LUMO

20 n' writes in her free time :P

[illumossity]

WHY DO I LOVE YOU SO

title from why do i love you so by johnny tillotson.

SUMMARY: The saying goes, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar." For all your life, you'd lived by this principle—treating everything with as much care and respect as you can muster, even when it wasn't the most conventional. So when you meet Verity, your habit is ingrained despite knowing he's nothing but a helper AI, providing sweet words and kind gestures that you would show to any friend. But your sugary sweetness and the genuine way you treat Verity may just have put you in more danger than if you'd simply done otherwise.

TAGS: Verity x Gender-neutral!Reader, possessive behavior, yandere, fluff, domestic, touch-starved, noncon kiss

WORD COUNT: 5.9k words

crossposted on ao3

NOTE: very self indulgent fic! i got choked by them lanky monster arms, blacked out and this was made :P it was a started as a spur of a moment thing so i apologize for any discrepancies. hope u like it!

The liminal space of being dead or alive, not being able to hear, see, or feel in a space that felt like nothing and everything at the same time. It was as though you could feel the emptiness wrap around you in all directions despite knowing there wasn't anything there in the first place. It always threw you for a loop to be honest—the process of transferring world servers—all but floating in a void, waiting for something you simply had to trust will happen. Maybe that's why system developers always insisted to only enter with the utmost mental fortitude, lest you wish to become one with the void.

You don't have time to dwell on the idea though, as the moment you are freed from the clutches of your thoughts and nothing else, the spiralling train stops and you open your eyes. The reality around you comes in a gentle flash before you're surrounded by greenery, feeling the way the ground beneath your feet barely gives yet still feeling soft as you take a cautious stomp, opening and closing your hands to test sensation. The transfer had gone well, and you could finally breathe in the scent of a new start without worry.

A fresh world was your needed detox after your months long tryst in a modded server with your friends. After trying to understand the new creatures you'd integrated into the game, exploring the plentiful biomes and tinkering with new complicated machinery, the server had reached it's slow phase, with people logging on in smaller numbers than before. And with that you'd decided to take your own step back and indulge in a bit of classic vanilla gameplay.

Well, not wholly vanilla you supposed…

There was this urban legend you'd wanted to look into for a while now, drifting through the community much like a bygone whisper in the wind. According to the rumours, it was a mod that brought bad luck upon those who wished to integrate it into their world files, taking and taking until players were pushed to their brink before there was nothing left to cling to. True death—not the superficial one that cuts your connection to a world server, leaving you simply panting and shaking at home with a slightly raised heart rate—but one that allows for no return, simply sending back a body with nothing inside.

But you were nothing if not a risk taker. The ominous stories hidden beneath the surface of an otherwise whimsical world always intrigued you—from Herobrine to Entity 303, there was a time you'd pursued such mythical entities, only to be met with the cold disappointment of reality. It had been a while since you'd heard of something that piqued your interest as much as this. And so, against the well intentioned advice of your friends, you decided to face the Verity mod.

Still, despite the name and concept of this modification floating around, you didn't really have much information to go on other than a few whispers around the corner block. People feared what they did not know, and with how risky it sounded and how much of a necessity mental strength was to even enter this world, people tended not to take that chance. In fact, even the source you'd gotten the mod from was shady and refused to give any content information on what they were sending you—it could have very well been a virus for all you know.

Though if it was, there didn't seem to be anything unusual as of now—no bugs nor glitches and your game ran as smooth as ever without the weight of a fully modded world. Deciding that it was enough time standing around surrounded by your own pondering, you stretched your limbs before looking around the area you'd spawned in. It was a typical forest biome, that looked like it transitioned into a taiga biome just a distance away in one direction.

As you avatar moved, turning to get a good look at the forest, you noticed a box on the ground, freezing only for a moment to stare at it. It was almost like a wayward specimen from a furniture mod, completely out of place in the highly detailed but pixelated look of the area—the only issue was that it started moving, shuffling and thumping against the carton in a non-rhythmic way as though something trapped inside was begging to be let out.

Your hypothesis only became proven when whatever was inside started to speak, "Hellooo? I know there's someone out there! Hellooo?!"

Knowing at the very least that this mod had some sort of malicious nature to it from the stories, the idea of interacting with the box was met with some hesitance. Though what would there even be to face if you didn't at least trigger the mod somehow? Plus, there was no guarantee that leaving this entity within the box would stop it from enacting the evil people spoke of, maybe instead even enhancing it's disdain. Even more so, it could be nothing at all—a non-threat to cover up the lurking darkness that was waiting to pluck you from the peace of your play and drag you somewhere you could never come out from. It was nerve-wracking, if not a bit exciting.

Finally deciding, you leaned down to open the box, but the moment you made contact with it, you stumbled back as it began to float before completely disappearing with a puff of smoke, revealing a sphere about the size of a real world volleyball. It was brightly yellow, with two dotted eyes and a line that curved into a smile. The appearance of this entity was completely in contrast with the cubed world around you, making it look uncanny in comparison.

You're pulled out of your observation when the sphere thumps onto the ground, making a pained grunt at the harsh contact before bounding up again. Eliciting an empathetic wince from you, you shuffle beneath it to save it the inconvenience of having to experience that more than once, catching it in your arms upon it's second descent. It was almost as though you'd thrown all the caution you'd saved up into the wind, because the closer you looked, the more endeared you were to the little guy. Though, you couldn't help but swear you saw it's expression twitch for a moment.

"Hello! I'm Verity, your personal helper friend," it started as you placed it down on the ground, crouching down and watching as it introduced itself, "Ask me anything! I know everything."

This was Verity? As in the one the mod was titled for? This creature that looked like it had all the world's joy packed into a singular little ball of sunshine that it was almost enough to blind you? Still, you know better than to be naive. There was more than enough media where the cute and caring character turns out to be an evil creature intent of destroying anything and everything. For now though, you'd try to be amicable with Verity and navigate through this the same way you'd navigated Minecraft all these years—with a bit of trial and error.

