#ive planned a v long fic surrounding this

[sweetbriar-stoat]

Crayon style doodles for an Uncle Adachi au that's been infesting my brain. I just love stinky crime child and his equally stinky uncle.

[sagemoderocklee]

...and that's another year of writing done!

Happy New Year's, everyone! Can't believe we've gone through yet another year of a pandemic (despite what government's around the world tell us about it being over).

This year was a strange one. The later half of the year feels like such a haze for me, days bleeding together, much like they did in 2020. Why? Because, after two years of being as safe as possible, I caught Covid. And not only did I catch Covid in early May, I was one of the lucky ones to get Long Haul Covid, and with that I have spent the last half of 2022 on a medical leave.

It's been a difficult year for me. There are very few things about 2022 that went according to plan--between catching Covid and simply not having the money, my plans to move to Ireland at the end of this summer didn't happen, and while the plan is to postpone my move, to when is still to be decided. I have also let my sewing and portfolio building fall to the wayside, largely--again--because of my health.

However, there are some things to be happy about and this post is my chance to look back and celebrate my writing victories.

sagemoderocklee's 2022 Fic Wrap

Absolution: Part IV (WiP)

While the goal had been to end the year with another update, tragically it was not in the cards. My health being what it is and my focus being on completing other projects, and Absolution being the huge piece it is, I felt it made more sense not to try pushing out Part V. However, I am very happy I was able to start the year with an Absolution update as this fic is very much one of my faves. The fourth part of this fic was a bit of a challenge to write, especially in the middle, but I finally hit on the beats I really needed. A big complication with Absolution was that the remaining 6 chapters, which I had fully planned and plotted, needed tweaking... which is to say Absolution needed to be longer. So I had to move all the plotting I had from Part IV on and rebuild and entirely rewrite each chapter/scene-by-scene breakdown. I'm pretty solid at the moment with Parts V through VIII in terms of plotting, and now I think I can safely say this fic will be a total of 13 chapters (the last one being an epilogue), but that could change since I still have to finish all the restructuring. I know all the key beats and the end goal, but sorting out the getting from one point to the next is really the big issue. However, all that being said, I do want to start the new year with Absolution, so that will be my top priority for January!

Pomegranate Sun: Ch1 (WiP) Co-authoring with @ghoste-catte

The first chapter of this fic I started writing a couple years ago, sometime after I got the prologue from @ghoste-catte. And then, of course, I stopped and didn't touch it again for... ages. But with the Naruto-Run last December and @ghoste-catte wanting to have a special fic for the big milestone of 100 GaaLee fics, it was time to work on this baby again. It is absolutely no surprise that when I get to worldbuild I'm in my comfort zone, so even though it took a while, once I got into working on this (while sick with covid, no less) I was happy. And this is going to be such a fresh piece of worldbuilding since we're bringing in OCs from the far west of Wind Country!

Plus One (COMPLETE)

So, I signed up for a bingo challenge and ended up writing a slightly spicy one-shot. Certainly not the spiciest thing in the world, but I very much enjoy writing flirty!Gaara. I have a LOT of feelings about the way fandom and even the canon blank period treats him surrounding sex/sexuality, and it's really informed a lot of how I view and approach Gaara as a gay male character. This wasn't like a huge piece (though I have an even sexier sequel planned), but it was so much fun.

It Eats Your Heart: Ch2 (WiP)

Chapter 2 of IEYH took me about a year to write. I was struggling. It gave me writer's block. It made me wanna throw my computer. My roommate helped me workshop it a bit. And it still took me forever to finish it. Then finally--FINALLY--I hit on what was missing. This chapter was a fucking bitch, but gotdamn was it worth it. I'm so happy with how this turned out and I'm so looking forward to finishing this fic in the new year.

Pearl-Filled Lungs: II, III, IV, Epilogue (COMPLETE)

My beloved enemy. This fic sat for three years, untouched and miserable. I'd started chapter two... last year? The year before? I don't remember, and it languished. I think it was just the first scene--maybe just part of the first scene. But god it was a struggle. I signed up for the WiP BB last year, but dropped. Signed up again this year and... committed. Largely because of the artist who, though unable to complete art for this fic, was such a huge inspiration. The WIPs they sent me... I wish I could share them because they were stunning. When they were unable to continue, I really thought I'd give up, but once again @ghoste-catte inspired me to continue, thanks to their generous offer to make banners for my fic--and the banners are truly such a work of art! And someone... I got through this fic. I think my original vision comes through, despite how much I bitched and moaned during the process. I wanted to write a fairy tale, and I did. And honestly, I am happy with P-FL. It's not my most popular fic, by any means, but it will always hold a special place in my heart.

My Home is Your Home: Ch1 (WiP)

And here we have a fic that was meant to be a one-shot. I was gonna try and get this done in under 10.5k for an event challenge, but then I talked with my roommate and... they looked at me like 'bitch who the fuck do you think you are' and you know what, they were right. I was foolin myself. This fic wasn't a one-shot. I'd come up with an idea for something much bigger than a one-shot, and I'm glad I listened to them. So instead of an event challenge, I reworked everything and turned this into a fic for the @puregaalee Horror Fest, and I am sooooo excited that I did. Paranormal Romance isn't a genre I've dabbled in, and I'm stoked to try weaving the horror genre with RomCom elements. This fic not only ended up being a much bigger piece than I'd intended, but it also has a planned sequel! Because I wouldn't be me if I didn't add more WiPs to my docket than I subtract.

Blood on the Branches: Ch1 (WiP)

Talk about a fic that was pulled out of my ass at THEE last minute. For Horror Fest, I was struggling to come up with an idea. I knew what prompts I was vibin with, but damn I couldn't think of a single thing. And then one night, laying in bed I came up with an idea.... An entirely different idea from this because with only days left to finish, I scrapped everything I had (and by scrapped, I mean moved to a different document) and came up with something completely new! And so instead of straight horror, I leaned into what I'm good at and now I have a horror/adventure story! While the original concept for this fic is good, I am way more excited about this! Once again, taking my worldbuilding to new heights as we leave Suna and head to the south of Wind! I don't know exactly when I'll be able to get the next chapter out, and I really need to sit down and plot this in full, but I am so excited to write this story!

The Corn Maze House (COMPLETE)

Well, it was a bit of a slog towards the mid-point, but I got through it. I honestly worried I wouldn't, but in the end I'm really glad I didn't give up or give in to feeling negatively about the writing process for this piece. I'm not fully happy with it, but I am happy it's done. The premise for this fic, in my entirely unbiased opinion, is very good, even if I'm still not sure of the execution. I may end up going back over this fic in the future, but regardless I'm happy to have a completed horror fic under my belt, and also to not be adding another WiP to my roster. Definitely very light on the GaaLee, despite being an established relationship, but that was kind of how it had to be, so I'm sure this won't be like a crazy popular fic, necessarily. But I still think this was good practice with the horror genre.

Return to Sender: Ch1-11 (COMPLETE)

Talk about a fic I never expected. RtS was meant to be a simple, cute lil RomCom. A dash of miscommunication, a whole lot of comedy of errors, and just a smidge of drama... The ask prompt that started this definitely did not make any indication that I needed to write a 90k+ drama about homophobia in the shinobi world or about the mistakes you make when you're terrified of losing someone important to you. But I simply am the person I am, and I am the writer I am. This was the direction that felt right, and honestly, I'm so glad because I am so happy with how this story turned out and the reception this fic has received is truly astronomical. I dove into it following completing chapter 1 of PomSun and in between working on P-FL because P-FL was the struggle it was. RtS gave me a much needed break and the first three and a half chapters were such a breath of fresh air. When I say those first three chapters were a breeze to write, I mean I think it took me less than a week to write them. This was (sort of) the first time in over a decade I've had a fully completed multi-chapter fic that I can post on a schedule, and GOD it felt so good to just post chapters weekly. RtS Sundays were the highlight of my week, and even though towards the end there were a lot of complications, it was truly such a joy and has made me want to work harder to get fics done before posting. Also! Not only did I have a ball writing this fic, but I also had a lot of fun making the images that I included in it and the soundtrack to go with it. While some of the images are... less exciting than others, this fic just felt like the perfect opportunity to do some mixed media stuff, and I do really enjoy making soundtracks for fics. I have to say, though I love so many of my fics, RtS will now have a very special place in my heart. The reception, surpassing 1million with it, and just the way it all fell into place... I am truly so filled with joy by how this fic went.

---

Total WiPs at the start of 2022: 16 Total completed works: 4 Total new works: 5 Total updates: 21 Total new words: 186,296 Total words (Ao3): 1,011,369 (-2,521 PomSun = 1,008,848) Total WiPs at the end of 2022: 17

---

2022 Resolutions

The difference between this year's writing and last year's is kinda wild ngl. All that time on medical leave and not sewing really gave me a lot of time to write, (though I do wish I'd been healthy enough to sew more). Looking back at my writing resolutions from the start of the year to now, I can definitely say I'm proud of what I've accomplished, even if it seems like I didn't reach that many resolutions. The two biggest resolutions (1million words and finishing P-FL) were reached, and honestly hitting those two goals was the greatest accomplishment of the year.

So, while most of what I'd had planned for this year was updating fics from last year's Naruto-Run to 1K which didn't happen, I still think this year was a success!

Reach 1million words--168,358 words to go!✅So, the math I did at the end of last year for how many words I needed was actually wrong. I needed closer to 178k, but despite this minor math mishap, I not only reached 1 million words, I surpassed it! I have been trying to hit this overall word count for the past three or so years, and I am utterly shocked, amazed, and proud of myself for making it happen this year! Admittedly, I think this goal was reached because I ended up getting long covid and have spent June through the end of the year out of work and home. Still, this is by no means a small feat, especially given the number of words I needed to reach this year while also being disabled by covid. Long haul is no joke and the brain fog--ohhhh lemme tell you! that shit got me so fucked up, so managing to power through and find joy in writing in spite of that struggle was really important. Writing was one of the few real joys I had in my days these past months, and I could not be more thrilled to finally say I've surpassed 1 million words. Truly, I owe most of that to RtS, the most unexpected fic of 2022.

Write the sequel to Flyweight Love❌Not Reached. Part of me was sure I'd get this done at the end of the year, following Horror Fest, but RtS became priority #1 instead, so HB3 will be on the docket for next year!

Finish IEYH❌Not Reached. While I didn't reach this goal, I did manage to update this fic, finally. Chapter two was a difficult journey and actually caused a lot of writer's block for me between the end of last year-early this year, so while I didn't finish this fic I did still make progress and for that I am very happy. My hope is to accomplish this goal in the new year now!

Finish Pearl-Filled Lungs✅REACHED! This is a pretty big one because it's been hanging over me for... long time. Three years, in fact. But I signed up for the WiP Big Bang and managed to actually get all four chapters written, edited, and published! It always feels like such a relief to be able to cross something completely off my list, but especially something that's been weighing on me the way P-FL was. In many ways, I wasn't happy with the journey, but I am happy with the end of it. I think P-FL is a lot better than I give it credit for, so I am really proud of it and proud that I got this finished.

Finish The Passing of Things❌Not Reached. I was actually really hoping to get this done, so I'm going to make this a goal for next year!

Update Absolution (Ch 4-6)✅❌❌Partially fulfilled. While I did not get three updates in for Absolution, I still got one so that's a partial win for me!

Update TAoL (Ch12)❌Not Reached. Sadly, this update was not in the cards for me this year, which is truly a tragedy for me because it's been two years since the last time I updated. But unfortunately, this next chapter has a lot of issues that need fixing, so getting through has not been easy. However, it is a top priority in the new year!

Update TBotDatP aka the Ballad❌Not Reached. Another fic I was hoping to update, but alas, not this year. But the first chapter is very much underway, so with any luck, I'll be getting a Ballad update out in short order!

Update WNNBYT aka the Hanahaki fic❌Not Reached. While this is a fic I'm excited to work on, it has lost priority in favor of other fics. Maybe next year, but I don't want to make it a resolution since I have fics I'd rather focus on over this.

Update Pomegranate Sun (Ch1)✅ Reached! Amazingly, I was able to get chapter one of this fic out, though it did take a while. However, I'm very proud of how that first chapter turned out and excited to continue this fic with @ghoste-catte in the new year!

Update 13S❌Not Reached. I did get a good chunk of the next update for this worked on, but tragically the amount of worldbuilding needed for this chapter put a wrench in my plans to move forward. However, the worldbuilding has been done in large part, so I am looking forward to getting this fic updated next year!

Edit Alliance❌Not reached. In general, Allied Nations has not been on my mind or at the top of my list. I think, more than likely it won't be until I get TAoL finished, as that's a similarly huge project, even as a stand alone story.

Update Honor Bound❌Not reached. Similar to the above. And while I do have the first three chapters written, I don't want to dive into posting any more chapters of this fic until I've edited Alliance and made the changes to it I know are needed.

Resolutions Reached✅: 3.5 Resolutions Not Reached❌: 9.5

---

2023 Resolutions

With 2022 at an end and a lot more writing done than I expected, I'm hoping to carry that energy into 2023, regardless of other things. I do hope to move to Ireland and get back into sewing regularly, but as my health has changed much of my life, I'm also anticipating more time at home as I shift into working from home. So with that, I hope I also find more time and energy to focus on writing.

This is a lot, and I do not expect to get all of this done, but the goal is to get as much of it done as I can. I have a lot of motivation, so here's to a successful writing year in 2023!

Complete IEYH

Complete Absolution

Complete MHiYH

Complete TPoT

Update 13S (3-6)

Update TAoL (12-15)

Update PomSun (Ch3)

Update TBotDatP aka The Ballad (Ch-4)

Update TEA (Ch1)

Update TCoS (Ch1)

Update BotB (Ch2)

Publish the sequel to Flyweight Love, HB3

Publish The Beautiful Beast of Cāngdì (Ch1)

Publish A Cat's Guide to Finding Love

Complete at least three more MFBingo squares

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

[ask-prime-starscream]

Now what? - The future of this blog

Currently I have five Alternate Universes float around in my head and maybe you’ll like them to come to life here? I plan fanart, comics and maybe some graphic novel style with art and written text. Please share your thoughts and opinions. <3 I. How to raise your sparkling - TFA AU

After Starscream got captured by the Elite Guard, they start to experiment with his CNA to create Autobots with flight ability. However, Starscream manages to free himself and out of spite he snatches the two protoforms right out of their incubator. But he doesn’t feel pleased with himself for long. On the run and with now two demanding sparklings craving his attention, killing Megatron and ruling the universe isn’t such an easy goal anymore...

II. Metroplex Asylum - IDW1/Cyberverse AU set after TAAO

Based on the scrapped idea for Starscream to return with amnesia, after his Quintesson form got destroyed. I would let this take place in the Cyberverse universe, but IDW1 provides so much better world building and consequences, so it’s set there. Windblade fights Vigilem alone in her own head until Starscream logs in to help. During the procedure, Vigilem manages to almost totally override Starscream’s brain-module which forces Airachnid to call a halt before it’s too late. She fries the unwelcome foreign pattern inside Starscream’s head, causing irreparable damage. When Starscream wakes up again - something they didn’t even hope for - he has only a fleeting grasp of some events (mostly early war), tends to terrible mood swings and is obsessed with Windblade, who feels responsible for him, but can’t handle his unfiltered feelings towards her. In the end they have no other choice, but to put the Chosen One, the leader of Cybertron, into an institution full with other bots with mental health issues. While Starscream bends over backwards to make sense of his surroundings and is generally at peace with himself, the past, present and future won’t stop haunting him.

III. Endless Utopia - IDW2 AU

I already started this comic until I put it on hiatus last year. However, I have nine pages in the making and plan to update this soon and hopefully at a faster pace. This AU is based on the idea of a “Nicescream”. Even though his life is more than complicated, he found his own little happiness. But pre-war Cybertron won’t leave him alone.

IV. Moon City - No specific universe with a pinch of Armada

Decades after the war between Autobots and Decepticons ended, earth is a mostly unhabitable place thanks to climate change and World War III. The only flicker of hope for the average human survivor is Moon City, a base built on the moon with artificial atmosphere and Cybertronian technology. While it provides a life in luxury and first of all health, not everyone can enter and the cost of living is sky high. Alexis Thi Dang got the grades to be accepted at the Moon City Academy, but scrapping the money together to keep studying is a daily struggle. Desperately searching on the network for ways to get benefits, she stumbles over the possible solution: In this city of the future, humans who are partnered to a Cybertronian are extremely privileged. Especially the winners of the war, the Autobots, are highly demanded partners. The Council of Humanity even runs a secret project to create a techno-organic mix-race which is supposed to be the answer to the new living conditions in space and possible colonies in foreign atmospheres. Anybody contributing to this goal has their place in Moon City ensured. Alexis however, is among the population just an average Jane, so she cannot even dream of finding a Cybertronian who wants to hook up with a human. Therefore she surfs the dark net and finds a fishy organization willing to provide her a partner... Starscream is on the run since the war ended and hides in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter where he scratches together all the energon he can find. One day he gets roused by humans searching for the same... and Cybertronian spare parts. Barely able to flee, he looks for a safe haven and meets Swindle who is into some not so legal businesses and makes Starscream some not so confidence-inspiring promises to smuggle him into Moon City, the only place of Cybertronian standards he can reach for now. Desperate, Starscream agrees... and gets paired up with Alexis. The beginning of a “wonderful” partnership.

V. Starscream the Movie - No specific universe

I once wanted to create a canon divergent Bumble Bee the Movie fic. This was born out of the idea that both Bee and Starscream are stranded on earth, but I rewrote the whole thing into basically “What could a movie about Starscream look like?” So, we got everything. His creation, his place among the Decepticons, his relationship with Megatron and of course his flock, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Slipstream... a benevolent doctor called Knock Out and the joys of being a giant robot thrashing planets with primitive species and Autobots trying to protect them.  Starscream’s winning streak goes to his head though and results in his fall from grace. He is basically degraded to hunt down insignificant Autobot bases and his first target is Bee on earth. This is probably my most ambitious project and that’s why I can’t reveal too much.

(VI. A forgotten grave - IDW1)

Short comic about Megatron who wants to meet Starscream one last time before his execution. Based on this:

Q: How did the LL crew - specifically Megatron - react to the deaths of Optimus, Soundwave, and Starscream? 

A: Let's specifically focus on Megatron - he would've been conflicted about all three. Would've been most cut up over Starscream's death, because there was a lot of unfinished business between him and Starscream, and the reformed pacifist Megatron never got to meet Starscream. That probably eats away at him. Closely followed by Optimus. Would've been incredibly interested in what Soundwave had done and would've been proud of him. Imagine he would have been bitterly affected by all three deaths in slightly different ways.

While Megatron shows NEVER any regret about how he treated Starscream in the comics, I’ll just take this word of god here and do something with it.

