#i am the master of ignoring the instructions and winging it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aniharas · 3 months

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𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

pairing: anakin skywalker x padawan!fem!reader

summary: a flirtatious training session left anakin and his new student frazzled. but he knew that if she called, he'd drop everything and answer.

warnings: master/padawan relationship, sexual content, exhibitionism (if you squint)

wc: 7k+ oneshot

a/n: took some lyrics from agora hills and really ran with it. inbox is open for any suggestions! enjoy!

Their intentions were pure. She had caught Anakin on his way to his dormitory, begging him to train with her secretly. She and her master were being sent on their first mission together, and she insisted that she would meet her end if Anakin didn’t take her under his wing. “Please, Master Skywalker,” she had pleaded.

And how could he refuse? The poor girl was on her knees, tears pooling and threatening to stream down her innocent face. He agreed, only admitting that her master was indeed an atrocious teacher and that his own Padawan already knew everything he knew.

When their training started, she immediately realized that Anakin was an upgrade. He chose different approaches, not by the book. He pushed her harder, trained longer, and didn’t let her retire to her dormitory until her technique seemed flawless. Which is why on one particular day, Anakin had nearly torn out his hair in frustration. The moon was already high in the sky, seeming to taunt them as it loomed over the Temple’s garden. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this simple lesson was driving them up the wall. To him, it was simple: to transition from lightsaber combat to parrying blaster shots. But to teach her was like teaching a womp rat to tango.

It didn’t help that they both grew irritable with each passing minute, and it was inevitable with how stubborn they both seemed to be. A subtle roll of the eyes or a scoff would set each other off. Their patience waned, evident through the hits they traded with their practice lightsabers becoming more personal, ending with both on dust-ridden ground, beat-up and breathless.

“Okay, okay, let’s just…relax,” Anakin instructed with a stressed exhale, his face twisted from exasperation. Wordlessly, he motioned for her to do the same, to which she reluctantly followed.

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it,” she hissed, wiping sweat from her forehead for what seemed like the twentieth time. “I don’t get it. It all happens too fast, I basically have to react before it even happens. It’s not fair,” she whined, almost childishly.

“That’s precisely it,” Anakin cut in as he dusted off his pants, rising to his feet. “You wanna stay alive out there? Feel it before it happens,” he repeated, holding his hand out for her to take.

When she was back on her feet, Anakin quickly took her practice saber from her hands. “Hey, what are you-” “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice low and soft, much different from the annoyed tone he had moments before.

It was humiliating how quickly she obeyed him, her attempts to ignore the heat that seemed to ignite her skin. The courtyard was eerily quiet, or at least as quiet as Coruscant could get, only adding to the growing awkwardness between them. It was only when she was about to complain once more that she felt an unmistakable energy emanating from a certain direction behind her. “Do you feel it?” he questioned, his voice low to not break her concentration.

A beat passed before she answered him. “Yes,” she breathed, anticipation seeming to tingle in her voice.

“Feel my presence,” Anakin urged, his voice gentle yet commanding. “Sense where I am without seeing.” He began to circle her silently, holding his breath so he wouldn’t compromise his position physically.

At first, she tried to sense him with mere sounds, a vibration from the ground, but it proved futile. The wind that chilled her to her bones helped to camouflage any breath or sound that would betray him, and she knew that he always seemed to carry himself as if he weighed like a feather. How could someone so tall and broad move like a lothcat? When she actually began to try, the air seemed to carry faint whispers, brief waltzes of energy that danced around in her mind that just so slightly guided her senses. “You’re there,” she said unsurely, pointing in his general direction. A barely audible sound of approval resonated in Anakin’s throat, a low grunt, confirming her guess. “Good. Take it a step further,” he suggested. “Focus on how it takes shape in your head. Feel my intention,” he instructed under his breath. His whispers somehow seemed to echo off the walls of the temple. “Tell me where my focus lies.”

Initially, it was a bit hard to center her thoughts. None of this was anything like what her master taught her. It was oddly…intimate. But there wasn’t a chance she would let nerves stop her now, she had already gone all this way. With each (notably loud) heartbeat, she sought out the rhythm of his focus. She tried to envision it like a beacon in the darkness behind her eyelids, beckoning her, calling her like a distant star. Something began to flutter around in her mind–a fiery sensation that seemed to extend its grasp from the darkness towards her. A tingling feeling began to nip at her right hand. That was it.

“My hand. You’re looking at my right hand,” she said with certainty.

“Close, but not quite. Be more accurate.”

Really? Will it really come down to knowing what finger my enemy is looking at? After taking a moment to think, she answered him again. “My pointer finger.” Unbeknownst to her, Anakin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good. Keep ‘em closed, let’s do it again. And put it together.”

She continued to list off different parts of her body where she could feel his focus linger from where he was. Her right shoulder, to her right. Her left knee, behind her. All reasonable places to strike in combat. He then trained her to sense where his gaze would relocate to. From her shins to her midsection. From her wrists to her foot. Perfect for sensing how quick an enemy can strike. It was becoming easy. From her neck to her chest.

She froze as the words left her lips, her heart quickening. Her chest, he was looking at her chest. Why was he looking at her chest? As if nature was asking her to relax, a gust of wind rattled the branches of the Great Tree that loomed over them, its yellow leaves seeming to shiver with her. The cold contrasted with the feeling in her cheeks as if urging her to think more rationally. Of course, how could she get ahead of herself? It wasn’t exactly the chest, it was the heart. It was a common place to attack in the heat of a battle, especially when aiming to kill. The Jedi try their best to not strike the chest, but many foes do attempt to go for theirs. It was crucial to sense in the heat of the battle, and Anakin was only helping her, right?

Anakin’s abrupt cough sliced through the silence culminating between them, causing her to wince at the abrasive sound. “Sorry– ahem, it’s just the cold. Making the air pretty dry,” he muttered in between the grunts that cleared his throat. He tossed her makeshift saber back to her, hiding the fact that the sound of blood rushing in his ears was deafening. “That was good. I think you’re good to take a break for now.” The sigh of relief that escaped her mouth as she caught the stick was nearly involuntary with how tense she felt. She could only hope that he saw it as relief from relentless training instead of relief from how nervous she felt under his gaze.

Despite this, she felt saddened as she watched him trudge off to the opposite end of the space. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him as he began to twirl the stick that was his makeshift saber around him in what looked like a flashy dance, something that she just knew he did regularly from how natural the movement was.

Unknown to her, Anakin’s thoughts were growing rather reckless. Physically, he was always in control of himself. Not one misstep, not one mistake. He could give the galaxy a thousand reasons, if not more, to respect him. But his controlling his mind? Anyone close to him knew this was one of his shortcomings. One of his only responses was to grow stronger, to grow more powerful to make up for that failure. Another was lightsaber training. He seemed to find solace in the hypnotic spin of the stick, the very image cutting through the stillness of Coruscant’s night. His face, usually one would describe as a representative of determination, was now etched with a more lost expression.

And she was amazed, how could she not be? To do such a complicated maneuver while his mind was elsewhere was something she could never hope to replicate. But that didn’t stop the urge to take it as a challenge, to attempt to mimic his fluid motions. She attempted the intricate moves, stumbling and dropping her weapon every so often, but that didn’t stop her either. It didn’t seem like anything could.

It was then that she felt it – that prickly, warm feeling, expanding over the dip of her waist. It slowly inched its way down and over the curve of her hips.

Anakin truly hadn’t meant for his attention to slip so carelessly. But how could he deny the way that she so adorably tried to replicate his signature move? The pleasure that was the curves of her silhouette against the city lights? Had he been so incredibly naive? Of course, she could sense his intention; Obi-Wan had told him that anyone from Coruscant to Tattooine could. A growing hunger for the silly girl stumbling over herself across the courtyard.

She quickly shifted her stance so he couldn’t see the petrified look that adorned her face, pretending to be too absorbed in securing her hair with a spare ribbon to notice. She felt winded from the mere thought of him looking at her; why did that bother her so greatly? Once again, she tried to rationalize this feeling. Maybe he was just observing her technique. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe he was testing her. But that it was so distinctly Anakin, so spine-shudderingly Anakin, she felt it down to her bones. And even if he was just observing, he wouldn’t need to be looking there. The sensation was also different; it was slightly more passionate. If his focus before could be compared to a poke, this feeling was more of a gentle caress. It seemed to pulse with more and more of that passion the longer it lingered in an area for too long. So if he was testing her, what was he looking for? So maybe, she wasn’t overthinking his gaze on her chest earlier. She definitely knew she wasn’t overthinking as she felt the sultry, unwavering feeling rake over her chest. The subtle warmth that filled her cheeks earlier was now raging, slowly inching its way down her body, like she had set her own skin on fire.

“Well!” She sputtered out, her Padawan braid almost smacking her in the face with how fast she whipped her head around. “I– uh, think we should start again. Maybe sparring?” she suggested, too hurriedly for her liking. She swiped a few strands of stray hair from her forehead in a desperate attempt to look nonchalant. The feeling was too much to bear, and she feared that if it didn’t stop, her thoughts would descend to something less appropriate.

Her sudden exclamation seemed to startle Anakin, ceasing his movements. His breath hitched as his eyes refocused to meet hers. The pensive expression was wiped immediately, replaced with the friendly smile and the crinkle of his eyes that she had grown accustomed to. “Of course,” he obliged, motioning for her to come close. “Let’s get your stances down first.”

She thought that by continuing with sparring, she could distract herself from that forbidden feeling. There was nothing more relieving than whacking down the very man that made evoking a physical response from her seem so simple. However, Anakin only continued to tantalize her. Get your stances down first, he said. You’re not doing it right, he said. It almost seemed like it was an excuse to close the distance between them, and she questioned if there truly was a smirk on his face as she froze up once more.

His cold, cybernetic hand made contact with her arm, just above her elbow, raising it delicately. “Could you keep it right there for me?”

“Yeah,” she answered breathlessly, holding her arm as steady as she could, trying to ignore what it would feel like if his hands were anywhere else.

“Could you focus while you’re at it?” Anakin chastised as he placed his hands on her midsection and the small of her back, straightening her out. She could’ve sworn his tone was challenging her, teasing her.

True to her hard-headed nature, she quickly slouched over again, undoing his previous work. “Could you be nicer?”

The curve of his lips was unmistakable now, his head tilting as he stared down at her in what seemed an endearing manner. “You seem to be fond of pushing my buttons tonight,” he remarked, though without a single hint of malice in his voice. His hand roughly pushed at her lower back once more, forcing a perfect posture from her. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster to stop herself from prodding further. And what if I pushed some more? She knew she would’ve had him. It was a dangerous game to be playing, but she knew that as well.

Even though she had bit her tongue, the mischievous glint in her eyes told Anakin nearly everything. Was it his turn to be tested? He could feel himself teetering on the edge of that forbidden, yet savory feeling that he had been trying his hardest to keep in check. But how could he as he was touching her like this, angling her body exactly how he wanted it to be? He began to adjust her upper body, yet his hands lingered, fingertips gently tracing down her shoulder blades. The heat was starting to creep back into her body. Yet, it was different this time, and it was an unusual feeling. She anticipated the rush to her cheeks, but this time, it seemed to travel much farther down. Though she hated to admit it, she couldn’t help but feel like it would be nice to succumb to it as a pleasant shiver slithered down her spine. At that moment, she would’ve given anything to know what he was feeling. “Can you sense where I’m looking?” Anakin asked in a low voice. It always seemed like he could read her mind. But if he were to continue, all he would see was a frenzied, jumbled mess as she tried to recollect herself. “N-no?” she murmured truthfully, keeping her voice as level as she could. She lied, but it wasn’t hard to tell where he was looking. His gaze was like a warm fire, so intense that it seemed to envelop her whole body. Anakin laughed softly, reveling in the way that she was reacting so strongly to him. As to when this happened, he wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t one to complain either. He moved slowly to position himself behind her, then leaned in to delicately whisper in her ear. “Can I show you?” “Yes,” she said in a voice that barely escaped her lips, almost involuntarily. It wasn’t just the enigma of his movements, a mere dance of shadows that still captivated her. Nor was it just the velvety nature of his whisper, so tender yet so affirming that it seemed to electrify her nerves. Regardless, she could feel herself melting away. To her, it was as if the very air she was breathing was thickening, transforming the tingling feeling in her chest into a desperate, all-compassing ache. Her resolve was reduced to a mere candle in the wind. Despite this, she was determined to get even with him. An intense desire grew within her, a desire to make him crack and crumble, to turn his limbs into Andorian jelly, to have him begging for her the way she desperately wanted to beg for him. She would knock that arrogant, yet pretty smirk off his face. But he had rendered her so helpless under his teasing ministrations, it wasn’t fair to her. He overwhelmed her. Just when the weight of the tension between them seemed at its heaviest, she abruptly pulled away, ignoring the immediate embarrassment that chilled her bones. Avoiding what she knew would be his intense eyes, she began to mumble, her speech slightly jumbled from how frazzled she felt. “Uh- I was asked to report to my master early tomorrow morning,” she stammered, hastily smoothing out her robes. She hated how easily her voice seemed to betray her lie, so she turned and hurried away without waiting for a response. Her steps began to echo as she ran inside, ominously leaving the famed Jedi alone in the courtyard. As she disappeared into the shadows of the Temple, Anakin barely had the chance to utter a single word, watching with a troubled expression as an uncomfortable silence fell over the courtyard. Every moment that led up to then began to swirl in his mind; all the subtle contact and the teasing words began to replay in his mind at once. The thought of himself crossing the line with her gripped his very heart, aching the longer he stared after her. It had seemed like every time he allowed himself to indulge in the impulsive nature of his passion, he ended up pushing everyone he held dear away. Is that what it is he considered her to be? “Dear”? Whether that was true or not, Anakin couldn’t deny the sense of loss that had begun to gnaw at him the longer he was without her.

But who was he kidding? He would be lying to himself if he said that was a first-time occurrence. For the past few meetings, he found himself dreading the end of their secret training sessions more and more. His desperation to keep her in his presence was under the guise of excuses. “You’re not leaving until you get this down”, or “Meditate with me until you feel one with the Force”. All things that a perfect Jedi master would say, all by the Code. The teachings of the Code that had been drilled into Anakin's mind seemed to taunt him about his feelings, remembering Obi-Wan’s and Yoda’s cautioning against attachments, and yet, the Force seemed to unpredictably guide him to this very moment, yet remained elusive in offering guidance once he got there. Teaching a girl the ways of the Jedi had made him long for her; a sad smirk played on his lips as he pondered the irony of that sentiment. He sighed, the weight of the situation beginning to settle on his shoulders. His gaze fixed on the floor beneath him, inscribing lines and meaningless shapes in the dirt with his stick as he pondered over what to do. Maybe he could explain himself to her, tell her the truth. Was there still a chance to fix things? Would she feel the same way? Then, as if the Force finally answered somehow, a chilly breeze rushed past Anakin, scattering the drawings that he had been working on. He scoffed, almost having a mind to curse out at the wind. But he relented, admitting defeat silently. Perhaps it was best to leave her alone. He had gone too far.

–

She had tried her hardest to focus on her upcoming mission, but her blooming emotions seemed to overshadow all else. She craved answers, using her alone time to plan out her words, words she needed to breach the unspoken feelings between them. The alone time would include pacing around in her room, attempting to gossip with Ahsoka, or using her pillow as a stand-in for Anakin as she recited her speech. With all this effort she had put in, it only added to the sting of disappointment as she noticed Anakin’s evasiveness. A palpable tension hung in the air when their paths inevitably crossed in the hallowed hallways, and when his eyes always seemed to land anywhere but on her, her heart panged. His excuses to leave every time she entered the refectory felt infinitely worse. Of course, she knew things would have been awkward after she had left so abruptly, but she didn’t anticipate it would escalate that far. Had he taken offense to it? It was common knowledge that Anakin was extremely volatile with his emotions, and even more widely known that he lacked the discipline to control them. Fear of facing her again clashed with the guilt of abandoning their training, and it wore him down each time he saw her walk by. His chest would grow tight, his jaw would tense. It would be the easy way out to continue to keep his distance, to tell himself that he was living the Jedi way. But once the day of her mission finally arrived, he couldn’t help but think that the Jedi way was bullshit.

As the dawn of her expedition arrived, she stepped into a craft hangar of organized chaos. The hum of the ships, the mechanical voices of equipment, and the stampede of footsteps only added to the dizziness from all the nerves that she had built up inside of her. She stationed herself at the entrance to her transport ship as she awaited departure, her fingers tightly gripping the hilt of her lightsaber in an attempt to quell the nervous flutters in her stomach.

But it was no use as the doubts began to fester in her mind. What if she wasn’t quick enough with her parries? What if she couldn’t sense an enemy attack before it was too late? Her own master hadn’t even told her anything about where they were going, explaining that it was a “good learning experience to face the unknown”. She swore if she could ditch her master, she would in a heartbeat. On top of everything, the unspoken tension between her and Anakin was what seemed to distract her the most. Even if she did leave abruptly, she definitely did not deserve the silent treatment from him.

She was about to escape the distracting noise of the hangar, trudging up the ramp to her ship until a strong grip on her shoulder nearly made her stumble backward. She jerked her head around to see the idiot who had nearly ailed her.

“What the-"

Anakin stood there breathlessly, panting as a sheen of sweat decorated his skin. “Shut up. Take this,” he said as he extended a small device towards her. A personal comlink, with an extra modem attached. When he was met with a hard, confused look, he huffed in annoyance before speaking up again.

“It links to me,” he explained, gesturing to his own comlink that was securely attached to his belt. “I’ve rigged it so you can contact me as long as you’re near a Republic satellite.”

She eyed the device warily. “Why now, Master Skywalker? You’ve been gone,” she whispered, a mix of frustration and suspicion in her voice as she replied.

Anakin sighed in disappointment at his own actions, nodding once to agree with her. “Which is why I’m giving this to you,” he elaborated, his brow furrowing. He then took her hand and closed her fingers over the metal, tube-like device. “Please,” he begged as he held her hand in both of his, the tone becoming more desperate as he finally met her gaze for the first time in a while. “Just…use it. Whenever you need me, swear to me you’ll use it. I’ll help you.”

As much as she wanted to fight it, the sincerity in his words was unmistakable, and it slowly began to chip away at her defense once again. With all the questions she wanted to ask on the tip of her tongue, she nodded once, allowing Anakin to attach the commlink to her belt. It was noticeable how they both seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation, at the proximity of their bodies.

Once he had pulled back, he found himself desperately missing the warmth of her body. And with what was at stake, he couldn’t afford to miss another opportunity to act on this feeling. Wordlessly, he roughly yanked her towards him, the urgency of the action contrasting deeply with the tender touch that followed. He held her close, his body pressed tightly against hers and his embrace firm, almost as if she would disappear if his grip faltered for just a moment.

Despite initially stiffening up, she didn’t want to dissect the swirl of emotions that surrounded them as the hangar’s intercom announced the departure of her ship. She glanced up at Anakin, her eyes blown wide and afraid. “What if I-”

“No what if’s, okay?” he quickly interjected, giving her a reaffirming squeeze before pulling back to see her more clearly. She looked natural in a Jedi mission uniform, she looked pretty. He caught his eyes wandering towards her lips, refocusing shortly after.

“You’ve got this. I trust you, just trust yourself now.” Reluctantly, he gave her a gentle push up the ramp, gesturing for her to continue.

Her eyes lingered on his face anxiously before making her way up the ramp. Once she was inside, she idly stood at the ship’s opening once the ramp began to eerily close, obscuring her view of him little by little. It was only then that she realized that she had to say goodbye. She could only muster a small, shy wave as the engine hummed to life, ignoring the calls of her master to accompany her as a co-pilot from the front of the ship.

"Make it back in one piece,” Anakin called out in response, giving a reassuring smile. “May the Force be with you.”

As the ramp fully closed and the ship began to ascend, she pressed her palms against the ramp door, almost wishing she could push it back open and he would still be there. Soon enough, the atmosphere of Coruscant began to slowly fade into a symphony of stars through the ship’s windows. She stared down at the comlink attached securely to her belt. Anakin’s lifeline to her. It shed a bit of light on how he felt, but now she was determined to make it back home, so she could uncover the whole truth.

–

The mission had been a success, unfolding with an outstanding performance from the Jedi girl. She anticipated every attack, adapted to the battle and terrain, and even helped devise strategies with the commanding clone of her unit. It left her master astonished, wondering as to when she had improved so much.

However, it didn’t go without casualties. She tried to warn her master about the disturbances she felt ripple behind her, hinting at danger. The warnings fell on deaf ears. As expected, the ambush of bounty hunters emerged from behind their ranks, resulting in a few clone deaths and an injured master. Luckily, she and her Clone unit helped escort him to safety.

She was more than overjoyed to return home from a mission success, unfortunately slightly marred by the recklessness of her mentor. She took pride in the fact that she was able to achieve the feat on her own, without having to cry for help. It made her itch for another mission, the nerves have turned into an addictive thrill. Upon their return to Coruscant, her master was promptly confined to strict bed rest, in turn, leaving her with nothing to do other than train and retire to her quarters, much to her dismay. The soft embrace of her duvet was enough to keep her captive in her dormitory for a while, a definitive upgrade from the stiff cushions of their transport ship. The drone of city life outside the Temple was slowly winding down to a hush, the occasional whir of a speeder zooming by. Staring up at her sky window, she glared at the stars in frustration. It’s not like she wanted to lie down doing nothing, but there was nothing she could do to help it. Yet another reason to despise her insipid mentor.

Besides, she found a better one.

Anakin. Anakin had crossed her mind for the first time since the mission, and she was unable to suppress the heat that flooded her cheeks upon the mere thought of him. He made her feel sane in the unhinged antics that came with their duties. The heat seemed to travel elsewhere when she remembered where their relationship had gotten to. She so desperately wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything that she experienced and more, but she didn’t have a clue as to where to find him.

It was then that she remembered something very important. The comlink. Her eyes darted to her laundry basket in the corner of her dormitory. She flung the blanket off of her body, scrambling out of bed and towards her laundry basket. She was glad no one was there to witness her digging like a feral animal for her Jedi uniform that she had discarded for nightwear. Eventually, she unclasped the metal device from the belt, cradling it in her hand.

Rushing back to the edge of her bed, she sat eagerly and fidgeted with the power switch. Then, a soft hum emanated from the comlink, and a sudden wave of nervousness washed over her body. Uncertainty colored her expression as she brought the mic up to her lips, contemplating the words she wanted to say.

Once again, she couldn’t convey much. “Anakin?” she began in a hush, glancing around nervously as if she was afraid about getting caught. She held her breath, wondering if he had even heard her. Her gaze was fixed on the comlink, unblinking. Impatient and as stubborn as she was, she began to grow tired of simply sitting there and waiting. With a frustrated huff, she began to put the comlink down until a static-like crackle sounded from it. Hurriedly bringing it back in front of her again, her heartbeat accelerating with each second that passed.

“I was wondering when you would decide to say anything,” his voice rang out, a subtle tone of amusement lingering. The moment she heard his voice, the air in the room seemed to shift, filling the space with relief and exhilaration simultaneously. She didn’t even notice her wide grin and a rose-like color filling the apples of her cheeks as she eagerly listened for him. “Congrats on your mission, by the way,” he continued, shifting to a more formal note, yet his pride for her was evident in his words. “Handled it even better than…well, that’s not the point, is it?”

The small jab at her master was enough to make a giggle escape her lips, covering her mouth in an attempt to hide it. After she composed herself, she brought the comlink to her lips again. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t worry you,” she hummed as she swung her feet off the edge of her bed.

She heard a scoff from his end. “Had me a bit worried since you didn’t reach out. An ‘I’m alive” would’ve been nice,” he playfully scolded, though she could recognize that the sentiment was very much real. “Well, is that all you wanted to tell me?” She hesitated, the words choked up in her throat. Truthfully, she had wanted to tell him everything – the rush of the battling droids, the ambush from the bounty hunters. She so desperately wanted a normal conversation where he was just her mentor. It was never as simple as that. He never was just her new mentor. The only thought that came to the forefront of her mind was the persistent heat that she felt whenever he talked to her. But how could she put that into words without sounding like an idiot? Suddenly, his words from before popped into her head. “You said- uh, to use this if I needed you, right?” she said daringly, though her voice barely audible to her ears. An unbearably long second passed until his voice returned. “Of course. You’ve got the floor,” he replied kindly, though his tone was a bit wary.

Taking a deep breath with her heart pounding in her ears, she decided to go for all the marbles.

“Anakin, it’s so lonely here,” she whined breathlessly, nearly regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.

“Lonely where?” he immediately interjected, an obvious strain in the way he spoke. “In my room.” She was immediately met with a long bout of silence, and it mortified her. Then, the brief sound of static followed by his voice once again. “Hold on,” Anakin said, sounding strangely distant. The line went dead, and she felt her heart fall to the pit of her stomach. She had ruined everything hadn’t she? Of course, Anakin was too nice to straight up reject her, but she would’ve rather him do that than leave her in such a panic. As she paced her room, chewing on her nails nervously, a tidal wave of overthinking crashed over her. Had she gone too far? Had he already gotten over her while she was gone? Was she too forward? Anxiety from potentially ruining what she had with Anakin clawed at her, each passing moment with the silent comlink gripped in her hand amplifying the feeling tenfold. Minutes later, a rapid series of knocks reverberated throughout her dorm. Startled, she nearly dropped the device from her hand as her eyes darted towards the door. The knocks grew in frequency and volume the longer she took to answer. They were urgent, almost frantic.

