#sour dolls wip

[tallulahchanel]

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 1

Prompt: Write about a first kiss

~~~

When Tasha was old enough to learn about love and romance, her mother told her she would feel a special spark. By that point, James Chase had already stolen a kiss from her at the lake and she felt nothing. Coupling that with the fact they were eight and she only saw him as a friend, she never counted that as a first kiss.

However, Stephen was different. Her feelings for him were real. So when she wrapped her arms around his neck, she was sure that spark would happen with him. She waited for any signs that he was uncomfortable with her actions before standing on her toes to place her lips on his.

He didn’t return the kiss immediately, which almost made her pull away. That was until his arms encircled her waist and pulled her close, warmth could be felt between them. Kissing Stephen’s soft and moisturized lips was nothing like the peck she received from James’s chapped ones, plus she wasn’t feeling as awkward as she did then. She could even hear her heart pounding in her ears.

Soon, the need for air surfaced, and they had to pull away, too soon for Tasha’s liking. As they locked eyes, she noticed his lips shined with her strawberry gloss, making her giggle. “Sorry. I got glitter on your lips.”

“It’s cool.” He chuckled while she raised her thumb to wipe off the gloss, inadvertently caressing his lips and fighting the urge to kiss them again.

“There you go.” She pulled her hand away with a bashful smile before her eyes diverted away from him. “So, does this make us a thing?”

Stephen lifted her chin to turn her eyes back on him. “Do you want us to be?”

“I don’t know,” Tasha said while shrugging to keep her composure cool, worried he’d reject the idea of them being more than just friends. “I wouldn’t be against it.”

When a small smile crossed his lips, she released her breath as he said, “Then we’re a thing.”

Tasha fought back a squeal as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t wait for the girls to hear about this.

Just then, the night sky lit up with colorful bursts of explosive energy, making her gasp.

“They’re so beautiful,” Tasha complimented the fireworks as she gazed up at them with a wide smile.

“Just like you.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words.

[themculibrary]

1940's Masterlist

a mother always knows (ao3) - readergirl1013 steve/bucky T, 16k

Summary: Winifred nods, a small knot of fear wending its way into her heart. He’s so…fixated on the Rogers boy. She swallows around the lump in her throat. Bucky is a good boy from an upstanding Christian family. He’s not like that. It isn’t possible - they’re raising him properly.

He’s just a confused little boy. He likes sports, and playing soldiers and cowboys with the other boys. He says all his prayers, memorized the Pater Noster, Ave Maria, and Gloria Patri, and he goes to catechism twice a week. And he’s bright, good with numbers like his father. He doesn’t try to play with his sisters’ dolls or dresses. He isn’t one of them. He can’t be.

Five times Winifred Barnes suspected her son was one of those sort, one time she knew for sure, and one more time.

a soldier and his fella (ao3) - Gbookworm1737 bucky/tony, peggy/steve M, 16k

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Bucky returns home to after nearly two years of separation from his darling fella Tony. Pleased to have his mate back in his arms and a roof over his head, Bucky is weary to discover that the remnants of war still lingers in his mind. What follows is a tumultuous few months in the harsh winters in Brooklyn and restless nights consisting of nightmares and conflict that pushes Tony and Bucky’s newfound relationship.

christmas eve (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight bucky/tony, peggy/steve M, 10k

Summary: The night before he is shipped out overseas to the war, Alpha!Bucky and finds his soulmate in a night club downtown.

Omega!Tony knows the risks of falling in love with a soldier, but he gives Bucky his heart anyway, then kisses his mate goodbye the next morning with a promise to be waiting every Christmas Eve for Bucky to come home.

The war stretches long and after Bucky is hurt on a mission he returns home to the States not sure if his mate will even still want him.

But it’s Christmas Eve again and Tony has been waiting a long time for his soldier… and this year the Omega has another surprise.

Civilized Society (ao3) - kehinki steve/bucky T, 7k

Summary: Steve didn't want an alpha.

Demobilization (ao3) - 743ish steve/bucky E, 41k

Summary: When the Statue of Liberty slides into view, the whole ship roars. It’s deafening. Bucky throws his fist in the air and yells along with everyone else. His heart is in his throat. The Statue of goddamn Liberty. Bucky wants to climb up her robe and kiss her sour green face.

------

In 1945, Bucky comes home from the war.

Faith (ao3) - indiefic peggy/steve M, 7k (WIP)

Summary: Due to circumstances unknown, Peggy finds herself in a world where Schmidt never existed, Erskine was killed before the start of the war, and there was no Project Rebirth. She's convinced she's entered one of the rings of hell until she stumbles across someone with a familiar face.

His Girl (ao3) - Blondie2000 peggy/steve T, 2k

Summary: Set during Endgame. Steve chose to be with Peggy. How will she react to seeing Captain America back from the dead? And does she want to spend the rest of her life with him?

it don’t mean a thing (ao3) - Just_Bill bucky/tony M, 10k

Summary: Bucky didn’t expect much more than a good salary and a hot meal when working the Stark gala. What he found was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Unfortunately they live in a time where love between men is dangerous and forbidden, and the world is at war.

i was made to love you, darling (ao3) - MacksDramaticShenanigans steve/bucky G, 4k

Summary: The handprint is stark against Steve’s pale, almost translucent skin. It’s big, too, all five fingerprints wrapping around the entirety of his thin upper arm. Steve twists in front of the grimy mirror, holding his arm out at an awkward angle. He bites down on his lower lip and lifts a hand to carefully brush his long fingers over the black smudges.

His skin is buzzing, but it’s not from the marks. Nothing has happened with them since he woke up, there are no new colors dancing across his skin where they were, and he doesn’t expect there to be. Steve doesn’t know if he ever expects there to be, which is part of why he’s buzzing. Too much nervous energy coursing through his veins. He may have finally reached eighteen, but that doesn’t guarantee that he’ll ever actually find his soulmate. Or that he even has one.

Look to the Past to Find Your Future (ao3) - Stuckonstuckony (adoctoraday) bucky/steve/tony E, 46k

Summary: Tony takes a detour to the 40’s after defeating Thanos thinking it’ll just be a quick stop before returning to the future. And then he runs into Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and everything changes.

Malfunctioning Time (ao3) - Kiragirl17 steve/tony, bucky/tony T, 245k

Summary: FemiTony. Time travel. Eventual Steve/Toni. With some Bucky/Toni thrown in there

Trying to forget that today was March 15 and trying to escape the long lecture from Rogers, Toni locks herself in her lab to work on a new project; however, she never expects her unfinished device to misfire and send her back to the sexist 1940's.

Now, completely alone with no resources whatsoever, Toni finds herself struggling to survive on her own, especially when she discovers she's being followed. Unsure of who it is and what they want, she struggles to keep them at bay. To make matters worse, she finds herself on Colonel Phillips' radar. However the worst of it, she has to deal with her Egoist Father, who doesn't get the picture and won't leave her the hell alone.

What a woman to do?

of all the gin joints (ao3) - dracusfyre bucky/tony T, 3k

Summary: Bucky feels like he’s crashing and burning while Steve is soaring like a goddamn all-American bald eagle or something. But as Steve walks off with Agent Carter and leaves Bucky to drink alone, a mysterious stranger decides he wants to kiss him and make it all better.

our beginning (ao3) - ohstars steve/bucky T, 167k

Summary: Set in the twentieth century, this is the story of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Before they became Captain America and the Winter Solider. Before the war. Before the world put all of its weight on their shoulders.

Just two kids trying to get by in the world, and falling in love along the way.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (ao3) - SmolderingFlame steve/bucky E, 90k

Summary: Steve Rogers is the most dangerous man in Brooklyn. Bucky Barnes is the son of an abusive drunk who needs to pay off a serious gambling debt. Just so happens Steve has a thing for pretty brunettes with feisty attitudes.

there's nothing left of you (ao3) - notallbees steve/bucky, peggy/steve, bucky/omc E, 22k

Summary: Bucky’s having a hard time reconciling Captain America with the friend he left behind in Brooklyn. It’s bad enough that every time he closes his eyes he sees the inside of a torture chamber. Now, every time he opens them again, he sees a stranger with Steve Rogers’ eyes and smile.

The Size of Perfection (ao3) - Phoenike steve/bucky E, 31k

Summary: The serum enhances Steve’s physical attributes to peak condition. All of them. Unfortunately, ‘enhanced’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘optimal’ or ‘something that a fella wishes to show the girl of his dreams on their wedding night.’

Through The Open Window (ao3) - 74days steve/bucky E, 28k

Summary: Steve Rogers gave up on joining the army and worked for Stark Industries writing policy letters by hand. It's a dull job, right up until the office across the fire escape is given to an attractive stranger with one arm and no personal boundaries.

War, What is it Good For? (ao3) - Steggy peggy/steve N/R, 3k

Summary: Agent 13 was content. She fought, she worked, she planned. She participated in the war effort to drive the Germans out of Russia. She kept her emotions and impulses in check. Until a kid from Brooklyn made her start questioning herself.

we did not make ourselves (ao3) - M_Leigh steve/bucky G, 25k