---

Well then. Any thoughts? ;D

[xiaomomowrites]

act V

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary:  “Anyway, childhood dreams are all too easily shattered. Even if you just leave them be, they will fall to pieces all by themselves,” Childe had said ruefully to the traveler, “So someone has to protect them, right?” 

And what about your own, Zhongli questioned, who will protect you, Tartaglia, if not me?

Or, Zhongli is incredibly soft for a specific ginger.

A continuation of act IV; takes place a couple months from where act IV left off. Both stories can be read individually.

A/N: This fic is entirely self indulgent haha. I played Childe’s individual story and couldn’t help but feel obligated to write him being doted on. Seriously, the guy went through that much trouble to take care of his brother and preserve his innocence :( made me wonder if there was anyone to take care of him, too, you know? 

Umm if you wanna cry with me, listen to the song Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish while or after you read. Please enjoy! - u.n

Spoiler alert: contains spoilers for Childe’s story, Monoceros Caeli.

--

The warmth of the morning sun’s rays always had a way of withering down even the strongest of soldiers. 

A morning not so different from yesterday’s gently pulls Zhongli from a restful slumber. He cracks an amber eye open to observe his surroundings and takes a calming breath, and feels his own chest rise and fall. The sun crept through the window and past the curtains, enveloping the entirety of one ivory wall and reflecting against Childe’s pale skin. Two bodies lay intertwined underneath the thick duvet, creasing every which way where their legs tangled and rose and fell with each breath they took. He glanced down to where Childe had an arm slung across his waist protectively, and allowed himself to bask in the way the weight felt against his body. For the first time in a long time, Zhongli woke with his heart full of peace and completely void of discourse. 

The ex-Archon glances down at his peaceful lover with the ghost of a smile on his face. 

He inches closer and pulls his hand away from where it was laced with Childe’s between their faces. The action released a soft, discontented grunt from the ginger. Zhongli bit his lip to hide a smile, and brought the offending hand up to his Childe’s cheek. He brushes his knuckles across the smooth skin, running his thumb across his cheekbone as he gently pulled away, only to reach back in to repeat the action. 

Childe sniffles in his sleep and subconsciously leans into his touch. 

Zhongli’s heart flutters.

At the heart of it all, he knows that Tartaglia is incredibly soft hearted. Buried beneath is a soul that is desperately clinging to the innocence of childhood that was lost in the abyss. He’s a man that carries burdens as heavy as the rocks he breaks with the flick of his wrist, a man that would sprint to the ends of the earth for his family and anyone he loved. A man that loves so deeply, yet so exclusively. He’s a man that is careful with his heart, a man that needs to be, but in the event that he should entrust another with his entire essence, it should be considered the highest honor. Zhongli’s chest swells. Childe truly is one of a kind. 

Sometimes, Zhongli finds it hard to believe that someone as magnificent as Childe has chosen an old man like him.

His ginger hair falls against his forehead playfully and tickles the bridge of his nose. The side of his head that’s pressed against soft satin pillows also has ginger locks splaying out in every direction, unlike his usual semi-neat hair style. His fingers twitch subconsciously where Zhongli once held them between his own. His breath rises and falls with each steady inhale and exhale, and fuck Zhongli is so in love. He’s really in for it, now. Oddly enough, it’s a familiar feeling. It’s an all consuming feeling that blooms within his chest before spreading like a wildfire down his arms and into his core, down to his legs and out to his arms; the warmth will spread up to his neck and make his head feel a thousand pounds lighter before the process repeats again. It’s akin to what he feels on the battlefield, except, instead of adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, it’s more like a gentle wave of reassurance. It’s a feeling so unforgettable, even Zhongli in his densest moments has to be able to recognize it. 

Seeing that he roams the earth as a mortal, the only person who could truly be the cause of his downfall now lies in front of him, blissfully unaware of the world around him at the moment. 

What a beautiful feeling it must be, Zhongli ponders, to think of nothing but the luxuries that life has to offer. One of them being waking up next to the love of your unfortunately long life. 

Zhongli likes to think now more than ever, that Guizhong would be proud of him. Look at me now, old friend, he thinks proudly, look at what he’s taught me. Look at what you’ve opened my heart to.

Because even if Childe was a swirl reaction of multiple emotions at once, most of them chaotic, some of them malicious and some of them benevolent, he’s been one of the kindest teacher’s Zhongli has ever met. And the man is six thousand years old. 

It’s in his eyes, Zhongli concludes silently. 

Childe has never been one to be very open with his emotions, but like it or not, they constantly revealed themselves in his obnoxiously blue eyes. His eyes, ever cerulean, have led Zhongli through his heart and showed him the ropes, handling him with care. His eyes were the very reason Zhongli knew that he needed to make amends after the storm, three months ago. Because even if Childe’s posture and tone reflected but playful and meaningless feelings of betrayal, his eyes begged to differ. One look at him as he passed over his gnosis, and Zhongli knew he had hurt him more than he could imagine. More than he had ever expected he could. At the time, all Zhongli knew in him was a soldier. A Fatui Harbinger at the disposal of the Tsaritsa.

Oh, how he was wrong. 

As soon as the traveler, their floating companion, and Signora all but vacated the bank, he hauled ass to Wangshu Inn. Zhongli remembers the way his heart slammed against his chest as he pumped his legs as fast as they could go. It was Ekaterina that had informed him, vaguely, that Childe had plans to leave the next morning, if not earlier. He simply could not let that pass without saying his piece. Stubborn as a rock, Zhongli fled. There, he caught Childe at the last minute with his travel duffel already equipped and ready to go. He thought, for a terrifying second, that he had already lost him. 

And yet here they were, tangled together in a heap of limbs as the sun rose, ever upwards. 

I love him, Zhongli determines, I love him I love him I love him—

“Are you watching me sleep, old man?” 

Ah. He had been too caught up in his emotions to notice Childe’s obvious change in breathing. He had been awake for awhile. Zhongli’s hand, where it had once been running lovingly across his face, has stilled for quite some time and rested gently against Childe’s cheek. Still, Childe’s eyes remain closed.

Zhongli smiles, uninhibited. “I love you,” the words flowed out of him with such ease, he almost didn’t recognize his own voice. 

Both of Tartaglia’s eyes slam open. He doesn’t even get the chance to blink away the sleep the way he usually does in that infuriatingly cute manner. Instead, all he blinks once, nice and slow. Processing.

“Well,” the (former? It’s tentative) Harbinger starts dumbly, “good morning to you, too.”

Zhongli chuckles. “Good morning, my love.”

Tartaglia’s eyes widen once more. The ginger looks at the deity with disbelief, as if he were still processing the fact that the first confession was not a fluke. It truly is a comical sight for the ex-Archon. Another one of the simple pleasures in life, he deems, is bringing happiness to the one he loves most. 

The ginger sits up on one elbow and looks down at the man in confusion, tugging him closer in the process. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing is up with me,” Zhongli shrugs and looks up at the object of his affections with such nonchalance it makes Tartaglia’s head spin.

“You’re being all…” the sentence almost dies on his lips, “feely.” His head is too muddled with sleep to think of anything else to say.

“Feely?” He tilts his head in genuine confusion. Zhongli has never heard that word before. 

“Yes, feely!” Tartaglia shakes him restlessly, “what’s with the…” he waves a hand in the air aimlessly.

“I love you,” Zhongli states again, simple as breathing, “is it so wrong for me to tell you?”

“No!” He negates quickly, “I’ve just… you’ve never said it out loud before, I guess.”

Zhongli’s eyebrows pull together in slight distaste. “Have I done something that made you feel otherwise?”

At this, Tartaglia sighs and slumps forward. He lets his forehead thump against the other man’s collarbone and nuzzles closer. “No, you oaf, like I said, you’ve just never said it directly before. Caught me by surprise a little.”

Zhongli brings a free hand to tangle in red hair idly as he speaks. “I’ll be sure to say it more often, then.” And in a moment of insecurity, he follows with, “do you… share the sentiment?”

Tartaglia stills in his arms. Zhongli’s breath stutters for a moment. He wonders if he should drop the subject in its entirety when Ajax’s voice finally returns, albeit muffled by the sheets. 

“More than you could ever know,” he admits quietly. Zhongli ignores the quiver in his voice for Ajax’s sake. “So much so that it scares me.”

Zhongli’s heart soars. “You don’t need to be afraid, darling,” he assures him with confidence, “when was the last time you let someone take care of you?” 

There was a time, Zhongli recalls, when Tartaglia told him all about the day his little brother had visited him in Liyue. The little troublemaker took ten years off of Tartaglia’s life span when he rushed headfirst into a ruin guard factory with little regard to his own safety. Tartaglia, ever the family man, threw himself into danger and shifted into his Foul Legacy Form despite his slow recovery from the last instance. High on adrenaline was the excuse he had used when Zhongli looked at him sternly. He was left coughing and sputtering, a pathetic image of the Eleventh Harbinger that is usually so calm and collected, always looking for a fight. 

Had Zhongli been there, he would have scolded him endlessly. 

“Anyway, childhood dreams are all too easily shattered. Even if you just leave them be, they will fall to pieces all by themselves,” Childe had said ruefully to the traveler, “So someone has to protect them, right?” 

And what about your own, Zhongli questioned, who will protect you, Tartaglia, if not me?

“It’s been a long time, sensei,” Ajax admits into the sheets, “please be patient with me when I’m being difficult.”

Zhongli cradles his nape. “For you, my love, I’d wait another six thousand years.”

[space-------kid]

can’t keep my hands (off you).

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: Garou/fem!Reader Additional pairing/characters: platonic Metal Bat/fem!Reader, Zenko, mentions of other heroes such as Saitama, Watchdog Man, etc. Genre: Romance, comedy Warning: Absolute silliness. Language – Garou and reader both ate rainbows for breakfast. Dumbassery. Teeth-rotting fluff, maybe? Reader is hella strong like Saitama. Half-assed spice because you’re good at cockblocking Garou despite being low-key thirsty for him. And LOTS of dumbassery from the reader, most probably. Additional tag: Dream-based fic, canon-divergent, Garou is horny af A/N: This is supposed to be a lengthy one-shot, but I’m a dumbass who can’t keep my word so the supposedly one-shot isn’t a one shot anymore.  Now I have to worry how I should properly divide all those parts (I mean, they’re already divided, but–) 😅

You + your fight instinct + beating monsters up = ? Garou: *feeling horny* MY BODY IS FUCKING READY-

Summary:

Your life had its general ups and downs, pros and cons, the good and the bad.

You were admittedly a coward and afraid of being targeted by people for it. Following the advice of your (best) friend you trained hard, like, FUCKING hard, and now you’re blessedly, utterly strong you can take down enemies with just one hit. A good thing, really. Can’t let any bad guy harass you or something.

But-

You were probably cursed with the biggest, baddest of luck. Not only were monsters chasing you, suddenly there was this fucking hot bastard weirdo who kept on calling himself the Hero Hunter. “I’m not a hero, goddamn it!”

i. and ii. | iii. and iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | [tba]

“i can’t keep my

hands

off…!”

- can’t keep my hands off you/simple plan

viii.

You were right about him being a thirsty bastard.

After inadvertently revealing Badd’s identity a week ago, Garou seemed to have doubled his efforts of acting so flirtatiously around you.

The Hero Hunter would come to your house like the usual, whether if he was injured from his hero hunting or not. But if it was the former, then Garou was at a greater advantage of acting on his… strange… interest towards you.

You weren’t exactly pretty or anything. Hell, you didn’t even find yourself containing even the smallest bit of allure or charm. So what exactly did Garou see in you?

Your strength?

Huh. It might be one.

But why did he have to make such perverted advances towards you?

And you were honestly at fault, too. Your attempts to dissuade him were feeble at best, and you couldn’t help feeling flustered which probably egged him on more than it should.

You were out in the city for a supplies run, your search for goods that would meet your standards taking you out of K-City. Badd offered to come with you, but he received an urgent summons from the Hero Association and gave him the task of escorting an executive since news of Garou attacking some freak named Zeimeet put them on high alert.

Huh. So Garou targeted executives from H. A., too? To you, however, it was highly unlikely since he was only after the heroes.

Eh. It’s as if he shared with you all of his plans with regards to his hero hunting. And it’s been days since he went to your humble abode.

Truth be told, you kinda missed the guy…

You were in a cab going in S-City when the road ahead was blasted by an explosion. The driver swerved and stopped just in time before the cab reached the blast before scrambling out of the vehicle and leaving you inside. That jerk.

Heart in your throat, you got out of the car and panicked when fleeing citizens screamed in terror about rampaging monsters. You were about to follow them to the nearest evacuation shelter when something wet and slimy wrapped around your body, yanking you in the opposite direction. You could only take one horrified look at your abductor – some weird blob that resembled a humanoid clump of seaweed – before your world turned black, your fight instinct rising to the surface to ensure your survival.

 F̖̜̳̼̏͛͐̈̚͢Ḭ̵̛̦̣͓̣̾̎̎̑̋̊͊͘G̷̛̛͇̮͍̰̒͗̾̌̚͟Ḩ̷̢͚͇̅̇͊̅̆̓̉̎̋͘͟T̸̨̛̗̩͎̞̟̾̿̾̍̾̃̈̓͟

 Like the usual, you weren’t aware of your surroundings as your body moved on autopilot, obliterating any monster regardless of their disaster level that crossed your path as you ventured deeper in the city. Both civilians and heroes would openly gawk at you as you intercepted any monster attack and do the heroes’ job for them. Soon enough, the powder blue long-sleeved dress you were wearing was stained with the blood of monsters and you were left walking on foot when your matching flat shoes slipped off your feet sometime after your fight instinct took over.

If you were aware, you would be screaming your head off at how terrified you were of the sudden rampage of monsters. But your conscious mind was blissfully locked in some fantasy it had created which involved a certain Hero Hunter while your fight instinct was having the time of its life killing monsters here and there.

Leaving a trail of monster blood and entrails on your wake, you stopped traveling from roof to roof when your dull eyes caught a silver-haired dude walking away from a beat-up guy wearing a ripped red sweater, bontan pants, and sporting a metal bat. A little girl was stopping the beat-up guy from going after the other teen.

Silver hair, black turtleneck, and loose white pants…

Your fight instinct was familiar with this teen. Wasn’t this the one who attacked you twice and who was with you when your home was almost wrecked by a monster?

Warning signals blared in your mind, alerting your fight instinct of imminent danger. A monster resembling a phoenix flew overhead and you watched as it followed Silver. You tailed it, landing behind the avian beast when it blocked Silver’s path.

“Wha-? Hey, [Name]!” yelled Silver when the dust cleared from the force of your landing. “What are you doing here?”

Your fight instinct perked up at the mention of your identity. Silver knew your name, and your fight instinct was yet again reminded of that one time with the frog-like monster. Was Silver someone your fight instinct should protect, too?

The phoenix monster opened its beak to speak. “You know this human, Hero Hunter?”

The jellyfish resembling a sludge of sewer water chortled at you. “Behehe, maybe we could take her as a hostage, too, as replacement for Metal Bat’s little sister!”

Metal Bat? Little sister?

Images of the beat-up guy and the little girl from earlier flashed in your fight instinct’s mind as your memory supplied it of the two’s identities.

This Metal Bat person was your best friend, and the little girl named Zenko was someone you see as your younger sister.

And, oh. Did Jelly-freak just imply that it had tried to kidnap this Zenko?

 T̶̡̗̖̞̻̣̹̻͂̀́́̚H̵̞̺̥̦͍̲̄̀̆̑̆R̩̜̮̫̠̋̅̂̋̈͡ͅE̹͎̘͈̿̒̌̇̑ͅÅ͉̩̪͔̝͆͊̌̀̆͗̽́͝ͅͅT̵̪̥̤̣͖̞̞͉͍̦̉̀̎͗̔̇͘͘.̵̡̪͕̱͇̬͉̥̙̀̉͂̎̉̂̕

̸̧̣̯̠͇̪͛̓͒͑̀̆̇̏ͅ

̴̰̩̳̳̳̞̩̣̇̏͋̓͊̈͢K̶̳̦͉͍̞̆́́̏͗̅̑̊I̴͍̲̞̦̖͛́͒͆̍̿̕͘͞͝Ļ̶̥̩͙͓̻̻͈͉̺̃͂͗̎̀̓̄̓͝L̠̫͚̣͎͛͒̍̓́̀͟͠.̶̢̡̤̯͚̝̬͈̏̈̈́́̋̚

̧̥͓̦̹̙͉͊̏́̎̔͊̏͛͟

̷̧͚̫̬͕̭̤͓̇͊́̉̉͡A̙̳͓̮͈͔̎̒̽͐̾̑́͐͞N̵̙̟̤̣̙͒̓̆͗̀̂ͅǸ̴͔̦͍̫̘̥͉́̍̈̓̎̃̈́͜͞͞Ḯ̡̦͚̫͔̝̝̪̎͆͒͟͡ͅH͇̫̪̪͎̩̒͆͋̊̍Į̵͎̞̜̝͋̓̀̂̂̇̎͊̓͟͠Ĺ̵̢͇͇͙̻̀́̒͗̐̔͜͡͡Ă̸̧̛̙͚̣̰̣͂̑̈̑́͜͠͝ͅT̲̰͉̰͉͓̆͛̀̎̿̒̇̎͐È̢̝͇̞̠̍̔̈́̇̈̚.̣̜͎͉̭̥̦͗͒̉́͜͞

 Before any of the other three could blink, you had already crossed the distance between you and Jelly-freak, your hands crushing its liquid body repeatedly. Jelly-freak tried its hardest to reform itself but it was no match for you as your god-like, ferocious strength continuously pounded it to the ground. Your fight instinct assessed any possible weakness that could be exploited and realized that the more of that oil-like substance seep out of Jelly-freak’s body, the harder it was for the monster to regenerate. So beat it up brutally, you did, until all that stuff left Jelly-freak’s body which eventually caused it to die.

“Hedro-Jellyfish!”

Startled by the sudden development, Bird-freak took to the skies before nose-diving straight at you, beak poised to put a hole on your chest.

“[Name]- whatever’s in charge, look out!” Silver shouted in warning, moving to intercept the attack but you were faster. You met the winged monster’s assault head-on and caught its beak with your bare hands.

With a derisive snort, your fight instinct directed your hands into tearing Bird-freak’s beak apart. Taking no heed of the humanoid figure screaming from within the monster’s body, you viciously swung one leg up to crush its internal organs.

Silver’s eyes were on you, but your fight instinct wouldn’t stop until it could no longer sense life emanating from Bird-freak’s body. And so you pummelled your fists brutally against it until nothing but a bloody smear and loose feathers were left.

Satisfied that Bird-freak was well and truly dead, your fight instinct pulled your body away from what was left of the monster.

