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blooming-violets · 3 years

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I write for The Amazing Spider-Man. This is a 20+ blog.

I’m in my 30′s. I don’t want to be interacting with teens. Thank you.

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General Advice to Follow:

🕸Observe the trigger warnings -

I enjoy writing dark!themes in some of my fics. It’s important you read the warnings. I am not responsible for your content consumption on the internet. I do my part by adding appropriate warnings at the beginning of every fic that needs them and the rest is up to you.

If you notice that there is something in particular that I’m not tagging as a warning, feel free to send me a message and let me know. If it’s reasonable, I’ll do my best to correct that in the future.

Creature Like Me (Current Fic)

Status: In progress

Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

POV: Third Person || OC

Good Girl (Current Fic)

Status: In progress

Summary: It’s just an innocent crush on an attractive TA. There’s nothing to worry about it. Everything is fine. Don’t be silly, you would never hurt him. You love him. That’s all. It’s fine. Promise…

POV: Second Person || Reader

Pinky Promise

Status: Completed || Ten Chapters

Summary: The fate of the one she loves most is put into the hands of a masked stranger, forever entwining their lives.

POV: Second Person || OC

Imminent

Status: Completed || Three Chapters

Summary: Every time you close your eyes to sleep, you’re tormented by visions of future deaths. Sometimes it’s of people close to you and sometimes it’s of strangers. Yet, each time, you know it’s inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop death from finding their victims. But when a beautiful, sad, brown eyed man keeps pushing his way into your visions, you can’t help but try.

POV: Second Person || Reader

Smitten

Status: Completed || Six Chapters

Summary: (AU) Serial Killer!Peter Parker takes an unhealthy interest in the woman next door. He believes she’s the key to solving his obsessive need to murder. The only logical explanation is to kidnap her and keep her prisoner in his basement until she returns his undying love.

POV: Third Person || Peter and OC

Forever Isn’t Long Enough

Status: Completed || Four Chapters

Summary: (AU) Vampire!Peter has waited countless years for his soulmate to return to him. Now that she’s finally here, things aren’t as easy as he hoped.

POV: Third Person || OC

Something Unforgivable

Status: Completed || Three Chapters

Summary: Peter’s love language is touch. When he’s gone too long without it, he tries to seek out love in places he shouldn’t.

POV: Third Person || Peter

Smut:

Peter’s Angel

Peter decided he must take his friend’s virginity one evening.

(virgin reader, possessive Peter)

Alley Cat

Peter refuses to wait until they get home to have her. The dirty alleyway is the perfect place for his perversions.

(dom/sub, outdoors)

The Ruler and The Killer

A female assassin finds a home in Peter. When he disappears one night, she receives a series of disturbing pictures and videos of his capture. It’s up to her to get him back.

(graphic language, serious torture, blood, murder, forced sexual encounters, submissive!Peter)

Peter and a Cam Girl

You become Spider-Man’s favorite online cam girl.

(online mistress, submissive Peter)

Swimming Pool

Peter surprises Reader in the pool during a late night swim.

(dub!con, swimming pool)

Enraptured

(AU) A forest nymph captures Peter’s heart.

(slight breeding kink, forest/outdoors)

The Dishes

Peter fucks while you try to do the dishes. That’s it. That’s the plot.

(”daddy” used in a sexual manner)

Doing So Well

Tutor Peter does a bad job as helping you study.

(innocent reader prompt)

Not So Innocent

Alcohol, roof top parties, and your favorite lab partner.

(innocent reader prompt)

The To-Do List

Bent over a table while Peter’s birthday cake cooks in the oven.

(smut location prompt)

The Exhibit

Against a hotel window overlooking a busy street.

(smut location prompt)

Angst:

Five Minutes

Peter receives a voice message that his girlfriend has been kidnapped. Things get out of control and a serious accident occurs.

(angsty, peter x reader)

Dancing On My Own

A look into how Peter and your friendship develops over the years from first grade to college.

(unrequited love, reader comes from abusive household, peter x reader)

Dancing On Her Own

Sequel to Dancing On My Own, Peter’s POV

(big time angst)

Happy Birthday

Peter missed his girlfriend’s birthday. She has yet to learn of his secret identity. It might be time to tell her.

(first fight, peter x reader)

Only Hope

Peter’s girlfriend knows he’s making a mistake by letting her go. Neither of them want this but he’s scared. When she’s continuously ignored, she takes matters into her own hand.

(alcohol use, gang activity, peter x reader)

Nicest Thing

Reader tends to her best friend after he suffers the loss of Gwen. She hides her own feelings in sacrifice of his.

(depression, anger issues, peter x reader)

Hurt/Comfort:

The Darkest Days

The traumatic death of a close friend leads you into the protective arms of Spider-Man.

(No romance. No Peter Parker. Just a little snippet of the things Spider-Man might experience while playing the hero.)

Here For You

Peter helps comfort his girlfriend while she receives a difficult medical diagnosis.

(brain tumor diagnosis, hospital and mri, mentions of vomit, panic attack, peter x reader)

I’m With You

Peter falls for the jaded girl he trips over in the library. Then has to save her from her stalker.

(SA is briefly shown, stalking)

I’m Not Alive

Peter is haunted by the memory of Gwen late one night.

(angst, nightmares, ptsd, a short Peter and Gwen drabble)

Without Them

Reader loses her siblings in a fire. The only reason she survived is because of Peter.

(angst, sibbing death, survivors guilt)

Talk Forever

Peter could listen to you talk forever about your favorite tv show.

(fluff)

Don’t

Peter’s grief and guilt push him too far during a fight.

(angst, heavy fighting bordering on abuse from Peter, Reader takes a stand against his behavior)

Genetics

Peter’s Spidey tingle is able to sense a special power from their unborn child growing inside his wife’s womb.

(fluff, pregnancy)

Are You Real?

Touch starved reader in a long term relationship with Peter finds an unexpected visitor in her room one night.

(mild angst, sweet ending)

Skateboards and Photography

Peter teaches Reader to skate much to her distaste.

(fluff, flirty friends to lovers)

Fluff!Alphabet

The fluff alphabet for Peter

Smut!Alphabet

The smut alphabet for Peter

(18+ obviously)

Peter as a Father

Headcanons about Daddy Peter as his children grow throughout the years

Peter’s Sex Life

Headcanons about what Peter would be like as a sexual partner

Friends to Lovers

Headcanons on Peter x Reader friend’s to lovers

Reader Almost Dying

How Peter (After NWH) would react to Reader experience a near death experience.

Trick-Or-Treat

Peter makes a pit stop at Aunt May’s before Trick-Or-Treating with his twins.

(fluff)

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Dancing with Peter to help improve his terrible mood

(fluff)

The Piggy-Back

Peter complains about having to walk a few blocks to a party. You decide to attempt to carry him as a way to shut him up.

(fluff)

Grey Hair and Massages

Giving preschool teacher Peter a massage and finding his grey’s

(tooth rotting fluff)

Six/Forty

Soft kisses that grow more passionate by each second / Kisses that start out passionate but grows more delicate

Eight

Running fingers through your lover's hair

Fifteen

Messy kisses, destroying furniture, trying to reach the bed

18+

Thirty Three

Soft kisses while cuddling in bed

Fifty Nine

Kissing your lover’s wounds after having bandaged them up

Forty Four

A goodbye kiss except neither can let go

Seventy Five

Standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can’t reach your lover’s lips

Seventy Eight/Seventy Nine/Eighty

Kissing during an argument

18+

Eighty One

Kisses in which, ''we just broke up, but let's kiss one last time”

Eighty Two

Whispering “I love you” in between kisses

Drabble Moodboard Fics:

No One Can Hurt You Now

Harry kidnaps Peter’s pregnant wife

Guess I’m Going Alone

Peter’s off days from being Spidey

Echo Your Name

Bookshop romances

And In The Morning, I’ll Be With You

Slow peaceful mornings

Nothing’s Out To Get You

Freckles, sunshine, and finding love again

We All Have A Face

Angsty relationship miscommunications

Fall In Love With Me

Coffee shop and thunder storms

Back To Basics

Virgin!Peter x Older!Fem Woman, 18+ smut

Random Pintrest Moodboard:

The one with friend’s to lovers

The one where Peter has a crush

The one where Peter is depressed

The one with bathtubs and lazy weekends

The one with the dance party

The one at the cabin in the woods

The one with the high school bullying au

The one where Peter is oblivious to your feelings

The one where you and Peter share a joint on the roof

The one where Peter can’t keep his hands off you

The one where cocky, blonde, au Peter is a beach daddy

The one where Peter meets a runaway

Caring For Reader’s Wounds After A Fight

Aftermath of a home invasion while Peter is out.

(sexual assault, blood, trauma response)

Touch Starved

Touch starved Peter befriends his neighbor/crush.

(mugging, ptsd from Gwen)

Look At Me

Peter finds you in the aftermath of a deadly bank robbery.

(this fic involves a bank robbery where a shooting takes place. Multiple casualties, death, and blood mentioned)

Car Accident

Reader gets into a near deadly car accident.

(Car accident injuries, blood, mention of death, coma)

[Part Two] [Part Three]

Bring Your Kids to Work Day

“Dragging yourself along the ground” prompt

When an unexpected fire breaks out in your office, it’s up to you to try and rescue two young children.

(depictions of fire, burns, and smoke inhalation, description of a dead body and an injury of a child)

Phone Sex

Peter has impromptu phone sex in a rather public place.

TW: masturbating in a public place, corruption kink, innocence kink, our couple here likes to play around with the school girl fantasy of professor/student rp, a lot of pet names for reader (like baby girl, princess, good girl, little girl, sweetheart, etc), and names for Peter (like sir and Mr. Parker)

Fight to be on Top

After overhearing a group of guys at a party speak crudely about you, Peter takes you home to prove that he’s always the one to come out on top.

TW: very light, brief choking in this

Cheating With Peter

You may be married but Peter and his games are your true love.

TW: a bit on the dub-con side but I promise they’re really both consenting adults who like the thrill of the game, rough sex, cat and mouse style

Blind, Bound, and Beautiful

(blindfolds prompt) Late night, alone in the office, leaves opportunities for all sorts of frisky business to occur.

TW: non-consensual role play scenario between two consenting adults, knife play (though no blood involved, more so used as a scare tactic/teasing of the skin), light bondage of arms, slapping/biting/choking/Peter generally being rough with his partner, in the work place after hours, overly possessive Peter for the sake of the rp, degrading kink mixing with some praise

In The Dark

(face sitting/overstim prompt) Peter tends to his partner having a bad mental health day. He decides she needs someone to take control for a little while.

TW: soft!dom Peter, oral, anal, mentions of depression

Mirror, Mirror

(picked trope: mirror sex) Peter x Black Cat. Felicia lures Peter to her hide out in the hopes of receiving his attention.

TW: a rough face fucking occurs

Under the Silver Lake:

🕸The Goddess

Sam relocates after the events of UtSL and stumbles into the life of a new, captivating woman with an enticing profession. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

(18+ smut fic)

Under the Banner of Heaven:

🕸Saints and Sinners

Jeb falls prey to his darkest temptations while working a case.

(18+ smut fic)

Stranger Things:

🕸Eddie Munson Fluff Alphabet

The Last of Us:

🕸An Eye For An Eye

Joel is forced to watch his partner get killed.

(Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

#masterlist #the amazing spiderman #tasm #spiderman #spiderman fic #tasm fic #tasm!peter

1K notes · View notes

caffedrine · 2 years

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Rio Ortiz Dramatic Chapter 23 Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

*One day after Rio left for Benitoite, before Emma escaped the mansion*

Rio’s self-proclaimed best friend, a young, muscular man, meets with Rio in an alley. He assures Rio that the right rumors are spreading. Rio thanks him and notes that with everyone spreading the rumor, even Jingles can’t ignore it. He reminds the young man that while they do ultimately want to capture Jingles, rescuing Emma is their first priority.

Rio has figured out that Silvio is staying at a Benitoite merchant’s home. Silvio is reliant on his reputation to maintain his accommodations, so when he inevitably appears to do damage control against the rumors, Rio can figure out the direction the merchant’s home is in, and rescue Emma.

The young, muscular man leaves to gather more information, but not before clapping Rio companionably on the back. It’s strong enough to make Rio cough uncomfortably, and the young man leaves.

Meanwhile, a servant in the Rhodolite court livery appears out of the shadows. He immediately apologizes and bows his head to Rio. Rio tells him to apologize to Emma instead, though he notes that Emma would probably forgive the servant anyways.

The servant was told that Silvio wanted to meet with Emma for a business proposition, not to kidnap her. Rio can understand, it’s ordinarily unthinkable that a foreign prince famous for his business dealings would outright kidnap some random noblewoman. Rio tells the servant to no longer consider Silvio a foreign guest, instead, he is little more than a common thief. The servant notes that while Rio’s words and mannerisms are calm, he must be very angry.

Rio reminds the servant that he will not forgive anyone who harms Emma, and for the first time, the servant looks directly into Rio’s eyes. He gasps and flinches back at the madness he sees there.

Rio notes that the servant wasn’t lying when he said that he didn’t know where Silvio is. Considering that the Royalty of Rhodolite, as well as the Court Devil, conducted a full-scale search and couldn’t find him it eliminated a lot of the possibilities. Silvio is staying in a place that is loyal to Benitoite yet missed by both the Benitoite Embassy and the Rhodolite Court.

Rio wishes that this chain of events would make sense. There is no reason for Silvio to first disappear, then kidnap Emma the moment Rio was gone. Silvio has caused a major diplomatic incident twice over, but all that Rio knows about Silvio, from his fragmented memories to the limited interactions they’ve recently had, is that Silvio does nothing that would harm his profits. What is Rio missing?

The young, muscular man appears at the mouth of the alley again and calls out to Rio. Silvio has been spotted. The traitor servant watches Rio collect the information and give out orders. It appears that the rumors that Rio is a secret prince were true after all.

***

The minute she left Carlo’s sight, ostensibly to use the restroom, Emma was able to escape the mansion from a window. The mansion was in an isolated in a forest, and Emma quickly realizes that she has no idea where she is, much less which direction the city was in. She reminds herself that the plan was to find the carriage tracks Silvio must have left and follow them.

The recent rain had left the ground soft, and eventually Emma finds the ruts of the carriage wheels marking a path back to town. Trying not to think about how dark and spooky the forest is before dawn, Emma proceeds to follow the tracks.

Emma worries after Rio. Was he able to escape the carriage trap? Now that they know Emidio is the culprit behind the attempts on Rio’s life, they can move forward. The Rhodolite Princes would undoubtedly cooperate into returning Rio to Benitoite safely.

A bush near the road begins to sway.

Emma stops and watches the bush. She calls out to it, all the while thinking that they must be far from civilization. She can’t hear any city sounds at all, which means that there is probably an animal in the bush.

A wolf emerges from the bush.

