#proceeds to throw the towel away as if he couldn’t wash it and continue to use it 😂

[altsparrow]

…..

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 04.

Summary: No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human.

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did, until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently you all are soulmates. SOULMATE AU // HYBRID AU // IDOL AU

banner by: @thebannershop​

Gif does not belong to me. All rights are reserved by the creator @ame3_jk (Twitter).

Series Master-list

This Chapter:-

PG: 13 (curse words)

Word Count: 2390

Warnings: None 

You spoon the bottom of your bowl, trying to get every last scrap of ramen. You were a college student, who was under debt and working part-time, being too frugal wasn't an issue—not for you. 

Then you tip the bowl back and lick the edge for good measure.

Once done with your dinner, you turn to see Kookie still munching on his food. His tiny mouth and whiskers move with every motion of his jaw, and you almost coo aloud. 

Too cute

You smile and refrain from petting him, doing your best to let him eat his meal in peace. Instead, you pick your bowl and move to the kitchen, collecting all the pans from the counter and dumping them in the sink. Then you roll your sleeves up and start doing the dishes, drying them all off once they were scrubbed and rinsed. 

Done with the dishes, you take a bottle out of your fridge and deposit it onto your bedside table. With all your night duties in the kitchen done, you switch off the lights and head to your shower. 

As you walk by the living room on the way to your washroom, you see Kookie still munching on his food, his long, floppy ears quivering in content and happiness. You let out a soft smile at that. 

'It feels good to not be alone anymore.' You think and bite your lip, pausing for a second to take in the sight of your new roommate.

You step out of your shower back into your room, washed, clothed, and refreshed. The hot shower had made all your muscles loose, and all you now wanted to do was curl into your bed, under your warm blankets and dream.  

You walk out to your living room in search of your bunny and see Kookie curled on top of your couch, both his ears droopy and close to him. 

You move towards him slowly, trying your best to be noiseless so as to not startle him.  

Once you reach him, you squat down beside the couch and run your hands through his fur. The soft silky hair, slide past your fingers as you continue to run your hands through his fur. Your fingers slide closer to his ears, before you scratch the spot between them, and in response, you hear him let out a purr. 

Muffling a giggle, you scoop him up in your arms and bring him closer to your chest. Walking out back to your room, you switch off all the lights behind you on your way as Kookie makes himself comfortable, snuggling closer to you—seeking your body heat. 

Snapping the door shut behind you, you walk to the mattress that you had set out for your bunny. 

Tomorrow you were going to go and buy him a proper bed, but for tonight the mattress was going to have to do.

Leaning forward you drop a kiss on his head, whispering a soft 'Good Night Kook' before you wrap the thin blanket around him and make a nest of sorts. Giving the blanket one last pat you get up and walk to your bed, curling and falling asleep within minutes of your head hitting the pillow. 

What you fail to notice is the way your bunny is frozen, his eyes wide and his ears standing upright—quivering. His big chocolate brown eyes trained on your sleeping figure.

The next morning you wake up to the sound of your alarm ringing in your ear. Groaning, you stretch across your bed and switch the alarm off before falling back on the mattress with a thud. It's then that you feel something squirming above your head, close to your hair? 

Curious and wary, you rub your bleary eyes and twist to look at what it is, and gasp when your eyes take in the scene. 

There on your pillow above your head was your bunny, curled into a ball with his face tilted and ears tucked close to his body. 

The hell?

You sit up fully, careful to not make any sudden motions, and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Blinking open, your eyes again search for your pillow and stop, once they land on it. Kookie was still very clearly curled into a ball on top of your bed—on your pillow to be precise. 

How the hell did he even get there? You ask no one in particular as your gaze stays trained on the animal who is still sleeping on your pillow. Kookie, by the looks of it, should not have been able to jump up on your bed as it was too high off the ground. 

Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes narrow, as you lean over the bed to look down the edge to see if maybe there was something that he could have used as a step to assist such a high jump. However, your search turns up empty when the only thing you find are your slippers and they could not have been the assistance.

Confused first thing in the morning, you huff as you run your hands through your hair and scowl when they get stuck in a tangle. None too gently wrenching it free, you slide off of your bed and move to get ready for the day. Thoughts about Kookie’s high jump skills put to the back of your mind for now.

Once done with your shower, you get dressed into a pair of comfortable sweats and a loose tee, letting your wet hair loose and tucked behind your ears.

Putting on some K-pop on your Bluetooth speakers in the background, you set about chopping some veggies for Kookie and your breakfast. Throwing in a portion of those veggies in the pan, you add a few spices and then give the pan a good shake. Once your food is suitably roasted you turn off the stove and pour it into a bowl. With both your breakfast ready, you make your way back to the living room.

Placing the two bowls on the center table, you turn around, intending to go back and grab your bunny, only to stop in surprise. 

Beside the center-table and over your cheap red carpet was Kookie, his ears raised and twitching in curiosity.

"Huh, well look at you, up and about already are we?" You ask him drily, as you scoop him up and place him on the couch. 

"So, you can magically jump on my bed but can't jump on this tiny couch?" You question him again as you plop back on the couch and poke his back teasingly. 

Kookie, in all his dramatic glory proceeds to ignore you, letting out a huff as his ears swivel away from you—a sign of what you assume was annoyance aimed towards you and your teasing. You just let loose an amused snort at his antics, before shoving in a mouthful of lettuce yourself.

30 minutes later, you find yourself in the bathroom, crouched low beside your tub with your sleeves folded up to your elbows as you get ready to give your bunny a bath. 

Once the water was up to an inch, you turn off the tap and twist to pick Kookie up from where he was—surprisingly, waiting patiently beside you. 

You slowly ease him into the water, your grip on him never loosening—just in case he suddenly decides to start thrashing around and accidentally gets water into his ears. Your experience had taught you that it could result in your bunny catching a cold and the last thing you needed was the responsibility of taking care of a sick pet. 

Cupping your hand you scoop up some water, gently pouring it down his body and getting his fur wet. Then, you squeeze out the shampoo that you had gotten for him yesterday and start scrubbing his fur.

Carefully, making sure that no suds were getting into his eyes or nose, you continue to lather him—scrubbing softly in some parts to make sure that his fur was thoroughly clean and that all the dirt from being and running around in the shelter was out. Once you deem your bunny clean enough, you pour some water from your hand onto his fur and get the shampoo out. 

After rinsing his fur thoroughly, you pull a spare towel from the hanger above you and wrap it around Kookie. As soon as he is up in your arms again, wrapped into a warm cocoon, he purrs. The soft sound echoes in the four walls of your bathroom and you just shake your head at him.

"You are one strange bunny, you know that Kook?" 

The way his gaze snaps up to yours and twinkles—almost makes you think that he does.

Your little fluff ball of joy was still wrapped in your towel like a burrito when you set him down in your lap, your legs under him, crossed Indian style on top of the bed.

 Softly running the towel through his fur, you try to be as gentle as you can be. Your past has made you aware of how sensitive rabbits are and how harsh motions could hurt him and so you take your time—patting him dry gently and letting the towel soak all the excess water. 

Kookie, after the warm bath and gentle treatment, is a purring ball of fur on your lap—more cat-like than any rabbit, if you were being honest. His warm breaths hit your wrists and fingers as you continue to pat him dry, the faint sound of him grinding his teeth together in happiness reaching your ears.  

It was a bit strange, how different Kookie was as compared to your previous rabbit—maybe it was just his personality? You were no animal expert and so you couldn't be sure, but something about him felt different. 

You remember when you had first seen your previous rabbit, you had been excited—happy, to have a friend to play with, but this time, when you were at the shelter to adopt Kookie, it had felt different, odd. 

The entire day had almost felt like a blur to you—from suddenly having that inexplicable urge to go to that particular shelter halfway across the city, to wanting a rabbit, to then having that stroke? It was all so weird and so unlike you, that you couldn't wrap your head around it. 

You sigh as you continue to pat Kookie dry, lost in your thoughts, as he makes himself comfortable on your lap. The patch on your sweats under him is now a large, wet spot that was sticking uncomfortably to your skin. 

Kookie, annoyed by your lack of attention to him, nibbles on your finger and you snap out of your thoughts with a wince. 

"Aye, no bitey-biting my fingers you attention-whore," you frown as you pick him up and bring him close to your face. His large doe-like eyes, continue to gaze in yours as he blinks innocently and your frown grows as you go cross-eyed from looking at him from so close, but you stubbornly don't back down. 

'I am going to make my point dammit!' You think as your eyes stay trained on his. He, for obvious reasons, could not understand your language, and pointlessly rambling in his face was not going to work. So you try the next best approach—which was to go back to your neanderthal roots and stare him down. 

'Yeah, tell him who's the boss here.' Some part of your brain encourages and being the slightly mentally unhinged person that you are, you agree. 

Kookie for his part does not look impressed. Your eyes narrow further in an attempt to look more intimidating, he in response though only blinks, and then his head tilts back away from you and he sniffs. 

"Did you just turn up your nose at me?!" you ask incredulously, as you try to figure out if your bunny has an attitude problem or not. 

You know he probably didn't because that's not normal rabbit behavior, but you still feel like he did. 

Regardless of if he did or did not, you can't help the snort that comes out of you. You shake your head at him and chuckle before bringing him closer and kissing the top of his head fondly. 

No matter how different and a handful your bunny was turning out to be, you wouldn't want him to be any other way. 

A few hours later, you are locking the door to your apartment behind you as you step out for a grocery run. You had filled all his pots and pans before leaving, so he shouldn’t be hungry or thirsty in your absence. 

Climbing down the stairs two at a time, you quickly jog across the parking lot before getting in your car and turning the ignition on. You glance at the list that you had taped on the dashboard—a habit of yours—and pull out of the parking lot, driving down to the nearest pet shop to get Kookie his own bed. 

The night sky above your head is clear, the stars bright and the cool breeze a relief on your overheated sweaty skin. 

Shopping for everything on that list took longer than you had initially thought it would, and you sigh tiredly as you climb up the stairs, back to the floor of your apartment. Most of the shopping bags were still in the backseat of your car and the thought of having to do more trips up and down the stairs with those bags in your arms had you groaning out loud.

Your apartment complex was adequate. While it did not have a lift, it also did not have any drug dealers residing in it, and in life, you had learned to take what you could get and not complain too much about what you couldn't.

With the key finally in the lock, you turn it in and push the door to your apartment open, only to freeze at the threshold. 

From somewhere inside your apartment—and your guess was your bedroom, comes out the sound of loud, booming music followed by even louder thumps. Your heart races and your mouth goes dry as you realize that the noises coming from deep inside your apartment sounds an awful lot like—

footsteps. 

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[thenightgazer]

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”  

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.  

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?  

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”      

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”  

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.  

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”  

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.  

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.  

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.  

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her—  his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

[lemonlushff-iy]

(Lostinfantasyworlds here!)

I’d love to hear more about Mad Scientist please!! 🥰👀

AHHHHHH THANKS FOR ASKING @taryn-artistic-optimism  🥰 🥰 🥰

This was inspired by @clearwillow and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and COVID. Because most things in my life are inspired by @clearwillow. Specifically Strange...which everyone should TOTALLY check out! With her permission though, I followed the urge for an evening to see what happened. 

I started this...I think last year. I can’t recall anymore because...what is time?? Anyways! It’s a modern take on the classic... And...Here’s the first highly unedited chapter. Sometimes I need to just...write the first chapter so I can refocus on the babies that are already “out”. 

List of WIPs HERE

“Your request to move forward with human trials has been denied.”

“Denied.”

Denied.

The word swirled around his brain like the steam in the shower, flooding his senses and  clogging his brain. It kept repeating itself over and over and over and over again…He was sick of it. This wasn’t the first time. Hell, it wasn’t even the second. 

No. 

This was the third time, and he was running out of funding...but what the hell was he supposed to do? He wasn’t approved to take his project to the next level! And it was absurd! They needed to begin testing immediately. 

They just…

They had to. 

Inuyasha closed his eyes, allowing the nearly scalding water to run down his body as the spray of the shower coated his flesh. He liked it hot. He hoped it would wash the feeling of failure from him. 

Denied.

Bunch of pricks. The whole lot of them. 

He turned the knobs, the metal squeaking as he stopped the flow of water from the head above, and wrang the excess out of his long black hair. He watched it pour to the tile below his feet as he opened the glass door, grabbing the towel on the hook just outside the shower. 

Denied.

Maybe...maybe he shouldn’t try a fourth time. Maybe he needed to refocus his attention. Give up the lab and start teaching. 

What was the saying?

Those who can’t do, teach?

He didn’t feel like he could do, that was for certain. 

He sighed, stepping out of the shower and smoothing a hand across the glass of the mirror above the sink. 

Denied.

Sunken, taupe eyes stared hollowly back at him. Frown lines marred his forehead. Stress was etched across his face. A face that should be more vibrant. Excited. Determined. It sure as hell used to be. What had happened to him?

Denied.

He smiled sullenly at the face in the mirror, and the expression was returned to him. 

Denied.

He should update his resume. Start applying for teaching jobs. He was a waste. All those years of schooling...all those years in the lab...What was it even for? He had nothing to show for it.

He closed his eyes and the image of his lab partner floated past his mind’s eye. 

Kagome Higurashi. Smart. Funny. Sexy. Completely out of his league, and yet inexplicably single. He just didn’t get it. The woman was perfect. More than perfect. She was…

If Goddesses were real, she may as well be one. 

She was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. Her unflinching determination to get the serum to work. Her unshakable confidence. Her and...Well...The obvious. 

He ran his hand down face, trying to not think of his mother right now. He had been dodging her calls all day. Which, with as perceptive as she was, meant that she already knew. 

Denied.

His hand fell to the edge of the sink and he gripped it between his fists, his knuckles turning white. What was he going to tell her? He’d been so sure that they would be approved. He’d been ready to spend the night with Kagome at a sushi place eating dragon rolls and throwing back sake. Now he was...sullenly eating take out and trying to swallow his egg rolls around a thick throat. 

Denied. 

He was a failure. 

He couldn’t get their approval and now because of it, his mother…

Denied.

He wasn’t ready. 

He wasn’t ready!

Denied. 

He didn’t know what else they could do! Kagome had suggested morphing the protein a little more. Just a bit more, and they would be good to go. They could proceed with the H4NY0U drug, and then they could…

He pinched his eyes shut - his breath hitching in his throat. 

That wasn’t going to happen because he was a fucking failure. He didn’t care what she said. They’d never move forward with it. And it was because the head of the board had a grudge against him. 

____. Fucking asswhipe. He’d hated them since the first grade. How he’d gotten to be the head, he’d never understand. He wasn’t smart. Wasn’t talented. He suspected that the only reason he was interested in this particular project was because of Kagome. 

Sweet, beautiful, smart Kagome…

He sighed and backed away from the sink, pulling the towel from around his waist and rubbing his hair in it. 

Denied.

He tossed it to the floor as he heard the vibrating of his phone from the other side of the room. When he got to it, he saw the litany of missed calls, including this one. All were from his mother, and Kagome. He couldn’t bring himself to call either of them though. He couldn’t handle the disappointment in his mother’s weak voice...or the overly enthusiastic optimism from Kagome.

He just couldn’t handle that right now. 

Denied.

His phone clamored down to the top of his night stand, breaking the otherwise crypt like silence in his bedroom. 

He believed in what he was doing with Kagome. So much. He believed in their mission. In what the H4NY0U serum could do for the weak. Those dying from Y0UK4I virus. Those like…

His mother. 

He pinched his eyes shut and rubbed his fingers in the corners of his eyes, trying to dispel the negative thoughts, but it wasn’t working. He was spiraling again. Thoughts of “how could he let her down” and “failure” were flooding his mind and his chest. He could feel the painful throbbing of his heart with every beat as he tried to pull himself out of it but it was just getting worse. 

He was killing his mother by not being able to convince them to move forward. 

Denied.

She would be dead within the year. 

Denied.

He had promised her he’d help her. 

Denied.

Was this helping her?

Denied.

Was failure helping her?

Denied.

No. It wasn’t. 

Denied.

He was killing her. Just like the Y0UK4I virus.

Denied.

But there was nothing wrong with the serum! 

Denied.

He believed that! He believed that to his very core!

Denied.

Hell, he’d take it if he could!

Denied.

He would!

Denied.

He’d march right into that lab…

Denied.

Pick up a bottle…

Denied.

And give himself a dose. 

Denied.

His face went slack as the idea permeated his being. Take the serum himself. 

Take it. Himself. 

He hadn’t considered that before. It’d never really occurred to him to use himself as the test subject. But...Why the hell not? No, he didn’t have the Y0UK4I virus...but...also...The serum did so much more than cure it. So why couldn’t he take it? Why couldn’t he get stronger? Why couldn’t he improve his overall health with it?

Denied.

That was just a word. That wasn’t his fate. He wasn’t going to let that lone word control himself, or his destiny, or Kagome’s, or his mother’s. 

Denied.

No. He wasn’t going to let that stop him. He believed in their work. Believed in the serum. 

Denied? 

No. 

Accepted.

***

The glass doors of the lab closed nearly silently behind him as he entered. It might have been nearing midnight, but so what? He wasn’t giving himself a chance to second guess this. He believed in this. In them. This was how he was going to prove it. 

Inuyasha set up his cell phone on top of the desk, turning it on to record. 

“Day 0 of the H4NY0U trial,” he began, looking at his visage in the glass screen of his cell phone. “Doctor Kagome Higurashi and I were once again denied moving into clinical trials of our serum. Something that I, strongly believe, is a mistake. I’m not going to wait for the board to continue to deny us our research though,” he explained, noticing the tick in his left jaw muscle from clenching it so hard. 

“I’m going to volunteer myself as a willing subject, just as Alexander Fleming did when he discovered penicillin. I believe just that strongly in the H4NY0U serum. I’m of sound mind, and perfect health. There are no blemishes or rashes on my skin. I’m not currently experiencing any aches or pains. I’m going to move forward with injecting the serum into my right forearm, as I am right handed.”

He quickly stood from the desk and opened the refrigerator in the back, grabbing a syringe and alcohol swab as he returned to his place in front of the camera. He held the materials out in front of the camera, making sure it focused on the serial number on the bottle before he read it aloud.

Inuyasha glanced down at the camera, giving it a small smile as he removed the syringe from it’s plastic packaging, sticking the tip of the needle into the top of the bottle. He read out the exact amount he was drawing, and took an alcohol pad to wipe down and cleanse a part of his skin. 

“This is for you, Ma,” he muttered as he placed the tip of the needle on his skin, closing his eyes. 

He wasn’t going to turn back. 

He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t let her die. Couldn’t let years of research be for nothing. 

He pressed the down on the plunger, and felt the cold liquid shoot into his veins. 

It was done. 

***

“What do you mean you took the serum, Yash?” Kagome demanded, looking at the place he had injected himself in disbelief. His skin was a little red - a little irritated. But wasn’t anything major. It certainly wasn’t worth her fussing over it. 

“I mean I took it,” he shrugged, taking his arm back and hiding it behind his back. “It’s ready. We know it’s ready.”

“But the board--”

“--the board was never going to approve it. You and I both know that now, Kags,” he sighed, unable to bring himself to look her in the eye. “I thought you believed in this…”

“I do,” she insisted. “I’m just...They denied it for a reason…”

“Did they?” he demanded, and he watched her shift her gaze away from him. She doubted it too. He could see it. Clear as day. She thought that they were full of shit too. 

Good. 

It wasn’t just him.

“I’ll be ok, Kagome,” he promised, smiling weakly at her. “Trust me. Trust us,” he insisted, taking her hands in his. Her skin felt so soft…

“Trust us, huh?” she breathed, glancing from their hands back up to his face. “I think I can do that…”

***

He felt hot. 

More than hot. 

His whole body was on fire. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. 

It was like he was being suffocated as searing pain shot through every joint - every limb - in his whole body. He tumbled out of bed, trying to get to the bathroom. 

He needed to cool off. Needed water. Needed air. 

He shoved his boxers down his scrawny legs, turning the shower on as cold as it could get. His flat chest was coated in a sheen of sweat - as were his thin, wiry arms. He pushed his way into the shower, allowing the cold spray to cool his body. The cold felt good. Calming. For a time. He could feel his muscles contracting beneath his skin. Could feel something happening to his bones. His eyes. His smell. It was overpowering him. 

Can’t think. 

Can’t breathe. 

Can’t…

Can’t…

Darkness. 

***

His teeth were chattering when he awoke. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. He was lucky that he didn’t bite his tongue off. The spray of the shower still fell around him, but instead of burning, he was freezing now. His fingers were blue, and he took that as a good sign. 

A horrible side effect of the H4NY0U serum, for sure...but...He was fine. That was what mattered. 

He rose up from the tile floor of this shower and turned the knobs, making the spray stop. His head felt weird. So did his mouth. His tongue felt thick and fuzzy. Like he was hung over, but he hadn’t been drinking. He needed to make note of these side effects. 

This was important research. 

Inuyasha grabbed the towel off the hook outside of the shower, running it through his black hair as he tried to warm up.

He patted it over his face as he stepped out, walking to the mirror above the sink so he could get some water. Maybe wash out this bitter, horrible taste in his mouth. He’d known that there would be side effects, but this...this wasn’t something he had anticipated…

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and turned on the sink, filling the glass beside it with water. When he turned it off, he caught something silver in his mirror out of the corner of his eye. 

He paused. 

Straightened his back. 

And looked in the mirror. 

There, standing behind his shoulder was a perfect copy of himself. Only this copy wasn’t his mirror image. 

His copy was athletic. Strong. Muscles rippled beneath the skin of his naked body. Silver hair flowed down his back and shoulders. A purple, jagged stripe was on each cheek. Pointed ears sat atop his head. Molten red eyes with turquoise pupils stared unflinchingly back at him...a smirk plastered across his face, baring a hint of...fang?

“Hello, weakling.”

His glass slipped from his grip, shattering across the floor as he fainted. 