“W-Whoah… [Name], what the fuck…?”

Lifeless eyes found Silver’s golden eyes sparkling with excitement, a huge, impressed smile on his face.

.

.

Garou couldn’t believe his luck at what he had just witnessed.

He was left dissatisfied with his bout against Metal Bat, but thankful enough that his little sister had come to intervene. If that moron’s bat connected with that final attack, Garou was sure that his hero hunting days would be over.

You and Metal Bat sure were compatible as best friends: a little lady who got taken over by her fight instinct that utilized your strength to its full potential and kill anything with one hit and a delinquent who got stronger as his fighting spirit got pumped up. You were weirdos, the both of you.

Insanely strong weirdos.

He wanted to continue the fight, but Metal Bat’s sister – he called her Zenko, right? – had made Garou adhere to some stupid family rule about her older brother promising never to expose her to violence. The little girl’s got guts, kudos to her, and Garou somewhat admired her for it. And so he left, making some half-assed excuse that he had to be doing something else.

Oh, well. His original target was Watchdog Man, anyway.

Without so much as a by your leave, Garou left the siblings with a reminder to Metal Bat that he was lucky to get to live another day.

The Hero Hunter smirked upon remembering your request not to kill your best friend. Guess he had to check that off his mental list, huh? And besides, he was done with Metal Bat. Garou already knew the S-Class hero’s fighting style and how to knock the latter up before his strength could rise due to his so-called fighting spirit.

Garou took a detour the moment he felt eyes on him. He took a side street and arrived just in time to see some sludge-looking freak appear and talked to itself about kidnapping feisty little Zenko. Without hesitation, he struck the monster with enough force that could kill anyone.

Nuh-uh. You ain’t kidnapping little kids. Not on my watch.

Sludge-freak reformed its body, surprising Garou that it had survived the attack just in time for the owner of the second pair of eyes to make itself known.

The bird monster introduced itself as Phoenix Man, telling Garou that he and Sludge-freak weren’t the Hero Hunter’s enemies. The monster even went as far as to praising him for his hero hunting gig and inviting him to join some organization called the Monster Association.

Garou not only showed his indifference by telling the oversized chicken that he wasn’t interested, he also ripped the card it offered him to pieces to emphasize his point.

Did these idiots think that he would join them just because he called himself a monster?

The nerve of these disgusting freaks.

Before Birdbrain nor Sludge-freak could react to the impudence he displayed, something – someone, rather, landed powerfully a few feet behind the avian monster. Garou’s eyes widened with astonishment when the dust cleared to reveal you standing in the middle of the crater, sporting the same expressionless look on your blood-stained face.

Monsters were out and about, rampaging to their black hearts’ content. Why the hell were you out here when you should be staying at home, cowering on your futon and under the sheets?

It was pointless asking why you were out when you gave him no reply, staying silent as Birdbrain asked him if he knew you. But when Sludge-freak opened its mouth to suggest kidnapping you, you were suddenly spurred into action.

Garou himself ought to kill Sludge-freak for even proposing to take you as hostage but you beat him to it. He and Birdbrain could only watch as you obliterate Sludge-freak with your bare fucking hands-

You even beat him in defending you when you met Birdbrain’s offensive head on, beating the crap out of that chicken with your hands still stained by Sludge-freak’s muck.

The way the skirt of your dress flowed as you moved, your [length] hair wet with monster blood, and the blank look on your face while you killed those two…

Fuck. That’s so hot.

Saying that the sight thrilled Garou to the bone was an understatement. Lucky his pants were made loose, or else it would be hard to walk without you seeing the excitement between his legs.

“W-Whoah,” Garou muttered, grinning wickedly. “[Name], what the fuck…?”

He watched as you turned to look at him, gaze dull. You looked as if you were assessing him as you crossed the distance between the two of you, lips parting slightly as if you wanted to speak.

Despite the dead look in your [color] eyes, Garou could see recognition flashing briefly over them.

“[Name], hey. It’s me- oi!” he exclaimed when you ignored what he was saying and started to walk past him. “Where are you going?”

As expected, you offered him no reply. Garou was left walking after you, quietly assessing if you had taken any damage from your fight – albeit one-sided – against those two freaks. So far, he could tell from the mix of green, blue, and red blood on your feet, face, and dress that nothing was yours. You didn’t appear to be minding any sort of injuries, so that was one thing he wouldn’t be worrying about.

Garou halted when he recognized the path you were taking and immediately caught sight of an unconscious Metal Bat, the hero’s little sister sitting on her haunches and poking him on the back. Zenko looked up and saw you and Garou, her eyes widening at the sight of you.

“[Name]-san? Y-You’re covered in blood! Are you okay?” she asked you worriedly, rushing up to meet you. “And it’s the weird man from earlier! Why are you with her?”

The Hero Hunter caught the protectiveness in Zenko’s voice and shot her a cocky smirk. “And why are you still here, runt? Shouldn’t you be calling someone to take your brother to the nearest hospital, considering that I beat him up pretty bad?”

Alright, maybe that was tactless of him, boasting how he beat up your best friend while your fight instinct was still commandeering your body. Your aura shifted from calm and collected to murderous in a fraction of a second, your previously blank expression turning malevolent when you looked at him over your shoulder. Lucky the kid couldn’t see it, though.

Oh, shit.

Was he going to see his life flash before him today?

Before he could take a stance to defend himself should your fight instinct tell you to attack, however, Garou had to mentally scream a command to his body to move and catch you before you hit the ground when your eyes rolled back. He was deaf to Zenko’s frightened call of your name, his focus solely locked on your prone form in his arms.

You looked tired, and it was just what Garou had expected. Maybe you finally had had enough killing monsters today, and tell your fight instinct that there really wasn’t any more reason to go on a rampage.

But the way you looked at him when he made the mistake of bragging his win against Metal Bat was alarming. Garou only ever saw this fighting side of you looking so dull, and to sense and see such protective killing intent in you was nothing short of… terrifying.

And hot, fuck.

Garou ought to beat his raging hormones for even thinking about it. Goddmanit, you very nearly killed him had you not fainted, and all he could think of was how hot it would be to see you try to beat him up?

Damn it. The things you do to him…

Feeling your breath even out as you shifted from unconscious to asleep, Garou hooked his other arm under your knees and turned to Zenko as he lifted you up bridal style. Fuck you for fitting so perfectly in his arms and fuck him, too, for enjoying the feel of your weight. He grabbed the perfect opportunity to clutch a handful of one of your thighs and wasn’t disappointed.

Fucking finally. He’d make sure to do the same once you wake up to see your reaction-

“Hey! Are you groping [Name]-san?!”

Garou blinked and raised a brow at Zenko who was glaring up at him angrily. He clicked his tongue at her and turned around to leave.

“I’m just making sure that she won’t fall off, stupid,” he spat, feeling dumb himself for even making a lame excuse just so the kid would stop accusing him of being a pervert even if he was actually one for you. “Seriously, you should be calling for help now. That giant centipede’s still out there, you know. Got a phone or something? Call an ambulance already!”

“Where are you taking [Name]-san?”

Garou rolled his eyes and turned halfway to look at Zenko. “I’m taking her home, I know where her house is.”

The little girl narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

“If you think I won’t tell Badd onii-chan about this, then you’re totally wrong, mister,” she sassed him. “So, answer me truthfully: What are you planning to do to [Name]-san?”

Garou couldn’t believe the situation he just got himself into. Did he really have to explain himself to this child?

The defiant look Zenko was giving him answered his own question.

“Oi, brat,” he began, carefully adjusting his hold on you when you shuffled slightly in his arms, “[Name] is my friend, alright? If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve done that so easily! Jeez!”

Garou turned one last time and began the long trek to your home. Well, maybe he should make a stop first at the shack he was staying in a few days ago to fully check on you.  He heard Zenko’s faint huff and opted to ignore her as he walked further away.

---

to be continued

[thosepoorsoulswhodwellinnight]

First Breath After Coma

this was written for the stargate fic exchange hosted by @brightclam and specifically for @maybeitstimetoearnmybluebead!

the title comes from the song First Breath After Coma by Explosions In The Sky, and I do not know if anyone of you know the feeling of forgetting to take your asthma meds in the morning and when you finally get around to it you go “oh, this is what it feels like to breathe” because that is roughly the feeling I was going for in this fic

(also every part is a true drabble because I need to set really firm boundaries for myself if I am to finish anything right now)

read on ao3

sam/jack, general audiences, 600 words

I

Jack arrived at the cabin with some supplies and a weird feeling of finality. While he was unpacking the dust that had accumulated while the cabin stood empty seemed to gather in his lungs, and as the time for his first guest’s arrival came closer it got progressively harder and harder to breathe. He stepped out on the porch for some fresh forest air just as the sun started to set, and time seemed endless and not long enough at the same time. He had so much future that needed actual plans but all he could think of was tomorrow.

II

Sam arrived the next day and he Jack suddenly felt angry. Not at her, of course, but at himself, for as he watched her car driving up the path to the cabin, he realised he didn’t know how to greet her. This was Sam for crying out loud! After all this time, after everything it should be easy, and here he were settling for a safe “how was the trip?” and a cowardly retreat. “Would you like a beer?” he asked and hoped she wouldn’t notice how his breath was shaking. There didn’t seem to be enough air inside anymore.

III

The cabin was not overly remarkable, but the surroundings were incredible. Still Sam felt like crawling out of her own skin. He had asked her to come up early and she had agreed, knowing what she hoped he had meant by that, but she felt unsure in a way she had become used to over the years. She hoped that the safeguards she had so carefully placed around her heart had crumbled, but she didn’t dare examine them too closely. What if they had not? When their fingers brushed as he handed her a bottle of beer, she stopped breathing. 

IV

They spent the rest of the day doing cabin things like fishing and dinner and it was all nice and cordial, and neither of them mentioned the elephant in the room that just seemed to grow as the night progressed. By the time the fire in the fireplace had become a soft ember and they both started to make non-committal “let’s go to bed”-noises, only the elephant was left of what little air the cabin once had contained. It wasn’t until her head hit her pillow in her own room that it occurred to her how stupid it all was.

V

She rushed out and nearly ran into Jack. For a moment time stood still, then everything was his hands in her hair and her mouth on his and her hands in his t-shirt and when she let go to breathe it felt like her lungs got oxygen for the first time in a decade. How she had lived without this she didn’t know but now she clung to him as if every part of her not touching him were atrophying.

“We need to talk about this,” she whispered and he nodded.

“We will, tomorrow. Please come to bed with me.”

Epilogue

They did have a conversation that morning, several in fact, and eventually they got up to get breakfast. Now that Jack had begun touching her, he could not stand to stop. “I love you” he said plainly over coffee on the porch and he whispered it again that night in bed and when they greeted Daniel and Teal’c the next day she was wearing his shirt. It was new and familiar all at once and did not have to remember to breathe anymore. The future could come at whatever pace it pleased; he knew where to start now. Right here.

[kumeko]

Title: crush

A/N: For @xstarshells, for the FFXV exchange. Since you wanted Prompto and weren’t particular about shipping/friendship, I just kinda did a Prompto has crushes on everyone fic.

…

…

…

…

i. Noctis

Prompto was staring. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the young prince. Noctis was in his school, in his class. He was only several rows away from a celebrity. All Prompto had to do was get up, walk a few meters, and poof! He could talk to Noctis.

 Well, maybe it wouldn’t be that simple. For starters, Noctis was usually surrounded again by a gaggle of their classmates, all of them jostling for a better position to talk to him. It had died down a bit from the first few days, with some of their classmates getting bored of it all, but it was still a crowd by any standards. Sometimes they were so thick, Noctis was barely visible. Prompto wasn’t sure if he could push past them all.

 Or if he even should. With a sigh, he stared at his chubby hands before sprawling over his desk. What was he thinking? The prince wouldn’t even give him the time of day, the way he was now. Maybe if he ran a lot and ate a little and wore better clothes. Made himself look real nice, just like the movie stars did. Then maybe, just maybe, Noctis would look his way. Stare at him just as Prompto had stared at Noctis.

Yeah. That was a plan. That would work.

    ii. Luna

The letters smelled of lilies. Prompto pressed the envelope to his nose and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. All of Luna’s letters gave off a vivid scent, so strong he could just picture the bright white lilies. Maybe the Oracle had a fresh bouquet by her desk when she wrote or maybe she just naturally smelled like flowers. Like instead of sweating like a normal human, she just gave off perfume.

 It was a silly thought.

 He wondered if he was right.

 Without a moment’s delay, he tried his best to neatly open the envelope without destroying it. He didn’t put half as much effort into keeping his homework uncrumpled, but one was a paper assigned by an ordinary teacher and the other was a message from a princess. Even his teacher would have to agree which one was more important.

 Still, he couldn’t believe he was pen pals with a princess. Their letters were carried by a magic dog. It felt like something out of a fairy tale, down to the writing. To the elegant cursive that spelled out Prompto, as though he wasn’t just an ordinary boy but someone important.

 He read his letter, feeling a warmth wash over him, and hoped she looked forward to his reply half as much as he did to getting hers.

    iii. Gladiolus

“Alright, almost done,” Gladiolus announced, kneeling in front of the fire pit. He struck two pieces of flint together expertly and a flame jumped from his hands to the kindling he set.

 “Wow, that was quick!” Prompt gawked, checking his phone for the time. They’d only just started camping, what, like five minutes ago? And sure, he kind of expected Ignis to have everything neatly packed and the tents to set up easily—that was Ignis. He was overprepared for everything. Including a prince who didn’t really like camping unless there was fishing involved.

 Then again, this was Gladiolus. The guy who looked like he just came out of the wilderness. It shouldn’t be a surprise at all.

 “That’s only because you’re so slow.” Gladiolus smirked, his tone teasing. Confidence oozed off him as he adjusted the logs. No, it’d be more accurate to say Gladiolus wore confidence like a second skin and  Prompto couldn’t stop watching him, completely enthralled.

 Prompto forced himself to reply, “I’m just normal.”

 “Yeah, not buying that.” Standing up now, he clapped Prompto on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes.”

 “Hey, careful!” Prompto groaned, rubbing his back. “We’re not all bruisers like you.”

 “Nothing a little training can’t fix.” Gladiolus raked a hand through his hair. In the twilight, the fire flickered off his toned arms and Prompt felt his mouth go dry. “I’m already giving Noctis lessons. You need some?”

 “Yes,” Prompto answered without thinking. Noctis had one-on-one sessions. One-on-one with Gladiolus, with him just focusing on Prompto and no one else, with his eyes on him—and he never gave any breaks. For food, for rest, for anything. Realizing just what tutoring under Gladiolus would entail, Prompto quickly shook his head. “No, no, definitely not, I’m good.”

 “You sure?” Gladiolus raised a brow and if he could just stop smiling, stop staring at Prompto with that confident gaze, it’d be good. It’d be great.

 Prompto nodded furiously. “Definitely. I like my sleep.”

    iv. Aranea

Black leather. Lying flat on the ground, it was all Prompto could see. Sleek black leather on a long leg, feet coming to a point on high heels. Following it up, he wasn’t surprised to find Aranea on the other end of it all, looking down at them with a smirk.

 “Hello, boys. Need any help?” she drawled. She leaned down for a closer look at him, her gloved hand wrapping around his chin and angling his face up. His face heated up immediately. “Seems you’re pretty beat.”

 Prompto swallowed, unable to reply. God, he was feeling hot. Sweltering, almost. His skin burned at her touch. She shifted on her feet, her heels clicking right in his ears, and his pants were suddenly tight.

 For once, he understood what Gladiolus meant when he talked about being stepped on.

    v.

 If there was one word to describe Ignis, it would be smooth. Every action he made flowed into the other, even for something as simple as making tea. His long fingers firmly grasped the kettle, carefully pouring two cups. Prompto couldn’t tear his eyes away from the simple actions. His fingers itched to grab his camera but a photo couldn’t really capture what he was seeing.

 “So, what is it?” Ignis asked as he added milk and sugar to the first cup. A long stir, two taps of the spoon, and he presented the finished product to Ignis. “One sugar, right?”

 “Yeah.” Prompto carefully took the cup from Ignis. He shouldn’t be surprised by now, but even after going blind, Ignis never missed a step. It was like nothing had changed, in more ways than one. “I can’t believe there’s still tea.”

 “People are crossbreeding varieties to handle more darkness,” Ignis replied, taking his own cup. He took a small sip and grimaced. “Though the taste still leaves something to be desired.”

 “I didn’t even think plants could grow in the dark,” Prompto muttered, taking a sip himself. He winced at the slightly watered-down flavour. He’d have to get used to it; this was the best they could do.

 “Few can. But this is the life that we are faced with, and so we must adapt.” Ignis took another sip. “So what is it?”

 “Ah, right.” Prompto rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wanted to check on you before I head out.”

 “Head out?” Ignis raised a brow.

 “Long mission—I’m helping bring in any refugees.” Prompto frowned. Which was worse—that there was only one city, really, where people could live, or that all of humanity could somehow fit in that city? The amount of people that had died…he didn’t really want to think about it.

 “Ah, that is important.” Setting aside his cup, Ignis reached out to grasp Prompto’s hand. “Take care— Gladiolus won’t be around to protect you anymore.”

 “Hey, I can handle myself!” Prompto pouted before breaking into laughter. “Yeah, I will. I promise.”

 “Good.” Ignis squeezed his hands one more time before pulling back. “See me when you come back.”

 Somehow, Ignis always looked dignified. Even here, in this shamble of a house, with chipped teacups and little light, he still looked as noble as he did back in Insomnia. Prompto picked up his camera this time, to capture this essence and freeze it.

 “Yeah.” Prompto nodded. “I will.”

 It was something to bring him back, when all was said and done.

[alectoperdita]

“Faith is half the battle” Masterpost

Faith is half the battle is my ongoing post-season 3, now canon-divergent AU fic series chronicling the development of Chloe and Lucifer’s relationship against a backdrop of the procedural fallout surrounding Pierce’s death. (Yes, leave it to me to focus on the one aspect of the show that literally no one watches it for, lol). Generally light on the angst, but heavy on the melodrama.

This list includes both the completed fics in the series as well as the planned ones now in various stages of being outlined/written. Later parts are also subject to change as new muses and plot bunnies ambush me. 

Total Wordcount So Far: 38,565

I: obvious things observed by nobody (Rated T, 3740 words long)

Chloe grieves for her worldview in the only way that makes sense: like a detective.

II: The sum of our choices (Rated M, 24363 words long)

Their relationship has always advanced in fits and starts. Sputtering like super-heated plasma, but otherwise as glacial as an ice age. Maybe this time it'll be different.

It has to be. It has to.

After weeks of silence, Chloe storms Lucifer's tower in search of answers.

Fic playlist available on Spotify and YouTube.

