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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Hello I really love your writing. I’m glad that you decided to open requests for a bit. I have a personal headcanon that the boys are a lot nicer to MC then they are to everyone else. Could you do a headcanon of the boys being out with MC and they are talking with MC happily. Then a lesser demon sees them with MC and says that the seven brothers have gone weak and they aren’t scared of them anymore. Thank you again!!! 😖 (Also the way you write Levi is great)

Aww thank you!! Levi's kind of my favorite character (if that hasn't become painfully obvious) so I try to write him well, you know? This one was a little hard for me to write because I just have a hard time imagining Asmo and Beel as something intimidating to the masses, but I tried my best! I hope you like it!

Lesser Demons Think the Brothers have "Gone Soft…"

Lucifer

If anybody had something to lose by acting sweet on a lowly human, it was Lucifer. His entire image was built on the back of power and intimidation, so really who didn't see this coming?

He knew there were whispers… Mostly in the RAD hallways. Students would see him with the MC and gossip amongst themselves…

"Did you see them together again in the courtyard?"

"How did some random human even score a pact with him??"

"And I used to seriously look up to him, too…"

He'd always silence their chitchat with a well placed glare, but this was a symptom of something more… troubling. A decay of his social image if you will.

Perhaps it speaks to how well and truly enamored he was with the MC that this proud creature didn't just dump them the second he started looking bad, but still… a part of him really couldn't stand for this...

So maybe it was a blessing in disguise when he finally got an excuse to establish his superiority yet again!

He and the MC were walking the halls of RAD after school hours and they had just made an amusing joke at the expense of of his brothers. Unfortunately, Lucifer collided into a lesser demon student while he was laughing…

On most occasions, he would have expected someone of such station to pay him deference then offer an apology - they had just ran into Lucifer after all - but the student just scoffed at him!

Lesser Demon: "Oi! Watch where you're going, Lucifer! Or were you too busy sucking up to that human to notice?"

This… was maybe not the best response to have (if the "Oh shit" look on the MC's face was any indication) but for as annoyed as Lucifer was, he was also somewhat delighted.

Finally, he had the perfect messenger for just how cruel he could still be!

Lucifer: "MC, feel free to go home without me for now and tell my brothers to save my dinner for later…" *starts pulling out his favorite rope with a cold, but pleased, smile on his face* "I have a feeling I'll be home late tonight..."

The MC left him and his unfortunate victim to their fate and Lucifer later came home in the night with his uniform in a bad need of cleaning...

A new body decorated the RAD entrance hall the next morning - swinging from the ceiling and making an awful mess on the floor - but still alive enough give a very important message to the rest of the students:

"Lucifer hasn't changed a bit…"

Mammon

So, not even lesser demons see Mammon as some kind of high-ranking badass…

Just to be clear, he is, but it’s hard for him to come off that way when he's begging for his next Grimm... Then enter MC into the picture and he somehow lost even MORE cred.

"There goes poor Mammon… Did you hear he got tricked into a pact?"

"Just look at him nipping at the human's heels! How pathetic is that??"

"Well that's Mammon for you… What a shit excuse for a demon."

Like Lucifer, Mammon wasn’t immune to the whispers, but unlike his brother he was able to push them mostly out of his mind. People look down on him? Yeah, what else is new?

To be honest, he didn’t really feel the need to prove anything to a bunch of lesser demon losers… But insulting his MC takes things a step too far.

He and the MC were out at the Devil's Coast, "enjoying" some of the haunted house attractions and generally having a good time…ish.

Any time they managed to make it out of one, the MC would have to peel Mammon off their back and hold him to assure him they were back to safety (a process he seemed to like enough to repeat the horror that precedes it).

It was during one of these calm down sessions that the two were accosted by a couple of snickering lesser demons, clearly looking for a fight…

Lesser Demon 1: "Hey look! There's the 'Great' Mammon and his little master!"

Lesser Demon 2: "Guess the master fits the demon… Of course someone like Mammon couldn't even score a pact with Solomon and gets stuck with the weakling!"

Lesser Demon 1: "Well how's the babysitting going, Mams? I bet you can't wait for them to kill over, can ya?"

Lesser Demon 2: "Careful! With his luck, they'll probably get eaten by the end of next week! Haha!!"

Now… an important thing to know about Mammon is that you can fling all the mud and stones you'd like at him… but never at his MC. That's just asking for a bruising...

Mammon: *smiling like usual, but his eyes are practically burning with rage...* "Yo, MC… I'm gettin' a little hungry. Can ya go find us a snack over there? I'll meet ya in a bit…"

MC: "Mammon, are you-?"

Mammon: "Don’t worry 'bout me, babe." *takes his glasses off and flashes a fanged grin* "This is'a piece of cake."

And indeed, it wasn't difficult at all. No matter how fast those demons ran, they could never out speed Mammon and he was looking to give more than a warning…

The MC didn't know what he did while they were waiting in line, but they heard the sounds of pleading go silent before Mammon turned back up with a nice bruise on his cheek. Oh, how they fretted and dotted on him…

Meanwhile, the haunted houses just earned themselves a couple new mannequins!… when rigor sets in anyway.

Leviathan

Levi has a… mixed reputation in the Devildom to start with. People who only know him for his titles usually expect him to be some kind of sea-hardened badass. Those who meet him are… well let's say less than impressed.

This isn't anything new to Levi. It does take a blow to his confidence sometimes but even still most people aren't dumb enough to say something to his face… most people.

Unfortunately, "most people" have been getting bolder after seeing him with MC - because Demon Lord forbid Leviathan actually look happy for a change…

He and the MC were out and about for once. There was a raffle for exclusive merch at Anidaemon and he brought them along to boost his chances. They were grinning and chatting about anime but well…

The human couldn’t hear this, but he could - sensitive demon ears and all that. There were a couple guys who were tailing him… heckling him just loud enough that he was CERTAIN they knew he could hear them...

Lesser Demon 1: "Is that seriously Leviathan hanging out with a human? Isn’t he an Admiral??"

Lesser Demon 2: "Ha! The whole family's turned into simps, are you that surprised?"

Lesser Demon 1: "Wonder what the human's giving them that's got them all brainwashed…"

Lesser Demon 2: "Well... I've got an idea." 😏

If there were ever a reason for bile to fill his throat, it was now. He might be a shut-in, but those guys were the real creeps…

To be honest, Levi isn't one for public confrontation. Even with how gross and disrespectful those demons were being, he would have let it slide if they had just left it at that… but no…

He and the MC were browsing the ani-music racks in the store when those idiots popped up again. They hovered a while until they MC suddenly left his side to go find a store clerk.

When he saw the other demons move their direction, he naturally put himself between them and the would-be harassers. It was a little telling that despite his ticked off expression, the demons just laughed in his face!

Lesser Demon 2: "Hey look, the puppy's come out to protect its owner! How cute!"

Lesser Demon 1: "I can't believe you're that predictable, Levi… Do you really think we'd be scared of you?"

Well. That settled it.

When the MC came back, they found that Levi had moved from the music racks to the merch tables near the bathrooms. They didn't think anything of it… but...

One body was paralyzed by his venom and stuffed head first in a toilet while the other getting strangled by his tail just underneath the tablecloth… Meanwhile, Levi was cheerfully rambling about the raffle like nothing was happening at all.

Maybe they should have been a little more scared of the shut-in...

Satan

This may actually be a case where the rumors have a point… The MC has made Satan "soft."

Well, if "soft" means actually in control of himself, anyway.

Satan would probably call their effect on him both a blessing and a curse. Though he loved finally having a handle on his inner rage, it flew in the face of a lot of his public image… and people were starting to notice….

"Do you think there's something off about Satan…?"

"I saw the human step on his toes earlier and he didn't even flinch…! The old Satan would have torn them apart!!"

"He's gotten way too nice all of sudden… Wrath shouldn't be nice."

Was it a little frustrating? Certainly. Especially for someone as image conscious as him. But for as calm as he was now, Satan wasn’t any less cruel and he'd be more than happy to remind others of that fact….

His chance came when he and the MC were together having just left the local art gallery. The two were exchanging a healthy dialogue about a curious sculpture they saw on display when a latte suddenly went soaring through the air and ended up all over Satan's sweater… The culprit was plain to see, being the only other demon on the road that night.

Whether the act was intentional or not, the correct course of action would have been to apologize immediately and beg for mercy forgiveness… but all the demon did was laugh in his face…

Maybe he thought that since Satan had mellowed out and his human was right beside him that he'd be lenient… Oh no. Not gonna happen.

Satan's fist slammed into the guy's mouth with the force of a jetliner and knocked him over two benches before his back bent over a lamppost… To say it was a KO move would be an understatement.

He probably could have done a whole lot worse to the guy while he was down, but you know… the MC being there and "self-control" and what not…

The demon survived (barely) and only had to spend a few months in the hospital, if anything he got off light.

Not a soul would gloss over Satan's temper again and really he preferred it that way.

Asmodeus

Well, to be fair not a lot of people thought that Asmo was tough to start with… but that's also his intention.

"Scary" is the opposite of "cute" and he prefers to be "cute" at all times! 😊

Buuut that doesn’t mean this scorpion is without a stinger. He CAN be quite brutal when he wants to be, you just have to push him that far and trashing his looks is a good way to start.

Asmo was out with the MC getting his hair done for the week at his favorite salon. They weren't the only people there that day, obviously. There were other customers - one being a lesser demon classmate of theirs - though neither he nor the MC thought much of him at the time...

Well… It was supposed to be a prank. Probably something the guy intended to use for social media clout. While the staff was too busy to notice, he snuck by and replaced Asmo's preferred conditioner with pink hair dye…

Asmo. Was. Furious. And honestly, the dude could have gotten away with it if he hadn't been laughing and recording the whole thing!

When Asmo's ire naturally fell onto him, he hardly looked fazed!

Lesser Demon: "Ah, please! You won't do shit to me with the human still around! You don't want to look any uglier to them do ya?"

Asmo: *freezes, but still furiously eyeing every sharp instrument within arm’s reach* "MC? Darling?"

MC: "Got it..."

Perhaps the prankster should have kept his mouth shut, because suddenly the MC needed to take a looong bathroom break…

They didn't come back out until they heard the sounds of screeching and broken glass finally die down and then they stepped back into a warzone… Broken mirrors and items seemingly flung everywhere in a fit of rage! The guy (and his phone) now nowhere to be seen…

The salon comped Asmo for the botched hair job and touch up… and then billed Lucifer for the property damage (which he got an earful about later). On the bright side though, Asmo actually looks pretty great with pink hair! Silver-linings. 🙂

Beelzebub

… The concept of Beel "going soft" is almost an oxymoron. He IS soft, but his personality was never what made him intimidating to start with.

Behind all his kindness, Beel packs more firepower than at least 4 for his siblings combined and most people remember that fact. Hell, the guy looks like he could lift a semi and he probably would if he ever tried.

However, that doesn’t save him from being underestimated completely... Especially when an upstart or two thinks he's too nice to actually start a fight...

He and the MC were coming back from the grocery store with the usual armfuls of sacks when the MC accidentally walked into a lesser demon on the street. Since their arms were full, several items spilled out from the bags and onto the ground…

The MC was quick to apologize to the demon and try to get down to clean the mess, but the asshole just kept walking… and Beel really didn't like that.

Beel: "Hey! Aren't you going to say, 'Sorry?'"

The lesser demon hardly looked over his shoulder to respond.

Lesser Demon: "Why should I? That's your human. Take care of them yourself."

Well it didn't take long for some of Beel's bags to hit the floor so he could lift the demon up by the back of the neck properly. When he turned the guy to face him, he made sure to bring his face reeaal close so he could hear him growl...

Beel: "Apologize. Or I'll eat you."

And like that, the asshole's mood went from "Do it yourself," to "Yessir Mr. Beelzebub, sir!" right quick!

The MC didn't have to carry a single bag another step and Beel got to keep his free hand so he could link it with theirs!... all while Beel kept mushing their new pack-mule forward like a sled dog back to the House. Thanks, Beel! 😊

Belphegor

Kind of similar to Asmo, Belphie prefers to come off as unassuming on most days. But don't let his, "I'm a harmless sleepy boy" shtick fool you. He will cut a bitch if he's so motivated...

Thankfully for the world, he's generally not motivated. But that can be changed under the right circumstances...

Belphie and the MC were on yet another date to the botanical gardens. It's a peaceful place, though the MC can never go alone because of the frankly concerning amount of flesh-eating plants… Pretty, but also deadly, you know?

The two of them were walking to another rest spot when Belphie heard whispering from a demon behind them, seemingly on his phone…

Lesser Demon: “Yeah, I can see them right now…”

Lesser Demon: “I know right? It's so lame that these guys are in charge of us… They can't even say no to a dumb human!”

Lesser Demon: “What do you mean keep my voice down? Dude, it's fine! This is Belphegor we're talking about, the hell is he going to do if he hears me?”

… Huh.

The answer to the man's question was a simple one. Flash into his demon form for just a moment and whip out his tail... It only took a quick swipe to make him trip and fall right into the foliage. The man-eating… carnivorous… hungry… foliage….

Belphie was back to normal by the time the jerk let out his first scream and the MC almost stopped to see what had happened.

MC: "What the-oh my God!! Should we help-??”

Belphie: *puts his hands on their shoulders to keep them moving, not even glancing back* “Someone else will take care of it. Let's see the roses.”

Even when the desperate cries for help became distant, it took all Belphie had to stifle a smile…

Sometimes, you've got to love irony. 🤷‍♀️😏

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me requests

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twentytarot · 4 years ago

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hi everyone! i’ve been hard at work with my job this past month but i am finally done and back with a reading. today, we’re doing a reading on marriage in your life in general. pick the tiffiany ring that sets your thoughts off, triggers a memory or invokes a strong emotion and scroll right down for your reading. see you there! 💍

CONTENT WARNING: there are negative piles here. not every pile has a future spouse.

PILE ONE: CUSHION CUT

if you were handed an ultimatum and forced to choose between marriage and work, you’d probably get into your car and go to work the next morning. this makes things a little complicated, because you’re ambitious, you’re feisty, you hate it when your time and attention is used up on something that doesn’t matter to you. if you get married, however, your time will be eroded by many things that don’t matter in hindsight. you see, there will always be ridiculous in-laws, there will always be someone that will want your help so long as it is available. someone is going to want kids, even if that decision is completely irrelevant to them, or something dumb like that. no married couple gets out of having to deal with these things, and no couple gets through it without fighting over it a single time. so, my question to you is: will you have the patience to see this through? or will you fold?

unfortunately, the cards don’t predict the best of outcomes when it comes to your marriage. you probably will decide not to get married in the first place. if you do, you might remarry, or get into a questionable third-party situation. yet, i don’t see this being a huge hindrance on your life as a whole. you seem to me like the kind of person who cares less about having an other half compared to your friends, and i think you are going to have so much going for you in other facets in your life that you won’t be clinging onto this relationship when it goes south. this gives me celebrity vibes, almost, like someone who can never be home and the relationship ends because work is so demanding. so this will be a little sad, but i’m confident you will pick yourself back up quickly.

astrologically, cancer came out very strong, and the interpretation i want to go with is that your most significant relationship will be very cancerian in nature. comforting at first, but ultimately probably not aligned with what you want to do with your life. that’s alright, you’ll be able to afford your own diamond ring anyway.

PILE TWO: SOLITARE

well, pile two, it looks like someone told you “if no one is going to marry you, i will”, and then they took it seriously. i kid, but i do see an element of your future spouse being someone you didn’t expect at all. perhaps you thought they would just be a best friend that knows all your secrets. and yet, this person knows your darkest secrets and then offers you love in its purest form. i get the feeling you’re not quite used to that, pile two. i’m hearing this underlying feeling of “what if i give too much, wait what if i give too little”, and i think this is partly because you haven’t seen first-hand a marriage that is of the kind you want to be in. it feels like you’re not sure if happy marriages exist in your world. well, they do. it just turns out that you give just the right amount when you’re not trying, which is why a best friend finally becomes your spouse.

this person will be with you through thick and thin, you will feel like they are your soulmate. you will always feel balanced in your relationship with this person because they will always be silently watching the scales, tipping it this way and that whenever something is about to swing out of balance. they will help you feel like you have nothing to worry about, they will bring a childlike kind of happiness into your life.

now, onto a little bit of warning. no marriage is only ever happy, and i sense that your source of pain will come from outside influences. money is one, health is another. you will be very much together, but it’s a blessing and a curse because when one goes down, the other follows. the advice to you is to try your best to lift each other up through bad times, and know when you have to detach and go do your thing alone for the good of your future with them. you don’t have to always turn around to make sure they’re following, they’re your forever! they’ll be there.

PILE THREE: ROSE INFINITY

your marriage isn’t going to be a very fast-paced one— when you meet your future person, you’re going to be eons away from being ready to get married, and they will be the same. i almost feel like you will laugh at yourself when you start dating this person. the relationship just isn’t... pretty. this person almost brings out the worst in you: you fight them about the stupidest things and rile them up all the time just because it’s funny. there’s ten separate occasions where you’re pretty sure you should have been dumped or dumped them for some iconic out of left field insults, but for some reason it’s just funny after you’ve both calmed down. so it’s fun, and it’s so 20-something, but you’re preparing yourself for the inevitable breakup. and then... it somehow never comes.

somewhere along the lines, you grew up, and so did they. you didn’t know it then, but this person brings the best out of you as much as they bring out the worst. like a tantrum that just has to be thrown before a little child can settle down, you took your growing pains out on each other, and then somehow managed to fit into each others’ lives forever without even thinking about it. you give each other love naturally, flowing with each other and keeping each other sane. after you get married, there’s a feeling of “i can rest when this person is around” kind of energy because you trust each other to come out with the truth when it needs to be said, but you also trust that the person will be there to pick up the pieces if you break.

so this person isn’t as good-looking as you hoped or imagined. or they’re not the type to show you off, and they’re not really the type that wants to be showed off either. so maybe someone made a joke at their expense and you laughed. the beauty of all of that is, despite all of that, they love you and will for a long time. isn’t that already more than we can ask for, as mere mortals?

PILE FOUR: YELLOW HALO

okay... there are two groups of people in this pile. let’s talk similarities first. your partner is going to be quite eccentric. visual arts came up in particular, so perhaps your partner will be an artist? the last similarity is that marriage is unlikely, but as for why, it depends on which interpretation resonates more with you.

for the first group, this is probably my lgbt+ in a place that hasn’t legalised marriages not between a man and a woman pile. for reasons that seem bigger than yourself, marriage is unlikely in your life. i feel a lot of unwelcome judgement coming from this group. i think you might not get too much support around you; maybe your parents have something against people who are not in “professional degree” jobs, or your family and environment as a whole is very conservative. regardless, you will be with this person, but it might be beyond both of your abilities to get married for real. :( i’m sorry, i wish the world were kinder.

if the first interpretation doesn’t resonate, then it has something more to do with your stubbornness. everyone wants someone that will take them for exactly who they are. that doesn’t change the fact that no two people are completely perfect for each other, though. every couple starts by taking apart their schedule and fitting the other’s in. tolerating strawberry shortcakes on their partner’s birthday even if they hate strawberries. stopping their work short even if it means that coming back to it will be hard because their partner needs something. advice here is to rethink your mindset. you could be very successful in your career, but if you think you won’t be able to go home to an empty bed, or you know that family is what you want in the future, then see how you can be more considerate to the people around you. we don’t always like to hear this, but being considerate and selfish is a never-ending balancing game, so don’t feel too bad. you’re not a bad person! these things just take time. whichever way you choose, i hope it’s the one that makes you the happiest!

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #tarot reading #free tarot reading

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schrijverr · 4 years ago

Text

The Heart Is Also a Muscle

5 times Sypha and Alucard got distracted by Trevor’s warrior physique + 1 time he noticed and yet completely misunderstands.

Trevor is hot and once Sypha and Alucard have noticed it is hard not to notice. Now they just have to figure out how to confess, before it gets incredibly awkward because he catches on. When he does however, his insecurities completely misconstrue their intentions.

On AO3.

Ships: trephacard

Warnings: insecurities

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite Trevor’s many years on the road, keeping up a less than stellar training regime, he was still a warrior at heart and in body. He had still fought all those years and his frame was bulky to accommodate the muscle needed for that.

Something that was hard to miss.

And Alucard and Sypha didn’t miss it at all. In fact they noticed it a bit too often for their own comfort, now that they were cleaning up Dracula’s castle after their victory over the old vampire.

It wasn’t that Sypha hadn’t noticed that Trevor was fit while they traveled, it was more that they were so many other things to think about, to worry about to keep oneself alive that she hadn’t noticed that sort of stuff. So, it still took her by surprise when she did.

They were clearing out the rubble of one of the many rooms covered by it. It was slow going work, even with Alucard’s supernatural strength. One upside was that Sypha was getting really good at levitation spells.

She took a small break and wiped her forehead. Alucard had just moved a big stone and Trevor was now trying to lift a bigger stone than he had done.

For a moment she rolled her eyes at the childish display, but as she looked she noticed the shirt clinging to his sweaty body as he arms bulged under the effort. His brow was furrowed and his tongue was poking out slightly.

He was a piece of art.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t she noticed before that Trevor was completely ripped? Maybe she had noticed, but never connected that to him being nice to look at. Now, she couldn't look away as he struggled with the too big stone.

No sane human should be able to carry it and she didn’t know why he even tried (well, she did, but she thought it stupid). Until, the asshole actually managed to lift it, proud grin sweeping over his face as he did.

Slowly, he started to walk, careful steps to balance the stone and keep himself upright. Every time he almost lost balance, he flexed his legs, which was equally distracting and Sypha really wanted to know why she had to notice this, because she knew that from that moment on, she wouldn’t stop noticing it.

“Sypha?” the smooth voice next to her made her jump, she hadn’t even realized Alucard had arrived next to her. “Something the matter?” he asked.

She debated with herself if she would admit to Alucard what had distracted her so. It was embarrassing for sure, but she had also seen the fondness in the dhampirs eyes whenever Trevor talked to him, so she might find an ally in her suffering here.

With a decision made she gestured to Trevor, who was taking the final steps to the right pile of stones for rebuilding, before he squatted down to put down the stone. His back muscles rippled and his ass was practically on display.

Beside her, Alucard made a choked off noise.

At that Trevor turned around, somehow an adorable confused pout on his face that should look ridiculous on his large frame, but didn’t. “You both okay?”

“Yeah, just thought we’d wait for you to break your back carrying something too heavy before we laughed at you,” Alucard shot back, saving both their asses from embarrassment as Trevor rolled his eyes and flipped him off, claiming that it wasn’t that heavy anyway.

They were rebuilding some of the pathways in the Belmont Hold. Trevor had insisted on cleaning up most of the castle first, claiming that it was the most livable place out of the two and he wanted a bed, but both had seen the saddened look on his face when faced with what remained of his childhood home in ruins.

So, the moment they had made the kitchen and a few bedrooms presentable, they started on a few passageways across.

However, ever since Sypha had pointed out Trevor’s muscles in a different light to him, he now was ruined forevermore and she was to blame. He couldn't do anything normally anymore. Somehow each activity turned into a distraction with Trevor around.

Right now being an example of how much of a distraction Trevor was.

He was hauling up a beam that Sypha was directing above them, while Alucard was supposed to be sorting the pile of books that were in the language only he could read.

Supposed to, because he most definitely wasn’t.

No, because how could one read when Trevor was coiling a rope around his forearms as he pulled on said thick rope, muscles straining against it as he panted and dug in his heals.

The beam was pretty big and it was frankly short of a miracle that he hadn’t let it drop yet, but then again, he was incredibly muscled as Alucard had found out. So, slowly the beam rose under Trevor’s labor.