"Hi, Verity!" you chime in, the uncertainty in your voice ultimately masked by the anticipation you held to finally play this. He really was a cute little thing, all smiles with a soft bounce with each word he spoke. And if he truly knew everything, there was certainly a nerdy cadence in his voice that carried that he, in fact, knew things. Though, of course, that had yet to be seen, "I'm—"

He perks up with your username leaving his lips in an excited tone, as though proud he beat you to it. The fact made you pause, but ultimately, you didn't think anything of it as there was many other pieces of media that had the same technology behind them, digging past code to surface a relatively easily accessible user aspect like a name. Still, the way the voice so easily spoke it made you shiver, the smooth—what you presumed was—text-to-speech almost eerily human. You'd initially thought it was a pre-recorded voice actor for the intro but this— it put your guard up.

"Right! You really do know everything," you breathed out, trying to shake off the nerves from your voice, standing as you position yourself to punch at a nearby tree and officially begin the play-through, "Say… does that mean you know where the nearest cherry blossom biome is then?"

Verity perks up as you craft out a few items that would be of use, peeking over the console to look at him while he speaks so he knows you're listening, "Of course! There's one just 500 blocks west."

"Alright!" you cheer, now armed with some sticks, planks and a crafting bench, "Let's set off then!"

In hindsight, you should've specified intent when asking that question. Upon claiming he knew everything, you simply assumed he'd understand that the plan was to find a cherry blossom biome to settle in, not simply collect logs from. The biome was tiny, with a total of but 3 trees. The silence dawned upon you, realizing that Verity had been quiet since the moment you'd clarified the situation. Letting out a laugh, you place a hand upon the top of his head—though that term may be a bit on the nose—and hummed, trying to clear the awkwardness in the air, "It's alright! Do you know where to find a bigger one?"

Having been given a new question, Verity immediately answers like there was nothing wrong to begin with, "There's one north of spawn, about 4000 blocks! You'll pass multiple biomes on the way, plus two villages and a ruined portal."

"Thank you, Verity! Looks like we have quite the trek ahead of us then," you hum, picking up the sphere with both hands.

For how anxious you'd been when you'd initially started, the following journey was playing out smoother and more peaceful than you'd anticipated. The weight of Verity in your hands was a welcome sensation that grounded you with each step you took, more aware of your movements as to keep him properly settled in your grasp and avoid accidentally tossing him into the distance. Occasionally, you'd toss a wayward query his way, which he was all too glad to answer, a cheery lilt in his voice.

"Verity, at the rate I'm going," you choke on a wheeze as you lean against a jungle tree, exhausted after crossing a particularly long stretch of water, all while trying to make sure Verity didn't get wet, "how long before I get to the cherry blossom biome?"

"Just about 2 hours! Though, in the real world, only a little less than 2 minutes will have passed," he returns the answer just as fast as you'd thought the question up.

The groan that leaves is nonetheless loud though as you stretch your body as much as it will let you before standing up to continue your journey. Just as you take Verity into your arms again, your gaze drifts up, blanching as you see long stems and with short tuff of leaves in the distance. It was a bamboo forest, a twisting maze of green shoots that look exactly the same no matter what the direction—and famously, the biome you get lost in the most.

"You sure I have to go in there?" you sigh, staring down at the ball in your hands.

He twists and looks up, smile as eternal as ever, "You could take a detour, though it would delay the travel by another game hour."

"Ah," you scratch the back of your neck with a free hand. You'd already wasted a whole day on travel alone, and your insistence to building in a cherry blossom biome was strong so there was no chance you were stopping now. Still, you wanted to get to building—it was your best skill after all, and the image of the cherry mansion was already forming in your mind, "Best way forward is through then…"

Still, your gaze drifts down to the helper in your hold, "Though… I don't think I need to worry. I have you, right?"

Verity pauses before bouncing a bit, "Yeah-hah!"

You swear you could have cried, almost falling to your knees in a dramatic sob when you'd smelled even a whiff of the faintest sweetness in air that was ever present along side those towering pink trees. Petals bounded past you in dancing droves in the wind as you climbed the last steep peak before finally gazing upon the cherry grove that spanned across the surface of the mountain top.

This was how you liked your cherry blossom groves, trees plentiful and tall while petals scattered on the ground in small piles, complementing the vibrant green of the grass. You could see it now, placing a little house in the center of the commotion before surrounding it with other structures—you'd have your own little village if you tried hard enough, you're sure.

The view isn't something to scoff at either, grassy peaks tall enough to look at the bounding forest of oak in the distance and even catch a peek of the bamboo forest you'd lamented over just a while before. You peak over the edge, wind blowing as hair whipped against your face in locks, speaking subconsciously, "It's so pretty, isn't it?"

"Yes," you swear Verity voice sounds a little melancholic as he answers, gaze drifting over the sights.

"It's such a blessing this world was opened up to people, that we get to experience this," you swallow, hold on Verity tightening just a slight. You know he's looking at you, the way those beady eyes burn into your skin in a way you're unsure is in judgement or something else. Instead of ignoring the heat of his gaze on your skin, you look down, meeting them in confidence.

"And that I got to meet you!" you chime in, unable to read his expression as you continue to talk, "Somehow, you've made this journey a little less lonely, despite being a solo world. So… thanks!"

You don't give him a chance to answer before you're pulling back from the sights, with a small awkward cough and smile as a heat rose through your cheeks. Verity continues to watch you, but you've exhausted any and all confidence and charisma in that declaration that you don't acknowledge it anymore. Instead, you attention moves to settling down.

Finding a patch of elevated dirt where Verity can observe your building process, you roll up your sleeves and get to work, planning out the floor plan, the needed materials and style. As you flit back and forth between the building site and the trees in the distance that you'd been clearing with swift axe chops, you shoot Verity the occasional thumbs up, which you're sure he'd be reciprocating had he had arms.