Emma restrains herself from turning and running, that would only incite the wolf to see her as prey and to attack her. She recalls that wolves tend to move in packs, meaning that there is a good chance that there are more wolves and they’ve already surrounded her. The forest has plenty of dangers, but wild wolves are rare. Emma must really be unlucky. Tears prick her eyes.

Suddenly Emma’s vision is blocked, and she hears a voice telling her to stand still. The voice promises that if the wolf attacks, he will handle it.

Luckily, the wolf moves away, and the hand covering Emma’s eyes retreats. She turns and finds Rio behind her. Emma thanks him, and Rio tells her that there might be more wolves, so they should find a safe place to wait. They go to a nearby cave, and Emma comes close to collapsing when she steps inside it. A lot has happened since Rio had left the previous morning, and her body desperately needs a break.

As soon as he surveys their surroundings, Rio hugs Emma. While she is happy to be hugged, Emma can’t mask the pained expression on her face as Rio’s arms touches her injured arm. Rio immediately lets go of her and asks if she’s been injured.

Emma tries to deceive him in order not to worry him, but Rio grabs her hand and asks her to be honest. Just like she threatened to do to him days ago, he will strip off her clothes to see for himself if need be. Seeing that from Rio’s expression, he would go through with his threat, Emma relents and tells him that her arm is injured. Rio asks to see, and Emma tries again to put him off, worried about his reaction if he sees her arm. Rio insists again, and Emma gives in and rolls up the sleeve of her blouse.

Seeing the dark red marks on her arm, Rio freezes. He asks if something hurt her . . . or if Silvio hurt her. There is something in Rio’s eyes that sends chills down Emma’s spine. For some reason, this Rio in front of her is frightening. Emma quickly describes the incident in the carriage, making a point to say that Silvio had not intended it.

From Rio’s point of view, Emma wouldn’t have been injured in the first place, if not for Silvio. And now he has put a collar on her neck, and he can see the marks from what must have been manacles. Rio’s expression grows darker, and the light disappears from his eyes as he notes all the minor injuries on Emma courtesy of Silvio. Emma realizes that she isn’t talking to Rio anymore.

The person in front of her can only be Valerio.

Valerio asks Emma to tell him everything that happened. Or, at least, his words are formed like a request, but there is no way Emma could disobey even if she wanted too.

Emma recalls the events that have happened since she last saw Rio, trying to emphasize that Silvio was not the monster Valerio thinks he is. Only, the more she talked, the less of Rio she saw in Valerio. She ended with Silvio chaining her up, stressing that he did nothing to her. Valerio tells Emma to stop trying to protect Silvio, he did something wrong, and now he needs to apologize and be punished.

Valerio reaches forward to hug Emma, careful to avoid her injury, but holds her strong and tight, as if he never wanted to let her go. He tells her not to worry, he will handled both Silvio and Emidio. There is nothing that she needs to concern herself about.

Emma remembers Rio, how he trusted her judgement to handle herself when Silvio dragged her to the market, and to help clear the rubble from the flooded village. She and Rio had always respected each other’s judgement and free will. While they looked out for each other, they were never overbearing in their protection.

Valerio is different.

Valerio tells Emma about his plan to get her on a nearby horse and to safety. He has put in measures to keep her secure, and promises that no one will take her away again. He’ll handle Silvio and Emidio while she stays safe, and afterwards they can meet up.

Emma calls Rio’s name.

Valerio insists that it will be fine, he’s much stronger than he was before. He’s regained roughly half of his memories, and knows what his brothers are like, and their tactics. It will be easy for him to take countermeasures against them.

Emma shouts Rio’s name, startling him. She grabs Valerio’s face and makes him look into her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Rio takes a deep breath, as if coming to his senses.

A bit gentler, Emma repeats Rio’s name.

Rio apologies, taking another deep breath and explains that he had gotten caught up in his regained memories. Emma wishes that this could be a situation where she could congratulate him for regaining his memories.

Rio’s voice trembles as he continues. He was a coward back then. A coward who was too afraid to form genuine bonds with people, hold value in anything. He explains that his brothers were the type of people who would take anything precious to him and destroy it while laughing. He was always the weakest, so he could never fight back or protect anything, so instead he just closed himself off.

Rio notes that in spite of the progress he’s made these past three years, his childhood trauma hasn’t really left him.

Emma recalls her last conversation with Silvio, when he professed hatred towards Valerio and a wish to see him always cry by taking away anything important to him. It overlaps with what Rio is saying, and Emma realizes that the gravity of that carriage conversation was lost on her then.

In her mind, Rio is a very strong person who can do almost anything, but he still has a few weaknesses.

Rio explains that the fear of loosing someone important to him helped him regain his memories. Though, the fear is mostly borne from fear that whatever Silvio would do to Emma would hurt him, rather than a fear for her sake. It is, in Rio’s mind, proof that he never grew out of the crybaby coward he was as a child.

Emma responds that this fear is normal, and anyone would feel the same. She doesn’t really understand Rio’s past, but she can understand the trauma of losing things over and over again. She asks if there is a reason why Rio’s brothers were so horrible towards him. Rio reminds her that they’re his half-brothers. Because there was a conflict between their respective mothers, there was a conflict between the children. Emma has read plenty of romance novels with the commoner mistress being bullied by the legal wife, in Rio’s case it was reality rather than a story.

Rio hated that life, and that is mostly why he rejected anything that could remind him of it, all those times when Emma tried to have him remember. Even now, with their lives on the line, Rio is still terrified of remembering anything else. If he could choose, he would prefer it if he remained in ignorance, rather than remembering his past.

But if that were to happen, he couldn’t protect either Emma or himself. Rio understands that whether he likes it or not, he has to face his past.

Emma realizes that if she had never been picked to be the Belle, or if they had never met Silvio, Rio wouldn’t have to go through this. Maybe the real mistake was finding Rio back then and becoming his friend. She was born and raised in an ordinary family; she can’t really comprehend what Rio has gone through. In her heart she apologizes to Rio, understanding that if she were to say anything it would trample Rio’s resolve.

Emma can almost see the light fade from Rio’s eyes as he promises Emma that he will do anything so that they don’t have to let go of anything important to them. Ignoring the glimpses of Valerio that keep on trying to break through, Emma wraps her arms around Rio and tells him that the way they work is together. Emma understands that Rio is very angry, but she is overall fine. Nothing truly important to him has been taken away, so he needs to calm down.

Rio insists that he’s perfectly calm, and Emma insists that he’s absolutely not calm. She asks him if he has realized that he has a habit of clenching his fist when he’s pretending not to be angry. Through her embrace, Emma feels Rio start and then conscientiously unclench his fist from around her skirt.

Once, long ago, Emma had told Rio that she wanted him to be happy for real, not to fake it. Every time he had laughed and smiled at the townspeople he hated, the more it seemed to hurt him. Just as back then, Rio is currently trying to cover his feelings with false cheer.

Rio smiles weakly at Emma and notes that she must have been observing him all this time. He buries his face into her shoulder. Emma asks Rio what he plans on doing next, hoping that Valerio won’t answer.

Rio admits that he doesn’t care if anyone tries to kill him, but targeting Emma is a different matter. He’s fine with killing anyone who threatens Emma, especially if its Silvio and Emidio.

Emma reminds Rio that killing is something that he shouldn’t do. It would make it so that he’s the one taking away something important from someone else. And it will start a cycle of revenge that wont stop easily.

Of course, since Emma loves Rio, she won’t overlook someone trying to hurt him. But the method that they employ to retaliate against their opposition must be fair and something they can live with themselves afterwards. She wants Rio to live his life without the shadow of killing someone hanging over him. She hopes that Rio will stay as himself, and not loose himself to Valerio’s memories.

Rio tells Emma that he decided long ago that he was loyal to her, and he would be the kind of person Emma could love. He slips out of her embrace and slaps his cheeks. With relief, Emma sees that Rio’s sky blue eyes are shining with light and hope. Rio promises that he will be mostly peaceful when he confronts Jingles and Emidio, though he can’t promise that no violence will happen when he talks to Jingles.

Emma understands, she too would like to speak to Silvio. And, at the very least, dunk his head into a water barrel a few times. Rio is surprised before he bursts out laughing and remarks that champagne would work better. Emma suddenly recalls that this all started with Rio dumping a glass of champagne on Silvio. Back then, it had thrown her into a cold sweat, but now she sees the humor in it.

Rio sobers up to remark that dunking Emidio in water is not nearly enough to make him pay for what he has done. Emma agrees, for Emidio they will have to turn him into the law for real justice.

Rio notes that Emma is onboard that Emidio is the real culprit behind most of the attacks against them. He recounts his escape from the tampered carriage and the follow up attack by his ‘escort’. Unlike three years ago, Rio was ready for it and anticipating it, and remained unscathed.

The Benitoite King will bring justice to Emidio’s sins as murdering one’s relatives is still considered a grave sin. Emidio is clever to remove most of the evidence against him, but Rio is good at exposing other’s crimes. Emma plans on telling the Rhodolite Princes about the situation and asking them to help. No matter what, Rio won’t be alone.

With their next plan of action figured out, they decide that they’ve waited in the cave long enough. Rio stands first and grabs Emma’s hand to help her up. At least, that was what Emma though he was planning on doing until Rio kisses her fingers and thanks her. Emma awkwardly thanks him, and Rio exclaims that she is adorable when embarrassed. It’s too soon, but Emma hopes that Rio will stay like this forever, smiling happily and full of hope.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans. When they clear the cave, they find themselves surrounded by men with swords. Emma suddenly wishes that they could exchange the men with a pack of wolves instead. Rio muses that he thought they would wait until after he killed Jingles before attacking him. He tells Emma to stand back and pulls out his sword. Emma steps back a few paces from Rio, giving him room.

It was then that she felt something strike her back and push through to her abdomen. At first she is confused, wondering why she can’t breathe and why it hurts so much. Looking down, she sees the tip of a red-stained sword sticking out of her.

From in front of her, Rio stops and looks back with a shocked expression. Behind her, someone laughs and calls Rio an idiot. He thanks ‘Valerio’ for finding her, he had been hopping to kill her before killing him. Emma belatedly realizes that it’s Emidio who’s talking.

The strength leaves her legs, and she crumples to the ground.

Valerio once took something important from Emidio, though he doesn’t remember it. Years ago, Valerio killed Emidio’s mother.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #rio ortiz

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nebulus-frd · 3 years

Note

Jealous and protective Rowan and oblivious Aelin in a modern established relationship au

Hi!!!

Thank u so much for the request. I loved your prompt and also love Rowaelin deeply. Hope u enjoy it ♡

If you liked it or not, let me know. Leave a comment, compliments and especially, constructive critics, are always welcomed.

Wanna request your story? Come ⋆⭒ here ⋆⭒, tell me everything. ----------

The beach. The sea. Them.

Synopsis: Modern AU where Rowan and Aelin finally get a deserved vacation. But he isn't enjoying all the attention given to his wife during the first day of it.

Rated: T

Warnings: implied sexual content. If I forgot anything, let me know.

Words: 1700+ (oneshot).

1/1

It was their first time back at the beach after being married.

The life of a military couple was hectic, to say the least, but Rowan and Aelin were rather used to the chaos. This explained why Rowan found himself alone in bed on the first morning of their vacation. Although his wife had always been a late riser, he knew better than anyone how hard it was to break their routine and if he himself hadn’t take medicine to fall asleep, he wouldn’t probably have slept at all.

Not bothering to properly dress, Rowan moved to the kitchen only to find it empty. Did she go grocery shop? But to his surprise not only was the fridge completely packed, but three sandwiches also topple each other on a plate next to a note.

Good morning princess, did you sleep well? Not even a true love kiss was able to break from the evil medicine spell. I’m training on the beach. Join me… Or not, if you feel like sleeping throughout the entirety of our vacation.

Love,

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.

Rowan didn’t even feel the smile that broke through him. God, I love her. Of course, she was training. His wife always called him a workaholic and a military freak, only to always prove herself one. The food was warm enough for her not to have left for too long. And in half an hour Rowan found himself heading to their hotel gym.

Where was Aelin?

He had circulated the gym area twice without success in the mission of joining his wife. Could she be at the beach? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Aelin loves the sea, the sunny weather, and the heat on her skin.

Eight years ago, if someone said to Rowan that there were people who loved those things, he would have straight-out laughed in their faces. He couldn’t anymore. He had learned to appreciate each of these unlike anyone else.

Rowan loved the smile Aelin would have while watching the sea, loved the glow her eyes would reflect under the sun’s light, loved the heat from Aelin’s heart.

His wife had changed each perspective he had in his life.

And while at the beach, once again he asked himself how the hell, he was deserving of the woman he married to?

Aelin was coming out of the sea, dressed in a swimsuit that covered a lot more of what he was used to seeing, looking like the sea god herself had descended in the mortal world to bestow her beauty upon mortals. Thus, Rowan was hindered breathless and as soon as their eyes locked up, he could listen to her thoughts through them.

“Are you delight with the view?”

And the smile that broke in her lips made his knees go weak. She pointed to a small pile of clothes at his right and he could recognize the tennis beside it. As soon as they met Rowan girdled his arm around her hips and kissed her.

“Missed me much?” Aelin asked holding a smirk while still in his arms. Her turquoise eyes nailed on his green-forest ones. The only answer she received was a grunt and a heavy head dropping in her shoulder. “You know you could use words, rather than growling like a beast”, which made Aelin feel the smile coming from her husband, she could picture it too: the perfect set of teeth accompanied by two fangs that were borderline not-human, which had left so many marks on last night's activities, she had almost come to the beach in a diver suit.

“I can’t be bothered. There are a lot of more interesting things to do with my mouth… And my tong…”, Rowan’s impure statement was interrupted by the sound of Aelin’s phone ring, it took a moment for the woman to snap out of the mood her husband had put them in. Poor object, it earned a glare that, if possible, would have transformed it into ashes.

“Oh hi!... Yes, of course, I’m coming… Right, next to the bar… Yes, be there in a few”, she said on the phone friendly. With whom she could have made prior appointments?

“Where are you going?”, Rowan asked confused, involuntarily holding her tighter, Aelin didn’t hide the smile at her husband's unwillingness.

“WE are going to a functional training, apparently the hotel holds them every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday”, she said while putting on a pair of shorts and her tennis, Rowan just nodded in answer.

Once they were in the central area, the closer location between the hotel’s pools and the beach, the equipment could already be seen as well as 10 people roaming around it. Soon enough a man came up to them greeting Aelin, too friendly to Rowan’s likeness, although he could only spot the top of his head.

“Miss Galathnyius, it’s good to have you with us today”, the strange said while avoiding looking at Rowan’s side but he did not miss a beat.

“It’s Mrs.” his accented and low voice seemed to reverberate, earning him an alarmed glance from the instructor, as he had taken from his clothes and name tag.

“Yes, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Galathnyius it’s a pleasure to have both of you here”, the smaller man seemed ready to bolt as he alternated his looks from Rowan’s face tattoo and Aelin’s mirth-filled eyes, she just nodded and that was very well what he did. She knew it wasn’t jealousy from her husband, more like his inability to not correct a mistaken person.

