#Dew in the library... sitting and reading quietly?
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Some silly little thoughts and headcanons on Dew working in the abbey’s library... because I had ideas. Below the cut because this got longer than I expected.
-Dew started volunteering in the abbey’s library by request of Omega, who had seen a lack of direction and so-called “worldly understanding” in the younger ghoul, and wanted to use it as an opportunity to get him into the swing of things and to help him adapt to being around/working with humans.
However, another reason Omega set him up in the library in particular was because, well... he didn’t know if Dew could read.
It wasn’t a malicious decision mind you, but Omega had gotten more than a little concerned seeing how often Dew got others to fill out his paperwork or just ordered the same thing as someone else at a restaurant when the menu didn’t have pictures, and asking him was getting him nowhere, so he was hoping placing him in an environment like the library would get him to open up a little about what was going on.
It took about a week and a half for Dew to breakdown and admit that he didn’t know what he was doing or where things were supposed to go, but not for the reason Omega had expected; It hurt his eyes.
It hurt his eyes.
Dew was stuck in a constant, blurry torment since he was summoned, used to having the distortion of wind or water around him, he could easily play off any vision problems as a result of his environment.
On the surface though?
Not so much.
One trip to the eye doctor later, and Dew is much happier, and doing an all-round better job at... still not doing his paperwork.
Yeah, turns out Omega wasn’t wrong in his hypothesis either.
-Thanks to Omega’s decision to stick Dew in the library early on, he has a very strong attachment to the place, which is why none of the siblings or other staff members are worried about a fire ghoul hanging out in there... except maybe for the newer ones, but they learn quickly that Dew would never intentionally destroy any of the books inside... the people however.
Let’s just say Dew is pretty strict on the whole “quiet area” rule.
-Sometimes, when Dew is bored and not in a mood for his usual shenanigans, he’ll sneak into the library to sort out the books in the book return and log/organize the various materials they have, and nobody has caught on that it’s him doing it, because why would he, of all people, do something like that?
He also cleans the children’s reading nook and vacuums the rugs, wipes down the tables and...
Let’s just say it’s really obvious when Dew is stressed about something, because that library is pristine.
-Nine times out of ten, when a new book appears in the library, it’s Dew’s doing. It’s usually a children’s book or some kind of young adult novel, but from time to time it’s a book he thinks would cause confusion/curiosity or because he thinks one of the siblings or his packmates would like to read without him having to give it to them directly.
-Dew keeps extra copies of the books he likes in his room, because he knows if he checks them out from the library, they’re not going back.
-Dew has an extensive knowledge of the church’s history as a result of how much reading he’s done, but is he going to admit that he knows? Fuck no.
If he really has to, he’ll say some random sibling told him or he’ll pose it as a theory, but he prefers to make the others do their own research, and he’s not a nerd so-
Okay, he’s kind of a nerd, but he has an image to protect.
And lastly;
-Dew has secret reading spots all over the abbey, usually, if someone finds a ghoul nest in a weird spot, it’s because Dew decided it would be a nice place to read, and, well, you have to be cozy to do that so...
His favorite place to read is his room though, and that’s why at least one other ghoul knows about this particular hobby of his.
#Lamp rambles#shitghosting#nameless ghouls#dewdrop ghoul#omega ghoul#ghost band#the band ghost#ghost bc#Dew in the library... sitting and reading quietly?#How strange
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Growing Pains
Mountain does his best to welcome Phantom as he transitions to life in the ministry. It’s not easy though. The touched starved newbie is having trouble settling in, afraid to ask for comfort and physical affection.
Characters: Phantom, Mountain
Word Count: 4,110
Rating: General Audiences, SFW
Tags: fluff and a little bit of angst, domestic fluff, cuddles, Phantom is a sleepy little guy
Below the cut or on AO3
“Hmm? Oh hey Bug.” Mountain lowers his book to see Phantom standing in the common room doorway.
The new summon looks around the room nervously. Only when he sees that the room is empty, except for Mountain, does he relax a little. “Hey Mount. Mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all.” Mountain pats the couch cushion next to him invitingly.
“Thanks.” Phantom slips over and perches on the far edge of the couch. He leaves a significant gap between him and Mountain.
The earth ghoul doesn’t mind, just returns to his book and Phantom settles down.
They sit like that for a while. A comfortable silence only broken by the turning of pages. And soft snoring.
Mountain glances over to see Phantom fast asleep. He’s curled into a tight ball, his arms and tail wrapped around his legs, knees pressed to his chest. He lays his head on the armrest.
Mountain just shakes his head and smiles.
This isn't the first time this has happened. Several times before, Phantom has sought out Mountain when he’s on his own. He then generally proceeds to fall right to sleep, curled up in a corner. Sometimes Mountain is in the common room like now. Sometimes he’s out in the green house, sometimes in the library.
Phantom seems to be integrating well. Everybody adores him. He’s sweet, friendly, and energetic. He’s a whiz at guitar and has been advancing fast.
Mountain has noticed another side to him though. Although he masks it well, Phantom gets easily overwhelmed by highly social settings.
He can mesh incredibly well with the rest of the pack. He’s joined in on movie nights, playing video games with Dew and Swiss, baking with Sunny and Aurora. He even let Cumulus paint his nails.
However, as soon as that activity or moment is over, Phantom quickly becomes scarce. The pack usually finds him hours later, napping in some quiet nook or cranny.
As a result, Mountain is happy that Phantom feels comfortable around him. He never asks or pushes. Just provides a quiet presence that seems to make Phantom feel at ease.
Mountain does his best to wait until Phantom wakes again, not wanting to leave him to wake up on his own. Sometimes he gets pulled away by chores or someone needing something. Fortunately today he’s left alone to read and watch over the sleeping ghoul.
When Phantom finally does stir, he quietly gets up and waves goodbye. Then he wanders off to rejoin the rest of the pack as if he’d been there all day.
Mountain just throws out a soft, “see you later”, as Phantom slips out the door.
-----
A few days later, Mountain is laying out on the lawn. It’s a gorgeous spring day; slightly chilly still in the shade, but delightfully warm in the sun spots.
He’d flopped down onto the soft grass after tending to his plants in the green house. Before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep. He wakes sometime later to feel someone nestled up beside him.
Mountain raises his head from the grass to see a fluffy mop of black hair, intersected by a white stripe, pillowed in the crook of his arm. Phantom sleeps blissfully, eyes closed and a slight smile on his lips. Mountain doesn’t remember Phantom coming over and figures the young ghoul must have shown up after he’d fallen asleep.
Mountain can’t resist the urge to reach over with his free hand and gently brush Phantom’s hair out of his face. He swears the quint leans into his hand, though he doesn’t open his eyes. Encouraged, Mountain begins to run his claws down Phantom’s scalp, lightly scratching back and forth. This time, Phantom’s movement is unmistakable as he rolls over slightly.
Mountain curses, figuring he’s about to wake up. Instead, Phantom only scooches in closer, pressing into his side. Mountain sighs in relief and continues combing through Phantom’s hair.
They stay curled up like that for a while. It was late afternoon when Mountain first laid down; it’s got to be early evening by this point. The sun hovers on the far western side of the sky, painting the heavens pink and orange.
As much as Mountain hates to risk disturbing the sleeping quintessence ghoul, he doesn’t want to sleep out here all night. Nor does he intend to leave Phantom out here to wake up alone.
As gently as possible, Mountain eases out from underneath Phantom, and sits up. He admires the sleeping ghoul. Although he normally sleeps balled up, now he’s stretched out in an effort to make as much physical contact with Mountain as possible.
Phantom whimpers softly at the loss of warmth and begins to knead the air like he's looking for the earth ghoul even in his sleep. Mountain redoubles his efforts to bring Phantom inside with him. He slides his palms under Phantom’s back and legs and carefully scoops him up into his arms. When he stands, the sleeping ghoul doesn’t stir. Only nestles his face into Mountain’s chest.
Mountain carries Phantom all the way up the hill and into the Ministry. He awkwardly leans down to grasp the door handle and pull it open, then catches the door with his foot. Once he successfully maneuvers inside, sideways so as to not bump the doorframe, he makes his way to the ghoul wing.
The common room is empty so Mountain settles Phantom down on the couch in his favorite spot, before sitting down next to him. He resumes petting Phantom's head until the young ghoul finally begins to wake on his own.
His violet and milky white eyes blink open and then squint in confusion as he looks around him.
“Have a good nap?” Mountain asks kindly. “I didn’t think you wanted to sleep outside all night so I brought you inside. I hope that’s okay.”
Phantom ducks his head in embarrassment but says sincerely, “Yeah. Thanks Mount. What time is it?”
“About seven-forty.”
“Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet. If you’re hungry we can go ahead and head over. There should still be some food left.”
“Okay.”
The pair head over to the kitchens, Phantom pressed up to Mountain’s side the whole way. Only once they enter do they separate.
After grabbing food, they meet up with the rest of the pack and eat together. Mountain watches Phantom all the while. Phantom integrates as well as he always does. Laughing and smiling, joining in on telling stories and light rough housing. Underneath it all though, Phantom’s fatigue is just barely masked.
After they’ve all eaten, Aether proposes a movie night. Mountain barely catches Phantom’s frown before his amicable smile slips back into place and he adds his own movie suggestions to the fray. Everyone crowds into the common room and starts to settle in. Before things can get started however, Mountain excuses himself.
“Sorry guys. I’m really wiped tonight. I’ll catch the next one.”
The others tease gently about Mountain’s early bedtime but otherwise bid him goodnight.
Before stepping out into the hall, Mountain catches Phantom’s gaze.
The ghoul is nestled in one of the arm chairs, a smile on his face but the lashing of his tail betraying his discomfort.
Mountain tips his head towards the hall before raising his brow.
Phantom nods pleadingly.
Mountain smiles, makes a beckoning motion, and then heads to his room. Making sure to prop the door open, he settles down on his bed. He doesn’t have to wait long before Phantom pokes his black and white striped mane in.
“Is it okay if I sleep in here with you tonight.” He asks, as if Mountain hadn’t already offered to let him do just that.
“Of course Bug. My door’s always open.”
“Okay.” He chirps, hopping up on the bed and making himself comfortable. Rather than curl into a ball at the far side of the bed, Phantom snuggles up right against Mountain.
Mountain chuffs. “Well aren’t you a cuddle bug.” He pulls his blankets up over them both before wrapping his arms around the quintessence ghoul. “Comfy? Warm enough?”
“Yeah.” Phantom sighs happily.
“Lamp on or off?”
“On if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. Night Mount.”
“Sweet dreams Bug.”
-----
When Mountain wakes in the morning, he’s surprised to see Phantom already awake. Sometime in the night, Phantom had snuggled even closer, resting his head on Mountain’s chest.
“Good morning.” Mountain says between yawns. “Sleep well?”
Phantom looks up and hums lazily. “Yeah.”
Mountain nuzzles his forehead. “Good.” He’d be perfectly content to lay here all morning, letting Phantom use him as a pillow, but somewhere across the abbey, bells begin to chime. Mountain humphs quietly at the reminder that they really should be getting up for Mass.
It’s Phantom who disentangles himself first. “I guess we should get going.”
Mountain reluctantly nods his head. “Right behind you.”
The two separate, Phantom running to his own room to change into his uniform. When Mountain sees him again in the chapel, Phantom is back to mingling with the others exuberantly.
Mountain watches Phantom from afar all day. He expects the quintessence ghoul to need to retreat to nap at some point and he wants to be ready to provide that comforting space.
Instead, Phantom seems even more lively than usual. He’s already spritely and energetic most days. However today, Mountain realizes; Phantom lacks the underlying fatigue that normally tempers his energy. He seems so at home, laughing and chatting with everyone.
Mountain is glad to see it, happy that his pack mate is feeling rested and not hindered by exhaustion. Mountain is sure he hasn’t seen Phantom this cheery in all of his short time at the abbey.
That night, when the ghouls gather for game night in the common room, Phantom still is going strong. He’s playing a lively game monopoly with Dew, Rain and Swiss. The ghoulettes are doing a puzzle and Mountain is playing Uno with Aether.
Mountain means at some point to ask the young ghoul if he wants to sleep with him again tonight, but he gets distracted when Rain plants himself in his lap.
“Hey Rainy? What's up?” Mountain looks down from his hand of Uno cards to the ghoul in his lap.
“I went bankrupt.” He pouts before turning to Aether. “Things aren’t going well for Dew. The board is gonna get flipped soon.”
Aether chuffs. “Haha okay.”
Mountain and Aether resume their game and manage to get a few more turns in before shouting and laughing come from the corner of the room. Sure enough, the game board, little houses, cards, and player tokens go flying, and a grumpy fire ghoul comes stomping over.
“C’mere Firefly.” Aether waves, tossing down his cards. Sorry Mount. Guess I’m done for now.
“It’s fine.” Mountain smiles, dropping his own cards. “Now I can do this.” He lowers his hands around Rain’s waist and proceeds to tickle him.
“Hey! Stop it-haha!”
“That’s what you get for sticking your tail up my shirt, you little shit.” Mountain laughs. Before the game had been interrupted, Rain had been teasing Mountain with his tail, sneaking the spade under the hem of his shirt and running over his chest.
Distracted by the impromptu wrestling match with Rain, Mountain misses as Phantom slips by and disappears down the hall.
-----
Mountain ends up spending the night with Rain; their tickle fight turning less than innocent, before they both fall to sleep exhausted. Only at breakfast the next morning does Mountain realize he forgot to check on the young quintessence ghoul. He winces as he sees Phantom.
He’s seated at the ghoul’s kitchen table. He’s making conversation and laughing, but his fatigue is back. His posture is slouched and he has the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. He keeps having to fight to stifle yawns. When he notices Mountain’s eyes on him, he waves cheerfully but Mountain can’t help but feel bad.
Mountain sits across from him, the seats either side of Phantom occupied by Swiss and Aether. Rain settles in next to Mountain, leaning into his side. When Mountain doesn’t reciprocate with an arm around him or a purr, Rain looks up and paws at the earth ghoul’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” He mouths.
“Bug.” Mountain whispers back.
Rain glances over at the quintessence ghoul then back to Mountain with a concerned expression.
“Is he sick? He doesn’t look well.”
Mountain considers how to explain the pattern he’s noticed with Phantom’s napping habits when he’s interrupted by Cumulus announcing that the pancakes are ready. He has to wait until after breakfast before he’s able to pull Rain aside in the hallway.
“So what’s wrong with Ant?” Rain asked worriedly. Over breakfast, he’d picked up on the fatigue plaguing the quint ghoul.
“I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep.” Mountain explains. “You know how he’s constantly napping?”
Rain nods. “Yeah, I found him asleep in the practice room storage closet once. He said he was looking for spare guitar strings but then he didn’t come back for like half an hour. I found him curled up in the back corner, out cold.”