Summary: It is like steel, the determination inside of you that tells you you will achieve this, that you will find him. Nothing will stop you. You are two sides of the same coin, you and he: he cannot escape you forever. Bucky runs. Steve follows.

Yes, Captain (ao3) - marlowe_tops steve/bucky E, 23k

Summary: Starts pre-Serum, in which Bucky takes seriously terrible care of himself because he’s trying to stifle the feelings he keeps having for Steve. Steve gets so pissed that he flat out orders Bucky into eating and sleeping and they both quickly realize Bucky loves being ordered around, but their new-forged domestic bliss is quickly damaged by the encroaching war.

[shadesofdeviant]

SO...I thought I'd actually do WIP Wednesday for the first time in a LONG time. And I thought I'd share a bit of my current WIP, my Good Omens x Doctor Who Crossover because I'm super excited about it. I was gonna post a bit smaller than this but I couldn't work out a good place to crop it. I'm enjoying this so much. And I hope everyone else does too. Most of it is beneath a cut cause I'm posting a fair chunk haha.

Tagging those who I know are interested in this: @lauranthalasah and @celestialcrowley I would tag my usual WIP Wednesday buddies but I don't think any of them are Good Omens or Doctor Who fans. 😂 😂 😂 

"Doctor?!" Crowley yelled as he staggered down another endless corridor, cursing softly as the floorboards rippled and rolled beneath him like a shoreline lapping against the sand, the rising crests of the wood giggling like naughty children as they tried to trip him before they ran away up the hallway. As he raised his hands to catch himself against the walls with the heels of his palms, the gold embossed skulls in the centre of the damask pattern wallpaper started to scream in agony, the noise a cacophonous crescendo that built and built until he managed to find his footing and snatched his hands back. “Donna?!” He tried again as he idly tugged at a random door as he passed by. Yet just like the immeasurable number of doors that had gone before it, once again this door failed to bend to Crowley’s will and remained firmly locked in place.

The air inside the toy store was permeated with the sour decay of age, cloying, damp and irritating at the back of the throat. Whatever magic this strange toymaking entity wielded was wild and hostile as it pressed in around him, settling over his shoulders like a weighted blanket, growing heavier and heavier the longer he walked, stiffening his legs and arms until he was wading through the atmosphere, a band of pressure tight around his chest almost like a child was holding him like a doll as it walked him across their imagination, the threat of being crushed beneath their sticky fingers tingling at the back of his mind. From somewhere beyond the endless corridor, a sharp, terrified scream erupted into the air and Crowley lurched forward on instinct, racing down the corridor towards what he assumed was Donna being attacked. Or at least, he tried to. If he thought the weight of the magic around him was heavy before, now as he tried to come to the rescue of some poor soul, Crowley found himself being weighed down even more, his knees threatening to buckle beneath the strain, feet scraping across the floor as he tried to lift them for each step. Eyes blazing gold and fully snake-like as he pushed back against the magic surrounding him, Crowley snarled and thrashed as he moved, power crackling beneath his skin as the anger burned within him. “Fuck this.” Crowley hissed as he reached the next locked door, barely able to lift his arm to try the handle from the compression enveloping him right down to his true form. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” Gathering what strength, he could, Crowley snarled as he pulled up sharply on his demonic power and snapped his fingers, gritting his teeth as electricity coursed down his arm and sparked from his fingertips as it battled with the toymaker’s magic. His power coiled and weaved snake-like around that of this foreign entity, lashing out viper-quick and sinking its venomous fangs into the stream of power to try and force it into submission until the door in front of him started to creak open. “Nein nein nein!” The sudden voice at his ear was loud enough to rattle his eardrum and rather unceremoniously shattered Crowley’s concentration, his power falling away into glittering wisps and dissipating into the air uselessly and taking what was left of his strength with it. “Naughty demon, not playink by ze rulez.” The Toymaker snarled as he suddenly loomed up over Crowley’s head, the sharp contours of his face darkening as his entire frame seethed and pulsed enraged. “Crowley!” Hearing his name, Crowley turned his head and frowned as he spotted the Doctor and Donna running towards him, those once familiar chocolate brown eyes wide in fear as the Time Lord tried to reach them even as the corridor continued to expand beneath their feet. “Very vell. Haff it ge-your way.” The Toymaker sighed, before his hands suddenly slammed into Crowley’s chest, pushing him backwards with one sharp shove causing him to go crashing through the now cracked-open doorway. For one extended moment, Crowley seemed to hover in the air, the area where his stomach should be, dropping as he fell backwards in slow motion before time seemed to remember to move and Crowley slammed into the floor in the new room with a broken grunt of pain. The Doctor’s hand reaching out towards him uselessly from seemingly miles away was the last thing he saw before the door slammed shut and the room plunged him into darkness.

[samanddeansannoyingsis]

Heaven and Earth

Just a Gabriel x reader that's been sitting in my wip box for a month.

Characters:

Sam x reader (platonic), Castiel x reader (platonic), dean x reader (mentions of romantic), Gabriel x reader

Summary:

You are an angel who became human with immortality after God takes your wings for helping Gabriel escape. When an old friend comes to town you meet up and plan a prank on the Winchesters and then celebrate.

Warning gets spicy but there's no outright smut, mention of you wearing a dress, but mostly gender neutral. Also tried to keep in the second person. And I definitely got carried away. It's kinda long.

I hope you enjoy reading and always comment, like and repost to remind me to write more.

You go to the bar a few miles out of town, Gabriel was in town. You take a breath and enter the door to see your favorite archangel sitting at the bar. His lips turn to a gentle smile as he looks at you. He waved you over and pats the empty seat next to you.

"Well hello, Dolly!~ What brings you to me this fine evening?" Gabriel says while you sit down and order a drink.

"Just need some company. The boys are driving me crazy. You know how protective Dean and Sam are." You shake your head and sigh.

"Oh? What happened this time?" He says knowingly.

"I was hunting and got sick. God forbid i do anything." You sigh. "I'm not made of glass, but they seem to think so." You take a big swig of your drink.

"I can understand that. But they just wanna look out for you, y'know? You can't be mad at 'em for that." You look at him glaring slightly.

"I can when they abuse their own bodies ten times worse then I do." This makes him smile and in turn you smile.

"Hah! Ain't that the truth! Those two are a mess. It's always a fight to get'em to lay down and rest their weary bones. Always have been."

"Tell me about it." You roll your eyes but smile anyway. It goes silent for a minute but it's comforting. Gabe breaks the silence.

"You know, you and me, we got more in common than you might think."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure?"

"Well, let's see. We're both angels. We both used to be up in heaven. And we both love to just cause havok. Just to make things interesting, yeah?"

"True enough. I mean after I had my wings taken away for helping you escape I'm more human than angel." You smile and shove him playfully.

"And we both know that things haven't exactly gone our way lately. I mean you, you lost your wings. And me, I'm a mortal now. I sure miss the good old days..." He sighs stuck in memories long since passed.

"Yeah but who says it's all over? I mean at the end of the day we still have each other right?" You smile.

"And I'm gonna count that as a win. So you know what I think we need?"

"Not a clue, another drink?" You smile and he shakes his head, "What then?"

"A little razzle dazzle. Some good old fashion mischief making. Just to let these boys know we're still around. Don't you think?"

I smile at the idea. "I'm in. What's the idea Gabe?"

"Ooh... I have the perfect one. These boys are really something when it comes to pranks, right?"

"Supposably, but they both get sour when I do something."

"Well that's exactly what I mean. We gotta get 'em back. You know what these boys hate?"

"Sam hates clowns and Dean hates heights." You shrug not fully getting what he's thinking.

"Ah ha! So... We combine the two and then throw a little cherry on top for shits and giggles." You raise an eyebrow.

"How exactly are we gonna do that?"

"Well you know that fair that's coming to town?"he says causing you smile.

"Yeah. I was going to avoid it like the plague and hoe up in the bunker for a week."

Gabe gives you a look.

"Now why on earth was you gonna do that, dolly?"

I shrug. "I don't like large groups of people."

"That's a shame. Cuz I got this lovely little plan for that place and it's gonna be a hoot. You in?" I sigh and contemplate.

"I guess, but after I vote movie night. Just us. No Winchesters."

"Deal, doll! Deal!" Gabe shakes your hand excitedly, "So how's this for a plan. We're gonna get Sam and Dean on the Ferris wheel all harnessed up. And here's the kicker, there will be clowns running the ride." Gabe laughs diabolically, causing you to chuckle.

"That's good. And for extra kicks I pay off a clown to follow Sam around."

"Oh!" He raised his eyebrows and laughs more. "Now that's a plan worth following, doll."

I laugh. "This is payback that means no mercy."

"That's right. I can only imagine the look on Dean's face when we pull this off." You can see an anxious dean in your mind causing you to laugh more.

"He's gonna hate me for a few weeks."

You look at Gabe's eyes. "Thank you for hanging out with me. I always enjoy your company"