[youralternantpersonality]

The Note

Paul x Reader: The Note

Anon request: Hey! so I just wanted to do a request. [Paul: He finds reader lost and cold in the forest.] and (if you can) [Embry: Reader was part of Victoria’s army and he imprints with her while they're fighting.] Thanks! I just love your stories.

Warning/Authors Note: Just know, the reader has curly hair but your hair color. Mentions having anxiety and indirectly saying depression. Also, I feel like it is necessary that I post in hopes that it takes other's minds off of everything that is going on. I know it doesn't do too much, but I hope it helps and does enough. 

Embry’s request can be found here

***

Stupid Janie, stupid Daniel, they can go fuck themsel-

“Fuck!” I said, falling. I scratched the palm of my hands to catch myself. I look back, and I can hear those cheating bastards calling for me.

“Y/n! Come back!” Janie said.

“Babe! Come on! Where are you!?” Danie called. Ha, yeah, right, like I’m about to go anywhere near you guys. I hurry up and continue walking towards my house. I cannot believe what I just witnessed. My “best friend” and my now ex-boyfriend were fucking! Are you fucking kidding me!

“Y/n! We can explain! Please come on, girlie!” Janie said. Really bitch! Why should I? How could you? I knew I should’ve listened to that note in my locker. A few weeks ago, I received a mysterious message in my locker saying,

Don’t trust Janie and Daniel.

They used to date and still see each other now behind your back.

Please end it with them both! Save yourself.

Whoever wrote it had horrible penmanship, but I should’ve listened. I saw the signs, the way they glanced at each other not long after Daniel and I started dating. Daniel always tried to include himself when Janie and I wanted a girls day and how he “conveniently” shows up. Fuck! I’m an idiot. And not only was I an idiot for not listening to the note, but I was also stupid because I was so caught up in my thoughts that I am currently lost.

I can hear Janie and Daniel from a distance where I should’ve turned to and try to follow their voices. Not long afterward, I find myself lost again! I stopped hearing their screams about 10 minutes ago, and I’m scared. There’s supposed to be a storm, and it’s already getting dark.

I look around to see if I notice any sign of familiarity, but I find nothing. I stop and close my eyes as the adrenaline rush I had earlier declined, and I lost it. I slide down a tree to the left of me and cry. I can’t believe I thought they both cared about me. When I first moved here last year, Janie quickly searched me out and befriended me. At the time, she always talked about an ex that she loved, but it never worked out. Had I known that ex was Daniel, this whole mess would’ve never happened. I now wonder how long this fiasco has been going on. Right after we got together. Must’ve been at the point where Janie said she was over him. The hoe! Now, here I am, lost in the forest, in need of bandages for my hands and knees. Suddenly, a light drizzle comes down. Encouraging me to get up and run out of the forest. Or at least attempt to.

As I’m rushing, I feel someone or something following me. I look around and see nothing due to it getting darker and darker. I try to go faster without tripping, but my clothes start getting heavier and heavier as the rain gets harder and harder. I tripped again, and as I was trying to get up, I hear a branch break next to me. I freeze and take small shallow breaths as I slowly lay down on the floor to blend in as much as possible with the ground.

“Y/n?” I plop open to see Paul. He was a grade older than me, but we shared history and gym together. I usually see him around Jared and Embry at school. What the hell is he doing here?

“Paul?!” I say, trying to get up. Without asking, he lifts me up with ease and carries me out of the woods.

“What the hell are you doing all the way out here? You could’ve gotten yourself killed! Don’t you know how dangerous the woods are? There was a band from coming in here for a reason.” He says in a low, angry voice. I roll my eyes and grab onto him tighter when he jumps down from a small step.

“I didn’t intentionally get lost in here. I…saw something, and I was trying to get away from it. I got lost along the way on accident.” I said in a low, quiet voice. He stops to look at me and signs.

“Okay. I’m taking you to a friend of mine house where you can get cleaned up. Then, you’re calling your parents and telling me what happened.” I nodded my head and laid my head on his shoulder. I didn’t realize how scared and tired I was until Paul stopped again and held me closer to him.

“Hey, it's okay. There’s no need to cry, my love. You’re okay now, I promise. Nothing or no one is going to hurt you again. I promise.” Paul says calmly in my ear. I didn’t realize that I was crying. With it raining and his body warm enough to dry my clothes, I’m shocked I didn’t acknowledge it. I just nodded my head, and I couldn’t stop myself.

“I caught them,” I said quietly.

“I know I saw it.” I look up at him.

“What?”

“I saw. I saw you run out of that bastard's place crying, and I saw them run after you with barely anything on. it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” I hid my face even more and cried. This is fucking embarrassing. To not only have someone witness this shit but to witness it and then tell you they did was worse.

“I should have listened to the note. Someone put a note in my locker, telling me to leave them alone. I should’ve listened! Had I listened, I wouldn’t be lost in the woods crying and wouldn’t need anyone to save me.” I look at him. “You know, whoever put that note in my locker, I should say I’m sorry for not listening, and thank you for warning me. Hell, I might even bake them something!” I leaned more against Paul’s shoulder. He shrugs and says,

“No need for apologies, beautiful. You’re very much welcome, and I like peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and banana nut muffins the most. Better yet, can I have both?” He asked, nonchalant. I turn to look at him.

“What did you just say?” Making sure I heard right.

“I said, you don’t need to apologize; I’m happy that I can help, and I like peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and banana nut muffins.” He says, looking at me. I snap out of it when I hear the loud thunder, and Paul gets back to moving.

“YOU sent me that note? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Would you have listened?”

“Yes.” He gives me a look that said, ‘we both know you’re lying.’ “Okay, I see your point. But why? Why did you warn me?” he didn’t say anything. He looked ahead and ignored me.

“We’re here. Emily and Sam know you’re here. And by the way, don’t stare at Emily. Sam hates that.” he said in a monotone voice. I looked towards where he was staring and saw a small house with windchimes and plants. We step inside, and I am immediately consumed with warmth and the smell of banana nut muffins. A woman, who I assume is Emily, rushes over with towels to lay on the floor and wrap me up.

“Oh, thank god you found her. Come on, Y/n, let's get you cleaned up.” I take off my muddy shoes and follow Emily into the bathroom.

“Sorry for the weird introduction, but I’m Emily. Here are some clothes to change into. Just put your clothes in this bag and come on out.” I nod and smile, and she closes the door. I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. My eyes are puffy, and my mascara is running. I grab the washcloth and wash my makeup off and try to get it off her towel. I strip my clothes and place them in the bag. I take down my hair and scrunch it up gently with the towel to get the excess water out of it, then proceed to dry my body off. I put on the oversized sweater and sweats, and some socks that I can tell were new. I place everything in the bag and double-check myself. I look decent enough, and I head outside.

When I step out into the main area, Emily, Paul, and I assume Sam, were waiting for me. Emily comes towards me, grabs my hand, and leads me to the kitchen where she laid vegetable soup and a roll for me.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.” She looked at me and smile,

“It is no problem, Y/n. How are you feeling?” she asked; I smiled.

“I’m okay. Nothing I can get through.” She gives me a sad smile and nods her head. I feel a rush of heat next to me and look over to see Paul. He rests his arm around the back of my chair and plays with my hair.

“You have dirt in your hair.” Emily throws a bun at him.

“Really, Paul?” he shrugs his shoulders and smiles slightly, making Y/n smile back. Emily walks out of the room, shaking her head.

“Thank you for saving me out there. Probably would’ve still been stuck out there too.” I said, playing with my untouched soup. He shrugs again and continues playing with my hair.

“I’d do it every day if I have to. Just don’t make me, deal?” he says, looking at her with a grin. She nods her head and smiles. Then ask,

“You never answered my question.” He stops twirling my hair and looks at me, takes a deep breath, and shrugs his shoulders again,

“Eat.” I proceeded to do so, “I didn’t want to see someone as sweet as you get hurt by a bastard like Daniel. You don’t deserve to be with someone who would hurt you. You deserve a man who would take your feelings into consideration, love you unconditionally, and be by your side. Someone who will always look at you,  go to you, and never give anyone else the time of day. You deserve love and constant assurance that you guys are okay to lessen your anxiety. To brighten up your hard days. To make you happy, smile, and laugh all the time.” He hesitates and looks at me while I wait for him to finish. I give him a smile of encouragement, and he continues with less skepticism and more confidence. “I can promise that I would be there 99% of the time, but give 100% of me to you.”

“Really? Me?” I whisper with a smile. I think back on the first time I saw Paul. It was my first day last year, and I was lost. I looked for someone to help me find my way, and I tapped on the friendliest face I could see.

One year ago: The first day of Sophomore year

“Excuse me, do you know where room 1135 is at?” I say to one of the tall men of the group.

“Oh yeah! It's right around the corner on the left, three doors down, and it’s going to be on the left. You’re the new girl, right?” The guys say in which another responded.

“No shit Embry. Why else would she be asking for direction?”

“You never know. She could’ve been a regular student here and has amnesia.”

“I have to agree with Quil on that one,” Embry said.

“How are we related?”

“Ask Jacob, Jared. It was his great-great-whatever grandfather's seed.”

“And on that note, I’m going to leave. Thanks, Embry?” he nods, and as I turn to leave, I run into an even larger man.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” I say as he catches me. I look up, and I see who I now know is Paul. I look up at him, and he seems pissed, but before he could say anything, he looked at me and stopped before anything could come out of his mouth.

“Oh shit!” laughs, Jared.

“No fucking way.” –Quil

“You owe me $20.”—Embry.

“Fuck!” –Quil and Jared say together. I turn to look at them and step away from a shocked Paul.

“Um, thanks for the directions and catching me. Sorry for running into you. Bye, guys.” I said, walking around Paul to hurry and get to class.

Present-day: Emily’s house.

“Yes, you.” He smiles and continues, “how about this? I know it might feel too soon for you, but what if I take you out on a date. A real date. I know you just broke up with-”

“Yes,” I say without a problem. He looks at me, surprised.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Daniel and I were ending after that note. I started to put away the rose-colored glasses and see what was going on. I just needed proof of everything, and, well, I saw it.” I said. Thinking back on it but clearing it out my head to look at Paul. He had the cheekiest smile, his smile that shows his tiny dimples.

“Well, if that’s the case, I definitely deserve those treats.”

“Oh my god.” I laughed and tossed a piece of my bread at him, which he easily caught in his mouth. Now, this relationship is something I could count on being real and true

MasterList 

[natashacoco]

In Your Arms

Florian Munteanu x Black Reader

Warnings: Mentions of naked bodies (m/f), slight mentions of depression/depressive traits. EXTREME AMOUNTS OF FLUFF AND FEELS 😭. *None of the pics are mine. Credit to their original owners*

Prompt: Florian comes home from a stressful day of filming and seeks comfort in readers arms.

Inspiration: “All these soft, warm nights going to waste when I ought to be lying in your arms under the moon - the dearest arms in all the world - darling arms that I love to feel around me - How much longer - before they’ll be there to stay? When I do get home again, you’ll certainly have a most awful time ever moving me one inch from you”-love letter from Zelda Fitzgerald to husband F. Scott Fitzgerald

You’re clearing the kitchen when you hear the front door to your boyfriends flat slam shut. Florian had texted you about an hour ago and told you that he was on his way home from a day of filming his latest project.

You hear Florian step out of his shoes and place them near the front door, his gait unmistakable as he walks further into the flat. You wipe your hands on a dish towel as you see Flo walk past you, his face contorted in some strange emotion, not so much as a hello is muttered to you as he walks by.

“Flo, Florian, Iubitul meu” you say trying to get his attention, clearly seeing that he has something on his mind. He quickly turns his head to look at you when you speak in Romanian, his gym bag slung over his back as he turns his whole body to you. His expression is softened, only slightly as he looks at you. His usually vibrant eyes are distant and tired, somewhat cold as they appear to look right through you. You’d never seen that look on him before and are instantly worried.

“You okay babe?” You ask, throwing the dish towel on the counter top and walk over to him. When you near him, you reach up and cup one of his cheeks with your hand and he leans into your touch, eyes closed as he feels your soft skin on him. His large frame becomes smaller, almost timid and meek as you hold on to him. Your black skin a contrasting against his paler complexion as you hold his face in your hand.

“Rough day, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m gonna go shower and head to bed, I’m not really in the mood to talk.” He replies. You couldn’t tell earlier from standing farther away but his eyes are a little red and puffy when he opens them like he’d been crying, and you guess as much when you feel a wetness on his face as you run your thumb across it. You ask if he wants you to make him some food but he replies that he already ate as he walks towards the laundry room to drop off his clothes.

You catch a glimpse of him as he walks into the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. You hear the water running for a few minutes without the shower being started and a strange sloshing sound. Thinking that Flo forgot about the water, you walk over to the bathroom door and knocks softly. You don’t hear a response but push the door open slightly, not wanting the hot water to run out before he gets in. You’re surprised to find Flo in the tub, his arms pulling his knees close to his body as the water continuously filling up as his head turns to look at you. You notice some residual makeup on his body and the faint scent of his sweat.

A chill runs down your spine as you notice the same look in his eyes, a type of sadness or sorrow that breaks your heart. You walk up to the tub, lean down and turn the water off, turning back to sit next to the tub on your knees to be at eye level with your boyfriend. Flo turns his head and watches your movements with indifference, his head returning to its original state as he stares at the wall.

“Florian, what’s wrong? Whatever it is, you can talk to me, you know that” you say, your heartbeat feeling like it’s about to burst out your chest as you reach your hand out to scratch the back of his head. Seconds feel like hours as the silence becomes deafening. “Do you want me to leave? If you need your space, I’ll give it to you, whatever you need” you whisper, not sure how to proceed. Taking his silence as an answer, you begin to get up. Water slouches as his arm shoots out and reaches for you.

“No dragâ, don’t go, please. Can you..can you stay with me a while” he pleads, his accent thick and moisture forming in his eyes. You nod, standing up to strip off your own clothes, kicking them aside. You grab a bottle of Lavender essential oils and drop a few in the tub. Instructing Flo to scoot up, you slide in behind him, placing your legs on either side of his hips. You wrap your arms as much as you can around him as you press your front to his back, him letting out a heartfelt long held sigh. You run your nose up his back, taking in his scent, kissing up his spine as you feel the tension in his back.

You hold Florian, gently rocking him as one of his large hands comes up to rest on yours. Suddenly the damn breaks and Florian begins to sob, his entire body shaking. You press your cheek to his back as you continue to rock him, his sobs growing in volume as you realize this is what he needs at this moment. You reassure him that you have him that everything will be alright and to let it out, anything to help soothe him in this moment. He pushes himself back so he’s laying more on you. Cupping water in your hands, you run the water down his back and chest as the lavender oil begins to work.

“Y/N” Flo says in a hushed tone, almost like he’s afraid you’re just part of his imagination, using his wrist to wipe at the tears on his face. Your strong, intimidating, giant teddy bear of a man was breaking down and along with it your heart. He had seen you cry, both in joy and sadness, never judging or criticizing you. He was always the shoulder you could lean on and now you would be that for him.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere” you assure him. “I just want you to know, if you want to talk, we can talk, if you don’t, we don’t have to. Whenever and wherever you’re comfortable, I want you to know that I’ll be here to listen to you be it now, in a few hours or whenever” With that, you grab and pour a healthy amount of his body wash into your hands and lather it into his skin, washing him thoroughly from his day and then did the same to yourself.

“We had a scene today that really hit home with me. I used some of the negative moments from my past to help get into the mindset and I feel like it’s finally catching up. It happened when I was getting into the mindset for Drago, but this time I had to delve deeper and now...” he trailed the last part as you’re washing his broadened back. You give an encouraging squeeze of his shoulders for him to continue at his own pace “I just want to make sure that everybody knows that my take as Viktor Drago isn’t the only thing I have to offer with acting, that I’m not just some big intimidating guy who boxes and got lucky. I want to make everybody proud of me, Mama and Tata, my brothers, you” he adds, turning his head to look at you.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding Mama’s calls?” You question, remembering how he mentioned he couldn’t speak to his mother when he was filming Creed 2 because she would know something was amiss with her son.

“Yeah, the last thing I need for her or Tata to do is worry about me. You too. I know that you’re here with me, but lately I feel like I’ve been distant and cold and I don’t mean it at all dragâ. Being here with you and doing this for me, it means more than you could ever know.”

“You don’t have to thank me Iubitul meu” you say, Flo smiling at the use of his native tongue. “I know that you would do it for me in a heartbeat. I know that you’re more than some ‘large intimidating man who boxes’” you quote. “I know that you’re a man determined, someone who loves his parents dearly, who would and could move heaven and earth for those closest to him. I know the serious man, the teddy bear, the giggly drunk, Big Nasty (whom I’m quite fond of), how you try to always constantly give every part of yourself to anything you do. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and everyday I fall more in love with you than I do now.”

You hug him tighter, both staying in the tub until the water loses its heat and your fingertips are prune-like. Eventually Flo pulls out the stopper and the water begins to drain. You get out first and wrap a fluffy red towel around your body and then wrap one around Flo’s waist as he gets out. Standing there you notice that he’s off in his head again, gently raising your hand you cup his cheek to bring him back to you. He brings you closer and kisses the top of your head, your ear pressed to his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat.

The both of you do your nightly routines and instructing him to go to your bedroom, you make each of you a cup of chamomile tea. Upon entering you give Flo his cup and sit with him on the edge of the bed. You grab your Shea and Cocoa Butter lotion and lather it on your skin, doing the same thing to Flo as he continues to drink his tea. When you’re finished, you set the empty mugs on the counter and discard your towel on the floor, too bothered to return it to the bathroom or to put any clothes on.

You pull the covers of the bed back and climb in, tapping your chest to indicate for Flo to lay his head on your chest. He gives you a weary look, his large body a contrast to your smaller one. You give him a reassuring nod before he takes off his towel and he climbs into bed, nuzzling his nose between your breasts and inhaling your scent before laying his head over your heart and envelops you in his arms. Both of your naked bodies are intertwined together, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You grab the blanket and pull it over your bodies, kissing his head as sleep finally claims the both of you.

[rantingwriter]

Scarred (Hawks x Reader)

Trigger warning: There is a brief scene of mild torture(?) due to a villain attack and some mentions of blood. Please proceed with caution. 

Synopsis: You get attacked by the Hero Killer stain and in the aftermath a feathered friend comes to your aid.

Heroes always look so glamorous. You save the day, everyone loves you, and you get paid. Simple, right? That’s what the media loved to show the public, civilians and aspiring heroes alike. When in reality…it’s never that simple…People lose their lives, children are left alone, and lives are ruined nearly every day. Not just by villains, but reckless heroes and nature just giving us a vibe check. When you officially became a sidekick, you made it your mission to not just save a person in the moment. You vowed to ensure they would be able to move on. Now, you are standing in front of the first safe house for people who survived disaster.

“[Hero name], How do you feel now that your big project is officially complete?!” A reporter calls out to you as you marvel at the new building.

“Who said I was done?” You flash a big smile; you can’t hide the glee you feel that your dreams are getting put into motion. The media clamors over themselves to get a picture or statement and while the attention is nice, you don’t want to take away from the reason you did this. “I plan to open so many more of these shelters for those who are forced to rebuild their lives after a disaster. I wanted a safe place for men, women, and children to go and find comfort until their lives can get back on track.”

“What if people abuse the system?!” You snap your head to face the reporter who asked such a question. Others pause in their actions as they wait to hear your answer. “What’s to stop people from just staying in the shelter forever?”

“My shelter is not just for housing, it offers therapy, guidance, and even provides opportunity for those who struggle to find work. People need time to heal and I intend to provide them the tools to do so.” This shuts the man down and everyone is pushing forward to try and get more information. “If you wish to learn more, the website is up and there is always a link available on the page of my agency.”

“You heard them, no more questions!” One of your side kicks suddenly appears and helps pave a way through the crowd. You leave the ceremony and rush back to the agency to get the work day officially started. A couple of your hero friends requested your assistance in the ongoing investigation on the recent attacks supposedly done by the Hero Killer Stain. You get in touch with them and agree on a meeting place, leaving the confines of your agency with a swift goodbye to your sidekicks. You take in a deep breath and appreciate the nice weather as you run to meet with the others. Your quirk isn’t very useful in a fight, but you’ve lost count of the amount of people you’ve been able to save and protect in disasters and big fights. This is a big reason why you often jump at the chance to pair up with other heroes who are more fighting types. 

As you continue to hurry towards your destination, you notice some civilians check over their shoulders in a very obvious manner, before scurrying into an alleyway a couple blocks ahead of you. You slow your steps as you approach the entrance and listen closely to confirm your budding suspicions. “You got the goods?”

“Of course I’ve got them, don’t flash that shit around here! We are still in the open!” You peer around the corner and count out the amount of shady dealers involved.

“6? I’m grossly outnumbered…the others should be at the rendezvous now. If I’m quick, I can grab them and come back to put a stop to this.” You take a slight detour to avoid their line of sight and go down a different alleyway. You round a corner and feel a sharp pain hit you shoulder. You don’t have time to react as a second impact sends you to the ground.

“Heroes like you make me positively sick,” your body freezes completely as a growling voice speaks near your ear. “You claim to care about those around you and even open up shelters for the aftermath of villains…yet you turn tail and run when given an opportunity to prevent a crime.” You can’t move, it’s like you’ve been paralyzed completely. “I wasn’t planning to kill today, but I think I’ll make an exception for trash like you.” You feel the need throw up with the amount of fear in your body. The knife in your shoulder gets yanked out and immediately dragged slowly down your back just left of your spine. You can’t even find it in you to scream from all the pain. Your uniform quickly soaks in the blood and turns the material dark. It’s a sick miracle that you’re still conscious. He starts to cut wildly and at random all along your back and limbs, you try to move even an inch, but you are truly paralyzed. You start to disassociate from the situation, try to calm yourself and think of a means to escape this. You are immediately brought back when he jams the blade into your side. You finally find your voice as you cry out loudly in pain, he quickly covers your mouth to prevent any more screams. “Damn that wasn’t deep enough, let’s try that again.” He grabs a fresh blade from his arsenal when a familiar figure drop kicks the killer off of you. It’s the heroes you were trying to meet with. They must have heard that last scream. Two of them fight the Hero killer away as a third party looms over you, feathers fluttering around you.