“He’s always falling asleep during the day, and in the oddest places. Whenever we go looking for him, he’s never in his room.” That was indeed the case. After about the first week of Phantom’s time at the abbey, everyone gave up checking his room when looking for him. He was simply never there during the day.
“Do you think he’s not adjusting alright? He hasn’t said anything but he’s shy and pretty new so he might not feel able to speak up for himself”
Mountain hums thoughtfully. “I think you’re onto something.”
“So what do we do?”
“We help him whatever way we can. I’m going to go check on him and see if I can get him to open up and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay. I’ll let the other’s know and see if they’ve noticed anything. I think I saw Ant slip away after breakfast so you might have your work cut out for you finding him.”
“Alright. I’d better get started then.”
The two ghouls split, going about their respective tasks. Mountain can hear Rain heading into the common room and talking to the others. The earth ghoul heads away from the noise and begins to sweep every quiet nook and cranny of the ghoul wing. When he doesn’t find the quint, Mountain widens the search radius to the rest of the abbey buildings and finally the outer grounds. It takes the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, but he eventually finds him. Phantom has wedged himself under a work table in the green house.
The ghoul is sitting in his normal sleeping position, knees pressed to his chest and arms and tail wrapped around himself. Mountain expects to find him asleep but instead he’s wide awake. And crying. His bunched up frame shakes as he sobs.
“Oh Bug.” Mountain coos. “What’s wrong?”
Phantom startles, his head jolting up before cracking into the underside of the table. Whimpers of pain add to his sobs as he scrunches up tighter, rubbing his head.
“Satanas.” Mountain grumbles at causing the ghoul more pain, even if it was accidental. He sinks down to his knees so he’s level with the crying ghoul and tries again. “I’m sorry I startled you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Phantom slowly raises his head. His eyes are red from crying and his cheeks tear stained. Without a word, he shuffles out from under the table and presses himself up against Mountain’s side.
“Hey love.” He purrs. “Need a hug?” Mountain has barely opened his arms before Phantom is crawling into his lap. He presses his face into the earth ghoul’s chest.
“It’s okay, Bug. Let it out.” Mountain rubs his back and scratches gently at his scalp. “I’m here.”
Phantom’s sobs slowly begin to ebb. His tense frame relaxes and his breaths become slower and deeper. Mountain looks down and realizes that the young ghoul, worn out from fatigue and crying, is fast asleep.
Like he did a couple nights before, Mountain gently carries Phantom back to the abbey, this time opting to bring him to his room. He settles the sleeping ghoul on his bed and curls in next to him. Once Phantom is settled he sends a text to Rain.
Mountain: Found him. Bug was in the green house. Brought him to my room.
Rain: Okay, on my way over.
Rain knocks a few minutes later.
“Come in.” Mountain calls softly.
Rain enters and carefully shuts the door behind him. “How is he?” He whispers.
Mountain gestures down at the sleeping ghoul in his arms. “Better now I think.”
Rain nods before coming over to the bed. As carefully as possible, he slides under the covers and curls up to spoon Phantom’s back. The two of them hold the quintessence ghoul, as they speak in hushed tones. Mountain tells Rain about how he found Phantom in the greenhouse.
“Poor thing. I checked with the others and yeah. They noticed something was up too but didn’t want to push. He’s always so skittish whenever anyone asks how he’s doing.”
“I don’t want to force the issue either but we need to know what's going on so we can help.”
“Yeah. Let’s let him rest for now though. He needs it.”
“Okay.” Mountain agrees. Soon though, they would be getting to the bottom of this.
-----
When Phantom wakes up, he seems slightly surprised to see that Rain is also present. He doesn’t say anything though. Just shyly thanks Mountain for coming to check on him, assures them both that he’s fine, just tired, and he disappears out the door. Mountain and Rain let him leave but they watch him closely for the rest of the evening. The rest of the pack does as well, clued in.
Phantom is smiling and laughing like usual. However, his underlying fatigue is so undeniably present that everyone wonders why they didn’t notice or say something sooner. In response, they all try their best to be gentle with him. All pet names and gentle touches. Just trying to help him even if they don’t know how.
Mountain is finally the one to bridge the uncomfortable subject when Phantom curls into bed with him that night.
“Hey Bug. Are you adjusting to life topside alright?”
Phantom blinks at the question no one had yet to ask. He goes to wave it off. Say he’s fine and doing great. But the look in Mountain’s face; full of care, and love, and concern. He can’t lie to him.
“I-I…I don’t know.” He says quietly. He can’t make eye contact, staring at the rumpled sheets instead.
“It’s okay if not. There’s nothing wrong if-”
“I can’t sleep.” Phantom interrupts suddenly. His eyes go wide as he does but he can’t stop.
The dam breaks.
“I can’t…I can’t fucking sleep!” He sobs, tears welling up. “I have these nightmares. And I hate being alone but I also can’t find the energy to keep up with everyone. I-I…why me? Why did they summon me? Sooner or later they're going to realize I’m not good enough and-and…I don’t want to go back.” He gasps and hiccups, tears falling freely now. “I don’t want to go back. I…I…please?” He grips fistfuls of the sheets as if they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Oh Bug.” Mountain’s heart breaks as he wraps his arms around the little ghoul. “No one is going to send you back there. No one. I won’t let them.” He growls protectively, holding Phantom tighter.
“Bu-but-”
“No one.” Mountain can’t help but snarl, anger building at whatever happened to make Phantom feel this way.
Phantom flinches at the sound and Mountain winces immediately softening his tone to a purr. He begins to rub the quintessence ghoul’s back and brush the tears off his freckled cheeks.
“You’re here because you’re meant to be here. You’re a part of our pack now and that’s not going to change. I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you from the beginning. That’s our failing not yours. But we’re here for you now. Whatever you want or need, we’re here. We all adore you so much because of who you are. No one could ever replace you.”
Phantom sniffles. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Of course Ant.” Both ghouls look up to Rain standing in the doorway. The door is pushed further ajar.
“I’m sorry we didn’t check on you sooner sweetheart.” Swiss files in.
The ghoulettes follow close behind and dog pile Phantom. “We love you so much!” Aurora says as Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunny nod and chirp their agreement.
“And if anyone tries to doubt you, I’ll make them regret it.” Dew promises as he and Aether bring up the rear.
“He will too.” Aether chuckles. “You’re amazing Ant. Not just on stage, which you're spectacular at by the way. But just for being your wonderful self.”
Phantom wants to shrink under the sudden attention. He hates that everyone has to see him like this. Deal with him like this. He must be annoying them. Inconveniencing them. But then, would they be here if they didn’t care? He fights to catch his breath enough to speak.
“T-thanks you guys. I love you too.” And he means it.
Even with the stress of filling Aether’s shoes on stage, sleepless nights, and his whole world getting literally turned on its head. His time with the pack is the most alive he's ever felt. He’s only known them for a few months but he doesn’t know what he’d do without them. To know they feel that same about him. To know they love him just as deeply. It doesn’t make all his insecurities disappear but he can ignore them for a while.
The pack scoops Phantom up, blankets and all, and brings him to the common room. There they all curl up with him at the center, surrounded in warmth and love. That night, he has one of his first truly restful nights of sleep topside.
-----
Waking rested is still a feeling Phantom is getting used to. He loves it though; not spending his days in a half asleep haze, sneaking in naps if and when possible just to function. If anything, he’s become even more rambunctious than anyone thought possible. Nobody minds though; more than happy to see him finally thriving.
Everybody immediately gets to work helping make things more comfortable for him. They start with his room. Phantom admits that the reason he’s so tired and can’t sleep is that he hates his room. It’s too dark, and bare, and lonely. He feels too isolated in there. The immediate fix is for Phantom to room with the other ghouls, swapping rooms every night. It allows everyone to spend quality time with him one at a time and really get to know him without the noise and commotion of everyone all at once.
As he rotates rooms though, Mountain gets to work on making Phantom’s room into a comfortable safe space. Enlisting Copia’s help, as well as his access to the Ministry’s credit card, Mountain organizes a trip to buy furniture and decorations for Phantom. Copia is more than happy to help, similarly ashamed he wasn’t there for Phantom earlier on. He personally escorts and supervises Phantom, Mountain, and Rain in their shopping as well as helping assemble the furniture and decorating.
To Phantom’s delight, in the couple of days it took to convince Phantom to go furniture shopping and then to complete the purchases, Aurora, with the rest of the ghoulettes help, has painted a gorgeous mural over his bedroom ceiling of a starry night sky, complete with glow in the dark paint for the stars. He can’t stop thanking her for several days afterwards.
With new furniture and decorations, Phantom has to agree he feels much more at home. He appreciates though, that each ghoul takes turns rooming with him now to help break in the new space. The scent of all his packmates in the room is comforting and makes him feel less alone. With time, he’s able to see his room as a quiet sanctuary from the noise and chaos of the Ministry.
He’s also gained enough confidence to ask for comfort when he wants or needs it. His favorite place to sleep is still the common room in a ghoul cuddle pile, but his room no longer feels so lonely. It takes time, but he finally feels at home.
#the band ghost#ghost fanfiction#phantom ghoul#mountain ghoul#fluff and angst#domestic fluff#ghoul cuddles#nameless ghouls#cuddles#tooth rotting fluff#lys writes
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What if Dew has panic attacks and Phantom is trying to comfort him, but it's not quite working bc Aether would always comfort him and Phantom comforting him just isn't the same as the comfort Aeth brought him
Oh my poor beloved dew …
Dew doesn’t know what triggered it
Maybe it was hearing Swiss read out the old spells to phantom, like aether used to do when he sat in the library with him. Maybe it was the particular smell of smoke and spice that quintessence gave off when used. Maybe it was the fact that today was Thursday and every Thursday aether would watch a movie with him, it was their tradition, it was their time to be alone together. A constant in their lives.
Whatever it was had him freeze as he walked into the living room. The sight of Swiss and phantom playing around with the spells more than he could bear at the time.
“Dewdrop?”
He doesn’t know how long he had been standing there. Obviously long enough to attract attention to himself. His mouth felt dry.
“Dew? What’s up?”
It felt like concrete was holding his jaw shut, unable to just tell Swiss he’s ok. His breaths felt like they didn’t hold any oxygen, his vision felt fake. He thinks he’s shaking but he can’t quite tell. Finally he gains enough feeling to retreat back to his room. Tears prick at his eyes, and he simply prays those two don’t follow him. Prays no one sees him like this.
The prayers fall on deaf ears
He shuts the door quietly and just sits on his bed. Fists grasping and letting go of the fabric below him. Some kind of sensory to make the feeling go away. Desperate fists of his comforter don’t make the tears fall any less and he’s so desperate he can almost feel his nails go through it.
“Dew are you ok?”
It’s Swiss again. He knows he’s just worried but dews embarrassed, grieving, he just wants to be alone.
“I’m coming in”
He knew he would. Again he knows he’s just worried but when phantom trails in behind him he considers straight up screaming at him. He doesn’t know why. It’s not his fault. But the sight of him in his room, seeing him like this, makes him want to kill. He knows his face has shifted by the way swiss tries to reassure him.
“He’s going to help”
Help? How is he going to help? He can’t even stand the sight of the new ghoul let alone have him try and calm him down.
“I don’t want his help” dew finally replies. He cringes at how his voice cracks, more than clear that he had been crying.
“He has a spell he can do. It’s the one aether used to do on you. I know he can do it let him try, he will make you feel better”
Oh dews blood boils.
Of course it’s the one *aether used to do on him*, Swiss doesn’t understand.
“Get it out of my room”
“Dew what?”
“Both of you get the fuck out of my room” dew tries his best not to straight up yell. His voice continues to shake, tears stream down his face as he says it. He feels petulant but he doesn’t care he just want them to stop staring at him like a zoo animal.
“We just want to help”
Dew prays one day Swiss will learn when to shut up.
“Help? Or teach your new student a fucking lesson? Because I’m having a hard time understanding why you’re acting like you care if you’re just using my grief as some fucking teaching moment for him. Why is it about him?”
Dew is bordering on sobbing. They don’t get it and they’re staring at him like he’s dangerous and about to pounce, the way Swiss instinctively moves in front of phantom is heart breaking. He’s not dangerous. Why does Swiss care so fucking much about him?
“Dew calm down, can I do the spell? It won’t be as powerful but I-“
“It’s not about the fucking spell you idiot aether didn’t ever do a fucking spell”
Dew is yelling now
“It’s because it was aether”
#the band ghost#ghost#fanfic#nameless ghouls#ghost bc#wrath writes#swiss ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#phantom ghoul#aeon ghoul
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I. You, Me and Literacy
AU: Reader meets Gale Dekarios at the Blackstaff Academy.
This is my first fanfic in a long long time but I couldn’t get it out of my head.I named the character Andromedas (after my tav) but if you guys prefer for it to be y/n let me know. I hope you like it 💜
Standing in the halls of the Blackstaff Academy was mind-bending. The word exciting couldn’t come close to the tight feeling in your chest. You wanted to leap and squeal, but alas, you weren’t the only student in the hall.
Busy students buzzed up and down on their way to the second class of the day. It was your first time in Blackstaff after waiting for years to be admitted. You stood in the middle of the marbled-floor hall, honored to embark on a new learning adventure.
“Delightful? … Galvanized… Thrilling perhaps?” You stood quietly, talking to yourself.
The air smelled like wet grass, and the smoke coming out of the Alchemy class room filled the wind with herbal notes. The tall, dark pillars that held the arched paver sand ceilings with delicate Celtic symbols kept you wondering.
"Rousing... mhmm" you hum until you feel someone’s presence beside you.
“Definitely rousing, the architectural structure is not only built to last but to protect itself. They have been enchanted with the most powerful magic, and we are just standing so casually under it! Did you know the Elminsters symbol can be seen here only when the sun hits the pillars at midday? Its just fan-" clearing your throat, you bring back the attention of this new-found stranger.
“Yes, I know. I must correct you. Elminster’s symbol doesn’t show up here since he wasn’t dedicated just to the study of alchemy. Instead, his symbol representing resilience shows up in the hall of ancient Arcane history and in the small windows of the infirmary." You reply with the pride of an honor roll student.
To your surprise, he doesn’t seem bothered that you have corrected him, as most scholars would. Instead, he looks at you with a recognizing smile and holds out his hand.
"My name is Gale Dekarios from Waterdeep. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
You take his hand and shake it with a firm grasp. His hand was a bit slippery, but you didn’t think much about it.
“My name is Andromedas of Waterdeep as well." You let out a small laugh and stare back at his brown eyes; they reflect the rays of the morning sun artistically.
The sound of the bell tower takes you both by surprise and even makes Gale jump a little. Both of you nod and part ways, ending the interaction coldly.