III: Our lady of (dis)grace (Rated T, 10462 words long)

Good thing Chloe's personal life is going well. Because her work life? It's a legit disaster. Maybe that's why God Satan invented drinking on a weekday.

IV: Thrice cursed, rarely blessed (Rated T, in progress)

There are bad almost-dates, then there are bad almost-dates. Either way, Chloe and Lucifer have had more than their fair share, so why should that change now they were dating for real?

V: Untitled (Rated T, in progress)

The course of Chloe's professional life never ran smooth. From forfeiting her nudity clause at age nineteen to an inexplicable crime scene with a dead CO at age thirty-five, scandal dogs her career. 

Almost three months after Marcus was killed, a US attorney sits Chloe down for a face-to-face. She fears this may be the beginning of the end.

[megatraven]

If Love Took Just a Few Moments

Summary: Five moments that lead up to a confession of sorts between Alya and Marinette, and what happens after. Spoilers for Prime Queen are present in this fic. Alyanette.

AO3 | WC: 2384 | Buy me a coffee + request something! | Commissions

v

When Marinette said goodbye to Alya the night of Prime Queen’s attack, she collapsed in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her heart still hammered in her chest from the events of the day, from the fear of almost losing her best friend.

But she was Ladybug, and she would never let something so awful happen to someone she cared for deeply.

So she hadn’t.

She’s saved the day, Chat by her side, and when she had returned home, she saw Alya safe and sound, not a hair out of place. It wasn’t quite real until they hugged, but then it was, and Marinette had felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders as she sighed into Alya.

Her thoughts were still on her best friend when exhaustion mixed with relief finally pulled her into a deep sleep, and if she dreamed of hazel eyes, well...

That would be her little secret.

iv

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Alya!” Marinette called out, waving goodbye as Alya left through the bakery.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but that was often a side-effect of hanging out with Alya, and it only worsened when they babysat Manon together. It was the best kind of hurt, though, so Marinette didn’t mind.

Giving a quick kiss to both of her parents, she bounded back upstairs to her room to allow herself a moment to catch her breath. Looking around, she saw a few toys and pillows still scattered about from when Manon was there earlier. Easy enough to pick up, but Marinette’s gaze caught on the picture laying on her desk. Walking over to it, her fingers traced Alya’s signature and her expression softened.

“I’m gonna need a frame for this one,” she said to nobody in particular. In it, herself, Alya, and Manon played together, each of them laughing. It warmed her heart, and another thought came to her. “Or, maybe...”

Marinette glanced up to her bed, and clutched the picture to her chest. Maybe she could make a copy- so she had one to frame, and the other to keep close. For now, she walked up and set it gently beneath her pillow.

For later, she thought to herself, jumping slightly when Tikki appeared at her shoulder.

“Did you have fun today?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“I did! We watched that video of Alya on Mme. Chamack’s show so many times it’s like, engraved in my brain.” Flopping onto her back, she sighed and rested her head on her arms. “It was also really tiring, though. Manon has so much energy, it’s crazy! My heart’s still racing from it,” she said with a laugh.

“I don’t think that’s why your heart’s racing,” Tikki whispered, and Marinette did a double take. Surely, she didn’t say what Marinette thought she did.

“What was what?”

“I said, maybe you should take a nap, rest up a bit before patrol!”

“Uh huh, sure you did,” Marinette muttered, suspicious but unable to refute it. “What’d you really say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just get some rest.”

Marinette grumbled but conceded. She closed her eyes and settled against her pillows, ready to fall asleep for a little while.

Five minutes passed, and soon it was ten, thirty, an hour. 

She hadn’t slept a blink. Groaning, Marinette rolled onto her side, careful not to roll onto Tikki, and pulled the picture out from under her pillows.

Studying it once more, her heartbeat quickened and she groaned even louder into her arm.

“Tikki, I think I know why.”

iii

Sometimes, Marinette caught herself staring. There was always something about Alya that drew her eyes in, and that kept them there. Whether it was brushing her hair behind an ear, or the subtle bite of her lip when she was focusing on schoolwork, Marinette couldn’t help but look.

And everytime Marinette caught herself, Alya caught her too. She never laughed, or said anything about the fact, but she always smiled so sweetly, so kindly that Marinette’s cheeks reddened, and she couldn’t move or look away until Alya turned her attention back to her work.

When she was set free from Alya’s gaze, she would look forward and pretend to pay attention to class, all the while thinking about how positively alluring Alya was when she smiled at her like that. 

Marinette would do anything to keep Alya happy, her eyes and nose crinkled from smiling so widely.

Sighing contentedly into her hand, she looked down and started to mindlessly scribble in her notes.

(Later, she tore the pages free of her book, blushing furiously at the little hearts surrounding hers and Alya’s initials doodled across the margins.

They hovered over her trashcan for only an instant before she stashed them away in a drawer instead. She didn’t have the heart to throw out... well, her heart.

Even if there was a huge chance Alya had seen her.)

ii 

Alya’s head laid on her lap, and Marinette’s fingers ran through her curls with a kind of gentleness she didn’t bless many with. There was something calming about it all- sitting in the park, laying on the grass with flowers springing up all around them, being together without a worry in the world.

Days could’ve passed, and she wouldn’t have noticed so long as Alya was there, with her, in their bubble that let the rest of the world pass by without so much as a glance.

But, as it were, their comfortable silence only lasted until Alya checked her phone and how late it was getting. She sat up, and Marinette missed her instantly, her subconscious making her shift closer to her best friend.

“You’ve gotta go so soon?” Marinette asked, pouting just a bit.

“Yeah, Maman wants me to watch the twins tonight.” Alya stretched and stood up before offering Marinette her hand.

Grabbing it, Alya hoisted Marinette to her feet a little too roughly, causing Marinette to fall forward into her. Alya’s arms immediately rapped around her to make sure she was stable, but instead of letting go, she held closer.

Ignoring the dust of pink on her cheeks, Marinette hugged back, hiding her smile in Alya’s flannel.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Alya promised, the warmth of her breath on the back of Marinette’s neck making her shudder.

They stayed like that for a short minute before Marinette pulled away, a bittersweet look on her face.

“You should go. Don’t want you to get in trouble or anything- we’ve got a sleepover planned this weekend, after all!” she exclaimed. Her arms were half crossed, with one one hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She rocked back and forth on her feet the tiniest bit and looked up at Alya through her lashes.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Lord knows I don’t want to get grounded. See you tomorrow, Sweets,” Alya said with a wink. Side-stepping Marinette, she paused half-way through and quickly planted a kiss on her cheek before hurrying off.

It took ten minutes of Tikki trying to get Marinette’s attention for her to fully process what had happened, and when she did, her face blossomed into a brilliant red that Tikki could’be camouflaged against.

It took another ten minutes for her to drag herself back home, at which point she promptly faceplanted into her pillows and screamed, although it still wasn’t louder than the thunderous beat of her heart.

i 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Alya asked as she spun in Marinette’s computer chair. She leaned back as far as it would let her, and her head hung off the back in a way that Marinette knew would give her a crick in the neck.

“Always,” Marinette responded, refusing to look up and break her concentration when her toenails were almost perfectly painted.

“You have a lot less pictures of Adrien on your wall than you used to.”

Faltering with her nail polish hovering just above her next nail, Marinette sighed. So much for not losing her concentration.

“That’s not a question,” she said dryly.

“Oh, stop being so smart. The ‘why’s that?’ was implied, you left boob.”

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes, but silently cursed the way her stomach did a flip at the topic of conversation.

“First, I’m at least both boobs. Second, I dunno.” She shrugged and went back to carefully painting. “I guess I just... realized that I like someone else,” she said, soft and low.

It felt weird, saying it out loud. But it also felt nice.

Alya stopped spinning, sat up straight, and looked at her. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“When’d you realize...?”

“When I- um, that is, when Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Prime Queen, I started to suspect. But I realized it the week after.” Marinette absolutely refused to look up now, and instead watched her nails like they’d suddenly started talking.

“That was a couple months ago now,” Alya stated, rolling somewhere else in the room. “Thirsty?”

“Uh, yep, yeah it was.” Pleased with her nail art, Marinette closed her polish and began to blow on them to help the drying process along. “I could drink. Water, please?”

Alya hummed in response and grabbed two bottles of water before scooting the chair over to the chaise where Marinette was. Handing one over, she commented, “Hey, those came out really nice.”

“Thanks and thanks.” Taking the bottle, she opened it and took a quick sip. “Want me to do yours next?”

“Uh, hell yes. Maybe we should do it up in your bed though, I don’t think we have enough room here,” she said, tapping the chaise.

“Mm, yeah, I think you’re right. Meet me up there, I’m gonna just let mine dry a couple more minutes.”

“Okie doke.” Alya rolled the chair back over to Marinette’s desk and headed up to her bed. “So, about your new crush... I know them?”

“Uh huh, you could say that.”

“Not gonna tell me who?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know who it is,” Marinette said, a nervous laugh escaping her. 

“And how do you know that?” Alya asked, peaking over the edge of the bed. 

Marinette looked over her shoulder at her and rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Well, for one thing, you were there when she kissed me on the cheek a few days ago...” she trailed off, taking another drink.

“Oh, yeah. I liked her, she seemed pretty cool.”

Marinette choked on her water at that, a laugh trying to come up at the same time the water tried to go down. “Oh my god,” she said between coughs, “you’re so ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but it hasn’t driven you away from me yet, now has it?” Alya grinned down at her.

“No, I suppose it hasn’t.” Looking at the polishes she had out, she called up, “What colors do you want? I’ve only got pinks and whites out right now.”

“I’m kind of feeling yellow today.”

“Yellow I can do. Get comfy, cause you’re not gonna be moving around and getting polish on my sheets like last time,” Marinette warned.

“Well if you didn’t instigate a tickling war, it wouldn’t have happened!” she called back.

Despite her words, Marinette could hear Alya moving and shook her head. “My room, my rules, Peaches. What I say goes.”

“That’s unfair and you know it, Dupain-Cheng.”

“All is fair in love and war,” she laughed, getting up to put her shades of pink away and to grab her yellows. “Did you want any other colors?”

“Don’t use famous quotes on me,” Alya scolded. “But I’d love some of those cute flowers you did on yours, so white too, please!”

“Sure thing!” Grabbing what she needed, she headed up to her bed and immediately dropped everything on her sheets.

Before her, Alya was looking at the picture she kept hidden beneath her pillows. With humor in her eyes, she looked up to meet Marinette’s embarrassed gaze.

“I didn’t know you liked it that much,” she said, her eyes and nose crinkled in that special way that made everything in the world okay by simply existing in proximity to Marinette.

“It... It’s one of my favorites,” Marinette admitted, bending over to pick up all the nail polish bottles up. “And you signed it, so it’s special.”

“Aw, girl. I’m glad it’s so important to you.” Setting it down beside her, Alya looked thoughtful. “You know, I only have Ladybug’s autograph. You’ve never given me Marinette’s.”

Marinette had to work very hard not to drop the vials of paint again as she stared at Alya in shock. That was short-lived, however, and soon the shock shifted into a playful smirk.

“I’m sure I could pull some strings to get you one, if you really wanted it.”

“Oh, I do,” Alya laughed, laying back when Marinette tapped her foot to signify she was going to start. “I really, really do.”

“Then consider it done,” Marinette told her with a smile. Opening one of her paints, she set to work.

nulla 

That night, after nail painting and the introduction of Tikki, Marinette and Alya had settled in to bed. Marinette was already well on her way to falling asleep, the excitement of the day taking a toll on her.

Alya, on the other hand, laid wide awake next to her.

“Mari, you still awake?” she asked, quiet but needing.

“Mhm,” Marinette hummed out, cracking her eyes open enough to see Alya watching her back.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You jus’ did-” she yawned- “but yeah.”

“Are we...” she hesitated before finishing,”Are we dating now?”

That woke her up. “Um. Do you want us to be?”

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know!” Alya groaned. “All I know is that I want to be more than friends.”

Marinette didn’t answer for a few seconds, but did find Alya’s hand to hold.

“Then we are,” Marinette told her, emphasizing her statement with a squeeze of her hand. 

Alya squeezed back and sighed, finally closing her eyes. “Good night, Mari.”

“Night, Als.” Marinette yawned and followed suit, scooting closer to the warmth Alya exuded.

As soon as she fell asleep, Marinette found herself seeing Alya again, and her smile made its way through to her sleeping form.

Everything felt just right.

[ultravioletsoul]

Vergil x F!Reader - Devil May Cry Part 4

Another chapter out, and sooner than I thought! The only explanation for this miracle is that I must be... *insert Vergil voice clip here*MOTIVATED! Ok, sorry. Sometimes I like to think I'm funny. Just pretend I never said that, alright? I'm embarrassed right now.

This chapter was turning out to be much, much longer than intended so I had to split it in two parts. Otherwise it would have had an insane length and, also, I felt the need to post something soon. No worries, that this one is about 10,000+ words so you'll have a lot to read. Me and my bad habit of writing long a** fics, as of late.

I have things planned for this story-line. Well, I hope I can fit all these ideas in here anyways. Yes, there will be some expected twists and turns (a salty Vergil, too, for good measure so he's as IC as possible throughout the whole thing) but there will also be plot twists— or I pray that's your impression, at least!

As I may have already mentioned, it's going to be a slowburn “romance” because... this is Vergil we're talking about. A relationship with some human girl (or anyone, for that matter) is the last thing on his mind, but not to fret because stuff will happen in the meantime till we get there.

Thanks to the people following this fic, who like, reblog and send me asks! ♥♥

A shout-out to my beautiful friends Lucia and Lala, who help me endlessly and put up with me throughout the whole writing process— you don't want to see me in that state, I kid you not. They are a blessing in my life ;A;

Last but not least, I want to make a special mention of sweet Jasiel because she’s been waiting for a continuation of this fic since forever ♥♥

Warnings: Unbetaed work. OCs. Slow burn fic. Vergil/Aeneas is a jerk but we already knew that ;)

First

Previous

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Part IV: Dejá Vu

That evening you and Nanna retired to her chambers, at your insistence that she needed her rest. After all the distress she had gone through, because of your careless actions, you wanted to ensure that she didn't exert herself any further than she already had.

At first, she tried to argue and convince you that her health was in perfect condition but, as the obstinate girl that you could be sometimes, you stood firm in your decision. Nanna knew very well that you wouldn't concede and, though you didn't approve of emotional blackmail to get what you wanted, you had to threaten that you wouldn't be in good terms if she kept neglecting herself. In the end she had to do as you said, so you ushered her to her bedroom to make sure that she would not fool you.

Nanna was still worried about you, true, but you weren't on the brink of death— neither was your constitution so fragile to merit her restless nights. You surmised this was a consequence of the remorse she felt after father passed away, but you couldn't blame her for what she had done. How was she supposed to tell a child that her parent was dying and would no longer be part of this world? How could she have even said something about it, when Agnese wanted to keep you in the dark? For better or for worse, you always believed that Nanna's choices— as erroneous as some of them could have been, and in spite of how much they hurt you— were made with your best interests in mind.

It was nothing new that she made a fuss when it came to your well-being. This trait was merely a part of her character and, while it never bothered you too much, at times you wished Nanna would be a little more careful. She was getting older with each passing day, and her strength was waning. While it appeared to have escaped Agnese's notice, it didn't yours and you knew how tired Nanna had become in the past years. Perhaps after you had married, and left this house to form a family of your own, she would decide to retire— at long last— and spend her last days enjoying the fruits of her labor.

Sweet Nanna deserved that, at the very least. With no children of her own, you worried how she would fare after you were gone to live with your future husband— whom you had no idea who could he be. In your situation, Agnese hadn't arranged for an engagement... yet. It was not hard to guess she was speculating as to who would be the better choice, in accordance to her interests. At that point, you only hoped to find him agreeable when your families reached a compromise.

As it was, your old nanny had been under the service of this family for a long time— even more important, she had dedicated her whole life to Agnese and you without question or complaints. If only your lady mother could have seen the extent of Nanna's love and be more appreciative of what she had sacrificed for her sake.

Your stay in the gardens had improved your mood considerably, in spite of the troubled emotions that lingered after your unexpected meeting with Aeneas. While you made no mention of his presence, neither did you attempt to find more about him, just then, thoughts of this stranger had already begun to occupy your mind— although not for the nicest of reasons.

Of course, as the rumors had rightfully said, Aeneas was a man of incomparable beauty. Added a dose of mystery and aloofness to the mixture, it was a sure way to catch the attention of those around him— if not, enthrall their hearts. If you were to be honest, no man or woman you knew could have ever hoped to compete with him in such unfair terms. There was a certain magnetism to his appearance that would compel anyone to stay a little longer, and behold his fair countenance. Nonetheless, he had an aura of hostility that warned others to stay away— something dark that disturbed your soul deep inside.

And you didn't like it in the slightest.

Nanna and you sat under the shade of a gazebo, surrounded by flower beds of varied layouts and colors. Agnese was very fond of beautiful gardens and hadn't given it a second thought in spending a fortune on them, for her personal delight. Even you, as uninterested as you were in her life pursuits, had to agree that it was an exquisite sight to lay eyes on.

This was a place that you always frequented and the amenable environs, more often than not, made you lose track of time. Contemplation and daydream were sure to ensnare you in the gentle caress of the floral breeze and the sweet songs of birds. The murmur of clear waters, spraying and pooling inside ponds covered in turquoise tiles, comforted you as you basked in the joy of this slice of heaven. This was the closest you would ever get to paradise on Earth, and if it was anything like the Fields of the Blessed then you hoped father was happy on the other side.

But while you dearly tried to find respite that afternoon, your mind refused to be indulging.

Dinner transpired in the company of Aeneas, but you didn't participate. Instead, you retired for the night— since you were supposed to be in bed, by then— and ate with Nanna in your bedroom. When you were done, she intended to put you to sleep but you were having none of that. This time, you had to be the one looking after her.

You offered to massage her swollen legs and joints, with an ointment meant to ease her discomfort and improve the circulation of blood. She opposed at first but you convinced her to let you help.

Obviously, you didn't mind doing these favors for Nanna. In fact, it was the least you could do to thank her for all the care and affection she had given you. Nanna was a motherly figure to you, maybe even more so than Agnese had ever been in all those years. If there was someone who showed you warmth and love when father was gone, and stayed by your side despite the resentment you held, it was her.

Agnese lived in her own world, but you tried to be understanding regardless of your disappointment.

If the baroness had known about this, she would not have let you hear the end of it. Her daughter doing something so lowly, as touching the feet of a mere servant, was unthinkable. Even if it happened the be the woman who had changed her diapers, and endured her endless tantrums, when Agnese was a capricious little girl— eating dirt, slobbering on her first and, in general, craving for the attention of those around her.