Oh, how wrong she was.

…

Half an hour throughout the class, Rowan was calculating how much trouble would he be if he were to beat three civilians. As the training was open to anyone at the beach, around fifteen more people had come to enjoy the activities. Including a group of four men, who seem too inclined to help Aelin with her training.

Which had made Rowan seeing red since he heard the first suggestion in correcting Aelin’s posture during a core exercise. Whilst his wife seemed completed oblivious as not only agreed to a few suggestions and gave tips of her own. Rowan didn’t mind that both were right.

Nonetheless, at each suggestion made by a stranger, Rowan would casually assert his territory. Moving closer to Aelin, helping her with the weights and holding her during an exercise that required it. Of course, there was the possibility that none of the people participating held any second intentions towards his wife and were only trying to be helpful. He seriously doubted it, even though that was what Aelin seem to think.

Usually, Rowan had never been one to bluntly be jealous and if he found it necessary to discuss attitude with someone, he wouldn’t do it in front of Aelin. But he’d gone apeshit when one of the guys from before made a move to touch her while he went to grab for water. Fuck this. He had been by her side every single moment. What’s with these disrespectful motherfuckers?

The man whose hands extended to help Aelin in moving the piece on her waist only caught a movement in corner of his eyes before a mountain of a man was before him. His eyes caught a glimpse of a wicked tattoo on the man’s face, which had been hidden by the cap he was using.

Rowan’s intimidating demeanor and the fucking gold ring in his and hers left hands were more than enough for assholes to grasp the situation.

She is mine, I’m hers. Fuck off.

Either it was the rings or himself didn’t matter. Apparently, with one look everybody understood his warning.

…

However, nine hours later, he’d been left baffled as his wife complained how, after he glued himself to her side, nobody had talked or interacted with her anymore.

“Well, if you weren’t such a territorial bastard today, we could have made some friends that could introduce us to the town”, she said as they had clearly lost themselves while looking for a Japanese restaurant.

“I beg your pardon?”, Rowan answered seeing red all over again just from remembering the previous event.

“Oh, come on, you thought I did notice? You were just asserting your territory for the heck of it”, she said not bothering with more than an eye roll, still searching the street’s name on their map.

“For the heck of it?”, Rowan was bewildered. Aelin thought he was doing that out of leisure?

“You couldn’t possibly be jealous of those guys from the beach, right?”, she said finally dropping the stupid map that had put them in their current predicament and looking straight into his eyes. Whatever she saw there gave Rowan his favorite smile. “You were….”, she laughed, loud and uncaring. Beautiful. “You are unbelievable”.

Like the viper his wife was, she stealthy approached him in that dark alley. “My cranky husband was jealous of some gym dudes?”, her voice was surrounded by arrogance and seductiveness. Reminding Rowan just who he had married with. The most confident, assertive, dazzling woman he had ever met.

Their eyes were locked on each other as she stalked him like a snake ready to consume her prey. His response to her provocation was nothing more than a grunt. “You know what you should have done?... You could have kissed me right there, ravished me, really… And I would’ve said thank you”.

After many years into their relationship, one would think that Rowan had become numb to Aelin’s advances. However, it was very much the opposite of it. He would be scandalized, shocked… And excited, she burned him with bold words and even bolder actions that made his head spin. His calloused hand didn’t miss one second into holding Aelin’s by her backside and his mouth went to her neck.

“Ditch dinner, Fireheart, I will show you what I would like to have done”, Rowan could feel Aelin’s thundering heartbeat, like his own due to their proximity. It would never lie to him, he affected her just as she did him.

“Oh, why, when you say with such gentleness. I suppose we could make something at home”, she smoothed her hand at Rowan’s ringed finger each word, handing him a bright smile by the end. “I love you”, albeit the sentence was said in a soft tone, it swept bothering feelings between the two, such as sea waves that accompanied their evening.

“To whatever end”, he said holding her left hand and as they walked toward the ocean. Free, unrestricted, and vast. Much like their love.

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #aelin ashryver #fanfic request #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin au #modern setting #they are powerful military couple fight me #jealous rowan #oblivious aelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #love them so much #rowaelin oneshot #oneshot

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reynie-muldoons · 3 years

Text

'The Art of Conveyance and Round-Trippery' Liveblog!

Sorry this is a few days late!! I moved across the country this weekend, we drove like 13 hours within 2 days and we did a lot of heavy lifting. I'm exhausted, but the boxes are slowly emptying and I've been wanting to watch this episode so gd bad, so LESGO

Over halfway through the season!!!! That's absolutely surreal

1:11 oooh they're getting their royal fitting

1:22 LMAOO WTF 😂😂 Princess Diaries vibes

1:42 ✨CONFIDENCE✨

1:52 Alfonse is a perfect name for that guy HAHA

2:05 Nathaniel, my guy, you've made some points

2:11 "do you feel your power?" POWER RANGERS, GO

2:24 no no hesitation just prolly thinkin bout how he was caught cheatin

2:39 "can you not allow yourselves luxury?" okay fr I feel that I get Nice Things Guilt(tm) too easily

2:52 dayummmm let's talk about Sticky being a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, mans is brave as fuck under extreme pressure and loyal to the point of putting himself on the line

3:15 bro Sticky getting some recognition. Love to see it, he deserves it

3:19 "is that a coincidence? Or written in the stars?" IS DR. CURTAIN CATCHING ON THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE OR LIKEEEE

3:49 WHAT WORD AROUND CAMPUS 😭😭😭 MY BOYS ARE NOT A MISTAKE HOW DARE YOU

4:09 why doess the action of Dr. Curtain putting the sash on them seem so nefarious

4:36 I dont really understand the whole pastel yellow, blue, and pink palette of the school but the boys both look pretty okay in their vest-sash getup

4:42 THE OPENINGGGGG. This shit slaps.

5:41 Kate and Constance look so fucking cute in that shot, dont ask me why but hnnggggg

5:54 sash rope 😂😭 kate, honey, that's a reach

6:09 it might feel buttery, but, my guy, it also looks buttery. It's literally the color of butter. Get yourself some crisco

6:24 I find it kinda interesting that they made up new riddles for the show, I'm almost positive that that one wasn't in the book. Correct me if I'm wrong though

7:03 "I'm not gonna apologize for knowing things" the sass. the ✨confidence✨. living for it

7:03 If they build on that it sets Sticky up really nicely for the arc in the second book where he starts to show off a little

7:15 tiny Constance who is constantly dressed in pink with cute little braids is the perfect medium for the most morbid comments 😂😂

7:55 Martina's hot in her uniform. Can't prove me wrong.

8:15 why does that make me sad 🥺 eat with your friendssss. iirc they only talked about eating at the Messenger table in the books

8:26 dipshits forgot their lunches. Seems Constance is holding the communal braincell atm

8:50 anyone have Guiness on speed dial? Reynie and Sticky have a submission for them

9:25 oh hello this was alluded to in the preview!!! Morse code is compromised, rip

10:05 so are Jackson and Jillson stuck with night guard duty all the time?? They've been outside at night a lot

10:18 ahhhhhh the little blinkie light, stopppp

10:25 MILLIGANNNNN!!!

10:25 so is this the point where he starts staying on the island with them????

10:39 so are they just like "fuck it we'll do it right before sundown" ???? Like Jackson and Jillson are still gonna be on the lookout, they aren't gonna chill just because it's not fully dark

10:50 did the kids.....just not tell them that Mr. Bloom was on the island 😂 nice oversight guys

11:05 MADGE TIME MADGE TIME

11:05 remind me to tell you guys a story about Madge, I may or may not have done something irl a few years ago that would make y'all proud 😂😂😂

11:16 idk why but it makes me so happy that they kept Madge as a peregrine falcon

11:37 Rhonda, my love, you have my heart in your hands

11:46 roll credits

12:05 THE HEAD SHAKE HAHAHAH

12:06 Awww man, I was so excited for Milligan to be on the island .-. He must have been scoping out the inlet

12:07 "they're quite regal" A. I read the subtitles as "legal" the first time and that's somehow really in character for him, and B. IS MILLIGAN GOING TO NAME HER???!? HER MAJESTY???? PLEASE I WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH

12:15 his grimace KILLS ME

12:17 the hard cut from Nicholas in a brown setting and brown suit to Nathaniel in a blue setting and blue suit was lowkey striking

12:36 are they looking up Morse code 😳 can you imagine if they wrote down the message and are now decoding it

12:41 omfg all that for a HAT 🙃 I feel stupid

12:51 two things: 1. Those walls are atrocious, and 2. Yeah, talk about Morse code in a louder voice Connie girl, you're just in a public hallway

13:03 I'm sorry but those orange pillar things are not the vibe

13:03 the golden gate bridge called, they want their arches back

13:10 please let Kate climb the tower before the end of season 1. please.

13:22 y'all are about to be flying something else 😎

13:33 cleansing breaths

13:47 OH HELLO MESSENGER DUTY ALREADY??

14:06 what the heck is that teal pole for 😭😭

14:12 blindfold timeeee

I'm so sorry but I'm exhausted, it's 11:30 pm on Sunday night right now, I'll finish this episode tomorrow morning after I get some sleepies

Good morningggg lesgetatit

14:50 "vomit of metal" ashhdjdjd

15:16 a wild Martina appears!

15:36 and if you folks look to your left, you'll see a wild Constance being the voice of reason once again

15:57 "lose the bucket" "I'm not gonna do that" HELL YEAH KATE

16:07 I get not having the bucket on the court lolol, I thought Martina was telling Kate to lose the bucket in general. Like, yeah, good luck convincing her to so that

16:35 show!Kate is much angrier than book!Kate and I'm still deciding how I feel about that. The Kate we've known from the books is a sunshine baby with looots of repressed trauma.

17:03 ......what is that. why is that.

17:11 WAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE REYNIE AHEHDJDJD

17:15 HI MADGE

17:41 the grand swell in the music makes me think it's going to go comically wrong

17:51 she's majestic because she's a queen 🥺

18:03 LMAO CALLED IT

18:14 Rhonda and Number Two getting at each other is such a sisterly thing to do 😂😂😂

18:37 ohhhhh? Someone's approaching? Miss Perumal perhaps????

18:45 YEAHHHHH BABY

18:50 PROTECTIVE MOM COMIN IN HOT!!!

19:22 THEYRE SO PRECIOUS 😭😭😭😭 I feel like I've been subconsciously starved for her and Mr. Benedict's interactions

19:36 died at that line in the one trailer

20:00 so Miss Perumal pulled a Sherlock Holmes. Love that for her

20:20 Cheri Tupintown??? Of all the aliases they could pick, Cheri Tupintown???

20:33 "Power in Truth Inc" that HAS to be something Rhonda came up with

21:01 you can literally watch Mr. Benedict realize that this is a woman not to be fucked with and he is CORRECT

21:23 "he's fine. Perfectly fine." At this, Mr. Benedict's pants caught aflame.

21:52 something about Constance sitting in on practice!!! It scratches an itch!!!!

22:19 "incorporate the helix. Live in the helix." Lord Helix is pleased with this offering.

22:26 so what I'm hearing is Kate is going to blow up on Constance for messing with the bucket

23:13 unrelated but Jillson'a shoes are cute

23:29 why does this room give off Johnny Depp's willy wonka vibes

24:13 that looks like a chair from a doctor's office waiting room 😭

25:29 they do be egg heads tho

26:02 baby girl, I have no idea why you're crying at weird art but let me dry your tears 🥺🥺

26:50 SHE FOUND ITTTT

27:27 okay Indiana Jones, go off

27:46 why did that kinda sound like Miss Perumal

28:43 the return of everyone's favorite, "enjoyable"

29:05 not that I'm not loving the ice breaker questions and the one-sided conversation, but I'm not loving it

29:22 oh so we're getting right into it aren't we

29:54 his eyes being open again makes this infinitely creepier

30:36 "where's your proof?" Miss Perumal doesnt fuck around!!!

31:29 you're telling me Constance has been there all day?? And Kate went to find her???? 🥺

31:58 oh so we're getting right to it then?? Kate addressing her independence and trust issues arc????

33:29 NEWS!!!!

33:49 CONSTANCE RIDING PIGGYBACK!!!!!!

34:04 okay, so they opened the murder hole, what are they gonna do now

34:59 Italian? 🤨 m'sir that is so fancy

34:59 fun story I learned Italian diction in college, so I know a little bit

35:16 "take your time" the whisperer says, immediately repeating the prompt to get the answer sooner

35:31 theeeeere it is

35:46 SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHISPERER SAYING "YOU ARE HOME" 😭😭😭 the show really played up the cult shit!!

36:02 Kate being protective of Constance 🥺

36:20 ohhh shit is it time for Connie girl to have double Reynie? Double Sticky?

36:36 STICKY

36:52 "what kind of nonsense?" HAVE THEY NOT ASKED THAT BEFORE THIS?????

37:14 "and your tiny brain can somehow pick it up!!" KATE STOP 😂😂😂

37:16 "I knew you had to be special in some way." WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

37:51 she's right, this is disregard for their safety. The show made Mr. Benedict and his team a lot more back-alley and dishonest, and Miss Perumal has every reason to be pissed

38:30 oh good they finally remembered he has narcolepsy

39:38 and the best mom award goes to:

40:38 I was gonna say that this hallway is how I imagined the KEEP in riddle of ages but then I remembered that (spoilers) the Institute is the KEEP

40:46 oh, hello propoganda

41:10 that's the other person Rhonda couldn't contact, along with Mr. Bloom. This has to be the brainsweeping process

41:22 yeppppp

41:44 this dark doctor's office theme gives me horror movie vibes

42:22 ohhhh, so that's how they replaced that scene where the four of them jump in a crate to hide and Sticky drops his glasses in the open

42:47 and so we've come to the part of the story where Sticky and Reynie become infinitely more conflicted

42:47 and since we've reached that point..... can we have the white knight scene? Pretty please? Please Disney I'm begging you-

43:12 so Reynie just figured that out without Constance? :/

44:03 love the manipulation

44:31 I'm sorry, the farm?

44:35 farm and forest????

45:16 "the Emergency has served its purpose" 😳 well okay then murder man

45:39 "one thought, one purpose" the hive mind rises once more

45:48 LOVE THE MANIPULATION

46:07 "what have you done to earn anyone's trust?" VALID

46:26 "please do!" WHY AM I EMOTIONAL

47:06 "we still have the falcon" that you do 😂

47:19 AYYY HERE WE GO!!! Time for Milligan to stay on the island??

47:49 ohhhh Constance, casual telepath strikes again

48:16 "stop it, Kate!" OOOOHHHHH

48:53 that line ("it would be nice to be unburdened") would be funny as shit if not for the fact that Constance is a telepath unbeknownst to herself and can both subconsciously perceive people's thoughts and hear the subliminal messages

49:20 HI MRS. PERUMAL!!!