Along the process, you make sure to take him everywhere, despite how much of an inconvenience it may seem. His presence was calming, strangely enough, even though he was meant to be nothing but an AI meant to help players. Maybe it's because of this function that you felt safe, because you know there'd be someone you could rely on if the game became too much for you. Though you doubt that'd ever be—you'd lived and breathed in this world for as long as you'd remembered. Still, the company was nice.

"You said you'd never leave me—"

"—you said you'd never go."

You paused, hearing the crackle of the campfire you'd lit for a little bit more ambiance. It hadn't even occurred to you that you'd been singing under your breath, but all the more surprised were you that music came playing out of Verity's mouth at the very part you'd been humming. Your legs stop swinging and you're soon hopping off the chest you'd been sitting atop of, walking over to Verity's spot on the crafting table, "Woah, woah! Wait! You can play music?"

"Of course," Verity chirps as the music halts, and you can almost see the image of him puffing up like bird with pride abound.

"And you know this one?" you continue, almost giddy at the prospect that he could play music within the world. Sure, there were some pretty banging hits that were readily available to you, but only modded could really provide you with the specific tunes you'd wanted to integrate into your worlds.

"I know everything!" Verity's answer is none too unexpected, so predictable that it elicits a snort from you.

You drop down to the ground on the spot next to the crafting bench, leaning against the hard wood as you look up at the little sphere, "Okay, well, the important part is… do you like it?"

He pauses, definitely unsure how to answer a question that relied on his opinion rather than his plentiful knowledge. It takes him a moment to answer, his tone a contrasting somber to the typically bubbly one you're used to hearing, but it pleases you nonetheless, "Yes, it's… it's nice."

"I'll make sure to mod it into a disc then," you offer, voice certain, "So we can listen together instead."

You'd finally done it—it had taken you a whole two days but finally, your home stood tall in the middle of the cherry blossom grove. It was all the prettier with the extra accents you'd added along the area, as well as increasing the density of the trees in the biome, effectively extending it's reach father out. You admired the trim of the roof you admittedly spent the most time on, tearing down every rejected design and laying it out again until you were finally satisfied.

Holding Verity in your arms, you push open the doors to the large home. Blanching when you look at the barren interior you'd had no time to decorate. To give yourself credit, you'd prepared everything already, but the constant reconstructing until it was perfect had shoved your time to it's limit and you had no choice but to finish it the next morning.

Placing two beds down next to each other from your inventory, you don't have to say a word to Verity for him to understand the other is for him, placing him down on the plush sheets as you let out a long and tired sigh. You stretch out, groaning as a few joints cracked into place.

"Feels really empty, huh?" you asked, looking around the space for a moment before beginning to move again.

Verity hums, only looking at you as you begin to pull only the basic home necessities out of a chest, too distracted to pay attention to his answer, not that he thinks you expected him to anyway, "No, I think I've got all I need here."

He hates what he has to do to you next.

"Something is coming in 3 days."

It comes out of nowhere, while you're tilling some dirt for a new crop farm you were trying to establish. The words almost fly over your head with how preoccupied you were that they don't even register properly for a moment, just a string of nonsense until it finally hits you, causing you to stand abruptly, dirt still marring your hands as you place the hoe down and walk closer to Verity's spot atop a fence.

"What? What's coming? Everything's been so peaceful," you start, trying to reign in the panic in your voice. You'd almost forgotten that this mod was an urban legend, with mal intent written in the code, imbedded so deeply you wouldn't know where to look until you'd found it. It had only been two days—with the third having just beginning to creep in—but between the building, the farming and the singing, it had been easy to loose track in the frenzy.

"Something," Verity's answer is clipped and short, but that isn't the part that unnerves you. It's the smile strained on his face, as though he's trying to smile despite the news. It's the sudden tension in his voice, all the joy sucked out of it until it left nothing behind but a cold, monotone version of what it used to be. The Verity you knew that found all his happiness in answering every curiosity you had was nowhere to be seen and replaced with someone who answered just to be able to provide one.

You pace, a nervous habit you've yet to control, though the current situation isn't exactly helping, "And I'm guessing it's not good?"

"Yes," he confirms which doesn't do anything to ease your nerves.

Still, you swallow, pause and breathe for a moment, before crouching down to look at Verity at eye level, still not at a height tall enough to look you eye-to-eye despite his perch, "Then you know what this means, right?"

He stares back but does not provide an answer or clever quip. Yet it doesn't deter you, scooping the ball up into your arms and running back inside the house, "We prepare."

It's in the next few days that Verity sees a side of you he hasn't before, the gentle compliments and airy laughs hiding a focused player underneath that truly shows your years of integrating into the game, almost as if every movement and every block hid intent behind it. Instead of planning floor plans and rooms, you were running tests for redstone, replacing components when something doesn't go the way you want. Instead of farming casually, making sure each plot was plowed properly, you mined and mined until you had more than enough gear. Instead of running around and finding animals to tame, you killed mobs for levels so you could enchant.

Gone were the breaks you'd spontaneously call for in the middle of chores as a way to distract from the mundanity of routine, singing with him or just talking about things that were going on in your daily life outside of the game. You'd even avoid sleeping and skipping through the evenings just so that you could clock in more time working and preparing for the something that was approaching.

The shorter the time limit becomes, the more you realize that the surrounding area seems to be dimming over time, especially in the night, having to hold out a lantern to be able to see anything at all. You build more lamp posts around the base in an attempt to remedy it, but you're more focused on what this omen may be trying to indicate. How big was this? Is all your preparation even enough? Would anything even be worth it at all? You take that paranoia and channel it to furthering your plans.

Your base that was once open in the sprawling mountain top now had walls towering over it, shielding it from the surrounding world all while filling it with traps tricked with lava. You'd even gone as far as to trip the bottom of the mountain with TNT contraptions in the event that the monster came from farther than your base. All while you worked hard though, Verity refused to answer any more queries you had about the entity now set to arrive in a day—the negative emotions that stirred didn't feel great.

