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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 10: The Reconnections

word count: 8.6k

chapter summary: So many things just went wrong, now Sophie and her friends have to pull themselves together and help each other process it, otherwise they'll never figure out what to do next.

warnings: mentions of blood/injury, brief mention of bodies (non-human), general distress and confusion, suppressing emotions, panicking, crying, swearing, purposeful misuse of grammar, a lot of caps (not in an angry way, just excited yelling), and I think that's everything

taglist: I’ll reblog with it. let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Hello! Ten chapters! We're in the double digits now! To celebrate I'll be posting a deleted scene from the earlier chapters, so if that sounds interesting to you, feel free to check it out! Now, I know you're probably eager to find out what happens next, so I'll stop !!

ao3 link here or read below

Everything froze.

The world was silent.

That little girl looked at her, tears streaming down their face, fingers clenched in that creature’s fur, nearly tearing it apart. They stared at her, and Sophie stared back.

Her friends were arranged in a circle around them, stumbling from the rubble, slipping in the carnage, trembling forward. Everyone’s eyes wide, mouths agape, dust clinging to their skin.

Eyes on the girl.

The girl wouldn’t take their eyes off Sophie. There were ten of them arranged in a perfect circle around them like some sick ritual from a human horror film.

Their mouth fell open, salty tears clinging to their lips,

and

they

screamed.

Cracks and tremors exploded their way through the rough ground cascades and shock waves of terror and sheer power ricocheted through the pathways of earth travelling along hidden roots and sending the whole world into a frenzy and it was so so so so unbearably loud.

Sophie clapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as she tried to stop her very brain from rattling about in her skull. Her eyes closed for one moment but that was all it took.

The girl was gone when she opened her eyes.

There was a bag in her hand. Heavy, stuffed with metal pieces and tools and things she didn’t understand. Someone was holding her hand. A cloak had been draped across her back.

People were asking so many questions. What to do. Should they leave? Was Sophie’s shoulder okay? Was anyone else hurt? Would their parents try and come back? They couldn’t, she had their pathfinder. Should they just leave the bodies here?

Because there were bodies everywhere. Flattened into the ground, entrails strung between crumbled buildings like streamers. Thick, gleaming rivers of blood filled the cracks in the pavement, inching ever closer and closer, turning the claw marks and paw imprints in the ground into puddles, into drenched ground and soaked soil.

There was a dandelion growing between the cracks, petals now completely, entirely red.

She couldn’t see through the glass on the building to her side, but she could see her crimson reflection in the sheet of blood running down it, the drops drying like wax to the side.

It vanished, feathers blocked her view.

Deep browns spattered with gold and teal, a grey so dark it looked black, and--blue. A deep, rich blue.

Fitz, Keefe, and Maruca stood at three different points, a triangle amongst the ten of them, wings spread as the entire group faced inward. Blocking everyone’s view.

“What--what now?” Biana whispered, face drained of all color. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, bite marks in her lips.

“Who was that?” Keefe asked, grimacing, his hands held awkwardly at his side, like he couldn’t figure out just what he was supposed to do next.

Her fingers tightened around the pathfinder to the point of pain. Sophie just wanted this to be over. She’d been fighting so many people for so long. She didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to take a break, to go to the beach at midnight and push her friends into the water. To tend to a garden because she wanted to and not because she’d die without it. To listen to music on a blaring speaker without the looming terror it would draw something terrifying, something unnaturally scarier than her.

Twirling the pathfinder rhythmically beneath her fingers, she sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Keefe looked to her, alarmed. She didn’t care.

“Anyone have any last minute errands to run while we’re here,” she said, much too lightly. She couldn’t see the carnage through the feather barrier, but she could see it, knew what it looked like. The image was burned blisteringly detailed into her mind, and would remain for the rest of her goddamned life.

“Um...no,” Wylie answered, a bit confused, scratching at his head.

Sophie rubbed at her face; it felt like there was something stuck to her skin. A layer of filth and grime and wrong shuddering through her cells that refused to go away. She gasped, stumbling slightly--her shoulder. The movement jostled her shoulder. Throbbing aches thrummed their way through the surface of her skin, melting her nerves into rivulets of illusory, constant stimulation. Trembling, she exhaled.

Fitz reached out to steady her, frowning as he pulled her in to take a closer look. She didn’t let him. Covering it with her good arm, she tried to sort through her thoughts.

The sight of that little girl again…

“Then let’s just go.” Sophie looked up, startled. Linh. That had been...Linh. Her arms were crossed against her body, brow furrowed. Tam hesitantly placed his hand on her shoulder, seeming to convey something no one but her could understand. Linh shrugged in response and his expression only darkened, fingertips noticeably darker when he dropped his hand.

Almost reluctantly, they all linked hands. Like they were uneasy leaving this place the way it was. But what choice did they have? What could they possibly do?

Run away. That’s what they could do.

Again.

She couldn’t get it off. She couldn’t get anything off. The dust and grime from that haphazard city stuck to her skin like pollen and her clothes were damp with sweat and suctioned to her body and those wings were stuck to her back and she wanted to rip rip rip them off and set them alight and dance through the flames.

But there was dirt on the porch and she needed to sweep it off.

There were flower petals on the couch and she needed to clear them away.

There were wires and metal plates and parts to be sorted.

So she pushed it away. Pushed it down. Took a deep breath. And got back to work.

Unnerving quiet crept through the cracks of the wood planks beneath her feet. Too quiet. No wind blew through the canopied trees, no animals chirped in the forest. Everything had...paused. Or maybe that was just her, unaware of the world around her as she methodically plucked flower petals from the seat of the chair, tossing them out a window.

Everything she did pulled against the bandages wrapped haphazardly around her shoulder. She’d popped a few pills when she’d gotten back, human medicines she’d grabbed with Tam, rinsed the wound off, poured an antiseptic over the top--it’d stung like a bitch but she’d live--and wrapped the thing up. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore than she had to.

Attempting to clean her wound had disturbed some of the neatly wrapped bandages from Elwin--which was surprisingly difficult with all the pollen. But her right arm was still good and covered, the other good from about the elbow down. Right now, she could probably pass as one of those haunt actors in a human haunted house, some kind of resurrected mummy.

As she wandered around, she passed by friends moving, living their own lives, shadows trailing behind them, marring their faces. Biana and Fitz had disappeared somewhere the moment they’d gotten back, tears trailing down their cheeks. Linh had vanished too, arms crossed and expression tight, Tam right behind her, apprehensive, unable to deduce what was wrong.

What wasn’t wrong? That would’ve been a better question.

They were living just to the left of where they should’ve been. They were all together, everyone was alive, but everything was just slightly off. This was not right. They weren’t supposed to be like this. What had happened to them? Was it still happening? Who was that little girl?

She found a closet in one of the empty houses, a broom and some lengths of handmade rope, flowers curling out from a handful of the woven vines. That...didn’t seem like how rope was supposed to exist, but she also didn’t know much about making rope. Or anything about it.

A broom sat in the corner of the closet, which she made sure to note. She’d need that.

Slinging the length of rope over her good shoulder, she carelessly tossed a throwing star from hand to hand as she made her way through the village.

The bridges needed repair.

Just ahead, one of the bridges had snapped off entirely on one side, dangling over the edge and into a sharp drop much in the way those comical action movies had shown from when she was little.

Thunk. She’d set the supplies near the edge of the platform, but she didn’t care.

Tossing her legs over the edge, she braced herself; this would take a level of control she wasn’t sure she possessed--especially not right now.

Pressing off with her hands, she lowered herself into the air, just like when she’d lowered herself into swimming pools as a kid. Not the time to be nostalgic, Sophie. But she couldn’t help it. The sun had been overwhelming, the air muggy and humid. A beehive had started to form under the water slide and her and her sister would always plunge beneath the chemical surface when a bee flew near, or even just the sound of those wings approached.

The very same sound her own wings were now making, holding her gently in the sky as she urged herself forward, muscles in her back tearing at the scratches, the mite marks in her shoulder. Grabbing the frayed ropes and hauling them back to the platform she’d jumped from, she used her body weight to anchor it down while she tied and wove and cut the fresh rope--that’s what the throwing star was for. She didn’t think there’d be any scissors in an abandoned village, but she was open to surprises.

Actually, no she wasn’t. The unexpected oh so frequently came begging alongside disaster and terror, singing a sweet song of promise only to rip it to shreds as soon as you let it in.

Testing the strength, she tentatively walked across the planks, bouncing in the middle. She probably shouldn’t have been walking on it if she was unsure of its stability, but she wouldn’t fall if it broke. A dangerous mindset to play with and she knew it, but she didn’t care. Either way, it held. Good. Something was fixed. Something was better now.

She did it again. Time ticked passed, the supply of rope slowly dwindled, knot after knot slipping through her hands, fixing bridges until her fingers were raw and red and the muscles in her back were threatening to pop out. Her shoulder stung, the entire area burning as if set alight, but she didn’t dare take more than a minute’s break. Anything more would snap her out of this zone.

Back to the closet, then. She grabbed the broom. Anything, anything to keep her body moving, physical labor to numb her mind.

Dust showered over the edge, tumbling towards the ground far far below. She could watch it touch the ground if she wanted; instead, she let her mind disappear. Letting herself live in her own body would lead to circles and circles and circles, coming back to everything and anything she’d ever said.

Each mistake she’d made. There was nothing she could undo, but her mind could replay the possibilities over and over and over again. What if she’d tucked the wings inside her shirt instead of relying on just the cape after they’d escaped that creature. What if she’d agreed to meet in a different city, let Mysterium be just a mission for Dex, contacting their parents separate.

She should’ve tried harder, fought stronger. Should’ve. She hadn’t. An infinite cascade of what-ifs and maybes were drowning her, shoving her head under the water and there wasn’t a drop of energy left in her to scream.

Bristles brushed against the wood, precise. Methodic. She worked her way out from the inside of the platform, moving the dirt to the edges to watch it fall away.

Realizing there was grime inside too, she entered her little home. When had she come back to it--she could’ve sworn she was out further. Shifting the rug out of the way, she efficiently swept the floor. Kicking aside furniture with barely half a thought, holding a couch up with one hand, careful to avoid stepping on the stained glass littered about the floor. Bare feet didn’t mix well with glass, and her body was too bruised to torment further. Not that it was stopping her.

There was so much to do, so many tasks to complete.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react, she knew that much. She had quite possibly just permanently severed her connection to her old life. Had maybe seen her father for the last time. He’d seen her, knew there was something wrong.

And she stood here with a broom she’d found in that empty home, sweeping rivers of dried dirt off the wood floor, watching it shower all the way down to the ground below.

She didn’t remember how she got back here.

She didn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.

She didn’t remember her name.

“Hey, you,” he said, gently, approaching hesitantly from behind. She still flinched, muscles tensing. Keefe took the broom from her hands, setting it to rest against the side of a nearby wall. That--that wasn’t her wall. When had she strayed so far from her cottage?

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving.

Almost like he was afraid he’d break her, he pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear, the ones that were obscuring her face. Hiding the trails of tears crying silently down her cheeks.

He inhaled softly, eyebrows creasing with concern as his other hand came up to rest on the other cheek, holding her in his hands. She hadn’t even looked at him and yet she could still picture every minute detail of his expression.

“You okay?”

She didn’t know if she was physically capable of responding. Softly, her own hands covered his, savoring the warmth of his skin against her own, pressing her eyes closed in a futile attempt to dry her eyes.

Sophie leaned forward, her forehead pressing against Keefe’s chest as his arms widened around her, caught off guard for a moment before his hands slowly settled on her back, careful to avoid the wings.

“O-oh. Okay. We can--we can do this, then. If you need.”

She did need. Desperately. Tilting her face to the side so her cheek was pressed to his chest instead, she held him close. And let him hold her. They didn’t talk. Just stood there, bodies flush.

Eventually, he raised one of his hands from her back, brushing it through her hair, chaotic and tangled from the style she’d hastily torn out. She felt his fingertips combing through the strands, ghosting across her scalp as he pulled at the knots, untangling it with his fingers the best he could. His fingers slid against the back of her neck, lifting the strands stuck to her skin. Gentle. He was oh so gentle with her, like she was a porcelain doll and one wrong move would shatter her into pieces.

“You doing alright, Sophie?”

Sophie pulled back and nodded, smoothing out his shirt, pulling it back down and pointedly avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t having it.

Keefe held her chin, slowly directing her to look back at him, his skin warm against the dried salt on her own.

“Are you okay, Sophie? Please talk to me. Or anyone. I know that mission didn’t go well and--”

“Stop,” she whispered, and he shut right up. It was so so much harder to talk than she thought it would be. “I can’t. Not right--I can’t. Too much. Everything. All at once. I can’t.”

He was nodding, the wings at his back shifting slightly, readjusting themselves, a deep charcoal grey. Her fingers tightened into fists in this shirt before she realized what she was doing and released the fabric, stepping back, exhaling.

Today had been absolutely awful and she hated everything about it. From pushing her old life even further away to accidentally revealing the wings to the little girl on that intelligent monster down to the chill in the air that morning.

But Dex had gotten his supplies. He’d had everyone help carry everything back--though he tried to get her to let them all handle it, what with the shoulder. And they were all still here. And everyone else had been taken back to the underground unharmed. Those were wins. They were positives. They were good things but she just couldn’t focus on them.

“Do you...want a distraction?” Keefe asked, hesitantly waving a hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality.

She nodded, running her hands down her face. It was too much. Too many things had gone so wrong so quickly and she’d wanted to bury her imparter beneath her mattress because it was exploding with messages and hails and just the thought of reading them made her so nauseous her knees had buckled and she’d had to lay on the floor for several minutes.

That’s when she’d remembered how disheveled the place was. So she’d started cleaning and hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d come to find her.

“Okay,” he breathed, hands combing back through his hair as he squinted off into the distance. Thinking. He hadn’t had anything planned and was thinking on the fly. He glanced to her.

“You stole Grady’s pathfinder, right?”

“No need to rub it in,” she grumbled, patting at various points all over her body, trying to remember where she’d put it. She’d thought she’d tucked it into her waistband, but it wasn’t there. “I think I left it inside.”

He pulled at his lip with his fingers, lost in thought. “Okay. Cool. Where?” She gestured for him to follow her, leading him across a few bridges, some she’d repaired and tied back into place, others they had to take a route around because she hadn’t fixed them yet.

She ducked her head inside, scanning the space, the little tables. There. She jogged inside, snatching it off a chair and returning back outside, holding it out to Keefe.

Taking it from her, he began to spin the facets, a new pattern emerging. It seemed familiar, although she could never quite understand how the crystals worked.

He smiled slightly to himself, glancing. When he saw her looking back he quickly averted his gaze, cheeks turning red. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him hold up the pathfinder to the afternoon light.

Lacing their fingers together, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think you’ve ever been where we’re going, but it’s not the location that’s important. Got it?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t elaborate further, pulling them both into the light.

Purple grass had never made much sense to Sophie. Foxfire had purple grass, but no one bothered to explain why. It was one of those elvish things that hadn’t been deemed important enough for her to learn.

This grass wasn’t just purple, but varying shades of seafoam greens and delicate blues as well. Tall, reaching to about her knees, some adorned with flowers.

That was all. Grass, as far as she could see.

Keefe sighed next to her, then rubbed at his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if this place would be clear or not.” Clear of monsters. Taking a chance, coming here without scouting or defense aside from their new mobility and Sophie’s strength--not that she was in great shape at the moment. Perhaps the others had strange new traits too, not that she’d ask. Fitz had been staring off quite a lot recently, but she didn’t know if that meant anything.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around. There was...nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing meant they were safe. Nothing meant this place hadn’t been overrun or corrupted just yet. But it also wasn’t like Keefe to do nothing.

Tucking the pathfinder away, he ran his fingers through his hair, standing slightly taller, pulling himself together. “Okay. Look around. What do you see?”

“Grass.”

“Yeah, there’s grass. Who do we know who likes grass and fields and streams?” He was trying to lead her somewhere but her brain had turned to lead. Wait. A stream? Huh, now that she thought about it, the faint gurgle of something wet rushing by could be heard. Water pouring over rocks.

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but he just smiled back. Okay. Grass. Someone who liked--

“Oh!” She could feel her eyebrows shoot up, putting the pieces together.

Keefe full on grinned now, but she shut her eyes, sinking to her knees amongst the foliage, deliberately ignoring the light, tickling brush off the blades against her skin. .

Bracing her, holding her steady just in case, his hand rested atop her shoulder as he came to stand behind her.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she transmitted her query across the world. Hello? Are you there? Over and over and over again, unsure which direction to send the message so sending it everywhere, a full 360 around her body, waves of power rushing from her mind that no one but people like her could sense.

Finally, her message was answered.

SOPHIE! HELLO! FRIEND!

Silveny’s exuberant shouts filled her mind and she barely even grimaced. Apparently maintaining the mindbubble so often had built up her resilience to pounding noise inside her head.

Yeah, she responded, leaning back into Keefe. Do you want to come visit? Me and Keefe?

FRIEND! VISIT! KEEFE!

Sophie nodded her head, then realized the glittery horse couldn’t see her. Yes. It’s safe. Well--yeah, we’ll go with that. Safe! Just a really quick visit, okay? I don’t want to put you in danger.

Keefe was fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, unrolling the parts that had gotten bunched up.

VISIT! SAFE! SOPHIE!

Yes...that is...that’s what I said.

WHERE! WHERE! WHERE!

“I’d like to contact whoever designed alicorns and file a formal noise complaint,” she grumbled, and she could faintly hear Keefe’s snickering before her attention was too far gone to process anything anymore.

I’ll show you, she said, gathering up an image of the place. That must’ve been why Keefe had asked her what she’d seen, to ensure she had a clear visualization before reaching out. Hadn’t he come up with this on the spot? Why was his attention to detail so casual?

Almost immediately after sharing the image, Silveny severed their connection, still mulling over and looking at the details Sophie’d provided.

Groaning, she sat back up, realizing she’d been leaning practically all of her weight onto Keefe, who’d sat down behind her at some point during that conversation--it must’ve lasted significantly longer than she’d realized.

“So?” he asked, shaking his arms out and stretching a bit, rolling his wrist and straightening his shirt.

Sophie blinked a few times, the fading light still too bright after her eyes had been closed for so long “She cut me off. I showed her where we were and then she severed the connection, so whatever that means--”

Crackling thunder rolled through the air, making them both jump as a hole tore itself through space, several sparkling winged alicorns emerging, prancing their way through the sky as they circled down to land a ways away, trotting over to where they both sat in the grass.

“Hey, Glitter Butt,” Keefe whispered, stroking her face, brushing the icy strands of hair out of her eyes. She snorted and butted his hand in return, pressingly firmly into his hand. His smile was infectious, the wings at his back a near blinding white to match the alicorn before him.

KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

“She’s sure excited to see you,” Sophie told him, rubbing at her temple; Silveny was even louder in person.

Meanwhile, she was surrounded on either side by two little foals bumping up against her thighs, trying to knock her into the grass so they could play. But their movements were...disjointed. Erratic. Colored with fear and panic.

“They’re anxious,” she realized, frowning. Keefe’s expression had darkened slightly too, his wings shifting back to grey.

“Are you, mama?” He consoled, pressing up close to her neck, petting her all down her side. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to say it aloud--he could already feel it.

Sophie relented after a particularly brutal push from Wynn, sinking to the ground once more, letting him curl up in her lap, trembling beneath her fingers as she stroked his mane. Luna took more to Keefe, pulling at his shirt with her teeth, nearly tearing the fabric, pressing her wet nose to his skin, making him jump slightly.

He laid back in the grass, wings spreading behind him, Luna curling up beside him and laying her head atop his stomach. It was in this moment, the wind gently stirring the pastel grass cushioning their bodies, the intertwining feathers, the way his eyes closed and he leaned back, hand tangled in Luna’s mane, that Sophie yearned to be an artist. To capture this moment right now and make it real somewhere else, to allow it to exist outside her mind.

What she wouldn’t give to preserve this moment, this reprieve.

KEEFE? KEEFE? KEEFE OKAY? Silveny interrupted, blasting her thoughts into Sophie’s mind, hopping about anxiously, refusing to settle. Greyfell stood a little ways back, wary eyes observing the environment.

There’d been no news of anything catastrophic that Silveny had shared with her, nothing alarming or dangerous. But she’d kept secrets before. What had they seen? What had they met that made them so skittish?

Wynn butted his head against her side, demanding more cuddles and attention.

Yeah, Keefe’s okay. Why?