Scurrying over to the door, she was met with the sight of the man that she was tearing herself down over moments before. Her worry-ridden thoughts were quickly replaced with ones of concern. Anakin stood in front of her in his Jedi robes, panting like a madman, skin slightly sweaty with his hair disheveled. He had to take a moment to place his hands on his knees, using himself for support he attempted to rest himself. To say she was surprised was an understatement. She had asked him to come to her, and he did, evidently as fast as he could. “Anakin, you didn’t have to do that.” Anakin struggled to catch his breath as he took a step inside and shut the door behind him, yet his eyes shined with something that told a different story from the rest of his body. “Couldn’t …couldn’t stay on the comlink,” he admitted between breaths, his eyes unabashedly landing on her lips once again. “Not when you sounded like that.” Any doubt she had about his feelings immediately dissipated. She blinked slowly at him, her eyes blown wide, unsure of what to do. Maybe it was the way that her eyes resembled a lothcat’s or the way her lashes fluttered that seemed to spur Anakin into motion. Before she could even register it, her face was being desperately cradled in his hands, the contrast of the warm, calloused skin with the cold metal sending her mind into a frenzy.

In that instant, she was dragged into a heated kiss, the passion oddly feeling tender. The movement of his arms coming up to wrap around his neck only seemed natural as she returned his kiss, the whine that had been sitting in her throat finally escaping. She felt his teeth graze against her lips, nipping at them playfully. When on earth did a Jedi Knight learn to kiss like that? Was he smiling? And why was she suddenly being hoisted up into the air?

Her legs instinctively around Anakin’s waist to prevent herself from falling, relocating and tightening her grasp atop his broad shoulders. Turning them around, he pressed her back against her front door, the very action resulting in a small “thud”. The sound should’ve concerned both of them, but neither seemed to care in the slightest. His lips gravitated to her neck, the tender skin serving as the perfect way to mask his pent-up grunts that were now leaving his throat. It rippled vibrations across her sensitive skin, eliciting little sounds from her that rang like bells in his ears. Once he had learned that each kiss to her neck brought about a different sound, each one progressively grew more sloppy, more languid, more carnal.

Though she never had been kissed in such a manner before, she knew that no one else could rival Anakin. He was patient, testing and prodding at different parts of the skin on her neck to see what she would react to the most. She was already writhing at the mere feeling of his swollen lips dragging across her skin, his teeth coming in to decorate her fragile skin with a bruise or two.

She had a mind to stop him from leaving marks, to tell him that they would be caught otherwise. However, the thought of a bruise, born out of passion, displayed on her skin for the whole world seemed appealing. The thought of people knowing that he left it there seemed to rub her in all the right ways.

Her reverie was interrupted by the feeling of being dropped gently onto the floor. She looked up at him with a frustrated look. “Why’d you stop?” “Turn around,” Anakin grunted, shrugging the useless garments that were his Jedi uniform off his body. She followed suit and heeded his word almost immediately, but to him, it wasn't fast enough. His hands, large in comparison to her body, grasped her frame and twirled her around, her backside exposed to him. He admired the view in front of him, accompanied by the sight of her hands pressed up against her own front door.

"Anakin?" she called out softly, her head turned just enough just to catch sight of him.

"Hm?" Anakin asked in an equally gentle manner, differing from the low grunts that had just escaped his lips prior. He leaned forward, hovering over her to whisper back to her. "What is it, pretty girl?"

Shuddering at the sickly sweet nickname he had donned her with, her eyes locked with his. "Won't everyone hear if we're right here?" she asked. Yet the way she asked that very question didn't seem like it concerned her very much; it much rather seemed like a courtesy, if anything.

A dry laugh left Anakin's lips, his hands moving to adjust her body to his liking, a feeling that he knew she wasn't unfamiliar with. But now, all it took was for her to bend over ever so slightly, her legs parted just enough. "They can watch if they'd like."

It was all too much to register all at once. He was on top of her, all over her, inside of her. He gripped at her even tighter in a desperate attempt to bring her even closer than they already were before he even thought to start moving. Again, his lips traveled to wherever they could across her bare skin. Her skin was slick, glazing her skin in such an appealing way that made him eager to welcome the salty fluid onto his tongue. Not too long after he eventually started moving, she cried out as he seemed to repeatedly brush against a sensitive spot, and so he upped his pace.

He was certain if anybody had been walking in the Billet's hallway at that moment, they would've heard her. Judging from the look in her pleasure-ridden, tear-filled eyes, she seemed to understand this as well, and she only grew louder from that point forward.

It didn't take too long until the harmony of their groans and whines began to stagger, Anakin unfortunately growing aware of his approaching limit. His movements faltering, his body hunched over her, his grip growing so tight that he was certain he'd leave more bruises than just her neck. But he was determined, so determined to hold out for her, to give her precisely what she needed. Tangling his hand into her hair, he yanked her head backward so it lay against his shoulder.

"Tell me what you need," he hissed, this voice barely audible over all the obscene noises that their bodies were creating, noises he knew were easily escaping through the door. When met with no response, he yanked at her hair harder, resulting in a deliciously overwhelmed yelp. "Please, pleaseplease-" Countless begs escaped her plumped lips, her body beginning to shake as her hands helplessly clawed at the cold, hard surface of the door she was pressed against. That alone was nearly enough to send him over the edge, his breath held and his chest tightening in anticipation of it.

She turned to face him again, her head pulled back enough to display his artwork of red-purple bruises surrounding her jugular. "Please, 'nakin," she begged, her eyes nearly rolling back into her head. "Keep going-"

He suddenly felt a hot, squeezing feeling around him accompanied by a cry out for his name. She was undone, and he shortly followed, retracting himself in time for their mess to spill all over the floor below them.

The intoxicating feeling that consumed their bodies shortly afterward sent them into a daze. One moment, she turned around to pull him into a wet, messy kiss, the next, their limbs were tangled with each other in the velvety embrace of her blankets. She knew that eventually, they would face repercussions for the sounds that they had subjected everyone to in the dead of night, but those repercussions seemed distant, inconsequential to the way she had begun to feel about the Chosen One.

And she was certain, from the way he stroked her hair to the slow and soft kiss that was pressed to her lips, that she wasn't alone in feeling that way.

a/n: originally posted on ao3! first ani fic on this site and more to come. likes n reblogs are appreciated and inbox is open for suggestions or prompts!

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #fem!reader #clone wars #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith #master x padawan #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #oneshot #anakin skywalker oneshot

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 8 months

Text

Messenger

Normally, Heaven and Hell avoided each other at any and all costs. But their were times when messages needed to be sent. That's where you came in.

No one else wanted to go, and you volunteered willingly. It made your God happy that you would do this for them. "I should never fear, for even if I am far away and out of reach, you are always beside me." You told them.

"I shall fondly await your return." Your God had offered in return making you smile. Passing Heavens gates and flying past earth, you decended into Hell. You had no reason to fear its residence, though they eyed you with disgust.

Something so pure did not belong in Hell. You landed carefully at the base of a large tower. God had said to seek the tower of Babyls once the tower of Babylon. The doors opened to reveal a slender demon. One who covered their face.

You smiled warmly. "My God has instructed me to deliver a message from on high. Is the king of demons willing to spare a short amount of time?" There was no need to be rude. You had nothing against demons.

A booming laugh seemed to echo across the large halls. A shadow loomed over you from behind. "Well, well, what do we have here?" You glance up to see a large demon with long dark hair and broad shoulders grin down at you.

You beamed up at him. "I am my God's messenger, oh king of demons Derkila. My God congratulates you on your achievement and looks forward to seeing what you make of your kingdom."

A large hand wraps around your waist and lifts you up. "Oh, do they?" Your smile did not waver. "Oh yes, my God is excited. They hoped you won't be as boring as the ones before you."

This emanated a loud cackle from the demon. The glee on his face spoke volumes. "Oh, I like you, little angel. Return to your master and tell him I do what I want." He let you go, and you quickly adjusted your wings to balance yourself.

"My God has also asked that if you grow bored to seek them. They are always willing to play games." The hidden meaning to those words seemed to be caught as the demon brushed back their hair in thought.

"How interesting your God is." You perked up at the acknowledgment. Quickly, you took off. Back the way you came to deliver your new message. Not realizing your fellow angels eyed you with shock.

Never had a messenger returned from hell before. Yet there you were egarly speaking to your God and giving your news. They petted your hair gently. "I am happy you have returned to me dear one."

You flashed a bright smile in return. "I am glad to have performed my task for you." From then on, you were the designated messenger between the two realms.

You skipped down the hall of the tower to the meeting room, the doors opening for you readily. The demon king you sat lazily in his chair perked up. "Look, Su-chan, our little angel has come to visit."

How you made your way over, ignoring the stares of the other 13 crowns, you smiled. Affectionately, his large hands stroked your hair. "Welcome back, messenger."

You laughed. "What a silly king you are. My God is most amused." Derkila scoffed before pulling you close. "Bah, who cares about that. Why don't you stay and play awhile!"

#demon king #Derkila #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #lord sullivan

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

��Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter Eight: Family Dinner (Pranks/Dad Jokes)

AO3

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man. In fact, his emotional capability had once been compared to that of a teaspoon. He had emotions, obviously, but he didn’t express them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to express them. But staring down at the photo album in front of him, it was almost painful having no way to express his emotions. It was the most thoughtful gift he had ever received, and it was one that he would treasure forever. He didn’t have baby pictures of his other children. Dick’s were lost at some point while he was still with Haley’s Circus. Jason’s were lost when he had to live on the street. Tim...well, there were a few pictures of Tim. But they were all highly staged school pictures. And those didn’t start until kindergarten. And Damian….Talia wasn’t ever the type to be sentimental. Which meant there were no baby pictures of him either. But Marinette...her entire life had been catalogued. From sonograms, to her first Christmas and the first competition she won. Everything was laid out in order. Bruce turns back to the start of the book, prepared to close it, when an envelope catches his eye. He wasn’t focused on it when he first opened the book. He glances at Marinette and quirks an eyebrow. She frowns.

“Oh, that. Um, it’s the letter that Bridgette wrote to you. I haven’t actually read it, Maman said she hasn’t either. Your name was on the front and apparently she felt awkward opening a letter not addressed to her even with the situation and-” She stops talking, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Sorry. But, you can read it, if you want. I thought you might want to have it.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” He says, smiling slightly. He tries not to laugh when her face lights up seeing him smile. Note, try and show emotions more around Marinette, he thinks. Sitting back on his chair, he opens the envelope and stares down at the letter he should’ve received fourteen years ago.

Dear Bruce…

---

Marinette lets out a sigh of relief as Mr. Wayne sits to read the letter. Tugging Adrien over to her brothers and plopping down on the loveseat, she smiles.

“So Marinette, I noticed the last time you were here you had a sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?” Dick asks, eyeing the lack of space between her and Adrien. Marinette resists the urge to glare at her brother. Was he seriously plotting some way to get her and Adrien away from each other right now? After Mr. Wayne had invited him? Seriously?

“Well, kinda.” She answers, pulling out her mini sketchbook from her purse. “I actually design clothes. So I draw, but it’s mostly clothes. Sometimes I’ll sketch architecture or flowers or something for inspiration but..” She trails off, tentatively passing her sketchbook to Dick. She watches, bouncing her leg as the awkward silence stretches on while Dick looks at the sketchbook with Tim and Jason glancing over his shoulders. And Cass standing behind the couch was also looking at the sketches. Trying not to feel awkward the longer the silence stretches, Marinette jumps as Tim starts choking on his coffee. He jumps towards her and she yelps, leaping off the loveseat and to the side in order to avoid him.

“What the hell Replacement?” Jason huffs. Tim ignores him, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” He says.

“Language, Master Tim. Dinner is ready.” Alfred says, popping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean it’s me?” Marinette asks, taking her sketchbook back and stuffing it back into her purse.

“You’re MDC!” Tim practically yells, waving his (not empty) coffee cup around, barely missing dumping it on her head.

“Um, yes?” She says, confused at his level of excitement.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Tim asks, turning to Dick and Jason who were trying to get him to follow them to the dining room. Key word being trying.

“Am I supposed to?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Richard Grayson! As a fellow Jagged Stone fan you cannot tell me that you don’t recognize the name of his personal designer!” Tim yells. Dick’s eyes widen in realization, turning to Marinette with a shocked smile.

“Wait, that’s you? Marinette, that’s amazing! I knew your sketches were good, but wow. That’s just- wow!” Dick says, his entire face filled with pride. Marinette laughs awkwardly, her face heating up with all the attention. It was….a lot. But also nice.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done an entire tour wardrobe yet, but I’m proud of the pieces that I have done.” She says.

“Terribly sorry, but it might be nice if we moved our conversations to the dining room.” Alfred says, a twinge of amusement clear on his face. Marinette glances over at Mr. Wayne who was still frozen, clutching the letter from her birth mother. She looks at Alfred and raises an eyebrow. He simply shakes his head and motions for her to go on. Sighing, she nods and follows her brothers (and Adrien, who was suddenly in an intense conversation with Tim about Jagged Stone) to the dining room. As they walk into the dining room, Marinette darts around Dick to snag the seat on the other side of Adrien. Tim sitting on one side of Adrien was fine. Adrien stuck between Tim and Dick? Not fine. She gives Dick a look, and he just smiles innocently before walking around and taking the seat across from Adrien. Should’ve seen that one coming. Once everyone is seated (besides Mr. Wayne, who had sent Alfred back in and instructed everyone to start without him) the conversations taper off, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

“Marinette, I have a very serious question for you.” Dick says, his smile telling her that the chances of it actually being a ‘very serious’ question are slim to none.

“Okay, sure.”

“Where do fruits go on vacation?” He asks, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Pear-is!” Marinette just blinks at him. That was almost as bad as-

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Adrien cheers, laughing so hard he has to set his fork down. Oh god. There’s two of them.

“Really?” Dick asks, his face bright. Oh dear god please no.

“Oh yeah. That joke was pun-derful.” Adrien replies with a snort. Please god. Make it stop.

“I’m glad you think so. Everyone else seems a bit pun-sive.” Dick replies. That’s it. She’d willingly give Hawkmoth her Miraculous if it meant she could leave this dinner and the awful jokes happening. She’d even listen to her Papa’s jokes for an entire hour. As long as she could leave this cursed dinner. The sudden blaring from both her phone and Adrien’s makes her jump, and her eyes widen. Okay, no. She didn’t say the thing about the Miraculous out loud, so she doesn’t actually have to give it up, right? No, it’s fine. Taking it back won’t lead to anything crazy, right?

“Uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Marinette says, jumping up, frowning at Adrien as he jumps up with her.

“Me too!” He says. Marinette frowns. Way to make it obvious, Kitty.

“I’m fine, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She insists, rushing off to the bathroom before Adrien can argue. She’d figure something out.

---

Dick raises an eyebrow at Adrien’s shocked face.

“Did you need to go to the bathroom? We have more than one bathroom.” He says, worried that maybe the kid’s shocked face wasn’t because of Marinette’s hasty departure and instead because he really needed the bathroom.

“Oh. Um. No, I’m fine. Apparently.” He mutters the last word, dropping down into his seat and staring at his plate. Dick could see the boy’s hands twitching towards his phone like he wanted to check it, but was afraid of being rude. He was about to tell him that it was okay to check his phone when a blue circle of light appeared over the table. An arm covered in red spandex with black spots sticks out of the light (portal) and grabs Adrien by the front of his shirt. Before anyone can stop the arm, Adrien is through the portal. Gone. Well shit.

“Where are Adrien and Marinette?” Bruce asks, walking into the room and frowning at the empty chairs. Well shit!

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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peach-pops · 4 years

Text

Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study.

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful.

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?”

Bloody hell.

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead.

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?”

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand.

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?”

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?”

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.”

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you.

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met.

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him.

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.”

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested.

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.”

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.”

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now.

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release.

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself.

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!”

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.”

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly.

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames.

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew.

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.”

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?”

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?”

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.”

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies.

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart.

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed.

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with.

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam.

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.”

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?”

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.”

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day.

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents.

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!”

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated.

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?”

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you.

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.”

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper.

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.”

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong.

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick.

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar.

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?”

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave.

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.”

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?”

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it.

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.”

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it.

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation.

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.”

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?”

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart.

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.”

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual.

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves.

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours.

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-”

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.”

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.”

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.”

taglist: @goopyartiste, @sugas-sweetheart, @kirislut, @estridries, @hannahalanib1, @art0saurus, @shoutamajiki, @yee-harr, @animatedarchives

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu hogwarts au #haikyuu hogwarts #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenario #nekoma x reader #nekoma hogwarts #kuroo headcanon #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro headcanon #kuroo tetsuro scenario #tetsuro kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo scenario #tetsuro kuroo headcanon

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confused-stars · 3 years

Text

Kurogiri’s Nanny Service - Part Three: Monoma

(part one) (part two)

It's a comfortable rainy afternoon, and three kids are huddled over a pile of wallets, watches and jewelry on the floorboards of Kurogiri's bar.

Keigo's small wings are puffed up in pride as Himiko admires a bracelet, rhinestones shining in the dim light when she turns it this way and that.

Tomura seems more invested in the wallets, going over the business cards and such with interest, and piling off the money and credit cards separately from the rest of the treasures.

He pauses to stuff a bill into his pocket, and Takami, who is sprawled out in a nearby booth, pries one eye open. "If you wanna have sticky fingers, you gotta be more subtle about it, brat."

How he noticed is beyond Kurogiri entirely. But it's been a point of contention how terrible Tomura really is at stealing. Or any kind of subtlety. He was never trained for that, with his sensei always telling him to just take what he wants by force, but he gets frustrated that Takami seems to catch him every time.

Keigo pouts, even as Tomura puts the money back. "C'mon, To, that's my hard earned haul! You don't even need money."

Tomura rolls his eyes. "Neither do you, beakface. Kurogiri would take care of your stuff, too, if you asked him."

Keigo's hand flies up to his nose and he makes an affronted noise.

"Not how that works, baby bunny," Takami interjects, "Villains don't wanna owe debts. Even to their friends." He gives Kurogiri a glance. " 'specially to their friends."

Kurogiri meets his gaze evenly. "Does that mean I can expect you to pay your tab today?"

Takami throws his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest joke he ever heard.

The children giggle, too.

Traitors, all of them. How is he ever going to make honest villains out of them like this?

Kurogiri decides not to complain about it, because he's the adult here and he'll act like one.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows better than to ignore it, so he glances at the text he's received. It's just coordinates. That's nothing unusual. In fact, it's more common than getting sent actual words as instructions.

"I have to go," he says, already creating a portal in the air.

The children don't even react beyond small noises of acknowledgement. They're already more than used to this, too.

It's only Takami's eyes that bore into the side of Kurogiri's head as he steps through the portal, sharp and predatory. He's been asking questions about the man in charge of Kurogiri and Tomura recently. He's suspicious.

Kurogiri is not allowed to tell him more than necessary, but he understands the concern. Takami is bringing his child here, after all.

And the concern might not be unfounded - Keigo is passionate and clever, already skilled at pickpocketing, and his quirk is incredibly useful and versatile. If he weren't considered a possible future asset, Kurogiri doubts that All for One would be allowing this to continue. He's always been strictly against Tomura socializing with other children his age, or anyone at all. And now he's allowing both Keigo and Himiko. Not to mention the fully grown, dangerous villain. Tomura has never been happier, never been more stable. There has to be some kind of plan at work here that Kurogiri can't see yet. Some kind of additional angle.

The portal vanishes behind Kurogiri; that strange tension of using his quirk, of stretching it out like a well-trained muscle, dissipating at once.

He's standing in a nondescript room that he's been to many times to pick up objects to transport, or have a meeting with All for One outside of his main base of operations. Sometimes they keep prisoners in here.

This time, though, it's empty save for All for One and a small child.

Kurogiri immediately feels part of him soften, even as his guard goes up.

The boy looks to be maybe Himiko's age, six or seven, with neatly combed, blond hair and startlingly grey eyes that look awfully familiar.

"Introduce yourself," All for One says in that gentle tone he usually reserves for Tomura alone.

The child bows politely. "Hello. I'm Monoma Neito, it's nice to meet you." His words and tone are carefully formal, but there's a slight clumsiness in the way he speaks. It's, frankly, adorable. And nothing Kurogiri is used to. None of his children have manners.

"I am called Kurogiri," he replies, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Are you made of that stuff?" Neito asks pretty much immediately once the very basic niceties are done with. He waves his arms at Kurogiri's form to indicate what he means.

It's a good thing Kurogiri is used to Himiko. And the other children's bluntness, too, to some degree.

"... for the most part," he replies, and then gives All for One a questioning look.

"Neito is my grandson," his master explains, and Kurogiri can't find it in him to be shocked. They do look similar enough. "His parents are out of town on most weekends," All for One continues, "So I offered your services."

Kurogiri wants to sigh. He's not actually a nanny. Is he? If even All for One is treating him like one, he might as well put up a sign. (Tomura hardly counts, Tomura is his boy.)

"Of course." He bows his head. Neito seems well-behaved anyway, it shouldn't be much trouble.

___

Fifteen minutes later, there's a small boy hanging off of Takami's wing by his teeth, and Kurogiri has very little recollection of how they got here.

"I hate your job," Takami laments, shaking his wing with very little gentleness in an attempt to make Neito let go.

Kurogiri reaches out to hold his wing in place, and Takami freezes.

"I... apologize. I was under the impression he was a little better behaved than this." He gently nudges Takami to sit down, his wing spread out, and Neito ends up finally letting go once his only other option is to end up sprawled on the floor.

"You can't just bite people!" Himiko chides, "Even if it'll feel nice, it won't be nice for them."

Neito breathes, then shakes himself. "Your quirk is weird!" he complains.

Kurogiri nods in sudden understanding. All for One told him about this, before he left them to their own devices.

"Neito, you should not copy someone's quirk without knowing what effects it will have on you. Or at the very least you should test it in a safe environment."

Neito crosses his arms. "This is safe."

Kurogiri sighs. "Yes, it is, but you still didn't give a warning. The adults that are taking care of you need to know when you're experimenting, so we can keep you from getting hurt," he explains.

"Or ourselves," Takami grumbles.

Neito huffs. "Fine." He doesn't apologize. Kurogiri doesn't make him. He somehow doubts All for One would approve of that - he never apologizes for anything, after all.

The wing Kurogiri is still holding onto pushes against his hand.

Kurogiri glances at Takami, curious, but the thief is very pointedly avoiding his gaze.

He always tells Keigo he's 'too trusting' when he lets the other kids touch his wings, and Kurogiri has never dared to. Much less touch Takami's. It just happened on instinct this time.

The wing pushes against Kurogiri's hand again. The upper edge of it feels strong and warmer than Kurogiri expected. The feathers here aren't particularly soft when Kurogiri runs his hand along them. Not as soft as he imagines the down feathers to be, anyway.

Not that he's going to try to find out. That would be wholly inappropriate.

"You're cold as fuck," Takami complains, but he's not at all pulling away, and Kurogiri continues, trailing his hand down lower to the longer secondaries that make up most of the actual wing.

"My apologies. It's my quirk." Must be. His quirk is highly complicated and has more layers to it than he can count. Sometimes he gets strangely upset that he's not able to give Tomura warm hugs. Not that Tomura enjoys physical contact much, anyway, but Kurogiri feels like he should be able to give him some warmth, and his body under the ever-wavering vapor is cold as a corpse's.

"Your quirk sounds like a pain in the ass," Takami murmurs, "But at least it looks cool."

Kurogiri chuckles. "I'm flattered you think so."

"You got a real face under there somewhere?" Takami cranes his head back to eye Kurogiri skeptically. "Your hands feel solid enough."

Kurogiri gives a half-shrug in answer. "There's... something underneath. But I don't know what it looks like. The mist never fades."

"Mysterious... hey, can you pull out that crooked feather over there? 's itchy as all hell."

The preening thing is another family activity that Kurogiri has avoided so much as commenting on in the past. Now, he carefully tugs at the feather that's standing out from the rest of them, until it comes loose and Takami sighs in relief.

"Yeah, fuck, that's better."

"You said fuck," says Neito, behind them, and Kurogiri nearly jumps. He hadn't thought the children were paying any attention to them right now.

"Twenty minutes to corrupt a child, you're beating your own records," he says dryly to Takami, who cackles and reaches out out ruffle Neito's hair, but the boy steps back and frowns at him.

Neito is very well-kept, and Takami is kind of... well, grimy. And scary-looking. Kurogiri doesn't blame him.

"Aye, and I'll say worse words, so you better get used to it, li'l chompers."

Neito's nose crinkles when his frown deepens.

"Don't tease the child," Kurogiri scolds, feeling not for the first time like he shouldn't have to take responsibility for Takami, the thirty year old adult.

Then again, he somehow doubts that anyone taught Takami manners during his own childhood.

"Hey, why can't I be chompers?" Himiko complains, tugging at Takami's other wing like there's nothing to it. Her hands are probably sticky with something, as usual, but Takami doesn't move away.

Maybe he's not that terrible with children.

"Ah, 'cause you wanna be. It's no fun when you like the nickname," Takami explains, picking her up and plopping her down into his lap.

"I actually really like mine!" Tomura says from atop the bar.

Takami snorts. "Once we teach you decent thievin', next point of order is makin' you not be a shit liar."

Tomura huffs, crossing his arms. "I don't need to know how to lie. Sensei never lies."

That gives Takami pause. His eyes meet Kurogiri's, and he pulls his wing away, folding both neatly against his back.

"Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't."

#nanny service au #j writes #hawks tag #progress is being made #this is so slice of life that i have plot points planned that will be exclusively happening off screen #the ss kurokami is such a small ship that it's basically a rowboat but that still technically makes me a captain

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thefallendivine · 3 years

Text

Ma’an-riss Q’iras: Bittersweet

NOTE: This is the short for the second Guardian. If you don’t want to be spoiled about the character, then you are free to skip this post.

