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kisara-kaiba · 2 years

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Temptation Ch. 4

A/N: And finally it gets at least a little ✨spicier✨

Summary: Seto Kaiba finds his stoicism challenged by his undeniable attraction to his new assistant. But who is she really, and why is there something so familiar about her? And most importantly: how long will he be able to fight himself to stay away from her?

Chapters 1, 2, 3

Chapter 4 below the cut (word count: 3119)

Chapter 4: Overtime

For the second night in a row, Seto was surprised to find his office shrouded in darkness. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, and yet he came to collapsed over his desk, head only inches away from the keyboard.

No one must have noticed he was still there. Completely silent and with the lights out, it would be easy to presume the room empty and him gone for the day. Nothing but blackness could be seen through the window, and the numbers on Seto’s wristwatch read 8.15 pm.

It was late, but not late enough that Mokuba or any of the bodyguards would worry. He’d spent many a Friday evening at work before.

Seto did not mean to stay, however. His mind was foggy, and he stepped out into the corridor with every intention of going straight home. What stopped him was the light coming out of a single, open doorway further down the hall.

It was as if he knew before he even got there. Kisara was bent over her desk, frantically typing and too focused on her task to notice him at first. Her undone hair spread down her back like a waterfall, and the space around her was completely covered in documentation.

“Kisara”

She let out a yelp, files flying as she whipped around in her chair. Her face went from horrified to confused in the split second it took to lay eyes on Seto.

“Mr Kaiba!”

She looked absolutely done for. Unruly strands of hair hung down over her face, and her eyes behind them were droopy and bloodshot. Still, the way they shifted from blankness to warmth when she saw him made Seto tongue-tied.

Kisara drew a deep, shuddering breath before speaking again.

“I- I’m sorry for shouting” She said, her voice noticeably raspy “You startled me”

Seto stared at her. She tilted her head to the side.

“Why are you still here?”

Her expression was worried.

Seto frowned.

“I could ask you the same thing”

His concern sounded more like an accusation, and Kisara looked down at her feet.

“The press conference took all day”

She spoke quietly.

“I didn’t have time to get my own work sorted, not until now. I’m so sorry, Mr Kaiba”

Gaze still lowered, Kisara gestured at the stacks of documents around her. Her voice was genuinely regretful.

Seto was horrified.

“You’re not still working?” He asked.

He took a step towards her, but like he’d been physically held back by the memory of the night before, he stopped in his tracks.

“Please don’t worry, I’m not expecting to be paid overtime” Kisara hastened to add.

Her response made Seto’s heart ache.

“That’s the least of my issues with this!”

His distress at the sight of her slaving away made his voice come out a lot more forcefully than he’d intended to. The sudden, unexpected rage made Kisara jump, and Seto stepped back.

“I’m sorry” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m not angry with you, it’s just…”

He tried to think of the right thing to say. Apologies were not his thing, and he struggled to articulate why her behaviour made him so upset.

“… you shouldn’t be here”

She looked a little wounded, and Seto backtracked again.

“I mean, you don’t have to go above and beyond like this”

Kisara ran her right hand through her hair. She looked so lost and forlorn, Seto wanted to get down beside her and hold her, tell her it was alright. But he couldn’t, too worried that he’d scared her by raising his voice out of nowhere.

“I don’t want to let you down” she said eventually.

“You aren’t”

Seto spoke as softly as he could. Kisara watched him anxiously.

“This is two days’ worth of essential paperwork” She said “It’ll be a terrible mess for you if none of it’s in order”

“I don’t care”

Kisara shook her head.

“You’re already stressed, I don’t want – “

“It’s not important”

“How can you say that Mr Kaiba, it’s – “

“Not more important than you”

He finished her sentence, and Kisara stopped, opening her mouth once then closing it again without a sound. She sought his eye, but Seto turned away, jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know you felt that way”

Her voice was very thin.

Seto forced himself to look back at her.

“Have I really given off such a bad impression?” He asked, surprising himself with how hurt he sounded.

Kisara looked taken aback too and seemed think for a moment before answering.

“Perhaps I just assumed that you’d expect the same standards of your employees as you do of yourself”

She got up from her chair.

“I’m sorry if it sounded like I think you’re callous. I don’t”

Seto didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t very well tell her that he didn’t give a shit if anybody else at KaibaCorp worked themselves to death.

“You’d be the only one” He replied.

“I don’t believe that”

“You’re wrong”

“I’m not”

Kisara looked at him defiantly. Seto huffed, thinking he wouldn’t be able to stand hearing her try and convince him he was a good person.

“Go home, Kisara”

“No”

He flinched.

“That’s an order”

“And I’m refusing it”

She sat back in her chair. Her soft features were now turned to stone, eyes flaring like blue flames.

Seto couldn’t tell if he was furious that she was arguing or in awe of her nerve to challenge him. Her change from apologetic deference to unwavering determination hit him like whiplash, but he wasn’t about to surrender completely, not even to her.

Without a word, he sat down at the desk opposite Kisara’s, and slid the tallest of the paper stacks over to his side. She blinked at him, perplexed.

“What are you doing, Mr Kaiba?”

Seto smirked. Even backed into a corner, he’d managed to make an unexpected move. Like he always did.

“If you’re not leaving until all of this is done” He said, enjoying Kisara’s utter confusion “Then neither am I”.

They stared each other down for what seemed like several minutes. Then Kisara broke into an exasperated laugh.

“This isn’t a duel” She exclaimed in amused disbelief “And even if it was, do you really think agreeing to do my work for me counts as winning?”

“It’s a tie”

“No, it’s not! And when did you ever accept that anyway?”

Seto shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t argue”

“But you don’t even know how the filing software works”

Now it was Seto’s turn to laugh out loud.

“I can hack into any computer system in the world” He said, all his anger ebbing away as he saw her smile again “Do you really think I’ll have a problem navigating my own company’s archive?”

“Fine”

Kisara sighed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

“Just stop bragging, and I’ll tell you what needs to be done”

***

”You never told me why you’re still here”

Kisara spoke effortlessly as she typed, hitting the keys with remarkable speed.

Seto looked up at her. They’d both been quiet for a while, working side by side in comfortable silence.

“Same reason as you” he replied nonchalantly. “I have a lot left to do”

Telling her the truth was not an option. Still, there was no deceiving her. Kisara saw through him all too well.

“Then shouldn’t you be doing your own work instead?”

She eyed him suspiciously from behind her screen.

“Don’t complain”

The way Kisara’s nose wrinkled when she found him difficult was very sweet. Seto feigned annoyance but was secretly happy for a reason to remain with her.

They were silent again for a while, before she added:

“Won’t your brother miss you if you don’t go home?”

Seto shrugged.

“Mokuba can handle being on his own”

Kisara nodded.

“I guess he’s used to it”

This stung a little, but Seto let it go. After a moment’s hesitation, he took the plunge.

“Haven’t you got someone to go home to?”

It was evident that such a personal question caught her off-guard. Kisara stopped typing and looked up.

“No”

Her reply was astonishingly matter-of-fact.

“I could be living in here for all anyone in Domino would notice”

One would have expected such a statement to be filled with bitterness or self-pity. But there was no trace of it. Instead, the expression on her face was perfectly neutral.

Seto watched her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

“Really?”

Kisara looked curious.

“Is that strange to you, Mr Kaiba?”

“Actually, yes”

She turned back to her keyboard.

“I haven’t lived here long” She replied “And I came here on my own”

Of course, Seto had never asked her anything about herself before. It wasn’t something he would normally care to know about an employee.

“When did you move?”

He hoped this was an innocent enough question.

Kisara counted on her fingers.

“About 4 months ago”

“You’ve been working here 3 months”

She looked amused.

“Do you keep track of those things?”

Seto didn’t answer. He pretended to focus on the document in front of him, ignoring Kisara’ expression. Eventually, she kept on talking.

“I only moved because I got this job” She elaborated “I didn’t think I would, so it all sort of happened in a rush”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

Seto looked back up at her again.

“Why didn’t you think you’d get a job here?”

He sounded almost incensed, but Kisara seemed unbothered.

“I’m not very experienced” She said with a shrug “I’m still kind of confused as to why I got hired, if I’m honest”

Seto, of course, didn’t know either. He didn’t do his own recruitment. Even if he had, his reasons for giving Kisara the job would have been decidedly confidential.

“If that’s the case, you’re doing very well” He offered.

Praising her felt right, but risky. Seto was beginning to lose count of how many times Kisara had made him slip up now.

She beamed.

“That means a lot, Mr Kaiba. Really”

Leaning back into her chair, she suppressed a big yawn. It was now almost 10 p.m. and based on the way she’d looked when he first came in, Seto was amazed that Kisara had managed to stay awake.

“Take a break”

“Huh?”

She sat up straighter. The front of her hair had fallen back down into her face, and Seto wondered if that was what she looked like waking up in the morning.

“Take a break, Kisara” He repeated.

Saying her first name was a rush every time.

She nodded.

“Yes, sir”

As she got up, she raised her hand in a mock-salute.

Seto stood up after her, and Kisara grinned when he did.

“If that’s you voluntarily taking a break” She said “then I can actually believe I’ve done a good job”

The warmth in her voice apparent even through the grogginess. Fumbling, she fished a packet of cheap cigarettes out of her cardigan.

“I’d offer you one, but I don’t think these would cut it for a billionaire”

Seto raised an eyebrow.

“You smoke?”

Kisara didn’t seem the type, and she appeared to realise this herself.

“A bad habit I’ve picked up since starting here” She admitted, causing Seto’s brow to furrow.

“Is working here that stressful for you?”

She smiled empathically.

“It’s not your fault, Mr Kaiba. It’s just a lot, sometimes”

“If I’ve put too much on you…”

She shook her head.

“The trouble is everyone else. If it’s you asking, I’m happy to do it”

The air in the room felt stifling all of a sudden. Perhaps Kisara was too tired to fully process what she was saying, but Seto was wide awake.

“You’re right” he said, eagerly changing the subject. “I’m not smoking those, and neither should you. Come on, I’ll get you one of mine”

***

The stars in the sky were as numerous as the Domino City lights. Viewed from the roof of the KaibaCorp building, there seemed to be no end to them. The snowfall had stopped, but the smell still lingered in the air, which was bitterly cold.

Seto had led the way so far, but as soon as they reached the terrace at the very top of the skyscraper, Kisara sprinted ahead. Her heels against the frosty floor looked precarious, and Seto sped up to try and stay behind her, but she didn’t fall.

“This is incredible”

Pressed up against the fence, Kisara turned around to look back at Seto. Her hair had come undone in the strong wind, and it was now whirling around her like a silver tornado. The sparkle in her eyes and the glow of her skin mirrored the stars, but her smile was brighter than all of them.

If the Blue Eyes White Dragon itself had landed on the roof, Seto couldn’t have been more entranced than he was by Kisara just then. He looked at her like a man caught in an epiphany, like he could have fallen to his knees and kissed the ground she walked on.

Only when she turned back to look out towards the horizon could Seto walk up behind her. It was with some trepidation that he watched her get on her tiptoes and lean over the railing, but she seemed steadier on her feet now.

“I didn’t know you could see the ocean from all the way up here”

Kisara’s voice was filled with wonder. To Seto, it was such a simple, ordinary thing.

“It’s not so far away” he replied, unsure of what to say.

Kisara leaned back a little. The oncoming wind made her long hair flutter behind her, and Seto hadn’t realised that he was close enough to get in the way. It made a noise like the crack of a whip hitting his coat, and Kisara turned around.

“Oh, I’m so- “

“No, don’t”

She had made a motion to pull her hair back, but Seto stayed her hands. He grabbed her around the wrists and gently placed her arms at her sides. All the while, she looked up into his eyes, making no resistance whatsoever.

Before he had time to doubt himself further, Seto put one arm around Kisara’s waist and pulled her towards him. He placed his free hand at the back of her head and ran his fingers through her hair, and she responded by pressing her forehead against his chest. The lengths of her hair felt just as silky as they looked, and her breath was warm against his skin through his shirt.

“Kisara…”

She didn’t reply, just pushed her head into him a little harder.

“Hm”

Her voice was soft and muffled.

Seto tucked a link of hair behind her ear, then let his hand rest on the back of her neck.

Kisara’s expression as she looked back up was perfectly blissful.

“Did you forget about the cigarettes, Mr Kaiba?”

She placed her hand gently on his chest, right above his pounding heart.

Seto seemed to struggle stringing his words together.

“Please”

His voice was desperate with need.

“Call me Seto”

Time might as well have stopped around them. Kisara lit up as she got as close as she could to the enraptured man in front of her.

“Kiss me, Seto”

He obliged with a force that all but lifted her off her feet. Now time and space really had ceased to exist, and all that remained was her body in his arms and her lips against his and the most all-encompassing feeling of wholeness. Seto kissed her like it was the first time and the last time and the hundredth time, and like he’d missed her for a lifetime without even knowing it.

Kisara clung on to him, arms around his neck and kissing him back so eagerly that she stopped breathing for a moment. She only broke away to catch her breath, but the sharp inhalation of cold air sent her into a coughing fit.

Seto watched her gasps turn into mist, and only then remembered how frigid it was. They had gone out for a quick smoke break, and Kisara hadn’t put anything on over her uniform except a cardigan. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t noticed it herself, but her hands were trembling, and her skin looked even paler than normal.

“Fuck, Kisara!”

Seto pulled her back in and quickly put his coat over her shoulders. It looked ridiculously big on her, but it did the job of shielding her until he managed to get her back inside. She was somewhat disoriented and difficult to steer, and Seto had to gently sit her down on a sofa in one of the conference rooms. He sank onto his knees in front of her.

“You should have said something!”

Kisara blinked confusedly.

“I- I didn’t feel it”

Seto put his hands on her cheeks. They were ice cold, and a shiver ran through her as his touch warmed them up. He watched her with deep concern.

“I should have noticed”

Kisara shook her head.

“I should have put my coat on”

She reached out and stroked the side of his face.

“Don’t worry, Seto. I’ll be fine in a minute”

Hearing her speak his name brought him out of his frantic state somewhat.

He heaved himself up on the sofa and pulled Kisara close again. She curled up against him, drawing his coat over the pair of them like a blanket, and sighed contentedly as Seto put one arm around her.

“I might fall asleep” she said quietly.

“That’s fine”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been awake this long before”

Seto leaned back against the sofa so she could lay down on him with her head on his chest.

“How long?” He asked, feeling himself doze off as Kisara’s temperature rose reassuringly.

“I’m not sure, but I was awake all night last night”

Seto buried his nose in her hair and smiled.

“You too?”

Kisara hummed.

“Did you really expect me to sleep after that?”

“Guess not”

“Ugh”

She elbowed him lightly.

“If you could have just gotten this over with then…”

“It wasn’t my fault”

“Yeah, blame the interruption”

Seto tutted and placed both arms around her, holding her closer.

“I don’t” He said lightly “I blame you for slinking away”

Kisara let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a giggle.

“You never do let anyone else have the last word, do you?”

“Never”

“Oh well”

She put her hair over her shoulder before relaxing completely against Seto.

“I’m not slinking away this time, am I?”

Seto placed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’d like to see you try” He whispered, drifting away as Kisara’s breaths turned into light snores.

#blueshipping #seto kaiba #kisara #yugioh #setokisa

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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 3 years

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summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #weasley twins x reader

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randomwriteronline · 2 years

Text

All things considered, the first visit of the Castle Town had gone in a surprisingly quiet, almost pleasant way.