Silveny had pressed in closer, stomping at the ground. She tried to grab him by the shirt, pull him closer to her, but he ducked back, holding up his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re fine. It’s okay. Calm down, mama,” he whispered, gently stroking her head, trying to calm her. It was only marginally effective; she stopped her stomping, but her eyes were frantic, darting between Keefe and the ground and the area surrounding, sniffing the air, exhaling heavily.

Keefe glanced to her in question. Asking what was wrong.

Silveny. What’s wrong?

MONSTER! KEEFE! PROTECT!

I--what? What are you talking about? To Keefe she said, “Something about monsters. I think she’s trying to protect you.”

SMELL! MONSTER! PROTECT KEEFE!

Turning towards the panicked alicorn, he smiled slightly, nervously. “Thanks, but I’m good. You don’t need to protect me. You need to protect yourselves and your family. I’ve got other people to have my back.”

Silveny wouldn’t relent, her motherly concern boiling over and exploding from within her too-caring heart. Pressing forward, she tried to snap at Keefe’s wings, biting at the feathers.

They pulled back, snapping shut behind him just before she could reach as he sat up fully, backing away from her.

Oh.

Keefe.

Monster.

He was the monster she was scenting.

Silveny didn’t seem to understand anything Sophie tried to explain. Not until she told her that biting those wings, the monster, would hurt Keefe. Then she stopped trying.

But she didn’t give up, convinced there was something she could do to protect him from some creature, not understanding it was him she scented.

“I didn’t realize just how much our scents had changed. I mean, I know Ro told us but--” he cut off, still slightly shaken, expression drawn. Luna still curled around him, but the wings were tight to his back now, significantly darker. More shadowed. Haunted.

Silveny refused to leave his side, pressed close to him in the grass. Sophie had kept her own wings tucked in close, flat against her back. It felt unnatural, like they wanted to remain spread, but she could do it easy enough. Keefe’s were so much more obvious, that’s what’d tipped the alicorns off. Hers could be hidden, discreet. Anything to prevent more disruption, to worsen that aura of hurt lingering around Keefe, the one he was trying so hard to pretend didn’t even exist.

Sophie couldn’t think of anything to say, instead staying silent.

Distraction. They needed a distraction. That’s why they’d come all the way out here, although she didn’t know where that was. To have fun. Relax. Ignore everything else for just a single moment.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hey, Silveny? Want to fly?

Head perking up, her eyes focused on Sophie.

FLY? FLY? FLY?

She nodded, debating how she was going to navigate this. Yeah. Fly! Her shoulder could probably take it. She’d regret it tomorrow, but it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“What are you saying to her,” Keefe hissed, leaning back a bit as Silveny’s wings began to flap slightly, rising from her sitting position to towering about the two of them sitting before her. Even Sophie felt as though she could feel the waves of excitement radiating off her, and she wasn’t even the empath. Keefe’s eyes were slightly clouded, like he was sorting through something before coming back to himself.

Sophie brushed him off. “You asked me to trust you when coming here, now it’s your turn to trust me.”

“That is so unnecessarily cryptic, Foster.” She stared at him. “Okay, alright. Point taken.”

Silveny bent down, expecting the two of them to climb atop her back, but Sophie shook her head. Keefe’s eyes widened and he slowly turned to look at her, mouth comically agape, like he was questioning whether her mind still worked properly. Probably not.

No. We’re gonna do this a little differently this time, okay? Trust me.

DIFFERENT FLY? TRUST? DIFFERENT FLY?

Shaking out her hands, trying to dispel the nerves, she nodded. Yep. Trust us. You go ahead and we’ll join you.

It took a minute or two more of explanation, but finally the stubborn alicorn relented, her family following behind. Taking off into the sky, the four of them began to circle a few dozen feet about the ground, moving around the two of them left on the ground.

“Are you serious? You’re really--are you sure?” he asked, hands on either side of his head, fingers digging into his scalp as his eyes remained oh so open, scanning her from head to toe.

She shrugged, turning away as she straightened her clothes out; the fabric had bunched and remained full of grass. “Want to join them or not?”

“Well--uh--you know--ah--we can’t--why…” Sophie looked to him over her shoulder, realizing he truly was stunned. Entirely at a loss for words.

“Hey, you don’t have to, you know. You’ll be fine either way. Nothing will happen.”

He rolled his eyes at her, insulted. Of course he would follow her, he just couldn’t believe who she’d become. The decisions she made so casually that would’ve sent her spiraling into anxiety before. Part of her didn’t believe it either, pretended nothing had happened at all.

Crouching down slightly, she gathered her energy for a moment before leaping into the sky, wings snapping out behind her. Steadily, she made her way into the sky, turning back to see Keefe.

His wings beat steadily behind him--he must’ve practiced, she realized with a start. Light grey feathers shivering in the wind as he caught up to her, color staining his cheeks already.

“See? Everything’s okay,” she whispered, unsure whether she was comforting herself or him. Either way, he smiled in return, chaotically bumping into her with his shoulder, nearly tumbling out of the sky in the process. Hiding her wince, she smiled wider. Yeah, that injury did not like all this movement, but she’d never been known to listen to her body.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re okay.”

With each beat, it grew easier. The tightness in her chest eased, her smile gradually felt true. Every time she took to the sky she landed more skilled, more aware of her own body. They worked in tandem, the two of them. Her and the wings.

SOPHIE! KEEFE! FLY!

The impatient alicorn had darted down and was now flying in concentric, tightening circles around the two of them, whining in excitement.

Yeah, Mama. Fly. Silveny let out a shriek of excitement, tumbling through the air, her two little trouble makers coming up beside them to butt into their legs, testing their balance.

Sophie moved much more sporadically than the five of them, rhythmically shifting in the sky while they moved steadily; something about their wings having feathers and hers being insect-based, she assumed. But she didn’t want to do any thinking right now.

Right now there were four alicorns and someone she loved right beside her, laughing and intertwining and dipping through the sky.

Keefe waved frantically, drawing her attention. “Foster! Look!” Wynn hovered beside him in the air, and on some unknown signal both of them snapped their wings shut, gravity taking them by the hand and dragging them down head first, dozens upon dozens of feet rushing past in a few moments as the ground grew nearer and nearer.

At the last possible second, they both opened their wings, pure white feathers catching the wind as they pulled a sharp turn, skimming the top of the grass before the momentum sent them rocketing back into the sky, looping around to come to a mostly steady pause in the air.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing,” she managed, clutching her chest. She’d trusted him, but watching him drop headfirst, unprotected, had ignited some visceral panic, adrenaline humming through her veins, making it slightly more difficult to maintain her position in the sky.

KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! Silveny cheered in her mind, but Sophie tried to ignore the pestering. Greyfell seemed to be occupying most of her attention anyways.

“Aww, what? Do you care about me or something?” he teased, circling back around to her, squishing his cheeks between his palms.

Swatting at him, she glitched back a little, wings buzzing and failing to hide her grin. “Unfortunately, I’m invested in your physical and mental well-being, you dumbass.”

Keefe scrunched his nose up at her, pressing in close and grabbing her by the wrist, drawing her away slightly, leading her through loops in the air. He let go eventually, realizing it was much more difficult when holding on to someone, the same way running was so difficult when holding someone else's hand.

She missed the warmth of his skin, though. Missed it desperately.

Music. In a human film, there’d be soft, soothing music playing over a montage of the two of them whirling through the sky, the sound of their laughter cutting through when Sophie’s shirt rode up and the fabric got bunched on her face, when Keefe tried to stay low and fell from the sky, instead ending up rolling through the grass.

Everything was okay, just like they’d said. Like they’d promised. All she could hear was Keefe’s voice, his ringing laughter, and all she could see was his smile, the blinding, near glow of his bone-white feathers.

They let the time pass.

They stopped trying to stop it.

Hey--where are you? Fitz interrupted her as she darted around an alicorn wing, testing her own agility.

Hmm? she replied, startled.

I asked where--

Oh. Mind processing what he’d said a few seconds later, she interrupted him. I don’t know. Keefe took us here.

She could’ve sworn Fitz was mentally trying to strangle her, shake some sense into her. Sophie took the brief moment of silence to slow down, coming to a hover as she closed her eyes, focusing on the conversation. It was hard to escape her body with the pounding in her shoulder, but she managed.

Alright, he said finally, clearly distracted with something on his end. Can you come back, please? Did you even tell anyone you were leaving? What are you even doing--you know what? Later. Just...I need you. Please.

Wings rushed rhythmically beside her, Keefe having noticed her distraction and coming to make sure she didn’t tumble from the sky. How considerate.

Are you okay? Heart skipping a bit, she resisted the urge to pull at her eyelashes. It was that brief moment before disaster, that poignant pause where the next few words would determine whether the adrenaline kicked in in full or her panic would waiver and they’d laugh about it later. Those few seconds before it set in where you tried to figure out if it was real.

He hesitated. I--I don’t know. Is it even possible to be okay right now?

Okay, okay, she consoled, instincts kicking in. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be there, okay? I promise. Don’t do anything stupid, please. We’re coming.

Yeah...okay.

The connection cut out and she opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. Keefe was grimacing, shaking his hands out, trying to dispel something.

“What’s got you all anxious, Foster?” Ah. Right. He could feel the sudden souring of her mood.

Moving away from him, towards the alicorns, she called over her shoulder. “We need to go. Fitz asked for us to come back and he sounded really upset.”

Keefe started for a moment then followed after. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. But he wants us back so we’re going back.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah let’s go.” he repeated himself a few times, and Sophie swore if she were an empath she’d feel the same waves of dread and anxiety rolling off of him as he felt from her.

Silveny, Keefe and I need to leave. You and your family need to go back to wherever you’re safest, okay? I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.

KEEFE! SOPHIE! STAY! She begged, sounding like she wanted to kidnap the two of them and steal them away permanently, convinced she could protect them.

She shook her head, curled up in the air beside the alicorn, cradling her head between her hands, pressing their foreheads together. We can’t, mama. But you need to stay safe. We’ll see you again soon.

SEE SOPHIE SOON!

Yeah! We won’t wait so long next time.

SEE KEEFE SOON! Silveny playfully bumped into Sophie, circling away to do the same to Keefe, who said much of the same as she had, wishing her well and promising to visit sometime.

Neither of them knew if they’d be able to keep that promise.

Wynn and Luna butted against them too, demanding a few last pets and snuggles before they followed behind their parents, Greyfell unexpectedly brushing wings with Keefe in farewell before they vanished into the void with one last message.

SOPHIE SAFE! KEEFE SAFE! STAY SAFE!

It was useless to wait here any longer, but they both hesitated for a single moment, long enough to take a breath. To watch the grass shiver in the breeze, the pollen dance through the air.

Offering Keefe her hand, Sophie conjured the clearest image she could of the gnomish village, the way it looked from up above. Their fingers intertwined and Sophie stopped beating those wings, letting herself fall into a dead drop just as Keefe had, but this time they didn’t catch themselves: they plummeted into the void.

Humidity condensed into clouds, obscuring her vision. Apparently her best image of above the village was from that dragon fight, much higher than she realized. The two of them descended in slow, coiling circles, both of them wishing they could go faster but not sure if they should risk it.

Wylie waved at them as they landed from a bridge a little ways away, so she waved back.

We’re back; where are you? Hand dropping back to her side, she resolved that if he didn’t respond within the next fifteen seconds she was tracking him down.

She reached ten before his voice filled her head.

My...house, he said, unsure what to call it just like the rest of them.

Biting her lip, she glanced to Keefe. “Do you know where Fitz is staying?”

He nodded, taking the lead. A stab of guilt threaded its way through the lining of her stomach, coiling around her ribs and squeezing tight. How shameful that she’d gotten so caught up in her own life, her own troubles, that she didn’t even know where he was staying.

Leading her through a series of bridges and turns, a cottage came into view, slanted and twisted around the side of a tree, a spiral of stairs leading towards a splintered door left agape, a pattern of slashes in the front that she forced herself to remove from her mind.

It was the highest building in the village, roof open to the sky.

No creaks or groans came from the stairs as she practically ran up them, imagining the worst of possibilities, heart lagging behind, stumbling with dread. Keefe was only a moment behind, cursing as his feathers snagged on a tear in the railing.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door, but when no response came she just pushed inside.

“Fitz? You alright?” she called out, glancing around the area. Gasping, she let the door swing behind her. The room was in chaos, papers strewn about the floor, his bag discarded near a beanbag chair, spilling empty vials and snack bars onto the ground.

A shuffling came from upstairs--there was an upstairs? Fitz tumbled into the room a few moments later, disheveled, like he hadn’t realized they were actually coming.

Keefe let out a low whistle. “Okay, buddy. What the fuck.”

Fitz was picking at his lip, distracted, frantically scanning the papers on the floor like he was looking for something. “Hmm. Yea,” he responded absentmindedly.

Sophie was too busy scanning him from head to toe, searching every inch for sign of injury or distress. His knuckles were red and raw, his hair sticking out in every possible direction like he’d been running his hands through it, pulling at it.

“What did you need?” she asked, voice soft and gentle. Something was wrong. Something was eating eating eating at him enough that he’d asked her to come.

Fitz exhaled heavily, reaching up to run his hands down his face, then dropped them to his sides. “I don’t know,” he whispered, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t make any sense.” he was picking at his lip again, arm shaking.

She tried again. “Well, maybe if you tried describing it, we could figure--”

“No.” He had turned around, lowering himself to the floor, collecting the papers and starting to place them in some sort of order. Where had he gotten paper? He glanced at her guiltily. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I didn’t mean--I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I don’t know what the problem is, the problem is that I don’t know. I don’t understand this. I keep--I keep going over what we know, organizing it into notes and sections and treating it like a goddamned homework assignment but I just...the pieces don’t fit together. And there are so many loose strings and things to tie up and come back to and I can’t get that information, which just makes it--”

“O-kay, babe. Let’s slow down there for a hot second,” Keefe interrupted, lowering himself next to Fitz. Fitz slumped, all the air rushing out of his body seemingly at once, expression softening into delicate pain.

Sophie just stood there for a moment before shaking herself out of it, kneeling on the floor beside him, taking the papers from his hand. It was just pages upon pages of notes, scribbled diagrams besides carefully organized and sectioned observations, notes about the wings and the creatures, notes about the little echo and the way Tam’s eyes had changed.

“Here,” he said, handing her a book on top of it all. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

Oh. It was the book. The monster book. The journal they’d all started who knew how long ago, a collection of notes and things known about the various creatures they’d encountered so far. Their behaviors, their traits, the noise they made if any.

She’d forgotten they’d brought it along.

He clearly hadn’t.

“Okay,” she said, trying to collect herself. “What is...what have you been working on?” His thoughts were so disjointed, something occupying his mind so intensely he wasn't speaking clearly. Hard as she tried she couldn’t make sense of it.

Fitz gestured like it was obvious. “I’m trying to solve it. The wings.” He scooted closer to her, reaching out to flip through the pages to a new section.

A section...about all of them.

It felt so very wrong and off-putting, seeing themselves beside all those horrid things in that book. But she shook it off. Not now.

“Solve? What do you mean ‘solve?’” Keefe asked, leaning in closer to see the pages, quickly turning away when he caught a glimpse of a few sketched feathers, all in various shades of grey.

Fitz groaned, rubbing at his face again. “I can’t--I can’t explain it, okay? It just--it doesn't want to make sense. I swear it makes sense. There’s just--I’m just missing something and then I’ll figure it out and--there’s an explanation somewhere. If I just find it then we can--”

“We can what, Fitz?” Keefe asked, painfully soft.

He went quiet. His fingers curled, nails digging into his face until Sophie reached out to pull them away, lacing her fingers through his own. The movement aggravated her shoulder but she ignored it, letting out only the smallest sound. It didn’t matter. He was crying.

Keefe moved closer and began rubbing his back, the space between the protruding wings, telling him to breathe, the instruction accompanied by a wince of his own as all of Fitz’s...whatever it was hit him, flooding through his mind, visible on his face. But he just shook it off, continuing the slow circular motions.

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to do,” he laughed, hollow. His fingers tightened around Sophie’s before relaxing, falling into his lap. “We’ve already messed everything up. There’s no coming back from this. I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sophie said, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “We’re still trying. We’re always going to try--it’s what we do, right? Together. All of us. That’s how we work. That’s us. I like it that way.” She had no idea what to say.This was so...unexpected. Out of nowhere. Or maybe she just hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should’ve been.

He hummed half-heartedly in response, cheeks flooding red. Keefe absentmindedly reached up to brush a stray piece of hair from Fitz’s forehead, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

“You should listen to Foster; she knows what she’s talking about most of the time.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but Fitz was smiling slightly. “Yeah...she usually does. I guess that’s why I asked for you.”

“You don’t need a reason to ask for me,” she reminded him, letting go of his hand to flop back against the hard wood of the floor, the sound of something clattered to the ground accompanied it. But she didn’t notice, flinching as she hit her shoulder, staring towards the sloped ceiling, the veins of vines curving around the roof. Like the ones that had trapped that creature.

A pang of guilt overwhelmed her for a moment, almost enough to take her breath away. She still hadn’t told anyone about that. But she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Keefe was looking at her funny, but he shook himself off and turned away.

Fitz shifted forward, flopping down on the floor beside her, wings spreading beneath him to accommodate for the shift. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but he seemed fine.

“I know,” was all he said.

Keefe frowned. “Well now I feel a little left out. Do I get to join the cuddle session?” Fitz laughed, a real laugh, patting the open space to his right, inviting Keefe in.

When Keefe joined, Fitz was sandwiched between the two of them, the three of them looking off at nothing, pretending they didn’t notice the way their skin brushed against each other. No one spoke, the echoing of their heartbeats more than enough to fill the passing time.

They had responsibilities, yes. But this mattered more. Her friends, her family, would always matter more.

Fitz’s breathing evened out, the tension draining from his muscles. Whatever distressed frenzy he’d been in when they arrived started to ebb, his pulse slowed.

Sophie counted each beat, the three of them combined, still unnerved that she could even hear their hearts. Fitz’s hand was playing with her hair, rearranging it around her face as he lay beside her, oh so careful not to jostle her shoulder, the bandages. They’d shifted at some point, Sophie now more atop his wing so she could be closer to his body, Keefe the same on the other side. He was fiddling with Fitz’s hand, pulling at his fingers and tracing the lines with his palm.

“Thanks for coming,” Fitz whispered, breaking the long silence.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to come,” he explained, not looking at either of them. “But thank you. I..I needed this. Someone.”

Keefe rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at the two of them. “We’re always going to be here when you need us, Avery.” Fitz rolled his eyes at him, smiling.

“Just…” Sophie began, pausing and restarting. “Thanks for reaching out. Instead of dealing with it on your own. Thanks for letting us in.” He blinked, like he hadn’t thought of it that way before.

Keefe pushed himself up further, looking over at something, drawing both of their attention. “Hey, uh. Foster? You’re getting some messages.” Her imparter--oh, that must’ve been what the noise was. It had fallen from her pocket, discarded somewhere on the floor--she’d turned off the vibrations and sound so she wouldn’t hear it if someone said anything. It was stupid, she knew, but she hadn’t known what else to do.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes. Yeah. She should deal with those now. Nodding to herself, she pushed herself into a sitting position, bearing her weight on her good arm. Keefe lowered himself back down next to Fitz.

One thing at a time.

Reaching over, she grabbed her imparter, bringing it to her lap so she could see it better.

Her mouth fell open. Fitz was watching her carefully, messing with Keefe’s hair and trying to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t observing her every move, gauging her reaction.

“How bad?” Keefe asked, head resting on his arms.

Sophie didn’t even respond, sitting up straighter and thumbing open the device, going straight to her messages. The most recent ones.

“Elwin--he messaged me.” She blurted out, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

They both stopped moving.

“He says he wants to meet up. Secretly. Just--just with him.” Trembling, she turned the screen around so they could read it.

Sophie. I don’t know what’s going on with you or your friends, but please let me help. I want nothing but the best for you and I can’t help you if you’re hidden. I’m not asking you to reveal your secrets, but let me in just enough to patch you up. I don’t need all the answers, but I won’t sleep well until I know I’ve done everything I can. You have injuries left untreated.

But it was the last part of the message that really stunned her.

No one knows I’m sending this, so don’t let them know. We can keep this just between us. You’re a strong, independent young woman, but I hope you’ll accept my help.

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

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Nymphadora in the marauders era au snippet type thinggg

In summary: au if tonks had gone to school with marauders set during OOTP, after 13 years apart Remus and Tonks meet again for the war effort.

