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ahtsumu · 3 years

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the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!”

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.”

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.)

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #kuroo tetsurou imagines #haikyuu!!

691 notes · View notes

mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed. The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him. “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?"

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

#obey me fandom #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #prompts! yay

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

You had a Friend in Me

I’M BACK!! Oh god its been two weeks since I posted a story. I missed you guys like crazy. Hopefully you like my newest piece. I went a... Unique direction. Enjoy!

She didn’t stumble, fall, and break like they expected her to. There was no big meltdown or confrontation. No apologies. Or promises to do better. No, when nearly everyone in class made it clear they weren’t friends with Marinette anymore; nothing happened. They had accused her of being mean to Lila and a bully as the reasons they couldn’t be friends anymore and had expected the girl to defend herself at the very least.

Marinette just shrugged, and that was it.

Even when they asked her to resign from being class president, she easily stood up and said she quit.

Most of the class, Alya, in particular wanted to be angry at her lack of reaction; shout and scream at the bluenette for seeming not to care about the severance of their friendships. But how could they?

They knew it was their choice. They were mature enough to know that everyone reacted differently to things. And yelling at Marinette for not being emotional enough at the fact that they weren’t friends anymore just showed their own immaturity. And that would be like telling Marinette she won; and that wasn’t worth it.

Besides, It was only September, they were sure Marinette would come crawling back to them soon.

…

Marinette never did.

…

On the outside, it didn’t look like much had changed with the class. While the class weren’t friends with Marinette, they still chose to be cordial. They still did assigned group projects with. Everyone doing their part. However, no one went out of their way to speak with the Bluenette. And she did the same and seemed content.

Despite appearances, things had definitely changed in class. And it didn’t take long for everyone to realize it.

The first was Alix’s birthday. Everyone had been so excited. Birthdays were always the best for Bustier’s class. The entire classroom would be decorated. There would be cake and balloons; a wonderful and thoughtful perfectly wrapped present.

However, when the kids arrived that morning, it was too the same ordinary classroom as the day before.

It was disappointing to say the least. The kids scrambled to try to throw something, anything together before Alix arrived. However, it was too late. Alix arrived not long after them, and seeing the smile fall from her face broke their hearts.

No one knew what to say. Or how to explain why nothing was decorated. Why there was no cake and or gift. They sat awkwardly at their desks.

It was only after Marinette arrived, just a few minutes before the bell rang, that they all got their answer.

Marinette. Marinette had been the class president. The class president was responsible for any class birthday, trip, or fundraiser. She had always gone above and beyond. Unlike, Chloe, the previous class president, who only ever put in their bare minimum (and she made Sabrina do that); a cupcake, a balloon tied to their desk, and a card signed by the entire class.

Marinette had been their friend so she always made sure to do her very best to celebrate. But she wasn’t class president anymore. And she wasn’t their friend. She wasn’t obligated to do anything.

So she didn’t.

And while the class had been meaning to, they never got around to electing a new class president to replace the one their forced out of office.

It burned a little.

Particularly, when the class realized they were hard pressed to find volunteer to assume the role. No one had that much time on their hands. No one wanted to be responsible for anything going wrong. Or not living up to expectations.

Friend or not, they could admit Marinette was a hard act to follow.

Unfortunately, to prevent Chloe from taking the job again, Alya was forced to step up.

It didn’t take long to realize that planning for fundraisers and dances and parties was equivalent to the work of seven people. She didn’t know how Marinette handled it so well.

School trips, once amazing and carefully planned to the last detail, now were boring and hastily put together; the best one was a trip to the museum, mostly because they got to have ice cream after.

Fresh baked sweets on big tests days were gone too. It had become a tradition that on days of major, study hard and cram for weeks prior, tests that treats were brought in the morning. It lightened the tension of the day, and just made everyone feel better.

The morning of a huge math test that had caused a few kids to hyperventilate the day before and of; delicious goods were nowhere to be found.

When the bell rang, Kim had quickly asked Bustier where the food was.

To which the teacher replied, “Marinette always asked me if she could bring them in for her friends.”

And that was all they needed to know.

It sucked but it was something they could live without.

Favors were the next thing they realized were gone.

Before whenever they needed something; they would automatically go to Marinette for help. A babysitter, sweets, costumes, dresses, set design.

Alya and Nino found themselves spending their date nights watching their young siblings together. Most of their friends refused to babysit. And the few that were willing were far too busy.

Mylene found that the school play’s custom designed costumes were a thing of the past. So were the artfully decorated set designs.

Alix had to make her own banners. So did Kim.

Rose couldn’t just run to Marinette when she need a new fabulous dress. Marinette had always made it clear that she was willing to help out a friend whenever they asked her about costs.

Then the favors they never realized they even got were gone.

Discounts at the bakery were only for friends and family. Unfortunately that also meant the discount for their families were gone as well.

Ladybug suddenly stopped giving Alya interviews. And when Alya asked why, the hero said she only did it because the reporter was Marinette’s friend. It hurt the Ladyblog badly.

Someone coming to defend them whenever Chloe threw a tantrum and managing to calm the blond down. Even Alya found she wasn’t as much of match as thought, when the spoiled rotten girl was on rampage.

This effect class morale dramatically. And it wasn’t before long that the class shifted to what it was like before Alya or Adrien came to school, with Chloe trying to declare dominance every other second. But this time, the other students were cowed like they used to be. No, they had seen Marinette standing up for herself and them for years. If she could do it, so could they. Sadly, they weren’t enough. With just the right amount of effort, Chloe could intimidate anyone.

Adrien who was soon confused about why the friend safe haven had suddenly turned hostile

Marinette just shook her head. Chloe asked (ordered) Marinette to come to her penthouse one October morning. The blonde had realized the dynamic in class had changed dramatically and wanted to seize the opportunity with an iron first; and she knew she couldn’t do that if Dupain-Cheng was still her number one enemy.

Chloe proceeded to lay down an offer of truce. Chloe and Marinette would leave each other alone, would stay out of each other’s way, and didn’t interfere with anything the other did unless it was school related so they absolutely had to. There would be no threats, stealing, lies, or intimidation from Chloe towards Marinette. In return, Marinette would let Chloe do her thing without trying to defend or save anyone.

As long as both did that, there would be peace.

Marinette agreed.

Thus Chloe’s reign for her symbolic iron throne began. The queen bee had no illusions of who was who. Marinette was a Stark. Chloe: a Lannister. But Chloe was a smart lion. She had no problems letting the North be independent away from the rest of the kingdom. Chloe’s kingdom.

And much like show, there was no win or lose. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground. And Chloe would win.

Lila was the first to feel to the effects. Chloe refused to have competition for Queen Bee. And the Italian girl became took Marinette’s place as her new number one target.

Lila soon learned that dealing with Marinette was one thing, dealing with Chloe was a whole different animal. While Marinette fought for peace, Chloe was more than willing to rage war. And unlike Marinette, Chloe didn’t care what anyone thought about her. Lila could scream to the world about how much of a bully Chloe was but what did it matter. Everyone in class knew that already.

She couldn’t threaten Chloe like she did Marinette. In fact, the Chloe regularly threatened her. In front of the other students, and Bustier.

She couldn’t try to get Chloe expelled as Damocles was quick to bend to the blonde’s will.

Chloe regularly “Accidently” tripped Lila, ruined her homework, stole any projects she had, destroyed her phone one time, verbally ripped her to shreds in front of everyone and even worse in private. Chloe would play mean and outright nasty pranks that would leave Lila in tears. More than a few sets of clothes were destroyed. To make everything worse, the blond brat routinely made her look like a fool in front of Adrien. She even got her mother to mock the Agreste brand about their use of a lackluster model to the point where Gabriel fired her.

Nearly everything Lila had accused Marinette of doing, she found herself actually having to face from Chloe. Who would’ve thought the bluenette was doing her a favor by being all moral and self-righteous that it would draw the attention of the evil that was Chloe Bourgeois.

The truce happened one grey October Morning, Chloe officially ruled the class again by November. Lila was seriously considering changing schools.

No one had the time to fawn over her. And she certainly didn’t have time to amaze anyone with her stories. No she was too busy fending off Chloe’s attacks. And wondering why the brat kept referring to her as a Tyrell. Or Alya and Nino as Karstarks. And the rest of the class as Freys’.

One by one, each student realized they had lost something else. Something they actually really missed.

When the class picture was taken, Juleka had been just late and no one realized it. Rose had comforted her again. But no one was able to get the photographer to take another picture. At the end of the day, Juleka still felt really bad about it and had to fight the urge to call Marinette that night. Marinette was always willing to just listen no matter the time.

And it wasn’t long where the other students found themselves in similar situations that all ended with them really wanting to talk to Marinette.

Alya after a fight with her sister.

Rose after Prince Ali wrote to her that he would be ending communication.

Nino after a gig went terribly.

Kim after he lost one of his games.

Alix after she broke her watch…. Again.

Mylene after a fight with Ivan.

Ivan after he failed a math test.

Nathaniel after Marc decided to end their partnership.

Sure, they went to their other friends for comfort. But Marinette was different. When one of them went to any of the other students with a problem; it felt just like that. Them complaining about their problems and the others doing their best to cheer them up and offer solutions. At the end, they still felt like they were on their own; like it was still just their problem. With Marinette…

She always made them feel like they were on the same team. She cared like they were her problems too. And wasn’t going to stop until they were fixed. Marinette was someone they could just talk to without judgement or getting harsh opinions; no criticism. With her, they never felt like they were being judged; even when pointed out that it might, in fact, be their own fault.

They missed Marinette when they afraid or nervous. She’d always manage to calm them down, assure them, be their biggest supporter if need be. And her just being them made them feel better; like they stood more of a chance. She take their mind of things, get them to relax, smile, and by the time whatever it was that made them so terrified came up, they had already completely forgotten why they were anxious.

The strangest part was they even missed her when things were happy as well.

When anything good happened, one of their first instincts was to call Marinette; scream their excitement. And listen to Marinette scream back just as happy as they were, despite that she was in no way affected.

No; on the outside the class hadn’t changed much. Everyone still did their own thing. Homework was done. Tests were dealt with. Sure class trips weren’t as wonderful as they used to be. Birthdays only with store bought cupcakes and maybe some balloons. Everyone who started out as friends were still friends by the end of the years. It was just like anyone other class in the world.

…

Except they were never like all other classes. They had always felt like they were special. Most kids hadn’t looked forward to school day but the students of Bustier’s class had. There had always been something new and wonderful to talk about; some adventure to go on. Now there was nothing. There was still life in the classroom; still laughter and fun. But it was like something took the spark that made it come alive.

And it was hard to pretend otherwise.

And they couldn’t really figure out why.

One or Two (Rose and Nino) could admit, whenever they found themselves alone with their thoughts in class and looked around, that were was a hollowness to the classroom that had never existed before. It didn’t make sense. Everyone (minus Chloe) was still friendly with one another. They all still cared about each other. They were all still really good friends. Good but not as good as they used to be.

…

They’d never be as good as they used to be again.

…

The class for their end of year party had gone to the pool. They all had a blast. On their way home, they walked by the park and heard music and laughter. It didn’t take long to realize that there was a party happening.

“Happy Birthday, Marinette!” Caught their attention.

From where they stood, just outside the party, the students and ex friends of Marinette could make out other students from different classes from their school.

Aurore the creator of the new blog BugOut. There was Marc, Claude, Mireille, Ondine, Bridgette, the Ice King that was Felix Culpa, and a bunch of other students they never knew Marinette was friends with. Even Luka was there.

“I didn’t know it was Marinette’s birthday,” Adrien frowned.

So did Alya. Mostly because it was her job to remember as class president. Partly because it was the first time she ever forgot her former (best) friend’s birthday. “It wasn’t on the list,” She gave a weak excuse.

“It looks like fun,” Juleka whispered.

And it did. There was a live band, a feast of food, people laughing and dancing; it all looked so… Alive.

Alix stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her throat clenched at the sight of the laughing bluenette who didn’t look like she had a care in the world. “Who knew Marinette had so many friends?”

Nino glanced down, “She looks happy.”

And Marinette did.

She looked like the happiest girl in the world.

But she always did.

Even after they ended their friendships with her.

It didn’t seem to both the bluenette. She kept being her positive and cheerful self, except they couldn’t bask in her sunlight anymore.

They watched when Luka got on their makeshift stage with his guitar, “Marinette you are the most special person I’ve ever met. You’re kind, sweet, and way too thoughtful for your own good. Which is why we all wanted you to know…” he started playing his guitar. A familiar tune filled the air, all the party goers starts to sings.

“You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

When the road looks rough ahead

And you're miles and miles

From your nice warm bed

You just remember what your old pal said

Boy, you've got a friend in me

Yeah, you've got a friend in me”

The song left a bad taste of Irony on their tongues.

They thought they had left Marinette behind, somehow it had ended up being the opposite.

…

They felt like forgotten toys.

#ml salt #ml fic #class salt #A bit of Adrien salt #Lila Salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better

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scvrllet · 4 years

Text

the inevitable / r.b

Pairing: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: Defying the Dark Lord never ends well, you and Regulus learned this from experience

Warning(s): death, brief mention of torture, angst but with a fluffy ending (you’re welcome, we all know I usually would’ve left it angsty)

Words: 3k+

Prompt: “Run away with me, it’ll be worth it.” will be in bold

This is for @obsessedwithrandomthings‘ writing challenge (congrats again on 500 followers!)

A/N: I cannot write fluff I’m so sorry if you cringe. Also I’m posting this at nearly 11pm so idek if anyones gonna see this

General HP Taglist: @summer-writes @lunaralpha270 @tinylumpiaa @slytherin-chaser @bloodblossom73 @peachesandpinks @mischiefsemimanaged @accio-rogers @iamak20 @klaus-m-trash

Permanent Taglist: @sleep-i-ness @emmaloo21 @62442-am @flowersgrewbackasth0rns @imintoodeeptostop

Regulus stood hunched over the basin. The green glow of the remaining potion acting as a cruel reminder of what remaining torture he has to go through. Kreacher stood in front of him with a goblet in his hands. Regulus nodded and gulped down the potion, feeling the burning sensation as it went down.

He’s only had a few sips and so far, have only felt like his insides were on fire. As uncomfortable and painful it was, he forced himself to take more until his surroundings seemed to change.

(Y/N)?” He rasped as his vision started to focus on the figure sprawled out in front of him. When his vision finally focused, that was when he started screaming and scrambled to get up. Kreacher quickly dropped the goblet back into the basin and went to hold back his master who was mumbling stuff under his breath.

“Master Black, you must drink the potion.”

“(Y/N)! She’s there! Kreacher let go of me, she’s going to die!”

“Master Black, (Y/N) isn’t there. You must drink the potion.”

By this point Kreacher had to force the boy to take the potion and he hated every single second of it. Hearing his Master’s cries and protests to save someone who wasn’t there. Kreacher only hoped that they’d be out of here soon.

Taking more of the potion only made the visions worse. He kept seeing you, then Sirius, then the both of you laying in front of him. The two of you, dead before him just before the vision changed again. This time, Regulus recognized it as a memory. It was the first time he had gotten into a fight with you.

“I just don’t see why you’re so worked up on this (Y/N). I’ll be fine, just because my family supports him doesn’t mean I’ll become a Death Eater.” Regulus said, his tone laced with annoyance as he lied straight to your face.

“Than run away with me, it’ll be worth it. I promise. You won’t have to worry about Voldemort or your family. It’ll only be us. Just say the word, take my hand and we’ll go.” You pleaded desperately

It hurt him to see you so stressed over him and it hurt even more that he was lying to you. He was already branded with the Dark Mark but he just didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t even know if he wanted to tell you.

“No, (Y/N), I can’t. He’ll find us, find me somehow. That will only put us into more danger.” Again, lies spilled out from his mouth.

Regulus now wondered if he had taken your hand, would have things turned out differently.

When the potion was finally gone, Kreacher quickly grabbed the locket and switched it for the one Regulus had brought that contained the letter.

“Water. I need water.” Regulus mumbled, looking around the cave before crawling towards the dark lake surrounding the island they were standing on.

“Master Black no!” Kreacher protested but it was too late.

Immediately after Regulus and cupped his hands into the water to bring some to his lips, white ghastly hands had started to crawl out from the water. Several of them from all sides of the island. It was as if they were waiting for him.