Warriors looked over and quickly counted the heads chatting idly as each recounted their wanderings through the familiar yet alien streets: six of them, seven with himself. The only ones unaccounted for were Sky and Skull Kid, who he knew had stuck together to see the soldiers (his soldiers, he reminded himself with a tinge of pride in the courage they had shown at his side), and Time, who instead had just gone completely missing.

On one hand, that wasn't a problem. Time was very likely the oldest out of them - although he refused to share his actual age - and one of the widest and tallest too, qualities that made him both perfectly adept to wandering in a town without getting hopelessly lost and also easily identifiable in a crowd of humble average people not dressed in full armor.

On the other hand, it had been a whole day and Time was nowhere to be seen.

So they were rightfully worried.

The earth beneath them began shaking and jumping fiercely, and a series of thunders in quick succession approached the small group at increasing speeds; they all turned, hands flying to their hilts ready to unsheath their swords if necessary, but only gawked in vague shock as their leader by virtue of being the most ancient in terms of years lived sped his way over to them as if he was about to bulldoze them.

"Bad news, boys!" he started off, words jarringly contrasting his jolly tone and amused grin, "I am wanted by the authorities."

"You what?" Twilight begged his pardon, hoping his father figure had suffered from some kind of convoluted Freudian slip.

But immediately several unknown voices made themselves known with a loud crackle of steel and metal smacking against itself, one soldier finally clearing the corner as he shouted while pointing at the tallest blond man "There he is!", and the gang could naught but watch as Time bolted away at the speed of light, rather impressively for a rather large middle aged guy in full bloody armor.

Most of the clanging troops passed right by the group of heroes without so much as looking at them; only one stopped to salute Warriors, who took the opportunity to hold him there for a moment more with a gesture.

"What exactly has that man done to deserve such an intense attempted arrest?" he asked genuinely confused.

The poor guy, clearly a recruit, had mantained his reverent pose as he had embarassedly explained: "He has evaded the judgement General Impa, sir Captain sir. She had instructed him to wait in her official chambers, but he got out through the window, sir."

Warriors looked like he had been slapped across the face.

"Aren't General Impa's official chambers on the third floor of the castle?" he sputtered out.

"Y... Yes, they are, sir," the guy replied, even more embarassed, "He jumped down and we heard him say 'oh fuck my legs', and then we saw him drink a potion to- well, to fix his legs I believe, and he started running when General Impa told him to get back up there, sir."

The captain hid his face in his hands with a sobbing sigh, feeling as if he could have sunk into the earth to evade this new burden forced upon him by the Goddesses.

Behind him, among four horrified looks, Wild and Wind were bent over themselves laughing their asses off.

So much for a quiet, peaceful start.

Seeing the Hero of Time emerge in all his glory out of nowhere as he casually climbed over the fence he had materialized behind of, turns out, is something that could feasibly give somebody a heart attack.

None of them did, but Hyrule had been very close to having one.

"Good news, boys!" Time smiled as if he had not been chased around for hours, "I have evaded the authorities."

Warriors waved his fists close to his own face, burning with rage: "I AM the authorities, you large bloody fucking idiot!" he hissed.

The older man swiftly turned around and lifted a leg over the barrier he had first appeared behind, clearly ready to get back on the run - at which point several hands grabbed him more or less angrily and pulled him back.

"DON'T fucking run away you--!" the captain hissed, slapping his shoulder repeatedly. "What compelled you to jump off a window? From the third floor of a damned castle?!"

"Didn't want to get scolded."

The scarfed man replied by making a loud whine and several contorting motions with his entire body very reminiscent of a stoat's war dance right before it bites the face off of its opponent.

He resorted to kicking the air and shushing an excessively amused Wild before he could make a comment.

"For... What, exactly?" he asked, shakily.

"Slammed a bench in a soldier's face."

Warriors had to swivel around before he stabbed the other out of frustration; he foind himself then having to revolve in place a few times to evade similarly ill-intentioned urges directed towards the wheezing Legend and Wind, plus a slightly less immediate desire for mellow violence against the cook's ecstatic grin.

Twilight squatted on the ground with his face in his hands, mortified to say the least, Hyrule patting his shoulders as if to offer him strength.

"Sir." Four broke the vague silence, "What in the four corners of hell."

"Skull Kid asked me to." Time replied.

From his successor came a loud sob.

"I would kill for him."

"That doesn't mean you should!" the traveler shouted at him.

The much wider man tightened himself in his shoulders: "The guy was making him uncomfortable," he just explained.

"But a bench?!" Warriors cried out.

"It was the closest thing available."

"I am having a stroke," Legend coughed between chuckling tears, entire body sustained on his knees, Wind laying at his feet howling as his stomach was wracked by laughter, "This has to be a stroke."

#linked universe #warriors lu #twilight lu #time lu #four lu #hyrule lu #legend lu #wild lu #wind lu #random writing #in which time is so fucking stupid and so fucking unhinged #tbh i just desperately wanted to make him say 'bad news boys the police are after me'#somebody help these lads their father is a mess

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asmallnerd · 3 years

Text

Autistic Shoto Todoroki

The analysis

First off, I would like to say that this is purely a passion project. I am not a professional, I am an autistic teenager and I’m just very interested in this character because I heavily relate to him. I’ve collected some scenes from the manga and two specific things from the third light novel.

If you could boost this (if you’re interested that’d be great because while I really enjoy doing this it does take a lot of time! With that being said let’s dive into this and I hope you find this interesting!

Could Shoto Todoroki be autistic? Here is why I think he absolutely could.

Emotional perception

Let’s start with one of the most obvious things about his character. The emotional factor.

Shoto doesn’t emote in the way his peers do. Now, of course this also plays into the brooding mysterious guy archetype, but that’s not what we’re talking about.

Shoto’s face is typically relatively neutral, this is apparent from the moment we first meet him and while he does tend to express his emotions more clearly later in the story, it doesn’t ever really change. Something that immediately comes to mind is how in chapter 202 Iida asks if Shoto is alright because Iida noticed his expression change (because he knows him very well by this point). Ojiro points out that he did not notice this, since Shoto’s face barely changes at all.

We see Shoto in a lot of situations where his peers show excitement while his expression remans completely flat. This lack of emoting is something extremely common in people with autism. It’s not that they don’t have emotions or don’t express them at all, they just do it in a way that is hard to understand for people outside the spectrum or those who don’t know the autistic individual very well. They often struggle to understand what emotion they’re feeling in the first place and of course it’s hard to express feelings if you don’t know what you’re feeling.

Shoto doesn’t only show difficulty expressing his emotions but also recognizing those of other people. One of the best examples of this is the final exam arc, where he gets paired up with Yaoyorozu. In chapter 63 specifically, he doesn’t realize that Yaoyorozu is upset about something even though to someone else it’d probably have been obvious. Only when Aizawa points out that he should listen to her does he notice that he’s been doing something wrong. Shoto didn’t notice she was upset, and he didn’t notice he was being rude.

Emotions and emotional responses are continuously shown to be difficult for Shoto to handle. What he has absolutely no issues with, on the other hand, are academics. Of course, we can naturally assume that he’s been drilled to study hard from a very young age, but he is also extremely intelligent outside of the classroom. During the sports festival he is the first person shown to figure out that the obstacle course poses a lot more disadvantages to the people in the lead, during the practical exam, he is able to come up with a solid strategy very quickly.

During the training camp arc, him and Deku are the ones to come up with a strategy to protect Bakugo on the spot. He also doesn’t seem to consider his intelligence anything special. A lot of autistic people tend to assume that other people’s experiences align with their own. This can be seen when he seems surprised about Denki worrying that he’ll fail the written final exam. He asks how he could possibly fail if he’s been attending class, like the concept is entirely foreign to him (also there’s about a 0% chance this was a joke because this is Shoto we’re talking about.) He is very good at logical problem solving but emotional issues seem to stump him.

Literacy and verbal filters

Moving on, another big factor that Shoto seems to struggle with is his tendency to be overly literal and very blunt. There are several instances where he says things that we as readers as well as other characters perceive as insensitive. Once again, his interaction with Denki about the final exams (chapter 60) can be an example. He didn’t seem to think it was inappropriate and because this is Shoto, he didn’t ask to tease him either. Denki even points out that this was insensitive to say. A more subtle example is his conversation with Izuku in chapter 73, when they talk about Kota. His overall phrasing is fine, but he remains very blunt and direct and essentially ends up telling Izuku that his tendency to cut to people’s hearts with his words is annoying.

My personal favorite for an example can be found in chapter 83, in the hospital after the training camp, when the class visits Izuku, Shoto points out that “Of course Bakugo isn’t here.” Needless to say, he couldn’t possibly have timed this statement any worse. It wasn’t necessary in the first place, but he didn’t register it as something inappropriate to say.

One example of not him being unintentionally rude but just showing a different approach to telling the truth is seen in the third light novel. The fifth chapter revolves around the class preparing a birthday party for Iida. At one point, Sato asks if Iida has food allergies out of nowhere. Iida naturally asks why he needs to know this, Shoto is immediately ready to answer the question honestly, which would have spoiled the surprise, had Izuku not stepped in.

Autistic people often have trouble seeing whether something is or isn’t appropriate to say. Neurotypical people’s brains have a filtering process, it helps them be aware of possible responses to a statement. This filtering process is not functional or only limited in autistic people.

Shoto is also overly literal. In chapter 57, he gets upset over his friends continuously getting their hands hurt and refers to himself as “the hand crusher”. He is very serious about this and does not understand how Iida and Izuku could possibly think he was joking.

In chapter 164, he answers Gang Orca’s metaphoric question entirely seriously. During the interview training in chapter 241 he first seems confused by the made-up mission in the first place. He then proceeds to ask Mt Lady if she has a heart condition when she uses the phrase “My heart would burst out of my chest”. Finally, he appears genuinely horrified when she calls him a “lady killer” (“My smile will kill women..?!”)

In chapter 257, when Mineta claims school talk will “ruin the taste of the food”, Shoto simply says it tastes the same to him, to which Mineta proceeds to call him out for being overly literal.

Autistic people typically struggle to understand jokes and sarcasm, in fact, it’s often one of the main characteristics in people with an ASD diagnosis.

Overfamiliarity and Oversharing

Shoto’s tendency to overshare is another thing that is very typical foe ASD.

He doesn’t seem to understand that telling his life story to a classmate he’s barely interacted with prior is not exactly an appropriate thing to do. He repeats this later with All Might and, most notably, in chapter 165, when talking to the preschoolers during his provisional licensing course.

He also seems to have a slightly different perception of what makes someone friends than his classmates. As shown in chapter 241, to him, spending time with Bakugo during the licensing course is enough to deem them friends. Even when Bakugo points out that there is no correlation between the time spent together and friendship, he still doesn’t seem to understand.

Autistic people tend to become overly familiar and are easily attached to people if they perceive just one of their interactions as positive.

Attachment to inanimate things

This is something not really shown in the manga, but noteworthy, nonetheless. We know that Shoto, upon moving into the dorm building, remodeled his entire room from a modern, more western style room, into a traditional Japanese style one. The second chapter of the third novels goes into depth about why he did this. Shoto was entirely dumbstruck and thrown off by how different the room is from what he was used to. He knew the traditional Japanese rooms from home and his brain assumed that the dorms would be the same. He felt like the different style was wrong. He doesn’t like the unfamiliar flooring and even a small thing like the positioning of the light switch bother him.

He’s not comfortable in the unfamiliar environment, so he decides to change it.

Autistic people often struggle to adjust to changes. In environment and routine. They feel most comfortable in a well established and familiar routine, that includes the feel of their living space. A change of environment this drastic would be extremely stressful for someone on the spectrum.

Another thing that isn’t particularly obvious but does make sense when considered is that Shoto seems to have a comfort food (cold soba). While he’s never shown or stated to be a picky eater he does seem to opt for the same food whenever he gets the chance. Autistic people often have a very restricted diet due to sensory processing issues that apply to food textures, smells and taste.

Additional points

Shoto seems to be a little face blind. He doesn’t know who Kota is when Izuku mentions him, which seems to genuinely surprise Izuku. He also didn’t remember Inasa at all despite them having been at the same entrance exam.

In chapter 202 he’s shown completely zoning out. Of course, this can happen to anyone, I just found it interesting because it was shown so clearly, making it obvious that it was something we should pay attention to.

In the novel chapter in which he remodels his room it is also mentioned that the feeling of synthetic floor against his feet upsets him.

Shoto also seems relatively indifferent to temperature. Of course, that would correlate to his quirk as well, but it is also common for autistic people to struggle with temperature perception as well as other things that neurotypical people don’t struggle to recognize like hunger or thirst. This specifically applies to situations where you would typically end up in pain like, for example, frostbite. Shoto would obviously be used tot his but him showing no reaction at all to his body halfway freezing over was a little unnerving.

He also is shown to be relatively uninterested in certain social events like for example the room competition after the class moves into the dorms. He doesn’t want to be there; he’d rather go to sleep. In the beginning he also shows clear disinterest in making friends with his classmates. Both very typical things for people on the spectrum.

In chapter 244, Hawks asks Shoto a question in a way that seems to confuse him so much he can’t even form a coherent response. [Hawks: “Seemed like you were in trouble, Endeavor.” Endeavor: “Me? Not a chance.” Hawks: “But it seemed that way, didn’t it, Shoto?” Shoto: “Um..I…uh…”]

He probably didn’t register if Hawks actually wanted him to answer or not.

In chapter 64 he mistakes Yaoyorozu crying for her feeling sick, horribly misreading her expressions.

This last point is more personal than the rest, watching his reactions to Endeavor’s fight with the Nomu in chapter 190 made me think of the stress progression that often causes autistic shutdowns. Shoto was clearly becoming more and more stressed as he was watching and once it was over simply seemed to shut down. That is a very typical response to emotional distress or overstimulation in autistic people.

Final disclaimer

This is purely for my own entertainment; it is not meant to be offensive to anyone and I am not saying that this is absolutely what is going on. I’m simply elaborating on a theory/headcanon that I have. That being said, if you have questions feel free to drop them in the ask box, I’d be thrilled!

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shoto todoroki #boku no hero textpost #mha textpost #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #character analysis #shoto todoroki analysis #autistic shoto todoroki #autism headcanon #op is autistic #special interest #long post

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cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Saving Grace (Alpha!Thor x Omega!Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Alpha!Thor

summary: when an Avenger literally falls out of the sky and into your life, you take it upon yourself to nurse him back to health. It is easier said than done when you must hide your true nature from the blond god

It was a quiet night. Most nights were, but sometimes you could hear the faint howling of wolves or the scurrying of some smaller animal outside the cottage. The kettle on the stove was starting to let out a soft whistle, and you knew that it would be ready soon. You could hear a faint rumble from outside, but you paid the thunder no mind.

Your garden could use some rain. You started to undress, staring at the clawfoot tub in the corner with longing. You could practically feel the heated water warming your skin as you watched the steam rise from it while nearing it. You sank into it with a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as you relaxed.

You’d spent most of the day outside, planting some more fruits and vegetables that you’d bought from town. You didn’t get done until late, but that was your fault for waking up much later than you had expected. You were still getting used to the time change and lack of technology, despite how long it’d been since you’d moved here.

You swallowed as you thought of your family and friends and the life you’d left behind. The loneliness of your solitude made your heart clench, but you told yourself that it was for the better. It was safer than the alternative, safer than becoming nothing more than a warm body to some chauvinistic alpha who didn’t value you beyond what was in between your legs.