“Don’t worry kid, I got you,” Hawks effortlessly lifts you off the cold ground. The blood loss catches up to you and your consciousness fades to black.

When you wake, you can tell you are in a hospital. You feel like shit and it’s as if your body is on fire. You are also nauseous, though you doubt there is anything in your stomach to lose at the moment. You can hear some rustling and what feels like a gloved hand taking yours. You try to will your eyes back open, but you end up going back into the void for a bit longer. You aren’t sure how long you are left floating in that endless sea of black, but when you do finally wake fully it’s just as dark outside. At least now, you feel a little less like death. 

You try to move your fingers, your right hand is feeling a bit numb and your left is in something. You feel incredibly stiff and in all honestly it's hard to move. You manage to get your head up and find someone holding your left hand. It’s hard to tell who until you blink away the blurriness and find it’s Stain. You feel panic overcome your heavy body and try your hardest to move, it’s hopeless. Right as his knife flashes before your eyes, you wake up and start fighting against the doctors trying to help you. “Please calm down, you are not in danger!” Your quirk nearly activates when you finally realize Stain is not there. You relax a little and your heart monitor stops freaking out, they check your vitals and inform you that Recovery Girl paid a visit to repay you for all your nonmedical visits to her office during school to bring flowers to brighten up the room. 

They release you from the hospital the next day with some bandages still wrapped around your arms and underneath your shirt. You are in civilian clothes now and poor hair was butchered from the frenzy in the alley and the doctors trying to operate. You don’t really have a hair stylist and the only person you know who is decent with shorter hair is Best Jeanist. You call him up and he happily accepts the challenge to fix your hair. You don’t know if everyone knows about the attack, or if they managed to put Stain away. You feel a surge of fear jolt through you and the hairs on the back of your neck raise at the mere thought of his name. You flag a cab and reach the agency of Best Jeanist in no time. He meets you at the door and is quick to get started on fixing the gross state of your locks.

“Did they do anything for you while you were comatose?” He looks disgusted as he starts clipping away some tangles that are too far gone.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing…” You watch in the mirror as he cuts your hair to the shortest length it’s ever been.

“When I heard the Hero Killer attacked you, I honestly couldn’t believe it. You have always embodied the essence of a hero, why would he target you?” You tell him the events prior to the attack, “that doesn’t make you any less of a hero. You recognized your weak points and made the best decision in the moment.” You feel a slight pain in your stomach at the word weak.

“Yeah…” He finishes up his handy work and lets you loose. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, you’ve been through a lot. Go home and get some rest and we’ll call it even.” He smiles with his eyes and you thank him for his help. You go to your apartment and text your hero friends that you are out of the hospital and would be taking it easy for the time being. They all send some form of support and words of comfort as you go to shower. Before you enter the shower, you inspect the damage on your back in the mirror. Thanks to recovery girl, your back doesn’t resemble that of an old cutting board. There is one long scar from where he dragged his knife down the length of your back, one from where his knife entered your shoulder and one on your side from where he attempted to complete a finishing blow. As you wash you body and feel the scarred tissue, you feel sick. Your mind floods with the memories of the attack, the residual fear is enough to make your body tremble. You nearly drop to your knees when you hear a strange thud come from the other room. The residual fear morphs into sheer terror. Did the hero killer find you? You leave the water running and exit the shower quietly. You wrap your towel tightly around your figure and grab something hefty to throw at the possible intruder. As you open your bathroom door, you can hear someone rummaging through something. You squeeze the object in your hand, run out of the bathroom, and chuck it at the intruder.

“Ah!” You watch as a bunch of feathers explode out and knock the object away. “Uh…hi?”

“Hawks?!” The feathers part to reveal the winged hero holding some of your leftover chicken. “When…What?!”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Sorry about that kid, I wanted to check on you and since you were in the shower and I was hungry…” You sigh, mostly in relief, and shake your head. “Nice towel.” You are reminded of your current ‘attire’ and run back to the bathroom to finish your shower. You get dressed in your pajamas and return to the kitchen drying your hair out. “Feel better?”

“I guess,” You snagged a piece of the leftovers he pulled out and sat on a barstool. Hawks has been friends with you for a couple of years, you’ve worked together a few times in the past, but this is the first time he has been over to your apartment. “How did you find-”

“How did I find this place? I saw you walking home from work once while on patrol.” He shrugs as if it was a common occurrence. “Don’t worry, I know you value your privacy. No one knows I’m here.”

“You sure?” You nibble the chicken slowly; your appetite was lacking despite being out for a few days.

“Positive, why?”

“Just checking.” You put the food down and stare at it.

“Kid-” You gave him a look reminding him you didn’t like being called that. “you need to eat more than that.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. He instead drops an overnight bag on the floor and goes to look for your spare bedding for the couch. “Hope you don’t mind, but I need a place to crash for a few days while my house gets fumigated. Guess some bugs hitched a ride in my wings and while I was out for a long assignment they took over. I would’ve asked, but you were kind of unconscious and everyone else already turned me down.”

“I don’t mind, just pick up after yourself and keep your feathers out of my stuff.” You put the chicken away and go into your room to get some sleep, but you find it impossible to relax. You keep seeing the hero killer silhouette in your window, watching…waiting…you give up after an hour, grab a notebook, and just try to work up a plan when you get back to work. If you get back to work. 

After another hour, your door opens to reveal your new temporary roommate in sweatpants and no shirt. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” He saunters in and plops onto the edge of the bed.

“Couldn’t sleep, got a lot on my mind.”

“Still having nightmares?” You raise a brow at him, silently asking him to explain. “In the hospital you were mumbling in your sleep.”

“You visited me in the hospital?”

“Yeah, a lot of people came by. We were worried about you.” That was comforting, “you didn’t answer my question.”

You sigh and fidget with your pen, “yeah, I’ve been having nightmares…it’s like I can see him watching me…waiting for me to let my guard down and finish the job…” You feel your body tremble. You can still see the malice in his eyes as if he was in front of you. A soft, feathery touch brushes your arm as the winged hero moves closer to you. He removes your book from your grasp, tosses it onto your bed side table and wraps one arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him. “I hate feeling so weak,” repressed tears fall as the man holds you close.

“It’s okay to feel scared, no one expects you to bounce back immediately.”

“Bullshit, we both know people expect us to be unshakable and charge into everything head on.” He scoffs, “am I wrong?”

“Just because people expect you to be brave doesn’t make your fear any less real.” He shifts to wrap his other arm loosely around your waist. He half pulls you into his lap as you start to calm down. “It’s okay to lean on people.”

“I lean on people all the time…if anything I should be working harder to stand on my own.”

“You do realize part of your appeal is how well you support other heroes,” he pulls his phone up and shows article after article talking about how adaptable you are and how great it is to see such teamwork nowadays. “You don’t have to stand alone; I think we forget that there is strength in numbers.”

You find some solace in what he said, “I didn’t say I wanted to stand alone…” You can feel the vibration in his chest as he chuckles.

“I know, but you know what I mean.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m trying to not so subtly tell you to lean on me from time to time.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm, “I…I suppose I could do that.” He flops over and shifts the two of you so he is a big spoon and you are a little spoon.

“Get some rest hummingbird, I won’t let that bastard near you.”

“Hummingbird?”

“I’ve been wanting to use that one since you hum while you work, but I enjoyed the look you made when I called you kid.” You lightly elbow him and chuckle. “Seriously though, get some rest…we both need it.” You let your eyes slide shut and it was surprisingly comforting to have his arms around you. Maybe you’ll invite him to be your permanent roommate. 

[lovemollywho]

Thoughts of the Past - Reimagined

Alright fair warning, this is a lot more angsty (?) than the other chapters, and I am not sorry about it.

CW: Angst...like I’m not kidding this hurt to write

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

When Lorcan walked into the gallery with Aelin and Rowan he was greeted by a friendly staff member who directed him how the show should be viewed. She handed all three of them a pamphlet that contained the artwork and prices for the pieces that were for sale, mentioning that the proceeds tonight benefited public schools in the area keep their art programs. Aelin thanked the staff member and whispered something to Rowan who nodded before she slipped away. 

“Aelin is going to look for Elide, do you want to come with us or…?”

“No,” Lorcan responded. “I’m gonna look at the pieces that Elide did. I should,” he cleared his throat, “I should appreciate them, I mean her,” he sighed, “I mean the art.”

Rowan chuckled slightly as his friends' nervousness, nodded and followed after Aelin. Lorcan nodded at the staff member and followed a couple of people who were walking into the first part of Elide’s show and stopped. 

All the air that he had left his body. 

The first portrait he saw was of him. It was of him sitting on a curb, elbows braced on knees, a lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other. His hair was windblown around his face and he was smiling.

He got closer to the painting and looked at the label, First Smile, Oil, and Acrylic on Canvas, 18 x 24, Elide Lochan.

Lorcan looked at the painting closely, there were some parts of the painting that were blurred or out of focus - his eyes, for instance, were squinted from the smile on his face but were painted in a way that looked like they were painted over. The main focus was his smile though, everything from the cigarette that was placed in his hand near his mouth, to certain windblown strands of his hair. But the title. First smile?

This portrait reminded him or so many days spent with Elide or even Rowan that he couldn’t pinpoint where or when this portrait was supposed to take place. He decided to move forward and was confused by a banner reading ‘Once upon a time’. Looking at the pamphlet that the staff member had given him he found that the exhibit was split into five parts that told an overall story.

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

“Ellie, wait please.” Aelin followed Elide into the bathroom that was near the bar. “You just said that you wished he was here.”

Elide was pacing in front of the sinks, “I know what I said,” she moved to take her hair out of a ponytail and into a bun before remembering that her hair was styled so she did the next best thing - she washed her hands….furiously.

“I said it in a way that any person wishes to stumble across their ex to show off that they are doing really well without them.”

“Well that’s definitely the case here.” Aelin sighed handing her a couple of paper towels to dry off her hands.

“I don’t think,” Elide sighed, balling up the paper towels and throwing them away, “I don’t know if I want to talk to him.”

Aelin walked over to the settee couch that was placed in the bathroom for the exact reason of having secret, deep, or meaningful conversations. “Listen,” she said patting the spot next to her, “I am on your side no matter what, I need you to understand that. Okay?” Elide sighed and sat next to Aelin. “I’m not going to like what comes out of your mouth, am I?” She asked crossing her arms. Aelin huffed a laugh, “Probably not, but you need to hear it anyway.” Elide took a deep breath and motioned for Aelin to continue.

“Lorcan and I were never destined to be friends.” Elide’s head shot up to Aelin’s face. “I have never met anyone that was objectively more of a pain in the ass than I could be on any given day. He is moody as hell, standoffish, and he’s about as nice as a carnivorous plant.” Elide opened her mouth to say something but Aelin held up a finger telling her to wait.

“Still, I could see the way he looked at you and knew that if anyone could help smooth the edges of his soul it would be you.”

Elide lifted her face and began to try to blink back tears. Still looking at the ceiling she responded. “It is not my job to fix him.” The words came out sharper than she had intended especially because she knew that Aelin’s words were coming from a good place. Aelin’s hand took hers. “I know that. That wasn’t what I was trying to say. I only meant that...” Aelin sighed. “There is something that I’m not supposed to tell you. In fact, I don’t think I’m even supposed to know but Rowan told me and even if I can stand Lorcan now, doesn’t mean I have that much loyalty to him.” Elide brought her index finger to gently dab under her eye, careful not to ruin her makeup. Aelin stood up and grabbed the box of tissues next to the sink before sitting down again.

“What is it?” Elide asked.

And then Aelin explained that for the past month and a half since Elide had left, Lorcan had been going to AA meetings with Rowan and with the couple’s help was not only going to therapy but also had quit his in cybersecurity and gotten a new one working in software engineering, finally accepting Rowan’s offer to put his degree to work. That not only was he and Rowan finally working together after all this time but that they were developing a program that would help the families in Terrasen easily find resources to help them within their communities anonymously so that they didn’t have to worry about seeming weak or being judged.

“I don’t...understand.” Elide said slowly once Aelin was done talking. “I mean it’s not like I didn’t know that Lorcan was capable of doing amazing things but I just don’t understand why now.” Elide grabbed another tissue and blew her nose.

“I think he’s just trying to show you that he’s changed...or I guess changing would be a better way to describe it.”

“He hasn’t called me once A. The only time I’ve talked to him was when I asked to meet him so he could sign the disclosure release.”

“I don’t have all the answers El. Talk to him, don’t talk to him. You broke up with him for a reason, and if you decide to ignore him for the rest of the night that’s is 100% complete valid, Ro and I will keep him away from you. However, if there is just some tiny part of you that doubts or second guesses whether or not you made the right decision in leaving, take this chance to make sure.” Aelin handed Elide the small clutch she came in with. “Inside are wet wipes, mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss. Fix yourself up, I’m going to look at your art.” Aelin stood up and checked herself in the mirror.

“This is your night babe, you’re a badass with a great ass.” Aelin winked at Elide who let out a small laugh before heading out of the bathroom.

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

Lorcan may not have known much about art but he knew the story that was being told. It was his story, seen through Elide’s eyes and admired by the random strangers who were here. He heard some people discussing how this was not only an impressive collection of work but also a change of pace from her usual pieces, combining a variety of mixed media with paintings. Lorcan kept his ears open for remarks made about the pieces if only so he could understand and mimic key phrases that the people around him used, but it was hard when he knew the story behind Elide’s art and not just a theory of what it was about.

Five sections; The Beginning, The Sex, The Love, The Pain, The Future.

Walking through The Beginning was like a blast from the past. Every bit was a memory or story that he had experienced with Elide. Four 16x40 inch black canvases had bubbles blowing through each, and while you couldn’t tell who was blowing the bubbles, Lorcan knew that it was Elide’s hand. Hidden within the bubbles were little clues about their relationship, so minuscule that no one but him knew. They would just see a Farris Wheel, a teddy bear, a popcorn container, and a rocking chair.

“There seems to be a reoccurring theme of security in each of these pieces, don’t’ you think?” Lorcan overheard a couple talking.

“I was thinking the same thing, like this piece over here with the lightbulbs, and how each time someone gets close to it they turn on. Like that’s such great imagery to being safe. Parents turning on a night light during bedtime, coming home from a long day and the lights are on because your significant partner is already inside. Or even the painting that used gum wrappers, is reminiscent of childhood.” The couple began to walk down to look at other pieces and Lorcan couldn’t help but follow them with their eyes. Was that how Elide saw him? As something safe to come home to at the end of the day? There were times at the beginning of their relationship when she said she would rather be with him than go home. When they first met he knew that she had just moved out of her Uncle’s house. Aelin always got a dark look in her eyes whenever Vernon was mentioned but Elide had never said anything….and like an idiot he had never asked.

He continued walking.

The next part of the exhibit - The Sex, was a much different layout. The lights were dim to highlight the use of neon lights and blacklight paints. The pieces in this part of the collection were bigger and took up more space but there was a rhythm here that could be felt. The paintings are more obscure and vague here, less of the innocence that was seen in the beginning, but if this was still following his and Elide’s relationship - as he was now finally figuring it was, the sex had never been the problem in their relationship. They could always find each other in bed...or the couch...or the kitchen island...or...well you get the point. Words and feelings that he could never say allowed were whispered onto her skin in breathy moans or grunts. The way he would breathe out praises to the Gods when she was on her knees before him. Lorcan shook out the thoughts and continued past this collection, trying to block out the fact that Elide had basically put their sex life on display even if he was the only one who knew.

The Love was a much brighter place, golds and yellows blended with pinks and lilac colors. There were symbols of holiness and domesticity in portraits. But as Lorcan moved through the collection he saw blackness creeping in. At first, it was small, used only for details or outlining, but as he walked, it started to grow in shadows and on the edges, starting to look like mistakes or spilled ink. Lorcan could feel his heart beginning to race and then he was moving past a heavy, thick black curtain into a pitch-black room. He could vaguely make out the other people in the room with him who were standing - and listening.

Overhead, playing on unseen speakers, was a couple fighting. Not just any couple - him and Elide.

“I’ve only had like one drink.” He heard himself slur. Elide huffed out a laugh. “One? Try again, there are four bottles lying next to you.”

“They were all basically empty, I don’t even know why you’re upset.”

“You were supposed to meet me at the restaurant!” Elide said. Her voice sounded tight, she wasn’t yelling at him - that was something that Lorcan was remembering, she never really yelled at him.

“I didn’t want to go! They all would have judged me anyway, I had a long day, and if I wanted a drink then I was going to have one in the comfort of my own home.”

“Who would have judged you? No one would have judged you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Then the audio changed. Eldie was crying on the phone. “I just don’t know what to do, I keep trying to talk to him but it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. I come home and he doesn’t even respond when I say hello.” She sniffed. “Every time I try to talk to him we always get into a fight, I’m so...I’m so tired of fighting with him. I’m just so….so tired. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I just don’t get it,” Aelin’s voice filtered through, “...says he’s the most loyal person that he knows.” The audio cut off Rowan’s name, but Lorcan knew. “Listen, why don’t you come and stay with us a couple of days?”

It got quiet in the room and Lorcan heard some people leaving. After a while, the audio started up again. The argument was different this time, but it ended with Lorcan dismissing Elide and her accusations and her walking away or crying. Some of the audio was done journal entry style, where she explained her thoughts and fears, of how every time they got into a fight she felt like she wasn’t what Lorcan wanted or how she felt he didn’t love her anymore. Some of the audio was them making up, him apologizing, and her saying that it was okay. That she understood. That she loved him, of course, she loved him. Him promising that it was going to be better - that he was going to be better. And then another fight would happen.

She never used his name though. He knew it was on purpose, that despite having him sign a disclosure, he knew that he wanted everyone to feel the experience with her, and by adding names it took the audience out of that experience, it was why even Rowan’s name was censored out. He stood in that room for a while, listening to the fights that had been recorded over and over, hearing them sober and knowing just how deeply he fucked up. He knew now why Elide hadn’t accepted his apology at the coffee shop, understood that he had already apologized and that it hadn’t changed anything.

He finally walked out of The Pain section, although a part of him had just wanted to stay in there and torment himself.

At first, Lorcan thought that he had finished the exhibit, before remembering that there was one final part, The Future. There were blank canvases on the wall, and Lorcan could feel Elide’s emotion with each one he passed. The uncertainty, the fear of the unknown, the lack of assurance and confidence. Everything that he had ever felt throughout their relationship, he was beginning to understand that she felt too.

Stupid, idiot, asshole.

He was so blinded by his own insecurities that he didn’t even think about Elide’s. She had always been there for him, but he had never been there for her. Not in the way that it mattered. There was one final piece on the wall, he could hear the chatter of polite conversation around the corner, where he knew he would find food and drinks for the people who came tonight. It was a wall covered in pictures and painted over. Some like Aelin’s and Manon’s were untouched by paint. Others like Fenrys and Rowan had almost little to none and some were completely painted over in black, in the center was a plain canvas like the ones leading up to this, but the one that Lorcan couldn’t take his eyes off of was the one of his face.

It wasn’t completely painted over, but it had more paint on it than others. The picture was blurry and convoluted, the paint on outlining his face. As if Elide had wanted to keep the picture but wanted to symbolize that she was unsure of whether or not to let him go completely.

And that gave him hope. He couldn’t stop staring at the picture. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there but he saw Rowan appear in his peripheral.

“What are you thinking?” His friend asked.

Lorcan released a long breath. “That I never deserved her, and that I’m an ass for putting her through everything.” Lorcan started to fidget with the ribbon hair tie on his wrist. “I messed up so bad Rowan. I will never be able to make this up to her. It would be better if I just left her alone.” Rowan placed a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder.

“The main goal tonight wasn’t to have her get back with you. In fact, the main goal tonight wasn’t for you to even talk to her, not really. It was to step up and offer the silent support that she needed from you. You two could never talk again, but you coming to her show tonight is going to mean a lot to her regardless of how much you fucked up.”

“What if I only made her hate me more?” Lorcan asked.

“Then she’s entitled to her feelings. You cannot tell her what to feel, but just make sure that the next time she talks, you listen.” Lorcan nodded, still looking at the final artwork.

“I’m gonna get a soda, do you want one?” Lorcan shook his head, and continued to stare. A couple of moments later he felt a presence coming up to him.

“Actually, I do want that drink.” Lorcan said.

“Aelin said you weren’t drinking anymore.” The voice responded. Lorcan stiffened and turned to look at Elide who was staring at him with hesitancy in her eyes.

Tags:

@nalgenewhore  @safewithintheheart  @bibliophileaddict 

@acer6437 @tswaney17  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @bat-wing-rhys

Let me know if you want to be tagged <3

[cpd5021]

Unexpected Chapter 3

           Hailey sat in her car, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel despite the fact that her vehicle had been shut off for some time now. She stared straight ahead, the neon lights from the street around her blurring as she struggled to focus. In the distance, she could hear her phone going off but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it, knowing that it was most likely Jay. She briefly thought back to the look on his face as she had rushed out of the locker room and she regretted causing him any concern or hurt. But she simply couldn’t be around him right now, or anyone for that matter. Hailey told herself, again and again, to get out of her car, go into the little convenience store she had been parked outside for the last hour, and buy the stupid test. There was a chance, she repeated to herself for the hundredth time, that she might be freaking out over nothing. What were the chances of getting pregnant after only having sex once...maybe twice? And they had been safe that morning...it was just the unknown of the night before that caused her doubt. And maybe they hadn’t actually done anything the night before, neither could really recall the events, not a month ago and certainly not now. But deep down, Hailey could tell that something was different inside her. The minute Vanessa had spoken the words, something inside Hailey clicked. But she was trying her hardest to block that feeling out. What was that feeling anyway? Fear? Certainly. Embarrassment? A little. But the thing that was scaring Hailey the most, was the tiny little bit of hope she felt brewing within. Hope that maybe she was pregnant. Hailey flashed back to another memory, to a time much longer ago, before intelligence, before Jay. 