Just a little snippet of something I’ve been working on today. OOTP if Tonks had been at school with the marauders au type vibe. Lemme know of you’re feeling it? I’ve written a fair bit but this random middle section was what got my ball rolling. Don’t wanna continue if it’s gonna flop though lmao. Anyways. Yeah. Lemme know if you could vibe with a short story/ficlet delving deeper into this at some point :)

He dropped the mug he was holding, sending it tumbling to the tiled floor and shattering at his feet. It sounded abnormally loud in the silence. It made his ears ring so loud that when she spoke at first he didn’t fully hear her, her lips moving but no sound reaching him.

He wanted to say she hadn’t changed even though that felt almost a funny way to describe a metamorphmagus. But she really hadn’t. Yes her hair was a vibrant shade of purple today. But her face, it was hers. Little changes here and there but nothing dramatic. Her face had been burned into the backs of his eyelids for the last 13 years, she’d looked younger then of course. But not much. He wondered if time had simply been kinder to her or she’d made herself look that way.

He was still frozen to the spot when she walked towards him, stopping a few steps away and waving her wand at the shattered cup. It glued itself back together with a clink of China and floated back to its place on the shelf. She was still a fair bit shorter than him. Perfect height for forehead kisses. He used to joke. But he didn’t really joke much anymore. Or have a particular fruitful amount of people to be kissing.

I’m fact he hadn’t kissed a single other person since her. Since that day he’d sent her away. Gave her a final kiss and made her promise not to seek him out again. He could still remember it vividly. How soft her lips were, how the salt from her tears had seeped into his mouth, her eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. He’d almost expected her not to keep the promise. Maybe he’d hoped that she wouldn’t. But of course, the unbreakable vow had made sure she stayed away. He’d only bound it to last 5 years. But he hadn’t told her that. Maybe he should have.

But then again. What would he have had to offer her if she had come back? Exactly what he could offer her now. Nothing.

He realised he still hadn’t said anything to her. But she hadn’t pressed him to either. She was looking at him in the way she always had done. Patience. Understanding. Others looked at him and were afraid. Or those closer often spoke to him like a child, like he needed to be approached with caution and care. She’d never done so. She always looked him like… he was normal. 13 years on and she still did.

“ Dora “ her name felt odd in his mouth now. Like it was something he wasn’t meant to say, wasn’t allowed to say. Which was ridiculous because it was her name for merlins sake. But he felt as though he weren’t allowed to be so personal. Dora wasn’t used lightly for her. She was Tonks. Always Tonks. Nymphadora to her mother. Ted often used the name, but really Dora was for Remus. She’d said that herself. He was the one who knew the secret, knew the name. Earned the privilege to say it.

It had been whispered in adoration, said with teasing warning, gasped into her mouth, shouted in panic. It was personal. He regretted saying it now.

“ blimey. Haven’t heard that one in a while” she said simply, a slightly lopsided smile quirking at her lips.

“ my apologies. Nymphadora “ she gave a small laugh and shook her head. Her eyes still crinkled when she laughed. Her nose still scrunched.

“ Dora. Dora was fine “ he gave a small nod but didn’t know what else to say to her. What was he supposed to say? ‘ Wonderful to see you! ‘ ? Apologise? ‘ so. Another war huh? ‘ he felt quite pathetic.

“ how- how have you been? “ he cleared his throat mid sentence, his voice cracking. He was never very good at holding his emotions in check around her. Never had been. Even when he thought he was hiding his true thoughts she always figured him out. She read him like a favourite book, knew him just as well. Knew the best parts of the story, knew the parts it was a little more dull. Still admired it even with the dog eared pages and the cracked spine, the coffee cup stains on the cover and the tear stains on the pages. Or at least she once had.

“ alright. Until old Voldemort decided he wanted another go “ she was trying to joke but her voice didn’t carry it as well as he thought she hoped it would “ Harry’s all grown up isnt he? Spitting image of his dad “ he’d almost forgotten that that was the reason she was there. War. Harry. Voldemort “ though I have been keeping an eye on him. Working for the ministry has its perks. Wish I could’ve intervened a couple times but. He’s turned out alright hasn’t he? “ he felt a slight relief knowing Harry had secretly had Nymphadora looking over him for his entire life. James and Lily would be proud. He knew it.

“ yes. He has “

#aghhhh I’ve written so much already and I kinda love it.#but let me know!#it won’t be any time super soon but yeah. I’ve been bussyyy writing #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #ronks #the marauders #lupin #tonks x lupin #tonks #remadora fic #remus x nymphadora #messrmoonyy writes

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 3 years

Text

[2:47 PM]

Angels and Demons AU; Star Crossed AU

TW: Language

Y/N Pronouns: Not Specified

[Main Masterlist] | [Timestamp Masterlist] | [Star Crossed Tag]

I've yet to release any actual fics for Star Crossed, it's just a concept at the moment with a lot of random musings here and there about it in the tag

Star Crossed Quick Summary: You're an Angel and Jeno's a Demon. For the longest time, you were tasked with the impossible job of eliminating the other, until after eons of fighting, you both realized that the only person who'd ever understand them on a deeper level was them themselves and, well, turns out all that fighting was fueled by unrequited feelings. With that, you both decided to call it quits on the fighting and started dating instead. However, you both quickly find that the true struggle wasn't in the obvious cultural difference, the difficulty stemmed from living amongst humans and being sure not to be found out.

You hummed a soft tune while you dusted the shelves in the office room, the duster brushing over tomes older than recorded time. You felt your rings ruffle behind you before jutting out and slamming into something. Or, more accurately, someone.

"Argh..." Jeno shook his head, the area your wings slapped him on growing red.

"I am so sorry! They have a mind of their own," you quickly apologized.

"I don't blame them," he groaned.

"Remind me not to keep them tucked away for too long, they get fussy. They've been knocking things down all day."

"Are you sure that's them or just the fact that they're ridiculously large?" Jeno teases you.

"Oh, shush, like yours are any shorter, I didn't forget about when you just knocked over an entire fruit stand with them."

"Hey! If you just told me the spell to get rid of them, I wouldn't have to just make them invisible and blow our cover!"

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" You laughed. Jeno pouts, but shakes it off.

"Either way, I was just going to tell you not to touch that one," he points to one of the books. You turn to the shelf and look at the book.

"Do you mean the one that eerily glowing in red?" It was an intricate thing with chains being its primary design feature. When did that get there anyway?

"Yeah, if it's disturbed you could release a demon."

"And you're keeping that on our bookshelf?!" You looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Eh, it's packed pretty tightly in there so we should be fine," he waves it off. You stare at the book longer, it was almost like you could hear voices from it.

"Dare I ask who is being kept in there?"

"You don't want to know. Let's just say it took forever to get him in there, so it'll take forever for him to get out," Jeno frowns. "Oh, I also brought cookies!"

"Oooh! What kind?" You drop the duster and now notice the platter of cookies in his hand.

"Chocolate chip, made them myself!" You took a bite and hid the grimace. It was much too sweet than normal.

"What's the occasion?" You asked with skeptical eyes.

"No reason," Jeno waves it off with a sly look.

"Jeno. You can't go to that cooking class with Mark," you deadpan.

"What?! Why? I can handle myself!"

"Jeno. What is one of the staple ingredients to cooking?"

"Water?"

"Salt."

"Okay, and?"

"What do you mean 'okay, and?' You'll literally burn!"

"That's why I'm going with Mark! So he can handle that stuff,"

"And what are you going to do if their utensils are made of silver?"

"Well..." Jeno falls silent. "I did my research and they're usually made of steel!"

"Oh my... fine, fine! But, if anything happens, don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Yes! Nice," Jeno laughs. "I'll call you when I'm done! Mark's waiting outside."

"Just be careful, yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely, I'll be back before five!"

"Okay, just go already!" You waved your hand and Jeno shoots you a grin before ducking out of the house. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

General Tag List: @vickylamore @deobis-moon @mizzdivagirl7-blog @sehunnies-hunnie96 @yangsrose @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @raeincitizen @here-aeth @lune1897 @gaiyofanfiction @jaeminsespresso

NCT Tag List: @jungwoosswhore @eggoyu

If you want to be added to either tag list just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#nct #nct u #nct dream #nct x reader #nct u x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct timestamps #nct u timestamps #nct dream timestamps #timestamps #star crossed #my writings

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years

Text

there’s one thing on my mind (it’s all for you)

i didn’t have a wip for jatp fanworks appreciation week, so i made one?? but i got too into it and finished it in a few hours. thanks to @ourstarscollided for sending in the incredible prompt that led to this fic!!

home didn't seem like home anymore for luke patterson, and so he was desperate to find a new place to write music. after an especially brutal fight with his mother, he finds himself in front of l.a. books. he isn't expecting to get much out of it, it was solely a last resort. but then he sees her, julie molina, and he ends up coming back every week just to keep seeing her.

bookstore au

masterlist

If three years ago, someone were to tell Luke, he would actively be spending his Friday night in a small, but cozy book store, he would have laughed in their face.

He was a rockstar. If he wasn't jamming it out at some club with his boys, he was doing something wrong.

But life didn't always work out in his favour, and it wasn't long before he decided he couldn't write out of his home anymore. Home. Sometimes the mere word made him laugh. Home was supposed to be warm, welcoming and loving, and he felt none of those things every time he walked through the front door. It was starting to take a toll on him. Not only on his mental health, but also in his creative abilities. The songs he was writing in his bedroom had taken a dark turn, so dark they felt more like a cry for help than anything else.

So, he decided it was time to find another place to write songs; somewhere that could get his creative juices flowing. When Reggie first suggested this bookstore on the corner of Madison, Luke pinched his brows, not understanding how that was a viable solution. Reggie defended his suggestion by saying bookstores were quiet and he would be surrounded by millions of words of inspiration.

Luke never took Reggie's suggestion until one brutal fight with his mom left him pulling at his hair, desperate to leave the house. He would go anywhere at this point, but his fingers were itching to grab his pencil and book; there was so much he just needed to get out onto paper. If he didn't, he would explode. So, he grabbed his song book, a few pencils and stuffed everything into his backpack before he hopped out his window. At first, he just started walking to nowhere in particular. In the back of his mind, he was intending to drop by Alex's, but instead he found himself standing in front of L.A. Books.

He walked in with the intention of taking one quick walk around and most likely walking right back out. He was pissed off at the world and he didn't think Shakespeare would solve his issue.

But then he saw her.

She was stocking a book shelf, putting up new books as far as he could tell. Her curls kept getting in way of her vision and she was continuously tucking them behind her ears. He could only see the side of her face at this point, but when she was approached by a younger girl to help locate a book, Luke quite literally forgot how to breathe. She was stunning in every which way; her soft smile to the young girl made an unconscious smile spread over his own lips. There was no specific thing about her that drew him to her, but for some reason, he was rooted to the floor. Even when she started moving in his direction, leading the girl to a new section, he couldn't even move just enough to grab a book and look like he wasn't creepily stalking her.

But she only sent him a warm smile as she walked by.

So, maybe Reggie wasn't so wrong about this place after all.

After that, Luke found himself stopping by at least once a week, maybe twice if things at home were really bad. It was a quiet establishment for the most part, and Luke found a corner table that was perfect for his writing. He knew his song writing was starting to take a hit; he knew that. But since he started writing in the bookstore, an obvious shift was clear in the words he scribbled down.

Even the boys noticed.

"What the hell is this?" Alex had demanded one late night after Luke handed him his songbook so he could filter through it. They'd mostly been playing their old originals while Luke worked on some new stuff, and he was finally starting to share.

Luke frowned, biting his lip nervously. "What? Is it that bad?"

"Reg, look at this," Alex ignored Luke, reaching over to show the other brunette. "When were you going to tell us?"

Luke merely blinked, gaze flickering between the two. Reggie, to his credit, looked just as confused, meanwhile Alex was fighting a smirk. "Dude, I'm so confused. What the hell are you talking about?"

Alex placed the book down in his lap, finally letting the smirk take over. "When were you going to tell us you were in love?"

Luke immediately started to sweat. "What?"

"If you're writing these love songs about me, I'm flattered," Alex teased, to which Luke could only roll his eyes and snatch the book back into his possession. "But you know I'm taken."

"I'm not in love," Luke muttered under his breath.

And he wasn't. He would stand by that.

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't stop by the bookstore solely to see his curly-haired goddess. Every time, he would look at her and a sudden burst of inspiration would blindside him and he would be writing into his book without even realizing. He wasn't going to tell the boys that, though.

After about a month of hidden glances and polite smiles, he figured it was about time to say something. He also figured it could only look a little strange, him being at a bookstore every week and never buying anything. To his credit, many others took advantage of their tables to work quietly; he wasn't the only one. But he was the only one who couldn't take his off the employee with kind eyes and a mega-watts smile. Sometimes she came over to organize the tables, or wipe them down, and so Luke decided it was now or never.

"Hi," he blurted one night when she came to grab a stray book someone had left on his table. Her gaze lifted to meet his. Her face broke out into a warm smile and he nearly broke his pencil from how hard he was holding it.

Luke's eyes dropped to her name tag. He'd never been close enough to read it (with the exception of the first time he saw her, but he was understandably starstruck and couldn't focus on anything).

Julie.

He debated saying something else, it almost looked like she was waiting for him too, but the words were caught in his throat. He merely sent her a pained grin as she retreated. God, that was awkward.

Over the next few months, his confidence grew some, but he was never able to hold a full conversation with her. He was working up to it, but in the meantime, he was content in his corner writing songs about the girl who had unknowingly captured his heart.

This week had been particularly gruelling. School had taken a lot out of him (every mark counted for college admissions) and his parents were on his ass about his grades. He knew he had to do well, even if he wanted to pursue music, he needed the grades to get into a good music program; he knew that. He didn't need his mom yelling at him about it every day. So, this Friday he'd spent the entire evening at L.A. Books, anything to just get away for a bit. He knew it was almost closing time; there weren't many customers left and he could see Julie cleaning up out of the corner of his eye.

He was trying not to spend all his time watching Julie, instead focused on his latest creation. So, he didn't see Julie apprehensively watching someone shove a few books into his backpack. He was young, but probably a bit older than Julie. Why he would want to steal some books, Julie had no idea, but it was the wrong day to mess with Julie Molina.

She hadn't had her best week either, and watching someone blatantly try to steal like he was, severely pissed her off. Protocol be damned, Julie stalked over to the individual and blocked his exit. Protocol insisted on not confronting the shop-lifter by any means, but Julie was too annoyed to care.

"Are you going to pay for those books you put in your backpack or can I have them back?"

Julie was impressed with how confident she sounded. Even when he met her glance head-on, she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"What? Sorry, I think you're thinking of someone else," he replied, but after meeting her gaze the first time, he couldn't hold it as he spoke.

"Just give me the books and I won't call the police," Julie reasoned. She sounded exhausted, and that was because she was; this was honestly the last thing she needed this week, and yet, here she was.

But as soon as the man noticed her change of tone, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "I already told you, you have the wrong guy."

"I saw you put them in your backpack!" Julie argued, her anger crawling back up her throat.

"No, you didn't, because I didn't do anything!" He replied angrily. "Are you going to move, now?"

Julie stood her ground. It was probably quite comical, considering she was a full head shorter than him, but she wasn't moving. "No. Give me back the books."

The man let out a furious snarl. "Get out of my way, bitch."

His words didn't offend her in the slightest. Honestly, she felt sorry for him, that this was how he was raised to treat women, especially someone as young as her. But she was perceptive, and she could tell he was getting agitated and possibly aggressive. She didn't know this guy, she didn't know what he was capable of.

Luke had kept his eye on Julie the entire time, he always did. But as soon as he realized what she was doing, he swore under his breath. He tried to keep his distance, to let her do her thing, but the second the man called Julie a bitch, Luke was up and out of his chair, ready to throw hands.

There was a point in his life where he wouldn't even think about the consequences of his actions, but as he approached, he caught Julie's eyes and figured punching this random guy in the face probably wasn't the best course of action. So, he hung back, close enough to be noticed, but not enough to be considered a threat.

Or so he thought.

The man noticed Julie's eyes focused on something behind him, so he whirled around to see Luke. What with his height and obvious biceps (that were currently on display because what were sleeves anyway?), the man scoffed.

"Is he coming to your rescue or something? Need someone to fight your battles?"

Luke merely raised his eyebrows.

The fact that he was saying all this to a high school girl seriously baffled him.

When the man tried to step around Luke, he side-stepped to be in his way again. Luke didn't smirk, didn't show any facial emotion. It was enough to unnerve him.

With an angry huff, he reached into his backpack to pull out the two books in question. He slammed them into Luke's chest as he stormed past him, muttering, "I don't need this crap."

The moment they heard the door slam closed, Luke's eyes slid over to Julie. Her face was blank, but her eyes were stormy, angry even. He didn't blame her; that guy was a right dick. He hesitantly handed the books back to her. Her gaze flickered to the books and back to him. She probably had no idea how absolutely intimidating she looked.

But then she smiled. A proper, full smile that had Luke merely staring. "Thank you," she said, reaching forward to grab the books. He was hoping she'd say more, but instead she took the books and walked away to put them back in their place.

It was fine, because she had talked to him and he was so ridiculously happy about that. He had also helped her out in that less than stellar situation, but not overbearingly so that he treated her like a damsel in distress who couldn't handle herself. Julie definitely held her own, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her and he was right there sitting in his corner. Pleased with himself and how the situation played out, he skipped back to his seat in the corner, feeling more inspired than ever to finish the current song he was working on.

He glanced up one more time, surprised to catch Julie's sparkling brown eyes already looking at him. She immediately averted her gaze, mouth twitching as she held back a smile.

That was when he decided, no more pining around; it was time to officially ask her out.

What was the worst that could happen? She would say no. And he'd be okay with that, because it was 2021 and respecting women and their decisions shouldn't even be questioned. He'd be disappointed, sure, but for now, he was still holding out hope that maybe she would be into him too.

It was nearing eight, and Luke could tell when he saw the remainder of customers heading for the door. He spotted Julie making her way over too, getting ready to lock the door behind the last customer. He gathered up his things and shoved them into his backpack as slowly as possible. His heart was hammering in his chest and his palms were sweaty; he was actually nervous to ask Julie out.

How couldn't he be? She was absolutely gorgeous.

Luke made it to the door, taking a deep breath before he met her eyes.

Julie stepped in front of him, blocking his exit.

He stumbled in his step, grabbing onto the door frame to keep from toppling straight into her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, tucking a curl behind her ear. For the first time literally ever, Luke observed the tell-tale signs of her shy and apprehensive behaviour. She was always so confident, so in tune with what she seemed to want, this was unusual to him. Not only because of that, but he'd never been this close to her, and he was suddenly finding it extremely hot (and he was barely even wearing a shirt).

Luke tugged on his backpack strap, because he needed to do something. He needed to focus, or else he'd end up doing something stupid, like blurt out that he was in love with her. "No, it's okay. I actually wanted to ask you something anyway."

Her sparkling brown eyes widened for a split second. "Actually, I want to ask you something — are you free to grab a coffee?"

It was safe to say Luke's brain started to short-circuit.

"Uh, what?"

He was so intensely focused on gathering the courage to ask her out, he didn't even know how to reply when she suddenly flipped the plan on him.

He started to lose his mind even more when a soft blush spread over Julie's cheeks. "I'm just closing up, and I could really use a dose of caffeine. I'd really like if you came with me."

Luke can't do more than simply stare at her; his body was failing on him. Julie held his gaze, biting her lip apprehensively with a nervous smile because he wasn't saying anything, and she really hoped she didn't misinterpret his signals. But then he finally fights for control of his body again, and a soft grin spreads onto his lips. "Yeah. I'd really like that."

She matched his grin, closed and locked the door behind her. "I only have a few more things to do. Just a few more minutes."

"No worries," he replied, shoving his hands into his front pockets. "Oh! I'm Luke, by the way."

Julie mulled over the name for a moment. "Julie," she responded.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes solely focused on hers. Even when she looked to him in surprise, he couldn't focus on anything but her eyes. God, she was so gorgeous. "Your name tag," he added, just to ease her fears about him being a stalker (I mean, he was there almost every week...).

Luke leaned against one of the tables as he waited for Julie to finish closing up. He watched her silently, unable to remove the excited smile from his lips the entire time he waited. When she told him he was ready, he diligently held open the door for her and then waited, hands dug into his front pockets, as she locked up behind them.

There was a coffeeshop right around the corner, and as they both started walking in that direction, there was an unspoken agreement, that was where they wanted to go. Luke hated himself and his weirdly awkward nature on their walk over. He couldn't find any words to say to her, none. He chanced a few glances in her direction, but she seemed content with just walking in silence, so he went with the flow.