49:25 wow, she's really going through with it 😳 not that I doubted her, but still, that's dedication

49:39 OH SHIT

50:17 oh, so he's an asshole to SQ too. Got it. Torches and pitchforks? Ready to kick his ass?

50:40 "for the moment, anyway" FUCKIN WHAT

This episode was really good!!! They covered a LOT. I hope Miss Perumal comes back to the group and talks about her findings, I hope Milligan goes to get the kids and they tell him no, and I hope they get that classic 4-person Society brainstorming and binding time that hits that sweet spot

#mbs disney+#mbs liveblog #the art of conveyance and round trippery #the mysterious benedict society #charity's talkies

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sheadre · 4 years

Text

Aurora Borealis (Jiang Cheng x Reader) Part One

Summary: Zhu Ran'En (Reader) has always been forced to fight for her life through schemes and lies, betrayal and cruelty. However, Jiang Wanyin who grew up in Yunmeng and lived a complicated life full of obstacles, did not have to play these games. Therefore, when he has to face the cruelty of noblemen and the royal family, he has to ask the Imperial Princess for help. Will they manage to dodge all the life threatening dangers the snake Zhu HuaJin and the Second Prince is throwing at them?

Word count: 2720

Warnings: violence (later in the story), mature, fluff

A/N: Hello everyone! So, this story is in the MDZS fandom like a few of my previous works. I will usually post the chapters way later here than I post them on my quotev account or my ao3 account so please check them out here:

https://www.quotev.com/491346452

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaeri/works

Lotus Pier was quiet now that things settled after Jin Guangyao got out of the picture. Wei Wuxian visited Yunmeng a few times but left just as quickly on Hanguang-Jun’s arm. Jiang Cheng found it ridiculous how Wei Wuxian acted like a whining wife but that is Wei Wuxian. Yanli once said that there is a thing called Aurora Borealis. A natural electrical phenomenon caused by the interaction of charged particles from the sun with atoms in the upper atmosphere. He had no idea how his shijie got her hands on the book she learnt it from but she said that the same thing could happen between two people. He always thought that something of the sort was rare to be witnessed let alone find it for yourself.

However, seeing Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, he realized what his shijie was talking about. Witnessing it – his shijie said – was rare and special. Jiang Cheng only felt envy. The elders were pestering him to find a suitable wife and marry quickly to ensure the heirs of their sect. Honestly, he had no want in marrying someone he never even met before. No one could really match him and moreover, who would want to marry him knowing about his… not so kind and righteous past. Things changed ever since Wei Wuxian came back and now, he regretted some of the things he’s done out of anger and want for revenge.

He cursed his thoughts for wandering so far during a nighthunt. The woods around them cast them in their dark shadows and the leaves hid the starry night sky from their eyes. Their was a cold humidity in the air as they walked, crunching the fallen dried leaves under his boots as he walked. He needed to focus, Jin Ling was with him after all, who would show the kid how to do things right if he didn’t? Not that Jin Ling was not pleading with him to accompany him. Even if Jin Ling was a sect leader, he needed to learn a lot of things and who else would aid him if not his uncle. Jiang Cheng never told the kid that he was proud of him but he thought he didn’t need to. The kid was self-assured without him praising him.

There was a roar suddenly coming from ahead stopping him and Jin Ling in their tracks. His body froze in place and listened carefully for any other sound. He knew they in disadvantage in the darkness and lighting up fire would possibly endanger his nephew.

“Uncle, it’s ahead of us!” the kid said with a hushed tone, warning in his eyes and readied himself for attack. However, before they could move, the song of an erhu interrupted the quiet of the night. It seemed like the time has stopped around them. Even the wind seemed to stop. Everything fell into a dead silence. The sound was beautiful yet terrifying. It had an alluring tone meanwhile anyone would shudder by the notes. Jiang Wanyin carefully walked forward in search of the cultivator who played. The foliage was crunching under his feet as he walked carefully, one step after the other. His heart was beating loudly in his ears as he approached the opening in the line of trees ahead. The resentful energy was so thick he could cut it with his sword. As he led his nephew out of the forest onto a clearing, his eyes widened.

In the middle of the field a woman was playing the erhu, her long hair flowing in the wind, her robes indicating her connection to nobility. Jiang Wanyin never saw her before and by the patterns, she was a member of the royal family. The monster he was chasing with his nephew slowly fell apart by itself. It was a monster that fabricated itself from different corpses. He was on the road trying to catch it around the town where people reported seeing it. The commoners of course were frightened to death by only the sight of it even from a far. The woman stood up and with the motion of her hand the erhu flew back into its holder which she strapped onto herself. She stopped in her tracks and turned to them, her eyes flashing with crimson red before it returned to a natural (e/c) eye color. Her lips pulled into a smile one that people wouldn’t be able to tell if it was kind or sinister.

“Jiang sect leader, Jin sect leader” she bowed to them in respect with a small smile playing on her lips. Her voice was melodic and Jiang Cheng couldn’t compare another woman to her beauty. He had no idea how she knew their names and if she was a member of the royal family, she was definitely not acting according to it. If she was a princess, she should’ve not addressed them first but wait for them to pay their respect. He narrowed his eyes as he raised a hand in front of Jin Ling to push him back behind himself. Jiang Wanyin couldn’t let his guard down now, this woman could be dangerous.

“Who are you?!” Jin Ling spoke up with his eyebrows furrowed yet his cheeks blushed. The woman chuckled and walked up to them. Her movements were graceful like a goddess’. Her (e/c) eyes never left the two of them and her smile held something strange. It was not threatening nor was it scary but it was definitely off-putting. Jiang Cheng felt her eyes roaming his form and he felt a blush forming on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if it was from how inappropriately this woman was checking him out or from the notion of being checked out.

“I am Zhu Ran’En” she replied with a melodic voice. It was like a dangerously alluring spell drawing men so they would run into their demise. “Nice to meet you.”

“Zhu Ran’En?” Jin Ling gaped in surprise making her chuckle again.

“You might’ve heard about me” Ran’En shook her head a little like she was disappointed. Of course they knew the name especially after the official announcement of the Imperial Princess’ execution for her crimes. But if she was executed, how could she be standing in front of them? Jiang Wanyin narrowed his eyes at her while waited for her to continue. “Made up, evil-minded, biased rumors I bet…” A small pause as she sighed sadly before she bowed again and continued: “If you excuse me, I have to get to Xutong. It was nice meeting you, please excuse me.”

Ran’En straightened up and smiled at Jiang Wanyin gently before turning around and leaving them in the middle of the clearing. Jiang Cheng felt like he met her somewhere before. It didn’t make sense as he never stepped foot anywhere near the capital let alone the Imperial Palace. However, the feeling was strong even while he was making his way out of the forest with his nephew.

Later ~

The weather was nice but in the early hours of the day, fog fell down on the town. It was not too cold outside but people could barely see to walk around for long. That is why the inn she was sitting in was packed completely. Men were talking with boisterous laughter, others were telling each other stories, drinking to their hearts’ contents. Witnessing such simple life made her feel curious. She always wished she could live somewhere peaceful instead of being a princess and now she was here, sitting in an inn, drinking tea in the sea of commoners. It was truly fascinating.

She was aware that her existence was no longer a secret now that Jiang Wanyin found her. Zhu Ran’En tried to keep her existence and whereabouts a secret. Her ways of cultivation were frowned upon after all, yet she had no other choice but to use resentful energy. She never had a golden core no matter how hard she tried. Trying to learn cultivation from just books was difficult especially with the eunuchs and maids scolding her younger self how she was not acting like a proper lady of court. She had no need for it because as an imperial princess, she never had to defend herself. A few months ago, the lowest ranked imperial princess, Zhu Hua Jin and the second prince, Zhu Li Qin worked hard to make the emperor believe them. That is why Zhu Ran’En, the elder daughter of Zhu Zhi Qi – who was the third prince – lost the favor of the emperor and was sent into exile.

She sat in the inn sipping on her tea when two known faces walked in. She felt the shift of the resentful energy no matter how low it was in the room. Her eyes snapped to the new comers just to see the Yiling Patriarch staring back at her. Her lips pulled into a smirk as an invitation for the pair. Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian – known as Mo Xuanyu in his current life – looked around in search for a seat but most tables were full. She had to admit that both of them were good looking. Zhu Ran’En smiled at the black clothed young man and stretched out her arm motioning towards the untaken seats by her table.

“Ah, come and sit, gentlemen” she smiled gently. She quickly waved a waiter over to clean the table for the two cultivators. “I was about to finish here. Feel free to sit.”

Zhu Ran’En stood up and bowed to them while she heard Hanguang-Jun murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ before she straightened up and left them alone. It was better to not linger around for too long. She had no idea if Wei Wuxian could tell that she was a fellow demonic cultivator but she didn’t need him to notice. At least for now. Leaving the inn was easy even though she felt the lingering feeling of someone watching her. A smirk was playing on her lips as she turned down an alley and disappeared from sight.

She spent many days and nights roaming the cities in her exile, collecting information and plotting in the dark. She needed to get back to the imperial palace to protect her younger sister, Zhu WuXi. Ran’En wondered how she was doing these days. WuXi was always bouncing around the palace halls, admiring the beauty of nature and perfected her dance moves. Ran’En was always envious of her younger sister’s delicateness, how lady-like her sister was compared to her. Many people said her younger sister took after their mother and it was true in every possible way. She was just as naïve and good hearted, assuming the best in everyone without a doubt. This made her an easy target for Ran’En’s opponents.

Suddenly, a dog came running towards her while barking loudly, making Ran’En’s smirk pull wider on her beautiful face. Her eyes darkened as she looked at the dog which stopped a few feet away from her in fear. It whined in fear at the sight of her expression she was wearing. Soon, the young Jin sect leader came after the dog with eyebrows drawn together.

“You!” he cried out angrily. The youngster didn’t recognize her right away because she was wearing a simple attire from cheap material. It was easy to hide yourself if you just changed clothes and make-up – she thought. “You scared Fairy!”

Ran’En laughed out loud and lifted her sheathed sword to stop Zidian wrapping around her body, so instead it curled around her sheathed sword. She could hear Jiang Wanyin coming from behind since she rounded the corner.

“Sect leaders” she chuckled. “Pleasure to meet you again in such a short time.”

“Who are you?” Jiang Wanyin yelled angrily. She lifted an eyebrow curiously turning to the man. “Zhu Ran’En, the imperial princess died two months ago.”

“Died?!” she cackled as she was now facing Jiang Wanyin. Her lips pulled into a sneer. “They still lie even when they beat me… I am still here…”

“You’re using resentful energy for cultivation” Jiang Cheng replied but now he took a step back from the woman.

Zhu Ran’En pulled out a seal and showed it to him. The small stone badge was carefully carved, the characters ‘princess’ emerged from the flat surface of the stone. She watched his eyes widen before she hid her last reminder of her title back into her sleeve. To her surprise Zidian loosened and let go of her sword.

“Sect leader Jiang, I advise you to stay out of my business… these are royal matters” she said coldly before she jumped up onto the roof of the building and disappeared from their sight.

She was supposed to be locked up in Qi mansion waiting for the emperor to call her back one day. However, she had no time to wait for so long if she wanted to save her little sister from the evil clutches of her uncle and her cousin.

Jiang Cheng’s PoV.

A few months back, Jiang Wanyin noticed Imperial guards appearing in the town and other towns nearby. They were asking people about a woman, the drawing they were showing to the citizens was drawn with attention. The sect leader now knew who the woman was. The imperial princess was a traitor after she got caught in the crime of money laundering. Everyone was informed that she was executed publicly in the capital, however, if she was executed, why were imperial guards asking around about her?

People were spreading rumors about her but if someone would really think over everything, with the princess’ righteous past, it would be easy to smell something was fishy about this whole thing. And Jiang Wanyin’s nose was similar to a hound. After meeting the imperial princess in real life, he could tell that there was more than what meets the eye and he was keen on finding out the truth. That is how he found himself in front of Qi mansion in Yangsu.

The building was looking like a prison or a robust castle with the dark brown and black colors and stone walls. Thick stone pillars held the roof while there were no windows visible from the front entrance. The wall stretching around the mansion could be around six cun* wide and thirty chi* high.

*[1 cun (寸)= 5 cm; 1 chi 尺 = 0,5 meters]

The doors were closed but there were no guards in front of the mansion and when Jiang Cheng pushed on the wings of the door they easily opened up giving him a view of the insides of the mansion. He could hear some folks talk about how no one entered the mansion since the princess’ arrival to spend her exile in there. He walked inside but when he was far enough inside, the doors closed behind him and as much as he tried, he couldn’t open them again.

“Jiang sect leader… It is a pleasure to meet you in my humble abode” came the familiar melodic voice of the princess. Jiang Wanyin turned around in a blur, his eyes spitting lightning as Zedian unfurled from his hand ready to strike. The princess stood nonchalantly in front of him, in the usual embroidered rich hanfu all the royal family members wore, her figure petite yet something dark was encircling her form as the smile stretched on her beautiful face. Jiang Cheng had to admit that the woman was beautiful, very intimidating yet beautiful. She tilted her head to the side and turned sideways, lifting her arm inviting him further inside. “Would you like to have tea? Lili just arrived back from the market with a new batch of herbs and teas.”

“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng hissed angrily at the woman who’s features looked like they were frozen into stone. She turned back to him fully, her lips ever so slowly returned into a neutral line before she spoke up.

“If you’re here, you already know exactly what awaits you once you dig yourself into my case” Zhu Ran’En said coldly. “Imperial guards already noticed you entering my mansion, you got involved in imperial affairs. Now come, let’s have some tea.”

The sect leader narrowed his eyes at her but followed her inside silently.

To be continued…

#jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng x reader #lan wangji #romance #fluff #mind games #royalty #ancient china #fantasy

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Hypothetically,

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum.

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what.

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful.

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit).

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door.

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him.

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile.

“Ta-da! What do you need?”

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long.

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.”

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly.

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms.

“Whoah, what the fuck?!”

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested.

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice.

It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room.

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously.

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically.

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction.

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door.

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile.

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.”

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape.

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact.

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.”

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.”

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary.

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic.

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness.

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun.

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning!

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system.

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired.

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time.

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work.

Logan’s deliberation was brief.

“I will.”

As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him.

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.”

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question.

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!”

Oh.

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh.

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it?

Logan felt light-headed.

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship.

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?”

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door.

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?”

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once.

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it?

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice.

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar.

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of.

So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development.

But then there was Roman.

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding.

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!”

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it.

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow.

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking.

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing.

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together.

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis.

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to.

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks.

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency.

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances.

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated.

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction.

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality.

The issue would likely resolve itself.

The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more.

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous.

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!”

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly.

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!”

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one.

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening.

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?”

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it?

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side?

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will.

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well.

Except. Feelings.

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage.

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration.

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.”

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away.

Physical affection, check.

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you.

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight.

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say.

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt.

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-”

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology.

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly.

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder.

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it.

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place.

