, minuscule yet major. Be it a coincidence or some cruel twisted joke god decided to play on you—you solemnly swear you heard a voice of another being in this house. A house you were supposedly alone in. It could be the cannibal. There is more than a fair share of emphasis placed on 'supposedly' because at this very moment, you are certain as heck that you are not the only one in here. Here being the old crooked house that sits alone by the edge of the second highest hill in town, standing obstinate to the ground despite the occasional flooding showers and hurricanes your region suffered. The old folks claim that the house belongs to a war veteran whose entire family starved while waiting for their sole bread-winner to come home. The man never made it back to his doorstep where his three children and spouse awaits, hope draining with every growl of their stomachs and in complete oblivion to the impending fall to the grave. Every so often, the family of five could be sighted behind the murky windows. However, there are also mediums who concluded from ridiculous superstitions and calculations of the house's location that a possible dead body could still be inside, and its vengeful spirit is bent on seeking retribution for the plain injustice of their murder. Depressed souls would see it as the way to the end, Blank minds and torn hearts enter the house with nothing but one wish—death. The number of suicides that occurred in the house is a little over a hundred—one hundred and three spirits to be exact, nothing more, nothing less—loitering within its four walls. There were instances of teenagers stepping foot into the forbidden site with hopeful hearts for a thrill and a video camera in hand, seeking for juicy content to gain views and be the first to break the belief — the bunch of kids were reported missing on the news a few hours after. The statistics are somewhat the building blocks to the infamous reputation it holds today. When the police went inside to search for the families' missing loved ones, it did not work out at all. In fact, the number rebelliously increased, the police force losing yet another one of their colleagues.

That's when they decided that everyone is prohibited to enter, unless they carried a death wish. It is almost like the Suicide Forest in Japan, tarnishing those who visit with a conflicted soul. Even the authorities chose to not touch the house, claiming it was still on a long-term lease. And under whose name?

They would never reveal.

The house became something everyone refuses to lay finger on, or even talk about. The ominousness it contained drove humans miles away, like a sleeping dragon not wanting to be bothered the slightest bit. It's almost like a door to a parallel universe or something. You did your homework regarding the possessed piece of property. The internet's local ghostbuster website shares more about the rumours circulating the house.

You can't escape once you make it through the two front doors. This is as clear as day already, the number of missing bodies serving as solid evidence. Questions however, still bugged at your mind.

Why exactly is that? Were all the window sills locked? Or is the door just created to be one-way? Sometimes people are so caught up with their fantasies that they forget to look at things more logically.

A cannibal was living inside. This is just a mere speculation, but it was not impossible. It seemed like the most rational explanation one could provide to the disappearance of people. Leftover bones can be easily cremated, destroying all traces of the deceased. But you had rather resort to jumping off a cliff or simply overdosing to kill yourself—than to ferociously be feasted on by your own kind.

It was some kind of portal to another world. Although these kind of things were not scientifically proven, it was still a valid suspicion because nothing ever made sense about that creepy house. Maybe people went in and get sucked into another dimension or flung into hell. Maybe the books were right. As well as the shows and movies on television. Everybody was afraid, of what the gaunt and creaky relic held between its paint-flaked walls and dirt-smeared window panes, why people went in and never got out, why citizens were constantly missing—but the discovery couldn't be anything more valuable than a life. But you clearly cared a whole lot about yours, because you are not even batting a lash when you tell your friends that you were going to check the cursed place out. All you receive is the dropping of jaws and the heavy pleas for you to not go, because apparently ten years ago a man as bold as you executed the similar plan you had and- "Guess what Y/N," Woo-gi leaned across the table, the bowl of mashed potatoes shifting forward a little. "He died. Unnatural cause of death. His body was never found and the saddest thing is that the family couldn't even give him a proper burial or send him away in peace." Her attempted blazing eyes fixes on yours, and her fingers creep to the knife resting on the surface of the table cloth.

Woo-gi is making the best efforts to get you to empathise with the family of the deceased man, knowing that trick works perfect on your soft putty heart. Lifting the cutlery up, she brings it down and mercilessly stabs into the piece of char-grilled pork chop for effect. There is a shredding sound of the piece of meat being torn apart by your dear pal. The vegetables at the side jump up in shock. "Gone. Just like that."

Her voice is a cold, menacing one which intended effect worked perfectly on your rather timid self, the bumps on your skin appearing unwillingly.

Her gaze finally drifts to the dish plate and leaves yours, allowing you to ponder over her words. In her final attempt to scare you out of the hasty decision, you only chew on your corn salad nonchalantly. She was right, it was a deadly risk but you wished you treasured your life as much as a normal person would. You didn't have any care in the world, dead or alive. So why not make the reason of your death be 'died exploring a haunted house', how cool and mysterious would that be on the headlines? "Sounds like a dream come true for me," You sweep the coleslaw you have no interest in to one side, isolated from the rest of the dish. Gone forever, just like that? You have been spending the past few years of your life sinking into the mattress and hoping the blankets would swallow you whole and cease your existence—what made her think that you would be afraid of something like that? Then you realise that your friends have no clue about your disorder. In fact, no one did. In their eyes, you were this outgoing girl who cracked plenty of jokes and lived with a happy family. At times, you would go overboard with your imagination but that's something people who felt constrained and suffocated often possess. Their stale life is the cause of their fantasies and aspirations running too wild.