"Anytime, doll. Anytime." You blush slightly but cover it up.

"How am I gonna get the boys out anyways? Ideas?"

"Well let's see.. Dean likes to hang around the carnival food stands and sam well.. He likes to win stuffed animals. You got a plan with any of that?"

"Maybe bribery and just saying that I'm meeting you there. You should have seen them when I said I was going out tonight. Cas looked ready to fight me."

"Oh I can only imagine. The boys are really attached to you, ain't they?" You laugh at Gabe's comment.

You've been a part of the boys life since they saved you from a group of demons trying to torture information from you about Gabriel. You might be almost immortal but that doesn't mean you can't die. Key word almost. Since they saved you they just kept you around. Figuring you'd be a good addition, you did grow a special place in your heart for the boys though.

"They are something. Can't do without me for too long."

"Well who could blame 'em? You're lovely to look at, that's for sure." Gabriel smirks at you. You roll your eyes and blush.

"Oh hush you. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I see the way Dean looks at you. I can't blame him though. The guy's head over heels for ya." You roll your eyes at him.

"Please he sees me as a sibling and nothing more. And even still, he's sweet but I prefer a little more spice." He perks up at that.

"Oh? Does that spice possibly come from Cas?" I shake my head.

"Nope, but it does come from an angel of sorts"

Gabe laughs and smirks, "And just who might that be?"

"I can't tell you that." I smile knowingly, "connect the dots yourself. You're smart."

"Well, that narrows it down. I'm thinking of a certain angel of justice perhaps..." He looks at you. You smile.

"Perhaps."

"Well it's nice to see you've found yourself some spice. You make that little angel very happy, don't ya?" He smirks at you. But you hold strong, trying not to reveal your cards too quick.

"I try to."

"Well I think you're doing a damn good job, doll." He smiles at you warmly.

I smile back as he puts an arm around me.

"That's good."

"Alright, little doll, I think we should get to it. We're burning the night away. And I wanna make this the best damn plan I come up with in centuries. Whatcha say?" You smile as he rubs his hands together.

"I say, let's do it!"

"That's the spirit, dolly!" He laughs. "Let's teach these boys a lesson they'll never forget."

"Oh for sure! It'll be great!"

"Oh don't worry. It'll be amazing. And afterwards, you and I will celebrate." He wiggles his eyebrows but you smile anyways.

"Heh, you're too much, doll. Now, go get yourself pretty, we got work to do!"

"Do you think daisy dukes or a sundress?" You contemplate.

"Hmm... Sundress." He says firmly. You smile trying to mentally pick which one to wear.

"Good choice!" You say. You smile and go to get up and get ready.

"Oh and bring a few extra bucks with ya. Cotten candy is good for my mind." You smile and shoot him a thumbs up. Starting to make your way to the door Gabriel shoots one more comment your way.

"And make sure you look fine. I wanna see just how much Dean's head spins round for you." He winks at you, butterflies fill your stomach.

Whispering to yourself, "With any luck it won't just be Dean." Gabe must have heard you though.

"You sly devil. That's my doll..." This causes you to blush.

"Now go on, get yourself over to the carnival. And give 'em hell, doll. " You shoot him a wink as you leave and drive your motorcycle back to the bunker and get a few hours of sleep.

Later, you are dressed in a green sundress with a slit in the thigh and matching makeup.

You shoot yourself finger guns in the mirror as you give yourself a final once over. You walk out to see Sam nursing his 3rd cup of coffee and dean finishing his breakfast. Cas is sitting near dean, talking about something.

Dean looks over hearing you come to the kitchen. His eyes go wide and are glued to your exposed thigh from the slit. You see him gulp slowly.

Sam looks impressed, "You look nice. Any occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to dress up?" You shoot back teasingly.

"Looking like sex on heels like that you do." Dean says finally. You shoot him a playful wink causing him to turn red.

"I wanted to go to the carnival in town today! I was hoping you guys would come too. If not I'll have to just meet up with Gabriel. " Hearing Gabe's name, Dean and Cash shoot up.

"Were going." Dean says finally. Wrapping an arm around you protectively. You smirk.

"Then go get dressed!" Everything goes according to the plan. Dean rushed to his room. Sam just finished his coffee. Cas is always ready, eying me suspiciously. You smile innocently at him.

-Later-

Once you get the boys to the carnival the fun starts. You bounce in excitement. You get in and look around at all the rides.

Gabriel smirks and appears next to Sam.

"Well well, what do we have here? A little angel in a sundress? I must be dreaming." He eyes you up and down and licks his lips. Dean pulls you into him. Gabe turns to Sam and smirks, "You think we can get balloon animals later? The clowns are running around making them for kids." Sam gets noticably more uncomfortable.

You smile and blushes lightly as Dean puts his hand around your waist. Trying to keep you away from Gabe, who's eying you like a piece of meat.

"Sammy will you win me something? I see games over there!" Sam gives a curt nod and walks over his eyes silently thanking you for the exit. Not yet noticing the clowns behind him.

Gabe smirks. "Yeah I'm sure he will, doll. And while he's doing that... "

He turns to Dean and smirks.

"Well well who's that? You look like you've seen a ghost, Dean." Dean gulps.

I squeeze Deans hand lightly.

"It's just Gabe? No need to be worried, he's mostly harmless." You wink at Gabe.

"Mostly?" Dean says concerned. You nod.

"Mostly." You smile at him as you look up at him.

"Well aren't you two adorable? Now Dean, I think it's time we have a little fun, don't you?" Gabe pulls Dean off you and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I guess leave me by my lonesome with my favorite angel, Castiel! We can go get cotton candy!" You smile and clap.

Gabe winks. "Sounds like a plan, doll." Gabe turns to Dean and laughs.

"Now Deano, I think you're in trouble."

You start walking with Castiel to get sweets.

Gabe laughs and then turns to Dean.

"What's wrong there Deano? You seem a bit... nervous."

"Wh-why would I be nervous?" Dean says trying to put a brave face on but failing.

"Are you kidding? You're shaking like a leaf. You really don't know, do you?" Gabe smirks at Dean.

"Why did I let myself get dragged here?" Dean curses to himself.

"Oh Deano... How adorable. You do realise why we were doing this, right?" Dean looks at Gabe distraught. Gabe laughs.

"Alright, I'll fill ya in you dork. You know how much you hates heights and Sam hates clowns?

"Sam yeah? But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, what if I told you that little prank that me and Hailey are doing has something to do with both?"

Dean smirks, "She wouldn't, you would. Don't drag her into it." This causes Gabriel to laugh.

"Dean! This little angel is smart, you know? She helped me fool god." Gabe smirks at Hailey, who's walking back with Sam.

You smile and hold a teddy bear Sam won. "Hey Gabe, howdy Dean! Look what Sammy won me!" You show then the pink bear. Sam looks less nervous.

" Hello, dolly. Welcome back. So did you get your cotton candy?" Gabe says, Dean is pale.

You hold up a bag of pink cotton candy.

"Yep! It's really good!"

"Aww I love pink cotton candy. It sure is delicious. But I think we can make our night even better, don't cha think?" Gabe smirks at you and you motion to the giant ferris wheel.

"You really want to go on it!"

At this point the prank is pretty much over for Sam. But dean's nightmare is just starting.

"Come with me, doll. Because the Ferris Wheel is calling our name." You grin widely and grab Gabriel's hand pulling him towards the giant moving ferris wheel. Sam and Dean stand there dumbfounded. But follow you regardless. They talk about wanting to go home, but refuse to leave you alone with Gabriel.

"Ahh, this is gonna be even sweeter than cotton candy, dolly. I'm tellin you." He whispers in your ear.

You smile and pop a piece of cotton candy in your mouth, moaning as it melts in my mouth. Closing your eyes to savor the sweet flavor, you miss Gabe's eyes get darker.

"Doubtful. Nothing is sweeter than cotton candy!" You smile at him.

Gabe laughs and gives her a small look of approval. Then turns to Dean and smiles menacingly.

"Well well, look at you boys. Just following your dolls lead. This is gonna be great. Aren't you excited to see the world from up there!"

The boys grumble but decide going on after you and gabe is the best way to keep an eye on you.

"Gosh you boys sound like parents!" You shoot back quickly shutting them up. Gabe laughs at this.

"We're gonna go on, are you two chicken?" Dean shoots up. You shrug.

"We're in line aren't we?"

Dean grunts. "No. I'll be right behind you both."

I stick my tongue out at Dean, Gabe and Sam both laugh at this.

"Yay! It's gonna be so fun!" You smile and give off happy wiggles as the line gets shorter.

"And you boys better hold your ground. This little doll doesn't take no for an answer, do you dolly?" You shake your head. Gabe smirks and winks at you, grabbing you by the waist and starts to walk towards the front of the line.

Dean follows with his arms crossed and a sour face. Sam nudges him.

Gabe laughs as I get more excited the closer we get to the front of the line.

"I can tell, doll. Now, I think the two of us should get our own seat, don't you?"

"Oh definitely." You smile and laugh.

"Excellent." You all reach the top of the line and starts waving the people ahead of us through as there was only one more seat left and knowing dean wouldn't ride it if he didn't have to.

"See, dolly? I'm not all bad. I have some good manners too." Gabe smirks.

"I think you just want to get the boys anxiety up." You look back at an antsy Sam and Dean.

"Oh, come on! They need to loosen up a little, don't they?" You roll your eyes at Gabriel.

"Our turn!" You pull him towards the seats. He laughs.

"Right on schedule." Gabe grabs your arm and helps you into one and then takes a seat in the one across from her.