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight.

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company.

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly.

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly.

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second.

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.”

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again.

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

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shdwtouch · 3 months

Text

@bloodtwin liked for a short + casual random starter

❝ someones mom is probably usin' ya as a bad example fer her kids. ❞

#bloodtwin #《 ° interaction 》 find me in the darkness of alleys and forests #《 ° universe 》 companion ; ranger of the shadowlands

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trolleybitch · 3 years

Text

the trolley witch backstory

okay this is long overdue but i thought it was about time that i shared the official trolley witch backstory from this thread. before we start, what we know about the hogwarts express trolley witch from canon: she was hired by ottaline gambol, had been working on the hogwarts express for around 190 years by the time she met albus potter and scorpius malfoy, she had pumpkin pasty grenades and extendable fingernail spikes, and when she failed to stop the boys from escaping the train, she was inconsolable and talked about letting down ottaline gambol.

so, without further ado, her story:

the year is 1802. trolley witch is born into a poor muggle family in rural northern england and her father leaves shortly after she's born. she grows up lonely and isolated, working from a young age to help her mum make ends meet. age 11, she gets her hogwarts letter.

her mother is a bit dubious but lets her go - it's a good opportunity to get rid of the burden of looking after her. she arrives at hogwarts and is sorted into gryffindor, although she doesn't really know what that means. she doesn't make friends easily.

other kids mock her background and upbringing, and her magic skills. she never really learned to read, and with no magical family she's behind on spells and has never been academically inclined. she doesn't ask for help and her teachers don't always notice she needs it.

mid-second year, her mother dies. she doesn't find out for several weeks because who would write to tell her? she spends all her holidays at hogwarts, often alone. the gryffindor common room is all snide comments and judgemental looks so she starts to explore the castle.

in her third year she finds the kitchens. the house-elves are wary of her at first, this strange, solitary girl coming to spy on them, but she becomes fascinated by cooking and after a while they grow to appreciate her interest. they start to teach her.

by fourth year she spends all of her free time in the kitchens, cooking and baking with the elves. homework and lessons get forgotten and she lags even further behind in her schoolwork, but she learns to follow recipes and then to invent her own.

o.w.l.s and n.e.w.t.s come and go and her grades are poor, barely passing half her classes. a few teachers try to offer specialist tutoring and she accepts half-heartedly but her mind is elsewhere - she only wants to cook, to do the thing she does best.

she leaves hogwarts with nowhere to go and no friends to rely on. who would hire the lowly muggleborn girl with no qualifications? she makes her way to london - she's never been but she's heard people say it's the best place to find work.

the city is overwhelming, but she manages to find diagon alley and the wizarding community. one day when she's lurking outside the back entrance to the leaky cauldron, hoping for scraps, an old teacher passes by and recognises her.

the teacher takes pity and asks if there's anything they can do. trolley witch tells her the only thing she can do is cook. the teacher's sister works at the ministry and she knows they are often looking to take on kitchen assistants - she'll get in touch.

after a few days, she's nervously making her way to the ministry of magic for her first day. the hogwarts kitchens were big and busy but they've got nothing on the ministry; a scene of vast, barely organised chaos. her boss is shrewd and fierce, and she's set to work on the most basic tasks to prove herself.

that afternoon, a senior ministry official comes down to check on catering preparations for an event she's hosting in a couple of days. trolley witch has just finished glazing several pans of pastries. the senior ministry official tries one.

'she's new, miss' says a nearby chef, excusing trolley witch's skills.

'impressive, for a new recruit,' says ottaline gambol, looking trolley witch straight in the eye, 'this glaze is excellent. welcome to the ministry.'

an obsession begins.

ottaline visits the kitchens only occasionally but trolley witch is always waiting for her. she works harder than ever, picking up every recipe, designing new dishes, honing flavour combinations, all to make sure she's got something impressive for the next visit.

it works. the older official is mildly impressed, if a little unsettled by trolley witch's solitary, strange nature. she rarely seems to go home or interact with anyone apart from necessary conversations in the kitchens.

one day, they meet in an elevator as trolley witch is taking food to an important ministry hearing. ottaline asks for a sample and their fingers brush as trolley witch hands her a pumpkin pasty. ottaline doesn't notice, but compliments the pasty. trolley witch tries to keep her composure.

'my department is in need of an assistant catering manager, helping to design event menus and so on. think about it.'

trolley witch doesn't need to think. she accepts and begins work in ottaline's department, seeing her almost every day, watching her closely.

ottaline gambol is a force to be reckoned with - strong-willed, assertive, a powerfully skilled witch. over the next 6 years she charts a meteoric rise in power, from senior official to head of department to - in 1827 - minister for magic.

trolley witch never leaves her side. she works hard to keep honing her culinary skills, but she does more. she waits for ottaline outside meetings to walk her back to the office. she analyses the smallest gesture, the most offhand of comments. she's desperate for approval and attention from this woman who showed her kindess on her first day. by her appointment as minister, ottaline has noticed the girl's obsession. she's got more important things to do than navigate an intense crush and figure out how to let this odd, lonely girl down gently.

in 1830, ottaline is finalising plans for the hogwarts express - a new form of transport to safely deliver students to hogwarts, managed by the ministry. it's revolutionary, it's creating a storm of attention across the wizarding world. and it needs a trolley witch.

someone to cook and sell food on the journey, but someone with a keen eye to watch over the students and make sure they don't come to harm. ottaline calls trolley witch into her ministerial office and offers her the job. it's the greatest honour of trolley witch's life.

to be chosen, so specifically, by ottaline. she feels like she's finally been recognised, she's finally achieved something. she realises she'll be apart from ottaline for a while, but probably just a year or two and then they can be together again, right? she begins work.

1st september, 1830. her first day.

'good luck,' says ottaline on platform 9 3/4. 'keep these children on the train, and keep them safe. i trust you to do an excellent job for me.'

those were the last words ottaline ever spoke to trolley witch.

the train departs. trolley witch walks the corridors, distributing pasties and sweets, watching the children. they are all delivered on time and in perfect health to hogwarts - a great success. trolley witch writes to ottaline straight away to tell her the good news.

'thank you for you letter, i'm pleased to hear the journey was a success. best wishes' is ottaline's reply.

she's probably very busy, will write a longer letter soon, thinks trolley witch. she never does.

trolley witch works back in the hogwarts kitchens during the year, with only the elves for company. years pass and trolley witch continues to write long, rambling letters to ottaline, never receiving a reply. she makes the journey back and forth to london at the beginning and end of every holiday, dutifully watching over the students.

she hopes to see ottaline at the station, but never does. in 1835, tragedy strikes - ottaline, nearing the end of her second term as minister, contracts a severe case of dragon pox and dies. trolley witch sees the news in a student's copy of the daily prophet and is inconsolable. she speaks to nobody for weeks, not even the elves, even when a few other members of staff ask her what's wrong.

one day in the kitchens an elf passes by with a full tray of pumpkin pasties, perfectly glazed. she remembers the first day she met ottaline, back in that busy kitchen, and she vows to protect her legacy. she works tirelessly, baking and cooking and watching the children. they test her patience, play cruel tricks, tease her, never ask her name. she forgets the outside world, forgets who she is, thinks only of ottaline.

every journey on the hogwarts express becomes more perilous - she cannot let the children get the better of her, cannot let ottaline's work be in vain. over the decades she picks up elfish magic, learning to weaponise her food, and later herself.

she goes unnoticed by staff and students alike, existing as a constant feature of their hogwarts life, always present but never worthy of attention. staff come and go, and nobody thinks to ask how long she's been at hogwarts. she stays alive through sheer willpower.

1st september 2020.

a normal hogwarts express journey - or so the trolley witch thinks. all is well until albus potter and scorpius malfoy climb onto the roof of the train to try and escape. it's the greatest test of trolley witch's career.

it's been a long time since she was challenged like this. she does her best - pumpkin pasty grenades, armoured fingernails, but the boys escape. her world shatters around her. ottaline would be so disappointed in her - she's failed in her sole duty.

it's been two hundred years and she has never failed before. mcgonagall tries to comfort her, but it's no use. what purpose does she serve now? trolley witch hands in her notice and leaves the castle the next day, never to be seen again. she wanders the forests near the castle, thinking only of ottaline. perhaps ottaline had known all along that she would fail, and that's why she never replied to her letters, why she never visited. she gets lost, deeper and deeper in the forest, until the cold and the dark envelop her.

when the hogwarts express departs for the christmas holidays, something is missing - someone. students start to get impatient.

'where's the trolley witch? i'm hungry.'

complaints are made. eventually the ministry hires a replacement, service resumes. trolley witch fades into history, unremembered.

so next time you are thinking about cursed child, about your cute albus and scorpius headcanons - remember the trolley witch.

remember what they did to her. remember her story.

🛒 1802-2020 🛒

the end

#ccsquad #harry potter #cursed child #hpcc #trolley witch #ottaline gambol #hogwarts express #headcanons #my hcs #trolleybitch #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #this is probs the best thing i will ever write and i'm not sorry

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awintersrose · 4 years

Note

235) Thunder Storm (for OroTsu/missing their Third?)

From this prompt list.

As the heavy wooden door clatters shut to the banquet hall, the inauguration ceremony is complete. Konoha’s best and brightest remain in attendance to celebrate the rise of the Sixth Hokage, Hatake Kakashi, but Tsunade instead finds her escape with a pilfered bottle of sake.

She makes for a surreptitious figure, running among shadowed paths and darkened alleys, skipping rooftops toward the forest, heading toward the one place she knows she won’t be sought out. That locale is just outside the village, and happens to be the new holding quarters of her former teammate - quaintly appointed the ‘New Otogakure.’

The last long stretch of the walk is lonely, it always is, and the scent of ozone hangs in the air. Tsunade recalls that it is meant to rain this night, and she absently considers that she could be caught in a downpour at any moment. Serves Shizune right for forcing her into this kimono.

It’s fortunate that she makes her way past the Jounin on duty just as the first raindrops begin to fall.

The facility is rather modern, which she knows suits Orochimaru well. It still surprises her that he has found a form of contentment here, but then again, there are a great many things that have surprised her of late.

A beeping sound accompanies the automatic doors as they open before her - she has scarcely had the chance to press a single button, but it seems she doesn’t need to. His eyes glimmer, cat-like in the halflight, as if he has been waiting for her.

“I could sense you on your way at a hundred-fifty paces, Hime. What brings you to my humble abode?” Orochimaru crosses his arms, then gazes at the bottle in her hand. “I take it the inaugural celebration was not to your taste? Come in, then.”

She follows his fluid steps down brightly-lit corridors, giving into the knowledge that his company is the only one she can stand on a night like tonight. Now that everything is finally at an end.

Now that her service is over.

They play cards and drink, and it’s obvious that the sake won’t be enough, it’s never enough. Her spirits are far lower tonight than they have been since the war ended. Tsunade should feel relieved to be passing along the hat, but by her own measure - her legacy came at far too high a cost.

“Did you hear me?” Orochimaru snaps his fingers to regain her attention as he lays his cards on the table. “I’m about to rob you blind, Hime.”

“What?” She sets her saucer down, peering and blinking bleary-eyed at her own hand. Perhaps he might be fooled into believing she can even read the suits and values at the moment.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough to be losing on purpose. What’s the matter?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he studies her.

He already knows her scent has been radiating discontent and her pulse has been erratic from the moment she crossed his threshold, but like him, Tsunade has never liked thunderstorms. Since her arrival, the skies opened up, and have poured forth pure wrath, barreling down upon the building with heavy force. The silence amplifies the sound, and it’s simple enough to blame her nerves on the environment, yet there is more. Because even he feels the edge of it.

Once they had comfort on nights like these. Too-warm, sun bright comfort, with laughter like booming thunder and the name to match, his arms big enough to fit them both in his embrace. Jiraiya.

Now there’s only an empty space where he should be, and the only thunder present is that which crashes amongst the clouds.

“Don’t you go crazy here like this?” she demands.

“Don’t I? Hime, I think the village established long ago that I am ‘crazy’, what a question,” he smirks, shuffling the cards.

“Stop that, you know what I mean. Alone in the silence, thinking about things.”

“What good is it to think about such things? I find my distractions. And I find them well,” he sighs. “I don’t know what the point in playing is anyway, it’s not as if I can win your money and use it… Not for anything I truly want.”

“Ugh, Oro - behave.”

“Hime, you know very well I have been the model of perfect decorum and plan to be exactly that for the extent of my time as such an honored guest of my homeland.” His words drip with honeyed venom, and his golden eyes flash with a bit of understated discontent, but she knows him well enough to know he means what he says.

“You only say so because you know good behavior will get you the privilege of the equipment and requisitions you desire.”

“Just so, Hime-dear. A reciprocal balance.” Orochimaru rises to walk towards a small cabinet, where he withdraws a dark bottle.

Tsunade’s eyes sharpen. “You old snake! I didn’t know you were hiding alcohol here.”

“I wasn’t. Suigetsu-kun pilfered it and left it here. It’s a decent quality umeshu - not your drink of choice, but one I find more palatable than your choice of sake. Who made the ordering decision for the ceremony, anyway? The quality was dreadful. You don’t care because you drink like a fish.”

“Shizune - cutting costs as usual. But that doesn’t matter - open the bottle and get over here.” Tsunade waves him over, just as a particularly close peal of thunder rolls and lightning flashes through the high-slitted excuses for windows. She practically jumps in the air.

“Hime…” Orochimaru approaches, abandoning their usual distance to sit a bit closer beside her as he works the bottle open.

By his movements, Tsunade realizes just how formal this aspect of their interactions has become. Not their words, no, those have never been formal - could never be formal at this point in their lives. But when was the last time they touched with true intention, let alone affection?

She supposes the avoidance was a safety measure at first, to appease the council and prying eyes. It’s not as if she couldn’t subdue him on her own if he really were a threat. Even so, feeling him closer, so close that the silk of his haori brushes her arm as he moves, makes her aware of an emptiness she thought she’d reigned in long ago.

Despite movements that are as graceful as a geisha serving a favorite customer, Orochimaru’s pour is generous and he pushes the cup into her hand. “Drink.”

As she takes the cup and quaffs the overly-sweet liquor, all she can think about is how his biting, corrosive chakra should have always been accompanied by the solar warmth of another.

That absence is eating away at her, has been eating away at her with every toast to each accomplishment, each success of her rule as Hokage, the Allied Shinobi Forces’ victory at war…

Her gambles always have a way of fucking her over in the end. All the idiot had to do was come home.

Orochimaru takes a sip of his own drink and turns golden eyes on her, dark lashes dipping low. “I miss him too, Hime.”

“How did you even…”

“Do you remember what we used to do when it would storm like this during monsoon season?” he swirls the small amount of umeshu in his cup, contemplating the amber hue of the liquid in the dim light.

“It didn’t matter because we were together.” Tsunade shifts back and pulls her knees to her chest just as a deafening thunderclap echoes through their hearing.