Once again, he held the door open for her and smiled when looked at him with amused eyes. Julie headed straight for a table near the window, removing her jacket and setting it on the back of her chair. Luke followed, lingering when she didn't sit back down.

"I can go order," he offered, "What would you like?"

Julie looked up at him with a smirk, and dear God, his knees nearly buckled. "I invited you. It's my treat."

"Oh, come on," he nearly whined. "Let's not do this, please."

Julie pursed her lips. She was a very determined person, and if he didn't know that yet, he'd be quick to learn. "I invited you. It's only fair."

He ran a hand through his hair, shooting her the most charming smile he could manage. "Julie, I've been waiting to take you out for months. Please let me buy you a coffee."

All her determination died there and then on the tip of her tongue.

"Okay," she replied with a cheeky smile. She diligently took a seat. "I'll take an iced coffee, please."

Luke nodded, once again, skipping away from her for the second time that night. He ordered Julie an iced coffee (and a cookie because who doesn't like cookies) and a regular coffee for himself. He was already jittery enough but he could never say no to coffee.

"Here you go." He said softly, placing her treats in front of her.

Julie took a quick sip of her coffee and narrowed her gaze on Luke. "I want to hear more. You said you've been waiting to take me out for months."

Luke had never felt him blush so quickly before in his life. He nearly choked on the coffee he was currently drinking. "It sounds really creepy when you say it like that."

"I know you've been coming to the shop for months," she continued, breaking apart her cookie. She wasn't looking at him, and it honestly made Luke all the more nervous. She made him nervous. "And you've never bought anything, but you're always writing in a book."

"I needed a quiet place to write music and I found your shop."

Julie nodded along, humming. "I catch you looking at me a lot."

Luke scratched the back of his head. "Well, honestly, that's not entirely my fault. I can't help but stare at beautiful things."

Julie looked up at him with a smirk. "That was smooth. I feel like it's only fair I be as honest." She leaned her elbows onto the table, leaning in close. Luke started sweating again. "I always look for you during my shifts."

It was as if the air was entirely knocked out of his lungs. It was the reassurance he was looking for, the acknowledgement that his feelings weren't one-sided, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"You're the reason I come back every week," he admitted, the words flowing freely out of him now that he knew with certainty she felt something for him too.

Julie leaned back in her chair. Her eyes tracked his movements, mostly because she didn't know what to say next. Where do they go from here?

Who makes the next move?

"I'll keep dropping by. But under one condition," Luke reasoned, hiding his smirk with his coffee mug.

Julie found herself leaning in again. There was something about him that was so alluring, always drawing her in for more. "What's that?" She didn't want to give her real answer: anything.

"I'll keep coming by if you give me your number," he told her, running his finger around the rim of his mug. "Maybe go on another date with me?"

Julie didn't reply at first; she kept him waiting until he looked at her with curious eyes. She kept him on the hook, just enough that for a moment, he wavered in his confidence. "I'd love to give you my number."

He let out an obvious sigh of relief. Julie was definitely going to wreck him in the most beautiful of ways.

"And that date?"

Julie clicked her tongue, monitoring the way his eyes absentmindedly dropped to her lips. "I'll decide that after you walk me home. But your chances are looking pretty good."

A delicious smirk crawled over Luke's mouth, and now it was all Julie could focus on.

"Then I guess I should up my game," he winked, shrugging as he added, "Just in case."

When Luke walked Julie home hours later, she confidently latched onto his hand, mostly just to give him an ego boost because he acted like the perfect gentleman all night. And when he lingered at the door, unsure whether it was too soon to kiss her or not, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

"How's next Friday night?"

It took Luke a moment to form the words after that, but he was anxiously waiting for her response.

"I'm off at eight, you know where I'll be." Even with all the coy flirting, she couldn't help but shoot him an excited grin.

Luke stuffed his hands back into his front pockets and started retreating down her walkway. "I'll, uh — I'll text you."

Julie leaned against the front door. "I'll be waiting."

And somehow, after months of pining on both ends, all it took was one attempted theft to bring Luke and Julie together.

It would take a lot more than that to separate them now.

taglist: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics |

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanworks appreciation week #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters #juke au #jatp au #jatp fic #jatp fics #juke fic #juke fics #fics

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missameliep · 3 years

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Dani, my dearest! I hope you're doing well. What can you share about l "Would you be so kind to fall in love with me?" I want snippets, brief introductions, spoilers. Tell me everything!

Have a lovely day 😘

Hi, Lori! Thank you so much for the ask, and even more for asking about this particular WIP and giving me the opportunity to talk about it 😍

Would you be so kind to fall in love with me? was inspired by an ask Noe (@noesapphic) sent me forever ago for my OTP Hamid and Elizabeth. The prompt didn't fit the pairing and their story in Second Chances, but it gave me the idea to another AU (yeah, I've got too many of those, but who's counting anyway? 😂), and to a miniseries.

In this AU, Elizabeth and Hamid meet when they are teenagers, she is 12 and he is 13. The story is set at England in the early 2000s (it's yet to be decided the year). At the time they met, she is about to move from Grovershire, where she lives with her mother Maria, to London, to continue her studies and live with her father, Lord Vincent, and her stepmother. Hamid, on the other hand, is the son of the Turkish ambassador at England and lives with his family at London (two of his sisters are studying abroad, so the ambassador's home is crowded with four teenagers and a lot of noise and laughter, which will become one of Elizabeth's favorite places in the city).

The series will follow the pair through the next four/five years, each chapter in one of the friend's POV, portraying how their friendship blooms and how both wish they could become something more than friends... Elizabeth struggles with her feelings when she finds out she is in love with her friend (spoiler: Hamid is also in love with her, but he's also oblivious to her feelings).

- tropes: mutual pining / idiots in love (because I can't get enough of them!)

I'm sharing a sneak peek from their first encounter after the read more, I hope you enjoy it. 😊

A few minutes later, the quietness at the library is disturbed by the sharp sound of hard sole shoes on the ancient wooden floorboards. “Magnificent,” a male accented voice was overheard. “Absolutely magnificent!” Startled by the unexpected company, Elizabeth closed the book on her lap and tried to reach for the sneakers before someone spotted her. She successfully grabbed one of them, however, the other landed too far away and was now lying upside-down at plain view.

Her father’s voice, grave but gentle, followed. Proud words about the library flying from his mouth and getting increasingly closer to her hiding spot behind the settee. Taking advantage from her cover, she spied the Turkish ambassador. An imposing man, as tall as her father, with warm brown skin and a soft expression, black hair peppered by white strands perfectly combed back and dressed in a striped dark grey suit. Hands behind his back, he moved elegantly beside her father. Their voices faded as the men turned around to face the windows, and Elizabeth crawled to retrieve the lost shoe. Only after she moved from behind the settee she noticed the teenager boy wandering around. The ambassador’s son!

Why isn’t he with Harry and his sisters?

Dressed in the same fashion as his father, he looks about her age or maybe a little bit older, definitely shorter than Edmund, and probably no more than five centimetres taller than herself. Eyes wide open and bright with amazement inspecting the collection, he steps on his toes and graze the covers of the books on the top shelf. While he takes a book from a random shelf, she takes the opportunity to lunge forward to retrieve her shoe and flee. Unexpectedly, however, the boy turns around and kicks the lost sneaker before she catches it. His curious gaze finds the object and then Elizabeth on her hands and knees.

Oh, no!

Her cheeks warm with embarrassment and her heart flutters at being discovered. Hastily, she moves back, disappearing behind the settee once again. Flashing a bright smile, he bends down, retrieves the shoe and peeks over the settee, spotting Elizabeth and the small pile of books on the floor. “Hello, there! I believe this belongs to you,” he says in a quiet accented voice, barely above a whisper, holding the shoe to her.

Thanks again for the ask, Lori! And I hope you have a lovely day and a great week! 🥰😘

-----------------------------

Ask me about my WIPs

#ask box #desire and decorum fanfic #prince hamid #prince hamid x oc #desire and decorum #choices fanfic #my wips

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scabopolis · 3 years

Text

lv au week, day 3: fairy tales

Title: parry on Fandom: Veronica Mars Rating: PG Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars Other Characters: An animal that is 100% based on one of my mom’s felines Additional Tags: Absolutely inspired by Tangled, though I do not give Logan luscious magical hair (SPOILER!) Things I googled for this fic: antique jewelry box, what to feed cats in the 1800s, fencing footwork drills Word Count: ~1,950 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard.

Logan goes through the motions and repeats them, increasing his speed each time. “Again,” he says to himself.

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard. Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard.

Again, and again, and again until his chest is tight with exertion and he is barely capable of lifting his makeshift sword up above his hip line. It is only then he ceases movement.

Logan drops his weapon to the floor and hinges at the waist, taking deep, slow breaths. He is unsure how long he remains in that position before his cat, a rotund tortoiseshell who simply showed up in his keep one day, winds itself around his ankles.

Lady Richard looks up at him and lets out a cross between a whimper and a meow. Logan reaches down and scratches the cat behind its ears.

“Ah, I know what you want.”

Lady Richard meows again, even more pathetically.

Post-workout, Logan’s sabre has returned to its true form and is a wooden spoon once more. He kicks it out of the way and makes for his small kitchen. His father’s man visited him the day prior (“your father wished to come, truly”) so his larder basket is more than full.

Once Lady Richard appeared, his father was surprisingly amenable to Logan’s keeping her. Apparently his father did not consider a cat scaling the unsteady ivy outside his window a threat.

Logan unpacks the cat collops from the larder basket and sinks to the stone floor. Lady Richard invites himself into Logan’s lap.

“Father approved entrails this week.” Logan scratches Lady Richard under the chin, feeding him the meat pieces from his hand. “He must be in a good mood.”

Once Lady Richard is finished with her meal, she bounces from Logan’s lap and moves over to her favorite cushion of the burnt orange sofa in the corner of the room. Logan reupholstered the sofa himself but, seeing as it was a decision made primarily to irritate his father, he deeply regrets the choice of fabric.

Logan sets himself to preparing his own meal, removing bread, cheese, and some salted meat from the larder basket. He takes a jar of the fig jam he made the previous week down from the kitchen shelf. This batch is considerably better than the past few he has attempted, though it is still not quite right. If only he could ask Lettie, the palace cook, for her advice. On Logan’s more optimistic days, he believes he will one day have the chance to.

He pours himself a large glass of mead, sinks back down to the floor with food and drink in hand, and then waits. For what, he is never certain. But he has been waiting for something to transpire the more than three years he has lived in this tower. The day Logan stops finding something to hope for will be the day he takes a flying leap from the tower.

Some hours later (it is hard to say how many — his father did not think a clock necessary for his survival) Logan wakes with a start, laying upon the cold stone floor of the kitchen. He notices the bright light spilling in through the tower window, illuminating most of the room. It must be a full moon.

At first uncertain as to what caused him to stir, he registers the distinct rustling of ivy outside the tower window. He assumes Lady Richard to be the culprit but that is not possible as the cat is tucked behind Logan’s knees, fast asleep. The rustling persists.

Logan pushes himself to a seated position (Lady Richard meows in displeasure) and moves to crouch behind the large floral chair that once belonged to his mother. He reasons with himself that it is likely just another cat; possibly a squirrel of some sort. But then there is the darker possibility that his father has determined keeping him alive and hidden is no longer worth the trouble.

The rustling is even louder now, but it is the sound of metal hitting stone that has all his attention. Logan moves from where he crouches into the kitchen in search of a weapon. Father has left him without knives of any sort, so he settles on the heavy cast iron pan, still soiled with the remnants of breakfast. Rather than return to his original hiding spot, Logan moves on bare feet to the book shelf nearest the window. This position unfortunately obscures his view of the tower window.

He listens to the repetitive movements outside; metal hitting stone again and again. Eventually the sound stops and Logan is startled by how calm he feels. His father has always been mercurial — it was only a matter of time before he decided a dead prince was preferable to a hidden one.

The assassin grunts as they first swing one leg and then the other over the window ledge; their heavy boots hitting the stone. They don’t seem concerned with keeping quiet, which is strange. Rather than head immediately for the stairs, and thus his room, the assassin sounds as if they are moving towards the main room.

“What is this place?”

Logan freezes in place at the assassin’s quiet voice. A woman? He was not expecting a woman. She moves further into the room, her back to Logan. He especially did not expect a woman who appears to be a foot shorter than him. The woman continues her exploration of the tower, her head turning this way and that, when her eyes settle on the engraved silver jewelry box set upon the fireplace mantle. He watches as she picks up the jewelry box, inspects it for a moment, and then tucks it into her satchel. She helps herself also to a pair of candlesticks and his pocket compass.

Not quite an assassin, then.

Lady Richard makes herself known by flopping backwards onto the thief’s boot, feet up in the air in invitation. The thief laughs quietly and leans down to scratch the cat’s stomach. “You’re a well-fed thing,” she says. “Where is your owner?”

And Logan would much rather take someone by surprise than be surprised, so he seizes that moment to step out of the shadow.

“Right here,” he says.

In one quick action, the woman reels around to face Logan, a knife he was unaware she wielded clutched tight in her hand. Logan holds up the frying pan. It distracts her for a moment, but only just.

“Who are you?” the woman asks.

“Who are you?”

“I believe I asked first.”

“You are the intruder, which I think places the burden of answering questions firmly upon your shoulders.”

“You live here?”

“Clearly. Shall I repeat my original question: who are you?”

She hesitates. “My horse threw me off a few miles from here. I was looking for assistance.”

“Is that so?”

“You do not believe me?”

“I do not. But I also do not believe you are here to kill me, so that is something.”

“Why would I kill you?”

“Why, indeed.”

“I suppose you saw me steal your jewelry box.”

“I did. The candlesticks, too.”

“And you are okay with this?”

“No, and I do expect their return, but you have bigger concerns.”

“What concerns?”

“Successfully leaving this place alive, for one.”

The woman tenses and she takes a step back. Lady Richard follows, batting at the thief’s boot. “You intend to kill me.”

“No. I do not. But I am afraid you stormed the wrong tower.”

She narrows her eyes. “Who are you, exactly?”

This evening, when Logan sat on that cold stone floor to eat his supper, he had no way of knowing what he was waiting for. Seeing this woman now — this woman who boldly brandishes a knife at him and speaks without fear while so clearly being in the wrong — he makes a decision.

“Perhaps you should look at that jewelry box once more.”

The woman manages to fish out the silver box while still keeping the knife steady and directed at Logan. The top of the box is engraved with a scene of a pond and the requisite flora surrounding it. There’s no way for this woman to know the etching is a perfect rendering of the large pond on the palace grounds.

It is the name engraved upon the box which can hardly escape her notice: Her Majesty, The Queen, Lynette II

“You are a thief, as well?” she asks, though she sounds doubtful.

“I am not.”

“Then how—?”

“The queen is—,” he clears his throat, “—was quite dear to me.”

“How did you know the queen?”

Logan remains silent.

Her eyes return to the box, her thumb tracing over the engraving. She looks back up at him and, perhaps it is the remnants of a long-faded instinct, but Logan draws himself up straight for her inspection. That is when his identity appears to be clear to her.

“It cannot—,” she begins, haltingly. He nods. “Are you the lost prince?”

Logan sighs and lowers the frying pan. Lady Richard accepts it as an invitation and comes over to lick bacon grease from the cast iron. “The lost prince? Is that what they call me?”

“Most of the kingdom believes you dead. Your father increases the reward for your return each year.”

He laughs. “I am sorry, but all my return would garner you is your death.”

“Why is that?”

“Because your good king, my father, does not want me to be found as he is the one who entrapped me here.”

She loses her grip on the jewelry box, but manages to recover the object. Her knife, on the other hand, clatters to the ground. She does not pick it up.

“Is this true?”

“What is more, I believe as soon as my step-mother produces an heir, I will truly be expendable.”

“Why tell me this?”

Logan twirls the frying pan in his hand and sends spatters of cooled bacon grease flying. “As I see it we have two options and limited time to decide: one, you leave me here, and you worry that one of my father’s spies has witnessed your departure and will thus murder you.”

“Option two?”

“Option two is far less likely to succeed.”

He pauses for dramatic effect and she rolls her eyes. “Do go on.”

“Option two, you help me escape, I take my rightful place as ruler, and you will earn far more than any reward my father could offer.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

“Something tells me a woman who just happened to have the means to scale a 60 foot tower in her satchel has the means to do much more.”

This is already more fun than Logan has had in close to a decade.

“What should I call you?” she asks. “Because I refuse to call you highness.”

“Logan will do. Shall I call you thief?”

She picks up her knife, sheathes it, and extends her hand. He grips hers in return and is overcome by the fact it has been years since he has touched another person.

“Veronica. Mars. And I prefer the term master thief.” Veronica looks down at Lady Richard as she intently licks a spot of grease off her boot. “The cat?”

“The cat comes. Her name is Lady Richard.”

“What say you, Lady Richard,” Veronica says, “ready for an adventure?”

#lvauweek2021 #lv fanfic #vm fanfic #logan echolls #veronica mars #logan x veronica #never stories #otp: the one person #c: logan echolls #c: veronica mars #p: logan x veronica #THEY JUST KEEP GETTING LONGER THIS IS OBSCENE #(hereby banning a ficlet longer than 1000 words tomorrow)#I AM BEING SERIOUS.

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bowl-of-shortness · 3 years

Note

just...bro....homie....my platonic beloved....please....necromancer au first kiss....p l e a s e im on my hands and knees

(Hehehehehehe alright I’ll give the ppl what they want fisnksldkelaldkfksms)

Since when?

It had been a few months since Qrow’s accidental confession and Ozpin’s not so accidental acceptance to go on a date and Qrow was feeling quite happy about where things were going, as well as confident. Ever since the two had started dating, Qrow found himself with new confidence to compliment and flirt with the taller man even further.

This amused the noirett greatly. Ozpin blushed like a tomato anytime he was flirted with or complimented, not being used to it. Qrow found it equally as cute as he did funny.

Ozpin on the other hand, although appreciated it, appreciated it much more when he wasn’t trying to do something. His new partner had found humor in surprising Ozpin with comments at the absolute worst of times just to see how he’d react.

Like today.

Ozpin was peacefully making some breakfast for the two as Oscar was out with Glynda, and was quietly reading a recipe when all of a sudden, “Y’know I’m not sure why you’re so self conscious about your accent.” Ozpin looked over at the noirett and cocked an eyebrow, “I don’t think I follow, Is there something you’re implying about me not liking my accent?” Qrow laughed “Nah, I just think yer accent is hot is all”. Ozpin about dropped the bowl he was holding and turned bright red, trying to stutter out something, anything in Qrow direction.

The silver haired necromancer resulted to returning to his work on breakfast, trying to ignore that gravelly laugh that came from Qrow. “Gods why does he have to be like this...I’m trying to do something, couldn’t he have done it later?” Ozpin thought, frustrated. He did appreciate the compliments but he also wished Qrow would do them at a better time.

Qrow knew how Ozpin felt and it was pure comedy to him. Seeing this normally calm and collected man come unraveled at a simple comment was hilarious to the shorter man. And so he decided to turn it into a little game, how long could he do this to Ozzy, before Ozzy got mad at him? “Seems I’m going to have a world of fun today.”.

It was anything that Ozpin did, Qrow would comment and compliment him on it very forwardly and Ozpin, per usual would blush as red as a tomato and ignore it. But Qrow was having none of it, so he started making it very difficult to ignore him.

Ozpin felt two muscular arms wrap around his waist as he organized the books on the shelf, he stiffened slightly “Hello dear, how may I assist you?” He felt Qrow hum into his back “Eh, no need to assist me, just hugging you. Damn, I guess that sparring pays off huh?” Qrow laughed “WH— BIRDIE!” Ozpin was absolutely red, knowing what Qrow was implying. Even though the silver haired man didn’t look like it, He was decently muscular, something he didn’t like to openly mention. Ozpin tried to ignore him once more but Qrow kept hugging him, “by the brothers you are going to be the death of me.” He grumbled at the noirett.

Qrow pulled away and shrugged slightly, “Eh, you love me.” The taller man turned around and glared down at Qrow “You’re damn lucky I do.”, “Oooooh so serious, I like it~” The shorter man smirked cheekily as Ozpin glared harder in his direction “Ugh” and with that Ozpin walked away. “I’ll get back at him at some point, but I’ll have to plan it.” Ozpin thought, frustrated then a mischievous thought came to the necromancers mind. “Fine. Birdie. You want to play this little game? Let’s see how you react when I bite back. Especially when you aren’t expecting it.” He smiled at the thought.