By the time Kreacher made it to Regulus’ side, the inferi were already dragging him towards the water and they both knew that there was nothing that could be done. Before he was pulled under the water, he gave Kreacher one last order, fighting to stay above the water for even just a few more seconds.

“Go! Don’t tell my family anything, and give the letter to (Y/N). Protect her at all cost and destroy the locket”

The House elf nodded and with a guilty expression, appeared out of the cave and back to 12 Grimmauld Place. The sounds of his Master’s screams and cries echoing in his head as he appeared into the home that felt colder than usual. He quickly called for his master’s owl and gave it the letter. “To Hogwarts, to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

---

Mail at Hogwarts was usually delivered during breakfast unless it was considered urgent, then it’d be delivered straight to the recipient’s dorm.

You were sitting on the edge of your one of your dorm-mates bed when a pecking noise was heard from outside the window. It was one of your other dorm-mates who decided to open the window after you waved it off as a tree branch on the window.

“It’s not a branch (Y/N),why would there be a branch here? Anyways, it’s a letter for you.” They said as they handed you the letter.

The second you grabbed it from her hand your brows raised as you recognized the Black family crest stamped in the middle of it, sealing the envelope shut. “Regulus?” you mumbled as you got up to go sit on your own bed.

For the past month you noticed that he was acting differently and just a week ago he apparently left school. You just assumed that his parents needed him home for some urgent business and that was why he didn’t tell you anything. He was a busy boy after all.

Breaking the seal on the envelope you took out the piece of parchment which was written in black ink. Your heart swells as you read what was written in it.

My little dove,

If you’re reading this then it means that I have been killed. I’m sorry I’ve kept you in the dark about this but I found out something about Voldemort. He’s created this thing called a Horcrux. He’s not human, not anymore. For the past month I’ve been trying to figure out where to find it and possibly destroy it. I know that you’d probably scold me for doing a suicide mission but that’s now why I haven’t told you anything. It’s because I know you’d join me and do anything and everything so that I could live but I can’t let that happen. I’m ashamed to be a part of this family and shamed to have waited so long before finally realizing how horrible it actually is.

There isn’t much time. I’m writing this the night before I go to the cave with Kreacher. Hopefully he is able to destroy the Horcrux and he’ll be mortal once again.

Also, another thing. Please don’t tell my family anything or anyone in general, especially Sirius. If they ask about me just say you don’t know. Sirius would go out of his way to try and kill him and as much as I miss him, he’s safer with the Potters. Or at least I hope.

I love you (Y/N), I always have and always will. Not even death can stop me, I promise.

Yours forever, Regulus Arcturus Black.

P.S.

Please don’t rush to see me again. We will meet again when your time comes but for now, your time is far from near. Don’t rush it darling, it’s not a race to the end. I love you forever.

You didn’t notice the tears that fell from your eyes until one landed on the letter you were now gripping tightly. Your dorm-mates had paused their conversation and were now at the edge of your bed looking at you with worried expressions.

“What’s wrong?” One of them asked.

“N-nothing.” You lied.

They either believed it or knew better than to pressure you into saying anything. They simply just nodded and quickly left the dorm to give you your space which you silently thanked them for. When the door closed behind them you fell back onto the bed, your head buried into your pillow as your sobs filled the room. The letter clutched tightly in your arms until you had fallen asleep.

When you woke up the next morning you immediately sat up to make sure that no one had taken the letter and read it. You sighed in relief when it was still in your hands and hid it before getting ready for the day. Getting ready as if you hadn’t just found out that the love of your life was killed the day before. No one could find out.

You were thankful that there was only a week left before the Christmas holidays. Though you had plans to meet with Regulus over the break, you would now be spending them grieving a boy that no one but you and Kreacher knew had passed. You only hoped that the week would end quickly.

---

Kreacher greeted you at the door. 12 Grimmauld Place felt colder and lonelier than ever as you stepped inside.

The House Elf led you to the Drawing Room where a yellow locket rested on a table. You looked back at Kreacher who nodded, already knowing what you were going to ask.

“So this was the Dark Lord’s Horcrux, Salazar Slytherin’s locket.” You thought to yourself as you picked it up to examine it.

“Kreacher has not been able to destroy it.” The old House Elf croaked.

“And why would Kreacher do such a thing?” A voice said suddenly from behind the two of you. You instinctively grabbed your wand, ready to defend yourself and Kreacher but as you turned around two spells were shot towards you. The locket along with your wand dropped to the ground and a third spell was aimed at your chest, causing you to stumble and fall onto your back.

Kreacher tried to intervene but with a wave of their wand, the attacker who you have yet to get a clear look at, sent the House Elf flying into the closest wall. By the time he was on his feet, the attacker was standing by your side and harshly grabbed your shoulder before apparating out of the house. Kreacher stood there for a moment, taking in the fact that he had failed his Master not just once but twice.

“My Lord, this is the girl.” Your attacker said, they bowed at the tall dark figure who stood before them and that was when you finally recognized who it was. Bellatrix Lestrange, Regulus’s cousin who was an extremely loyal Death Eater to the Dark Lord. It was said that she was even obsessed with him and you wondered how twisted someone must be to be obsessed with a man like him.

“And where is the locket?” The figure, who you assumed was the Dark Lord, asked. His voice was calm which surprised you. You expected him to sound colder, cruel even.

“I-I didn’t see it.” Was Bellatrix’s reply which caused the Dark Lord to finally turn around.

“Well then, why don’t we ask our guest then.” He suggested as he slowly stepped closer towards you. Crouching down in front of you, he placed two fingers under your chin and lifted your head up so that you were looking him in the eye.

You were once told that the Dark Lord was actually an attractive young man while studying at Hogwarts. Many girls fawned over him but he paid them no mind. He seemed to have his own gang of ‘friends’ who ended up to be his very first Death Eaters. No one would have thought that the he would have rose to power at such an early age. Over the years, as he started to become a dark wizard was when his features started to look less human but they were subtle. From a glance you would have assumed that he was just another wizard but upon closer inspection you noticed the subtle snake-like features.

“Now, have you seen a yellow locket? More specifically, one that shouldn’t have been touched from the start.”He asked you calmly, a wicked smirk on his lips as he watched you try to appear calm.

“No.” You lied through gritted teeth.

His smirk seemed to grow as he let go from your chin. “Liar!” He seethed as he stood up straight.

He turned to Bellatrix who stood behind you and you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you heard him say, “Bella, do as you please.”

The sounds of his footsteps retreating echoed through the dimly lit room and when the door behind him closed shut you prayed, prayed for some sort of God or deity to spare you from what you knew was going to come.

“Looks like we are going to have some fun.” She said in a sickly sweet tone before grabbing her wand and pulling you up by your shoulder.

It felt like hours had gone by as you laid on the cold ground, not you minded. You liked the cold ground. It was better than Bellatrix’s wand burning into your skin or the cruciatus curse that felt like white-hot knives piercing your skin.

Just when you had thought it was over, the pain filled your body again. Your bones felt like they were on fire and you tried to bite back a scream. Bellatrix only giggled, seeming to love the pain she was inflicting as she rasped her wand and pointed it at you again.

“Please.” You had managed to say. Due to the hours of torture you had just gone through you were surprised you had enough strength to even speak.

Bellatrix lowered her wand, her eyes no longer bearing that maniac look that often filled her eyes as her expression looked more sympathetic. At this point you were far too weak to even try and figure out if this was all an act or not. A part of you told you to not get your hopes up but on the verge of death, your hopes were already far too high.

She crouched down and leaned towards your ear, her signature smirk returning to her face as she whispered, “You should’ve told him where it was.” before one last spell shot out form her wand.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Your body fell limp and during the last second before death greeted you, a small smile appeared on your lips as your last thoughts were of finally reuniting with Regulus. Then quicker than ever, darkness flooded your vision and you welcomed it.

---

When you opened your eyes again it was no longer darkness that flooded your vision but bright white light. Once your vision adjusted you noticed you were at Kings Cross Station except it was entirely white. Even the clothes you wore were all white. Was this the afterlife?

“He’s waiting for you.” A familiar voice said and you turned around to see your grandmother. You didn’t hesitate for a second as you ran towards her to hug her, a chuckle escaping her lips as she hugged you back. You had lost her the summer before you started Hogwarts and it pained you to not be able to tell her what you experienced there. You knew she would’ve loved to hear what you had to say but maybe now, 6 years later, you could finally tell her.

“As much as I’d love to hear about your years at Hogwarts, I have to wait for someone else.” Your grandmother said as if she had read your mind.

“Mom...”

“Yes my child, though worry not, it is not her time yet.”

Silence draped itself onto the two of you as you realized that your parents had no idea that you had died. You simply told them that you were going to a friend’s house and that you’d be back for dinner but now that wouldn’t be happening.

“They’ll be fine, don’t worry about them. What you should be worrying about is keeping him waiting.” Your grandmother said and you looked at her with a confused expression.

“He?” You asked, not sure who she could have been referring to. She simply smiled and then it clicked in your head. Regulus.

“Take the train down three stops, get off and wait until the train is gone before getting off the platform. He’ll be there waiting for you.” With one last hug, you left your grandmother and hopped onto the train that arrived a few minutes after. You followed her instructions, getting off at the third stop and waiting until the train was fully gone before getting off of the platform.

Getting off of the platform, you were relieved to see that everything wasn’t all white but instead, was the countryside with farm animals and a small cottage. There was a feeling inside you that wanted for you to go towards the cottage.

“I’m already dead so what’s the worst that could happen?” You thought to yourself before heading towards the cottage.

The closer you got the more nostalgic you felt though you couldn’t figure out how. By the time you were standing on the front door step, you could’ve sworn that you’ve seen the cottage somewhere before.

Before you could even knock, the door swung open and a head of black curly hair immediately pulled you into their embrace. You stood there unsure of what was happening until the familiar scent of the boy you loved filled your senses.

“Regulus...” You said softly, as if trying to confirm whether it was really him or not that was hugging you so tightly.

He pulled away, hands no longer holding you close to him but now cupping your face. Tears filled both your eyes though neither of you knew who started crying first.

“You’re such an idiot.” He tried joking as he buried your face in his chest. He held you close, pressing kisses into your hair as tears streamed down both your faces.

“I love you.” You said, lifting you head up from his chest to look into his eyes that you were starting to miss. You were happy to see that they didn’t look so dull anymore.

“I love you more. But that doesn’t mean you’re not an idiot. I told you to take your time which meant not to go and try to destroy the Horcrux. I even told Kreacher to protect you but clearly-” Pulling his face closer to yours so that you could kiss him caused his lecture to abruptly stop as he melted into the kiss.

The moment lasted for a while but ended far too quickly in your opinion as Regulus pulled away and started to lecture you again causing you to roll your eyes.

“You can lecture me all you want but could you at least tell me why we’re here?” You stopped him mid-lecture, pointing to the area surrounding you. For some reason it felt like home.

“This was the life you wanted when you asked me to run away with you,” He replied with a smile that quickly dropped, “I’m sorry for not taking your hand that night. Life would’ve been different, maybe even better if I had but I was scared. I’m so sorry.”

You flashed him a soft smile, pulling his face closer to yours so that you could press a kiss to his check. A blush bloomed on his cheeks and though he tried to hide it, he knew it was no use and just gave up.

The two of you stood there for a while. Not a word being scad but instead, a comforting silence as you both took in each-others appearance. It’s been a while since either of you have been able to feel this peaceful.

“So this is the other side?” You asked breaking the silence.

“I think so yeah. Why? You don’t like it?” The smile on his face turned into a worried expression as he looked at you. His reaction caused you to laugh. Ignoring his questioning look, you placed your hand into his and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“No no, I like it though I don’t really care where we are.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I have you with me.” You replied, looking up at him with a smile which he mirrored.

“You’re such a sap.” He teased.

“But you still love me.”

“And I always will.”

#dees500challenge #regulus arcturus black #regulus black #regulus black au #regulus black angst #regulus black fluff #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fic #regulus black imagine #regulus black oneshot #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus imagine #regulus oneshot #regulus x reader #harry potter series #harry potter au

443 notes · View notes

hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Text

Day 12: It Evaded Me - Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Rating: 18 +

This was a challenging prompt to write for just because of the wording but I am really happy with the way this has turned out.

Once again, thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking. It means a lot to me that people are reading and enjoying my writing. :)

November Writing Challenge Masterlist

Day 11: Walk the Dog- William ‘Ironhead’ Miller

You had been working on base for several weeks before you had first met him, the poster boy for the resistance, Poe Dameron. You were a transfer mechanic on a temporary assignment, assigned to Black Squadron. More specifically Black One, Poe Dameron's personal x-wing. The ship was hard to miss with its distinctive black and orange coloring it stood out among the others, just like the man himself. He was passionate (arrogant), outspoken (egotistical), and always (ALWAYS) messing up his damn ship. Which meant more work for you.

This led to some colorful conversations between the two of you. It was getting so bad that after he came back last time you both had to sit down with the General and have a talk. You couldn’t stand the man honestly. It was like he was trying to get under your skin, and the worst part was you let him.

“How’s my ship sparky?” came the smug voice you hated.

“I told you stop calling me that,” you sighed, “we promised the General that we were going to be professional from now on and you make it really fucking hard when you call me...that.” It had been a late night attempting the repairs on Poe’s X-wing, the ship was in horrible condition after a run in with some ties. You were replacing a power coupling when you had gotten shocked. Poe had been unfortunately nearby and saw the whole thing causing thus beginning of your trouble with the cocky pilot.

“Yeah, yea sorry about that,” he brushes off your comment, “but seriously how's my ship?”

You groaned, “honestly? It’s a mess fly boy, how do you always manage to make such a mess and still manage to not die?”

“I am the best pilot in the resistance, or hadn’t you heard?” he gives you that smirk and you honestly don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him.

Whoa...what the hell was that thought?! You shake your head to hopefully restart your brain into working again. Poe Dameron, hate him, horrible person, get it right.

“You ok there?” Poe asks and for a moment you trick yourself into thinking he actually sounds concerned.

“I’m fine,” you huff, “I just can’t stand to be near you for too long, I’m worried some of your ego may rub off on me like some disease,” you brush your clothes off for affect.

You're too busy brushing yourself off. You miss the slight droop in his smile before he puts back on his poster boy face. “Well I won’t bother you anymore then, take care of my ship I’m leaving tomorrow for a mission.”

“You're leaving again already? You just got back,” the words are out of your mouth before you can even process what you just said.

Poe looks just as surprised, “yeah, I need to go retrieve some parts on Yavin for the General and I’m going to stay a couple extra days and visit my dad.”

“Oh...ok...but, you’re taking the x-wing? Why don’t you take one of the larger transports since you will be bringing back supplies?”

“I am.”

“Then...then why are you out here talking to me about your ship if you're not even taking it tomorrow?” your voice is quiet.

Several emotions cross over his face before he masks them all with indifference, “I just want to make sure you don’t skimp on my ship while I’m gone.”

Like a snap of your fingers, the ass is back, “Whatever Dameron, get the hell out of here and let me work. And leave BB-8, I could use his help.”

The droid has been quiet during the whole exchange and rolls over to you. While Dameron was a nightmare his droid was the sweetest in the entire galaxy. You wave Poe off and he just turns away and leaves.

You sit down and sigh, putting your head in your hands. Poe always left you with feelings you couldn’t understand. He could be so pleasant and then just...not in the blink of an eye. You feel the body of the droid press gently to your knee in comfort and you rest your hand on his dome head. “Is he always like this?” you ask the droid.

Beep beep boop beep

“Only with me? Well that’s a comfort,” you rub your fingers gently into your temples.

Beep boop beep beep

Your head snaps up and you look at the droid incredulous, “He what? Can you repeat that?”

Beep boop beep beep

You can’t help but burst out laughing, holding onto your sides as you almost slide off the crate your sitting on. “He...he likes me?! Oh BB-8 I didn’t realize you were programmed to tell jokes!”

Beep Beep

“No, no BB-8 he does not like me, and I’m sorry buddy but I don’t like him like that either,” you pat him gently before going back to the x-wing leaving the conversation unfinished.

The next morning, you wake up and shower. Walking to the mess hall to grab a quick breakfast before going back to the chaos of the x-wing. When you're just about to enter the mess hall you're quickly crowded back into one of the stone pillars holding up the structure. “Where the hell did you put them?” Poe Dameron asks, getting in your face.

You push him away from you but he’s like a statue, unyielding. “What are you talking about?” you shout. His hand quickly comes over your mouth and you bite him. He yelps before pulling his hand back shaking it.