Faintly Alucard wondered how Sypha was holding out up there, being forced to watch Trevor so that she could jump in to help when necessary. He found her eyes and saw her bite her lip, face completely red.

Then the beam dropped a few feet as Trevor fumbled with the rope for a moment. It was an interesting tug-a-war. Trevor vs. gravity. Even as he won, regaining his footing and putting in some extra work, both Alucard and Sypha had gasped when it happened.

“Do you need assistance?” Alucard found himself calling out, despite knowing better.

“I am fine, Fangs,” Trevor grunted and that noise wasn’t good for Alucard’s blood pressure. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

Wit spite as final motivator, Trevor pulled the beam the final distance, groaning with relief when Sypha had guided it into place. Before he could turn to see Alucard look, the dhampir turned back to his pile of books.

He had things to do.

Alucard and Sypha had gotten used to Trevor’s muscular frame that truly shone whenever they needed to do construction.

Well, used to was a strong word.

Trevor was still completely distracting, so much that they had started a little talk club in the library in the mornings when Trevor was sleeping in. But they could function almost normally and do their tasks while they worked.

But this? This now, right there? That was different. It was just unfair actually. Unfair and mean, but also very blessed.

Rewinding to that afternoon, when they had decided that they weren’t in the mood for reconstructing the castle or the hold. So, they had lunch, talked a bit, Sypha picked up a book, Alucard as well, while Trevor seemed content to sit by the fire with them, whittling away at a piece of wood.

Then it had happened. Trevor had reached for a bit of firewood, before realizing they were almost out. Throwing the last logs onto the fire, he got up and stretched as he said: “I’m going to chop some more fire wood.”

And then he left and they were alone. For a few moments they both just blinked at the empty space that had just been Trevor, before his words caught up to them.

Sypha moved first. She got up with her book and walked to the seat that had been built in next to the window that looked out over the fields below. They weren’t high up in the castle and had a good view.

“Might I inquire about the sudden move?” Alucard asked after a moment.

She grinned at him mischievously and nodded to something on the other side of the window, before she said: “Why don’t you come here and find out? Promise it’s worth it.”

Alucard didn’t know when he had forgotten she was cruel in her kindness, but looking down to see Trevor chop wood with a big ax was definitely cruel, still he was so very grateful for her that she had invited him to the view.

Because it truly was a view. Trevor was soaking through his shirt as he effortlessly swung the giant ax downwards onto the waiting wood, always splitting it in one or two swings.

“Oh God,” he choked out.

“Hmmhm, I know,” Sypha agreed.

“He just-”

“Jup.”

“Wow.”

It wasn’t the classiest conversation they’d had, but by far not the least classiest conversation about Trevor’s muscle’s they’d had. Still, they could hardly be blamed when the person in question was right in front of them being hot, instead of far away and sleeping.

As they watched they could see the outlines of Trevor’s muscles appear in sweat. Naturally the armpits were first, but then they appeared under his pecs and between his shoulders as well.

Alucard swallowed heavily, Sypha beside him followed suit.

They stood there for a while, just admiring Trevor as the pile next to him grew with chopped up wood. It was a nice spring day and the sun was doing wonder’s for the sweat coating his muscles. Trevor was now only in a tunic, nothing covering his arms. It was a very good look on him.

Then it happened. They were unassuming and powerless when Trevor lifted his tunic to wipe the sweat on his brow, only to pull back and grimace when he found it already soaked. Before they could prepare themselves he had tugged the tunic over his head, continuing his task completely bare-chested.

“Oh,” Sypha moaned miserably, “I don’t know if I want to thank whoever is out there or curse them right now.”

If he could have formed words at that moment, he would have agreed with her. Alas, he was incapacitated by the shirtless sweaty and sexy Trevor below them.

After they had started at the hunter for a few moments – imprinting the view, getting their wits together again, that sort of stuff – Sypha said: “This is truly pathetic. Look at us. This is so sad.” Trevor chopped again, it was a big log and it went down in one swing. “But totally deserved sadness if I get to see this.”

“Do you think he knows what he’s doing?” Alucard asked as Trevor stretched borderline pornographically.

“Oh absolutely not,” replied Sypha. “He’s as oblivious as a brick and I’m torn between calling it cute and frustrating.”

“We should probably say something to him at one point,” Alucard pointed out.

“Yeah, we probably should,” Sypha agreed, taking Alucard’s hand and leaning into him as they enjoyed the view together. They had made a deal not to do anything until they’d gotten Trevor’s rejection or until he was on board. Right now, she would do anything for a kiss though.

She didn’t try. She knew that Alucard cared about doing things proper and she wanted that too. She just also happened to be watching Trevor be hot while knowing that any move would have him running from the hills due to the emotional repressing he had made his personality.

So, she sighed and looked back out, only to see Trevor put the ax away and gather an arm full of newly chopped wood, still no shirt.

Cursing she pulled Alucard back to the chairs they had sat in and turned the book so that it was right side up, before she hissed to Alucard that he had to act natural.

Alucard had just turned back to his book, the look of apathy he had perfected on his face, when Trevor came in and dropped off the firewood, before greeting them and turning to bring another load.

Once he had left the room and would be out of hearing range, Alucard leaned over to her and whispered: “We need to come up with a plan at some point.”

“Yes, I know, okay,” Sypha agreed.

“He’s getting on my nerves both in a good and bad way and I might snap if we don’t do something soon and that’ll make things worse.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” she sighed, “I’m working on it.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Trevor asked with a grin, as he returned with more wood in his arms. “You could be two old ladies in a market square.”

“Nothing really,” said Alucard, right as Sypha answered: “About how much you stink. Sweat isn’t a good look on you,” the lie came out.

Trevor huffed, but it was good-naturedly, as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll put away the rest of the wood and go bathe, your majesties.” Then he swept out of the room, leaving them without his shirtless pecs to view.

After the wood chopping incident, working together with Trevor had become harder again, so the cleaning of the general grossness that came with an army of night creatures had been divided to be done separately.

To Trevor they had claimed efficiency, and while he had looked suspicious, he had also accepted it without any complaints.

But even that did not save them from him. While there were no bulging muscles soaking in sweat, just general grossness and tiredness when they met up again with each other, it seemed that Trevor was full of surprises, oblivious as he was to them.

Alucard and Sypha had bothcollapsed on the floor in one of the main halls when Trevor joined them, stretching his arms above his head, flexing his muscles slightly.

He sat down with them and groaned: “I don’t think my back will ever recover from this, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You do not get paid at all,” said Alucard in confusion.

“Exactly,” Trevor told him, before stretching and groaning again. Then he stretched his legs out in front of him and just dropped his head down onto his knees, bending himself in half as he semi-moaned when his back cracked.

Sypha watched him slack jawed and Alucard didn’t think he looked much better as he ogled the hunter as well. Trevor was not just flexing muscles, but flexible as well. He would become the death of them that was certain.

It took them a few more moments to snap out of their daze, then a few more to realize Trevor had fallen asleep.

He had fallen asleep with his nose between his knees as if he was a pretzel, because apparently the position was so comfortable for him that he could fall asleep.

Fuck.

After the flexible incident, as Sypha was calling it, they had been scrambling for a plan to get Trevor to agree to date them, because seeing that display only to have to deal with the cute sleepy Trevor that came after had been too much for their hearts.

Naturally it couldn't be that way. They had a vague plan about maybe tying Trevor to a chair if he wanted to run away, but nothing concrete yet.

She was currently in the Belmont Hold, looking through their books, hoping that one would spark a plan or maybe just give her something to talk about with the other’s over dinner. A book caught her eye, it was green with golden letters that read: Herbs against poison, for healing and relaxation

But when she reached for it, her arm fell short and not even by a bit. She was even pretty sure Alucard couldn't reach it like that. She would need a ladder, but the ladder system for this part had been destroyed.

A part of her was aware that she was pouting, but she still frowned when Trevor asked: “What are you pouting about?”

“I wasn’t pouting,” she told him instead of answering.

“Okay then, why was your bottom lip protruding in displeasure?” he asked her with a shit-eating grin that was both adorable and annoying.

She gave up with that and gestured to the book as she explained: “I can’t reach it.”

Trevor tried, but he too couldn't reach it, but she appreciated how he stretched out in an attempt to reach it, the flexibility coming to mind again. It truly was a pity they hadn’t been able to come up with anything to exploit that part yet.

Sypha was about to call for Alucard to see if he could when she felt two big hands on her waist before she was effortlessly lifted into the air. She squeaked loudly and floundered for a moment.

“Grab your book, Sypha,” she heard the laughter in Trevor’s voice, but she couldn't find it within herself to be annoyed when Trevor had just lifted her of the ground like it was nothing.

Sure, she wasn’t the heaviest or biggest person around, but she had a lot of muscle for her frame and she wouldn’t describe herself as light. God, what she wouldn’t give to have that strength at her mercy.

No, don’t focus on that now, grab the book. She quickly clutched the book and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hey, you okay?” Trevor was now frowning in that stupidly concerned way that made her heart clench and she deducted that her cheeks must have been as red as she’d feared. “I’m fine,” she squeaked, hoping it would be enough.

Alucard came to her rescue, sort of. He landed gracefully and asked: “What happened? I heard Sypha squeak.”

“Oh, yeah, nothing to worry about. I think I startled her when I lifted her,” Trevor explained casually, “We couldn't reach a book she wanted. So, teamwork.”

“You. You just lifted her up?” Alucard repeated dumbly and Sypha knew that it was the fact that it was hot and he missed it that made him say it like that.

Sadly, Trevor interpreted it differently. “What? You think I couldn't lift her. No offense, Sypha, but you’re hardly a challenge. I mean, I could lift you, you bloodsucking prick. Sure, no super strength, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“That’s not-” before Alucard could ruin everything, Sypha interrupted: “Really?” she tried to sound disbelieving, “I mean, you’re strong, but Alucard? He’s tall and muscled. I don’t think you can.”

“I so can, this is ridiculous,” now it was Trevor, who was pouting and she took a bit of joy out of her manipulation.

“Prove it.”

Trevor looked taken aback by that and glanced at Alucard, who gladly had caught on and send him a cocky raised brow paired with a smirk.

Determination settled on Trevor’s face and he crossed his arms, before saying: “Okay, sure, I will,” before walking to Alucard and hoisting him over his shoulder’s like he was a somewhat heavy sack of potatoes. “See?”

“Okay, yeah, but that wasn’t how you carried me,” Sypha pointed out.

“Well, then maybe I can’t do that, but lifting someone by the waist is the hardest way to lift someone,” Trevor protested as he let Alucard down. “I feel like that was still pretty impressive. He’s heavy despite the delicate bone structure.”

Sypha was pretty sure Alucard was out of the running now with that comment, but she wanted to sedate her own curiosity. “I’ll give you the hard lifting part, but I don’t know about impressive. Maybe bridal carry and I’ll be impressed.”

He looked at her inscrutably and for a second she feared he would call her bluff and point out her real motivations. That moment never came, he sighed then set his shoulders– his broad, nice shoulders – stubbornly, before literally swooping Alucard off his feet.

He gave her a look that screamed ‘What now, eh? Didn’t think I’d do it, but I did, so suck it’ and she loved it. She loved that he had done what she told him to do while also showing off those muscles. A win on every front.

His arms, neck and shoulder strained under the weight of the tall, muscled dhampir, but he held out as he gently lowered Alucard back onto his feet. Sypha didn’t know if it was the lifting or the gentleness that made Alucard bashful, but he murmured something inaudible, before hurrying back to what he had bee doing before the interruption.

“Rude,” Trevor noted. “I didn’t even get to bask in my superiority.”

“You can bask to me, it’s okay,” she comforted him. “I am suitably impressed by your dhampir lifting skills, Trevor.”

“Thank you,” he said with extra emphasis to make it into a tease. “You know, as a true hero, both for being epic and awesome as well as getting your book, I feel like I should be rewarded.”

“Oh?” she was curious to see where this went.

“Yeah, I want to borrow the bath soap you’re so protective over after the next time we attempt to clean the goop dungeon,” he made his demand.

She was glad that, with running warm water, they had convinced him that baths were actually nice and she didn’t mind the thought of him smelling like her. Still, she put up a front of indulgence, yet being annoyed as she said: “Fine.”

“Heck yeah,” he cheered before ambling off.

+1.

Trevor wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but over the past few days he had noticed that both Alucard and Sypha were acting weird. Well, weirder than usual, it was pretty hard to define weird when you lived in Dracula’s old castle near the Belmont Hold with a dhampir and a Speaker, but you get the idea.

The thing was, Trevor had no idea why they were being weird and what had caused it, but he knew they were only weird to him.

It made his chest tighten uncomfortably as he tried to think of something he’d done wrong.

Nothing came to mind, but that just made him question if he really knew them if he couldn't even spot the thing he had done to upset them both. It was all a frustrating mess and Trevor was half waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

He hated feeling like this, feeling like he’d done something wrong and couldn't apologize. It tore him apart in a way he couldn't describe. He just hoped that they wouldn’t kick him to the curb, because that would extra suck. He already liked them too much as it was, getting his heart broken over something he didn’t understand would only make it worse.

So, he kept an eye on them, trying to figure out what they were thinking when they stared at him or whispered among themselves.

He was soon to find out.

It was a decidedly normal day, Trevor was mildly stressed, the weather was nice and they were finally moving the rubble they hadn’t been able to reuse out of the castle. They were making a pile out of it that they would later use to make an obstacle course or something, Trevor wasn’t sure it was mostly Alucard and Sypha doing the planning. Maybe that was it? Maybe the stress of the whole castle thing was catching up with them as well and it wasn’t anything Trevor had done.

They had assigned him to carry rubble, which made him roll his eyes. Alucard had supernatural strength and Sypha had magic, yet here he was carrying the bulk while Sypha ordered him around on where to go while Alucard switched between helping him and rearranging the rubble.

His muscles were straining under the amount of exercise, but it didn’t bother Trevor that much. It was good to keep in shape and he could handle it.

He came back from his umpteenth trip, groaning as he set down his load as he cracked his back by putting his hands on his back and pushing. He looked around and saw Alucard and Sypha on top of one of the piles that Alucard found “artistic.”

With a grin on his face he quickly hopped up the pile to see what they were talking about. They had watching him walk over and smiled at him, before turning to talk among themselves. He was about to call out a greeting and announce his presence when he heard Sypha said: “There must be more chores where we can make him carry stuff.”

Hm, he thought, that was obviously about him, thoughhe had no clue why that of all things would be a conversation topic.

Before he could ask, Alucard replied: “I mean, there are still those chains in the dungeons that we could make him clear out, but I feel that would be bad for us.” This was just making him more confused.

Sypha made a small noise, before agreeing: “Oh, yeah, Trevor with chains will totally be bad for us.”

Trevor choked on his spit.

Two heads whipped around to him, with two pairs of eyes as big as dinner plates, filled with the guilt of being caught saying something they shouldn’t have been saying. They were completely silent, neither explaining or defending themselves.

In the silence Trevor tried to wrap his head around it. How was him carrying stuff bad for them? And why were they thinking up reasons for him to carry stuff anyway? What did they have to gain by watching him carry stuff? It wasn’t as if he was eye candy and-

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. He was eye candy. They were watching him carry stuff, because they liked it and holy shit did he not know how to even deal with that.

He felt the blood rushing to his head and knew he must look like a fucking beet, but he didn’t care, his mind was a bit preoccupied. He had known that some would classify him as handsome, but he had long since given up on either of them thinking that. They had seen him do too many embarrassing things to even consider him attractive and they had each other. Even dense little him could put that one together. Yet here they were.

Unless, of course, this was some sort of sick joke to them, a little voice in his mind whispered. The dhampir hearing of Alucard could have picked up his footfalls easily and they could have conspired to fuck with him, just for the sake of fucking with him. A cold feeling washed over him and his chest seemed to collapse in on itself at the realization.

God, fucking shit, they had probably caught on to his pathetic feelings for them and had decided to toy with him before telling him to scram for being a fucking weirdo. All the looks made so much more sense now.

It just fucking hurt that they would toy with him like that. That they would be that mean to him instead of just telling him when they’d figured it out.

Much to his embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to force them down as he choked out: “Well, fuck you too,” before turning away to stomp off and grab his stuff to get out of there.

He didn’t get far.

Alucard appeared in front of him with his stupid dhampir speed that Trevor found very attractive no matter how much he hated it rightnow. The other reached out to him, but stilled his hand before they touched.

Fuck, how badly did he fuck up that they didn’t even want to touch him. And why were they even coming after him. He was doing what they wanted.

“Trevor,” Alucard said and it didn’t sound like someone relieved that the person, who had been crushing after him and his girlfriend was finally going, it sounded like someone, who was very upset.

It stilled Trevor long enough for Sypha to catch up with them too. As she laid her hand on his shoulder. However, he shrugged her off and tried to walk on again, getting stopped by Alucard, who found it within himself to touch the grossness of Trevor.

“Wait, Trevor, hold on,” Sypha called out. “I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Really?” he truly didn’t mean to sound so bitter. He was happy that they had each other, they deserved each other. It just hurt that he wasn’t in their they and that they thought that stupid joke would land well.

“Yes, okay,” she told him. “We’re really sorry about springing it on you like that, but-”

“Yeah, why the fuck did you think that was okay?” he hissed at her, trying not to feel the pangs in his heart at her little flinch. “I don’t care that you’re fucking happy together, but pulling that sick stunt on me is not cool. You can just kick me to the curb like a normal person. You fucking fuckers just had to crush me in the process too? Getting someone’s hope up and then- then… That’s just- just mean!”

He knew he was crying now, he totally was and his voice broke over the last few words, but he couldn't stop it. He had spend the last few weeks pining over them, while knowing he didn’t have a chance, perking up with a slight hope every time they smiled at him. So for them to give him that hope again only to stomp on it, had just been the last straw that broke him. Sue him.

“W- what?” Alucard asked, making him turn around to see absolute confusion written over his face along with hurt.

“Oh, Trevor,” he heard Sypha behind him with that pitying voice he didn’t need from her as he turned around to see hurting compassion written over her entire face. Yeah, now she felt guilty, not when she actually did it.

Still, when she reached for his face and gently cupped his cheek, he couldn't help but lean in to the little bit of comfort that was provided.

She wiped away his tears gently and softly said: “We’re not kicking you to the curb. Never, okay, never, Trevor. I swear. You’ve completely misunderstood. It wasn’t a joke, okay. It never was. We meant it, undignified as our lordship over there might find it.”

Trevor chuckled wetly at that, still not entirely sure if he believed her, but so willing to give in, even if it was a lie. For the lie was so much sweeter.

Alucard appeared behind him and he swayed slightly, the exhaustion of all the emotions in the last couple of minutes catching up to him. He tried to pull away when he accidentally hit Alucard’s chest, but the dhampir just pulled him close, nuzzling his hair as he whispered: “You’re such an idiot.”

That was probably true, both Alucard and Sypha were smarter than him and he was generally an idiot, but his mind wasn’t fully wrapping around where he had misunderstood it all and ruined everything.

The tears that had stopped started up again and he didn’t know how after years of repressing all his emotions this was the thing that broke all his walls. Still, he whimpered: “I’m sorry, for- for fucking it all- all up ag- again.”

“No, no,” Sypha shushed him as she hugged him, “you didn’t fuck up anything.”

He was now completely sandwiched between Sypha and Alucard with no clue how him taking a small break from clearing rubble had ended up like this. Yet here he was and he was going to soak up the attention and care while he had it, so he didn’t protest them holding him silently, just let himself melt softly.

Seconds or eternities could have passed without Trevor’s knowledge until Sypha broke the silence: “I don’t know how you got to the conclusion that our horny conspiring was a joke, but as embarrassing at it is, it most certainly isn’t, Trevor.”

Trevor had half choked, half laughed at the phrase ‘horny conspiring’ as it caught up to him what that meant. Hesitantly, he asked: “So- so you had me carry stuff just to watch me?”

It sounded ridiculous in his own head, because why on earth would anyone look at him when they could look at Alucard and Sypha, but they both tensed slightly around him, before nodding. Alucard going as far as to say: “You have nice muscles.”

Under other circumstances Trevor would totally and completely ruin Alucard by tearing him apart with teases at that remark, but there weren’t other circumstances and right now Trevor felt raw and vulnerable, so he just breathed: “Yeah?” in an unsure voice that he hated immediately.

“Yeah,” Sypha firmly agreed. “I don’t know how to tell you this without never hearing the end of it, but you’re really fucking hot. You literally made me into a person who says fuck just so I could tell you that you’re fucking hot.”

He actually snorted at that, because it was easier to snort at it then to admit that the complement felt nice and made him blush.

“We’ve actually been trying very hard to figure out how to tell you without you running away,” she went on, snorting miserably, “but I guess we messed that up. You are just so bad at accepting nice things for yourself that us telling you that we love you seemed almost impossible.”

“Y- you? You love me?” He was getting really fucking sick of that small weak voice

“Yes,” that was Alucard behind him. “We love you, just like we love each other. We hope you feel the same, but we understand if you don’t.”

“It would be really fucking stupid of me not to love the two most amazing people in the entire world, Alucard. Yes, sadly I am disappointing my entire bloodline by including you in that statement, but it’s true.” Admitting it like this felt better than being touch-y feel-y, he didn’t do touch-y feel-y well.

Luckily it was the right thing to say, because both of them relaxed around him as they snorted before chuckling and a bit of pride coursed through him at making them laugh.

“I’m so lucky you’re our idiot,” Sypha told him, before pulling him into a kiss.

Her lips were soft but firm and completely enticing. He kissed her back and stopped caring about oxygen as a necessity, it was completely overrated in comparison to kissing Sypha. When she finally let him up for air, he was dizzy. Faintly he heard her say something to Alucard about making her wait for so long, but it was lost to him as he tried to refind himself as a human being.

He became aware of Alucard and Sypha kissing each other over his shoulder once he had managed and watched mesmerized for a moment. Fuck, he could definitely get used to this. Still, he whined: “I’m feeling a bit left out here,” without meaning it.

Both their eyes fell on him and swallowing became a challenge. Then Alucard surged his lips and kissed him thoroughly. It was less gentle, while more careful than Sypha’s kiss as Alucard watched out for his fangs to Trevor’s disappointment. Yet, it was equally mind blowing.

Once he had resurfaced again, it took him a moment once more. He was still being wrapped up in both of them and his heart felt so much lighter than it had before.

“I know we should probably talk way more about this, but I do want to note that I have excellent stamina to back up my muscles.”

Both of them groaned and he grinned to his little victory.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

A/N:

Fun fact, my sister once fell asleep with her nose between her knees, because she is slightly insane, I feel personally. So, actually based in fact, lmao

Also, I swear this was supposed to be lighthearted, but then I was writing the last part from Trevor’s POV, because I thought it would be funny and he just wouldn’t allow himself nice things no matter how I tried to push him. So angst it is, very in character, sadly.

Btw, im really proud of that title ngl

#rr writing #trephacard #insecure trevor belmont #trevor belmont #alucard tepes #alucard #sypha belnades #sypha x trevor x alucard #castlevania #netflix castlevania #castlevania cartoon

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

THE SCARLET WITCH PROPHECY - Chapter VI - The Fourth Year (Final Part)

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. | Chapters Warnings: Heavy angst in this.

A/N: This took me a while, because i had writer block (and it's not over yet). Anyway, I hope people like this. Let me know if anything is confusing okay? Sorry about typos too.

Words counting: 11.344K

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

//-//

The Fourth Year - Final Part

Wanda was avoiding you. Well, not just you, but all your friends.

You told Gamora what happened, but you didn't have the stomach to repeat the story to anyone else, so your sister passed the news on.

You were coping well in spite of everything. You missed her terribly the whole time, but you were pushing the feelings down and trying to stay positive about everything.