Both of your parents had been betas. They had often told you they’d thought you’d be no different, but they were wrong. You all were. As soon as you had turned 18, you had experienced the worst pain imaginable that came with your first heat. Your parents had been horrified, distraught even. You had always been their little girl, and the thought of you eventually submitting yourself to an alpha was too much for them.

You had been taken out of school halfway through your senior year, homeschooled through the rest. You hadn’t gone to a campus, instead taking your college courses online. You had never left the house. Instead, you had stayed locked away for years per your parents’ orders…and you didn’t mind.

Growing up, not only had you heard the stories of horrid alphas from your parents, but you’d seen some of the behaviors yourself. You saw how they acted, especially around omegas, how they carried themselves, how they took pride in the emotions they evoked from unmated omegas. You would never forget when a girl in your class had presented during junior year at 16 years old, how the few alpha boys who’d presented early had reacted. How one of the teachers had even reacted…

A shiver ran over you as you recalled that day…how scared that girl had been…how completely unrestrained those alphas had acted… It was a miracle that some other teachers and the school nurse had gotten her off the school grounds unscathed. You knew they weren’t all like that. Even if you’d like to believe so, statistically speaking, they couldn’t all be like that. But enough of them were to scare you.

So when your parents had suggested locking you inside the house for God knows how long, you did not oppose. You were all too happy to stay inside…safe and independent as you possibly could be under the circumstances. However, everything changed when your father died.

It had only been a few months after he died when you experienced one of your heats…the worst you’d ever been through. You couldn’t even recall it, blocking most of it out due to the trauma and pain. You did recall how scared your mother had been though. How worried she had been that you would not make it, that what you normally did to get you through your heats was no longer working. Reluctantly, she began to accept that you would need an alpha after all.

You had begged for otherwise, crying even, and she had cried too, but you could see the genuine fear for your life in her eyes. You had brought up the idea of suppressants, but you had known her answer before she even opened her mouth. They had always been adamantly against them due to the side effects, side effects that you had never given a flying hoot about.

She was determined to find you a nice alpha who would treat you right, who could be trusted with your life and care. You had begged her to reconsider, and she had promised to think about it, but deep down, you knew that her mind was made up. It had taken you less than a day to take her card and buy a plane ticket to Norway. Another two to transfer as much money as you could into an account your parents had opened for you forever ago but had never used. The same day you packed a single bag was the same night you had snuck out to catch the flight.

You were in Norway an entire month before finding a man who sold suppressants. You’d bought as many as possible in bulk, fortune enough to get enough to last for half a year. You’d been in Norway for a year and had only ventured out to buy from him twice. He was a beta and American, and you wondered how much business he got. How many omegas had the same idea as you to hide in the rural land of a foreign country?

The thunder outside rumbled louder now, much louder, and you pulled yourself from the tub just as the kettle began to scream inside the house. You wrapped your towel around you before going to turn it off. It was then that the outside was lit up by lightning, but it flashed in such a way that startled you. You turned to look out of the window, the outside so bright that you could’ve mistaken it for day time.

You heard something hit the ground hard, bringing lightning with it as it struck the earth, shaking the cottage. It was dark again, but you could see a rather large shape prone on the ground outside of your cottage. Your brows furrowed, and you hurried to put on a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms. Hesitantly, you went to open the door, and you gasped as you realized the figure was a man.

Confusion tore through you, but you ran outside anyway. It was lightly raining now, dampening your clothes and hair as you neared him. His golden hair haloed around his head, facial hair consistent and tasteful, and for some reason, he was familiar to you in the darkness. You knelt beside him, looking him over. The only light was the faint light from inside your house that stretched from the window and open door.

You couldn’t see much, but he eventually groaned. He started to sit up, and you recoiled a bit, but he groaned in pain as he did so. He was clearly hurt, and considering you were sure he fell from the sky, that didn’t surprise you.

“Can you stand?”

He mumbled something, and you couldn’t make it out, but he attempted to stand anyway. You helped him up, and it was then, when you were so close, that you recognized him. Your eyes widened, and you rushed to get him inside. It was pouring now.

When you both stumbled inside, you were able to see that he was hurt…badly. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, some more on his arms and neck area, but it seemed that his stomach was the worst of it. Miraculously, you were able to help him to your bed, the queen-sized furniture looking much smaller with his large frame on it. He passed out almost as soon as his back hit the mattress.

You blinked, staring at him in both awe and fear. He was as large and imposing as you always thought he’d be, hair golden and features sharp. You reminded yourself that he was injured, and you struggled to get his shirt off. You recalled seeing him on the news a few times before you’d left, fighting alongside other heroes like Captain America and Iron-Man. You also recalled that he was an alpha.

As you cleaned him up, you also reminded yourself that he was a hero. That he was one of the good guys and his presentation did not negate that. The cut on his stomach wasn’t deep, he’d lost more blood than anything, but you still thought it needed to be stitched. The problem with that was you were in a small cottage practically in the middle of nowhere.

You had a first aid kit lying around and was able to stem the bleeding with some bandages. It would have to do until he woke up. It hadn’t fully hit you yet that a superhero, a god, was lying in your bed, injured. You didn’t know if he was hurt anywhere else, but you decided you weren’t going to check. You’d wait for him to wake. You simply stared at him for a while, unsure of what to do before deciding to sit down in the rocking chair in the corner.

Your emotions were at war with themselves, and you didn’t know how to proceed. This man was a stranger, an alpha at that, and that made you nervous. You couldn’t ignore the small twinge of fear you felt at being in his presence. Sure, you had been on suppressants for a year, but your paranoia couldn’t be helped. On the other hand, he was a hero, loved by all. He was meant to protect, and part of you thought you should feel safer with him in your house.

You didn’t know how long you stared at him, tense and afraid and confused, but you eventually felt your head lolling. The rain outside was soothing, and it calmed your nerves, relaxing you. You succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

You woke up to the sound of a loud deep groan. You stirred a bit, back aching as you moved, confusion filling you. You heard the sound again, and when you blinked your eyes open, it took a moment for your memory to return.

You had an Avenger in your bed.

You sat up as he finally stirred, eyes blinking open to stare up at the ceiling. You glanced outside to see that you’d both slept the night through. You were a bit surprised with yourself that you had grown relaxed enough around him to even fall asleep, let alone sleep so soundly. You winced when you stood, and the movement drew his attention to you. You froze when his bright eyes landed on you, but he didn’t look alarmed…or even worried for that matter.

Why would he? You weren’t a threat in the slightest and he clearly knew that.

“Where am I?” he wondered, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

You reached out before pulling your hands back, unsure if you should help him.

“You’re in Norway,” you answered. “Flekkefjord to be exact.”

His gaze descended, and you followed it to his stomach. The bandages you put over his stomach were lightly stained with blood, but you were relieved to see that you were right: the wound wasn’t that bad. He ran his hand over his abdomen before lifting his gaze to you.

“You bandaged me.”

His voice was deep, like it was full of thunder, and the low timber warmed your body in the way a blanket would. It was strange.

“You were bleeding. I didn’t check to see if you were hurt anywhere else,” you gestured to his bottom half. “I would let you do that when you woke up…”

He pressed his hand to his head, groaning again as he moved to stand. You jumped into action, reaching out to see if he needed help, but he gently waved you off. You swallowed as you eyed him, his large build making your already small cottage look miniscule. He looked around with a hum.

“You fell out of the sky,” you quietly began in case he couldn’t remember. “You almost hit my house…”

He looked at you again, face genuinely apologetic.

“I am sorry,” he apologized although there was no need. “I was…”

He trailed off, seeming to be thinking hard before he slowly rested his hands on his waist, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Loki,” he whispered, disdain and disappointment coloring his tone.

That name was not unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t unfamiliar to anyone who lived in New York for a time or kept up with the news. Your eyes widened, and Thor noticed.

“He will not come here,” he hurried to assure you. “I swear it, Lady…”

You blinked before answering him.

“Y/N,” you told him.

He eyed you for a moment, quickly running his eyes over your frame, and you swallowed under the scrutiny. His nostrils flared.

“Lady Y/N,” he eventually said, resting a hand on your shoulder.

A twinge of discomfort registered in your gut before you noticed him sway slightly. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm and the other on his back as you helped him turn around.

“I don’t think you should be standing.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, but sat down anyway. “I am feeling a bit faint is all. Loki did more damage than I initially thought he would.”

You helped him lean back against the headboard, ignoring his inquiring gaze.

“I cleaned the wounds, but if you want a proper bath I can leave for a while. I should probably go into town and get some things for you anyway. I don’t know how long it’ll take for you to fully heal, but it shouldn’t take any longer than a week or so.”

He hummed in agreement.

“You do not seem at all bothered that I fell out of the sky and into your lawn,” he acknowledged.

The corner of your lip curved upwards ever so slightly.

“I was more concerned with your wellbeing at first, but once I recognized you it suddenly made a lot more sense,” you replied.

“Yes, I seem to have a habit of falling out of the sky,” he murmured, sounding a bit annoyed by that.

You turned away from him.

“Let me run you a bath,” you said, nearing the tub. “…and then I’ll get some things from town.”

It didn’t take long for hot water to fill the bathtub, and you suddenly wondered how this giant of a god was going to fit inside. You almost wanted to stick around, sure it would be comical to witness, but truth be told you wanted to get away from him for a bit.

You threw on a jacket and some shoes, realizing that you wouldn’t be able to change into something more presentable, not with Thor here. You worriedly eyed him as you neared the door, and he waved you off.

“I will make it in and out of the bath just fine, Lady Y/N,” he told you.

You pursed your lips before nodding and leaving, feeling his inquiring gaze on you until you shut the door behind you.

“Your hands are divinely touched, Lady Y/N,” Thor praised.

You threw him a small smile, embarrassment heating your face at his compliment. You both were seated at the table, eating some soup you’d just made. You made sure it included plenty of meat. The blond Avenger had been recuperating at your house for a few days, and in that time, you’d learned quite a bit about him. Notably, that he loved to eat. Especially meat.

“It’s nothing special,” you quietly replied.

“You do that a lot,” he suddenly said.

You frowned at him, pausing in your movements.

“Do what?” you wondered.

“Downplay your talents. You did it the other day when I complimented you on your help with my wound,” he explained.

You didn’t know what to say to that, unaware that you were even doing it. Part of you recognized why though. His compliments and praises made you preen, the omega qualities in you that you’d suppressed for so long rearing their ugly heads. Aside from high school and the occasional passerby in town, you did not interact with alphas. Ever.

You liked his compliments, but you didn’t at the same time. They spoke to a part of you that you wished didn’t exist. Ever since he’d literally fallen into your life, you’d had to up your suppressant intake. You knew the dangers that lied with that, but you didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing. Just until he was fully healed…

“I hadn’t noticed,” you honestly told him.

You could feel his gaze on you, and when you looked up, you found his brows furrowed. There was that curiosity again, like he was trying to figure you out, and that put you on edge. It seemed like he was always trying to figure you out, eying you and sniffing around you when he thought you didn’t notice. You didn’t think he meant any harm by it, but it still bothered you. He was an alpha, and he couldn’t pick up a scent from you that told him your presentation. You knew that it put his nerves on edge. He’s a hero, a good guy. You had to remind yourself of that. You could trust him, and in a few days, he’d be gone anyway.

“You are all alone out here. Why? Where is your family?”

You set your spoon down.

“My father died some years ago. My mother and the rest of my relatives are back in the states. I just like the solitude,” you shrugged.

It was a lie, and you hoped that he could not tell. He continued to eye you with a hum.

“…but you are completely alone. Surely you get…lonely…”

Again, you shrugged.

“I like being alone,” you simply told him with a small smile.

He returned it, but it did not reach his eyes.

“I am almost healed. It just pains me to leave a fine lady such as yourself out here all alone,” he said.

“That’s sweet, Thor, but I’ve been here for a year now. I’m perfectly happy…and safe.”

You avoided his eyes as you continued eating. You didn’t like all of this questioning, it made you nervous, made your heart race and blood pump faster.

“How’s your stomach?” you asked him, changing the subject.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and you pretended not to notice.

“It is healing well. I shall help you with the bandages tonight,” he answered.

You stood, grabbing your bowl.

“Are you done?”

“I am,” he said with a grin, watching as you cleared his side of the table.

You heard him stand as you set the dishes in the sink.

“I shall step outside for a stroll. Work to get my strength back,” he told you.

“Okay,” you called over your shoulder, relief coursing through you when he exited.

He always stepped outside for a while so you could bathe. You were sure that he did enjoy being outside, exercising a bit to regain his health, but you also figured it was not needed. You were grateful he awarded you the privacy. It was also when you took the time to take your suppressants. You were downing them twice a day since he’d arrived, just to be on the safe side, and where as you would normally just take them in the early hours of the morning, you now had to sneak them in during the evening too.

The steaming water soothed you, took your mind off of your present worries for a while. You reminded yourself that they wouldn’t last for much longer. You also had to keep reminding yourself that Thor was one of the heroes. He wasn’t like the alphas your parents told you about…or those boys in high school… He was one of the good ones.

You didn’t linger in the water, and you quickly dried yourself after stepping out. You hurried to get dressed, rushing to grab your pills before Thor reentered. You had just swallowed it down with a glass of water when the door opened. You were nonchalant as you closed the bottle back, shooting him a small smile as you went to put them back into your cabinet.

“I’m feeling almost as good as new. Healthy as a horse,” he chuckled. “Tony said that once…”

You laughed with him. Despite your paranoia, Thor was very easy to get along with. He had such a kind easygoing nature, and it was why you were so inclined to trust him. You suddenly thought about something, something you hadn’t considered before, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you think they’re looking for you?” you kept your tone light.

He talked about the other Avengers quite often, and it definitely seemed like they would be searching for him. You didn’t need anyone else discovering you.

“More than likely,” he answered as you faced him with new bandages. “…but I shall not remain here for much longer. I shall soon be out of your hair, Lady Y/N.”

You threw him a crooked smile before looking away when he removed his shirt, sitting down.

“You can just call me Y/N. I’ve told you that,” you murmured as you approached him.

His chest shook as he laughed, and you swiftly removed the old bandage. You frowned a bit, noticing that he was practically healed. However, you were no doctor. Thor clearly must still be in some sort of pain and discomfort, so you moved to get some cream to rub over his stomach. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Are you ill, Lady Y/N?”

You briefly glanced up at him and found his gaze on you, blue eyes inquiring. There was something else there, hiding within the curiosity that you could not name.

“No, why do you ask?”

“I saw you ingesting some medicine just before I came in. I want to make sure that you are well…”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your face neutral and voice light as you chuckled.

“It’s just for headaches. I get terrible migraines, and a few years ago it became severe enough where I was prescribed medicine for it. Nothing to worry about,” you told him with a soft smile.

He returned it when you caught his gaze, but again, it did not reach his eyes.

“There! All done,” you said.

He stood, and you stumbled back, unsure if you would ever get used to the sheer size of him. You watched as he began grabbing the blankets and some pillows.

“You really should sleep in the bed, you know,” you sighed. “I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor…”

“Nonsense! I am almost well. You are doing much for me already, the least I can do is let you have your bed,” he replied.

It was similar to what he’d said the third night when he insisted you take the bed. You exhaled in defeat, but eventually nodded. It was almost crazy how quickly you’d grown to be comfortable around the blond Avenger. You didn’t think the paranoia would ever go away, a product of your upbringing, but a good portion of you felt safe around him.