“Will you quiet down! The General is in the mess and I don’t want her to hear us.”

“Then don’t put your dirty hands over my mouth, I don’t know where the hell those have been!” you hiss at him.

“Ok, okay….now back to my question, where did you put the keys to my transport?”

“How the hell would I know where the keys are?!” you try to keep your voice down, “I’m a mechanic not your mother!”

“Shhhhh!” he whispers at you before pulling you away from the mess hall and the warmth of your breakfast. You try to rip your arm out of his, to no avail.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just keeps pulling you back towards the personal quarters.

When you reach his room, he pulls you inside before closing the door behind you, dropping your arm. “Ok, tell her exactly what you told me?” he gestures to BB-8.

Beep Beep Boop Beep Beep

Poe shakes his head before dropping to one knee in front of the droid, “You lied? Buddy, why would you lie to me?”

Beep Boop Boop Beep

“What do you mean you have something to show me BB-8? Show me what?” you ask kneeing beside Poe in front of the droid. You know it’s impossible but the droid almost looks like a delinquent child in front of his parents.

BB-8 looks back and forth between the two of you before he begins to play a holographic recording. On the scene is Poe sitting down on his couch with his guitar strumming gently.

“Turn it off,” Poe whispers horrified, “BB-8 turn it off right now.”

The droid ignores him and continues to play the recording. Poe rises from his knee and begins pacing behind you running his hands through his curls. Your eyes are glued to the recording.

“Why does she get under my skin so much buddy? It’s like...no it can’t be. I mean yes, she’s beautiful...smart...and god when she is covered in engine grease it’s one of the sexiest images in the verse….shit I...I like her don’t I?” Hologram Poe puts down the guitar before running his hands through his hair.

BB-8 ends the recording and you don’t move for several minutes. Replaying the scene over and over again in your mind. You slowly rise to your feet and turn not sure what you're going to see. Behind you Poe Dameron, the hero of the resistance is staring at you a mixture of fear and hope on his face.

You take a few hesitant steps toward him, he remains rooted to the ground. You reach out one hand tentatively toward him before placing it gently on his cheek, his head moves slowly into the embrace. “You like me?” you whisper.

He nods slowly, “yeah…I wanted to deny it, it evaded me for so long.

You nod slowly, running your hand down his neck, to his arm, and down to his hand. You hold his much larger hand in your own. He takes a step closer to you. “But you haven’t told me, how do you feel?” his words are low and deep and you feel the heat pooling between your legs.

“....I think....you are one of the most infuriating men in the galaxy...but you're also kind, loyal, and the best pilot in the resistance, even if your reckless with your ship. I would be lying if I told you I haven’t been feeling something too.”

He steps one step closer, and you feel his breath on your lips, “so what do we do now?” he whispers, you feel the ghost of his lips on your own.

“This,” he whispers before moving the rest of the way and kissing you. His lips are soft and warm and his kisses are sweeter than any honey. He doesn’t push too far and your hands slowly reach up to bury into his curls. You open your mouth to sigh, and he slides his tongue into your mouth and you smile into the kiss. When you break apart for air he presses his forehead gently to your own. His smile matching your own.

“That was...everything I thought it would be and more,” he tells you whispering.

You press your lips to his lightly and he groans against your mouth when you begin to move your body against his own. He pulls back slightly, “as much as I want this, and god do I want this, I really need to find those keys and get going.”

You pout slightly and he laughs pulling you in for several more small kisses. Both of you draw your attention to the small droid who is beeping happily. You both furrow your brow at him before he pops open a compartment on his body and out pops the keys on the ground. You both drop open your mouths before bursting into laughter.

“I think your droid has been playing matchmaker,” you giggle at Poe.

“Well if that’s one of the new upgrades they installed, I think it’s the best one yet!” he laughs with you.

“Come along Commander, it’s time we get you off to your mission, we will have plenty more time to talk when you get back,” you go to move towards the door when his hand gently grabs your wrist.

You look at him with questioning eyes, “I know I said this before….but I really like you….Sparky.” The grin that fills his face leaves with that same feeling you had yesterday, you want to either punch him or kiss him. But, this time you choose the latter, and you do.

Day 13: Water Flowed - Llewyn Davis

#Oscar Isaac #star wars #poe dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #Sexy curls #November writing challenge #Day 12

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 2

My submission for Day 2 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net (Recommended if you are on mobile or haven't read the first part yet)

Preview:

The hair on the back of her neck raised, sensing the hit a moment before it came, but by then it was too late to dodge, even with her quick reflexes.

Kai’s hand shoved into her chest, and she hit the ground hard. She gasped, more from shock than pain, and then her brother was darting past her, out the door.

She gazed after him, dazed. She had experienced her fair share of fights with her brother, but he had never hit her before. It hadn’t hurt bad- she knew the raw strength he could pack, and that he had been holding back immensely, but it still- it still made her heart race.

“Nya!” Jay yelped, running over to her. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” she breathed, her voice shaking hard. She swallowed, trying to force out the tremor.

This hadn’t changed anything. She wasn’t afraid of her brother. Just a bit shocked, that was all. He hadn’t meant to do it, he had just lashed out out of frustration.

He would never hurt her on purpose.

He would never.

(Full chapter under the cut)

Prompts Used: Injury

Word Count: 6,730 (wooo this one hopefully won't crash my browser)

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Dehumanization

“Lloyd, come away from the door. It’s too cold outside.”

Lloyd looked back reluctantly at Nya’s call. Kai peered at him from over the large grocery bag he was carrying.

“She’s right, bud. The last thing we need is for someone to get sick. Medicine is pricey,” he added, frowning at the lightness of his wallet.

Zane carried in another bag beside him and pulled the door shut. Nya walked over to him, ruffling Lloyd’s hair as she passed. “How are we doing on cash?”

“We still got enough for a little while. But not a ton. I guess I underestimated all the stuff we would need.” He frowned, glancing around at their makeshift home, shivering as a chill tickled through the air. “We should’ve gotten more blankets. With winter coming, it’s going to be tough having no heat.”

“We should take turns sleeping with Lloyd. He’s like a little living furnace.”

Kai smirked. “Well, at least that’s one person we shouldn’t have to worry about. I thought he might be more vulnerable because of how small he is, but those dragon and oni genes really seem to be doing something for him.”

“Speaking of which,” Nya sighed, “he nearly set Cole on fire today.”

Kai winced. “Did we lose anything?”

“Just a blanket and part of a shirt.”

Kai shook his head, turning towards the boy. “Lloyd, what did I say about using fire breath indoors?”

Lloyd hardly seemed to hear, gekkering softly as he climbed up a support beam, flapping his wings a few times to propel him up to the rafters. Red eyes glowed eerily down at them, and Kai sighed.

“He’s only getting more restless the longer we’re in here,” Nya growled. “You don’t know what a pain he is when you’re gone.”

Kai crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s been two weeks. We can’t keep him in here forever.”

“We can’t stay here forever,” Cole grunted, looking up from the book he was reading. “We’re already running low on funds. We’re going to have to get jobs, somehow. And we can’t live in an abandoned warehouse for the rest of our lives- already, we’re struggling with the winter coming. Jay’s already got a cold. Sooner or later, one of us is going to freeze to death.”

Kai drummed his fingers along his thigh, turning his gaze to where the lab hybrid was snuggled on the floor in a pile of blankets, near the center of the building, where it was warmest. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s gonna be fine, it’s just a common cold. We’re just letting him sleep it off. But winter’s only just beginning. It’s only going to get worse from here on out.”

“Cole’s right,” Zane said. “We have to try something else.”

“We’re just a bunch of kids,” Nya snapped, her voice tight. “We have no idea what we’re doing.”

“Perhaps it’s time… we start looking for help.”

Three wary gazes shifted to Zane.

Kai narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that? Everybody hates our skins. Who would help us?”

“We don’t know that for sure. Borg told us that the world had it out for us… but he also pretended to care about us when he was really just using us.”

“Are you suggesting we go to the police?!” Nya growled. “Do you want to die?”

“Borg lied about a lot of things. What if he was lying about this, too?”

“And what if he wasn’t?” Kai retorted. “That’s a huge risk, Zane. One we can’t afford to take.”

“It was only a suggestion.”

“I get where you’re coming from, Zane,” Cole sighed, “but they’re right. That’s a big risk, and if we’re chased out, we have nowhere to go this time.”

“So what do we-”

They were interrupted by a shrill shriek, and whipped around to see Jay jerking up into a sitting position, Lloyd half-slumped over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Lloyd, leave Jay alone, he’s resting,” Kai chastised, rushing over to scoop him off of Jay. Lloyd squirmed in his grip, and Kai sighed. “What is wrong with you today?”

“He’s got too much energy for this cramped little place,” Nya told him. “He’s gonna end up hurting someone if we don’t do something about it.”

“Take him outside,” Jay sniffed, “before he burns the whole place down. And besides, he’s the only one of us you guys haven’t let wander since we got here. How is this different from what Borg did to him his whole life?”

“We’re protecting him from Borg,” Kai growled sharply. “If it was up to Borg, he’d be dead right now. I think we’re doing a much better job.”

“I’m not saying we aren’t,” Jay corrected quickly, waving his hands. “But I thought we wanted to give him the freedom he never had.”

“It’s not that simple, Jay,” Nya sighed. “Lloyd’s wanted- we all are, but he’s got the most at risk. If he’s spotted by anyone from Borg- it’s dangerous, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Of course it is. But so is hiding in an abandoned building for the rest of our lives. So is having nothing but a quickly-dwindling stash of money to our name. So is sleeping in a cold building with no heat through the winter. So is keeping a frustrated, fire-breathing brat inside a flammable area for two weeks.”

Lloyd shot a plume of fire at his face, and Jay shrieked, ducking. “See? I told you!” “Nah, he’s just mad at you for calling him a brat,” Nya snickered.

Kai gritted his teeth, pushing Lloyd’s face to the side until he stopped. “Jay does have a point, though. Maybe it’s worth trying to take him out.”

“But Borg-”

“We’ll be really careful,” Kai told her. “I’ll make sure he’s ready, and on his best behavior. You plan out where we’re going to go.”

Cole frowned. “How many of us are going to be going?”

“Two, plus Lloyd, would be ideal. Any more would draw too much attention.”

“Three of us could still be risky,” Cole warned. “Everyone at Borg looking for us will know what we look like. Disguises can only go so far.”

“I don’t want to just send one person out with Lloyd, though. If things go south, we’re going to need to stall for a little bit until we can get away.”

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure how much I like the odds of two of you against a whole legion of Borg associates.”

“We don’t know for sure there’ll be that many,” Zane reminded. “And it will take a while to call backup.”

“And besides,” Kai added, “I’m not planning on getting noticed. It’s just a precaution if we do.”

Everyone stared expectantly at Cole, who remained silent. Lloyd struggled in his arms, and Kai let him go. The boy bounded over to the badger hybrid, and gripped his leg, looking up pleadingly. Cole looked down at him, his forehead creasing. Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh.

“Alright, Kai, but I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

---

Kai, in fact, did not know what he was doing.

The plan was so simple in his head- teach Lloyd to blend in by having him get used to disguises and showing him the proper behaviors. They had done a very similar thing every time they had taken Lloyd out on one of their outings, back when they had still been living at Borg Tower. How hard could it be, really?

As it turned out, very hard.

Nya had not been lying about his exuberance. He seemed determined to make every little thing difficult.

“Lloyd, just put on this hat! You’ve done it before, quit being stubborn now!”

Lloyd jerked away from the hat like it was some sort of disease, hissing and batting at it. When Kai tried to pull it over his head, the boy grabbed it in his teeth and started pulling.

“No, no, don’t rip it! Augh, why can’t you just do as you’re told!”

“How’s the training going?” Nya laughed.

Kai turned to glare at her, releasing the hat. “Fine, thank you.”

“Really? Because it looks like your pupil just got away…”

Kai jerked his head back. Lloyd had dragged the hat, by his teeth, across the room, and was now slipping himself under the slab of wood that they had used as a foundation for a bed, which was much too low to the floor for Kai to even dream of fitting under.

He scowled, walking over to where Lloyd had wedged himself into, and stuck his arm underneath it, praying that he didn’t lose any fingers.

Luckily, Lloyd didn’t seem to be in a biting mood, but Kai could feel him cringing back from his touch.

“Come on, Lloyd, just come out of there already-”

He stopped as he realized Nya was giggling. Shooting her a glare, he growled, “What’s so funny?”

“You think you’re gonna have him ready to go by the end of the week?”

“You see if I don’t. You’re gonna be sorry you ever doubted me.”

“Uh-huh. If that’s what you need to tell yourself, I suppose.”

---

“Brr,” Jay huffed, as he and Nya pushed the door shut. “The wind’s really picking up out there.”

“Hopefully it’s just a cold streak,” she agreed. “I don’t want it to be too cold if we’re bringing Lloyd out in a couple days.”

“You guys still on for that?”

“I think so. Kai says he’s making progress with him. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Hey Nya, Jay,” Cole nodded at them. “You feeling better, bro?”

“Oh, a lot better. Good as new! I think it was just a little cold. I can go back to helping out, now.”

Zane sighed. “We were fortunate, this time. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Lloyd,” Nya called, pulling a package of gummy bears out of one of the shopping bags. “We got a surprise for you!”

She cast her gaze to the rafters, expecting him to come leaping down, but was surprised when she saw him wriggle out from where he was dozing beside Kai, instead.

She handed him the bag. “Don’t eat them all at once, okay? We’re a little tight on money right now, so you won’t be getting any more for a while.”

The smile he shot her was small, with no teeth, as he took the bag. “Thanks, Nya.”

She frowned at him. The last time she had brought him candy, he had basically been jumping off the walls with excitement, his tail swishing and ears twitching. Now, he was barely even smiling, and stood abruptly still.

Tugging at the seal, his brow furrowed as it didn’t open. When he didn’t immediately tear it open with his fangs, and instead handed it to her so she could open it for him, she knew something was definitely off.

“What’s wrong, Lloyd? Are you feeling alright? Aren’t you happy with it?”

“No, I want it!” he yelped, grabbing for the bag.

She frowned at him, snatching it away. “Why are you acting so weird?”

Lloyd’s ears drooped, his hands dropping to his side. “Kai told me to act like the humans so I could go outside. Did I do bad?”

Nya felt her heart squeeze. “Oh, no, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I… I’m just not used to seeing you like this.”

He looked up at her, red eyes hopeful. “I did it right? I acted good?”

Nya took a slow breath. “Yeah, I mean… Lloyd, what exactly did Kai tell you to do?”

Lloyd shrugged. “He said if I smile too much, people can see my fangs.” Peeling back his lips, he pointed to the sharp teeth, as if Nya needed a demonstration. “Seeh?”

“Yes, Lloyd, I see. But why do you need to hide your fangs in here?”

“Kai said I’m prat-practicing,” Lloyd told her matter-of-factly, looking immensely pleased with himself for pronouncing the long word. “So I can be good when we go outside!”

Nya’s stomach felt hard. “What other kinds of things did he tell you to do, Lloyd?”

“He teached me how to not wiggle my ears so much.” He pointed to his ears, making a point of holding them still. “And we talked a lot. He’s showing me to walk on my feet better too, which is kinda wobbly though, and not as fast as using my hands, too. But Kai said I’m doing better than I was! Hey, Nya,” he added, pointing at her face, “you’re doing that thing Kai told me not to do. I can see your fangs!”

Nya unclenched her teeth, working her jaw. “Thanks, bubs. I’m gonna go talk to Kai now, okay? You have some of your gummies.”

Turning to where her brother was slouched against the wall, paging through a magazine, she stormed over to him. He glanced up at her nonchalantly, and Nya felt a surge of frustration in her chest at how calm he was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why have you been teaching that stuff to Lloyd, Kai? Why is he acting so… weird?”

“You mean normal? It’s great, isn’t it? I gotta admit, it felt like an impossible task at the beginning of the week, but he’s reformed pretty quickly. I think he’s almost ready to go out!”

“It’s not great,” she growled. “You’ve completely changed who he is! There’s a difference between teaching him to stay low and to completely reforming him into human society!”

Kai eyed her testily. “I don’t see what the big deal is. What else were you expecting me to do?”

“I wanted you to hide him, not change his behavior! This isn’t him, Kai!”