Oh, yes, you knew all too well about those childhood episodes, but Agnese liked to believe she had always been a graceful white dove. It was something you found funny, though Nanna had made you swear that you'd never bring up the subject in her presence. Not a single mention about the embarrassment of Agnese's infancy should ever leave your lips.

Thank the Savior, your nanny didn't have to put up with those kinds of situations anymore. Neither with the imp you used to be, though Nanna once assured she would have preferred that you stayed a baby girl. When children were small and innocent, life and its problems were much simpler but as they grew up the challenges became more grueling to face.

You underestimated those words, back then.

"I don't know, Nanna." Eyeing the manual on reflexology techniques, lying by your side, you gently rubbed a certain spot on the sole of her feet with your thumbs. "That man... there's something about him that tells me he's not to be trusted. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I do not like him and I'm worried that mother has offered him to stay with us."

Even if he had ill intent, it was unlikely he could do something against anyone living in your house, with the knights guarding the well-being of your family. While it wasn't an absolute safeguard, given the bizarre encounter you experienced with the cloaked stranger— though that was actually debatable, in the absence of concrete evidence and the implication of your apparent delirium— at least it should have provided some peace of mind.

However, it didn't.

"(Y/N), you're doing it again..."

Even before looking at her, you could sense the disapproving look she was sending your way.

"Doing what?" Pausing in your reflections, and in the task at hand, you met her gaze— oh, were you right about that furrow of her brows— unsure as to what she meant.

"Worrying too much. I swear that, by the time you reach thirty, your head is going to be all covered in gray hair. Why must you insist on finding something to stress about?"

You huffed and crossed your arms, in disbelief at her words. "You cannot tell me you're not even a bit bothered by this! A stranger in our house... who knows what could happen? I understand that he did a very noble deed for me, and that mother is grateful, but who's to say that he does not have other intentions?"

Nanna tried to dismiss your concerns, maybe in an effort to make you forget such matters and be at ease. "Ah, you are getting too anxious over nothing. I'm sure that everything will be fine, you'll see. Either way, there's not much we can do, (Y/N). Your mother already seems to be... fond of that young man, and she has her reasons to feel this way. Besides, I do not believe Aeneas will be staying for very long." She made a face that spoke of discomforts and doubts that did nothing to appease your fears, however. "Or that is what I hope, at least..."

"You say that she has taken a liking to him..." You arched an eyebrow at her. "A man she barely knows?"

Nanna only gazed at you with guilt etched on her face, before hurrying to reply. "Well, it was to be expected. He saved you, her only daughter. Would you not be grateful if you were in her place? What if you had died back there? Oh, by the mercy of the great Sparda, I don't want to think what would have happened..."

"Yes, I am aware of that but why would she allow him to stay? Does he not have somewhere else to go— something to do?"

Her chuckle made you frown, whilst you observed a mischievous smile play on her lips. "And here I was fretting you might find that young man a little too pleasant to look at... like some of the girls in this household. I though that you would be infatuated with him at first sight but, instead, you're in a hurry for him to leave!"

Your eyes widened at the lone suggestion that you could like him in that sense. Of course you didn't blame those women for taking a fancy on Aeneas, but that wasn't the point of this conversation!

"Nanna, do not jest with me. I am serious about this."

She cleared her throat and regarded you with earnestness. "Alright, forgive me for that. As for Aeneas, I heard that he's come from America. That is why your mother offered him abode in this house."

"America?!" you squealed in surprise, unable to control your outburst at her revelation. Nanna made a hushing sound and, realizing your mistake, you mumbled an embarrassed apology. After you found composure, you spoke with demure, "but that's beyond a huge ocean, on the other side of the world! What reason could he have to be here?"

This island wasn't much of an interesting destination for travelers, although foreigners weren't unheard of. Fortuna was a close-knit community that had endeavored to preserve its customs, and traditions, throughout the generations. Therefore, it didn't allow many influences of the outside world that could threaten the identity and hegemony of its culture. However, this didn't mean that tourism wasn't an occurrence from time to time, but it was still a small market in development. With the stories and rumors that had spread about this place, many tried to steer clear from it.

In a way it seemed you were an oddity to the rest of the world, more or less— not to mention an outrage for other religions that had tried to destroy your beliefs in the past. There were people that still considered you to be some kind of demented cult that made human sacrifices in honor of their demon overlords. A most ridiculous notion born from ignorance and misinformation, it went without saying.

Times changed and humans were forced to play along with the designs of Lady Fortune— who decides the fates of entire civilizations on her wheel— as they always had. But there is no luck, whether good or bad, that lasts an eternity and one should be hopeful as well as careful to remember that.

It was with the spread of modernism, as ironical as it sounded for a traditional society such as yours, that your people saw an opportunity for progress. A chance to trade a world trapped in years of fear, and obscurity, for a better tomorrow. So in the light of these absurd tales that others enjoyed to concoct in vivid detail, Fortunians aimed to cleanse their reputation and, for this reason, opened the doors to their home. It was to show others that your community was civilized and hospitable. You had learned to thrive in peace, despite a history of violence, and were willing to cultivate relations with other states, in order to favor trade and the betterment of the economy for all parties involved.

"It would have been rude to send him away without any kind of courtesy or compensation. This is a mere formality, and a polite gesture that Agnese wishes to bestow upon him. I do not see why you're so against it."

She was right for the most part. If only you could be more precise with your words and find an actual motive upon which to lay the foundations of your concerns. Sure, there were many red flags waving in the deep recesses of your mind but, despite your attempts to apply logic in your thoughts, you always came empty-handed regarding why Aeneas seemed to present a danger. You were certain that his grouchy expression, or his rather indifferent attitude towards others, couldn't be used as excuses for that. The man had done nothing that could be considered suspicious per se, but it wasn't enough to dispel your doubts.

"In that case, then I should be more at ease," said Nanna, to your confusion. "With the way other girls talked about him, I worried that he might have easily swayed your heart."

She couldn't be serious about it. You hoped this wasn't the case, at least.

"Ha! Even if that was his intention, which I highly doubt, he would need to try harder. Besides, the man looked so miserable when we met that I'm very much surprised he could have the ability to enrapture anyone— let alone my mother, of all people. Would it be too risky to think she's the one who finds him attractive, after all?"

"What are you saying? Be more respectful of your mother, young lady!"

You should have seen that coming from a mile. Even if Agnese treated her poorly, at times, Nanna would never let you badmouth her.

"It was a simple observation," you offered as defense. "I would not presume to make such a daring judgment."

Nanna looked relieved with your response, and her features softened. "Bah, maybe he's just one of those nosy investigators that have nothing better to do with their time. Remember that the Festival of the Sword is approaching soon. From what I've heard, he is making some sort of study on our religion— for personal reasons. It would appear that Aeneas is not keen on sharing tidbits of his private life, much any less with me, so I wouldn't know what else to tell you."

That was true. People who visited Fortuna were, for the most part, researchers that wished to learn more of your society and history, or journalists seeking sensational stories on the occult. There were even those that craved danger and adventure, hoping to have some kind of supernatural encounter with demonic beings. When you thought about it, maybe the paranormal tourism could have been a profitable market... if Fortuna wasn't so bent on giving the impression of an ordinary place.

Either way, Aeneas didn't appear to be any of those types of travelers but there was no way you could determine his true motives as of yet.

"And you don't think that merits enough attention? We are ignorant of what he really intends to do, and if he has something to hide then it means he's up to no good. I cannot believe mother has agreed to this. And even if it was true that he's making research, are we supposed to be some kind of rare species for him to observe in their natural habitat? He could very well be trying to smear on the reputation we've been building for years. Words and facts can be twisted; lies become truths when there are enough people willing to believe them."

"Do you honestly think Agnese has not assessed this young man already, or that she is incapable of protecting her own interests?"

"That's not what I—"

"If Aeneas wants to make his research here, then we'll limit our relationship with him to that purpose. You don't have to become his friend or be happy with his presence."

"But if he—"

"And that will be the end of the story."

"Are you—?"

"(Y/N), what are you so afraid of? One would think that this man has offended you, somehow. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"No." Your reply was swift and confident, but Nanna wasn't convinced by it despite your efforts to cover up your disgruntlement.

"Are you sure?" She was suspicious of your strange behavior already. To be honest, you wished you could have had a solid argument against him, but your problem was that precisely— you had none. A hunch wasn't enough to call Agnese's decisions into question.

Clearing your throat, you regarded her with a blank stare. "There's nothing else to add to this story. I was at the quay, approached the rail, fell into the sea and almost drowned. Then Aeneas appeared in our lives, and mother thought it would be a fantastic idea to let this outsider stay with us. Why should I have to explain that?"

"Because you're not being yourself. I know there is something bothering you but, unless you tell me, I cannot help you. You're expecting others to read your mind and immediately know what's troubling you."

"Enough!" you snapped, making Nanna flinch at your sudden reaction. "I don't understand your need need to probe me for answers that I have already given you."

Answers that you knew were wrong.

Nanna narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips. "You're acting like an upset little girl when things don't go her way. If you didn't want to talk about it, then why even mention the topic in the first place?"

Her tone was harsh and surely made you realize how rude you'd been when she only meant well. A patient didn't go to a physician, seeking treatment for an illness, only to refuse any help when he was asked of his condition.

You didn't know what to say, so your first instinct was to lower your gaze— embarrassed at your outburst, again. Why could you not find temperance in your own emotions and thoughts? Nanna was right; you were throwing a tantrum like a child, instead of trying to be more pragmatic.

Ever since you realized that the demon attack wasn't real, that encounter with the cloaked stranger, you felt on edge... in constant fear that you were losing touch with reality little by little. Maybe it was true. You were probably losing your mind and, in the end, you would drive those you loved away.

"(Y/N)..." she mumbled but you didn't answer, which prompted another soft call from her. "Come here, please."

You couldn't do that, knowing that you'd wronged her unfairly. Right then, you were like an ostrich that had stuck its head in the sand and refused to acknowledge her.

This wouldn't do for her, however. With some difficulty, Nanna sat up— groaning all the while, as she struggled with the weight of her body and her tired muscles. Forsaking your ashamed stupor, you shook your head and told her to stay put. Despite your protests, she didn't listen.

"I'm sorry for being terrible, Nanna. I must be an annoyance to you."

Placing an arm around your shoulders, she brought you closer to her. "You never are a nuisance for me, (Y/N). I forbid you to think like that ever again, do you hear me?"

Here you were claiming to be worried about her health, yet you kept throwing your fears and animosity at her. Oh, how could she even put up with you?

"I did not mean to..."

"I know you didn't and, to tell you the truth, I understand your suspicions about Aeneas. I am a little worried, too, but I don't think he should be reason for you to lose your nerve or sleep."

"I surely hope he is not." Laughing under your breath, you rested your cheek against her and stared at your naked toes. Then, a thought came to mind and you frowned with determination. "However, rest assured that I will be keeping an eye on him... just in case."

At that moment, Nanna seized your shoulders and held you at arm's length, narrowing her green eyes. Meanwhile, you began to regret having said those words.

"I don't know what you are planning to do but, please, try to stay out of trouble this time."

"Whatever do you mean by that?" You feigned not to understand what she was talking about, but you should have known by then that it was futile to try and fool her.

"You know what I mean, (Y/N). For your own good, you'd better heed my advice."

You sighed with weariness and rolled your eyes, pursing your lips tight before trying to smile. "Very well, I will. Do not worry about me."

Nanna nodded, pleased at your reply, though you didn't know whether to feel relief or remorse. "That is enough for now. Thank you, little sparrow. I'm feeling much better after such a wonderful massage. I swear those hands of yours are divine."

Her words elicited a chuckle from you. "Oh, please. Even I can tell you're trying too hard to flatter me. We both know you only say that so I keep rubbing your sore feet because no one else will."

"I wouldn't say it if it was not the truth!" She put on an offended expression and you laughed, patting her back.

"Of course." You glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that it was getting late. "Well, as much as I would love to stay and talk some more, I should be going to bed."

"That's right; off to bed with you! You should be sleeping by now, and I don't want to hear you've been reading until late hours of the night." She shooed you, while you stood up and gathered the book with the blankets piled in a bunch by her feet.

"Yes, ma'am!" Once you had tucked her in bed, and kissed her forehead, she gave you a look of nostalgia that had you wondering if there was something wrong. "What's on your mind?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Nothing of importance, but it is odd to see that our roles have reversed."

"Really? Is it so strange that I do these things for you?"

"Ah, you don't understand, (Y/N)I. When you were a little child, clinging to my dress, it was me who tucked you in bed and kissed you goodnight."

"Well..." you pinched her chubby cheeks and giggled. "Now it's me the one doing that."

"I wish you would have never grown up," she said suddenly, catching you off guard. "I wish no one would take you from me. Forgive me for being so selfish, my girl."

Your heart ached at the sorrow in her eyes, and you sought the right words to comfort her despite your dismay. For a moment, you understood what she had gone through when your father was dying, and you felt sorry for having been less than compassionate. You knew that, deep down, she was scared of the future and, if truth be told, and as odd as it sounded... so were you.

"Then I'll tell my husband-to-be that, if he wishes to marry me, he will have to accept my cherished old nanny as part of the deal as well. What do you think about that, Ms. Giovanna?"

"Well, it's unlikely Agnese will agree with that condition."

You placed a finger on your lips and spoke in a tone above a whisper. "Shh, she doesn't have to know. We'll smuggle you out of this house when the time comes."

Her laughter warmed your heart, and you were content to see her happy. "Oh, (Y/N)... what would I do without you?"

"Well, for starters you would be lying in bed, complaining about sore feet and achy joints."

"That is why I have you."

"Do not push your luck," you told her with a sly smile and then wished her goodnight. Again, she reminded you not to get in trouble and you squinted your eyes at her as you walked out of her bedroom.

To be fair, you sensed it was going to be difficult to keep your word, but you didn't believe the consequences would be severe. All you knew was that you had to tread carefully, but how far would you be allowed to go, before you were caught in a trap?

With no leads, you'd have to wait and see how the situation developed. Nothing else. After all, there was no actual reason for you to be so paranoid about the presence of a simple man, and you needed to let go of this sudden trepidation lingering inside.

If only it were so easy.

Despite Nanna's advice for you to sleep, you couldn't surrender your soul to the world of dreams. After the experience you had undergone, you weren't in a hurry to go to that place again where illusions became a bizarre and scary reality.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you'd retrieved the Song of Ilium— from its place in the drawer of your oddly neat desk— and it wasn't long before your nose was buried in its pages. It belonged to the beloved collection of your father, Teofilo— one of several literary compositions that he had treasured throughout his lifetime. Like his grandfather before him, he'd been fond of compiling these works in their original languages, given his fascination with philology from a very young age.

It wasn't too hard to guess that you held affection for these books, though your love didn't exactly spring from any natural attachment to literature. Diving in those pages made you feel at home again, reminded you of the times father had read stories for you before tucking you in bed. They brought back happy memories when he was still with you, and every time you read them you hoped to hear his comforting voice once more.

You could recall those long afternoons you spent in his study, sitting on his lap as you assimilated the knowledge he shared with diligent interest. Each day with him presented a new challenge that you endeavored to conquer. There were occasions that Nanna had to drag you out of there when he was very busy, and you had your own obligations, though he always promised to see you before going to bed. No matter what, he always kept his word.

And his riddles. Oh, they were one of your favorite parts— a treat for your curious and restless mind. As easy or as difficult as they could be, you never turned down an opportunity to find answers for puzzling questions. Sometimes it would take you days to figure them out, if they proved to be especially tricky to piece together. But even when he offered to reveal the solution, and teased you to give up, you wouldn't admit defeat. The thrill of accomplishment was too much for you to surrender, and father was well aware of that. Perhaps he found it hilarious when you crossed your chubby arms, furrowed your brows, and answered with a squeaky 'no'.

However, his last riddle before he passed away had left you in a dead end. You recalled the words he had said when you saw him alive for the last time, despite Agnese's wishes, and asked him to tell you a riddle. You'd assured him that you would have the answer the next time you visited.

"It is weightless and carefree as a child, but the more you carry it in time... a ponderous weight it becomes."

Several years after his passing, you still had little idea of what he had meant. If that wasn't enough, to add to your bewilderment, he said that in all probability its meaning would be lost until you were much older, and you wondered why would you have to wait so that you could comprehend at long last. To be honest, this was a secret you'd never shared with anyone else. Never did you ask others about this riddle because you wanted to find the answers yourself. You believed it was for the best to heed your father's words and reach that understanding he spoke about, a knowledge that only time could bestow.

As you curled in bed with the Song of Ilium in your hands, you noticed the cotton bookmark you had placed in Book XVIII and decided to continue from that particular page. However, even as you became immersed in the story of the epic, you realized— much to your chagrin— that this wasn't the most suitable way to dismiss concerns from your mind.

Aeneas...

Aeneas.

The mythical hero, of course. Why did the connection not occur to you before? It felt like you'd completely forgotten about it. Needless to say, this wasn't helping matters at all but you wouldn't let the thought of him take your enjoyment away.

It shouldn't have bothered you that much. However, the more you kept reading that name... the more you began to associate his face with that of the Dardanian prince. That could have worked better, if it wasn't for the fact that the Aeneas from the book spoke far more than you imagined the other Aeneas had probably done in his entire life. No doubt that was an exaggeration, but your point still stood.

You weren't satisfied with that comparison. Maybe he could be arrogant, cruel and selfish like proud Achilles, instead of the embodiment of Roman virtues Aeneas was supposed to be in the Aeneid? You weren't sure you wanted to know, but it was a good question as any. Then again, why did you care?

Just when you decided to call it a night, your stomach growled in hunger.

Trying to get some sleep like this would be futile, so you set the book aside and prepared to leave your bedroom in the hunt for something to eat. The kitchens were your destination, and you traversed the long dark corridor towards the stairs. You weren't going to wake up Nanna, or the cook, for a simple sandwich that you were capable of making with your own hands. Agnese used to do that, every time, and it was a habit of hers you weren't fond of. The poor cook deserved his rest after a long day of work. You were sure he had more than enough stress with the visit of a guest, whom Agnese was striving to please.

Never mind that. If Aeneas was to stay, then you'd have to deal with it.

Despite the ostensible emptiness of the house, you knew that there were knights standing guard. Most of them were patrolling outside but, given that it was just an ordinary night, the security was more lax. On your way, you found one of them and he was a little startled to see you— eyeing you nervously, as you approached. When he asked you what you were doing up so late, you explained that you only wished something to eat.

"Very well, miss. Call me if you need anything."

Your journey finally came to an end as you reached the kitchens, and you made it your mission to prepare a sandwich that would sate your appetite. You had to admit you didn't know your way around that place very well, as it was mostly foreign territory. Still, it wasn't that difficult to guess where the ingredients were kept and, soon, you were working towards your goal. Your stay was brief and, once you were done with your meal, you made sure to leave everything the way it was before returning to your chambers for the night.