You slid into your bed with ease as he made himself comfortable on the floor beside you. The first two nights, you couldn’t even relax enough to go to sleep until he was, but your body sagged with fatigue as soon as you made yourself comfortable. Sleep claimed you almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Thor was awake before you when you finally stirred. The smell of bacon and eggs in the air took you by surprise, and you sat up with a confused smile. You didn’t even know he knew how to use the stove, but you were pleasantly surprised, nonetheless.

“Good morning, Lady Y/N,” he boomed.

“Morning,” you mumbled as you got out of bed.

“This is my show of gratitude for being such a hospitable host,” he said as you neared him. “Sit.”

The command shot straight through you, and you frowned at him, only briefly, but eventually you sat. A plate was sat before you not long after, and you eyed the food, stomach growling.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you told him as he sat down across from you.

He threw you a playful wink, golden locks brushing his shoulders.

“There are a great many things you do not know of me.”

You chuckled before digging in. You glanced out of the window, noticing the clear sky.

“I believe I shall take my leave tomorrow,” he suddenly said.

You returned your gaze to him, somehow simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“You’re feeling much better then…”

“I am. It is thanks to you,” he sincerely replied. “I would very much like to spend the day helping you. Whether it be going into town or in the garden.”

You smiled at him.

“Okay.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a comfortable silence. You were all too happy to admit that Thor cooked better than you did. It was enjoyable, and yet, you kept feeling like you were forgetting something. When Thor stood to clear the table, he lingered by your chair. You looked up when his hand landed on your shoulder. You tensed, but his thumb brushed over a place where your shoulder met your neck, and you instinctively relaxed.

“So which shall it be first?”

You were momentarily dazed, blinded by his grin before blinking.

“Uh…the m-market. I need more seeds,” you quietly told him.

He nodded and moved away. It took a moment for you to clear your head. Another to realize he’d eventually stepped out to allow you to get dressed. You did so quickly, still feeling a nagging in your mind that was trying to remind you of something very important.

Thor’s “disguise” in town merely consisted of a dark hoodie and some shades. He didn’t stray from you the entire time, and his constant presence brought out conflicting emotions in you. His hovering unnerved you, but something in your stomach fluttered every time his arm brushed along yours or he touched your shoulder with his hand.

He didn’t relent when you made it back to your cottage. His constant touches and praises were making your heart race. Thor was attractive, anyone could see that, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed, but you found yourself eyeing him more than usual. You found yourself inhaling his scent at times. You didn’t understand where this had come from…until you were soaking in the hot water that night.

You sat up with a shock, water splashing as you stared at the wall in front of you with wide eyes. Your heart felt like it was going jump out of your throat as your eyes slowly trailed to your cabinet. Hurriedly you jumped out of the tub, almost tripping in the process. Water splashed everywhere as you wrapped the towel around you and ran to the cabinet.

Everything was suddenly making sense. You normally took them first thing in the morning, before Thor even woke up, but he’d woken up first this morning and it had slipped your mind. You surmised that your double dosages were the only thing keeping your body somewhat under control. You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten to take them this morning. You couldn’t believe that…they weren’t here.

Frantic, you pushed other bottles and glasses around, but your eyes weren’t playing tricks. They were gone. You heard the door open behind you, and your stomach dropped to your stomach. You spun around to find Thor leaning against the doorjamb, your pills in his hand. He turned them over, eyeing them as he let out a low hum.

“Do you know how dangerous these are?”

You didn’t know what to say, mouth opening and closing.

“Do you have any idea what these do to you?”

Anger coated his tone, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper that climbed out of your throat at his ire. His eyes met yours, and your lower back hit the sink.

“Thor,” you quietly pleaded, all of your parents’ warnings hitting you at once.

He stepped inside, and you flinched.

“I won’t expose you,” he murmured, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. “I would never do that.”

His eyes softened, and your shoulders sagged. Your relief was short lived when he marched towards you though. Frightened, you stumbled away from him, only to realize too late what he was actually doing.

“No,” you cried as he poured them down the sink, reaching for his hand.

He caught yours in an iron grip, pulling you against him. Your lip trembled as he looked down his nose at you, inhaling. You felt warm, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“…but I don’t want you taking those anymore.”

You glared at him, and a low rumble sounded from within his chest, eating away at your annoyance. Your face fell, tears in your eyes before you eventually nodded. He was leaving tomorrow… After that, you could do whatever you want.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, and one of his hands came up to rest in the crook of your neck, drawing patterns into the skin.

“Promise me…omega,” he softly said.

A shiver ran down your spine at the command…at what he’d called you. No one had ever referred to you as that before, and it made your stomach clench.

“I promise.”

His eyes narrowed, and for some reason he didn’t seem satisfied, but he relented. His hands landed on your bare shoulders, and you found yourself leaning towards him.

“Get dressed, omega, and get some rest.”

You watched as he left the cottage to give you privacy. Shaky, you eventually dressed yourself. No matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Thor knew…and he’d gotten rid of your suppressants. You were beyond terrified, but Thor said he wouldn’t out you. To be honest, you could get into a lot of trouble for what you had done, so you wanted to believe him.

It was quiet when he returned, the air tense. You nervously eyed him, and Thor noticed. He heaved a sigh, resting his hand on your head, stroking your hair. It was oddly relaxing.

“It is late, and you must rest. You are safe with me…”

His blue eyes met yours as you mulled over his words. In the days you’d known him, he had never once made you feel unsafe. So, against the odd feeling in your gut, you nodded and made your way to your bed. You could hear Thor gathering his own pillows and such as you made yourself comfortable.

It took you forever to fall asleep, heart racing at the knowledge that this alpha had found you out and gotten rid of your suppressants. That you were alone with him. He’s a hero, one of the good guys. You repeated that to yourself over and over again until you finally drifted into sleep.

It was sometime in the night when you were pulled from sleep. You didn’t know why, but you could faintly feel movement, the bed moving with it. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, not until you felt hands on you. You murmured incoherently, stirring, but your own movements were somewhat restricted. A heat surrounded you that wasn’t your own.

You felt…caged in.

You blinked, eyes fluttering open as your blurry vision finally cleared, colors and shapes separating to make up what was before you. You felt hot, much too hot to be considered normal. You moved again, leg dragging along the bed, but something prevented you from moving them completely. Your own eyes focused in on blue ones, and you gasped.

“Thor,” you mumbled, confusion and sleep still fogging your brain. “What…?”

He shushed you, and his lips brushed against your own. You couldn’t comprehend that your mouth was moving against his, tentatively…unsure. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you absentmindedly wondered if kissing was always like this. It grew heated, his mouth pressing against yours, almost harshly, and that was when reality hit.

With a horrified yelp, you finally moved to shove against him. It was futile, and you knew this. Thor was a god, literally, and he had the physique of one. Tears kissed your eyes as he didn’t move, instead pressing himself against you more firmly. You protested against his lips.

“Thor-! Stop, stop,” you gasped.

His hands kneaded any part of you they could reach. You were crying now as he tore at your clothes, the sound of tearing fabric reaching your ears. This couldn’t be happening. He was one of the good ones…

“You’ve been poisoning yourself for a year,” he murmured, voice deep and pained.

You shivered beneath him when the cold air hit you, but he was quick to envelope you in his arms. It was then that you realized he was naked, had been since before you awoke it seemed. You felt like you were going to be sick, but that primal part of you, the one that your genetic makeup controlled, did not hold the same sentiments.

“I do not even want to imagine what you have done to your body…my little omega,” he whispered into the darkness.

You frantically shook your head at that, hitting against him now.

“Thor, p-please,” you begged, voice horse. “You said…you said I was safe with you.”

Your tone was accusatory, anger at both him and you filling you. Your parents had been right. They had always been right, and you had even seen it for yourself. Why did you allow yourself to trust him?

The moonlight shed some light into the cottage through the window, and you could see a frown on his handsome features.

“You are safe with me. I shall take care of you from now on…like you should have been cared for all this time,” he responded.

“No, no!”

You punched his chest, nails digging into his skin, and he hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. In one swift movement, he’d flipped you, pressing your chest into the mattress. One hand was pushing into your back while the other pinned one of your wrists down.

You cried harder when his legs made a home in between yours, spreading them apart. You could feel him hard and throbbing against the back of your thigh, and you shook beneath him. He gently shushed you, but it did no good.

You were growing hotter by the minute, and even though you hadn’t experienced one in over a year, you knew what was happening to you. You could feel yourself growing slick, your core hot and aching for only what an alpha could give you.

His lips grazed your cheek as he leaned over you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. His chest vibrated against your back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and you fought against the feeling that threatened to wash over you. You opened your mouth to plead with him, but the only thing that escaped your lips was a pained gasp as he thrust into you.

You whimpered, more tears falling over and nails digging into the pillows. You attempted to crawl away from the pain, away from him, but he followed, twitching inside of you as he did so. His blond hair kissed your cheek as he pressed his forearms into the bed beside your head, caging you in.

You couldn’t feel anything but him, smell anything but him. His presence was everywhere, and it was getting harder to resist your own instincts. You whimpered again as he started to move, fresh tears spilling over.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, my sweet omega.”

You shuddered, clenching around him, and he hissed. Your eyelashes fluttered, feeling as if you could feel him in your stomach. His thrusts were slow and purposeful, each pull of his cock pulling a whine from you. You pressed your forehead against the pillow, breath shallow and lips trembling as you fought between what you wanted and what your body wanted.

The bed began to shake as he started to speed up, and the intensity made you flinch, attempting to get away again. His other hand grabbed your other wrist, and he completely fell against you, rendering you immobile as he rutted into you. Unintelligible noises escaped you, and you realized that you could do nothing but lay there and take his cock.

The noises your slick core made in the quiet cottage embarrassed you, heat flooding your cheeks. Thor moaned above you, lost in the feel of your velvet walls clenching around him again and again. It was only when his teeth grazed along your throat did you start to struggle again.

“No, no,” you screamed, attempting to push your elbows against him.

He only shushed you in what was meant to be a soothing tone. Against your will, you could feel yourself beginning to shake, body seizing up in a way you had never experienced. It was in that moment did you feel his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, where it connected with your shoulder. You screamed again, the yell dying down into sobs as you felt a thin line of blood crawl down your skin. Even worse, you could feel him swelling inside of you.

You wanted to try and crawl away again, away from him and the pain, but you knew how stupid that would be with Thor knotted inside of you. You were practically hysterical now, chest heaving and vision blurry as he remained inside of you. He finally pulled his face away, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper. He ran his tongue over your neck, humming.

Sleep crawled along the peripheral of your mind, and you didn’t know whether to fight against it or accept it with open arms. You didn’t know whether you wanted to fight to get away or give up and come to terms with your new harsh reality. The latter was starting to win.

“I shall have to get Bruce to look over you and make sure you did not do permanent damage to yourself,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned in response, both the physical and mental assault taking a toll on you.

“Your little cottage shall remain here. We can come to visit and vacation from time to time. I shall want to bask in these memories in the future…”

“Thor,” you pleaded, still unable to move with him inside of you.

“…I am your alpha now. No more of that vile poison and no more fending for yourself. You belong to me now.”

You felt yourself drifting, blinking at the wall, and his lips brushed against yours.

“I shall take care of you as you took care of me.”

tags: @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @villanellevi @readermia @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @opheliadawnwalker3 @ne-gans @

#mcudarklibrarykinkmonth #dark!thor #dark!thor x reader #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #a/b/o #A/B/O verse #alpha!thor

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elricsflower · 2 years

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wowow time to ramble abt fma 03 (TW//mentions of canon gore)

ok so. this whole thing is probably only gonna make sense to me but yk. i wanna talk abt the transmutation scene from 03 specifically.

anyway, this scene in fullmetal alchemist 03 has so much more of an emotional impact than that of brotherhood’s transmutation scene, in my opinion. this isnt only just because it’s the first scene of the anime in general, but the expressions drawn in 03 are absolutely gut-wrenching and so much more interesting than those drawn in brotherhood. not to say brotherhood’s animation isn’t absolutely amazing, because it is and definitely should be given credit for it- but 03 does a much better job of conveying the complete and utter terror that the characters feel in that first scene, and throughout the entire series.

another amazing example of the way expressions that are drawn in a more exaggerated way can have a better impact is the barry the chopper episode, which is an 03 original plot. while it wasn’t necessarily vital to the plot, or even in the manga, it does an amazing job of conveying just how young edward was at the time (12), since it is only a couple episodes after the infamous shou tucker and nina arc. as much as i love brotherhood, the characters in 03 feel more realistic in certain scenes, specifically because of the way expressions are drawn during intense situations.

returning back to the topic of the opening scene of the show, the transmutation scene, i also feel as if this was done better in 03. as stated before, this is partially due to the way expressions are drawn and the fact that it’s the first thing we see of the show. other good qualities of this scene include the way color and lighting are used, as well as the textures drawn onto the transmuted body itself. colors are especially important in setting tone and making your audience feel specific emotions, and this scene does it flawlessly. the beginning of the scene uses lots of yellows and other bright colors that are associated with joy and hope as they use their alchemy, and their faces are also hopeful as they believe they are going to succeed and bringing their mother back to life. but as the transmutation starts to go wrong, and al’s body is taken away by what i assume to be god himself (considering truth is basically nowhere to be found in fma 03), the colors are brutally and drastically changed into purples and reds. the sudden shift in color is jarring, which is perfect. everything from there goes extremely fast, only cutting away for a second to show ed and al’s somewhat adopted family being confused by what they thought was a scream from ed and al’s house.

when we cut back, the colors are muted- dark grays and smoke have filled the room. as the smoke moves out of the way, we are met with the absolutely horrific sight of the transmuted body that ed and al created. in brotherhood, this was not detailed at all- only being drawn as a shadowy body still covered by the smoke. in 03, there is horrifying details everywhere. an exposed heart pulsing and bleeding onto the floor, chunks of what should be internal organs are spilling everywhere, and a face that resembles a human staring into edward’s eyes, upside down and connected unnaturally to the rest of the "body". it feels like a horror movie compared to brotherhood, and tbh i love that they didnt shy away from how genuinely horrifying it would actually be.

TL;DR: while i love brotherhood with all my heart, i do prefer the transmutation scene in 03 over the one in brotherhood.

#fma 03 #fullmetal alchemist #just rambling #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist 03 #i hope this all actually makes sense and im not just talking out of my ass LMFAOAO #tw mention of gore #gore mention #alphonse elric #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma #fmab

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

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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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catargott · 3 years

Text

so i hit like 100 followers a month ago but i couldn’t finish any of my fics so i was dying but i finally finished something so here it is:

Lena slowly swirls the scotch in the bottom of her tumbler, watching as the dark liquid lightens where the liquid thins and darkens where it builds.

She hears the sound of boots tapping against her balcony and her wrist stops its rhythmic twirling motion as she sighs.

She turns around to be met with the sight of Kara in her suit and frowns, irritated.

"What do you want, Supergirl? I thought I told you I didn't want to see you ever again."

She immediately begins to regret her decision when she notices Kara's stiff posture and the way her lips curl into a sneer, but the alcohol hampers her logical thinking and she pushes forward again impatiently.

"Supergirl. Earth to Supergirl."

Lena, in all her drunken glory, steps forward and waves her hands in front of Kara's face.

Kara finally seems to react, the sneer dying down and a sinister grin replacing it.

"Miss Luthor. It's nice to see you, too. Apologies. I didn't realize you were royalty. Then again, with how you act, I wouldn't be very surprised; high and mighty sitting on your throne of glass."

She bows mockingly before straightening up again, her posture stiff and unwelcoming.

Lena sighs unhappily but there's confusion, too. This Kara is nothing like the one she knows.

"What do you want, Supergirl?"

Kara's grin widens and her eyes glint... red?