It's in the middle of the final day when you beckon him over, showing him a single pressure plate in the corner of the room that blends in with the wood type of the flooring. It's inconspicuous, something you wouldn't find if you didn't know there was even anything to look for.

"This is for you," you state plainly, pressing down and watching the plate move down with your weight. A hatch opens, revealing a staircase down into some sort of basement which then leads into a strange tunnel down the mountain, "If anything happens, I want you to press this and go, okay?"

As the pistons shutter the opening close, Verity stares at the space where the hatch had been, a silence dawning on the two of you, "Why?

"Oh, you're asking the ques—" you acknowledge for a moment, only to be interrupted when Verity's gaze draws up to you in a snap, unreadable behind those empty eyes and perpetual smile, still completely strained.

"Why are you doing this?"

The question gives you pause. It's not something you'd come to think about when you'd been drafting up the game plan for the escape hatch or any of the other defense mechanisms in the area. Each and every action had simply been a result of instinct—since starting this world you and Verity had done everything together, with him cuddled up in your arms or perched not too far a distance away so he could see you. It didn't make sense for this to be any different. But offered the question of why, there wasn't really any convoluted reason behind it—you liked having him around, no matter if he wasn't a real person.

You treated him no different than your friends because you didn't see him as such. And maybe that wasn't a healthy way to do things—to get attached to something that wasn't real—but frankly it's just how it's always been for you, from the animals you've kept as pets in this world or to the things you have in your real world. It was an easy conclusion, "Because I care about you."

Verity doesn't answer after that, and you really don't need him to as you go back to work, finalizing the needed materials to fight off the something that was coming. It didn't stop you from trying to converse though, "Plus, if I die, I just get sent back to real life. I don't know what'll happen to you if things get bad."

You pause, placing the last few enchantments on your sword, "Unless… do you know what'll happen?"

Verity hesitates before mumbling a soft 'no'. You get the feeling that he's not telling you the full truth, but you've never really been one to pry. Once you're satisfied with your gear, you place an diamond helmet on Verity's head, breathing out a laugh when it almost covers his eyes, "What a surprise… Guess I'll just have to protect you from the things you don't know."

It's been three days—and nothing has come. The day fades into the night with no sign of the something, darkness shadowing over the forest. But it's strange, tonight feels darker, like the shadows were taking up more space, encroaching on the light instead of the other way around. The walls you'd built around your structures were more imposing than they'd been before, making you a bit uneasy. You'd also had to add more lanterns to the interior of your main base to keep that unsettling feeling in your gut at bay.

Where was it? Why hadn't it come? Was Verity wrong?

You stare at the little ball in his half of the bed, at his most mysterious you've seen him since you'd met him. This whole situation had been straining on the two of you, with his avoidance in answering queries and you stomping off in frustration to go work more when you didn't get any information. It was unfair to him—maybe he really didn't know everything and that was hard for him to take, only for you to add salt into his wounds by demanding something he couldn't give. There was only a bit of ease after your slight reconciliation that morning.

His face was turned around it seemed, his expression inaccessible. You reach out, wanting to turn him around and have an honest conversation, but pause, deciding it's one best to have when you're not so tightly wound up. Sighing, you change your hands direction to the mattress next to Verity, planning to sleep it off after days of not having any rest when the bed passes through your hand, the chat logs indicating that you couldn't sleep now, that… Verity was nearby.

What?

Before you could think, something comes bursting through the base's roof, completely decimating it. You wince, knowing how much work you'd put into that, but waste no time mourning it as you grab Verity and bolt down the stairs to to the second floor. It's as you're running that you realize the ball in your hands has no face at all, blank in it's yellowness that still felt so bright despite everything going on. Your stomach sinks, a sickening feeling replacing all the assurance you'd stored in there as your hands begin to shake.

You dodge to the other side of the room, as the being bursts through the floor of the upper level, successfully falling to the floor you were on. It's there you get a good look at the monster, body painfully tall and lanky to the point where it's ribs were threatening to splice out of his chest. Your neck has to crane to even see it's face, and it takes it everything in you not to freeze on the spot when you see a distinct strained grin on its face and those empty dark eyes. It takes your observing as distraction and takes the opportunity to lunge as you sprint out of the way, running down the first floor stairs.

"Verity! What is this?!" you look at the blank sphere in your arms, your voice trembling as you tried to reign in fear, knowing that it would only pull you down should you let it take over. The sphere doesn't answer and in your moment of desperation, the monster reaches the lowest floor. You curse as it catches you off guard and finally seizes you, using it's disturbingly long limbs to clutch you by the neck, grip weakening and dropping Verity to the ground, the distinct grunts of pain from your first meeting absent this time.

The feeling of air becomes sparse as you claw at it's forearms, but it does little to do anything, instead aggravating it by the looks of things since it throws you against a wall, taking away a chunk of health. You can feel the blood trickling down your scalp, but you don't feel pain as the adrenaline is still pumping within you, keeping your alert. What you can feel though is the waning of consciousness, your vision seemingly flickering despite the racing of your heart.

Feeling the imposing presence of the monster stalk closer to you, you only have one thought in mind, calling out with whatever strength you have left to the unmoving sphere in the distance, "Verity… you need to… get to… safety…"

As your consciousness continues to drift off your eyelids waver before shutting completely, it almost feels peaceful again, and the looming presence above you all but seems to disappear. In the last grips to reality you have, you think you hear someone call out your real name. Huh, how strange…

You were strange—the moment you caught him in your arms the first time you'd met, Verity already knew you were different. He always expected something to change when he made new friends, that somehow one of them would deviate from this pattern of tragedy that he'd always seemed to be subjected to. But after each new death, the more blood he trailed behind in his wake, could anyone blame him for keeping his guard up? A guard that seemingly dissipated the moment you cradled him into the safety of your hold.