With the flash of accompanying lightning, the room is plunged into darkness as the power to the building goes out.

Perhaps it’s the reminiscence, perhaps it’s the proximity, but Orochimaru finds himself caught around the waist by arms stronger than iron as he blinks into the encroaching darkness. It should feel startling and foreign, but he’s always known Tsunade better than anyone else ever could. That includes the feel of her against his form, whether in joy, or sorrow, or fear.

After all these years, her skin still smells of vanilla bath oil, even if it’s laced with rice powder, cosmetics, and the tang of old sake rising from her pores. She’s been drinking more than usual at night, it seems. Anything to chase the memories away.

It’s not as if he can blame her.

The distant hum of a motor indicates the activation of a generator, and the eerie green of emergency lights flicker along the floor as mechanical bolts lock into place at all doorways. Emergency protocols - no one wants their pet prisoner escaping during the raucous chaos of a blackout. The sensor Jounin know exactly where he is and exactly where he won’t be going.

As if he would while here with Tsunade anyway. The sound however, startles her enough to make her utter a sound, her arms clamping around him even harder. It’s out of character for her, especially at their age.

Out of character or not - how could he deny her? His arms slip around her in turn, and she feels smaller against him that he remembers. Deceptively fragile.

This woman is anything but, at least not physically.

“Remember how we’d used to spend those days at his flat? He’d make that spiced hot chocolate his mother used to fix when we were kids, then try to make us laugh when the storms picked up?”

“If the power went out, he’d get lanterns and a flashlight and make dumb faces…” Her voice is tentative, as if afraid of the words it speaks, the images it conjures. “We’d have to get him to stop.”

“I was never cold when we were together like that.” Orochimaru settles his chin upon her shoulder, solidifying the embrace. It goes unsaid that he’s been cold for decades since.

Neither Jiraiya nor Tsunade ever knew the depth of who and what they'd always been to him, nor why their abandonment of Konoha destroyed an already fraying mind in the end. It took an age for Orochimaru to admit it to himself.

It was why he found his purpose in his work. It was why every attempt at a bond made elsewhere was an ephemeral thing, even when attempted with another who chased immortality.

For his clan, a mating bond, once established, was near impossible to break.

In another life, they might have been a family twined out of three matched souls. But he failed her when it mattered most, and the life lost also cost him any dream of a future. And so he paid a life for a life as he handed Tsunade her brother’s necklace. Eventually Jiraiya paid his own price in turn.

Now she's here in his arms, trembling in the dark with the ghosts of lost loves so near and all Orochimaru wants to do is chase that pain away. Isn't it too late?

It's never too late until you're dead. A jovial baritone echoes in his memory, so close that he could reach out and touch the heat of Jiraiya's presence.

Her lips taste like plum wine and sake, smeared lipstick and leftover spices from her shared meal at the ceremony. Kissing her may be a mistake, and certainly against many rules, but all pretense of good sense is out the window and melted away in the rain.

Good sense is a trifle he will leave the young to pursue; they’ve had their fill. The Densetsu no Sannin are relics of the past, forgotten and stricken from history, but the two that remain now stand reunited in the one place they have left to call their own.

That place has never had walls or a stone foundation. It lies between breaths and heartbeats, in the echoing desperation of Tsunade’s voice in his ear, pleading in nonsensical tongues. It is in the heat of her skin, scarred and soft and perfect as he kisses away the salt of her tears.

He can only see her in shadow and the second subtle glow that his senses lend him, of her chakra, her heat signature, both things that he would know anywhere no matter the surroundings. Her lacquered nails tear at clothing, eager to get to the flesh beneath, and they fall together, side by side on a makeshift bed consisting of her kimono and his discarded haori.

The raucous drumbeat of rain and crashing thunder accompany the rising hunger, the echo of the aching emptiness both seek to fill. What rises between them is not gentle, could never be; much like the storm outside, holding the potential for creation or destruction.

Lightning flashes, illuminating her in all her splendor as Tsunade meets him pleasure for pleasure, and Orochimaru is wholly overcome. Self control gives way to the long lost years of denial, of cravings locked behind steel bars of heartbreak and vengeance.

Decades have passed and she still has the power to render him undone.

He loses himself within the clutch of her body and too quickly, euphoria finds them with a furious violence that borders on pain. It’s nowhere near enough to quell the ache of old wounds torn asunder, the need awakened anew. Hardly a breath is caught between them before they are set to chasing the same high yet again as the storm rages outside, and Jiraiya’s spectre lingers in their hearts, their collective sense memory.

Peace may never be fully within their grasp, but a tenuous comfort is found in the afterglow, where Tsunade drinks down Orochimaru’s every gasping breath. The heat of his touch radiates over her flesh as if he’s marked her for keeps, their bodies still united.

The electricity kicks on and the dim lights flicker to full brightness, revealing the beauty of his form just as she pins him down to rest beneath her. What’s been lost is found again, however inconvenient it may be.

All she knows is that she refuses to let it go. They’ve earned this.

When storms come, they’ll weather them together - as it always should have been.

#orotsu #jiraorotsu #orochimaru #tsunade #naruto #naruto shippuden #my fanfics #hope you enjoyed it!#awintersrose #peepingtoad

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tsukuna · 4 years

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Side by Side

Summary: You wandered into Red Grave City to warn the "Legendary Devil Hunter" of a certain... negative shift in the area's energy. It was an energy you knew to be demonic, and it grew stronger by the day. But on your way to meet with the intermediary, a noisy bird caught your attention. A noisy bird that would bring you to a frail man on the brink of falling apart.

Rated M • Female Reader • Before the Events of DMC V• Under the Cut • Part 2

The backstreets and dark alleys of Red Grave City were a seedy sort. There were assaults and robberies aplenty, and yet it was there you slinked around. It wasn’t like you were too good for such a sketchy area or anything, you also carried a hidden dagger on your person. Experience told you that was at least one precaution someone had to take. Something was about to change in Red Grave City though, you could feel it prickling on your skin.

In the couple days you had been in the area, you managed to locate a man by the name of Morrison--a man who would help you meet a devil hunter. The two of you scheduled a time to meet once more at a quaint bar to further discuss the issue you were bringing to the plate; however, that time wasn’t till later in the evening and there was nothing you could do to kill time. Any money you had was to be saved for the job ( hopefully the intermediary would buy you a drink at the bar ). And so you walked around, kicking rocks and passively looking about.

When you first saw a dark bird flying about in the sky, you thought nothing of it--until it began to talk. Your eyes squinted incredulously. The fuck? Clearly, this ‘bird’ was no bird. Quickening your pace to follow it, you whistled and called to it, “Hey!” Considering it stopped in place, you guessed you caught the creature’s attention. At that moment, it turned into a mere shadow falling down, and a short moment later, it perched itself upon your shoulder. Ah, a demon.

“Babe! ( Babe?) You gotta help me!” The demon squawked, his voice reminding you very much of a cartoon. It continued to speak after you quirked your brow at it. “I got a dying guy over there! Come on!” If he could’ve dragged you by the arm, he would have. You sighed in resignation and followed, nodding for the demonic bird to lead the way.

The destination was an abandoned, destroyed building that reeked of demon blood. Your eyes caught sight of a collapsed man, who you assumed to be the ‘dying guy.’ Again, the bird was blabbering about something, but you let it fade into the background noise. Cautiously, you made your way to the boy with black hair, hand on your dagger. It was unnecessary though. The man was truly out cold, his body shivering, sweating, and covered in demonic fluids.

You sat beside his body, gently pulling the man’s head onto your lap. You brushed the ebony hair away from his face. Cute. With a deep breath, you focused yourself and reached your hand out over his abdomen. “He’s not in good shape. What the hell happened to him?” You furrowed your brows.

“We were fighting demons and he worked his little body too hard!” He paused, “Is Shakespeare gonna live or not?” Was that actually the man’s name?

“I think so,” you affirmed, “I will do what I can.” Once more you reached out, pouring your own vitality into the cracks of his fractured energy. It wasn’t the most comfortable of procedures, so you hummed songs to keep your mind off the unease.

“Babe, just what are you,” the bird sat on your shoulder and questioned.

“Shh,” you put a finger to your lips without even bothering to look at the source of the voice and continued singing softly. You were not only too busy healing the man, but also trying to figure out just what he was. There was a faint demonic energy inside of him, but everything else appeared human--perhaps even weaker than that. You weren’t quite sure why you were pouring your energy into healing a seemingly doomed person, but it simply felt right--not that you ever cared what was right before.

It must have been nearly an hour before you were done working and certain that he would live through the toll his body had taken. However, he still laid there unconscious, and so you continued to sit there and idly ran your fingers through his hair. “He will live,” you softly spoke.

The demon let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fuck. Though I have to ask, how did you do that shit?” You explained the process without giving away just what you were. Considering you stumbled upon the two just that day, there was no trust there and there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would spill your secrets to strangers.

The chatty creature seemed disappointed in your answer, but pushed it no further.

Next to the man’s body lay a book with a ‘V’ on the cover. Curious, you reached out and picked it up. It was a book of poetry you noted as you skimmed through. Shakespeare indeed. You began to read. After all, there was currently nothing better to do, and considering the fact that it was still light outside, there was plenty of time till you had to meet with Morrison.

After a time of reading long enough for you to get over halfway through the book, a groan came from beneath you. Finally, the man had woken up. The atmosphere certainly became more awkward as he once again gained consciousness. With an uncomfortable smile, you let out a tense, “Yo.”

Dark green eyes blinked a few times and looked back at you with shock and suspicion as he shot up to a sitting position.

“You sure gave me a scare!” The black bird exclaimed before the man could address you. “Thought you were dead for realsies.”

“I just ran out of power,” the stranger spoke in a low, groggy voice, still looking at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“And that still means death to us right now, so be careful,” he responded. Ah, this demon must be his familiar.

The two of them talked further while you sat by watching. Finally, the man focused on you. “And who are you,” he warily questioned.

After you gave him your name, the bird butted in. “Babe here--”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Sorry. This lady here is the reason your sorry ass is still alive!” This time, he flapped his wings and perched on your head, an action that made you frown. The dark haired--and tattooed, you noticed--man quirked his brow.

“I suppose I owe you a gratitude,” he spoke once more. If you had to admit it, it was quite a pleasant, handsome voice.

You shrugged. “I think this demon here would’ve scratched my eyes out if I didn’t try after walking all the way here.” The chatterbox wasn’t wrong though. I’m almost certain he would’ve died without aid. “Oh, I assume you’re V,” you guessed due to the initial on the book and slid it over to him. “Hope you don’t mind that I read some while waiting for you.”

He appeared to be thinking before responding, “Yes.. my name is V. I hope its contents are interesting.” V began to stand up but it seemed his legs weren’t ready to support him, so he nearly tumbled over.

Quickly, you reached out to pick him back up. “I’m more of a fan of prose,” you admitted, as you assisted him, “but I can appreciate poetry as well.” V was back and steady on his feet, to which he offered a nod of thanks. A moment of silence passed by. “So can I ask what the name of your talkative familiar is?”

Said familiar materialized from the ink of V’s tattoos, “The name’s Griffon.” Much to your surprise another creature formed as well. “And this girl here is Shadow.”

You looked at the demon who took the form of a panther with glowing red eyes, and she looked back at you. Your eyes widened as she brushed herself against your legs like a house cat, which wasn’t a bad thing. Tentatively, you reached forward and scratched the creature behind the ears, a gesture she appeared to enjoy.

Once again, a pair of dark green eyes (much like the colors of a forest) were staring at you rather intensely. “Looks like you’ve got some interesting company,” you tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Damn right he does!” Griffon squawked.

“I’m a bit jealous, I must say. It has been me, myself, and I for many long years,” you said with downcast eyes. “I think this is the most interaction I’ve had in quite some time.” V merely nodded at your comment, to which you sighed. I won’t get much out of this guy.

A loud groan and gurgle came from V’s stomach, cutting the tense feeling. You couldn’t completely suppress your giggle. “I’m hungry myself.” It was an honest comment. “Wanna find something to eat in Red Grave?”

“I don’t have any money,” he replied, looking to the side with a chagrined expression.

You knew you really needed all the money you had to pay Morrison to pay the devil hunter, but you made an offer anyways. “My treat as long as you don’t expect anything expensive.”

“I already owe you a debt, and it seems I’m about to tack on another expense,” V sighed.

“Don’t worry,” you laughed, “I don’t expect anything. Not that there’s anything you can do to repay me for your life anyways,” you winked.

The comment actually garnered a small smile from the man. “Let us be off then,” he gestured forward. “I should be able to walk just fine now,” V reassured you with a spin of his cane as you moved closer in case you had to catch him again.

The two of you walked in step with one another. Despite it being quiet, you were actually quite comfortable. It amused you when V was the one to break the silence. “What are you?” He asked, still looking forward.

“Hmm,” you hummed as you pondered upon your answer. “How about instead of answering straight up, I propose a little game.” Finally turning to look upon your face, V quirked his brow. “We can do a little quid pro quo. You tell me something about yourself, and I’ll tell you something about myself--and vice versa, of course. The only catch is that our answers must be equivalent to what the other said,” you explained, pointing a finger in the air.

V grinned. “Fair enough.” Again, the two of you fell into silence once more.

Deciding to get the ball rolling, you piped up, “I’m in the city to find a devil hunter. Perhaps you’ll think I’m crazy, but something is coming.” It was a comment you said in all seriousness.

His reply astonished you. “I am as well. I hope to enlist the help of the same devil hunter before the damage comes to pass.”

“Perhaps we should continue being together for the day if that’s your goal. I’m meeting with the intermediary today,” you clarified.

“I hate relying on others,” V put a head to his forehead. “But I agree that is for the best.” You nodded in agreement.

Again, you found yourself in the back streets of Red Grave City, but this time, you were with a companion. You absent-mindedly fiddled around with your most precious treasure--an intricately twisted black-metal ring set with a blue opal. But it wasn’t long before a woman’s panicked voice brought you back to reality. The two of you peeked around the corner to see three men robbing a woman. You took a step forward, but Griffon opened his wing ahead of you.

“Things will get messy if you get involved. Stay out of it.” He then warned V, “And you’re not a demon. If you get shot, you’re dead.”

The men demanded her necklace. “Please, anything but that… It’s a memento of my mother,” she nearly sobbed. But she gave it up as one of them put a gun to her head. You felt a sense of disgust bubble up in you as you thought of your own memento, the ring. V seemed to share your sentiment as his face paled and brows furrowed.

Suddenly, V was slipping, knocking over a trash can and catching the people’s attention. “I should have fed you some mice after all!” Griffon screeched. It wasn’t long before the men began approaching V. You slowly began to reach for the dagger hidden in your boot; however, you tsk-ed at the fact that guns are certainly faster than knives. One of the thieves continued to threaten your tattooed companion over money he didn’t have (you were footing the food costs, after all).