You fix your hair on your way to the Arts of Alchemy, and a slight smell of incense hits the tip of your nose.
Gale…
You shake the thought away and concentrate on your professor. Every now and then, your mind drifts back to Gales beaming face and the golden morning dew that seemed so fitting to his character. The class was a basic introduction to the history of alchemy, which you had read extensively about. After all, you planned on becoming a sorcerer with a concentration in alchemical brews and enchantments. There was no harm in letting this handsome man occupy a space in your mind for now.
The next class was on the other side of the alchemy wing. Literacy was a course that included reading, writing, and the protection of literature. You hadn’t much experience with the subject, but nothing stopped you from being eager to learn.
Class wouldn't start for another 10–20 minutes; you hoped to be the first one there to get to know your professor. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Arriving at the classroom just a few doors away from the Blackstaff library, you see just one other person sitting down. Its just you, standing in the doorframe, and Gale, somehow reading two books simultaneously.
"Hello.” You managed to snap him out of his trance again. He answers:
“Ah Andromedas! I wondered when I'd bump into you again.” You wondered the same thing but didn’t respond.
With a surge of courage, you sit down beside him. The two-person desk seemed wider, but upon sitting down, you were unusually close. Considering Gale is a stranger to you, you shift your chair a bit further away. He notices his books are taking up all the space and starts to retrieve them. You catch a glimpse; the old pages seemed well cared for. One of the books had the symbol of the goddess Mystra, and it clicked. The fading smell of incense Gale left on your hand is Bergamot, used commonly by worshippers of Mystra.
“Are you a follower of Mystra?” The question came out a bit rude, unintentionally. Your curiosity was quicker than your decorum.
"Yes,” he says while setting the books safely in a leather messenger bag. His cursive initials were marked with warmth: 'G.D.'
"I'm sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude. I was asking because you smell of Bergamot, and I noticed the symbol on your book.” You blush from having to apologize.
“No need to apologize! Mystra is my goddess and the goddess of magic itself. I cannot deny her greatness. and how greatly she has blessed me.” If he had the chance, he would rant about his goddess until you fell unconscious. But more students walked into class, and the topic seemed too personal to share with the rest of the room.
Ignoring the awkwardness of the moment, you both fix yourselves from the relaxed posture into an attentive one. The professor begins to introduce himself and explain the terms of the class. The room is silent except for the sounds of scribbles and the ambiance from the wind playing through the columns outside.
“In the following weeks, you will be working closely with your desk partners. I exhort you to read the scrolls on magic resistance and books that touch on basic literacy protection. See you all in the next class."
The bustling from your classmates filled the room. After returning your writing pad and magic quill, you look to your side—empty.
Gale must’ve been quick to leave, which made you a bit sad. He seemed like an esteemed academic, and you looked forward to working with him, but maybe he didn't feel the same way. Walking down the hall to the library, you pondered about your deskmate.
“Maybe I was too rude... Why did I ask if he worships Mystra? He has an earring for god's sake!" You grunt in silent frustration and decide to go home.
Lost in thought, you didn’t notice Gale waiting for you at the entrance of the library. He thought of calling out for you, but you seemed heated with your own reasons.
He frowned and walked inside the library, a bit worried he might be the cause of your discomfort but still focused on his task.
“Surely I won't make a fool of myself next time."
You grumble on your way home, condemning yourself over your convictions.
#No regrats#please lmk if u like it#i did a thing#gale dinner#bg3 tav#bg3#gale of waterdeep#gale x reader#gale x tav#gale x oc#gale fanfic#gale dekarios
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To Call You Mine
college!tsuki x reader series
Ch. 1 - study buddies
warning(s): swearing, early early mornings 😵💫, second hand embarrassment LOL
a/n: ahhhhh!! Here’s chapter one of my first series!! I have the masterlist and details linked above but for some quick info: this is a college!au multi chapter fic about tsuki and the reader :) if you’d like to be added to the taglist let me know!! And as always I really appreciate your thoughts and comments n all that :) my inbox is always open!!! Enjoy <3 psps - don’t forget to check out the playlist linked above hhehehe
You’re not sure what woke you first; your alarm, the pain shooting up your back from the stiff cot your university has the audacity to refer to as a “bed”, or your own sour attitude from having to be up so early.
Five am. Five am. It takes a certain kind of sick and twisted individual to suggest meeting up to study at five in the morning. Although, you have to admit, it does take a different kind of person to actually agree to those terms.
Why, why, why, why, why.
Is the mantra you chant to yourself while you mindlessly dress and pack your bag, not even bothering to snatch a power bar from your nightstand for breakfast. Water will have to do.
You make an effort to click the door shut behind you quietly, not wanting to wake up your more than sweet dorm mate who’d surely be focusing on being just as careful as you were right now.
“Oh my gosh, don’t you have that study date in the morning sweetie? You should be sleeping right now.” Bonnie, said dorm mate, leans over the back of your desk chair to peer down at the page of your calculus ll textbook you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. Concern is evident in her voice and her body language as she brings up a hand to gingerly rub your shoulder, hoping her small sideways smile will give you a sense of comfort. Or maybe even convince you to give it, and yourself, a rest.
“I know, I know. I just want to be prepared is all. I’m already dropping past a C at the speed of light and I’m sure my professor thinks I’m an idiot, hence him actually setting me up with a tutor, and I don’t need this guy to think I’m one too.” Your head falls in your hands at the end of your sentence, a dramatic groan feeling needed to really emphasize your point, too.
“Okay, just head to bed soon.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head before crawling into her own bed, using a storage container to prop herself onto it properly. She almost made you homesick with the way she doted on you like she was your mother.
You looked over and tapped the screen of your phone to see it read 9:14, not too late. You could reasonably cram in one more lesson.
You scoffed at yourself with the door fully shut and locked. You should’ve listened to Bonnie when you had the chance, it was just past midnight when you finally tore yourself away from last weeks review and decided to get ready for bed. Barely even four hours later and you’re up and getting ready to look at it all again.
You could at least appreciate how quiet the dorm hall was this ea-
“Mornin’, you!”
You internally banged your head against the wall at the bright voice that came towards you with such heavy and loud footsteps, how can someone’s footsteps manage to be so loud on carpet?
You substituted a hello with a gentle smile and wave as your R.A., who definitely didn’t remember your name - which is fine cause you didn’t remember theirs either, rushed past you.
Sighing deeply, you left the warm confines of the dorm building and stepped into the cold and brisk morning, starting your trek to the library.
He couldn’t have even chose a coffee place or something?
You had some, thoughts, about this guy. You didn’t know much about him, only two things.
One, his name: Tsukishima Kei.
Two, he was a good enough student to be assigned to you as a tutor.
You swallowed your slight embarrassment at the thought of your professor reaching out to someone on your behalf and instead chose to focus more on how weird this guy has to be.
Waking up before the sun rises on a Sunday was not something you looked forward to, you don’t think anybody would truly; especially to meet someone for the first time; yet this guy thinks it’s a great idea. So much so he didn’t even think to ask first, just tell you when and where to meet.
Thursday 4:14 pm
- ‘It’s Tsukishima. See you at 5 in the library this sunday.’
- ‘Oh hi!! Oh ok, am or pm?? lol’
Thursday 7:43 pm
- ‘am.’
- ‘Ok cool, see ya then!’
And that was it. Neither of you have texted since, which was three days ago on a Thursday afternoon. It kind of bothered you really, I mean, what kind of self righteous ass-
You took a deep breath and chose to think happy thoughts instead. You’d much rather be in a somewhat pleasant mood when you meet this guy than have some grudge against a stranger. And he probably talks different than he texts, right? You’re sure he didn’t mean to sound like a complete jerk.
You shook your head as if you were shaking away your thoughts as you started to walk along the path to the library. It was a fairly nice walk, about five minutes, and being alone was kind of peaceful on the way there this early.
Your feet shuffled only slightly on the cold concrete surprisingly enough considering the way your fatigue was starting to creep into your joints - but surely the cold wasn’t helping.
It was that kind of morning cold that stung your nostrils when you breathed in and tickled your cheeks and ears. It made your hands clench and unclench in your coat pockets, debating whether or not it’d be worth it to pull the cold metal of your jacket zipper just a centimeter higher in hopes of keeping your neck warmer. The morning fog leaving droplets on the synthetic material of your coat, making it squeak awfully when you moved your arms. And there was the dew on the grass that’d cling onto the tops of your shoe when you had to walk through it.
But the way the old fashioned light posts lit your walk and illuminated the fog kind of made your slight discomfort worth it. And by the time you reached the tall brick library, you could almost say you were in a pleasant mood, almost. And then you remembered why you were here.
You took one final deep breath as you reached the heavy doors of the university library. It was a grand sight really.
The building had its own separate spot on campus, towering at about four stories high, which although didn’t sound ginormous, it definitely felt that way when you had to climb those stairs to the top floor for a book you really didn’t even want. The brick with the foliage creeping up the sides to cover some of the lower windows even gave it an almost magic feeling when you took it in from the outside, it’s too bad that sense of wonder couldn’t be mirrored on the inside.
It was too quiet, especially this early, it smelt almost stale, and everything seemed to have a layer of dust no matter how new a book was. And the bathrooms? Old. Most stalls didn’t even have usable locks at this point. It’s arguably all apart of the charm of such an old building, but it’s not as charming when you have to reach out to keep the stall door closed with your fingertips just to use the restroom. And the water from the sink that never seems to get warm enough when you wash your hands doesn’t help either. Yet the water fountains are always too warm curiously enough.
You made little to no noise besides the occasional rustling of your jacket and squeaking of your shoes as they padded across the dingy off-colored carpet towards the back of the first floor.
There were various sizes of tables spread out throughout the space, few actually matching in color or style. The chairs varied less - but you could still find the oddball desk chair, or the chair with the wooden frame just a tad to wide to feel like a normal seat but just as evenly too small to be a bench.
Your heavy eyes surveyed the dimly lit space in hopes of finding any sign of human life when you finally noticed a backpack haphazardly tossed onto a table, still zipped open. Pens were splayed across the table with a single notebook, scribbles scrawled across the pages too far from you to be read. Not seeing anyone occupying the seat pulled away from the tables edge, you took out your phone to take a peek at the time.
4:58 am
Wow, I’m early?
Shoving your phone back into your pocket you began to make your way towards the (un)occupied table, debating whether a seat closer or farther would be more polite.
If I sit too close that’ll definitely be-
“Hey.”
You felt your shoulders hunch up to your ears and a small gasp leave your mouth at the way the voice behind you so suddenly interrupted your train of thought.
You turned around to come face to face with the voice.
“Are you (y/n)?”
Damn. He’s kinda tall.
Kind of was certainly an understatement. God he was definitely above 6 feet, 6’2” maybe? No, maybe even a little taller.
A single earbud was still in his ear as the other hung down and rested against his chest. He took the time to take the other out and wrap the cord gently around his middle and index finger before shoving it into his coat pocket, presumably the same one with his phone, in an effort to prevent them from getting tangled most likely. He took a deep breath and eyed you up and down before chuckling softly to himself.
“Okay.”
The tall man, who you’re now beginning to realize is Tsukishima, gives you a quizzical stare with a quirked eyebrow as he looks you up and down one last time, definitely judging you and your silence at this point, before turning around and making his way to a table.
Well it’s a good thing he stopped you before you sat at some other strangers table. You don’t think your heart could’ve taken that today.
You watched his back as he made his way towards a table farther into the back, closer to a window peering out onto the foggy and barely illuminated field.
Oh shit
“Oh, sorry!” You clear your throat and begin again, your own sudden volume startling yourself for a moment, as you double your pace to catch up and walk beside him towards a table,
“Um, yeah. Sorry, it’s a little early, brain hasn’t woke all the way up.”
Silence.
At the lack of a response, you decide to awkwardly laugh rather than wallow at the fact he didn’t even give a pity chuckle at your bad attempt at a polite joke to ease the seemingly tense vibe between the two of you.
Okay, well he definitely seems to talk the way he texts.
Clearing your throat again, you tried once more.
“I’m (y/n) by the way, it’s nice to m-“
“I know your name.” He stopped at the table and turned to glance down at you over his shoulder, the tiniest of smirks resting on his face with raised eyebrows, before pulling out a seat to sit in.
Yeah, maybe being quiet for a bit would do you some good. You’ll try again later.
Still trying to shake the embarrassment, no humiliation at this point, you busied yourself with taking out all the proper materials and waiting while he did the same. Sitting patiently opposite of Tsukishima, you decided to finally get a good look at him. Take in what you see and make some judgements.
He shook off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, showing you his wide shoulders underneath the simple grey t-shirt he wore. You didn’t fail to notice how the sleeves were cuffed, either.
Hm. Nice look.
Points for Tsukishima.
His hands and ears were slightly pink from the weather outside, contrastingly sweet against the paleness of his skin.
Kinda cute, in like a Keebler elf kind of way.
More points, you guess, for Tsukishima.
He sighed as he opened up the calculus ll textbook, adjusting his glasses with long and slender fingers before flipping through the pages. You decided it’d be best to do the same.
It was quiet for a moment too long when you thought it might be a good idea to try and speak again, but apparently he must’ve had the same idea.
“So, why d-“
“Thanks for-“
Cutting each other off, you pursed your lips as he gave you some emotionless stare, one of you waiting for the other to start back up again.
Andddd, another awkward beat of silence.
Jesus, this was gonna be the longest hour of your life.
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AHHHHH HERES CHAPTER ONE - I promise the next one will be full of tsuki and tsuki content ok, I just had to get the ball rolling and really wanted to post smth!! I hope you guys like and please please leave your thoughts or anything in my ask box or anywhere!! I’d love to talk :D MWAH I also have little footnotes in my tags too :) (more like commentary but yeah)
taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know! And if ur crossed off tagging didn’t work!)
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader#hq <3#tsukishima headcanons#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima hcs#tsukishima imagine#hq tsukishima#haikyuu tsukishima#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x you#tsukishima drabbles#tsukishima fanfiction#STOP NO CAUSE WHY AM I SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS AHHHH#no cause I’m about to fall in love with y/n’s roommate are u joking like… hold on now#AND I REFUSE TO GIVE TSUKI THOSE MUSTY HEADPHONES OM#EARBUDS WILL DO JUST FINE YALL.#and yams most definitely made him cuff those sleeves smh 🙄
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I really liked the Papa III x F! S/o where the s/o was a typical shy and cute introvert, but this huge dork with those closer to her. Would it be alright if I requested the same with our dear Papa Copia (god I’m so happy to call him papa now :) )
Of course, nonny! Let’s get some sweet Papa IV up in here.
(Reference Prompt here. 😊)
Copia notices you because of your quiet nature. There are lots of Siblings that are vying for his attention and favors…and then there you are: sitting quietly during mass and reading the hymn book.