By trying to put yourself in Wanda's shoes, you understood why she did what she did. You just had to find a way to prove to her that what you felt was real, and for that you needed to find out more about your magical bond.

Your best alternative to the lack of books about it in the library was to talk to the professors. Judging from your experience with them, none of the teachers would tell you anything. But Fury has been acting very differently all year, and although you don't agree with the way he has been teaching D.A.D.A. lately, you have the impression that he would tell you anything you asked.

That's why after a particularly exhausting class where he made all students practice the shield spell until one of the boys threw up, you waited until the room emptied to talk to him, watching with curiosity as he turned a small bottle he kept in his pocket to his mouth.

"What is it Stark?" He asked still on his back. You wondered if behind the eye patch he had some enchanted eye to see around things, but the idea seemed too absurd to you.

"Sorry, Professor Fury." You say. "I have a question about advanced magic and would like to clear it with you."

Fury put his materials away in his bag, and beckoned for you to accompany him into the private office, and you followed him into the small room, watching him set the desk on a coffee table and move toward a glass cabinet of magic supplies.

"Have a seat and make yourself comfortable." He said with his back turned. "I need to prepare a potion, but you can ask me what you want."

You stumble half-heartedly to one of the empty armchairs, and then clear your throat.

"It's about magic bonds, professor." You recount. "I... well, I think I have one. And well, I'm not finding much material on it, and I don't understand how they work."

Fury makes a noise with his mouth in understanding, his hands wandering through the cabinets behind ingredients you don't recognize, but he seems to be paying attention to both you and the brewing of the potion.

"Are you familiar with the concept of magical bonds and connections, Miss Stark?" He asks and you deny it. The professor cuts something that looks like mushrooms on the table as he speaks again. "The reason you can't find books that explain to you exactly the nature of this magic, is because no wizard has been able to decipher these enchantments correctly." He explains. "The magical bonds are one of the oldest and most powerful enchantments in the magical world, Miss Stark. Extremely dangerous, yet immeasurably valuable for some purposes."

You swallow dryly, but do not interrupt. Professor Fury bends down to reach a tin cauldron and places it on the counter in front of him, on a small makeshift stove. He deposits some ingredients inside.

"Have you ever heard about any of these bonding spells?" He asks and you think for a moment.

"I think I've heard about the perpetual vow, sir."

Fury gives a small smile, nodding. He sniffs a small bottle before pouring the contents into the cauldron.

"Yes, the perpetual vow is a great example of a magical bond." He says. "But it is still an active spell, you need to recite an incantation and both parties need to voluntarily close the bond. Some witches believe it's a contractual magic, much more than a natural connection." Fury explains. "I particularly prefer to use another example, Stark. The life debt."

Fury has a smile at the corner of his lips, and a strange gleam in his eyes when he looks at you for a moment, but you don't have the courage to ask. He turns his attention back to the cauldron, lighting the flame under the metal with his wand.

"I don't know what that means." You confess and the professor doesn't take his eyes off the cauldron.

"A life debt is a magical bond created when a wizard or witch saves the life of another magical being." He explains. "And I say magical being, not just another wizard, because I've seen it happen once for a centaur to owe a wizard their life. But never the other way around."

"How does that work?"

"It's very simple really." He says. "If you save someone's life, that person or creature will owe you a debt. The bond is created, without needing an incantation. The act of preserving a life is magical enough to create that bond." He explains and his expression turns almost somber. "The best part is that the person saved needs to pay back."

"And how do they do it?"

"A life can only be paid with another life." He declares. By now, the potion is smelling. You don't know what it is, but it looks like lavender, and it makes you a little dizzy. "I have witnessed a quitting in my time as an auror, Miss Stark." He tells you, and you already imagine that what he is about to say is not something you should tell a fourteen-year-old witch, but you don't think to interrupt. "The debtor throws himself in front of the Reducto incantation to prevent the death of the witch who saved him once. I still remember the pieces flying around the room."

You looked away, uncomfortable with the mental image you were given. The professor didn't seem to mind.

"But of course not all debts are paid off like that." He added as if he hadn't just told the story of someone tearing themselves apart. "Stopping a friend from falling off his broom in a game of quidditch might be enough to pay off a debt. Or to create one too." He counters. " This kind of magic has always been very difficult to decipher."

You murmur in understanding, keeping your gaze on the floor. The professor sighs lightly, moving away from the cauldron to sit in the empty armchair in front of you.

"But I'm guessing you're not talking about any of these bonds, are you?" He hints and you swallow dryly, feeling intimidated by the watchful gaze he gives you. You figure that lying is not an option.

"N-no sir." You reply. "I wanted to know more about protective bonds. Like... like the idea of someone you care about getting hurt, causes you a really bad feeling. And it makes you ignore your own safety and makes you go too far e...."

"Impressive." The professor interrupts, his gaze almost fascinated on you, and making you swallow dryly. "And how far are we talking about, Stark? What's the limit? Would the wizard put themselves in front of an unforgivable curse? Would they offer themselves up as a sacrifice? If one were to get hurt, would the bruises show up on the other, or does the very idea make your insides turn? Or…”

"Fury." You jump in fright when Strange's voice interrupts the monologue of the other man, who was very close to you now.

Fury looks annoyed that he has been cut off, but he turns away with a smile. "Pardon the interruption. I need to have a word with you on a matter." Stephen said, but he didn't look happy at all, and his expression was one of concern and disapproval, probably from the discussion he witnessed.

You stood up awkwardly, taking a step back, your heart still racing from the things the professor told you.

"Of course, Professor Strange." Fury spoke as he stood up. "Stark, I hope that has cleared up your doubts. If there is anything else you wish to ask me, you may come to my office as needed."

You bit your tongue to avoid saying that Fury only scared you rather than clarifying anything, and nodded in understanding.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts may not be my class, but I am also available to talk with you, Miss Stark." Stephen added softly as you passed him in the doorway. You mumbled a goodbye before walking out of the office, ignoring the horrible feeling that settled in your stomach.

//-//

You were really disturbed by the conversation with Professor Fury. The story of the wizard casting himself in front of a spell gave you strange dreams, and you could no longer be sure that you wouldn't do the same for Wanda.

Your friends were equally impressed by what you told them, and you ignored the feeling of dissatisfaction at the pit of your stomach that you felt because you wish you were talking to Wanda about it, and tried to be more grateful that you have someone to talk to at all.

You were thinking of talking to Tony about everything, and you thought you'd look for him in the Slytherin hall, and to your surprise, he showed up in your common room. You thought he was there to spend some time with Steve, but he really came to see you.

"Daddy wrote for us." He explains as soon as he greets you. The letter already open in your hands as he throws himself on the couch in the communal hall. It is Sunday, but the room is very empty because with the amount of free time and foreigners in the castles, most of the students are socializing outside. You had dismissed your friends' invitation to practice Quidditch in exchange for a nap, as you were upset by the way Wanda left the main hall at breakfast when she realized you were sitting at the Slytherin table with her brother.

"Finally." You grumble as you sit down in the armchair across from Tony, stretching out your arm to pick up the letter. It must have been the first letter in three months or more. Last time, your father had said he was overwhelmed with work and would not send any news for a while. You thought it would be days, but it was months. Jarvis at least wrote to tell that he was alive, working in the basement.

Looking down at the paper, you began to read:

"Dear children, how is school going? I hope you are studying as I have always asked you to do. I have been busy with an important project at the ministry, an invention to improve the astronomical forecasts of the wizarding community. Please forgive me for the lack of contact these last months.

Tony, I received the letter about the detention, and I was quite upset when I heard about the bet. You are the older brother and you should protect your sister, not put her in danger. But I am glad that everything ended well and hope that this kind of behavior will not happen again.

Y/N, dear, I heard about your willingness to start studying Muggle Studies, and I'm very glad..."

You stop reading the letter halfway through, frowning and looking at Tony next, who was lying with his head on the cushions and his arm under his eyes.

"What kind of crap is this?" you ask with confusion and irritation, causing Tony to let out a short chuckle. "Dad telling us to study? What the...?"

"It doesn't sound anything like him, I know." Tony interrupts and then sighs, sitting down on the couch to point to the paper. "And see how he doesn't make any jokes about the dare, or any comments about your incident at the lake? It sounds so mechanical and vague."

"Do you think he hasn't read our letters? He only mentions the one from school." You say and Tony leans back on the couch, thoughtful.

"I don't know. It just doesn't sound like him." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Jarvis wrote it."

"Why would Jarvis do that?"

"Because Dad hasn't spoken to us in three months." Tony retorts with irritation. "And well, you almost drowned and he didn't even bother to read about it."

"Tony..."

"No, it's fine." He grumbles, taking the letter from your hands and standing up. "Screw him." Cursed the boy in annoyance, tossing the letter into the fireplace in the room. You frowned, sighing. "We don't need him. I'll take care of you."

You were tired of this. Running a hand through your hair for a moment in frustration, you let Tony take your hands in his as he knelt in front of you next.

"I'm sorry I've been absent this while." He says surprising you. "I hated how all the adults were hiding things from us, and I did the same with you. I promise I will tell you everything from now on."

You nod in understanding, squeezing Tony's hand lightly.

"I need to tell you something too."

And you do. The whole conversation with Wanda and with Professor Fury shock Tony. And he has a frown creased in concern when you finish.

"I know it's a lot." You say. "But I'm terrified. I don't know what will happen to me if I lose Wanda, and all I can do is miss her."

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Tony says tenderly, releasing his hand to caress your cheeks and wipe away the dripping tears. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

"What if you can't avoid it, Tony?" you retort softly, your voice whiny.

"I will." He assures you. "I will help you. We'll figure out a way to break this bond, and then you and Wanda will be safe."

You nod, deciding to believe his words. Your brother hugs you next, and you wish he is right.

//-//

Just like you, Tony was also unable to gain access to the restricted section of the library. But that is the least of your problems.

As the date of the last task approaches, you are a pile of nerves. Tony assures you that he will try to find something about ways to break magical bonds on the last trip to Hogsmeade in a local library, but you are barely listening to him, your thoughts wandering towards Wanda.

The other girl, on the other hand, continues to avoid you and your friends. Your only option is to ask Pietro about her, and he assures you that she is as upset as you are as if he is trying to make you feel better somehow. But all this information causes is a worsening of your distress. Pietro is not comfortable coming between you two, so you don't insist that he spend time with you or your friends, knowing that Wanda needs company. You also insist that Gamora and Nebula continue to spend time with the witch, but they comment that Wanda is not really sociable after the whole thing.

The rest of the school starts to notice the way the Maximoffs are no longer hanging out with you, and since everyone in the school loves a little gossip, the news that you and Wanda broke up starts to circulate very quickly.

You don't want your detention for the lake story to escalate, but it's hard to control the urge to jinx your classmates when their snarky remarks reach your ears.

"I heard they broke up because Wanda became a champion, and didn't want to be seen with a hufflepuff anymore." Said in a not so low tone, a Ravenclaw boy as you were walking ahead of them toward the Potions classroom.

"No, dude, that's not true. I heard that Wanda got pretty close to the other champion, Jean Grey, and obviously she'd go for a famous quidditch player than a nobody." Added a female voice, and you clutched the books in your hands tightly, but didn't turn around.

"Come on, the girl's a Stark." Retorted the boy. "I think Maximoff is a winner with either one."

The girl laughed lightly, and you wished you reach the classroom soon.

"I think you're right." The girl spoke up. "Maximoff has always been weird, I don't know how she got such great options."

Your attention wandered from the conversation when Mantis reached you. She went back to the dorm to get the potions book she had forgotten, and frowned at your annoyed posture when she arrived, but when she caught the words of the pair behind you, she threw them an annoyed look that made them fall silent.

"Don't pay any attention to that kind of gossip, Y/N." She asked gently and you just sighed.

"I just wish people would mind their own business." You grumble annoyed and Mantis agrees with a murmur.

Potions class was as difficult as it usually is. What surprised you was Professor Lensherr's tired appearance, but you imagined it must be because of the tournament finals that were being organized by the teachers.

When you were packing your materials, you almost knocked over the glass jar when he appeared in front of you.

"Stark, a word, please." He asked earnestly, and Mantis shot you a glance before hurrying to leave. The professor waited until the room was empty and then nodded to the door, which closed. "Wanda told me about your magic bond."

"Shit." You grumbled immediately, and Professor Erik raised his eyebrows. You cleared your throat, apologizing for cursing. "Look, sir, I don't know what else to say about it. I don't know where the bond came from, and I'm trying to find out..."

"I can help." He interrupts and you fall silent, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes." He says straightening his posture and crossing his arms. "I obviously have more magical knowledge than you, and your nosy brother." He says and you understand that he is talking about the way Tony has been pestering the teachers to get information. "And if this bond affects Wanda, it is of particular interest to me."

You swallow dryly, nodding in understanding. You explain to him how you feel next, and Erik absorbs your words with a neutral expression.

"Interesting. I had my theories since you couldn't duel with Wanda in the second year, but since you became close, it wasn't my place to intrude.” He tells with a bit of a nostalgic face as you finish speaking. “I have a few questions, Miss Stark. I need clarification on the nature of this bond." He says with his arms still folded across his chest. "Last summer, Wanda had a cold. Did you feel anything?"

You thought about the vacation for a few seconds.

"No, sir." You reply. "I don't remember getting sick."

"I see." He says. "Tell me, have you ever had dragon pox?"

You nod in agreement.

"At how old?" The teacher asks, and you think for a moment.

"I don't know, four I think. Maybe five."

"Wanda had dragon pox when she was six." He declares, his gaze assessing you. You blink, trying to follow what he is trying to say. "It's not a very common disease in England, is it?"

"I don't think so." You mutter without understanding why the professor is looking at you like that.

"Wanda caught the disease in Sokovia, the country where she was born." He recounts. "We were on vacation and she came back sick. The last case of that disease here in England was almost a hundred years ago."

"I guess I'm unlucky then." You try to joke, and Erik almost smiles.

"The flu Wanda had last summer was not of magical origin." He adds, and you frown slightly, not knowing what to make of this information. "But dragon pox is magical in nature."

"Professor I don't..."

"Wanda broke her wrist at the age of seven." He interrupts as he uncrosses his arms, gesturing slightly. "She and Pietro were playing in the backyard, no magic."

"Okay..."

"I imagine Wanda has already talked to you about her exceptional magical abilities, Miss Stark." The professor continues. "Her visible magic, I meant. It started when she was three years old, when she was able to bring her toys into her crib and wrap them all in a magical cloud." Erik tells and you smile briefly at the image of a baby Wanda, but his expression makes you bite the inside of your cheek the next second. "I want to know how much of this you were able to experience, being on the other side of the country."

You swallow dryly, looking away and trying to think back to your childhood.

"I don't know, professor." You reply. "I was a child. Maybe Tony or dad will know something."

"Come on, isn't there anything you can tell me?" He insists. "Any specific memories, any strange dreams? Anything."

You think, and think, but none of your childhood memories seem relevant. And then you frown, remembering one.

"Actually... There was this one time I got really sick. I think I was about eight. Maybe nine, and dad took me to St.Mungus. I had a high fever, and I couldn't sleep at night with nightmares, but I don't remember what happened. They thought it might be the flu, but we never found out what it was. The next day I was better."

Erik was slightly wide-eyed and then he sighed.

"Before she came to Hogwarts, Wanda was afraid of losing control of her magic at school." He starts to tell. "I tried to calm her down, but she was very upset. She managed to convince Pietro to help her into my potions room and took an entire bottle of a brew for magical containment. Her magic seemed almost enraged, and she destroyed the greenhouse with a wave of energy. I've never seen her so out of control." He says thoughtfully, as if remembering the events. "She passed out from exhaustion, and didn't wake up until the morning. She was ten.”

"You don't think...?"

"That's exactly what I think, Miss Stark." He interrupts, "The dates match. Every time Wanda was in danger from a magical source, you were affected, because the nature of your bond with her is magical. And that was confirmed during the tournament by noticing the way you jumped into the lake during the second task. I imagine your little interaction with Professor Heimdall when Wanda was facing the dragon was about this as well?" He asks and you nod your head in confirmation. "Right. Well, that's a problem."

"I noticed." You grumble, but then realize from the professor's expression that in addition to what has been said, it seems to be a problem for another reason. "Why?"

"Regarding your safety, I mean." Explains the professor. "The last task of the tournament is going to be exceptionally challenging, and perhaps not the best of experiences for you."

You widen your eyes in anticipation.

"Professor, what will happen in the third task?"

"I can't tell you." He says. "But there will be many challenges. And Wanda may encounter difficulties, especially since she is only fifteen."

You sigh, trying to push the wave of worry down.

"I hate this tournament." You state in a mumble and Professor Erik gives a short little smile. "I hate to see Wanda in danger. If it's for the gold, she can have all mine."

Erik laughed, and you blinked in surprise at the sound.

"Believe me, I dislike this competition as much as you do." He says. "There is no pleasure in seeing Wanda in danger for something as superficial as eternal glory. But the goblet chose her, and she would have suffered a magical penalty if she didn't obey the contract. It was a difficult decision, but it was the best for her."

You mutter in understanding and the teacher is thoughtful for a few minutes.

"I would recommend you not watch the competition so you don't get so nervous, but clearly distance doesn't matter for the bond." He remarks. "I need more information about how all this works. I want to run some tests with you two."

You frown slightly, but before you can ask what kind of tests, the teacher speaks again.

"That will need to wait, of course. With the competition and the final exams, I understand that you are experiencing enough stress and I don't want to cause any more suffering." He explains. "Over the vacations, perhaps I can write to your father. It's time to see old friends again after all."

You are surprised that the professor makes this mention, but you don't bother to comment. He clears his throat, and signals that this is all. You thank him as you get up and then leave the room.

//-//

When the day of the last task of the tournament finally arrived, the whole school was in a joint peak of excitement.

You could hardly sleep, strange nightmares throughout your entire night combined with the anxiety at the pit of your stomach made you wake up several times during your sleep. In the morning you decided to ignore the buzz around the hallways about the task and the possible winner, and joined your friends for breakfast.

You wanted to talk to Wanda, but you didn't see her at the Slytherin table, and Gamora tried to cheer you up with news about a band you liked playing in London next month, but you could barely force a smile, feeling tired and irritated.

You heard a group of Gryffindors commenting excitedly that the occultation spell had been removed from the quidditch field, and that the gates of something that had been conjured for the last task were already visible, but before you could try to hear what they were saying, the boys were already leaving the hall and Pietro came to talk to you.

"Hey, good morning, how are you?" he asked curiously, taking a seat across from you at the table.

"Not well, if you want to know." You grumbled dejectedly, your fingers lazily stroking the piece of bread on your plate. "What about you?"

"Worried." He replied shrugging his shoulders with a small corner smile. "But I'm optimistic. Wanda is confident, and thinks she can win. And I'm trusting that everything will end well."

The mention of Wanda makes you sigh slightly and lean your chin on your arm on the table, looking at the boy in front of you.

"I miss her, Pietro." You confess upset and ignore the way Gamora and Nebula who are sitting next to the boy look at you with pity, but appreciate how Mantis strokes your back lightly. "She won't talk to me, and I can't blame her or even be mad at her."

"Wanda asked for some time, didn't she?" he asked slightly curious and you grumbled in agreement. "Well, I guess you have the right to ask the same."

You frown in confusion, and Pietro has a little smile as he pours himself some juice.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"Ask her for, I don't know, five minutes of attention?" He suggests. "Five minutes to at least give her good luck. You look miserable, and I hate to see you like this."

You sigh, thinking about the idea. And then you smile.

"Thanks, P." You say as you raise your head.

"No problem." He says. "You can try now, Wanda should be on the lower floors. She wanted to talk to dad before the task."

You nodded in understanding and then said you would meet your friends outside.

It didn't take long for you to find Wanda. The girl was walking up the stairs as you were coming down, and well, she had no choice but to look at you.

You felt your heart race to have her looking directly at you after so long, but you ignored the sensation as you walked down the steps and stopped in front of her. Wanda swallowed dryly, but held her gaze.

"Hey." You greeted half breathlessly, smiling slightly.

"What do you want?" she asked uncomfortably, her gaze serious. You ignored the seriousness of her words.

"Talk to you."

"I already said I need time."

"I know." You said without hesitation. "But I also have the right to talk. Can you give me five minutes?"

Wanda looked away, and then at her feet. She sighed and nodded, and you waited for her to look at you again before speaking.

"I miss you, Wanda." You confessed and watched Wanda swallow dryly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked away. "And I wanted to wish you good luck in the last task."

Wanda sighed faintly, nodding in understanding, her gaze on the stairs. You raised your finger to her chin, gently turning her face so that she was looking at you. Wanda closed her eyes as you fitted your hand to her cheeks, your thumb stroking her skin tenderly as she leaned into the touch.

Her hand moved up to your forearm the next moment, squeezing before moving your hand away from her face as she pushed your arm away gently.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling in your stomach and the urge to kiss and touch her again.

"Please don't do that." She whispered. "Don't touch me as if you love me as much as I love you."

You gasped, widening your eyes at the confession. But before you could add anything else, footsteps approached and Erik was coming up the stairs behind Wanda. The girl took a step back, wiping her eyes quickly.

"Stark." The professor greeted politely. You had a hard time disguising how much Wanda's words stirred in you. "Wanda, you'd better hurry up for breakfast. The task will start soon."

"Yes, dad." Wanda agrees and she doesn't look at you as she leaves. Erik nods politely and you stand on the steps for long minutes, your heart racing in your chest.

Wanda loves you. And you can't be with her.

Ignoring your broken heart, you turn and walk back into the hall, following the crowd of students who are making their way to the site of the last assignment.

//-//

The third task was a maze full of magical trials.

You gasped as you reached the sight of the large grass ones that were raised at the entrance to the quidditch field and the matched grass gates.

The crowd of students spilled out onto the bleachers set up in front of the maze, and you began to look around for your friends, ignoring the urge to run to Wanda and tell her you loved her back, not wanting to upset her before the task.

When the crowd was fully seated in the stands, and some students were already raising their cheering posters in the air, you watched the tournament judges move along with the faculty as Agatha took her place to announce the start of the competition.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Gamora whispered to you as the director made the announcements. "I bet Wanda will be back before you can miss her."

You try to smile, your stomach turning in nervousness.

Watching the field below, you see the champions positioning themselves at the entrance.

Jean Grey had the highest score, so she entered first. The Durmstrang students cheering loudly until she disappeared into the maze.

Soon after, Wanda entered. The Slytherin people conjured a serpent of artifice through the air that disappeared as soon as she walked into the maze.

And then Maria Hill last, the Beaubatox crowd clapping their feet until she entered.

Just like the second task, all that was left for the crowd to do was wait once the champions entered. So as soon as the gate closed, the students started talking animatedly among themselves, in addition to the betting chart that began to circulate.

You also noticed that the reporters of the Daily Prophet were asking the cheering people in the front row about the bets for the winners.

Trying to distract yourself from the sense of worry that had taken over you most likely linked to the fact that Wanda was inside a place dangerous enough to kill her, you tried to engage in some of the conversation with your friends.

//-//

With thirty minutes to go, a movement in the field below caught your attention.

"Y/N, isn't that your father?" Gamora asked poking you in the ribs to call you, but you were already looking down.

Your father was not alone. There were four other witches with him that you had never seen before, but judging by their capes, they were aurors from the ministry, as they were dressed exactly like the witches that day in the cup.

There was a sudden movement among the teachers, and then the aurors were opening the gate to the maze and Headmistress Harkness was talking to the judges, all looking extremely worried. The crowd was buzzing, and it didn't take long for the comments to reach you.

"They're saying they're going to cancel the test!" Told a Ravenclaw girl who had just leaned forward to listen to her classmates, and then he turned and said to you and Gamora, making you both widen your eyes. You looked around next, in time to catch Tony coming down the bleachers from the side until he reached your father.