---

An ear-splitting screech pierces the air as Tien stabs the wyvern right at the inflicted wound in its chest, bypassing its shell to tear right through its muscle straight into its heart. The wyvern’s last breath blasts her right in the face, smelling like a Dwarven coal mine: sulfuric, earthy, and comes with a burning sting that clings to the back of the throat. Even with the winged lizard’s lashing tongue and bared fangs, Tien is not at all fazed, having grown used to the sights and smells of these Draconic descendants.

Pressing one foot on the wyvern’s chest, Tien establishes footing as she twists her blade around its heart until the wyvern’s thrashing stops and it slumps lifelessly, just like all the others.

“That should be the last of them,” calls a familiar voice from behind Tien. Pulling out her curved sword before turning to face the approaching Human man. With a big grin on his face, Kimber looks around, “We hit the jackpot, didn’t we, boss?”

Tien casts her gaze all over the ruins, so does her companion, a Dragon Hunter just like her who has worked for the hunting party she leads for many years now. Someone she considers her brother.

It is the strangest feeling, having been raised to view Humans with indifference at best, Tien now considers several of them as family. Fifty years ago she would have shuddered at the mere thought of entrusting her unguarded back to an incompetent race, but she has seen past that. Most times she wonders if the Elves are the problem, rather than the Humans.

But that in itself is the beauty of being a Dragon Hunter. No matter what shape or size a person is, they are welcomed with open arms in the quest of slaying terrorizing monsters. Most of them are already disowned by their respective nations, that is why they find no more reason to begin quarrels with one another. It may be a difficult job, but not any more difficult than any other job for a warrior.

“The only problem is: how are we going to transport all these guys?”

The question has Tien looking back to Kimber. “We don’t. Not yet.” Tien turns to the others, her voice then rings deep and loud as she instructs her party, “Wrap them up with the cloth we brought. Be thorough. When you’re done, load up half of the wagons with wyverns. Bury what’s left in the sand with the drakes and the wurms. Those of you whose mind and blade are still sharp, gather around.”

As their party moves to fulfill their leader’s orders, Kimber turns to Tien. “Those weird cloth that took up half the space in our storage. Don’t tell me they’re from ‘nishil-norey’.”

Tien stifles a smile after Kimber butchered the name of the Elven city. But from the proud undercurrent of Kimber’s expression, presumably from displaying his knowledge of the overlooked origin of an uncommon product in front of an Elf, Tien lets the Human have his moment of triumph. “Yes, they are.”

Nyshlenorreian fabric are used by Dragon Hunters to preserve their kills so the value does not depreciate as they are transported through changing humidity and temperature. Elves use them for preservation of harvests, especially those reserved for offerings, and are mostly used within Elven territories. Smuggling these fabrics out of the woodlands is a difficult undertaking and always costs a fortune.

“Holy shit, boss. You’re really serious about this haul, aren’t you?”

Tien raises a brow. “When am I never serious?”

Kimber nods. “Fair point. But why would we load up only half of the wagons?”

Tien turns to the center point of the ruins: an abandoned graystone fortress, its walls still standing strong despite the thousands of years of history that shows on its surface. “Because I need to somehow make up the investment I made. By, perhaps, about ten times?”

Following Tien’s gaze, Kimber whistles. “You mean to say there’s gold inside?”

Tien shrugs. “Gold, ancient relics, unhatched eggs, they always guard something. And that something is always worth a whole lot than a weyr of freshly killed Dragonkins.”

The response Tien is expecting does not come, and she looks to Kimber who now has faraway look on his face. “So you really were serious when you said that this might be the last hunt we’ll ever have. Our kills alone are enough to drown ourselves in fine wine for the next twenty years. But if you’re right about the treasures inside, then we don’t have to do all this anymore.”

Like Kimber, Tien does not reply, having mixed emotions about it all.

Thankfully for the Elf, the Human breaks the moment. ��It’s bittersweet… but mostly sweet.”

Tien nods, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Mostly.”

Kimber smiles back before facing the other hunters who have now gathered, raising his sword as he shouts, “You hear that, fellas? One more dive into some musty ruins and we can finally pay back the boss with all the thousand year cognac she wants! No more of that filthy ale she forces down her throat to make us happy!”

The other hunters shout back their own cheer, inducing a fond shake of the head from Tien.

The raucous elation is then disturbed by a shriek echoing from inside the ruins. As the cheers come to a halt, a wyvern shoots out of the fortress’ cracked surface.

The laughter comes a moment later.

“Look at the little guy cheering with us,” Kimber says along with the jeers of the others.

Tien ignores her party in favor of watching the wyvern fly up high towards the sky. Wyverns are hostile on sight even if they are outnumbered, but the one that came out is not. And the shriek it let out is not one of fear; hunters are well aware of how a scared wyvern sounds. Tien has never heard that kind of emotion from a wyvern’s call.

How strange, she thinks to herself.

Just as Tien’s gaze settles back on the fortress, the ground they are standing on begins to shake. A clap of thunder that is usually heard from above reaches the hunters ears. It reverberates below their feet, and aside from just hearing it, they feel it as well. The tremors creep up from the earth onto their feet, quivering its way up their bodies until their balance breaks, pulling them down to the ground on their hands and knees.

Now kneeling and unable to regain stability, the hunters as one welcome the great Dragonkin that bursts out of the fortress with forced reverence.

Tien watches in both horror and awe as the fortress that withstood time is now shattered like glass to make way for what appears to be a giant wyvern— using the leading edge of its wings as a forearm, it lands on the solid ground of the desert.

Assessing the monster, Tien’s gaze moves over its golden carapace up to the crown of horns on its head. Just like any other Dragonkin, penetrating the scales would be difficult, which only leaves the underside. It will be the same as any other wyvern, except the one in front of them is ten times larger than the ones they fought in the area, which only means that it would be impossible for such a wyvern to fly. While it can still move around with leaps and bounds, it still is a wyvern on the ground. And as far as Tien’s experience goes, a grounded wyvern is a dead wyvern.

Tien nods to herself.

“Stand your ground!” She shouts as she gets back to her feet, sword placed in front of her. ”We cannot outrun a wyvern this large! So we kill it, like all the others!”

Just as Tien says the words, the “wyvern’s” wings detach from its front legs, before spreading outward in a glorious display— Tien has never seen a wyvern do such a thing. But before she can think further on it, the monster roars, and along with it, the earth quakes in perfect harmony.

Tien frowns, hearing something beyond the sonorous cry. An unrecognizable pattern of sound yet with distinct and clear succession of structured noise, one with an undertone of expression.

Tien’s eyes widen. Did it speak?

The Elf almost cannot believe the conclusion she came up with, but once more, the wyvern roars.

“Orrtid irayagnan onna...”

Tien’s breath catches. “Impossible...” she breathes out.

“Hey, boss! Are we gonna do this or not?”

To Kimber’s question, Tien can only respond with a vacant look.

Unfocused, her quiet words do not quite reach her companions, “Is this what the Dragonkin are guarding? A real Dragon…”

The golden titan roars again, louder and angrier, “Orrtid irayagnan onna!”

This time, Tien does reply. Not to the Dragon, but to her party. “Run! Run for your lives!”

Confusion spread throughout the Dragon Hunters at the sudden change of instruction. But seeing the frantic look on their leader’s face, they all follow with infected horror.

Ma’an watches as the mortal Humans, ordinary and odd, scatter across the sandy terrain, weaving their way through her dead Dragonkin servants. Anger surges from inside her, hot and pulsing like the world’s core. She takes to the skies, looking down on the mortals who dared disturb her slumber on top of murdering her servants.

She lets her wrath free, spewing out the heat that comes from her own core onto the fleeing mortals.

Once they were the masters Ma’an served, but no Human can ever make her bow down again. Setting herself down on the ground, she shouts a vicious cry: a proclamation of her awakening in the present age.

#main companions #guardians

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5thmarauderwrites · 4 years

Text

Apps, Texts & Wizardry — The Marauders x Reader | Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “Helooo💛 could you write a modern au where the reader is teaching the marauders how to use tech? Have a nice day :)“.

Pairing: The Marauders x Fem!Reader [platonic].

Word Count: 2,4K

Warnings: None, it’s basically all fun and teasing and friends being friends.

A/N: Hope you like this! I had to refrain myself from the dialogues a bit because i had lots of fun remarks and teasing moments in my head as i imagined how the teaching process would be, so it would end up being very, very long if i hand’t stopped myself. Also the title SUCKS because i literally couldn’t think about anything good.

“L/N!” James yelled your last name in the middle of the library, shaking a brand new smartphone clutched in his hand; Sirius and Peter on his trail. Remus walked a little further, an apologetic frown on his features as he looked at you.

“Potter!” Madam Pince shrieked. “Out! Now!”

“But I’ve just got here!” The boy with unruly black hair protested.

“I do not care! Screams and loud tones of voice are strictly forbidden in my library! Go on – out! Out before I hex you!” The witch brandished her feather duster at the boy as she gesticulated for him to leave.

James grimaced, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose, “I just need to talk to my friend, please! She’s right there!” He pointed to you, who watched the unfolding scene with a look of pure terror, in fear that Madam Pince would banish you from the library for good after James’ antics.

Madame Pince sent you a death glare before turning back to the Marauders with a fulminant look on her face, “out, all of you! NOW!”

“We haven’t even done anything!” Sirius shrugged with a frown, trying to defend himself.

The older witch gave them a last warning glare and, getting the message; Remus mumbled an apology and dragged the other three boys out of the room. Madam Pince waited until they were completely off the library’s limits to walk angrily to the table you were sharing with Lily, Marlene and Alice in the quieter corner of the study room.

“L/N!” She spat as she approached your table. “You know you’re one of the few students that I actually tolerate in this school, but this better not happen again because next time you’ll be kicked out with them!”

You widened your eyes in horror and nodded vigorously, afraid to make any noise and irritate the librarian even more. Madam Pince huffed satisfied at your acknowledgement of her threat before turning on her heels and leaving you with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“I don’t know how you and Remus can be friends with those twats,” Lily said in a belittled tone of voice whilst rolling her eyes.

“They’re not that bad once-“ you started to defend the Marauders but trailed off as you looked in the direction of the closed window by the side of the door and saw James and Sirius with their faces glued to the glass, waving for you to come to them.

“You were saying?” Marlene frowned disgustedly at their behaviour.

“Come on, they’re nice people, girls!” Alice chuckled, defending the boys as the sweet and kind person she was.

“They are! Thank you, Ali!” You wrapped your arm around the girl’s shoulders in a gesture of appreciation.

“Sure,” Lily teased with a frown as she studied the boys, whom were now making silly faces at your group from behind the glass window. “I’m sure if you google stupid twats their names won’t come up as soon as you hit the search button.”

Marlene high-fived Lily at her remark and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you rolled your eyes at your redhead friend, “you know you and James have a lot in common, don’t you?” You teased, getting up and grabbing your phone and laptop.

“Where are you going?” She asked amidst a blush, purposely ignoring what you had just said.

“To see what they bloody want before Madam Pince spots them and forbids me to step a foot into the library for good of course,” you shrugged with a lopsided grin and walked away from your lady friends, heading to the boys in the corridor.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I told these idiots that you were studying and they should not bother you!” Remus said as soon as he saw your moving figure approaching the door, his arms up in an apologetic gesture.

“That’s okay, Rem. I know their stupidity is uncontrollable,” you chuckled, squeezing the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed, offended, as he ran a hand through his thick dark locks.

“She’s not lying,” Remus said with a light shrug of his shoulders, pressing his lips together to contain a smile.

“What do you bloody want from me anyway to barge in the library like that?” You winged your brows, specifically scolding James.

“Sorry about that, little one. Madam Pince really needs to learn how to relax,” he frowned, recalling her unpleasant screams. “Anyway, we got ourselves brand new phones and this muggle box you call a laptop and we were wondering if you could help us out with those… things.”

You lifted a brow as you crossed your arms across your chest, “you got phones? And laptops?” You repeated his sentence with a surprised tone of voice.

“That’s what I just said, yes,” James frowned.

“I reckon you saying something like,” you started, raising your hands in the air and mimicking quotes as you tried your best to impersonate James, “’I will never trade my owl and parchments for these bloody muggle things with these annoying noises.’”

“I’ll admit I may have spoken too soon,” he shrugged with a grimace. “Blimey, it’s hard not to surrender to those things when the entire school and even the Professors are using it!”

You gazed at James with an amused look on your face.

“So, will you help us out, love?” Sirius steadied himself on you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and stared at you with puppy eyes.

“I could use the help of these things to improve my studying method and have easier access to books,” Remus said shyly, putting his hands into his pockets.

“I want to try those games the lads have been playing, they’re even talking about doing championships and starting clubs,” Peter’s eyes twinkled as he nodded excitedly.

You heaved a sigh as you looked to the pleading faces of the four Marauders. “Fine, I’ll help you idiots out.”

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You had been helping the Marauders with the muggle technology for a few days now and it wasn’t getting any easier. As wizards born and raised into wizarding families, the boys never had any sort of familiarity with technology nor muggle devices before, which hampered the task in hand considerably. Even Remus, who was unquestionably the cleverest among them, was struggling to learn how to properly use a phone.

Beginning with the smartphone was your idea, because you thought that after they mastered this complex device, learning how to use a laptop would be a piece of cake. You just didn’t imagine that it would be so bloody difficult.

“Wait, wait, and wait!” Sirius interrupted your explanation about the Face ID for the third time with a confused frown as he threw his head back heavily into the back pillow of the Gryffindor Common Room sofa. “How am I supposed to make my face unlock this thing? Will I have to hex it?”

“No, you daft dimbo!” You huffed, annoyed. “I’ll get there if you just stop interrupting me!”

“Sorry, love,” he smirked satisfied at your apparent annoyance, resting his elbows on Remus’ and James’ shoulders. “I’ll admit I have a liking to piss you off; and apparently I accomplish that even when I’m not trying to.”

“You sure do!” You smiled wryly at him, curling your legs on the seat of the stuffed armchair you were occupying, leaning yourself a little in the boys direction. “Anyway, you’ll access your phone settings right… here,” you said, showing them with your phone where to tap. “To register your face, you’ll need to hold your device between 10 and 20 inches away from you. With your face centered in the circle, you’ll move your head around until the scan is complete.”

The boys quickly followed your instructions and registered their faces, finally completing the basic configurations of their phones as they did so, allowing you to start teaching them how to use its apps and download other ones.

“There’s a camera in this? Cool!” Sirius exclaimed excitedly once he unlocked his phone screen. “What?” He added with a smile when you chuckled at his reaction.

“I’ve always thought that if you were a muggle, you’d sort of be an edgy photographer,” you answered with a lopsided grin.

“I could be one to,” James shrugged uninterested. “I’d definitely be edgy.”

“You, James? Come on!” You rolled your eyes, laughing wholeheartedly. “You’d be an annoying influencer jock.”

“A what?” He asked, utterly confused as if you were speaking in another language.

“You’d definitely be an overachiever high school athlete who were not only famous at school but also on the internet,” you winged your brows at him, resting your chin of your fist.

“You’d definitely be like that, mate!” Remus laughed, pointing his index finger at James.

“Yeah? And how would all-mighty Moony be?” James teased, crossing his arms across his chest and bending his head a little so he could playfully stare at his brown-haired friend.

“Rem would be a total hipster!” You shouted excitedly, clapping your hands. “He’d definitely be an outsider to the cultural mainstream, he’d have an online blog where he’d review books and would definitely be vocal about structural issues in the muggle society.”

“Why would he be the coolest among us?” James frowned, a little annoyed.

“Because he already is,” you shrugged, winging your brows.

“I can totally see muggle Moony being like that too,” Peter nodded vaguely from his seat on the arm of the sofa, picturing what you had just said inside his head.

“Can we focus on the tech again?” James said, swinging his phone in the air.

“Yes, we can, you pampered berk,” you answered, the ends of your lips curling up into an amused smirk as you got up of the armchair and motioned to the sofa, squeezing yourself between James and Sirius.

Slowly, you started to explain to them how to use the iMessage service and how to text someone and read the texts you receive. The boys seemed awestruck by the fact that you could get in touch with someone so easily and get an instant response back.

“Wicked! Now I can ask Lily out without putting myself in danger!” James exclaimed excitedly, the blaze that crackled in the fireplace lighting up his features. “Can’t I?”

“Well, she can always block your number, you know…” you frowned mockingly at him, earning amused laughs from Remus, Sirius and Peter.

The four of you teased James for a while before you and the boys got back to the teaching process. An hour or so later, you had already covered all the phone basic apps and they were already familiar with their functions and how to properly use them.

“Now, to the fun stuff!” You announced excitedly. “Let’s introduce you lads to the wonderful world of the trending apps.”

“Are there more?” Sirius widened his eyes as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Indeed, my dear Black!” You quirked your brows satisfied, tilting your head so you could look him in the eyes. “There are tons of apps you can download to improve your experience, apps that match your likings such as, in your case, dating apps.”

“Dating apps? Can’t you just charm the ladies through texts?” He asked confusedly.

“You sure can, but these apps are basically made for people who want to engage on… knowing someone a little bit better, if you know what I mean,” you chuckled. “With the dating apps you don’t have to ask yourself if the other person is somehow romantically interested in you, because when they swipe right and the match is made, it means the interest is mutual.”

“And how would you know all this?” He asked, lifting his head and smirking mockingly at you. “Y/N L/N, do you use dating apps?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you retorted, blushing furiously. Sirius’ smirk grew wider.

A sudden silence fell among the five of you as you and Sirius stared at each other with narrowed eyes; he holding a teasing look whilst you held a deadly one. James and Remus watched the scene with delighted expressions whilst Peter monotonously scrolled through his phone screen.

“Ahem,” Remus cleared his throat with an amused smile, dragging you and Sirius back to reality. “Are there any good apps to download books and to read them?”

You slowly tilted your head in Remus’ direction and, nodding, started to show him the apps you had on your phone for reading purposes and which ones you thought would fit his needs better. Remus avidly listened to your tips whilst downloading each and every app you had mentioned on his own phone.

The day quickly faded into night as you and the Marauders went on and on about the technologies and its functions and soon, the five of you were the only ones in the now silent Common Room, the light coming from the fireplace and the displays of your phones being the only things shining in the almost complete darkness.

“And done!” James exclaimed, getting up from the sofa and stretching himself. “TikTok is already downloaded and ready to be used! Tomorrow we’ll pull the ‘Dance Like a Hippogriff’ prank and Y/N here will film everything so we can upload the edited video on our TikTok account later.”

“Excuse you?” You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He joined his hands pleadingly. “Come on! Please?” He added at the grimace you made.

“Fine!” You rolled your eyes with a smile after a few seconds. “Now I’m going to bed before another brilliant idea pops up into that twat mind of yours."

Saying goodbye to the Marauders, you walked to the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitory and took a quick look over your shoulder. Before you climbed up the stairs, a smile formed on your lips as you saw the four boys talking excitedly and laughing whilst scrolling through their phones.

#au #modern au #imagines #the marauders #the marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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fortune-fool02 · 3 years

Text

Learn to Fly

Funny Valentine x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

A character of your choice suddenly waking up with wings, which could be bat or bird wings, and learning to fly. Meeting with the only other person with wings, the reader, to teach him.

I don’t get that many requests for him so I thought it would be fun to do this.

Please enjoy.

There had been a great many things that had occurred in his life that would seem strange or impossible. One of those things being the obtaining of his Stand. A Stand that held power unlike any other in existence, a fine example of the power he possessed and rightfully had.

Though this....this was something even Funny Valentine had not imagined possible. The dull aching in his back had pestered him for some days now, he believed it could have been his scars acting up again but he shoved it all aside and remained tall. But one morning, it had proved too much. Blades piercing deep within his shoulder blades, pushing upwards almost like something was trying to rip its way out of his back. No skin teared, no blood spilled, nothing of a sort happened as the aches grew and something emerged. Stretching outwards, a self of relief flooded him as the pain faded away.

His deep blue eyes caught the glimpse of movement out the corner of his eye, turning his head quickly, confuse flooded him, replacing the dull pain, as he gazed at the object. A pair of large, feathered wings, not unlike a bird’s, sprouted from his back where the aches had been. How on Earth was this so? Could this be a form of attack? No, it couldn’t be. None of those opposing him had been able to get remotely close. Valentine examined them closely, a sense of curiosity flickered as the wings moved slowly and gently.

“Hmm. Curious.” The feathers were soft to the touch and held a similar, if not exact, shade as his own hair. Thinking, he tried to stretch them out further, hoping to figure out how to maneuver them and control them. It was a little difficult, like learning how to control new limbs that one has never had before. They stretched and bent, folded and lowered.

Now, one good question. How to hide them? It would be foolish to go outside and be seen with them out like this. He needed to find a way to hide them. It took a few minutes of focus and pain as the wings cracked and folded themselves inwards again, returning to their place within his back. Just as painful as they were sprouting. Valentine continued his day, acting as if nothing was different but he could feel the light brush of them under his skin. An odd feeling but one he ignored as the day went by.

At one point, a guard came by and told him he was given a letter. Valentine looked it over, a few small sentences written with a careful hand.

‘I know about this morning. I can help you with them. If you can, don’t tell anyone about them.’

Below was a location and time to meet them. Past sunset at night. He was unfazed by the chance that this could be a trap, he had no need for concern with his power. He had arrangements made, saying it was a business meeting before leaving to the location. A secluded area but one that seemed to be occupied as he could see someone waiting. Decently dressed with [Hair colour] hair and [Eye colour] orbs that were almost like gems with how they sparkled.

Smiling, the woman approached him, stopping at a respectable distance. “I am pleased to see you got my letter, Mr President Valentine.” A formal, polite tone, only encouraged by her kind smile. “My name is [Name] [Surname], and, as mentioned in the letter, I know about your wings.” Valentine rose a brow at her, his eyes locked solely on her, waiting for her explanation.

“I know because I’m like you.” As she said that, a pair of feathered wings sprouted from her back, [Colour] just like her hair. Similar to how his were.

“Then tell me how such has happened. And why.” He spoke, she smiled and the wings tucked to the sides.

“Truly, I am unsure either. All I know is that those with wings can sense another close by. I had senses you when you passed in the garden this afternoon, I was working close by when you did. I doubted you knew so I sent you that letter to help you.” Taking her answer, Valentine doubted she was lying nor deceiving him in any way.

“Fine then.” She smiled at his response.

As she had promised, [Name] helped Valentine learn more about his wings and how to bring them out as well as keep them hidden. She was surprised by the size of his wings, easily showing power like that of an eagle's while her’s were more smaller, favouring speed over power. Still, wings were wings. Valentine was learning quickly, figuring how to maneuver them better like they were simply an extension of his arms.

Then they moved onto the next step: Flying.

It was far more harder than it sounded as it required concentration of movement and maintaining it, as well as keeping speed. Still, Valentine listened and did as instructed. His wings proving to be strong as the grass and loose leaves around them flew away as his wings flapped a bit, lifting his body off the ground and upwards. [Name], already in the air and close to him, smiled more.

“That’s it. You’re doing great, Mr Valentine.” She spoke, encouraging him as he rose further up. “Now, to lower back down, you slow the movement down and just,” She demonstrated as her body lowered down and dropped back to the ground. He copied her and landed as well. Despite them being so new and foreign to him, he was learning quickly.

“It seems these hold great use.” He commented as his wings tucked and folded themselves back into his back, leaving no trace of ever being there. [Name]’s followed before she politely bowed her head.

“Thank you for allowing me to aid you, Mr Valentine.” she spoke. Valentine hummed softly,

“Then again, I may require lessons still. Perhaps we should continue such meetings?” He wished to master his wings and flight as soon as possible and was willing to continue meeting with [Name] for it. She smiled and nodded,

“I would like that, Mr Valentine.”

#funny valentine #valentine #jojo bizarre adventure #funny valentine x reader #valentine x reader #funny valentine jojo #valentine jojo #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #jojo part 7 #jojo steel ball run #valentine steel ball run #steel ball run x reader #steel ball run #sbr

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enchantedhart · 2 years

Text

The Heart Of The King

King Elvin had known love exactly once in his immortal existence. The day he had met his love was painted into his mind. Nearly 600 years earlier, while on one of his monthly full moon hunts, he had been drawn to a large crystalline lake cast in moonlight. The lake was surrounded by forest and flowers, with a small waterfall across from where he stood.

King Elvin had been drawn in by the lure of the light, the song of the animals calling in the night, the fireflies twinkling in delightful conversation. He had walked as though in a trance to the mystical sight, instructing his small hunting entourage to, “stay put, men.”. They stayed begrudgingly, still at the ready, as they watched their king disappear into the mist of the lake.

The King stood and marveled at the oasis of magic he had come upon. Movement from across the lake drew his eye and he spotted a small flock of swans splashing about and playing in the waterfall. They were all of them beautiful with wings of pale silver and beaks of pale gold. The most beautiful among them, however, was the swan as black as ebony. She was the largest, the most graceful. The most lonely. She swam alone near the middle of the lake as if she was waiting for something. Or perhaps someone.

“Sire, no!”

Elvin heard the call of warning from his disobedient crew, but they were distant and easily ignored. He pushed his way through the overbrush of the shore and stepped clumsily into the water, his eyes only for the black swan in the middle of the lake.

The moon continued to rise at an alarming rate, quickly reaching its peak position in the midnight sky. The proud moon basked in the light of its own reflection, illuminating the entirety of the lake and all its denizens. The black swan swam to meet the moon, hesitating for only a moment, before she swam into the full circle of its light on the lake.

Several moments passed by as the king waited in bated silence. Then he saw small sparks of magic begin to fly from within the black swan. The sparks grew and soon the swan began to writhe and flap its wings in pain. The water beneath it splashed and rippled and mingled with the sparks of power. The swan began to change before King Elvin’s very eyes. Its wings began to elongate, its feathers began to recede. Its neck shortened, and its beak got smaller.