Your eyes widened as the man smashed V in the face with his gun. You rushed and held him before his head could smack across the concrete. “Ha ha. You’ve gotta treat yours and your girlfriend’s life with more care…”

The sound of flesh being pierced hit your ears, and a rush of sharp, black tendrils continued to lash out. “That’s my line,” V coldly replied. “And it looks like you’ve put it in a bad mood.” The black matter continued gurgling, bubbling, and growing around you two. Repeatedly, it punctured the three men’s bodies. Their cries of agony rang out. Soon enough, they were bloody and debilitated.

“Huh, neat,” you softly spoke. V bent over to begin picking up the money, and you followed suit. Three thuds and a cries of agony sounded behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see them lying in pools of blood.

“Why are you moaning like it hurts? It’s just a dream,” V looked at them with disdain in his eyes.

Your gaze turned to the original victim who was trembling with fear. “Stay away stay away stay away!” She screamed. “Please don’t kill me! I’ll give you money.”

“That money is already ours, nobody’s asking for your--” You squeezed Griffon’s beak shut as V carefully dropped her necklace in front of her. Did she even notice? Or was she too busy shuddering? You didn’t really care about the answer, and soon enough, both of you were turning and walking away.

“You look kinda angry,” Griffon pointed out.

Putting a finger to your chin in fake thought, “His expression is pretty sour, huh?” You laughed with the bird. V only sighed and kept walking. Curiosity swelled up in you. “Are those guys gonna die and bleed out or somethin’?”

“And if I said yes?”

You shrugged. “Can’t say I care all that much. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

V simply stared at you for a moment. “You’re… amusing.” The compliment surprised you.

A laugh passed from your lips. “I don’t think anyone's ever said that about me. I think people find me to be more along the lines of scary.”

“Hard to find the person who saved me scary.”

“You just haven’t seen enough of me yet,” you gave him a wink. “Ah, there!” You pointed to a burger stand. “It’s probably cheap as shit, and now we have some extra cash to actually get separate meals. But first, let’s clean this up.” You brought your shirt sleeve to his face and wiped the blood off him. “Much better.” It was soft, but you were pretty sure you heard a ‘thank you.’

As one would expect from fast food, the two of you finished the transaction quickly and found a wall to sit against. It didn’t take long for you to dig into your food, starting with the fries. On the other hand, V sat there examining his burger. A confused expression took over your features. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t want to get sauce on myself,” he stated matter-of-factly. You snorted and even Griffon came out to laugh.

“Seriously, that’s your damn problem?”

“I don’t want to be dirty.” Despite his words, hunger seemed to have won the battle of eating versus worrying about sauce. V had predicted it correctly though--sauce did indeed drip on his pants. Silently, you set napkins in his lap. “Thanks,” he said through a mouthful of food.

As the two of you finished your meals in quietude, you took notice of the darkening sky. With a stretch, you stood up and shook your legs out. Noticing he was still sitting down, you offered your hand to V. He stared at it for a moment, but took it anyway. You flashed him a soft smile. “We should probably get going if we hope to meet with that man Morrison today.”

Making your way to the bar, you observed more and more things about your partner for the day. Firstly, he didn’t need his cane--for walking at least. Other than his moments of fatigue, his gait was entirely normal. But if he didn’t need it for walking, what did he need it for? Secondly, you noticed that when his familiars Griffon and Shadow emerged, the ink of his tattoos came out with them; however, some color remained. Did that mean there was another you had yet to see? There was no denying that V was a man of mystery. You reached the bar before you could ponder further.

“You comin’ in?”

V shook his head. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Alright, shouldn’t take too long,” you nodded to him. You squinted as you stepped into the dimly lit room. At the bar itself, you noticed a man in a hat. It seemed like he was trying to keep a lower profile, so it was likely that that was your man. “Morrison?” You approached him.

“Ah,” Morrison called out your name. “Nice to see you again,” he shook your hand then lowered his voice. “So you have a job?”

“Yes, it is very important that I see this Dante. I have the money,” you showed the bills to him. “Oh, and I also met another man who wants to propose the same job to him,” you added.

“Is that so?” This Morrison man did seem surprised by what you said. He turned around to say goodbye to the employees. “Let us be off then.”

You and Morrison exited the bar, and you reunited with V. “It’s all set up,” you informed him, to which he nodded in response.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at your destination--Devil May Cry. Morrison went ahead of you two to deliver the job to the legendary hunter Dante. Your gaze turned to V, but he appeared to be having an inner dialogue going on. Eh, I don’t care to interrupt. It was V who broke the silence. “Are you ready to go in?”

“After you,” you gestured, pulling the door open. A mere moment after, you finally looked upon what would (hopefully) be the man to take on your job. Dante was a ruggedly handsome man with silver hair, blue eyes, and a bit of stubble. All in all, he was pleasant to look at, even if his eyes were full of skepticism as he sized you and V up. Dante’s gaze flicked up to Morrison once more though when he told the devil hunter that he was bringing two other people onto the job. The notion seemed to offend him, but he took it with a huff anyways.

A quiet moment passed. “Alright, so for starters… What are your names?” You offered yours up then looked to V.

“ I have no name; I am but two days old…”

Both you and Dante looked at him strangely. Oh, I see. He's reciting a poem. You recalled the pieces you had read while waiting for him to wake up.

“Just kidding. You can call me ‘V,’” he said with a seemingly amused expression before closing his book.

“Okay then you two. Why don’t you tell me everything about this job?” Dante wore an expression that seemed to scream boredom.

You turned and allowed V to explain the situation. “A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante.”

“Ha!” Dante exclaimed. It was a reaction you were not expecting. “Now that’s a familiar tune.” He began listing off the requests he’s been given with a certain cockiness. “All of them were kind of a let down.”

“This is special…”

“What’s so special about this one?” You were curious yourself, you didn’t realize how much more V knew about this situation than you did. You were acting on feelings and intuition, but this ebony-haired man seemed to know the issue intimately.

“This demon is your “reason,” V continued, “Your reason for fighting, Dante.”

Dante was quiet before asking, “This demon got a name?”

A smile graced V’s lips. “Vergil.”

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gamerwoo · 5 years

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[Tales from the Pack] Seungcheol: Stubborn (Part Eight)

Character: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, very very slight fluff at the end

Word count: 2,721

Summary: You’ve heard the stories your relatives told you about werewolves when you were younger, but you always thought it was just a scare tactic to make kids behave. Well, up until you woke up in a den full of werewolves.

Previous | Next | Stubborn Masterlist

“_____!” Seungcheol shouted urgently as he banged on the door.

Those in the living room looked around curiously at each other before standing up and walking to the bottom of the stairs. They could hear him shove the door in with his shoulder before he called out your name again, this time with more urgency.

Soonyoung was the first to race up the stairs, everybody else going up behind. Even Wonwoo had his sister’s hand and was bringing her up behind the rest of the pack.

The group walked into Seungcheol’s empty bedroom, where the cool night air was drafting in from the open window. You were gone. You were there all day, and you had suddenly escaped without a word into the night. It was dangerous to go outside alone at night, and you should’ve known that. Seungcheol hadn’t sensed any danger though, only realizing you were much farther away when he decided to go check on you. So what happened?

He stared at the window in silence, nobody knowing what to say or do.

“Cheol...?” Soonyoung spoke up.

Finally, the alpha turned around, his eyes red, “Let’s go.”

Seungcheol wasn’t going to leave Danbi alone, so he took the other two alphas, Jeonghan, Chan, and Seokmin out to find you, leaving everybody else at home. As much as he wanted to send out the biggest search party he could, he couldn’t be irresponsible. Besides, he trusted the ones he brought along to find you quickly. You couldn’t have possibly gone far.

But two hours in, they still couldn’t find you, and Seungcheol was more and more worried with each passing second. It was dark in the forest, and the odds that you would get injured or worse… He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Does she seem close by?” Jeonghan asked, though he seemed more irritated than worried.

Seungcheol shrugged, “It keeps feeling like we’re getting closer to her, but then she keeps moving farther away. I don’t know where she’s going.”

“Maybe she really did run away this time...” Jihoon mused quietly, his bright, golden eyes looking at the ground rather than around the terrain for any sign of you. “I didn’t think the thief would be dumb enough to go outside alone at night, but if she’s getting farther away--”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol snapped, not even bothering to turn around to glare at the younger alpha.

“It could still be Jia!” Seokmin said hopefully, mostly to try to make the eldest less angry. “_____ could’ve fallen asleep, and now she’s sleepwalking with Jia again.”

After the pack learned that you had never been prone to sleepwalking like you had been, Minghao was almost positive it was Jia doing it. Nobody was just sure how she was managing.

Jeonghan nodded in agreement, “_____ even pointed me in the direction of that wolves’ den.”

After Jeonghan went in the direction you pointed him in, he found the den of what appeared to be at least one wolf. He wasn’t sure who lived there or if they were friendly, but he reported to Seungcheol and he told the pack to be aware that there was another wolf -- or wolves -- near their territory.

That made him more terrified knowing you were out here alone, now.

“Jia told Minghao that she wasn’t doing it,” Seungcheol stated, just wanting to focus on the task of finding you.

“She might not know she’s doing it,” Seokmin shrugged, sniffing the air as they followed the oldest alpha. “It might be a subconscious thing.”

Seungcheol groaned, all of these possibilities hurting his head. He didn’t really care why you were sleepwalking and running off at night, he just wanted it to stop so he’d know you were safe. He didn’t blame you since it was out of your control, but he was just upset. It was like everything was trying to pull you away from him when you already didn’t want him around.

Why would fate match him with you if you two didn’t seem to be meant to be together? Was the universe bored and needed a laugh? Was his life just a joke?

They kept walking, and you were still getting farther and farther away. Seokmin even shifted in an attempt to run ahead and see if he could find you, but there was no sign of you. He could smell your scent but he couldn’t find you, so he went back with the group and carried along with them unless he was commanded to go ahead again.

Seungcheol continued to follow the pull through the dense brush as it got closer and closer to dawn. When it was around 1 or 2am, Soonyoung offered up his powers – Seungcheol didn’t like using them unless completely necessary – and the eldest didn’t decline this time.

The pack waited as Soonyoung closed his eyes to concentrate. Slowly, sheer black fog started to flow and shimmer around him. When he opened his eyes, they had turned a glowing almost white as he searched for a creature in the forest to take over. He sensed a bird perched in a tree and decided an eye in the sky was their best bet.

The pack watched as the black around Soonyoung flew upward into a tree, and they waited until the second alpha began walking again to know he had successfully possessed the animal. He was only half paying attention in his own body, as his mind was elsewhere inside the bird’s mind, seeing everything the bird saw as he made it fly through the air.

“Anything?” Seungcheol asked, thinking that they would’ve found you sooner than this.

“No, but there’s a town ahead,” he mumbled, “she might be there…”

“We’ve been walking for at least two hours,” Chan whined. “Aren’t we a few towns over by now?”

“She’s going in the direction of The Capitol,” Jihoon informed them, looking up at the sky to get an idea of what time it was. “I don’t know what she’d need there. No way she’s from there, either.”

“I see her,” Soonyoung said quietly, but it made Seungcheol stop dead in his tracks and grab the second alpha’s shoulders.

Seungcheol looked into Soonyoung’s silver, spaced-out eyes intensely, “Where?”

“She’s…walking through an alley...” he muttered, hardly even aware of his brother standing so close to him. “She keeps checking around her... She’s-- She’s running. I think she’s being followed.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, and his panic intensified as he shook his brother’s shoulders, “Where is she, Soonyoung?!”

“In the next town…to the northwest,” Soonyoung closed his eyes, letting himself leave the bird and come back to his own body. When they opened again, his eyes were back to their usual liquid gold. “I know where to go; come on.”

Soonyoung took off with the pack on his heels, easily moving through the dark forest. They leaped over logs, dodged branches, and made it to the town’s edge in record time in their human forms -- minus Seokmin. That was when the second alpha slowed down and began to weave through the streets, sneaking through alleyways and behind buildings just in case anybody was awake this early in the morning. Seokmin stayed behind, figuring walking around as a naked human was just as bad as walking around as a wolf.

They had to find you before whoever was after you did, but now, they didn’t know if you’d gotten caught or not. Not only that, but if they were seen by anybody, their cover would be blown. They didn’t bother to change their eye color before they left, so anybody would be able to tell they were werewolves, and that meant guaranteed capture, torture, and death.

“Over here,” Soonyoung whispered, waiving them over to the tiny house he’d seen through the bird’s eyes.

“Are you positive?” Chan asked.

Seungcheol was the one to nod, feeling the intense feeling that you were close by – thankfully, he didn’t sense you were in danger, though, “Yeah, this is definitely the place.”

“That’s great and all, but how do we get in to get her?” Jihoon questioned, gesturing to the house they were all hiding at the back of. “We can’t interact with any citizens here, and if we break in, there’s a big chance we’ll get caught.”

“Then you guys can go hide by the edge of the city with Seokmin,” Seungcheol said, already walking up to the backdoor, “because I’m getting her back before sunrise.”

“I think that it’s empty inside,” Soonyoung noted, trying to listen for any sounds inside other than what appeared to be your heartbeat.

“And what if it’s not?” Jihoon asked.

“Well I’m still--”

The pack froze when they heard the door open, all eyes except Seungcheol’s looking toward the door to see who had caught them. Seungcheol slowly turned around, and looked down at the person who was inside.

He saw your face looking up at him.

“_____!” he sighed in relief, resisting the urge to hold you close to him and kiss the top of your head. Instead, he smiled and ran his hands through his hair, not knowing what else to do with his hands. “You’re safe.”

“Of course I am,” you scoffed. “But we need to go before they find me again.”

Seungcheol didn’t like that. He wasn’t sure what you meant, but he knew it meant you really were being followed -- and apparently by bad people.

“Who’s ‘they’?” he asked.

You twirled the knife you’d found in the empty house around before exiting the house, making sure to close the door behind you as you checked both ways down the street, “Now doesn’t seem like a good time for questions and answers.”

You took off in one direction, the wolves giving each other confused looks before following on your heels.

You fell asleep after your argument with Seungcheol, and then you found yourself thrown into another dream with Jia, as you usually were. At first, it was just you and the blind girl that you’d come to grow a strong sense of trust in from seeing her in your dreams so many times, but then something woke you up.

A gunshot brought you abruptly to the real world where you were standing in the middle of the woods. You heard loud, boisterous talking, but you weren’t sure where it was coming from. Either way, you crouched down to the ground to be harder to spot, and listened carefully.

“Said the body went missing somewhere around here,” a man’s gruff voice stated. “Girl was gone without a trace. You know what that means.”

“Werewolf,” another chuckled in amusement. “They must live nearby.”

You knew only one type of idiot went out looking for werewolves: werewolf hunters.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt like you had to do something. You couldn’t let them go to the house or they’d find the pack and surely slaughter all of them. You didn’t know why that meant anything to you, but your gut just told you to do something to keep them away.

As a thief, you were agile, quick, and sneaky. It was definitely dumb to provoke werewolf hunters -- especially because they’d think you were a werewolf since you were out in the woods alone in the middle of the night -- but you were confident in your capabilities.