"What do you think happened?" Gamora asked you.

"I don't know, but it doesn't look good." You replied already moving to leave in Tony's direction. Gamora and Nebula looked at you, but you just signaled for them to wait up there.

When you reached Tony and your father, they seemed to be arguing.

"You didn't think to send at least a letter?" Tony squawked angrily, but your father was distracted, looking around and especially back at the entrance to the maze.

"I can't talk now, Tony, please." The man asked. He gave you a short smile as you approached, and Bucky and Steve joined you all next.

"Dad, what's going on?" You asked, but before your father could say anything, the principal was asking the students to return to the castle and the crowd erupted in booing.

The tournament judges were commenting quietly among themselves, and you frowned when Professor Erik approached and whispered something in your father's ear, who made a worried frown.

"Go back to the castle." Your father ordered looking at you and Tony, but you didn't move and Tony pushed your father's hand away.

They began to argue, but you felt your whole body shiver all at once, and you looked back, thinking that someone had called your name.

Professor Erik looked at you curiously, but before he could do anything, you ran past him and into the maze.

//-//

Gasping for breath from the run, you blinked in confusion as you stopped at a crossroads. Your head was spinning slightly, and you looked around.

The maze was dark, and the walls were high and shadowed the path. You noticed that the noise of the crowd was muffled from the inside.

Taking the left path, you were not fully conscious, following only the magnetic energy that seemed to pull you around the correct path.

Your wand was raised to your hand, an illumination spell that you don't remember conjuring. You frowned slightly when you noticed another light, and then Maria Hill was standing in front of you.

"Who are you?" she asked, but you didn't answer, walking past her in a mechanical manner. The girl looked at you with confusion. "Girl, can you hear me?"

"Wanda." You whispered without stopping your walk. Maria hesitated but then began to follow you through the labyrinth.

"Are you hexed?" She asked curiously but got no answer. When she tried to hold you by the shoulders, you pushed her to the ground. "Hey, no need for that!"

You didn't answer and Maria sighed in irritation as she stood up, running lightly to catch up with you as you turned the corner.

The tugging on your abdomen began to get stronger, and then you reached the center of the maze.

"Wow, you found the center." Maria commented in surprise next to you. "But where's the cup?"

You looked around confused, feeling the pain in your head increase.

And then noises of footsteps and shouting became closer and a moment later your father and Professor Erik entered the center through one of the trails.

"Honey!" Your father exclaimed worriedly, but before he could reach you, you fell to your knees, a shrill cry of pain escaping your throat.

Your vision blurred and you had another vision.

It was the graveyard from your dream, but now much clearer than before. You were attached to something, and there was a tall wizard standing in front of you.

The man turned around and you could see his red eyes staring at you with hatred.

"Erik, what is happening to her?" You heard your father's voice sound muffled by the ringing in your ear. You were trying to breathe normally, lying on the grass with your hands on your head.

"Look out, Howard!" It was Professor Erik's voice, but you didn't have the strength to look up.

"Protego!" Someone shouted the incantation next to you, maybe it was Maria but you can't open your eyes to see.

The pain in your head seemed to subside slightly and you forced your gaze upward, not understanding what was happening.

There were two bright lights in front of you. The image was not very clear because of the pain, but you struggled to understand what you were witnessing.

A wizard you didn't know was exchanging spells with Professor Erik. And Bucky was standing next to him, his robotic movements exactly matching those of the mysterious sorcerer. Your father was dueling with the younger one.

The unknown wizard let out an angry grunt, and said something in a language you didn't recognize, and then a green light shot out of Bucky's wand and hit your father in the chest, knocking him backwards.

"Stupefy!" Shouted a female voice from your side, and the spell hit Bucky squarely.

You whimpered in pain again, and could stare no longer.

A few minutes passed before you gasped back to consciousness, or perhaps it was hours. Your tears wet your shirt, and you coughed helplessly.

You raised your eyes to a scene that you didn't understand at first.

There were three people lying on the ground. A man you had never seen before, Bucky and your father, and Professor Erik was kneeling beside the last.

You blinked in confusion and then Tony came running out of the other opening and he widened his eyes when he noticed father.

"Hey, can you stand?" it was Jean Grey beside you. Maria Hill was holding you in her other arm, and you blinked in confusion at both of them.

"Where am I?" you grumbled, and then looked forward again. Tony ran up to your father, and you widened your eyes.

"Dad?" Tony asked with his face wet with tears. "Dad? Wake up!

"Stark..." Erik started as he touched the boy's shoulder, but your brother didn't look at him as he pushed his hand away.

You forced yourself to get up and with the help of the girls you succeeded. You took two steps and then fell to your knees again, understanding what had happened.

You had just witnessed your father being murdered.

//-//

The maze was dismantled from the inside out.

The rest of the teachers moved to remove the incantations and the maze disappeared around you, while you and Tony were kneeling beside the body of your father.

Soon there were reporters trying to reach the center, but Principal Harkness ordered them to stay away.

The aurors from the ministry were also there and they conjured a containment spell around the man who dueled the professor.

"We need to get the children out of here, Harkness." You heard someone say, but their gaze was on your lap, the hand you entwined with your father's.

"We don't know how many of them then here." Another witch said.

"Darlings, let's go inside, okay?" Professor Erik asked you. You were too tired to contradict, but Tony refused.

He said something about responsibility, and they did not contradict him again. You were led out of the maze, however, and the place where the entrance was located was empty.

The reporters who had been thrown out approached you and the ministry's auror immediately as soon as they saw you two, and you blinked at the flashes of the cameras.

"Can you tell us what happened inside the maze Miss Stark?"

"How are you and your brother going to take care of the fortune now that you are Howard's heirs?"

The lack of sensitivity made your stomach turn, but you were too tired to cry.

The auror who was with you said something to keep the reporters away, and then you were taken back to the castle.

"Hey, kid, are you still with me?" The lady asked as she knelt in front of you, her expression concerned.

You sighed, feeling an urgency to close your eyes. You think she called you again before you blacked out.

//-//

When you woke up, it was warm. And when you realized that you were in the infirmary, it took you a few moments to remember everything that had happened. As you did so, you began to cry. Finally understanding that your father was dead.

Your pillow got wet, but you didn't care, finding it hard to see past the tears.

"Hey." It was Tony, looking extremely tired, standing at your bedside. You couldn't tell if he was already there when you woke up, or if he had entered the infirmary at that moment, but you didn't ask. He lay down on the bed with you next, and hugged you.

You know that he was crying too, even though you didn't look at him.

You eventually fell asleep between sobs, and when you woke up again, you were feeling better physically.

Tony was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, talking to the Auror who brought you in. When she noticed you looking, she nodded slightly to Tony and he looked at you, forcing a smile.

The two wizards walked over to you next, and you sat down on the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Tony asked and you shrugged. "Carol wants to ask you some questions."

You looked away from Tony to the woman, and she looked slightly embarrassed to have to question you after a situation like this, but she did it anyway.

"My name is Carol Danvers, Miss Stark." She introduced herself first. "I am an auror from the ministry of magic. I brought you to the infirmary, can you remember this?"

You nodded in agreement.

"I need to tell you some things, and then I'll ask you about what happened in the maze, okay?" She asked and waited for you to confirm before she started talking.

Carol explained to you how the dark wizard Korvac used polyjuice potion to disguise himself as Professor Fury all year long, and infiltrate the tournament organization. The real Fury was a family friend of the auror and was able to warn her in some way that she didn't tell you, and then the aurors used flu powder to get to Hogwarts. Your father was still an auror in secret to the ministry, and so he also joined the operation group.

When the Aurors arrived, however, Korvac had already entered the maze and they went after him. Neither your father nor the professor were supposed to enter the maze, but when you did, your brother followed, and consequently Steve and Bucky did the same. Your father and the professor went after, but the maze was enchanted to make everyone get lost, and that's exactly what happened. While you were guided by your connection to Wanda, everyone else was lost all around.

Carol told you that Korvac had found Bucky and used the Imperio curse to control him, so he was fighting on behalf of the dark wizard against both your father and your teacher. With Jean Grey's intervention, Bucky was knocked out and Professor Erik hit Korvac, but it was too late.

Everyone eventually found themselves in the middle and the maze was dismantled. Tony had already given his statement to the ministry, and Korvac was sent to Azkaban.

"Your brother told me that you have some kind of magical bond with one of the champions and that's why you went into the maze right?" Carol asked as you wiped away your tears. You sniffled slightly as you confirmed. "Miss Maximoff won the competition and she has also talked to my colleagues about what she saw in the cup portal."

"W-what?" you questioned with confusion.

Carol sighed slightly and then her posture changed. She looked back for a minute.

"Look, I trusted your father. He knew there was corruption in the ministry, and he warned me about it when he recommended me to work with him." She began as if telling a secret. "Let's keep that between us for now. I don't know who I can trust in that department."

Carol told about how the triwizard cup was bewitched to become a portal key, most likely by Korvac. She repeated Wanda's words to you, saying that the girl had ended up in a graveyard with the remnants of Mephisto's followers in place. Wanda also said that Mephisto himself had returned and that they faced each other. She managed to escape by touching the cup again.

What made you angry was knowing that the minister didn't believe any of her words, and refused to acknowledge Mephisto's return. The whole thing would be treated as a trial of the tournament that got out of hand, and Korvac, who had been captured, would be accused of all the crimes.

Carol didn't seem happy with the minister's decision either.

"I have nothing to say but tell the minister to go fuck himself, Carol." You informed irritated and the blonde smiled at you.

"You inherited your father's attitude." She comments and you think the intention is good, but it makes your heart ache. "I will close your statement then. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Stark."

You nod and Carol hesitates. She sighs lightly and touches your brother on the shoulder and your outstretched hand on the bed.

"I used to be friends with your father." She says. "Don't think you are alone, children. You have more family than you can imagine. And you can contact me if you need anything."

Carol smiles and walks away with a nod. You and Tony exchange a slightly surprised look. Tony sighs and sits down next to you on the bed. You say nothing, but you both know that this should be one more among your father's many secrets.

//-//

Nurse Cho released you from the infirmary that same afternoon.

Aside from the mental exhaustion, you were perfectly healthy.

Your friends, with the exception of the Maximoff twins, approach you in the dormitory. They hug you together, mourning the death of your father. You want to say that you feel a little better about this, but that is not true.

As you are seen in the corridors, students and professors stop you to say "my sympathies", and you answer them in a polite way. You can also hear the gossip after all.

Wanda did not obey the order of the minister of magic, and when the journalists of the Daily Prophet asked her about the tournament, she told her version. Nobody bought her story, and she was branded a liar after the minister denied the return of the dark wizard.

Professor Erik also greeted you in the hallways, and Pietro was with him. The boy hugged you tight, and you held back your tears.

"Stark, my home is always open to you and your brother." Erik said as his hand was on your shoulder. "I just want you to know that."

You nodded in understanding and then walked toward the communal hall intending to organize your belongings, since the school year would end that week.

//-//

On your last day at Hogwarts, you finally talked to Wanda.

Because your nightmares had become more frequent than ever, you had spent the last days at school without sleeping properly, and on the last night you gave up sleeping and decided to go to the kitchens.

You were in the empty halls when you heard the familiar noise of Drax monitoring the castle and stumbled to the first door you found, trying to avoid being seen.

As you waited for the hissing noise to become distant, you looked back and gasped in surprise.

There was a girl sitting on the floor and it took you a few seconds to realize that it was Wanda.

"What are you doing here?" You asked curiously, and your voice startled her. She stood up quickly, looking at you in surprise.

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me!" She complained and you frowned slightly as you realized she was crying, but Wanda quickly wiped her face.

Only at that moment did you notice the large antique mirror behind her. On the metal rim was a Latin phrase that you didn't understand.

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you looked away to the floor.

"Sorry to bother you, I couldn't sleep." You mumbled clumsily and Wanda shifted the weight of her feet before clearing her throat.

"Do you wanna stay?"

You raised your head in surprise, but then nodded in agreement.

Walking up to the girl, you stopped about four steps away from her, not knowing exactly what to do next.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing here?" You asked again, and Wanda bit her lips before turning toward the mirror.

"I found this place in second grade." She counters. "That's the Mirror of Erised."

"I am supposed to know what that means?" You ask with mild irony causing Wanda to smile slightly.

"We studied that in fourth grade, so yes." She retorts.

"I haven't been busy this year, no time for books, if you know what I mean." You say with a smile and Wanda laughs softly. You stare at the mirror in front of you, but there is nothing special about it. It seems to reflect you and Wanda just like any other. "What does this mirror do anyway?"

Wanda turns her face to you, and you want to ignore the nervous feeling that settles on the edge of your stomach, but to no avail.

"Look closer." She says, and her gaze lingers on you for a moment before she takes a step to the side. You turn your face to the mirror again, and then step forward.

It takes a second for the image to change. It is you in the reflection, but you are not alone. Your father is standing beside you, smiling contently. You frown in confusion, gasping slightly at his sudden appearance.

Ignoring the lump in your throat, you continue to stare. The image trembles slightly, and you try to understand what the mirror is telling you. Nothing looks much different except the image of your father, but then you notice the wedding ring in your reflection.

You look down at your hand for a moment and then back at the reflection. Your image copies the movement with delay and you squeeze your eyes shut to read the letters on the ring.

Your face heats up as you read Wanda's name and you take a step back. The image becomes fainter, but doesn't disappear.

"What do you see?" Wanda asks curiously from beside you, and you startle, turning your head to her quickly.

"M-my father." You answer at the same moment, biting your tongue to make sure you don't say anything else. Wanda's expression tumbles, and she looks down at her feet. You swallow dryly.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I really am." She whispers, and you look away. There is something that is bothering you as much as your father's death, and it is the distance that seems to exist between you and Wanda now.

"Thank you." You mumble the response you have learned to give whenever someone says that to you. "W-what do you see in the mirror?" You ask next, trying to change the subject from you. Wanda looks surprised at the question and even in the low lighting, you notice the slight redness in her cheeks.

"My mother." She answers without looking at you. "And... myself. No magic. Just me and her, and Pietro and papa at a distance. We look happy and normal."

It is the most intimate confession Wanda has ever made to you. You want to caress her face, hug her and thank her for her trust, but you just nod in agreement, swallowing her words and pushing the desire to touch down.

"Have you been here many times?" You ask after a moment and Wanda sighs before confirming. "You never told me about this place before."

"I never told anyone." She retorts without sounding angry, just slightly weary. "I guess I wanted it to be something just mine."

"I understand." You comment as you look into the mirror again, the image of your reflection and Wanda's now visible. "A private space for you to visit your mother."

Wanda murmurs in agreement, and you think she won't say anything else, but she does.

"I need to tell you something."

You turn your head toward Wanda's direction, but when she turns her body toward you, she keeps her gaze on the floor.

"About the day of the task." She says. "About Mephisto."

"Okay." You mumble as you wait. Wanda takes a deep breath.

"I guess you've heard from the whole school that I fought with him." She starts with a sad smile, and you nod in agreement. "Well, there's a reason he couldn't kill me."

You frown with confusion.

"Right...why?"

"It’s better if i show you." She takes a deep breath, raising her hands between you. "Can I?" she asks, and you notice the red magic escaping her fingers.

"You can do that?" You ask impressed and Wanda nods with a shy smile. When you consent, she raises her fingers to your forehead and then you have another vision.

You see the moment when Wanda was teleported into the graveyard, and it's as if you're seeing everything through her eyes.

The moment when a hooded wizard appeared and locked Wanda in a spell against one of the tombstones. You watched the wizard walk to the center of the graveyard and conjure a rune on the ground that you didn't recognize. He recited a few words and then cast an incantation in the sky. The mark of a hydra.

Walking back to the rune, the sorcerer deposited a necklace on the ground. With a dagger he took from his pocket, he recited an incantation in a language you didn't recognize, and cut his own palm. When the blood fell on the necklace, Wanda gasped in pain.

The ground around the rune began to open up and a man crawled out of the earth. You imagined it was a necromancy ritual and they were resurrecting someone. You didn't have to ask to know that it was Mephisto.

When the wizard stood up completely, he laughed darkly. The man who helped him bowed.

"Master, you live!" Celebrated the wizard. Mephisto approached, a gentle flick of his wand wiped all the dirt from his robes, and you could see the metallic Hydra strolling along the entire length of his robes, as if getting used to being awake again.

"All thanks to you, John." Mephisto said his deep voice echoing through the room. "Your loyalty will be rewarded, my friend."

"Thank you, master." Said the man without raising his head. Mephisto touched his hood, pulling it back, and you looked at the kneeling figure. He was a man of about thirty, his blond hair was long and dirty. There was a deep scar across his cheek to the extent of his right eye, which was closed.

Mephisto raised his wand toward the young man's face, and a silver spell escaped from the tip along the scar. The mark didn't disappear, but when he opened his eye, you noticed the metallic glow of the reddish iris.

"Be my eyes again, John Walker." Mephisto commanded and the boy thanked him again. He continued kneeling as Mephisto turned toward Wanda, who was still attached to the tombstone. "I almost forgot about my guest of honor."

"Who are you?" Wanda asked angrily, you could almost feel her fear.

Mephisto smiled devilishly, ignoring the question as he took a deep breath. He raised his wand high and the Hydra's mark seemed to glow even brighter.

In the following moments, shadows began to appear in the sky, and only when the first one of them landed on the ground that you understood that they were wizards appearing.

There were at least eight of them, but because of their position, Wanda couldn't see them all. The masked witches remained static, waiting for their companions. Mephisto murmured softly, and after a moment without any movement in the sky, he sighed.

"It is only at our worst that we see who is really loyal to us." He comments somberly, before opening his arms to the crowd. "Friends! It's so good to see you all again, finally. So many years!"

Mephisto's smile doesn't reach his eyes, and then the wizards are kneeling, and recite together an "It is an honor, master." Mephisto laughs lightly, lowering his arms.

"Look at you folks." He comments with a psychotic look on his face. "You're not even ashamed that you abandoned me." He charges, but no one speaks up. Mephisto sighs impatiently. "No one has anything to say? What a disappointment."

"Master..." Started a wizard on the edge and then Mephisto raised his fist toward him hanging him in the air with his magic. Wanda's eyes widened, but the wizard let go just before the one in the air stopped struggling. As the wizard coughed to try to breathe again, Mephisto pushed his long hair out of the front of his face.

"I don't want your hollow apologies, Zemo." He says. "Nothing will erase the betrayal of all of you, cowards."

No one makes any mention of interrupting the speech, and Mephisto puts his cloak away momentarily.

"But a new era begins, and we need to leave the past behind." Says the mage. "I finally have my treasure where I wanted it, and nothing will stop me from reaching my power again."

Mephisto turns to Wanda now, a mental look on his face. The wizards look at her too.

"Master, is this...?" One of the masked men begins, and Mephisto interrupts with a devilish grin.

"Yes, my friend!" He says. "The Scarlet Witch."

The group loosely shares a buzz of excited excitement, but falls silent the next moment. Wanda wriggles uncomfortably against the spell.

"What is it, my dear?" Mephisto asks as he watches her struggle. "Is it tight? Try a coffin underground. I guarantee the discomfort is greater."

The comment makes Wanda clench her jaw as the group lets out a chuckle.

"I'm not who you say I am." Wanda retorts with irritation and Mephisto lets out a laugh approaching. You wish you could enter the vision to get him away from Wanda.

"Your name is Wanda Maximoff." He says looking her straight in the eye. "You were born in 1989 in a dirty muggle neighborhood of Sokovia. And you are a scarlet witch by birth." He narrates and then his gaze changes to malice. "And you belong to me."

"Fuck you."

Wanda's rude response makes Mephisto smile.

"Perhaps you, my dear friends, were not aware of what really happened that night fifteen years ago." Mephisto says as he turns to the group again. "I can only imagine the lies the ministry of magic must have told the world, making sure to tell I was defeated by some of their pathetic aurors."

The group exchanges surprised looks and Mephisto laughs, walking ahead.

"I think everyone has a right to know what really happened that day, don't you, my dear?" He asks Wanda, and then lets out a wry laugh. "Oh, I forgot that you were just a filthy brat back then. I'd better tell them instead."

Wanda struggles against the grip again and Mephisto raises his wand toward her, causing the spell to tighten more and Wanda to grumble in pain.

"Hold still and listen to the story, little brat." He commands. "Didn't the blood traitor teach you manners?"

You know Mephisto is talking about Wanda's father, but the girl doesn't respond to the teasing.

"Do you remember how well everything was going for us, my friends?" Begins the wizard, and he waits for the group to agree before speaking again. "I should have known that the cursed muggles in your community would bring more trouble than I expected."

Mephisto looks slightly nostalgic, but no one is going to interrupt him. He gives a wry laugh before continuing.

"You know that I was seeking the power of a scarlet sorceress for myself. And well, with all the commotion in the ministry, I decided to capture the child without being accompanied by any of you." He says. "I was always the most powerful, but now that I look back, a companion would have prevented so much delay."

When Wanda makes mention of fighting again, Mephisto strengthens the spell.

"I went to take what was rightfully mine in that muggle pigsty that is Sokovia, and I never expected that a filthy muggle would be able to stop me." He tells you and you notice Wanda's interest in the words, curious to know what he was talking about. "Maybe the traitor lied and she had some witch lineage. We'll never know, since I killed her." He comments humorously. "Contextualizing my friends, I went up to the second floor to get the child of prophecy, and I ended up running into two of them."

Mephisto counters with a wry laugh.

"Crazy isn't it?" He says. "But of course it was easy to figure out who the right baby was, since the sorceress' power emanated in the child's aura. I had no function for the other one so I decided to discard it."

Wanda's eyes widen at the confession. Mephisto was going to kill Pietro. She gasps slightly, feeling her anger rising.

"But the muggle pig begged for mercy." He continues. "You know very well how much I hate muggles, but if she had stood in the corner as I told her to do, I would have done no harm. But of course she had to throw herself in front of the infant, become a pathetic martyr."

The group laughs at the narration and you feel like vomiting. Mephisto stared at his own wand for a few seconds.

"I should have realized the sacrificial bond that was created, but I did not expect such a thing from a muggle." He counters somberly, sounding bitter. "When I skipped over her body and repeated the curse, it came straight back to me."

The group let out a chorus of surprise, but Mephisto just smiled.

"Don't worry, friends. I'm here after all." He says. "But a death curse is powerful enough to injure a body. And so I needed to escape." He counters as he walks around. "I would return for the girl as soon as I could restore myself, but where there is one blood traitor there is always another."

The group listened to the story intently and you swallowed dryly, trying to remember all the details.

"The traitor Stark and that muggle slut he called his wife were waiting for me downstairs." Mephisto counters and you hold your breath. "I knew that in my condition I couldn't stand up to an auror like Stark, but he could be useful to me. It was the perfect opportunity to have someone look after my belongings."

Mephisto sighed lightly.

"I think muggles must have some sort of self-sabotaging lifestyles about throwing themselves in front of spells, folks." He mocked causing the group to exchange confused looks. "I aimed at Stark, commanding him to protect what was mine, but it was the muggle who received the enchantment." He counters and you gasp in surprise. "Stark was furious of course, but I used the moments he spent assisting his wife to apparate."

Mephisto's expression was no longer content.

"My body couldn't handle the power of the apparatation, obviously." He counters. "After the curse, it began to betray me. I was on the brink of death for months, until I finally succumbed. My consciousness shallowed, waiting patiently for my faithful followers to find me. And here we are."

The group lets out a small exclamation and Mephisto forces a smile, straightening his posture.

"But that's in the past, of course." He says. "My sorceress is here for me, and I can regain my full power now."

Wanda swallowed dryly as she watched Mephisto approach. The wizard made a motion with his wand and the grip around her neck shortened slightly.