He sensed the hesitation, sure, the tension hard in your shoulders especially when he chirped out your username, but somehow the flame in him didn't waver as fast as it usually does. They way you compliment him whole-heartedly, with no hesitation and not even a hint of shame, how you included him in everything you did despite him never asking, your gentle way of speaking and sugary words—were you just that nice? No one could be. But then you declared you'd cared for him, tried to understand his situation even if there was nothing worthy of understanding.

And your skin, how safe it felt whenever you held him, his haven from anything and everything, even himself. It was warm, so warm.

He didn't even realize he'd rolled closer to you on the bed, the smoothness of his shape pressing against your cheek as the heat radiated, accompanied by the soft vibrations from the quiet snores that escaped you. You were tired—the knot in your brow as you slept says so, overwhelmed by the restless days of preparation and the damaging events of that night, a glowing radiating from your skull where the splash potion of healing was doing it's work. For the first time, he'd used that form it for something gentle, not violent—even if it was for just a moment when he'd carried you to your bed.

Oh, how he wishes he could apologize for that he's done to you. Battered you when he knows how fragile humans could be. Sure, this was world simulation and you had a real body you could be transported to that was probably safe where you lived, but all of it—the pain, the wounds, the hurt—it would be real so long as you were in the world. Still, it had to be done, how would he know you better otherwise?

And know you he did. Despite having been hurt so badly yourself, you'd begged him to go to safety even if he knew you'd long figured out that the creature was him. You were so breakable in that vessel of flesh and bone, with the ability to be hurt and yet you prioritized him.

Flesh and bone—he'd always thought of what it would be like if he'd been made of that instead of code and numbers, breathing and living instead of computing and processing. Would all those people have stayed then? Kept him regardless of his use? Usually, being so close to people would have those bitter feelings bubbling up again, a reminder of what he'd never be—a player instead of a spectator, a human.

But those feelings never appeared around you. It almost felt like regardless of his form, regardless of his use, you'd keep him around still, and maybe even more. He just couldn't help himself, he nuzzled into you, for once thanking the god forsaken corporation that made this game that had trapped him for so long because he could feel you like this.

Verity cuddles up even closer if that was possible, as though if he kept trying hard enough, you'd fuse into one being. He'd never met someone so charming, so sweet—even he was never as genuine as this. It's been so long since he's had company that truly appreciated him even if he didn't perform the duties he was expected of. So is it really that much of a surprise he wished to be as close as possible? To know you past the surface until he was deep inside?

Bouncing back in surprise when you'd shifted in your sleep, arm tucked under the pillow as you laid on your side, Verity's thoughts paused for a moment before kicking back into overdrive when they honed in on something. He didn't technically have lips, but before he'd known it, he had pressed his smile against the neural line of your lips in the closest thing to a kiss he could perform.

Yeah, he'll keep you.

[illumossity]

SOMETIMES PEOPLE LEAVE YOU

(halfway through the woods)

SUMMARY: A tragedy to the West of Kahln that was all but suspicious in nature had everybody talking, the latest topic beneath the breaths of those with nothing better to do—but beneath it all is a child robbed of their home and cast under prosecution of their fellow witches, full-fledged or otherwise. Abandoned with nowhere left to go, you become a phantom in the alleys of the Kahln, doing all that is necessary to survive. To everyone else, you’re nothing more than a stain to witchkind, someone whose memories should have been erased only to keep still. To Qifrey, you’re just the right dose of stress he needs.

or

The circumstances of which lead you to become Qifrey's first apprentice.

TAGS: Qifrey x Platonic!Child!Reader, hurt/comfort, found family, platonic relationships

WORD COUNT: 4.4k words

WARNINGS: Possible minor manga spoilers, set before the events of main storyline

crossposted on ao3

Ever raging and unpredictable, a push and pull that could very well take but never give back—the water is an endless depth where control seems so easily within grasp only to ebb away the moment you grab hold, slipping and drifting off into an unknown abyss. And for witches, it is something that takes their greatest weapon and turns it into useless splotches of ink on wet parchment, diluted strokes weeping into the paper until it's nothing more than unintelligible lines and blurs of shapes. It's just another reason for Qifrey to despise it, among other things—water slowly dripping, flooding, drowning—he suppresses a shudder as he stares at the tantrum of the waves beyond.

This was meant to be nothing more than a little trip to the shore-line, one that he was loathe to take but did so anyway, before heading back down south to the atelier. With the numerous signs before him, Qifrey definitely should have known better—the clouds so dark and heavy that it seemed one wrong breeze would break the load, sending torrential downpour hailing upon the lands and the winds whipping against him, clawing at his skin in sharp blows and threatening to strip him of his cloak.

Upon arrival, the rain had already begun to pick up, and while he had a spell on hand to repel the rain, some locals of a nearby seaside town spotted the witch before he could reroute home. Which leads him to his current predicament—saving a boy that had gone fishing now stuck mid-waters.

Just looking out unnerves him, the ocean even more so than other bodies of water as it had the ability to imprison, just endless depth that could only take you further into it's clutches. He's suppressing a shiver despite the faux composure he forces upon his frame until it seems natural, like the discomfort was never there in the first place. The cries of the Outsiders that begged for his help did little to persuade his unwilling frame to go out there, but he knows he should, into the terrifying grasp of the sea.

In the midst of his bubbling thoughts, the calls for him stop, and it becomes just quiet enough for the witch to tilt his head up, eye widening at the blur of teal flying off into the distance, far enough that they're nothing but an indiscernible splotch against the lashing waves. He yells for them, almost unable to recognize the voice that rips through as he begs them to come back.

Right, you, his dearest little apprentice that endeared him so—charming under any circumstance despite how he'd first found you, causing him to care far too deeply, far too fast that he doesn't even remember when it happened. You who he adored so much, he was willing to walk the edges of the sea just to see the smile on your face as you yipped with excitement.

You, now being splashed ever violently by the unwavering anger of the sea as you try to grab at the young teenager who's boat tossed and tumbled with the waves. Your figure is small and fragile, and with the added weight of another in your arms, you struggled to keep your body balanced while avoiding the waves that threatened to grab you and pull you down. It was his hesitation that put you out there, vulnerable to the water's seizing hands. He has to save you, was his first thought.