After several moments, a young woman stood unclothed and floating where the black swan had been. The woman was the most beautiful thing he had seen in all of his long life, and he fell in love instantly.

“Fair, Swanmaiden, please allow me the greatest honor and accompany me back to my castle.”

The swanmaiden stood in all her grace, comfortably nude, and wild. She crossed the lake, walking atop the water, to the shore. She raised King Elvin to his feet and in his gentlemanly way he gave her his riding cloak.

“Gentle king, how have you come to be in this place?”

Her voice was the sound of windchimes and bells, the sound of it made him swoon and feel as though the sun shone on his face..

“I heard your call, swanmaiden. Through the thick of the forest, I heard your call.”

“Then, gentle king, you are the one destined to free me from my curse and captor. I am a prisoner here in this lake and not just beneath swan feathers. The magic you feel in this place is the very key to the lock of my cage.”

“Who here keeps you prisoner?”

“A powerful and cruel master. The Great Sorcerer, Lord Roth Barton. He was a potential suitor for me who grew obsessed after my rejection of him. He slew the other princes, took me prisoner, and cursed me into my swan form. I only get the pleasure of my humanity on the three nights of the full moon.”

Tears fell in cool silver streams down the young woman's cheeks and King Elvin felt his heart break with her sorrow. In that moment he knew he would do anything within his power to save her. To make her his queen. He drew his king’s sword, passed down to him through his father’s fathers, dropped to one knee and vowed, “I am Elvin, Elf King of Pearl Cove, and I will save you from all who wish harm upon you. My power in this land is also great, whoever wishes to meet my challenge will be struck down with no mercy.”

The swanmaiden looked to the face of her handsome rescuer, and returned the love he gave. He was her brave knight she had longed for, her gentle king she had only met in her dreams. She responded, “I am Signett, Black Swan of the Crystal Lake, and I accept your protection.” From that moment forward, the bond of love forged between them was forever.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fantasy #horror #writerslife

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shortace · 3 years

Text

Descant Brill and the Bank Break-in

Fairies do not like the cold. Descant Brill shivered, and cursed himself for volunteering for this task. Although if he hadn’t, Opal Koboi would simply have ordered him to anyway. Or killed him. He wondered briefly if sheer terror was a sufficient substitute for the loyalty Opal demanded of him and his brother Merval. He decided it was.

On a winter night in Munich the temperature can get as low as -3 degrees centigrade. He supposed he was lucky that it was only just on zero tonight. There was a light coating of snow on the ground, which meant that he couldn’t walk - on the off chance anybody was around, footprints left by a shielded fairy would raise questions Scant would rather not have to answer. Fortunately Opal had thought to stock a secret warehouse with all manner of equipment prior to entering her cleansing coma, so tonight Scant was equipped with whisper-silent wings and a near-invisible cam-foil suit. There was no way any human would see him tonight, no matter what surveillance and security they had in place. Opal Koboi and her employees laughed in the face of bank security.

Of course, this wasn’t just any bank. This was the International Bank, renowned for having the most secure safety deposit boxes in the world. By human standards, anyway. Scant admitted to himself - and only himself - that he was a little bit apprehensive. Not scared. Just apprehensive. He glanced around nervously, half-believing that Opal could feel his tension, despite the miles of rock between them.

‘It’s a piece of cake,’ he tried to tell himself, muttering aloud. A nearby cat puffed itself up, on the defensive, at hearing the unexpected voice out of nowhere. ‘Human security. Nothing to worry about.’ The cat twitched its ears, then turned tail and ran.

He finally reached the front door of the International Bank, and hovered, shivering, for a moment to see what he was up against. A night guard sat on duty behind a desk, although his eyelids drooped with fatigue. Scant had to squint to make sure the huge keyring, including the safety deposit box master key, was on his belt. This had been a key part of the plan, and if he didn’t have the key, he would have to resort to Plan B, which he did not relish. It involved tunnel blue spiders, which turned Scant’s stomach even when it was somebody else who swallowed them.

However, as it was, the key was visible, and the tunnel blue could stay safely shut away. Glancing around to be sure nobody was watching, he briefly unshielded to use an omnitool on the locks. Of course, the guard saw him at that point, and was immediately awake and alert, striding towards the glass door with a hand on his gun.

‘Stop!’ he shouted, loud enough to be heard through the door.

Scant mimed deafness: one hand to his hear, mouthing exaggeratedly, ‘I can’t hear you.’ The omnitool beeped and the door slid silently open. Immediately Scant dropped the deaf act and looked directly into the guard’s eyes. He wore no sunglasses - being the middle of the night - and as he took a breath to shout another instruction, Scant Brill spoke, voice layered with magical mesmer: ‘You don’t need the gun,’ he crooned, ‘I’m a friend. We’re buddies. Pals. We go way back.’

The guard hesitated. ‘I don’t need the gun,’ he confirmed, ‘because we’re friends. But I still can’t let you in.’

Scant sighed, feining disappointment. ‘You can let me in,’ he said, ‘and then you can forget all about me.’

‘I can let you in,’ said the guard, apparently changing his mind. ‘And then I can forget… what am I supposed to forget?’

Scant grinned. ‘Perfect.’ He plucked the keyring from the guard’s belt, and watched as the guard blinked a few times and then went back to his post, completely ignoring the pixie standing right in the middle of the foyer.

Descant pressed the transmit button on the communicator on his throat, connecting him to Opal Koboi and his brother Merval. ‘I’m in,’ he said. ‘The guard is ignoring me, and I’ve got the key.’

‘Good,’ Opal replied. ‘Now plug in the flash drive.’

Scant tried to remember the diagrams and lessons on human computers the boss had made him examine. A USB port would be somewhere on the side of the guard’s laptop, he thought. He tried a couple of different holes, then remembered to turn the flash drive up the other way. Finally it slotted in and Opal’s program popped up on the screen. Run program, he clicked. Under his breath he sang three verses of the old Riverbend classic, Between You and a Dwarf, I’d Choose a Stinkworm Every Time, to give the virus time to infiltrate the security system. As he murmured the closing line, every creature has its purpose, and yours is to make stinkworms look good, the computer beeped and the monitors above blinked. On-screen, Scant was nowhere to be seen. The video was showing a loop recorded earlier in the night - same sleepy guard, same light snow, same everything - but no Descant Brill. Furthermore, every clock on every computer and monitor was now showing 10.34am. Business hours. The safety deposit boxes couldn’t be accessed by anybody outside of business hours. Now, they’d open like a flower. A very utilitarian flower, full of cash and stolen paintings.

One stolen painting in particular.

Once in the safety deposit box room, Scant hesitated, and swore: ‘D’arvit.’ He’d forgotten to check the computer to find out which box was Sparrow and Crane’s. Human computers confused him, with their strange letters inscribed on oddly-ordered buttons, and a mouse that didn’t even squeak. He’d been so relieved to get the flash drive in and the virus working correctly that he’d forgotten the other computer-related task.

Not to worry. He’d just open all of them. There was an emergency override button next to the master key hole for just that purpose.

He inserted the key, turned it, and smacked the button.

Immediately the small room was filled with the sounds of alarms and klaxons, as the individual security from each box’s owner was activated. Scant nearly screamed at the sudden cacophony.

‘What did you do?’ Opal shrieked into the communicator. ‘What is that? Descant Brill, what did you do?’

Scant stammered for a moment before recovering himself. ‘Not to worry, Miss Koboi,’ he said, despite being, in fact, very worried.

Three blocks from the bank, a light was flashing in a police station. The unfortunate constable on watch duty didn’t see it immediately, as she was reading a particularly good Artemis Fowl book. Reading was technically prohibited on the job, but who’d know? The only other person on duty was the guy in the canteen who made fantastic chips and horrific coffee.

‘Shut it off!’ Opal commanded, forgetting for the moment that Scant had no idea how to do so. Circuits had been broken by the opening safety deposit boxes; simply closing them again would not re-wire each alarm. However they were, gradually, one by one, going silent. None of them had been intended to last long; the aim was to cause terror in would-be thieves and attract attention from negligent bank guards.

‘It’s about twenty different alarms,’ Scant told her. ‘I think it’s just to scare thieves. I don’t think it does anything.’

‘I don’t pay you to think!’ Opal screeched.

Scant forebore to point out that he’d specifically said that he didn’t think. ‘No, Miss Koboi. Anyway, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll just boobytrap the painting, these will all shut off soon, and I’ll be gone.’

Unbeknownst to Opal and the Brills, one of the boxes had been wired to do more than just make noise. It was this which had set the light flashing at the police station.

Hands shaking slightly, and distracted by the noise, Scant finally located Herve’s painting in its tube, and carefully injected the bio-bomb’s tracking device in through the rubber seal. It was virtually microscopic, and left no visible external trace. ‘All done, Miss Koboi,’ he reported. ‘I’m out of here.’ He slammed the boxes closed hurriedly, just as the last klaxon went silent.

At the police station, the light still flashed. Finally, the officer glanced up from her book and saw it. She frowned slightly, and tapped it. It still flashed. International Bank patrons were notorious for being paranoid, and false alarms were fairly frequent, but still, better follow procedure. She grabbed her radio and asked a nearby unit to do a drive-by.

Descant Brill was already out the front door, shielded and flying, by the time it arrived. All they would find was a dopey guard and nothing whatsoever missing from the bank. Just another false alarm from another paranoid billionaire. Scant heaved a sigh of relief, and headed back for the chutes.

#artemis fowl #fanfic #writing #descant brill #brill brothers #opal koboi

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 38]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Not sure how long I’ll go. Maybe be an hour may be six. We’ll have to see!

Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

“It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,” Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

“You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

“If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

26422

After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

“I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

“We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

“Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well,” Patton said, sounding pleased. “Now it’s time for the best part! Assuming you still have room.” Virgil nodded immediately and Patton handed him a plate he’d covered with chunks of cookies he’d torn off. He ate every single one of those and then went through the rest of the deserts. Everything was fantastic and he’d like to investigate a few of the cakes once more, but…

He pointed insistently at the fettuccine alfredo.

Logan shook his head but handed it over. “How many stomachs do you have?”

Virgil did not care to respond, choosing instead to shove his mouth full of pasta.

When he was done with that, he laid back to relax and digest the food, feeling very content. Logan and Patton had also eaten a bit of the different dishes and were finishing up themselves.

“You good there?” Patton asked after a moment of Virgil just laying with his eyes closed.

Virgil nodded.

“Did you like your surprise?”

“Uh huh.”

“It seems he will not be doing any of the other planned activities for a little while at least,” Logan said. “So now might be a good time for you two to read,” he suggested. “I’ll get the rest of the food stored in case we want something more later.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed. Virgil didn’t open his eyes, but felt Patton settle next to him. Virgil rolled slightly, so his head rested against the side of Patton’s leg. A hand touched softly down on the top of Virgil’s head and Virgil heard a page flip. “So, let’s see. I’m not sure when exactly you fell asleep last time, but how about we start at the Troll Bridge?”

Virgil hummed his ascent.

“Okay,” Patton agreed as he started to read. “‘Melly stepped onto the bridge backwards while sticking her tongue out at Al, but Lydia’s eyes widened as a large looming figure stepped up behind her….’” Virgil listened happily to him read about the four children. He liked this book. He hoped they managed to finish reading it before Virgil had to go.

Chapter 18

They made it all the way to the big blowout between Al and Melly where Melly got mad and left the group to their fate in the magical garden by the time Virgil awakened completely from his food coma (he’d never actually fallen asleep, or at least he always responded when Patton asked) and squirmed around for a bit before sitting up.

Logan hadn’t been particularly interested in the story he’d heard many times before and was reading a book of his own on Patton’s other side, but he put a bookmark in his book when Virgil sat.

“Want to take a break from reading?” Patton asked. “We can do a bit more later, but we have more than just food and books planned for tonight.

“Okay,” Virgil agreed easily.

“Great!” Patton said clapping his hands. “We’re going to introduce you to the most fun sleepover party event ever!”

Virgil tilted his head.

“Dress up!” Patton said. “Also make-overs. We’ll do you first and then we’ll help you learn how to help pick out other people’s outfits and make-up. If you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug.

“Yay!” Patton hopped to his feet. “You stay here. Lo and I will get everything ready.”

He pulled Logan to his feet and over to the chair that was the perfect height for doing make-up.

They set up what they’d need for make-up and then Patton instructed Logan to grab the clothes of his they usually used for this sort of thing out the closet that Virgil wasn’t set up in while he grabbed the pieces he himself had brought upstairs and strew them over the bed so they could see anything.

Smiling happily, Patton looked over at Virgil who had stood up in the giant pile of pillows and blankets to watch him with intense eyes. He looked like he was memorizing every action Patton took as though expecting a test at the end. He was so adorable. A rush of affection and a touch of mischief hit him suddenly.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil looked over at him. “Can I tackle hug you into that pile of pillows?”

“Tackle hug?” he asked.

“I run over and hug you so hard that we fall into the blankets. I do it to Logan all the time without warning, but I didn’t want to confuse you.”

Virgil considered the offer for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he finally decided.

“Great!” Patton did a little hop before launching himself across the room. He slammed into Virgil, who apparently had very good balanced because they didn’t immediately fall backwards, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to let Patton slam him into the pillows, and so he fell back on his own power.

Patton giggled when they hit the ground and drew back to look at his face. “I got you!” He leant forward to kiss him on the nose. “Oh wait! I should let you fight back.” He propped himself up on one arm and held out the other hand. “Pinkie promise not to hurt anyone if I let you use the 3rd setting again?”

“Pinkie promise,” he agreed with a grin, linking their pinkies.

“Great!” Without hesitation, Patton did the hand motion to allow the restraints to be in the third setting.

Patton was on his back almost instantly, but he didn’t even have a chance to think about worrying before Virgil pressed a kiss to his nose in a mirror of what Patton had done a moment before. “I got you,” he said proudly.

“So, you do,” Patton agreed with a laugh. He reached up on of his hands to card it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil leaned into the touch and then practically melted on top of him. “Virgil,” Patton laughed. “It isn’t nap time.”

He grumbled something unintelligible into Patton’s neck making Patton giggle more.

“Sweetie, please.”

Thankfully Logan saved him from the unrelenting cuddling by poking Virgil in the side. “I have finished preparing the stations for the makeover and dress up. You need to get up now.”

Virgil made a noise that sounded like a growl, but he did roll off of Patton.

Patton hopped to his feet and helped Virgil up before pulling him over to the piles of clothes. “We pick the outfit first, but you don’t put it on. Then, we do your make-up and hair based on it. Then, we get you dressed and do touch ups. Okay? Pick anything you want.”

Virgil looked over the options, eyes going a bit wide. “It…” he said. “It all looks really fancy and expensive. Are you sure you want me to touch any of it?”

“We wouldn’t be offering anything we didn’t want you to touch,” Logan said gently. “In fact, I insist you touch all of it. Beyond just appearance, making sure the texture of the fabric is agreeable is a large part of this activity.”

Patton picked up one of the pieces of fabric he knew was very soft and offered it to him. He touched it with careful fingers, his eyes lighting up at the feel of it. They had to continue nudging him into feeling the different fabrics, and he hesitated when they asked him to pick his favorite at the end, but eventually he shyly pointed at a dark purple dress.

Patton clapped. “Great! Ooo, I already have some ideas for make-up that will go with that.”

Virgil let Patton pull him over to the chair they’d set up and settled down on it.

29009

Patton hummed. “I think silver and purple make-up mostly?” he said.

Logan nodded and they grabbed a few things from the make-up kit. Logan let Patton do most of the make-up as he tended to be better at the more creative parts, but Logan was the one who gave him the fancy winged eye liner with purple sparkles because he was really good at them.

“You look fantastic!” Patton squealed when they were done. He held up a hand mirror for Virgil who studied himself in it for a long few moments. “Do you like it?”

“It’s really nice,” Virgil confirmed. Patton smiled and hugged him.

“Next hair. We have a lot of accessories. I’ll let you pick from the purple ones.”

He and Logan sorted through the jewelry box full of different hair accessories for the royal family and ended up finding three purple ones. Patton hesitated a bit over one of them, but Logan picked it up and set it in front of Virgil for him.

“Your choice from these three,” he said.

One was a purple feather with little hooks to braid into hair, one was a smattering of purple and silver stars that would weave through the back of someone’s hair, and the last was a string of silver leaves with purple tips that would wrap up the back of a person’s head from a bun.

Virgil thought for a moment and then pointed to the one made of leaves.

Patton glanced at Logan who took the hairpiece. “I’ll do your hair right for that one,” he said. “I know how it fits.”

He grabbed the brush and carefully ran it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seemed to like the attention, leaning into the touch, and a smile flickered over Logan’s face. Logan started gathering the hair together to make the low bun that would be the base of hair arrangement. Patton honestly did not expect him to speak, but then he did as he started to secure the piece with pins.

“This was my Pa’s favorite hairpiece,” Logan said. “Not the father you came here for, but my other one. He died when I was six.”

Virgil went shock still. “I don’t have to...”

“I wouldn’t have let it be offered if I wasn’t okay with you using it,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t move as he finished securing the hairpiece. “There,” Logan said when he was done. He picked up the hand mirror and positioned it so Virgil could see. “It suits you.”

“I…” Virgil said. His eyes were wide, and he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” Logan said. “I believe there are some other pieces of jewelry that would match this very well in the other room. I…” he turned away. “If you will excuse me.”

He turned away and exited through his bedroom door into the hallway. Patton watched him go and then turned to Virgil. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, okay?” Patton asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong, there’s just a lot of emotions.”

“I can take it out…” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. “I think he likes that you’re wearing it.” Virgil bit his lip. “He never really moved on,” Patton felt inclined to say. “This is… a lot for him, but I think it’s good too.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, being careful not to mess up his artfully done hair. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to follow Logan out of the room.

Chapter 19

Thomas sighed in relief as the door to the royal wing finally came into sight. He was exhausted from his journey to Lamir for many reasons. Beyond just the physically taxing journey, he’d also had to deal with the emotions of loosing someone he had thought of as a friend while also trying to help her young daughter who had just had the crown thrust upon her.

Now he just wanted to see his own child and curl up into bed. He smiled at Owen and Kalani as he approached. “Is Logan here?” he asked.

Owen nodded. “The prince and his royal advisor are having a slumber party.”

Thomas smiled. “Of course, they are,” he said.

He said goodnight to the two guard as they’d be getting off duty soon even if he did manage to drag himself out of his room again tonight and walked past them into the hall.

He walked past the room where they kept the jewels, though was unsurprised to see that the room was unlatched as Patton loved playing around with the different jewelry and had probably left it open when he grabbed them. He was however surprised when his son’s room’s door was thrown open, as Logan usually couldn’t stand for the thing to be open with or without him in it.

Thomas didn’t think much of it however, and simply walked over to look inside. He was surprised when he didn’t see his son or Patton and instead saw that the only person in the room was a young boy that Thomas did not recognize. He was seated in one of Logan’s chairs and had his head tilted looking at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be trying to get a look at the ornament on the back of his head, and Thomas felt his heart seize a little bit when he recognized the hairpin.

He hadn’t recovered from that gut punch when the boy’s eyes drifted and met his in the mirror. There were a couple of long seconds where the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“Hello?” Thomas finally managed to get out.

Panic. There was suddenly horribly intense panic in the child’s eyes, the likes of which Thomas had never seen before. Thomas could only blink dumbly as he hopped to his feet like his seat was suddenly made of hot coals and then threw himself across the room to the opposite side from Thomas.

He looked around himself, back to the wall and considered Thomas with wildly spooked eyes. Clearly, he realized that he was pinned in Logan’s room by Thomas being in the door.

The boy dropped suddenly and disappeared under Logan’s bed.

“Uh,” Thomas said, confused and shocked and still a bit in pain from seeing that piece of jewelry in use. He crossed slowly over to the bed and bent down to look under it, moving the bed skirt slightly to the side. He saw a small shaking blob curled up into itself under the bed. “Um, hi,” he said softly.

The blob did not respond except to continue shaking.

Thomas frowned and settled himself onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Had he been here stealing things? Thomas had to wonder as he wasn’t sure why someone here for legitimate reasons would be acting so terrified of being caught. Though, that posed the question of how he’d gotten past the guards, and why Logan hadn’t noticed him. “I’m not mad,” Thomas said. “You’re fine.”

The boy looked up briefly from his knees looking terrified. Thomas tried to smile at him gently, but that just made him hunch into himself more, his breathes coming faster. That wasn’t good.

“No, shh,” Thomas said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He did not seem to believe him, and Thomas winced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here but trying to talk him down himself didn’t seem to be working.

Luckily, a familiar voice spoke from behind him then. “Dad?” Logan asked.

Thomas looked back at him. Both Logan and Patton were standing at the door, a couple of pieces of jewelry in their hands. They seemed very surprised to see him.

“You… seem to have a guest,” Thomas informed them.

“I…” Logan said, beginning to edge into the room like he was expecting something to blow up at any moment. “Yes.” He got to Thomas and squeezed himself between him and the bed, putting a physical barrier between Thomas and the boy. Confused, Thomas took a couple of steps away without challenge. “That,” Logan glanced behind him. Patton had moved to the opposite side of the bed from Logan and Thomas and had gotten to his knees to look under it. “That is Virgil.”

Thomas blinked at him. “Virgil?” he asked.

“He’s… new to the castle,” Logan explained. Patton started speaking softly the boy, but Thomas could not make anything he said out. “Patton and I… invited him to a sleepover.”

“The guards didn’t mention anything,” Thomas said, sure that they would have warned him if there was a stranger in the royal wing.

“Uh, well, Virgil is… shy and we didn’t think you’d be back for another week. So, we snuck him past them.”

“Shy?” Thomas asked doubtfully. That was a lot more than shy.

“Particularly of adults,” Logan said.

Thomas took a moment to let that sink in. “Oh.” He was… scared of adults. Thomas could imagine many reasons why that might be the case and none of them set well. “I see.”

“Hey, no, sweetie, stop that,” Patton said, sounding distressed. Patton had managed to draw Virgil out from underneath the bed, though they were both still mostly hidden behind it and Thomas had no question in his mind that if he went to step towards them, Virgil would be back underneath it in a moment. Currently the boy seemed to be clawing at his own head. “No, baby shh,” Patton said, trying to stop him from tearing the pinned in hairpiece out, Thomas realized. “I’ll get it out,” Patton promised him. “Just calm down and let me do it.” He sounded close to tears, and Thomas couldn’t particularly blame him with the way the boy was acting. “You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

He must know, Thomas realized. If Logan had known he was here, then he must have allowed him to use that hairpiece. He’d probably even told Virgil that it belonged to his dead father. Now he was probably terrified that Thomas would be mad at him for touching it, especially when he’d come in to find Virgil alone without Logan to explain.

Patton managed to get all the pins undone and placed the piece delicately on the bed before wrapping himself protectively around the boy and hushing him.

Logan was looking back at them as well. He looked between the puddle of upset on the floor and Thomas. “Could…” he said. “Could I maybe come and see you in a few minutes, Dad?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Of course, I’ll go wait in my room. Take as much time as you need.”

He was careful to move slowly as he stepped towards the door, so the poor thing didn’t notice him move and mistake it for him approaching. He closed Logan’s bedroom door softly behind him feeling even more drained than he’d been before as well as anxious and a bit sickened. He went to his own bedroom to wait for Logan.

Chapter 20

Logan let out a slow breath as his father closed the door behind him. That could have been very, very bad. He turned his attention to Virgil and Patton. Patton had curled himself around Virgil as much as physically possible and had tucked the boy’s head under his chin.

Logan slowly rounded the bed and knelt in front of them. “It’s alright,” Logan said, cautiously moving to put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil didn’t pull away. “I asked him to leave. It’s alright.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly too look at him. Logan rubbed a circle into his back as he slowly got control of his breath.

Logan smiled softly at him and reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle hand. “You… didn’t hurt him. You didn’t even try to hurt him.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Why not?” Logan asked curiously. “It was a perfect opportunity.”

“Promised Patton,” Virgil mumbled, and the idea that perhaps the thing that had saved his father’s life was a pinky promise just about gave Logan a migraine, but then Virgil ducked his head. “And it would make you sad.”

“I see,” Logan said, heart in his throat.

Virgil kept looking towards the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears again. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

He was shaking and barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. Logan knew of course that no one would hurt him here if he turned him in to his father and the guards, but he also knew that Virgil would be terrified if he did so. He was already terrified. Logan didn’t want to know what he thought the fate Logan would be condemning him to.

“No,” Logan said before he could even truly think it through. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked.

“Well, there wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” Logan asked. “The reason we planned to turn you when father got back in is because you posed a danger to him, but you have just demonstrated that is no longer an issue.”

“Really?” Virgil asked, sniffling a bit and Logan saw Patton’s arms tighten even more around him.

“We will have to figure out a better cover for you than just that you’re new to the castle, but I believe it will work fine. No one besides the two of us would ever guess your origin anyway.”

“S-so I can stay?” Virgil asked, “and you won’t throw me into prison or execute me?”

“I promise you were never going to be executed Virgil,” Logan said. “Even if we turned you in, but yes you can stay with us. We’ll figure out a backstory for you that doesn’t involve assassinations and you’ll have to keep up the lie, but I doubt anyone will question it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Virgil said, chocked up. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go.”

“Well, you’re our friend now so there will be no going anywhere,” Patton said kissing him on the cheek. Virgil relaxed back into his hold, pleased with the affection.

Logan smiled at them both. “Can I see your wrists, Virgil?”

Virgil blinked but offered them and Logan tapped the restraints doing a quick incantation. They popped off after a moment.

“You’re letting me go?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Logan said. “We’re not just going to keep you prisoner for no reason.”