But when you were climbing the stairs, you heard a noise which had you snapping your head towards it in panic. There was nothing that you could identify as immediate danger, however. Scolding yourself mentally, you tried to shake off that sensation of fear clinging to your skin and resumed your path but, then, the sound of distant footsteps caught your attention.

Another abrupt stop, and you were holding your breath as you looked around. To your dismay, the knight was nowhere to be found in his post downstairs— where did he go, you wondered— so you couldn't count on him to lend you a hand. Well, perhaps he was the one that had caused those noises but... you had a strange feeling that this pattern of footsteps didn't belong to him.

You hurried towards the second story, endeavoring to be as quiet and quick as possible. The footsteps persisted for a few seconds and then stopped.

"Sir knight, is that you?" you called, standing at the end of the corridor, but only a whisper of silence answered for him. "Hello?"

Where was that light switch when you needed it? You couldn't see very well in the darkness, and you struggled to make out a dark silhouette that was apparently standing before a door. What would he even be doing here?

Assuming that it was the knight... and not something else. Which led you to a dreadful realization that made you wish you had remained blissfully unaware.

Were you having hallucinations again?

Walking on the tip of your toes, you huddled against the wall and tried to make yourself as small as possible— hiding from the figments of your own imagination. Deep inside you were afraid of what you would find this time, but you needed to know what was going on. You wanted to see where the lines of reality and delusions blurred. In a sense, you supposed that it turned you into a masochist.

There was something you couldn't ignore about your surroundings, no matter how hard you tried— something you'd sensed before but didn't take the time to analyze. It was a patent change in the air, a shift in energy that you began to perceive in every fiber of your being. Without words, it seemed to command your absolute submission and fear whatever being was behind this work of evil.

This couldn't be a simple illusion... or you didn't want to contemplate the notion, at least. Better to keep your wits about you, lest you began a descent into a dark place that you certainly didn't want to see again. With this in mind, you steeled your heart intent on seeking the truth. Maybe that was the reason you didn't turn back and ran away to the safety of your covers. To be honest, more than once you felt tempted to do so but the other part of you— that which needed answers, whatever they might have been and regardless of how terrifying they could be— wouldn't surrender so easily despite the odds.

"Stop tormenting me, whatever you are. Begone, foul creature. Sparda compels you!" you hissed just above a whisper, but the shape didn't budge. "Leave—!"

All of a sudden, muffled laughter drifted in the air and startled you into turning around in a haste. You wouldn't deny that you were scared, and your reaction wasn't the most level-headed one.

"Who's there?" Raising your voice, you found yourself growing more nervous by the moment with no idea what was going on.

So focused were you on your muddled thoughts, and such was your apprehension, that you squeaked like a scared mouse at the echo of a door creaking closed. Your heart skipped a beat, as you gazed at the endless corridor ahead and noticed the dark silhouette had disappeared.

There had to be a logical explanation for this. Or that was your wish, at least. Assuming that it was a person, to begin with. It could have been one of the attendants, but the domestic service didn't usually linger in this wing of the house at late hours of the night. They had separate accommodations to that effect, and this part of the mansion mostly remained unoccupied except when you had relatives staying and guests—

Aeneas...

Oh, well... it was a good possibility, but what was he doing wandering in the dead of the night? Granted you were out of bed, too, but your paranoia was taking over as you identified this behavior as something that could be considered suspicious. Though you needed to take this whole matter with a pinch of salt and try to investigate a bit more, before drawing hasty conclusions.

Something told you that you were going to regret this. Nanna had warned you to keep your distance with him, and you were doing the opposite of that. You supposed there was no danger if you tried to use a stealthy approach, but the silence was so loud that you could hear your own breathing and even your blood rushing with adrenaline. In fact, your sense of hearing seemed to have heightened to unusual levels in your state of trepidation, as you ventured further into the wolf's lair.

It was funny to think about it. This was your house yet you felt like an intruder, a trespasser that feared to be caught and punished.

You allowed your senses to guide you, your gut doing rapid flips as you pushed forward. This stifling atmosphere was suffocating you and clawed at the walls of your mind, almost as if it wanted to dominate you with mindless fear. Your heart was beating fast, so fast you could hear it pounding in your ears as your body quivered at the uncertainty that was overwhelming you.

But if it had been him... would he not have come forward and said something when you called? Oh, indeed, he could have done such a thing and, had that been his choice, then you would have turned around and gone to your bedroom. However, he chose not to; therefore, he had deliberately attempted to make his presence go unnoticed and you would have liked to know why— what was he hiding.

Most importantly, what if it wasn't Aeneas? What if it was no one? Regardless of your attempts to impose order in your thoughts, you'd come full circle at the starting point.

"I will fear no evil. Even if I walk in dark and desolate places, He will protect me. The Lord is my Savior, my sword and shield. He will not forsake me," you mumbled to reassure yourself. It was a good time as any to commend your soul to Him.

You definitely were a masochist, weren't you? Who in their right mind would put themselves through this psychological torture at will?

As you approached one of the rooms, you took notice of the muffled noises coming from within. It was the library— you recognized those double doors— nothing glaringly suspicious about it, but this wasn't the most appropriate time to do some study.

You tried to search for a shred of light at the bottom but it was dark, though that didn't exactly mean there was no one inside. It could be Aeneas, but for all you knew he could have also been fast asleep and you were accusing him of some absurd conspiracy. In cases such as this, you had to give him the benefit of the doubt at the very least.

However, when you stood by the door, the noises stopped altogether and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Stepping closer, still on the tip of your toes, your hand grazed the wood and you pressed your ear against it, trying to hear something. Anything.

There was only silence from the other side.

Slowly, you let out the breath you'd been holding and gulped the knot in your throat. If this was a game your mind was playing with you, then you found no fun or joy in it.

You were overcome by a sense of dejá vu and remembered what had happened that night when you saw the cloaked stranger. The situation had been similar to this! You didn't know what was happening anymore. Was it man? Demon? A vision? You had no idea what you were dealing with, at this point, and that scared you even more.

You drew away and took a few steps back, trying to put your mind at ease. But just as you thought about turning back and leaving for good, you felt something grab a hold of your shoulder— causing you to squeal in mindless fright. You probably jumped several feet in the air, so high that it felt as if your soul had left your body— never to return again.

"Miss, it's alright. Fear not!"

Once you were able to calm down, and have a better look at the owner of the voice, you stared into the brown eyes of a young man. It didn't take you long to identify him as the knight you had come across with a while ago, before heading to the kitchens. He stood in front of you, wearing an expression of awkwardness at your overreaction, a little flushed and out of breath too— which made you take notice of the dim lights that revealed his features.

Needless to say, you were angry that he had sneaked upon you like that and almost scared you to death.

"Sparda, take me away!" you managed to utter with a shaky voice, clutching your chest as you drew in shaky breaths. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

"Forgive me. It was not my intention to frighten you, miss, but I called and you gave no answer. I wondered if you were in need of anything, since I heard your voice."

He sounded genuinely regretful, and your expression softened at his words. It occurred to you that you'd strayed from your course, and he was only making sure that nothing bad had happened. Of course you didn't want to tell him of the strange noises that led you here. You suffered enough embarrassment, when you claimed there had been an intruder in your house, that you preferred not to disclose any details. Instead, you made up a lie.

"I think I got a little disoriented for a moment. My mind is still a bit fuzzy, after that unfortunate incident at the quay."

How weird it must have been for him to see you  walk down the corridor, alone in the dead of the night, muttering some gibberish under your breath, before stopping to press your ear against a random door. You probably looked like a lunatic in his eyes, and you wouldn't blame him for that.

"I see." He nodded in understanding and then looked down, crossing his arms behind his back. "Miss, I'm in no position to tell you what to do, but it would be advisable to return to your bedroom. It's late, and you need your rest to recover soon."

That was your cue to leave. You threw a dubious glance to the door, but then shook any thoughts on playing detective for the time being and gave the man a forced smile.

"Thank you, I will. Goodnight, sir knight."

Rushing to your chambers, you tried to disregard certain ideas forming in the back of your mind and prepared yourself for bed as though nothing had happened. You weren't planning on telling Nanna, either way, so as not to put unnecessary distress on her.

After cleansing your teeth and brushing your hair, you climbed under the sheets and gazed at the ceiling for a long time. Then closed your eyes and willed yourself to fall into a fitful dream.

Dawn broke, and with it a new day came.

Too bad you hadn't slept very well, and it showed on your face— to Nanna's consternation. As expected from her, she nagged you until you confessed that you'd stayed reading until late.

She raised her hands in the air, as a manner of prayer, and you couldn't help but chuckle in spite of her dramatic moment.

"Sparda, give me patience with this child."

"Don't be so exaggerated, Nanna. It will be fine." You sipped the warm honeyed milk from the cup in your hands. You were having breakfast in your bedroom, and it made you think of how inconvenient it must have been for others to bring your meals there. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to stay here any longer. "I could not sleep last night, so I thought doing something else would help. I didn't realize that it was so late."

"I swear, (Y/N), if you don't—"

"I said it will be fine. Stop worrying so much, please." As you snuggled on the settee by the window, you gazed outside to the gardens below and sighed. "Is it not a beautiful day? I would like to go to the gardens this morning. You don't have to accompany me, of course. I just wish to have a moment... please?"

Nanna stared with hands on her hips, as if trying to intimidate you, but in the end she gave in. "Very well, but finish your breakfast first otherwise I'm not letting you out of this room. Look at your scrawny constitution... it's unacceptable! And you will eat all your food today, no complaints."

"Alright. I will, for you dear Nanna," you said to placate her spirits and offered her your best smile.

Once you'd finished your meal, she helped you dress and braided your hair. Thank goodness no corset for you, only a loose dress to wear at home. You feared asking her if you were attending mass any time soon, but you guessed since you were recovering you wouldn't be able to travel to the business district. That was, if Agnese still allowed you to leave the estate, at all.

After you told Nanna that you'd remain close to the house, should she need you, you were on your way downstairs. You didn't want to remain confined in your bedroom, and Leoni hadn't specifically said that you couldn't go out and enjoy the day for a little while. In the meantime, you could pick a book to read or do revision for your lessons. Classes with your tutors had been suspended until further notice, so you needed to find some form of entertainment to keep your mind occupied with more productive thoughts.

Grabbing your notes, you dropped by the library and decided to fetch some reading material to complement your studies on biology. Once you found it, you headed to the hall where the butler greeted you.

"Good morning, miss (Y/N). I didn't expect to see you up so soon. How are you feeling today?"

"Good morning, Livio!" you greeted back with a cheerful mood, as you reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. How are you today?"

"I am quite well, miss. Thank you," the older man said, bowing his head.

Looking around, you realized that the house was too quiet and wondered where Agnese might have been. "Where is my mother? Is she in town?"

"Indeed, miss. She left at the usual hour this morning but still hasn't returned."

You probably wouldn't be allowed to do the same in a while. Knowing her, she would argue that the world was too dangerous a place for you and, in a way, maybe she was right. It was evident to her that you couldn't take care of yourself, so the most obvious measure was for you to be confined at home for your own safety.

"If mother asks, tell her I will be in the gardens."

She could let you have that as consolation, no? This wasn't to say you were angry at her. There was no justifiable motive for you to blame her decisions on account of your irresponsible actions, neither did you want to argue about them. You'd only be making a fool of yourself in front of her.

"Of course, miss."

Waving your hand in farewell, you took your leave and crossed the threshold into the terrace that preceded the softer grounds covered in grass. Descending the white stone steps, you thought of seeking a comfortable place to shelter yourself from the sun— namely the gazebo where you'd spent time with Nanna the previous day, and your favorite spot throughout the years. You would have been lucky, if it wasn't for the fact that someone else had claimed it before you had the chance.

You didn't even have to guess who it was. Those locks of snow-white hair gave away the identity of the man that occupied your intended place, and you immediately knew that you'd come across none other than Aeneas. He was seated in one of the snug armchairs— foot propped over the opposite thigh, whilst an open book rested on his lap— lazily holding a glass of what you could identify as red wine in his hand. A rather self-assured and conceited posture for someone who wasn't in his own house, you noted. Also, was it not a little too early to be drinking alcohol? Your only hope was that your mother wasn't housing a dipsomaniac, but what did you know.

Aeneas seemed to be deep in thought, staring off into the blue sky in the horizon with a pensive frown— unaware of your presence or purposefully ignoring it. You bid him good morning once you were close enough, but your greeting went unanswered. Not what you were expecting. At the very least, you would have thought that he had some manners to speak of but you didn't let it bother you too much.

In all honesty, you were annoyed that he got to keep that spot but you wouldn't fight him over a matter so trivial— it was a stupid excuse. Either way, you didn't want to linger in his presence so you decided that you'd retire somewhere else to be alone and sulk. It was quite apparent he didn't make for enjoyable company, and you had no intention to see if he could prove you wrong. Actually, you shuddered at the thought of it despite the summer heat.

You walked farther away and settled under the shade of another gazebo, by the side of a small pond. Marble sculptures of classic design— artworks of the artists that Agnese had so graciously endorsed— lined up on the sidewalk, decked with colorful tulips. The green meadows extended towards the forest beyond and, diverting your gaze just a little, you could observe the cliff and old ruins overlooking the sea in the distance. It was said to be the place where numerous maidens were sacrificed to an old god, former lord of these lands.

Despite having lived here for many years, you'd never visited those remains. It was forbidden to go deep into the forest without any protection, and you doubted that Agnese would allow you to visit the Cliff of the Maiden— considering the terrible tales that surrounded it.

Though it would appear the opposite, yours wasn't a morbid curiosity. It was not your attraction to such a macabre story that piqued your interest, but what your father had once told you about a rare and extraordinary occurrence.

"Once a year, you can see the stars of the night sky in the sea."

Many lights gathered at the coasts for a few nights, before vanishing. Of course these weren't an inexplicable phenomenon, at least not anymore. They were sea fireflies, although popular beliefs once had it that they were the tears of the unfortunate maidens devoured by the terrifying snake of the seas.

Father had gone to the cliff, when he was younger, and he told you that the view of the sea fireflies was magnificent; a true spectacle worthy of witnessing in a lifetime. One day, he would take you there... but it was a promise he couldn't keep because he was gone.

And, in all probability, you would d never see it.

After a while, you considered it was time to return. The sun was high, and you surmised it would be noon soon. Thank goodness that Nanna had forced you to apply sunscreen, and wear a wide-brimmed summer hat, because the walk back was longer than you would have liked.

When you approached the gazebo Aeneas had been at earlier, you noticed that he was already gone but you didn't particularly care to know where he could be. Or maybe you should have, seeing as his presence wasn't something you could readily ignore. Though you couldn't prove anything as of yet— neither were you certain of what to look for— there was this lingering sensation that something was wrong with him.

You knew that you were being unreasonable, and even prejudiced, but you still didn't feel at ease around him neither with the idea of sharing the same space. Your energies seemed to clash; they were not in harmony, so to speak. It was hard to explain but, maybe, it could be best described as this hunch that one sometimes wouldn't get along with certain people... and, quite often, it was for a good reason.

Better to keep your eyes and ears open.

"Welcome back, miss (Y/N). How was your stay in the gardens?" Livio greeted you at the threshold, when you finally made it to the stone steps.

"It was... quite relaxing, I suppose," you droned with lassitude, not very eager to make small talk.

"Perhaps a cool drink will invigorate the young miss? After walking a distance under the sun, no doubt you need it."

"Is that... for me?" Your mouth felt dry once your eyes lay on the large glass with soft creamy liquid, sitting on the tray in his hand. Regardless of your efforts to hide your sudden craving, you were ogling that smoothie like your life depended on it and you could tell that, beneath that solemn mask Livio wore, he was amused at the silly expression of longing on your face.

"Indeed."

Obviously, he had anticipated your arrival since he was waiting for you with your prize— which you tried not to down with desperate chugs, in spite of the Atacama desert that your throat had become. Had Aeneas not claimed your gazebo first, you could have enjoyed the wonders of this ambrosia much sooner.

It took you some time to speak, and you heaved a contented sigh when you finished your drink. "That was delicious, thank you!"

"I am glad you found it to your taste."

"Has my mother returned yet?"

"Yes, miss. She is in her chambers resting, at the moment. Lunch will be ready soon, so perhaps you would like to refresh beforehand?"

"Yes, I would like that." You smiled, contemplating the idea of a shower and a change of clothes.

"Will you be joining your lady mother today, or would you prefer for your meal to be delivered to your room?"

"I will have lunch with my mother. Thank you."

"Very well, then. Shall I carry those books for you, miss?"

Shaking your head, you made sure to let him know that it would be no problem. "Do not worry, Livio. It's not that heavy a weight and I can manage just fine on my own. Besides, I will need them later."

Your desk would soon be a mess, no doubt, and it would be a miracle that you could even find anything.

When you climbed the stairs, you were surprised to cross paths with Aeneas again— going the opposite direction. From what you could see, his expression was apathetic, devoid of any joviality, and there seemed to be an ominous shadow looming over him as he descended with firm steps. The echo of his unhurried but steady tread made you slow down and, for a moment, you were transported back to the strange events of last night.

What an odd coincidence...

Except that it could not be.

Giving him a pointed look as he approached, you arched an eyebrow at the thought forming in your mind. Certainly you wouldn't be one to police the behavior of others, but you couldn't vouch for the actions of this man.

Aeneas had freshened up, if his damp but well groomed hair and different clothes were of any indication. There even was the faint fragrance of lavender and peppermint emanating from him, so it was easy to imagine that he had taken a liking to baths with scented oils.

You regarded him with reservations, waiting to see if he would say something. Maybe he actually didn't hear you the first time and, to test this theory, you decided to greet him again. To be honest, you weren't actually trying to strike an entertaining conversation. It was meant to be a polite gesture, nothing more.

Again, he didn't make any efforts to acknowledge your presence; merely walked past you without as much as a single word. This time, you were taken aback by his slight since it was unthinkable for a gentleman to behave in such an unbecoming fashion with a lady. You didn't think you'd done anything inappropriate that merited this rude treatment, so you couldn't understand his actions. However, it didn't help to improve your opinion on him.

What an uncouth man!

"So vulgar and hateful," you grumbled under your breath as you stomped to your chambers, feeling your dislike for Aeneas grow.

But soon you would find out that your aversion could only become stronger.

During lunch, Agnese was put to shame when her so called 'guest of honor' was nowhere to be seen. In a way, it made you happy that you wouldn't have to see his face, but his lack of consideration left much to be desired.

"What about Aeneas?" she had asked, rather confused and irked, as she was served the first course.

Livio shifted in his spot and exchanged an uneasy glance with the cook, before he replied. "Regrettably, Mr. Aeneas will not be able to join the lady and the young miss today. He seemed to be... very busy in the library when I spoke to him and sends his deepest apologies, my lady."