     “Hailey, I’m afraid it’s not good news.” The doctor had had a no nonsense attitude since she got here so the bluntness didn’t really surprise her. 

“Lay it on me doc..” Hailey tried to front her own nonchalant attitude, despite the fact that she was falling apart inside. 

“After a thorough examination, it appears that the injuries you sustained in your attack have caused significant damage to your uterus.��� The doctor standing in front of her, dealing this heavy blow, never once looked up from his clipboard as he continued. “It’s highly unlikely, if not impossible, that you will ever be able to have children. I’m sorry.” There it was, the brief glance at her, the quick assessment of how she was handling this news. The charade of good bed side manner didn’t last long as the doctor tucked the clipboard under his arm, reaching to shake her hand as if she had won a prize, before turning to leave the room. The nurse, who had been standing quietly in the corner, came to stand in front of her now. 

“I’m sorry, he’s very straightforward.” The nurse gave a sheepish, almost embarrassed look as Hailey fought back tears. She wouldn’t cry here. She would remain in control until she was in the safety of her own home. 

“Kids were never really in my future plans anyway.” Hailey tried to maintain her tough girl front, but it faltered as the words left her lips. 

   The nurse finished her task of unhooking Hailey from everything before she told her she was free to go, giving another small smile as she slipped out of the door. Hailey took a deep breath as she stood from the exam table, grimacing as her sore body protested her movements. She could do this, she could make it home before she fell apart. Hailey was lucky to make it to her car before her emotions crashed over her and silent sobs racked through her body. 

      Blinking herself back into the present, Hailey wiped at the tears forming in her eyes. She took a few deep breathes, trying to steady her emotions so she could go make her purchase and find out one way or another. She took her now stiff hands off the steering wheel, reaching down to unclip her seat belt, and taking one more breath before opening her door. The cool Chicago breeze swept over her and she was thankful for the extra air it provided her as she walked towards the storefront. Another deep breath as she pulled open the door, the dinging of the bell causing her to jump slightly. A young kid, maybe eighteen, manned the counter. He gave her a smile and a nod as she walked in, immediately darting to the isle she needed. Her hands shook as she reached for the tiny pink box on the shelf, she clenched her fist to steady herself before plucking the box from it’s spot and pivoting back to the counter. The cashier tried to make small talk with her but his words were mumbled in her current state and she didn’t respond. A small smile was all she could muster as he handed her the bag and receipt. She briefly registered him telling her to have a good night, but that was highly unlikely to be the case.  

     Hailey made the drive home in a blur, she couldn’t recall the trip from point A to point B, but suddenly she was parked outside her house. The lights on inside signaled her room mate was already home. Probably waiting for her, worrying for her. She loved Vanessa, but this was something she needed to do alone. Shifting her car back into drive, Hailey pulled away before Vanessa realized she was there. Hailey looped around the city, considering her options. They were limited at best. She couldn’t go home yet. She briefly considered going straight to Jay’s house, taking the test there with him, but quickly shook that thought from her head. Hailey had no clue how he was going to handle something like this and she didn’t want to spring this on him if there was no need too. Hailey drove until she was parked in front of the only other place that brought her comfort, a feeling of safety. The 21st Precinct. It was late, most everyone would have gone home by now, save for the patrolmen on night shift, but they should be out on the roads. She’d just have to get past the night shift desk Sargent, but that wouldn’t be hard with her badge. She didn’t even know who manned the desk at night, so they certainly wouldn’t know her. She reached to her passenger seat, grabbing the little box out of its bag and tucking it into her coat pocket. Forcing another deep breath into her lungs, she got out of the car and trudged into the building. What she wasn’t expecting, was to see none other than Trudy Platt sitting atop her perch at the desk. It threw her off and stopped her in her tracks. So much for being discreet. 

“Upton?” Platt looked at her over her glasses and it felt as though the Sargent was looking straight into her soul.

“Hey..I uh...forgot something.” Hailey stammered, struggling to find an excuse. 

    Platt eyeballed her for a minute and Hailey knew she could tell she was lying. But Platt, in her ever mysterious ways, chose not to push the matter. Nodding and buzzing her up. Hailey darted up the stairs into the bull pen. It was, thankfully, pitch black, telling her that indeed everyone else had gone home for the night. Hailey moved to her desk, mulling the situation over and trying to gain the confidence to go into the bathroom. Her body threatened to tremble as her nerves were on edge and her emotions ran unchecked. Finally she gathered enough strength to move down the hall. Hailey locked the bathroom door behind her, probably a mute point as she knew she was alone, but it made her feel just a little better. She pulled the box from her coat pocket and set it on the counter. Hailey gripped the edge of the sink, feeling dizzy and forcing herself to stay upright. She picked up the box, which suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and picked it open. The tiny little stick, something that brought so many people so much joy, looked threatening in her hand. Clenching the stick in her hand, she quickly undid her jeans and slid them down. Once she was finished, she set the stick on a paper towel on the counter and washed her hands. Three minutes. That’s what the box said. It felt like an eternity. 

     Maybe it had been three minutes, maybe it had been ten, Hailey wasn’t really sure. She stood with her back to the mirror, leaning against the counter with her head hanging against her chest. Her breathing coming out in shakes as her body trembled with anxiety. Slowly she turned around, looking at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed red from unshed tears and dark circles dipped down into her cheekbones. Gripping the counter once again to steady herself, Hailey held her breathe as she looked down at the test. As her eyes registered the result, an intense wave of nausea had her flying to the toilet, barely making it in time as she collapsed above the bowl. Once done, she remained on the floor, not trusting her legs to hold her upright right now. She drew her knees into her chest, bending her head down and trying to gain control over herself. 

Pregnant. She was pregnant. 

     After what felt like an eternity, Hailey finally mustered the strength to stand back up. She rinsed her mouth in the sink and wiped the tears and glean of sweat from her face. She slowly picked up the test with trembling hands, debating whether she should throw it away or keep it. Deciding she might need it to prove this to Jay, or even herself again, she tucked it into her pocket again. Hailey gave herself one last look in the mirror, realizing no matter how long she stayed in here she wasn’t going to look any better. And the longer she stayed, the more suspicious Platt would get. Hailey steeled herself to exit the small room, jogged down the stairs and almost made it to the doors before she heard Platt’s voice behind her from the desk. 

“Upton.” Her voice cut through Hailey as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. She knew she wouldn’t get out of this without at least making eye contact with her Sargent, so slowly she turned and darted her eyes up briefly to meet Trudy’s. 

“Hey...” Platt looked over her, deciding how to proceed. Hailey’s eyes swam with tears threatening to fall as she silently pleaded with the Sargent to just let her go. “Whatever it is...you’ll be okay.” Hailey found herself on the receiving end of a very rare, caring smile from the older woman and it pushed her to the brink. 

“Thanks.” She chocked out, throat thick and tears falling freely. She didn’t wait for anything else and instead turned and jogged out the door. Hailey sat in her car, unable to even start it as her emotions coursed through her. She told herself she could fall apart, just a little bit, and then she wouldn’t lose it again when she went to talk to Jay. Jay, the thought of his face alone sent another wave of sobs through her body. 

    Finally, body shaking from a wide variety of emotions, Hailey started her car and made the drive to Jay’s. Once again, the journey was a blur as she found herself parked outside his building. She reached for her phone, debating if she should let him know she was here or just go knock. Her lip quivered as she scrolled through the multiple missed calls and texts Jay had sent her. The last one reading;  “Please be okay..” 

    Hailey set her phone back down, deciding if she text him and waited for the reply she might bail in the meantime. Her hand slid into her pocket, clenching the tiny plastic stick so hard she feared it might snap, as she made her way to his door. One small rap on his door and she heard shuffling from within the apartment. In a matter of seconds, the door whipped open and she stood face to face with Jay. His face a mixture of relief and worry as she stood before him. For a split second, just seeing him standing in front of her, was enough to calm her nerves. That relief didn’t last long though as she remembered why she was here. Before she had a chance to begin, Jay’s arms pulled her into a tight embrace. He walked them back into his apartment, closing the door behind them before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. It was enough to have her on the verge of tears again.

“Sorry..” Jay released her, taking a quick step back as he saw her tears. “I just...maybe you don’t want..” Jay scrambled for the right words but they failed him. 

“Jay, we need to talk.” Hailey instantly chastised herself for her choice of words, nothing good usually came after that phrase. She watched as Jay stiffened slightly, already putting himself on the defense. She tried to salvage this situation before it even really started and took a step towards him, resting a hand on his arm. “I have something to show you....” She trailed off, fighting not to lose her confidence. Jay nodded towards the couch and they made their way over to sit down. 

“I don’t know how to start this.” Hailey’s voice was quiet as she spoke, searching for the right words. 

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay” Jay’s words mimicked the ones Trudy had told her earlier and she immediately felt tears gather in her eyes. Jay moved to pull her into his arms again but she held a hand up to stop him, wincing when she saw hurt flash across his face. 

“If you do that...I’m going to fall apart. And I really need to get this out before that happens.” She explained, voice trembling. Jay pulled back slightly, confusion and worry all over his face. 

“I didn’t plan this, obviously.” Hailey almost chuckled at the thought. “But um...” Deciding that her words were going to fail her and she really had no good idea on how to do this, she reached into her pocket to remove the test. Her eyes bore into Jays as she watched him follow her hand, she clenched the test in her fist shielding it from his view until she moved her hand to rest on her lap. Hailey’s eyes never left Jay’s face as she slowly uncurled her fingers, revealing the bit of plastic that was changing their lives forever. She watched as he took in what she was holding, realization flashing through his eyes before they flew to meet hers.

“You’re..?” He trailed off, his own voice thick with unreadable emotion.

“Yea.” Hailey breathed out her response, quickly losing steam.

“And it’s..mine?” Hailey winced slightly at his question, not that she could really blame him. They had only been together a little over a month and had only had sex once. 

“Yes.” She responded with a nod. “There hasn’t been anyone since Adam.” Jay grimaced slightly at the mention of their partner, but quickly recovered as he held her stare. 

“I love you.” Jays words surprised her. Of all the things she had expected him to say, the scenarios she had running through her head the entire drive here, that wasn’t what she was expecting. 

“I...love you too.” Her voice was a whisper. She could feel something bubbling inside of her, something she had previously tried to push down. Hope.  

[sweetdejun]

coterie: the ninja star (1/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: lee eunsang and y/n

a/n: cursing and mild violence, so proceed with caution.

you hold the ninja star with caution, making sure the sharp edges don’t poke your hand. you surprise yourself with the choice you made; of all the knick-knacks and trinkets in the glass bowl, you picked this? nevertheless, you displayed the sharp object to the boys and your stomach felt like it dropped down to your feet when you saw the boy move up. “it’s me.” it was the same boy from earlier, from the interaction with jinhyuk. the violent threats he made still fresh in your mind, when you were given the decision to choose who you wanted, you most definitely did not want to choose him, but fate was never on your side. seungwoo glanced at the boy then back at you, now frozen in shock. “alright, eunsang, you take her with you, then and tell her what you do.” your eyes are glued to the ground, so you hear the squeak of shoes and footsteps going different directions and flinch as a hand wraps around your wrist, roughly dragging you. only then do you come back to reality, eyes making their way up to see the force belonging to the boy you’re working with. “y/n y/l/n.” he mumbled, and you squeak back, “y-yes?” “you remember my name?” your mind goes back to the names from earlier. dongpyo, was it? no, that was the shorter boy. maybe hangyul? oh no, that was the other guy. his name was- “lee eunsang. you took too long to answer so I’ll just tell you,” eunsang comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway, and because he stopped with a sudden force, you collided into his back. you see him clench his jaw and he fully turns around to face you. the rage in his eyes is like none other, you think and he growls a bit and reaches for the ninja star in your hand, pulling it out of your grasp. the vigor with which he yanked the small weapon from your hand causes a corner of it to cut your palm a bit, and instinctively, you wince at the sting and pull your hand up to your chest, guarding it with the other hand. “you’re fragile,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “that tells me you may not even be suited for this job. not to worry, your first task is simple; remember my name. that shouldn’t be too hard, but judging by the fact that I just told you my name out there, a little over ten minutes ago and you still forgot it tells me this is gonna be a lengthy task for you.” he turns around on his heel, and heads back to the same direction. and although you are frightened to death, you call out, “what’s your job here?” he turns his head and says, “meet me here tomorrow at 5 am, sharp. then I’ll tell you. for now, do whatever the fuck you want. my head is pounding like a bitch,” and he leaves you standing in the hallway. you manage to find your way back to your room. 

how rude, you think, as you slump back onto your bed. so far, eunsang has left nothing but bad impressions on you. hell, the first time you saw the guy, he was beating the shit out of jinhyuk. you remember his merciless gaze and the way anger seemed to constantly burn in his eyes, and that causes a shiver to run down your back. you lift your hand to examine it; that moment had gone by so quick, with the way eunsang spoke to you and the way he snatched the weapon out of your hand, you didn’t even stop to check how badly you had been cut. thankfully, the ninja star didn’t penetrate too deep into your skin, and you ran your fingers over the small running down your palm when you heard a knock on your door. alarmed, you slowly rose and went to answer it, only to find soonja standing there, with a first aid kit in her hand. your shock must’ve been apparent on your face, because soonja then smiled, “mr. lee asked me to bring these to you, as you were injured. do you need any assistance with cleaning the wound?” you accepted the kit she was holding out for you and politely shook your head, giving her a thank you before she gave you a short bow and walked away. you sit comfortably on your bed, before opening the first aid kit and treating the cut. while applying the ointment, you begin to think, wow, the asshole does have a heart. he sent a first aid kit to apologize because he literally almost stabbed my hand, and you scoff before grabbing a bandaid and sealing the wound. you put up the first aid kit, then head to bed, because it’s been a long day for you. there’s one problem, though; you can’t fall asleep. you knock out for intervals before waking up again and again. maybe it’s where you are or even everything you’ve dealt with within the past 24 hours, which is causing the disturbances in your slumber. it feels like you’ve just tucked yourself into bed, but when you turn over to check the time on your phone, you read that it’s almost a quarter to four in the morning. you lied in bed at around 12:30. sighing because it’s useless to fall asleep when you would be waking up in an hour, you push yourself out of the covers and wash your face. you throw on a hoodie over your pajamas and decide that since you weren’t planning on going back to sleep anytime soon, you may as well explore this house a little more.

and so you went, walking down the seemingly endless hallways. while some of the doors are closed (you assume the other guys are probably in those rooms and sleeping at this time, like normal people) you still find tons of other rooms, with doors open enough for you to sneak in and out of. so far you’ve seen a theater room, a room with a bunch of files, and just some spaces used for storage. as you walked down another hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the increasingly louder noises of something getting hit repeatedly. you had towards the direction of the noise. the sound gets clearer and you pick up smaller grunts. finally, you reach the door and you see it’s a workout room. and dead center stood a panting eunsang, a sandbag swinging lightly back and forth. you notice that his knuckles were starting to bleed, so you cleared your throat, signaling your presence, to which eunsang peers at you with heavy breaths. his eyes then flash over to the clock hanging on the wall. “you’re here early. why’s that?” “couldn’t sleep. so I decided to go on a little adventure this morning,” and as you lifted your hand to fix your hair, eunsang’s eyes darted to the bandaid you used on the cut from earlier. clearing his throat and darting his eyes to a different direction, he started, “sorry about your hand.” you shook your head, “it’s fine, it wasn’t even that deep of a cut.” the room when silent for a bit and all that was heard were eunsang’s breaths, slowly coming back to their normal rhythm. “you asked me last night what I do in the gang, and I told you I would give you the answer now. so, here it is. you saw me that night, beating up your boyfriend-” “he’s not,” you cut him off and eunsang’s gaze shoots up at you, and you urge him to continue, “well, uh, jinhyuk, then. that’s what I do; I’m the ‘bad cop’, I am the one in charge of showing people their place, to remind them who’s the one with the power. I do most of the fighting our gang typically gets involved in. so there, now you know. I’m going to also make you stay paired with me since this was your choice and I cannot tell you to pick someone else. otherwise, seungwoo hyung’s gonna have my ass, and I can’t have that happen to me. so,” he crosses his arms and examines your facial expressions, unable to decipher what’s really going through your mind. “I’ll make it simple. tell me when you’re ready, and I will start training you. you will act as my helper. ‘help me fight the bad guys’ if you will.” the thought of you kicking ass wasn’t something you’d ever imagined would leave you feeling great but you’re not sure why you want to know if you have it in you to thrash someone to a pulp. especially if they are in the wrong. you obviously won’t go around beating up innocent people, but if you have the power to change a society like this, why wouldn’t you take it? sure it’s not conventional, but it’s all the more an experience you will never get anywhere else. after much thought, eunsang gets no response, and exhales, “alright, well, clearly you’re not ready for it, so don’t stress too much. you’re free to do what you want until you are ready to do this with me. I’m not going to force you to do anything.” he picks up a towel and is heading towards the exit when you call his name, your voice bouncing off the walls of the room. he stops and pivots to look at you, and you turn around and ask him, “when do we start?”

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #3: “The Pitfalls of Thin Walls pt. 2” by JCL