But nobody would understand. She shakes her head and sighs, exasperated. It was like there were no words in the dictionary that can come together to bandage the open wound in your heart, or get rid of the black sticky substance bugging your insides since day one—even as a close friend, the most she can do is to pray for the best for you. No one can really help you out of this sunken pit, the route is yours to take.

"I'm telling you one last time," Woo-gi lunges forward to grab both of your hands, eyes glistening with worry, trying yet again, her utmost best to stop you in your dangerous expedition. For the last time. "Don't go."

Life works in mysterious ways, and you're the kind of person who would stubbornly step on a freshly mopped floor and try walk across it despite having a bright yellow caution sign shoved in your face. Maybe this would be the turning point in your life. A life which encompasses of...well, nothing much. The world's too tiring of a place to live in. And that is also why, you are in said haunted house, face to face with an unexpected human being. "Hey," Every drop of blood in your body freezes. It's the first thing you hear before a piercing scream leaves your chest, rattling the window panes. The sudden call startles the shit out of the shivering mess you were, your body jumping backwards out of reflex. You shun away from the piercing light being aimed straight into your eyes, arms coming up to block the sudden encounter. Cannibal? Cannibal! You shrieked and jumped back further upon realisation, making a beeline for the doors. Both feet took you there as fast as they could, the wooden planks beneath your heavy stomps threatening to snap. Except when you reach for the handle, the first rumour is proven to be true. The doors wouldn't budge. You shake them with all your might, only left with creaks and a stubborn obstruction to your fleeing. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest, with the knowledge that the monster is a few feet away from your panic-stricken form. "Just give up." The low voice appears behind you, the hairs on your back shooting up and your hands frozen. Why were you even so afraid? You wanted to die anyways. Nothing is able to coherently come out of your parched throat, only able to quiver in fear. "Do I really look that ugly?" The tone is derisive, so human-like and you think you may have overreacted. Whipping around, you are only met with bright white as a beam of light is pointed directly to your face. You may have been mistaken. But that doesn't stop you from feeling threatened. "Put that away." You commanded and once the shining path of white is directed to the ground, your hands slowly descend from shielding your face. "Kim Taehyung?" "Y/F/N?" The both of you speak out in unison upon the recognition, despite the low lighting playing as an obstacle. It was dark, but you can almost make out the look of shock on his face as he takes a moment to register your existence right in front of him. As for you, relief overwhelmed the surprise you felt and for once, you were thankful to see Kim Taehyung. A fair bit of questions were going through your mind now, and your heart was close to jumping out of your mouth any time soon. But somehow you managed to stay relatively calm.

As long as Taehyung was standing there, looking at you with a face of confusion, you wanted to end your life faster to escape the interaction with this guy. Or to explain what in the world you were doing in a horrid place like here. God wouldn't let you die in peace, he had to let you bump into Taehyung minutes or hours—nobody knows—before your anticipated death. The only thing going through your mind is how you have to explain why you were inside the most forbidden house in town. Then, another thought flickers in your mind. What was he doing here then? It couldn't be... For some reason, he stands there, still astounded by your presence. Wait no, it had nothing to do with your presence. It was you. Just like how having a guest in here came off as no surprise to him, but the fact that it was you... You feel like you rendered him speechless, disbelief widening his eyes and parting his lips. He was acting strange. Just a few moments ago, he was telling you so confidently about the fate of the doors and now there was a 180 degree change in his vibe. He kept staring at you, the moonlight flaunting a light shimmer to his black orbs and you felt queasy under his relentless gaze—like he held some sort of power over your empty soul. You couldn't decipher just what is it in his eyes, your head hurt as you tried to think.

It was never the same case in school though. While you exuded an aura of confidence wherever you walked, leaving a trail of your floral scented shampoo and fruity perfume, Taehyung would keep his head low and try to blend in with the shadows. He didn't smell like anything, nor did he frequently speak.

To his pals, at the very least. The moment you hear the name Kim Taehyung, the first word that comes to mind is eccentric. You weren't exactly someone to judge people in this manner, but you know him barely—only to the extent where you can only think of an adjective like that to describe him. You've seen him more than a couple of times around in school—always carrying a vintage camera around—but have never spoken a word to him. For an obvious reason, he was located in the best class—the one where the top students are—while you are in just another average class.

He was just another schoolmate to you. The both of you have never interacted during your whole journey in high school, except for that one time. However, you have only heard things about him. Unpleasant things that make your blood boil a little, because you feel like everyone should be treated equally no matter the circumstance.

One would say, "Kim Taehyung? You mean the guy who sits in the garden for an hour after school, waiting for a butterfly to land on his pinky finger? I mean, who even does that?"

Another would comment, "He's constantly talking to himself and his polaroid films, if that is even possible. Other than that, he either talks to flowers or trees. Sometimes, he eats by himself and then he raises his spoonful of rice to feed the person sitting opposite him—only that there isn't anyone there. Some girls screamed and ran away, even their boyfriends were scared of such a person. That is mainly why they didn't do anything bad to him.”

You didn’t have much thoughts about the guy, but you admired how he could be himself without the fear of being excluded from the norms of this society. He could find the comfort in being alone, and that was the type of peace you wish you possessed.