Apologies? You were beginning to doubt he even knew how to do that.

Agnese looked disappointed, but she soon covered up her morose expression with an attitude of casual dismissal. "Oh, well, perhaps we should leave him be. I have (Y/N) to keep me company, anyways."

You were bristling on the inside. Never mind that he had slighted you first, but doing so to the mistress that had generously put her home at his disposal was unacceptable. Rejecting an invitation to participate in a meal, while he was a guest in someone else's house, and for such petty reasons, wasn't something that one could easily overlook.

You and Agnese said a small prayer in thanks. In the seclusion of your thoughts, you asked Sparda that this man would leave soon because you were't sure you could live together under the same roof.

You had no wish to, either.

Trying to make some trivial conversation to dissipate the awkwardness of the moment, you turned to Agnese with a smile. "If I may ask, mother, how was your trip to the business district?"

She eyed you with suspicion but made no comment on your question, although you could tell she didn't wish to say much on the matter.

"Business, as usual. Nothing you should be worried about, my dear."

Your smile fell a little at her answer, and you gazed into your food— eating mostly in silence for the rest of lunch.

Tomorrow you would resume lessons with your tutors, Agnese informed you out of nowhere at some point of the meal. When it dawned on you what she had said, you began to panic a little since you still had pending assignments— and it would be in your best interests to get them done before dusk.

You needed to focus on algebra and finishing an essay on the downfall of the Roman Empire but, for the life of you, you couldn't find one of the volumes you were supposed to read.

You asked Nanna if she'd seen it, by any chance, but she had no idea what you were talking about. Maybe you had left it somewhere downstairs, and it was placed in the wrong library.

Oh, this day kept getting better and better. Now you had to waste precious time that you could be spending writing the essay, instead of hunting for that blasted tome. In all honesty, you could have probably tried to make something up but you preferred not to be reprimanded, or punished, for not paraphrasing the book. It didn't matter to them whether you were knowledgeable in a topic or not. They wanted you to read the texts, so you had to do as you were told.

Where could it be?

Of course, the most obvious place to begin your search was the library. But there was this particular location that made you a little restless— as it was the one where you'd heard strange noises coming from, the previous night

Whether it was Aeneas or not, you couldn't deny there was something disturbing about this occurrence. Just thinking about it made you shiver, and you could feel that same fear crawl on your skin as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Why couldn't you get rid of this sensation that was beginning to exasperate you beyond belief?

Enough of this. You needed that book and you were going to get it.

However, you had yet another none too pleasant surprise when you opened the door and walked inside. Your first thought was a resounding 'why?', accompanied by a 'he's everywhere!', though you managed to keep your mouth shut. Truly, you weren't expecting to find him here neither did you look forward to seeing him again. Sometimes it felt as though this house was too small for the two of you, because that day you kept encountering him at every turn— to your utter discontent.

Certain thoughts lingered, but you chose not to inquire any further in the face of insufficient proof to back up your claims.

"Good afternoon." Your words were curt as you spoke. Deep down, you weren't even waiting for a response— just looking for an excuse to argue and let out your frustration.

Unsurprisingly, this was the third time he didn't respond or acknowledged you. You shouldn't have been that irritated, given how predictable were his actions, but his lack of manners and grandiose sense of self-worth was beginning to get on your nerves.

So you let him know.

"Excuse me but, by any chance, are you mute or deaf? I don't recall my mother using sign language to speak with you."

It was a rhetorical question. You knew his ability for speech wasn't impaired, and he could hear you as well, but perhaps sarcasm was a language of which he had a better understanding.

The white-haired man slowly tore his gaze away from the pages of the book in his hands and stared at you. For a moment, he gave the impression to be debating whether you were worthy of his time or not. Or he thought he could try to intimidate you with that sharp look. In another situation, you could have been daunted but you were too irritated to feel that way.

After a while, Aeneas finally deigned himself to speak.

"As you may appreciate, I am not. Hopefully, you have satisfied your curiosity," he stated with a flat and slightly nasal voice. Strange. One would have thought there was sufficient airflow going through those big nostrils, if his nose made up for a quarter of his face.

His pronunciation had a slight accent to it but he spoke with decent fluency, nevertheless. Aeneas was foreign, of course; not from this region. You recalled Nanna saying that he hailed from the United States and you had to say, if all Americans were anything like him, you were not impressed.

With a grunt of derision, he returned to his reading material without a pinch of self-consciousness or remorse. It was as though he hadn't even detected the irony in your words or, as it was your belief, didn't care the slightest about them.

"Oh, I have, indeed! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to pass judgment on your character. I found it most insightful."

At least you knew what you were dealing with.

"You dare to make presumptions about me, based on a few words?" His blue eyes flashed a glare that had you smiling on the inside.

Your gaze strayed to the bookcase as you paced around the room, intent on showing him that he wouldn't make you feel belittled in spite of his efforts.

"Oh, it's that simple. When it comes to the likes of you, I do not believe much else is needed."

The scrunch of his nose was hard to miss, even as he tried to remain indifferent to your remark. "You're too impertinent for a young girl."

"And you're too arrogant for a man who wants to appear as charitable and selfless, even when your disposition proves otherwise."

A pregnant silence followed, as you stared at each other from opposite sides of the room. The dull sound of the fans that spun above, dispersing the afternoon heat, was the only thing that disturbed the taciturnity of this tense moment. It was more than evident that he was assessing you without any shame, his gaze sweeping your form from head to toes. Being under the scrutiny of that piercing gaze was uncomfortable, you had to admit it, but you wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of seeing you withdraw.

Unfortunately, there was a sudden knock on the door so it was a lost contest the moment you got distracted and looked away. Yet, to your relief, his attention too had been diverted and you didn't have to feel embarrassed at your startle.

After another knock, it became obvious that he wasn't going to say anything so you took it upon yourself to respond.

"Come in." You only hoped it wasn't Nanna looking for you... or Agnese— though that was very unlikely. Soon enough, she would be gathering with guests and having a merry time herself.

In walked a young maid, Ofelia, carrying a tray in her hands. Her brown eyes widened a little and she came to a halt, upon taking notice of your presence.

"Oh." She lowered her gaze, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to intrude."

Being caught alone with this man was an awkward situation, but you were guilty of nothing. You didn't even want to cross paths with him.

"You interrupted nothing. Rest easy," you reassured her.

Ofelia nodded before stepping further inside, in Aeneas's direction. "Sir, I brought you something to eat and the wine you—"

"I want nothing," he grumbled, clearly upset, not even bothering to say thanks. "Take it away."

Somehow, he was beginning to remind you of Agnese when she was in a bad mood.

The maid looked at him with confused awe then glanced your way, unsure. It felt as though she was waiting for you to give her further instructions, or silently asking for your help. To be honest, even you were dubious of what to do given your second-hand embarrassment. At least, the charming effect Aeneas had on her was starting to wear off. Thank goodness.

"Does the young miss wish for anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I will soon be on my way out, either way."

"Very well. Excuse me, then. Miss. Sir." She fetched the empty glass sitting on the table, by Aeneas's side, then made a quick curtsy and took her leave. You couldn't help but feel sorry for her. It was enough to deal with Agnese's mood swings, but at least she was getting paid well for it— not that it could justify such a thankless job.

Once she had closed the door behind her, you crossed your arms and glared at Aeneas in reproach. "Could you be more haughty and childish, I wonder?"

"What do you want?" His annoyance and disgust were becoming more difficult to conceal, yet that didn't stop you. Maybe then he would change his mind and go away.

"From you? I only expected a little courtesy, but that seems to surpass your most basic capabilities." If he wanted to impose a vitriolic attitude around others, then he would get the same from you. "As for the reason I am here..." Approaching the bookcase, you let your fingers graze the leather spines and dedicated enough time to give the pretense your visit wasn't unjustified. "I'm in search of a certain tome. Do not flatter yourself thinking that I was looking for you."

Being and attractive man, he must have been under the false belief that every woman in this house sought his attention. As if!

"I would not consider it flattering, at all," Aeneas deadpanned, and you resisted the urge to growl.

This man had such a way of ruffling your feathers that you were beginning to loathe him in less than half an hour— an accomplishment in itself. It wasn't so much his insult but the way he could keep his composed demeanor, and even have the gall to retort with such nonchalance, that made you so bitter.

Gritting your teeth, you practically snatched some random book from the shelf and turned around to meet his conceited expression. The smugness showed at the corner of his lips, barely but it was present, mocking you.

It was foolishness to try and strike a confrontation with him, but you would not tolerate his affront.

"You may have convinced my mother and this whole household that you're a hero, but even a hero loses his charm when he has no charisma and kindness."

"You must be mistaken, somehow; I never said that I was one. My guess is that you have read too many fairy tales about chivalrous knights and princesses. I would suggest that you attain to realistic expectations of the world, lest you are disappointed."

Ignoring his last words, you pushed the conversation back at him. "You're no hero, that is true. Yet you have no qualms in taking advantage of the high opinion others have of you, even if that reverence is undeserved."

"You claim I deserve no respect, yet you stand today with that defying attitude— blathering nonstop— thanks to me. Is this the way to show gratitude to someone who has saved your life, by attacking them and irritating them to the point of aggravation? Perhaps I should have left you to drown in the sea and given you a real reason to complain about. From the afterlife, of course."

Spoken like a true gentleman!

"My, what a curious sense of humor you have! If gratitude and recognition is what you care about, then make no mistake. I'm certainly grateful that you have come to my rescue that day, but let us make something clear. That does not mean I'll become blind to your rudeness and obsequious to your patronizing ways. If you were hoping for me to bow down and kiss your well-polished shoes, as you revel in the comfort of my own house, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you."

Aeneas was ready to retaliate but, oh no, you wouldn't allow him to have the last word in this argument.

"I may have to excuse your behavior, on this occasion. I'm sure that all the wine you had today has dulled your thinking, and you actually didn't mean anything of what you've said. Not to fret, though, as I forgive you. However, from now on, you should be more careful with your intake of alcohol. It's bad for your health and... people may start talking, too." His stoic expression betrayed nothing, but you could see that his blue eyes blistered with rage as he tried to keep his breathing even. It was all you needed to have a small taste of victory and, before walking out of the door, you turned to give him a bright faked smile. "Have a good day, sir."

You were certain that if he could shoot daggers from his eyes, he would have stabbed you to death right then but you didn't care what he thought or whether he found you agreeable. To you, he was nothing more than a shady, arrogant, condescending, pompous moron that you needed to keep an eye on.

The gates of hell would sooner open again than you would change your opinion on him.

A/N: Wow, would you look at that? Vergil is still our lovable jerk and I think I managed not to butcher his character. Too much, at least?

Well, emm... Vergil drinking? It sounds weird, but it was a joke making reference to textsfromdmc in Tumblr, where Vergil is often portrayed as a guy with alcohol issues for funsies (well, pretty much everyone has alcohol issues). Seriously, after going through all those terrible things I would also need a drink. Plus, in the first novel Gilver drank a lot of booze in a contest with Dante, but he couldn't stand his alcohol so he lost consciousness and was robbed by the patrons (if you can believe it? What a loser lol). I should hope he's more resistant here!

In a way, I imagine Nero's parents like Sims. I could literally see the minus signs popping out of their heads while they interacted. As you can imagine, it's going to be more of an antagonistic relationship— at least in the beginning. I mean, it's Vergil... he's an a**hole. And he has a big nose. Just check it out. 

[smilinstar]

Fic: this space between us (it’s nothing but stardust and the absence of you) - 4/6 (Legends of Tomorrow; Rip/Sara)

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Rip Hunter/Sara Lance (Time Canary)

Summary: Or Close Encounters. Five times Rip and Sara find themselves stuck together and somehow manage not to make out, and the one time they (finally) do . . .

Author’s Note: Lol this is just an excuse for me to write the tropiest fic full of tropes. I’ve separated it out into six parts, cos the first part ended up being more than the 500 words I was planning. Oops. Please read. Please enjoy. And maybe let me know? :-)

Can also be read here on AO3

Part I | Part II | Part III

] IV [

2084, Bank of China Tower

Hong Kong

----

 “Ray? Talk to me Ray, what’s going on with that counter?”

“Uh, still counting down, but I’m nearly there. Another ninety-six seconds, but I think I can get there before it hits ten? Five? Three seconds?”

She takes a calming breath, tries to ignore the heat of Rip’s worried gaze on her.

“Firestorm? What’s your status?”

“I think we can get to two of the secondary charges in time, but the third one? I don’t think we’re gonna make it Sara.”

“Where is it?” It’s Rip who asks, finger pressed to his left earpiece.

And there’s a determined, reckless glint in his eyes that she’s seen numerous times before, and she does not like it. At all.

“Underground parking lot, south side of the building.”

Her eyes widen when she realises where they are, directly above it, a few floors up. Doesn’t take long for it to register with Rip either, because he’s heading for the doors leading to the stairwell before she can even reach out to him.

“Rip! RIP!” she calls out after him, but he doesn’t take heed, and then she’s running.

He’s flying down those stairs, the soles of his boots not even touching the ground as he holds onto the rails and jumps down the last few steps at each turn, coat billowing out behind him.

He pushes open the door leading into the parking lot, and he’s spinning on the spot as he turns, eyes scanning for the explosive.

“Over there!” she says, spotting the flickering red light on one of the central columns.

He gets to it first, eyes laser focussed on the mess of wiring attached to the incendiary device.

“Can you disarm it?” she asks him.

He doesn’t answer her, instead says with his voice remarkably steady, “Get out of here Sara.”

“What? No!”

“Sara . . .”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the Captain here!”

He breathes out heavily, “I have not forgotten Captain Lance, but there’s a, uh,” he stops, and it looks like he’s doing the mental calculations, but she thinks he’s probably just taking a stab in the dark, “fifty percent chance of this working. Maybe. Possibly. Unless of course Dr Palmer fails to disarm the main bomb in time, then there’s . . . no chance . . . so it doesn’t make sense for the both of us to risk it, now does it?”

Sara shakes her head, ignoring his words and choosing not to answer as she turns on the spot away from him before she does something stupid. Like punch him or worse, kiss him, for his stupid display of heroism and idiotic selflessness. So, instead, she takes a deep breath in and out, and presses at her earpiece again, hoping against all hope for some good news; “Ray? Tell me you’ve got this?”

“Nearly there, just give me . . . two . . . more . . . seconds and YES! I HAVE STOPPED THE BOMB PEOPLE!”

She literally sags with the relief, her chin dropping to her chest as she breathes, “Oh thank God. You? And I don’t say it enough, are a genius, Ray!”

“Well,” Ray says then all coy, and she can imagine his aw shucks, me? face, and just like that she remembers why she’s so reticent with her praise in the first place.

She clears her throat, and straightens up, gets back to the point, “Okay, we can do the pat on the backs later. But right now, I need you to focus Ray, and talk Rip through disarming one of the secondary devices. Can you do that?”

“What?” and his momentary elation disappears, only to be replaced again with panic, “Why are you guys still here? I thought Firestorm were flying those out of here?”

“There’s not enough time to get to them all, and there’s not enough time for this either Ray!” she snaps with mounting frustration and fear. Her eyes turn back towards Rip to find him already watching her, his own anxiety rippling through every muscle he has tensed.

“Okay, okay,” Ray breathes out, “Rip?”

“Yes, Dr Palmer, I’m here.”

“Okay, alright, tell me what you see . . .”

She can barely stand to watch and so she diverts her attention to the other matter at hand whilst they work.

“Nate? Amaya? How are we doing with evacuating the building?”

“All clear, but you guys really need to get out of there!”

“We’ve just got one-”

“No, Sara, listen to me-” Nate cuts in, his words rushing out of him in one breath, “there are four, not three secondary charges. You can’t get to the last one in time! You guys have to leave! RIGHT NOW!”

Rip turns his head to look at her. And despite her best attempts, she thinks the expression on her face gives it away.

“What?” he asks, “What is it?”

She swallows, decides to tell him the truth, “there’s a fourth charge.”

Because of course there is. That’s just their luck.

And she knows he doesn’t need to be told their chances are futile.

She can see it.

She can see it flicker across his face, and it isn’t fear. It’s acceptance. And that? That has her more terrified than she’s ever been before. There’s a little bit of anger there too, but she thinks that anger is born from too many things to count, and it’s too much to process now. Not with him looking back at her like that.

“Go,” he says.

She doesn’t budge.

“I’ve got this Sara. Get out of here!” he tells her again, louder, more forceful, this time.

And she feels entirely frozen in place, struck by an alarming sense of déjà vu.

Except this time it’s a different set of eyes that stare back at her.

There’s always been a sense of ‘what could have been’ with the loss of Leonard. She’d cared about him, a lot. And maybe that could have turned into more over time, but they weren’t really given the chance to find out. She’d grieved him, she’d grieved the loss of a possibility, but she’d moved on. She’d cared about him. Of course, she had. But she hadn’t been in love with him.

This?

This feels different.

Different in a way that has her rooted to the spot, refusing to leave, refusing to kiss him goodbye.

And whatever it is, she thinks it must be written all over her face, because his hands still as his eyes hold hers and her name leaves his lips, heavy with sorrow and an apology that she doesn’t want to dwell on because she thinks it’ll only break her heart. And if she’s going to die, she’d rather its left whole in her chest when she does. Because, of course, he doesn’t feel the same. Because, he’s said it himself, out loud and in not so many words, there’s only ever been one. And time never bent its will to save her, no matter how many times he railed against it.

But she’ll never blame him. And she’ll never hate her.

Envy may tear at her, but she won’t let that turn to hatred.

Because he deserves better than that.

The man who’s saved her too many times to count and still doesn’t believe he’s worth the same.

And so she holds his gaze, doesn’t let the fear make her waver as she steps up beside him and turns to look at the chaos of wires in front of her. “What can I do?” she asks evenly.

She feels him watching her, before he turns away and points to one of the wires, “Hold that steady, and pass me one of your knives.”

She smirks. “How do you know I have more than one?” she says, reaching into her boot, and passing it over, handle side up.

“Because,” he says, pressing the blade against the blue wire, before pausing to look back at her, “you’re Sara Lance.”

And there’s something about her name being the last to leave his lips that, despite her best efforts, breaks her heart anyway.

He doesn’t blink as he cuts through the wire with a single slice, and she can’t look away from him either.

At least this time, she thinks, this time, she’s not alone.

But then . . .

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

He’s still standing.

She’s still here, breathing.

And she can’t help the bubble of laughter that leaves her. She grasps hold of his arm and squeezes just to make sure, and looks back up to find him shaking his head in disbelief. Disbelief that he managed to disable a bomb. Disbelief that he dodged death once again.

Of course, that thought only lasts a few seconds. A sudden tremor shakes all around them and under their feet and she remembers they aren’t quite home free yet.