“Relax, Nya, it’s just some minor modifications. He’s still our mischievous little brother!” “Really? Because he seemed much less feral to me.”

“Well, yeah! We can’t have him acting out in the middle of the city! I, for one, think this is an improvement. He hasn’t set anything on fire in days.”

“We’re not humans, Kai! We’re different than them, and that’s okay! He has to know that. He has to know what we are! We can’t just try to change him just because it’s what the world wants.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with being like the humans. They’ve gotten off alright, haven’t they? Meanwhile, we’ve spent our whole lives being cheated and used.”

“Just because something’s hard doesn’t mean we should just give up! I can’t believe you, don’t you care about your identity at all?” “I care about surviving. I’m trying to keep us safe! What’s a few little changes if it benefits us in the long run?”

“It might start as just some small changes, Kai, but eventually it’s going to snowball into something bigger.” She felt her voice catch in her throat. “I don’t want to teach him to hide who he is. I want him to be proud. He hasn’t done anything wrong! We left Borg to get away from that, didn’t we? So that we could start our own paths and be who we wanted to be?”

“You wanted to be homeless and poor?”

“Kai!”

“What? You’re upset with me for telling the truth? We ran away from Borg so we could live. It was out of necessity, not even a choice, really.”

“Borg was our captor. He lied to us our whole lives, made us believe he was the only one who cared when he couldn’t be bothered with us at all. If you’re seriously defending him right now-”

“I’m not defending him, of course I’m not!” Kai jumped to his feet, growling. “What kind of psychopath do you think I am? He tried to kill my baby brother! If you think I would be on his side after that-”

“But don’t you see, it’s more than just that! He was hurting all of us, for years. He was a bad person even before he decided to get rid of Lloyd. Now’s our chance to finally be free of all that. Now’s our chance to be ourselves, to-”

“To get captured again, according to you.”

“How could you say that? I want to protect everyone as much as you do, but I also think you are posing a threat to us by imposing on us the same rules Borg did-”

“How dare you compare me to him!” Kai roared. Nya flinched, and she felt the others turn their gazes on them. “I am nothing like that wretch, nothing, I want nothing more than to protect my family from him! I am doing what I must to keep us safe from him, to keep us as far away as possible. I am trying to avoid suspicion, and I don’t care about your sentimental values. I care about surviving!”

If it was anyone else, they would’ve backed down. Kai didn’t break out his roar at just any time, especially not on those he cared about. When he did, you knew he was seriously pissed. No one in their right minds would mess with him when he was mad.

But Nya was his sister, and her temper was just as hot. Although she might not have the strength of a lion behind her, or the fierceness of his roar, she wasn’t going to let her brother scare her.

“You are not protecting us, you are only restricting us, and the sooner you find out that you are just treating us like he did-”

The hair on the back of her neck raised, sensing the hit a moment before it came, but by then it was too late to dodge, even with her quick reflexes.

Kai’s hand shoved into her chest, and she hit the ground hard. She gasped, more from shock than pain, and then her brother was darting past her, out the door.

“Nya!” Jay yelped, running over to her. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” she breathed, her voice shaking hard. She swallowed, trying to force out the tremor.

This hadn’t changed anything. She wasn’t afraid of her brother. Just a bit shocked, that was all. He hadn’t meant to do it, he had just lashed out out of frustration. And, although she still believed she was in the right, she had provoked him a bit, if she was being honest.

He would never hurt her on purpose.

He… he would never do that.

He would never.

He…

“Nya?”

She blinked, realizing Jay was extending a hand to her. She took it, and let Jay pull her to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No!” she hissed fiercely, and Jay flinched. Gentler, she added, “I’m fine. Kai would never do that.”

Jay didn’t meet her gaze, only gripped her hand tighter.

“Where did he go?” she asked the others, after her breathing had returned to a somewhat normal state.

“Straight out the door,” Zane replied. “No one saw which way he went.”

Nya glanced around the room, stopping when she realized Kai wasn’t the only one missing. “Where’s Lloyd?”

Zane pointed quietly under one of their makeshift beds. A pair of red eyes glowed from underneath.

Nya crouched down, reaching her hand in. “We didn’t mean to scare you, Lloyd. Come on out, it’s alright now.”

Lloyd burrowed deeper under the bed. Nya sighed, giving up. She knew he would only come out when he was ready.

“Should I go after Kai?” Cole asked, frowning.

Zane shook his head. “I think it’s best to give him some space to blow off some steam.”

“I just hope he’s careful. If he’s too full of anger to pay attention to what he’s doing…”Jay’s tail drooped. “The last thing we need is for anyone to get spotted now.”

“We’re pretty far out here,” Cole assured him. “If we were closer to the city, I’d be worried, but Kai’d have to get pretty far to get anywhere within the distance I think the Borg employees would be searching.”

“I hope you’re right,” Nya sighed. “One day, his temper is going to get him- or one of us- into a situation he can’t get out of.”

---

The next couple days were incredibly tense. Kai came back a few hours later, not speaking to anyone and going straight to bed. He and Nya hardly spoke to each other, and when they did, their interactions were short and argumentative. The others were careful to stay out of it, not picking any sides. Kai had a feeling that they were pretty uncomfortable around him, though.

He hadn’t meant to hit Nya. She was his sister. Even though she was being stupid and sentimental, he still loved her and never would want to hurt her. But it wasn’t like he had seriously wounded her, either. It had just been a little scuffle. He knew that Nya knew that, and that she was only mad about the argument. The others, however… they were overreacting. He didn’t understand, after all their years together, how they could seriously think he would harm one of them.

That’s what the point of all of this was, wasn’t it? To protect them? Why couldn’t anyone else see that?

He was sick of all this. Sick of all the fighting, sick of struggling and hiding all the time. He just wished they could be normal.

Although Nya wanted anything but that, it seemed.

He understood what she was saying, in a sense- they were different. But was it really so bad to want to change who you were if it meant a life of peace and safety?

Kai just didn’t know anymore. He was tired of being the one who had to decide. He missed when they were younger, and Borg had made all the decisions for them.

Not that he wanted Borg to be in charge of them anymore- but the sentiment still stood.

But life had a way of being against them.

Wishes weren’t going to fix anything.

---

When the scheduled day for Lloyd’s venture into the town rolled around, the circumstances hadn’t improved much. They had originally planned for him and Nya to accompany Lloyd- a decision he was regretting now, with the tension still between them. He almost considered asking one of the others to take his place, but decided against it. He wanted to be there with Lloyd- he had been the one who had spent all the time training him, after all. And he didn’t dare ask Nya to change her mind about going- she would probably argue just for the sake of it, and it wasn’t worth the confrontation right now. Things were already bad enough as it was.

As they wrapped Lloyd up in his winter gear, he complied much more easily than usual, and three of them set out quietly.

“Where are we gonna go?” Kai asked Nya as they approached the bus stop.

“I was thinking we could go downtown, more towards where the little shops are. The people there are pretty nice, and it’s usually bustling, so it’ll be easy to blend in with the crowds.”

“How many stops down is that,” he frowned, fingering through the bills in his wallet.

Nya watched him anxiously. “Not too far. We can walk, if that’s better.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you-” “I told you, it’s fine!” Nya jerked her gaze away sharply. “Excuse me for trying to be considerate, then.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s too cold to walk.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to be caring or not.”

Kai growled. “Me neither.”

Lloyd squirmed by their feet, and Nya sighed. “Can we not do this, now?” She pointed down the street, to where the bus was rolling up. “The bus is here, anyway.”

Kai told the bus driver where they wanted to go, slipping him the proper payment, and the three of them piled on, taking a spot near the back, even though the bus was mostly empty. Kai knew, from his previous trips, that it would get more crowded the closer they got to town, and sitting in the back meant not many people would be looking at them.

Lloyd stared out the window for most of the ride, his wide eyes taking in the landscape rolling past. Kai watched too, and as the bus drove them deeper into the city, he saw the shining buildings, with trees and patches of greenery dispersed in between them. With winter arriving, most of the trees were skeletal, but some still had a spattering of leaves, coming in bright golds, soft reds, and blazing oranges. It wasn’t something Kai got to see often in his lifetime, in person, at least. The changing of the fall leaves was a very finicky and brief time of the year in Ninjago City, and he had been lucky if one of his outside visits fell during this time.

Deeper into the city, the buildings thickened, rows of homes filing in orderly lines. Blues, olives, tans, grays, whites- each one had its own unique charm, but they all felt like they belonged.

One house in particular caught his eye, though- one that stood out from all the rest. Its walls were a bright red, and the lawn was wildly overgrown. Too many chairs were crammed onto the small porch, paint chipping on the door. It was an eyesore compared to the rest of the neighborhood.

Being too unique was problematic, he supposed.

By now, they were getting into the thick of the city. Beautiful buildings soared above them, colorful graffiti decorated walls and bridges. Most noticeable of all, however, were the people. A father with his daughter sitting on his shoulders, an elderly couple each holding a hand of their grandson as they swung him between them. A young couple walking down the street, chatting, with their hands casually intertwined, a group of teenage boys, laughing and racing each other down the street on their skateboards.

Everyone had one thing in common- they looked happy, content, at peace.

Kai hoped they appreciated what they had.

For the first time since they had boarded the bus, he glanced over at Nya. She was staring out the window too, but her gaze wasn’t directed at the scenery beyond, like his, but instead at Lloyd’s reflection in the glass.

The bus screeched to a halt, arriving at their stop, and the three of them hopped out, thanking the driver.

Walking down the street, they found themselves in a charming little section of town, the shops modest but plentiful. Nya was right, there was plenty of activity to help hide them. All the footsteps and voices around him swamped Kai’s ears, and he shook his head, trying to press them flatter against his head. This was only a milder section of the city, he was going to have to get used to all the sounds of the urban environment if they were going to adapt to this place.

Kai wondered how Lloyd would be affected by the environment- the young boy had proven himself to have a strong sense of hearing as well, and had never been a fan of being swarmed.

But either Lloyd’s hat was muffling his senses, or he was simply too enamored by the shops to care. With every shop they went in- from t-shirts, to souvenirs, antiques, jewelry, fabrics, and a bakery, Lloyd always seemed to find some little shiny trinket or another. They couldn’t buy him much, but Lloyd seemed perfectly content with just looking, already moving onto the next object of interest within a minute or two, anyway.

They did actually make a purchase at the confectionary, though, letting Lloyd pick out a piece of candy. He had gone with a rainbow lollipop, a purchase Kai was pleased with, because it would actually last him a while, giving him and Nya time to pick up a few more essentials before heading back to the warehouse.

Emphasis on few.

“We don’t really need the new jacket, I know we have a needle and thread I can use to patch it up on my own.”

“Yeah, well what about all those protein bars, do you really need all those?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“They’re a good source of nutrients!” “Yeah, and they’re expensive. There’s gotta be a generic brand one you can get for cheaper.”

“These are the only ones I can get Lloyd to eat.”

“Well, he’s going to have to learn to adapt to our budget-”

“Buy them with this!” Lloyd purred, slipping a stack of bills into his hand.

Kai and Nya froze, slowly turning to look at him.

“Lloyd,” he asked slowly, “where did you get this?”

“I found it.”

No duh, Kai bit back. “Found it where?”

“Someone left it. At the store.”

“Lloyd!” Nya cried, sounding close to hysterics. “You can’t just take people’s money! You can’t take any of people’s things without permission. That’s stealing!” “They left it there,” Lloyd grumbled, kicking his foot. “I thought they were done with it. They should be more careful with their things. I’m careful with my things.”

Kai snorted a laugh, and Nya stared at him incredulously. “You can’t seriously think this is funny? He stole!”

“Oh, come on, Nya, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s still a crime.”

“He’s four!” “Doesn’t mean you should encourage him.”

“I wasn’t. In case you’re forgetting, he was the one who took it, not me.”

“But you don’t care.”

“I never said that!” “I’m your sister, I can tell.”

“Alright, alright, so maybe I wouldn’t mind a little extra cash. So what? We need it. Probably more than whoever was foolish enough to lose this.” “Kai! I can’t believe you!” “What? It’s not like we even know where to take it! Lloyd,” he turned to the boy, his voice sharp. “Where did you find the money? Which store?”

Lloyd was looking significantly less cheerful now, his eyes wary as he took a step back from them. “I dunno. Can’t remember.”

“See?” Kai snapped at Nya. “We couldn’t return it if we wanted to!” “So you’re just going to pocket it?”

“Where else would you have me take it? Like I told you, we need it more than the rich, privileged people around here.” Blood was roaring in Kai’s ears now, his breath coming in heavy pants. Why was there so much noise buzzing in his ears? There were people, so many people, and all that noise, mixing with his frustration, was making his heart slam against his chest in a dizzying rage.

“Just because they have more than us doesn’t make it right.”

“It makes it understandable.”

“I can’t believe we’re back to this again!”

“Back to what?”

“You’re trying to change Lloyd’s behavior again! I told you it would escalate- in only a few days, you’ve gone from having him hide his goofball side, to make him think stealing is okay, just because we’re in a rough patch!”

“You think I want to do this? I know it’s wrong! But sometimes an opportunity presents itself, and you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“We can’t just throw our values and everything about ourselves out the window just because things are difficult right now, Kai.”

“We haven’t really been given much choice, have we? In another week or two, we’ll have gone completely bankrupt, then what are we gonna do, huh?”

Nya paused for a moment, her breath hitching. “We’ll… we’ll figure something out. But this isn’t the answer.”

“Oh yeah? Let me know when you find one.” Turning away from her, he slipped the cash into his pocket. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was starting to feel lightheaded, now. He needed to end this.

“Kai, please, the last thing we need is another charge on our backs.”

“Going back to the shop to return this- even if we knew which shop to go to- would only put more suspicion on our backs. If we keep it, no one will probably ever even notice it’s missing.”

“But they could have security footage-” Nya stopped dead, the color draining from her cheeks.

“What?”

“Where’s Lloyd?”

---

Lloyd was running.

Ducking and weaving between the people roaming the streets, he tried his best to avoid running into them, but once or twice, his hand brushed against them, and he flinched away, hating the way the unfamiliar touch felt on his skin.

There were too many people here. He hated this feeling, being crowded around on all sides, like he couldn’t breathe. He just wanted to get out of here.

That was pretty impossible, though, when he had no idea where he was.

He shouldn’t have run off. Kai and Nya were going to be furious.

But… he just hadn’t been able to take it anymore.

He had been so happy when he had first brought them the money. He had thought he was helping, and that now they would be able to get more stuff and stop looking so worried all the time. But it had only made them start fighting again. Their raised voices had rung loud in his ears, too loud, and their smoldering gazes had scared him. That hadn’t been Kai and Nya- the big siblings he knew and loved. That had been something different, something Lloyd didn’t like one bit.

He hated it, every time they fought- every time the ugly side of them came out. But this time had been so much worse, because this time it was his fault, it had been him who messed things up by taking something he wasn’t supposed to.

He had just wanted to make them proud.

But maybe they would be better off without him.

He just wanted things to be the way they used to be, back when no one had fought or yelled at each other, when everyone had been happy, hanging out in their fun little room, giving him badger rides and letting him pick whatever movie he wanted.

But that had also been the time when he had spent his nights locked up alone, when strange people in long coats and scary masks would poke and prod him, and he wanted nothing more but to see his family again, but Dr. Borg wouldn’t let him.

But that was the way things had always been, hadn’t they? There was no perfect world.

At least not for monsters, like Lloyd.

Lloyd stumbled, his head reeling. All these thoughts were a little too much to take in.

Glancing around, he spotted an alleyway leading off of the streets. The perfect opportunity to get away from all the noises and people and clear his head.

Nearly crying in relief, he slipped into the comfort of the darkness.

---

“He was just here!” “Oh no, he must’ve run off again! You know how upset he gets when we fight!”

“Shit,” Kai muttered, his bubbling anger quickly giving way to panic. “He must’ve gone to look for somewhere to hide.”

“Dammit, he could be anywhere by now,” Nya whimpered, pressing her fingers to her temples. “This is all our fault!”

His frustration with her dying, Kai put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. He can’t have gotten far, I should be able to pick up his scent.”

Nya glanced around, surveying their surroundings. “Just try to be subtle about it. There are a lot of people here.”

It was harder to track Lloyd’s scent without getting down to the ground, and the many other crisscrossing scents in the area added to the complexity, but, luckily for them, Lloyd’s oni and dragon blood made for a distinctive tang that Kai was able to pick up on after only a minute, despite all the distractions.