That one day, things blew out of proportion. It was a normal Tuesday, nothing extraordinary but school and sleep. You were seated with your usual group of friends during lunch, when suddenly a yell breaks through the canteen, followed by several laughters induced with pure evil. Almost the entire cohort turns to the infamous corner—just a small turn into the back kitchen where the trash is taken out by the vendors—the place where many students are dragged in there and come out with a blue black to the eye and nasty purple patches all over their limbs.

The whole cafeteria slowly fills with hushed whispers and serious gossiping, heads turning to one another unable to drop the topic for now. Yoongi walks out from the corner, followed by a few of his friends of a milksop. Wussies, you silently remark on their terribly feigned outer strength and masks of bravery. Nothing but imbeciles, you curse them in your head. Yoongi and weaklings plop right next to you, the eyes from the surrounding tables discreetly catching up on the interaction between the both of you. "Y/N! You look gorgeous today." He tries to place his hand onto your waist but you quickly shun away from him. The small action itself caused the whole canteen to blanketed with silence, every pair of eyes now focusing on the drama that was about to unfold between the notorious gangster and his proclaimed girl. "Don't fucking touch me you disgusting piece of shit." You have had enough. The menacing words seem to pierce through every wall in the school, every person at the scene being informed of your opinion towards Yoongi all this while. You stand up, pointing a finger of accusation directly at his face—to which he flinches at, caught off-guard by your swift movement. If you had the opportunity to get away with it, you would have dug your nails into his eyeballs and gouge them out of his eye sockets, then feed one each to the weaklings by his side. Instead, you take a deep breath. Small gasps leave everyone's lips and he panics—ego bruised by your harsh rejection. Yoongi was your boyfriend. You've been tolerating him for quite some time now, all for the sake of your parents. Without this relationship, your dad would have never been able to clinch the business deal with his father. All it took was a couple of sweet phrases and fake smiles, you couldn't be bothered with the rest of him other than the profit he could bring to your company. Yoongi on the other hand, seems to interpret the relationship in a very different way. He seems to have grown fond of you and naively believed that love between the two of you is real. You never put a single thought or effort into the relationship with Yoongi, not wanting to mislead him any further but some guys just can't seem to get the message, despite the many obvious hints you've dropped. You never ask him out.

Or when he does, you would only politely decline. In school, most of the time you stick like glue to your friends and try to avoid him and his rambunctious clique at all costs. Your dear friends took empathy in you and helped you out of certain situations concerning Yoongi at times. Somehow your boyfriend's pleasant way of proving his worth was to step on the backs of people who seemed inferior to him to climb his own ladder of pride.

It was like after each time he nailed someone to the ground and kicked their guts out, Yoongi feels like he reached another level of achievement. It's sickening to the thought and you want to have nothing got to do with that narcissistic asshole. This behaviour of his begin not too long ago, a few days prior when he marked his first victim. You were puzzled, but you didn't probe. He bullies physically and mentally, using their screams and pleas to feed his ego and push himself higher up the ladder. He started torturing anyone who ticks him off or come in his way to no end, and you think you may just be next albeit being his supposed girlfriend.

The conduct only made you despise him even more. Come to the thought of it, the things you do for your parents include self-depreciation and the loss of any shame left in your skin. You can feel the anger slowly twisting in his veins, radiating off his now clenched fists. Contrary to his untamed anger building within him, his friends are slowly retreating from his side, trembling in fear at your spit of acid. You chuckled, almost despicably—both at the cowering of his tough underlings and the way he almost peed his pants at the mere fling of your index finger. He realises that you are mocking his fragility and there are a couple of muffled giggles ignited in the crowd—his temper starts to get the better of his mind as the emasculation finally dawns over him. Before he can lay a finger on you, you are already a step ahead of him—grabbing the cup of hot tea off the table and splashing the boiling liquid onto his uniform, scalding his body. You thought you had might as well went all out in punishing a rascal like him. Your friends reach for your arm, trying to hold you back from going any further in dealing with the jerk and you throw the cup onto the ground, causing it to shatter into fragments—the sound of the porcelain splitting and cracking into pieces haphazardly rings through their ears. You'd like to refer it as a clear warning to everybody witnessing the event—to simply not mess with you.

You wished to be left alone.

While he screams in agony at the possible second-degree burn, you waltz away from the commotion nonchalantly. You think that that scumbag ought to have a taste of his own medicine someday, and if no one else dare stuff it down his throat, you would more than gladly do so. You find yourself striding off—to the hidden corner behind the stalls. And there, you discovered the bloodied body of Taehyung. With a broken camera by his side. A boy like him deserved more than this, no human should ever be hurt as badly as this—especially for no reason at all but one's inability to control their emotions, and the poor decision to vent it out on others can make horrible things happen. You kneel down by his side, checking the wounds inflicted on him. Fishing out a packet of tissues you always keep in your pocket for emergencies, you wipe the blood stains off his abused skin. He's in too much pain to express his surprise at your assistance, grunting as you pressed the tissue against the wound. When the bleeding on a certain cut has stopped, you offer him the support of your arm to let him sit up straight. Taehyung holds onto your forearm and pulls himself up from the ground. He groans as he does so, his back clad with bruises and soreness.