"I never had any use for the witch's receptacle." He says raising his wand to Wanda, you held your breath. "It's nothing personal, dear. At least you'll meet that pig of a mother of yours in hell."

The green incantation comes out of the small wood next, but never reaches Wanda. A yellow energy bumps into the magic and deflects it almost hitting one of the wizards in the circle. The group moves in fright and Mephisto has a psychotic but surprised look on his face.

"The protective spell... How?" he asks, stepping forward. “The spell killed the muggle, I saw her body! How is it still there?” He angrily asks .

His followers look as surprised as he is, and Mephisto assumes an angry expression. He raises his wand again, and even without saying anything, the emerald incantation escapes and the same thing as before happens. Distracted in his frustration, he doesn't notice that with each attempt, the spell binding Wanda grows weaker, until the fourth time he tries to curse the girl, the golden light explodes in the air, ricocheting light startling all the wizards in the circle, as Wanda falls to her knees, free.

The second of shock from the group is enough for Wanda to cause a wave of energy with her powers that kept the wizards away as she reaches for the cup at her feet, teleporting back to the school.

You stumble out of the memory, your eyes watering.

Wanda looks at you, but you turn away feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information.

"W-what was that?" You gasp taking another step back.

"I'm sorry if that was too much." She hastens to say. "I-I needed to tell you. About your mother."

You wipe away the tears, moving further away.

"I can't do this." You grumble. "Not now. M-my father just died, Wanda. I can't. I'm sorry."

The words are a little disjointed, but Wanda understands. She doesn't stop you when you rush to leave the room.

//-//

Coming home is much more difficult than any other time.

The ride on the Hogwarts express is longer than ever, but you don't mind, wanting to avoid the moment when you and Tony will set foot home without your father.

Jarvis picks the four of you up at the station, and you are grateful that Gamora lets you eat all her candy left over from the trip.

The whole feeling of stepping into the house and looking around and seeing your father's objects all around is oppressive, but you try to get used to it. You think the conversation with Tony about your mother can wait.

//-//

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia // @ichala || @madamevirgo

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x you #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda x yn #marvel imagines #avengers imagines #avengers #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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notdonesimpin · 5 years ago

Text

Sorcery ~r.s.~

ceo!ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

warnings: sukuna in a suit??, fluff

synopsis: [request by @draconic-dumbass ] “two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery” OR the reader doesn’t take care of themselves and sukuna has to do it for them.

a/n: For fic purposes, Sukuna has his own two armed body. I wanted a CEO!AU where curses don’t exist, okay? Sukuna’s just a man who looks great in a suit. The curse aspect isn’t really needed in the way it’s portrayed in the show so i don’t wanna think about it😣 don’t hate me.

The door opens as you peek your head in the hallway to see Sukuna roughly loosen his tie with a huff and unbutton the top of his shirt as he takes off his shoes.

“Long day?” you ask.

“My assistant cried today if that tells you anything. They overbooked me, and didn’t realize it until this morning.”

Your eyes narrow, “What did you say to the poor thing? She didn’t cry for nothing.”

Sukuna throws his hands up defensively as he walks over to you with a teasing smile, “I didn’t say anything! Though, I wanted to say a lot. I think she got the message when I sent her home.” The last part came out in a mutter, but you heard it well.

You hit him in the chest, “This is why you can’t keep an assistant! You’re too aggressive. I liked that one, too.”

“Well, I had an amazing assistant for years, but they quit when their husband told them to focus on art. My days ran so smoothly, and I had a beautiful sight all hours of the day,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he continues, “Was I too aggressive with you?”

“You could barely say a sentence around me when we first met, Ryo. Don’t get cocky.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and you moved to answer it.

“It’s just Nao. They’re being my other model for today! I can’t model and draw myself, so I needed an amazing stand-in. How about you rest for a bit and I’ll do Nao’s solo poses and get you when I need you?” you suggested as you opened the door.

“It’s been a while. Good to see you, Y/N. Sukuna,” Nao says, giving Sukuna a wave and you a small hug.

“Nao, don’t fuck up while I’m not there,” Sukuna jokes, turning around to walk towards the bedroom.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I think I got it.”

“Don’t take those clothes off! The more wrinkles, the better!” you call after him.

You softly shake Sukuna. “Ryo, I need you to model for me now.”

He groans, opening his eyes to see you beaming at him. “It’s not fair, your face makes it hard to say no.”

“Then get up, so I can finish for today!” you urge.

He follows you to the living area with sleepiness still extremely apparent on his face.

“No wonder you chose him to be your muse for the King of Curses. He’s like The Walking Dead right now,” Nao laughs, earning a glare from Sukuna as you drag him to the spot you want him.

“You still haven’t told me anything about your art show,” Sukuna reminds you.

“Hands in pockets please…” you gesture to your own pockets when you make the statement and Sukuna lazily complies as you continue talking and telling him what to do. “My theme is Sorcery. Take a step but don't step… There! I wanted to do three bigger panels for my main showcase. They have the King of Curses- AKA you- and the ruler of blessings- aka Nao but Nao is just modeling so I can shade the pose right and put myself in it. Then the middle panel will be them together. Look at the ground. Now, only bring your eyes up the look at me… Perfect! Stay still. Basically it shows two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery.”

You yawn, waking up the sound of Sukuna roaming around the penthouse. You check your phone to see the time. 4:36 A.M.

You suddenly find yourself wide awake and decide to get up and work on your rough sketches.

You go out of your shared room, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the light and walk to the kitchen.

“Where the hell is my…” Sukuna’s muttering comes to a stop when he sees you sitting at the island, drinking a glass of water as you wait for the coffee pot to get ready.

“Good morning,” you softly say with a yawn.

“Why are you up? Did I wake you?” Sukuna asks, buttoning the cuffs of the shirt and walking over to you.

“I need to work on the rough sketches anyways since my canvases come in today. I’m so behind,” you groan, “What are you looking for?”

“My passport. I swear I grabbed it from home before I came here.”

He watches you tie his tie for him as he tries to recall where it might be.

“It’s definitely at home on the kitchen counter. I saw it before I left. I meant to grab it for you. Sorry, Ryo.”

He tosses his head back in frustration, “Why is this penthouse so inconveniently located. I have to go in the opposite direction of the office and the airport to go home and get it.”

“You’re the one that said my apartment was too small to be my studio.”

“I know.”

“And that I should separate home from work.”

“I know.” He squeezes your cheeks to stop you from talking. “I don’t regret buying this penthouse for your work. You get an ocean view and you have an entire space to do your work. I’d buy you the entire building if you needed it.”

He lets go of your face and you say, “Okay, Mr. CEO. All you had to say was that you love me.”

He chuckles and pours two cups of coffee, handing you one of them. “This business trip is pretty short, so I should be back around afternoon or tomorrow night at the latest.” He checks his watch, “I should go, so I don’t be late with my detour.”

He grabs his blazer off of the back of the chair, sliding it on as he walks towards the door with you right behind him. He slips his shoes on and turns to you, giving you a soft kiss.

“Be safe. I love you.” you say.

“I love you. Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone.”

As soon as the door closed, you muttered: Sorry, Ryo. That’s exactly what I’m about to do.

A few hours later, you get a call from Sukuna and immediately answer.

“How’s the new assistant, Ryo?” you immediately ask.

He paused, glancing at the assistant beside him. “So this was your doing. I can’t say that I’m surprised. This one seems a lot more competent.”

“Don’t run him off. He knows how to run businesses well since he grew up with his father.”

“I got it. Mx. CEO,” he taunts, “How long have you been working?”

You glance at the time on your phone. 10:32A.M.

“Technically five hours but only been diligent for the past four hours. I finished my sketch for the King of Curses panel about an hour ago. So, I’ve just started drawing it on the canvas.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s time to take a break and eat something,” He suggests, but you both know that it was a command.

“I’m not going to pass out on you again, okay? I can take care of myself.”

“As you’ve proven on multiple occasions, you can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you. Make good decisions!” You hang up and get back to work.

You didn’t know how much time had passed or how long you’d been actively moving around and working until your regular Wednesday at 11:30 alarm went off.

Wait… Wednesday??? You’d only been up for a couple hours. How has an entire day passed without you even realizing it?

At the same time, you received a text from Sukuna: I have to stop by the office before heading to you, so I’ll take you wherever you’d like around one.

“Shit!” you exclaim, typing back a quick response before rushing around the penthouse to clean and change your clothes.

Sukuna couldn’t know that you haven’t slept in the past 31 hours.

By the time you cleaned up and got dressed, Sukuna was already at the penthouse, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding a glass of bourbon in his hands.

“Let me see your hands,” he requests.

You stick out your hands, trying to calm them down because both of you knew that you get really bad tremors when you haven’t slept in a while.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so early,” you softly spoke.

“Darling, I texted you. I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember since you responded with a jumble of letters,” he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I just got really focused. I’m so close to finishing the King of Curses panel. I started the Ruler of Blessings panel as well… I gotta keep the ball rolling while it’s hot,” you explained.

“That isn’t healthy. How have you been painting? With the way your hands are shaking, you shouldn’t even be able to hold a paintbrush straight.”

“I was focused! And before you say it, I’m not tired, so I’ll just get back to work.”

He looks at you in amusement as you walk away. “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“I’ll stop after I finish the curse panel, okay?”

Before you could even get out of the kitchen, Sukuna had picked you up by your waist and started walking away.

“Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!” you exclaim, “I told you, my feet stay on the ground!”

He laughs and continues walking, “I told you that if I want to pick you up, I will. If you think you’re heavy, then you’re wrong. You’re like a feather compared to what I lift at the gym, okay?”

You fall silent, letting him carry you all the way to the bathroom. He sits you on the counter and starts running the water for a bath. As you wait for the bath to fill up, he stands in between your legs, bringing his hands up to your face and lightly grazing underneath your eyes.

“They’re puffy…” he looks at you with a hint of sadness, “I understand that the art show is very important to you, but this is the third time in the past few months that I’ve had to physically stop you from overworking yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, your art will suffer, too.”

“I know. There’s just a lot of big names coming this time. I really want it to be good.”

“It will be because you’re an outstanding artist,” he reassures.

You give him a small thank you as he turns to stop the water and you shed your clothes, getting in and closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

“You see how nice hot water feels?” You could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Self-care or whatever.”

Sukuna begins to wash your body for you, humming a soft tune and lulling you to sleep. He finishes washing you up and takes you to bed, putting one of his shirts on you and crawling in beside you, letting you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth.

He softly smiles to himself and gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fic #jjk masterfind

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engagemachine · 4 years ago

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"You're so gentle," she tells me. They all say it. I hear it from my patients every time I take their arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around it, or when I place my stethoscope on their belly, or when I rub circles into their back when I've helped them sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in three days. Sometimes they cry, because it's the first tender touch they've felt since they've been in the hospital. It's very humbling and at the same time very concerning -- why has no one else offered this tenderness to you? Why am I always the first?

But I don't feel gentle. Not when a pair of ribs are cracking beneath my hands as I'm doing chest compressions on a Covid patient who's stopped breathing--the second time I've administered CPR on a Covid patient in two days. I don't feel gentle when I'm wrestling with a patient and begging for them to keep their oxygen mask on. When I have to hold them down and hold them still so my coworker can draw a blood sample. I don't feel gentle when I'm inserting a nasogastric tube down someone's nose, then throat, and into their belly while they're gagging around the tube and their arms are flailing. And I don't feel gentle when I'm washing a sacral wound with bleach and they're crying because it hurts. I don't feel gentle when I have to shout, beg, and plead for patients to listen, when I tell patients they're going to die if they don't keep their oxygen mask on. I don't feel gentle when I have to place a patient in restraints, or when I call a family member and tell them that their loved one's condition hasn't improved. I don't feel gentle when a patient tells me they can't breathe, they can't breathe, I can't breathe, and I'm yelling for coworkers to call the doctor while I'm cycling through different oxygen masks and trying to administer medication to slow their respirations and calm their anxiety.

I'm writing this because I feel like I've been living a little bit behind a veneer on here, although I know deep down that's not really true; I have always wanted my blog to feel like a positive space for anyone and everyone, including myself. I come here to have fun and destress and that's why you usually don't see me reblogging content having to do with politics or global news. I think it's possible to create a healthy space where one does talk about those things and spreads awareness for important causes, but for me, Tumblr is where I come when I need to escape the harsh realities of real life. This is my platform where I can indulge in my fictional proclivities and interests, where I can appreciate art, photography, beautiful writing, my favorite films, music, and cute animals. That's what this space is about. I also have loved meeting new people and getting to know my readers and making new friends and chatting about my stories. That's why I'm here and I thank you all so, so much for indulging me in my passions and for encouraging my writing the way that you have: it has helped me weather the current storm of stress I am feeling in more ways than I could possibly convey.

But I have to be very honest with you all about how much I've been struggling lately, as I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point and I'm somewhat at a loss for how to handle it.

Since September of last year, I've been on an accelerated track to finish the degree I'm working towards, which is a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I've been a nurse for four years, but I graduated from a two-year nursing program versus a four-year program because I wanted to get into the field earlier than some of my peers, which has been great. Anyway, my school counselor/mentor and I agreed that I could obtain my BSN in a year if I really pushed myself. The program I'm in is self-paced, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most of my classes I have finished in about three to four weeks. Other classes, like biochemistry, took substantially longer, about seven or eight weeks, if I remember correctly. All of the classes have relied on my ability to self-teach, as there are no scheduled lectures to attend, only assigned readings and videos to watch, if you choose to do so. Fast forward to the end of May, when I went to visit some family, and, upon my return home, really started to lose some of my motivation to complete my classes. I was meant to finish my program in August (this month) but agreed with my mentor that I would take a short break and put my last three classes on hold so that I could resume the program in September. I've enjoyed approximately a month off from school, but "enjoyed" is a term I use loosely here as I was also picking up extra shifts at work because we've been so short staffed and losing nurses left and right.

Which brings me to the main cause of my stress. This pandemic has completely changed the landscape for how I administer care to my patients, and the stress of the care itself has been so utterly overwhelming at times I can hardly bear it. I broke down in tears at work on Sunday morning, shortly after 4:30 am, right there at the the nurse's station, and was sobbing so hard that my supervisor had to pull me away so that I could have some privacy. I wish I could tell you that I sobbed harder than I have in a long time--but I had sobbed at work with that same intensity just four weeks prior, only, I had been alone at the time. It's becoming a trend--I either cry at work or I cry at home--because the stress of this job has become unbearable.

I wish--I desperately wish--I could convey to you the seriousness of Covid. I think so much of the world has already decided to move on from it because they're so tired of having to deal with it and, quite simply, are ready to return to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore and when--or if--we'll ever be able to return to it. And that has caused me a fair amount of stress and anxiety in and of itself. I miss traveling so much and I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I haven't seen one of my best friends since the fall of 2018 for this reason, which kills me.

I've seen so much death. Transferred so many patients to the PCU and ICU. Frantically chased patients' oxygen saturation, trying to keep them from circling the drain. Being responsible for six or seven human lives at one time is a stress you cannot fathom unless you have done it yourself. I have cried with a patient, a young woman, who had lost her husband to Covid only hours before in the ER, a young woman who was now faced with battling Covid herself but also planning the funeral of her high school sweetheart from her hospital bed. I have wheeled a patient to the ICU so that he could say one final goodbye to his wife--married for over 50 years--before they pulled the plug and removed her from the ventilator. I have raced down the hallway with my patient on BIPAP, pushing his bed to the ICU and praying that he doesn't stop breathing on the way there. I've had to console crying family members over the phone who are worried about their loved ones, not to mention my crying coworkers who are as overwhelmed as I am. These are just a handful of experiences from the past month alone. There are so many more.

The discomfort of my job has become secondary. I expect, now, to be wearing an N95 for a full twelve or thirteen-hour shift because there isn't time to take it off. Not having a chance to pee or go to the bathroom during that time. Not drinking any water until I'm in my car and taking off my mask and finally taking a deep breath.

On a more personal note, I am continuing to lose weight and it's so discouraging. In high school I used to wear a size 2 or 4. Now, depending on the brand, I wear a double 00. My hair is falling out because of my stress. I haven't slept during the night in... I don't even know how long. I'm constantly tired. Exhaustion hits me like a great tidal wave and I am powerless to stop it. I expect now to crash during the middle of the day on my couch, only to wake up at 11pm and be wide awake for the rest of the night, and, if not wide awake, then in an out of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I have thought about leaving my job, but the idea of job hunting during a pandemic, and while I'm in school... it just makes me feel even more stressed.

I need a break, but it feels like there's nowhere to go to escape. I fantasize about some great adventure, going somewhere I've never been, but I also really miss my family and I'm scared to go home to visit.

This post doesn't really have a conclusive ending. I'm just exhausted and overwhelmed. Any prayers/thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

#text

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Text

the words you read (my heart’s been displayed)

how did you know 'cause I never told but you found out I've got a crush on you the words you read, my heart's been displayed you found out I've got a crush on you —“crush on you,” the jets

warnings: awkward clueless teenagers, crushes, slightly overbearing matchmaking uncles, mentions of government surveillance, mostly fluff, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, secondary patton/roman and janus/remus

word count: 5,761

notes: this is for day 5 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “vocab card/skateboard” and i have decided to write about vocab card! please enjoy!

⁂

In Virgil’s opinion, Logan Sanders is the cutest boy in all of the sophomore grade.

He was the cutest boy in freshman year, too, and eighth grade, and seventh, and all the way back to kindergarten, but Logan’s changed over the summer.

He’s sprouted up a few inches, so now he’s a half-head taller than Virgil. He still looks a little gangly, like he’s going to grow more. He’d always been shorter than Virgil before. He’d gotten new glasses, too, black frames that suit him way better than the silver ovals he’d used when they were little. His voice has gotten a bit deeper, his jawline’s gotten stronger, and Virgil’s helpless crush on him has only grown with Logan.

Logan isn’t just cute, either, he’s smart. He carries around stacks of notecards, blank and filled in, and there’s all sorts of things written on it—interesting fun facts and the latest slang terms, in rubber-banded stacks next to rubber-banded stacks of notecards of terms that will be on their next exam. Logan has a way of explaining anything and everything in a way that is really understandable and never makes you feel dumb. Logan’s always top of the class.

And to make matters worse, they’re next-door-locker-neighbors this year, because Chloe-who-was-between-them-alphabetically moved away. Which means that Virgil cannot quite get away with admiring Logan from afar, the way he has since they were little. Which means that when school starts, on the first day when Logan asks him what homeroom he’s in this year, Virgil’s brain can only go ahhhhHHHHHH and the fact that oh my God Logan is tall now oh my GOD Logan has the locker next to mine now! makes him delay his answer because he’s just staring at Logan, and Logan looks at him a little oddly and then repeats his question as if he thinks Virgil didn’t hear him, and Virgil kind of wants to crawl into his locker to hide there forever thanks.

“Oh,” he manages. He closes his locker. “Um. I’m in Mr. Morales’ homeroom this year.”

Logan smiles at him. Logan SMILES AT HIM. And then he says, “I am, as well. Perhaps we’ll be seated next to each other in homeroom, in addition to being locker neighbors. I would enjoy that.”

He would ENJOY THAT!!!!!

Logan clears his throat and fiddles with his glasses, finally just pushing them a little further up his nose, even though they’re pretty high up on his nose already. “Would you like to walk together to Mr. Morales’ classroom? I was in his home economics class last year, I know where it is.”

“Um, sure,” Virgil says, voice cracking embarrassingly, and he considers opening his locker back up again so that he can hide there. He’s pretty skinny, he might be able to fit.

So they walk to Mr. Morales’ classroom. Logan’s the one talking, mostly; Virgil’s grateful for that, because he’d probably just be rambling nervously the whole time, and it’d be tempting fate to have his voice crack in front of Logan again. But now he can just listen to Logan’s various opinions about their summer reading for their English class, which is much safer. He sure has a lot of opinions about it, which makes Virgil sweat a little nervously—Logan sounds like he’s ready to sit down and write an essay about it, as if they’re going to have to, and Virgil’s pretty sure that if he sat down to take a multiple-choice quiz about that book right now he’d flunk it.

They end up not being assigned to sit next to each other. Mr. Morales says to just sit wherever, since they’re all going to go to an assembly once he takes attendance anyways, and that he probably won’t assign seats for the whole year.

And then Logan ends up sitting next to him anyways.

Like he really meant that he’d like to be next to Virgil in homeroom.

Mr. Morales smiles at them, and then, inexplicably, gives Logan a double thumbs up? And then Logan’s cheeks go kind of red? Logan turns his face away from Mr. Morales, turning to more fully face Virgil.

“You were in his class last year, right?” Virgil says.

“Erm, yeah. Yes. I was.” Logan clears his throat, turning away from him. “He supervises my study hall, too.” Then he mumbles, “also he’s my uncle.”

“He’s your uncle?” Virgil repeats. This is news to him.

“Through marriage,” Logan explains. “Mr. Regnant is my father’s brother.”

Mr. Regnant is the arts-and-music teacher, and, though they don’t talk about it very much (students do, but then, students always gossip), Mr. Morales’ husband.

Mr. Regnant is also, not that Virgil would ever tell him so, Virgil’s favorite teacher.

“Which dad?” Virgil says, because Logan’s two dads were basically his only version of real-life gay representation when they were really little. He knows Mr. Sanders better than Logan’s other dad.

Mr. Sanders always volunteered to be part of the PTA moms who supervised them during holiday parties and field trips, though, looking back, he doesn’t think the PTA moms liked him very much. The kids, on the other hand, loved Mr. Sanders, who would treat them like very short adults and once a year would bring in his mamba Eve for kids to pet and hold.

Logan’s other Dad had been the one who encouraged the kids to throw paints and roll around in the mud and tear things up. Logan’s other Dad had come to supervise one holiday party and was politely asked to never do so again.

“Not Pa—I mean, Janus,” Logan says, looking briefly embarrassed. “He’s Dad’s—Remus’—twin brother.”

Virgil makes an “ohhh” sound, because that makes sense. Now he’s thinking about it, Mr. Regnant and Logan’s dad really do look alike, if one looked past their contrasting senses of style.

“That’s cool, though,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “That you’re related, I mean. Mr. Morales is really nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Logan says. “It’s been a bit strange to adjust to calling him Mr. Morales instead of Uncle Patton, though.”

“Yeah, I guess it probably would be,” Virgil says.

The bell rings, and Mr. Morales ushers them off to the assembly.

Logan sits down next to him on the bleachers at the assembly, too. Their knees bump together as they listen to the principal welcome them back from summer vacation and give some announcements.

And Logan keeps sitting down next to him.

At lunch, in their two shared classes, in homeroom. He wishes Virgil a good morning and good afternoon every day at their locker. As the months of the school year slowly creep by, Virgil definitely does kind of feel like crawling into his locker, sometimes, but less and less so, because.

Because he and Logan are kind of friends now.

Logan asks him about his favorite hot beverage and then starts bringing him chai when he and his uncles stop by a café before school. Virgil sketches out drawings of astronauts and space when Logan goes on a loving tirade about it that lasts, on-and-off, for a week.

He still definitely has a crush on Logan. His increased presence near him is both a blessing and a curse.

They share earbuds and laugh at videos in homeroom, they sit quietly side-by-side and do their homework together in study hall. Virgil even tags along, sometimes, when Logan takes time out of his day to visit his uncles. His uncles always seem delighted whenever Virgil drops by, which Virgil guesses makes sense—Mr. Morales is just kind of Like That, and he’s been taking classes with Mr. Regnant since freshman year, and they’ve been sassing at each other for just about as long.

Logan makes those visits rare, though. He always seems a little self-conscious about how excited his uncles are during their visits, the way they elbow Logan and give him thumbs-ups and wiggle their eyebrows. Virgil doesn’t really get it—he thinks it’s nice that his uncles are so excited to see Logan with his friend.