They followed the trail for a few minutes, Nya hovering behind him anxiously as he went. After a while, Kai was starting to get worried he had somehow made a mistake, when they reached a busy market street.

Shaking his head, he pushed his way into the throng.

Immediately, he was overwhelmed with at least a dozen more scents, and he lost Lloyd’s for a moment. Desperately trying to pick it up again, Kai felt like he was floundering, all the scents and sounds making him stumble.

Nya grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine, it’s just… there’s a lot of people here.” He put a hand on his head. “It’s a lot.”

“Can you still smell Lloyd?”

“I don’t know.”

Nya turned to a shopping bag she was holding, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for and pulled it out. Popping the cap, she handed him the bottle of water. “Here. This might help.”

Downing a few sips of the cold, fresh, liquid, Kai felt his heart rate slow slightly, the fog in his brain dissipating a bit. “Thanks, Nya.”

Turning back to his surroundings, he searched for Lloyd’s scent again. This time, he caught it rather quickly, and the two of them hurried down the street a little ways, until it led to a dark alleyway.

Kai slowed his pace, his steps wary. “Lloyd? Are you here?”

There was silence, for a moment, then a soft whimper replied him. Kai froze. “Lloyd?”

Nya pushed in front of him, and Kai caught sight of his sister’s pupils dilating to her night vision.

“See anything?”

Nya didn’t respond, and Kai blinked rapidly, urging his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. When he could finally see better, he looked over at her. Nya was standing frozen, her face white, as she stared down the alley.

Kai followed her gaze, and promptly felt his stomach lurch.

Although he couldn’t see nearly as well as Nya in the dark setting, it was well enough to identify the figure curled up in the back of the alley as Lloyd, pale and quivering as he grimaced at his leg, stretched out at an ugly looking angle, all twisted and bloody.

“Lloyd!” Nya screamed, running towards him as Kai gagged, trying hard not to puke at the scene. He tried to shake action back into his limbs, beginning to follow Nya where she was crouched over at Lloyd’s side, crying softly-

Kai froze, scenting the air. The overwhelming reek of blood and pain filled his nose, and he was still left muddled from the chaos of the busy market a moment ago, but…

Over all of that, he swore he could smell something else, something that seemed important.

“Nya, do you… do you smell that?”

“What?” Nya choked, wiping at her eyes. “Kai, he’s… it’s bad, come help me!” Kai was about to abandon the mysterious scent, when all of a sudden, it clicked.

Cold dread trickled down his spine. “Nya, look out, it’s-”

His words were cut off as something slammed against him, sending him to the ground, winded. Nets were thrown over him, and he felt strong yanks on his arms and legs as sharp rope dug into his wrists and ankles.

Blinding panic crashed through him as the full implication of what was happening hit him. No, no no, he couldn’t get captured, he couldn’t be brought back there, Lloyd couldn’t be brought back there, they would-

Kai threw back his head and roared as loudly as he could, hoping that someone, anyone would hear and come save him-

Sharp metal clashed against his jaw, sending spikes of agony through him as something was wrestled around his head. He tried to cry out again, but realized that he couldn’t move his mouth anymore, the metal device jamming it shut.

He could hear Nya’s screams from somewhere behind him, which abruptly cut off as she met his same fate. Muzzles, he realized with horror, the image of Lloyd, chained in that little room on that day they had first escaped flashing through his head.

Borg had found them. And now they were going to pay.

#ninjago #NinjagoInhumanAuWeek #For the Romping and the Roaring #R&R #Part 2 #woooo cliffhangers hope ya like those #not that you have to wait long for the next part #but i thought i was being clever #XD #rosie writes #my fic

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thenightgazer · 3 years

Text

A Long Way Home

While still trapped in the Underworld, Dante and Vergil have to resolve their family issue. One that can't be solved only by swords and guns.

It's been two years since Red Grave incident, one week after Christmas, and still no news about Dante and Vergil. That leaves Nero terribly upset, but little did he know that miracle will come to him very soon.

Merry Christmas @nibbbs! Surprise surprise, I’m your secret santa from @dmcsecretsanta! Hopefully you enjoy the gift I wrote for you! Happy reading and happy holiday!