As Ozpin expected, Qrow kept up his little game of ‘Let’s see how badly I can make Ozpin blush” but the better Ozpin got at ignoring the comments, the more Qrow made it difficult for him to said thing. “I am so sick of this little game. Of all the days for him to get into this mood why did it have to be today?” The silverett thought as he retreated into his office for work, he didn’t like the fact that he had to do work but it was a way to get away from Qrow for just a tiny bit. He wasn’t unappreciative of the compliments but they were a bit exhausting when they were happening all day. He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath.

Knock knock knock.

Oh for the love of—

“Qrow if that’s you I am going to slam the door in your face.”

The door cracked open “Yeesh, I take it you didn’t like the game I’ve been playing with you today~” he gave his usually cocky smirk. Ozpin glared through his hands “No. I didn’t. Because you cause things to be very difficult to get done.”. Qrow’s smile widened, curse that bloody smile “Well yeah, cuz you love me. And you’re absolutely adorable when you blush.” He leaned over Ozpin’s desk, to which Ozpin stood up suddenly and walked around the desk, “So you like surprises like that do you?” The taller man said, leaning over Qrow slightly.

Oh damn. “Very much so.” The noirett chuckled, trying to keep his confidence, “Well, I guess you’ll enjoy this then.” Before Qrow could even react he was met with the silverett kissing him. Oh damn. Ozpin pulled back and gave a confident smile at the smaller man while glaring down at him with green eyes “What’s the matter love? I thought you said you liked surprises? Did you lie to me?”. “N-not at all...I’m, well, surprised for sure...” all confidence Qrow once had has now melted away completely, not expecting Ozpin to be this confident.

“Not so cocky now, are we?” Ozpin leaned down to be at eye level with Qrow, who was avoiding eye contact “S-shut up you dick.” Qrow was absolutely red. “Since when?” The taller man cocked an eyebrow “hm?” “Since when are you this confident?” Qrow questioned almost accusingly, “Since you decided to play this little game with me. Now, shoo, out of my office. I have work to do. And if you’re good and leave me alone for now, you may get more of those kisses later.” Ozpin winked.

Qrow walked out of his partners office and into the living room, where he sat on the couch. He replayed the entire scenario in his head, especially that last part, “Huh, I might have to do that more often. Something about Ozzy being confident is completely different than him being embarrassed.” He smiled to himself. “But for now, I’m gonna sit here and wait till he’s done. Because as hot as that was, that was also slightly terrifying.”

He laid down on the couch and waited, this was going to be a fun week.

#my writing is bad but here you are. Necromancer Ozpin being confident and cocky towards Qrow and Qrow absolutely bluescreening at it.#rwby necromancer au #cloqwork #ozqrow #ozqrow au’s #ozpin #professor ozpin #headmaster ozpin #qrow branwen

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

✨Snippet Sunday✨

hello! i was tagged once again by @fru1tb4tz and while i have not been particularly prolific this past couple weeks what with the new job, i DID start YET ANOTHER Juni AU that may or may not go anywhere??? but it's fun to think about! bc it's late, i won't be tagging anyone this time, but if u see this and want to share, feel free to tag me! <3

"He's a sweet lad, just a bit odd," Ms. Spinelli stage-whispers to Nate, who just smiles and nods. She putters off with him in tow, chattering about that "odd lad," definitely loudly enough for said odd lad to hear in the empty, echoing library.

Now that Mason's aware of another person in the space as more than just a stray heartbeat, his senses hone in on it curiously. He smells vanilla and patchouli, sweetness and earth, hears a slightly-too-fast heartbeat, quiet breathing with a hint of a rasp, and strains of muffled music.

He's not sure what he's picturing, exactly, when the library assistant comes around the corner of a far shelf, but whatever it was, the human himself is underwhelming as most humans tend to be. He's shorter than Mason, a little below average height, stout and soft, his arms weighed down with a heavy, teetering pile of books. He peers around them to make his way safely to the front desk, and his round glasses are smushed crookedly onto his blunt nose as he balances the stack with his cheek.

Mason wonders how much Nate would yell at him if he tripped the human for a laugh.

"You know," the human mutters, and Mason straightens and sneers, thinking he's being addressed, "when I agreed to bring you in to work with me, I didn't think you'd help, but I was operating under the assumption you'd at least not make my job harder."

It takes him a moment to realize the man is talking to himself. Odd lad indeed.

And then he sees it.

The scruffy black cat leaps nimbly from atop the tower of books as the human deposits it gracelessly onto the desk, leaning heavily on the edge and blowing a hank of messy curls from his face. They flop right back into his eyes as he glowers at the cat, which has begun to lick itself and ignore the human entirely.

"Oh, what's wrong? Did I muss up your fur? Are you all posh now that I've fished you out of that dumpster and made a proper pet of you?"

Mason didn't smell a cat. He didn't hear a cat. And while it should be pretty innocuous, a cat in a library, he would have picked up on it anyway. Another heartbeat, another living body, another battery of sensory information to absorb.

That's no ordinary cat.

"Can I help you, sir?" the human asks, a bright chirp of a voice, at least an octave higher than when he was speaking to the cat. Fake.

Mason curls his lip and turns his head sharply away. He sees that plastered-on smile fall, but he just ignores it to pull out his phone and starts pecking out a message to Adam. He's not sure what the cat is, or what it's doing hanging around a perfectly boring human, but it can't be a coincidence, not after the reports they've already gotten about strange energies in this area.

"Oh, no, that's fine."

Mason doesn't lift his head, but he perks a bit nonetheless.

"Not like I'm a person or anything," the library assistant continues to mumble under his breath as he starts organizing the books into tidy piles. As far away as Mason is, loitering near the door, he guesses an ordinary human likely wouldn't be able to hear the mutinous grumbling. But he's not an ordinary human, is he? "Could I point you to our children's section, sir?"

Mason's mouth twitches. He waits for the assistant to pick up a stack of a few books before he clears his throat pointedly and fires back, "I'm good, thanks."

Just as he anticipated, the human yelps and stumbles, and the books go crashing to the ground. Mason smirks victoriously.

#the wayhaven chronicles #specialist agent m #specialist agent mason #oc: juniper fenn #pidge writes #snippet sunday #its a fun little au #rex is the detective (and smoochin nate??? bc i wanna try that out)#and arlo might also be here #but like #feral werewolf arlo #fully unhinged #adam can have a little a werewolf bf #anyway i have to eat and do my shot so uuuuuh DEUCES #also featuring Jellybean The Pooka #In Cat Shape

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay.

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera.

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in.

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross.

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander,

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened.

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!”

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile.

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked.

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself.

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

“Gay panic?”

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!”

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!”

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all.

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?”

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

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marilynsweet · 4 years

Text

WITCH AU: The Witch's House

Didn't realize I forgot to post this! So I bring you this, part 1 of 3 for the history between Asriel and Frostbite in the Witch AU.

I'm putting it under a read more because it's long--

Feedback is very much appreciated!!

Asriel woke to a splitting headache and a fuzzy vision.

A groan escaped his lips, and he reached a hand up to grip his head. He ached, why did he ache?

He was suddenly aware of something tied around his neck and wrists, making his heart sink into his stomach.

Was he..?

Asriel shot upright, holding his wrists before him.

Bandages. They were just bandages.

He let out a sigh of relief, though dizziness from sitting up much too fast made him lie back down.

The air smelled of warm cinnamon and a campfire, with the sound of clattering glass coming from the other room.

Asriel stared up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed as he tried to remember where he was. Was he home? No… that ceiling wasn’t the color of his bedroom. He didn’t have herbs hanging from the ceiling…

Wait… why were there herbs hanging from the ceiling?

He finally took a moment to draw in his surroundings.

Upon shelves were crammed books, jars, and small ornate boxes. Shelves lined the walls like support beams. Plants hung from the ceiling in bowls, tied carefully into roped hangers. A thin sheet was pinned above the doorway, blocking his view into the other room. He lied on a bed, handcrafted, and covered with heavy fur blankets. Candles were lit around the room, an assortment of colors. A window was uncovered next to him, allowing a soft autumn breeze into the warm room. A book lie closed on a table against the wall, in front of a small, closed ornate box. Surrounding the book was an assortment of colored candles, and a small statue of what looked to be a woman with a staff. In front of that table was a pillow on the floor.

He could hear humming.

Asriel slowly slid off the bed, feeling a rug beneath his feet. He took a few steps towards the door, off of the rug and onto cold floorboards.

They creaked loudly under his weight, and the humming stopped.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that if I were you. It’d be in your best interest to lie back down before you irritate your head more; wouldn’t want your neck to break, would we?”

He froze at the voice that came from behind the sheet, eyes narrowing. Where had he heard that voice before? It was so familiar...

“I didn’t stutter.”

Asriel took a few steps back, eyes narrowed, towards the bed.

Once he was away from the door, a figure stepped through, brushing the sheet aside. Asriel gasped when he recognized the small figure that stepped through.

“You!”

The woman, shorter than he - only about as tall as his waist - had stepped past the sheet and into the room. Granted, he was tall in the first place, but still. She had long hair the color of autumn leaves, with eyes of amber to match. Her cheeks were freckled. She was a Fox-monster, with a long, fluffy tail that brushed against the ground. Her fur was white, save for some black markings along her shoulders, and some orange on her ears and tail.. She wore a piece of fabric, crafted into some form of necklace, around her neck, in the center of which was tied a gemstone. Another gem was tied around her neck by a long black string. She wore a long, sleeved white shirt, which ruffled at the bottom, and a black cloak, the shoulders of which were missing. She wore a leather corset around her waist, black pants, and long, leather boots. One of her arms was gloved.

“Yes, me.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I saved your life, or have you forgotten?”

Asriel’s eyes narrowed at the woman.

“I still recommend you sit, Asriel.”

“You… I know you! You’re from the village!”

“I’m not from the village, per se,but I have been there for the last few months. When you hear rumors of people impersonating you and being hung for crimes they didn’t commit, you’re bound to investigate.”

The woman walked towards one of the shelves, investigating a plant that sat upon it. Her tail flickered under her long, black cloak. Asriel absorbed her words for a moment.

He’d seen her around before, usually petting an animal along a farm gate, or sitting in a church pew. He’d seen her buying things from the merchant, feeding wandering chickens, and speaking with other shop owners. He had never seen her on a farm of her own. Rumor had it that she lived on the edge of town. She had never dressed like this, either.

“Impersonation… nobody’s…”

Then, it clicked.

“YOU’RE A WITCH!” He cried out, almost angrily.

“I am,” the woman answered coolly, not turning to look at him.

“A worshiper— no, a whore of the Devil! You’ve come to sacrifice me! Or— make me sign his book-!”

A sudden thud made Asriel stop. The woman had turned to face him with a fury in her eyes he hadn’t seen on anyone before, not to him. In her hand, the hilt of an ornate dagger. The blade was stuck into the shelf she had been standing at just moments before.

“I don’t whore over any Devil,” she hissed, fangs bared into a snarl. Her voice was low as she approached him. Asriel stepped backwards, tripping back and falling onto the bed.

“I worship the Earth I walk upon, and the deity who provided us with it. Mother’s remedies saved your life, Dreemurr. Your lot simply cries witchcraft and Devil worship for things you don’t understand, like the remedies of plants provided to us and the magic that is our surroundings. Religious zealots like yourself have torn Mother’s roots up and replaced them with pastures and more land than you will ever need. You burn her trees and ruin her hills with nothing in return, instead putting your false idol before she who gave you everything.

How fair is it that your greed, your people, have begun to ruin the land of Mother? For what? Divine intervention? Someone must claim these lands as their own, someone must show off the grandeur that is the new order, who escaped persecution, yet made their own in the process? Persecuting what you don’t understand, and shrieking that those who are different are witches, sentenced to die for refusing confession? You’ve just been using it to be rid of the neighbors you dislike! Not to mention how flawed your religion is! What, you’re superior to others because of how much gold lines your pockets, and what lies between your legs? Mother cares not for damned minerals like gold and silver. Mother doesn’t care your sex, who you love, or what wealth you have.

I may be a witch, but not in your terms. I may dance around fires, may practice spells and potions, but never in the name of any Devil. I’m not scared of you, Dreemurr, not what you claim to be able to do. I’m not scared of your God, nor his wrath. Men simply created this ‘God’ to make others bow to them. Show me any real proof that your God exists! That he wrote those ‘sacred texts’ in that book you love so much!

Did your God ever help you when you were swinging from that damned rope? Did his followers give you any mercy? Did he save an innocent man from the shrieks of attention-seeking little girls? No. You’re appalled by my laughter at your prayer, but how can I not? It’s ridiculous!”

Asriel was speechless, mouth agape. She was practically on top of him, now, having moved closer in her fury. Their noses could have touched, and he could see the fire behind her eyes. Her teeth remained bared; sharp fangs that could tear flesh like paper.

She suddenly huffed, sitting upright and walking over to the shelf. She brushed off her front, ears twitching on top of her head. She yanked the knife from the shelf, turning it in her hands.

“Mother told me to save your life,” she stated. “She told me: This one has potential. There’s goodness in him. I’m inclined to believe her. But boy, you do not make it easy.”

Turning back to him, she pointed the knife at his chin.

“Should you try anything, should you try to harm this house or that which I worship, Mother gives permission for me to defend her with my life. There’s a reason I’m the Guardian of this forest.

I’m setting some ground rules. There is to be no more accusations of Devil worship. You will not berate me for what I practice, and you will not under any circumstances reveal my location to any member of the village. Do you understand me?”

The flat side of the knife pressed against his chin, lifting his head. Asriel nodded, eyes narrowing.

The woman removed the blade from his chin, tucking it into a sheath inside her corset.

“Good. Then, let’s start, shall we?”

She reached out a hand to him.

“My name is Frostbite. I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

Asriel took her hand and shook it, watching as she stepped away from him.

“Your neck and wrists are still healing, I wouldn’t recommend moving much. Be easy if you do.”

“Why’d you pull me down?”

Frostbite perked up, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“Why’d you pull me down, if you despise me so?” Asriel asked, shifting so his legs were tucked on the bed.

Frostbite was silent for a few moments before shaking her head.

“I don’t despise you,” she muttered. “You were the only one who wasn’t killed; what was I to do? Leave you up there, suffocating?”

With that, she walked back into the other room, the sheet fluttering with her absence.

Asriel bit the inside of his cheek, watching her leave. She was… strange. She dressed so differently than he was used to, and she had such a demeanor about her that he hadn’t seen on a woman in years.

Confidence. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Part of him admired her for that. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was now in her debt. He’d have suffocated to death if he hadn’t been cut down. The hangman’s rope didn’t break his neck, as it was supposed to.

“Guess I should be grateful for that…” he muttered, tucking his hands into his arms.

But where was he to go, alive? The village despised him, sentenced him to death as a witch, and likely wouldn’t be happy upon his return. Frostbite was probably the only person in miles who knew where anything was.

Thinking of the village… it brought up pain in him.

I wonder if Mother is alright…

Toriel, his mother, had fought tooth and nail against the townsfolk and the judges who had sentenced him. When he was taken to the noose, he hadn’t seen her among the crowd. He fully expected to hear she had fled to another town. He could only imagine the pain she was in.

I wish I could tell her I’m alive…

He glanced back to the door, swinging his legs off the bed. With as much silence as he could, he knelt onto the floor beside his bed.

He clasped his hands together in prayer, and lowered his head. He winced at the pain in his neck.

Let her know for me, please. Tell my mother I’m alive. Some way, somehow… tell her that she didn’t lose her son.

“I thought I told you not to move?”

Asriel was shaken from his prayer by the now-known voice of Frostbite. She was standing in the doorway.

“You’re not as good as you think you are at being sneaky,” she stated, walking back over to him and taking his hands. One of her hands was bandaged, he noticed. The other hand was smooth-skinned, and gentle. “I’m making food, you’ll be able to sit at the table then.”

“I want my mother to know I’m alive,” Asriel said, standing as she helped him up. “I—“

“Toriel?”

“You-?”

Frostbite let go of his hands.

“I know of her. She lent me cloth when I was in town,” she replied. “She wasn’t at the hanging.”

Asriel subconsciously rubbed the bandages around his neck.

“I don’t know what happened to her. I think she left.”

“She did. Something about being disappointed in the world she thought she knew. I can seek her out once you can be on your own,” Frostbite replied. “I have a good idea of where she went.”

“How..?”

“I’m much more observant than you think. All that time you saw me in the village, I was learning as much as I could about the accused and their families. Seeing what you deem as witchcraft. Your lot claims Devil worship and heresy as witchcraft; which makes sense, I guess, not much of what I believe in would be ‘Biblical.’”

Asriel shifted backwards onto the bed, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m making soup. Hope you don’t hate chicken,” Frostbite added. Asriel noticed her pick at the bandages on her hand.

“What’d you do to your hand?” He asked.

She was silent, and she stopped touching her bandages.

“...I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

With that, she quickly left the room.

After a short while and reading the countless book spines that lined the walls, he heard the thud of something on wood. Asriel perked up, looking over to the doorway. After a few moments, the sheet shifted, and Frostbite walked through.

“You didn’t move, good. I’ll get you some books or something; sorry it took so long,” she said, quickly walking over and offering him her hands. Again, he noticed the bandages when he took them.

“You’ve got an interesting selection here,” he said.

“No Bibles, sorry,” she said with the threatening of a smile. He rolled his eyes as she helped him to his feet.

When she led him into the next room, he was somehow not surprised at the contents. Plants, again, hung from the ceiling, either potted and flowering or hung to dry. A small wooden table sat to the right, while the kitchen was to the left. She had a small wood stove providing warmth to the room, with cabinets lining the walls around it with counters to match. On the table, a heavy-looking pot sat in the center, with two bowls laid out on either side of it. The front door had a small window in it, covered with a curtain.

Frostbite led Asriel to the table, encouraging him to sit. She took a ladle from one of the counter drawers, and set it next to the pot. When she took the lid off, Asriel was immediately wrapped in the delicious smell. It made his mouth water, and it was only then that he realized just how hungry he was. When was the last time he had a full meal?

“Help yourself,” Frostbite said, likely noticing the look on his face. She walked back over to the stove, pulling open the door in the front. From under it, she pulled out a piece of wood, and placed it into the small fire.

“I’ve got bread, too, and butter. I’m hoping you’re not sick of it,” she said, closing the oven as Asriel ladled soup into his bowl.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked, watching her move about the kitchen.

“I will, in a minute. Don’t choke.”

She went outside, a cold draft permeating the room when the front door opened. It was quickly doused, though, when it shut.

It was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the wood stove, and he took the time to look up at the stairs. Wood, like everything else, and crafted delicately. Part of him wondered where she got all of these supplies. The other part wondered what was upstairs.

He shrugged, though winced when he moved his neck. While she was gone, he folded his hands in his lap, taking a small bow of his head.

“Usually, I say my prayers when I gather the ingredients. Your God didn’t make that soup.”

He was practically thrown out of his skin when he heard her voice again.

“Stop doing that!” He cried, watching Frostbite as she placed a dish on the counter. He could see the risen loaf inside, which she dropped onto a wooden board.

“Pay attention,” she replied coolly, taking a knife from a small chest on the counter. “Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be observant.”

Asriel, again, rolled his eyes.

“And be careful with your neck,” she added, cutting a few slices of the bread and setting them aside on the board. “Still healing. It’s only been two days.”

“I was out for two days?” Asriel asked incredulously, perked up. “How..?”

“I induced you into sleep. That way, you’d heal a bit faster.”

Frostbite approached the table and placed the small board onto the surface, next to the pot. Upon it were three slices of bread, and a small bowl with butter in it. By the look of it, it was churned recently.

“Did you make all of this yourself?” Asriel asked, watching as she sat across from him.

“Of course.”

“Alone?”

“Who else would be helping me? Eat. Your soup’s getting cold.”

Asriel took the spoon he was given in his hand, and took a bit from his bowl. Upon tasting it, he could practically feel the warmth running through him.

“This is delicious!” He exclaimed, and he noticed a small smile on Frostbite’s face.

“Thanks,” she said a bit sheepishly, and he could spot a flush of pink on her cheeks.

“So… you do everything yourself around here, huh?”

A small nod, and he noticed her stir her bowl with her spoon, not yet taking a bite.

“...You haven’t poisoned me, have you?” Asriel asked, and she snorted.

“And why would I do that?” She asked, lifting her head. “Poisoning you does you no good, and does me no favors. Why save your life just to poison you later?”