But then his mom unexpectedly comes by and drops off his lunch and ruffles Virgil’s hair right in front of Logan, and Virgil spends the rest of the day going beet red even Logan assures him that it’s okay and he thinks it’s nice, something in his brain... clicks. A little bit. Even though it doesn’t make sense.

Does Logan...?

No, his brain tells him. There’s no way.

But Virgil keeps an eye out for the next week anyways.

On Monday, Logan’s uncles give him a ride to school and also drive him by the café, so Logan hands over a chai for Virgil. Virgil smiles and thanks him.

Have Logan’s ears always gone red whenever Virgil thanks him for bringing him tea?

On Tuesday, their fingers brush when Logan’s passing over a stack of notecards for Virgil to study for an upcoming exam during their study hall. Simultaneously, they look away from each other, redirecting their attention to their textbooks.

Have they always done that?

On Wednesday, Logan and Virgil swing by Mr. Morales’ classroom. After Virgil laughs at a somewhat sarcastic comment that Logan says, and redirects his attention to the sketch he’s been doing to turn in for approval for his end-of-semester art project, he peeks through his bangs to see Mr. Morales waving his hands eagerly, and Logan go red and gesture sharply for him to stop.

Has Mr. Morales always been so excited whenever he and Logan spend time in his classroom?

On Thursday, Logan seems chilled by the overenthusiastic air conditioning, so Virgil gives him a spare hoodie he had in his locker. Logan looks at him, looks away, and then proceeds to huddle in Virgil’s hoodie for the rest of the day, even after the school adjusts the temperature and it isn’t quite so cold.

By then, his brain saying no way! No way, you cannot afford to be wrong on this so you aren’t even going to try, there’s no way—

It’s after school on Thursday, and Virgil makes sure Logan has already gone home when he descends the stairs to Mr. Regnant’s art-and-music studio.

“Oh, Virgil, hey,” Mr. Regnant says, distracted, looking up from the sheet music he’s laying out across four desks. “Gimme a second, I’ve got the feedback for your sketch on my desk somewhere—”

Virgil looks to Mr. Regnant’s desk. He can’t even see the mug of pens on his desk that Virgil knows is there, it’s so buried in papers and models and paint palette piles. It’s like an avalanche waiting to happen.

“Uh, that’s not—you can give it to me tomorrow,” Virgil says awkwardly. “Um. That’s not why I’m here.”

Mr. Regnant blinks at him. “All right.”

“I,” he wipes his hands on his jeans and grimaces, not quite believing that he’s about to do this. “I need advice.”

Mr. Regnant pauses, before he manages to find an empty desk and sets down the sheet music. “Okay.”

“Before I say anything,” he says. “I need you to give me this advice as Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Regnant says. “Yeah, ‘course, Virgil. I’m always—”

“Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club, is a separate person from Mr. Regnant, Logan’s Uncle Roman,” Virgil interrupts, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “Right?”

Mr. Regnant opens his mouth. Closes it. He gestures for Virgil to sit on one of the choir risers, settling there himself, but Virgil sits on the floor. This is a time in which floor-sitting is necessary.

“He could be,” Mr. Regnant says eventually.

“Well I need him to be,” Virgil snaps. “Okay?”

Mr. Regnant presses his lips together and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little higher pitched. His lips twitch and he clears his throat. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you’re about to laugh at me,” Virgil says, horrified. “I knew this was a terrible idea, forget it—”

“No!” Mr. Regnant says hastily. “No I’m not, no I’m not. I swear I’m not. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is not about to laugh.”

“Is Mr. Regnant Logan’s uncle about to laugh?!”

“I thought they were different people,” Mr. Regnant sasses back, seemingly on instinct, and Virgil buries his face in his hands and screams a little bit. Just a little bit.

“Shi—shoot, I mean shoot!” He says, and tugs lightly at Virgil’s arm. Virgil peeks at Mr. Regnant from between his fingers.

Mr. Regnant’s face is very serious. There is no more sign of lip-twitching, throat-clearing, or mirth in his eyes.

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is here and listening,” he says. “Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any relatives to speak of. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any twin brothers or nephews. What on earth even are those? Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA would have no idea. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA doesn’t even have parents, or a husband, that’s how absolutely relative-less he is. Okay?”

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is an asshole,” Virgil mutters.

“Faculty supervisor of the GSA is starting to not sound like words anymore,” Mr. Regnant says, “also, you are so lucky school is technically over, otherwise I would have totally given you a detention for language.”

“You’re such a hypocrite, you literally just almost swore.”

“Almost,” Mr. Regnant says, “is not the same as did. Now. What can I do for you, Virgil?”

Virgil takes a deep breath in.

“What do you do if you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

Mr. Regnant’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but otherwise, he doesn’t react.

“You could talk to him?”

“Okay, maybe I should be more specific,” Virgil says, “What do you do if you have an anxiety disorder, and you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

“I know you’re not gonna like this,” Mr. Regnant says, “but my answer is still you could talk to him.”

He holds up a hand before Virgil can protest. “I know it can be scary, I know it can be anxiety-inducing. I know that can be a deterrent for a perfectly neurotypical person, let alone someone who’s got a diagnosed anxiety disorder. But, I mean. Your only options, as I see them, are, A, tell him, or B, sit quietly and wait for him to maybe make the first move.”

“But how can I be sure?” He says.

“Well, why do you think he likes you back?” Mr. Regnant says reasonably.

So Virgil tells him. Virgil tells him all about it—thinking he was cute since they were kids, then suddenly becoming friends this year: the chai, the sketches, the music listening, the blushing and the awkward chats, and how they’re friends now but Virgil still really likes him in a romantic way.

“Does that sound like he likes me back?” he asks anxiously.

Mr. Regnant bites his lip. “As the faculty supervisor of the GSA? I think it could definitely be likely.”

“Likely?” Virgil wails.

“Well, as the faculty supervisor of the GSA,” Mr. Regnant enunciates carefully, “I can’t be certain.”

“I can’t go and tell him based on if it’s just likely! I need to be sure he likes me back or else there’s a chance he says he doesn’t like me and then I’m going to have a heart attack and die!”

“Virgil! As the faculty supervisor of the GSA! I really think you should go for it!”

Mr. Regnant looks like he’s about to reach out and start shaking Virgil by the shoulders. His eyes are huge, the way he always looks at actors onstage who have forgotten their lines, like by just staring at them he’ll be able to psychically impart the script to them.

“Forget it,” Virgil groans and reaches for his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders and standing up. “I’m doomed to suffer in silence. Thanks, I guess, I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this.”

As Virgil is closing the classroom door behind him, he’s pretty sure he hears Mr. Regnant screeching.

Honestly, Virgil should be the one screeching. He can’t believe he just told him all that—who knows if Mr. Regnant will be able to keep the information of a crush concerning his nephew to himself?!

⁂

“Okay, here’s your mocha-with-extra-espresso, please don’t tell your Dads,” Uncle Patton says cheerfully, passing back a to-go cup to Logan. “And the chai! I think it’s very sweet that you keep getting this for him, kiddo.”

“Gestures are a good way to express affection,” Logan says anxiously, carefully setting the chai in a cupholder. “I’ve been trying to vary my approaches based off the five love languages. I’m not sure if it’s working.”

Uncle Roman in the passenger seat, his arm thrown over his eyes, makes a sound of great discontent, the way he’s been doing for the past week whenever Uncle Patton has tried to give him any advice concerning Virgil.

“Are you okay, Uncle Roman?” Logan asks again.

“Thinking about being the faculty supervisor to the GSA,” Uncle Roman moans, as if in pain.

“Is the club schedule about to be particularly busy?” Logan asks, frowning. “You typically enjoy your work with the GSA.”

“You could say that,” Uncle Roman says tightly, then groans again.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do personally, in order to relieve any undue stress,” Logan begins, but is cut off by Uncle Roman shrieking.

“Um,” Logan says, looking to Uncle Patton, who snorts, shaking his head.

“He just, um,” Uncle Patton says. “Well, I think something’s happened, except he told me he can’t tell me what it is without betraying someone’s trust, so.”

“I see,” Logan says, frowning, except for the part where he doesn’t see, really. But that happens fairly frequently with Papa and Dad. Honestly, it’s rather curious that Uncle Roman has not acted in a way that seems strange to outsiders. Dad does it all the time, and they’re twins.

Oh, well. He’s sure he’ll understand eventually.

“I’m fine,” Uncle Roman says, and he sniffs loudly. “I’m fine, it’s all—fine.”

Uncle Patton pats his hand sympathetically, before directing their car to school.

Logan sips his drink, before he says idly, “I think I’m going to tell him I’ve had a crush him today.”

Uncle Roman immediately spews coffee onto the windshield in an impressive spit-take. It is hilarious. Even though Uncle Roman is choking a little.

Uncle Patton meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, his eyes bright with excitement. “Really?!”

“Really,” Logan confirms. “I mean, it’s been—it’s been a couple months. We are friendly enough. I do not think that Virgil will discard our friendship if I confess that I have had a crush on him since last year.”

“Well!” Uncle Patton says, so flustered that he accidentally turns on the windshield wipers when he means to signal a turn, and then when he tries to fix that he turns on his hazard lights, before he manages to get the car under control again. “Well, that’s great, kiddo! I’m so excited for you!”

“You are the smartest kid I know,” Uncle Roman says, turning in his seat to face Logan, his expression near-worshipful. “I love you.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“I know you don’t believe in psychics, but are you—?”

“Why are you bringing up psychics?” Logan says, perplexed. “I figured—well, I’ll tell him. And it is time that the Halloween festival will begin this weekend. That seems like a date that Virgil would enjoy.”

“Right,” Uncle Roman says. “Okay. Well—go for it! Please go for it!”

“I have already told you I will,” he says.

“I think it’s gonna go great if you go for it!”

Strange. Uncle Roman is acting as if he has had too much caffeine. As far as Logan is aware, the beverage they have just stopped to get is his first coffee of the day, and he does not metabolize the effects of coffee that quickly.

“Right,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of his coffee. Then, “Right.”

Then, “What if he says he doesn’t like me back?”

Uncle Roman throws his arm across his eyes and makes that same groaning sound again.

Uncle Patton absentmindedly reaches over and bracingly rubs Uncle Roman’s thigh, again meeting Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Well, kiddo, if he says he doesn’t like you back,” he says, then frowns. “It’s understandable to be disappointed, or a little bit upset, but it’s important to accept his answer graciously and kindly. No means no. No is a full sentence. But Virgil seems like a very nice boy, I can’t imagine he’ll be very mean about it at all, and you two have gotten close over the past few months. It might be kind of awkward for a bit, but with a little work, your friendship will be able to survive it.”

“I suppose,” Logan says quietly, looking down at his lap.

“But,” Uncle Patton adds hastily, “I think the chances are really good for him saying yes to the date! We both do, don’t we, Roman?”

Uncle Roman lets out a very strangled “mm-hmm.”

Logan chews his lip, before he says timidly, “Can I borrow one of your phones to call my Dads?”

“Cupholder, just a bit in front of ya,” Patton says cheerfully. “You already know the password.”

Logan does. He swipes it in—his uncles’ wedding date—and presses on Papa’s contact number. Dad’s phone is lost more often than not, and almost always turns up in strange places, like inside the gateau he’d tried to make, or inside the neighbor’s rain gutters.

His father picks it up almost immediately.

“Patton, if this is about the adopt-a-thon, if I have told you once I have told you a thousand times—”

“Um, hi, Papa,” Logan says awkwardly; he does not want to get into the family squabble about sharing a pet between their households again. Eve is a sufficient pet, even if she’s not as cuddly as Uncle Patton might like.

His father’s voice transforms from chiding to concerned in a second. “Logan, is everything all right?”

“Yes, everyone is operating under adequate parameters,” Logan says. “Is Dad there?”

There’s the sound of something crashing in the background, as if on cue. Knowing Dad, it might have been.

“I’ll get him,” Papa says wearily.

He hears his Papa say Remus, our son is on the phone, please put down the—Uh, Jan, sexy-pie! I thought you were! On the way to work!—what the—REMUS, we’ve TALKED about this, how did you lay hands on a HERON—and then the conversation gets a good deal more muffled. He is pretty sure that Papa is shouting at Dad about capturing local wildlife again.

He waits patiently, before he hears the clatter of the phone being passed into someone’s hands, and Dad asks, “Did someone die?! Do you need help covering up a murder?!”

“Remus, please,” Papa groans, “the boy is too smart to implicate himself by opening the opportunity to be recorded over the phone lines.”

“That’s right, Logie-bear, the government is always watching,” Dad says solemnly. “Big brother, all hail. Also lean over and give my little brother a wet-willie for me, it’d be so funny—”

Logan, accustomed to conversations of this tone since birth, continues stolidly onward. “I’m going to tell Virgil I like him today.”

“Finally!” Dad hoots.

“That’s excellent, Logan,” Papa says placidly. “Please know that I am fully aware of the misogynistic roots of the what are your intentions discussion, and I’ve been doing research in order to make our version as feminist as possible. Also, your father has been warned to discuss minimal amounts of gore when he comes to our home.”

“What is the point of a shovel talk then!”

“We already agreed no shovel talk,” Papa says irritably. “When we threaten the boy, we’ll do it subtly.”

“Please don’t threaten him,” Logan says anxiously. “I don’t even know if he likes me back yet.”

“Of course he likes you back!” Dad says, outraged on his behalf. “Why the hell wouldn’t he like you back?!”

“How did you two know that you loved each other?” Logan asks. The question feels slightly childish, and he feels even more so when he curls up in his car seat, but he cannot deny the posture brings a certain level of comfort.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Papa says.

“I’m sixteen in a matter of weeks!”

Dad makes an absurd gagging noise, because he is ridiculously averse to the concept of Logan (and therefore, himself and Papa) aging. Logan thinks that it might have to do with a latent existential crisis, but he has not asked, because knowing Dad, he will spin it out into thirteen separate absurd reasons, and ten of them will make Logan cringe away, repulsed.

“Trust my judgment on this,” Papa says. “You do not want to know the origins of how our romance developed. However, when we actually had the discussion concerning feelings, your father—”

“I wrote him a beautiful letter in my best calligraphy,” Dad says proudly, then, “You probably don’t want to hear about the ink, do you?”

“Is it disgusting?” Logan asks warily.

“Quite, but,” then, in a voice that literally every other person wouldn’t realize is Papa’s version of profound sappiness, “that’s your father.”

There is the sound of kissing. Logan resists the urge to make a gagging noise of his own, because somehow, he is the mature one in the entire family.

“As it is, just,” Papa says, then sighs. “I cannot believe I am about to give such... Pattonish advice. But. As it is, just be yourself. If this boy likes you back—”

“—as he should, and if he doesn’t he’s in desperate need of a lobotomy,” Dad mutters.

“—then he will like you for you, just the way you are,” Papa says, as if Dad had not said anything remotely worrying. “Tap into your strengths, Logan. You are intelligent, and observant, and thoughtful—”

“—and the best son there is—”

“Well, that goes without saying, clearly,” Papa says. “As long as your confession comes from you, then there is no way that it can go wrong. You are simply too excellent a person for it not to.”

“Even if it turns out he doesn’t like me?” Logan says timidly.

“If it does, then have your uncle forge an excuse note for you to get out of school early today and we’ll plot accordingly,” Papa says evasively. “But I do not think that outcome likely.”

Logan chews his lip. Papa is the best liar he knows, but—

But hearing his encouragement is too comforting to really analyze if he is lying.

“Thanks, Dads.”

“Knock him dead, kid!” Dad shouts. “And if he doesn’t then I will!”

“What did we just say about discussing potential evidence over the phone lines,” Papa scolds, and Logan hangs up, smiling.

Just be yourself.

Uncle Pattonish advice it may be, it has given him an idea.

⁂

Waiting over this past week to see if Mr. Regnant will crack and spill to Mr. Morales, or even worse, Logan himself, has been absolutely agonizing and Virgil’s kicking himself over going to Mr. Regnant for advice surrounding Logan at all.

That morning, though, Mr. Morales is at his desk, and a chai is waiting for Virgil at their usual spot, but Logan is nowhere to be seen. Virgil tries his hardest not to act too much like he’s keeping an eye out for Logan, but he is pretty sure he’s not succeeding, because Mr. Morales is smiling at him way too wide.

He actually seems really excited about something. Like, Mr. Morales usually gets excited when it’s fresh chocolate chip cookie day at lunch, but this is beyond the pale for fresh chocolate chip cookie day. Maybe the assembly they have today is something special? Except Virgil’s pretty sure it’s to pass out honors for the last quarter and talk about fall sports. That’s nothing particularly special.

Logan slides into his seat just before the bell rings, though, wrapping a rubber band around one of his notecard stacks. It’s a thin stack, it must be for something that’s just started; usually Logan compiles every unit of every class into thick stacks, able to be differentiated by the different colors of the notecards. These are just basic white ones.

He fiddles with it, darting looks to Virgil as Patton takes attendance, and, as they’re all filing out of the door, Logan holds out the stack of notecards.

“Here,” he blurts out.

Virgil blinks. “I don’t think we have a test soon?”

“They’re not for a test,” Logan says. “Just—take them. Read them during assembly. Please,” he adds belatedly.

“Uh,” Virgil says and takes them. “Okay?”

“Okay!” Logan says and nods. “Okay. Okay. Great! Um—please take your time to consider them carefully, and I await your response,” and then he practically runs off to fall into line near Mr. Regnant.

So that’s... weird.

But Virgil sticks the notecards into his hoodie pocket, anyways, ready to read them during assembly like Logan directed.

He waits until the principal is droning on about the importance of school spirit to take the notecards out of his pocket.

He spares a glance for Logan—who is several rows ahead, near the faculty, sitting next to Mr. Morales and Mr. Regnant, Mr. Morales occasionally reaching over to rub Logan’s shoulder bracingly—and then angles the notecards so that a teacher looking into the crowd wouldn’t really be able to see them.

He stares at the title on the top notecard. Blinks hard. Blinks again. Looks down at Logan’s back, then back to the notecard.

Reasons why I have a crush on Virgil.

He reaches over to pinch himself. Nope. Not dreaming, then.

And Logan really doesn’t seem like the type of person to make a joke like this.

He flips the cards and reads them slowly, savoring each and every word written in Logan’s blocky, neat script.

He is exceptionally witty.

He is knowledgeable about a great many things, such as music, art, spiders, novels, and mental health issues.

He is sarcastic.

He is thoughtful and deliberate in the formation of his opinions, even ones as small as the proper preparation of chai.

He is very handsome.

He is never rude without reason, and when he is rude, it is usually because the other person is “an asshole” and should be receiving backlash.

He is a remarkably talented artist.

Virgil keeps reading on, he is, he is, he is...

When he gets to the end—I would like to take you on a date. I would also like to be boyfriends, though I understand if you would like to table that conversation until we have established a rapport. Please let me know if you would be amenable to that suggestion.—he feels kind of dizzy. His throat is tight, his heart is pounding, and his hands are so sweaty he’s had to wipe them off on his jeans twice already.

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would think of him so highly?

It’s like he’s describing someone entirely different—awkward, anxious Virgil couldn’t possibly be the snarky, witty, caring, deep-thinking guy that Logan’s writing about. There’s just no way. But, Virgil thinks, heart twisting, but Logan doesn’t lie about things like this. Is this the way Logan sees him?

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would have a crush on him at all?

He likes Virgil. He wants to take Virgil on a date. He wants Virgil to be his boyfriend.

There’s the rumbling of everyone standing up from the bleachers, and Virgil jumps—has it really been the entire assembly?—and hastily gets to his feet, so he won’t get swept up in the crowd of students returning to their classrooms.

As he’s heading for the door, Logan practically materializes in front of him, hugging his books tightly to his chest.

“Did you read them?” He asks fretfully. Now that Virgil’s close to him, face-to-face, he isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Logan so nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s seen Logan nervous at all. Logan’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, drumming his fingers on his books, holding the books like they’re a teddy bear.

“Do you,” Virgil says, his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “You really like me?”

“Since last year,” Logan admits.

“I’ve liked you since kindergarten,” Virgil blurts out.

Logan blinks at him, jaw dropping. Then he says, “Really?!”

“Really,” Virgil promises. “My mom has this journal entry saved where I kept writing about how I was going to be Mr. Virgil Sanders, oh my God, she’s going to be so embarrassing about this—”

Logan snorts, ducking his head. “You’ve withstood my uncles handily.”

“Your uncles are cool, though,” Virgil says, confused.

“My uncles are embarrassing,” Logan says, “and my Dads are going to be so weird, I’m very sorry in advance, but—but if you can handle all of that, then I’d—I’d really like to take you out to the Halloween festival. I’d really really like that.”

Virgil’s smiling so wide that it hurts his face. “I’d really really like that too.”

And then the bell rings, and the pair of them jump at the sudden loud noise.

“I—we have to go to class,” Logan says, sounding very put out.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, then, “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Logan beams at him. “Lunch sounds wonderful.”

Virgil hesitates, before he reaches out and places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He leans in and presses his lips to Logan’s cheek.

Logan’s bright red when he pulls away.

“Lunch?” Virgil confirms.

“Lunch,” Logan squeaks out, his voice cracking.

They emerge from under the bleachers, and have to split ways. Even when Mr. Regnant pulls him out into the hall under the guise of talking about his project and starts whisper-shouting about “do you know how HARD IT WAS to keep QUIET when i KNEW all along that you both LIKED each other bacK,” even when Mr. Morales ducks his head into his math class to pass over papers and gives Virgil some super-obvious thumbs up, even after he texts his Mom and his mom sends him screenfuls of exclamation points and immediately asks him to invite Logan over so that she can show Logan all of Virgil’s baby pictures—

Virgil cannot stop smiling.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 5 years ago

Text

Meeting for the first time. (Day one)

A/N: Okay so I'm going to try to do this. I am going to make a tag list so if you want to be tagged please let me know. Btw most of them are going to be one shots but I may continue some of them like this one. Also, I'm sorry for the rushed ending and the formatting, my computer decided to hate me today so I'm doing this from my phone I'll fix it tomorrow.

@biodad-bruce-month

Masterlist

Meeting Part one

"Marinette, sweetheart, you are adopted."

Adopted

When her parents told her they had something important to talk to her she figured it was about school or worst-case scenario, they found out about her extracurricular activities as a super heroine.

No, instead they told Marinette that her whole life had been a lie.

They sat her down and explained that she had been adopted when she was nine months old. They tripped over themselves trying to reassure her that they loved her as their own and tried to defend the reason why they never told her.

Marinette didn't know what to think. Things like this were only supposed to happen in movies. Not become her reality.

Marinette felt so confused as she tried to process it all. None of it made sense. Tom and Sabine were her biological parents. They… they had to be.

But, the truth was slowly sinking in.

Marinette had never truly understood the expression "ignorance is bliss" until that moment. Somehow not knowing the truth felt like a better option than the alternative.

"But, why now?" Marinette asked hesitantly. "If you weren't planning to ever tell me, then why do it now?"

She really hoped she was wrong, but in movies that was when they tell her that one of her bio parents died. Usually, said parent was royalty meaning that she would be next in line for the throne. Oh gosh, would she have to move to a strange country and rule it?

Oh wait, she was apparently born in America. And as far as Marinette knew, America didn't have a monarch.

She snapped out of her thoughts in time to see Tom and Sabine share a look. Finally, Sabine spoke up "Do you remember the scholarship honey?"

She did.

Marinette had been given a one in a lifetime opportunity to study in a prestigious art school in the outskirts of Paris and was offered a scholarship that covered half of the tuition.

Unfortunately, the Dupain-cheng's didn't have enough money to cover the other half. While the bakery was fairly popular, all of their savings had dried up the month prior when the delivery truck broke down, and they were forced to buy a new one.