“That’s…” Virgil said, eyes watering as he clearly was trying not to cry. “You’re the best people I’ve ever met.”

“I wish that was not so clearly the case,” Logan replied. He slowly reach up and set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with my father. Patton will stay with you.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, seeming a bit hesitant.

Logan smiled softly and leaned forward to gently touch their foreheads together. “I will be right back,” he assured. “We will finish our slumber party, though perhaps we will table the rest of the dress up activity for another night.”

He stood then, leaving Virgil in Patton’s capable hands to exit his own bedroom and cross the hallway to his father’s. He took a brief moment to compose himself before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” his father called.

Logan opened the door to see his father sitting on one of the armchairs in his room. Despite the almost disaster that had taken place a few minutes ago, Logan found himself smiling at the man. It was nice to have him home.

“Sorry about that,” Father said.

“It was more my fault than yours. If I knew there was a risk of you coming home today, I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” Logan answered. “Patton is with him and will certainly smooth out any lingering distress.”

“Good,” his dad said. “That’s good.” There was a pause and then he gestured at the seat beside his.

Logan settled himself down on it. “How was your trip?” he asked. “You’re back a week early.”

“Yes,” Father said. “The trip went better and worse than anticipated.

“How so?” asked Logan curiously.

“Well,” Dad said. “The purpose of the trip was to convince the new queen of Lamir, Cecil not to ally with Mocnejsi, but by the time I’d arrived there wasn’t really a risk of that.”

“Why not?”

“After investigation, it turned out that Cecil’s mother had been poisoned by an assassin from Mocnejsi.”

“Oh,” Logan said, mind already racing.

“They figured out that one of the young women who had been hired on in the kitchen for the winter had done it, and had learned her origin when they questioned her,” Dad informed him. “Considering Cecil was immediately approached for an alliance with Mocnejsi, their aim was likely to manipulate her going forward because of how young she is. Luckily, Cecil is a smart girl and has the help of her mother’s advisor as well as her own. By the time I got there, my only real role was to extend my condolences and reaffirm out alliance. I would have stayed longer, but the possibility that Mocnejsi may think to attack us in a similar way hastened me home.”

“That…” Logan said. “That is wise. I assume you are going to institute more security.”

“I am, yes,” Dad replied. “I would like your input on plans in the coming day.”

“Of course,” Logan agreed.

Dad smiled at him, “But for now,” he said, “I think it’s time you get back to your slumber party and I get to finally go to sleep.”

Logan nodded and got to his feet. He leaned over to hug his father perhaps a bit longer and harder than was strictly necessary, but Dad did not seem to mind at all. “Goodnight,” Logan said.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter 21

Virgil woke with something soft but kind of stringy in his face. That was weird. He didn’t know what in the closet would feel like that. In fact, as he woke more he noticed more things that he couldn’t sus out the origin of, particularly the warmth curled up against his side. Curious, he blinked open his eyes. Oh, right. Patton.

The soft stuff in his face was Patton’s hair and the warmth next to Virgil was the rest of the boy’s body. Patton had all but refused to let Virgil go last night after Logan had taken off the restraints and Virgil hadn’t minded the attention. They must have fallen asleep together in the piles of pillows and blankets on the floor.

Virgil brushed his hair gently away, internally (for fear of disturbing him) shaking his head at him. He’d fallen asleep hallway on top of an assassin. He had no self-preservation instincts. He looked at his wrists. It seemed no one had any self-preservation instincts. This of course, included himself as instead of running off when free in case they decided to turn him in after all, he had fallen asleep on the floor with Patton too.

He looked to the side and saw Logan was already awake, reading on one of his chairs. He seemed to sense Virgil’s eyes on him because he looked up after a moment.

“You can get up if you like,” Logan said. “He is a heavy sleeper and won’t wake up if you squirm out of his grip.”

Virgil frowned, unsure if he wanted to risk it.

“I have breakfast ready for you.”

Okay, Virgil was going to risk it.

He carefully squirmed out of Patton’s grip, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead in apology for leaving him before getting to his feet.

Logan handed him a plate of eggs and toast when he walked over and gestured to the chair next to him. Virgil sat there to eat while Logan continued to read.

Virgil ate his food quickly, and then glanced over at Logan once he was done. Virgil was honestly at a bit of a loss. Usually, they came and got him out of the closet only once they were ready to do something, but Patton was still sound asleep on the floor and Logan looked engrossed in his book.

Virgil fidgeted slightly, unsure what he should be doing or even if he should be doing anything. Considering Logan hadn’t given him any instructions, he should probably not do anything. He didn’t want to screw up the first day of… whatever this was now.

Logan glanced over at him after a few minutes. “Don’t forget about the potion,” he reminded.

Virgil nodded and stood, walking over to the closet since it would still be in there from the previous morning. It was about half gone now and it had gotten to the point where Virgil didn’t feel any immediate affects from it anymore other than some warmth. It basically just felt like drinking tea.

He said as much to Logan when he walked back over to him.

“That’s good,” Logan said, “it means it has been working. It has healed any damage it can from malnutrition. Any internal organs that were damaged should be mostly healed. You may even notice your eyesight getting slightly better. Your immune system should also be boosted. You will likely also find it is easier to gain muscle and while you likely will never be as tall as you could have been, you will likely still grow a few inches during your next growth spirt.”

Virgil studied his hands where they were sitting on his thigh now as though he could see the changes that allegedly had already taken place in his body. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Logan replied, eyes already back on his book like it was some normal thing and not a huge kindness he’d bestowed on Virgil before even really knowing him. As though Virgil didn’t just owe him more than just his life going forward.

They sat in silence then for a few more minutes, before the was a soft sigh from the floor and Patton started to wake. He sat up and looked around. His eyes landed on both Virgil and Logan sitting together and he seemed to light up.

“Good morning!” he chirped.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan said as Patton popped to his feet, “I have breakfast for you.”

“Thank you Lo,” Patton said, throwing his arms around Logan’s neck, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Virgil presumed from the lack of surprise on Logan’s face that this was normal for morning Patton, not that the fact surprised him considering how night Patton acted.

He still managed to be somewhat surprised by the fact that Patton turned to hug Virgil a second later. Patton’s lips were pressed briefly to Virgil’s head and then he turned to grab the plate Logan had saved for him.

“So, what are we doing today?” Patton asked.

“I was thinking Virgil and I could continue our reading lessons if he is not opposed,” Logan said. Virgil nodded, happy with that prospect. “Other than that, I have no plans. I have already spoken with my father before the two of you woke. He is going to spend most of his day catching up on things he missed and said I could take the rest of the day off royal duties.”

“A whole day to relax then!” Patton said, happily chewing on his toast. “Reading sounds fun, but we should do something more active too.”

Logan hummed. “We can show Virgil the courtyard after the reading lessons,” he said.

It took a moment for it to register, but then Virgil froze. “Wait,” he said. “We’re going outside?”

Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes.”

“So, we’re leaving your room?”

“Are you alright with that?” Logan asked cautiously.

Virgil nodded quickly.

“Oh,” Patton said at his enthusiasm. “I guess you have been cooped up a while, haven’t you?” He smiled sadly and turned to Logan. “Maybe we can do reading lessons in the garden.”

“That would be satisfactory.”

“Great!” Patton said. He looked over at Virgil. “If we’re going out, we should probably put your hair up and get you in some clean clothes.”

Logan nodded. “You finish eating, and I will help Virgil find something to wear.”

Logan found him an outfit, though it was a bit baggy on Virgil and the hem of the shirt went halfway to his knees. When Patton finished breakfast, he sat Virgil down and carefully worked a brush through his hair.

“Can I braid it?” Patton asked.

Virgil hummed his consent. Having his hair brushed and done up by another person was a lot more enjoyable than he’d anticipated. He’d liked it when Logan did it the night before, though he had to very firmly push away thoughts of where that led.

“Okay!” Patton said after a few moments. “You look good. Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded and they both led him out into the hall. He paused before they got to the door. “What about the guards?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’ve already given them the same story as I did Dad,” Logan replied. “They know you’re here.”

Virgil still hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Patton promised. “Here, hold my hand?”

Virgil took the offered hand immediately, and Logan stepped in front of them both. Virgil felt himself relax a bit knowing the prince was between him and the guards.

They led him to the door.

Logan greeted both of the guards at the door, and they said good morning back. Both of them glanced at Virgil curiously for a moment making him shrink into himself, but they quickly averted their gazes.

Patton pulled him past them without incident and soon they were in the small dining hall Virgil had passed through his first night here. He remembered how he’d snuck around at the edges of the room in the shadows with the aim to kill the king, but now he was being pulled through the middle with the prince having just wandered past the royal guards in broad daylight like it was nothing.

It was so strange, and Virgil still couldn’t totally believe this was happening. The retraced his exact steps back down the spiral stairs near the kitchen and out of the door he and the nice gardener had came through. He could even see the shed he’d been hiding in from here. With a blink, he remembered they were going to the garden, and he wondered if he’d see the man again.

For now, he just looked around them as Logan and Patton led him past the garden shed towards an area with many trees. Orange and yellow leaves were starting to fall from many of the trees.

They made a satisfying crunching sound under his feet as he was led to a tree. He had seen the group of trees when he’d first arrived here and had even thought about hiding amongst them instead of in the shed, but they’d seemed scary in the dark. They were pretty in the daylight, however, and Virgil found himself tilting his head to watch the branches sway in the slight wind.

Logan sat down under it and pulled out a book and some writing materials from the bag he’d brought. Virgil settled down next to him so they could both look at the book at the same time and Patton flopped down on the other side, immediately setting to work tying fancy knots in the yarn he’d brought with him. Patton shuffled slightly to the side so they bumped shoulders as Logan opened the book and started Virgil’s reading lesson.

Chapter 22

Patton bit his lip to keep from laughing or awing. “Do you like the flower, Virgil?” he asked.

Virgil glanced up at him briefly and then his eyes returned to the flower he’d found. “It’s nice,” he said.

They’d finished the reading lessons and let Virgil explore the garden a bit. He’d found a dark purple and yellow flower (a pansy, Patton thought) and seemed to be endlessly fascinated by it. He’d been staring at it for minutes now, almost as though he expected it to do something. Patton did not quite understand his interest, but he was still adorable.

Logan sat next to him and the flower, smiling at him softly. “I imagine you’ll enjoy the garden in the spring,” Logan said. “There are many more flowers then. Of all types. We’ll have to show you all of the best spots. Mr. Deknis has a particularly good eye for colors, and it is always quite beautiful.”

“Who is Mr. Deknis?” Virgil asked.

“He’s the head gardener,” Logan said. “He’s a nice man, though a bit prickly when it comes to his garden. We may see him today if he’s in this part of the garden.”

“Would he have been the multrum I saw in the gardening shed when I hid there?”

“Ah, yes, that would be him. I was unaware you interacted with anyone in the castle.”

“He caught me in his garden shed, but he wasn’t mean,” Virgil said, he tilted his head curiously at Logan. “Why…” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“Why is he the gardener?”

Logan looked confused, “Well,” he said, “I guess because he wants to and is good at it.”

“No,” Virgil said with a frown. “I mean. Shouldn’t he… he’s…”

Logan seemed to think hard for a moment. “Right,” he said. “You’ve been under a blood compulsion. I’d guess you would have only worked with multrums in the military.”

“I guess I didn’t realize that they could be other things…”

“Of course, they can,” Logan said. “Their abilities don’t make them any less of people. Mr. Deknis likes to garden so he gardens.”

Virgil blinked at him.

“…Of course, all things considered, that may not be a familiar concept to you.” Virgil turned back to look at the flower instead of answering. “Right,” said Logan.

There were a couple of awkward beats of silence. Patton bit his lip and happened to glance up. “Oh,” he said. “Speaking of Mr. Deknis.” He gestured to the gardener who was coming up the path between the trees.

Logan sat up on his knees as Patton waved at him. He saw Patton and turned to walk towards them. “The two of you had better not be up to mischief in my garden,” Mr. Deknis called, his voice a bit gruff. He clearly did not see Virgil who had laid flat on his stomach to stare at the flower.

Logan rolled his eyes automatically. “We were just reading Mr. Deknis,” he said. “Your piles of dirt are safe.”

“No mud cakes?” Mr. Deknis asked skeptically still coming towards them.

“It has been a literal decade…”

Patton saw when Mr. Deknis was close enough to see Virgil.

He stopped in his track and looked down at Virgil who was already watching him a bit warily. “Hello,” he said, his voice a lot softer than it’d been a few moments before. His expression completely flipped in a moment to something very gentle when he saw Virgil and the cautious look on his face. Virgil did seem to have that effect on people.

“Hi,” Virgil replied.

Mr. Deknis looked at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Virgil. “This is our new friend, Virgil,” Patton offered.

“Hello, Virgil,” Mr. Deknis said with a nod.

“Virgil, this is the gardener Mr. Deknis.”

“He’s not nearly as grumpy as he sounds,” Patton assured.

“Well,” Logan said, “yes he is.”

Mr. Deknis shot him a look that only served to prove Logan’s point if Patton was being honest. Logan just smiled back. Mr. Deknis apparently decided to let it slide because he turned back to Virgil.

“It’s good to see you again,” Mr. Deknis said. “Are you feeling better?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m a lot better,” he said. Mr. Deknis considered him for a moment, clearly reading how true that statement was. Patton was glad he seemed satisfied with the answer.

“I see you’ve met these two.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Mr. Deknis smiled slightly. “Be careful with this one,” he said, pointing to Logan. “He’s a bad influence.”

Virgil frowned in confusion. “He’s the prince,” he pointed out.

“And a bad influence,” Mr. Deknis repeated. “He’s a beacon of irresponsibility and mischief and he corrupts that one,” he nodded to Patton.

“I am completely responsible,” Logan replied.

“Need I remind you of the cucumber incident.”

“I was 8,” Logan said.

“I know how old you were,” Mr. Deknis replied, “and you are hardly any older.”

“I resent that.”

Mr. Deknis just smiled and turned back to Virgil who was watching the interaction with pure curiosity.

“I just picked a few more of those apples for Patton’s mom to make into apple sauce. Would you kids like some?”

Virgil glanced over at Logan and Patton.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Patton replied for them all, standing up. Seeing that, Virgil also climbed to his feet.

“It’s back this way,” Mr. Deknis said, inclining hid head back the way he’d came and then turning to lead them that way. Patton followed him. He glanced back to see Logan put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and give him a gentle push to get him going. “So, what are you kids up to today?”

#proofread stories #not writing

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

To Travel Through the World and Not Be Alone (Good Omens Fic)

Last week I asked for some more fluffy prompts, and @sparkkeyper suggested Crowley getting flustered and turning into a snake. Well, it looks like I’ve used up all my “Short Fic” mojo for the time being, as the result was over 10k and is available on AO3.

I really, really tried to make this one light and silly, but my brain does not operate that way, and so...a somewhat emotional deconstruction of the trope I guess?

Aziraphale stepped out from the dubious shelter of a sharply angled rock, shaking the last of the rain from his wings. Since leaving Eden the weather had certainly become much more variable. Days so hot his skin ached, nights that left him shaking with cold, a dryness that got into his mouth and eyes, and then – quite unexpectedly – more rain! Not as much as the first time, of course, but unpleasant enough.

The demon, Crawly, had been walking by his side, as he generally did, nattering on about the way sand moved in the wind and something about camel noses, but he trailed off as the rain began to fall. Aziraphale had lifted his wing to offer a bit of protection, until he noticed the rock in the distance, just tall enough for two man-shaped beings to crouch behind. Perfect, he’d thought and quickly gave Crawly’s hand a tug, intending to lead him over. Instead, the demon had all but run from him, vanishing into the night without another word.

Odd, that.

Stretching his arms in the bright morning sunlight, Aziraphale took a deep breath. Lovely, really, the slightly moist smell of the air after a rain. He suspected it would be even more pleasant once they found a place a bit more like the Garden itself – lush and green, rather than this endless expanse of sand, stone, and stunted trees.

He could see the humans up ahead, packing up their camp. The shelter they’d found had been no better, and Aziraphale hoped the cold and the damp hadn’t done any harm to the Woman or the child she carried within her. Quite a lot was riding on that yet-unborn human. There was still a chance the whole of humanity could end, now, here, in the blink of an eye. But the Man put a hand on the Woman’s shoulder, and she smiled, shaking her head, and helped him pick up their supplies.

As they moved out, Aziraphale began to follow after, but stumbled as some sort of black shadow twisted away into the brush, moving too quickly for him to make out. His body helpfully supplied a massive dose of adrenaline, which sent Aziraphale’s heart racing.

Steady on, he warned himself. It would take some getting used to, these human instincts, but there was no reason he couldn’t control himself. He was, after all, an angel. Aziraphale forced his breath back into a steady rhythm, expelled the unneeded chemicals from his system. That was better. He squinted at the line of dried-out bushes, then tilted back his head to scan the sky, but whatever had cast the shadow seemed long gone.

Well. Probably nothing important.

Already, the humans were fading into the distance, but it wouldn’t be difficult to keep up. Day by day, the Woman grew larger about the middle, and their pace slowed. The real danger was not accidentally overtaking them, or stumbling across them at rest and revealing themselves.

Both he and Crawly had received orders to observe the humans until their child was born. Not to protect, or disrupt, or involve themselves in any way – simply to observe. As for how to deal with each other – they’d been given no instruction whatsoever.

And so, for the past week, they’d passed their days traveling together, trailing behind the humans unseen. Aziraphale had expected it to be a time of silent contemplation, but Crawly had apparently never heard of such a thing. He constantly pestered Aziraphale with questions, tried to make conversation about topics that, if not technically forbidden, were certainly better left alone. He crouched sometimes, digging around in the sand, never saying what he was looking for. It was an annoyance, but whenever he was out of sight, Aziraphale found himself worrying. What is he getting up to now? And when will he be back?

He found he didn’t like being alone. Which was absurd – he was an angel – a Guardian. Being alone for long stretches of time was part of his job description, his very being. And yet, in the same way his body was programmed to overreact to every shadow, it also needed to have other bodies around, to see them, hear them, possibly even to touch them. Unfortunately, until the Woman delivered her child and Aziraphale was allowed to reveal himself to the humans, his only option was the strange demon who talked too much and wandered off without warning.

Just as Aziraphale was certain he would lose sight of the humans – and was making up his mind to leave without the demon, and let him find his own way – Crawly materialized, stepping out from behind a sand dune and shuffling over to Aziraphale.

“It’s about time,” the angel said in a low voice, ignoring the unwelcome wave of relief. “I hope you’re not planning to leave me waiting for you like this all the time. And where, precisely, did you go?”

“Not far.” Crawly shrugged, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Anyway. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you? We agreed not to interfere until the child’s birth – these humans been through enough, Crawly, and they don’t need you—”

“Sssss’not that.” His lips twisted as if he’d eaten something sour, then pressed flat again. “Didn’t go anywhere near them. Promise.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he believed that, but up ahead the humans had already vanished into the heat-hazy distance, apart from the flare of the flaming sword and a long line of dark footprints. “If you say so. Keep up now, Crawly, there’s a good fellow.”

After two more weeks, their path began to run alongside a stony ridge. The base of it was cool, a little damp, and small flowers grew there, shielded from the sun. The humans had paused up ahead, and so Aziraphale stood watching them, grateful for a chance to rest in the shade.

Crawly, on the other hand, was causing some sort of trouble again.

“Look at these!” He tugged at one of the plants. “Have you ever seen anything like them?”

Aziraphale glanced down. Tiny flowers, just a speck of white or red on a thick stem growing out of a mass of green, low but thick. “We had much larger ones in the Garden,” Aziraphale commented. The humans were gathering rocks, it seemed, tapping them against the exposed stone of the ridge.

“Yeah, but look!” He’d been going on like this all day, digging at plants, collecting funny stones, running over to show each to Aziraphale, as proudly as if the demon had created them himself. It didn’t seem to be harmful or wicked behavior, but Aziraphale couldn’t decide what to make of it. “No water, no sunlight, barely even any soil to root in. You wouldn’t think anything could grow here. But they—oops.”

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“No, just – look I pulled off the flower. The rest is fine.” Crawly wandered over just as the humans seemed to finish their task. The Man took the Woman’s hand – how odd, to walk like that, yet it didn’t seem to slow them down – and together they headed eastwards. Aziraphale stepped out of the shadow of the wall, and bumped directly into the demon. Crawly skittered back, clearly struggling with his own adrenaline, though Aziraphale had mastered that particular unwanted reaction ages ago.

“Terribly sorry,” the angel said, brushing his hands down his robe. Crawly’s dirt-smeared arms had left a mark, but he found he repeated the action more times than necessary. “But, please, Crawly – learn to pay attention to where you stand.” Another brush of his hands. It was soothing, in a way.

“I meant to be standing there.” The demon scowled. “I was going to show you…here.” He thrust the flower towards Aziraphale.

It was a bit unusual. Formed into a little cup, petals strangely thick to store the rare water of the desert. A sturdy little plant, a survivor, but beautiful in its own way. He plucked it from Crawly’s fingers, in order to study it from every angle. Their fingers brushed each other in passing, and Aziraphale found he was rather more aware of the contact than justified for such a minor thing. “It’s…quite nice, I suppose.”

“Good.” Crawly stepped back, fingers twisting in his robe. “Um. You can have that.”

“I see. And…what am I meant to do with it?”

Crawly shrugged. “Whatever you want. Just thought, you know. Flowers. Very angelic. Let’s go.”

He hurried along the ridge while Aziraphale looked at the flower again, fighting back a smile. Did it look better after their now, after their brief exchange of words? He found himself admiring the way the petals faded from dark to light.

“Oi! Angel!” His head jerked up. Crawly had stopped at the same spot where the humans had paused. “Come look at this!”

Tucking the flower into his sleeve, Aziraphale quickly stepped beside him, glancing over to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh, that is…” but words escaped him. Somehow, the humans had made marks in red and yellow, white and black across the stone. Not just marks, shapes.

Aziraphale could see two rough, humanoid figures standing hand-in-hand, one holding a brilliant yellow line. The sun illuminated the rock ahead of the figures, and cast a deep shadow behind. Other, simpler marks indicated parts of their journey – a hint of storm clouds, the line of the Garden Wall, a lion, crouched, ready to pounce.

“I think…” Aziraphale’s gaze traced it, east to west. “I believe this is what they call art.”

“Huh. Thought it was gonna be, y’know. Fancier.”

“Well, they’re just starting out. I’m sure we’ll see improvements soon.”

“Right.” Crawly was digging around in the dirt again, and stood quickly with a lump of charcoal. “Just need to make a few adjustments.” He rubbed the dark, crumbling stone against the ridge, making a black streak some distance behind the two figures.

“Crawly! What are you – you can’t – that isn’t allowed!”

“Oh, what, now it’s forbidden to make marks with rocks? Heaven is nothing but stupid rules these days.”

“No – yes – you’re distorting something the humans created!”

“I’m making it more accurate.” He stepped back, studying the newest figure. Thin and black, legs splayed in a funny way, arms spread by its sides. “That’s me, following behind. Hand me some red ochre, gotta do my hair, too.”

“This is, without a doubt – we’re supposed to be observers, not – not making ourselves part of the – what are you doing?”

Fingers now coated in ground-up lime, Crawly was dabbing another figure onto the stone. Brilliant white, and with a bit more care taken to the limbs, this one stood close beside the black one.

“Adding you, of course. Little me can’t be up there alone.” He glanced at the two human figures, then rubbed at his own one last time, extending the white figure’s arm to end…just where the black’s did.

Hand-in-hand.

“What do you think?” Crawly asked, rolling his neck as if he’d just finished some strenuous task.

“It’s…” Aziraphale stepped closer. “I mean, you really shouldn’t…” His mind raced, trying to think of any response that would be even remotely appropriate. This was a…a gross breach of protocol, surely, and Aziraphale had to…put his foot down, make it clear such things were not acceptable.

Instead, rather without his direction, his hand drifted over to clasp the demon’s.

Once again, it seemed the work gained more beauty the longer he looked at it. And Aziraphale found he was very aware of Crawly’s hand, just as he had been of his fingers. Crawly squeezed his hand, an uncertain, welcoming gesture, and Aziraphale felt a strange tingle, a rush of warmth roiling up his arm, filling his head. He squeezed back—

“Sorry. Gotta.” Crawly dropped his hand and bolted away, back up the path they had just walked down.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that isn’t even—!”

Vanished.

Aziraphale waited a long moment, wondering if he would return. It gave him ample time to study the wall, the little flower. His own hand.

Then, with a sigh, he followed after the humans alone.

When Crawly returned, just before sunset, he didn’t mention running off. Or the art. Or the flower that Aziraphale had carefully set aside on a rock where he had stopped to rest.

Probably best to forget it all, then.

More weeks passed, enough that Aziraphale lost count, and the humans came to a river.

Not perfectly clear-blue water running merrily over rocks and under sweeping trees, as they’d had in Eden, but a large brownish affair making its way between steep banks covered in reeds. There were some trees, larger than the ones in the desert, and fruits hung from them for the humans to gather. It was painstaking work, as they grew too high, or over thorny patches. Some fruits were too ripe, others not quite ready. The Woman was also in no state to be climbing trees, so the Man did most of the work, tossing fruits down for her to catch.

“I know we said not to interfere,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his palms together. Another habit that seemed ingrained in the body, but it seemed to help his worries. Perhaps he’d keep it. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to – to lend a hand, would it?”

“Wuzzat?”

The angel turned, ready to repeat the question, until he saw something that put the humans out of his mind entirely. Crawly had tied his robe up around his knees and was walking along in the river.

“What on earth are you doing, you – you strange creature?”

“It’s hot,” the demon griped, scooping up some water to pour over his head. More of it got on his robes than anywhere else.