You noticed that he was stunned into a daze, probably at the grasp of realisation that someone was actually helping him. But you ignored his feelings, just shifted your attention fully onto the fixing of his injury. You recall having a plaster tucked away in your purse and you quickly take it out as well, secretly laughing at its design—hot pink with Hello Kitty.

Taehyung doesn't miss the sound of light escaping your lips, and he himself bites down on his lip to hold back a chortle at the girlish visual of the bandaid—temporarily pushing the questions behind your intentions away. You actually felt glad you could bring a smile to his face with something like the childish print of a bandaid. Nonetheless, you peel it off and gently place it over the deep cut on his forearm as he tries to control his wincing. "Hey, it's alright. You can cry out for all you want," You smoothed the plaster flat and tight on his skin. When you lightly slap the face of the Hello Kitty to tease him, he lets out a yelp—something that sounds puzzlingly adorable coming from him. "Here, have this." You fish out a piece of candy from the other side of pocket, handing it over you the victim. The amount of surprise he shows never ceases. You let out a short laugh, "I know you're not a kid, but still..." You smile up at him. "Just take it as a form of apology for what I caused you to go through." Taehyung doesn't move a muscle, just sillily blinking at your actions. You take his hand and shove the sweet into his palm, closing his fingers around it.

For a brief moment, both your eyes meet.

There is an unexplainable exchange of thoughts running through each other's minds and it was close to feeling like the two of you shared something in common. Taehyung was ostracised in school and probably the life he had out there judging by his abstruse personality and unfathomable behaviour. He was a prisoner out here in the real world.

Freedom, but yet he can't truly express himself without being placed behind bars in the eyes of others.

You are guilty of doing so in the past, when he was nothing but a lingering, mystifying shadow that held no importance in your life. That's exactly what you did to him—judge and rule him out of the ordinary. All you feel for him is sympathy, and that isn't anywhere better than the culprits themselves if you weren't about to step out and lend him a helping hand. Regret washes over your system as his dark pupils venture into your soul.

You were not as innocent as others perceive you to be. Bystanders were the invisible strokes of support to the metal bars that locked him up. His hand, although held by you, was trying to cling onto your grasp and not wanting you to leave. You would consider yourself a lucky chap indeed, having born into this world with food and shelter, kin and kith. In fact, rather luckier than the rest to be able to own what you like and not solely what you need. Above all of the materials your parents could afford, you were trapped in incongruity of being a prisoner of your own. You didn't know what you were passionate about in life, and to live without passion is akin to being dead. You just did well in your studies because the society deems that degree certificate as a strong foundation in your job. But you truly did not know if you really enjoyed burning the midnight oil to continuously mug or if the elation of attaining a perfect score on your assessment is pure, or just for the sake of your insatiable parents. Education is key. Well definitely, to a certain extent and you have witnessed how far your own set of parents are willing to go as long as you achieved soaring colours of distinction.

Sleepless nights, wandering mind and a stagnant heart. Sometimes the urge to pretend to be ill to escape the torment of school. Sometimes the subconscious act of bringing the kitchen scissors to your wrist and slit... You want to collapse to the ground and never be able to wake up again. You wished a drunk driver would accidentally run you over and end everything for you. Then nobody would know about how tired you were of this pointless life. You were a prisoner of yourself too. With no doubt, you and Taehyung are definitely similar in many ways the world can't see. "See you...soon, I guess." A soft chuckle emits from you like that happening would be a miracle, but the expression does not reach your eyes. Your eyes that were blocked by a wall of defence to your vulnerability of an emptiness. She is broken. A whisper goes by his ear. She needs help. The raspy voice travelled to his other ear, making him shiver slightly but unnoticeably. Taehyung could feel it too but he was in no place to ask about your wellbeing. He could only stare and wonder. The eye contact was broken off, before your hand recedes from his, carefully. He catches the way a faint smile ghost on your features as quickly as it appeared. A bittersweet kind of happiness. But he doesn't say a word, even after your figure grows smaller with every step you take back to class. What you missed, is the shutter of the camera lens, floating in the air. "Hey, don't touch that!" He snatches the device back and winces at the stretch he feels in his back muscle.

"Y/N." The wooden planks beneath him cursed out loud, warning sirens of his voice turning stern. Besides his low voice and creaks of weak wood and nails, there is only a dripping sound from some leaking pipe. "What are you doing here?!" It is the second time he has raised the question to you, but you only keep silent, eyes searching the room for answers.

Why hadn't you disappeared or get eaten by some ferocious beast yet? Taehyung was only complicating your attempt of suicide. You tried to keep your head clear when you first pushed the rusty front door open, disallowing the memories to flow into your mind.

It was a blockage to all forms of happiness in your life, to prevent your pathetic self from backing out. But Taehyung, an actual human being, catching you in the act of wanting to kill yourself just shot a dose of reality into your numbing heart and racing thoughts.

"Uh..." You wet your lips.

"What about you? What are you doing here?" You turn the cameras back to him. It would not be shocking if he came here to take his life as well. Taehyung purses his lips in serious contemplation before candidly answering. "I can see ghosts," He looks down like it was something to be ashamed about.