(He doesn’t have to know that you’ve been reading the same page the whole time while you admire him from out of the corner of your eyes.)
Every time he looks out, all he sees is your quiet dignity, and it speaks to him on such a personal level. While he’s grown to enjoy and embrace the showmanship of the Ghost project, he’s not a natural extrovert. So, when he sees you existing in your subdued state, he can’t help but yearn to be right there with you.
He sees you reading your book in the quad on a nice day, and he immediately pictures himself with his head in your lap as you read to him. When he spies you daydreaming in the library, he imagines what it would be like to play footsie with you under the table. As he comes across you sweeping the halls with your headphones on, he pictures giving you a homemade mixtape to listen to while you work.
Really, he wants to worm his way into the rich inner life he knows you must have.
He never does anything about it, though—in his mind you’ve been perfectly clear about your indifference to him. And he’d rather not stammer through an invitation that you’re only going to reject.
The mess hall is always a sticking point for Copia. He loves the attention—he does; it amuses him to watch the Siblings fight over who acquires his meal and who gets sits next to him. He’s still a man with an ego, and he likes it to be stroked.
But.
Some days, the whole scene just gives him a headache. On days just after an important sermon, or when he’s just back from tour, or when he’s spent the morning on a stack of paper Imperator has given him, “ASAP now, please, Papa”—it’s simply too much for him to have to be On for his admirers.
On those days, he has his Ghouls create a distraction (and Dew is always more than happy to set a fire) so that he can get in and get out with no one noticing. Then, he tries to find a quiet, out of the way place to eat his food in peace.
And that’s how he encounters you cavorting about with your friends.
You're out on the grounds because it's a fine spring day, and he can't believe that his this reserved, demure Sister is running about and chasing her fellow sister with a worm! You're laughing—not a coy titter, but a full belly laugh after you make a ribald joke about Imperator and a Brother!
Copia gapes.
You have a secret side that only your intimates know about? Well! It’s a circle he desperately wants to be a part of! (Even if he’s contractually not allowed to jest about the Seestor.)
He imagines your laugh ringing out in his quarters as you let his babies crawl all over you (someone who doesn’t mind worms surely wouldn’t mind rats, yes?), and how you'd make him laugh with your uncouth humor. He can almost taste the domesticity.
But…he decides to stay out of sight—he doesn't want to ruin the party (which he’s sadly come to realize that, as Papa, he does quite often just by virtue of his presence)—and that’s when he realizes he actually has a hope.
You’re lying back in the grass, watching the clouds roll by, and you say,
“Hey, that one looks like a rat,” to which your friend responds, “That’s just cuz you have Popia on the brain.”
“I do not!”
“You think he’s gOrGeOUs, you want to KisS him, you want hUG him,” he singsongs.
“Shut it!” you screech as your face flushes and you throw a balled up napkin at him.
He blocks it easily, and you lie back down with a huff.
“Whatever. He doesn’t even know I’m alive.”
Embarrassingly, the conversation shifts to how you’ve done it to yourself and if you’d just look at Copia instead of doing your best impression of a church mouse, that would be a good start.
Your face burns the whole time. I mean, having his intense focus just on you?
You shudder.
Surely you’d combust.
Copia bites his fist.
He could…? Have you??
***
Perhaps any of the other Papas would have been on you like white on rice…but research has always been more Copia’s thing.
Which means he spends the next few weeks slinking about like a bad spy (seriously—he might as well have on Groucho Marx glasses) trying to figure out what all your favs and interests are.
And the Siblings are beginning to talk about it.
“He was behind a column, and I thought he was a statue,” hisses one. “He moved, and it scared the crap out of me!”
“I saw him petting the potted plants in the west corridor like a weirdo,” whispers another. “I hope Primo doesn’t hear about it!”
“I went into the broom closet to get cleaning supplies, and when I pulled the light on, he was just…standing there!” laughs someone else. “I was too surprised to be startled. He just coughed and excused himself!”
The only weird thing to you is that you seem to be the only Sibling who hasn’t witnessed Copia being adorable odd.
You often sit by that pillar to read when it’s chilly outside, and that area in the west corridor is where you sweep. Heaven!—that broom closet is next to the wash station you use! How haven’t you seen him even once?
Dew thinks this is great fun. He’s been suggesting even more ridiculous schemes (that Swiss and he giggle about back in the Ghoul dorms) for Copia to “overhear” you and your party—which Copia is taking down in earnest.
Aether thinks Copia’s being a dumbass and guesses he and the girls will have to fix this mess. Cirrus thinks Copia just needs to learn the hard way (“He’s taking advice from Dew—how does he not know better?!”), but Cumulus agrees. The two of them coral Copia into the practice space where they firmly, but gently, tell him to stop pussyfooting around and just kiss the girl already!
Copia stutters out a series of awkward rat noises before simply nodding.
“I have been procrastinating, eh?”
“You can do it, Boss.”
“Who’s the best Papa!”
Copia straightens his posture. “I am.”
***
You’re staring out the window in the classroom—woolgathering instead of dusting—when you hear a quiet throat clear behind you. You nearly jump out of your skin and hurriedly turn to make your excuses.
What you’re expecting is Sister Imperator on one of her shadow runs—but what you see is a one (1) Papa in his casual blacks (that still seem vacuum-sealed onto him) looking at you with eyes full of mirth.
It’s with great effort that you yank your eyes from his thighs up to his face.
“Oh! Your Dark Excellency, sir! I-I-I…” you stutter before composing yourself. “If you need the room…?”
A smirk turns up one side of his lips as his white eye twinkles at you.
“It is you I wish to be seeing.”
You toss the duster to the side and smooth down your habit.
“M-me?”
“Sí.”
Did you do something wrong??
You worry nervously at the sides of your habit.
“I—” Copia starts, then suddenly looks unsure. He runs his hands over his head, smoothing his thick hair back into place.
He starts again, his speech clipped and formal.
“Would you do me the honor, Sister, of joining me for dinner?”
“I—dinner?” Like a staff dinner? Or...?
Copia blinks at you.
“I am asking you on a date.”
You blink right back.
Just you and him? Alone…
His face turns into lines of apprehension.
“Mi scusi—perhaps I am mistaken.”
He starts to back away, and you finally find your voice.
“Wait!”
When he stops, you gulp and take a deep breath.
“I would like that, Your Dark Excellency.”
A look of relief smooths his worried expression right before he smiles at you.
“Ah…‘Papa’ is fine, Sister.”
He takes his leave of you, closing the door behind him.
You manage to hold yourself together for another moment before you let out a loud whoop and jump up and down (and unbeknownst to you, Copia is standing just outside the door, beaming).
***
Dinner went over smashingly (literally—between the nervous energy of two of you, a plate, a goblet, and a wine bottle all ended up in pieces). Copia was the perfect mix between awkward rat man and smooth Papa, and you felt comfortable enough to engage easily in conversation with him.
You’d been a little trepidatious about after dinner (Copia certainly had not absented himself from the pleasures afforded to a Papa), but the only thing you’d done in his quarters was to meet his rats.
He’d walked you back to your room, then asked if he could kiss you. It was just a press of his lips to yours as he’d cupped your cheek, but it had felt like a promise.
The two of you end up making a perfect couple, actually. Copia, of course, respects your quiet demeanor, but it’s more than that—he understands it. The only time he singles you out is when you need to be his date to a clergy function or Abbey party—and he always gives you forewarnings for those!
On the flipside, you and he have the high capacity to be total dorks. The two of you feed off each other's humor, often being the only two in the room cracking up as you wheeze half-uttered statements at each other while the rest of the gathered looks on with pained expressions.
But neither of you care.
You finally have your Papa, and he’s made all of his imaginings with you a reality.
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a stranger in a strange land
Hollis recognized Indrid Cold like a traveler might recognize another from their home country. Indrid was studying the display of new nonfiction in the Kepler Community Library, arms folded across his chest. He was wearing jeans and a white tank-top.
Hollis moved confidently, black combat boots on gray library carpet. Indrid looked up a moment before they reached his side, and nodded to acknowledge them.
Hollis looked into their own face, reflected in his red sunglasses. Those sunglasses were familiar. They’d met someone, a few years back, when coolness was something they aspired to rather than claimed as easily as the double-black-diamond ski jumps, who wore sunglasses with a third lens in the center of their forehead. Indrid’s were mundane by comparison.
“Hey, I’m Hollis. They/them.”
Indrid waited a beat after they’d finished to start speaking. “Indrid. He/him. Pleasure to meet you.”
“You, uh, new in town?”
“One might say.”
Hollis laughed. “C’mon, man, not exactly a riddle.”
“Yeah, I am new in town.”
“Well, if you wanna meet people. There’s a bar called the Little Dipper. Cool spot.”
Indrid nodded. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
They didn’t see each other again until after the end of the world.
Indrid was sitting on the curb outside of the all-night diner. Mosquitos buzzed around his bare shoulders but did not bite. He’d been walking home along the dark highway, and the blend of neon and fluorescent lights leaking out of the big windows had been irresistible.
He heard the roar of a motorcycle before the headlight appeared around the bend. Someone in a yellow leather jacket and torn-up black jeans. They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and came to a stop right in front of Indrid. He saw his own face - sallow cheeks, round sunglasses - reflected in the opaque visor of their helmet, and wondered idly whether this was how other people felt looking at him.
Hollis pulled off their helmet and ran a hand through their hair, arranging it into their preferred state of dishevelment.
“Hello, Hollis,” said Indrid. Two futures stretched in front of him. Hollis might want to talk, or they might not.
“Long time no see.”
Indrid waited a beat before replying. It was still a conscious effort not to finish people’s sentences for them. “Yeah.”
During the apocalypse, Hollis was always the point of a V of motorcycles, but tonight they were alone.
“Where’s your…” Indrid could say gang, and Hollis would look sharply at him. Indrid could also say friends, and Hollis would laugh and say we’re a gang, old man. “Where are the rest of the Hornets?”
“Keith’s grandparents are in town, so he’s at home.” Hollis shrugged. “I don’t need an escort. You coming in, or what?”
Indrid pushed himself to his feet and followed Hollis into the brightly lit diner. The waitress sat them at a table near the window. The darkness beyond the dim parking lot was complete. It was like Indrid was a passenger on an ocean liner looking out into the Pacific at night, or rather that a bioluminescent sea had nothing on the darkness of thick pines.
Indrid flipped straight to the drinks section of the laminated menu and ordered an iced tea. Hollis seemed to know the waitress, joked with her, and there were a few futures where she flirted back, but it didn’t happen. Hollis asked for bacon and eggs and French toast and Mountain Dew.
They each had a paper napkin wrapped around a fork and knife and secured with a paper band. Hollis unwrapped theirs and laid the fork on the left side of their place setting, the knife on their right. The knife was thick and blunt, barely serrated, the kind of thing that could cut through eggs and pancakes but not anything sturdier without a fight.
Indrid’s compound eyes twitched. There were many possible futures, most of them benign, but in one Hollis gripped that knife white-knuckle hard and lunged across the table.
“Are you upset with me because I’m from Silvaine?” said Indrid quietly.
“What? No..” Hollis edged their hand away from the blunt dinner knife. “Why do you think I’m upset with you?”
“You’re thinking about attacking me.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks. Indrid dumped four sugar packets into his iced tea and stirred, watching the sugar swirl like flakes of snow. The futures shuffled.
Now he saw Hollis slashing at their own wrists, now holding the knife straight-up on the table and bringing their head down, forcing the metal through their own eye. The kind of violence Indrid hadn’t seen since the abominations.
“You can read my mind!?” said Hollis, angry but still speaking quietly enough that the waitress wouldn’t hear.
“No. I can see the future, or rather, all the possible futures, which means I can see what courses of actions you’re considering.”
“Considering is a strong word. I don’t want to do anything to you. It just… occurred to me that I could.”
Indrid sucked on his straw. Sugar crunched between his teeth. Now, teeth, that was something it’d taken him a long time to get used to.
“My therapist calls them intrusive thoughts,” Hollis continued. “I hate it.”
Indrid nodded. “Good to know you don’t want to kill me. It’d take more than a dinner knife, anyway.”
Hollis pressed their hands palm-down on the table, fingers splayed. “Am I going to hurt someone?”
“Well, just because I can see the possibility doesn’t mean it’ll ever become reality. The choice is always yours.”
The waitress came back with Hollis’ food. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” she said to Indrid. “More iced tea?”
“More tea, please,” he said, and passed her his glass, which was now empty except for ice and undissolved sugar.
“So you’re telling me,” said Hollis, loading their fork with egg, “that you can see the future, and you’re still living in Kepler, West Virginia? You could be in a penthouse in Vegas, drinking iced tea out of a crystal wine glass. You could be absolutely drowning in pussy. Or dick. Whatever.”
“I won my Winnebago playing poker.”
“And you didn’t aim higher?”
“Nobody in Kepler will play me anymore.” Now Indrid was getting irritated. Who was Hollis to chastise him for lack of ambition? He'd moved all the way to another planet. He was the red light between the trees, the sound of wingbeats in the summer night, the silhouette on the trembling bridge. “Why are you still here?”
Hollis waved their hand dismissively. “I’ve been to New York, and I think I’m more suited to the big fish in a small pond lifestyle. I’m not interested in not being the best-looking, coolest person in town.”
“I have to exert conscious effort every second of every day not to be unacceptably strange. I can’t take my sunglasses off in public, ever, and my bedroom walls have dents from times they’ve fallen off when I’m asleep. I cannot afford to attract human attention.”
“Have you ever been to a big casino?”
“No.”
“What if you had a spotter? I could go with you, or Keith and I, or whoever you’re comfortable with. You wouldn’t have to do all the talking, and we could split the profits.”
Indrid saw plush carpet and hotel Jacuzzis big enough for his other body, bartenders serving Shirley Temples twenty-four hours a day. “Get me a Hornets jacket and I’m in.”
#taz amnesty#taz hollis#indrid cold#so i wrote this way back in august and i have always wanted to continue it#so if anyone has any enthusiasm for this please let me know
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Outburst- Sirius Black x reader
Prompt: “I'm in love with you! Is that what you wanna hear?”
word count: 1506
A/n: Hihi! This is my first full fic so id love your feedback!, Requests are open as always. Thank u :)
It fucking sucked. Your best friend, Sirius had been ignoring you all week, most days you where practically attached at the hip, inseparable and content. But one day, out of the blue, he started ignoring you, like what the fuck? Being close with the marauders since first year, you tried to ask them what was up with him, but all you received was a chorus of ‘i dunno’s . It was utterly frustrating to be honest, and it honestly hurt. You'd been crushing on him since second year, in love since third. It was hard, keeping the biggest secret from your best friend for the last four years, but you couldn't tell him, tell notorious playboy Sirius Black, that you've been in love with him since he had cheered you up with endless jokes and stories that one night you'd been crying in the hallway all those years go. It was impossible, if you told him you'd loose him, fuck up your friendship and be alone again, but if you didn't tell him, you'd be stuck, crushed under the weight of your love while he goes rendezvousing with some 6th year. You couldn't live with him and you couldn't live without him. You where undeniably, irrevocably in love with him and he hadn't the faintest idea. But today you where determined to find out why he had been avoiding you, all the moving seats away from you in classes, the avoiding you in the great hall, the library, the common room, what was it all for?