“Well, now you’ll be hot and covered with dripping wet clothing, does that really sound more appealing?”

“Don’t know, haven’t tried it.” Crawly reached into the water again, drenching his sleeves. He frowned as they emerged. “No, that’s…heavier. Not very comfortable. But…a little less hot.” He squeezed his sleeve, water dripping back into the river. “Could take the clothing off entirely,” he mused. “That might work.”

“Now you’re being absurd. It isn’t allowed!”

“It isn’t?”

“No! There are – Crawly there are rules.”

“Only for the humans. And look, they’re not wearing nearly as much as I am.” He tugged at his dripping garment again. “I can wrap some leaves around my bottom if that will make you feel better.”

“It’s not about making me feel better! It’s – it’s the principle of the thing. You and I should be setting a good example for the humans, not…not…” He waved helplessly as Crawly arched his back to dip his hair into the water.

“This is a good example! Problem solving! Using the available resources to make yourself more comfortable. If the humans bothered to look back and see us, they might learn a lot.” He flipped his hair forward, spraying droplets everywhere. “You wanna join me?”

“Certainly not.” Aziraphale rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, where itchy sweat was beginning to accumulate. “We have more important things to worry about right now, like—” He glanced back to where the Man lowered himself from the tree, seemingly entirely unharmed. The Woman smiled and handed him a piece of fruit, which he accepted gratefully.

“You know the humans are fine without you.”

That, surprisingly, hurt. Aziraphale found, more and more lately, he had a strong desire to join the humans. To walk beside them, to hear what they said, to laugh when they laughed. When he watched them walk away together, he felt…oddly empty.

An emptiness that vanished when he turned back to Crawly. Much as the demon grated on his nerves, Aziraphale found he enjoyed his company. When he spotted Crawly crouching in the shade of a tree, long fingers scratching at the ground, or scrambling up a ridge of stone to see what was on the top – there was always a bubble of anticipation, an eagerness to see what he’d found, to see that shining excitement in his eyes.

He felt it now, as Crawly waded deeper into the water to investigate a log floating in the current.

“I mean, m’not saying you should give up or anything, but…you can’t spend every day worrying about them. They’ll be fine.”

“Of course I spend every day worrying. I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature to want to help and protect those around me.”

“Ohhhh, is that why you’re always nagging me? Or is it because—”

Without warning, the log split into an enormous, tooth-filled jaw, lunging forward to snap at Crawly. With a yelp, the demon tumbled backwards, kicking water at the revealed crocodile, scrambling back towards the shore.

Aziraphale rushed forward, colliding with Crawly, wrapping one arm firmly over his chest to pull him back to safety; the other hand he flapped at the snapping creature. “Shoo!” he called and, just to be safe, put a note of angelic command in his voice: “WE ARE OF NO INTEREST TO YOU.”

The crocodile snapped its jaws one more time before turning away, lowering itself again to float downriver.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, trying to settle his mind. The adrenaline had flooded him again, but this time it had helped, giving him the speed he needed to react. Perhaps these instincts could be useful, if properly regulated. Unlike Crawly, who still clutched at Aziraphale’s arm, heart racing so that the angel could feel it. He pressed Crawly back a little more firmly against his own chest. “I hope you’ve, ah, learned your lesson.” He wasn’t sure what lesson exactly they should take from this, but he needed to continue his policy of blanket disapproval of all demonic nonsense.

“That thing—” Crawly started, but his voice pinched off, too tight to speak.

“That thing could have bitten your leg off,” Aziraphale chided, brushing Crawly’s torso with his free hand, making sure everything was intact. “I’m not sure if I can heal a demon at all, and I certainly can’t regrow limbs. You must learn to be more careful, my dear fellow.”

His eyes met Crawly’s enormous golden ones, and a heat rose in Aziraphale’s face that had nothing to do with the sun and the desert.

“I, uh…” Crawly very nearly blinked. He tilted his head back a little further and his breath brushed across Aziraphale’s cheek in a startling way.

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale let him go, though his arms seemed slow to obey.

Immediately, Crawly scrambled away, jumping into the thickest part of the reeds.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Crawly! Is it too much to ask that you comport yourself with a little…” But when he looked along the riverbank, there was no sign of the demon.

Aziraphale took a good long while to search – until the humans had finished their mid-morning meal and begun walking again – but all he managed to find was the usual wildlife: rodents, reptiles, a few birds.

“Typical,” Aziraphale muttered. Such strange behavior had become increasingly common as they traveled, and the angel had learned by now that if Crawly didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Best to just keep walking while the demon got over today’s mood; Crawly always managed to catch up in the end.

Sure enough, well after sunset, a dark-robed figure slunk over to the spot Aziraphale had chosen to rest in. “Angel,” he mumbled in greeting.

“And where were you this time?” He felt another wave of relief, but sternly reminded himself not to encourage the demon. “Honestly, I half thought some river creature had devoured you, and it would serve you right for – for disturbing it…”

Crawly didn’t say anything, merely dropped onto the ground and stared at the light of the humans’ fire, far ahead. Not even a glance at Aziraphale.

When the silence had drawn on too long, Aziraphale lowered himself to sit beside Crawly. “I…am glad you’re unhurt, you know.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, so they sat in silence for the rest of the night.

“Aha!” Crawly crowed, leaping from one rock to the next, pale skin flashing in the sunlight. “I knew this was going to be better!”

“I’m sure it is,” Aziraphale said as neutrally as possible, trying to keep his eyes on the path ahead.

“You can’t even imagine! I feel so much lighter! I can finally move!” He dropped into the river with a splash, Aziraphale turning quickly to make sure Crawly was unharmed. But, no, he stood in the shallows, tossing water all over his bare skin. “This is…Angel, you have to try this!”

“And why, precisely, would I want to do that?”

“I told you, it feels good. Washes off the sweat and – I dunno. Like the heat can’t touch you through the water. Just come down, I’ll show you.”

“Crawly, get out of there. I’m not about to see you be devoured by wildlife again.”

“It’s ffffine.” But he hopped out, dashing up the path to a fruit tree. Before Aziraphale could say anything, he’d pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.

“Crawly! No, get down, you’ll break your neck and…and…”

“Why do you worry so much?” He pulled himself higher and higher, vanishing among the leaves. “I’m a demon, I’m not going to fall unless I want to.”

“I’ve told you, I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature—”

But surely Crawly couldn’t hear him all the way up there. A head emerged from the crown of the tree, gazing out into the distance as the wind stirred his bright red hair, sending streamers in every direction. He glanced down at Aziraphale and waved and, quite at a loss, the angel waved back.

He almost wanted to join Crawly. Not with the nakedness, though his robes were getting to be something of a burden, ending each day heavy with dust and sweat. But it seemed peaceful up there, cooler. And ever since the incident with the crocodile, Aziraphale had been feeling a strange urge, to be near the demon, to touch him, to ensure that he was safe.

Perhaps it was related to the instinct that compelled him towards proximity to the humans. That made sense; lacking options, his mind was trying to reach out for the only other being available. Though that didn’t really explain the strength of the urge, or why it seemed to grow daily as they spent more time together.

Crawly’s head disappeared. Branches rustled, leaves falling along the riverbank, and suddenly he dropped onto the lowest branch, grinning like he had a secret. “Look, I know you’re hot, Angel. Just admit it.”

“Certainly not! I am perfectly content as I am,” Aziraphale lied, trying to subtly flap the collar of his robes to let in a little air. “Perhaps it is your…Fallen nature, but I am completely immune to the effects of the environment.”

“Are you? Here, catch.” Something flew towards Aziraphale’s head, and his hands barely snapped up in time to grab the oddly shaped, greenish fruit. “I think that’s a pear,” Crawly continued. “Also, pretty sure it’s ripe.”

Golden eyes sparkling with excitement, he grabbed the branch with two hands and leaned back a little with an eager smile.

Aziraphale studied the fruit, turning it over in his hands. Well. No point in being rude, was there? He raised it to his lips and took a bite.

The inside was soft, but not too soft, with an oddly gritty texture. More importantly, it flooded his tongue with a mildly flavored liquid, sweet and refreshing. He’d gotten so used to his mouth being dry, Aziraphale had stopped thinking about the discomfort, but this – this was exactly what he needed. He eagerly took a few more bites.

“Oh,” he finally said, glancing up at Crawly, who still watched from his perch. “This is absolutely marvelous.” He wiped the juice from his chin and smiled.

Crawly grinned back, swinging his legs with a bit too much excitement, but it was an infectious excitement, bubbling up in Aziraphale’s chest with every bite.

Until, suddenly, Crawly’s expression fell, as did he, dropping from the tree to scramble about on all fours, racing back the way they’d come. “Don’t wait for me,” he called when he managed to get his feet under him, and by the time Aziraphale had even turned around, he had vanished again.

Well. At least it was quieter now. Aziraphale took another bite of his pear and continued his walk.

He was, by this point, getting used to Crawly’s unexplained disappearances. He never arrived later than the following dawn, and sure enough he caught up just as the humans were settling down to sleep. Once again, he didn’t say much or even look at Aziraphale, merely crouched on the ground, watching the distant firelight.

The next morning, however, was a different story.

“Ow! Stop that, it hurts.”

“Well, I do apologize, but I need to know what’s wrong!” Aziraphale rubbed his finger again across Crawly’s now bright-red skin, peppered here and there with some truly nasty looking blisters. It was extremely hot to the touch.

“Sssstop!” Crawly tried to wriggle away, but he was firmly trapped: Aziraphale sat on his back, legs pinning the demon’s hips in place, one hand lightly on his shoulder, but ready to press it flat into the dirt if required.

“If you don’t stop moving around, I’m not going to be able to help you.”

“You aren’t – this is torture, that’s what it is. Bloody sadistic angel!”

“It would appear you have burns covering every inch of your skin. How on earth does that even happen? What were you getting up to yesterday?”

“Nothing! Just – you saw. Walking around. Wanted some space’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Ngk. Might have. Stretched out on a rock to bask for a bit at noon. Felt good.”

Aziraphale sat, considering the boiled red of Crawly’s back and his own slightly pink hands, the itch at the back of his neck. He’d been working on a hypothesis, and this would seem to be his first clear bit of proof.

“Crawly, I believe you’ve been burnt by the sun.”

“Didn’t go to the sun,” Crawly grumbled.

“This is no laughing matter. I understand burns can cause permanent damage to humans.” He brushed his fingers down Crawly’s spine, carefully avoiding the blisters, but even that was enough to send the demon squirming. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes it hurts! What have I been saying? Are you even listening?”

“I am,” Aziraphale assured him, looking for any spot that was still mostly pale. “How about this?” He pressed fingers into the side of Crawly’s ribs, just under the armpit.

“Ssssssss…not as bad, but yes.” At least he’d stopped struggling, but still Crawly’s fingers curled into the dirt, scraping deeply in the brown clay.

“If I’m right, the burn is the worst in areas that received the most exposure to the sun, and only light or incidental in areas that were shaded or protected.” There weren’t many of those. Crawly was a very thorough basker.

“Wait, really?” He started to twist around to look at Aziraphale, then cringed and looked forward again. “You think human skin can be burned just from being out in the heat?”

“Perhaps. I’m still gathering evidence.”

“Well, the humans aren’t getting burned!”

Aziraphale bit back another remark about Crawly’s Fallen nature. That wouldn’t be helpful here. “I’m not quite sure why that is,” he admitted. “But my own burns are very minor, perhaps theirs are the same. Certainly, they keep to the shade as much as possible, particularly in the hottest part of the day. Meanwhile, you are the first one to spend half the day lying naked in direct sunlight.”

“Not half the day.” Crawly whimpered a little as Aziraphale pressed his shoulders down one more time. “Seems a major design flaw, you ask me,” he grumbled.

“Hush, now.” Aziraphale lifted his hands and rubbed them together, summoning just a thin line of celestial power. “This may sting a little.”

“What? What are you doing now? Everything stings!” Another squirm as Crawly tried to pull free, but there was very little chance of that.

“I’m going to heal you, if you can hold still, you ridiculous thing.”

“Heal me?” Crawly went still and stiff. “Why?”

“Why? Because you’re in pain. What other reason do I need?” He reached a finger towards the worst burn, then hesitated. Could he dilute his power even further? “What did you think I was doing back here?”

“Dunno. Thought you were just…curious. Or wanted to learn for the humans.”

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale traced his finger across Crawly’s shoulders. It left behind a trail of bright white, which rippled out several finger-widths in every direction, a wave of healing that left behind unburnt skin. He sighed in relief. “Well…there was that, too, but I thought I’d made it clear by now, I have no interest in seeing you come to harm. Even if it is harm by your own doing,” he added, so that Crawly could be sure he wasn’t entirely off the hook for his choices.

“So…you’ll…heal all of it? Entirely? No…leaving scars so I learn my lesson?”

“Crawly! How could you even think such a thing?” He pushed his fingers to the healed skin. It was a bit darker, browner than before, with a smattering of darker spots. “Does this hurt? Or here?”

“No…it’s…it’s good.” He lay his head on the ground, seeming subdued.

“Wonderful. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Down by the river’s edge, the humans finished picking up their woven mats and bundles of food. “They’re getting away,” Crawly muttered as they wandered down the river.

“We’ll catch up,” Aziraphale assured him, carefully applying just a touch of healing along his spine.

“You’re not worried? Thought it was your job.”

He glanced up, taking another look at the Woman, her blossoming belly, the Man helping her step over a patch of rough earth. He did feel an emptiness, a need to follow them, but it felt less important, less urgent, than the task in front of him. He smoothed away a particularly horrid patch of burn, and Crawly murmured with relief, a relief Aziraphale felt in his own chest.

What was this? The human need for proximity, an instinct he still couldn’t control? His own Guardian nature, perhaps, leading him to want to protect the being nearest to him?

Both of these, yes. And something more. Something that made him wish to see Crawly running across the riverbank, carefree and smiling again.

“Why did you disappear so suddenly anyway?” Aziraphale asked, carefully working on Crawly’s arm.

“Nrrrg. Just…wanted to be alone. Don’t you want to be alone sometimes?”

“Well…yes, but…” But I’d thought we were having a good time.

“Aaaaah, s’not fair!”

Aziraphale moved to kneel beside the demon, and Crawly rolled over, sitting up so he could watch Aziraphale heal his legs. “I used to handle actual stars, you know. In my bare hands! Now look, I can’t even stand in the light of one without…this.” He gestured to his still-burned front.

“You were fine for many days, Crawly. You just have to be careful.” The bottoms of his feet were fine, at least. Perhaps the thicker skin had helped protect them. “And, I think, keep your robes on. They seem to block the burning aspect of sunlight.”

“But I don’t want to be careful.” Aziraphale released his foot and Crawly crossed his legs tightly so the angel could start on his chest. “I want to explore. Experience things, everything, now while I can.”

“What do you mean, while you can? The world is going to be here for a good long while, regardless of what happens to the humans.”

“Mmmmph.” His shoulders hunched forward from something unrelated to the pain, and Crawly looked away. “Not supposed to tell you.”

“Ah.” His thumb ran across Crawly’s throat. “Then don’t.”

“I’m not…actually supposed to do anything when the child is born. Just, watch the humans, learn what I can, and then back to Hell until they decide what to do with me.” He shrugged, still not looking at the angel.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s fingers moved slowly across Crawly’s chest.

“Guess I surprised them all, with everything in the Garden. Don’t know what to do now, right? Your side has a Plan. My side needs information, to figure out what to do. So they gave me until the humans have their child, then I go back, tell them everything. Maybe...maybe they’ll send me back to Earth. Maybe they’ll send someone else. Maybe it’ll all get locked up in bureaucracy and they won’t make a decision until everything comes burning down.”

“I see.” Somehow, Aziraphale had assumed they had the same orders.

While the humans were banished from Eden, no Word had come down whether they were to be considered entirely lost. The Archangels had determined that, regardless of the status of the Man and the Woman, it was possible their child had not been completely corrupted. So Aziraphale was to assist in raising the young human, and any others that came along, asserting as much Heavenly influence as possible.

He’d thought Hell would want the same, that he and Crawly would be working…not together, but in parallel. A Guardian and a Troublemaker, guiding the little souls.

“Is that why...you’re always running around...investigating everything? Gathering information for your side?” He kept his fingers as steady as possible, tracing across Crawly’s stomach.

“Nah. Hell barely cares about the humans, you think they want to know about...flowers, and rocks, and little ducks? The way ants follow each other in lines that go on forever? No one gives a shit. I just - I want to see it all. So...I have something to remember when I’m down there again.”

“I see.” Aziraphale wished he had something more to say.

“Except I can’t do everything! Stupid…things…getting in the way. Stopping me from…what I want to do.”

“Well, your time is limited, it’s true.” Careful strokes under the eyes, sending a ripple of healing across his cheeks. That long nose was absolutely covered in tiny darker dots. “But…I don’t think this should stop you from experiencing everything you can.”

“Everything?”

Aziraphale ran his thumb across Crawly’s chin. It wasn’t necessary – all the burns were gone – but he found he couldn’t stop himself. Each touch made him feel…jittery. Electrified.

It was like the human bodies were made for contact, fingertips picking up invisible details, the bristle of little hairs, the flex of muscles at the edge of the mouth. Look, how perfectly his hand slotted on the side of Crawly’s face, cupping his jaw and cheek, thumb moving across the sharp cheekbone.

“Hnnnnngh.” Crawly shoved him back – not hard, but enough to give the demon room to scramble to his feet. “I’ll catch up.”

And once again, he vanished.

Sighing, Aziraphale called in the general direction he’d run off to, “Just make sure you don’t lie about in the sun again, I can’t be doing this every day.”

Seasons changed – hotter, cooler, wetter, drier. Aziraphale hadn’t yet learned how to mark the passage of time, but Crawly explained it had been almost half a year, then explained what a year was, then tried to explain how he could tell from the stars, then gave up.

The demon’s newly-browned skin seemed more resistant to the sun, but he still sometimes burned himself if he wasn’t careful. He took to wearing his robes again, but with sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Every few days he slunk back to Aziraphale for a fresh round of healing, staring determinedly at the ground between them while the angel cradled his hands and gently rubbed the burn off his forearms, the back of his neck, his cheeks. Afterwards, he usually scurried off to sit against a nearby tree.

The humans moved more slowly now, not just because the Woman’s child was nearly ready to arrive. Sometimes they would stay in one place for days at a time, experimenting with creating shelters for themselves out of leaves or reeds or branches. When they did move, it was only over short distances, trying a little closer to the trees, then a little farther from the river’s edge.

Aziraphale found he had a great deal more time now, and not much of an idea what to do with it.

He tried keeping closer to Crawly. To keep an eye on the demon, yes, but also because…it felt right. It made the hollowness he felt vanish for a little while, particularly whenever he saw that look in his golden eyes, the burning passion that was woven into every disrespectful question, every ill-advised endeavor. It was unlike anything Aziraphale had ever seen before. More and more, he found he could hardly look away.

He felt he needed to do more. When Aziraphale found a new and interesting type of berry, he wanted to share with Crawly, find out what he thought. When he greeted the demon on returning to their resting spot, he wanted to straighten his robes, his hair, rub a bit of dirt off his cheek. When they sat, he wanted to move closer, until their fingers brushed, until the warmth of another body tickled down his side.

And yet, any time he indulged one of these whims, the need for more only grew stronger.

Disgraceful, really. Maddening. If this was some sort of human instinct, perhaps he should return to Heaven and have the body adjusted. He could ignore the body’s need for sleep, for food, for almost anything else - there was no reason this one instinct should be so much more powerful than the rest, unless something was wrong.

Besides, his actions tended to send Crawly scampering off again, vanishing for most of the day.

It was very hard not to follow.

After the half-moon set, Aziraphale had very little to do apart from watching the banked fire in the distance and waiting for the sun to rise. Crawly wasn’t talking, for once, lying on his back nearby, either studying the stars or drifting off to sleep.

Aziraphale thought he saw some movement in the human camp, shadows at the edge of their shelter. They sometimes woke before dawn, but rarely did much apart from hold each other and talk in soft voices. Seeing it always made Aziraphale’s arms itch in a strange way. But there seemed to be too much movement this time.

“Crawly. Crawly!”

“Whaaaaa?” He shifted in his awkward, ungraceful sprawl but didn’t turn his eyes away from the stars.

“Can you see anything?”

“Mmmmh?”

“The humans!” It was Aziraphale’s angelic instincts this time, his Guardian mind telling him something was wrong, that he was needed. “Something is going on over there, but I can’t quite make it out.”

Slowly, too slowly, Crawly rolled onto his side and glanced at the shadowy figures. “S’fine. Just moving those reed mats around.” He slumped back, wriggling around again. “You think those things are comfortable?”

“They’ve been using them every night, so I imagine they are.” Aziraphale kept his eyes on the distant figures, even though Crawly seemed to have lost interest already.

“Cuz this ground. S’really starting to make my back hurt.” He arched his spine, stretching. “Another design flaw, you ask me. S’like this body isn’t even made to be bipedal. Hurts if you walk too much, hurts to sit, hurts to lay on the ground.”

“My back doesn’t hurt,” Aziraphale lied piously. “Perhaps you’re just using it wrong. I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to just…fling your limbs all over like that. Not to mention the way you walk.”

“What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale said, a little too quickly, pressing his lips together. Lately, Crawly had been trying to swagger, but he hadn’t quite gotten it down yet. It was more a meandering progression of flailing limbs, an embarrassment to watch, and Aziraphale always had an almost overwhelming urge to pull Crawly against him and tell him to stand still.

“S’right. Nothing wrong with that.” Crawly turned back to the stars again, deep in thought.

A flare of light drew Aziraphale’s attention, but it was just the Man building up the fire a bit, crouching outside the shelter. Unusual, he supposed, but everyone got restless sometimes. Seeing the flames reflected off the Man’s dark skin, Aziraphale felt himself relax. He wasn’t needed here, a thought that was both soothing and slightly disappointing.

A few more pokes at the fire, and the Man picked up another woven mat and carried it back inside.

Aziraphale could just make out the shadowy shape of the Man offering the mat to the Woman, shifting her onto it to lay more comfortably. Once again, Aziraphale felt that itch in his arms, that ache in his chest for a warmth that had nothing to do with fire. He was often alone, in the Garden, in Heaven – but only now, wandering the world, did it have a physical effect on him. Aziraphale wondered how much longer he could bear it.

He glanced over at Crawly, and for some reason remembered a pear offered on a hot day. It wasn’t wrong to give his body the refreshment it needed. Even if the offer was made by a demon. Surely, surely if his body had a comparable need for contact, there was no harm…

Aziraphale made a decision and rose to his feet.

“Here, this should make you more comfortable.” Crawly twisted around, and Aziraphale smiled a little at the shocked expression that crossed his face. The angel shook out the mat he’d miracled up, making it snap in the wind. It was modeled after the ones the humans used, but better; Aziraphale had a little insight into materials they hadn’t yet found in the world, ones that would be a bit softer, provide a little more support.

“Angel, what are you—?”

“You’ve complained enough for one night, haven’t you? I know how to take a hint.” One more shake and the mat stretched across the ground. “Go on. See if this makes your back feel any better.” He crouched on the ground beside it and smiled encouragingly.

“Look…s’not that bad. I was just. Making conversation.” Crawly rolled onto his side, but still eyed the mat as if it might turn into a crocodile.

“Fine. Let’s make conversation. I’ve designed a new sleeping mat and would like your opinion.” He pressed his hand against it, showing how the mat compressed slightly. “Do you think the one is enough? Sometimes the humans pile a few together, but that might not provide much advantage. Come, now, I want to know your thoughts.”

Crawly’s eyes finally flicked up to look into Aziraphale’s face, then shot back down to stare at the mat again. “It’s, ah…” Crawly ran one finger along the soft surface. “It’s big enough for two.”

“Is it?”

Aziraphale doubted his tone sounded as casual as he meant it. Already the heat was rising in his face. It was, of course, a foolish idea. And painfully obvious. But these human bodies were not designed to go for half a year with only minimal physical contact. He craved it, like he craved food, rest, a comfortable seat, and he just…very much needed to feel…closeness.

He’d thought he could resist it. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

“You don’t sleep.”

“You do.” He’d seen how the humans slept, the Man pressed against the Woman’s back, arm across her protectively. He thought about it at night, and sometimes during the day. There was no reason Aziraphale should want that, no reason he should have any desire to protect a demon, and yet…he did.

“I nap. During the day. When it’s hot.”

“There must be a reason they sleep at night.” Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing his hands on the mat. It was more than just a physical need. He wanted to see Crawly smile. Wanted to feel him slowly relax inside the circle of his arms, trusting and content. He wanted to whisper secrets in the darkness, like the humans did. They had no need to whisper, there was no one to overhear, and yet they did, and Aziraphale wanted to know why. “Let’s find out. You’re the curious one.” Hands a little closer, until they almost touched Crawly’s. “You told me you want to experience everything.”

“Tempting me?” Crawly didn’t smile. He looked tense, almost panicked. Aziraphale lifted a hand to reach towards him, and the demon flinched. “I…I can’t.”

Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted, a wave of shock, of disappointment, of shame. “Crawly…”

No. He wouldn’t argue. What more was there to say? This was his foolishness, Crawly had rejected it. There was no need to drag things out. “Of course.” A wave of his fingers, and the offending mat was gone. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Crawly still looked away, past the human encampment, away across the endless expanses of desert.

“I…didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Aziraphale said. No wonder Crawly always fled from him. He needed to learn…boundaries. Needed to learn control. His fingers had already reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Crawly’s ear, but Aziraphale forced them to stop, hovering in the empty night. “It was never my intention to—”

Crawly grabbed his hand and, fast as anything, pressed his lips to the knuckles. Then, just as suddenly, he surged to his feet and started walking away.