"What? Can't visit my favorite villain?"

Kara smiles teasingly, her expression dark, foreign, dangerous.

Lena flinches back, closing her eyes for a moment to settle herself before opening them again, forcing her expression to remain blank.

Kara doesn't seem to notice (or care) and keeps talking.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here because I want you to join me."

Her smile is less teasing now and she looks more serious.

"Join you? To do what, kill my brother again?"

The smile is back, pearly whites glinting even in the darkness of her office. Lena regrets not turning the lights on, but there's nowhere to go now, not when this Kara is so... unstable.

"No, of course not. Although, that is on my to-do list..." Kara muses, staring off into space.

"No, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about joining together. Let's take over, conquer the world. None of them are half as powerful as us. We'll be unstoppable together."

Kara spread her arms, basking in the imagined success of world domination.

"We can take over together. Think of what we could do. We could make the world a better place. Together. That's what you wanted to do with Myriad. I was too blind to see that you were right. We can do that now! You can make the world good and they will bow at our feet. We'll be gods, Lena."

Kara sounds like an excited child talking about a new friend. The eager tone is starkly different from the plans she's speaking about. Kara wants to take over the world. Kara wants Lena to take over the world with her. Kara wants to conquer the world.

Lena can't stop her face from twisting into horror.

Kara looks back towards Lena, the corners of her mouth turned up into a genuine smile, her eyes squinting with laughter as she asks Lena to join her in taking over the world.

"What do you say? We'll run together. Nothing will stand in our way. Just you and me. A Super and a Luthor... Kara and Lena. It'll just be us."

Kara's eyes are softer, warmer now, and she stretches her hand out to Lena as her eyes glow with laughter.

Lena takes a step back, bumping her hip on the edge of her desk as she whispers in horrified fascination.

"What happened to you, Kara?"

Kara smiles even wider, her eyes crinkling.

"I'm powerful. I'm unstoppable. I'm a god."

The godlet follows Lena, taking a step forward, leaning in and offering her hand even closer.

"I don't what that," Lena whispers, staring dumbstruck down at Kara's palm.

"What did you say?" There's a hint of a warning in Kara's voice, but Lena disregards it.

"I don't that that. I just want Kara. My Kara."

Kara's brows furrow slightly and her hand drops. Lena forces herself to remain in her place as Kara begins to pout.

It's not her. It's not her. It's not her.

"But it is me. It's Kara. It's just me, Lena. It's you and me. Together forever. Isn't that what we promised? It's just you and me. Kara and Lena."

Lena closes her eyes and forces away the flashes of promises on rainy nights and couches as they shared burgers and donuts.

"Are we going to have to kill people?"

Lena is caving. She knows it. Kara knows it. But she can't bring herself to open her eyes and see the victory painted across Kara's face.

When Kara speaks again, Lena almost cries at how soft she sounds, at how caring and Kara she sounds.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I'll do everything. I just want you to stay with me. I need you to be at my side. Please?"

Kara leans in until Lena's can feel her, trembling and nervous and so Kara that she almost gives in.

Almost.

It takes her every last bit of energy she has, but she manages to draw the word up and out, expelling it in one go.

"No."

Kara's brows furrow and her smile falters.

"What?"

"I said no. I don’t want that. I don’t want you. I don’t... not this you. I want Kara. I want the Kara I know, the Kara I love."

Kara tries one last time, holding her hand out desperately.

"It is me, Lena. Please."

Lena shakes her head, a final refusal, and crosses her arms.

"No. This isn't you, Kara. Come back to me."

Kara pulls her hand back so quickly Lena doesn't even see it happen. When she looks back up at Kara, she's a completely different person, her shoulders stiff as she regains an air of indifference and danger.

"Fine, then. Have it your way."

Kara spins around, her cape snapping in the empty space where she was standing a moment ago before she stops.

She turns halfway back, looking Lena directly in the eye as she delivers the final blow.

"You know, I really thought you cared about me. I thought you of all people would understand. But that’s all it was. Just thoughts. False hopes that would never be true. That aren’t true."

Kara's voice wobbles when she breathes in, shaky and uncertain.

She turns back around fully, stepping forward again.

"Just like I hoped you would love me back."

Lena is pressed up against her desk and she's completely frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

Kara's hands crush the plastic of her desk and Lena flinches instinctively. The office is silent for a moment more and then the tears come.

"I thought I knew you. I thought..."

Kara chokes on her own sob and she shakes her head.

"I should've known better."

Kara moves away, retreating back into her own space as she turns away from Lena again, facing the open balcony door.

"I just thought you would understand. Clearly you don’t. I shouldn’t have ever come here. Stay out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ll fight you if I have to..."

Kara turns her head slightly, eyes still glistening with tears, but now her face is set with determination as her eyes glint in the light of the streetlights below.

"I don't think you can say the same, can you?"

Lena doesn't get a chance to respond before Kara steps out onto the balcony and shoots off into the night, the resulting wind buffeting all of Lena's documents onto the ground.

She slides to the ground like the stacks of paper and stares unseeing at the balcony door.

Then, slowly, she pushes herself back up, strides over to the glass door, and shuts it.

She walks back over to her desk and picks up her phone, dialing the first name that comes to mind.

"Alex? Yeah, it's me, Lena."

#also no i don't have a title this was a 20 minute write-up i got from a script i wrote a while back #i will come up with one tho #and this will go up on my ao3 #i just #this was an on the spot thing lol #also what can i say i love writing red k kara lol #mine #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #red k kara #supercorp fanfic #minific #ficlet

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straw-of-the-hat · 4 years

Note

A Lillian x Katsuki soulmate au???? I'm sorry but soulmate au's are a hole i have fallen far into.

Lillian x Katsuki: soulmate edition

(Not edited! Expect typos!!!!)

These headcanons belong to this fic.

-Soulmates are rare. So terribly rare, in fact, that few still believe they exist. They're more of a legend these days— a myth, if you will. Despite this, everyone seems to know what they are. And deep down, everyone wants one.

-Katsuki's parents aren't soulmates. His grandparents aren't either. His aunt and uncle aren't soulmates in the least. In fact, they'd gotten a divorce last June and has left one another on rather nasty terms last he heard.

-His mom used to tell him stories. Stories about meeting your fated other and becoming so indescribably complete that you'd wonder how you even functioned before. It was the few times his mother would go from loud and rambunctious to serene and soft. Her change in demeanor was how he knew, growing up, that she was telling the truth..

-Of course, he wouldn't tell anyone he thought they were true. Or that he daydreamed about finding one.

-Katsuki felt he was missing something. It made him mad that it wasn't there. Something in him was empty and gnawing. He wasn't sure why. He had a powerful quirk and was praised by those around him for such. He made good grades. He even had a couple extras to follow him around.

-A soulmate was what he was missing, he deduced for what had to be the millionth time. Not that he'd tell anyone.

-Becoming the number one hero was his chance. The only way he'd ever hunt them down! He'd be known worldwide, and somewhere, someday, they'd know.

-That, and he'd be the strongest hero ever. Which was just the sprinkles on top really.

-He joined UA, angry and not willing to make friends. He noticed someone rather quick. He had never dated or really had his eye on anyone. If he was going to be with anyone, it would be his soulmate.

-So why on God's green motherfucking earth did Lillian Faust draw his attention?

-He didn't know. He had no idea! He tried to talk to her, but she was honestly pathetic. Short, scrawny, shy. He dwelled on her constantly. Constantly! He'd stare at her, doodle her in his notebook absentmindedly, try to count the freckles on her face and arms. It was just this constant nagging feeling that drove him nuts.

-He decided she was an extra. An irritating one.

-She kicked ass at the USJ shortly thereafter. He rescended his decision that she was a nobody.

-There was something up with Lillian. Lillian, who'd stopped using her last name. She walked home with friends, so he didn't get the chance to confront her anymore. The blonde one would bark at him. Literally. Like a dog. Fucking pathetic.

-Things were hard after that. Lillian, Lillian, Lillian. His parents started to ask what the fuck was wrong. Why was he so quiet? Did he need help? Was he depressed? Why was his search history all UA's digital yearbook? Was he looking at his student photo?

-He was looking at Lillian's, actually. Like he'd tell them that.

-Strangely enough, he wasn't embarrassed about this... Whatever this was. He didn't being it up because he's get teased, but it didn't bother him like it should've. He was irritated and confused because he couldn't figure this out, but not... Not annoyed with her, or disgusted.

-He thought long and hard. He was shit with feelings. Complete, utter shit. He went over the facts one at a time.

-Lillian was strong. With her quirk, she could stop him in his tracks. There was no a way to stop someone who could blink and freeze you in place without you even knowing she'd done it until after the fact. This should've angered him, but it didn't. It made him... Want to laugh.

-She had long black hair and was covered in freckles. Her hair was always messy and he found it endearing. He wanted to count and trace her freckles. There were so many, and he could almost map out constellations with them the more he looked.

-Katsuki's favorite color had been red his whole life. Lillian's eyes were aqua blue. Subsequently enough, his favorite color had switched to that exact shade of blue shortly after he joined UA. Odd. Probably not a coincidence, he begrudgingly admitted.

-He would not mind hugging her. He sort of wanted to. The more he thought about it, the more okay it seemed. That wouldn't be that odd if he hasn't blown up Kaminari yesterday after he'd accidentally brushed shoulders with him.

-A bit of google searching had him at a simple yet horrifying conclusion. This was, without a doubt, a crush.

-They next few days had his head spinning. He'd never had a crush before, so why now? Where had he gone wrong? What had triggered it? Could he make it go away?

-He practically drilled holes in her head in the days leading up to the sports festival. He may as well have been drooling. He deduced that his crush was going nowhere.

-He almost ran into her in the hall just before the festival, in fact. She was dressed in shorts and a shirt that said "Team Eraserhead" on it, and had her hair up in a ponytail that was falling apart. She was sweaty and breathless, and clearly in some sort of pain, but she... Well, she smiled.

-He was gone. Done for, really. Something was amiss, and he didn't know how to make it stop. Lillian has hooked him, and boy was he sinking right now. What was going on?

-She won the race with her two friends in the first round, and one piece clicked into place. Nothing enough to give him any sort of full picture, but it was... something. Something deeper than a crush.

-She dominated in the second round with ease and surprising confidence. He felt annoyed watching her laugh with Shoto Todoroki. Jealous, even. Another piece clicked.

-She asked him to join some sort of fucking protection squad. She was kind and genuine. He couldn't say no. It was another piece.

-Talking to her made him less angry. He felt calm and more like himself than he had... well, ever really. He was collected, and just... happy. He could laugh, and smile, and roll his eyes in a teasing way. This was another piece. One to a nearly full picture. One he could almost make out.

-The last piece fell into place during the final portion of the sports festival. Before it started, they had all the contestants come out and shake hands with one another. It was sort of a show of good faith. One he didn't want to participate in.

-But then it was time to shake Lillian's hand. And the stadium's roar fell on deaf ears, and everyone else ceased to exist. The cameras zoomed in on them, and Present Mic made some witty remark about opposites colliding. But Katsuki couldn't look away from Lillian, and neither could she.

-Their hands collided. And everything seemed to change in an instant.

-Her hand was small and warm in his, and it sent a shockwave rippling out. It was powerful and physical. Not something he'd imagined based on how silent the stadium got. His world brightened, and he couldn't believe how full it'd been before. Lillian's eyes were so much... Fuller than he'd realized. Full of blues he hadn't realized existed.

-There was silence. He didn't let go. She didn't either. They just stood there in the eerie silence, staring at one another in shock. And Bakugo realized he didn't feel so empty anymore.

-He told her in a quiet voice that carried through the entire stadium that she was his soulmate. That she was what had been missing.

-Her brilliant smile and the roar of the crowd told him he wasn't wrong.

-Scientists contact them and want to study their bond, but they refuse.

-Being apart makes Katsuki antsy. It doesn't feel right when she's not there.

-Aizawa despises him

-So does Mic but in a more passive aggressive manner.

-Lillian can feel Katsuki very vividly and knows when he's in any sort of emotional turmoil.

-Hitoshi and Neito are very, very weary of him and he's constantly under a microscope when they're around. Of course he doesn't give a shit

-The world now knows there's soulmates. Everyone in that stadium felt that wave, and the camera literally picked it up. There's a new frenzy of people trying to find their other half

-A few actually do. But only a few.

-Mitsuki and Masaru don't believe it. When their son comes home, he's just as rude as he's always been.

-But then Lillian shows up, cleaned up after the festival. And she wraps their son in a hug, and Katsuki is smiling and laughing in a way they've never seen

-They love Lillian for giving him that

-Katsuki can feel Lillian's nerves and knows how to calm them

-The class is hyper-aware of everything they do. Every glance Katsuki throws her is met with a wolf whistle and every whisper exchanged us observed with curious eyes

-Lillian and Katsuki learn not to mind

-They fit together so naturally. Lillian couldn't even imagine being anxious around him, and she doesn't know why. She's just... not.

-When they first kiss it feels natural and a lot like coming home

-They're a fairly private and subtle couple. 1-A almost doesn't think they're together until the dorms come into play.

-It's the way Lillian throws her legs over Katsuki's when they're sitting on the couch, and the manner in which Bakugo puts an arm over her shoulders and leans into her to look at something on her phone that tells them.

-He's softer with her. Still himself, but kinder in a way. It's so... Normal. It makes sense without making any at all at the exact same time. The way they talk to each other is simply how it's meant to be, they guess

-They're pitted against each other in hero training one day by drawing lots. It's completely by chance, and supposed to be just simple hand to hand combat

-They just stand there and stare at one another. And when Aizawa asks what the hold up is, they just blink. They simply... don't. They can't. It's not possible. It makes zero sense in their minds. The idea couldn't even occur to them, even for training purposes.

-So, they're not put against one another anymore. They find it's for the best.

-Anytime one of them is hurt, the other had a very obvious reaction. Lillian falls and scrapes up her knee quite nastily, and Katsuki is already turning around with wide eyes. He looks like he's seem a ghost. The same thing happens to Lillian, whether the injury is big or small.

-They're practicing working in teams and get paired together. All Might and Aizawa have never once in their lives seen a more efficient team. Their quirks are stronger and more durable when they're together, they realize.

-Katsuki tells Lillian he loves her. It's stated in a very matter-of-fact way, as though it's obvious.

-And it is. Lillian loves him too. She tells him as such.

-Overall, they're just two peas in a pod. And everything just... Fits.

#fanfic #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bnha oc #soulmate #soulmate au #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki

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magaprima · 3 years

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Screencap supported scene breakdown analysis (requested by an anon)

Okay, let’s start with the opening shot

We see the whole of the throne here, and the fact Lucifer is clearly sat upon it, which tells us that despite Sabrina ‘claiming her crown’ after winning the Unholy Regalia, Lucifer is still very much in charge. He’s on the throne here and he’s comfortable, but look at how much Lilith is also leaning on it. She’s all over it. Lilith definitely is showing her claim too, not just by her own right, but by the child she carries inside her. They alll dismissed her because she wasn’t a Morningstar, but now she is one by proxy. Also I think this whole positioning is probably how Lilith was often stood by the throne in the pre-CAOS days when she was sitll in adoration and in love with the Dark Lord. She is playing a part here, after all, in order to survive, but what’s interesting is she’s not the one leaning in; he is. Showing that her ‘performance’ is working, that he is slowly, but surely starting to let down his guard, and believing Lilith is ‘back on side’.