So the next day you woke up, you where on a mission, You stretched and yawned, sitting up in your bed, looking at your picture of the marauders and you, you started to get ready for the day, you where on a mission. You mentally checked your timetable, for what lessons you had with Sirius, Herbology, DADA, and care of magical creatures. Perfect Care of magical creatures was the last lesson of the day and he couldn't possibly avoid you. So your day went along, slowly may I add. Herbology, divination, DADA, muggle studies, alchemy, Sirius desperately trying to avoid your burning glare through your shared lessons, which was pretty hard. Lily had come up to you during Herbology, to ask what was up with you and Sirius, knowing you two where never out of each others sight, but you couldn't exactly give her a solid answer. Then you saw something in her eyes, a little glint of something.
“Ahhhh righttttt.” She dragged on.
“what is it lils? Do you know something? Did James tell you something? Why that slimy git!” You quickly perked up. Although you didn't miss the blush that crept on her pale face at the mention of James.
She quickly shook her head “Nope, just heard a little something through the grape vine.” She smirked.
“I swear to merlin lils if you don't tell me ill strangle you with that grape vine!”
“Ah ah ah, all in due time, peaches.” You smirked and saddened at the thought of where the nickname came from. Your very classy best friends, the marauders, well mostly James, decided it would be a great idea for you to flash the whole school your underwear. A cute set with peaches on them. Sirius stopped them after a few seconds, citing it was a bit insensitive, and he would do it to lily if James tried that again, but you didn't miss Sirius’ little whisper, ‘they do look cute doll’, You smiled, you and Sirius had always been like that, flirty. It broke your heart every time because you knew he didn't mean it. You huffed.
“Fine, lils but if I don't find out soon I will blow my lid”
She smiled, shook her head and started to walk away, she turned “You'll be blowing more then that when you find out”
what was she possibly on about?
The conversation lingered in your mind for a dew hours after, a strange strange woman she was, but you could see why James was in love with her, You longed for something like that. Care of magical creatures finally rolled around, you'd been anxious all lesson, dreading and anticipating your chat with Sirius. Classes with professor Kettleburn where always exciting, I mean the man was missing half of his limbs, for god sake. Although it passed by fairly quickly, your nerves went up and up. The end of the class came and you saw Sirius make a dash back to the castle, obviously not wanting to speak to you, the marauders drawled slowly behind, talking about whatever.
“Sirius! Sirius!” You shouted, but he just quickened his pace. As you neared the whomping willow, you quickly ran up to him, pushed him against the tree, and stuck your wand at his neck. “Why wont you talk to me?”
James, Peter and Remus quietly made a bet as the scene unfolded. “ Bets on that he’ll choke” James clearly had a lot of faith in his friend.
“I don't think he’ll tell her” Peter squeaked. Thanks man.
“Nah, he’ll tell her” At least someone believed in his friend.
“Alright 5 galleons he chokes?” James challenged.
“Bet”
“I have no clue what your talking about” Sirius said offhandedly.
You removed your wand from his neck, you where not playing this game.
“You know what im talking about, You've avoided me this entire week. Practically attached at the hip for the Last 6 years and now! Now is the time you deicide you've had enough. What is it Sirius? What are you running from? What's got Hogwarts stone faced, witty, playboy so down? Why wont you fucking talk to me?” You belted, not caring who would hear. He grew angrier from each word you spoke, until he stood his full ground, shoulders squared, looking hurt and angry.
“’m in love with you! Is that what you wanna hear?”
That's when it hit you, he couldn't, He's Sirius black, playboy extraordinaire, he couldn't possibly love you.
“Sirius…”
“What? That-that iv'e been in love with you since I saw you in first year, that my heart aches every time I see you because I know you don't feel the same, that I have to sleep with every girl under the sun to try to forget that you couldn't possibly love a man like me. You wanna hear how I notice how angelic you look in the morning, even after crashing in my bed from exhaustion? How every morning you look at the picture of us and the marauders you have on your night stand because “you always want to begin the day with your best friends” on the off chance you don't see one of us today? Or the fact that since the day ive met you ive never seen you wear a single pair of matching socks because your superstitious and their lucky? How you have books practically falling out of your dorm its that jam packed, because you want to read every book ever created? How you look so perfect without even trying? Even when you've been swimming, or not slept in days, or haven't showered in a week, even then you look unbelievably perfect I wonder what we did to deserve you being friends with us? I wonder what I did to have someone as perfect as you in my life? Huh? How ill never have a chance with you because of how undeniably perfect you are? How you deserve someone smart like Remus, or sporty like James? Someone who you would undeniably be perfect with? But they're not in love with you, I am! And as much as you don't feel the same I really hope this doesn't ruin our fucking friendship just because im fucking in love wit you!”
By the end of his speech he looked so exhausted, like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of his shoulders, while you just stood there, dumbfounded. The boy you've been head over heels for since 2nd year liked you back. You just stared, stared and stared. You where left absolutely speechless. He took that as a bad sign, a tear rolled down his cheek as he turned to walk away, muttering a quiet ‘that's what I thought’.
You had to do something, anything before he walked away. So, you ran up to him and pulled him down for what had to be on of The Most Passionate Kisses In The History Of Kisses ©. Its like all the emotion over the past 6 years had been poured into the kiss, only to be broken apart by hearing your friends dry heaving in the background, you shot them a death glare and turned back to Sirius, who had the most lovestruck look on his face.
“So, you feel the same?” He smiled.
“Of course I do, dummy” You two where so enthralled in each other you missed Peter and James each slipping 5 galleons into Remus’ hand with disgruntled looks on their faces while he just smirked
#sirius black#sirius orion black#sirius x reader#sirius x you#sirius x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius black fanfiction#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfiction
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A Midnight Rhyme
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“...and even after darkest night, faithful dawn will break anew. As sated lovers face the light, the starlit sky gives way to morning dew.”
Hearing a soft snore, Link glanced up from the book of poems to see Zelda’s head on the table, cradled in the crook of her arm. He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he chuckled softly.
He closed the book and stood, setting it down on the long, wooden table at which they’d been sitting since the early evening. The moon had long since made its debut, sending gentle beams of champagne-colored light through the arched windows and onto the stone floor of the library.
Zelda’s tired eyes fluttered open when he leaned down to press a light kiss to her forehead.
“Hey,” he said, another smile tugging at his lips, “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”
She mumbled an incoherent protest before responding.
“I can’t.”
“And why is that?”
“I can’t walk.”
Link crossed his arms as he watched the princess make a failed attempt at hiding an uncharacteristically girlish grin.
“Ah, that’s terrible news, indeed. What sort of ailment would cause such a thing?”
“Sudden Immobility Syndrome. It’s inexplicable and very serious.”
“Sounds it.”
Link knelt next to her chair then, his face level with hers. With his thumb he skimmed her jawline in a featherlight caress, simply to delight in the way she leaned into his touch. The shimmer of the hearth’s firelight reflected in her sea storm eyes as she met his gaze.
“Is there a cure for this devastating disease?” He asked, his voice a sly lilt.
“I’m afraid not. You’ll have no choice but to carry me everywhere we go from now on.”
“It’ll be as you wish, my lady.”
Zelda let out an odd sound when he hooked one arm under her legs and slipped the other around her waist, like a yelp married to a giggle. Link hoisted her up in one swift movement, her arms instinctively twining around his neck for support.
He let the warmth of her body sink into his, a sensation that he’d been craving all day. The welcome scent of fresh ink and lavender greeted him when her head fell to his shoulder.
“How does this suit you?”
He felt her grin against his tunic.
“Oh, very well, thank you.”
With her highness safely in tow, Link began making his way out of the library and into the sprawling corridor that led to Zelda’s bedroom; his footsteps echoed in the silence of the castle at midnight.
“You stopped reading,” Zelda mumbled quietly as they approached her room, “I wanted to hear the end.”
Link nudged his way inside, pressing the door open with his shoulder as he tried to mind Zelda’s head. Gingerly, he laid her down on the bed and sat beside her.
“You fell asleep,” he reminded her. She grumbled, lazily stretching her arms above her.
“You should finish it.”
“I don’t have the book with me, dove.”
“Try?”
Link sighed, an endearing smile finding its way into his face. Propping himself up with his elbow, he lay on his side next to Zelda. She curled herself into him, and he pressed her close with his other hand. A cool, delicate breeze whispered in through a window left open, fluttering the gauzy drapes.
He dipped his head to capture her lips with his in a gentle kiss, a contented hum leaving her before she again closed her heavy eyes.
“With mirthful thanks I greet this morn as in the sun I stand, for from your love is earth reborn and shaped by thine own hand.”
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#I don’t know what this is#random drabble#have this thought from my brain#zelink#zelink drabble#fanfiction#writers on tumblr#zelink fanfiction#this is fluffy af#what is happening to me#loz botw
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Hi love!! Congrats on 100 followers, that’s amazing!! This is for a ship, any era and any gender is fine :)
My name is Lydia and I’m an ENFJ hufflepuff. I’m kind, bubbly, and I have a lot of energy. My love languages are touch and acts of service. I would do absolutely anything to make my friends laugh and I’m a very good listener. I’m always picking up new hobbies and trying new things. I love nature and I love to paint and read. I’m 5’10 and I have super curly, dark brown hair and blue/gray eyes. I have a nose ring and I’m tan with a few freckles. Thank you!! :)
Hii!! Thanks for the request :)) you’re so sweet ❤️ Hope you like it :)
I ship you with…
Lily Evans
You met in your first year
Probably while she was quietly reading your favourite book with a friend you and her had in common
You approached them and just started an exciting conversation about it
After that your friend formerly introduced you and you started hanging out with her and became actual friends
She started fancying you
Than it became more
She just fell in love with everything about your personality, like how bubbly you always are, you being yourself always cheers her up
But she absolutely loves that you’re just as kind as her.
As you are in different houses you always sneak into each others common rooms to have fun ;)
Most of the times Lily would always want to go to yours
You cuddle in the couches while reading
Or she just watches you paint with loving eyes
“What is it?”
“Nothing, i’m just looking at how your gorgeous ocean eyes look stormier when you’re concentrated”
She loves your greyish blue eyes and you love her green ones
Holding hands, kissing or any kind of touch everywhere, classes, in the great hall, just everywhere
Whenever you just sit and listen to any of your friends with, what looks like, all the attention in the world she admires that, knowing how kind you are warms her heart
You love how sweet she is, but also how extremely brave she is
You two laugh your asses off when you make jokes about how James and his gang are toerags and Lily just loves your effort to make her and your friends laugh
Even though she hates James
She rolls her eyes every time she sees that look on your face
“Let’s try it”
Because she knows what’s coming next, but in reality she adores trying these new hobbies and things with you
One time you convinced her to sneak into the library at night and she admitted it was “a tad fun”
Studying together became normal, she helps you a lot and you help her too
She secretly loves your nose piercing
And that you’re taller than her, it makes her feel safe and she loves hugging you
Cause you’re tall so she can get totally embraced and rest her head on your chest
One time you had an idea, since you love nature, you grew Lilies in Herbology class for Lily and she almost cried when you gave them to her
It was the sweetest thing someone has ever done to her
She kept them in her dorm, you put a spell on the flowers so they wouldn’t die
And...
Fred Weasley
You and Fred bonded immediately
You two are always up to something
Pranks, a lot of them
Laughing at the breakfast table while plotting something
You two literally run around all of Hogwarts learning new secret passageways
You get really close when you’re working on a prank, like, you hide in a corner and just get so close you can hear each other’s breaths
He wraps his hand around your waist
It can eventually lead to something else lol
You ALWAYS get him out of trouble with either Filch or Snape or basically anyone from the staff
When you’re not busy pranking the school, you hang out near the Black Lake, enjoying the breeze, the water and the nature around
It’s you guys’ place
You paint there
Fred already asked you to paint him
It ended with ink on Fred’s face
Fred also sneaked into the Forbidden Forest with you
You ran around and explored the forest
There were so many trees
It smelled incredible, like morning dew and flowers
Laughing and talking excitedly
It was the best date you guys had
You brought a few books
But you and him just enjoyed each other’s company, lying there on his chest
Talking about everything
He loves your freckles, he says they look cuter on you than it does on him
He always plays with your curls
He teases you a tad for being a Hufflepuff
Called you a badger once
But he loves you
And loves that you’re a Hufflepuff, shorter distance to the Kitchens
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𝐢𝐢. 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐟.𝐰.
◊ part one - part two - part three
◊ summary: madam pomfrey’s helper, y/n, doesn’t care for the ever-popular sport that is quidditch. but throw in an injured fred weasley, a week together in the hospital wing, and a sprinkle of innocent flirting and she might just have to change her mind.
◊ pairing: fifth year!fred weasley x fem!reader
◊ word count: 2.7k
◊ warnings: most of the story’s set in the hospital wing (no blood is mentioned), there’s one (1) no-no word in this part, not really a warning but reader is implied to have a female best friend
◊ genre: good ol’ fluff
◊ this part includes monday, tuesday & Wednesday
Hurriedly, you fixed your bed in the silence of the dormitory. All of your friends were asleep: it was the crack of dawn according to the clock on your bedside table. You could only imagine the green grass that shone with the silver dew of Monday morning and the sweet, serene ripples on the lake. Sadly, you had no time to watch the sunrise.
You hastily hung your tie around your neck and tucked your shirt into your pleated skirt as you slipped on your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake the other girls. Spraying on a bit of perfume and clasping a dainty necklace at the back of your neck, you packed your bag for the day, grabbed your wand, and dashed out of the room.
The empty common room was slightly messy from the night before. Your house, for some reason, was always in a festive mood on Sundays and most of you clambered into the common room to hang out and eat (as someone always brought food).
Quickly leaving the common room behind, you made your way through the grand staircases—which, at this time, were dressed in the pink sunlight of the morning that reflected on the stone walls and glimmered in the paintings’ golden frames—and to the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey had given you a key to unlock the doors and since you assumed she was still sleeping, you retrieved it from the bottom of your bag and unlocked the heavy wooden doors before tiptoeing through.