There are cracks running through the concrete, zig-zagging above and below, dust falling all around and in the distance a cacophony of people yelling and shouting on the surrounding main roads, together with the sirens of the Chinese authorities and emergency services rushing to the scene. It all adds to the blare of car alarms and the rumble of concrete, the shatter of glass, and the whine of steel metal beams bending in the foreground.

And yet, all she really hears is the beat of her own heart pounding in her ears, and him.

“We should-” he starts to say.

“Run?” she finishes.

This time it’s him holding out his hand, and she doesn’t need asking twice as she slips her hand into his, squeezing tight, before he pulls.

“Run!”

Part V

[jungksbih]

First Dates I

this is my first fic on here! Feel free to read n enjoy!

genre: comedy/angst/light smut? idk, etc

pairing: johnny x reader

word count: 2345

Parts: I II III IV V

Your breath hitched at the sensation that you felt for the first time. The faint hum of the device rang loudly in your ears causing your senses to heighten and your cheeks turned a dark red in color at the realization of what you were doing. Of course it was fine since you were home alone and it was a normal thing for people around your age but you still couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment from you. Your eyes remained shut while the heat in your body increased slowly, so slow to the point that you were considering stopping for the night and returning to your normal routine. Everyone around you made it their goal to make fun of you constantly for being a prude. Even though you were far from it everyone around you insisted on thinking otherwise. You had sexual desires just like the students around you. You had thoughts about people around you that you’d be mortified of saying out loud, you were put into moods at inconvenient times just like the others. The only difference was that you were too overwhelmed with things that you had to focus on to be bothered by it.

“Oh my god.” the moan left your lips and your body slightly contorted as the wave of pleasure washed through you.  The thought of being embarrassed by the sounds that left your lips didn’t even occur to you since you were finally close to finishing. Finally after spending 30 precious minutes of your precious time that you certainly did not have you were getting the results that you wanted.

Just as you felt the desire to climax your phone began to ring, breaking your focus. Your eyes opened in frustration and you paused the vibrator before leaning over and answering the jackass the interrupted you.

“You know this really isn’t a good time so I hope whatever it is, is important.”

“Look I know you’re busy studying like you always do but I really need your help. This time it’s actually something important.” A familiar feminine voice pleaded on the other end and holy shit did you know that phrase all too well.

It was your acquaintance  friend troian most likely asking you to cover up for her again. She was under the impression that the two of you were best friends, maybe because you entertained her all the time but on your end she was quite bothersome but you were too nice to say anything about it.

“If you want me to tell one of your boyfriends that you moved i won't i'm not in the mood for it.” Your eagerness to climax instantly washed away just like that, and the longer you were on the phone the less you felt like continuing where you left off.

“Just hear me out okay?  i’m not asking for that but it’s kind of similar…” You tuned her out for a moment as you sat up and pulled up your underwear, holding the phone in between your ear and your shoulder. Conveniently there was a glass of water on the night stand- most likely from that morning. You took a sip from it, drifting away to your own world before her voice rang in your ears louder than before catching you off guard.

“Hmm?” you hummed questioningly. There was an annoyed sigh on the other end of the phone which was uncommon for you to hear from her. She wasn’t necessarily the type to get annoyed by anything you did since she was generally fond of you.

“Did you really not hear a thing I said?”

“No” you paused. “Sorry.”

“Can you please go on a blind date as me?” She asked again, slowing down her speech and emphasizing each word to ensure that you would hear her fully this time. Regardless you still weren’t quite sure if you heard her correctly. Blind date? The idea of a blind date ran through your brain like a short film and you pictured an old man in his 60’s trying to sell you out or something and you instantly were turned off at the idea. “Please, Y/N?”

“Huh? Oh uh yeah.” You said without meaning to. Once the words that left your mouth met up with your comprehension you wanted to slap yourself for being dumb and getting yourself in that position.

“Really? You’ll do it?” She started to make that voice she made when she was ready to end a conversation and you knew that there was no turning back on your unintentional offer this time.

“N-No I meant-”

“It’s settled! Tonight at 10 you’re going to go to the Soulful Cup. You know where that is right?” She asked into the phone. Your throat began to dry up and you nodded to yourself in response, forgetting that she couldn’t see you.

“Uh yeah I know where that is. What should I wear?”

“You can just come over to my place if you’d like I could give you something nice to wear and tell you what to and not to do okay?” You heard a door shut in the background and the faint sound of a male’s voice on the other line. “ I’ve got to go i’ll see you soon, bye.”

You placed the phone down after checking the phone once she hung up on you. 8:47pm. You had about an hour to get ready and get to the coffee shop on time, and depending on how long the “date” would last you would potentially be missing out on any studying time. This is what you deserved though it’s natural, you could have just not answered the phone and your day would have gone according to plans but that’s not what happened. An exaggerated groan left your lips as you stood up and walked to the bathroom to evaluate yourself. Your makeup was still in tact surprisingly, and your hair was slightly tangled but it wasn’t anything that Troi couldn’t deal with on her own.

After checking up on yourself you decided that it was time to get going, grabbing your phone that was at 50% and your collection of keys you headed out the door and  made your way to her house. Thankfully she lived about 15 minutes away by foot so you were fine just walking to her place instead of driving. The last time you’d been a date was about five years ago when you were sixteen and since then it just never crossed your mind. You wondered to yourself if you’d even be fit for this “date”, was it even a real date? What would you say? What if they really were attractive? What if they were someone you knew? What if someone saw you and misunderstood? The thoughts clouded your mind while you continued to walk alone in the dark and it wasn’t until you arrived to your friend’s place that you  came back to reality.  After giving the door a few gentle knocks there was shuffling on the other end, followed by the sound of a laugh that wasn’t Troi’s. The door opened, revealing her in a robe and she quickly rushed you in, closing the door behind you.

The apartment had the same familiar smell of overused fragrances and candles and the bright colors of her couches stood out to you the same as they always did. The only thing that was off about the setting was the pairs of shoes that were next to hers. While thinking about this you slipped off your shoes and invited yourself into the living room, taking a seat on one of the blinding couches.

“Sorry this place is a bit messy, when I called you Taeyong was at the door so things got misplaced a little.” Troian piped up from the side  while your eyes continued to scan the area,  taking in your surroundings.

“He’s still here i’m guessing?” You raised an eyebrow and looked at her and the her face reddened slightly as she gave a nod in response.

“He is...he’s in the room, we were hanging out I forgot that you were still coming over…”she drifted off and read the unamused expression on your face. “But he could be another set of eyes to determine whether what you’re wearing is good or not for the date!” She always had quite the optimistic view which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just wasn’t quite your taste.  She walked halfway through her short hallway towards her bedroom and called out to one of her boy toys that was in her room, telling him to get out because you were there.

“It’s fine, I can really just go like this...I don’t mind.” You began, hoping that you weren’t becoming a burden even though it was the other that should have felt like she was becoming a burden.

She ignored your words and walked back over to you, muttering something about talking nonsense as she grabbed your wrists and led you to her room.  The man who you were assuming to be Taeyong was  eating from a bag of chips whilst continuing to watch tv as if he hadn’t heard anything which clearly got on Troi’s nerves.

“Look I get it you had a long day cry me a fucking river but you need to stop getting your crumbs and shit on my bed unless you’re going to be the one to clean it up.” She began while opening her closet door. Her efforts to get him to stop were useless though, he just continued on as if she didn’t say anything at all. You were debating on whether or not you even saw him flinch at the sound of her voice, but apparently you weren’t the only one that noticed this because the sound of the hangers moving got slightly louder. “It’s not like you’re the only person that sleeps on this bed so for the others sake you should at least make a team effort, yes?”

This caused him to raise his eyebrows finally and turn to face her. Instead of having a scowl on his face though, he flashed a bright smile and tilted his head to the side, almost as if he knew an inside joke that everyone else in the room didn’t pick up on.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I have lots of money so if I were you I wouldn’t put myself on such a high horse and think that i’m the only girl he’s fucking. I already know what this is, Troi.” He curled up the bag of chips and placed them on the nightstand beside him before getting up and beating down on the blanket to get rid of any crumbs that he got on there. “Anyways honey, what are you picking up for your little friend here?” He sat back down and continued to smile  as he spoke.

“Oh you’re so full of shit Taeyong, but if you must know, I was thinking of putting her in something simple but sexy.” She paused, looking your figure over once more before diving back into the closet. “What about a simple dress? I have a silk dress that I barely use you could wear that, and it’s black so it should compliment you.”

Your lips pursed at the sight of it. You were having difficulty deciding whether or not you liked the dress at all but it wouldn’t hurt to put it on anyways. After grabbing it you excused yourself to the bathroom and slipped it on. You saw your figure in the mirror and for once you felt decently confident in the way you looked. Yes, Troi could be annoying but she knew how to make sure you looked good no matter the occasion.

“Did you die in there?” Her voice rang through the closed door. You jumped slightly at the unexpectedness of her voice but soon walked to the door, opening it before flashing a large smile at her. “Well i’ll be damned…”She eyed you up and down and nodded to herself in approval.

“I love it.” You stated only making her nods quicken.

“You can keep it. That dress was made for you. Now go, it’s 9:45” She said. Your eyes bulged open as you looked at the clock in the bathroom, realizing that it was in fact 9:45 and you were about to be late for the date. You silently prayed to yourself that whoever was there would be kind enough to wait for a little while and not get too angry in the process.

You rushed out of the house, putting on some heels that she also handed to you while saying goodbye quickly, leaving the bickering pair to themselves. You didn’t even bother to put on your heels as you ran out the house, trying to bolt to the cafe on good time. After about 5 minutes of running you stopped to catch your breath, heels in one hand you felt around to grab your phone but there was one issue. It wasn’t there. Cursing under your breath you put the heels on your feet and played with your hair, hoping that when you arrived you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Out of the crowd of people you were able to see a large cup sign in the distance signalling that you were almost there. You walked as fast as you could to the shop before finally arriving, letting out a large sigh you looked around the oddly packed cafe in search for this guy.

While looking around you noticed a guy around your age with dark brown hair looking around like you were and a part of you thought that maybe, maybe that was him and you’d actually have someone decent. The both of your eyes locked and you smiled simultaneously, and you knew that it was him. You made your way over to him and you smiled at him until you heard him speak.

“You’re Troian, right? Hi I’m Johnny.”

[skylandmountain1013]

Agents of Shield fic- learning to be

Welp. Happy hiatus folks. 

Show of hands, who else is losing their mind?

Title: learning to be

Summary: She doesn’t know how to fix problems she doesn’t remember causing. (PG-13ish.)

Post-framework arc. My guess is as good as yours. 

Check it out on AO3.

i.

She leaves the lab and all she can think about is getting to a shower. A real shower, not the antiseptic wipe downs of quarantine.

She smells like blood and dirt and adhesive and the distinct scent of melting circuits and skin. (She reminds herself it wasn’t real skin.)

It needs to be gone.

She’s not surprised that Coulson is half a step behind her, and she’s not surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“—you haven’t been cleared. You should be back there resting.”

“I’ve done nothing but rest for the past 5 weeks. I’m fine.” She just needs to clean up. She sees the door to her bunk up ahead.

“We aren’t aware yet of the potential side effects of long term exposure to the Framework-“

“Yeah. Simmons made that crystal clear. Multiple times. If I’m going to go crazy, I’d like to do it on my own terms.” She punches in the code to the door and wipes the residual smudges away in disgust.

He’s still in step behind her as she gathers a fresh set of clothes. She thinks she may burn the ones she has on.

She’s managed to tune him out—mostly. The shower is in front of her and she whips around to face him. The aroma of grease in her hair is overpowering. “How long do you plan on following me?”

The flush creeps up his neck as he takes in his surroundings. He rubs a hand through his hair and stumbles his words. “I’m sorry. You’re an adult. I just—it’s been—“

She doesn’t have the energy to decipher him. Not right now. “You can stay. I don’t care. Hand me that towel and turn around.”

He obliges and thank god she’s under the spray of the water moments later and it’s the best damn thing she’s ever felt in her life. She lets the steam and water and soap engulf her and she starts to feel human.

She watches his hazy form through the shower door, slumping to the ground with a sigh. Guilt creeps in. “I promised Simmons I would have everyone keep an eye on me. Report out with any changes in behavior or personality.”

The water ricocheting off the walls make his voice sound even more muffled than she’s sure it is. “You were gone while you were still here. And I couldn’t figure it out. And then I did, and then we were both gone. It’s hard to sort what’s reality right now.”

She opens the door far enough to stick her head out. The clean air assaults her.

“Phil.” He tugs at his tie. “I’m real. You’re real. We’re real.”

He cranes his neck up at her. “Okay.”

ii.

The snap of tape on leather is comforting.

Jab. Jab. Cut.

She breathes heavily, focusing on the sound of the blood rushing through her ears. It reminds her that it’s been too long since her muscles have had this much use.

Kick. Punch. Duck.

She hears footsteps enter the room, and the cadence tells her exactly who it is. He hops up on the exercise hutch with a thud.

Jab. Punch.

“Fitz needs your data on what your Framework experience was.”

“I told him I don’t have any recollection of it.” The bag stills and she rolls her head in a slow circle. The pops of her vertebrae are welcoming.

She doesn’t want to talk about this.

“You’re the only one who can’t remember what happened in there. Something isn’t adding up.”

“There’s nothing to add up. I got kidnapped. The original rescue mission failed. The secondary one didn’t.”

She won’t tell him about the conversations that won’t get out of her head—her voice saying things she doesn’t remember. Saying things she would never say. The voices of the rest of the team- sounding like them but clearly not being them.

“May. We all had a traumatic experience in there. You can talk about it. You need to talk about it.”

She finally turns to face him. “I had a shrink once. Didn’t end well. Don’t need another.” The anger lacing her words is misguided but she can’t let it go.

His eyes widen and when he speaks, she hears the measured clip of his sentences and she knows she’s hit a nerve. “If you think I’m suggesting this as a coworker or as part of some goddamn Shield protocol, then-“

“-then what, Coulson?”

The slam of the door is the only response.

iii.

2 am is well beyond the point of protocol, so she lets herself into his room without hesitation.

He’s awake (she knew he would be), and if he’s surprised to see her, he doesn’t let it show.

Instead he feigns indignation. “What if I was indecent?”

“You weren’t.”

“I could have been!”

“Alright.” She slides out of her slippers and shuffles onto the bed.

She’s struck by how old he looks. Hair greying at his temple, worry lines etched across his face- although she’s sure she doesn’t look any better.

“I can’t sleep,” she says plainly.

“I know the feeling.”

He asks if it’s nightmares, and she shakes her head no immediately. Because it’s not. She’s dealt with those long enough to know how to get through them- and it’s been decades since she’s needed to reach for him in the darkest corner of the night.

“I have these pictures in my head- things I’ve done, places I’ve been, but I know they’re not real. It’s like watching a movie that you don’t remember filming.”

He nods and stretches his arms above his head. She focuses on how his shirt sneaks across his midsection. “It’s the LMD link. Radcliffe made sure that there was always a neural connection between the LMD and it’s-” he thinks before the next words- “carbon copy. So even though you didn’t live those events, they’re in your memories.”

“That’s real fucked up,” she says with a sigh. “Even for us.”

“Tell me.” It’s a quiet plea—not the demand of earlier in the week.

She props herself up against the headboard and focuses on the world she only knows from her thoughts. “A lot of you and me. Mostly good. Talking. We never talk.”

He nods, confirming her description. She thinks he looks wistful. She’s not sure.

She closes her eyes as the film in her mind leads to it’s climax—the one that’s been keeping her up. “I think I pulled a gun on you.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Phil.”

He lays his glasses on the nightstand and starts rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if it helps, but I think I did the same to you.”

She’s seen pieces of that as well- Blood. A promise of no pain. Lies. Love. Sacrifice. An explosion. Choice.

A faint shudder runs through his body and she knows he’s seeing it too.

“What the hell did we do to each other?”

She doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t know how to fix problems she doesn’t remember causing.

His answer is to lift the corner of his comforter and offer it to her. “Stay?”

She doesn’t need to. But she also can’t think of a reason not to want to. She slides down and he forces off the lights.

Once her eyes adjust she watches the rise and fall of his chest until hers follows suit.

iv.

The microwave dings and she knows her father would disapprove. (Melinda. Good Asian food comes from the heart. Not square white boxes.) But it’s been a long day and the Kung Pao Chicken in the fridge looked too good to pass up.

The first bite of rice barely passes her lips when the couch sags next to her.

“Hey.” Coulson is holding a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“Wednesday night drinking? I think I approve.”

He shrugs and places everything down on the table. “You never had that drink. Sorry it’s not the Haig,” he winces. “Robots.”

She reads the label on the bottle and gives him a look. It may not be Haig, but it’s still top shelf.

“Mace never changed the combination to the storage locker in his office,” He explains, shrugging. “Besides. He owes me. He just doesn’t realize it.”

“Well now I definitely approve.”

He eyes the take out box. “Golden Dragon?”

She nods, so he grabs her fork and spears himself a peapod.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Actually I think it’s Mack’s.”

She grabs the fork out of his mouth. “I could kick his ass if needed to.”

They trade bites until the box is empty. She reaches for the liquor on the table.

The bottle is opened and drinks are poured and she asks what they are drinking to. This is his idea, after all.

His answer is thoughtful. “Humanity. Reality. Moving forward.”

Glasses clink and she takes a sip. She tastes smoke and spice and warmth.

A contented silence sits between them as they both finish their drinks.

“Do you think it’s true? That even though the LMD’s were machines, they were acting on our intrinsic wants and needs?”

“The science makes sense,” He offers. “But I studied history, so..”

He’s studying his empty glass and she realizes that the space between them has disappeared.

So she makes a choice.

He tastes like soy sauce and toothpaste and home.

v.

Her world is on fire.

They’re in an air handler room of all places, because whatever has finally clicked between them has turned them into fucking teenagers who can’t make it to privacy. She doesn’t think he minds. She certainly doesn’t.

His mouth is hot against her collarbone and she feels her keys jabbing into the small of her back from being pinned against some pipes and she momentarily wonders if these pipes are important, what they control on the base and then his hand moves lower and she doesn’t wonder anymore.

“Jesus,” he hisses, as her hands skim under his shirt. She scratches his hair and circles his navel and closes her eyes in brief reverence as her fingers dance over the puckered skin of his scar.

He moves closer (she’s really not sure how that’s possible) and she feels how hard he is and he isn’t hiding it and so she positions her thigh between his and rubs just enough to create some friction.

“Old man,” he manages to grunt. “Need a soft landing spot.”

She moves away and immediately misses the connection.

A quick sweep of the hallway and she pulls him behind her, darting through the corridor. Her room is closer.

The door whooshes open.

They stumble towards the bed and she welcomes his skin.