I have to admit I’m surprised at how approving you are of your only daughter getting married

Lilith’s whole language is pushing the domesticity here. She’s talking to him as a Mother(Stepmother might talk to a Father, rather than as a servant to a Lord, making more of that connection.

And look at the body language here, the performance she’s making:

Head down, eyes down as she talks about how he should be more selective, managing to not only make herself look suitably servile, but she looks non-threatening and demure. Fucking demure. Something Lilith definitely isn’t, but she’s playing the role of ‘expectant Mother’ and ‘caring Stepmother’ and ‘concerned partner’. Lilith is doing absolutely everything to appear non-threatening, most likely with the intent of having Lucifer forget himself long enough for her to gain the advantage. I also feel the whole vibe here is, despite Lilith saying that they were definitely ‘not together’, Lucifer has started behaving as if they are. After all she was ‘Satan’s Concubine’, and he’s not going to give up those privileges if he doesn’t want to. And I suspect if that was the case, Lilith has been ‘submitting’ for the sake of survival and the long-con, but it also adds another layer to her downcast eyes and appearing non-threatening. It’s both a reaction and a defence.

She only meets his gaze to make her final point. And what’s important is she doesn’t shy away from that gaze.

She meets it and doesn’t waver, she is making her point and she’s not trembling or hesitating. Lilith may be trapped in a situation here, but she’s not without power and she’s aware of that, and she is actively using it. And it’s an interesting/funny side-note that the point she’s making is ‘Caliban is bad for Sabina’. Stepmother!Lilith activate! Which fits in nicely with the Just-doesn’t-like-Caliban!Lilith. And when she meets his gaze, challenging his decision to give his approve, does Lucifer get mad or angry? Does he tell her to remember her place? Does he punish her? Nope. He leans for gossip sharing opinions time:

He leans in to Lilith, talking with her in a very private and intimate way, and starts sharing all his opinions and reasons why he thinks Caliban is a good match. This is someone who he says betrayed him, who he said he plans to kill, and yet, Lilith has managed to make him forget himself and take her as is confidante again. I have no doubt that had the pregnancy not been sped up, Lilith would have spent more months encouraging this trust and faith in her, playing to his ego and presumptions.

But throughout this whole conversation we see Lilith consciously making an effort to look close, whilst always looking a little on edge, while Lucifer in his element, totally comfortable and absolutely happy to share his thoughts with Lilith. More than likely these moments are brief and we see Lucifer remembering her ‘betrayal’ and treating her as such (just as we saw his possessive anger when he noticed she was absent from the council meeting), but these are flashes of moments where Lilith is making him drop his guard and I would like to think over time they would have become more frequent and Lilith would have used them to her advantage.

However it’s interesting to note that when Lucifer makes this intense close eye contact, Lilith breaks her gaze away

In fact, she’s shown to be unable to bear looking at him (either out of fear or disgust or a mixture of the two) so much that as he talks, she actually physically turns away

Which when you go through the scene more slowly and with more focus Lucifer does seem to notice, if only subtly. But you can see above that Lilith literally cannot bear to look at him or listen to him. We have confirmation here that her whole leaning in, talking softly, standing close, is an all an act for her own survival and it’s one she physically hates. I would say it has comparisons to Zelda when she has to pretend to be still under the Caligari spell. Knowing it’s required, but hating every minute of it, and feeling trapped in a different way to how you were trapped before, but still trapped.

While he’s talking we see her eye roll secretly before offering tight and polite smiles, nodding in a display of agreement, pandering to all of Lucifer’s logic and ideas and opinions. Just as Zelda had to be seen to agree with everything Faustus said. We even see Lilith actively sigh with boredom and exhaustion at Lucifer going on and on with himself. And you hear the sigh too. I think this is interesting, not only because it confirms Lilith has not fallen back into old habits with him, she hasn’t become enamoured of him again and that she finds him tiresome...but that, at this point, Lilith feels confident enough in her own position and her own to be able to bored and tired rather than just afraid. And when you see how much she turns to just fear the moment she has Adam, tells me that she definitely did have a pregnancy-long plan to victory in place which was destroyed by the intervention of Caliban and the Plague Kings.

The thing that drags Lilith’s full attention back is when Lucifer declares the most important reason to agree to the marriage is because Caliban looks great shirtless

Lilith looks quietly and suitably horrified and confused. You can’t see it as much in a singular screencap but she does look at Lucifer like ‘what the fuck?’, because you’re not meant to be getting the hots for the shirtless wonder of your daughter’s future husband. Also, because in a political arena how good someone looks topless should not be the most important reason to have them around. And also, though Lilith admits Caliban is handsome, you get the vibe she means that in the same way you can stay a statue is pretty...you’re not actually sexually attracted to it. So now with both Lucifer and Sabrina liking Clay Boy, Lilith is clearly thinking she’s the only sane one left.

But the horror is nowhere near as much as it is when he mentions Grandchildren

Aside from the fact Lilith has no intentions of being a Step-Grandmother to any Caliban babies (literal personal hell), there’s also the added fact Sabrina is just sixteen and not even married yet and Lucifer is already mentioning her popping out kids. Considering how Lilith was treated in the beginning by the False God and Adam as expected to fulfil certain roles as a woman (wife, mother, someone who loves children and is nurturing and gentle and blah blah) it’s probably a wee bit triggering to hear the same things being expected of Sabrina. We’ve all (Michelle included, for that matter) already said that Lilith probably sees a lot of herself in Sabrina, a younger version of herself, so extra trigger point. But then the obviously main concern is ‘what the fuck was the point of me getting pregnant with your son to save my fucking life if you’re off already planning fucking grandchildren??’. Which is a fair and concerning point. Like as I said above, Lilith definitely had a pregnancy-long plan for her own continued survival and likely Lucifer’s defeat, and this talk of grandchildren is now throwing a big ole spanner in the works, And you see the flash of fear about this:

Microexpression of fear right there. And you see her quickly recalculating, trying to figure everything out, trying to ensure her own survival, and that of her child for that matter, isn’t going to be too effected by this...but in the end she’s forced to ask him outright. “And what does that mean for our child?” And she does deliberately use ‘our’, reminding him ‘you do have a fucking son to come remember??’

But she doesn’t manage to completely hide her fear and concern as she asks. You can see that in all likelihood her heart is pounding stressfully in her chest right now. Because right now all her plans are threatening to go right down the drain, and she’s thinking that carrying his child is going to do nothing except make her a prisoner all over again...and possibly dead eventually.

Lucifer, however, just grins and says ‘Competition, I imagine’

Competition. And what does competition mean in these sorts of circles? It’s the same sort of competition that the Princes in Stardust had, they all killed each other in an effort to win the throne. This is going to be the upbring of Lilith’s child; constantly fighting his nieces and nephews for his right to the throne, constantly having threats on his life, constant fights in general...all in the name of ‘competition’, which Lucifer apparently thinks is a good, healthy thing for a fucking child to have.

And you don’t have to be good at reading microexpressions to know what Lilith thinks about all this

High key horrified. And you also see elements of disgust. Lilith is genuinely horrified at the idea of her son just constantly at risk in the name of ‘competition’ and that Lucifer thinks this is perfectly okay. I think we genuinely see here the first flash of Lilith as Adam’s Mother. She was low key concerned before, but the moment Lucifer says this, her emotions get upped straight to horrified. I mean we saw in later episodes that she was perfectly okay with the idea of her son challenging Lucifer when he was grown, but that’s waiting till he was an adult and challenging one person for the sake of something important. Entirely different from ‘constantly fighting for your life, being attacked, never resting, in order to have some healthy competition’. A word which also implies, Lucifer would just have an attitude of ‘the strongest survive’, regardless of who suffers or who dies. I mean odds are Adam would be more powerful than the hypothetical grandkids considering his parentage, so the fact Lilith is horrified, enough so that she goes to SABRINA’S AUNTS in a effort to stop the wedding, seems to be much more linked to concern for her unborn child than any genuine claims to power. And I think foreshadows the rest of her part 4 narrative and just how far she’ll go for Baby Adam.

And look, you can genuinely see her recalculating her plans and what she needs to do next.

Like yep yep competition cool cool cool cool totes agree that’s great....must get to the Aunts.

#observations #long post

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anxiousnerdwritings · 4 years

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Lights Out

Prologue

It's a cold and cloudy, wintry Tuesday morning, the type of day you would rather be curled up in your home with something warm, then out in the freezing cold. The streets were calm and quiet than usual, which was odd regarding Gotham City. People were bustling about through the biting chill of the breeze to their destinations, not paying any mind to one another. Among the bustling crowd is a (h/c) girl making her way to the local cafe, where she works as a barista and baker. Briskly walking to get away from the cold, she weaves her way through the crowd with thoughts of warm coffee and fresh baked goods in mind. Walking up to the front doors of the cafe, she unlocks the door letting herself in, heading to the backroom. She opens her locker and puts her stuff inside before heading behind the front counter. Putting her apron on she starts baking the pastries for the day. While preparing the mornings stock of goods, she hears the cafe door chime, she looks up seeing her coworker walk in. "Hey Y/n. Here early as always." she says groggily. "Hey Amelia. Yeah you know I have to be here early to start baking." Y/n laughs. "Right, we'd be out of business without your delicacies. I get that but how can you be up so early?" Amelia yawns, "Well I actually wasn't sleeping. I had a couple of papers due, so I stayed up to finish them," She admitted dusting off the remaining flour on her apron, finishing the pastries. "Alright, alright, but you better go home and get some sleep after your classes," she says with a hand on her hip and the other pointing in a scolding manner. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." 'Ameila, always the mother hen,' Y/n laughs to herself, getting back to work.

After finally opening the cafe for the early morning rush of freezing commuters, Y/n gets to work taking customer's names and orders while Amelia gets the pastries ready. It's not long before the rush comes to slow, a few people sitting around taking in the warmth before beginning their day. It's almost time for Y/n to end her shift after she takes her last order of the day, a tired looking college aged guy walks through the door bundled up in an expensive looking winter jacket with a hoodie underneath and a pair of joggers. "Hey there, Tom. Here for the usual?" the cheery (h/c) girl asks, " Yes but I think I'll try one of your pastries today." He says with a tired smile, " What would you recommend Y/n." "Sure thing Hun. I like most of the stuff here except the lemon tart, but that's mainly because I don't care for the bitterness so early in the morning, add your plain black coffee to the mix and you're in for one hell of an after taste." She laughs and he chuckles before she continues, "But my favorite is the apple and cinnamon muffin, especially for a cold morning like this." "Yeah the lemon and black coffee doesn't sound so good, but the apple cinnamon sounds like what I need. I'll take that," Tom chuckles, paying for his coffee and muffin.

'She seems happy even for this early in the morning,' I think. 'But isn't she always.' Smiling to myself as I walk to my usual table in the back, I sit down and pull out my laptop checking over a paper for my first class before thinking back to the barista. I come here every morning before class for my regular coffee, trying to keep my eyes open. I use to make the long trek a few blocks away from campus before this place opened up right by my apartment. I made the lazy decision to try the place out when I couldn't make myself trudge the extra few blocks. I thank my tired state of mind for that everyday since. My first time here, it was packed, I almost walked right out, but something stopped me. With my feet rooted to their spot in line, I patiently waited my turn. When I got to the counter with my beverage already in mind, a black coffee, can't go wrong with that. I lost my train of thought though once I was greeted by the barista. 'Hello, what can I get you this morning?' Came her sweet resounding voice. I could tell she was trying to hide the tiredness in it and she was doing a good job at it too. If I didn't know any better I'd think she was a natural morning person, but being a detective aided me with miniscule things like that. 'Uh, yeah. Could I get a black coffee?' 'Sure thing! What's the name?' 'Tom,' I reply not thinking clearly, being caught off guard by both her and my tiredness 'Okay, Tom, that'll be out in a few,' she says handing me my change. I walk off to the farthest table in the back and wait for my coffee. "Order for Tom! One black coffee and a cinnamon muffin!" I'm pulled from my musings by a familiar voice calling my "name". I mentally face palm every time I remember the encounter. If Dick, Jason, or even Damian were there, they'd give me so much hell for it. I get up from my spot to get my order. "Here you go. Hope you enjoy the muffin." She smiles as I take my coffee and muffin back to my table. Sitting down again, I can't help but note the same smile she always wears, looks more like an accessory than genuine at this point. But I don't think she's realized that herself yet. 'God, what am I thinking. I don't even know the girl and I'm already trying to wrap myself up in her' I sigh putting my laptop back in my bag and leaving. As I'm walking to campus, drinking my coffee and eating the apple and cinnamon muffin, I can't help but think about how the muffin melts in my mouth. Warm and soothing, with a sweet and crisp taste. It really is good, no wonder it's her favorite. Reminds me of the cute barista,"Y/n," I whisper her name. As much as I try, I can't help but smirk as the name rolls off my tongue.

A few minutes after "Tom" left, Y/n ended her shift, heading to her first class of the day. The only thing on her mind being the new murder mystery book she'd gotten from the bookstore a few days before. She just couldn't wait to continue reading it again. If it wasn't the book on her mind then it was the next episode of her other new obsession; Crime Time Mysteries. A new TV series about old and new cases some solved and some unsolved. Some of the cases even happened in Gotham. Not that that was a surprise. It's the one thing that keeps Y/n in town. As odd as it sounds, crimes have become a big part of her life, in regards to books, movies, and the media. Her father was a crime author. She grew up helping her father with his ideas. So it goes without say why she can't help but be pulled in by the enigma that is Gotham. Even at the cost of her own freedom.

Accused

What's going on?

Where am I?

Why am I covered in blood?

Amelia?

Amelia, where are you?

Sitting up, you looked around trying to gain your bearings. Once your eyes focus on the room room around you, you can tell your on the bathroom floor in Amelia's apartment. 'What the fuck is going on...?' Helping yourself up, you stagger out of the bathroom, you hold yourself up against the hall walls, your legs feeling like their jelly, you have to force yourself to stay leaning on the wall. Staggering to the living room, you drag yourself from the hall to the kitchen counter, using it as leverage to support your body weight. Getting to the entrance of the kitchen leading to the living room, you slip on something, falling on your ass. Laying on the guard, you can feel something sticky all over your arms and legs. Lifting yourself up on your knees, you look at your limbs and around you seeing some sort of dark liquid all over the floor in the dark apartment. Registering the metallic smell of blood, your not fully comprehending what you've walked out on. Your head is pounding and your whole body is numb but hurts all the same. You try to get yourself up again but fall, laying on the ground, you just stay there trying to focus on gaining your senses back.

Your jolted out of nowhere, having blacked out, by the sound of banging on the apartment door and you hear yelling too. Having gained feeling back in your body, you sit up again, looking around and taking in your surroundings. Your completely horrified to find yourself covered in blood. Getting up you try to stand up but you trip over something, looking over your shoulder, your petrified to see Amelia's dull, blank eyes staring at you. Screaming you try to crawl away from your dead friends body. Too caught up in your own horror, you don't notice the apartment door being kicked open. Gotham City's police department is rushing into the apartment and surrounding you. Your so confused and frightened, you're being yelled at, accused of murder. You don't know what's even going on. You're being pulled up harshly and thrown into a wall, having your Miranda rights shouted to you. You're so out of it, you don't register your body throwing and flailing around trying to get out of the officers hold. You can't even hear your own voice as you scream that you didn't do anything.

Finally being able to weasel yourself away from the police officers, you run to the apartment window, throwing yourself through it. Rushing after you, the officers aren't able to grab you before you've thrown yourself through the window pane, and begin to fall along the side of the apartment complex. Landing in a dumpster, you lie their for the briefest moment, before launching yourself out of the dumpster. Hooked on pure adrenaline, you're barefoot, covered in blood, wearing sleeping shorts and a tank top running down the empty alley trying to look for somewhere to go.