“Good point.”

He took another spoonful, watching as she finally did the same.

“So… what did you do to your hand?” He asked, noticing she had tucked it under the table. “The bandaged one?”

“...Burned it. Long time ago,” she murmured. “I don’t like to see the scars.”

“Oh…”

Of all the things he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.

“Not your fault,” she said, lifting her gaze from the tabletop. “Just… not used to talking about it. Don’t have many visitors. Just the goats and the chickens.”

“You have chickens?”

“They wander about, and I take their eggs. I don’t like to take too much of Mother’s land, but we’ve got to eat somehow. I’m told I take too little.”

“What’s upstairs?” Asriel asked, taking a slice of bread from the board.

“My room. Nothing much. Just a bed, some books. Some storage, I have a shelf with feed in it. It’s nothing special.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he added, to which she shrugged.

“I don’t like to live lavishly,” she muttered, again returning to stirring her soup. “It feels selfish of me.”

“If it’s laid out for you, why don’t you take advantage of it?” Asriel asked, moving to tilt his head. However, he was met with pain, and stopped.

Frostbite lifted her head, narrowing her visible eye.

“I’m not going to destroy the very forest I protect for the sake of material possessions,” she hissed.

Asriel raised his hands as a sign of peace.

“I’m just saying! If it’s there, why not?”

“Because I’m not selfish! I’m not going to take every bit of land I can get my hands on, and take more than I need!” Frostbite snapped, slamming her spoon on the table. “I have what I need to survive, and what wants I can spare. I don’t need acres of land for one person.”

“Okay- Okay! Fine!” Asriel huffed, lowering his hands to take another spoonful of soup. “I get it. Point taken.”

Frostbite’s ears twitched, and she continued to watch him. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them for a long time. Asriel eventually took a piece of bread from the board.

“Butter?” Frostbite asked, sliding him the small bowl. “Promise, it’s not poisoned.”

Asriel snorted. At least she was trying to be humorous. “Sure, why not?”

The rest of dinner went by without incident. Frostbite wasn’t exactly the best at conversation, but Asriel was willing to excuse it. It didn’t seem she had many companions out here. She was amusing, and she smiled often, so he gave her that.

However, he lay awake that night, staring at the plants hanging from the ceiling. A stack of books lie on the nightstand next to him, an assortment Frostbite had given him as reading material. She had told him to lie on his back, neck propped up on pillows to irritate it less. Progress with the healing was being made; it wasn’t raw, anymore, at least. It still hurt to move his head too much, though.

He couldn’t stop thinking. It was so much different here than home. It felt like his worries could just melt away with the candle wax. Not to mention, he had a full meal. Something other than bread and water, and a filthy jail cell. Though, despite this, Asriel was still thinking of home.

Would Chara, Frisk, and his father be mourning him? The lack of a body to bury? Did the townsfolk still think him a witch? They must’ve; he had been hung for it. Still, he missed them. Would they pray for him? Would they aim to find his mother, and try to reconcile?

He thought about what to do. When he left here, he’d have to go back. Where else could he go? It wasn’t like he could stay here forever. Would they be shocked? Would they try him as a witch again? Would they hang him properly?

He shut his eyes tight, resisting the want to turn over onto his side. Frostbite had told him to lie back, so lie back he did.

He let his mind wander, losing himself to the dreams that began to lull him. Soon, he fell into sleep, the first peaceful one in a while.

#witch au #witch! frostbite #witch! asriel #asriel dreemurr #frostbite #frostbite storm #undertale #undertale au #undertale oc #frostriel #oc x canon

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 4 years

Text

When tensions break too often- a dark side au story

So I got my ideas back for some angst and some tension in this au, and I just couldnt resist writing it. Plus its a good way to warm me back up into doing things for this au.

This is also a bit of a deeper dive into the dynamics of darkside! Virgil and the other dark sides and how they all bounce and thrive off each other, as well a some backstory and peeks at the full effects of Deceit leaving( jealousy is with the dark sides but is only mentioned, he currently doesnt make much of an appearance in this one in particular, he gets his own angst later)

This was fun to write, not gonna lie. Its been awhile an this is gonna be long so buckle up with me

I also got alot of inspiration to finally write this out(and revise parts of it) due in part to @aimasup ‘s recent comics and writings about their kid sides(which I love, like alot alot and I hope they dont mind me getting super inspired by it!)

ships: Past prinxiety, past anxciet, implied intruxiety, implied intrulogical, implied intruloxiety, implied one sided remus x wrath, implied past demus, implied current roceit

Im putting a trigger warning here for cussing, fighting(verbal and physical), descriptions of panic attacks and emotional breakdowns, violence, gross and inappropriate language, some body horror descriptions, as well as implied unsympathetic sides(all sides are morally grey but the perspective is biased towards the dark sides as its seen from Wrath’s view- keep that in mind)

Things are about to get angsty my friends but i promise it ends happy(for once in this au)

I hope you guys enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~

Wrath Sanders had a lot more patience then almost everyone gave him credit for. Most considered him the biggest hothead there was, going off at the first irritation. But, the truth was he was eerily patient...Sure he may simmer and seethe and hold onto things in unhealthy grudges, but he never lost his cool as often as some would want you to believe.

Wrath Sanders kept his cool during many things, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had sat back through many things, biting his tongue to hold back the venom and yelling and grinding his teeth together in anger and forced himself to sit through many many things that happened around him out of respect- out of a deep fucking respect- for Virgil’s Fear’s Anxiety’s authority. Instead, he watched shit go down over and over again and held himself back from reacting towards the problem, focusing his energy on the recovery.

But, the most recent event was his last fucking straw.

It had happened seemingly out of nowhere, Wrath had been slumped down on their shitty lumpy couch boredly watching some dumb movie. It was getting later in the night, around 10 maybe 11 and he had one of Remus’s crappy beers partially drank in his hand. He was just getting up to change the movie or turn it off all together when the whole house seemed to shift violently, the walls seeming to tremble. There was a moment of confusion before he heard it.

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

His whole body jolted to its feet unsteadily as the sound of Anxiety’s pain wreaked scream filled the house to an almost deafening volume as it distorted and deepened. His body moved before his mind, lurching over the couch and running for the source of the scream as another one wailed out even louder than the first, the sound muffling the breaking bottle and violently shaking the walls with their reverb. He heard other sounds too underneath, glass shattering heavy objects banging and wood splintering, wallpaper shredding. A third screech rang out, cutting itself in half with echoing high pitched sobs.

He hadnt been the first to make it to his room.

Wrath watched as he turned the corner in time to see Remus destroy Anxiety’s door with his morning star, a wild and desperately freaked out look to his glowing eyes as wood splintered and gave out under the weapon, some sending cuts into his cheeks. The creative side was then out of sight in a flash, forcing his way into the room yelling as to be heard over the screams.

Remembering the pain, the fear the absolute panic in Remus’s normally confident voice sent a deeper chill down his spine than the screams had.

“ Virgy??!! Fuck fuck fuck fUCK!! Virgy no no! Its me dammit!! Fuck FUCK FUCK!! No no NO! Virgy virgy virgy storm cloud creepy cryptid no no nnonononono look at me no no look at me cmon honey look at me not those at me. me me me me..” His voice continued, shaky and softening as the screams faded into heart wrenching sobs and high pitched hyperventilating gasps. Remus continued to speak, morning star thudding against carpet and a softer thud sounding.

“ Hey hey hey hey hey hey...hey hey hey I got you I got you I’m here im still here....i’m always here for ya honey...I got you now I got you see? Yeah yeah thats me....just focus on me....cmon cmon stormy cant pass out on me now...follow my breathing lets breathe together...in...out...in out...now....tell me five things you can see....cmon honey you got this just look up im here right here...”

The sight through the broken door haunted him, made his chest throb hard and bile burn his throat.

The bedroom before him was completely trashed. It was as if something feral and destructive had ripped it from its very foundation. Every piece of furniture, big or small, was broken and smashed apart, the anxious side’s bed and couch ripped into multiple pieces. Every shelf or flat surface had faced an even worse fate, thrown around and shattered into various pieces that had been strewn around the room along with glass fragments from anything unfortunate enough to have been made of glass. Papers and books were severed and torn apart viciously, and the wallpaper was slashed in huge wide cute, some of the slashes cutting deep into the wall underneath. And in the middle of the disaster was Remus and Anxiety. Long, protruding limb like dark shapes sprouted from the purple side’s back, twitching and trembling with adrenaline along with his heaving, hunched over shaking form. Remus was there in front of him, knelt down to the balled up figure and slowly but surely coaxing him up enough to pull him into his arms and rock him back and forth as he kept speaking to him. It took Wrath a few seconds of his vision adjusting to the room’s darkness to realize Remus had more cuts on him, and why.

Strings.

Millions of purple tinted, tautly pulled strings, like a tightly woven and intricate sickening spider web filled the room from top to bottom as if trying to shield the two in its depths. He could see parts of them hanging limp, likely from Remus forcing his way through to the other. He watched in a horrified shock as Anxiety’s body lurched and jerked with his piercing sobs, hand harshly digging into his scalp through his hood and shadowy claws threatening to rip said hood open. He could see many of the strings connected directly to various parts of his body and to the eight extra things on his back and it made him shudder. The room radiated a sort of fear and panic that was infectious, suffocating even. But he refused to leave the doorway and abandon the two there, in that too dense darkness.

He watched Remus manage to gather up the shorter side into his chest and rock him more, practically curling into a ball over him. He was still talking, his voice softening to the point he couldnt make it out anymore from the door. But he could see his expression. God his expression mightve been what pushed him past his bullshit accepting limit.

Remus’s face was grim, any traces of his grins and normal attitude gone. His eyes were glowing in a dark, dangerously violent fury but the way they stayed trained on Anxiety kept them, for the time being at least, soft and remorseful. There was so much pain there in that focused gaze, pain regret sorrow a disturbing amount of fear and understanding. His mouth moved with words not meant for Wrath to hear, soft gentle coos and reassurances too intimate to be heard by anyone else but the one trembling harshly in his strong arms. Brows furrowed and it made Wrath feel even colder to realize his hands, hands that were holding the other up and petting his hair through that black hood and rubbing between the spidery appendages, were trembling.

Remus was trembling.

After awhile the strings seem to fade away into nothing, those shadowy limbs following them scarily slow. Once that happened and the worst of the darkeness seemed to dissipate was when Wrath dared to take a few stiff steps into the room, debris crunching too loudly under his boots. He saw Remus stiffen and his eyes flicker up like a cornered, ready to attack animal before relaxing, glow never leaving.

“ W...wh..r...R-remus...”

“ Des...Dessy brat...h-hey spitfire do me a solid and go open my door ok? Dont worry itll lead to my bedroom...just...go open it for me...will you...?” Wrath’s voice failed him after that and he nodded, backing out of that suffocation and away into the brighter lit hall rushing from the room to push open the dark stained door further down. He turned around to go back, to try to help somehow...anyway he could, when he watched Remus instead picking his way out of the mess and into the hall, their leader cradled in his arms limply like a small sleeping child. Not a sound came from either of them as he stalked through the hall and into his room, a single nod dismissing Wrath before the door swung shut in front of him...

That was where he was drawing a line. Enough had been enough.

Wrath had sat back through many things, too many fucking things than he should have. He held back his doubts when Virgil and Roman had first started seeing each other when they were younger and dumber, had held himself and barely held Remus back from mauling the so called “good” creativity when things had gone awry and he had broken Virgil’s heart and left him in bitter, resentful pieces for them to pick up and help mend back together. He held back every time Thomas had, intentionally or unintentionally, slighted and undermined their jobs as a part of him, of their importance, of Virgil’s and Remus’s importance to him. He had sat back through the aftermath of ever fight with the “light” sides and with thomas, through every dismissal and banishment and arguement and accusation. He had helped and been there through countless sleepless nights and previous breakdowns and panic attacks between all four three of them, and he had been here, had been forced not to retaliate as per Virgil’s simple request.

“ Dont Des....dont go after them...Im forbidding it got it? Dont do it. it isnt going to be worth it...please...”

It had always been the please, soft and defeated that made him obey. Not the angry snaps and lashing out, not the cruel words and push and shove they all did for so long, but the plea in that word...the vulnerability it revealed.

He had sat through Deceit’s slow distancing from the rest of them...and his eventually leaving them for the light sides and the ensuing pain and breakdown that his leaving left behind.

It had splintered them, had struck both Virgil and Remus harder and more painfully than either side would verbally admit. Wrath had been forced to do nothing but helplessly watch it break them and break himself too, and try to clean up the aftermath best he could.

But this breakdown, seeing the side that had always stubbornly refused to buckle or back down reduced to a screaming sobbing wreck on the floor, seeing the other side he had always seen be nothing but strong and indifferent to everything thrown with a grin shaking in fear and softly pleading was too much.

He had stayed down, seething, resentment festering for years. too many years without an outlet.

He remembered the hand that had been held out to him all those years ago. Remembered coming along a little bit before Deceit ever did...and looking up from where he was angrily crying on the floor to see two figures before him. One was shorter, with two sets of brightly glowing purple and green eyes and a big black hoodie that was too big for him and messy hair that fell into his face. Behind him was someone much taller, with wild hair and a single streak of white in it, eyes feral and gleeful i a way that made him tense and made him mad through his tears. He was dressed extravagantly, like a prince or even a king grinning unnaturally wide. But his focus narrowed on the purple one, whose dark claw tipped hand stretched out in front of him in an offering. When Anger had put his head back in his knees to cry more he felt an arm drape over him. His head snapped up and he saw the princely one next to him with a softer expression, hand rubbing his back a little.

“ Hey....hey its ok Anger. Whatcha crying for? You did your job! Pretty damn well too! You were amazing the way you had Thomas screaming at that bully!” A clawed hand smacked him making him yelp and he looked in front of him to see Fear knelt in front of him with a look of understanding, a bitter smile on his face.

“ He’s right you know? You were only doing your job...you didnt realize how out of hand things would spiral and thats ok. How they reacted isnt your fault...”

They offered him a place to go, a place to thrive. Screw the others that refused to understand and stay with them. And Fear led them both deeper down the halls by the hand, making sure he didnt get lost

He was done standing down.

Someone needed to pay.

~ ~ ~

If he was honest, Wrath wasnt sure how long he sat outside the intrusive side’s shut door, sitting slumped against the opposing wall in a thick, deafening silence. It mustve been long enough for him to drift into an uneasy, restless sleep. His dreams filled up with memories of younger years, of pranks and scuffles and violent roughhousing the three of them got up to being on their own, of Remus making meals and running around frantic to keep both Anger and Fear from accidentally killing themselves or each other on something. Of Deceit hazily joining their trio, hesitant and quiet but able to snap back just as viciously and able to rough house back just as good as the rest of them after awhile. Of days filled with shrieks, squeals, bickering and shrilly laughter, of restless nights where they all broke into Remus’s room and dog piled on his bed to sleep. Of slowly growing up and watching Virgil come out of his quiet observance and transition from Fear to Anxiety and taking charge as a leader among them, of Remus stepping back and letting him with full confidence as his right hand and partner in crime in most cases. Of seeing Deceit come out of his terrified shell and blossom into a belovedly bitchy and...supposedly self assured side...of Virgil’s echoing screams that seem to reverberate through his very core...

He jolted awake at the sound of a door creaking, and sluggishly lifted his head to see a pair of familiar scuffled riding boots, laces fraying if you looked close enough. He lifted his gaze higher and soon locked onto tired green eyes that were dark and dull from exhaustion. Lifeless was a term he could describe those eyes with and that fact made him briefly queasy and cold. He looked tired, so very tired, and older. He was older than them both....but right now he looked much older than he was...There was a silence between them for a few moments that allowed Wrath to rouse himself up a little more.

“ Dessy....for all thats unholy...what’re you still doin out here dumbass? Did you stay there all night?”

‘Dessy’...‘ Des’ the nickname eased some of his shot nerves. Ever since they were kids they had joked that his name shouldve been “ Despair” instead of “ Daniel Williams” because of his very present pessimism and negative outlook. And soon it became so much more fitting that his nickname became “ Des” short for despair...or in Remus’s case “ Dessy” as he oh so enjoyed calling him. The annoying nickname was familiar though, and it helped him relax enough to speak. His voice was rough and awkwardly quiet in the small hallway, as if he’d been the one screaming.

“ I....wanted to make sure he’d be ok...” He trailed off, voice faltering with a clear shake. It sounded pathetic and weak to him.

But maybe, just this once pathetic and weak wasnt a bad thing. Because at the sound of his voice, and his dumb reason, Wrath saw some life flicker back into the older side’s eyes, some of their glow returning. Remus let out a tired, exasperated sigh and gave him a small sad smile, his expression softened into something sorrowful yet fond. That fondness, that softness sent warm tingling butterflies fluttering through his chest like it always did despite the grim circumstances. Remus let out a strained chuckle and shook his head, pulling his door shut with a quiet click.

“ He’s asleep now ya little Tasmanian devil...let him rest and we’ll check on him in a bit...now cmon, lets go make some breakfast and watch some movies or something....lets go up up.” With a grunt Des allowed himself to be heaved up by the armpits to his feet and didnt protest Remus wrapping an arm around him and guiding him down to the living room. He didnt want to see that pained exhaustion on his face...he needed to do something

and had a problem he was finally going to get rid of.

“ No Des you cant.”

There was that feeling as familiar to him as breathing bubbling in his chest, that hot smoldering feeling of anger or irritation igniting. It flushed out the cold he had been feeling in an unpleasant way but he ignored that part, pressing his palms flat on the table with a bit of force as he narrowed his orange eyes at the one across from him. He felt something like acid stinging his mouth and begging to be spilled free but he did as he usually did and grit his teeth to hold the worst of it at bay. Pushing it down. Holding back again.

“ Not again Remus. I refuse to just fucking sit back and do nothing again. They need to be taught a lesson! This is all their fault- all his fault--”

“ Even if it is so fucking what?! You blindly lashing out at them is only going to make things worse I can promise you that--”

“ Like hell it will!! They act like they can just walk all over us and treat us like fucking trash and cause things like last night and you think im lashing out blindly when--”

“ --When youre temper is as violent as a fucking feral mongoose--” “ Dont call me a fucking mongoose beetlejuice reject!!” “ Oh shut up and sit back down you twerp!!”

They went back and forth across the table, both their tempers and volumes raising as they fought. That bubbling feeling was twisting into a boiling, growing burning that began filling his chest and core. Why was Remus not agreeing with him for fucks sake--

His vision started tinging red.

“ Look brat you think I fucking like this?! You think im not pissed the fuck off?! Because I am! I’m beyond pissed off about this!! About the fact I know exact who and what caused Virgy’s breakdown and about the fact it happened at all!! I fucking get it!! But even I know you shouldnt just storm in there to take off trying to take off their fucking heads when youre too upset! Youre not thinking clearly enough for that kind of confrontation dammit im trying to protect you in this too!!” Remus’s words were loud, ruthless, and hard hitting. There were angry and forceful and made sense.

Plenty of sense.

And somehow that made him even angrier.

“ Oh? Ooooh! I get it, I fucking get it! Now that youve been sweetening up fucking logic youre suddenly the first to fucking defend them hurting our fucking best friend--”

“--oh for fucks sake bitch Logan has nothing to fucking do with this!! Im not fucking defending them either!! I swear to god im just trying to--” “ --to what huh?! Keep on his good side so you can get in his fucking pants?! Or so you can fucking push it aside and laugh about it later like one of them?!--” “ Goddammit you fucking stubborn brat you dont know what youre even talking about--” “ I dont know what im talking about?! I DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?!?!” His voice rose much louder, his own trembling distortion coming out and getting spat at the side who had helped fucking raise him like venom.

“ I dont know what im talking about?!! You mean like how I NEVER seem to know what the fuck im talking about?! Like how Virgil never knows what hes talking about or how you never seem to know what youre fucking talking about when your talking to them?! God now youre even starting to sound like those pretentious bastards!! Dont know what im talking about?! What part do I not know what im talking about Intrusive Thoughts?! huh??!!” His breath was coming out in ragged, squeaking pants as his eyes began to burn “Which fucking part do I not fucking know?! The part where ive had to sit back and bottle up my rage at being pushed aside and degraded and judged and dismissed or having to sit back for fucking years and watch you and virgil get hurt and hurt and ignored and dismissed and talked down and insulted and broken and having to swallow my protests of it?! Or of knowing last night fucking happened because Deceit decided to fully live up to his fucking name and abandoned us for those bastards and left us alone without a second thought and got away with it?! Or the fucking fact youre too busy trying to bone down logic to even fucking care--!!”