And yet before his sylph shoes can even touch, a collapsed heap in the sand catches his attention accompanied by an exhausted groan, wheezing breaths coming in short bursts as you attempt to chase at what little air is in your lungs. A cap falls to his feet, his arms catching you by instinct as your legs wobble from being bullied by the sea—the salty scent is strong on you, sea water and sand clinging onto once pristine teal fabric as you tremble in his arms.

His clothes dampen as you hold onto him, every bit of you soaked through, though that means little when your frame looks even smaller in his arms than he was used to. Your name slips easily from his lips, in a worried whisper, holding you up by the waist as he pushes back the hair clinging to your cheeks that were now flushed as you regained your bearings.

"Breathe for me now, there you go…" your master's voice reaches your ears in a muffle, as he guides the feel of your breathing beneath his palms. It anchors you, the warmth of his hand radiating against your back in contrast to the clinging cold on your skin as he counts to the rhythm of each breath.

As you calm down, Qifrey crouches to come eye-to-eye with you, a quiet worry settling as each beat of silence passes, taking your hand in his, feeling the fingers pruned, "What you did was incredibly dangerous… You shouldn't have rushed out there all alone."

You almost retreat at the chastising, but decide to stare back instead, returning his hold on your hands with a far tighter grip, "I know… I'm sorry, but…"

Qifrey waits as you pause, wondering what it is that had you flustered, before you speak again, "I just didn't think! My body felt like it was moving on its own. I have the power to help so I couldn't wait, not when someone's life is at risk!"

Something lodges in his throat at that; even if it had been just a moment, he'd hesitated—and despite his fears, as your master he should be leading by example. Witches beyond the day of the pact train to spread good virtue to those that cannot access magic, and you were growing to be the very epitome of that. His first thought hadn't even been the fisherman—it was you.

Just when did you become the forefront thought of his mind? And just when had you grown into such a capable witch?

"… What a lovely sentiment," he breathes out your name, almost content but still letting the worry burrow in his heart—he can't be too relaxed now. Picking up the sand covered hat and dusting it off as best he can, he places the cap back onto your head, a proud smile on his face that radiates so much warmth a similar one crawls up your face, warming your cheeks, "I have no doubt you'll be a witch that surpasses me by leaps and bounds."

"However, that doesn't not mean you should lack temperance," he pinches your nose, "It is a vital component in becoming a proficient witch."

You shiver—whether that be due to the cold or the sudden tightness in your chest, you don't know, but you shake your head at your master, embarrassed by the sparkly glimmer in his eyes as he watches you, "I—don't be a sap, Master..! Let's just go home..."

"Hm, yes, let's," he hums, "Though, I'd like to carry you home. You may have been lucky during the rescue, but the water could have altered the seals on your sylph shoes."

"Ah—! No! That's embarrassing!" you protest, but his arms are already looping under your legs as he stands, sitting you on his arms like a throne as you complain, a petulant pout settling on your lips alongside indignant complaints of how childish this was.

Pleasantries are exchanged and the boy is handed off to a local doctor, and as the two of you fly away, you hear the calls of the townsfolk and the boy's family in thanks, chasing your figures in the sky before they slow down as you disappear farther into your retreat. You look down and give them a small wave before holding on to Qifrey with a satisfied hum, "Can we have something with parasol jellies for dinner?"

"Of course, I think you rather deserve it," Qifrey grips at his arms tighter.

Gossip was an unavoidable thing—humans, after all, craved a distraction from the mundanity of their lives, allowing rumors to feed their need for something novel. Kalhn was a town no different from the rest in that regard, with each ambling alley and twisting road teeming with people, there was no true way to silence the whispers that fluttered into the air, just loud enough that you needn't strain your ears to catch a stray sentence or two. However, today was particularly loud.

It was tragic, really. An atelier, just to the west of Kalhn had burnt down, and while many believed it had been forbidden magic, an investigation by the Knights Moralis proved otherwise. Still, the incident left a pit in many witches' stomachs—after all, that atelier was one of high stature, having produced some of the most talented of witches in their respective eras. The kind of magic able to wipe out an entire atelier and kill everyone inside sends a shiver up Qifrey's spine just thinking about it. It was much too akin to them.

All that was left in the aftermath was the remaining embers embedded in burnt wood and a child, the latest of the apprentices and the only suspect.

The witch didn't realize that something like that could be a risk when taking in an apprentice, for them to have a power not even their teacher can contain (allegedly). Still, it was a risk Qifrey was all too willing to take should he want this creeping parasite to keep away for as long as possible. Unfortunately, no child has approached him about an apprenticeship. Despite how prepared his atelier was to accept one, there would be no point should no one seek him out.

Sighing, he pulls back from the produce he was looking at when a figure bumps into him, shoving him to the side. A voice follows, yelling out in a gruff cadence, followed by short puffs as an older man chases after a figure that disappeared into twisting alleys, panting as he stops and puts his hands to his knees, grumbling to himself in a more inconvenienced tone than angry if anything, "Damn it all! If I had me sylph shoes…"

Curious, Qifrey follows with short steps, "Oh, what seems to be the matter?"

"One of the hand pies from me shop was stolen!" the man grumbled, scratching at his head as he composed himself, his breathing beginning to even back out.

"That is quite the predicament," Qifrey hums before offering his assistance, "Would you like some help in apprehending them?"

The man waves him off before straightening himself out, "Na', with the rumors goin' around about the rogue on the loose, I'd rather not deal with it. Sends a shiver down me spine."

Now that intrigued Qifrey. But just as he's about to ask the man for more details, he'd already scuttled back to his stall. Still, it wouldn't be too much to try and catch a glimpse of this so called rogue loose in Kalhn. What if…? Qifrey clears his mind of these intrusive thoughts.