TEXT: ABOUT AN HOUR BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME We see Legosi and Haru walking together through the corridor towards Legosi's apartment in the hidden condo. HARU: "I am glad to hear that you finally got your teeth fixed." Legosi puts a finger in his mouth and adjusts his dentures. LEGOSI: "Well my boss was quite sympathetic, so he agreed to giving me an advance so that I could pay for them."   HARU: "You know, you never told me, how did you break them in the first place?" Legosi looks emberassed. LEGOSI: "I bit down too hard on a lolipop..." Haru looks both amused and a little disturbed as she imagines Legosi, a big and scary-looking wolf, eating a lolipop. HARU: "A... Lolipop?" (I would've liked to see that...!) It is then that Legosi notices something offscreen. LEGOSI: "Oh, Mugi-san." It is Mugi, one of Legosi's neighbors. MUGI: "Good morning you two. Hanging out today?" LEGOSI: "Yes... And speaking of which, thank you again." MUGI: "You're welcome! Just remember to wash the stuff thoroughly before returning it. And make sure to use your hands, no machinewash!" LEGOSI: "Of course!" Mugi laughs a little to himself as he walks past them. Haru gives Legosi a questoning look. HARU: "What was that about?" LEGOSI: "Oh he just leant me some stuff..." Mugi suddenly stops as he notices that Sebun's door is open. MUGI: "Hm?" --- We are now in Legosi's apartment, which is much better-looking than it has been before. The walls are repainted, there's some new furniture (including a kotatsu and a tiny tv), a potted plant next to the stove and a small table with a terrarium on it. HARU: "Hooo... I see that you've really cleaned this place up, huh?" LEGOSI: "Yeah I had some help with that. Jack and the guys from the drama club also helped me hustle up some old furniture for a fair price." Haru takes a closer look at terrarium in the window, spotting a rhinoceros beetle in it. HARU: "They even got you this little guy to keep you company?" LEGOSI: "Uh no, my grandpa gave him to me as a house-warming present." HARU: "Your grandpa huh?" She then notices the potted plant next to the stove. It's a little violet flower with six petals and green leaves. She instantly becomes intrigued by it. HARU: "A midnicampum holicithias! And a very healthy-looking specimen at that! To think that such a pretty little baby can be so poisonous...!" Legosi scratches his head. LEGOSI: "Well, I figured it could help to get rid of the smell." Haru turns to Legosi and looks confused. HARU: "Smell?" LEGOSI: "Well, you did say it smelt kind of funny last time you were here, right?" HARU: "Oh right... I did say that, didn't I?" She proceeds to close her eyes takes a deep whiff of the air in the apartment; her nose moving up and down in a typical lagomorphic fashion. HARU: "It does smell different, that's true. But it's not just the flower, it also smells kind of like..." She suddenly looks confounded. HARU: "... Fried noodles?" Legosi sneaks over to the other side of the stove, which is covered by a large towel. He removes the towel and reveals a wok full of food.   LEGOSI: "Surprise." Haru looks surprised and walks over, looking over the big meal. HARU: "You've made yakisoba?" -- We see a flashback, as Legosi thinks back to when his grandfather Gosha helped him renovate the apartment. As they are repainting the wall, he gives him a bit of advice: GOSHA: "Cook her something. Your grandmother used to love when I surprised her with a meal." -- LEGOSI: "M-hm." Legosi blushes and stands up straight, almost like he is a private standing in front of a military commander during an inspection.   LEGOSI: "I uh... Figured it would be nice, you know, to make you something sometime!" (Thank God that Mugi had some cookware that I could borrow) Haru looks at Legosi, cocks an eyebrow and gives off a little smile. HARU: "You weirdo, you didn't have to do that." LEGOSI: "But I wanted to." Haru giggles. HARU: "Well... It would be rude to say no, and it does smell good. So why don't we dig in?" Legosi looks excited and proceeds to turn on the stove. LEGOSI: "Okay, I'll just reheat it then!" -- TEXT: ABOUT 55 MINUTES BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME We are now out in the hall. Fina and Raika has arrived outside by the door to Sebun's apartment and are met by Mugi, who is standing next to it. MUGI: "It looks like Sebun left the door open when she left an hour ago. I am just watching it for her till she's back. I tried to call her on her cell, but I heard it ringing from inside too." RAIKA: "She must've been really stressed about something to forget both her phone as well as leave the door open." FINA: "Do you think it'd be okay if we went in and returned this though? We've had it for a while." Raika holds up a DVD-copy of Harold and Kumar go to White Castle (2004). Mugi pushes the open apartment-door in. MUGI: "I think that should be fine." The three proceed to walk in. Raika places the DVD on a nearby deskcounter. Fina seems to detect something in the air though. FINA: "Did she leave something cooking? I smell fried noodles." MUGI: "That's probably from Legosi's place. He's cooked a sweet little meal for his girlfriend." Fina smiles at this. FINA: "Aww isn't that nice? Girls like little gestures like that." Raika gives Fina a skeptical look. RAIKA: "But you hate when I cook for you..." A vein of annoyance appears on Fina's head. FINA: "Because you always make the portions too big, so I have to throw most of it away. Besides, I am not a little girl, I am a grownass woman, so I can make my own meals." RAIKA: "I never said you couldn't, I just wanted to-" An argument is about to erupt between the two, but both stop to stare at Mugi, who is pressing his ear against the left wall of the apartment. FINA: "What are you doing?" Mugi meet their odd looks with an awkward expression. MUGI: "I was just a little curious... I mean, aren't you?" Raika and Fina stare at Mugi, and then they share a look that seems to imply a reluctant 'yes'. -- TEXT: ABOUT 50 MINUTES BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME Legosi and Haru are sitting down by the kotatsu; a bowl of yakisoba each in front of them. Both hold a pair of chopsticks and clap their hands together. LEGOSI & HARU: "Itadakimasu!" The two proceed to eat... Or rather, Haru proceeds to eat, while Legosi stares at her in nervous anticipation. Haru chews her first bite carefully. She soon notices Legosi's stare though. Sensing that he is awaiting her response, she swallows. HARU: "It's good." Legosi wags his tail. LEGOSI: "Really?" HARU: "Yes. The freshness of the carrot shavings really add alot, and it's not too spicy either. You've made yakisoba before?" LEGOSI: "Well, yes. I used to make it a lot with my grandpa. Though this is the first time I¨ve made it completely vegan." HARU: "Yum!" -- Meanwhile, we see that Mugi, Fina and Raika are listening in on them next door. Mugi and Raika is using a glass each while Fina is pressing her ear against the side of Raika's while she is leaning over from the back of his hand. MUGI: "Sounds like it's going well so far." Raika looks a little bored though. RAIKA: "Yeah. not a lot of action yet though. Come on, throw us something saucy!" Raika places a finger across her lips and shushes him. -- Legosi and Haru is continues with their meal, as Haru suddenly states: HARU: "You know, you've never mentioned your family up until now. What are they like?" Legosi swallows heavily at this and looks a bit uncomfortable. LEGOSI: "Welll... I uh... I haven't really talked about them, cause I didn't find an opportune moment." Haru blinks. She finds the word ´opportune´ an odd choice of words in regards to ones family; like a it was a bad subject or something. HARU: "Why? Don't you get along?" Legosi looks like he's struggling to find the right words. LEGOSI: "We've had issues. I was kind of angry at my grandpa for a long time, so I didn't talk to him much after I started at Cherryton. We just recently re-connected..." Haru looks a little regretful for bringing this up. HARU: "Oh." (Damn, I must have touched a sensitive subject... I better change it) "What about your parents?" Legosi looks even more uncomfortable; bordering on depressed. Haru detects the negative vibe and bites down on her lip. HARU: (Oh no, wrong move...!) -- In Sebun's apartment, the trio keep on listening. RAIKA: "Poor guy, sounds like he's got some baggage there." MUGI: "Maybe they don't approve of their relationship?" RAIKA: "That would make sense. I mean mine and Fina's doesn't approve of ours." Fina gives Raika an unamused look. FINA: "I think theirs is a vastly different situation from our own. I mean they're a couple, and we ain't!" Raika replies with a sassy tone. RAIKA: "Well who's fault is that?" Fina looks annoyed as hell in response. FINA: "Who's fau- Scale and proportion ought to be the main culprits!" EBISU: "Um..." The three look at the door, which has now been opened. In the doorway stands Bogue, Ebisu, Eugen and Zaguan. They stare at the trio while each holding a DVD-copy of Harold and Kumar go to White Castle.   ZAGUAN: "..." The trio stares back. RAIKA: "... Sup?" TEXT: ABOUT 45 MINUTES BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME -- HARU: "I am sorry, I didn't mean to open old wounds or anything..." Legosi looks sad. LEGOSI: "No, no, it's just... Well, the reason I haven't really talked about my family a lot is because, well, there's a lot to unfold. And a lot of it is not pleasant." HARU: *HIC!* Legosi looks surprised, as do Haru, who covers her mouth with one hand. HARU: (What the...?) "Sorry, I have no idea where that came from." She gives Legosi a reassuring look. HARU: "Look, if you want to talk about it, I am all ears. But if you don't want to right now, you don't *HIC!*" She covers her mouth with both hands this time, seriously surprised now. Legosi gets up. LEGOSI: "I'll get you something to drink." As Legosi takes a glass, goes over to the sink and begins to fill it with tapwater. Haru begins to lean over the table, her hands covering her face, like she is feeling sick or something. HARU: "I feel kind of funny...!" When Legosi sees this, he hurries over, places the glass of water on the kotatsu and puts a hand on her back. He looks concerned. LEGOSI: "Haru? Are you alright?" Haru begins to mumble something without looking up. HARU: "Flower..." LEGOSI: "Flower?" Legosi suddenly recalls a recent memory: Haru examining the potted plant. FLASHBACK-HARU: "A very healthy-looking specimen at that! To think that such a pretty little baby can be so poisonous...!" As this flashes through his memory, he also recalls chopping vegetables for the yakisoba, next to the potted plant. LEGOSI: (No, it couldn't have...) His thoughts begins to manifest into the worst possible scenario; like seeds or petals falling off the poisonous flower and getting mixed up with the hacked vegetables. He then proceeds to imagine Haru taking her first bite of the yakisoba. TEXT: POISONOUS We see a zoom-in of this bite, with Legosi's imagination envisioning a dark aura and skulls and bones dancing across it. LEGOSI: (NO!) Legosi grabs a hold of Haru with a scared to death-looking face, while Haru groggily mumbles. HARU: "Flower... A flower..." LEGOSI: "Don't worry Haru! You'll be alright, I'll call an ambulance! I'll-" Haru looks up. Her face is deep-red and sporting a silly grin. HARU: "If we have a daughter *HIC!* We should name her after a flower! Tee-hee...!" Legosi looks surprised. LEGOSI: "Huh?" TO BE CONTINUED...

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 16 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Welp, this story isn’t showing up in the morgan rielly tag anymore even though it’s my first tag in the list.  Anyone know a possible reason?  

I’m still on a high from the Raptors parade today.  Enjoy.

Bee had her outfit laid out on the chair in Morgan’s room, but she ignored it while she lied in bed with him and felt his fingers move in and out of her lazily, making her squirm for how sensitive she was getting but also making her mad for how slowly he was taking this.  They faced each other in the bed, her leg hooked over his, and he was holding her in his free arm; so soft and so gentle but also biting down on her skin and licking at her breasts and telling her what a good girl she was being as she kept trying to grind harder on his hand between her legs, only for him to pull away momentarily or go even slower which would drive her fucking insane.  

She still needed to take a shower.  She still needed to style her hair and do her makeup.  Her winged eyeliner alone took her like ten minutes.  But here she was.  Morgan was fingering her in his bed, and there was no way she was going to leave.  

They were definitely going to be late to Auston’s New Year’s Eve party.  

When he got back from his Christmas break in Vancouver and from the road game they played in Columbus, he seemingly couldn’t keep his hands off her.  She didn’t know what it was or what had gotten into him, but the second he arrived back in the city he’d called her, and by the first two minutes she was over his apartment, he’d pinned her against his door and was in her.  Literally.  The following night, after an upsetting loss to the Islanders at Scotiabank Arena, they went back to her place and engaged in four or five different rounds of sex throughout the night.  Yesterday, though she was out a majority of the day with Angie, she kept getting messages from him explaining what he wanted to do to her that night.  When she got home, he ate her out like she was the last meal on earth, until she felt like she was going to have a heart attack, which was apparently common for her now.  Even then, he let her relax for a bit until he went for a round two.

Everybody enjoyed good sex.  Everybody.  And when it becomes so available, nobody really passes on the opportunity.  Including her.  She loved feeling good, and she loved that he was the one able to make her feel so good, because he was a damn good lover, and a very generous one at that (she was generous too, let’s not get the story wrong here), but she wondered where all of this was coming from.  He told her he was just making up for lost time, but they had only been apart from each other for five days.  They’d been apart from each other longer, even just recently, and he hadn’t acted this way when he came back.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he whispered, curling his fingers in her and making her whimper loudly.  They’d resumed much of their dirty talk, too, after they had explored it before Christmas.  It was a staple now.  She couldn’t believe how much it turned her on and added to the whole experience.  “You like when I touch you like this, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded her head.  “You always make me feel so good Morgan.”

He slipped another finger into her, and she writhed at the sensation of his fingers curling in her, hitting the spot she so desperately needed to hit.  He smiled and bit his lip.  “So good for me baby.  So wet.  So fucking wet.”  He lowered his head to kiss and bite at her neck.  He looked down to her boobs spilling out of her blush pink bra and curled his fingers again, making her grind onto his hand.  

“I’m so close Mo,” she said desperately.  “Please.  Go faster.  Go harder.”

“No,” he denied her.  “We’re gonna take it nice and slow.”

“Morgan.”

“Nice and slow,” he repeated, taking his fingers almost fully out of her as punishment, garnering another whimper from her.  He pushed them back in at an excruciatingly slow pace, and she wanted to kill him.  

“Morgan, please,” she was frantic.  “I want to come so bad.”

“Nice and slow,” he repeated, and she could only toss her head back and moan at his insistency before accepting her fate.  

She didn’t know how long they were lying there for, but when he slipped in yet another finger, and curled them all against her walls, it all became too much for her, and soon, she was completely gone.  Her orgasm washed over her, slow and powerful as it made its way throughout her whole body, and she was shaking from the sheer intensity of it.  She closed her thighs around his hand as he continued his movements, letting her ride it out for as long as possible.  He finally stopped when her body stopped shaking, and he took the opportunity to bring the hand that was buried in her up to his mouth.  They stared at each other as he sucked his fingers, loving the taste of her.  

“Fuck,” she muttered, barely waiting for her fingers to leave his mouth before she crashed her lips onto his, desperate to taste it too.  He made her fucking crazy.  Her body was a puddle off goo from her orgasm but he continued to find ways, the simplest of ways, to get her hot and bothered.  “You are a fucking gift, Morgan Rielly.”

“Hmm, so are you,” he mumbled in between kissing, trying to pull her body on top of him.  “The things I would do to you.  God.  Get up here.”

“Moooo,” she whined.  It was taking everything in her not to give in.  “I’ve gotta shower.”

“Shower?  For what?”

“For Auston’s party, dummy.”

“Ugh, whatever,” he groaned.  “Do we have to go?  We have much better things we could be doing.”

Bee snorted.  “Yes we have to go.  He’s your friend – our friend – and he’s expecting us to be there.  I even made cupcakes.”

He groaned again, moving to lie down on his back since he knew he wasn’t going to win.  “Why do you have to be such a good person?”

She shook her head at his question.  “That must be the horny talking.  If I get anymore action after what’s been going on these past couple of days they’re gonna have to put ‘Death by Morgan Rielly’s dick’ on my gravestone.”

It was his turn to snort.  “Well what do you expect when you have a nice pink bra like that on?” he asked rhetorically.  

She looked down quickly at her bra.  Blush coloured, satin with some lace.  Expensive, of course; or at least more than what she had previously paid for her bras.  It fit well, cupped her breasts perfectly, didn’t tug at her skin or give her indents.  The straps didn’t fall down her arms like they usually did.  She unclasped her bra and threw it at him, garnering a smile as it landed on his chest.  She gave him a wink before turning and walking into the bathroom to turn on the shower.  In the full-length mirror in the washroom, she looked at her body until the mirror began to fog.  She saw her tummy a little fuller thanks to Christmas; she saw her hips and thighs, wide as ever; she saw her arms lead up to her shoulders, now peppered with love bites.

Morgan had never mentioned anything about bras or panties or lingerie before she went on her shopping spree with the girls.  But now, with all the new satin and lace and bodysuits and baby dolls (though he’d only really seen the bodysuit in terms of lingerie), he couldn’t keep his hands off her.  He’d comment on the colour, the material, how good it made her boobs look, how good it made her ass look.  While she obviously enjoyed the compliments, and the hunger derived from it, she wondered if he thought these things before all the satin and lace.  Before the bodysuits and baby dolls.  Before the nice clothes and Chanel bags.

Morgan never once made her feel self-conscious about her body – in fact, it was the exact opposite – but she still couldn’t help but feel so.  She knew he was attracted to her in every way.  But did he like her better when she looked more put together, more sophisticated, like the other wives and girlfriends?  Did he like her better with her new hair, the makeup, the nice shoes and designer bags?  He’d always compliment on how good a pair of jeans fit her, or how her boobs looked in a top.  If she went back to the basic tops and pants, and outfits that she wore only weeks ago, would he still be attracted to her?  Could she still be with him?  Could she still be comfortable with him, knowing how much he seemed to love her new look?  Would he be comfortable with her going back to that look?  Or would he be embarrassed?

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a towel before throwing on one of his bathrobes.  When she emerged, all the steam from the hot water escaping with her, she found Morgan still on the bed, scrolling through his phone.  He looked over at her and gave her a smile.  Her shower thoughts were still on her mind as she gave him a small smile back, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge.  She felt him move so that he was on his knees behind her.  

“I have a question for you,” he said in a low voice, placing a quick kiss on the exposed skin between the bathrobe and the towel wrapped around her head.

“No, we cannot skip Auston’s party,” she answered.

He let out a small chuckle.  “No no, not that.  Um, on January 21st the team has this big fundraiser at the Fairmont Royal York.  It’s called the Night With Blue and White,” he explained.  “It’s the biggest charity event we do.  All the proceeds to go the MLSE Launchpad.  It’s, like, $10,000 a table, and Rogers and all these other companies sponsor it.”

“And?”

“And it’s a gala event.  And I’d like it if you can be there with me.  So will you come?”

She couldn’t help but smile.  His tone was so serious, so hesitant; as if he was worried she would say no.  As if she’d say no.  “Of course I’ll come.  You want me there?”

“Of course I do,” he said gently, unwrapping the towel from her head to let her wet hair cascade down, giving her another kiss in the same spot between her shoulder and neck.  

She thought about the event, how many rich and important people would be there mingling and donating obscene amounts of money for the cause.  She thought about the glamour of it all, of all the women in high heels and expensive dresses, the men in dapper suits and pockets as deep as their company’s chequebook.  She thought about the historic venue, the flashing lights, the catered food and the deluxe bar.  

She thought about what she’d have to wear.  How much she’d have to get done up.  Going out to buy a fancy dress.  Going to get her hair done.  

“I already know you’re going to look so good that night,” he said, dragging his lips along the skin on her neck.  “You’ll knock ‘em all dead.”

She hesitated, her thoughts giving her so much anxiety.  “Morgan?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?”

Morgan stopped dead in his tracks.  He couldn’t believe she could be thinking something like that, so…so untrue, so incorrect and so mistaken and so fallacious.  His stomach was in knots as the words hung heavy in the air.  He didn’t know how to express his thoughts.  Words were a foreign concept to him.  “Briony…I…what?”

“You know what, it’s alright,” she said hurriedly.  “Forget I asked.  Forget it.”

He wasn’t going to let this one go.  There was no fucking way he was going to let this one go.  “No no no, hold on,” he said, practically jumping off the bed to kneel in front of her.  She wouldn’t even look at him.  “Briony.  Look at me.”

“No.  Just forget it.”

“Briony,” he said sternly.  Her eyes met his and they were already welling up with tears – he didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or sadness or whatever else.  “What do you mean ‘Do you like me more with all nice clothes’?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Have I not been showing you enough how much I love your body?” he asked.

She shook her head vehemently.  “It’s not that.  I know that you love my body.”

“Then what is it?”

“ Do you only love my body when it has nice clothes on it?”

“Briony, no,” he said firmly, the whole concept completely absurd to him.

“Because I’ve noticed…I don’t know.  You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me since I got all the nice stuff.  And I’m not complaining about you not being able to keep your hands off me, because you know I would never complain about that, but I can’t help but feel like ever since I started dressing nicer there’s been this…change.”

“What change?”

“That you’re, like…” she was scared to say the next part.  But she knew that if she didn’t get it off her chest it would be on her mind forever.  She didn’t want to start the New Year with these types of thoughts.  “You’re more attracted to me because I look better now.  Because I don’t look so cheap and so poor and this is some sort of new Briony that doesn’t look like the old Briony and you like the new Briony much better, even though the old Briony, like, the character of Briony, is still the same despite all the designer clothes.”

He felt sick to his stomach that she was feeling this way and hadn’t told him up until now.  Absolutely sick to his fucking stomach.  “Briony, it’s not like that at all,” he stressed.  “To me, there’s no old Briony and new Briony.  There’s just Briony.  I don’t…I…there’s no distinction to me.  You’re the same Briony but with new clothes.  But those new clothes don’t matter.  I don’t care if you wear head to toe Gucci or not.  You can wear a burlap sac for all I care.  I’d still…I’d never, never --”

“You’re always saying how good I look, how good my boobs or my butt looks, and it’s nice, but I don’t know if --”

“I say those things because I want you to feel confident about yourself!” he exclaimed.  “I know you’re still getting used to all this.  I just want you to feel comfortable after you felt so violated from the break and enter.  I can’t believe you would feel like this and not tell me.  Bumblebee, I don’t care what you look like.  I don’t care.  That’s not important to me,” he was so desperate to get his point across he was almost on the verge of tears.

She sniffled, holding back any more tears she had as much as possible.  “You don’t?”

“No, Briony.  No.  God,” he muttered under his breath.  “Briony, you have no idea.  You have no idea how much I feel like the luckiest guy in the room by just standing beside you.”

She took a deep breath.  “Okay…okay…”

“The only thing I care about is you feeling good about yourself, and it doesn’t matter what you wear to make you feel that way” he said.  “And if there’s anything that I can do to help with that, you need to tell me, because I’d rather fucking die than make you feel uncomfortable or have you think I only like you when you look a certain way.”

She nodded her head.  She understood now.  She got it.  “Okay,” she said softly, nodding her head.

“Briony, I’m serious.  You need to tell me these things.  I don’t like that you think I’m only attracted to you because of the clothes on your body.  That cannot be further from the truth,” he said.  

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.  Just…talk to me, okay?  Don’t bottle this stuff in.  There are a million things that are loveable about you and none of them have to do with the way you look.”

“I won’t.  I’m sorry.  I won’t.”

He learned forward and wrapped his arms around her.  He didn’t want to let go.  He couldn’t let go.  Not until she felt what he had just been trying to tell her; not until she knew he meant every word of what he just said, and would keep saying it to her until she knew he meant it.  

***

“You guys are late,” Auston said as Morgan and Briony walked through his door.  He was already, maybe, a little bit drunk, but he was in the privacy of his own home so he really didn’t care.

“Is it past midnight?” Morgan asked.

“No.”

“Then we’re not late,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Wow.”

“We had an emergency with the cupcakes,” Briony lied, holding them up for Auston to see.  

“Cupcakes?  You made cupcakes?”

“Only for you, Auston,” she winked, showing him the intricately decorated confectionery.  

His eyes went wide as he admired the icing and decoration.  He looked at Briony like she had just presented him with a golden compass.  “Are you sure you don’t have a sister I can hook up with?  Are you positive?”

“Even if I did I wouldn’t let her date you,” she took the cupcakes away from him.  

“That hurts.”

Before Bee could respond, a loud ‘Auston!’ was heard from somewhere inside the condo, and Morgan, Bee, and Auston watched as a blonde girl waved at him, motioning for him to come back to his dining room table, where he had set up beer pong.  Bee couldn’t help but laugh.  “I’m sure you’ll get over it soon.”

As Auston went back to his lady friend, Bee and Morgan made their way into the apartment, finding Fred, Tyler, Zach and Alannah, and John and Aryne.  Travis Dermott and his girlfriend brought her friends, Kasperi Kapanen was with a lady friend who happened to bring her friends, and Mitch Marner and Steph were there, surrounded by a few of her friends.  Overall, it was a pretty full party, and Bee immediately found comfort and solace with Aryne and Alannah.  

“Giiiiirl!  That bag looks so good,” Aryne hugged her tightly, grabbing the Chanel bag in both hands.  “I should have gotten one for myself.”

“You can’t.  This is Bee’s bag now,” Alannah laughed as she moved to hug Bee as well.  “How’ve you been?  How’s the new place?”

“Oh, it’s great,” Bee smiled.  “Views are amazing, building’s amazing…I mean compared to what I had, this place is off the charts.”

“I know you’re busy trying to find a job, but we should all have a girl’s night soon,” Alannah suggested.  “I can bring over a stack of wedding magazines.  Lord knows I need to start making some choices.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Aryne rolled her eyes a bit, discreetly nodding over to the sexy, longhaired bleach blonde standing next to Kasperi who was sipping on a tallboy.  She was very, very attractive, and Bee could understand why she was Kasperi’s current flavour.  “Cassidy might overhear and invite herself.”

“Are we…are we not…” Bee was a bit confused.  

“She’s been on her phone more than she’s talked to Kappy tonight,” Alannah said.  “She pretended to act dumb but she definitely knows who everybody in this room is.  I don’t get a good vibe from her.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Bee asked.  “Knowing everybody here, I mean?  Wouldn’t you rather have it that way?”

“Not the way that she knows everybody,” Aryne said.  “You know how you know everybody as just, like, Zach or John or Fred or whatever?  You don’t care?  She knows and sees people as Zach Hyman of the Toronto Maple Leafs, John Tavares of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she explained.  “It’s all about status to her.  She knows she’s at a party at Auston Matthews’s apartment with a bunch of Leafs players.  She’s probably putting it all over her Snapchat or Instagram stories, pretending to be discreet about it, but really showing off where she is and who she’s with.  Girls like that are all the same.”

“Fame hungry?” Bee clarified.

“Exactly.  Just waiting for someone to pick up on it and start talking about them so their name gets out there.  I bet she’s an Instagram model or has her own YouTube channel where she models bikinis she gets sent from FashionNova.  They’re all the same.”

“Aryne!” Alannah giggled.  “Tell me what’s really on your mind why don’t you!”