Because of this, Marinette had to turn down the scholarship.

Marinette's stomach dropped as she realized that her parents... or well Tom and Sabine had been struggling financially, even without the scholarship, because of her, with the knowledge of being adopted she couldn't help but feel like an unnecessary burden to them.

Seeing her daughter's crestfallen expression, Sabine rushed to Marinette's side giving her a small hug before saying. "Sweetie, we love you okay? And it broke our hearts when you had to turn down that amazing opportunity, so we tried to contact your biological father hoping he would be able to help us." She explained.

"We never heard back from him." Tom chimed in "but we thought it would be better to let you know in case we do later on."

Marinette nodded. That… made sense, and it was far better than what Marinette had immediately assumed.

Still, all the information was too overwhelming. Marinette needed to talk to the kwamis, they would help her understand the situation better.

"I- I need to go." Marinette stood up and sprinted up the stairs, towards her room. Ignoring her parents who called after her.

She ran up to her bed and landed face first in it. All the kwamis flew out from their hiding spots and gathered around her.

Tikki nuzzled her cheek. "Oh Marinette, I'm so sorry."

Marinette let out a small humorless chuckle. "So, you heard huh?"

"Sure did, bug." Plagg said, floating close to her face. "Personally, I think we should find that father of yours and… you know… bless him with a not so great day."

This time Marinette actually laughed. "I think you meant curse and no, we are not going to do that." Plagg rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, Marinette felt tired. She could continue talking with the kwamis later. She needed to sleep, yeah"I think I'm going to sleep for a bit," she informed them

Tikki nodded. "Sweet dreams Marinette." The rest of the kwamis echoed this as Marinette drifted off to sleep.

~♡~♡~♡~

Plagg grinned as he turned on the computer.

Tikki flew up to him. "What are you doing?" She asked, scandalized.

"We are going to google Pigtails' biological father," he explained.

Tikki groaned, "you don't even know how to use a computer! And there's no 'we' if you want to do something that's your problem!"

Plagg smirked devilishly "Sugar Cube, we are literal gods. We can do this! Don't you want to know who he is."

Tikki begrudgingly agreed, she even helped him open the browser. "Okay so type in 'Bruce Wayne'"she instructed. "And then press that weird looking key that says enter alright?"

Plagg complied. The two kwamis turned to look at the results.

Both kwamis gaped at the screen. Plagg whispered."Well, if this is the same guy but if so-"

"Then Marinette is the daughter of a billionaire." Tikki cut in, examining the picture. "Plagg, I think this is him."

"It's the eyes isn't it?" Tikki nodded. "Yeah, well that would mean that a freaking billionaire ignored the pleas of the adoptive parents of his biological daughter!" Plagg exclaimed, growing angry.

"Well maybe he didn't believe them?" Tikki tried to reason.

Plagg suddenly growled at the screen."Look! He has like as many kids as he has money!"

Tikki frowned, "Then why would he abandon his daughter?"

"Because he's a jerk! And I thought my kid's dad was bad!" Plagg glared at the picture causing Tikki to giggle. "What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you so worked up over something that isn't cheese." She teased.

Plagg huffed, "well, your Bug gives me cheese, but if she's sad then she forgets. So it's really in my best interest to make sure Pigtails isn't upset."

Tikki laughed. "Yeah, yeah I totally believe you." She said sarcastically. "Anyways, do you think Marinette realizes her father is famous? "

Plagg snorted. "Are you kidding? If she knew she would still be freaking out." Tikki hummed in agreement. "Well, I think that now that we know who he is it's time to do what Pigtails would not let me do." Plagg concluded.

"Wait, what? No!" Tikki exclaimed.

"Ooo can I help with that?" A new voice asked. The kwamis turned to see Kaalki looking at them with a mischievous grin.

"Sure thing!" Plagg said just as Tikki was saying "No!"

The two ignored the spotted kwamii and began plotting how they were going to make sure Bruce Wayne would have the most unfortunate luck for at least a couple of days.

~♡~♡~♡~

It had not been a very good day for Bruce.

The DNA test had finally arrived, and he found out that he did, in fact, have another biological child. Unfortunately, Tim found the test and his efforts of trying to keep it a secret had been in vain because then most of his children interrogated him about their newfound sibling. Even Jason was there which was surprising.

Thankfully, they were wise enough not to tell Damian, because otherwise Marinette Dupain-cheng would have been in grave danger.

Dick, along with the rest, insisted that they needed to meet Marinette. So with the help of Tim, they arranged a trip to Paris for the next day. Meaning that Bruce had less than 12 hours to find Marinette and talk to her before that happened.

So as soon as all of his kids left, he asked Alfred to arrange an early flight.

Which is how he found himself in front of Collège Françoise Dupont, the high school his daughter attended.

In the rush, he had forgotten to call beforehand, so he called Alfred and asked him to inform Marinette's parents of his arrival.

Bruce still wanted to talk to Marinette before Dick or someone else inevitably found out that he had left. So he got out of the car and walked inside, only to be greeted by a very flustered looking principal.

It wasn't until she called him "Mister Wayne" that Marinette realized who he was.

"Mister Wayne! It's uh, an honor to meet you!" The man exclaimed nervously while shakily extending his hand. "I received your call and I informed Marinette's homeroom teacher of your arrival. They- they should be in my office right now."

Bruce thanked him. On the way to the office Mr. Damocles told him "What an excellent student" Marinette was. He insisted that Marinette was one of the best students in his school. It made Bruce suspicious of the way that principal treated the rest of his students.

Finally, they arrived at the office. Marinette sat in a chair looking rather confused as her teacher stood next to her wearing a tight smile.

Mrs. Bustier introduced herself in a similar manner as Mr. Damocles.

It wasn't until she called him "Mister Wayne" that Marinette realized who he was.

Her face paled as she let out a small gasp. "You- you are my father."

In retrospect, he probably should have introduced himself to her first.

#marinette dupain cheng #maribat #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc #bio!dad bruce wayne #bio!dad au #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #my trash writing

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someonehidethetequila · 3 years ago

Note

Ok I apologize in advance but I just have to say it. My brain has assigned you to having Dwayne Johnson’s voice (courtesy of your profile pic I’m sure) so anytime I read your comments/tags or see you on my TL I read it in his voice whether I want to or not. It’s both a blessing and a curse because on one hand having my art being praised by “the Rock” is oddly comforting??

On the other hand, seeing Alberto squash discourse on the TL and only being able to read it in the the Rock’s voice is just a whole new level of fuckery I did not see coming when I joined this fandom. Anyways happy new year!

Oh man. Do not apologize for this. The way I had to calm my breathing down after reading this because I was laughing too hard. Was this the goal I had when I chose my profile pic? Maybe subconsciously. I was going to change it awhile back but someone else made the same comment to me and the idea of Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson being a diehard Luberto shipper was too funny and I kept it. And my whole goal these past couple of months has been to be the most blurssed version of myself so glad to know it’s working and it’s providing you comfort because your art is gorgeous and you deserve to imagine a former pro wrestler turned actor/successful businessman losing their mind over it.

Yeah, who knew back in June that The Rock would be throwing his two cents in about a gay Italian fish’s unconventional attraction to squash. But here we are… wonder where we’ll be a month from now. Maybe I’ll start discourse on whether or not sea folk shit out sand like parrotfish (is the rest of the fandom ready talk about how these MFers go to the bathroom? I am, and I have so many questions.)

Thanks for the funny comment and Happy New Year to you too!

#asks #tequila talks about nonsense #blurssed is now and hopefully forever will be the essence of this blog #unless I get too mad about not getting to curse anymore #thanks tumbl for nothing #the American urge to say f*** in every other sentence is too strong #my patience is being tested.

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waezi2 · 4 years ago

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Re-reading Yu-Gi-Oh (part 1)

So... I bitch a lot about Yu-Gi-Oh. When I don’t complain about it online and accuse it of scamming kid me, I ridicule the story and the many holes in the game rules.

But I actually used to love this manga with a burning passion. I bought it because I was fixated with the cards, but instead I got traumatized. In an awesome way.

So I decided to re-read the manga about the possibly best known TCG game in the world and see how it started, how it evolved, and if the story still holds up.

So, I’m reading chapter 1, and we have to talk about the art.

The art style at the beginning was chunky and sometimes downright awkward. But it was still very enjoyable. The characters were very expressive and the tone of the style could swing quickly from wacky and rubberhose like to eerie and brooding depending on the situation. It makes you forgive odd-looking legs and hands that becomes massive. It is clear that it is someone’s first project.

So, this is Yugi. Possibly the cutest and meekest punk kid who ever lived. Yugi is not an outdoor person, so he spends most of his recesses inside the classroom. He brings a ton of games to school, hoping that someone might wanna play with him, but all of his classmates prefer to go outside and do stuff like basketball. And being a short teenager who practically looks like a little boy means he is not a desirable team mate in any ball game.

This is totally just a theory, but I think Yugi’s signature punk hairstyle is his way of trying to look a bit more edgy to try do something about his cute appearance.

... Yeah, it’s not working. He still looks like a fricking Gummibear.

As Yugi is minding his own business, we meet two familiar faces.

... their names are actually Jounouchi and and Honda, but most people know them by their American names, so I will just refer to them as Joey and Tristan.

It’s so odd to see their old designs. Especially Joey since his hair is not as big and square like as it is today. And what the fuck is up with Tristan’s face?!

Anyways, while Yugi decides to play with the most valuable game in his collection, Joey and Tristan decides to mess with him. They make an interesting bully duo where Tristan is more loud and is clearly having more fun bothering Yugi who is too short to put up a fight while Joey seems more stoic and is almost annoyed by Yugi for being a pushover. He even tells Yugi to be a man about it and at least try and take the game back from him by force. So while Tristian just enjoys picking on Yugi for the heck of it, Joey seems to sincerely dislike Yugi.

Luckily, Yugi doesn’t have trouble with bullies as such since he is friends with Tea who is so tough that she actually intimidate Joey and Tristan with sheer attitude. That’s actually impressive.

... A shame she is most of the time just the damsel in distress.

Tea is the only person in class who hangs out with Yugi since they have been friends since kindergarten. And she doesn’t mind staying inside at all since a ton of the guys are jerks who only wanna play basketball with the girls since it gives them an opportunity to look up their skirts.

Yeah, there is a lot of that in this manga. Most of the males in this series are kinda horny. the humor often relies on it, which downright creepy at times.

Even Yugi finds basketball more appealing now that he knows about the skirt-looking.

Lewd panty-shot aside, I think it is a nice detail that Yugi is as pathetic as the rest of the dudes in school, he probably just doesn’t have the courage to try get a look. It makes him less of a pure hero.

Altight, let’s stop talking about Yugi being a closet creep:/

Yugi shows Tea what his greatest treasure is: A LITTERAL treasure.

Yep, this is the famous Millennium Puzzle, practically the mascot of the series. It’s an ancient puzzle found in an pyramid that Yugi got from his grandfather who runs a game store. The puzzle is extremely valuable, both because it is from ancient Egypt and it is made of gold.

... And Yugi brings it to school where Tristan and Joey pushes him around...

Yugi has been struggling with the puzzle for eight years despite being a game nerd. Even though it is a blow to his not that big ego, he keeps trying to solve it since the box says that if he will be granted a wish if he manage to solve the puzzle.

Meanwhile, Joey and Tristan makes the fatal mistake of talking about picking on Yugi while Ushio is close enough to hear it. He is the school’s hall monitor and rumor has it that he is downright psychotic and is feared by most of the students. Heck, some of the teachers are uncomfortable being near him.

And this guy has decided to become Yugi’s bodyguard, something poor Yugi doesn’t take serious when Ushio tells him that.

Joey and Tristan are unaware how screwed they are as they keep having their fun bothering Yugi without our hero knowing it. Joey managed to steal a piece from the puzzle box before Tea interrupted, and Joey decides to throw the piece in the school’s swimming pool so that the puzzle becomes worthless as it can no longer be solved. I gotta say, that is pretty twisted and surprisingly sneaky of a teen bully. It’s downright creepy.

Speaking of creepy...

This is Yugi’s grandfather Sugoroku. He runs the game shop that Yugi lives in and is a living encyclopedia when it comes to games of all sorts.

And he can’t just tell Tea that she has grown. He HAS to mention her breasts as well. Da fuck is up with all the sex talk and panty shots in this series?! Does Kazuki Takahashi(the author) have some sort of issues?!

Yugi’s grandfather notices that Yugi is STILL trying to solve the ancient puzzle and warns Yugi that the puzzle is supposedly cursed. That the archeologist and his team died mysteriously shortly after finding the puzzle and the last one to kick the bucket said something about a “shadow game” with his dying breath.

That however makes Yugi even more determent to solve the puzzle. If it really is magical then chances are that he will be granted a wish by completing the puzzle.

Personally, I would call the nearest museum and sell the dang thing before it could kill me with it’s insane cursed magic.

Speaking of insane, Yugi realizes that he should have taken Ushio serious when he said he would be his bodyguard.

Yep, the SOB has dragged Joey and Tristan behind the school building and kicked their asses through and through. Tristan is in so much pain that he is barely conscious and Joey is so pummeled that all he can do is watch as Yugi shows how surprisingly brave he is as he demands that Ushio leaves them alone, even refer to them as his friends and that they were just trying to make him a man.

Yeah, picking on someone because they are too timid and demanding that they fight you despite knowing that they hat violence is the right way to make someone a man. Hip hooray for toxic masculinity!

Yugi defending Joey and Tristan results in him getting a beating as well.

One of the interesting things about early Yu-Gi-Oh is the raw and ugly violence. We talking dirty violence where people get kneed in the chest and kicked while they lie down. Not just off-screen, we witness our heroes be pummeled, making the series a bit more gritty and frightening. And this series is not for those with a weak stomach.

Joey is stunned, partly because Yugi defends him, but way more of the short spiky-haired kid’s courage. But Yugi is anything but afraid. After all, he refused to fight Joey, but he still tried to get the puzzle back(not successfully, but he made an effort instead of just squirming).

After Ushio finished kicking poor Yugi’s ass, he tells him to bring him money as “payment” for his “bodyguard service.” And we talking 200000 yen, that’s a lot of dough.

Ushio even pulls a god damn knife(!), just to show how fucking crazy he is!

Yugi goes home to see if he has money enough to pay Ushio, but he only has 1656 yen. In frustration, Yugi decides to solve his unsolvable puzzle, just to think of something else than the brute with a knife who is waiting for him at school.

But what do you know? Yugi finally get the hang of it. He sees that some of the pieces just needs to be rotated differently and he finish it in a couple of minutes.

... Or he WOULD have. He finally sees that one of the pieces are missing, breaking his heart and making his awful day even worse.

But Grandpa has the last piece. He tells Yugi that one of his friends from school had found it and asked him to give it to Yugi. And that he was soaked despite it not raining.

As Yugi is happy about being able to finish the puzzle and returns to his room, his grandpa thinks about that the boy was Joey and that he asked him not to tell Yugi it was him that came with the puzzle piece. Joey also told him about Ushio blackmailing Yugi, so Grandpa secretly puts money in Yugi’s schoolbag so he won’t get in trouble.

And this is where it get’s freaky.

Yep, here it is. the iconic moment Yugi gets blessed by the puzzle so that he can turn into the split personality we refer to as Yami which is Japanese for “Dark”.

Yugi then calls Ushio and tells him to meet him outside school at midnight.

Ushio is surprised as he sees that Yugi is wearing some sort of costume and that he looks way more cocky than before.

Yugi tells Ushio that he has the money he demands, but he has twice the amount. Fricking 400000 yen!

But Yugi only “owes” 200000 to Ushio, so he suggest that they play about them in a dark and twisted game.

Yugi and Ushio take turns stabbing the stack of money placed on their hand. They have to stab hard enough to take more than one single bill. The winner is the guy with most yen bills.

As they play, Ushio seems to be winning... but when it is his turn, he can feel that his hand is way too eager to stab.

This is not just a weird-ass game. This is a “shadow game”, a game that shows your true nature. Ushio’s greed is now collected in his hand, and he so desperately want to win the game that he can’t control it. He realizes that if he stabs, he won’t be able to control his strength and he will penetrate his own hand. Ushio has to either A) give up and keep his hand or B) win the game with one hand less.

Ushio picks C.

Ushio tries to kill Yugi, but that was a mistake. The puzzle has made him super human and he leaps from the ground, evading the knife.

And cheating in a shadow game is a big no-go as the host of the game has authority to punish you.

Yami Yugi curses Ushio with “Illusion of Greed”, meaning he will be doomed to live in an imaginary world where he sees nothing but money everywhere.

Next morning, he is still outside the schoolyard like a drooling idiot who yells about all of his imaginary money.

Yugi has no memory of what happened but is glad he no longer has to be worried of Ushio who is a harmless nutcase. Not only that, he has finally finished his puzzle... and Joey offers him his friendship.

And that was the start of the horror manga turned card game commercial. It has a lot of charm, is very eerie and I think I prefer Yami Yugi’s first look that is more child like. making him look downright creepy.

This retrospective will continue ASAP.

Till then, I’m Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

#Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh #yugi moto #joey wheeler #katsuya jonouchi #honda hitomi #anzu mazaki #tea gardner #tristan taylor #yami yugi #atem #manga

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shadowsfascination · 4 years ago

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Shadamy Swordland | Ch 1 | The Hayloft

In reference to this post Sorry if it’s a little long!I might add a second chapter to this. I got carried away and alrady wrote the draft, aaah! ^^

The Chaos energy that we know from the canon is seen here as a source of magical powers. One can master spells and learn the sacred arts to perform them. Special thanks to @shadamyheadcanons for writing all these beautiful headcanons. You may not know, but your writings are a huge inspiration to me and brighten up my day (: I’m not even sure whether I write well, but here goes, lol! ___________________________________________

There’s a hidden entrance to the hayloft above the stables-building where Shadow used withdraw himself after a day of training his students or intense swordfights. It’s accessed by a ladder, stuffed away in a dark corner of the stables-building. One must know about it’s existence to use it or one will not even find it. To keep it like this, Shadow told no one about it, so he’d be left alone, even if he has a pleasant home to go to. His house was located near the central square on the academy and therefore way too noisy for him. Shadow liked the quiet so he could think. He was sensitive to incentives, which could be a blessing and a curse all at once. In addition to the crowdy location of his home, there’d also be the many, many encounters he’d have with young female students who always ‘happened’ to run into him on his way home that he’d rather go without. Notorious for being an excellent swordsman and a noble too, there’d always be female students trying to catch his eye. When both not intending to engage in nor interested in any romantic affair, he’d also feel extremely awkward not knowing how to let them down easily. He had a reputation of being blunt and did not want to add to it. Especially after he’d been called to the board to explain why there had been gossips around the academy about a romantic involvement with one of his students, Amy Rose.

He made clear to the board there was no such thing going on between them and offendedly told them that their presupposition was to be unheard of. He was her superior, she was his trainee. It was unthinkable that he’d become romantically involved with her. Even more so because he was a noble and she was not. No, Shadow had no interest in romance whatsoever. His work as a trainer and duty as a knight was too important to him and he did not let anything distract him from that. And so he returned to his hayloft, alone. Or so it seemed…

A cloaked Amy Rose snuck out of the trainees’ dorm in the middle of the night, remaining in the shadows of the academy buildings. When unable to avoid stepping into the range of the torchlights on the streets, she used her special skill to briefly turn invisible and disappeared into the shadows again. No one would catch a glimpse of her. She’d been doing it for about two months now and became more skilled in the art of hiding, blending into the background and admitted to herself that she even enjoyed sneaking around. Checking for the last time to see if the coast was clear, she placed her boots on the spurts of the ladder and carefully climbed up. Once she made it to the stables-building, she was safe. No one would come around at this hour and it was far away from the dorm. And that meant she didn’t have to be quiet anymore. A wave of excitement rushed through her as she stepped further, peaking around one of the wooden support-beams. Her trainer and now secret lover was napping in the hay, a twig of wheat between his lips, armor and sword removed. Even without any of it he was still extremely handsome.

“You’re here.” “Hey you!” Amy felt caught. She kept forgetting how well developed his senses were. A heat gushed to her cheeks. “Did no one see you?” “No. Surprisingly, there wasn’t anyone out there tonight.” Amy stepped in on him, out of the small, faint light that managed to beam into the loft. “Lucky you.” “I am. I get to spend time with you.” She seductively winked at him. “We see each other almost every day. I would say we already spend a lot of time together.” “Yes, but almost never can I do this…” Amy bent over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Shadow then grasped her wrists and pulled her into him to passionately return her gesture and playfully pulled her over into the stack of hay he laid in. Twigs of straw flew up around them and the old, wooden floors creaked at her landing, slightly startling the horses in the stables beneath them. Cloak and rapier were taken off to be placed near his sword and amor. Besides her room at the dorm and the bathing facility, this was the only place where she’d put her sword away. Even when their district wasn’t engaged in a war currently, there were lots of obscure figures around with bad intentions and she should be able to handle them herself at all times. But not here. She was safe around him and could even pretend to be a damsel in destress if she wanted. She properly sat next to him, being handed a handmade clay cup with fresh water, which was all he could provide her up here. It was unevenly round and was a steal from the dorm-kitchen.

“Sadly you cannot. I was called to the board a few days ago.” “What? Why?” “They asked me to explain the apparently present gossips about us being romantically involved. I believe they bought my story, seeing how the apologized for the improper assumption after my offended reaction.” “There’s gossips about us? That’s bad! I cannot imagine who would have caught onto us. We’ve been really careful.” Amy chewed her lip and drew a sorrowfully face, staring at her reflection in the cup.

“Beats me.” “So, what did you tell them?” “I might have raised my voice and angrily scolded them for daring to accuse me of such foul, improper behaviour, you know?” Shadow said with a neutral expression. Amy heaved a sigh. “Plagues, Shadow! You really said that? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course that’s what you said!” “What are you being so dramatic for? It is in fact one of the very few assets that comes with the title of being a noble.” “You’re hopeless. Others will despise you for this kind of behaviour.” “What business do I have with others? Besides, they’re already not very fond of me. I’m an outsider and always will be. Anyway, we have got to be extra cautious from now on. They let me off with a warning, but this is serious.” “Serious, how?” “If they have the slightest proof that something is in fact going on, I’ll be suspended from training students and you’ll…” A long pause followed while Shadow looked away from her.

“You’ll be refrained from participating in battles, not allowing you to advance in your training or education. Worst case scenario might be that you’ll even be transferred to another academy.” “Aaargh! That’s so unfair!”