“Wait!” He hadn’t let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and the angel pulled him back, so sharply Crawly nearly fell. “Don’t just – we need to talk about this, Crawly! What I’m feeling – I don’t understand it, but – if you feel it too—”

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re…let me go!”

“Crawly, please!” Aziraphale still knelt in the dirt, clinging to the demon’s hand in confused desperation. “Yes, these – these human emotions are confusing and intense, but we can’t just ignore them. It was foolish of me to try and act on them, but—”

“Don’t talk to me about human emotions, Angel, you have no idea—”

“Then tell me!” Aziraphale squeezed his hand, wishing Crawly would look at him. “Regardless of – of everything else, Crawly, I want to help. I care about you!”

The words seemed to echo through the empty plain, across the river, up to the stars above.

It really was that simple wasn’t it? Human emotions and Guardian instincts and everything else aside, Aziraphale had simply come to…care about his enemy.

“You—!” Golden eyes turned back, wide with shock. “You said – But I’m—”

Crawly jerked his hand free, stumbled back two steps, and fell.

Except that what landed on the ground was not a red-haired, pale-skinned demon, but an enormous black serpent with a red belly.

“…Crawly?”

The serpent stared at him a moment, then shot out across the desert.

“No, get back here!” Aziraphale ran after him, fast as he could go, but the black shadow moved too quickly. “Crawly, wait!” Already he was vanishing into the night. “Crawly, please! Let me help you!”

But the serpent had vanished, as Crawly always did.

Aziraphale found his legs were shaking, trembling, until he could hardly stand. Even tugging his sleeves and smoothing his robes was not enough to set things right. He stumbled across the brown sand to sit on a rock, trying to make sense of it all.

Two puzzles presented themselves: What had he just seen? And what had he just said?

I care about you. And not in a…Guardian Angel way, aloofly wishing to ensure his charge’s safety. This was something different, something not at all of Heaven. He thought of the way the humans took care of each other, as equals. Not just providing safety, but happiness, and taking it from the other in turn. There was a gentleness in their actions, hiding a deep burning passion that would quite possibly consume an angel. He certainly didn’t feel that for Crawly, but…could he? Was this how it started?

What he felt just now was worry. He knew Crawly had come to Earth as a serpent, of course, had seen that with his own eyes. He didn’t think the transformation had harmed Crawly, but…it wasn’t supposed to happen. His shift to a human form was supposed to be permanent.

And the way Crawly had transformed…the suddenness…his distress beforehand…it hadn’t seemed entirely voluntary.

As he sat there thinking, one long streamer of shadow detached itself from the night and slid closer, coiling itself by his feet.

“Crawly?” Familiar golden eyes reflected the light of the stars as the serpent’s head rose. “Can you still understand me?”

Slowly, the serpent – Crawly – nodded, then tilted his head to the side. Yes, but not well, Aziraphale guessed. That made sense; this form didn’t have ears, and demonic senses could overcome only so much.

“Are you hurt?” Crawly shook his head. “Can you…change back?” Another shake, and he looked up at the stars, slowly progressing across the sky. Not yet.

“Why…” Too many questions, buzzing around Aziraphale’s mind. Crawly was the one who knew how to handle questions. Where to even begin? “Why did you run away?”

“Sssssshame.” It was hard to make out the word in the hiss.

“Shame? But why would you feel…” Aziraphale slid off his rock, kneeling next to Crawly. “There’s…you don’t have to be ashamed.” The serpent pulled back, coiling into himself, tucking his head somewhere along his body until everything appeared to be a black knot of night.

“No, listen. I’m the one who should be ashamed.” Aziraphale reached a hand towards the cool black scales, but stopped just shy of them. “I…I have behaved reprehensibly. Saying…all manner of things. Touching you when you didn’t want to be touched. And my actions tonight…no. It was my choice to – to indulge, to explore these new emotions, but I never should have attempted anything without seeing if you felt the same. Crawly, I never wanted to upset you…”

As he spoke, the narrow head emerged from the coils and shook, indicating a negative.

“No? Am I…wrong about something?”

A nod, but Crawly wouldn’t meet his eyes. Something worse, perhaps? “Can you…tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Ssssss.” This time he could decipher nothing.

“That…let’s try another way.” Once again, Aziraphale stretched out a hand. Crawly pulled back his head, looking at it uncertainly until Aziraphale lowered it back to the ground. “Sorry. You don’t want to be touched, do you?”

A nod, followed by a complicated ripple down fifteen feet of serpent that might have been a shrug.

“Alright. Let’s see…did this happen all those times you ran off?” A nod. “And…do you have any control over it? Changing to this form, I mean.” A shake. “What about changing back?” A head tilt and another rippling shrug. What did that mean? Some control? He wasn’t certain if he had control?

Well, that wasn’t important right now.

“Do you know what…causes this?” Nod, again not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Can you tell me?”

“Sssssssss.” A defeated head shake.

“Well…I know it was usually when we were talking, or when I…reached out or…” He swallowed. “It’s my fault?” Of course it was. It was so blindingly obvious. Foolish Principality, invading Crawly’s space again and again, driving him away, forcing him to change form.

But Crawly shook his head frantically. “Sssssss.” This one sounded frustrated. “Ffffffff. Fffffeeeel.”

“Feel?”

“Ffffeeeel. Hhhhhhaby.”

“Feel happy? Feel…Crawly, are you telling me you – you change into this form every time you feel happy?” A nod, this one eager. “But you’re always happy! Or most of the time. Not tonight, though, you were very sullen and…”

But Crawly shook his head again. “Hhhhhhhaby.”

“You were happy?” Nod. “That…I came over with that mat and…?” Nod. “And that I said I…care about you?” Nod, and his snout moved a little closer to Aziraphale’s face.

“So, you change when you’re happy. Very happy, I assume.” Nod. “And…I’m the one who…?” Another nod, this one looking more embarrassed.

Aziraphale lowered his gaze, feeling strangely pleased that he could have this…incomprehensible effect on another being. Oh, it wasn’t something to be proud of, but it made that warmth surge inside, to think that of all the things that made Crawly happy...

“Ah. But. Um. Why change? You said it wasn’t because you wanted to.” Head shake. “Then why?”

“Sssssss.” Crawly drooped. Whatever it was, he couldn’t explain it in this form.

“Never mind then.” Aziraphale stood up again, dusting off his robes. “Ah. How long to change back? You’re usually gone for hours.” A nod. “Oh.” Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, back towards the human encampment. Surely…they would be fine on their own…for one night. “Should I stay with you?”

“Ssssssssssss.” The serpent pulled back into his coils again, but, after a long pause, emerged to nod slightly.

Aziraphale smiled, settling back onto the rock. “It’s my pleasure, dear fellow. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“Ssssss.” Crawly reached forward and rested his head on Aziraphale’s knee. “Ssssss?”

“Oh.” Serpents were, after all, much simpler creatures than humans. A human body needed many things to be happy, physically, mentally, and emotionally, as Aziraphale was rapidly learning. But a snake only desired heat. “Yes. Of course.”

Crawly darted forward, twisting himself up Aziraphale, wrapping around his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, tail twisting down around one leg, head coming to rest by his cheek. Aziraphale managed to get one arm free, the other pinned against his ribs. A squeeze went through Crawly’s body, gentle and brief, as he settled into place. “Ffffffffffine?”

“Yes, this…this is perfectly fine.” He scratched one finger carefully on the back of Crawly’s head. The serpent leaned into it, then shook free to tuck his head under Aziraphale’s chin. Another brief ripple of a squeeze, before bit by bit Crawly drifted off to sleep.

“Have pleasant dreams,” Aziraphale said, fingers stroking the black scales wrapped around his belly.

It wasn’t what he’d imagined. And yet, Aziraphale did spend the night with Crawly pressed tightly against him. He did provide his companion with comfort and safety.

Not at all how he’d thought it would happen, but Aziraphale was still radiantly happy.

“Itsssssstupid,” Crawly muttered, still lisping a little after his change back.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Just tell me.”

Crawly had awoken just as the stars had begun to fade, quickly twisting free of Aziraphale to transform back into his usual shape. He’d explained, somewhat embarrassed, that sleeping usually helped him change back quicker, and that sometimes he even woke up back in his humanoid form. This had presented Azirapahle with a very interesting mental image that he didn’t have time to indulge just now.

Crawly walked beside him, golden eyes darting in the pre-dawn light, reading Aziraphale in an instant before turning to stare at the ground again. “It isssss.” Crawly clenched his jaw and continued more carefully. “Sspent too long in the sserpent body. All that time in Hell. But. Ssnakes don’t…have emotions. Not like human bodies. Sso…I get…overwhelmed. And I can’t hold my shhhape anymore.”

“I see.” Aziraphale carefully studied Crawly out of the corner of his eye, almost afraid to look at him straight on. “And all those times you ran away?”

“I can ssort of…feel it coming. I have a little time to get away, but there’ss nothing I can do to sstop it.” He swallowed, seeming angry with his own mouth. “Stop it.”

“But why would you need to get away?”

“Ngh. I mean. You’re the enemy, I’m not supposed to…” Aziraphale couldn’t hide his pained expression fast enough, as Crawly’s eyes flicked over again. “And…it’s embarrassing. Don’t want to be that snake anymore. This is me now. This body.” He took a breath. “I…didn’t want you to think less of me. Because I can’t control myself.”

“I would never!” Aziraphale stopped walking entirely, but managed to fight down the urge to grab Crawly’s shoulders. “My dear fellow, we’re both learning to control ourselves here. You might be struggling with it physically, but I assure you…” He thought back over the choices he’d made since leaving the Wall. Things he’d said, ways he’d reached out and pulled back with almost no warning. Blaming it on urges and instincts, but he could have resisted if he’d wanted to, could have spoken about his feelings, could have done many things that were better, wiser, kinder. “I thought there was…something between us. Some understanding. But I was completely unaware of your struggles the whole time. I have been abominably selfish.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Crawly watched his toe trace lines in the dirt. “I think this…whatever it is, that makes you act the way you do and makes me so…mind-numbingly giddy I can’t keep my shape…I mean. It’s meant for the humans. We’re the first angel and demon to feel it. Of course it isn’t easy.”

“But…you do feel it, too?”

“Think so, yeah.”

Aziraphale tried to fight back the smile, but there was no stopping it. He turned away, preserving at least a little dignity. “So…what do we do about it?”

“Dunno.” Then, softer, “I want to touch you. Your hands, your face. I’d only...you know…but I want to.”

“I as well. It’s…I’m resisting but…it seems to grow harder every day.” He smoothed his hands down his robe. “Do you suppose it will always be this way? Between us? With every being we spend enough time around?”

“I hope not. It wouldn’t feel as…important if it were common. And it’s…distracting. I miss just talking.”

“As do I.” Aziraphale turned back in time to see Crawly’s smile. “I suppose…if it’s a question of the human-shaped corporation, you could always have it adjusted. Remove the troublesome emotions.”

“No!” The vehemence of Crawly’s voice startled him. “Aziraphale, that’s the last thing I want. I told you before, I want to – to experience everything this world has, including stupid human emotions. I don’t need them taken away I need…I need to build up a tolerance.” He nodded, staring ahead. “That’s it. A little at a time until…until…”

“Until you can feel whatever you want. Without…repercussions.”

“Nh. Don’t know how I’ll pull it off but..yeah. It, ah…” Another quick glance. “What about you? Probably help with your angelic duties if you didn’t have to worry about…all this.”

“It probably would.” They started walking again, slowly, side by side. “But I think…I think I would also like to experience all this world has to offer. And I can learn to control myself.”

They continued in silence for a little while, each lost in his thoughts.

“Do you think it will take much longer?” Aziraphale asked, twisting his fingers.

“You definitely need to learn patience, Angel.” Crawly grinned. “Yeah. Um. Remember when I tried to explain what a year was? Probably lots of those.”

“Ah. Is there…anything I can do to help?”

“Ngk. Well. You—”

A high-pitched scream echoed from the camp ahead, long and drawn out.

“The humans!”

They both took off at a run.

In the end, despite half a year of careful observation, Aziraphale and Crawly did very little. By the time they arrived it was nearly over; by the time they’d finished awkwardly re-introducing themselves – and convincing the Man not to skewer them on a flaming sword in a blind panic – there wasn’t much to be done except provide encouragement.

The Child was born, a healthy young boy who shouted quite indignantly at the inconvenience of it all.

The human race had truly begun.

Much later, as the Man and Woman rested, Aziraphale held the tiny baby in his arms. The boy had settled down somewhat, now that he was wrapped tightly and warm, and looked in danger of falling asleep in the angel’s arms.

“How does it feel?” Crawly asked, sitting at the edge of the camp.

“Oh, I can’t – it’s incredible, Crawly. I know he’s just a little thing but – I can feel it, his presence, his potential. Everything he can be, good and bad, and it’s just—” The baby opened his mouth in a wide yawn. “…It’s adorable.”

“You’re pathetic,” Crawly said, but with a smile, rising to stand closer, peering over Aziraphale’s shoulder at the Child. “So? Everything there? I know you spent about an eternity counting fingers and toes. Didn’t think it took that long to get to twenty.”

“They’re just the most precious little things! Look – look at his ears.”

“I’m looking.” One hand stretched out uncertainly, tracing along the Child’s cheek. The baby turned his head immediately, searching, sucking on the fingers he found. “Look at that. Not even a day old, searching for food, trying to survive. They just…they just keep going, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Holding the Child filled an emptiness in Aziraphale he hadn’t known was there, not the strange magnetism that drew him to Crawly, but that deep desire for connection, the need to walk with the humans, to be known. Accepted. Though it wasn’t all that different, he reflected. Two sides of the same…two-sided object. A need to not be alone. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Angel…” Crawly’s hand drifted back to the Child’s head, resting on the nest of dark downy curls. “Aziraphale. I really don’t think I can.”

He turned around, and was surprised to see tears in Crawly’s eyes.

“Sssstupid, huh? Child’s got nothing to do with me. But…” He turned abruptly and walked away from the camp.

“Crawly, wait!”

“Nope. This was it, Angel. Just on Earth until the kid was born.” He turned back and shrugged, arms spread wide.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go now.”

“I can feel them calling already. In here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Longer I wait, more likely they’ll send someone to get me, and that’ll just be...messy. And what am I supposed to do now, anyway? Sit here and watch you...carry him around...wishing I could...” He bit his lip. “What would be the point?”

“But…but I thought…”

“Yeah, I thought, too. But what can we do?” Crawly looked down at the ground, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Look. Take care of them, alright? They don’t need your help. They’re smart. But…be kind. S’what you’re best at.”

“But…” Aziraphale looked down at the future of humanity in his arms. “Is that enough?”

“It’s everything.” Crawly stiffened, clenched his fists. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale took a step forward, and immediately the Child started fussing, sensing his anxiety.

“Well. Guess it’s not just happinessssss.” He swallowed hard, clearly fighting something. “Look. Angel.” Crawly walked back to hover beside Aziraphale again. “I – I really liked working with you. I hope…If I get another chanccccce…” He shook his head, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek.

It spread across his face, a warmth, a blush, a smile, blooming like a flower.

Aziraphale turned his head, catching Crawly’s lips with his own. He’d seen the humans do this from afar, and he’d wondered why, but now…

Now he knew.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Crawly was gone, and a large black snake slithered away, fast as a shadow.

The Child started to cry. Aziraphale rocked him, bounced him a little. “No, dear, don’t worry. We’ll see him again.” The taste of Crawly was still on his lips, new and intriguing. “Nothing ends today. This is the beginning of our story.”

Thank you for reading! If that ending wasn’t satisfying enough, I recommend the fic Snuddles (Snake Cuddles) as a very distant epilogue.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #aziraphale and crowley #ineffable husbands #snake crowley #snek crowley #asexual ineffable husbands #lonely aziraphale #curious crowley #crawly #post eden #historical fic #crowley turns into a snake #first kiss #falling in love #feels #my writing #ao3 link

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

thorns and roses // tanjiro x reader

Author’s Note: Finally got around to completing @allurajarren‘s request! I hope you like this! I am so sorry that it took so long! I’m really proud of this one considering it’s my first proper anime request haha. I hope ya’ll like this, guys.

Word count: 2393

Pairing: Kamado Tanjiro x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

Ever since you were a young child, you’ve been told that a person like you could never make friends. You had around you a mighty wall, which no one bothered to even look at, let alone make the effort to jump over, which left you misunderstood, alone, and obviously, broken.

You were what you’d call, a lone ranger, secretly caring for people but can’t pause and let them get to know you—you weren’t scared, per say, you were cautious, and perhaps learning that your kindness was hidden and was not a gift you would so willingly give away.

On most nights, you pondered if this was how your life was going to be. An elder sister, married away to a family that could not stand you, and parents long dead from disease and strife—you were forced to move, adapt and learn new things to survive, but it was on one chilly, winter night did you figure out that your method of survival was not the only way to go. You were not one to believe in demons, but when your eyes landed on a small statured demon feeding on a person who was talking to you just moments ago, you were frozen to your spot.

You immediately shut your eyes, knowing that this was all you were going to live for, tears leaking from the side of your eyes when your one breath turned to two, and two turned four and you were breathing still—forcing you to open your eyes and meet with a rather strange man, a snake around his neck. He spotted you, on the ground, crying and didn’t bother to offer help. He had saved your life, after all, that was all the help you were getting.

“If you want to live,” He said, “You might need to learn a few more things.”

You wanted to learn. You wanted to be more like this man—quiet, yet callously dangerous, a large wall around him that you could literally feel around him. You didn’t want to say he reminded you of you, because you were in no comparison to the strength this man unfolded before you. Yet, you wanted to be more like him—learn and adapt in ways that could let you survive the way he had.

“Can you teach me?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“No,” He didn’t look hesitant, but you could tell from his eyes that he pitied you, “But I do know someone who can.”

That was how you met Kanroji Mitsuri, who more than willingly took you under her wing—wanting to learn more about you, carry you in her arms, feed you so much food that you could barely eat, and had Obanai-san watch the two of you as you interacted. Kanroji refused to teach you her breathing technique, however, which left you confused.

Confused, only for a while.

It was one morning when you were foraging did you feel your breath be taken away. As curious as you were, you approached the flower, in all its beauty and callous demeanour, and stood there, admiring it. It was a blue rose, but you could not touch it. Thorns spread around its stem, forbidden anyone from even getting close—forcing the onlookers to admire it from afar. You were mesmerised because this flower reminded you of you, not that you considered yourself as elegant as the flower, no—but it was the thorns that melted your heart straight away.

It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen—and that was when you realised it; some of the most beautiful things come wrapped in thorns. What Mitsuri-san had told you made so much more sense. You, at the time, were just a misunderstood 11-year old with nothing to lose.

You merely aimed to be something more than just that.

Three years passed with you having become a demon slayer. You had mastered your own breathing technique, under the supervision of Mitsuri-san and Obanai-san of course, who merely instructed you and did nothing more. Mitsuri introduced you to Shinobu after you passed, earning you the rank of a Tsuchinoe immediately for having been somewhat of a tsuguko.

You believed this was all your life was going to be like. Mitsuri-san and Obanai-san are the only ones who knew you past your thorns, and there was no need for anyone else to fill any sort of gaps, if there were any.

You wanted to believe you were happy, you wanted to believe that you were content with the kind of life you were living, but you couldn’t help but feel a void growing in your chest, day in and day out—and no matter how strong you thought you got, you were feeling a tad bit more hollow each day.

“(y/n)-chan,” Shinobu’s voice broke you out of your reverie as you were training, “We’ve got a mission.”

You always were mesmerised with her sing-song voice, though there was something odd about it that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. You nodded before heading into the estate to change and get yourself ready to leave, unaware that Shinobu was watching you the whole time.

“(y/n)-chan,” You paused as she beckoned you, “I wish you’d let people in some more. Kindness oozes out of you, yet you pick them up carefully like pebbles on the beach floor.”

You smile at her softly, “Shinobu-san, the world isn’t kind. My smiles won’t end the demons. My blade will.”

She nodded because what more could she say? You reminded her of herself from long ago, and you had said the same thing she had said to her sister before she had died. Your heart was fixed on something, and there could be nothing that could sway your mind—nothing apart from a storm.

They say that there’s a circle drawn around the very area you were standing on; this was how fate worked, in strange and bizarre ways. You were never not meant to be here and you were never not meant to meet a certain brown haired boy.

You sensed four demons ahead and what was strange was only three of them were hostile—confusing you at how a demon could just stay around people and not attack them. But that was not what you were going to think of, you were told to assist the humans there and that was what you were going to do.

Your eyes widened when you spotted a boy with a box on his back, facing off against three demons. The brown haired male looked a bit distracted when the demon approached the box on his back—forcing you to quickly jump on a trunk and breathe—

“Breathe of the Blue Rose,” You unsheathed your sword in an instant before standing still against the trunk of the tree, “Dance of the Briar,”

The boy below you froze as thorns grew around you, heavy and thick, with tiny blue roses blooming from the tips, and in one instant, the thorns wrapped around the three demons before you jumped and slashed each of their heads off, in one clean swipe. You landed on your feet ahead of the demon slayer, before turning to him and looking at him—cold eyes met warm ones, and you swore that this boy’s eyes showed you that the past, present and future were all the same thing.

“That was... That was amazing...” He said, and you ignored him.

“There’s a demon on your back.” You said, starting to unsheathe your sword.

His eyes suddenly widened, “N-No! I can explain—”

You stilled when you sensed a stronger demon presence coming from half a mile away. There were a few humans there, and you had to pick one over the other. Clicking your tongue, you glared at the boy in front of you, before sheathing your sword again.

“If you are caught protecting a demon, it could mean trouble. I hope you know that.”

Just as you were about to leave, “Thank you so much for saving my life!”

You didn’t bother on responding, but for some reason, your heart couldn’t stop beating rapidly.

The next time you saw the brown haired boy was in the butterfly estate. Shinobu had asked you and Aoi to help out, considering how there were quite a few people who required assistance—and this boy, Kamado Tanjiro in particular, was special.

You learned from the Hashira that Tanjiro’s sister had been turned into a demon, but had not hurt a single human being thus far. So that’s the demon on his back, you thought, looking at him while he was asleep. You knew from the way he was shifting and turning that he would wake up any moment, after which you were to administer his medicine. You felt bad for him, curious about the kind of life he had led, after having his entire family be killed by Muzan, and his only remaining family was turned into a demon. It broke your heart, and you bit your lip, unable to express what you were feeling.

“It’s you...” you heard Tanjiro’s frail voice alert you, before you turned around and handed him his daily medicine.

“It’s bitter.” You said before the boy drank it without question.

His blond friend was still asleep, considering it had been just two days since they were brought back to the estate. You watched as Tanjiro attempted to sit up, and you were sure he was going to engage in some conversation with you. You wanted to leave before that happened.

Just as you were about to get up, you heard him say, “You’re... Why are you so sad?”

Your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp before you turned to look at him, looking at you earnestly. How did he know that? You gulped before frowning at him, causing him to suddenly regret what he said, and walked away—not intending on answering his question. Of course, it had caught you off-guard, but that did not mean it didn’t encroach on your boundaries. Boundaries, huh... you thought as you walked toward Tanjiro’s sister’s room.

What use are these boundaries at all? You thought as you opened the door, only intending to check up on the girl.

You expected to see the demon asleep or passive, but the second you entered, you saw her sitting up on the bed, with three layers of blankets over her.

You knew demons couldn’t go out in the sun and you knew she was trying to avoid any bit of sunlight there was so that she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Walking over to the window, you put over a dark colored sheet over the curtain to further prevent light from getting in.

“Is that better?” You asked Nezuko, as you learned her name, only to have her grumble with joy.

You wanted to smile at her, your heart going out for the tragedy that these siblings had gone through. Slowly, without realising it, your hand reached her head and you patted her just twice, her eyes staring into your soul.

“I’m sorry, Nezuko-san,” You whispered, “I wish I was better at this.”

A second later, her hand held your own which was on her head and she brought it to her cheek, cradling it softly. You were frozen to the spot you stood on, admiring this demon’s ability to show more kindness than you had ever been able to, and you felt your lips quiver.

That evening, you noticed Aoi attempt to walk to the room Tanjiro was in. You rushed to her before grabbing her arm, staring at her.

“Do...” She had no idea what you were trying to tell her, “Do you want to give this to him?”

You nodded once before she giggled and handed you the medicine, and you entered the room to find Tanjiro already awake, smiling at you. You wanted to smile back but only a frown was plastered on your face, which for some reason, he smiled at you wider for. You quickly handed him the medicine before turning to leave, but Tanjiro stopped you.

“Could you s-stay for a moment? I’d like the company!”

You narrowed your eyes before feeling a soft blush come on your features, as you sat down beside his bed on the stool. Tanjiro drank his medicine quietly and once again smiled at you.

“I never caught your name.” He said, bashfully.

“(y/n).”

“Just (y/n)?”

You nodded. Your sister and yourself never had a surname. If you did, you couldn’t remember it.

“(y/n)-chan, thank you for saving my life! Your breath style was just so beautiful, I couldn’t look away!”

You blushed at how easily he complimented you, and cleared your throat not knowing what to say, “Thank you...” came out rather softly but he seemed all the more happier that you were just there.

A moment later, you looked at him and asked, “Why did you ask me that?”

He blinked, “For your name?”

“No, why did you ask me if I was sad?” The real question was, how did you know?

“Ah,” Tanjiro scratched the back of his head, “I could... I smelled it off you. Not meaning it in any creepy way, really! I just... You are so kind, your hands, your eyes—they’re all brimming with kindness, yet, your sadness masks them all. You’re like the rose from your breathing technique,”

You gasped at his words.

“The thorns being your sadness.”

“Tanjiro-san...” Your face was steaming hot. “I... I’m not good at any of this.”

“Not good at what?”