“Listen.  My New Year’s resolution is to try to be less judgemental as a whole but for girls like that, I can’t help it,” Aryne giggled slightly.  “They’re so transparent it’s almost comical.  And it’s always the young guys who fall for them.”

“Anyways,” Alannah put an end to the conversation with just one word.  She didn’t want to be talking about girlfriends of the month the whole night.  “Has Morgan told you about the Night with Blue and White?” she asked.

Bee blushed.  “Uh, yeah.  He actually asked me tonight.”

“And you’re coming?” Aryne asked.  Bee nodded her head.  “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeep!” Aryne squealed loudly.  “Oh my God this is gonna be so fun!  We’re going to need to go shopping for dresses!  And shoes!”

“It’s honestly such a fun night,” Alannah smiled.  “We’re going to have a blast.  You get to meet so many people.  It’ll actually be so good for you considering you’re on the job hunt.”

Bee hadn’t even considered that.  She hadn’t considered that it could be a great opportunity for her, rather than just some event put on by the Leafs that she would accompany Morgan to.  She never considered that she would be mingling with people who could hire her.  Now she really wanted to go.  Of course she’d be there primarily to support Morgan, but it didn’t hurt that she’d be able to try and land a job interview.  “That’s actually a great point…” she said.

“I’m a smart girl,” Alannah winked.

***

“Somebody get the champagne ready!”

“Pour it out!  Pour it out!”

“Save some to pop!”

Morgan was drunk.  The smiley kind of drunk.  The kind of drunk where all he wanted to do was put his hands on Bee’s ass and keep them there.  But he still had some semblance of a conscience – he knew that in public spaces that was frowned upon, especially in front of friends, so he tried his hardest to rid the thoughts from his mind as some more sober members of the group (Zach, Fred) poured the champagne into plastic flutes for the entire party.  

It was a little over five minutes until the countdown, and everybody was getting excited.  Morgan couldn’t remember how much alcohol he drank.  It was a lot.  What he could remember was talking to Zach about how much he liked Bee, how he wanted to take her back home to Vancouver so bad, how he loved the smell of her hair and waking up with his face buried in it in the morning.  Zach could only laugh, as he was the sober one being designated driver, and he kept commenting how bad Morgan had it for her, and Morgan could only nod and drink more beer and talk more about how much he liked her before he moved on to Fred and told him the exact same thing.  Now, with the countdown soon approaching, everybody began to pair up with their significant others.  

“Mo gets his own bottle of champagne!” Auston yelled, handing him a bottle, to which everybody cheered at.  Morgan took the bottle, noticing the cork was already half out.  He didn’t want to hold on to it without holding on to Bee.  He looked around the room for her.

Bee was standing next to Aryne, who was smoothing down her husband’s shirt, looking down at her phone.  She hadn’t noticed Morgan looking for her because she was too busy reading a barrage of messages that had made their way to her Instagram inbox.

lmao i bet morgan bought u that chanel bag.  doesn’t that mean he’s ur sugar daddy??? ur pathetic

now u think ur hot shit always wearing that chanel bag everywhere

You wear that Chanel bag everywhere now bc you want everyone to know Morgan bought it for you.  You reek of desperation.  Don’t think we didn’t know it was you in Sephora just bc the pic was blurry.

don’t think we don’t see u in cassidy’s videos from the party. ur prob begging her to include u.  ur literally so desperate its insane

no clue what morgan sees in you.  you’re not as pretty as any of the other wags and you don’t fit in either.  you prob won’t last long.

Yet again ur at a party w the leafs but decide not to post pics or videos, making other ppl like kappy’s girl post them with u in them. Ur not very smart r u? the game ur playing is dumb.

Bee felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and looked up to see Morgan, a drunken grin plastered on his face.  He was clutching an entire bottle of champagne.  She locked her phone screen immediately.  She knew just by looking at him that he was too drunk to read, but she didn’t want to take the chance of him seeing the messages.  “Hello, stranger,” she smiled.

“Hey sexy,” he tried to wink, but just ended up blinking really hard.  She snorted at his attempt.  “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“How drunk are you?” she asked.

“I’m…” he couldn’t find the right words.  “I’m right on it.  Right on the line.”

“And why do you have an entire bottle of champagne?”

“Matts wanted me to have it,” he said, bringing it up to her lips, pretending to pour it.  “For the countdown.  Are you gonna countdown with me?”

“Of course I am,” she smiled.

As they made their way near the front of the TV, which was showing the live broadcast from Nathan Phillips Square in downtown Toronto – 90 seconds to go! –  Morgan’s arm was still draped around Bee’s shoulders.  Bee wrapped an arm around his waist to try and steady his drunken rocking form side to side.  When she did so, he bent his head down to kiss her temple.  “I know I’m piss drunk right now but can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” she said quietly.

Thirty!  Twenty-nine!  Twenty-eight!

“Every fuckin’ day I thank my lucky stars that someone sent a drink to your table pretending to be me,” he mumbled.  The hair on the back of Bee’s neck stood on end.  “Every.  Fuckin’.  Day.  Like, you don’t even understand Briony.  Everyday.”

It was at that moment that Bee realized that it didn’t matter what anonymous messages she received, what they had to say, or how they said things about her.  What mattered – besides her privacy, her integrity, and her humility – was that Morgan was standing next to her, arm draped around her, bottle of champagne in his hand.  It didn’t matter that they thought she was fat, that they thought she was tacky, an attention-seeker, desperate, didn’t fit in, whatever else – what mattered was that she was with Morgan.  They weren’t.  As petty as that sounded, it was her standing next to him, her who shared a bed with him, her who he called before every game.

Ten!  Nine!  Eight!

It was her who got to kiss him at midnight.

Seven!  Six!  Five!

“I thank my lucky stars you sent a drink to my table,” she smiled.  This would be their ongoing joke; her saying he sent a mojito to her table, him maintaining it wasn’t him and that she got pranked.  She’d never let him live it down.

Four!  Three!  Two!  One!

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the entire party yelled in unison, and Morgan took the opportunity to wrap Bee further into his body with the arm that was around her shoulders before he bent his neck to place a giant kiss on her lips.  She reciprocated until she felt him start to shake the champagne bottle.  She pulled away so he could pop it quickly, causing another cheer from the crowd before he brought the oozing fizz to his lips.  Ever the gentleman, he gave Bee a swig before kissing her again, both of them tasting like champagne.  They kissed for much longer this time, Morgan not willing to pull away, and Bee not willing to deny him, even in his drunken state, even though she was sure all the other couples had stopped.

When they finally did pull away, Bee looked around quickly to see some other couples.  John was cradling Aryne’s baby bump, and Bee thought she was going to cry right then and there; Zach was still macking on Alannah, who didn’t seem to mind; and Cassidy, right beside them, was recording Kappy making a smoochie face against hers.  It was all very cute.  

“You want s’more champagne?” Morgan asked.

Bee shook her head.  She brought her hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her again.

***

Morgan sobered up a bit by the time they decided to call it a night.  He stuck to water and was well enough to walk on his own by 2am.  Bee had watched over him like a hawk, making sure he was drinking glass after glass of water.  She wasn’t exactly capable of hauling a 200+ pound hockey player home.

Although the party had died down significantly – John and Aryne had left not long after the countdown, as had some others – there were still people hanging about.  Auston was plastered.  Fred and Tyler were sleeping over, thankfully, and Fred had already begun the clean up, like the responsible adult he was.  

“We should say goodbye to Auston, at least,” Morgan said when he finished slipping on his shoes.  Bee nodded her head and they wandered through his apartment hand in hand to find him.

It didn’t take long.  The second Bee saw Auston, she snorted out in laughter.  He had her homemade cupcakes in front of him, one in his hand, and he was completely going to town on it.  Completely going to town.  There was icing all over his face, all over his nose, and he opened his jaw as much as possible to get the entire height of the cupcake and all the icing in his mouth at once.  It was hilarious.  He looked like a kid.  

She took out her phone and took a few pictures of him, and he didn’t even notice.  She even took the opportunity to take a video.  After he finished the cupcake, he didn’t even hesitate to grab another one and peel off the wrapping paper.  The video was shaking for how hard she was laughing.  “You having a good time there, Matts?” Bee asked.  He looked absolutely ridiculous.  

When he noticed them, he didn’t even care.  He took a massive bite out of the cupcake, getting more icing all over his face and nose.  “Bee…fuck,” he moaned.  

“That your new girl Matts?” Morgan joked.  Auston nodded his head.  Morgan snorted.  At that point, she ended the video, knowing she had good blackmail against him now.  Auston was completely gone.  “Night buddy.  Don’t forget to wrap it up if you’re gona eat her.  Things can get out of hand easily.”

[katelides]

Walking on sunshine - Bechloe Mini Fic pt 6

Chapter 6: Eternal Flame

The scooter ride towards the mystery destination was peaceful and calming. Neither girl had felt so at ease since their summer days 3 years ago. The cool breeze off the summer wind, blowing through their hair, looking out at the last rays of sunshine peaking through the clouds. It’s as if no time had passed at all.

Beca stops the scooter next to a pathway that leads up to some dunes. It all looked too familiar to the redhead, but she can’t put her finger on it. It was only when they were almost at the top that she realized where they were. This was the very beach they had met, the beach where they said ‘I love you for the first time, and where they said goodbye.

A single tear finds its way down Chloe’s cheek as a smile washes over her face. Beca pretends not to see it, but she knows how the redhead feels because she feels the same way. She used to come here every day just so she could think about Chloe. Up to this day, Beca goes there to get away from everything, it’s her happy place, Chloe made it her happy place.

The girls share a content yet knowing look right before running off towards the water. Chloe is the first to reach the water and runs it head first, causing her to fall into the cold water. Beca chuckles at the redhead but follows, more smoothly though. She splashes the redhead with water dives and swims a tad deeper into the ocean. They just have fun, forgetting about everything, even if it’s just for a brief moment.

Chloe decides to dive in as well, just because she can. When she comes up from the water to take a breath, it gets knocked out of her once again with the sight that she is being treated with. Beca is in the process of removing her shirt and her flawless figure and strong abs shimmer in the setting sunlight. The redhead quickly turns around, not knowing if she could actually hold her raging feeling in check if she kept staring.

She gets a pleasant surprise, though, when Beca suddenly swims up beside her underwater and appears in front of her. Her hair soaked and dripping while it just hangs, clinging to the brunette’s face. It looks funny, so Chloe starts laughing. Beca internally cheers at this victory, remembering how much Chloe laughed that one forgotten summer when she couldn’t see because of her hair.

The two of them chase each other around in the water, dunking the other at every chance they get. The laugh like they have never laughed before because right now they don’t have to pretend that they don’t know each other. They can finally be themselves, and it’s the greatest feeling in the world.

-,-,-,-,-

Meanwhile Maddie walks around in the city, questioning her decision to meet up with Doug. Even though she keeps telling herself that her love for him is over, something inside her keeps pulling her back to him. It’s hard to walk away from a 5 year relationship, even one as toxic as Doug.

The brunette slowly makes her way towards the address that Doug text her a few hours ago. It was a pretty weird place to meet up, it is away from all the restaurants and there are barely any people living around it. But who is she to doubt Doug’s decisions.

It’s only when she enters through the gate, that it all seems to make sense. Gentle harp music is being played by an actual harpist who is sitting next to a table for 2, with Doug already sitting at it, in the middle of the ancient ruins. Doug never did something small, it’s not his style.

“Low key, huh?” Maddie muses as she makes her way down the steps of the amphitheatre. “You deserve a decent send off.” Doug says casually, only getting up from his seat when Maddie is almost at the bottom of the stairs, meeting her so he can take her to her seat. “You look stunning.” He says as he reaches out his hand with a coy smile. “Well, I’m in love.” Maddie throws back without missing a beat.

“But then you always look stunning.” Doug almost whispers, leading Maddie to her chair. He pulls it out as a real gentleman and pushes it back in when Maddie has sat down. “Huh, my favourite.” Maddie mutters when Doug shows her the expensive Champaign bottle and pours her a flute.

Doug fills one up for himself and lifts his glass. “To a new beginning.” He says. “To that I can drink too.” Maddie answers and then proceeds to take a he sip of the champaign, still having a bad gut feeling about the entire ordeal.

“Remember the first time we had a bottle of it?” Doug asks, trying to caress Maddie but stops when she pulls away. “We stayed up all night. Watched the sun come up. You said you could listen to my voice forever.” Maddie rolls her eyes at the memory. “No, I probably said it felt like I had been listening to your voice forever. And if I remember rightly, you only ever talked about yourself.”

Doug smirks down at the brunette. “No, I don’t believe that’s true, my baby kitten. I’m sure you talked about me too.” Maddie lets out a heavy sigh at the cocky nature of her ex. “Oh god, what am I doing here?” She asks, knowing there is an arterial motive behind the romantic dinner. “Right,” Dough sighs heavily. “come home.”

“No, here. I’m getting married in the morning.” Maddie says strong headed, trying to make the simple fact clear to her ex. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.” Doug shoots back matter of factly. “No, I’m trying to get it into your thick head.”

“Fine… Fine, you want to get back at me, I understand. But don’t mess up things for yourself and that poor girl in the process. Maddie is slowly starting to lose her patience with the older man but holds herself tight. “Doug, believe it or not, but not everything is about you.” Doug lets out an incredulous breath. “Puh-lease… you’re only doing this to punish me.”

Maddie rolls her eyes and balls her fists underneath the table. “No, I came here to find myself.” The brunette takes a hesitant break before continuing. “And I did…. In Beca.” Doug leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, making sure he has eye contact with Maddie. “And, I,” He starts. “Would like to find myself… in you.”

A groan escapes the brunette as she’s lost for words. “Come on, Mads, 5 minutes you’ve known this girl, 5 minutes.” Maddie shakes her head. “5 weeks.” She corrects him swiftly. “And she has gotten to know me better than you have in 5 years. Do you want to know why?” She asks rhetorically. “You didn’t let her do that thing I wanted to do, did you?”

Leave it to Doug to make everything sexual. “Ooooh, you filthy little squirrel.” The man adds once the initial reaction is a heavy sigh. “She listens to me.” Maddie defends herself. “I listen to you.” Doug counters just as quickly. “Oh please, you don’t le-“

“I love listening to you.” The greying man interrupts loudly, making Maddie sit back in her seat with another heavy sigh. “I love listening to…” Doug stands up slowly, and makes his way towards the brunette. “those three little sighs you make in your sleep.” Kneeling down in front of her he continues. "That crazy singing of yours in the shower.” Slowly leaning towards Maddie, whispering. “ That noise you made that night at the George Stays.” Maddie’s lip slightly curls up at the memory. “I think all of Paris heard that.”

“It was, a… wonderful night, and this is… wonderful.” The brunette sighs deeply. “This stuff you’re wonderful at, the chase, its the follow through that lets you down. I wanted more, Doug. I wanted marriage.” Finally having thrown the truth into Doug’s face, Maddie feels slightly relieved.

Of course Doug manages to ruin even that slight moment of hope for the brunette. “We were perfect as we were. Why spoil it?” Maddie gives up and rolls her eyes. “No, do you know what’s perfect? We never have to have this conversation again because I found true happiness.” Doug shakes his head in amusement. “That kid will never be man enough for you.”

“Beca is young, yeah, and she’s a woman, but she’s a grown up. You are not young, but you’re a child.” Doug just scrunches up his nose with a smile. “Thank you.” Maddie throws her hands up. “That wasn’t a - wha- argh… You don’t even want to grow up.”

Maddie gets up from her chair and is now standing at eye level with Doug. “The thing about Peter Pan…” Once again she gets interrupted by the infuriating man. “He could fly.” He says, as if he is speaking to a five year old. “He ends up alone.” Maddie says with a sigh.

Not giving Doug any opportunity to say anything else, Maddie walks away. Knowing where she belongs, and it definitely was not here with the millionaire.

-,-,-,-,-

Back at the beach, Chloe is peacefully watching the sunset, walking around in the water. This had been by far one of the most strange, maddening, yet amazing days of her life. And being here, with Beca, was just so surreal.

The redhead walks back to the towels on the beach, where Beca is laying peacefully. “It’s beautifu-“ Chloe stops talking when she sees Beca gently sleeping. Looking even more beautiful with the setting light that grazes over her. Chloe starts singing softly to the brunette.

“Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling. Do you feel my heart beating, do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming?” Chloe stands up and walks away from the brunette, not wanting to disturb her peaceful sleep nor wanting to burst into tear. “Is this burning an eternal flame.”

The redhead walks back to the water, looking back at the sleeping brunette. Memories rushing back is at the speed of light. I believe, this was meant to be, darling. I watch you when you are sleeping. You belong with me. Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming. Is this burning an eternal flame?”

Chloe is so lost into her song that she doesn’t notice Beca waking up. “Say my name. The sun shines through the rain, a whole life so lonely, then you come and ease the pain.” The brunette watches and listens to the girl she fell in love with years ago. The girl she never fell out of love with. “I don’t wanna lose this feeling.”

Beca gets up from her towel and slowly makes her way towards the redhead. Once she’s close enough, she takes  Chloe’s hands and gently pulls her closer. Their eyes lock and the world around them disappears. They lean in closer, and closer.

Their lips almost meet, but Chloe can’t do that to her sister. She breaks free from the magical spell around her and runs. She runs up the dunes, as far away from Beca as she possibly can. The brunette, once she wakes up from her daze, follows the love of her life, trying to catch up with her.

Chloe dashes into the house and runs straight to her room, closing the door behind her, hoping that no one was home to see her like this. Scared, confused, angry… The redhead sits down on her bed, trying to catch her breath and to sort out her thoughts.

She doesn’t really get a chance, as Beca bursts into her room. The brunette stares at Chloe, wide eyes, out of breath, with a shimmer of hope in her eyes. “I need to know.” She says. Chloe stand up from the bed and rushes past Beca into the other room. “You can’t be here.”

“Something happened back there.” Beca says, not giving up, not again. “No…” Chloe says head strong. “Tell the truth.” Beca almost shouts as she grabs the redhead’s wrist to pull her back so they can face each other. “The truth about what?” Maddie asks as she walks in after her rendez-vous with Doug.

Suddenly the lights jump up and a group of Maddie and Beca’s friends jump out yelling surprise, catching everyone of guard. The group immediately stop their celebrating once they feel the tension in the room.

Beca walks forward, trying to think of n explanation to give to her soon to be wife. Though she doesn’t have to do that. “Oh my god, it’s her… She was the girl… She’s the ex?” Maddie questions, trying to comprehend what’s going on.

“Mads I’m so sorry it’s all my fault.” Chloe starts. “Yeah b-but I-I can explain…” Beca interrupts, trying to be helpful but gets shot down almost instantly by Chloe. “Please, I can do this… She was the girl. A girl… and I didn’t want to tell you because it was nothing. And then you kept going on at me about how I never let anyone in, and I started thinking… did I make a terrible mistake? Then we were on the beach covered in tomatoes, and there was this sunset…” Maddie takes a step back, terrified of what is coming next. If her sister still loved Beca, she would take a step aside for her. It’s the least she could ever do for her baby sister.

“Then suddenly it was three years ago, and I looked at her…” Chloe looks at Beca, their eyes meeting. “… into her eyes, and I knew…” Chloe freezes, knowing that if she tells the truth she will ruin her sisters wedding but if she doesn’t she’ll never be able to voice her thought ever again. The choice was clear.

“…I don’t feel anything for her.” The pain in her heart would go away, yet the look on Beca’s face, the look of betrayal and hurt would always be there, engraved in her mind. “I never did.” The redhead continues, more trying to convince herself of that fact.

“She has been desperate to tell you because she doesn’t want to keep secrets from you, but I didn’t want you to know because… I didn’t want to spoil everything. Well, you always make such a huge drama out of everything.” Maddie lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in and rolls her eyes because she knows her sister is right. “Which is why you two are so perfect together.” Chloe looks at her sister and Beca while they are looking at each other. “But now I’m the one who has ended up making a huge drama out of nothing. I know have been a really shit, and I’m so so sorry.”

Maddie stays quiet for moment, trying to process everything. “Is this true?” She asks Beca, needing to hear it from her fiancé. Beca thinks about what she should answer. “Yes” She answers truthfully. “And do you still have feelings for her?” Beca loved Chloe but she loves Maddie, and they have made a commitment to each other, one she would never break. No matter how much it hurt. “No, I feel absolutely nothing for her.”

Chloe can feel her heart shatter but it’s for the best. Her sister finally found someone that makes her happy, and that should make her happy. She hears her sister sigh and apologises again. Maddie doesn’t get a chance to react as Fat Amy clears her throat.

“Hen night? As in, I don’t want to see you again until the church in the morning.” Beca nods and takes a step back, then walking around the Australian to kiss Maddie on her cheek. No one dares to say anything as the brunette walks away and out of the house, to prepare for her night out with her brother, Mikey and Benji.

Once Beca has left, Chloe is the first to break the silence. “I-I should probably just go.” Making Fat Amy sigh. “Yeah…” Maddie says, no remorse evident in her voice. Chloe knew this reaction would be expected, but it still hurt. No one dares to say anything to stop it though.

“Well what are you waiting for? It’s my hen party already, you look like shit, go get changed already.” A huge weight is lifted from the room. And Chloe lets out a relieved breath but still something gnaws at her. “Are you sure you still want me there?” She asks, just to be sure. “Don’t be stupid C, we all make mistakes.”

“Oh yes, and tonight I am planning to make a whole lot more.” Fat Amy says with a devious grin, Maddie joining in instantaneously.  

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute oneshot in which Smoke effortlessly captures everyone’s heart. (Rating G/T?, low fantasy AU and pure fluff, ~4.8k words) - written for @nutbrain​ who so very kindly chose to indulge me in my suggestion of using this supernatural partner generator for a prompt :) Also, this is my reply to your most recent entry in the kindness war! I hope you like it 💖💖💖

.

It’s four weeks into the semester and Mark is already homesick.