Coming across a hole in the side of a building, while wandering around an alley, you try squeezing yourself through the hole, being able to get yourself through. Pulling yourself into the building, you look around seeing the place is some warehouse that looked abandoned. Sighing to yourself, you walk around, wandering up a staircase leading to an office. You sit yourself under a window, trying to calm down from all the adrenaline, you take the time to really take in your appearance. You're covered in blood and dirt, with bits and pieces of glass in your skin. Your tank top and sleep shorts are ripped and torn, and your bare feet are caked with more dirt, blood. There are even some pieces of rocks, gravel, and glass in the bottom of your feet. Trying to figure out what the hell happened, you try to focus on remembering the last thing you did. But you can't think straight, your head is throbbing. Curling in on yourself from the intense pain, you let yourself fall into a heap on the ground, giving into the overwhelming pain, you let yourself drift off again. But there won't be any peaceful sleep from this day on, only the restless need to run. Run for your freedom, for your life.

A/n: This is a story I’ve been working on my wattpad account. I have a few other WIPs on there too, that I might post later on depending on the feedback I get on this one, This is the story regarding the mystery/thriller obsessed Reader who ends up being accused of her best friends murder. While on the run she meets a local hero who can already tell that Y/n is innocent. They offer to help her prove her innocence. With her knowledge of crime based media, the hero and Y/n compile all the evidence that’ll prove her innocence, once and for all. Along the way they’ll come across heroes and villains alike, who all have their own intentions for being involved.

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cardansriddle · 4 years

Text

Cedric Diggory- Treasure

Warnings: none. just pure fluff

I rushed out of the common room, checking my surroundings before heading off to the library. Sneaking out after the curfew was not a good idea, but reading a couple of books was always a better option than spending the night restless.

"Lumos" I muttered as I made my way into the dark library. I quickly found a book and went to take my seat on my usual table, however, I stopped in my tracks once I noticed a figure slumped over the table. I moved closer to the person coming to the conclusion that he must have accidentally fallen asleep while reading. I shook him gently, trying not to startle him. Suddenly, he jerked away at the sudden contact and lifted his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and only then I realized who it was.

Cedric Diggory. He was a Prefect.

Shit.

He looked at me, his expression puzzled. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles and I subconsciously felt bad for him. Being a champion whilst trying to prepare for exams was not easy. I remembered how he barely survived the first task, in which he almost got fried but managed to escape. I snapped out of my thoughts once I realized he was staring at me expectedly.

"You must've fallen asleep here. It's two in the morning." I whispered and he nodded in understanding.

"Why are you out of bed after curfew?" He said as he rose, collecting his stuff while keeping an eye on me. Upon noticing the horrified look on my face he chuckled lowly. "Relax, I'll let it slide this time."

"Thank you." I breathed out in relief and noticed the book he was holding tightly in his hands. "I assume you haven't figured the egg out yet?"

"Uh yes." He answered uncertainly. I could tell he was confused as tow why I was asking this question, and it wouldn't take a Legimilens to figure out that he was uncomfortable with the whole tournament subject. I wondered if he would accept help from anyone, and came to a conclusion that he was the Hogwarts champion, and giving him tips would help us win the tournament. So I told him what Fleur had shared with me early in the morning.

"Fleur mentioned something along the lines of taking a relaxing bath with the egg. " I said with a smirk and before he could reply I hurried out of the library and slipped back into the common room.

The next morning was quite tiresome. Chatting with my overhyped friends and trying to eat at the same time was a challenge for my sleep-deprived self. They were excitedly discussing the Yule Ball which would take place in a week, and despite having the perfect dress sent to me, being asked to the Ball by several suitors, I was not feeling excited. Since the announcement of the tournament, I have been feeling uneasy and expecting something to jump at me from the dark at all times. Countless of nightmares about deaths have been haunting me, which is the reason why I was too scared to get a blink of sleep. Noticing my solemn expression, my friends stopped their banter.

"Are you alright?" One of them asked and I nodded my head, putting my fork down and getting up to leave. They have learned from past experiences that it is not the best idea to push me, so they let it be, for which I was grateful.

On my way out of the Great Hall, I bumped into something hard, and if not for the hands around my waist that reached out to steady me, I would be on the floor from the impact. I looked up to see Cedric, who was staring at me with careful yet concerned eyes.

"I apologize. Wasn't watching where I was going." He quickly apologised like the true gentleman he was, and upon realising that his hands were still holding my waist, he let go with a blush. I didn't say anything, just tried to get past him but he grabbed me by the arm. I looked at him, confused, and once again his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

"I never thanked you for the...um help." He said lowly causing me to smile lightly.

"It was a reasonable thing to do," I replied and before he could say anything else, I gently pulled my arm from his grip and headed to the library.

The library was almost empty which was normal considering the time. I quickly sat behind my usual table and started working on my essay, carefully choosing words and scribbling them down to the parchment. Not long after, I heard the chair next to mine getting pulled back and I look up to see the devil himself taking a seat next to me. I raised my eyebrows in question, he, however, without sparing me a glance, opened his book and started reading.

"You seem drained of energy." He broke the silence after a while.

"Just have a bad feeling about this tournament," I answered briefly and saw him nod his head slowly from the corner of my eye.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped midway as if he was unsure. "Is there anything I can help with?" Cedric offered after a moment of hesitation and I rolled my eyes.

"Listen, Cedric. Just because I told you how to open the bloody egg-" But before I could finish my sentence, he cut me off.

"No, I am genuinely interested in..well, being your friend." The words shut me up, and I searched his eyes for some kind of hint that he was just playing with me, but upon not finding any, I breathed out a tired sigh.

It was very quiet. The change of conversation shifted the room into a silence that was drizzled with a crackling tension. I felt my heartbeat speed up and flutter in my chest. I did not know how to reply to that, I did not want his pity. Was it pity though?

"Your lack of response is unnerving." Cedric chuckled, the sound so melodic and comforting I didn't want him to stop talking.

"I do not know anything about you." I pointed out shyly. He laughed and I could tell that I was amusing him.

"That is the point of friendships, you get to know each other." He was still staring at me, expectant. "How about this? Come to the Yule Ball with me and we will get to know each other while having a good time yeah?"

My cheeks reddened even further and I could not believe that Cedric Diggory just invited me to the Yule Ball. I suddenly became aware of the flickering firelight dancing across Cedric's handsome face, drawing attention to his sharp jaw and smooth lips. I had a sudden urge to kiss him but suppressed it.

I cleared my throat and looked into his eyes while accepting his offer. "Alright."

His smile widened at my response and without saying anything else (for which I was grateful), He picked his book back up and picked up from where he left off like he did not just invite me to the Yule Ball.

Maybe befriending the champion wouldn't be so bad after all.

Fast forward to the day before the second task. After the Yule Ball Cedric and I became closer than ever. Every time I saw him my heart would be sent into a frenzy and my head would be clouded with the thoughts of his lips. It was getting harder to resist his charm, and as I sat next to him, trying to figure out how to breathe underwater for one hour. An idea popped in my head and I squealed with excitement.

"Ced!" I shook his slumped form. However, before I could tell him about my revelation, Professor Snape interrupted me with a fake cough. I turned around to face the intruder and without sparing Cedric a glance, he gestured me to approach him.

"I believe you are needed in the Headmaster's office." He drawled with a bored tone and Cedric lifted his head and looked at us with pure confusion etched on his face.

"Page one hundred twenty-eight," I whispered in Cedric's ear before picking up my stuff and following Professor Snape out of the library. On our way there, I wondered why would I be needed in Headmaster's office, after all, I haven't pranked anyone since the tournament started, and have completed all of my assignments. However, I refrained from asking Snape my questions. It would be useless.

"Lemon drops." He drawled at the Gargoyle guarding the entrance and with a single clear nock, he entered the office, me trailing behind him. Upon my arrival, I noticed Granger, Weasley and Fleur's little sister also standing there.

"You may all be confused as to why I summoned you here." Dumbledore rose from his seat. "The champions' next task will be to rescue the thing they would miss the most. You being the closest people to our champions, will be put under a strong sleeping potion and they will have to rescue you in an hour." Dumbledore explained as Snape started handing out small vials of the potion. I took it hesitantly and stared at it.

"Is there a problem?" Snape asked after a moment and I realized the students next to me were already in a deep slumber, and I was the only one standing and idiotically staring at the potion.

"I'm just- I mean uh, sir? But I am far from being the person Cedric would miss the most. We are barely even friends." I said, catching the amused expression on Dumbledore's face. I turned my head to look at Snape who raised his eyebrow as if in disbelief. I mean the thought of being Cedric's "treasure" in this task was making me giddy, but the sensible part of my brain kept telling me this was some kind of a misunderstanding, that they brought the wrong person here.

"Just drink the potion," Dumbledore said softly and I sighed, popping off the lid and downing the thick liquid in one go. As soon as I swallowed the last drop, sleep overcame my senses and I found the world going dark before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

Cedric looked around frantically, trying to find the girl he had become so close with over a short period of time, but she was nowhere in sight. He released a disappointed sigh, thinking she couldn't care less about his task or well being. Pushing the hurt feelings aside, he prepared to dive into the water. Little did he know the girl he was looking for was already waiting for him underwater, waiting to be rescued.

Cedric raised his arm and pointed his wand at his head. "Papula caput" He cast the bubblehead charm that was on page one hundred twenty-eight. The charm that she suggested. And she was not here.

The shrill sound of the whistle echoed in the air and with a final look around (to see if she showed up because maybe she was late?) and finally coming to the conclusion that she would not come, he dived head straight into the water, pushing his body deeper and deeper, to try and find the treasure the egg had hinted he would need to find.

The deeper he swam, the darker it would get. He could only see tangled black weed and the foggy dark landscape ahead of him. He could neither see nor hear any signs of other champions, his treasure, or merpeople around him. With a worried glance to his watch on his wrist, he could tell there was not much time left. Then without a warning, something suddenly grabbed at his ankle, trying to pull him down with great force.

"Flipindo!" He fired at whatever was grabbing him, but the angry creature seemed even madder as another one clutched his other ankle. He started firing spells at them (he realized they were grindylows, water demons with horns and sharp fangs) and when they released their grip on his ankles for a moment, he quickly swam forward in order to escape their wrath. Fortunately, they let him go and he decided to go a little higher in order to not get caught by any other creatures lurking in the shadows. He swam for what felt like hours, the silence stretching and pressing at his eardrums. Then he heard it.

"An hour-long you'll have to look, And to recover what we took..."

He swam towards the direction the mersong was coming from. He spun around a corner and saw a bunch of merpeople singing the familiar song, luring the champions towards them. Behind the merpeople were the "treasures" of the champions, each tightly bound with ropes around their ankles. And as he looked closer to rescue his own treasure, his breath got caught in his throat.

She was the person he would miss the most, he realized as he swam towards the girl. Her skin was paling since had been in the cold water for Merlin knows how long. Her floating form made his heartache and he quickly pulled a knife and cut the ropes around her ankles and with an encouraging nod at Potter, who was torn between saving Ron and Hermione, he swam upwards.

Cheers broke out as soon as we resurfaced, and I took in a breath, sighing in relief when oxygen made its way into my lungs. I felt a firm grip on my waist and only then I realized I was in the arms of Cedric Diggory. He was watching me, concern clear as ever in his eyes and I smiled at this.

Snapping out of his trance, he started guiding us towards the deck, and once there, professors pulled us up and we were wrapped in warm towels. He was still watching worriedly, I realized as I caught his gaze. He broke free from his friends' embrace and approached me.

"Are you alright?" He asked me.

"Yes, what about you?"

"Better now that you are safe." I couldn't help but blush at his words and looked at my soaked shoes. He lifted my chin with his finger and smiled widely, and before I could process what was happening, I felt his lips on mine. Without a second of hesitation, I kissed him back and even though the students around us were cheering louder than ever (thanks to Cedric's public display of affection and at the same time confession), I felt like we were the only ones that mattered at the moment. My heart was hammering against my rib cage, thumping like a tennis ball being smacked against a wall over and over again. The short yet passionate kiss came to an end, much to my disappointment.

I could see Dumbledore smiling and the single elegant eyebrow Professor Snape had raised knowingly and I let out a laugh. Had I been that blind?

The thought was thrown out of my head as Cedric put his forehead against mine and we smiled foolishly at one another.

Merlin, I had never felt so content.

#cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedricimagine #harrypotter #cedricfluff #fluff #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory fluff #hogwarts #hufflepuff #slytherin #ravenclaw #gryffindor #triwizard champions #triwizard tournament #cedric #cedric diggory one shot #draco malfoy #tom riddle

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 12

<= Chapter 11

Summary : Snatcher has a talk with someone. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/65084764

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NEW CHAPTER HEEEEY I hope you'll like it ! I managed to work quite well on "Being Human" recently and I finished writing the 14th chapter yesterday (and it's a long one too) ! I had a blast writing the 12th and 14th chapter and I can't wait for you to read it !

Thank you so much for all your support, it means so, so, so much to me. I know I keep repeating this, but this is the truth. Without you, I wouldn't be where I am today.

Fun fact: I will soon draw my 100th drawing on "A Hat In Time" (I'm colouring the 98th one and I sketched the 99th one, I genuinely wonder what the 100th will represent!). I have been extremely productive this year, I think I drew like 150 pictures (in general) from the beginning of 2020 to today. And it's all thanks to you guys !! Thank you so much !

ANYWAY.

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 12 - “You’re bad at telling scary stories.”

-“Here, come this way,” instructed Cooking Cat, as she led him to the machine room, her face serious now that the kids were nowhere in sight.

Snatcher’s expression showed how confused he was, seeing where she was taking him. Why there? He didn’t have his place in this room, and certainly neither did she, unless he greatly underestimated her. If she saw his face, she didn’t say anything, leading him further into the ship instead, stopping in front of a green door with the pictogram of a brush on the centre of it. Where would it lead? A playroom perhaps? A room dedicated to hobbies? After all, with such a huge ship, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to find a room like that inside.

The door opened swiftly revealing -another!- hallway, just as sloped as the others. Oh, this was just great, especially with how he fell earlier. His legs hurt. Well, everything did, but mostly his legs. However, the cat seemed to notice the scowl on his face and offered her paw for him to remain stable.

-“Need some help?” she offered, concern plastered all over her face. Ugh, Gods, did Snatcher hate that expression. It just made him feel even more pathetic than he already was.

-“No,” he spat, keeping his eyes fixed on the slope not to stumble, “I can walk on my own. I’m not a stupid baby, thank you,” he added, his stone still very harsh. Deep inside, he knew the other was just trying to help, but he couldn’t keep the words inside. He was too mad at himself, at the whole situation to care. But, surprisingly, Cooking Cat only smiled at him and pulled her hand back.

-“Okay,” she simply replied and the former ghost cringed at her compassionate tone. Still… This was a very different reaction than what he had expected. The hatted brat would have yelled at him, the other one would have given him a sad look… But Cooking Cat just agreed, not looking different than usual, despite his harsh words.

Somehow… Somehow, it felt like he wasn’t rushed to accept his current “condition” for once. It was a nice change. He knew the little girls had been trying to help him, but this was different, in a way he couldn’t describe precisely.