"Ready when you are, dolly." He smirks at you as the ride starts moving you up.

"Let the fun begin!"

"Oh, it will, dolly. This is gonna be one Hell of a ride, and I'm gonna enjoy every minute of it. " He smirks causing you to wiggle in your seat. I toy with the slit in my dress.

"I should have chosen a lower slit. I feel exposed."

"Well, I'm not complaining." Gabe smirks seductively at you.

You blush harder and squeeze your legs together.

"You wouldn't." You laugh at him.

"Oh, you know I would." You both look at the boys and smirks.

'You boys ready for this?' You text Dean. Smiling, you look down and see Dean look up after reading the text and flip you off.

"How rude!" You say sarcastically, this makes Gabe smile and laugh.

"Don't take it too hard, doll. It just means he really cares." Gabe laughs when you roll your eyes and turn back to the boys.

'At least we get a little alone time now," he wiggles his eyebrows at you causing you to giggle.

"That we sure do." The ferris wheel starts to move making everyone's stomach churn. Gabe smirks seductively at you.

You blush.

"Later cutie. Let dean enjoy the view first." You smile.

"I'm just gonna get it while it's good." Gabe leans his body into yours to shield your view of Dean, so you only sees him.

"Oh, don't worry dolly. He's just being his grumpy self. You can tease him about it later, trust me." Gabe says. I smile.

"I plan on it." He smirks.

"Now, where were we, doll?" He puts his hand on your thighs, caressing them and looking at you seductively.

"Gabe. Be careful with what you're getting yourself into." You warn him gently.

"And what would that be, dolly?" He smirks and starts to move his hand up my thigh.

"I think you know exactly what you are doing." You suck in a breath.

"Oh yes, I think I do." Gabe smirks and caresses your leg more.

"I love how your thighs feel. So smooth. So... Perfect... " He leans in closer to your body and whispers in your ear, "so... delicious..."

This sends goosebumps down your spine. You straddle him which is easy because you practically already are on him.

"You flirt, absolutely shameless." You smirk at him, testing him. He kisses your neck.

"You love it." Gabe smirks seductively at you and caresses you more.

He continues, "I can tell in the way you look at me. In the way your cheeks grow a deep red color. In the way your body reacts to every little touch. You want this just as much as I do, don't you?"

He leans his head closer to her legs, caressing it and nibbling on your thighs.

"If I say yes?" You sigh contently.

"How about you show me just how much you love it, doll?" Gabe smirks. I roll my eyes but smile.

"Absolutely shameless. Too bad I'm into it." You break the invisible barrier and kiss him hard. He leans in.

"Mhmm, that's a good girl." He smirks and starts to trail kisses up and down your body, nibbling on your neck.

"I've wanted this for so long, dolly." Gabe caresses her cheek and leans in close again, nibbling on her lips slowly but seductively.

You moan lightly.

"Gabe please, what if someone sees?" You try to beg, your mind starting to give in.

He caresses your body and whispers seductively in her ear "What if that's what I want. For everyone to see you are mine." He growls in your ear.

"You couldn't possibly want anything else on earth more than me, dolly. Especially with the way you can't keep your hands off of me, doll. So why should I keep mine off of you?" He continues while smirking and moves his body around your legs, nibbling at her thighs again. Your hands go to his hair.

"Someone could see. Please." You moan lightly "Gabe please." Your body reacting the opposite from what comes out of your mouth.

He smirks and leans in closer again, "I can't help it, dolly. I'm trying, but I'm not strong enough. And I think you're the same." He whispers seductively as he leans back slightly.

He snaps his fingers to reveal the massive ferris wheel in the background.

"See? There's nobody around for miles. We're alone. And your body is telling you exactly who you want. You want me." He nibbles on your thighs again.

"Gabe please touch me." You moan in his ear now comfortable that no one is around.

He smirks at you.

"Oh, dolly... You're killing me." Gabriel says sarcastically then he laughs and nibbles harder, caressing you more seductively.

"I might have to make you beg me though, doll." He nibbles the inside of your thigh in a sensitive spot, causing you to moan and grip his shoulders for support.

"Gabe please. Don't make me." You moan gently.

"Oh I think I'm going to, doll." Smirks and nibbles harder, caressing you more seductively "You know you want me more than anyone on heaven or earth."

[swifty-fox]

mmmmm gimme that 18 and 22

18. from that one WIP thats no plot just vibes

all my MOTA fic is plot but ive got an old wolfstar supernatural murder mystery i abandoned

Remus is dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is.

It’s the type of dream where he can feel the tips of his fingers and the weight on his chest and every single molar in his jaw. The type of dream where dread and horror and fear sit in his lungs and prevent him from drawing breath. 

He is buried alive. 

He can feel the rich fertile earth covering his body, taste the clay and silt in his mouth. Crawling, desperate, hungry things slither over his body. He can hear the sounds of their chewing in his ears and he wants to scream only if he opens his mouth that will let them in. His flesh rots, his eyeballs melt out of his skull. The skin around his lips turns wizened and desiccated, peeling back from his teeth like the pages of a book.

Remus is bones, is decay, the worms feed on his decomposition and snakes slither through the latticework of his sternum. He breathes, and his lungs fill with mushrooms and soft nesting things. Butterflies alight on his corpse and sip the sweetly soured decaying flesh. There is a buzzing in his mouth, a soft wet bumblebee struggling to get out.

He opens his mouth. Mud fills his throat. The bee ceases her noise and a giant black spider emerges, scuttling past his lips and into the forest. 

His parents are screaming his name, screaming for him. To run. To fight.

Fight it, fight it Remus, you have to fight it.

Remus opens his mouth. He opens his mouth and the spider escapes. He opens his mouth and the hungry things come pouring in, devouring him from the inside out. He opens his mouth and screams.

There is a bird who sits on a tower. With beady eyes so clever. Who sees the curling petal. Of every single flower.

A boy is staring at him. A boy with blue eyes and blue lips and blue, bruised, dead skin. His palms are stained and his body is bare, dehydrated and loose-limbed like a porcelain doll torn from its stand. He smiles at Remus with bloody, perfect teeth.

22. that is so blissfully indulgent

me hwne Gale angst and also he loves John

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.” 

He glances up at Bucky and it's the other man who averts his gaze this time, face paling. He sits down heavily across from Buck and rubs a hand across his mustache, still avoiding eye contact.

“I meant to.” He finally says then laughs sharp and bitter, “I musta put pen to paper a thousand times. But I- well. The words just wouldn’t come. Figured eventually I might as well drive out and fetch you back with me.” 

Gale's anger stutters and then goes out completely, leaving him hollow. Of course, of course he wasn't the only one with memories that nipped at his heels. And John, the man that he was, had decided to do something about it for the both of them. Who shouldered a sixteen hour drive because of course a letter wasn’t good enough, he’d already chased Buck into the heart of enemy territory, what were a few state lines?

“John Egan,” Buck drawls, “always to the rescue.” Bucky laughs, a genuine noise that sounds so foreign in the cold bare kitchen.

John was fake on the surface and all real underneath. Real bravery and real heart, a man who jumps on an armed German guard to save his friend. Who volunteered on the next mission out all because his friend had been shot down. And Gale, well he was just the opposite wasn't he? All real on the thin top layer and below that nothing much of substance. A good soldier, a good leader; good at being a man in all the ways that garnered approval and respect. He honed it to perfection, perfect responses full of bravado, not too harsh but not too intimate either. But below that…there was very little to behold. No matter how many times the other guys told him, he told himself, there would always be the fact that John faced down armed guards and Buck ran

[sadthixx]

other blogs i have at the moment

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Ask blog for Kai @askkaiblog (pinned post shows info)

One shot stories by me (or for your requests/submissions) @storyarea (pinned post shows info)

Photo blog of my little Kaito nuis! - @wakaikaitonui

Ask Robo Kaito! - @askrobokaito

My Doll Collection! (WIP) - @dollshowcase

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info about me

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you can call me sad, thixx, or sadthixx, whatever feels comfy for you. my pronouns are he/they and i'm currently 20. i absolutely love Kaito, cats, horror, video games, robots, dolls, and making crochet/sewn plushies.

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you can draw Murasaki (or my OCs I sometimes post here) in your comics, art, anything you want! Please keep it SFW and tag me when they're featured, I love seeing art of my main OCs!! And thank you so much for drawing them if you did, it really makes my day!! :D

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i'm always open to asks, i'll try to answer you as soon as i can so sorry if it takes too long (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) anonymous asks are treated as normal asks! This includes all my other blogs!

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I will not answer:

- NSFW (those get deleted regardless)

- bot spam (anything that looks like it's from a bot will get deleted)

- I'm not answering anything political. I don't want to answer anything about it. Don't discuss anything political with me as well.

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info about my main OC

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Appearance:

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Name: Murasaki Uta (Mura for short.)

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Age: same as me (20)

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Pronouns: they/them

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Backstory: They were genetically made as an experiment for music hypnosis, and raised by their two android brothers Artemis and Aramis. The company heads that did the experiments on Mura particularly didn't take care of them well... but since then they escaped the laboratory and discovered the real world with their newly reprogrammed brothers. Now, it's up to Mura and their brothers to survive in reality.

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Character traits:

- Mura's pronouns are they/them because they are physically born as non binary. They are asexual as well.

- They usually don't show much emotion or their full look to anyone except those who they trust the most. It's a rare occurrence when they do show their full emotions, but they usually don't show their face. Their left eye is normal though, matching their visible eye. The only time their entire face is seen is when they're sleeping or if their hair is very messy.

- Mura is able to eat a lemon and not suffer the sourness.  This makes people wonder what else they don't like eating, but it's actually because they just grew a tolerance of lemons to teach themself how to tolerate the hypnosis they went through. It worked very well, but as a result they couldn't get near lemons again. They can drink lemon juice by itself though.

- It's extremely hard for Murasaki to scream if they're scared, since the only time they raise their voice is when they sing or they're extremely angry.  This is due to suppressing their triggers as an unhealthy coping mechanism. In short they'd freeze and stare the moment something scares or scared them.

- A light purple rim forms in their eyes around their pupils if their feelings are very intense. In worse cases it can make them blind, though this is only temporary until they finally lose their intense energy and manage to calm themself down. Usually their brothers assist in helping them before anything bad happens.

- They practically have super hearing, but as a result they have tinnitus. This means they can hear the tiniest of noises, like an android moving for example. Depending on how much noise heard by them is how much they can tolerate, it all depends on their current state of mind. They would get overwhelmed when they hear too much of the same noise or too much noise in general, and would seclude themself from anyone, including their brothers, until they calm down.

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(edited: 12/15/2024)

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[restwellsoon]

Trying to decide on which BNHA WIP I should tackle next and

why are all of my Dabi ones fucking annoying 😭 how is Reader supposed to fall in love with this

Sign & Date

And in your hurry you locked eyes with vibrant and shocking cerulean. Dabi grinned at your awkward pose, the automatic doors still open from your sudden stop. It seemed like he’d finally get lucky. “Shit,” you mumbled, hoping that maybe he was looking at someone behind you. You tried to walk past him. “You’re right,” he smiled, nearly two steps too close for comfort as he approached. “Enji Todoroki is a piece of shit, which is exactly why you should sign the petition to take him out of office.” “I uh…” Hoping to avoid confrontation, it was just your luck that you’d walk right into it. You were frozen once more as you tried to figure out an escape. The intensity of his gaze wasn’t the only thing that intimidated you. It was the piercings–loads of them adorned his face and ears, glimmering back silver under the sun. He had poorly hidden tattoos as well, defiantly visible beneath his rolled up–and wrinkled–button-up. They didn’t look like the standard yakuza ink that you’ve seen but instead some modified form of blackwork. This time his smile held different intentions as he threw a smug glance to his partner who wasn’t paying attention to either of you. His partner’s gesticulations were wild with his voice inflecting as if reading from a script. That was probably what he meant about showmanship. “I get it,” the man before you sighed, running the hand that held the pen through his hair, making it look even more unruly. “You forgot what I said because of my good looks. It happens.” He sighed again because of his burden. “It’s been happening all day actually.” You’d seen him since they started collecting signatures in front of Lawson’s. Again, it was that fear of confrontation that held your tongue from speaking the truth. “Allow me to repeat myself, sweetheart.” He cleared his throat. Your eyes searched his chest for a name tag or company to report the lack of professionalism. There was nothing but a peak of lean chest below that undone third button. “Enji Todoroki is an incompetent buffoon who's been lying to the masses about his platform of strong family values. To start, he bought his wife to strengthen political ties and–” Though you weren’t deep into politics, you knew that the government official had a constant swirl of rumors around him. Despite that, you couldn’t really recall how his family looked or their names. The public usually loved to bring dishonor and shame to everyone involved whenever possible. A part of you wondered if Enji Todoroki had enough decency to protect his family from their judgment in their daily life. “I’ll sign it,” you blurted after he started to ramble about a conspiracy about Todoroki having repressed homoerotic feelings for his political rival.

Sugar Sub

“Look doll, I ain’t askin’ for much,” the pale haired man told you, though you both knew he was lying. “Just nice clothes, good food and a warm place to stay. Gimme six months tops.” He threw his hands up as if he was the one forfeiting something great. “Honestly, you’re the one getting a better deal out of this than me. You don’t get in trouble and you get to ride this big dick as much as you want.” You shot him a dirty look, wondering if he hit his head during his criminal activities. His sense of measurement was wildly off.  “When you told me you were gonna take me for a ride, I thought you meant a ride in that Rolls Royce in your profile picture.” Dabi clicked his tongue. “See, that was your first mistake. I never promised you that. That wasn’t even my car. I was just standing in front of it and posing.” He chuckled at your sour face. “Don’t tell me you believe everything you see online?” He ruffled up his white hair. Sure, he was wearing a cap in most of his pictures, but you could have sworn it was black. Your silence made him ask, “What? You’ve never been catfished before?”

[ivydarkrose]

Honestly have more Slenderverse Characters but they are wips.

Letting intrusive thoughts win to make this lol

[luthien-under-bough]

WIP Wednesday

A little snippet (below the cut) from what I'm working on today, for the following prompt from  Fire, Blood, & Kink's Summer of Dove event. 🕊️

unlike almost everything in the world, uncle daemon was off limits to her. rhaenyra was a greedy girl with an appetite for both materialistic things and men. when her father remarries, she has the perfect opportunity to spike her uncle's drink, lead him upstairs to her bedroom, and make him hers. and she was almost sure uncle daemon wouldn't mind being her puppet for a night.

Daemon blinks slowly, his eyelids resisting the motion, as if they're weighed down. There’s a dull thumping in the base of his skull and a sour twisting in his gut. He hasn't felt this out-of-it since he went on a bender in Volantis and woke up two weeks later in the back room of a Myrish tavern.

What the fuck happened?

He remembers arriving at his brother’s house. Remembers attending the garden party-turned-surprise wedding. Remembers the stunned faces—his niece’s most of all. Remembers offering his congratulations to Viserys and Alicent, and his condolences to Rhaenyra. Remembers eating. Drinking. Dancing. More drinking. 

Then nothing.

But did he drink that much? He doesn’t think so—no more than a usual night out, and with far fewer party-enhancing drugs, even. His thoughts are slippery as he tries to piece everything together. But his memory fizzles away to black somewhere between the time he switched from wine to whisky. 

Don’t panic. This isn’t your first blackout. 

Even so, a low-level anxiety buzzes around his skull. Daemon strains until, finally, his eyelids relent, and he’s met with a flood of darkness. His vision is blurry, every movement of his eyes sending a pulse of pain ricocheting around his head.

It’s still so dark, but his pupils expand enough to drink in the little light that exists and make sense of the world—a dim light coming from somewhere just behind his right ear. Another thin sliver of light from beneath a crack in a door. 

Vague shapes shimmer just beyond the scope of his vision: A desk, perhaps? Yes, a desk, with a computer, emitting a tiny dot of red light. A dresser. A bedroom, then, he thinks. Which means, he must be on the bed. 

A few more brief flashes of the evening are revealed to him.

A toast. Raising a glass of fine Pentoshi sparkling wine. His head growing fuzzy, his thoughts turning to thick sludge. Sick, unsteady. Had to sit down. Someone offered him water. Or maybe more sparkling wine. 

Someone helping him upstairs. Thin arms looped around him, him sagging against a smaller frame. 

A black dress.

A flash of silver against a slender neck.

A cascade of white-blonde hair.

A doll’s eyes.

A demon’s smile.

Rhaenyra.

[sulevinen]

ah my godDAMNIT i missed on @milfcutlawquane tags, it’s fine i’m fine but i hate missing stuff wljflsndnsn also got tagged to the same thing by sour like a few days ago i think, and back then i wasn’t up for this but now i’m like eh who cares

SO. rules. post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips (not doing that)

thorn by his side

fox and the snake

foxhunt

broken hearts’ home

darkness at her will

better to sleep

we’re all gonna die

level 3107

i thought i was no king, and then i was

a doll in a doll in a doll…

all taggable people tagged me on this so :p

[tallulahchanel]

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 16 (Belated)

Prompt: Write about a "thank you"