To your right, the brunette girl from yesterday was sitting up against her pillows and reading a small scarlet book. She looked up and gave you a friendly smile which you cheerfully returned. In the corner of your eye, you saw a head of unmistakable bright red hair and turned to your left.
Crossing the room, you observed Fred as he slept peacefully. His freckled face was showered with that same pink sunlight and you felt a weird feeling in your chest: like it wasn’t just the shimmering sunrise, you were seeing Fred in a different light.
Trying to pay that no mind, you dropped your bag and looked at his ankle. It didn’t look any worse and there were no visible signs of pain on his face. You felt a little sad at that as he’d probably be discharged quickly. Wait, why would that be sad?
Once again attempting to shake your confusing feelings, you checked on the girl and left Madam Pomfrey a little note on her desk to let her know you had stopped by. Taking one last look at Fred, you scooped up your bag and left to sit alone on the barren grand staircases before they filled with students, hungry for breakfast and groaning at the existence of Monday.
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You sighed and dragged your feet along the brightly lit corridor. Monday’s classes had just ended and all you wanted to do was get back to your common room, take a shower and curl up in your four-poster. But instead, you were walking to the hospital wing, trying to ignore the many students who sat lounging on benches and chatting with friends.
Wrapping your fingers around the dark brown handle, you pulled open one of the doors and stepped inside. It was much quieter compared to the hall outside, thankfully. You hung up your bag at the door and moved towards the back of the room to greet Madam Pomfrey.
You had almost made it to the door of her office before she came bursting out, holding a large bottle and whispering to herself. She hurried over to a small boy in the third bed on the left who looked awfully green.
Worried, you came over to see what was going on.
“Particularly nasty potion, dear. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take this afternoon off,” Madam Pomfrey replied, now stirring something in a glass jar.
“I guess I’ll be on my way then; see you tomorrow!” You skipped over to the only occupied bed on the right side and peered around the privacy screen.
“Freddie,” you whispered in a sing-song voice.
He was awake, but in some state of rest.
“It’s Y/N. I’m going to do my homework now. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Bye, Y/N,” he breathed out, and you let out a silent little “aww” at his half-asleep self.
But the boy across the room let out a horrible retching noise and you cringed, shooting Fred one last glance before making your way to the doors, grabbing your bag, and setting off in the direction of the library.
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The next day was much worse.
You had spent so long working into Monday night that you were completely tired out. You slept in, only waking up to your best friend shaking you, and spilled pumpkin juice down the front of your robes at breakfast.
Thinking that the day couldn’t get any worse, you confidently volunteered your Strengthening Solution to be critiqued by Snape in front of the whole class. It turned out that you had changed directions when stirring it (how he could even tell that was beyond you) and he promptly took away five of your house points.
After being bitten by a Fanged Geranium in Herbology and dropping one of your books over the side of a staircase, knocking out a second-year Gryffindor which lost you five more points, you were ready to walk right out of class and hide in the library. The final straw came when Professor McGonagall dropped a graded essay on your desk which you instantly knew would bring your Transfiguration average down significantly. Thankfully, you had chosen a seat towards the back of the room when you started to cry.
Your friends were busy after class so that left you alone, trudging through the hallways, easily the most unhappy-looking student in the entire castle. It didn’t help that you passed by a Ravenclaw boy in your year who audibly remarked “She looks like hell” to his friend.
Now a confusing mixture of sadness and anger, you dragged yourself into the hospital wing and hung your bag beside the door. Right next to the hooks was the sink which you turned on quietly, running your hands under the water and lathering them in soap before reaching over to dry them off on the hanging light blue towel.
Fred was awake when you carried over some fresh bandages and set them down beside him.
“Y/N, I was hoping to ask if-” he paused, watching you as you sat down on his left side.
“Aw, Y/N no,” his happy expression turned into concern: you could tell he noticed your tear stained cheeks and red eyes.
“What happened?” You softened at the genuine care in his voice.
“Well,” you began with a sigh, “I had a shit day.”
“Aw, I’m sorry-” Fred inhaled sharply and shifted, causing you to look at him oddly.
“What was that?”
He had seemingly regained his composure and glanced at you briefly as if he hadn’t just malfunctioned in front of you.
“Thought about calling you something, decided against it,” he replied. You smirked, already feeling a little bit better.
“And what name was that?” You questioned. Laughing as if you had said something amusing, he cutely tapped the tip of your nose.
“Now that, Y/N, is something I will never tell you.”
Shaking your head with a sigh, you looked out the window, inching closer to the table at Fred’s bedside and resting your elbow, which propped up your cheek, there.
“Something bothering you?” He asked quietly. “Did Snape bully you?”
You chuckled, turning to look at Fred. That nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach returned. Everything about him was suddenly very attractive to you and you felt yourself sweat as you locked eyes.
“Yeah, a little bit, I guess.” Subconsciously, you chewed your lip.
“That’s it—as soon as I get out of here, I’m fighting him.”
You chuckled, not missing the way Fred looked at you with a slight grin on his lips.
“Why so intense, though? You’ve never paid me much attention in Potions,” you replied, looking at him quizzically.
“Rubbish. You’re adorable, how could I not watch you?”
His words made you freeze, your cheeks now incredibly warm. You hid your face in your hands, peeking at him through a gap between your fingers.
“Oh, don’t be like that. You know you’re cute.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Sitting up straight again, you tried to ignore your heated cheeks and summoned a cup of water which you hurriedly drank.
“Besides that, you have quite a bit of work to catch up on,” you said hastily, summoning from your bag the list you had printed neatly for him. Before handing it to him, your eyes landed on the lengthy Charms homework you had to finish tonight. Eyes widening, you shoved the list into his hands.
“Fred, I’m sorry, but I think I have to go. I forgot about that Charms assignment,” your face fell: you really didn’t want to leave him.
“Aw Y/N, it’s okay.” He shrugged, setting the list down as he tilted his head, looking at you in a way that you could only describe as sweet. You changed your mind.
“You know, maybe I can get a pass from Flitwick since I work here,” you mumbled, sitting back down and returning his affectionate gaze.
“I’ll stay.”
-
You woke up happy Wednesday morning. Despite the unfinished Charms in your bag, you had a spring in your step as you made your bed and got ready for the day. Your friends were slightly confused by this behavior, but you were far too shy to explain it.
You and Fred had spent Tuesday evening talking, once again, about whatever crossed your minds. Turns out, he’s smarter than he lets on. You let slip accidentally that you don’t really mind him and his brother and their constant pranks, which led to him teasing that he would make sure to do something extra special just for you. Amidst the laughing and joy, you two talked about school and your friends as well. Fred apparently couldn’t stand Cedric Diggory, for not only beating Harry to the snitch in Gryffindor’s only loss, but also just being all-around perfect. You reassured him that no one was perfect and that you’d take his company over Diggory’s any day, which made his ears turn a light shade of pink.
Remembering all this, you fought the urge to skip through the empty halls before breakfast on your way to the hospital wing. When you reached the doors, you swung them open cheerfully and set down your bag. Madam Pomfrey was busy with a girl you had never seen before and told you to look at two coughing boys laying in adjacent beds.
You took their temperatures and asked them some questions (they had been clumsily messing around with jinxes, to no one’s surprise) before you heard someone behind you.
“Psst!”
You turned around and raised your eyebrows at Fred, who was laying with the covers pulled up to his chin.
“Good morning, Y/N!” He whisper-yelled.
“Morning, Freddie,” you replied quickly, turning back to the boys.
“Y/N?”
You turned around again, eyebrows raised once more.
“Are you mad at me?” He asked this in a somewhat timid voice.
Closing your eyes as if to say “Are you serious?”, you shook your head and swiveled around.
“As I was saying-”
“We heard it,” the younger-looking one cut you off.
“Well then, I’m off to breakfast. Don’t cause any trouble with Madam Pomfrey, okay?” You jokingly pointed back and forth at them, standing up after hearing their sniggers.
You sighed and began to walk away but before you could finish crossing the room, Fred was talking again (this time at a normal volume).
“I know I told you yesterday but you really are- hmm,” Fred’s sentence was never finished as you reached out to softly ruffle his hair and stare down at him adoringly.
“I’ll see you in a bit, Freddie,” you called out as you began to walk away. He pouted and stretched his arms, “reaching” for you when you made it to the doors.
“Oh, come on, it’s not even for that long. You’ll be fine.”
Much to your surprise, it turned out to be you who was missing Fred. Throughout the morning , you found yourself complaining that classes were moving too slow, teachers were talking too slow, students were walking too slow—basically everything about Wednesday was much too slow for you and there was seemingly no reason why.
Eventually your friends coaxed it out of you and seized every opportunity to tease you relentlessly about your little crush on Fred. You were just about ready to die from embarrassment when George Weasley passed you and your friends in the corridor, at which they happily resumed their playful taunting loud enough for him to hear.
It was all in good fun, however, as you knew they just couldn’t understand how you, the most anti-Quidditch person they knew, ended up crushing on a Gryffindor Beater. You explained that he was more than just a Beater, and that you weren’t really anti-Quidditch, you just hated going to the matches.
Soon enough, you bid your friends and all of their giggling farewell before walking through the halls on the way to the hospital. Okay, maybe you skipped a little bit.
When you opened the doors, you were surprised to find George was already there in casual conversation with his brother. You silently passed by the two of them and went to look for Madam Pomfrey. She came rushing out of her office as usual, bottle in hand.
“Oh, hello Y/N. You can just help out with her,” she motioned towards a fourth-year Hufflepuff, “-and Mr. Weasley today. I’ll have you know that he just couldn’t stop staring at the door all afternoon, waiting,” she said with a knowing smile on her face. Your face warmed at that, and you took the potion from her hands with a quiet “thanks” before bringing it over to the girl’s bedside. From over your shoulder you heard the twins talking.
“I know, I know, but-”
“Whatever. Good luck with Y/N.” You made out George cutting Fred off with the hint of a smirk in his voice. As soon as you finished helping the Hufflepuff, he had left.
Now walking over to Fred, you were even more flustered at George’s comment, and twisted your necklace between your fingers and chewed your lip.
“That’s only the second time I’ve seen your brother visit you; did he stop by while I wasn’t here?” You asked, plopping down in the chair beside him.
“A couple times,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. “Snape bother you today?”
You shook your head.
“Believe it or not, I’m starting to get bored of being in here,” he said, looking at you with a smile. You grinned as well, charmed by his infectious energy.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I feel like this makes me look weak.”
You rolled your eyes.
“There’s nothing weak about getting injured during a fight and having to heal, Fred,” you responded calmly, leaning back in your chair.
“Y/N, I think you just described the exact definition of weak.”
“Come on, you got hurt during Quidditch. Girls love Quidditch players. Look on the bright side,” you replied.
Fred smiled to himself and looked away from you, but didn’t say anything.
“What, you don’t care for female attention?”
He shook his head and stared back at you again. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Then what-”
“Y/N!”
Both of your heads turned in the direction of the voice, its source standing at the newly opened doors.
Your best friend’s face turned smug as if she had caught you doing something you shouldn’t. She walked over slowly, looking back and forth at you and Fred, smirking.
“Hate to steal Y/N from you Fred, but I’m afraid I need her,” she stated airily.
“Oh, it’s fine,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”
He waved and as your best friend tugged you out of the room by your arm, you waved back.
“Bye, Fred!” You managed to call out before you were pulled outside.
You decided at the last second not to call him Freddie. Judging by the smug look your best friend wore as soon as you two were out of earshot, you made the right choice.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#hp fic#hp fluff#hogwarts#fred#fred weasley#weasley twins#weasley family#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley imagine#fred imagine#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley x reader fluff#fred and george#fred and george weasley#gred and forge#Gryffindor#hufflepuff#ravenclaw#slytherin#fred weasley deserved better
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Pearlescent and Gold
( this is a shorter story I wrote for a writing course, it is gorey and dark, trigger warning for drugs and mutilation. If you want to read feel free to continue! I’d love to hear feedback! 💚)
The night sky loomed overhead pitch black and shining like diamonds, hidden by the trees and buildings with the lamp posts' light accentuating the leaves. Cobblestone paths lining the road coated in a thin layer of glitter following the party that occurred earlier that day. The party in the streets was to celebrate the final capture, arrest, and conviction of the notorious “pearly” serial killer, the man who killed 13 local women over the course of a year. Now that he had been done away with all felt safe once again in their small town of Windrip.
With the newfound security filling the town parties are more abundant than ever as ladies feel safe going out again at night. It is at one of these parties I found myself today.
I was dressed in a pearlescent suit, pearl jewelry set, and black button up. The theme was precious materials to honour the victims of The Pearly Killer, I chose pearl, but many were wearing silver or reds to represent garnets or rubies, one thing we all had in common were thematic masks worn on our faces. Everyone looked beautiful, but one girl stood out on the dance floor. Golden and bright she danced, light on her feet and nimble she moved from side to side, changing dancing partners every few minutes. The dance floor was a blur of colours but the only one I truly cared about was her. Regardless of how breathtaking she was and how desperately I wanted to dance with her I stayed to the side, silently watching and sipping my champagne.
“ Soooo, ya come here often?” a sultry voice asked in a playful tone.
I jumped, not expecting anyone to have noticed, let alone talk to me. I turned to see a man, also in white, holding a glass, ebony hair slicked back, and a smile donning his face, icey eyes staring into mine.
“ No, I don't actually,” I sipped the champagne, bubbles filling my mouth before burning their way down my throat. “ I much prefer the library, it's far quieter.” A smirk playing on my lips as I glanced between him and the dance floor, although I lost the girl in gold. Damnit.
“ Ohh the Library ya say? Ya consider ya’self a bit of an intellectual do ya?” a mischievous tone in his voice, it made my gut churn and my palms sweat.
“ Yes. The library. Where the books are. And people leave you alone when you are alone. And no, I don't consider myself an ‘intellectual’, I consider myself a college student. Now if you'll excuse me-” I moved to push past him but he turned in to me, blocking me further.
“ Oh come on, ya aren’t goin’ to leave me hangin’ are ya?” his lax body language angered me more so than anything, couldn’t he see I was done with the conversation?!
“Yes. I am. Now if you'll excuse me!” shoving him out of the way I tried to ignore his remarks as I made my way to the dance floor. I couldn’t wait anymore to try to find that gorgeous girl in gold.
The people on the dancefloor were absolutely buzzing, their voices drowning out the music, their bodies holding the beat regardless. A whir of colour moving around me as I searched the crowd. It was so hot, the movement around me causing sweat to form on my brow and leading me to loosen my shirt collar. Nowhere on the dancefloor could I find her. Many a person pulled me to dance, regardless I’d pull away and continue my search.