That wasn't the case for you. You were completely taken aback by his confession but you found it extremely intriguing. "Oh—Wait what?" One thing about the revelation was that it for sure explained a lot about the way Taehyung acts. You trust his words, but you don't know how to link it to the fact that he was standing right in front of you in the living room of this damned house. Raising a brow at him, you wish for him to elaborate further. "I uh, heard r-rumours circulating around in school, that uh," He pinches his brows.

"You were going to come in here. So I kind of decided to see if it was true." You were amazed by his candidness.

"And it is." You mused.

It was heartwarming to see that someone actually bothered to risk their life to come look for you. Then again, Taehyung is a guy filled with secrets. God knows, but maybe he is the owner of this house. When his eyes capture yours for one more time, it drowned you into the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling.

Something like denial, frustration and lastly, regret. The eye contact is never broken. Like Taehyung was staring so hard at you to try and figure the different parts of you out, to evaluate every inch of you and you squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You croaked out, beginning to feel very creeped out despite the tinge of softness laced in his eyes. "You—Urm, you—! Argh!" He only hesitates even more, turning into a stuttering mess. You jump back in surprise at his reaction. Lost and confused as to how to provide you with a suitable reply, he yells and pulls at his locks of hair. It was when he proceeds to fall to the ground on his knees and seemingly begin whimpering into his palms, all surprise turned into worry for the guy. You kneeled down and called out to him. "Shit—Taehyung!"

"What do you seek, young man?" "Your whole point here is to know and advice me." Taehyung bites back. "Very well. An unsolved mystery, something concerning a girl and regarding the old house just down the street." He shuffles his cards and keep them away neatly. It seemed like those tools will not be of any use to Taehyung, and he clearly understood why the man's face have fallen drastically—it isn't a simple case a few cards can crack. You were not only beautiful, you were inculcated with kindness, you held a type of pureness lost by many as they grow up, you spoke in a manner that is highly respectable and the crowfeet that form at the side of your eyes whenever you laughed too hard couldn't get any more adorable. He shifts uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat, and gulps anxiously. "Was her body found?" Taehyung doesn't know.

He doesn't know where the hell you went or what the fuck you were doing, he only knows that when his eyes flew open, he felt the cold of the night stinging on his skin and an empty space next to him. You were no longer in his arms and the next moment he is springing up from the worn out couch and beginning his search for you. He looked every nook and cranny of the house for you but to no avail. The only resort left got him sitting across a renown psychic. But even the expertise in this region seems to find this case uncrackable. "No." He tilts his head, bringing out a rock of some sort. Taehyung sees it as a mere rock but not to him apparently. "This is the Magic Stone." His fingers fidget around with the purple coloured object. He does this continuously, causing Taehyung to perk an eyebrow up at his claim. The psychic burrows into deep concentration, a conclusion forming in his head. Then, all movement ceases. "Her soul has to bring you there herself."

The medium's advice sounded strained, like it was the hardest thing to come to a conclusion like that. It's a clear excuse when he says the reason of those teardrops rolling down his cheeks are caused by the wind.

You want to reach out and pat him on the back in hopes of alleviating his pain but you quickly retract it back as the muffled sobs through his fingers grow even louder. All you could wonder at that point in time was whether something bad was happening to Taehyung. Maybe the demons in this house were taking him away first.

Maybe he is really going to die. Then, with every drop of care drained from your exhausted body, you placed your hand on his clothed back with a strong determination to do your best and ease him (into the underworld most likely) without any pain. "Are you okay?" Only for his cries to stop abruptly when he feels your hand smoothing over his back. Hastily, Taehyung removes his hands from his face and turns around to look at you. His eyes were red and swollen from all the desperate weeping, saliva of sorrow pooled in his mouth as he watches you with a kind of anguish and concern. It mirrored the look you gave him when you saw him lying on the ground, beaten up. This is where the two of you are similar.

Prisoners, but of two entirely different reasons. You drifted your gaze to his elbow and notice the striking dash of pink. The band aid still being there was what solidified the certainty that this was all real. This wasn't some kind of twisted dream. And that would only mean one thing. Because your hand did not manage to rub his back, for the paleness casting over it only sank into his body, deep into his spine—only for his body to be in one piece as you fast to recede it like you had just touched a strong flame—unable to feel anything touching your palm even when you made that physical contact with him. "Taehyung... why..." You inspect your hands carefully. Your skin was never this white. All the hairs on your forearm had disappeared as well, your whole body lacking any hint of life. It felt surreal. Like something that would only occur in dreams.

"Why can't I touch you?" Maybe if you try pinching yourself, you would wake up. Maybe this was just one of your daily nightmares from stress. It was when you started aggressively pinching the pale skin on your arms, thighs, waist—you realised you could still feel yourself. The only difference being that it was so, so cold. It was similar to touching an ice pack, frosty and nothing much else.

Cold. That's how you feel and the perplexity that hit you all at once began transforming into larges beams of anger, sadness and helplessness. You wanted to cry as loud as you could for help. "Why do I feel so cold?!" You refused to believe anything your senses were telling you. Everything your naked eyes were showing you.

Lunging forward, you run your hands all over Taehyung again and hope to actually feel something tangible.

To your dismay, your fist only goes through his heart like he was made of air—no, like you were made of air.

You were the dead one here.