This is significant in that he couldn’t wait to move out for a variety of reasons, first and foremost because he’ll suddenly have the freedom to stay out as long as he likes, he can drink and party and invite people over; he’ll be outside of his mum’s jurisdiction. He enjoys this as well as no longer being required to tread on eggshells around his dad, watch his every step and make sure the right words come out of his mouth – he catches himself doing the same thing with some of his roommates sometimes, backpedals and promises to do chores he usually hates, which they know, he’s mentioned it before. Only one of them, a Scotsman, refuses to allow him to pile on more than he can handle and often helps out as well. Seamus never mentions Mark’s skittish behaviour and he’s quietly grateful for it.

Even so, a large part of him wants to go back home. Or rather: wishes he was back in school, saw his friends every day, breezed through homework, had a lot of time left over to read, research, tinker. He didn’t have to worry about what he eats each day, and as much as his mum’s prying felt smothering, it was nice to have someone who genuinely cared about whatever was going on with him. So far, he hasn’t managed to make proper friends yet, people with whom he can hang out without worrying about being a nuisance, people in whose presence he doesn’t necessarily have to talk to feel accepted – and thus he socialises a worrying amount and has started waking up dreading all interaction he’ll have to go through that day.

Uni itself is much better, though he’ll have to negotiate a lot in order to get into more advanced courses, yet he believes his marks will speak for themselves. It’s largely stuff he’s known about for years, to a point where none of the professors call on him anymore and barely anyone bothers to read through his homework before awarding it full points. He’s begun smuggling nonsensical sentences into it and finds great joy in presenting his excursion about Lovecraft’s cat to Seamus later, surrounded by technical jargon. All he earns are weary sighs but he has the impression the other man is amused nonetheless.

No, his studies are what keep him here but he pictured moving out a little more glamorous than finding gross leftover food all around the shared kitchen and living room, than hearing his dormmates come home even later than he does and throw up noisily, than struggling to find time for himself in between all of what he has to do himself now: cooking, doing his laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, all the kinds of shopping his helicopter mum made redundant with her mother hen behaviour. His allowance barely covers the basics but with all the extra courses he’s elected to take, he doesn’t have time for a job either – and first semesters aren’t yet allowed to work at the faculty, despite him being more than capable to correct his fellow students’ homework. Though he’d probably go insane over how… simple some of them are.

This evening is no different to any other, he’s scraped together a meal from leftovers, dodged a conversation with a dormmate by claiming there’s a report he has to finish and is now holed up in his room, chatting with a school friend on his laptop and poring over the unintuitive garbage that is quantum physics, when loud voices suddenly shrill from the hallway. He disregards the commotion as it’s obviously not his problem, yet when there’s an insistent knock on his door the next minute, he heaves a sigh, gets up and opens.

He was not at all prepared for the sight presenting itself.

There’s a massive black dog politely sitting directly in front of his door, ears perked up attentively and tail wagging like mad as if it’s been expecting him or being reunited with him after months, if not years – its fur is shiny and short, its face undeniably mean and a mixture of all dog breeds which are notorious for their violent reputation, and all over its body are indications of past fights: scars, half of one ear is missing, marks around its snout and thin, hairless stripes on its flank. Its eyes are wholly black. This isn’t even all, though, it looks as if it’s run wild in a supermarket as it’s wearing a collar of toilet paper, has a lollipop stuck to its fur and a dusting of white powder covering its shoulder, not to mention the wet paws which might’ve stepped in… strawberry jam?

Mark resists the urge to make a sudden movement and proceeds to stare the animal down, frozen in shock until Seamus’ large frame appears in the small hallway linking all their rooms, looking apologetic and just as clueless as Mark himself feels. “Sorry, just – don’t let him in. I have no idea where he came from, someone knocked at our door and he weaved his way in. He seems to like you though.” He reaches out and tries to pet the head yet the dog leans away from him almost in disgust. “Won’t let anyone touch him but seems friendly enough.”

“I’m – I don’t like large dogs”, Mark murmurs, still transfixed by the dog’s gaze. It – he? – is still staring at him fondly, so he decides to take the risk and cautiously extends a hand. He’s interacted with enough dogs to know the procedure even though dogs this size (and it’s almost as big as a Great Dane) still leave him nervous; an emotion he tries not to show in case the animal senses weakness. He needn’t have worried, all the dog does is licking his hand devotedly, and when he gingerly moves to pet him, the dog cranes its neck towards his touch, happily accepting it.

“Well”, says Seamus, lifting a brow, “he seems to like you. Maybe you can get him to follow you and find out who his owner is.”

Tentatively, Mark removes the toilet paper and checks for a collar, all the while getting his entire arm licked, yet there’s nothing. “He looks well fed and – alright, yes, I get it, but please stop licking me – stop.” And the dog stops, tail continuously wagging.

Seamus blinks at him. “Looks like this is your responsibility now”, he shrugs and turns to walk away.

Fighting down unease at being left alone with a strange, huge dog, Mark hovers for a few seconds and then decides he should at least make sure the floor doesn’t end up stickier than it has to. “Let’s wash your paws first and then walk around a little, alright?” It might’ve been his body language or the word ‘walk’, but the dog gets up instantly and moves out of the way, allowing him to lead him to the bathroom where he eagerly steps into the shower. He’s surprisingly obedient and not at all nervous, so Mark’s worries fade the more he interacts with him. He’s actually… kinda cute.

Getting attached is useless, however, pets aren’t allowed in his dorm and he wouldn’t want to take care of an animal this size anyway – as much as he loves dogs –, so keeping him is completely out of the question. He quickly rinses off the jam with warm water and laughs when the dog willingly lifts each paw in succession, repeating the action when Mark towels them dry gently, then he carefully removes the lollipop out of his fur. He has to adjust his opinion: he’s adorable.

“Let’s go”, Mark announces and the tail goes into overdrive.

.

His search ends up futile. A lot of the people living in the same building have noticed the dog waiting outside trying to get in, only to slip past a few absent-minded students and wreak havoc by running around excitedly. All of them reported having the impression the animal was looking for something or maybe someone, and expressed their surprise at him now happily trailing alongside Mark, apparently having switched personality completely. Not once does he run off or require Mark to tell him to stay, he follows and sits down by his side whenever he stops for more than a few seconds. In a few instances, he even laid down on Mark’s feet, a warm, heavy weight.

Eventually, he seeks out his landlord who lives a few doors down as he’s at a loss. The middle-aged man receives him with his usual aura of distractedness and barely glances at the large dog accompanying one of his tenants. “I don’t know what to do, call animal control or ask around at shelters, maybe bring him to a vet so they can check for a chip?”, Mark closes his report of what’s been happening and ignores the low whine coming from the creature perched next to him.

“A vet is probably your best bet, yes”, his landlord mumbles into his beard while sorting through the mess of papers on his desk, “what kind of -” As soon as he lays eyes on the animal for the first time, he pauses, momentarily silent, and then suggests: “Actually, why don’t you keep him?”

Mark frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Doesn’t that sound like an excellent idea? Yes, keep him. I’m giving you permission and if anyone wants to complain, send them to me.”

Thoroughly confused now, Mark leaves while looking up the nearest vet. The trip is short enough, so he decides to walk, not even bothering with a makeshift lead, and fights down astonishment at how easily the dog trots along, long legs keeping up with him effortlessly and with a spring in their step. Other pedestrians throw him curious glances and some switch sides as to avoid passing him by, yet instead of feeling vaguely alien upon walking down these unfamiliar streets, the animal by his side somehow lifts his spirits.

There is no chip and no other indication of ownership, unsurprisingly. Mark almost expected this result. The vet points out that the scars and other markings are more vicious than most of the ones he’s seen in his lifetime, unusual in their severity and location, and oddly enough seemed not to have impeded the dog’s trust. He struggles a little but ultimately allows the vet to touch him all over, tail drooping and ears laid back, though both rise again as soon as they’re done and Mark strokes over his flank while telling him what a good boy he’s been, causing the dog to swipe a few things off a counter with its tail.

The vet also advises him to keep him, though he additionally makes a few suggestions as to food, exercise, bed and all the other things Mark will have to buy to properly take care of a pet which appeared out of thin air but seems adamant on staying.

Once he’s back in his dorm and sits down at his desk to look up what to do in case of sudden dog ownership, the unwanted guest curls up by his feet and sighs contentedly. He really is quite cute and despite his size, Mark is beginning to enjoy his company. On a whim, he decides to snap a few photos which turn out strangely blurry, as if the loveable idiot was moving too fast despite lying down, and sends them to a few friends and acquaintances to ask them for their opinions.

Literally every single one of them wants to know whether he can keep the dog – and only one of them comments on the bad quality of the pictures, asking whether that’s smoke coming out of the dog’s eyes.

“You’re not smoking, are you?”, Mark addresses the creature which barely fits under his desk and notices he never properly got rid of what he assumes to be flour on the fur, giving it a dull grey colour. “How do you like the name Smoke?”

And the dog peers up at him and lazily wags his tail.

.

He keeps him. Of course he does, how could he not? Smoke is the friendliest dog he’s ever met – at least towards him – and adorably affectionate on top, always wanting to touch him in some way and refusing to leave his side. Mark now knows better than to lock him out of the bathroom unless he wants to endure ceaseless high-pitched whining and crying again, and he only lasts two days until the sad face Smoke gives him upon him insisting he’s not allowed on the bed wins against his principles. He’s glad he ended up giving in: sleeping next to a large body feels nice and actually makes him look forward to an early end of the day, and waking up next to one is even better. Smoke is a reliable source of heat and never fails to brighten up his day with his antics.

This is one of the reasons why Mark never winces when buying expensive dog food for which he refrained from getting his favourite tea or that book he was looking forward to read, why he goes outside even when it’s pouring just so Smoke can frolic and jump from puddle to puddle: because he’s almost become a friend at this point. Mark teaches him to fetch a towel when he’s done showering, to roll over and play dead, to wait outside shops, yet there are so many more things he picks up without needing to be taught. He wakes Mark up one morning after he slept through his alarm, pulls on his trouser leg with his teeth when he’s just about to walk over a red light and brings him his handheld console whenever he’s in a bad mood. His intelligence is… worrying at times, if he’s honest, but then it’s still not all of what Smoke does.

It’s almost as if he’s trying to make him laugh sometimes. Mark watches him go around the lecture hall one day and surreptitiously pull everyone’s shoelaces open. He barks exactly once during a pause in a really boring seminar and makes everyone jump, after which he seems very pleased with himself. Strangely enough, he seems to pretend to be scared of small dogs, much to everyone’s amusement, and even jumps into Mark’s arms once for maximum effect. Apart from that, he’s obsessed with food, has walked into a lamp post because he watched after someone carrying a pizza, has stolen fries off of people’s tables several times, and somehow always manages to convince strangers to pass him a bite.

Even so, he’s wonderful and endearing and somehow able to get in everywhere because all it takes is one look at him and people allow Mark to bring him in, no matter whether it’s at uni or even a supermarket. He tries not to abuse this power too much but has to admit knowing his dog is watching him protectively warms his heart. Smoke is ridiculously attached to him, only allows Mark to pet him and sometimes displays openly possessive behaviour if he feels anyone is getting a little too close. Whenever Seamus and Mark share the couch, Smoke insists on sitting between them; he never growls or even gets violent, merely stares perceived rivals down – only humans, never other dogs.

He’s in between lectures when he gets the text, doesn’t have to switch halls and thus doodles a little on his notes while he waits, looking up when his phone buzzes on his table. Smoke is dozing next to him, stretched out on the linoleum and ignoring all the curious gazes he earns by students filing in or out of the room. No one has ever complained about his presence though most people avoid him, supposedly due to his admittedly scary appearance which by now is a source of comfort for Mark. He feels safe around him, and since Smoke basically never leaves him alone, he’s always safe.

When he checks his messages, he has to chuckle at the photo sent to him from a childhood friend of his. They grew apart over the years but kept in contact still, and apparently they still find memorabilia from the time they were almost family. No idea why I still have this, the words on his screen read, you don’t even celebrate Christmas. Did Miss Hargreaves make you write it anyway? The image itself sparks no recognition, it’s likely Mark wrote and then forgot it at his friend’s place as it holds no personal value, but it’s an interesting remnant from his past nonetheless – especially under recent circumstances.

“Hey Smoke, listen to this”, he addresses the dog by his feet, amused. Smoke huffs and slowly gets up to sit down next to him, ears pointing up and clearly listening. “I wrote this as a child: Dear Satan, I wish for a floofy smal dog for xmas. I promise I will be good. – Mark.”

The dark eyes are fixed on him expectantly.

“Isn’t that cute? I bet my teacher wasn’t best pleased about that first misspelling. But even if he was late, he at least delivered.” And when Mark strokes over the animal’s chest, Smoke winks at him.

.

Too early the next morning, Mark wakes up to an otherwise empty bed. Reaching out, the other side of it is still warm, so Smoke can’t be far yet the door was closed previously – and it’s still closed now. There are only two possible explanations, and one of them involves someone quietly breaking in and abducting his dog, so he’d prefer the one in which Smoke learnt how to open and close doors without anyone teaching him. Even if this meant he’s got a hyperintelligent pet, it’s definitely still his favourite.

Groggily, he pulls on some trousers and a shirt and steps out into the hallway connecting the bedrooms of his dormmates, none of which are lit – yet the kitchen further down is. Maybe Smoke also learnt how to turn on the light. In that case Mark should really consider dropping out of university to show off and train his dog’s abilities.

When he opens the door, there’s a naked bloke he’s never seen before awkwardly perched on a chair and eating dog food off a plate without using his hands or any other utensil.

Mark stares.

As soon as the guy notices him, he halts and drops the pellet currently between his lips back onto the table. “I can explain”, he mumbles with his mouth full and Mark almost gags. “But don’t freak out.”

“I’m very close to freaking out”, he tells the stranger earnestly and drops his gaze to the very prominent scars on the man’s side. Huh. Odd. “Have you seen my dog?”

The bloke hesitates. “Well”, he starts out sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. “I mean…”

On second thought, most of the scars featured on the man’s body are very familiar. So are the dark hair and the weirdly black eyes and this is absolutely impossible. Mark doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He feels his brows rise the longer he stares at this… being and briefly considers doubting his own memory, yet there’s a simple test he can perform to be sure. “Don’t move”, he grits out, briskly walks back to his room to fetch his phone and snaps a picture of the … appearance once he’s returned again. It turns out blurry. He has the impression of wisps of smoke curling up from where the person’s eyes are supposed to be.

Empirical evidence can be faulty and flawed, he knows this, and yet it’d explain quite a few things, so he’s willing to at least entertain the thought for the moment. “Alright”, he announces and sounds a lot more sane than he feels, “hit me. Explain away.”

“We got your letter – well, a copy, but I’m not going to go into details. My boss didn’t care but I did, so I waited until you really needed me. And now I’m here. I briefly forgot about this form of mine because I got so caught up in chasing pigeons and letting you pet me, but when you reminded me of where I’m from, I thought I’d give it a try”, the man elaborates proudly. “We can communicate better like this! So what would you like to talk about?”

Smoke’s human face does something uncanny and Mark realises he’s trying to smile. Instead, he’s mostly just showing off his teeth in an intimidating grimace. “Your boss”, he repeats weakly and gets a nod. “Have I sold my soul then? How does this work?”

“No such thing as a soul, or at least not the way you might see it. No, I’ll just stay by your side until you die and then go back. I’m going to miss you, I already know it. You’re funny and smart and kind and I like it when you scratch my butt. Do you think you could do it -”

“Absolutely not”, Mark interrupts him before he can finish the thought and rubs his temple, mentally summarising all he just learnt: he’s the proud owner of his very personal hell hound who only just discovered his vague human side and might be able to transform at will. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep him, not after knowing he’s shared a bed with – with this. Which reminds him. “By the way, were you sentient this whole time? As in… do you remember all -” He trails off when Smoke nods excitedly. Shit.

“I remember everything I’ve done, from eating all the chalk in a classroom and then barfing it out later to peeing all over that one guy you didn’t like and who wouldn’t leave you alone. I thought about eating his hand but you would’ve been mad, so I didn’t.” Yes, alright, those weren’t the things Mark is concerned about but it answers his worried inquiry. So… this decidedly questionable-looking fellow was hidden behind a cuddly exterior all this time, meaning… “If that’s what you’re referring to, I remember you wanking a whole lot as well.”

Okay, yeah, that was indeed what he - “I’m taking you to a shelter tomorrow.”

Horrifyingly enough, Smoke starts pouting. “You tried, once. I only had to whine and give you my best puppy dog eyes to change your mind.”

“True, but I didn’t know you were a demon mutt back then. I won’t hesitate now.”

“But you made a wish to have me!”

“Plenty of families abandon unwanted pets mere months later.”

“Alright. But consider this.” Smoke lifts a hand and lets a small flame appear above his palm, sending Mark into a panic.

“Are you insane? Turn that off, there’s a bloody smoke detector in here! I’m not getting caught talking to a naked bloke in the middle of the night.” Sadly, Smoke stops his magic trick and suddenly looks so lost and forlorn that Mark almost feels bad. “Congrats, you can conjure up fire, how is that useful to me? Have you ever noticed a single instance where I’d need this in my everyday life? Look, after knowing what you are now, I don’t think this can continue, even if you go back to your dog form. It’s just – it’s creepy, I’ve been sleeping in one bed with a dude I don’t even know. Please just leave me alone.” The words come out harsher than he intended.

“I can promise you never to take on this form again”, Smoke suggests meekly, missing the point entirely.

“But you’ll still be aware of everything. Can’t you see how fucking weird that is? Imagine I put a collar on you.” Judging by Smoke’s expression, he’s imagining it now and only solidifies Mark’s decision to get rid of him. “Look, I’m sad this has to end as well, but you can’t stay.”

“Have I not been a good boy?”

Fucking hell. “Please just stop talking, I don’t – you’re my dog.”

“Yes, and I love you.”

Mark pauses.

The words are unexpected, just like the air of innocence accompanying them: Smoke might as well be a talking animal at this point with how lovingly he’s returning Mark’s gaze, his entire demeanour naive and trusting and he’s painfully reminded of the day they met. Once more, he’s opened the door to a creature ready to devote its life towards chasing away his loneliness. He doesn’t need to talk to Smoke to feel accepted, his presence alone awards him with confidence and the feeling of belonging somewhere. And maybe it goes both ways. He’s thinking back to the weeks before he got his dog, and… going back to that isn’t a promising prospect.

Even so. Is he prepared to care for a shapeshifting demonic dog whose intelligent and, at times, jealous behaviour makes a lot more sense in hindsight?

“A few days. No more”, he announces and can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. Smoke can’t either from the looks of it, yet their sentiments behind it are quite different. “I’ll see how it works out, but if it doesn’t, you’re leaving. Alright?”

“Yes! Thank you, you’re the best.” And when Smoke who is still very much naked jumps into his arms in celebration, wraps his limbs around him while excitedly licking his face with a tongue smelling strongly of dog food, Mark considers whether he’s just made a huge mistake.

.

He keeps him. Of course he does, how could he not? Smoke is the friendliest hell hound he’s ever met – though to be fair, he’s only met one so far, meaning his bar is set quite low. He’s adorably affectionate, always wanting to touch him in some way and refusing to leave his side, though he now knows better than to shove his snout in Mark’s crotch in either of his shapes if he doesn’t want to be locked out of the bathroom. Mark only lasts two days until the puppy dog eyes of Smoke’s animal form win against his principles of not letting him on the bed once more, and it’s a mere week until Smoke is allowed to do so as a human. Ultimately, Mark can’t complain about having given in: sleeping next to a slim body feels nice and actually makes him look forward to an early end of the day, and waking up next to one is even better. Smoke is a reliable source of heat and never fails to brighten up his day with his antics.

This is one of the reasons why Mark never once winces when Smoke sets the kitchen on fire with the help of their microwave or toaster, why Mark interrupts his studies either to bombard his new roommate with detailed questions about his origin or world views or to explain purely human concepts to him which he finds difficult to grasp: because he’s become a friend at this point. Granted, he’ll have to get used to the fact that all cigarettes around him basically explode into flames since, ironically, Smoke hates the smell of them, or all the ways Smoke subtly messes with his flatmates to get them to do their chores (they end up looking quite surprised without eyebrows), but he doesn’t think it’ll be a problem. Sometimes, he doesn’t even notice whether he’s burying his hand in soft fur or soft hair and which kind of mouth is currently drooling on his jeans in contentment.

Smoke is wonderful and endearing as well as ridiculously attached to him. And knowing he’s got someone to watch his back no matter what warms his heart.

They never speak of his arbitrary deadline again, instead Smoke remains by his side, switching from one version of himself to the next fluidly and accompanying Mark wherever he goes. Mark does, however, raise a different point in the midst of scribbling down homework at his desk: “My parents don’t like dogs.”

Smoke, stretched out on the bed with Mark’s phone mere inches away from dark eyes, intently staring at the vibrant screensaver his owner purposely put on for him so he can marvel at all the colours, seems untroubled. “You’re living on your own, they have no say. Right?”

“Well, we’re going back during the break.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I can make anyone love me”, comes the carefree reply, followed by Smoke lifting his leg and absent-mindedly trying to scratch his side with his foot.

Mark watches him struggle awkwardly for a good thirty seconds before he remembers that he possesses hands. Once Smoke has accidentally smacked himself in the face with the phone due to letting go of it with both hands simultaneously, Mark states: “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I know.” And then turns back to his work with a smile playing on his lips.

[diinofayce]

Personal Training

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader | Word Count: 3,080 (cause I’m a wordy bitch) | Warnings: SMUT! 18+ DO NOT READ IF NOT 18+!! , Wrist tying, Choking, Metal Hand Fetishizing, Language, A little bit of Bucky thigh action, um. yeah.

“Come on, doll, I know you’re better than this,” Bucky taunted as he lunged at you, leading with a knee aimed at your abdomen and reaching out for your shoulders to pull you in. You push his knee down with both your hands and spin to catch his flesh arm in a lock, flipping him over with a soft grunt. Releasing him and aiming a stomp to his ribs, he rolled out of the way getting his feet under him and bouncing back up into a standing position.