~~~

Mercedes turned the fire down to a simmer while mixing the sauce with the spaghetti noodles. “How are you holding up?”

“My mother wasn’t much of one while she was alive, so she’s no use to me now that she’s dead.”

Mercedes grabbed the bowls from the cupboards and rinsed them. “Have you reached out to Drew or even Faye?”

“Did they reach out to me? A phone works two ways.”

Instead of a verbal response, Mercedes made their bowls and gave Lauryn hers. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“You want cheese with yours?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Mercedes grabbed the container of parmesan cheese out of the pantry and sprinkled some into her own bowl before passing it to Lauryn.

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.

[writing-in-april]

The Owner’s Office

Franklin x Female Reader (MGG in Beginner’s luck)

Summary: Franklin won’t stop asking the owner of the bowling alley if he can have a discount when the team rents the alley.

A/N: Heyyy heyyy- here’s my first Franklin fic in a while!!! It’s been sitting in my WIPs in a while and I felt the urge to finish it! @sunlight-moonrise is the main person who helped inspire me for this fic- and of course the amazing @spencers-dria. This is my fic for today for my 1000 follower celebration!!! Thanks for all the support you guys!!! Requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Hate fucking, Panties stuffed in mouth, Oral sex (M receiving), Franklin wants to be called a god, calling reader a fuck toy

Main Masterlist  Word count: 2.1k

Owning the most popular bowling alley in Little Falls was more of an exhausting task then most people would assume. I had to work everyday almost 7 days a week to maintain my small business that I had inherited from my father. Honestly, some days I was so exhausted, the gain seemingly so little that if it wasn’t for wanting to keep the business to continue what my father built I would sell it in a heartbeat.

The alley wasn’t anything all that grand or special from a first glance, it was a stereotypical bowling alley with orange and turquoise walls and bright red seats. What really made this place special was all the memories I and the rest of Little Falls had here.

The space that I used as my office was more of a closet then a full office, it also had to have the mop bucket and any other cleaning supplies shoved in there. The desk that was jammed into the space was a shitty little thing, unbalanced and made of cold grey metal that made me shiver whenever I rested my arms on it to type. One would not call the place charming but it was mine, just as it had been my father’s.

When the business had passed onto me I decided to keep the office the same way my father had it. Despite its shitty appearance that was where I ended up spending most of my time while I worked. I had to spend most of my day going through paperwork for the alley and barely had time to come out of my office unless it was right before closing to help the rest of the staff (Namely Rebecca) to clean up.

Usually the times I had to come out were because of one person. Though, at this point I view him as the source of all the annoyance in my life more so than an actual person.

Franklin.

I could rant all day about my deep seated loathing for the man that everyone in Little Falls called their god. Well, everyone except me. He was the person who strutted around like he owned the place- even though I was the one who paid the bills for the place. Most of my gripe with him was for the fact that he would insist that his whole team could have the bowling alley to themselves while they practiced. For some reason he had some deep seated paranoia that people would spy on his team. This led to many arguments between the two of us, mostly about how he didn’t want to pay rent because his team was the only thing bringing money to my alley or about how I didn’t give them enough time to practice. In return I would just tell him to take his business somewhere else if he really cared so much about the rent or needed more practice time.

As I walked in to work my mood was already sour, I had spilled my morning coffee all over me and was running late because I had to change my clothes. As the owner of the alley it didn’t really matter what time I came in but, I had myself stick to a strict schedule, I wanted to be a good role model for my staff. My mood turned from sour to livid when I saw Franklin sitting in one of the chairs at the last lane that happened to be closest to the door to my office. I groaned internally at the sight, the only reason he’d ever show up without his team was to try and chew me out about his practice schedule.

I did not need this today.

Luckily, there was only one bowler here this early and he happened to be at the farthest lane away from my office, no doubt being warned by the staff to be far away from my office as soon as they saw Franklin walk in. My greeting to him consisted of only an angry pointed finger towards the door trying to usher him in quickly before I exploded in the middle of the alley.

“I deserve an 80% discount.” He said immediately after I shut the door to my office. With the amount of times I rolled my eyes everyday in response to Franklin’s antics it was a wonder that they didn’t get stuck in that position.

“And what’s the reason this time that you think you deserve a discount.”

“My team is the only reason your alley pulls in any money.”

“That’s not true.” I simply stated, crossing my arms and looking away from the face that causes me to feel such boiling anger.

“Can I at least get a better practice schedule?”

“No.”

“Why not?” His indignation against a person in some sort of position of authority above him was astounding, he even added to my disbelief by hitting his hand hard enough on my desk to leave a slight dent. Well, that was never leaving. Though it's not like it was a particularly fancy desk, I was still even more pissed than I had been in the first place.

“I’ve given my reason why plenty of times you just don’t listen.” I was about to shove him out of my pathetic excuse for an office if he continued.

“Why should I have to listen to stupid reasonings?”

“Fuck- could you please just shut up!” Me screaming at him to shut up wasn’t out of place in our normal hostile conversations, something about the pause after my shout this time was brewing a different type of tension.

When we met for a kiss it was fueled with the anger that had been surmounting over a long period of time, since as long as I’d known him. If I wouldn’t have to explain why he was leaving my office shirtless I would’ve ripped open the big-z tires shirt he was wearing out of pure anger. Once we had angrily ripped off all of our clothes he hoisted me up onto my metal desk. I hissed from the sudden contact of the cold metal on my ass which only made Franklin laugh. I glared at him hard in response, but unfortunately he did not wither away from my gaze, so I decided to lightly threaten him with extreme embarrassment,

“I’ll kick you out of here without your clothes on, shut up.”