You can also read it on my AO3!

~~~

The Underworld has never been this quiet before.

That forsaken place is the real no man’s land; always boisterous with fights between demons to take over the throne of the Underworld. Be it a slaughter between lower demons or higher demons, they couldn’t care less. Their primal instinct is just craving more power and of course, human flesh. But since the portal to cross into the human world isn’t always unfolded, cannibalism is ineluctable. It’s either eat or be eaten. It’s bound to happen and demons don’t have any choices but to yield to the Underworld’s natural law. Surviving and escaping the Underworld seems like an absurd fantasy for humans, even for demons as well.

Which is why voluntarily jumping into the depth of the Underworld to save the world is considered to be a valiant and honorable act, yet also frivolously lunatic.

Well, for Dante, lunatic sounds like his middle name, if he ever had one.

He chuckles by the thought of that.

“What are you laughing at?” Dante’s problematic twin brother Vergil snarls.

“Nothing,” Dante closes his eyes. “Just having a weird thought.”

Vergil replies nothing. He shows no interest in Dante's daydream, but that’s just probably because he’s too tired to even think of a reply. The twins couldn’t count how many days have passed since they cut the Qliphoth tree down. They spared and killed any demons nearby, exploring other regions of the Underworld simply because they are bored and need some time to rebound their lost time as brothers. Now, exhaustion forces them to take some rest. They lean side by side on the scorched desert, staring at the perpetual black sky while restoring their energy.

Dante can sense a demon’s presence not too far from where he is right now, but that presence fades eventually. “You feel that too, Verge?”

“I do,” Vergil murmurs. “The words have been spoken, I presume. That they better not to disturb us if they still want to live.”

“Well, once we recover, they’re going to die anyway.”

Vergil’s short hum speaks of his concurrence.

Dante shifts his hands under his head as he glances to his brother. Vergil stiffly lies on the ground with Yamato on his chest while his hands gripping on it. He might close his eyes but Dante knows his brother can still attack his opponent while closing his eyes. As hard as a steel, this old bastard, Dante amuses at his idea. “Rest means relaxing, bro. You don’t have to be on guard all the time.”

“I’m preparing for any attack.”

“It’s not like there is a demon near us at this moment.”

“Have some self-consciousness, Dante. You could attack me at any time, given a chance.”

Dante wakes up straight away. “Why would I wanna attack you?!”

“There’s always a possibility.”

“Says the guy who always has the intention to kill me, huh,” Dante lies back again. “Seriously, Verge. Just for five minutes, stop thinking and go to sleep. Bet it’s been a while since you have a proper sleep, right?”

Neither show any agreement or disagreement, Vergil turns his head to Dante. “Why are you still awake then?”

“Huh? To keep an eye on you, of course. Who knows you’d do some weird shit outta there again.”

Vergil curves a smirk, then turns his eyes to the dark sky again. “I see. You are also scared of me attacking you while you’re asleep, aren’t you? We’re twins, after all.”

“I don’t-” Dante almost bite his mouth.. “Man, you’re as sharp and annoying as you always have been.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah right.”

And there’s silence again. It’s been days, or weeks, since the last time Dante hears any demonic voices around him. To be honest, he kind of expects their appearance. He likes talking to Vergil, but the older brother has an issue in healthy communication. Hell, Vergil is a difficult person and Dante wonders if the eldest children around the world are always like this. But Dante realizes he is also no expert in social interaction, and fighting is also the only thing they both are good at. Vergil would talk a little bit much when fighting, even if it’s mostly taunting and mocking Dante, yet it’s better than having Vergil succumb to the dark side again.

“By the way,” Dante breaks the ice. “Are you ready now to tell me who’s the lucky girl a.k.a Nero’s mom?”

Vergil draws the Yamato above Dante’s throat. “One more word, and I’ll cut you into pieces.”

“C’moooon! I’m curious!”

The Yamato is now touching Dante’s skin. “Final warning, Dante.”

Dante flicks the Yamato’s blade. “Fine. Whenever you’re ready, bro. You might not want to tell me, but you owe that to Nero. He’s your son. He deserves to know.”

Vergil sheathes Yamato, scoffing at Dante’s warning. “It’s not like I’m going back to the human world.”

“Well, we HAVE to!”

“Pray tell why I should agree with you.”

“I have a shop to run and there’s a new menu at my favorite pizza parlor. You should try it, by the way. And you got a lot to explain to Nero. You don’t wanna be a deadbeat like Father, right? Though you kinda already are all this time.”

“You know it better than anyone else that I didn’t know Nero’s existence until you told me so.”

“Which is more reason why you have to come back to the human world soon. You can say you don’t need to catch up with Nero but I know you want it. You left him your frigging book; the same one you didn’t allow me to borrow. Dear ol’ Vergil got some soft spots for his son, huh?”

Vergil turns his back from Dante like a sulking child, ignoring his younger twin’s laughter. As expected from a cold man like him, he won’t ever admit that every single of Dante’s words is true. Again, a long and neglected fear consumes him. What’s fatherhood for a man who ran out of place and time like him anyway? Is there any chance for him to fix his family? Getting back in terms with Dante is one thing, but with Nero, the son he had never met before his escapement from the Underworld? Does he even have a right to call him his son after all he had done to him?

After quite long of silence and battle with himself, Vergil murmurs a question to Dante. “How old is he?”

Dante almost squealed if only he didn’t remember not to ruin Vergil’s mood or else they won’t have any friendly conversation anymore. “Nero? Twenty-something, I guess. Haven’t asked him myself.”

“How did you meet each other?”

“Long short story, some weird-ass cult that worshipped our father as a god turned out evil and wanted to use our father’s power to rule the world-”

“The Order of the Sword?”

“Right! You did your research! Nero was one of them but rebelled after they kidnapped his girlfriend and killed her brother. I came to Fortuna to retrieve the Sparda sword and apparently your kid was able to summon the Yamato and I got the picture already. He got white hair, he summoned Yamato, tried to kill me repeatedly, stab me with Rebellion and Yamato, craving for more power to save his beloved. I wondered where he got that from, by the way~”

A hint of smirk curves in Vergil’s mouth.

“Then we worked together to save Fortuna from a pope who was obsessed with our Father and destroyed the island. We succeeded and brought peace. Nero got his girlfriend back, and we established the branch of Devil May Cry in Fortuna. The end.”

“A heartwarming, and very unoriginal story.”

“You think I made up that story?”

“Didn’t say that. I am merely implying that I heard stories similar to your experience.”

“Hell knows you are the coldest person alive, but you are a terrible liar. You are a man of pride, after all. Lying doesn’t suit you.”

“I can tell thousands of lies as I please, if only that’s necessary,” Vergil takes a brief look at Dante’s mischievous face. “But I won’t, if it’s concerning my son.”

Is this really the Vergil I used to know? Dante can’t hold his grin while elbowing his brother. “Starting to feel like a real dad, huh?”

“Silence.”

“Admitting that you love your son won’t do any harm, Verge.”

“I-” Vergil stumbles upon his own words. He growls impatiently, hurrying himself to get up and sit down as he wipes his face frustratedly. “We’re not having this conversation anymore.”

“Why? Just because you can’t admit that you grew care for your son?”

“Because I’m a terrible person!”

That was the most honest words that came from Vergil, if anything, ever. When was the last time he showed his vulnerable side like this? Even as V, crumbling and dying slowly, he didn’t even spare Dante any sign of defeat and regret. Dante gets up, clapping Vergil’s shoulder. “Only if you still want to destroy the world and kill your own family, then maybe I’d call you the worst shit in the world too.”

Vergil shakes his head. “If only…”

“Huh?”

“Had I known I have a son back then…” Vergil says bitterly. “I would never leave him. I would never go pursuing power or raising that foolish tower and this ridiculous tree…” he points to the remains of Qliphoth tree with his sword. “I would have a better chance to be… a good father for him…”

Regret always comes late, isn’t it? The ‘if onlys’ never come at the front of the mind, merely whispering behind the head but never appearing into the surface before regret comes. Vergil knows that, but never really understands it until Dante tells him that Nero- the very man whose arm was ripped by him and still willing to help him in every way- is his own flesh and blood. His priority was to seal the gate of the Underworld and cut the Qliphoth tree, so that Nero and the rest of the human world are safe and sound. He will stay in the Underworld to redeem himself, for he thinks he has no place in the human world for all he has done. He planned to create a portal to the human world after he fixed things up with Dante to kick him out from the Hell with force, because he knows Dante won’t leave him alone again and will do anything to drag Vergil out from the Underworld. The plan is simple. It should have been easy to execute.

Yet ever since Vergil landed at this hellhole, his steps are getting heavier as time goes on. A haunting voice inside his head kept telling him to come back to Nero as soon as he finished his job cutting Qliphoth roots. Another sound tells him he should stay longer here with Dante to catch up with their sibling bound. The third sound, more demanding and urging, tells him to stay in the Underworld forever as a redemption.

“Y’know, bro,” Dante folds his legs as he seizes the Yamato from Vergil’s hand and puts it on the ground, which dismays Vergil. “Gotta admit that I wanted to kill you because I wanted to free you from evil, and get rid of Nero’s burden of having you as his father. Though he proved to us that we are just a bunch of nonsensical idiots who got unsolved sibling problems between us-”

“I am not an idiot!”

“You might have scored higher on the Math test than me but you’re still an idiot!” Dante barks. “Anyway that’s not my point! What I mean to say is, as much as I hate your dumb-as-rock head, you’re still my brother. And it’s never too late to fix things up.”

Vergil scoffs and takes his sword back to his embrace again. “How can you be so sure?”

“I blamed you, y’know, for that day” Dante admits, his eyes getting darker and the carefree vibe in his voice is gradually gone. “For not rescuing me and Mother.”

Vergil streaked at that confession. “What do you mean?”

“You thought Mother only saved me and left you behind while she died searching for you,” Dante woefully chuckles. “But for me, on that day, I thought you would come to rescue us.”

“I was planning to-”

“She could have hid with me in the closet until you come to save us. That’s what I thought back then when she died, and you never came back. I thought you left us, before I heard one of them say they had you killed. There I was; frightened and thinking that I was alone. My mother and brother died. No one could save me but myself. I was blaming you for running away that day. If you didn’t, we could have defeated them all and protected our home.”

“Or, we could have died. All of us.”

“Exactly. Instead of blaming you, I blamed myself for picking a fight with you. Should’ve left you and your book alone,” Dante stands up, spinning the Ivory before shooting a flying demon that approaches them. “I lived by loathing myself, until I met you again in that cursed church, remember? I was genuinely happy to see you.”

“I remember,” Vergil nods slowly, recalling a blurry picture of their younger selves. “You said you are a devil hunter and will be filthy rich someday.”

“Still waiting for that day, actually. Yet you fucker started being a dick, saying shits about power and stuff,” Dante’s harsh voice trembles slightly. “I thought we could start over as a family, but you decided to fucking stay in the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at the gate of the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at Mallet Island. I could save everyone else, but not my own family.”

Vergil raises up. His arm is reaching Dante’s shoulder, but it never touches him. His hesitation is rational, for he knows words can’t describe how Dante must have felt towards Vergil. Hatred might be the wrong word; it sounds too soft. Too lenient, too merciful.

One could tell it’s disappointment, Vergil gets his answer as Dante turns over to face him. The mischievous little brother side of Dante has gone as he aims his gun at Vergil. It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. Let alone a family.

Dante wails horridly. “Always the quiet one, ain’t cha? Remember how our parents always told me to be quiet like you? ‘Why can’t you just behave like Vergil?’ Guess what? At least I’m not the one who fucked the world up and ripped off my son’s arm-”

“Dante-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dante’s grip on Ivory is slightly trembling as he snaps. “I’ve been through shits too, Vergil. I missed Father and Mother. I missed you, for fuck sake! After all this time I believed I killed you in Mallet Island, then you came out of nowhere to destroy the world. I came out with the conclusion that you didn’t even change a bit, just an egomaniacal who thinks the world only revolves around him. I needed to kill you again because I don’t want my nephew to kill his own father. Don’t you fucking realize how maddening was that?!”

A bullet passes through Vergil’s head. The older hybrid stands still without any intention to return the attack, only wiping the blood from his forehead. I don’t have the right to be irritated, he reminds himself while his mouth forms a bitter grimace as Dante puts the gun on Vergil’s forehead, ready to pull the trigger anytime soon. For a second Vergil can sense Dante is going to lose his temper as he catches a glimpse of red flash in Dante’s eyes. Ever since they were kids, Vergil was always aware that Dante in his total wrath is dangerous. A ticking bomb , Vergil recalls what their father said about Dante’s anger as he watches the raging fire in Dante’s eyes ignite until it’s slowly fading.

“But I changed my mind again,” Dante continues. “Instead of blaming you and carrying on the bad blood, I choose to start over. And that’s how I can be sure,” he pokes Vergil’s head with the gun before putting it back into his coat. “That everyone deserves a second chance and it’s never too late to fix what you have done.”

The red devil yawns as he slams himself on the ground again, stretching his hands before he closes his eyes. “Sorry for raising my voice. It’s just impossible to use soft words whenever I’m talking to a stubborn jackass like you.”

He opens one of his eyes to see what Vergil would react. His older brother sighs heavily, sitting beside Dante’s lying body and puts his katana on the ground. For a man with a soul of a true warrior like Vergil, putting weapons down on the ground is a sign of defeat. Which is the reason why he was slightly aggravated when Dante seized the Yamato and put it on the ground as if he told Vergil to surrender. It should be a humiliating act, but for once Vergil throws his pride away.

Because you are right, Dante.

“Dante,” he calls his brother. This time there’s no hostility in his voice, only sincerity and repentance. “I am ever so sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Dante smirks playfully. “Why do you think I’m here if I still hold a grudge against you?”

“I mean it,” Vergil emphasizes. “Truthfully. For everything I have done… and my sincere gratitude for taking good care of my son while I wasn’t there for him.”

“Honestly, Verge. Forget it. I only do what I have to do.”

Watching his little brother finally howls in laughter, a surge of warmth fills Vergil’s veins as he joins the laughter. It’s comforting, since they can’t remember the last time they laugh together without any fight and bad blood. I barely remember how it feels like to have a family, Vergil chuckles while Dante kicks Vergil’s knee mischievously. Was it always this… warm?

“Dante.”

“Yup?”

“I think we should go back to the human world now.”

Dante whistles in joy. “Ready to meet your grandkids?”

“Do tell me the truth,” Vergil growls, impetuously tugs Dante’s collar. “Are you serious about grandchildren or you just make it up?”

“For fuck sake, Verge! Didn’t you know that already when you ripped your son’s arm?”

“I didn’t pay much attention... I can only recall a voice of woman called Nero for dinner- not the voice of that mouthful friend of Nero-”

“Yeah that was Kyrie. Your soon-to-be daughter in law. Anyway they adopted kids called Carlo, Kyle, and Julio,” Dante pats Vergil’s shoulder with pride and teasing manner. “Congratulations, you’re officially a grandpa! What a fine day for revelation!”

As if my life could get any worse, Vergil grinds his teeth in frustration as he releases Dante from his grip. “How unfortunate.”

“C’mon, swing that flimsy sword of yours and make a portal to the human world. We got plenty of things to do! I gotta pay those bills, refurbish my shop, return Kalina Ann to Lady, and buy a birthday present for Patty.”

“Rather a cumbersome list you got there, Dante.”

“What can I say? I’m a busy man! Now get your ass up, old man! Nero’s waiting!”

---

It’s already two fucking years.

Nero was never a believer. There’s no such thing as a miracle, he told himself. Protecting Kyrie and the kids is an endless responsibility that bestowed upon him. There’s nothing he won’t do for their happiness and safety, even if it means to cost his own well-being. He relies on nobody but himself. He doesn’t pray. He never tries to exceed any expectation, because hope is a dangerous and fragile thing. Hope bothers him, and he hates to be bothered.

Yet, lately, he almost surrendered by the temptation to hold some hope.

What hope? Nero rejects his own thought. For those douchebags to return safely? Gimme a break.

Sitting in his garage and polishing the Red Queen, Nero takes a brief look at the snowy ground outside of the house where the children are building a snowman. He grins at Kyle who waves at him; the youngest from the three children he adopted, who’s now taller and braver than he used to be when he found the little boy searching for some scraps at Fortuna’s slum. Nero chuckles when a glimpse of a picture of Vergil meeting Kyrie and the boys pops out from his head. Would they be pleased to meet him? Would Vergil be pleased to meet them? Would he himself be pleased to meet Vergil again? There’s no fucking way for them to coming back, Nero slaps himself. They either die or shit themselves in the Underworld. Probably fucking fighting again like toddlers.

Still, the thought of his father and uncle somehow return and meeting his little family is overwhelming. Nero can’t even hide his smile anymore. He throws away the rug he uses to wipe the blade and hangs the Red Queen on the wall.

Come to think of it, that fucker ripped off my arm in this garage too.

He lays a hard punch on the wall.

“Keep punchin’ the wall, and ya would destroy the house.”

Nero glances at his friend and partner in crime, Nico, who rests her back on the van and lights her cigarette. He still finds it strange to witness Nico in her winter outfit, a contrast to her usual tanktop and shorts she used to wear before winter comes. "How many times have I told you to smoke outside the house?”

“Ya blind or what? It’s cold outside!”

“Darn it, Nico! Then don’t smoke!”

“Too late~” Nico barks a laugh while blowing a smoke. “Anyway, why did you punch the wall like a madman?”

Nero shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just feeling like punching something.”

“Cut the bullshit. Ya missed yer old man, ain’t cha?”

“Buzz off, Nico.”

“Aaaaw, don’t be so meanie~”

“Seriously, Nico. Go bugger off someone else. I’m not in the mood for having a chit-chat.”

“Everyone’s worried, ya know,” Nico exhales exaggeratedly, pointing at the children outside. “Those lil’ brats asked me if somethin’ pissed ya off because ya look like ya wanted to punch someone in the face since the Christmas party last week.”

“I indeed want to punch a certain person,” Nero lets out a cackle. “But he’s not available at the moment.”

“Y’know, I’m not an expert of daddy and son shits, and yer dad is obviously not an ideal father, but it’s totally okay for ya to miss him. The jackass did save the world, at least.”

“Thanks, Nico. That’s so motivational. I’m deeply touched- ouch !” Nero swears when a sturdy plug lands on his head. “What the fuck Nico?!”

“Talk to Kyrie,” Nico lowers her voice. Her brash mouth always sounds kinder and empathetic when she talks about Kyrie. “Ya locked yerself in this garage the whole day! You’re making her worried, ya know?”

“I think you should double your eyeglasses. I didn’t lock myself. See that door? It’s unhinged, because I need to make sure the kids are alright.”

“Yeaaah whatever. Go talk to her, pretty boy. I’ll watch over the brats.”

“Fine…” Nero scratches his nape as he walks away from the garage. “Don’t let the kids go anywhere near my weapons!”

“Gotcha~!”

Nero never meant to worry anyone, of course. He lives a happy life; he married the love of his life, adopted a bunch of orphans whom he loved and took care of equally, and ran a business with his best friend whom he considered a big sister. The world is currently safe from danger. So what's to worry about?

His confusion disappears when he sees Kyrie’s figure covered in a thick blanket at the terrace. She smiles happily as the snow continues to fall and catches a drop on her palm. Nero feels like he could melt anytime he sees Kyrie’s soothing smile. He takes his time to watch her catching snow as he leans against the door, ignoring the cold breeze that sneaks inside his body. It doesn’t take a long time for Kyrie to be aware of Nero’s presence as she asks him to join her at the terrace.

“You should put your coat on, Nero. It’s cold here.” Kyrie speaks her concern while she wraps him with her blanket.

“Chill out. I’m fine,” Nero gives her a light peck on the forehead. His right hand envelopes Kyrie’s waist to give her a sense of comfort. “The kids are building snowmans back there. Been hours and who knows when they will stop.”

Kyrie giggles. “The more they grow up the more energetic they become! At least we don’t need to worry about how to get them to sleep on time. I believe they’ll get exhausted after play and filling their stomachs with delicious dinner would quicken their way to sleep!”

“You’re right.”

Kyrie looks up at her lover’s tensed face. She brushes the tip of Nero’s nose slightly to make him smile. That little maneuver always succeeded to cheer him up. Kyrie rests her head on Nero’s chest. “Are you not happy with the Christmas party last week? I know you hated surprises but-”

“No- I liked it! Really! You know we rarely celebrate things lately and last week was one of the best days in my life! How could I hate that?” Nero tightens his grip on Kyrie’s waist, gazing at Kyrie’s eyes deeply. “I’m happy, Kyrie. I’m happy here with our little family.”

“Then it must have something to do with your father and uncle, is it?”

“That obvious, huh?” Nero smirks bitterly. “I just… I don’t know. You know how Dante is. To think that he’s actually my uncle is… weird. Then I found out the man who screwed up Red Grave was his brother. My father. Vergil, he left me when I was a child… as V, he manipulated me to do his agenda. He reemerged and left me again. And Dante didn't even bother to tell me the fact before Vergil was back. That made me feel… kinda betrayed. It still doesn’t make any sense to me. I got a pair of dysfunctional family members and I don’t know what I should do if they come back. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