Amy intensified the grip on the cup enough to cause a crack in the enamel and angrily muttered about the ways she could scold the board for being this unreasonable. If it weren’t the middle of the night her somewhat impulsive, hot-headed nature might’ve gotten the best of her, storming off to the board to give them a piece of her mind. That was if they’d even let them see her. It wasn’t her place, coming from a lower-rank family. She furiously hated the hierarchy in the world and let out a curse. Shadow then grabbed her face and accidentally squeezed her muzzle a little too hard. Interrupting her many wrath-driven ideas to change the board’s vision, she was now forced to look at him. “I’m telling you now: you are NOT to mingle in this! I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?!” Amy broke away from his grip, bewildered and offended by his statement. “Yes, I forbid it. One of the benefits of being both your trainer and your lover. You’ll only make things look more suspicious.” An angry frown appeared on her face. “It’s not okay that they have that much power! I hate it! It shouldn’t matter! It doesn’t matter how big the gap between us is! I don’t understand how you’re not upset about this?!” “Fire and torments, Amy!” Shadow yelled at her. “Just get over it! Both our futures are at stake here! You have great potential to become a fine swordswomen and I’m not just saying that because you’re my trainee.” “So, our career-perspective is all that matters to you?” A sudden cold gushed through his body and Shadow’s face grew pale, leaving his hands to tremble and fists clenched. “How dare you say that to me?!” He whirled around, pushed her down and bent over her. The heart that had eagerly anticipated being with him tonight was now afraid of him for the first time in her life. It cramped inside her chest in fear, but that feeling faded to be replaced with a mixture of compassion and sadness when she caught his gaze. “BLAST, women! You’re the only person I choose to hang out with voluntarily. THE ONLY ONE!” A crack in his voice ended his scream. Startled by his outburst and her own false accusations, mean even in a way, Amy fell quiet. He wasn’t angry. He was afraid! Afraid to lose her. Shadow turned his face away from her, swallowed and bitterly stated: “If that’s what you think of me, you’d better take lea-“ Amy leaned in on Shadow, pulling him into her and silenced his doubts with a passionate, yet tender kiss. The hands that were clenched together as fists just a moment ago, opened up and slid under her back to lift her in his arms, holding her closer to his body. Her heartrate changed into a different pace, still rapid, but now driven by the intimate connection between them. She broke away from their kiss, eyes tearing up. “I don’t! At all!” He nodded at her once, closing the remaining distance between them again before she could entirely finished her sentence. He not only locked lips with her once more, but lifted her muzzle with his index-finger to force her gaze upon his. Amy then clasped her hands onto his back, slightly losing touch with reality with every touch. She ran her fingers through his quills in ways that made him shiver, returning his hasty, impatient ways of loving her. Shadow’s lips found their way to the soft lines that formed her jaw, then her neck and softly, heatedly blew in her ear, sending a hot rush through her veins. Abruptly he sat up. “Shadow, wha-“ He silenced her at once. His ears then twitched. Did he hear something? She held her breath. Suddenly the least of background sounds were highly present and she couldn’t differentiate them anymore. Luckily, as a feature of the ultimate lifeform, he was more than qualified to. When he breathed out at last, she followed his lead. “False alarm. I thought I heard something there for a minute.” Already leaning in to pick up where they left, Shadow was stopped by Amy. “Hey…I’m really sorry about before…” “Just promise me that you’ll stay out of it.” “I’ll bear with it.” “It’s only until you graduate. Now, can we please drop the subject?”

“Sure thing, my lord.”

She stuck out her tongue, knowing he hated to be called that and gave him a playful push, but was suddenly startled by the sound of a crack coming from the ladder. “Someone’s here!” She whispered with eyes wide open. She panicked, grasped in the direction of her belt to find that her sword still laid on the haystack and rushed over to get it. Being followed by Shadow, who also gathered his armor and sword and pulled her close to him. She looked at him in confusion. “Trust me, I have a trick up my sleeve: Chaos Control.” Having arrived at his house by teleportation caused by what Amy guessed was a high level sacred art spell, she heavily breathed out the tension in her body.

“That was amazing! How did you…What kind of spell was that?!”

“Plagues, Amy! Your cloak!”

“No, no, no!” she called out in despair, but regained hope when Shadow pointed out this was an excellent occasion for her to use her special skill.

He warped them back to the stables and hid somewhere, waiting for her to come back with the cloak.

Amy turned invisible and entered the spurts of the ladder as quiet as possible.

She quickly scanned the loft for the stranger. Her vision became more blurry when using her special skill, which was one of the downsides of it.

She was in luck: there was no one around. The other must have left.

There it was!

She swiftly footed her way to the piece of clothing, grabbed it and turned around to leave.

In the blink of an eye Amy regained visibility when a hand cupped her mouth from behind.

Amy let out a muffled cry.

The free hand of the stranger pushed her arms behind her back and fumbled the cloth around them.

“Surprise!”

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arya-skywalker · 4 years ago

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Pleasant Surprises (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Secret Santa fic for the amazing @nightashes ! Hope you enjoy

Prompts used:

- Familial (brotherly) anxceit, analogical

- Fantasy, (emotional) h/c

- Hugs, firelight, new beginnings

- “I think I understand now”

- “I’m here for you” (slightly different phrasing but same idea)

Read on AO3

Summary: Virgil risks a journey home to the dark forest to reconnect with brother Janus— and invite him to a potential wedding.

~*~

“I need to tell him,” Virgil said, curled up by the fire.

“Hm?” Logan looked up from his book. “Tell who, what, exactly? I’m afraid I’m not quite following.”

Virgil grimaced. “My brother. About....” He gestured vaguely. “Us? Me not being dead?”

“Ah.” Logan closed his book. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No.” Virgil quickly shook his head. “No. I need to go alone. Besides, it’s not safe for you there.”

Logan folded his hands on his lap. “You left for a reason. Are you quite certain you want to go back?”

“I was scared, Lo. But now... I know what to expect. I’m ready.”

“Very well. Contact me if you need assistance.” Logan stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a small handheld mirror. “Say my name into this mirror, and we will be able to communicate through it.”

Virgil looked at the mirror warily. “And if I break it?”

Logan sighed. “It will still work on a shard of the mirror, but please be careful.”

“Always am.” Virgil smiled wanly as he took the mirror, cautiously placing it in his satchel.

Logan kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand gently. “Come home soon, please.”

Virgil took his hand and stood. “That’s the goal. I’ll miss you.” He stretched and took a deep breath. “Well, see you later, I guess.”

“Farewell and good luck.”

Virgil forced a smile and waved, then quickly packed his things before heading out the door— not giving himself the chance to back out.

~*~

Virgil tugged his cloak close against the chill. This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Five years. Five years apart.

Maybe Janus wouldn’t even want to see him. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even here.

No. Too late to turn back.

Eerie whispers echoed in the mists and shadows lurked behind skeletal trees, but Virgil ignored them. That was normal here. As was the eternal night. Perfectly normal.

Here lived the monsters of the realm. The forsaken. The lost and abandoned. The only advantage was that they never hurt one of their own.

Virgil stopped in front of the door built into the cliffside and knocked. Snakes, spiders, and tentacles were carved around the doorframe, but there were no windows— only narrow slats to let air and light inside. Easier to defend without having to worry about glass.

It felt like eternity before the door opened. “Well, this is unexpected,” Janus drawled, his scales gleaming in the dim light.

“Hey, Jan... umm... can I come in?” Virgil rubbed his arm, not quite meeting his brother’s gaze.

“Depends on what brought you here.”

“I just wanna talk.” Virgil bit his lip. “And... apologize?”

“Go on, then. Say what you came to say.” Janus leaned against the doorframe.

Virgil took a deep breath. “I think I understand now,” he said slowly.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh do you now? What do you understand?”

“Why you did what you did. Why we lived how we did. Why we were always hiding, never leaving the forest. How the world really works— well, not as much that, but more than I knew—“

“Did someone hurt you?” Janus cut him off, taking a step closer, concern in his eyes.

Virgil winced. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is you don’t need to do that anymore. We can help you.”

Janus’s brow knitted. “We?” he echoed.

“I... uh... met some nice people. Like, really nice. I think you’d like them, if you give them a chance.” Virgil picked at a loose thread at the edge of his cloak.

Janus gave him a look, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in. Would you like some tea?”

Virgil sighed in relief and walked through the doorway. It was just as he had left it— fur blankets piled around cushions and chairs, rickety table, a large fireplace with snakes around the mantle. “Sure. Something herbal?”

“Chamomile?” Janus suggested, filling a pot with water and placing it over the hearth.

“Whatever, sure.” Virgil warmed himself by the fire, then grabbed a blanket and took a seat on a nearby cushion.

Janus laughed softly. “Still prefer the floor to a chair, hm?”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s convenient. And warmer,” he said.

“Mm. Indeed it is,” Janus said. “Honey in your tea, yes?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

A moment later, Janus set a cup of tea on the floor next to Virgil and sat down a few feet away. “Careful. It’s hot,” he said. Which was obvious due to the steam.

Virgil wrapped his hands around the teacup anyway, breathing in the aroma. “So... umm... what’s up with you?” He winced. “I mean, like, what have you been up to? How have you been?”

Janus chuckled softly. “More of the same. Hunting. Strengthening the wards.” He gestured vaguely.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil muttered.

“I am far more interested about you, spiderling. Care to talk about your grand adventures?” Janus arched an eyebrow.

Virgil snorted. “I wouldn’t call them that. But uh... I guess.” He took a sip of his tea once it had cooled down enough. “Well... I headed roughly northeast from here. Traveled with the spider-people for a bit. But as we approached the border, some elves attacked. When they heard me speak, they stopped and demanded I bow before the prince.“ He smiled sideways. “Did you know we even had a prince out here?”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. “A prince in this forest? No, preposterous.”

“Anyway, Princey insisted on ‘rescuing’ me and ‘breaking the curse’.” Virgil gestured to his face, where dark spiderwebs still patterned his skin. “So he whisked me away to ‘civilization’.”

“Oh the horror,” Janus said, his lips quirking into a half-smile.

Virgil blushed slightly. “It was... overwhelming. So many people in one place. All so loud! And the buildings— they make walls out of wood, can you imagine? And the top out of grass! They wouldn’t last a second out here.”

Janus hummed in agreement, but remained silent, sipping at his tea.

“And... well... I don’t think the people liked me very much,” Virgil admitted, looking into the fire. “When they saw my face, they shied away. Some threw fruit and stuff, but the prince quickly put a stop to that.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “They hurt you?” He asked in a low voice.

Virgil bit his lip. “It’s fine. It didn’t really hurt, just made a mess. And like I said, some people were nice.”

“Hmph. People do not think kindly of our people. Hence why it is safer to remain within the forest.”

“I know, I know.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “Anyway.... a little while later I met the prince’s advisor, a half-elf mage. He’s so handsome and smart and gentle and kind and—“ He stopped, blushing slightly. “His name is Logan and he offered to let me stay with him. He helped me learn how to control my powers.”

Janus arched an eyebrow. “You like this advisor, don’t you?”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I... yeah. We understand each other,” he said quietly.

Janus was silent for a moment, then reached over and put his hand on Virgil’s arm. “If he makes you happy, then stay with him.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

Janus blinked. “Come again?“

Virgil took out the mirror. “This is an enchanted mirror. We can communicate through it. If you want to.”

Janus touched the scaled side of his face. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”

Virgil smiled sadly. “You’re my brother. Of course he wants to meet you. And he didn’t hate my markings, so you should be fine.”

“Mm.” Janus sighed, then flicked his wrist, making his cowl float over and wrap around his face, hiding as much of his scales as he could. “Very well.”

Virgil took a deep breath and held the mirror so they were both in view. “Logan? Can we talk please?”

A moment later, the surface of the mirror fogged up, then cleared to show Logan’s face. “Virgil? Is everything alright? Can you see and hear me?”

Virgil nodded, holding Janus hand. “Yeah, we’re good. This is my brother.”

Janus cleared his throat. “Yes, Virgil is my brother,” he said. A moment later, he added, “You may call me Dee.”

“Oh. Hello, then. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Logan,” he said, blinking a few times.

Virgil shot Janus a look. “Logan is a friend. We can trust Logan,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“You may trust him. That does not mean I do,” Janus countered, then flashed a smile at the enchanted mirror. “Virgil has told me so much about you.”

“I hope he has said that which he so urgently wanted to tell you,” Logan replied.

Virgil groaned. “Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you said ‘that which you so urgently wanted to tell me’?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Lo and I... we... uh.... we were thinking about... maybe... getting married?” Gods, words were hard.

“Virgil is correct. We have discussed the possibility,” Logan said.

Janus’s reptilian eye twitched. “You leave for five years, and return with a potential spouse,” he said slowly.

Virgil bit his lip and nodded. “Potential. We haven’t decided for sure, cuz weddings are expensive pageantry and shit, but...” He took a deep breath. “If we do get married, I want you to be there. I want you to lead me down the aisle.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, glancing between them both. “This is quite a lot to take in,” he said, steepling his hands like the dramatic shit he was.

“Oh for fucks sake! I’m asking for your blessing!” Virgil blurted, then groaned and flipped up the hood of his cloak.

“If it will make you happy, then by all means...” Janus said. “However, I will need to know more about this potential spouse of yours.”

“I am an open book. Ask your questions,” Logan said.

Virgil blinked. “You... you’re not mad?”

“Mm. I wouldn’t call it mad, no.” Janus sipped at his tea. “Now, Logan, tell me about yourself.”

“I am the royal advisor to Prince Roman and Prince Remus. I am skilled in the mystical arts,” Logan said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that. Tell me more about yourself. Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, whatever. Why should I let you marry my little brother, hm?”

Logan blinked. “Well... I enjoy learning whatever I can. I have known Virgil for just over four years now. I would never hurt him, and truly wish him the best.”

Virgil tugged his cloak closer. “I’m right here,” he muttered. “And you don’t need to interrogate him.”

Janus inclined his head. “I believe I have enough information for the time being, although of course I would love to meet you in person. Virgil, you wanted me to leave the forest, did you not?”

Virgil blushed slightly. “Uh, yeah. I can take you to them. If you’re serious about coming with me. And as long as the forest will survive without you.”

Janus waved an arm dismissively. “Of course, of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you both. Farewell and safe travels,” Logan said. The surface of the mirror shimmered and his image faded.

Virgil exhaled slowly. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“Virgil?” Janus asked softly. “This will make you happy, yes?”

Virgil rubbed his face and nodded quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Really. I’m uh... bad with words, but yeah.”

“Would you like a hug? Or is this a no-touch-time?” Janus asked, spreading his arms.

Virgil half-fell into the embrace, holding on tightly. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm. I know. I missed you, too, spiderling,” Janus murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am glad you are safe.”

Virgil took a few deep breaths, letting himself relax. Safe. He was safe. He was home.

“And I will always be here for you. No matter how long we are apart. No matter what happens,” Janus said softly. “You didn’t really think I’d be mad at you for leaving, did you? I was simply worried.”

Virgil grimaced. “Worse case scenario shit. I’m good at that, remember?”

“Mm. But this is not a worse case scenario. Things are going well for the time being. Enjoy it.”

“While it lasts,” Virgil said with a half-smile.

Janus chuckled. “Indeed. Cherish every moment.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #aryaskywalker writes #secret santa fic #tss fanwork collective #fantasy au #analogical #brotherly anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #mage logan

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 years ago

Text

The Worry

Warnings: The next two chapters will deal with pregnancy, societal pressure around pregnancy, and concerns around pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Also cursing; canon-typical violence Notes: Angsty and fluffy Summary: You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong.

It’s been a question since before you and Borracho even get married: So when are you two having kids? You just laugh it off when his sisters ask, and his mom, and Gabriel, that one time. When you were dating it was only once in a while - usually when you turned down the offer of a beer because you’d agreed to be the designated driver between the two of you for that night. Nadia or Megan or Isobel would sidle up to you and pat your stomach and waggle their eyebrows, and you’d just laugh and knock their hands away and screech, “I’m driving!” But now that you’re married… Well, it’s almost constant. And it’s not just from his family. You know that the guys have a pool going about whether or not you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year. The website that you guys used to register for wedding gifts is popping into your inbox every other week to set up your baby shower registry.

And you and Borracho have talked about the kids thing before, a few times since the weekend that you looked after Lissie. Thing is, you haven’t talked about it in a while, but you know that Borracho’s thinking about it. He hasn’t been smoking - he’s been using nicotine patches and chewing gum like a fiend. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs and mutters something about, “having to kick the habit some time”. He’s a little moody about it, sure, but you had been very clear when the two of you spoke that you didn’t want cigarette smoke about your child - “Besides,” You’d murmured when you’d talked about it, “It’s not good for you, Benny. And I want you around for a long time.” That fact that he’s doing that sort of signals a ‘soon?’ to you, but you don’t talk about it. You’re not sure you want to. Talking about it would make it real, and making it real might freak you out, and you really, really want to bask in your honeymoon phase for a little while longer. His family is still pretty pushy about it. When you get handed a kid at any family function, or you help of your own volition, you inevitably hear something somewhere behind you about, “practice,” and “it’ll be different when she has her own”. And you know that it’s because they’re excited for you and Borracho, but it’s starting to wear. There’s one day when you’re cleaning popsicle off of Lissie’s chin, and you hear Nadia coo about you looking like a little mother. And you’re so, so tempted to ask if she’d rather you just let her child make a mess. You’re not being a mother, you’re just trying to help. If Borracho were doing this, would he look like a little father to them? But instead you give her a tight smile and turn back to Lissie, and let the baby’s garbled speech make you smile for real. -- That night, you wait until Borracho has fallen asleep before you get up and do a little research. And a little research brings on a lot of worry. -- You still don’t talk about it. The talking will make it feel real. You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong. But the thing is you and Borracho have technically been trying since you got married. You’re not on the pill, you’re both clean, so you haven’t been using condoms. You’ve been tracking your cycle, you know your ovulation window, and while you did think, once after you came back from your honeymoon that you two might be-- Well, your period was just a couple of days late, so it didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t mention it to him. You read an article that tells you that 80% of couples conceive after 6 months of trying; the same article tells you that 90% conceive after a year of trying. You and Borracho have been trying for 8 months and-- nothing. So maybe there’s something wrong? Some irregularity with your ovulation cycle - or maybe he could have a low sperm count, you don’t think he’s ever gotten that checked out. All of this is in your head. It’s not on your mind, it’s just hanging out in the background. Occasionally it drifts to the forefront and you wave it back to its place, along with the worries that if, somehow, you ever managed to have a child, you’d be an awful mother and the kid would hate you. -- Borracho, bless him, waits. He doesn’t ask right away. Whatever it is that’s wrong, he can tell you’re not ready to talk about, and he’s got the feeling that the conversation will make him want a cigarette, anyway, so maybe it’s for the best that he lets you come to him with it. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s actually kind of an ordeal. The guys have been working an art theft case for the last three months and you’ve been so consumed by it that you haven’t even had time to worry about whether or not you can get pregnant because the two of you have been so busy that you’ve hardly had time to have sex. After a particularly hard night, Borracho broke down and bummed a cigarette off of Connors, and you didn’t begrudge him that one. You’d just sat outside of the bar with him and rubbed your hand between his shoulder blades. “I’ll be back on the patches and gum tomorrow,” He’d sworn to you, and you’d just told him that it was alright, and that you loved him, and that you knew that this was hard for him. He’d flicked the cigarette butt away and practically pulled you into his lap, kissing your neck and murmuring that he wanted to marry you all over again. And then Nick had come out and threatened to arrest the both of you for public indecency. But you and Borracho spend most of your first anniversary getting ready for a sting. Nick’s managed to rope you into field work again (much to Borracho’s chagrin). You’re posing as a buyer, and meeting up with the man that had stolen the painting from the Kohn Gallery. None of the guys can do it - this dealer’s been busted by them before, he’ll recognize them right off. You’re the only one whose face he doesn’t know. When you show at the station, the guys let out little mutters; Connors gets out half of a wolf-whistle before Nick punches him in the shoulder. You arch a brow. You’re not sure what it is - the suit you’ve opted to wear, the pointed-toe heels, or the wig. This one isn’t pink, of course - it’s similar to your hair, but it has a loose, styled wave to it. “Why don’t you ever come to the office like this?” Henderson teases, even as Borracho stares him down. “You all never get dressed up for me, why the fuck would I get dressed up for you?” You retort. “She’s got a point. We’re rollin’ out in ten,” Nick adds. Borracho stands from his desk and walks over to yours, watching you reach under the wig to put in your earpiece. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” He asks. “It’ll be fine,” You glance at him. He purses his lips, and you reach out, cupping his chin, then teasing your nails through the goatee there. “Come on, this isn’t my first field op.” “We won’t be in there with you,” Borracho reminds you, though he sounds like he’s much more hung up on that fact than you are. “I know, but you’ll be nearby,” You say, “And the second I confirm the painting is the one you guys have been looking for, you’ll grab the guy and we’ll be set.” Borracho doesn’t look so convinced, but you lean up and peck his lips and murmur, “Relax, Benny.” And you expect hoots and hollers to go up from the guys, but you hear nothing. They’re giving you two this moment. They know what today is; they know how worried Borracho is. And the guys can be dicks sometimes, but you love them. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s kind of an ordeal. You wind up sitting on the back of an ambulance because a bullet grazed your right arm - not deep enough to do real damage or hit anything serious, but bad enough to need stitches. Borracho is leaning against the ambulance, jaw clenched as he stares down at your pointed-toe heels. You’ve tried to engage him, and you’ve tried to get him to look at you, but he just won’t. When you’re leaving, you expect him to bum a cigarette off of Connors, but he doesn’t. Instead you drive home in silence, his hand territorial on your thigh, like the art dealer is in the backseat, like the bullet is hovering near your shoulder, but neither will be able to touch you as long as he is. He waits until you two are in your apartment to draw you into his arms and hold you tight against his chest. You go willingly, and you cuddle against him and hide your wince in his neck as your arm twinges when you take hold of him in turn. Some part of you is tempted to joke, to murmur, “Happy anniversary?”, but you consider how mad you’d be if he did that to you just now, and instead you murmur, “It’s just a scratch.” And maybe that’s not the best thing to have said, either, because his grip tightens on you, and he mumbles, “Scratches don’t need stitches, sweetness.” -- That night, he’s gentle with you, the way you were with him the first time the two of you were together after he’d been shot. He takes his time undressing with you, pushes your hands away from your clothes when you reach to remove them yourself. When you tease and ask him if he wants you to keep the wig on, he shakes his head and covers your body with his, and he nuzzles against your jaw and murmurs, “You,” sweet and desperate, “I just want you.” -- It’s a hiccup. A bump in the road. A reminder that what you two do is dangerous, that anything can happen. Time passes. The wound heals. The worry comes back. -- You wake up with cramps one morning. You go into the bathroom - you confirm it is what you think it is. You tiptoe around your bedroom, pull on sweatpants and head into the kitchen to make coffee. It’s been a year and a half now, and you are worried. Borracho never did say that kids are a deal breaker, but what if they are? What if he’s changed his mind? What if you change your mind? Your vision is blurring with tears as you pour water into the coffeemaker. You can hear Borracho shuffling around in your bedroom, and you let yourself sniffle before you scrub at your eyes. You set your hands on the counter, taking a few steadying breaths as you hear Borracho come out of the bedroom. You hear him pause before he cuddles up behind you, his big, rough, warm hands settling comfortingly on your hips. He presses a kiss to the back of your head, then to the side, then brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. “What’s going on, sweetness?” He murmurs. You should’ve known better; the man knows you better than anyone, you can’t hide from him, not well. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to go this long without saying anything to him. You lean back against his chest and mumble, “I got my period.” It takes him a few moments, but he nods a little, turning and pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay.” “What if-- Benny what if I can’t-- And we can’t--...” Your eyes are welling up with tears again; your voice is wavering, and your throat feels tight with worry. He slides his arms around your waist, soothingly rocking the two of you side to side. “We’ll figure it out, sweetness,” He soothes, “We can talk to a doctor, we can look into adoption-- Anything you want.” “What’ll your family say?” “Hey,” Borracho turns you to face him. He lifts one hand to your chin and tips your head up to look at him. “This isn’t their marriage, this isn’t their decision. It’s ours. We make this choice, you and me.” He reaches up and smooths away a tear when it escapes you. “And if that choice is no kids, then that’s our choice, sweetness.” You can’t stop the tears now; you surge up and bury your face in Borracho’s shoulder and curl into him and mumble that you wanna marry him all over again. -- Your second anniversary is sting-operation and bullet-graze free. The traditional second anniversary gift is cotton. The box you give Borracho contains a cotton shirt that says ‘I’m Going to Be a Daddy!’, and your (cleaned) positive pregnancy test. (You’ve got a matching shirt that says ‘You Can Stop Asking When We’re Having a Baby Now’.)

#The Pool #The Worry #Pregnancy CW #Pregnancy conversations #Concerns around pregnancy #Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/You #benny borracho/reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader

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