Smack!

It came so fast he hadnt had time to prepare for it before his head was snapped to the side and pain exploding in his face, on the cheek near the jaw in particular as he staggered to the ground a good foot and his eyes eerily slow dragged themselves from looking at the kitchen cabinets to Remus, who still had his fist outstretched near where it had collided with his face, his chest heaving almost like his own was, eyes wild and just as angry before a flash of realization went through them.

“ ....Des....fuck...i...you...” Nothing too coherent came babbling out Remus’s mouth, he was still way too hoped up on anger fueled adrenaline. His fist was starting to tremble and Wrath watched his pupils dilate a few times in his attempt to calm down.

And then there was something like an explosion as that burning feeling warped into a raging fire and Wrath let out a infuriated, inhuman shriek and lunged for Remus with a full intent to rip out his stupid fucking throat as his rage consumed him.

The two fighting sides went crashing into the living room loudly nearly knocking over the couch in their wake, both of them screaming and Wrath inhumanly screeching in an almost reptilian manner as he clawed and punched wherever he could reach. Remus wasnt just lying down and taking it either, yelling in loud angry spats of soon unraveling nonsense as he fought back mercilessly, throwing the other into walls, into furniture, throwing punches and kicks of his own. But nothing seemed to slow the orange side down and he struck back with slowly growing claws and fangs and something sharp growing out of his hair, angry tears burning his eyes and his voice too warbled and distorted to even be understood anymore, both their forms twitching and subtly shifting and glowing as they tried to rip each other to shreds, things fluid dripping and twisting lashing out from Remus’s back. Remus was stronger, he always had been, but Wrath had a seemingly endless stream of fury and adrenaline that kept him getting back up and charging in for more, the room being wrecked between them. Maybe things would have gone too far if it hadnt been brought to a hard, screeching halt.

By the time they could both blink they were ripped away from each other, both now uselessly struggling as they were entangled in roughly restraining strings that glowed a eye straining, furious purple color and seemed to tighten and wrap around them more the more they fought and struggled for freedom. Their indecipherable words and incoherent screams where just as ruthlessly cut short as strings wrapped warningly around their throats, not tight enough to actually choke or hurt them, but firm enough to be very present and felt, their voices being quite literally silenced the moment it touched looped once and touched the spot over their vocal cords. There was a horrifically tense silence as their mouths moved in spat insults and screams that never made a sound.

“......that....that is enough out of both of you.”

Virgil’s voice cut through the room like a cleaver, the tone dead, cold, and just as pissed off as they were. At first they couldnt see him, manic eyes darting around until Wrath saw the Duke’s eyes trained on top of the stairs near the hallway, pupils down to small pinpricks. When he glared over in that direction he fully understood and felt all that anger draining and quickly turning into a queasy, cold dread that made him want to cower.

That radiation of fury, or bone chilling fear and a kind of suffocating anxiety that made it hard to breathe and a panic that made them both feel like they were perpetually falling and simultaneously drowning swept over the living room like a flood, the corners and ceilings slowly developing intricate pulsing webs or strings that seem to absorb the rooms light as Virgil stepped, no, half crawled down the stairs and into view. Both sets of eyes were visibly, the whites dyed a void like inky black where his brightly burning purple and green irises cut into them coldly. Something sharp and gleaming poked from his scowl and revealed themselves as fangs as his snarl curled his lips. His hood was up hiding most of his pale skin but couldnt hide the flecks and scatterings of void like, inky and purple spots dusting parts of his slowly purple tinging skin. His hands, snapping out from his sleeves to grip the stair railing were fully blotched in that void, fingers curling into razor sharp claws that strings hung stickily too. The eight dark appendages, opaque and gangly half carried him down faster than usual, the ends digging into the carpet as if for stability. A shrill hiss whistled through Anxiety’s teeth and the panic inducing feeling of being stared at at being excruciatingly examined came from every corner, growing worse and worse as he stalked closer with silent movements.

“ What....the actual fuck are you two doing.” The words with sharp edged and cold, tone flat and tired. They both just stared helplessly, unable to move or speak and both beginning to mindlessly panic. Virgil blinked and a gust of air like an exhale swepted through the room and....left no traces of those fearful horrified feelings in its wake. Both of their feet thudded mutedly against the carpeted floor as the strings released them and retreated back into nothing, disappearing from all around them as if they had never been there to begin with...the room never dimmer than it had started in the morning light and the three of them stood there in silence. Any hints of inhumanity were gone from Anxiety’s form, leaving his two still glowing eyes losing their luster and leaving dull annoyance behind, no fangs, no extra limbs, no claws, no void dotting his skin. When he spoke he took a slow breath, as if unable to breathe just like them.

“....I...I mean it you two...what. the actual fuck did you two wake me up with.” Even his voice had returned to normal, if not for a bit shaky and hoarse from last nights screaming. Wrath saw his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was tinged with blotchy pink and was puffy from crying and something clenched in his chest, thudding hard. He looked at Remus, who was panting from lack of breath, eyes dull and exhausted and pain filled again, injuries from their fight blaring from the blood decorating his body and clothes.

He had done that....he’d lost control again...

“ Im dont want to repeat myself a third fucking time. What the fuck did you--”

“ I...This is my fault I started it...” Both of them looked at him, gazes drilling into him. But he let his head drop as shame took over, choking him a little. This was his family and they were already hurting and look what he’d done-

“Oh piss off Dessperato. It aint only your fault I fucked up too. Look virgy we were both tired and coming off that dumb worry adrenaline shit and we started arguing...and we got waaaaaay too heated and decided to beat the living shit out of each other...sorry we woke you you were suppose to sleep later.” Virgil let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, pulling off his hood and shaking out his messy bedhead.

“ Is that all that happened? Im not deaf and the doors arent sound blockers...” “ Then why are you asking.” Virgil and Remus as a bit of a stare off before finally, for the first time that morning all the life slowly returned to his eyes and he gave a toothy, blood streaked grin and started to laugh. The other two looked at him like he had fully lost it. Then Virgil’s lips twitched up and Des rolled his eyes and failed to stop the grin spreading across his face or the chuckles that he managed to choke out. Within a few minutes all three of them were laughing on the messy living room floor half sprawled over each other and Jealously bemusedly deciding they werent capable of making breakfast and making it for them all instead. Des watched half delerious from his exhaustion as Remus cackled and kicked his leg, just to laugh more when he kicked back.

“ I swear to god no more violence out of you two or I swear I’ll...” Remus let out a snort and gripped the other’s chin between his fingers sensually tugging their faces closer with a smug grin

“ You’ll what Hot Topic? Lock me in the closet again? Or send me reeling with nightmares and hallucinations~ Oh please virgy baby I dare you too~” His tone was light and suggestive, quirking his eyebrows up teasingly for added effect. Virgil snorted and and grinned back leaning close as well.

“ Oh dont start teeempting me with those sweet talkins about hallucinations dr. Hideous~ I might just take you up on that...” Then he flicked his nose and shove him away, both of them laughing. Des was about to try to give them the time to themselves when Remus yanked him between them waggling his finger disapprovingly, making him whack the other’s shoulder with a affectionate “ fuck RIGHT off” and for awhile, in that growing morning light, things felt ok.

It had taken alot of talking, and another arguement almost breaking out between himself and virgil to convince him to back down from confronting the light sides violently. Virgil brought a surprising amount of identical points to remus, while also reminding him that reacting to violently will only make them ignore and dismiss him further. Des was very reluctant, and stubborn, but ultimately he trusted Virgil’s and Remus’s judgement. He trusted Virgil’s reasoning and that he was looking out for him- protecting him. So when he asked him, softly, to refrain from trying to handle it on my own and let him deal with it Des had agreed, obeying his request.

And then a real tipping point pushed him back over the edge.

It was a few weeks later. He remembered distinctly because the mindscape was abuzz with excitement, even the dark sides were effected by Thomas’s unbridled joy. But Virgil had said he was getting a bad feeling...and headed off to the main part of the mindscape that morning. Things were quiet after, calm even. At some point him and Remus had started playing cards, though Remus was blatantly cheating and they were bickering.

Things were fine...things were calm...

Then Virgil crashing into the living room breathing harshly and in the midst of a bad panic attack.

They both jumped up and Remus caught the other in his arms, trying to calm him down and figure out what happened. It took a long time and for awhile they only got bits and pieces out

Thomas

A callback, a big important one he and Roman were thrilled for

Patton, something with both Patton and Deceit

Neither of them agreeing but both of them fighting Virgil

some kind of important friend event on the same day

they had argued, they had fought, there had been yelling by the climax of it

Him and Roman went at each others throat despite the fact he had been trying to help roman’s cause

Deceit fought him alot too, trying to cut him off at every chance in a form of fear response, out of defense

Him and patton argued and fought badly for the first time since Thomas’s last breakup

He thought logan would try to see his side and be a neutral party

Logan was getting tug of warred into agreeing to arguments to push him out

They kept trying to shut him down and dismiss him, they stopped listening fairly

Virgil had to pull out a form shift in front of thomas

He had to use his influences and fear to get them to stop talking over him and twisting his words

it only made things worse, and arguments harsher

They rejected him and his attempts to help more

He started having a panic attack mid argument

He thought logan and patton tried to help but they were getting drowned out by Roman and Dee

There was so much yelling, things that should never be said got thrown

They told Virgil he never does anything but make Thomas worse

Thomas finally nearly screamed for them all to stop and half asked half pleaded for Virgil to just leave until everyone calmed down

He lashed out and hit someone, he wasnt even sure who before he fled, not hearing them yell after him. It mightve been patton, or thomas, or maybe logan

And then his panic attack got worse and neither of them could get another understandable word from him.

In the end Remus eventually got him called down, after a good couple hours of trying, and it took everything in Wrath not to scream and destroy the room.

All Virgil did was try to help, and look what their....their bullshit left him. He was beyond seething at this point, he was fuming he was downright practically breathing fire and shaking from the effort to keep himself still. Remus gave him a cautious warning look, as if he was sizing up one of his many monsters in the imagination and debating if it would kill him or not and Virgil lifted his head to choke out for him to stand down, and to not do anything. Wrath had nodded silently and waited, watching Remus help him upstairs to his room to grab his headphones, and hopefully calm down more. Once they were out of sight he made a decision. He knew the consequences of it, knew theyd both be furious and Virgil would make hell for him for it. But none of that mattered to him

For the first time in many many years...he disobeyed Anxiety’s direct request.

It took a few days to find an opening, but once he saw one he took it, rising up in the big main living room, unknowingly in the middle of a video brainstorm.

Wrath always seemed to appear near the couch, between Roman and Thomas. Just seeing them made his blood boil more than it had been.

It was easy to say he scared the shit out of most of them by just appearing, his entire presence sucking the air from the room and making it hot and tense, a cracked dam waiting to break. Itd been months since he’d seen them face to face, and for a moment his senses got overwhelmed by everything.

But he let that fuel his anger further and he growled for them to fess up. Which one had said it. Roman had of course jumped to the defensive of his friends and that was all Wrath needed.

He lost it, pointing and yelling and accusing Roman. Blaming him for it. Roman didnt back down and fought back, and the fight only seemed to worsen. The others tried to interject, and maybe if Wrath’s vision hadnt been blood red from his fury he wouldve seen they were trying to diffuse the situation and calm things down, talk things out. But he ignored that, whipping around and lashing out at them too

“ Wrath you need to step back and take a deep breath! Youre getting irrational!”

“ Wrath kiddo please we dont have to yell and scream about this Logan’s right lets all take a deep breath ok?”

“ Like hell! Im not going to just let him force his way in here and yell and scream and pretend its ok and we can talk!”

“ Roman please!” “ro stop getting angry back is just making all of it worse the others are right we need to be calm or we’ll never get through to him.”

That voice. Silken and soaked with caution. He whirled around on Deceit and snarled pinning him to the wall without thinking.

“ This is all your fucking fault! Youre the reason they keeping hurting and virgil has breakdowns that put him out of commission for days!! Youre part of the reason Remus locks himself away beating himself up. they trusted you!! We all trusted you and you decided to fuck us over and throw us out like trash!! Was it worth it?!?! Was being here worth breaking the people you grew up with you and loved you?! Well?!” There was yelling around them, and he thought briefly he heard Remus’s and Virgil’s voices behind him as well. But now all that anger, that pushed down bitterness and resentment finally had a target and he couldnt focus on anything else. He didnt even heard Deceits struggling answer as he tried to claw him off, his different eyes wide and his mouth moving in words that werent registering.

“ -youre right ok?! Fuck youre not right at all--fuck fuck I get it youre angry and I fucked up with this, this isnt my fault and I havent been trying to figure out ways to fix it! I totally havent been beating myself up for what happened a few days ago with virgil and I dont regret it ok--” THe words blended together in his head, there were hands on his shoulders ripping him away the the freaked out snake and shoving him into the couch. He snarled but froze when he realized He was staring at the very formal business end of Remus’s morning star, inched from his nose and Remus standing over him with a dark look over his face...dark and upset The red faded from his vision and he blinked rapidly, eyes burning again and jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it or from yelling he honestly couldnt even tell anymore. From behind Remus stood both Logan and Virgil, side by side speaking in rapid low voices he couldnt decipher. Behind them he caught of glimpse of Roman and Patton both kneeling on the floor, fretting over a still freaked out Deceit as Jealously offered to help him up. Wrath was struggling to breathe, his body twitching and shaky from the quickly fading adrenaline. Soon he was left feeling cold and sick of himself, staring at Remus with just as wide and wild eyes.

“ Easy....easy spitfire....youre...just breathe for me ok?” He couldnt even nod, he couldnt move. He vageuely noticed Virgil and Logan both looking at him before the morning star was gone and Logan was in front of him, hands palm up in a non-threatening manner.

“ Wrath can you hear me? Good...just listen to my voice...I need you to name me five things you can see.” He blinked rapidly and barely heard Remus’s and Virgil’s murmurs of reassurance. Or maybe Virgil’s was more quiet talking, as he was standing at Patton’ side like the normally bubbly side’s shadow.

“u...uuh....y..youre tie...r-remus’s outfit....the stairs...the others...and the Roman’s s-sword...” Logan gave a nod, slowly kneeling in front of him with a calm, leveled expression that helped him focus more.

“ Good, now four things you can touch. Take your time Wrath.” He flexed his fingers, more of a twitch really as his breathing began to even out slowly. “ Um...My jacket...the couch...my jeans...uh...t..the carpet?” He nodded again through his faltered stammering as the deepness faded.

“ Three things you can hear?” He blinked again and listened for a moment.

“ .....your voice...Remus’s voice...the others...” “ Two things you can smell, remember take your time.” “ Bacon...from breakfast...and someones cologne..” A small smile came to his face as he adjusted his glasses in slow noticeable motions.

“ Just just 1 thing you can taste.” He managed to smack his lips once and his face screwed up at the taste lingering in his mouth.

“ ....acidic bile...” Both their brows furrowed a little but when Logan looked over his shoulder Remus shrugged at the silent question.

“Probably needs to puke Dr. Maywhoo.” Logan sighed at the nickname and turned back to him, holding up his hands a little.

“ Now, Wrath Id life for you to unclench your jaw, roll and relax your shoulders, loosen your posture if you can, uncurl your fingers and exhale please.” He blinked and slowly did as instructed, not realizing until then that he was wound up like a jack in the box. His jaw ached as he unclenched it and his shoulders slumped heavily as he relaxed, fingers sore from apparently being curled into firsts for so long, small red lines in his palms from his nails. He felt calmer, drained and upset, but calm.

“ Logan, Remus.” He looked past them to see virgil standing up tall, if not awkwardly, besides Roman and watching them with a hard to read look.