That successfully shut him up quick, and he actually focused on my own pleasure for a while. He didn’t sink down on his knees to eat me out because of course Franklin wouldn’t kneel for anybody. He instead parted my folds and began to rub my clit slowly, he had to be a tease instead of just obliging someone for once.

When I whined out in annoyance at his slow movements he tsked at me before saying, “I’m trying to get you ready for how big I am.”

It pained me to admit that he was right as I looked at his cock, which was probably the biggest one I’ve ever been with. I still decided to whine again to see what he’d do in response. When my panties were then shoved into my mouth as a makeshift gag I spluttered in surprise. I would have ripped it out of my mouth in anger if it wasn’t the hottest thing. Plus the words that he said next did nothing to help how wet I was between my legs, “Now you’re the one that has to shut up.”

Once I was properly prepped for his standards he immediately moved onto his pleasure, I hoped I at least got an orgasm out of this. But, if I was being honest with myself I was more turned on right now than I had ever been with another guy. He thrust into me all the way to the hilt with no warning, causing me to cry out in surprise. Glad I was ready enough to take him, he’s such an ass.

Though despite that, I wouldn’t deny that he felt amazing inside of me as he fucked me hard and dirty on my office desk.

“Who’s your god now?” His cocky voice made me want to scream, which I did, but it was more out of pleasure rather than annoyance. He then pulled the panties out of my mouth even though if anyone heard how loud I was right now my employees would whisper behind my back about it till the end of time. What he said next didn’t surprise me at all,  “I want to hear you call me a god, doll. You’re just a bratty little fuck doll for your god’s pleasure.”

“I’m not calling you a god. Doesn’t-” My sentence cut off when Franklin moved his hand to rub at my clit, shocks of pleasure going through me as a result. I bit down on my lip to try in vein to compose myself a little before continuing, “Doesn’t matter if you’re fucking me, you’re still not a god.”

“I’m still the person who’s gonna make you have the best orgasm of your life.”

“I-I’d like to see you try.” And try he did. His hips pistoned into mine with brute strength I didn’t think such a lanky man like him could have. We were probably being so loud that you could hear our skin slapping together rhythmically plus the loud moans that wouldn’t stop coming out of my mouth. Even though it was the hardest thing to admit, he was about to make me orgasm so hard it might’ve been the best one of my life.

I fell over the edge with a high pitched cry, Franklin continuing to rub my clit until I was overstimulated and had to push his hand away. I pushed his shoulder slightly to signal that he needed to get off me then explaining, “There’s no way I’m letting you cum inside me, you can cum in my mouth or nothing else.”

He looked annoyed with me for a second, almost if he wanted to ask if he cumming on my face would be a viable alternative. Luckily for the sake of his own orgasm he decided to keep his mouth shut. I then dropped down to my knees, ignoring the sharp little sting of pain as I took him in my mouth. It only took a little bit of time of me bobbing me head up and down, making sure to hollow my cheeks as best as I could. At one point he tried to wind his hands into my hair as a way to non verbally ask if he could fuck my face. If it had been anyone but Franklin I probably would’ve allowed them too, but instead I hit his hand away, looking up between my lashes with a glare to silently tell him to be grateful he was getting to finish at all. Hot thick ropes of his cum then suddenly shot down my throat with little warning from him, causing me to gag slightly, I’m sure he probably enjoyed that. I wasn’t one to not swallow personally, even if I did hate his guts it was still hot to swallow his cum down my throat. Once I had sufficiently caught my breath I started to clean myself up and get my clothes on, not expecting any aftercare from the bowling alley’s resident asshole.

“So-  Do I get that discount?” I whipped around as I rebuttoned up my shirt about to start our argument all over again until I saw a smirk on his face unlike the ones I had seen before. It wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, instead it was a teasing one, he was actually joking with me for once instead of screaming at me. I breathed out a little laugh in response and let the tension melt from my shoulders a little.

It was a relief to not fight with him for once and I kinda liked this Franklin. He still had an aura of smugness around him, but he wasn’t insufferable. He was maybe even a little likeable when he wasn’t screaming his head off at me. In response to his joke I rebutted with a little smirk, “You may not be an actual god but you sure fuck like one. And, no, of course you don’t get the discount.”

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[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

**

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.    

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.  

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.  

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”  

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.  

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.  

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.  

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.  

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

[louwie-luna]

A fun thing with my ADHD is that apparently it will randomly decide I’m ready to throw some of my writing out into the world, so I’ve posted the first chapter of this thing even though I’d told myself I’d never post a wip and I’ve no idea when it’ll be finished. But carpe diem and all that I guess. Read if you like! *** 15 Step

Rating: E Fandom: Harry Potter (Fuck JKR) Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Additional Tags: Time Loops, Mental Health Issues, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Poor attempts at humour, Angst with a happy ending.

Summary: Sirius has given up on his life ever becoming something more than just existing. His job is a joke, his childhood best friend hates him, and he’s never had a relationship for longer than six months. The universe has always fucked with him in one way or another, and he’s long since resigned to the fact.    He’s therefore only mildly concerned when he dies on the night of his thirty-fourth birthday. He’s more concerned by coming back again, on the evening of his thirty-fourth birthday.    OR    Sirius has a death wish. Remus has forgotten how to live. Together, they might make it out alive.    The Russian Doll: Wolfstar Edition no one ever asked for. Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38184250/chapters/95395225

Chapter 1: At least I'm making the most of it                

 One

Through the thin walls of the bathroom, the party going at full blast felt like a physical thing; endless waves of sound that pushed and pushed and pushed until it felt like his skin was going to pull itself off his bones.

It could have something to do with the fact that Dorcas had rebuilt the bathroom into something that made him feel like he was at the bottom of a fish tank, with creepy blue spotlights set in the floor, reflecting up on the navy walls and concrete ceiling like sun beams in a water-filled cave. It made him slightly nauseous, like a pressure over his chest, as if he himself was underwater.

Sirius stared at the pale face in the mirror, framed by a frizzy black mane and a scruffy stubble, the pale blue eyes that had once been brimming with the certainty that anything was possible. Now, they looked as washed out as the rest of him felt.

Empty. Dead.

Shaking himself, he realised that the insistent banging probably wasn’t just coming from the inside of his head, despite the hangover he hadn’t had the time to shake. Someone was banging on the door. Repeatedly.

“All right, all right,” he muttered, turning the faucet off with an annoyed huff. If there had been a towel at the beginning of the night, it was nowhere to be seen now, so he wiped his hands on his black jeans and went to open the door before it caved in on itself. The door handle was shaped like a raven’s claw and exceptionally uncomfortable to hold. Fucking Dorcas.

Two women he didn’t know swept past him with unimpressed looks as he exited. The hallway was crowded, some just stood in groups chatting, and some obviously waiting for their turn in the bathroom, going by the sour looks they sent his way. Sirius just glared back. Who the hell even were they?

The sound was even worse out there, some godawful modern shit that grated at his nerves and did nothing to improve his mood. People were bopping along like idiots, as if they’d never heard proper music, like The Stooges. Or Zeppelin.

“Hey, birthday boy!” someone shouted over the noise. Dorcas was waving like a maniac at him from the kitchen area, her teal hair making her easy to spot through the mass of people. He headed over, grinning wide as he reached her.

“You have to try this,” Dorcas said when he reached her, giving him a side hug at the same time as she shoved a spliff in his face. “Gid got it from Jamal who got it from his new crew down in Croydon. It’s like – chef’s kiss.”

“If you do the hand gesture, you don’t have to say the actual words,” Sirius drawled, but he took the spliff and inhaled deeply. And then struggled not to cough his lungs out.

“Bloody hell, that’s strong,” he wheezed.

“Riiiight?” Dorcas gushed. “Oh, I’m like, floating but also not right now, you know? Like the molecules in here are just vibing so hard. Hey.” She looked at him with surprising focus. “Are you okay? You’re having fun, right? Please tell me you’re having fun or I will jump off the balcony and then kill myself with this knife.” She was doing something terrible with a watermelon, and it made him slightly concerned, considering her inebriated state.

“Where’s you keeper?” He asked in lieu of answering. Dorcas glared and waved the knife in his direction.

“Don’t call her that, that’s so derogatory. Mostly to me.”

As if summoned, Marlene sidled up to Dorcas and slung an arm around her waist. “There you are,” she said, looking at Sirius. “I thought you’d bailed already.”