"The police have searched the whole compound of the town and spread the news of the missing school girl country wide. In the past two weeks of finding the teenage girl, Y/F/N is still unable to be located. If you have come across—Zap." Taehyung clicks the button on the remote control and flings it to the other end of the couch in frustration. He ruffles through his hair, hoping for hints of you to magically pop up in his head. The thing is, the both of you had barely spoken to one another. Plus, he had a tough time speaking to the people at his-and your-school. One week. One whole week since the disappearance of your body. The police are proven to be fucking useless and incompetently unreliable, he mentally notes. He figured that the fastest method to locate you, would require him to act out on his own. The list of things that can happen to your body goes down a long scroll that even Taehyung himself is unwilling to imagine. He wants you to at least, still be in one piece when he finds you. He uses the term body, because your soul is for sure loitering somewhere in town. It can't go too far from your body, a rule he remembers by heart. So, it wouldn't be entirely impossible to detect where your corpse would be. Think, think, think! He repeats like a mantra in his bursting head. Where would you go if you were this free, lingering spirit? And then he recalls.

"You're up here again."

He pushes himself up onto his usual spot—a high wall surrounding the perimeter of the rooftop, granting anyone up here a perfect view of the school field and vast blue sky. The job of the wall is to prevent any students from falling over and have their bodies crush to pulp when they plop to the ground floor. But Taehyung doesn't play by the rules. Where is the fun in that? He often questions anything that has to do with system and order. As a person who lives by pure intuition, Taehyung brings himself to the top floor for the second time after just doing so the day before. It could be the voices whispering encouragements for him to pay upstairs a visit, or maybe it had to do with a very strong gut feeling tugging at his chest. Nonetheless, he was here.

The boy from yesterday is situated at the exact place as before. His skin was terrifyingly pale—but not translucent—and the cracking of his bones could still be heard whenever he swinged his legs. He must have just died a few days ago, Taehyung concludes. The boy doesn't acknowledge Taehyung, nor does he reply.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung cranes his neck a little to face the boy properly—who in turn was staring at his feet with a strange amount of attention. Then upon following his line of sight, Taehyung realises how small and young the boy was—his own legs were almost twice as long as the kid's.

"My brother," He finally speaks, but only softly.

Taehyung digests his answer for a moment, before cautiously popping the second question. He knew better than to ask why the boy had died, it would probably even send the kid into a fury and then to hell, which was the last thing Taehyung wanted to happen to him. "If you don't mind me asking," He nervously grips the edge of wall.

The boy tipped his chin up slightly, intrigued by his words. His big round eyes came into view, leaving a heavy load to weigh at Taehyung's heart. His eyes, still freshly glistening and vibrant with blackness illustrated the bright and long road that awaited him in his life, only to be torn apart by whatever fatally tragic accident he was met with. It's a pity. It's a pity how some promising futures can be so easily robbed of in a blink of the eye. It is not a frequent occasion where tears pricked at Taehyung's eyes. He closes them for a second, before getting the question out. "Who is your brother?" The boy now turns to fully face him, legs still swinging regardless. His eyes looked way bigger and innocent than Taehyung had thought they would be. And it doubled the pain beneath his ribs.

It's suffering to bump into an innocent soul. He had rather someone who acted the way they deserved their death. The boy switches his stare on Taehyung now, silent while his orbs grow shinier. "I'm sorry in advance," The child looks like he was about to burst into tears. Taehyung felt the same. What was a sweet boy like him even apologetic for? "Min Yoongi." Taehyung blinks in surprise. The boy was gone. A series of giggles echoed in the stairway and without another thought, Taehyung hops down to hide himself from whoever was there. He does not recall any platform being built after the wall. He simply knows that if he falls over from such a risky position, he would die. He heaves a deep sigh of relief when the platform does not crumble into pieces under his full weight. He thinks it must be the doing of the boy. His smile is cut off when the footsteps and voices grow louder, noticeably two female students just hanging out. Unlike being rash as himself, they only prop their elbows on the wall, admiring the scene as that. Which he was grateful for, otherwise he would definitely get caught for loitering around carelessly. "Finally. Something great about this shit hole." Taehyung sticks onto the wall like a lizard, trying his best to be away from the edge. "Honestly, the perfect spot to take fresh breather," the other voice makes an appearance. "No one ever comes up here unless you want to be making a serious offence." A flock of birds crosses the sky and Taehyung secretly hopes they don't share the tiny space with him. "For peace and quiet, I'd give anything." The first voice replies. He silently nods in strong agreement. And he recognises it as yours, because of that one time you were called up to present a book review in Literature class. Your voice was distinct yet soft, you spoke with a sense of urgency to bring your point across and yet still manage to maintain your composure in your tone. He must say he’s never been this impressed by a presenter before.

And here he is, hearing the same voice again. This time, much quieter and lower compared to in class, but it leaves him beyond intrigued of the next content spilling out of your mouth. "Then, where are you going to get your dear peace and quiet after this semester?" The second girl with the higher pitched voice asks. "Hm, great question." The first girl ponders and probably stares into the horizon.

Then she replies, after the earth spins a full round. "Somewhere with sand and salt maybe." She answers seriously, after much consideration. "Can't you just say the beach? You idiot." "Whatever. Just checking if that peanut brain of yours is working." A gasp can be heard. "You better run before I catch you!" Their shoes leave heavy footsteps on the concrete and their voices gradually fade away.