“ I...think sitting down and calmly talking...is now long overdue.”

~~~~~

Hours later Wrath Des found himself on the mindscapes main couch tiredly nestled besides a dozed off Jealousy Jacob and a cheerfully talking Patton. They had spent hours haphazardly strewn around the very room, just...talking and discussing and airing years worth of grievences. It wasnt easy, and things were no where near fixed or completely repaired. But, there were many small positive steps taken in that direction...and things were lighter and better as they stood at a better understanding of each other. Things werent perfect, and in the back of his mind he could list everything that could fuck up and send them back spiraling. Yet he didnt want to ruin what...whatever it was happening as dinner was cooked. Logan, Remus, and Virgil all sat together on the other side of the couch chatting among themselves and with Patton as they tried to decide on a movie and played candyland. In the kitchen he could hear Roman and Deceit cooking and giggling with each other, trying to outdo each other with some dumb food based pick up lines. But they sounded happy, so many it wasnt that dumb...Des watched them play candyland, staying relatively quiet aside from answering questions and jabs sent his way. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Des couldnt help but yawn. Without noticing , he ended up resting his head on Patton’s clearly unoccupied and underutilized shoulder as his eyes drooped shut. He felt Patton jump a little before slowly relaxing, and he didnt even need to open his eyes to flip Remus off as he let out an overly exaggerated coo at the motion letting himself relax. Patton smelled good he decided. Like fabric softener and baked goods and some kind of spice...Des also decided that the blurry sight of the trio next to them, with Remus’s legs draped across Logan and Virgil’s laps and one hand playing with Virgils messy hair as he sat on Logan’s right and Virgil contently and fully relaxed into Logan’s left side, head resting in the crook of his neck and his hand laced with the logical side’s unused hand as they played was also good. The sound of Jacobs soft snores was soothing and the joyful flirty voices in the kitchen blended into it well when combined with Pattons soft humming. If this was how things would be more often....he’d learn to add a little more patience to his supply of the stuff....

And maybe for once he didnt have to be negative, with no more tension for now to be broken.

The end.

Ok holy shit its finally finished!! This was over 7k goddamn words of emotion and holy shit was it a rollercoaster to write

THis is what happened when I wake up before 5 in the morning after not being able to sleep much...I apparently bust out 15 whole pages worth of words

Now....to go do my chores real quick and go pass the fuck out for an hour or two of sleep

I hope you guys liked it!!!

taglist

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ellie-the-character · 4 years

Text

Winter Blooms

*Modern day AU. This is also posted on my Wattpad but I wanted to post it here since it seems like there are more ABH fans on tumblr*

Alice was getting very tired of sitting by the window watching the snow fall. It had been fun last night when it was the first snow of the year and she and Alfred had sat drinking hot chocolate watching it fall but now it was morning and the snow was only falling lightly. They had stayed up till one-am watching the snow fall and although Alice was awake now Alfred was still in their shared room sleeping. The wall clock read 8:46 and Alice had been up for about fifteen minutes. She walked into the kitchen to start getting breakfast ready for her and Alfred. It was a Saturday morning with nothing to do but Alice had a plan for today. She began making pancakes and thinking about the coming holiday season and what gifts she would get for Alfred and her friends when she felt warm arms wrap around her and a quick peck on her cheek.

"You're up early."

Alfred said.

"So are you"

Alice said as she turned to kiss him. They shared a sweet, gentle kiss and enjoyed the quiet sweet moment for a bit before the pancake Alice was cooking started to burn and brought the two of them back into reality. Alice made the pancakes while Alfred set the table and made coffee. The two of them sat down and ate breakfast with the conversation being a loving argument with each of them insisting the other was better at cooking. They were just finishing up breakfast when Alice brought up her plan.

"Let's go play in the snow"

Alfred looked up from his coffee.

"It's been awhile since we last did that"

"It's been awhile since it last snowed."

Alice responded with a grin. Alfred smiled.

"Alright, after we finish our coffee we can go outside"

Alice quickly downed the rest of her coffee and went to the linen closet to get out their winter clothes. Alfred chuckled at the antics of his wonderful girlfriend and took their dishes to the sink. He joined Alice by the closet where she was reaching for a box on the top shelf labeled "Gloves and scarves." Alice (Being about five inches shorter than Alfred) could not reach the box even whilst on her tiptoes and soon became tired of trying. She turned to Alfred with puppy-dog eyes

"Alfie can you try to reach the box please?"

Alfred smiled

"Sure"

he responded. He got the box down and handed it to Alice. She thanked him and got out their scarves, draping them both across Alfred's shoulders with one hand and holding the box with the other. Alice retrieved their gloves from the box and held them proudly. Alfred of course had played wonderland with Alice often enough to know his line by heart.

"I believe you have my gloves?"

Alice smiled and giggled. She handed Alfred his gloves and grabbed her scarf from around his neck. They headed to their bedroom and got dressed then bundled up in their winter clothes. Alice practically ran out the front door dragging Alfred by his coat sleeve. The young couple stood outside marveling at the snow. Alfred looked around for a bit before Alice gasped in excitement.

"Alfie we should build a snowman!"

She said and clasped together her gloved hands. Alfred smiled at Alice.

"Sounds like a great idea"

He said. The couple began rolling up snowballs and about forty-five minutes later they had put the three snowballs together and were looking for small rocks to use for a face and sticks to use for arms. Alfred had just seen some sticks and was walking over to grab them when he felt something hit him in the back and fall apart. He turned around to see Alice with snowballs in each hand smirking at him. He smirked back and gathered some snow in his hand and started packing it into a ball. As he did Alice threw another snowball at him. He held up his snowball at the same time Alice held up hers.

"Alice"

She faked throwing the snowball at him.

"Alice"

She did it again.

"Don't you dare throw that snowba-goddamnit"

She giggled. Alfred held up his snowball and began chasing her around the yard. She shrieked playfully and ran away from him. Eventually he caught up to her and the couple tumbled to the ground in a fit of laughter as Alfred mashed the snowball into Alice's hair. They both lay there for awhile making snow angels and holding hands when Alice remembered the unfinished snowman and got up. She went to go look for rocks to make his face as Alfred went back to the sticks and took them over to the snowman. Soon Alice came over having found rocks and they finally completed their snowman. Their faces were numb and their noses runny but they both grinned happily as they went inside to warm up. They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling by the fireplace and reading their favorite book together.

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mysticaltigersorceress · 4 years

Text

(Cute) Harbingers of Chaos

A/n: So this is my piece for @some-piece‘s AU challenge!! My choice of characters was: Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Wire, Kuzan (Aokiji), and Shachi. I’m going to do a (college) library AU. All fluff and fun, no warnings!! this turned out long than i meant lol, but most is under the cut. feel free to add to the masterlist basi uwu

Word Count: 1.8k (i know, i thought it was gonna be shorter, but then, well, whoops lol)

Notes: Shachi x Reader (vaguely lol), gender neutral reader, and 2nd person pov

Summary: Reader works in college library, chaos caused by adorableness, Bepo is a massive pupper lol, plans went askew

AO3: Find it here on archive uwu

When you began your shift at the New World University Library, things started off as per usual. Armed with mints in your pocket and a single earbud in your ear, you started on your to do list, first of which was shelving books. Making your rounds through the library, you gave a few smiles and half waves to some of the students you recognized, but soon enough, you were lost in the music and books. Things were going quite smoothly too, that is, until a tall ginger in a whale hat dragged you out of your world, literally.

He yanked you around the corner of the shelf with a crazed look on his face and frantically looked around before crouching down and grabbing you by both shoulders.

“You work here, right? Have you seen a tall guy in a white hat? Super scrawny, possibly high and definitely needs to lay off the coffee?”

“Sorry, what? I- no. Could you–” A loud BOOOOF cut you off, and all the blood drained from Whale-hat’s face. He released you and rocketed away faster than a bar of soap in the bath, cursing about flightless wanna-be posh birds. Not quite knowing what else to do, you sprinted after him.

Students were fleeing the plaza at the center of the library, while just as many flocked in with their phones to film whatever was happening. Whale-hat was shoving his way through the throng and you dived after him, apologizing to the disgruntled students as you went.

Whale-hat broke free of the crowd before you, and the people cut off your escape before you could follow. You could hear someone yelling about wasted food, a bunch of incoherent shouting, and a frick ton of barking for somewhere any animals besides service dogs were not supposed to be. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but it smelled of trouble, and you could get in a LOT of trouble if this didn’t get resolved quickly!

“COMING THROUGH!” You held your arms around your face and bulldozed through the last students in your way, breaking out into the open–

Something big and heavy to slammed you to the ground, gave you a few licks and ran across you.

“POLAR BEAR!” One shadow jumped over you, quick as a whip.

“THAT'S A DOG IDIOT!” Another shadow soared overhead. “STOP CHASING HIM, HE THINKS THIS IS A GAME!”

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry about this!” Whale-hat paused his pursuit just long enough to help you up and make sure you could see straight. “PENG YOU IDIOT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HIM OUTSIDE!”

“LET’S SEE YOU TRY TO CONTROL AN EXCITED DOG WHO WEIGHS AS MUCH AS YOU!!!”

Whale-hat ran off after you assured him you were fine, and you took in the scene before you. (Properly this time, no giant dogs to obstruct the view).

The dog in question (definitely able to be confused for a polar bear by size alone) was bounding joyously throughout the plaza, making new friends who would give him pets before he noticed the meat-kid and scamper excitedly away again. Behind Meat-kid were Whale-hat and his friend, trying desperately to call over the dog.

“IS THAT YOUR SHITTY DOG!?” A blonde guy yelled from across the plaza, remnants of a meal scattered around his feet. “IT JUST ATE ALL OF OUR DAMN FOOD!” Why had they decided to have a picnic in the library? And why was the dog close enough to raid their picnic?

“COME HERE POLAR BEAR!” The meat-kid got close enough he dived for the dog. You thought he would actually catch the dog, but the dog dodged at the last second, leaving a student available for meat-kid to tackle instead. You barely held back a snort at the sight of limbs flailing askew and they disappeared from view.

You scowled to compose yourself and took a deep breath; this had gone on long enough. Crossing the plaza, you snatched part of the lost meal and whistled and made some kissy noises. “Here boy! Come here! Want some food?” You patted your leg excitedly and crouched down, trying to lure the fluff monster over.

By some miracle, he heard you over all the noise and bounded over to you, graciously gobbling up the treat and basking while you showered him in rubs and praise (and took a hold of his collar). Whale-hat and his friend wheezed as they ran up to you, gasping out apologies and thanks as they reattached the leash and tied it to their belt. Was– was that a great idea?

“YOUR POLAR BEAR STOLE MY MEAT!” The meat-kid bounced back over to them, hunger and indignation emblazoned across his face. (Talk about the living embodiment of hangry.)

“That's a dog Strawhat-ya." From behind Strawhat came a tall lanky man with bags the size of hammocks under his eyes, freshly soaked in coffee and wearing a white fuzzy cap.

White hat. Tall. Probably needs to lay off the coffee. "Is that–"

"LAW! There you are!" Whale-hat laughed and interrupted you, "We were just taking Bepo out for a walk! And we brought you some–"

Law pulled something out of his pocket and chucked it in the opposite direction. Bepo bolted away faster than a squirrel in a nut factory, dragging poor Whale-hat’s friend behind him. You watched alarmed as the dog/human sled combo created a scene which reminded you of bowling pins in a bowling alley. Law then held out his hand expectantly; Whale-hat swallowed hard and reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a pack of... salted licorice? He handed the candy and a few bills over, and the lanky zombie disappeared with Strawhat bouncing after him.

What on earth was happening?

"Oi, shithead! What are you gonna do about my ruined food!? Poor Nami-san and Robin-chan are gonna starve because of you and your shitty mutt!" The blonde growled at Whale-hat, glaring him down in a way that might have been scary, had he not been several inches shorter than the one he was yelling at.

"A, that's not my dog, and B, if Bepo wanted to eat it, then it probably tastes like shit anyway!"

They both started arguing loudly over each other, and you buried your face in your hands. This certainly wasn’t how you wanted today to go. But now, it was time to get this mess straightened out.

"Alrighty boys, listen here,” you growled, “I will look over you," you pointed harshly at the blondie, "having food in the library and I will look over you," you poked Whale-hat in the chest, "having a dog in the library if you both get this mess cleaned up. NOW."

Both their eyes went wide and they lowered their heads and apologized before scampering away to clean up the spilled food. That’s odd, you never thought you were that intimidat–

“Sorry for the trouble,” an arm wrapped around your shoulder and you found yourself looking at the face of a very cute girl with orange hair, “I’ll make sure those idiots make it up to you.” She winked then strutted away.

You blinked as she disappeared. What the hell just happened? Could this day get any weirder? You shook your head and went to monitor the boys as they cleaned up. Several minutes of cleaning (and attempted flirting on the blonde’s part) later, the floor was clean, and you left them to pick up where you left off in your regular librarian duties.

Days later, you hadn’t run into any of them again, (though you think you might’ve seen Law passed out in the medical section), and it was all starting to feel like a weird fever dream.

That is, until you received a text from an unknown number while you were at work in the library.

This you? (Accompanied by a gif of you, being tackled by a big white furry smudge.)

It looked hilarious, but you were torn between laughing and wanting to cry. Was this all over the internet now? Were you a meme?

You could just say no, wrong number… But what were the chances some random stranger had a gif of the incident and then texted you?

Maybe. Who’s asking?

The typing symbol appeared and disappeared several times, but after a few minutes it didn’t appear. Well that was anticlimactic.

“Uh, hi. Sorry, I just wanted to check if the number Nami gave me was right, or if she was just trolling me.” A voice came from behind you and there he was: Whale-hat! Wait, who the heck was Nami, and how had she gotten your number to pass along?

“Who gave you my number?”

“The girl with the orange hair from the other day?” He frowned. “You didn’t give her your number?”

“Not that I recall…”

“Oh.” His eyes kept meeting yours then darting away again and he shuffled on the spot. You decided to have a little mercy on him.

“I never caught your name,” you extended your hand and introduced yourself properly.

“Ah, shit! I’m Shachi. Sorry about what happened the other day. We didn’t expect Bepo to cause such a mess.” He scratched the back of his neck and gave you an apologetic bow.

“It’s not your fault those students thought having a picnic in the library was a good idea,” you chuckled. “By the way, is your friend okay? The one who got dragged away?”

“Oh, Penguin’s fine! A couple of bruises and stuff, but he’ll live.”

“So, where did you get that gif?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Someone got a good video of the whole thing and it’s already got about half a million hits! I can send the link if you…” He trailed off remembering this might not be something you wanted to be famous for.

“Right, um…” Shachi blushed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I actually was here more than just to apologize and show you embarrassing gifs of yourself.” He tucked his hands behind his back and glanced around. “I mean, it can be part of the apology but I was going to ask if I could get you coffee or something sometime but if you don’t want to that’s fine. Nami was threatening me that I need to be a gentleman– BUT NOT TO ASK YOU OUT, I wanted to do that anyway before this whole fiasco happened, but then you know, this happened, and I–”

“You’re asking me on a date?” you felt the corner of your mouth twitch up.

“I– yes?” He smiled nervously at you.

You couldn’t help a small giggle. This felt waaayyyy too much like a scene from a bad fanfic, but it still made your heart go uwu.

“Okay. I have to get back to work, but text me later and we work out a time.” You waved and pushed your cart away. A wide grin split his face in two, and he waved back before running giddily away.

~~~

“I told you the Bepo plan was a sure fire way to get a date!”

*THWACK*

“That wasn’t how the Bepo plan was supposed to go! You owe me big time!”

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diorsho · 4 years

Text

galaxy eyes

bingo slot: caught in the rain

words: 2.1k

pairing: college au!todoroki x reader

warnings: none !

Todoroki was sure that whatever he was doing was definitely considered stalking. He was in the university library watching one of his fellow classmates. The young man had no idea who she was. She wasn't in any of his classes or in his overall department. He only ever saw her when he ventured to the library.

Some part of him was determined to find out who she was and why she only ever read books that involved outer space. Yet, he could never work up the courage to talk to her. She was too beautiful, she was way out of his league.

He picked a book out of the shelf that separated them to peek at her. She had her head buried in a book, she leaned gracefully against the bookcase. She laughed like the book was telling her a joke but he was sure that she was in love with the character with the way her eyes lit up as she scanned the page. She had hair that seemed pretty even under the yellow glow from the library lights. Todoroki felt a blush spread across his face. It felt wrong to spy on her the way that he was.

Todoroki left the library soon after, not wanting to disturb his mystery girl.

The next day was rainy, and Todoroki had to shake the droplets out of his hair and off his black hoodie. The short jog from the parking lot had him completely soaked and he even had an umbrella. The male student looked around the library until they settled on the quiet girl. Her hair was in a bun and she wore a warm sweater. She looked really cute. Todoroki waved to the librarian who was beginning to become accustomed to his presence. He told himself that he was there for a book report and it wasn't because he wanted to see the girl.

Todoroki wandered the section that held the autobiographies until he found the ones he needed. He peeked from behind the safety of the large shelf at the girl but was surprised. She was gone. He was disappointed because he was going to talk to her today. His friend, Bakugou, even gave him a pep talk that was more or less just telling him to just grow a pair. Bakugou still gave him some advice though, small talk today and then tomorrow he would have an actual conversation with her. He knew that even with his friend's weak attempt at a pep talk that he wouldn't be able to even wave at her. Todoroki kicked the carpet with the toe of his sneaker. He was such a coward when it came to her.

It was still pouring by the time that he had checked out his books. Todoroki opened his black umbrella as soon as the library doors opened for him. He stopped in his tracks because she was in front of him. Her back was turned to him and she seemed to be psyching herself up. She was looking out into the parking lot intently like the rain would bend to her will. She was waiting for the rain to let up. Todoroki stuffed the books underneath his hoodie and carefully approached her. His heart was hammering in his chest and he cleared his throat. "I could walk you to your car?" His voice was shaking and his grip on the umbrella tightened.

She turned, clearly surprised by his voice. She blushed when their eyes met. "Sadly, you would have to walk me to my dorm I'm afraid." She gave a small smile and Todoroki was melting. He felt bad and opened his mouth but she cut him off quickly. "And I wouldn't want to make you walk a mile in this weather especially back alone just for me." He nodded slowly. "I'll just wait for it to let up." Her grin was much looser and more comfortable. He was scared that if he offered her a ride she would take him as a creep. The jog to his car was way shorter than the mile she would have to walk so Todoroki decided that he would give her his umbrella.

"Well I guess if you don't want me to walk with you then you could at least use my umbrella." He handed it to her and she took it with unsure fingers. Their hands brushed. Her hands were cold and he wanted to hold her hands until they were warmed up but he drew away.

Todoroki was amazed that he kept the conversation going. He waved to her before taking off to his car. He was so excited that he forgot where he parked. The male could hear her laughing, it was such an angelic sound. "Thank you for the umbrella!" She called after him and Todoroki waved from the safety of his car.

Todoroki sat at a library table, waiting for the girl. He was either way too early or she was running a bit late. He flipped through the autobiography and sighed. Maybe she wouldn't come today. It was getting cloudy again and maybe she thought it would rain. Someone sat next to him and he glanced over. It was her and she had his black umbrella in her hand. "Thank you." She smiled sweetly. "That was a really kind thing to do for someone you don't know."

Todoroki shrugged but couldn't help the grin that took over his features. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, I'm Shoto Todoroki by the way. Now you know me in case you need to borrow my umbrella again..." Maybe Bakugou’s pep talk really did work. He was having a conversation with her today. She gave him back his umbrella anyway.

"Oh, so we're friends?" She stuck out her tongue at him and he felt himself starting to blush. "Kidding. My name is Y/n." Her name was something that would only fit her. It was beautiful and unique just like a star's name. Instead of reading that day they talked all the way until the librarian Aizawa kicked them out. Todoroki couldn't sleep because everything seemed to play in his head over and over again. It felt too good to be true. He felt that he might wake up any second. Todoroki felt like a school boy with a crush.

When Todoroki walked into the library he felt awkward. Maybe she didn't really want to be friends and was just being nice to someone who was nice to her. Todoroki went back to admiring her behind the bookshelf, too scared to approach her.

"What are you doing?" Someone whispered in his ear. Todoroki’s shoulders tensed and he almost knocked over the bookshelf. His friend, Midoriya, stood with his hands on his hips. His dark green eyes held a curious glint to them.

"You scared me." Todoroki’s voice was quiet because he didn't want to upset the librarian or Y/n.

"You didn't answer my question," Midoriya rolled his eyes. "Are you spying on her for Bakugou? I knew that guy was weird." Midoriya seemed to be talking to himself and this time Todoroki rolled his eyes.

"I'm not spying on her for Bakugou." Todoroki put the book back so it would block the view of her. He did not like the fact that Midoriya was looking at her too.

"Oh... Well anyways, I'm pretty sure he swings for the other team." Midoriya shifted the textbooks in his hand when Todoroki spoke again.

"Lucky for you." Todoroki began walking away from her hoping that his friend would follow but he didn't. Midoriya simply turned so he was facing him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Midoriya narrowed his eyes at the other male, with a slight blush on his face

"I see the way you look at each other." Todoroki said simply.

"Hey!" Midoriya exclaimed but he was blushing. Todoroki shushed him."Hey!" He whispered yelled. "There's nothing going on between him and I." Midoriya said. He sounded offended that Todoroki would ever accuse him of having a crush on the blond haired male.

"Yeah, sure..." Todoroki tried to diffuse the situation as quickly and as quietly as he could.

"What's bringing this on? Did Bakugou say something to you?" Todoroki shook his head but Midoriya thought he was lying. "I knew it! Bakugou likes me!" He was getting louder with every passing second so Todoroki motioned for him to quiet down.

"I didn't say that." He motioned for his friend to be quiet. "Bakugou is Bakugou. Nobody knows what he’s thinking." Midoriya gave him a suspicious look.

"I guess you're right..." He said but seemed to pick himself right back up. "I need to go on a date. That'll show him!" All Todoroki wanted was to see Y/n, he didn't want to be consoling Midoriya about his dating life.

"Cool," Todoroki mumbled and busied himself by looking at the books on a nearby shelf. It was strangely quiet so Todoroki looked to where Midoriya was standing before but discovered he was gone. Panic seeped into his bones and he jogged around the area. Maybe he left. Todoroki rounded the corner and saw Midoriya chatting up Y/n. She looked obviously uncomfortable but Midoriya was talking a mile a minute.

Todoroki grit his teeth and approached the two. "Hey Y/n." He took a seat next to her and she gave him a grateful glance.

"So long story short, do you want to go on a date with me?" Midoriya asked. He had a loose smile on his lips. Y/n opened her mouth but Todoroki took control of the situation.

Todoroki cleared his throat. "Hey idiot, I think Bakugou was looking to have a conversation with you." He was almost tempted to beg his friend with his eyes to leave.

"Bakugou never wants to talk with me... Oh! Oh. You want to ask her on a date," Midoriya said nonchalantly. Y/n blushed and Todoroki felt his anger for the shorter male increase.

He smiled as best as he could through his panic. "What gave you that idea?" He prayed that Midoriya would shut up to save him from embarrassment but his friend kept going, forever a frantic mumbler.

"With the way you were staring at her earlier... I just assumed that Y/n here was up for grabs..." The green eyed male shrugged.

Todoroki wanted to disappear into the floor. "Wait, you were staring at me?" Y/n was now completely red but had a laugh in her voice.

"I would say it was more like gazing," Todoroki said, trying to desperately cover up his embarrassment.

"Totally creepy," Midoriya whispered to Y/n.

"It was endearing," Todoroki grit his teeth and his cheeks flushed. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand. Y/n fanned her face hoping to cool it down.

"Hey Todoroki?" She asked in her quiet voice. He looked at her in a silent answer. "Want to go look at the stars with me sometimes?" Her e/c eyes held galaxies and Todoroki couldn't refuse. He nodded. He wanted more than anything to do that.

"Yes. I would love to go see the sky with you," Todoroki scratched the back of his neck nervously. Midoriya left with a mutter about the said blond earlier Todoroki was still in awe that he would be seeing Y/n in a place other than the library. She cleared her throat now that their company was gone.

"Stars are pretty special to me. They were there for me when my father died. I used to scream and cry at the ugly sky..." The female laughed sadly. "It was a sky that my father and I once shared," she said quietly. Y/n's voice trailed off as she fixed her black hat.

"I'm sorry about your father." Todoroki gently put a hand on her arm. He just wanted her to know that he was there.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "The stars taught me something very important." Y/n put her other hand on his. "They taught me that even when you die, your life leaves traces of light long after you're gone. The stars died million years ago yet we still see it's light and I think that’s pretty amazing. Even if my dad is gone, his light is still there," she smiled at him.

"That's a beautiful way of thinking." Todoroki smiled and rubbed faint circles with his thumb on her skin, not sure where his bravery came from.

"They also keep my secrets." Y/n leaned in close, drawing him in with her earnest eyes.

"What secrets are your stars hiding, Y/n?" The two-toned haired male asked.

Y/n smiled and shifted nervously. "Nothing really," she paused. "Just that I'm in love with a boy who peeks between bookshelves and gives his umbrella to girls who happened to get caught in the rain."

~~~

taglist: | @bnhabookclub |

masterlist | bingo masterlist | kofi

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