The only parental figure Nero ever had was just Kyrie and Credo’s parents, and they didn’t even live that long to give little Nero more love and parental advice. Kyrie truly understands Nero’s struggle to accept his heritage and keep holding on his humanity. “Nero… do you forgive your father?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to bring it up again, but after all the ill he caused to you, do you forgive him?”

The memory of him and Vergil on the top of the Qliphoth tree rises again. He succeeded in bringing some sense back to his father and the old man entrusted him his precious book- the one which Nero kept safely on the shelf- before jumping to Hell and finishing what he started. Vergil didn’t say much, but his promise… his damn promise!

“I won’t lose next time. Hold onto that until then.”

“I forgive him,” Nero admits. “I think… I just miss him. And Dante. I really want us to be a proper family. That's all.”

“Just as I thought,” Kyrie cups Nero’s jaw with her hands. “I’m glad that you’re honest with yourself. There’s nothing wrong with missing them. They might be flawed, but they are your family."

Nero carefully caresses his beloved hands as if he's afraid of hurting her. "I'm sorry I keep putting you to my demon lineage problem…"

"Hey, we talked about this. Demon or human, it's you I want to be with…" she kisses him on the lips. "I love you, Nero."

"I love you too." He returns the kiss deeper.

Nero wraps her around his arms, seeking comfort and warmth from her presence. Kyrie's words succeed in getting his head together. He can feel a degree of burden has left his shoulders as he finds himself finally letting go his worries. Kyrie is right. There's nothing wrong with missing those douchebags. They're my family-

"NERO!"

Nico appears out of nowhere at the terrace, panting and panicking like she ran for her life. Every single nerve inside Nero's body tells him that something wrong is happening, but the sassy smirk on Nico's face while she tries to breathe normally tells another thing. "You're not gonna believe me if I told you this-"

"Are the kids safe?" Kyrie asks anxiously.

"Yeah they're fine. They have company."

What the fuck? "Company? What are you talking about?!"

Nico rolls her eyes as she grabs both of Nero and Kyrie's hands. "Just follow me quickly!"

Nico seems excited… if it wasn't a danger, then what?

The children are giggling and shouting happily at something Nero can't see yet. But as soon as Nico delivers them in the backyard, he spots two familiar figures among the kids. The red-coated man joins them to decorate the snowman as he helps them crafting the pile of snow with stones and branches. He summons a cowboy hat and a shiny red scarf from thin air- which excites the kids- before he puts the hat on the snowman's head and wraps its neck with the scarf as the last touch. The children are applauding and hugging him, saying their gratitude and bombing him with questions on how he could summon stuff only from thin air. The cocky red man barks in laughter and tells them that he learns some magic tricks.

In a contrast to the red man, the blue-coated man stands a bit far from the crowd, facepalming and reluctant to do anything despite the children's curiosity as they glance at him and whisper their surprise on how similar his face is with the red man. Carlo states that the blue man is scary, and quickly hides behind the red man when the blue man hears his mutter and glares at the poor kid.

"C'mon, Verge, stop glaring at the kids! You're scaring them!" The red man chuckles.

Dante?

Vergil?

How-? Since when…?

"You…" Nero breathes heavily, barely trusts his vision. "You guys are alive…"

Dante grins and waves a salute at Nero. "Heya, kid! Miss me? I know we're late, but Merry Christmas!"

Kyrie holds her giggle when she catches Nero's dumbstruck face. She grips his hand and whispers him a word of advice. "Time to let your doubts go, Nero. They are here, at last."

Nero gives a nod, but his mouth isn't capable of forming any words. He reluctantly approaches Vergil, who seems nonchalant about his surroundings, if only Nero failed to catch his father's warm gaze as he stands before Vergil. A minute has passed and none of them say anything. Words cannot describe how they feel towards each other.

But Nero decides to solve the problem in Sparda's family old-fashioned style: punching his father hard right in the face.

There echoes Dante and Nico's laughter as Vergil's body lands violently on the ground, covered with snow.

The older son of Sparda can taste a metallic scent liquid dripping from his lips.

"That hurts," he murmurs and proceeds to get up as he wipes the blood from his mouth. "Two years and still have no manners, I see."

"Fuck you, old man!" Nero spats angrily.

Dante, still laughing at the picture of his brother getting sucker-punched by Nero, sloppily walks to approach them. He pats Nero's shoulder in pride. "You're doing the right thing, Nero. You gave him the right Christmas present-"

The legendary devil hunter gets a very lethal slap from his nephew before he finishes his sentence.

"And that's a present for you, deadweight!" The young devil hunter shouts.

The view of Dante and Vergil getting slammed by Nero only increases Nico's laughter.

"Why did Nero punch Mr. Dante and Mr. Vergil?" Carlo asks Kyrie. "Nero always punches bad people. Are they bad people?"

"Well… no, they are good people! Mr. Vergil is Nero's father and Mr. Dante is Nero's uncle," Kyrie chuckles to hide her worry and struggles to find the correct way to explain the situation. "They haven't met for a very long time. Nero misses them so much that he… doesn't know what to do anymore. But punching people doesn't solve problems, so don't ever do that, okay?"

The kids nod obediently despite not completely understanding the circumstances.

"Can we stop Nero from punching them, Kyrie?" asks Julio, the oldest one from the three. "Family doesn't hurt each other, right?"

"Nah, don't worry. They will stop soon," Nico says as he points at the three hybrids. "Let 'em get the reunion they deserve."

They become calm and smiling at the sight of Nero bringing his father and uncle in a tight embrace together as the young man lets out a cry.

"You both are full of shits and stinky… like a scavenger…" Nero sobs, his teeth grinding hard. "At least take a shower before you show up, dumbass…!"

Dante sneers as he taps Nero’s back. “Yeah, I miss you too.”

The red devil glares at his twin. Say something to your son!

Vergil, unmoved and stiff, doesn’t know how to react from this awkward embrace. He feels uncomfortable, yet finds himself melting between this fuzzy feeling. “Nero…”

“Shut up,” Nero interrupts while breaking his embrace and burying his teary eyes on his palm. “Just fucking shut up.”

“Forgive me,” the blue devil insists to continue. ��For leaving you again.”

“Yeah yeah, just shut up...”

Nero jolts by the unexpected weight on his head; Vergil’s hand ruffles his hair as he curves a very subtle smile.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Oh how Nero wanted to punch him again, if only he could bring himself to.

“Uhm…” Kyrie comes to Nero’s rescue as she smiles politely to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion. It’s dinner time and… we would be very happy if the two of you join us for supper.”

“We’d be glad!” Dante accepts cheerfully. “Nero once told me you cook the best meal in Fortuna!”

“Shut up, Dante!” Nero grunts. He remembers he hasn’t told the twins that Kyrie and him are married. He pulls Kyrie closer and holds her hand firmly. “Anyway, Father. This is my wife, Kyrie. Kyrie, this is Vergil. My father.”

Kyrie smiles warmly at Vergil. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Vergil.”

Vergil appreciates Kyrie’s bravery and gives his sincerest nod of approval. There is not a single hint of fright from Kyrie as he recalls how people tend to tremble and stutter in fear whenever they talk to him. He can see why Nero loves her and is very protective towards her. “Thank you for taking good care for my son all this time.”

“Sorry for missing your wedding party, babe. We’ve been busy cleaning up Hell,” Dante grins at Kyrie. “Congratulations. My nephew is lucky to have you as his wife.”

“Can you shut up already?” spats Nero, feeling terribly embarrassed.

“I’m hungry~!” Nico shouts mischievously. “Let’s continue inside! It’s damn freezin’ out here!”

Kyrie gives the twins a final nod as she invites them to come inside the house. She runs to the kitchen with Nico while Nero gathers the kids to enter the house. Dante chuckles like a cocky cool uncle when Julio asks him to do another magic trick, and the little chuckle turns into a bigger laughter when he sees Vergil’s hand tucked in Kyle’s hand as the youngest child calls him Grandpa Vergil.

“Grandpa’s hand is cold!” Kyle says, unaware of Vergil’s death glare. “Once you eat Kyrie’s food, you’ll be warm in no time!”

“Let go of my hand, little rascal.” Vergil scoffs, uncomfortable by the strange kindness from the little child.

Kyle laughs and keeps guiding him to the kitchen. The food is prepared and everyone is about to get their seats. Carlo drags a chair beside Dante’s seat and shyly asks Vergil to sit there, which Vergil accepts.

“Starting to feel like coming back home?” Dante asks his brother.

“This is not bad.”

“I’ve contacted Lady and Trish. They will be here soon,” Nico says as she puts the cigarette on the ashtray. “Lady said something about returning her Kalina Ann. Trish gave her regards, and said that ya need to pay the rent as soon as possible.”

“Damn… those devilish ladies…” Dante buries his face on the table.

“Your office looks like shit without you.” Nero sneers at Dante.

Further family resolvement can wait. Now let them enjoy their first family dinner for the first time. Christmas might have passed a week ago, but Nero thinks his most valuable present had just arrived today. He still wants to beat the shit out of his father and uncle for some unknown reasons, but it can wait for later. His eyes meet Vergil’s, and his father forms a warm smile to him. He never says much, Nero knows that, but he can give him time to adjust in the human world.

Amidst the chants and chatter in the house, unbeknownst to each other, the three descendants of Sparda secretly hope that this rare moment can last forever.

#dmcsecretsanta #dmc #devil may cry #dante #vergil #nero #kyrie #nico #nero x kyrie #night writes #nibbbs

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fossntwriter · 4 years

Text

More than Life Itself

Newt x reader

Summary: the reader was taken by WCKD when Minho was and Newt’s determined to get her back, but it will take a little convincing

You honestly didn’t know how long it had been since you last saw your friends, but you did know that it was a long time ago. When you were with them, you felt happy and safe for the most part (when you weren’t running for your lives) but it’s been months since you’ve felt anything but hopelessness and despair.

You were only in the glade for a couple of months before Thomas came up and figured a way out with Minho. But, in those short months, Newt and you became best friends. You were practically inseparable all throughout the maze and the scorch, up until you were taken by WCKD with Minho. You wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. You hoped your friends would come for you, but you also knew that if they did-it would be incredibly dangerous. You didn’t want to get your hopes up in case they never came or didn’t make it.

You wanted to know more than anything that they were safe though. You would give anything to know that they were alive and okay. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t ever find out unless they or the right arm finally helped you escape from the clutches of WCKD.

You thought you were safe at the right arm. You thought you were finally going to live a happy and somewhat normal life. But nothing lasts forever. You knew that. But when you arrived at the camp where people from the right arm were going to help you, you finally found a sense of safety and security. You were finally going to live your life with your friends and the boy you loved.

You remembered when you first found out that he loved you.

It was one of those nights in the glade where you just couldn’t sleep. Your brain was still wondering what your life was like before the maze. Did you have any siblings? What did your parents look like? You lied wide awake in your hammock just thinking about what the outside world is like and why you were taken here. You were restless and getting bored of just laying there, so you decided to take a walk to burn off some energy and hopefully get to sleep soon.

You started to quietly walk around the glade, enjoying the silence of it at night. It was peaceful for once. Until you heard the screeches of a greiver from inside the walls of the maze. It wasn’t a sound you were really afraid of anymore after having spent a couple of weeks in the glade already, but it did send shivers down your spine just thinking about the deadly creatures.

You just tried to ignore the sounds and continue walking, letting your feet guide you. You somehow winded up in the homestead. You decided to just sit in there and try to enjoy the peace and quiet. A little while later, a certain blonde-haired boy walked the stairs and let out a startled (but still quiet) noise upon seeing somebody on the main floor at this time of night. But he quickly calmed down when he saw that it was you.

“(y/n)? What are you doing up at this hour?” He asked curiously.

You looked at him and shrugged, “Just thinking.”

“About?...” He prompted as he took a seat on the floor next to you.

“What my life was like. I just want to know what my family looked like. And why I’m here.Why I was sent here. I want to know what my life would be like right now, if I was still with my family. Ya know? I don’t even know what they look like. I just want a moment with them, to meet them.”

Newt nodded, having thought the same thing before about his family. “I get it.”

You nodded and looked at him. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

He shrugged, “Just restless. My body won’t let me bloody sleep.”

“Want to do something?” You asked, “Maybe doing something will help us sleep.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Like a game. Pictionary?”

He let out a small laugh, “Sure. Why the bloody hell not.”

You giggled and got up, starting to rummage through droors as quietly as you could, looking for paper and a pencil of some sort.

Moments later you came back and started to draw. Newt wasn’t even watching the paper though, he was watching you. A look of awe on his face as he admired your beauty. He found himself staring at you a lot. You were just so bloody beautiful to him, and you tried to stay positive even though being in the glade can seem hopeless at times. He admired your passion to help others. You were genuinely kind and cared about everyone. Even Gally liked you.

“Newt.” You snapped your finger in front of his face, letting him out of his trance. You had a smile on your face as you realized he was staring at you, and Newt blushed at having been caught.

“Oh sorry.” He said, scratching the back of his neck, nervously.

“Why were you looking at me instead of the paper?” You asked obliviously, letting out a small giggle.

His heart fluttered at the sound, it was the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard.

“Umm, I-I was...” He stumbled over his words as his blush grew darker, and stopped talking when he heard you giggle again. An adorable smile graced his face at the sound again.

He looked down at your drawing on the paper, and saw two people holding hands with a heart drawn between them.

He looked back up at you, “Hey, (y/n)?”

“hmm?” You asked, wondering what he was going to ask you.

“I just- I wanted to tell you something.”

“Okay,” You said kindly, “What is it?”

“I- I, um, I just w-wanted to say that, I l-love you.” He stuttered out, obviously sounding scared to tell you that.

You were taken aback, not expecting to ever hear the words you wanted him to say, but here you were. You were so shocked, that you forgot how to breath for a second as all air left your lungs. Newt let out a cough of nervousness, which seemed to bring you to your senses and say something back.

“Wow.” You breathed out. Newt didn’t know what to make of the reaction. He was nervous that that was all you had said, and for sure that you were going to reject him, until he saw a bright smile take over your shocked face.

“I love you too.”

He let out a laugh of disbelief and ran a hand through his hair, ecstatic that you felt the same way. Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

Your thoughts of him were broken by the sound of your door opening, and a WCKD doctor stepping in. He didn’t bother to say anything to you, knowing that you were probably in no mood to talk to him-since you never were.

You closed your eyes and tried to forget you where here, in this building, with these awful people who seemed to not give damn about how you felt. You hated it here. They didn’t give you a choice in anything. They did whatever they pleased and they did it whenever they wanted to do it. You let a tear slip out of your eye and felt it as it rolled down your cheek. You were miserable here. Put through hell everyday. You’ve never wished so badly to die. WCKD had broken down your spirits and normally positive behavior, but because of them-you had lost all hope. You wanted out of this place. You were not treated like a real human. To them, you were a subject. You were their subject to experiment on you with. To take your blood. To sacrifice you slowly to find a cure.

When you first got here, you put up a fight. You would punch or slap anyone that tried to get near you or tried to stick a needle in you. Eventually, they strapped you down to the white bed in your gray room so they could conduct their experiments without you harming them. As time went on, you stopped fighting. Losing the energy to do so. You were hardly let out of your room. You got two small meals a day and a bathroom break only once.

The doctor ignored the tears silently rolling down your face and continued on with his work as he got a needle ready to draw more of your blood. You felt the needle being inserted into your arm, and you wanted to punch the guy so badly, but you couldn’t because of your restraints. And even if the restraints weren’t there, you weren’t sure you could properly kick the doctor’s ass considering how weak you had gotten over the months of being trapped here.

You just wanted to die. You’ve never wanted to die before, but now you would rather die 100 times than stay here and be treated like this.

But you couldn’t do anything about it. It was hopeless.

As soon as the doctor left, you let out a breath of relief. Thankful that you could finally be alone again, but still unhappy.

You tried to get some sleep considering you haven’t really done too much of that since arriving.

It was only a couple of moments later that your door opened and in walked someone you never thought you would see again in your life.

Newt.

You gasped. “Newt!” You said, sounding relieved, and pulling on the bindings that held you down.

“Oh thank bloody goodness.” Newt said when he saw you. He made his way over to you quickly, a small, happy but yet worried smile on his face.

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked with hope in your voice that you would finally escape with the boy you loved with your entire heart.

“Long story, no time to explain.” He headed right to the droor where there were scissors so he could cut the bindings holding you.

While he rummaged through the droor full of things to find them, you tried to struggle your way out a little more but soon gave up because you knew it was useless.

“Did you find Minho?” You asked.

“Minho?” He asked confused.

“Your best friend, Minho. He was taken along with me.” You told him suspiciously. How could he forget his best friend?

“Oh right. Minho.” He said, his voice void of any emotion as he finally found the scissors and started to walk back over to you. “I almost forgot about him.” He laughed nervously.

This was not your Newt. He would never forget about any of his friends, especially if they were in danger.

“Stop!” You shouted at him, and Newt stopped in his tracks. “You’re not him! You’re not the real Newt!”

Then you heard a voice come over the speaker, “Test for subject A11 completed.” You had a look of confusion on your face, but then when you looked back over to where Newt was, his appearance started to change into one of a WCKD doctor.

You let out a sob as you realize that you were right. This was fake. It was all a test to see if you could figure out that it wasn’t really Newt, and that you weren’t actually going to be saved.

You let out a sob of despair as the doctor that was once disguised as Newt walked out of the room. All the hope you had just had moments ago, shattered into a million pieces as you were left in the awful room by yourself once again.

That was a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t think you could’ve ever not trusted WCKD anymore, but after that test, you didn’t trust anything you saw or heard.

Not even when you heard gunshots from outside of your room. You kept staring at the ceiling of the horrid place you have been at for what felt like years.

When the door to your room opened, you didn’t even look at whoever stepped in, already knowing it was a doctor to put you through your daily hell.

“(Y/n)?” You heard a voice. His voice.

“Not again.” You whispered as you began to cry. “I can’t do this again!” You shouted and started to pull at the bindings with the little strength you had left.

Newt was taken aback by your reaction. Not again. I can’t do this again. What did that mean? He cautiously walked over to you. He wanted to hug you and kiss you but clearly WCKD did something to you, and he knew he couldn’t yet.

What did they do to you? He wondered. He thought you would be at least a little happy when you saw him, but you were laying there with tears trickling down your cheeks and trying to squirm away from him the best you could.

Seeing you like this broke his heart.

“(Y/n/n). It’s me. It’s Newt.” He said, voice cracking with sympathy at your tired and terrified state. You had bags under your eyes and your skin was paler than he remembered it being. You were looked skinnier too.

“No! Stop!” You shouted at him as you continued to stop, “Don’t come any closer!”

Tears started to well up in Newt’s eyes at her reaction to him.

“Please.” She whispered in defeat. “I know it’s not him. I know it’s not actually Newt.”

“What?” He asked disbelievingly. He was confused. What did they do to you to make you think it wasn’t him. To make you this terrified of him coming any closer to you.

Then Thomas came into the room with Minho in tow. They both looked shock at how much you were crying and trying to get away from Newt. When the say the confused and heartbroken look on Newt’s face, they knew that WCKD must have done something to you.

Thomas tried to convince you as well. “(y/n), it’s us. It’s really us. I promise.”

“Don’t give me hope if you’re just going to take it away again. Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

All of their hearts broke upon hearing what you had just said.

“How can we prove it to you?’ Newt asked quietly.

You thought for a second, trying to calm down enough. A little flicker of hope sparked inside of you at hearing the genuine concern in his voice for you. Maybe it was him? Maybe it was actually your friends this time. You wanted to know for sure. “Tell me something only you would know.” You told who you hoped was actually Newt when you started to stop crying.

He thought for a moment, trying to think of something that happened between the two of you. Then he remembered.

He slowly, walked to where you were, Thomas and Minho watching him cautiously, hoping whatever he was going to say was going to work.

“Back in the glade, there was a night where neither of us could sleep.” He began, and you listened intently. “You and I sat on the floor in the homestead, telling each other why we couldn’t sleep. Then you said that we should play pictionary together, to have something to do. So we did. You started drawing but I wasn’t even looking at the paper because I was too busy looking at how beautiful you looked. You asked me why I was staring at you and that’s when I told you that I loved you. It took you a couple of seconds to say it back, but you did.”