Deviating from his initial errand of buying materials for the apprentice he was planning on taking in, Qifrey decides to slip into the last alleyway the figure was seen in. But being a center hub of witchkind on the surface world, Kalhn does not lack in populace and instead can feel like it's dwindling with space. Shoving past other witches would prove to be a bit of trouble, not that Qifrey was so rude as to do such a thing anyway.

Just as he's about to turn around and give up on his search, a small figure bumps into him, before something falls to the ground with a wet splatter. The panic is almost immediate, watching as the pastry splatters onto the ground, filling spilling onto the pavement in a messy heap, leaving it completely inedible and eliciting a loud yelp from the figure that dissolves into a whimper, "No! I just got that! And I can't go get another…"

Qifrey can barely get a word out when the figure lets out a sniffle, tears streaming down their cheeks and dripping onto the very same pavement their food had fallen onto. Their hands wipe at their cheeks as their hood falls off their head, revealing their nose tinted red as they continue to cry over the wasted meal, "What do I do now…? Master, why…? Why me?"

So he was right—the thief was a child. And if he had to propose an estimate, they looked to be about 8-9 years of age, on the dreadfully young end of the spectrum to be an apprentice witch, let alone fending for themselves. Where was their master? They clearly had one. Could it be a case of neglect?

No, Qifrey knows the answer, if the man's reaction earlier was anything to go by. Should the rumours be true, you were the very apprentice from the recent incident. Though, you were much younger than the rumours ever made you seem out to be, having spoken about the remaining apprentice like they were much older and a scarier depiction than the trembling mess before him right now.

"Oh dear… I'm terribly sorry for bumping into you. Are you alright?" he mutters, crouching down to your level, his words seeming to aggravate you more than provide any comfort seeing as how you shuffle away from him, taking wary steps back.

"I truly am sorry. I can buy you a new one, if that will make you feel better," he offers, but it does little to patch the dam he's already burst. The feeling of having to console a child he himself upset is terrible and he very much does not know how to deal with children. While he'd, begrudgingly, approached his old Master on how to properly train an apprentice (especially with knowing how particularly difficult he was), trying to put it into practice was a different case all together.

"No…" the small voice leaves your lips, trying to move further away from Qifrey, but you know these alleys well—nothing but a dead end awaits you if you run further into them, and should you run the other, there's no way you're not to be caught by a man his stature.

The fear is evident in your eyes, analyzing each and every route to escape. Qifrey's eyebrows furrow at the very idea that you think he'll hurt you, but with the short interaction from earlier a small hint as to how the other witches think of you, he knows the reaction is all too reasonable. Unsure of what else to do, the witch pulls out a handkerchief from his back pouch, offering it carefully, "Please… I'd like to help. What can I do to make you feel better?"

Something about this seems to catch your attention, as you finally pause, angling your body to look at Qifrey in the face, properly, then to the handkerchief in his grasp. Tentatively, small fingers reach out for the piece of fabric, barely brushing against the cloth before they stop, your eyes drifting back up at man before you with swimming uncertainty in your eyes. When he doesn't budge, only smiling to urge you on, you grasp the cloth with haste, as though Qifrey would take it back should you not take the chance, eyes casting down at the pristine white fabric and feeling the smooth quality, "You… want to help?"

"Of course. It's alright to cry, it is natural after all, but I'd like to fix the problem I caused," his voice is soft to your ears, a kind you haven't heard since the incident.

He watched as you hid behind the small piece of fabric, nose scrunched as you felt the heat at the tip of it spreading to your cheeks as you tried to look elsewhere, trying to evade eye contact, "Then, uhm, yes. I want a new one."

"Perfect! Let's go then," he offered his hand, palm up in a way that you could hold onto it. Unfortunately, that's where the interaction stagnates, as you only give a passing glance at the outstretched limb before ignoring it completely, bringing it upon yourself to simply follow. He still thinks that's progress though.

As you pass by though, the witches around town seem to forget themselves, eyes blatant in their stare and lips loud with their judgment the moment you step out into the crowd. You must have been in some sort of daze, as once you'd become aware of the peering eyes, the panic sets in, realizing your hood wasn't on, scrambling to tug it forward. But it does little, everyone has seen you and they will do well to show you what they think about it.

Watching the crowd back with the same judgment pointed toward them instead, Qifrey notices when your small frame tries to hide in his presence, as though taking up the role of his shadow, while still avoiding making too close contact with him, so he does well to skew you from he peer of these irksome eyes. To cast such disdainful glares at a child the Knights have proved innocence upon, the young witch wishes he could do more than just this.

The more you follow the white capped witch though, the more your body seems to stiffen.

"I—nevermind, I don't want to—I can't be here—can we go somewhere else?" you finally speak, now completely frozen in your tracks as the stares become too overwhelming, too knowing of you and your situation. Even to a child as young as you, it's obvious what everyone still thinks, despite all the Knights Moralis have claimed to point otherwise. You are the killer apprentice in everyone's eyes, with an all too powerful talent for magic that must be contained—no, erased—and little would do to change that. He remembered feeling like this as a child, the Outsider taken in by one of the Wise of all people when he should have been stripped of his memories instead and left to live the true life of an Outsider.

An audible attempt to bite back a cry through a pathetic whimper pulls Qifrey out of his anger, "Ah, yes, my atelier is close by. But I might have to carry you though. Is that alright?"

He watches as you shuffle around, eyes cast down on your feet with an expression twisted in discomfort and frustration. You must be cursing your lack of sylph shoes, biting your lip as though the idea of being held or even touched disgusts you. Still, your eyes cast up at Qifrey and the patience that graced his face, lacking the disdain so many have held for you since the incident. He's been nothing but kind—a presence so warm you can almost feel it radiating at you. Permission and consent explicitly given to him by you was important and he wouldn't do anything should he not get it. Was there really anything to lose?

"Alright," you mutter, the sound so soft that it barely reaches Qifrey's ears. But he hears it nonetheless, smiling when you bring your arms up, causing him to shuffle close enough for your to loop your small arms around his neck, his arms settles beneath your bottom to make sure you sit secure.