Once I went outside… I found her. Shimmering in the moonlight, leaning against the brick, she was there, chest rising and falling in rhythm, eyes closed. She was even prettier up close… so close…
I watched as my hand reached out to touch her, getting ever closer to her shoulder. I could feel her heat, so close to my fingertips. So nearly there. When she looked over, I jumped as her eyes shot open and she gasped. The shock on her face eased into a deep sigh, clutching her chest she took several deep breaths.
“ Holy shit you scared me!” she laughed quietly, leaning back again to the wall and sliding down slightly. “ Did you need anything?” The smile on her face spoke more words about who she was than anything she did at the party. It was tender, kind, and loving. I could feel my cheeks set alight and my walls melt under the gaze of her tawny eyes, golden hues surrounding them accenting their depths.
“ Yeah… yeah. You look amazing tonight… my name is Lyna Mckay,” I extended my hand to her, hoping for the best.
“ Maria May,” she took my hand and gave it a shake, her hands were so soft… “ And thank you, I tried,” she moved a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling at me with near perfect teeth shining white. She was so beautiful.
“ Would you like to, maybe ditch this party and come hang out? You don't have to, but I'm done with this party, and it seems like you are too, so…” I met her eyes and smiled, gently holding on to her hand.
She seemed… apprehensive, biting her lip and looking down before lifting her head and nodding. She gripped my hand and off we went, a local coffee shop was still open so... that's where we went.
The coffee shop had that small-town cottagecore aesthetic to it. Cobbled brick exterior, floral tablecloths, pastel neutral colours dotted everywhere, and that calming smell of oatmeal and cinnamon buns in the air. It was quiet, just the soft piano music from the radio on the counter balanced it out, it was a far cry from the frenzy of dancing and socializing people at the party. The owner of the shop, an elderly lady with kind wrinkles surrounding her mouth and years of laughter in the corners of her eyes came to greet us and take our orders. Maria got hazelnut light roast on ice, two cream, three sugar. I went for a classic black coffee.
“ You should try the cinnamon buns here, they’re to die for,” I grinned at her, taking my coffee from the owner’s wrinkled hands “Trust me on that.”
“ Maybe I will,” she laughed, it was as melodic as her voice, a tinkling in the soft piano melody. Her nose crinkled when she laughed, it was cute.
That’s where we stayed for roughly an hour. In the meantime I slipped something into her drink, she didn’t notice of course. Too busy laughing and telling me about herself, too flavourful of a drink to taste the subtle change. I watched her eyes droop as she got drowsier, the drug taking affect. Her speech slurred and she held her stomach and winced.
“ I… don’t feel so good. I should-” she paused and I could see her hold back a gag “ I should go home,” she moved to start getting up and I zipped out of my chair to her side.
“ Here, let me help you. I'll get you home. Where do you live?” I extended a hand to her, and she took it. I helped her up and lead her out of the restaurant, leaving a twenty on the table before we left.
“2432, Queens lane, apartment 3,” I watched her face contort as she quietly retched, losing her footing slightly in her heels. I grasped her arm gently to support her as we made our way through the streets. The cobblestones shifted to sidewalks and roads, dew coating the grass and glinting in the light of the street lamps. Her apartment complex was just your basic one, brick exterior with outdated carpet flooring that was probably too tedious to properly maintain anyways. She lead the way to her apartment, down the stairs and to the right.
She fumbled with the keys for a moment, holding back throwing up before unlocking the door and bolting to the bathroom, bumping into a cupboard or dresser in the dark. I quietly turned on the lights and stepped in, shutting the door behind me and removing my shoes. I could hear her throw up into the toilet, the sound of a full stomach emptying itself with a sickening splash, followed by hoarse coughing and more vomit into the bowl. I looked around the room while she was preoccupied. Just a bachelor suite. A double bed pressed into the corner of the room with a white duvet spread over it, not to mention the ridiculous amount of pillows on it. A small table was across the room from that, a small kitchenette beside that, and a tv placed near the edge of the bed, essentially boxing it in.
She emerged from the bathroom moments later, paler, with golden lipstick smudged across her face, small trails of mascara from her eyes. She’d removed her heels and looked mildly defeated shoulders slumped and a pitiful expression on her face. She sat on the bed and laughed sadly.
“ I promise I'm not usually like this,” she shot me an anxious smile. Even looking this sickly she was a beacon of beauty.
Sitting beside her on the bed and removing my suit jacket I wrapped an arm around her delicate frame, she was shaking and her skin felt warm to the touch.
“ I believe you, maybe the alcohol isn’t sitting right?” I moved to kiss her forehead, the ‘question’ holding in the air with weight.
“ Yeah.. Maybe,” her voice wavered and I watched her eyes flutter slightly as she slumped against me. She’s just… so perfect. So perfect… I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.
I did another look over of her room, she was slumped against my chest gently, breathing softly. Not quite asleep but not quite awake either. I caress her cheek gently as I find just what I was looking for, peeking out from under the bed. A bat.
She mumbled something under her breath just as my fingers wrapped around the base of the handle. Cold metal greeted my fingertips as I pulled it up towards my side, keeping it out of her view. Didn’t want to work her into a tizzy now did we? Her hands gripped onto my shirt tightly, her breath falling out of the pattern it had before. Bat in hand I looked at her again. She was so gorgeous.
I stood up from my spot on the bed much to her complaints. Turning the bat I prepared to swing, best to strike before she can move or scream to get away. The bat collided with her skull, just behind the temple, with a ringing metallic noise. The feeling of crunching bones beneath the metal as her skull caved in and skin broke. A frightened gasp escaped her lips before she fell limp, blood starting to ooze down her neck and mingle with her hair. Now that she was incapacited I could have a bit of fun.
Walking to her kitchen, rummaging through the drawers until I found just what I was looking for, the carving knife. After pulling it from the drawer I approached her at the bed, setting my tool near her. She was so pretty… I couldn’t wait to see her all bloody and gored up. I searched through my purse for the pliers kept in there, past the lip gloss and tide pens until it was in my hand once again. Taking its place beside the carver I looked at her one last time before I made her a masterpiece.
Her chest was still rising and falling with her breaths, but that made it all the more fun. Grabbing the pliers I gave them a firm squeeze before prying her jaw open and taking a look around at her pearly whites. The pliers in my grasp I went for the first tooth. Grabbing it firmly with them I tugged it back roughly, squeezing the gum just above the visable part of the tooth. One sickening crack later and it was in my hand, gum still clinging stubbornly. With a grin I went right back in for the next tooth, a crack and another pearl pulled from the clam that was her mouth. 32 of the precious bones in my hands shining under the overhead lights. Blood filling her mouth and congealing. I grabbed the knife, checking its serrated edge to make sure it was sharp before lifting her tongue. She let out a soft gurgley groan as I started to saw at the muscle inhabiting her mouth. It oozed blood at the first draw through and the blades tore up the flesh underneath them. Once I cut the final bits out I pulled it out with my hand, blood oozing from the roughly cut edge of the muscle, torn bits of flesh hanging from it. In her hands I lay the tongue I cut from her, cradled alongside the teeth I ripped from her mouth shining like pearls.
I left her where she was, against her bed, bloody and starting to congeal. Heading to Maria’s dresser and sorting through her clothes I grab a dark skirt and go to change into it. Replacing my white pants with a black skirt as to not stain it anymore than the few splatters of blood dotting the lap. Heading back to her one last time.
Mahogany and gold stain everything about her. Her hair, golden blonde and shining in the dim light, mingling gold and deep reds in a tragic halo around her gorgeous face. Golden eyeshadow falling around her eyes, golden lipstick smudged but still shimmering, leaking blood in gelatinous clumps. Her golden dress draped around her frame, blood crusting on it. Everything about her was touched by Midas, beautifully tragic, coated in gold and gleaming like tears in his eyes at the realization of what he had done to his daughter.
I looked down at her, she was so foolish. It was all so poetic wasn’t it? Even in death her beauty surpasses her.
I reached down to touch her face, caressing her cheek gently. Her skin was so soft… I leaned down closer to her face and slide my fingers into her eye socket. Gripping her eyeball and pulling it out. She makes the softest of sounds, just barely holding on from the blood filling her throat, now a dark ooze that once was hers. I pull her eye out as far as I can, her optic nerve stretching and straining. I took the knife to it, slicing and tugging to tear the nerve before slicing again and repeating the process. Her other eye getting the same treatment, the blood from them dripping onto the floor and all over her body. I hold one in each hand, holding the one in my right above Maria as I dug my finger through the sclera, popping and squeezing it out before dropping it on her. Even now I can't ignore the warm fuzzy feeling it caused in my chest.
Taking the knife to her throat I dragged it along her skin causing blood to gently bead to the surface, a necklace of ruby pearls dripping down and mingling with its already congealed counter parts. She’s just so, so beautiful. Pressing harder this time into her soft flesh, blood gushing as I hit her jugular vein. She looked so ravishing drenched in her own blood.
Wobbling to my feet the giddiness struck me like an arrow to the chest. Soft fits of giggles exiting my mouth as I made my way to the sink, washing the blade and my hands before splashing frigid water on my face. The cool droplets calming me down before I went to change one last time before making my way out.
Before leaving I made my way over to her for the last time. Picking three of her teeth out of her blood coated hands and inspecting their smooth white appearance a grin spread on my face. Looks like it’s time to add a few more pearls to my jewelry set.
I’d better get started soon though, we’re going over some of my “pearly” killings in forensics class tomorrow and well… I surely don’t want to be late to that.
#writing#original fiction#gore#horror#mutilation#dark theme#tw: drugs#tw: mutilation#tw: murder#dark fiction
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In Love, Serenity
Chapter Thirty Five: Only A Light In This Darken'd Time Breaks
Summary: Still on the evening after Adamant, Aurora paces and frets outside a certain healing tent. Will she go in?
Notes: This was a little later than I thought it would be, but it’s also a little longer! trade off <3
[Read Chapter 35 on AO3] or [Start from the Beginning]
-Aurora-
Her lips still tingle from the kiss and she finds herself touching them often. Each time, a fizzy smile bursts in her chest.
Healers had been buzzing around his tent through the night, and his transport during the day was met with the utmost care. Aurora has tried her best to stay away, to let him rest and heal, but as the evening draws to a close, and the activity surrounding his tent has died down, she’s finding it more difficult to ignore her urge to visit him.
She finds reasons, or rather, no reason at all, to walk through the area of camp that holds the healing tents. But she wanders past, pauses by his tent, then skitters away in another direction every single time.
And now, standing there, staring, she’s just a few steps from the Knight-Commander with only some tightly woven threads of canvas separating them, but she still can’t seem to find the courage.
“Just go in,” a friendly Tevinter voice whispers in her ear as she stands gawking and still for about the fiftieth time that day.
“I probably shouldn’t, Dorian. He needs his rest,” Aurora says softly, but before she can back away again, one helpful little shove sends her forward the few steps she needs to gain the courage to pull back the canvas flap and enter.
Stepping inside, there is a low glowing lantern on a small stand beside the bed where Delrin lies. His eyes were closed, but upon hearing someone walk in, they open and he smiles broadly.
“Aurora.”
That fizzy smile bursts in her chest again as a shimmer covers her skin. “Delrin,” she says, unable to suppress the smile that consumes her face. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Much better than dead, thanks to you.”
Blush blooming across her cheeks and ears, she dips her head. What must he think of her? “Delrin, I…”
“You saved my life. You may have saved many lives. If you weren’t there… well frankly, I’m not sure we could have won, not without a massive amount of more casualties, including myself.” He reaches out for her, one weakened hand stretching for hers. She dares to step closer and take his fingers.
“You are putting too much faith in me,” she says, staring at the ground.
Delrin runs his thumb along her palm and it sends a rain of sparks down her arm to her heart. “I don’t think I’m the only one,” he says, “nor the only one who ever has.”
Aurora remains silent, unsure of what to say, unsure of why she’s there or what they are even doing. Unsure of her future with the Inquisition, with him, with anything. Her life has been turned so far from where she had always intended, that she is shrouded in uncertainty, and yet, she can’t retreat from this man. He pulls at her gently, urging her to sit on the edge of the cot beside him, and without thinking, she does.
“The Knight-Commander at Kinloch Hold knew this about you too, did he not?” he asks, and innocuous thing, but for her, it carries so much.
It takes her a moment, but Aurora finds her voice. “And the First Enchanter. They taught me to hide it. As my powers intensified, things would… accidentally happen. They personally taught me to control it.”
“You are a kind woman with the best of intentions. They saw it. I see it.”
A faint smile flashes on her face, and she finally looks back at Delrin. “I don’t know, I passed my harrowing...there wasn’t that much they could do. Greagoir wasn’t like Meredith.”
He grins broadly and squeezes her hand. “Thank the Maker for that,” he says and they both laugh. They laugh because of everything. This newness budding between them. This path their lives took to bring them here in this tent. Better to laugh at the mess than to cry, in this moment anyway.
As they regain their composure, Delrin pulls her hand toward his lips. “I’m no Meredith either, Aurora. I think you are a gift from the Maker.” He places a soft kiss on her knuckles, soft like morning dew on a delicate petal. “I became a Templar to protect you… not chain you.”
“You are a rare man, Delrin Barris.”
“No. I am the luckiest man in Thedas to have met you.” He grins proudly.
Aurora chokes and a laugh, of all the crazy...“Charmer,” she says while shaking her head and he haughtily holds his proud grin.
It probably shouldn’t, but the man’s confidence actually makes her feel more relaxed. Their hands still held, fingers lightly brushing and stroking each other’s skin, she feels as if she missed his touch, though she’s barely felt it in the first place. Her mind slips back to nights she spent reading his letters in her bunk. Nights she sat with one small spark of fire emanating from her fingers as she read in secret. Those nights, she felt like she could smell him, like she could feel him, his warmth, his confidence, his touch reaching for her through the parchment she held in her hands.
Staring contently where their skin now touches, his rich mahogany enveloping her alabaster, she says, “I… I received your letters.”
“I’m glad. I’m hoping that this means you have accepted my apology? I wasn’t sure what to think when you never responded.”
Aurora shrugs and watches his thumb graze lightly across her pale wrist. “I wasn’t sure what to say.” She lifts her eyes to his, peridot shimmering back at her. “But I enjoyed reading them.”
His expression drops a fraction, a small line forms between his brows. “When I dishonored you by questioning your integrity,” he pauses and sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I realized something. However strong my feelings for you are - and they are - I didn’t know much about you, nor you me…”
She tilts her head, her voice satin smooth and at ease. “So you wrote me stories about your life.”
“Was it too forward? Too presumptuous?”
She places another hand on his, a way of clasping him in her heart. “I told you already, I enjoyed reading them.”
“Good.” He sighs a contented little thing, and she sits in silence a moment, just enjoying whatever this is she is feeling between them.