Tears started to form in your eyes, but not of sadness and fear this time, but because he was actually there. It was him. It was the real Newt. The real Thomas and the real Minho. The Newt dug around in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. When he unfolded it, you saw the two people you drew with a heart.

“I kept it.” He whispered.

“Oh my god, it’s actually you.” You breathed out and started sobbing with happiness this time.

Newt looked so happy and relieved that you finally believed him. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t ever let them hurt you again.”

And then he kissed you. It had been months and months since you’ve felt his lips on yours and it felt just as loving as you remembered. You kissed him back right away. As soon as he broke the kiss, you two just looked at each other, finally taking in the details of each others faces in for the first time in was seemed like a lifetime.

“I love you.” You told him.

“I love you more than life itself.”

#the maze runner #newt tmr #newt x reader #reader insert #the death cure #the scorth trials #tmr #tst #tdc #the maze runner x reader #tmr x reader #imagine #tmr imagine #the maze runner imagine #newt imagine #thomas imagine #minho imagine #more than life itself

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twilitty · 3 years

Text

Waiting pt.2

Waiting

@twilitty

Part 2/?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Read this first! Bella is away while Rose and Emmett are watching Nessie. This fic is centered around Bella.

It took everything out of Bella to not draw attention to herself. She had dressed in sweatpants and a ratty sweatshirt that she had to hide in the back of her closet so Alice couldn’t find it. Yet still people stared at her. This was one thing Bella doubted she would ever get used to: the attention.

She liked to lay low, fly under the radar, get lost in the crowd. But, that hasn’t happened to her since her human days. Well, it hasn’t really happened to her since Phoenix. It seemed that Forks high school thought she was the best thing around and quickly she had a band of boys vying for her attention.

She’s walking down a busy side street in Port Angeles, she hadn’t lied about where she was going. The entire family knows she is in the city, they just don’t know why- except for Alice- and decidedly choose not to ask her about it. She appreciates the faux privacy they give her. It’s difficult living with a family who had supernatural hearing abilities, every whispered argument with her new husband was put on display for all to discuss in private.

Port Angeles is her monthly retreat from the Cullens, who seemed to be her only socialization after she awoke as a vampire. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy spending time with them, she loves them all dearly, but most conversations revert back to time periods from before she was born. She was never a fan of history class.

Port Angeles was nowhere near as large as other cities, but it was close to home and she doesn’t like leaving her daughter for long periods of time.

The street is littered with tourists in heavy backpacks, maps under their noses. The maps are unnecessary, each street has clear signage and you can always cut through alleyways to the next street over if you need to move fast. She can’t imagine how anybody could get lost among these streets and then scolds herself immediately. She had gotten lost in these streets. Her human self was used to getting lost and falling into the lap of trouble. She hates forgetting about her old self.

Her shoulder bag bumps her hip with every step, inside her car keys, wallet, and a hardcover book. It’s a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, the edges of the stiff covers frayed with time and use. The words inside bore the stains of past tears, tears she would never shed again. She remembers the last time she cried over these pages, sitting on Charlies beat up couch with her wet hair tied up in a towel atop her head. She couldn’t stop thinking of Edward. This was before they had come together and stayed together. She had hoped that his behaviour was an imitation of Mr.Darcy’s. Hopefully he was just pretending to dislike her because he didn’t know how to work through his true emotions, ultimately her hopes came true, but at the time she felt empty.

Empty from caring too much and empty from being let down yet another time. A new town she didn’t want to be in, and the one bright side seemed to hate her, how is she supposed to cope with that? She had treated herself with a bowl of ice cream after her hot shower, curling up in a quilt that seemed older than her and reading Jane Austen yet again.

Everytime Darcy entered a scene another fat tear would drop onto the page, marking the exact spot she thought of the cruel bronze haired boy. A boy so beautiful her heart wanted to sing, yet every time he looked at her with that same disdain she couldn’t help but feel torn apart all over again. How could one human stand so much torment?

A part of her, small and insignificant, sits in her gut and wishes for tears. Wants some physical expression of her emotions. But, that won’t happen.

The street winds to the right, groups of teenagers clustered outside of an indie coffee shop and giggling amongst each other. Idly she wonders, how is Angela doing? But the thought disappears as quickly as it comes and she finds herself at the end of the street with a four-way stop in front of her.

She takes the right turn, sneakers scuffing as she lets her heels drag a little with every step. Humans never walk evenly, there is always something to unbalance their gait and mark their shoes. Alice would rather die a million deaths than see Bella purposefully mistreat her shoes, even if they’re knock offs she bought at an outlet mall.

A couple buildings down, all cement and brick, is the public library. It’s poorly funded and the lighting inside is horrendous. The windows need to be resealed and the doors squeak like mice. She loves it. She enters into the drafty lobby, a bulletin board shows all the events this month, a book club is scheduled for today at noon. She checks her watch, 11:47.

The next doors lead into the children's section where parents and toddlers sit in a semicircle at the back wall, a poorly constructed stage is used to recreate a story with hand puppets. “Save me!” She hears one of the socks yell out, a few children gasp and her steps slow to a stop. A child sitting up close to the stage has brown hair braided down her back in uneven strips. Her giggles stand out from every other childs gasps of horror. Beside her sits an identical little boy, his brown skin shining just like his sisters.

“Don’t worry,” the little girl whispers into his ear, “the princess has a happy ending.” The boy looks up at her with big doe eyes, his nose sniffling. “I promise,” she says. Then, as if feeling that someone is watching, she turns around and faces Bella from across the wide room.

They look at each other, the human and the vampire, the child and the woman, the hunted and the hunter. Her, Bella thinks absently, her senses slow to a dull, focused only on the soft thudding of the little girls heart. She is so beautiful. The girl watches her, wide eyes blinking as she takes in the woman staring at her without seeming to notice it. Then, she raises a dark palm, waving it at the woman.

Bellas senses surge back into her, noises and colours and scents slam into her like a wall and she almost feels the need to take a steadying breath. The girl continues to wave, her little brother looking over his shoulder to see who she’s looking at.

Walking quickly and a little dazed, Bella makes her way to the staircase and closes the door behind her. She takes a deep, unnecessary breath which does nothing more than fill her lungs. Her chest sits hollow, no movement unless she forces it and no beating of a heart. She wonders idly what would happen if she was opened up, would they find her heart still intact? Did the venom solidify it like the rest of her or is it just simply gone?

“Isabella!” It’s Nancy, she’s at the top of the stairs holding a book to her chest. She’s an older woman, maybe sixty five, with beautiful grey hair cut into a sleek bob at her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here, and looking stylish as always!” Bella just nods with what she hopes is a warm smile, she had heard and smelt Nancy above before she heard her but still widens her eyes to make it seem surprising.

Coming from anybody else, calling Bella “stylish” for wearing sweatpants would have been sarcastic. Maybe a joke about how she always looks beautiful. But not from Nancy. Nancy is too kind, she likely has never said a poor word to anybody.

“Thank you,” Bella responds. Taking the stairs up, Nancy has already started talking again. Bella's mind has a difficult time abandoning the little girl in front of the stage. The girl's heartbeat thuds in her ears, carrying through the thick metal door and up the stairs. She isn’t sure if she can still hear it or if her mind is just playing it back on a loop.

“All the ladies are already here, you’re the last to join us.” She continues to talk about who is here and who can’t make it. Someone brought lemon squares and someone else had snuck in orange juice and a bottle of champagne for mimosas. It’s a wonder the book club hasn’t been kicked out of the library permanently, it seems every month they are receiving another infraction for bringing in food and drinks.

The book club meets once a month to discuss the book they were supposed to read, this week it’s Pride and Prejudice. The room they reserve is tucked into the back left corner of the library, the carpet is dingy and the walls that were once white are closer to yellow. Bella loves this room.

The ladies are all already sitting in a semicircle, a low table in the center is covered in treats and large glasses filled with a sweet smelling drink. A large bottle of champagne sits next to it. “Isabella!” A few of them call out as she enters the room with Nancy. She greets them happily, smiling widely.

“Alright, so this month we read Pride and Prejudice!” A few women whoop at that, giggling and whispering amongst each other. “Now, now,” Dhruvi chastises lightly. She’s the club leader, she makes sure the discussion doesn't get carried away. “Who wants to share their first reactions to Mr.Darcy?” Bella's mind runs faster than any computer, her words and actions are usually well thought through before she reacts, which is why she takes herself off guard when she responds so quickly. She hadn’t even known she had something to add. “I think he was acting a little cruel.” Bella’s voice says without her knowing. All eyes are immediately on her, apparently none of them agreed because their eyes are wide as saucers.

“How could you say that?” A woman pipes up, her bushy eyebrows knitted atop her wrinkled forehead. “He loves Elizabeth.”

“Yeah,” Bella says slowly, her mind whirring but not producing anything. “But that doesn’t mean he can treat her like he doesn’t care for her. He should have been open with his feelings at the start, not play stupid mind games with her.”

The room is quiet, the air dripping in what can only be suppressed judgement and mild concern from the old women. Bella notices this, takes a few looks around the circle and swallows her pride. “I’m sorry,” she enunciates, each syllable crisp with her obvious discomfort. “I guess I’m just projecting my life onto the story.”

“Is it your husband, dear?” It’s Nancy, sitting three women down from her and giving her a soft smile. Her skin is wrinkled, her eyes creasing in a motherly way. Bella’s vocal cords refuse to work, and even if they were functioning she has no idea what to say. None of the women speak and instead watch Bella work the question over in her mind.

Even though Bella could have thought this over in the bare breath of a second, she takes a minute to truly think it over. Was it her husband? Edward who loved her, who she loved? They had a child together, they were both immortal. She served up her human life on a platter and asked him to throw it away. No, it wasn’t her husband. Their relationship was perfect, picturesque, the happy ending everybody always knew they would get.

“My wife,” starts Dhruvi with a heavy sigh, “does this to me sometimes, too.” Bella had met Dhruvi’s wife before, she was a kind woman with long black hair streaked with silver, her skin a nearly identical shade of brown to Dhruvi. “She will go days treating me like a guest in our home, not holding my hand or kissing me. We will eat breakfast at opposite ends of the table and make small talk. The entire time I think, ‘did I do something wrong? Has she abandoned her feelings for me?’ But, no.” She leans over onto her knees and the scent of her floral perfume fills Bella’s head. “The next night she will cook me dinner and kiss me and tell me I’m beautiful. And, yes that is nice but it is also sad like you said-” Bella never said that what Darcy did was sad, but in her head she can see now that that word fits into her sentiment perfectly. “- because for a moment I questioned my wife’s love for me and that is very painful.”

The room nods and murmurs in agreement, Nancy giving Bella a sad, pitying look the entire time. “I- I’m sorry about your wife not always being open about her feelings,” Bella starts, feeling like she’s being forced into giving confession. “But that’s not my Edward.”

“Not mine either,” Nancy says quickly. “But when we met that was him. He was my Darcy in the way you described him. I love Patt now but at the time he would take me out on a date only to show up for class the next day with some new broad.” She shrugs her shoulders, “and that was cruel. He played mind games with me.” The grey haired woman doesn’t seem upset by this, instead she seems content with it. Stating it with a resigned indifference.

“But you’ve got him now!” A woman exclaims and that sends the room into an uproar of laughter. Bella’s is noticeably absent from the mixture.

The group finishes their discussion about the book in just over an hour, a few women sneak snacks into their purses as they depart, giggly from all the champagne. Bella packages her novel into her bag and puts it over her shoulder. Dhruvi stands at the door, with a styrofoam plate of lemon squares, only three left.

“Isabella, I’m sorry about your experiences with this month's novel.” She says it kindly, but also as if she’s digging for more information. Trying to reopen the discussion from earlier.

“No, I enjoyed the book, really. It was quite romantic.” The words rush out of Bella, the last thing she wants to do is start this conversation all over again. Dhruvi laughs off her comment.

“I’m considering hosting dinner at my home, I will be inviting a few of the women from this group and a few others you don’t know.” Bella’s silent heart has jumped into her throat. “Would you be interested in joining us?” What does she say? That she will go but won’t eat a single damn thing? Oh, sorry, I ate just before getting to your house for this prescheduled dinner. How awful is that, there is no way that she can go.

“I don’t think I’ll be available that day.”

“I didn’t mention the date,” the older woman says slowly, eyelids leveling down over her pupils as if searching for something in Bella. The vampire has no response to this. “Bring your husband,” she says finally, “I would like to meet him.”

#twilight #2008 #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #bella swan #bella cullen #carlisle #edward #alice #rosalie #emmett #jasper #renesme #nessie #head canon #headcanon #hc #fic #fanfiction

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 4

Prompt: impaling

Read on AO3

Tally Marks

For Ahsoka, the war never really felt like a war. Maybe it was the fact they fought machines rather than men. Her lightsaber sliced through the durasteel plating of the battle droids as easy as the practice dummies in the Temple. She could pull wires out of their chests and watch the light dim from the bulbs in their eyes and that was about as sentient as it got.

She's only been in this fight for a few months. She has a mental tally of every droid she's personally dismembered, and a physical one on the wall of the clone breakroom next to Captian Rex's. It's a game, in a way. They yell out numbers on the battlefield. Some of the troopers like to use their armor to keep track in real-time. Battles after battles, the tallies creeping down the walls like a life sentence.

At some point, the color of the marker changed from black to blue, and for some reason, she can't get over the idea that their tally marker spent its entire ink supply making only three-centimeter lines, day after day.

Today she reached a milestone. One thousand battle droids laid to rest by the blades of her lightsabers since she joined the war at the Battle of Christophsis. One thousand clankers that don't get the opportunity to fire their blasters again. Ahsoka walks through the center of the now-deserted battlefield with giddiness in her step. A few of the troopers who fought alongside her offer high fives as they pass, congratulating her on her accomplishment.

Ahsoka is beaming. She feels like she is floating, eager to find Master Skywalker and tell him the great news. The young Togruta decides to cut through an alleyway to the next street where she can feel the Force Presences of both Anakin and Master Kenobi. Within the alley, there is a fork, and down the straight path, she can see Captain Rex and Commander Cody standing with their backs to her.

But even so, she stares down the other path. It winds behind the front building to some residential tenements of the small city. Though her Master and friends are ahead, there is something nagging at her to turn that way. Ahsoka senses no danger in the Force, and she taps her fingers against her commlink to make sure it's there. Following her feelings, she goes the other way.

The midday sun provides plenty of light in other places, but the apartments here loom high enough to cast a shadow over her passageway. Ahsoka pulls her cloak around her tighter, glancing into the windows of the evacuated homes.

Broken transperisteel clutters the ground where bombs dropped in the area and blew out the windows of the houses. She steps over the piles of rubble and puddles of who-knows-what until the near groan of pain catches her keen Togruta ears. She stops midstep, tilting her head to hone in on the noise. It's coming from the home at the end of the street. Ahsoka jogs ahead, her heart starting to pound faster as a few drops of blood along her path turns into a trail, and then a continuous line leading straight into the blown down door.

She peers around the corner, and every muscle in her body tenses.

Lying in the far corner of the house is a young boy. His chest heaves up and down in slow heavy draws as his hand clutches his leg. To her horror, a large piece of shrapnel sticks out of his thigh, impaling his leg, and the obvious cause of the blood smeared across the floor. His head rolls to the side, and he stares at her with a glassy expression.

"Hello," he rasps. A casual greeting for such a gruesome scene. Ahsoka finds her senses and rushes forward, falling at his side.

"You're hurt," she says, tearing off a strip of her cloak to tie a tourniquet. As though that fact wasn't readily obvious. To her surprise, he chuckles. Pushes her hand with the strip of cloth away. She looks at him, his big brown eyes filled with what she can only describe as peace.

"It's too late,"

"It's not! I--I'll bring you back to the camp, we have the best medics--"

"No," he shakes his head. "I am ready to die."

Her throat feels like it's closing. She closes the pieces of her cloak in her fist. "You're so young, though."

"Sixteen," he says. "Yesterday, actually."

His face grows paler by the second. Blood is pooling around him, around Ahsoka now, but she doesn't care to move. Instead, she takes his hand, startled by its icy coldness.

"Will you bring them to me?"

"Who?"

"My family."

"Of course, yes. Where can I find them? I'll go as quickly as I can."

He shakes his head. Slowly brings his other hand up to point. Ahsoka follows his direction to a holoimage on the wall. She stands, her knee leaving a clean imprint on the floor before the blood fills the space. She takes the holo off the wall, spotting the boy in the center of a group hug by others with big brown eyes and reddish-brown hair. A mother and father, brothers and sisters with wide smiles and shining eyes.

This is his family home. He is dying in his home.

She brings the picture to him, and he holds it in his lap, staring at the people. Reaching out as though he can touch the holo.

"Where are they?" Ahsoka asks. Hoping, praying they are in a camp somewhere.

"Where I'm about to go," he whispers. His eyes look from the holo to Ahsoka, and he smiles. "Thank you," he says, "for this gift you have given me."

She doesn't tell him she has given him no gift. If anything, she is part of the reason he lies here now. She is merely a bystander in a moment she feels she has no right to be a part of, but yet his cold fingers intertwine with hers. She takes hold of the holoimage that now falls from his other hand, and makes sure he gets to see it the entire time.

Strangely, in a way that feels far too detached to be real, watching the light leave the eyes of a sentient is a lot like seeing the bulb go out in a droid.

She isn't sure how long she sits there. Long enough that when she finally stands again the blood has dried into her pants, and it doesn't flow to fill her absence any longer. She can't stop looking at the piece of shrapnel that tears through the vessels and muscles of his leg.

A piece of a battle droid. A part of the arm, it seems.

Ahsoka feels like everything around her is obstructed by static. Nothing feels real, just like a horrible dream that she hopefully will wake up for at any moment. And yet, when her commlink rings and it's a message from Anakin wondering where she is, she doesn't wake up in her bunk on the ship.

She doesn't know their customs on this planet. Do they bury their dead or burn them? Doesn't even remember the name of the damned planet, which suddenly feels like a pit in her gut. So she does her best. Takes her lightsaber out and cuts the droid arm from his leg. Takes a blanket from the bedroom and wraps him carefully in it, his arms crossed comfortably and the holo pressed between his palms and his chest. When she emerges from the house, the sun is starting to hang low in the sky, the shadow of the alley even darker than before.

And yet somehow, she sees more this time.

She looks through the windows as she passes, not seeing battle anymore but devastation. Ahsoka can see the remnants of what used to be family homes. Holoimages flicker with limited power the faces of the people that escaped the city in the night. They had no time to waste when the call came in, packed nothing but what they needed to survive, and ran into the foothills. Established refugee camps where supplies will be funneled in the weeks to come until their city is rebuilt... though it may never be the same.

Couches covered in soft blankets and pillows where families would curl up on the weekends to watch holofilms. Trinkets lining shelves that probably meant something to someone at one time. Abandoned. Covered in glass and ash. Homes suddenly uninhabitable because of a war nobody here asked for. And as she takes stock of the neighborhood, she also realizes many of the homes have painted names above their thresholds-- a memorial for the names of their dead.

She blinks back tears. Nearly every door has names painted. Many with multiple. Their own tally marks.

Ahsoka runs back to the house of the boy, trying not to look at his bundled body as she searches for paint to at least give him this honor. Her stomach drops when she finds it already sitting next to the door, the brush still wet.

The names of his family already line their threshold.

Jebra

Imi.

Hales.

Yezha.

But as she raises the brush, a sickening revelation makes her burst into tears.

She never learned his name.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #impaling #i am so sorry #i made myself sad #i told myself i wasn't going to hurt obiwan today but ahsoka didnt deserve this either #prompt kinda had me stumped for awhile ngl #i guess i figured it out???#i promise this was finished on Feb 4 thursdays are just busy because i am in lab #ahsoka tano

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