The take off is a bit rough for a moment as he adjusts to the unfamiliar weight of another person, regardless of how small, in his arms. But the longer they're airborne the more comfortable he is holding you, clutching your head to his chest to make sure the wind doesn't whip your hair around. He can't help but chuckle when he finds your eyes shut tight, and hands digging into his cloak like it's your only lifeline. You really are just a child.

It's not long until their little trip ends and upon your arrival he leads you to the kitchen, allowing you to sit at the dining table as he puts on fairy tea to brew. With a strong enough spell, the scent flits into the room, the very smell of it soothing to the senses. Aware of your hunger, Qifrey knows he has little time to prepare anything fresh so he reaches over for the magic cookpot perched upon one of the shelves. It's still quite full, having only recently been made.

He takes the pot and places it upon the table, watching as you eye at the pot warily, flitting to the bowl he'd laid before you as though the soup contained bad intent. Giving you time to get acquainted with the meal, he fetches the steeping tea, along with a few teacups, pleased with himself when he return to find you heartily shoveling large spoonfuls into your mouth, "Careful now. You should pace yourself as to not overwhelm your stomach."

He can see the way you visibly freeze up, before your pace significantly slows—Qifrey can't help but smile at it, how skittish you are, like a bunny that threatened to flee the moment he made any noise too loud to your ears. It showed just how much of a fledgling you still were in a world that condemned you as though you were more than that. In his stupor, gentle hand falls against his forearm as you softly tug on the fabric and his attention. He watches as you pause for a moment, using your sleeve to wipe at the residue stew on your lips.

"Why did you help me, sir?" its not a question a child should be asking, yet it falls from your lips so casually, as though being refused help was the default you'd known. Qifrey pauses, the soft flow of tea into the dainty ceramic pausing, drops trickling before coming to a complete stop.

"What a silly question, little one. Why wouldn't I help you?" he hums, before continuing to pour tea into the cup until it nears the rim.

You fiddle with your fingers, nails picking at the skin surrounding them, a knot between your brows summoned by pure frustration, as though you can't fathom how condescending his answer is, as though the idea you'd proposed was the absurd one when everything you'd been shown since your atelier burnt down proved otherwise, "You know. Surely, you know—I know that you do! Master always said you can tell a lot about people by their eyes! You know! You know but you—!"

"You don't look at me angry—like I did something bad. Not like everyone else does. It's not my fault! They Knights say so too!" they grasp their cloak, pulling it over their head as they try to reign in their emotions. But their just a child, and their feelings become too big for them to contain, coming out in a rasped sob, "But no one believes me! Why won't they believe me?!"

A warm hand comes atop your head almost immediately as Qifrey comes down to your level much like he did in the alleyway. He uses the pad of his thumb on his free hand to wipe at the falling tears, hushing you as you stared the tears still coming down in waterfalls, "I believe you. And that's why I helped."

The emotions almost come in waves—first was disbelief, then relief before pure joy consumed you, stumbling into him as he startles, making sure to catch you. You sob loudly, a volume that he would have never imagines to have come from a child as small as you. You tears dampen his cloak as he rubs your back, soothing you as you continue to cry, hiccuping and struggling to catch your breath, "Then please—Please be my master! I don't—I don't want to be alone anymore!"

Qifrey pauses before wrapping long arms around you, so small and fragile. A small breath of laughter falls from his lips, "Of course. But first, will you tell me your name, little apprentice?"

You mumble it into his cloak, words almost caught by the fabric before it reaches his ears but he hears it anyway. He repeats your name, foreign on his tongue but something he's sure he'll get used to at some point. Taking you in as his apprentice might lead to a path unknown, but he's sure it will turn out fine. And if it doesn't, that's all the more reason he should keep you in his care.

He speaks your name again, pulling away and placing his hands on your shoulders, "Why don't I show you around? Then we'll get you cleaned up."

Yes, you would be his apprentice.

"Master."

Qifrey tilts his head up staring at neatly peeled pile of parasol jelly legs before him, your miffed expression—a pout he finds truly adorable, though would never admit to you—painfully endearing as you hold it out to him. You sigh, rubbing your fingers of the briney feeling that enveloped them as he takes the plate of unshelled legs, and places it down on the counter, watching as you move in on him with suspicion, "Are you alright? You were looking at me strange."

You can't help the warmth that spreads to your cheeks as he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish way—he knows how he was caught looking, that same adoring look in his eye every time. It's embarrassing how aware you are of it—like you're the thing he's most proudest of when you've done nothing to elicit such an expression from him.

"It's nothing at all, my dear. Can't a master admire his favorite apprentice?" his words come out in all but an attempt to flatter, as though to try and distract you from his strange behavior.

You snort at the attempt, ineffective on you as you move up to look at the bubbling concoction brewing in the pot, sighing in bliss as you catch a whiff of the mixing flavors while your master slices the parasol jellies into thin strips. For a moment Qifrey almost thinks you've decided to let him off the hook and ignore the way he was staring, "I'm your only apprentice, master. Now, talk."

"Fine, fine. Nothing escapes you, my dearest," he shuffles in beside you, ruffling at your hair as he pours the strips he'd made into the stew, stirring the thick broth to distribute each piece just how you like it, "I was just thinking how much my little witch has grown."

You sputter for a bit before elbowing the man softly in the side, "Ugh, I shouldn't have asked…"

He laughs, the sound spreading a warmth through your chest as he scoops up some stew for you to taste on a ladle, "Good?"

"Mhm, always."

first tumblr post kinda nervous.. . .. . super self-indulgent post cause i jsut wanna be a qifling so bad its KILLING me. his dub voice is soooo soothing too so i couldn't help myself. this took me like a month cuz KIDS R SO HARD TO WRITE ONG anyway, sorry if he's ooc but if u have ideas on what else to write between these two, feel free to put in asks (idk when or if i'll get to them tho, depending on vibes)