Aurora begins to feel open enough to share, as he did with her in those letters, and never having known the feeling of being this accepted in such a long time, possibly...ever… “There was a time,” she says quietly, testing her courage, “after the massacre at the circle… Ser Cullen was patrolling the library.” Aurora stops to peer at Delrin, and he nods for her to continue.
“He had been through a lot, we all had, but he made a comment…” Aurora shakes her head, bringing a hand to her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t even remember what it was now, but it made me so mad.” She grins sheepishly. “He is different now, but when he was a young man, he was kind of... a jerk…” She giggles out of embarrassment for speaking so ill about the Commander.
Delrin laughs along with her and her chest sparkles like her eyes. “I can see that. Go on.”
“Well...I got angry and I slammed my fists on the table.” Aurora releases his hand and mimes the action in front of her. “And when I did, all of the books...” She swings her arms wide, imagining the library at Kinloch, and she looks back at Delrin in amazement. “All of the books in the entire library flew off the shelves and around the room!”
Aurora smiles to herself, bringing her fingers to her lips and shakes her head. “We were the only two in there. It was rather late, mind you, but I couldn’t sleep, and then... chaos.” She laughs freely, remembering the scene. “The look on Cullen’s face… the look on my face! It’s funny to think about now, but I was so scared when it happened. He ran off to tell Greagoir, of course. But when Greagoir came back…” She pauses again, remembering fondly, for the first time, the event that ultimately brought them together. “He was... so kind. I couldn’t believe it. He set up private meetings in his office with the two of us and Irving... after that.” She shakes her head again and rests her hand in her lap, looking back at Delrin and the sweet smile on his face. “That’s when they taught me to control it.”
Delrin reaches back for her hand, and she gives it willingly. “Sounds like maybe Cullen deserved a little shock.”
Aurora chuckles a low breathy sound. “I wish I could remember what he said… There were a lot of snide comments from Templars in those days following the massacre. They had been put through a lot, and a lot of them died. But so did we...”
Delrin nods silently and she sighs before continuing. “I just wanted to be treated like a person. I didn’t want the focus to be on my power, I wanted it to be me. I wanted to be Aurora, not that mage who is too powerful to be trusted, that mage who was part of a circle that had a mass blood magic and abomination outbreak. I just wanted to feel… normal?”
“Understandable.”
She groans through a silly smile. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”
“I’m glad that you are.”
Silence falls between them again as her mind leaves the contented feeling she has and finds the anxiety of her power once again. No matter how much Delrin may be okay with her, and no matter how ridiculous that seems, it is not only his opinion that matters. And now...the world will know…
“After what happened yesterday… After what people saw… Delrin…I don’t kno--”
“I will keep you safe,” he says with a squeeze of his hand. So much confidence for a man who cannot even lift his head from his pillow...
“You’re such a good man, too good to get mixed up in this. I would tarnish your reputation. Are you quite sure tha--”
“I care about you, Aurora. And I know you care for me.”
Before Aurora can process his statement, before she can dream of a rebuttal, a healer steps into the tent. Aurora stands quickly, a reflex, and backs away from the wounded Knight-Commander. When she sees who the healer is, she relaxes ever so slightly.
“Rose,” she says through her relief. Who was she to sit so close to Delrin, to be touching him, when anyone could walk in? At this rate she will tarnish his reputation long before she has the ability to talk some sense into him. But it was Rose. Thank the maker for Rose.
“Aurora,” Rose nods respectfully before walking toward Delrin to check on him. The woman is young, and pretty, with a long blonde braid draped over her shoulder. The young mage was also at Kinloch during the fifth blight, but she was just a girl then. Aurora was fond of her, the little girl with healing talent who always had her nose in a book and made heart eyes at Cullen... before the blight, anyway. The young mage who asked to braid Aurora’s hair, and sought her security when the circle went to shit. Yes. It was a good thing it was Rose who walked in and not someone else, someone who might spread rumors without knowing what they’d seen.
“Thank you for helping him.” Aurora says while watching the mage check Delrin’s body, soft light glowing from her hands as she scans and inspects his healing fractures. Aurora feels even more relief knowing that it is Rose aiding him, she’d always shown immense promise in the talents of healing. “Your work is impressive.”
“His injuries were substantial, but with continued magical therapy, I think he can be mended within a week,” Rose responds. She then addresses Delrin directly, “You will be sore for a long time, I’m sure, but your bones will heal.”
Delrin nods in thanks, and as Rose turns to leave, Aurora lightly touches her arm to stop her. “I’ve seen you talking to the other healers, are you the lead?” she asks.
Rose smiles. “I am.”
“That’s wonderful, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Aurora feels a little embarrassed, she’s barely spoken to the girl in years, but she knows another who would benefits from her kind hand and magical talent. “Will you... do me a favor? There is a woman in the barred carriage. I know that she was badly injured during the siege, but… she’s also the woman who threatened the Inquisitor.” Rose stiffens at her words, but waits for Aurora to finish. “I don’t think anyone has checked on her because of what she’s done, and I know that she’s too proud to ask. Her name is Abner, and… I know she did a bad thing, but she’s not a bad person. She saved my life once. Will you… will you please… please check on her?”
Rose flushes, eyes darting to the ground then back to Aurora’s. “I know she’s not a bad person,” she says. “Yes, I will make sure she’s okay.”
“Thank you.” And with that, Rose bends, lifts the canvas flap, and leaves the tent.
“I told you that you are a good woman,” Delrin says, pulling Aurora’s attention back from where Rose left.
“I just… I don’t want her to be forgotten.” She turns back Delrin’s cot and leans over him to press a single kiss on his forehead. “You should rest now, it sounds like you have a long road to recovery.”
“Will you visit me again?”
However foolish, she speaks from her heart. “Daily. As long as I am able.”
Notes: That was a cameo of @ma-sulevin‘s OC Rose! She is a mage from The Fire and the Flood, which you should read if you haven’t. It's a great Cullen x OC fic about a circle mage (and a certain Aurora Monroe also has a cameo in her AU!)
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Chapter One, Sam
Sam Dylan woke up when the first rays of light were barely creeping over the horizon, their shaky fingers not yet touching any of her tiny window in her cellar room—she could still see the crescent moon high over the trees. The rest of her family was still sound asleep (she could tell by the lack of creaks on her ceiling), but Sam hadn’t been allowed that luxury since she’d first been old enough to stand on a stool and cook breakfast. Quickly knotting her wavy, still sleep-disordered, light brown hair into a quick twist-like bun at the back of her head, she quietly stood up off the small cot she slept on—slowly, so the sharp, old springs wouldn’t creak and wake anybody.Sound traveled fast in her house and she didn’t want anyone to wake up and yell at her for disturbing their sleep.
Quiet as the dew settling on the grass outside, she crept up her stairs, opened her door, and slipped into the tiny living room of her family’s diminished (“quaint,” if you asked her mother) cottage, then just as quietly out the back door. The small chicken coop wasn’t a mile away, but her family had a decent-sized yard before it all turned into forest, and the tall weeds that winded around her ankles that she constantly had to check for snakes made it a slow, hard-won process.
Knowing she’d gotten up fifteen minutes later than usual (Sam’s internal clock had become sharply honed since her mother had once broken her alarm clock on the wall over her head and screamed at her when she was just waking up), she practically ran through the grass. Seeing that there were two new eggs, she put them in her pockets.
She hurriedly gave the chickens some more feed and then ran back to the crumbling cottage as quickly as possible. Mother needed her breakfast and Sam couldn’t be late.
The kitchen was a small, cramped space—even more cramped when you had to move without bumping into anything or making the slightest loud sound. Pouring milk from the dingy refrigerator into a bowl, Sam began to churn it into butter (without letting the mixing spoon hit the sides or bottom of the bowl), and when that was done, she separated it from the buttermilk.
She couldn’t crack the eggs or begin to cook them until she heard her mother and father rise and begin moving about the place, so she quietly began dusting the windows in the rooms. After her dusting, sweeping, and straightening of the kitchen/dining room and the “living” room, she heard rustling noises from her mother and father’s room. Now she was able to open the shutters and begin cooking breakfast.
(*^*)
“Here you go, Mother,” she said, looking carefully at the floor, the table, and her hands to make sure she didn’t trip or spill anything.
When her mother began eating and didn’t say anything, she went back and retrieved the other plate that had the other omelet. “Here you go, Father.” Pouring them both the buttermilk left over from churning the butter, she then went into the kitchen and began to carefully (and silently, silently, silently) clean the counters and wipe off the dishes—she could wash them after they left for work.
Sam was glad she was such a small person at these times. Her light brown hair was positively unremarkable; her light blue eyes faded into other things; and her pale, unmarked skin was equally as unremarkable. It made it quite easy to disappear in plain sight.
Her parents talked to each other of various things during breakfast, but none that had any meaning beyond what you would discuss with strangers. And none of it was about Sam, so she said her thanks to God and she went on quietly to sweep the front porch.
Blessedly, her parents left for their jobs shortly after—her father as a mail-delivery man, and her mother as a waitress for the only diner in their town.
Her brothers were still sleeping, and Sam wanted to escape before they awoke, so she crept down to her cellar, got her satchel, and left, quietly shutting the door behind her.
On her walk to the library, Sam was able to finally relax for the first time all morning. To do away with the horrible silence, she sang children’s nursery rhymes in English and French, she talked to the birds and the squirrels and the butterflies and the bees, and she breathed in the smell of ash, alder, and common beech trees. Poppy and fireweed filled the air with their scent and the wooded walk was filled with the peaceful colors of all kinds of green and the brown of trunks, the flashing colors of birds up in the branches, and the gray-blue sky that peeked around the leaves.
Once she reached the library on a walk through town where she absolutely avoided the diner, she entered and was able to inhale the scent of paper, ink, and peaceful things. Mrs. Thomas, the librarian waved to her. “Hullo, Sam.”
Sam beamed back at her. “Hi, Mrs. Thomas.” Mrs. Thomas was the most beautiful lady Sam had ever seen—eyes as green as the forest, hair as golden as honeysuckle, and a round, pleasant face with laugh lines that was always smiling from the eyes and rosy cheeks if not the mouth. She was a heavyset woman in her forties but Sam thought that she must surely live forever with such a kind heart.
She headed straight for the section with the French books, and she ran her fingers along the titles. Candide, In Search of Lost Time, Le Cœur, Chercher de Tomber Amoureuse …. and, the next on her reading list, Le Petit Prince and a collection of short stories, all in French. She grabbed those, and she also wandered to the end of the aisle and picked up a few children’s short stories in German—her next language to conquer, and she was determined she’d master it in no time, too.
The library itself was a small, square building with a smaller selection of books than Sam wished for, but more than she could hope for. It did, after all, have enough for her to learn her languages. As soon as a person entered the library, the desk for checking out was on their right and beyond that were a set of a few shelves. To your left were more shelves of books (fiction in this section, nonfiction to the right) and in the center and the further back right corner, there were tables with chairs and a few armchairs situated by the back windows, which took up most of the wall. Sam headed back there to her usual spot—but it wasn’t by the armchairs. In the very back corner beyond the nonfiction section, the last shelf did not quite meet the wall, which also had large windows, and Sam settled in this tiny crevice.
She leaned her head back and just breathed, happy to be in her safe place. Then she chose the French collection of short stories and she began to read.
(*^*)
Hours later, she snapped her head up, checking the watch on her wrist—five o’clock! Angry, scared, and flustered that she had so easily forgotten the time, she ran out of the library with only a quick wave to Mrs. Thomas.
Oh, goodness, she was so late; she was so late; Mother was going to kill her.
She ran faster on the dirt lane towards home—faster, faster, faster. The trees turned to green-and-brown blurs in her peripheral vision. It’s so late. I wish I was home; I wish I was home; IwishIwashome—
A compressing vise tightened around her body, and Sam was pulled by her navel through the tiny space until—crack!—she opened her eyes, and she was home. Her brothers had apparently heard her appear and came out to meet her, Derec looking furious and Arthur looking like he’d caught her eating his cookies—like he was going to tell Mother, and make her throw them up for him.
“Wha’s tha’ noise?” Derec asked, his blue eyes narrowing angrily at her. His words were slurred—she could tell he’d been asleep.
Oh no. She could feel herself stuck, unable to move under the force of their glares—but then she remembered that there was supper to cook and prepare, messes that they’d left for her to clean up to do away with, and all before her parents got home in twenty-five minutes! She forced herself to move, both her legs and her mouth, quietly saying, “I don’t know what noise you’re talking about,” as she moved around them to the house.
“I know you did that devil thing where you move places,” Arthur crowed, pushing her with both hands so she landed on her hands and knees in the living room.
“We’re going to tell Mother,” Derec said, severely looking at her, his words harsh. “Pastor said that was the devil coming through you and we must stomp it out.”
Sam forced herself not to reply to that, even as her throat got tight. Was Satan currently working though her? She didn’t feel like she’d been corrupted by Lucifer, but how could she know? Again remembering her chores, and terrified of what her mother would do if she knew she’d again done that thing a lot like—witchcraft, devilry—she pushed off the floor, slowly, worried any sudden movements would make them act erratically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said again. “I ran all the way home.”
Neither of them looked convinced, and they breathed down her neck, making demeaning comments about how she was in league with Satan and how God always punished wicked children by turning them into salt or burning them alive, and how she sure didn’t look like she’d run home the entire time she made dinner and washed the dishes left in the sink.
Her mother and father got home. Her father rubbed both Arthur and Derec on the head and they went to watch football on the telly, and her mother hugged them both and kissed their heads. (They looked awful thin, she said. Sam, give them bigger portions—you’re starving my poor boys.)
She placed all of their plates on the table, waiting for her family to sit and tell her anything they needed before she gingerly took her seat and slowly began eating. Thankfully, her father only said, “The meat’s dry. Cook it less,” and her mother said nothing. Derec and Arthur, even more gratefully, said nothing about her little transportation problem—she was surprised, honestly, but figured they’d already forgotten. As much as they hated her, so short was their memories and capacities for human intelligence.
After the family ate, her mother, father, and brothers went to watch a movie, while Sam cleaned the table, the counters, and washed the dishes until they sparkled. She dried them until there was not a speck of water left. She swept the floors. She swept them again.
Then she stood in the kitchen, staring out the window above the sink as the world became darker and darker outside, until the only light was the tiny pinpricks of stars high above the trees. When her family left to go to their rooms, she waited until they were all asleep and the only sound was the slight squeaking of their mattresses if they rolled over before she finally turned out the lights and went to her room.
Making slow, carefully measured steps in the dark that didn’t creak the floorboards, she used the bathroom, changed into one of her dad’s old shirts that came to her knees and served as her dressing gown, and then went into her bedroom. Still careful about noise, she got into bed and pulled the covers over her head.
She clicked on her flashlight and began reading Le Petit Prince where she’d left off. And she felt herself go far, far away…
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