Taehyung feels bad for eavesdropping onto their conversation, but it was something he couldn’t help even if he did not want to.

Speaking of which, Taehyung hasn’t thought about what he’d like to do during spring break. Maybe he’d bring some flowers and offerings for Yoongi’s brother and the others always by his side. Without being seen, that goes without saying.

They’d be over the moon to receive flowers because no one is really there for them. Or have simply forgotten about them. Taehyung wonders if anyone would bring him flowers when he passes on.

Still, Taehyung felt a seed of envy being planted inside of him, wishing that he could go to the beach or park during the season of blossoms with friends and genuinely have a good time. He has never gotten the opportunity to hang out with any normal human ever since birth. He told a friend he trusted about his ability of seeing things normal people couldn’t and the boy went about telling everybody about his confession which led to the beginning of his ostracisation

Weirdo. Freak. Those were the names he eventually got accustomed to being called as.

The seed of envy grows. The both of you are lucky enough to be discussing about where to head to for vacation, something he couldn’t do.

Lucky enough to be going on a vacation. Not everyone has that blessing.

He wish he could be like everyone else. Lead a normal life, have friends, and be wealthier. This way, he wouldn’t have to struggle so much.

For a moment, he wishes that he could replace the position and live the life of anyone else.

Like the girl who can play the violin.

Like the boy always sleeping in class.

Like the school’s janitor.

Like Yoongi.

Like you.

"Hey you! What are you doing up there?!" Someone like a security personnel yells at him from downstairs. Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back up there?

You must not be far. His feet dents the soaked sand beneath, leaving prints that queued in line to be washed up by the incoming waves. With the ends of his pants rolled up, he spins around aimlessly to search for you. It was fortunately a weekday, which allowed the beach to be emptier. And that would make the task of spotting you much easier. He strolls along the coast, patiently kindling his instincts to take him wherever you were to be. It feels almost surreal—the texture of the grainy sand rubbing against the sole of his feet, the gentle whispers of the arriving waves, the wind slicing through his thick hair, ruffling it like feathers—how peculiar it felt to realise that he is alive, being hyper aware of all five (or six) senses.

The tangibility of things would signal that he is actually a living human, but something intangible is missing in him and it makes the whole experience of being alive feel so...detached. Every part of his body felt like it didn't belong to him—it was his toes coming in contact with the sand and not him, it was his hair dancing with the wind and not him, it was his legs moving on their own accord and not Taehyung. This is what happens when you interact with supernatural beings for the whole of your life, he thinks.

"Hey watch your step!" A shout intrudes his thoughts. Taehyung pauses, retracting his feet back. The small kid carries on building her sandcastle with her companion. Watching their busy hands, Taehyung tries to figure out who exactly was the one who warned him. Regardless, he whips out his camera to take a shot of the girl building sandcastles. "Yay! It's done!" The girl pats the top of the castle and runs towards the benches shrieking in contentment, failing to withhold the excitement of breaking the news of the small achievement to her mother. The other girl however, only smiles at Taehyung and vanishes. He runs his eyes across the ground. Just below his toes, there laid a tiny baby turtle. It scurries, towards nowhere, seemingly unable to acquire the skill of waddling on the fine sand like all his other pals. A meter ahead, his friends totter in clusters towards the entrance of the sea. The poor buddy struggles hard to walk properly, let alone find the correct direction home. He suddenly grows conscious of the couple of seagulls chilling by the water. But he was too preoccupied with the aim to find you to bother about the weak creature. As he was just about to dismissively stroll away, something tells him to make a turn and save that baby animal. He should make a difference when he can. He definitely should. He could actually salvage a situation. A life that is. He jogs back faster than the predator birds could, quickly finding the turtle again and gently picked it up. The shell looked too big for its body and its two big ebony eyes popping out of its sockets gazing at Taehyung—are filled with gratitude. Or so he assumes. The creature makes some kind of fuzzy noise—of happiness—when it is put down onto the sea line to join its siblings. The rambunctious clique waddles their way into the ocean, gliding across and surging into the water, one by one, delightfully. The seagulls trots away, lunch stolen. He continues his trail. Slowly, a pier approaches. And similar to Yoongi's brother, a girl sits at the end of the wooden platform all by herself.

She radiates frozen, cold heat and as he gets closer, the temperature dives. He carefully crafts his steps towards the lone spirit, begging the planks to not creak too loudly in fears of scaring her away. With every inch he gets closer to the girl, the clouds present in the sky turns darker, accompanied with the flush of even more greyness which eventually overlays the initial coat of cyan. The familiarity of the uniform boosts the confidence in him to call out your name. "Y/N?" She stands up—indeed the girl reported missing—and Taehyung was glad it was you. The troubles fogging his mind seem to have cleared at the plain sight of you. He was relieved that he had at least found your soul. It was another thing to find your body though, and that is the main objective here. Connecting your body with your soul would be the final resort in sending you off in peace. He had a day left. Twenty four hours before you wouldn't be able to leave in peace. Before your pure soul would dissipate into a fiery pit of wrath, abandoned in the darkest abyss until you transform into a vengeful spirit. All the hatred, pain and misery would be instilled in your afterlife that is deadly inescapable. These overwhelming amount of negative emotions trapped in your soul would then leave you in this state, forever. The sight was inexplicably depressing. Just a few days ago, you were real to the touch. He could feel your fingers smoothing over the plaster on his arm. He could see the satisfaction radiating off the smile you flashed at him before, leaving. He could smell the light cherry blossom from your shampoo flowing in the air. He could hear the base of your sneakers hitting the floor as you paced your way to class. Yet now, the wood underneath wouldn't make a sound as you got up.