Great, and now he was feeling bad. Just another negative feeling on the top of all the terrible ones he was already feeling, perfect, fantastic. The former ghost avoided looking at Cooking Cat, guilt eating him inside. This was so ridiculous: he was (used to be…?) a soul-stealing spirit, one that forced people to work for him only to kill them afterwards… And now he was feeling guilty? What the heck?

“This is just this stupid human brain,” he thought grumpily as they walked into the hallway, the cat adapting her pace to match his, not forcing him to go faster than he could. He hated to be pitied that much, it just reminded him that he was less capable than any human… Yet, a part of himself felt grateful for it, no matter how much he was trying to repress it.

Snatcher wasn’t weak, he didn’t want to be. How could he, with an entire village to protect against a crazy Queen? It was his responsibility.

They eventually reached the other door, which opened just as quickly as the first one. The sight that greeted Snatcher’s eyes was definitely not one he had expected. His jaw dropped from the surprise, his eyes glancing everywhere, examining his surroundings with much interest.

It was a gallery. The walls were green, with burgundy columns in the corners of the room. The floor was covered in red carpet, with round, darker patterns on it. A long light green rug was in front of them, starting from the door to the opposite wall. On their left was a pedestal on which was exhibited a bust with a golden, shiny necklace. Just as expected, the room was full of paintings, all very different from one another. Most of them represented the hatted girl, others showed people he didn’t know, or ones he vaguely remembered such as the mafia goons who often wandered in his forest. He entered the room, more than impressed with what he was seeing… Until he found a particular painting that caught his attention.

-“Hey, that’s me!” he exclaimed, surprised. He moved just in front of the painting, admiring it in bewilderment: his previous ghostly appearance could be seen in the middle of the picture, as if he were screaming, though his expression wasn’t a horrified one. The setting seemed awfully familiar to him, as if he had seen another version of that painting somewhere else. Huh. Weird.

Confusion replaced his initial surprise as questions echoed in his mind. However, his lips moved on their own, voicing them as he kept his eyes stuck on the painting before him:

-“Who made that?” he asked, unable to look anywhere else.

Cooking Cat stayed silent for a brief moment, as if to think, before replying, unsure:

-“I don’t know,” she answered trustfully: “I’ve only been here once, to be completely honest. I tried asking about it, but the girls avoided the question. They’re usually pretty talkative, but there are some things they try not to talk about. So… I don’t force them.”

The former ghost remembered what the kids told him earlier, about the war that broke out between their people… If this was something like that, it made sense they didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t really blame them, considering he didn’t like to mention his own past. However… This was different: his face was literally on the picture, he was directly concerned by this! He never gave anyone the right to use his image! Really, the nerve of some people, he should sue!

But, as he finally managed to inspect the other paintings as well… He realized that he wasn’t the only one concerned, seeing as some pictures featured other people, like that awfully annoying tourist that always managed to avoid his traps…

For real, who painted those? Certainly not the kids: he had seen their drawings and they certainly didn’t look like that. These paintings were obviously made by professionals, people who knew how to draw and how to colour. What a strange mystery…

Snatcher was brought back to reality as Cooking Cat called out to him softly. He turned in her direction, noticing only now that she was sitting on the floor, patting the spot next to her, as an invitation for him to join her.

-“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, with a mix of confusion and mockery in his voice.

-“Trust me,” she answered, patting the spot harder, clearly insisting. The man looked at her for a few seconds, wondering how naive she could be to think he’d sit on the floor just because he was asked to… But no matter how motionless he remained, she just kept her eyes on his, waiting patiently for him to sit, not pushing him nor rushing him to do so.

Just waiting.

It wasn’t long until her stare made him ill at ease, made him feel like he was ridiculous, just like a child throwing a tantrum at his patient mother. But as soon as that thought came to his mind, he realized this wasn’t really far from the truth, given how motherly Cooking Cat had acted up until now… And he had just admitted he was behaving like a kid.

Now that was just great.

With a loud and frustrated sigh, Snatcher eventually gave in and sat next to her, a clear frown visible on his face. His arms were around his legs, keeping his knees close to his chest. He stared at her with irritation:

-“Fine, I’m sitting next to you. Amazing. What now?” his voice sounded bored and exasperated, but he was actually intrigued, if he had to be completely honest. Why would she take him to this room, only to have him sit on the carpet? As if this was going to help him fight his so-called emotions! Ugh.

Being human sucked.

However, before he was able to say anything else, he felt a powerful tug on the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to the floor. His back soon hit the ground, though not as hard as he thought it would. His head thankfully was stopped by the cat’s paw before any possible impact. Snatcher’s eyes were wide open from the surprise and the shock, looking everywhere as the gears in his mind started to turn. And then it clicked.

Cooking Cat had pulled on his collar, forcing him to lie down, his back against the soft carpet.

-“Hey!” he protested, trying to straighten up once more: “What do you think you’re doi-”

Yet, despite his wish to yell at the other for her over-familiar gesture, he was silenced both by the cat and by the sight caught by his eyes.

-“Hush and look up,” she simply said, pointing at the ceiling, forcing him back down. She lied down as well, putting her chef’s hat aside as she did so. Snatcher stopped moving as he stared at what was above him, speechless with awe. A glass ceiling, one he could see through, one that showed him many stars and planets so, so far away from him and yet so beautiful.

-“What-,” started the former ghost, only to close his mouth, not sure what to say. A lot of conflicted emotions were echoing in his mind, like exasperation, impatience but, most of all, confusion. Why would she bring him here out of every room in the spaceship? Why would she make him lie down to look at Space -not that he’d complain about that last point- ? What was she trying to achieve by doing so? Snatcher didn’t understand and that only made him even more irritated.

Thankfully, Cooking Cat seemed to pick up on his emotions without having him explain them in details. It really was impressive how she managed to read people like open books and, in a way, that made the man quite uneasy. Knowing his heart could be so exposed to someone he barely knew… This was not something he enjoyed.

-“Thought you might like this,” she explained calmly: “I wanted to talk to you in private and, well, we might as well be in the nicest room of the ship, right? Plus… We have such a good view, here.”

Snatcher stared at her, not sure what to answer at first. Yet… He could only agree. They did have a really good view. The stars were all shiny, very distinct from the black, interstellar void. Planets could be seen in the distance, like ants walking on the glass ceiling. Somehow, lying down and watching all of that gave the man the feeling of floating above water, as if he were drifting away and seeing the sky moving. In a way… This wasn’t entirely false, as the ship was drifting away. Still, the sight remained particularly magnificent and very different from what he was used to see in Subcon Forest, even at the top of his tree.

-“There isn’t anything to talk about,” replied Snatcher with a scowl, glancing away. Why would he talk to someone he just met? He would be stupid to do so, especially since he didn’t even like talking to people to begin with. Well, unless they could be useful to him in any way, he supposed. In any case, personal topics were a definite no-no and nothing this cat could say would change anything.

-“Really?” answered Cooking Cat with a false surprised intonation: “I thought you’d like to hear about one of the tales I was told when I was only a kitten, you know, the one about you.”

Okay, maybe Snatcher was ready to talk about some personal topics.

He squinted, wary, eying the cat with suspicion:

-“You’re trying to gain my trust to make me talk, aren’t you?” he accused her, though she only smiled more at his accusations, lifting her paw to her heart to feign being hurt by them.

-“Me?” she gasped with exaggeration: “Oh, no, I would never!”

The man just frowned even more. Yeah, she was totally trying to make him talk. At this thought, he let out a long and loud irritated sigh. Whatever, it wasn’t like he could get out of this situation anyway. He had the feeling the cat wouldn’t let him, especially with how he had behaved earlier. And so, what could he do but to endure this, if it meant he could leave faster and stay alone to mope just like he wanted to? Thus, with an audible and exaggerated groan, Snatcher agreed.

-“Fine,” he grunted, already feeling he was going to regret this, “Hope it’s scary, otherwise keep it to yourself,”

-“Oh, it is,” she confirmed, nodding vigorously: “It kept me up at night many times. We were told that naughty kittens would be taken away by a mysterious spirit called “The Snatcher”, only to be eaten and forgotten by their family.”

The former shade listened attentively, wondering where the story would go. Well, so far, the story was half true. He didn’t kidnap kittens, but he did eat people somewhat, so heh, close enough.

-“So, I was your Bogeyman equivalent, basically,” he interrupted, not sure what to think of that. It was nice to know he terrified children, but being compared with such a ridiculous monster was kind of an insult. His words made his interlocutor laugh though, and she continued telling her story:

-“Ahaha, yeah, pretty much! I used to fake not being scared by it in front of my parents, but as soon as night came, I would always shake like a leaf under my bedsheets. It lasted a few years, I must admit,” she giggled awkwardly at the memory: “But you know, I’m glad I was scared of you as a kitten,” she confessed, glancing back at him with a warm smile.

-“Why?” retorted Snatcher, quite perplexed. Why would someone be happy about something like that? Usually, people would do everything to repress childhood traumas like this, or at least laugh about it later… But being happy about it? This sounded off, if not just wrong.

-“Because one night, I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. And so, I slipped out of bed and rummaged through my parents’ bookcase, doing my best not to wake them up… And then, I found what changed my whole life.”

-“And that was…?” asked Snatcher curiously, still wondering how he could have indirectly impacted someone’s life so much. He disliked helping people, so even doing so without actually wanting to made him frustrated.

-“The first cooking book I ever read,” she told him with, perhaps, the most heartfelt expression he had ever seen: “It wasn’t special or anything, just an old book my mother had kept just not to throw it away… But I was immediately hooked on it. Just thinking about creating something new from completely different ingredients… It’s, woah, you know?”

The former spirit remained silent, not sure how to answer. He wanted to retort something disagreeable, he wanted to shut her up, wanted not to listen to her sappy backstory… And yet, he kept his mouth close, for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Was he becoming soft?!

Hating the sound of that thought, he just scoffed at her words. Yet, he already knew it wasn’t as sincere as his usual mockeries were. It felt like he was just trying to prove to himself that he was still the horrible and terrifying ghost he had been the last few centuries. This just made him feel ridiculous, ugh.

-“Hey, it’s true!” protested Cooking Cat with a little nudge, though she didn’t seem like she was offended by his attitude. Instead, she seemed to take it lightly, like a joke or something: “I remember that time so clearly. I went down in the kitchen in the middle of the night and I tried cooking something from the book. But not only did I end up cooking something that tasted terrible, but I also woke up my parents in the process!” she started to laugh again, staring into space as she looked like she was remembering it fondly: “Oh, they were mad, really mad, I can tell you that. But still, it made me realize how much I loved cooking and it soon became my dream job afterwards.”

-“Couldn’t have guessed,” he remarked sarcastically, hinting at her own name, which was pretty obvious on that regard.

-“Oh, hush!” she nudged him once more, still mischievously. Her smile faded after a few moments and she let her eyes wander in the interstellar void. Silent fell between the two and Snatcher couldn’t help but imitate her, watching the stars drift away through the window, his ears catching up on the many sounds caused by the ship. The constant whirring of the engine was… Soothing, so much that he almost fell back asleep at some point, only to be brought back to reality as Cooking Cat started to talk again:

-“So, I guess… I wanted to thank you. For existing and for being you, I mean,” she said softly: “Without you, I wouldn’t have become what I am today. Thank you.”

Snatcher glanced away, his expression turning bitter. He didn’t want to be thanked for anything. He didn’t want to help anyone, he didn’t want to be nice, even indirectly! He was a soul-stealing ghost, an entity who had murdered countless of people and had done so without feeling any guilt!

… Well, he didn’t anymore, at least. But that wasn’t the point!

Apparently, his face must have been pretty obvious to read as the cat spoke again, an embarrassed tone in her voice:

-“Sorry, I think I said more than I should have,” she confessed, giving him an apologetic look: “I didn’t want to make you feel ill-at-ease. But, if that makes you feel any better, you did give me plenty of nightmares as a kitten, so that makes us even, right?”

The former spirit only scoffed again, this time much more sincere than the last. Gods, this was so sappy, he could almost throw up because of it… Well, figure of speech, considering that he didn’t really want to experience that out of everything possible from being back from the dead. Still, this was some mushy stuff right there, exactly what exasperated him the most.

And yet, he kept his mouth closed once more. The other waited patiently, not pushing him to say or do anything and… It really felt nice. And while he was still feeling pretty… Bad, it was still better than a while ago. At least, he was calmer and less likely to snap.

It is only at that moment he realized that Cooking Cat’s purpose had not been to make him talk about his feelings… But just make him feel better, if only a little bit, never forcing him to listen if he didn’t want to. Snatcher frowned, though it wasn’t from irritation this time.

He was feeling guilty and he hated that. Why did he have to feel things like that?! However, the former shade did his best to push that thought away, very much aware that this would only lead him to snap again. And so, Snatcher took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. He couldn’t describe how much he had needed that.

-“You know,” he reopened his eyes after a few minutes of silence, “You’re bad at telling scary stories,” he eventually said, the tinge of a smile on his lips.

Cooking Cat smiled back at him, not taking that as an insult… Because it wasn’t really one, in the end. Fortunately, she was observant enough to notice that instantly.

-“I know, I know,” she answered with a short giggle, before continuing, her eyes fixed on his as a more serious expression appeared on her features: “I hope you’ll teach me someday, though.”

The message between those words was clear to the man: “I’ll always be there if you need to talk again, never fear to ask”. Although… He couldn’t deny he was quite hesitant on the matter. After centuries spent without talking to anyone about his -ugh- ‘feelings’, suddenly doing so wasn’t really easy. On the contrary, it was pretty difficult. However, another thing he couldn’t deny was how he felt a bit better after talking to the cat, even if they hadn’t talked about anything related to the recent events. But perhaps it was the reason, maybe he was feeling better because she hadn’t mentioned anything about that, because she had let him choose whether he wanted help or not… And it felt nice, to have his boundaries being respected like that.

He had needed this.

-“Maybe,” he finally replied with a small nod, his eyes fixed on the glass ceiling: “not sure you can handle it, though, I am pretty scary,” he joked, even though it was still a little hard to do so considering how he was feeling at the moment. But it did the job and Cooking Cat laughed again:

-“Oh, don’t worry, I’m kind of stubborn,” she assured him. After a few more moments of silence, she stood up, catching Snatcher’s attention: “The girls must be waiting for us, by now. Let’s go back,” she told him, offering her hand to help him to stand up.

The thought of seeing the brats again after the incident in the kitchen made him quite uneasy, for obvious reasons. It would be stupid to wonder about what they talked about, considering what had just happened. He didn’t really want to see them now, yet some part of him knew that waiting would just make things worse. And as they were the only persons in the world able to revert him to his spectral form… It was best to avoid any conflict with them.

And so… Snatcher took Cooking Cat’s paw, the cat waiting patiently for him to do so. He stood up just like her, his posture tensed as he agreed to her words:

-“Yeah… Let’s go back.”

Whether the bad feeling he had about this was going to become reality or was just the product of his pessimistic nature… He didn’t know yet. But he would very soon.

Snatcher did not look forward to it.

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I had so much fun writing this dialogue when, in reality, dialogue is one of my weak points, alongside writing action scenes. I hope you liked this chapter ! It wasn't the longest one but it was one of them! (7 pages and approximately 3700 words).

I read all of your comments and I love every single one of them. Thank you so much for following me and my fanfictions, thank you for leaving kudos and thank you for leaving such lovely comments. It really means so much to me, I mean it.

See you on the next chapter, take care everyone ! :)

=> Chapter 13

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit being human #Being Human #BH #oth #oth au #Oh The Humanity AU #snatcher #ahit snatcher #cooking cat #fanfiction #ahit fanfiction #my art #doodledrawsthings #erekio #erekio bh

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