“Hey!” you called, standing up from your hiding spot.

The group of about four or five men turned around, their torches illuminating your face. You raised an eyebrow, challenging them.

“Is that--?” one of them asked.

“Get it!” another ordered.

So you spun around and took off running. You managed to hide from them a few times to at least get a break, but they’d find you again and you’d be off again. You darted into a town you saw through the trees and tried to lose them in the streets, eventually ducking into a house that didn’t seem to have anybody living in there. Thankfully, it was fully stocked, so they must’ve been away on a trip out of town or something.

And now you were running again, but not as urgently. All you had to do was make it out of the town, and you were golden. You definitely weren’t safe, but if you could get out of the town the hunters were looking for you in, you would be.

“Over there,” Soonyoung said, pointing to the tree line.

You raced out from the alley you were in and went straight for the trees. But you suddenly caught a glint of yellow in the moonlight that had you straining your eyes. A large light brown werewolf was waiting in the brush, its yellow eyes staring back at you.

You skidded to a stop, one of the werewolves behind you crashing into you. You hadn’t ever seen a werewolf in its wolf form before, and you weren’t even sure if this was one of their pack. Even if it was, you felt panic course through you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Seungcheol’s voice was soft but urgent, trying to gently push you closer to the trees. “It’s just Seokmin.”

“He’s fucking massive!” you whispered intensely, still resisting against Seungcheol even though he was easily pushing you forward.

“Get over it, we have to go,” Jihoon groaned.

After the initial shock of seeing a werewolf that stood well above your head, you were finally able to move your legs again to run deeper into the forest, Seungcheol keeping a hand wrapped around your arm to keep you by him. Soonyoung seemed content with how far they’d gotten away from the town after about fifteen minutes of running because everybody started to slow to a walk.

“So what happened?” Jeonghan asked bluntly.

Five pairs of eyes turned to look at you, not counting Seungcheol who looked at you where he walked beside you. He was a couple feet away since you’d yanked your arm back when you were done running, but he still wanted to be near you just in case.

“Well...I was sleepwalking,” you began slowly.

Seokmin made a weird sound, almost like a laugh. Chan just shushed him so you could continue.

“I woke up after I heard a gunshot,” you continued.

Seungcheol’s eyes went wide, “A gunshot?!”

“You didn’t sense danger, calm down,” Jeonghan told him, not wanting to get him worked up because he’d get extra protective and then you two would fight.

“Is that why you ran away?” Soonyoung wondered.

“No, I was leading them away,” you corrected.

The group seemed confused by that. They didn’t understand why a human would lead somebody with a gun away or what you would even be leading them away from until it clicked. There was only one thing you’d want to lead somebody away from, and there’s only one reason you’d want to lead them away.

“Werewolf hunters,” Jihoon murmured, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he took that information in.

“You made werewolf hunters chase you three towns over?” Seungcheol demanded.

You looked up at him, scoffing, “A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

“You could’ve died!”

Seungcheol’s mouth opened to tell you it didn’t matter, but he was hit with a sudden realization at your words. He could’ve died. That was why you led the hunters away from the house. They could’ve killed all of them, and you didn’t want that. You risked your own life to protect them, even if you claimed you wanted nothing to do with any of them. He didn’t know why you’d do that, but it made him want to cry from pure happiness.

You cared about him and the pack, even if you didn’t know it.

Figuring you must’ve won, you stared ahead again as you walked. It was silent for a solid few minutes before Seungcheol spoke again.

“Thank you, _____.”

You certainly didn’t expect him to actually say it. You looked back at Seungcheol again, seeing that he sincerely meant it. His yellow eyes were soft, and the little smile he gave you was genuine.

You just gave a thin, awkward smile and a nod of your head in reply. But he didn’t expect any proper reply. Just knowing you did that to keep them safe, that was enough for him.

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thatishogwash · 4 years

Text

To See You Again

KuroDai Week 2020

May 6th, Day One : Earth / Sky

AO3

Kuroo could not fathom why he was chosen for this job out of all the available angels. He had no interest in earth, whether that involved the creatures that inhabited it or physically being on it himself. He did like the small furry creatures but there were plenty of those above, where Kuroo liked to reside. Everything on earth was too much, contrasting points that made Kuroo’s headache.

It was just so ugly. The small bits of natural places the unfortunate creatures left alone were still beautiful. Tiny patches of forests, the stretching scrublands, and the vast deserts Kuroo never minded. But the city he found himself in was horrid. It was full of noise, constant and unfamiliar. The smell was atrocious, it was equal parts too bright and too dark. He could feel the press of humans against him, not just the physical body he was forced to inhabit to walk on this plane of existence without frying the ridiculous creatures minds but they pushed and pushed on him from every direction.

Anxieties, fears, pettiness, ambition- it all threatened to break him apart.

Why were there so many of them and why did they all congregate in one tiny area?

Kuroo turned down an alley, taking a deep breath and immediately joking on the putrid smell and taste around him. Why were humans so filthy? And why did they insist on poisoning the planet they lived on? Did they think there would be no consequences for their actions?

Kuroo had spent the majority of his long existence not minding humans much. The few he interacted with up above were usually quiet and polite, some skittering around his edge of vision as if they feared direct contact. He did not concern himself with those from below because he hardly had a reason to leave the comfort of his home.

Then he was given a mission to complete, apparently a job that only he could do though there certainly wasn’t a shortage of angels who wished to take a trip to the mortal realm. But this was important and he was asked by the high council to complete this mission, so he would do his best to finish as quickly as possible and return home.

Never one to have walked the mortal realm before, Kuroo had to have a point of contact. Someone who knew of his kinds existence who would assist him. Kuroo just wished this person didn’t situate themselves in a dirty back alley in an overly crowded city.

The inside of the tavern was just as dingy and worn down as the outside but at least there were only a handful of patrons scattered about the decent sized room. The putrid smell of the alley fortunately did not carry into the establishment either but the occupants were less than savory. Not a single one was human either, which worked just as well for Kuroo. He hasn’t the knowledge to dance around the human customs they all held so tight onto.

Walking to the man polishing glasses behind a long wooden counter seemed to be Kuroo’s best bet. He wasn’t even sure who he was supposed to meet with, just that they knew he was coming.

“Well hello handsome,” Pale gray eyes looked Kuroo up and down, briefly pausing on the space just to the sides of Kuroo. He felt the need to pull his wings closer but resisted, knowing they were well hidden. Some humans were born with the sight but they usually did not live long enough to learn that the creatures who hid amongst them did not want to be seen. This one in front of Kuroo was no mortal, though he belonged to this realm as much as the humans did “Now tell me pretty boy, how does an angel find themselves in a place like this?” He leaned against the counter, the dim lighting making his silver hair appear darker.

Kuroo felt the need to shift restlessly. Handsome? Pretty boy? They sounded like terms of endearment but this man hardly knew him.

“I’m looking for a guide.” Kuroo stated honestly, the local language came easily to him. “They were made aware that I was coming.” An eyebrow was raised as the smaller man leaned against the counter, appraising Kuroo once more.

“Did you walk around in those sheets?” They asked, smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. Kuroo looked down at his clothing, he could have sworn he chose something that was in fashion the last time he had peaked in on the humans. Things couldn’t have changed that much, could they? He hadn’t paid much attention while walking but the few occupants of the tavern were dressed quite differently.

“Suga what’s going on I felt-” The voice cut off and Kuroo turned towards it automatically.

Kuroo had always been obedient, he had wanted to please those that gave him orders and he had only come close to even questioning them on one occasion. What felt like a lifetime ago, many of a human's lifetime that is, a group of angels had been cast to the earth for their disobedience and Kuroo’s core beliefs had been shaken. He had been close to them, had fought by their side, slept curled together, had grown and watched over their land. When they had fallen it had felt like a piece of Kuroo had gone with them.

“Tetsurou.” Only an angel could true name another angel and no matter what had happened the one in front of Kuroo was an angel, had been an angel.

“I’m called Kuroo in this form.” Kuroo motioned needlessly to his own body. He watched a small uptick in their mouth.

“Sawamura.” He took a deep breath, broad shoulders shifting before bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. All his movements were so human it nearly surprised Kuroo. Dai- no, Sawamura, had always had a love for mortals. “Of course no one thought to mention it was you they were sending.”

“Will that be a problem?” Kuroo glanced over at the man behind the counter, who was leaning against it with his head propped up on his hands, a big smile on his face as he watched the two of them.

“No.” Sawamura cupped his chin, looking Kuroo up and down with a slightly pained expression. “This will require a lot of leg work.”

“Am I not appropriately attired?” Kuroo spread his arms, tried to keep the smile off his face because he had already gotten the impression that he was wearing the wrong thing.

Kuroo knew he should be feeling something like dread consuming him at this moment. Sawamura had fallen, his wings had been destroyed, Kuroo could feel the wrongness about the other angel like a cold hand down the length of his spine. But standing there in the same room with someone he had grown with, someone he had loved wholeheartedly, he could only help but feel sudden elation. He was so different, short but broad, hardened by years spent in the mortal realm but still with that aura of kindness he always radiated.

There were only a few that Kuroo was comfortable enough to be his true self around and apparently neither time nor space could change that one of those few was Sawamura.

“I can help with that!” The man behind the counter volunteered enthusiastically.

“Wait-” But the man already had his hands planted flat on the counter and used them to valt himself over the top and land gracefully before Kuroo.

“Come along pretty boy.” Kuroo looked at Sawamura in question even as he was pulled further into the building.

“It’s fine, Sugawara won’t harm you.” Sawamura exchanged a look with the grinning Sugawara who pushed and prodded until Kuroo willingly followed him.

“So you know Sawamura from up there?” Sugawara whistled as he pointed upwards. Kuroo couldn’t fault the other for his questions, he was curious about Sawamura’s current life so perhaps they could exchange information.

“We were created together.” Kuroo answered, earning a surprised look from Sugawara as Kuroo followed him up a set of narrow staircases that led to a wide and round room. “Have you known him long?” Kuroo thought Sawamura had fallen about two or three hundred years ago by human standards.

“I found him after- well, you know.” Sugawara made a vague motion but Kuroo understood what he meant. He stepped over to a standing wardrobe, pulling it open and Kuroo stared in shock at the sheer amount of fabric it held. “He was pretty injured, I didn’t even know angels could be that hurt.” It took a lot to injure an angel. Mostly another heavenly being, though inner fighting didn’t happen often. Falling was different, it was devastating

“Is this necessary?” Kuroo looked at the large amount of clothing Sugawara was pulling out, instructing Kuroo on how to wear it all.

“We’ll have to do something about that too.” Sugawara pointedly ignored Kuroo’s question, eyeing the spear Kuroo was holding. Kuroo simply tapped the spear against the ground twice and let it become a simple leather bracelet on his wrist. “Convenient. I can’t believe you walked down the street wearing that, holding a seven foot spear and no one called the police.”

“Humans tend to see only what they want.” Kuroo pulled off his robes and tried on the different pieces of clothing. He didn’t see the point of changing his bottoms, or pants as Sugawara called them, three separate times or his top eight times but he didn’t feel like arguing.

“Perfect.” Sugawara clapped his hands together. His smile should have held joy but there was something quite mischievous about the look.

Kuroo didn’t enjoy the pants, they were tight and restricting but he did like the heavy boots. The top was fine, Sugawara called it a V-neck, and Kuroo liked the long sleeves. He hadn’t fussed much when Sugawara had pulled out a pair of scissors, cutting off Kuroo’s long hair.

“One more thing.” Sugawara stepped in front of Kuroo, his smile turning sharp as he pointed the scissors at Kuroo’s chest. “You might look down on Sawamura but he means the world to a lot of people here so you better watch yourself, mmkay?” Kuroo felt genuine surprise as he looked down at Sugawara.

Many times Kuroo found himself wondering how Sawamura was. There were no rules against visiting the fallen but it was frowned upon and Kuroo had his own duties to see to. He worried that he would be alone or hurt. The human world was one of harsh realities, cold and distant to those raised elsewhere. But it seemed Kuroo needn’t have worried for Sawamura had carved out his own life here.

“I don’t look down on him.” Kuroo answered honestly. He wasn’t really threatened by the scissors, most likely they would break if met with Kuroo’s skin but he still wanted to avoid a confrontation with someone Sawamura cared about.

“You don’t? But you’re up there and he was forced to be down here.” Sugawara was clearly confused.

“I know that.” Kuroo tilted his head, wondering what Sugawara’s point was.

“Don’t you think, I don’t know- you’re better than him or something? His wings have been damaged, he can’t return home, he’s an outcast to your kind.”

“He can return home.” Kuroo ran a hand through his newly short hair. Sugawara had still left a couple inches, more than he himself had or Sawamura had. “He just has to repent.”

“Repenting, is that difficult?” Sugawara asked to which Kuroo shook his head.

“He has to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“And mean it.”

“And mean it?”

“Why are you repeating what I’m saying?” Kuroo asked. “Angels are allowed to make mistakes, we are not perfect creatures. The fallen are still angels, no matter the state of their wings. Sawamura will come home when he chooses too and he will be welcomed back.” Falling itself was meant as the punishment, living on earth a small part of it. Kuroo supposed two or three centuries seemed like a lot to a human, but it was fairly insignificant to a celestial being. Kuroo had always believed that Sawamura would return, the others with him.

Sugawara was silent as he led him back to the tavern. Kuroo smiled as he spotted Sawamura once more, walking up to him and only pausing slightly when he saw him start to turn red.

“Are you alright?” Kuroo asked worriedly, peering down at Sawamura.

“Fine.” Sawamura shot Sugawara a hard look before sighing. “Ennoshita you’re in charge!” A quiet affirmative was heard from behind another door.

“Oi!” Sugawara threw his arms open.

“You’ll only instigate trouble.” Sawamura tugged on the hem of Kuroo’s shirt, prompting him to follow the shorter angel out of the tavern.

“Sugawara threatened me.” Kuroo said once they were on the street. It didn’t smell nearly as bad as before, and the heavy push of emotions wasn’t as overwhelming.

“Did he?” Sawamura sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck once more, looking up at Kuroo out the corner of his eye.

“He’s protective of you.” Kuroo was happy about that. As long as Sawamura seemed content than Kuroo wouldn’t push him to return home when the mission was over, no matter how much Kuroo personally missed the other angel.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, even from Suga.” Sawamura stated plainly. Kuroo smiled at that, happy to hear that Sawamura was as protective as always. Kuroo leaned down a bit.

“Is there something wrong about the clothes he picked out? You keep looking at me.” Kuroo asked, head tilting as he watched Sawamura flush red once more.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sawamura mumbled, earning a laugh from Kuroo.

Sugawara had nothing to worry about because Kuroo would make sure that nothing happened to Sawamura either, he swore on his life.

#kurodaiweek2020 #kurodaiweek #kurodai #haikyuu #my writing #haikyuu!!#Kuroo Tetsurou #sawamura daichi

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