Your lips were chapped and your crusting skin was faded. Compare to a few days ago at the house, you looked much worse and haggard.

The corners of your mouth quivered, itching to bring forth expression but unable to do so. You couldn’t even smile. You couldn’t even cry if you wanted to.

Now you were toeing the line that crossed the real world and heaven apart.

Somehow he feels like it is partly his fault. Maybe if he had tugged onto your wrist and asked you to stay back a little longer. Maybe if he was quick enough to catch you after school. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had the chance to end your life. Caged by your fingers, was a head of pink.

"I heard that pink carnations stand for the remembrance of the dead,"

His brows furrows at your words. How is it that you were able to comfort him so easily, while he is here having a difficult time to even form words to express his grief. But he was sure that like him, you didn't crave for sympathy at all.

Maybe if he had clung onto the empty look in your eyes, thinking more than he should, stepping out of his comfort zone to care for you. Then perhaps, this situation would never take place. Then with a heaving chest, he clenches his teeth to embrace the fact that you are no longer existent in this real world. It was pointless to think about all the possibilities that could have dodged this situation.

"I hope someone remembers me."

Uncontrollably, a bead of tear seeps out and rolls down his cheek. His nostrils flare up as the sadness and realisation overtakes every cell in him that was fighting against the tide of sorrow. His heart feels like someone plunged their fist into his bare chest and ripped it out. Thrown onto the ground and stomped into pieces.

Lips quivering, Taehyung fights back the devastation and gathers the last scrapes of sensibility in his mind, using all the energy his rationality could afford—brings the camera looped around his neck up to his eyes, and snaps.

Through the lens, a pink carnation levitates above the pier, the ocean a transverse blue spread across the rectangular panel, accentuating the vibrant colour of the dainty flower.

The camera lowers, along with his head.

He was sobbing by now, all the while you gently hold the flower and stare at him with the same hollow eyes. “Why?!” He grits out between cries.

"Why..." The later one comes out in broken, incoherent snippets.

You are really not here anymore. With him.

"I'm weaker than you think," You breathed out with a faint smile following the confession. His heart clenches and twists into a tight knot, pulling at his conscience.

"And don't you worry, I will return to my body."

The fact that you were still trying your best to maintain cheery for him despite being dead twists his heart viciously. The world is too cruel to you, and to him. An angel like you deserves to seek your happiness in a better place like the skies above. The visage of you is becoming transparent, signalling your departure. Taehyung musters all that is left in him to take a step forward and press his palm softly to your face. He could not feel anything but his hand was just there, for support and consolation.

"I will remember you."

His words of affirmation sets your heart at ease. You finally understand how they would all say, that the true pain does not lie within the process of dying, but in truth lies within the witnessing of those who love and care for you, break down. After climbing out of your state of denial at your own death, you have come to terms with that fact and wish for nothing more than to end the whole suffering. It lurches at your heart seeing a guy like Taehyung who you were not even that close to, crying like he had just lost a precious belonging. Like the world had just lost a precious belonging. You hoped that people remember you. For all your hard work in this world, for all the full marks you attained, for all the certifications you achieved, for all the smiles you have bring and the band aids you have placed on others. You hope that when people think of you, it is nothing but filled with goodness. There were, no regrets to say the least.

Your body may not be in its best condition, but the accident pulled your death off pretty well. It left you with no second thoughts, no last words, just a brutal blow to your side and head. It killed you with perfection, leaving no hesitation and last words—just met with the end in a solid second. You're suddenly worried Taehyung gets into trouble again.

"If anything, I'll protect you alright?"

Taehyung chuckles unbelievably through sniffs.

"We'll meet again.”

Your final words splinters apart, the bottom half of your body already beginning to dissipate. You gradually dissolve into the thin air—the cold mist and you becoming one— and the skies clear up in no rush. The carnation drops to the wooden floor with a thud.

I will remember you.

It was a chilly night, an expected downpour to attack in about an hour. His curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind, flowing about violently. "The body of the missing school girl has been recovered after a hiker going for his morning exercise smells rotten flesh in the woods. The police suspect that the girl may have jumped off a cliff from above as an attempt of suicide." Taehyung shifts his attention back to the mac and cheese turning cold on his lap. At one point, the winds were so rough that the vase sitting on the top of his dresser wobbles in jeopardy before another ferocious blow arrives through his window and topples the glass over, onto the ground. Shattered into fragments. Water spills out and the pink carnation flows along on the liquid like a dead body in a river. He internally groans at the mess he has to clean up afterwards, but it is only for a short moment before his attention is snatched by the voice of news anchor on television once again. "However, the forensics department has confirmed with the backing of further detailed analysis of the crime scene, that there were skid marks indicated on the road at the edge of the cliff accompanied by scraps of car paint evident on the victim's clothes." The carnation on the ground blackens, curls up into a crushed stalk of wither.

169 notes · View notes