“I’ve always been by myself,” You couldn’t believe what was happening, “When Obanai-san found me, I thought I was dead. No one’s tried to know how I feel or what I want or how I sound like... I’ve always just been here, living by myself, feeling by myself—it’s no different from not knowing how to talk. How can I...? How I can ever dream of letting go of my insecurities? I can’t be who I want to be because—”

“Of course you can,” Tanjiro’s smile was blinding, “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or feel happy because thorns have roses. Ultimately, you can’t accept the beauty of a rose without the thorns, right?”

You quickly stood up, feeling so bashful that you thought you’d die.

“I hope you get better soon!”

You ran out of the room, unable to contain yourself. What exited your mouth after that was a laugh, a sound so unfamiliar to you that you felt strange—warmth coursing through your veins as you rushed to the training ground. You were breathing heavily right then, tears pricking your eyes. You were not sad, not even close, yet you felt the overwhelming need to cry—as if to cleanse your system off the thoughts you have always had about yourself, your reservations, your beliefs.

You pictured Mitsuri-san’s smile right then, and you smiled back, covering your face with your palms. Slowly, you brought your hands down, the smile still intact on your face.

Thank you, you thought, Tanjiro-san.

As days passed, you were slowly becoming a new person. Tanjiro had started his training with Kanao-chan, with Inosuke and Zenitsu awake and attending the sessions as well. Tanjiro was assigned to train with you as well—where all he had to do was race you to a finish line.

All set in the woods—your place for victory.

While you easily beat them over forty times, you noticed how hard Tanjiro worked each and every single day—and all this was for Nezuko, who had gone back to sleep after you had met her that first day. You approached Tanjiro with a smile on your face, patting him on the shoulder, alerting his attention. He turned to you and froze, which caused you to still as well, tilting your head in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still smiling.

Tanjiro’s own smile grew in retaliation and he shook his head.

“You’re...” You’re beautiful, he wanted to say, “It’s nice to see you smiling!”

Your smile only grew before saying, “It’s all thanks to you!”

You spotted Zenitsu and Inosuke slowly catch up and you smiled at them before folding your arms.

“You can try using the breathing technique while you run,” You suggested, “It’s hard at first, but you’ll get used to it. Your movements will be lagged initially, but with practice, you’ll learn to move much, much faster.”

“While running? That’ll kill me for sure!” Zenitsu said, causing you to chuckle.

“I can do it!” Inosuke yelled out loud.

Tanjiro watched you, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He sensed your sadness still, but he also sensed a growing sense of concern lodge itself in your heart —for them, and he couldn’t be happier.

That night, you noticed Tanjiro sitting on the roof of the estate. You easily jumped to him and sat beside him, not wanting to alert him when he was in a stupor. A second later however,

“(y/n)-chan? There’s something I saw in the woods the other day. Would you like to come see?”

You nodded, curious as to what it could be. A moment later, Tanjiro offered you his hand, for which you gulped before taking it, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. He led you into the forest in absolute silence, but the sound of your heart slammed against your ears and you were certain that even the brown haired boy could hear it.

He could hear it, but hardly, because his own heartbeat was raging in his chest.

When the two of you reached a clearing, it was one of the most mesmerizing sights you had ever laid eyes on. White roses, reflected in the blue of the moonlight, shone in their bed of thorns—enchanting you with every breath you took.

“Tanjiro-san,” You didn’t know what to say, “This is beautiful!”

He went ahead and picked one flower from a bed of thorns, before handing it to you. You were amazed at how beautiful these flowers were, a feeling rushing inside your heart that you couldn’t quite place. You smelled it, a soft smile sitting on your lips as you let out a sigh of happiness. Tanjiro blinked at you, with a grin.

“Thorns don’t stop you from sniffing,” He said, “Or putting them in a vase or admiring them. You work around them. Because the rose is worth it... Think of what you'd miss.”

You blushed at his words, unaware of where this was going.

“Tanjiro-san, you...”

Your heart was beating so loudly you were going deaf. You felt him come closer to you, taking your hand in his, his forehead dangerously close to yours. You wanted to hold him just then, but you were unsure. Hesitant.

But so, so deeply in love.

“I love you,” he whispered, and kissed your brow. “Thorns and all.”

Suddenly, everything else didn’t matter—the void in your chest was filled with sunlight, a dancing flame that burned brighter than the rest. Staring into his eyes, you smiled as tears leaked out of your (e/c) ones before feeling Tanjiro’s hand reach your cheek and bring your forehead to touch his.

“I think I’ve loved you from the second you saved my life, (y/n)-chan,” He said, shutting his eyes. “And there is not any wall I wouldn’t scale for you.”

Your hands wound themselves around his neck before breathing into his scent, feeling his skin touch yours, his hair tickle your cheek—Tanjiro embraced you back, feeling his arms protectively wrap around your figure, as he kissed you softly on your cheek. There was no need for you to hide away anymore—and there was no need for you to be afraid of your kindness.

If there was one thing Tanjiro was good at, it was at loving you.

And if there was one thing you were good at, it was returning the love that is given to you.

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump

"Oh, I want this one!" Sirius said at once.

Lily couldn't help cracking up laughing, she never would have believed Sirius would get so enthusiastic about reading a children's story, but no one protested as he began.

Of all the strange things he'd heard while here, Harry decided this one had to hit his top ten. What about a crazy rabbit now? Cackling Stump? Professor Sprout had sure never mentioned that.

Sirius began, much to no one's surprise but everyone's amusement, in a highly respectable tone as if reading a letter from the Queen of England herself. Shoulders held strait and mock pushing glasses steadily into place, he had the others shoulders shaking even as he carried on like this.

A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic.

"Right, I'm sure that worked out for him," James rolled his eyes at once.

He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a Brigade of Witch-Hunters, and issued them with a pack of ferocious black hounds.

Sirius said that with a little too much pride, and Harry honestly couldn't help but smile at the display.

At the same time, the King caused proclamations to be read in every village and town across the land:

"Wanted by the King, an Instructor in Magic."

No true witch or wizard dared volunteer for the post, for they were all in hiding from the Brigade of Witch-Hunters.

"Well that plan rather backfired on him right away," Lily chuckled.

However, a cunning charlatan with no magical power saw a chance of enriching himself, and arrived at the palace, claiming to be a wizard of enormous skill. The charlatan performed a few simple tricks, which convinced the foolish King of his magical powers, and was immediately appointed Grand Sorcerer in Chief, the King's Private Magic Master.

"That's quite a title," Remus yawned. "I feel bad for the person who had to announce his entering a room."

The charlatan bade the King give him a large sack of gold, so that he might purchase wands and other magical necessities. He also requested several large rubies, to be used in the casting of curative charms, and a silver chalice or two, for the storing and maturing of potions. All these things the foolish King supplied.

James scratched at the back of his neck as he thought about it, wondering why the Muggle thought they'd use any of that, and clearly missing the snickering line about the foolish King.

"My question is, wouldn't he already have those things, being such a skilled sorcerer and all," Remus couldn't help but mock before Sirius shushed him.

The charlatan stowed the treasure safely in his own house and returned to the palace grounds. He did not know that he was being watched by an old woman who lived in a hovel on the edge of the grounds. Her name was Babbitty, and she was the washerwoman who kept the palace linens soft, fragrant and white. Peeping from behind her drying sheets, Babbitty saw the charlatan snap two twigs from one of the King's trees and disappear into the palace.

The charlatan gave one of the twigs to the King and assured him that it was a wand of tremendous power.

Here next he actually switched, to a poorly accent of a Cockney man, reminding Harry a bit of Stan now in this roll, which Harry was sure Sirius had done on purpose.

"It will only work, however," said the charlatan, "when you are worthy of it."

Every morning the charlatan and the foolish King walked out into the palace grounds, where they waved their wands and shouted nonsense at the sky. The charlatan was careful to perform more tricks, so that the King remained convinced of his Grand Sorcerer's skill, and of the power of the wands that had cost so much gold.

One morning, as the charlatan and the foolish King were twirling their twigs, and hopping in circles, and chanting meaningless rhymes, a loud cackling reached the King's ears. Babbitty the washerwoman was watching the King and the charlatan from the window of her tiny cottage, and was laughing so hard she soon sank out of sight, too weak to stand.

"I love that feeling," James's smile grew back at once, Sirius just read this with such unrestrained enjoyment, his tone promised they should all be feeling the exact same way now.

"I must look most undignified, to make the old washerwoman laugh so!" said the King.

For this he'd actually used his own voice, still in a bit more dignified tone, causing James to snort harder than ever and Remus to mutter a few big headed comments that Sirius took no notice of.

He ceased his hopping and twig twirling, and frowned.

"I really wonder how it took him so long to realize that," Lily couldn't help but agree.

"I grow weary of practice! When shall I be ready to perform real spells in front of my subjects, Sorcerer?"

The charlatan tried to soothe his pupil, assuring him that he would soon be capable of astonishing feats of magic, but Babbitty's cackling had stung the foolish King more than the charlatan knew.

"Tomorrow," said the King, "we shall invite our court to watch their King perform magic!"

The charlatan saw that the time had come to take his treasure and flee.

"Alas, Your Majesty, it is impossible! I had forgotten to tell Your Majesty that I must set out on a long journey tomorrow."

"Oh yes, slipped the mind till this very moment and all-" Remus stated in a posh voice, clearly trying to mimic Sirius who elbowed him amid more snickering.

"If you leave this palace without my permission, Sorcerer, my Brigade of Witch-Hunters will hunt you down with their hounds! Tomorrow morning you will assist me to perform magic for the benefit of my lords and ladies, and if anybody laughs at me, I shall have you beheaded!"

The King stormed back to the palace, leaving the charlatan alone and afraid. Not all his cunning could save him now, for he could not run away, nor could he help the King with magic that neither of them knew.

Seeking a vent for his fear and his anger, the charlatan approached the window of Babbitty the washerwoman. Peering inside, he saw the little old lady sitting at her table, polishing a wand. In a corner behind her, the King's sheets were washing themselves in a wooden tub.

"How reckless," Lily raised a brow. "The King's on a manhunt and she's doing that in broad daylight, after drawing attention from laughing at them."

"Lily, you're getting as bad as Remus. Enjoy the stupid story," Sirius huffed without breaking character, and Lily had to bite her lip harder than ever to stop from falling off the couch laughing.

The charlatan understood at once that Babbitty was a true witch, and that she who had given him his awful problem could also solve it.

"Crone!" roared the charlatan. "Your cackling has cost me dear! If you fail to help me, I shall denounce you as a witch, and it will be you who is torn apart by the King's hounds!"

"I'm sure if that was actually a bother to her she wouldn't be in this situation to begin with," James took his turn poking a flaw in this, but Sirius blatantly ignored him as well.

Old Babbitty smiled at the charlatan and assured him that she would do everything in her power to help.

The charlatan instructed her to conceal herself inside a bush while the King gave his magical display, and to perform the King's spells for him, without his knowledge. Babbitty agreed to the plan but asked one question.

"What, sir, if the King attempts a spell Babbitty cannot perform?"

For this, he tried to imitate Lily, which she cottoned onto at once. "You little toerag, I am not your wash woman."

"Whatever do you mean Lily?" He batted his eyes and refused to acknowledge he was doing any such thing, or change as he continued.

Lily fingered her wand and considered, but the others were just laughing too hard, and finally she gave in to take the joke.

The charlatan scoffed.

"Your magic is more than equal to that fool's imagination," he assured her, and he retired to the castle, well pleased with his own cleverness.

"Most idiots are," she still couldn't help but mutter.

The following morning all the lords and ladies of the kingdom assembled in the palace grounds.

The King climbed on to a stage in front of them, with the charlatan by his side.

"I shall firstly make this lady's hat disappear!" cried the King, pointing his twig at a noblewoman.

From inside a bush nearby, Babbitty pointed her wand at the hat and caused it to vanish.

Great was the astonishment and admiration of the crowd, and loud their applause for the jubilant King.

"Next, I shall make that horse fly!" cried the King,

"Now that's a complicated little spell, putting wings on a horse," James grinned, "or does he mean turning it into an actual fly?"

"I'm guessing your mum used different spells this King was performing," Lily asked curiously, but Sirius cut them off by pouting, "would you lot quit interrupting! I'm giving you a show over here and you lot have no appreciation."

Remus arched a curious brow at him when he told, "Sirius, I was under the impression you've been doing that over ten years now. I'm still waiting for my first intermission to take a piss."

Sirius huffed and muttered some more about ingrates before continuing louder.

pointing his twig at his own steed.

From inside the bush, Babbitty pointed her wand at the horse and it rose high into the air.

The crowd was still more thrilled and amazed,

Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump and they roared their appreciation of their magical King.

"And now," said the King, looking all around for an idea; and the Captain of his Brigade of Witch-Hunters ran forwards.

"Your Majesty," said the Captain, "this very morning, Sabre died of eating a poisonous toadstool! Bring him back to life, Your Majesty, with your wand!"

"This one was the same though," James whispered quietly to Lily, his parents first time ever telling him everything had a limit, even magic.

And the Captain heaved on to the stage the lifeless body of the largest of the witch-hunting hounds.

The foolish King brandished his twig and pointed it at the dead dog. But inside the bush, Babbitty smiled, and did not trouble to lift her wand, for no magic can raise the dead.

When the dog did not stir, the crowd began first to whisper, and then to laugh.

"This King is of poor showman ship," Sirius couldn't help but interrupt himself this time at no lack of recovery for this. "He could have made up anything, these people have no more clue than him. He hasn't gotten that far along with his magic training yet, or the truth even."

"No one can be like you Sirius," Remus happily reminded, who preened at the snide comment and kept going.

They suspected that the King's first two feats had been mere tricks after all.

"How do you make lifting a horse a trick?" James rolled his eyes, honestly, Muggles really would believe anything.

"Why doesn't it work?" the King screamed at the charlatan, who bethought himself of the only ruse left to him.

"There, Your Majesty, there!" he shouted, pointing at the bush where Babbitty sat concealed. "I see her plain, a wicked witch who is blocking your magic with her own evil spells! Seize her, somebody, seize her!"

Babbitty fled from the bush, and the Brigade of Witch-Hunters set off in pursuit, unleashing their hounds, who bayed for Babbitty's blood.

But as she reached a low hedge, the little witch vanished from sight, and when the King, the charlatan and all the courtiers gained the other side, they found the pack of witch-hunting hounds barking and scrabbling around a bent and aged tree.

"She has turned herself into a tree!" screamed the charlatan and, dreading lest Babbitty turn back into a woman and denounce him, he added, "Cut her down, Your Majesty, that is the way to treat evil witches!"

Harry couldn't help but shake his head sadly. Though he was confident that hadn't been Babbity's actions, it still saddened him this man really went through with killing some innocent person just to save himself. Making him question more every day what exactly blurred the line between those Wizards who thought themselves better when there were Muggles who would do the same.

An axe was brought at once, and the old tree was felled to loud cheers from the courtiers and the charlatan.

However, as they were making ready to return to the palace, the sound of loud cackling stopped them in their tracks.

"Fools!" cried Babbitty's voice from the stump they had left behind. "No witch or wizard can be killed by being cut in half! Take the axe, if you do not believe me, and cut the Grand Sorcerer in two!"

The Captain of the Brigade of Witch-Hunters was eager to make the experiment, but as he raised the axe the charlatan fell to his knees, screaming for mercy and confessing all his wickedness.

"At least someone got their dues," Lily chuckled for this woman's quick thinking, not nearly as sour at Sirius anymore trying to feign her voice into the story.

As he was dragged away to the dungeons, the tree stump cackled more loudly than ever.

"By cutting a witch in half, you have unleashed a dreadful curse upon your kingdom!" It told the petrified King. "Henceforth, every stroke of harm that you inflict upon my fellow witches and wizards will feel like an axe stroke in your own side, until you will wish you could die of it!"

"I always did like this story, Babbity's a great role model," James happily agreed. She was taking this opportunity to do right by everything, instead of say, just asking for those riches again like some would have.

"What about Babbity then?" Lilly couldn't help but challenge. "If we were to have a little girl."

James hummed thoughtfully but gave nothing away.

At that, the King fell to his knees too, and told the stump that he would issue a proclamation at once, protecting all the witches and wizards of the kingdom, and allowing them to practise their magic in peace.

"Very good," said the stump, "but you have not yet made amends to Babbitty!"

"Anything, anything at all!" cried the foolish King, wringing his hands before the stump.

"You will erect a statue of Babbitty upon me, in memory of your poor washerwoman, and to remind you for ever of your own foolishness!" said the stump.

"Ah, guess I don't blame her having one thing for herself though," Harry couldn't help but keep snickering away at this comeuppance.

The King agreed to it at once, and promised to engage the foremost sculptor in the land, and have the statue made of pure gold.

"Can't do anything halfway though," Remus chuckled.

Then the shamed King and all the noblemen and women returned to the palace, leaving the tree stump cackling behind them.

When the grounds were deserted once more, there wriggled from a hole between the roots of the tree stump a stout and whiskery old rabbit with a wand clamped between her teeth.

"She's an Animgaus," Lily said in surprise.

"Yep," the other three said at once, little smiles still in place.

"Such a silly little tail, but McGonagall actually referenced it in her lecture about Animagus', so we just had to look it up," James chuckled.

"Apparently it was one of the first and only times used in a children's tale, but then from there we really started digging into the subject, and," Sirius trailed off suggestively with an unneeded wave at himself.

Lily just kept smiling in surprise that such a thing would mean so much to one person, and Remus shaking his head affectionately at his friends all these years later still proved as much.

Babbitty hopped out of the grounds and far away, and ever after a golden statue of the washerwoman stood upon the tree stump, and no witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the kingdom again.

Albus Dumbledore on "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump"

Sirius couldn't stop now, and instead adopted the phony voice of Dumbledore, honestly managing quite a good impression.

The story of "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump" is, in many ways, the most "real" of Beedle's tales, in that the magic described in the story conforms, almost entirely, to known magical laws.

It was through this story that many of us first discovered that magic could not bring back the dead "and a great disappointment and shock it was, convinced as we had been, as young children, that our parents would be able to awaken our dead rats and cats with one wave of their wands.

Though some six centuries have elapsed since Beedle wrote this tale, and while we have devised innumerable ways of maintaining the illusion of our loved ones' continuing presence, wizards still have not found a way of reuniting body and soul once death has occurred.

Harry watched Sirius read that with a heavy burn in his throat that he'd felt every time he looked to his parents as well. He looked quickly away and adjusted his glasses, determined not to let his mind linger and dredge that up again so soon, he was going to enjoy these moments!

As the eminent wizarding philosopher Bertrand de Penses-Profondes writes in his celebrated work A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter:

Sirius had to stop and actually take a breath after such an exquisite title, honestly going cross eyed at the idea of that being on the spine of a book, before finishing.

"Give it up. It's never going to happen."1

Then promptly started laughing like a madman, the others not resisting joining in.

The tale of Babbitty Rabbitty does, however, give us one of the earliest literary mentions of an Animagus, for Babbitty the washerwoman is possessed of the rare magical ability to transform into an animal at will.

Animagi make up a small fraction of the wizarding population. Achieving perfect, spontaneous human to animal transformation requires much study and practice, and many witches and wizards consider that their time might be better employed in other ways. Certainly, the application of such a talent is limited unless one has a great need of disguise or concealment.

"Honestly I don't think about that part too much," James shrugged. "It's not like it comes in handy when running to spontaneously burst into a deer and keep running, then you can't shoot spells back."

"I can see the convenience for smaller animals though," Sirius corrected with a curious look. "I could fit into smaller spaces as Padfoot, duck out of the way and honestly run faster."

"I still can't believe you fools convinced the whole Order of your stupid nicknames anymore than the school, it's not like you're subtle," Lily told them affectionately.

"They'll get the joke when we tell them in a few years," James waved off.

It is for this reason that the Ministry of Magic has insisted upon a register of Animagi, for there can be no doubt that this kind of magic is of greatest use to those engaged in surreptitious, covert or even criminal activity.2

James and Sirius looked highly offended their one and only way to help their friend was deemed like this, but Remus just looked sad. His friends foolish attempt to help him turned out to be the first time in his life he'd ever felt like he wasn't bearing a curse. It's not as if he'd ever ask another wizard to try the same, to help more werewolves in this way, but was it so unreasonable to realize help was out there?

Whether there was ever a washerwoman who was able to transform into a rabbit is open to doubt; however, some magical historians have suggested that Beedle modelled Babbitty on the famous French sorceress Lisette de Lapin, who was convicted of witchcraft in Paris in 1422. To the astonishment of her Muggle guards, who were later tried for helping the witch to escape, Lisette vanished from her prison cell the night before she was due to be executed. Although it has never been proven that Lisette was an Animagus who managed to squeeze through the bars of her cell window, a large white rabbit was subsequently seen crossing the English Channel in a cauldron with a sail fitted to it, and a similar rabbit later became a trusted advisor at the court of King Henry VI.

"Oh, well that's not suspicious at all," Sirius cackled, while Lily twirled a bit of hair around and wondered why that sounded vaguely familiar. Probably something she'd blocked out from a History of Magic Essay.

The King in Beedle's story is a foolish Muggle who both covets and fears magic. He believes that he can become a wizard simply by learning incantations and waving a wand. This may have contributed to that Muggle King's reputation for mental instability.

He is completely ignorant of the true nature of magic and wizards, and therefore swallows the preposterous suggestions of both the charlatan and Babbitty. This is certainly typical of a particular type of Muggle thinking: in their ignorance, they are prepared to accept all sorts of impossibilities about magic, including the proposition that Babbitty has turned herself into a tree that can still think and talk.

"Honestly, that was the most ridiculous part," Lily agreed.

(It is worth noting at this point, however, that while Beedle uses the talking-tree device to show us how ignorant the Muggle King is, he also asks us to believe that Babbitty can talk while she is a rabbit.)

"I thought she was just curled up under the stump and changed afterwards," James said in surprise.

"Details," Sirius waved off.

This might be poetic licence, but I think it more likely that Beedle had only heard about Animagi, and never met one, for this is the only liberty that he takes with magical laws in the story. Animagi do not retain the power of human speech while in their animal form, although they keep all their human thinking and reasoning powers.

"Tragically, Sirius never did recover from his first transformation though and now retains the idiocy of a puppy," Remus sighed deeply while mock wiping a tear away.

"Don't be ridiculous Moony," James said pleasantly that did nothing to make Sirius believe defense was coming. "He's always had the attention span of a pup, now he just has a better excuse."

"I hate you all," Sirius huffed.

This, as every schoolchild knows, is the fundamental difference between being an Animagus, and Transfiguring oneself into an animal. In the case of the latter, one would become the animal entirely, with the consequence that one would know no magic, be unaware that one had ever been a wizard, and would need somebody else to Transfigure one back to one's original form.

"Why did McGonagall have to change Malfoy back from a ferret again?" Harry muttered of no one.

I think it possible that in choosing to make his heroine pretend to turn into a tree, and threaten the King with pain like an axe stroke in his own side, Beedle was inspired by real magical traditions and practices. Trees with wand-quality wood have always been fiercely protected by the wandmakers who tend them, and cutting down such trees to steal them risks incurring not only the malice of the Bowtruckles3 usually nesting there, but also the ill effect of any protective curses placed around them by their owners. In Beedle's time, the Cruciatus Curse4 had not yet been made illegal by the Ministry of Magic, and could have produced precisely the sensation with which Babbitty threatens the King.

1Wizarding photographs and portraits move and (in the case of the latter) talk just like their subjects. Other rare objects, such as the Mirror of Erised, may also reveal more than a static image of a lost loved one. Ghosts are transparent, moving, talking and thinking versions of wizards and witches who wished, for whatever reason, to remain on earth.

2Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, has asked me to make clear that she became an Animagus merely as a result of her extensive researches into all fields of Transfiguration, and that she has never used the ability to turn into a tabby cat for any surreptitious purpose, setting aside legitimate business on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix where secrecy and concealment were imperative.

Sirius couldn't help but burst out laughing again, and honestly the others couldn't blame him.

"Was McGonagall reading these notes over his shoulder and told him to put in that postscript, so that any mad man reading these as well would think, oh, so sorry for thinking otherwise!" Remus tried to demand while holding his sides.

"Yes," James said at once, the lot of them hardly intelligible they were giggling so hard.

3For a full description of these curious little tree-dwellers, see Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

4The Cruciatus, Imperius and Avada Kedavra Curses were first classified as Unforgivable in 1717, with the strictest penalties attached to their use.

"Hey, I actually knew that one," James muttered, trying for a proud tone, but merely shivering all over again of all those curses had done to his family.

As intensive studies in the Department of Mysteries demonstrated as far back as 1672, wizards and witches are born, not created. While the "rogue" ability to perform magic sometimes appears in those of apparent non-magical descent (though several later studies have suggested that there will have been a witch or wizard somewhere on the family tree), Muggles cannot perform magic. The best - or worst - they could hope for are random and uncontrollable effects generated by a genuine magical wand, which, as an instrument through which magic is supposed to be channelled, sometimes holds residual power that it may discharge at odd moments. See also the notes on wandlore for "The Tale of the Three Brothers".

"Well that's done." Sirius said in just a bit of disappointment as he reluctantly handed over the last story to James.

"How come you don't do those voices all the time?" Harry couldn't help but ask with amusement. "I'd like to hear you try me, or Ron and Hermione."

Sirius eyed him critically for a moment, before clearing his throat dramatically, and instead used a high nasally voice, "sorry, best I can do is more Prongs."

James whacked him upside the head.

Sirius hardly blinked and kept going in a more normal tone, "and I've never actually heard your friends voices, but I can do some guesses-"

"That's alright," Remus waved his hands pleadingly for James to go on or they'd be here all day.

James still had to pause for a moment and get his laughter under control before he could.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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