You jump back on the balls of your feet, hands raised by your cheek bones, elbows protecting your ribcage as you wait for his next move. Bucky has had you on the defensive for the last ten minutes and while all of your years of mixed martial arts training has given a good boost to your endurance it was nothing compared to super soldier serum. Sweat was running in rivulets down your neck and soaking the back of your tank top while Bucky was barely breathing heavy.

“You’re the one that can’t land a hit, Barnes,” you taunt back, quickly swiping a bead of sweat from your forehead before it found it’s way into your eye. Bucky took that moment of distraction to sweep low, going for your ankles. You manage to lift one, kicking out at his face, but he blocks your foot and hooks one foot behind your knee while pushing at your ankle with the other foot - dropping you to your stomach. Keeping your leg wrapped up in his feet he rolls on top of you, wrapping his metal arm around your throat while pushing down on the back of your head with his flesh hand. Releasing your leg he pushes his toes into the mat on either side of your body and pushes his chest forward into your back.

The cold metal of Bucky’s arm against your throat and his body pressed against yours causes you to flush, you feel heat rake through your body and a small moan unwillingly escapes your lips. A sound that Bucky could hear even if he didn’t have super soldier hearing. You bite your lip and tap on his arm in surrender and he rolls off you. You take a breath to get yourself under control and force yourself to your feet. You turn to face Bucky in a fighting stance again but he’s just staring at you with a smirk and his hands on his hips.

“What was that?” Bucky asked mischievously.

“The sound of you squashing me and forcing all the air out of my lungs?” You quip back, the lie coming out too desperate.

“Uh-huh. Okay,” Bucky accepted, taking his fighting position.

You wasted no time in moving forward. A jab, punch, left hook combo that was all easily blocked, but you let the force of your blocked hook spin you into a turn back side kick to Bucky’s ribs that landed with a solid thump. Bucky grunted slightly and grabbed your foot, hooking his other hand under your upper thigh - a little too close to personal areas, causing you to tense - and lifted you into the air, spinning you so you landed on your back forcing the wind from your lungs. Bucky followed your descent, landing with his knee pressed against your core and his flesh hand wrapped around your throat. You couldn’t help the loud moan that fell from your lips or your hip bucking against his thick thigh. The blush that rose to your cheeks was furious and the smirk that graced his face was world ending. You planted a knee against his chest and threw him off you.

“Okay, good training session. See you later,” you barked quickly and full out sprinted from the gym.

As soon as you were in your apartment you immediately slammed into your bathroom and turned on the hot water, hoping to soak your sore muscles and steam out your over imaginative mind. Stripping of your clothes and hopping into the hot water you sighed as it washed over your skin and soothed the tension from your body. However it did nothing to relieve you of the thoughts of Bucky and his metal arm pinning you down and his wonderfully muscled thighs pressed against your core. You found your fingers trailing down your stomach and down to your cunt, rubbing a steady rhythm against your clit. You leaned back against the cool tile of your shower and brought your other hand to your chest, twisting your left nipple harshly as you slide one finger inside your heat.

“Fuck,” you moan loudly, feeling secure in your apartment. “God, Bucky, just like that,” you continue, imagining Bucky’s metal fingers inside you, stroking you to climax. Sliding another finger into your cunt you pick up the speed on your clit and you can feel the coil that was already strung so tight from training with Bucky fit to snap. A curl of fingers against your g-spot had you screaming Bucky’s name at your orgasm and sliding down the wall to let the water wash away the evidence of your activity. Sighing in content you stand on slightly shaking legs and proceed to wash yourself off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a large, fluffy blue towel. Securing it around your breasts you grab a small towel to wring out your hair.

Stepping out of the bathroom you stop dead in your tracks at a the sight of James Buchanan Barnes sitting on the foot of your bed, a shit eating grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You shriek, your voice going up at least two octaves.

Bucky licked his lips, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth, as he stood and stalked over to you looking at you like he was hunting you to devour you. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to do some more private training,” he answered coyly, backing you up until you were pressed against your wall. “From the sounds of it, though, you might have taken care of it all on your own.”

He pinned you to the wall, both his arms on either side of your head, the afternoon sun reflecting off the gold in his vibranium arm. Your heart was beating a hundred beats a minute and from the way his eyes kept flicking from your lips to your chest to your eyes, you knew he could hear it. The spice of Bucky’s cologne mixed with the musk from the workout in the gym filling your senses causing moisture to pool between your legs.

“But I wouldn’t argue to actually being present when you scream my name,” Bucky continued, leaning in and barely grazing his lips up the side of your neck. You shuddered underneath him and could feel his lips twist up into a smirk. His lips came to rest on the outer shell of your ear. “Do you want this?” he whispered huskily, pressing his thigh against your core. You bit your lip and whimpered before nodding, rocking your hips against him involuntarily.

Bucky’s metal hand came down on your hip to still your movement. “I need words, doll. Do you want this?” He asked forcefully. You knew you probably shouldn’t be doing this, it was probably in the code of ethics somewhere for the Avengers and you knew that if you said no that Bucky would walk away and that would be the end of it. But you wanted it, you wanted him so bad and you couldn’t find yourself caring if there was fallout from your team.

“Yes. Yes, Bucky, I want this. I want you,” you responded breathlessly and he rocked your hips against him in response.

“What’s the safe word?” Bucky asked, teeth lightly grazing from your ear to the muscle on the side of your neck.

“Pineapple,” you moaned and you felt him pull away to look at you. Opening your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them, and looking into his confused you blue eyes you felt yourself flush. “I’m allergic to pineapple,” you explained sheepishly. He chuckled softly before taking your thighs in his hands and lifting you up. You squeak in surprise and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Bucky turns and tosses you on the bed, staring hungrily at your legs and where your towel has ridden up your thighs barely covering your decency.

Bucky tugs at the thick drawstring of his sweat pants until it comes out of the waistband entirely. “Hands up doll,” he commands and you comply without question. He carefully threads the drawstring around the rungs of your bed frame and wrist with a slip knot. Bucky slid a finger in between the string and your wrists to make sure it wasn’t too tight - he wouldn’t normally use something like yarn, but in a pinch it would do fine.

Bucky slid both hands down the length of your arms and body, settling on your hips. His fingers dug into the material of the towel that was barely wrapped around you and leaned down his lips were millimeters from yours. His blue eyes were dark with lust as they bore into yours before he pressed his lips to yours. They were soft in comparison to the scratch of his beard on his cheeks and he kissed you with a hunger of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. Cold air suddenly enveloped your body as Bucky pulled the towel off of you, throwing it to the other side of the bed. The sudden exposure made your nipples twist and harden and burst of warmth to coat your inner thighs.

Bucky pulled away from you and raked his fingers over your body. You blushed at the vulnerable position you were in, him fully dressed and you tied up naked under him. “What should I do with you?” Bucky hummed, more to himself than you as he brushed both his calloused and metal fingers over your pert nipples causing you to gasp at the difference in temperature between his hands, back arching off the bed to increase contact. “You want it that bad, doll?” Bucky asked and dipped his head, sucking your left nipple into his mouth. He rolled it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth before switching to the right side with a pop.

He trailed hard and sloppy kisses down your stomach, taking time to bite gently at your belly button. He placed a soft kiss on your pubic mound and then skipping your cunt entirely to kiss the inside of your thighs. You moaned in want and bucked your hips, causing him to place a firm hand on your hip bone and push you back down into the mattress. “You’re so slick for me already, baby girl, I can feel the heat coming off of you.”

Bucky ran his metal hand up your thigh and cupped your core causing you to shiver and clench. “Tell me what you want, baby girl,” Bucky demanded giving the inside of your thigh and firm bite, knowing it would bruise.

You gasped and strained against the hand on your hip, your fingers wrapping around the draw string desperately. “I want you to fuck me,” you reply. “With your metal fingers.” You feel Bucky smirk against your thigh.

“Such a kinky little thing, my baby girl is, gettin’ turned on by my arm. Is that all you want?” He asked as he coated his fingers in your slick and slid one between your folds to press at your opening. He rubbed you in tight, teasing circles as he waited for your response.

“I want you to suck on my clit,” you moaned. You were begging at this point, you were so close to cumming again and he hadn’t even really done anything to you yet.

Bucky hummed in affirmation and pressed his finger inside of you as his tongue flicked out over your clit. You moaned in pleasure, trying to keep your hips still like he wanted. You threw your head back in ecstasy as he used his hand on your hip to grind you against his mouth. He slid another finger in as he sucked your bundle of nerves between his plush lips. He took his mouth from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact, the fire in your belly growing to an intense flame.

“Look at me, baby doll. I want you to look at me when you come apart,” Bucky demanded and you forced your eyes open to look down at him. He lowered his mouth back to you and gave you a hard suck as he curled his fingers against your g-spot expertly. It only took a few strokes and him raking his teeth gently over your clit to have you cumming, his name falling like a prayer from your lips, Bucky removed his fingers to replace them with his tongue. He drank all you had to offer and licked you clean before moving up and capturing your lips with his again. The taste of you on his tongue made you moan in his mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” Bucky praised reaching up and pulling the string free from your wrists. You let your arms fall to his waist and pull on the hem of his shirt.

“You’re such an over dressed boy,” you respond cheekily.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you before reaching behind him, grabbing his shirt and pulling it off. You let your hands rove over the planes of muscle on his chest and hummed in appreciation. He chuckled and flipped you over at the waist. You hear him removing his sweat pants and taking position behind you.

“Did you like it when I choked you, doll?” Bucky asked as he ran his metal hand up your spine.

“Yes.” You shivered and raised your ass a little in the air. A sharp smack and quick smart of pain flared from your left buttock before he kneaded the pain away. You gasped and felt moisture pool between your legs again, rubbing your thighs together slightly to gain some friction.

“None of that,” Bucky said shoving your legs apart with his knee. “You get punished for doing things like that without permission.” Another smack came to your ass and you moaned, burying your face in your pillow. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up. “I want to hear you moan, baby girl.” He spanked you again, kneading the pain away as your moans filled the room.

A tearing sound came from behind you and you peeked over your shoulder to see Bucky tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. He winked at you as he rolled it on, you couldn’t see his length from this angle and were anxious to feel him inside you. He placed his flesh hand firmly at your waist and let go of your hair so he could guide himself to you. Rubbing his head up and down your folds to add your slick to the lube of the condom, you moaned and tried to push against him, but his hand held you firm. He entered you slowly, he was so thick that you didn’t know if you could stretch any wider and you kept waiting for him to bottom out. Bucky took his time, letting you adjust as he went and by the time he did bottom out, his pubic hair brushing your ass, you were panting.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I need you to relax a little, you’re so god damn tight,” Bucky moaned his fingers clamping down on your hips so tight you knew they’d leave bruises. You took a breath and flexed yourself around him causing him to hiss in pleasure. His metal hand pulled you up by your hair again to get you onto your forearms before he snaked his hand around to clamp over your throat.

Bucky pulled out to his tip before pushing into you hard to the hilt. The hard thrusts paired with his vibranium hand around your throat had you seeing stars. “You’re so fucking wet, baby girl. So hot and wet for me,” Bucky groaned. You would expect him talking dirty about you like he was to embarrass you, but it just made you more turned on.

“Fuck, Bucky, Jesus fuck,” you screamed as he slammed into you over and over. He moaned your name in response as his hand on your hip clamped down ever harder, his thrusting rhythm becoming erratic.

“I need you to come with me, baby girl,” Bucky moaned leaning down and biting a mark into your shoulder.

“I’m so close, Bucky,” you answered, your walls already fluttering against his cock. He pulled you up and against his chest as the hand on your hip moved around you to your clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he thrust up into you. One of your hands reached back to tangle and pull at his long locks while you laced your fingers with his metal ones at your throat - coaxing him to squeeze just a little tighter.

The coil in you snapped once again, your cunt clamping down on Bucky’s cock as your orgasm ripped through you. You dug your nails into Bucky’s scalp and ground down against him and with a strangled cry Bucky emptied himself into the condom. He released his hold on your throat slowly and carefully as he peppered soft kisses across your shoulder. You hummed happily and curled a lock of his hair around your fingers lazily. Bucky removed himself from you with a grunt and pulled the condom off, tying it up and disposing it in the waste bin by your bed.

Bucky laid down on his side and pulled your back against his chest, brushing your hair off your shoulder so he could press his face against your bare neck making you giggle as he tickled you with his scruffy cheeks. “That was good training,” he muttered against your sweat slicked skin.

“I learned a lot,” you muttered back, playing with the fingers he splayed across your belly. He hummed in agreement and nuzzled into your hair.

“Wanna get dinner in a few hours? Somewhere out of the tower?” Bucky asked.

“After a nap…and maybe round two,” you agreed, looking back and capturing Bucky’s lips tenderly.

[samingtonwilson]

Relationship Tutor: (3) Contemporary Sadism

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: when i wrote this part, i really wanted to go to the taqueria down the street from me and get horchata but i didn’t because im a FOOL. also, the gif below is quite large. i apologize for that but i couldn’t find a smaller one. whatever, he looks good so just forgive me and move on

You walked into your kitchen to find stacks of red cups and bottles of unopened alcohol on each surface, glass bottles of vodka too expensive for university students to afford lying in the freezer alongside dreaded tequila.

The refrigerator was filled with different fruit juices and a few varieties of soda, your sixteen-ounce bottle of grapefruit-mint juice dwarfed by the gallon of Costco brand cranberry juice and orange juice that looked far too bright to be as natural as the label claimed.

You sighed as you bent to pull the clear bottle from the second shelf, frowning at Sam when you stood upright again. “I’m assuming we’re having a party?”

“S’Friday, baby girl!” he practically cheered, his voice thick with an unswallowed bite of cereal. He banged his fist against the table. “Time to get fucked-up.”

“There a reason we’re playing host? Steve and Bucky’s place is more equipped for a party,” you said as you twisted the bottle open and sat across from Sam at the table. “And by that I mean they don’t care if people puke on their furniture or fuck in their beds. Plus their floors are already scuffed up.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you as you took a long sip of juice, stirring his cereal slowly. “If the party wasn’t here, you wouldn’t show up. This way you have no choice.”

You mouthed his words imitatively and sighed, leaning back in your chair so the wooden backrest creaked a bit. “Have you already told everyone?”

“Texted ‘em all last night.”

“So I don’t really have a way out of this, do I?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the “p” with a grin. “Didn’t tell Natasha yet, though.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He shrugged and stood up to place his bowl in the sink, flicking on the sink to fill the porcelain with water. His gaze was on the sink as he shrugged again. “Are you sure you want her here?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Barnes is gonna be here.”

Once you texted Natasha and received a reply, you nodded to yourself and rose to join him at the sink, standing beside him as you leant against the counter’s edge. You reached up to nudge his shoulder with your fingertips so he would let his focus fall from the dish he was washing for a moment. “She isn’t my enemy just because Bucky’s interested in her. We’re still friends and I still love her. I can’t blame her for how Bucky feels.”

“You know how he gets at parties.”

“Yeah, well, he wants to take it slow with her. He only asked me because he doesn’t want to have sex with her right away.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Sadistic as fuck, Y/N.”

You leant towards him, smiling despite yourself. “It’s very flattering to see how concerned you are about me. You sure I’m not your leather jacket, Sampson?”

He snorted, setting the bowl in the dish basket and wiping his hands on a towel. “You ain’t my leather jacket. But you are a pain in my ass.”

“You could just tell me you love me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t have time. I’ve got class in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go learn,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, laughing when he blew you a kiss.

You’d busied yourself in the kitchen while he left, washing and cutting one of the many green apples you had stowed in the bottom drawer of the fridge. You were cutting the fruit in half when the door opened and slammed shut once more. “You forget something, Samington?”

You heard a chuckle that had you setting your knife down. “S’not Sam.”

You squared your shoulders and picked up the knife again, cutting the seeds out of the four segments you’d made. “Don’t you have class right now?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, strolling into your kitchen and casually stealing a portion of the apple to bite into obnoxiously. “Cancelled. Professor’s sick, or missed his train, or something. Didn’t pay attention to whatever the email said beyond, ‘Class, I regret to inform you that I must cancel lecture today.’”

“But you memorized that part of it specifically?”

He hummed, smiling. “It was so emotionally significant, I had no choice but to memorize it.” He glanced around the kitchen, narrowing his eyes. “You guys having a party?”

“Detective Barnes at it again,” you quipped, laughing as he scowled at you. “Sam didn’t text you?”

He shook his head. “Probably texted Steve to tell me. He’s not my biggest fan.”

“Can you blame him? He and Steve were practically joint at the hip before you transferred here.”

Bucky nodded with a frown.

“I mean, I’d probably be living alone had you not transferred. I’d have my own bathroom,” you continued, your voice lilting dreamily. “My own fridge, my own television, a Netflix account used only by me, I probably wouldn’t be awoken by the sound of a different girl’s moaning every weekend.” You cocked an eyebrow. “Why’d you transfer here again?”

He shrugged, opening the freezer and rummaging until he could retrieve a popsicle, popping the plastic wrapper. “I missed Steve.”

“Yeah? S’cute,” you smiled, ruffling his hair as you passed him.

He smiled back and shook his head, biting half the popsicle off in one go. “Less cute, more co-dependent. I grew up with the punk needing me and as soon as he moves away, I find myself needing him.”

“That’s somehow even cuter,” you cooed, shooting a grin to him over your shoulder while he followed you to the couch. “Little, scrawny Steve being protected by little Bucky against the ruffians on the schoolyard.”

“Ruffians?” he asked with a snort. As soon as he sat, he pulled your legs onto the sofa cushions and placed them in his lap. “We grew up with him instigating fights with guys twice our age and weight— not in the nineteen-thirties.”

You found yourself looking away from the amusement in his eyes, trying to control your breathing when his free hand toyed with your fuzzy socks. “So are you coming tonight?”

“Will you be here?”

You nodded, sitting back against the armrest behind you and tipping your nose towards the ceiling with your eyes shut. “Don’t really have a choice.”

After tossing the popsicle stick onto the coffee table, his fingers wrapped around your ankles while his thumbs rubbed comforting circles against your skin. “We could escape, go to that taqueria you’re obsessed with for some horchata.”

You smiled despite the hammering in your chest. “You sure about that? Nat’ll be here.”

He didn’t reply until you lifted your head to meet his gaze. He smiled softly and shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t want you staying here for my benefit.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Buck. I would’ve been stuck here regardless.” You took your legs from him and folded them under you. “Sam said he only took the responsibility of throwing a party so I’d actually show up. Helping you would just be killing two birds with one stone.”

“Good because I was thinking we need to get a move on.”

You snorted. “Was all that considerate crap just an act, Barnes?”

He gasped in mock offense. “I would never.”

Laughing through your nose, you shook your head. “I was thinking we should get a move on, too. Nat’s probably forgotten you by now.”

It’d been a week since your feigned run-in with Natasha. You hadn’t given Bucky any specific instructions on how to follow-up, simply telling him to not act too friendly, too fast. You knew how uncomfortable it made you when people you’d only seen once or twice for five-minutes acted as if you were lifelong friends— it put you off almost permanently. And, seeing as Natasha was one of the only people that could hold a candle to your need for distance and slow progression, you thought it was safe to assume she was similar.

It would take some more time together, some more meaningful exchanges, some more feigned run-ins for Natasha to accept Bucky as someone she was actually familiar with, rather than just a stranger with a name.

He shook his head. “She hasn’t actually.”

“Yeah? And how would you know that?”

“She says hi from time to time. Smiles, waves.”

You frowned in consideration and nodded. “But you haven’t spoken again?”

“Even if you told me I should, I wouldn’t know what to say,” he laughed nervously. “She just— She looks at you in this intense way. It’s intimidating, especially when you haven’t given me a script.”

Your lips resisted the urge to fall into a deep scowl. “I’m not going to be around you all the time, telling you what to say if this does turn into something.”

“I know, I just— I just need your help for now. I lose my nerve around her.”

You looked away from him for a brief moment. “Seems like you’re over whoever it was.”

He smiled in that soft, small way that still managed to reach his eyes. “Not really. Natasha’s insanely hot, but I don’t know her yet. She makes me nervous from how elusive she is.”

“The mystery is very hot and nerve-wracking.”

He hummed. “What’s the next part of this? How do we proceed?”

“I was thinking you should find things you two have in common, reasons you’d be around each other. Common interests, mutual friends, you know? We already know you’re both friends with Sam and I so you two could find yourselves in the same places if they involve me or Sam.”

“What does being in the same places have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of the mere exposure effect?”

When he shook his head, you continued, “It’s basically, like, the more you see something or someone, the more attractive that something or someone becomes to you. It also has to do with proximity— which is another factor in who you’re attracted to. You tend to like people more if you’re closer to them and if you anticipate being close to them often.”

“Aren’t you an English major?”

You nodded. “Psychology minor, but that’s beside the point. Proximity, mere exposure— it’ll make you more attractive to her, as will similarity.”

“What happened to ‘opposites attract’?”

“It works if all you want is to fuck, but you said you wanted something more,” you answered. “Relationships work better when both partners have things in common. Tonight, talk to her to see if you guys have things in common.”

“You could just tell me about things she likes so I can bring them up and tell her I like them when we speak tonight.”

You shook your head and grimaced at him. “I don’t endorse lying.”

He frowned in return. “You endorsed telling her she dropped a pen last week when I was supposed to introduce myself to her.”

“That isn’t the same. I told you to do something that would make for a cute story in the future. This is basically lying about your characteristics and who you are just to make her like you. It’s morally repugnant.”

His frown turned to one of consideration. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, so just talk to her tonight. I’ll be there if you want me to be, just to facilitate things in case it gets awkward or there’s a lull.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

If his grin hadn’t stopped your heart, his leaning towards you to press his lips to your forehead would have.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you inaudibly exhaled, swallowing and pushing at his chest so he fell back against the couch with a small smile. “I have class in a bit but stay as long as you’d like. If you go through my stuff again, I’ll know.”

“That was one time! It was raining and I felt particularly snoopy.”

PART 4: SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 

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