“Me?” He touched his chest in feigned indignity. “I’d never. This is a blast. You know I love a good surprise party when I’ve specifically, repeatedly, said I didn’t want to do anything special.”

Dorcas’ smile fell from her face. Marlene sighed.

“We thought you could use some cheering up,” She gave him a once-over. “You’ve been so down lately –“ Yikes, he must be in a really bad place if even his friends could see it “- and you’ve never turned down a reason to party.”

 Yeah, when it was just us and the twins and Jame– the others from the old crew. Not these fucking wankers.

“Very thoughtful,” Sirius said. “However, I would have appreciated to deal with my impending midlife crisis in isolation, not have it flaunted for all to see.” He took another drag of whatever it was Dorcas had given him. His head was spinning.

“You’re thirty-four, not forty,” Dorcas snipped. She was clearly upset he didn’t appreciate her efforts with the do. Sirius didn’t care. It was her own fault for forcing it upon him. He had Ben & Jerry’s in his freezer, for Christ’s sake. Unopened. All alone, waiting for him. It was a travesty.

“And we all know I’ll be lucky if I make it to fifty. If anything, my midlife crisis is a couple years overdue.” He grinned at them, but Marlene gave him a strange look, and even Dorcas stopped looking like she’d sucked a lemon.

“Don’t talk like that,” Marlene said. Fifteen years of friendship shone through her worried gaze, and it made something uncomfortable unfurl in his stomach. Sirius rolled his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“I smoke like a fucking chimney, I can’t remember the last time I was sober for more than two days in a row, and the only reason I eat my vegetables is because that’s what any self-respecting gay man would do.” He smirked and opened a bottle of beer conveniently waiting for him on the counter. “At least I’m making the most of it, right?”

Marlene was not impressed, judging by the way she pursed her lips, so before she could say anything stupid, like go back to rehab, he blurted,

“Minnie’s gone.”

Dorcas, bless her, gasped. “What? Minnie, no!”

“What do you mean, gone?” Marlene looked like she hadn’t let him off the hook just yet, but at least she was humouring him.

“Gone like, she hasn’t been home for a couple days, and usually she’s only gone a few hours, half a day, tops. I’ve looked everywhere, even left some of that fancy food she likes down with Pete at the shop, but there’s been no sign of her.”

Dorcas frowned at him. “What did I tell you, Sirius, you can’t let a cat outside like that! You live in the middle of London, for Christ’s sake.”

“Minnie’s a free spirit, okay? Like me. She’d be miserable locked up inside all day. She needs to wander.”

“Wander out in traffic and get hit by a car?” Marlene retorted, and Dorcas slapped her arm.

“That was so unnecessary, Marls. You know what he’s like with that bloody cat.”

Sirius drank half his beer in one go to dispel the pictures of Minnie’s little body lying in the gutter somewhere, something he’d been trying to do to no avail for the past three days. He needed something stronger.

“Hey,” Marls said, softer now, placing a hand on his arm. “Tomorrow, we’ll help you look for her, alright? Print some posters and put them up around her usual hideouts.”

“Thanks,” he replied, and he actually meant it through the hollow thing that lived in his chest.

Marls’ gaze didn’t leave his face. “Do you want the number for that therapist I mentioned? I’ll help make the call, even. Just say the word.”

Sirius scoffed and shook his head with a grin. “God, why are you being such a fucking downer, Marls? This is a party, for crying out loud. We’re supposed to have fun!”

With that, he dragged Dorcas with him to the dance floor, which was just their living room with all the furniture pushed up against the walls, and then tried to let whateverthefuck this music was seep into his body. Dorcas shook her head.

“You know, for all that I’m supposed to be the youngest one here, you’re the one who acts twenty-two.” The music seemed to seep into her body just fine, her movements smooth and practiced.

“What can I say, it’s my wonderful personality keeping me young.” He finished his beer and looked around for something else to drink.

“Marls worries about you.” Dorcas placed her little hands on his shoulders, concern evident on her face. “And I know we haven’t known each other as long as you guys, but I worry too.”

Sirius grabbed her face in both hands and planted a loud kiss on her forehead. She tasted like foundation and hair spray. “Don’t be silly, Dorky.” He pulled back and grinned at her. “You know me, love, I always make it through.” Read the rest there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38184250/chapters/95395225 (why does dumblr refuse to imbed links hhhh)

[spoiler1001]

WIP update!

Vergil received a letter. That’s all there was to it. After ten years of… learning, collecting stories- Myths, really- about his father, fighting demon after demon, monster after monster, it all came down to a note written on a scrap of paper sent to him by a bird. A bird that dissipated upon delivery. How curious.

And so Vergil found himself on the island of Fortuna, built on a castle that was owned by Sparda himself. The ground itself had the magic of the hells imbued in it. It was a lure all of its own, surely devils will find their way here sooner or later. As it was, Fortuna was nice enough, the air was fresh, smelling of food from the local markets. The magic gave Fortuna a hot humid quality to the air, at least around town. But still, the people were clothed in thick heavy woolen clothes. Maybe it was shielding them from demon attacks, like armor of old.

The crowd around him was bustling, seemingly unaware that they had a target on their back. Of course, they would be unaware. Those without magic cannot sense where it may be residing. Vergil never knew that kind of ignorance. There was only when he first knew about magic and when he knew that magic could kill him. Envy almost made its way up his throat, but it was swallowed back. Soon he would have so much power that nothing would leave him vulnerable.

In Vergil’s musings, he found himself at a library. In the note he was given, he was not told of a place to meet anyone, just that this place may bring knowledge of Sparda. A library would be a good place to start. It was a perfect lure. Vergil knew it was possibly a trap, but he was curious. As he was, Vergil was probably powerful enough to fight back an ambush. There was a bell on the door. How pleasant.

The library had shelves from floor to ceiling, books filled to the brim. They were remarkably bound, practically brand new. No doubt edited and re edited as the need arose.

Vergil took a deep breath through his nose. The scent of books and… a distant smoking area- really? In a place where they had aged paper?- filled his lungs. His human instinct pushed against his muscles, trying to force him to relax. Vergil fought it the best he could. If he relaxed then he would be vulnerable. When he was vulnerable, he was powerless.

He would never be powerless again.

Vergil could have been looking for notes on his father. It would have helped his mission. Instead, Vergil had found a complete collection of Blake. It had been a decade since he had read Blake. And so he read it again, taking comfort in something that reminded him of home. If Vergil allowed himself to express his emotions, he would have smiled. As is, when Vergil finished the book, he closed it with a sharp snap. There was a moment of silence. The crowd had mostly left the library. No one had approached him, even to question why he had a sword with him. None of the civilians were armed like he was. Maybe he was that intimidating. The thought made Vergil smile.

Vergil stood up to put the book back, hearing heavy footsteps approaching him. That quickly soured his mood.

-----

Vergil had no idea what to make of his new companions. No he did. Arkham was… slime. Even the demons that used to hunt Vergil had more humanity than that man. It was the female that Vergil couldn’t figure out. She approached him with her face obscured, seeming to be always at Arkham's side. Arkham introduced her and she bowed in a red dress that was a bit too tight. Vergil didn’t listen to the name. He was too focused on trying to read her. All he could see was a perfectly painted smile, much like a doll would have. She had a pull around her, but any magic she had was hidden by the magic from Fortuna. She could be dangerous.

Arkham spoke of grand power, of history. The man was practically salivating at the thought of the power of Sparda. Vergil briefly considered slicing into him, but unfortunately, Arkham knew his stuff, and Vergil, despite his reputation, otherwise very much did not.

Vergil left Fortuna with his two new companions, ready to start preparing to obtain the power of Sparda.

Once They reached a boat to the mainland, the woman dropped the hood. Vergil looked out of curiosity. She looked like she was formed by porcelain. That doll comparison he made earlier seemed to be more accurate than originally thought.

When demonic energy is used to create human looks, things are usually too perfect. There would be no flaws, and the people would look distractingly perfect. The woman bore that tell of being sculpted by demonic magic. She did have freckles, but there were no other changes in her skin tone. Her eyes were a dark blue, no traces of any other colors in it and her hair was a bright yellow blond, braided, and threaded into a tiara position.

“You aren’t human,” was the first thing out of Vergil’s mouth. The woman just chuckled and looked at him. Her eyes were unreliable, somehow calculating and cold, while projecting a soothing and warm look.

“That is a complicated matter. Humanity is a rather fluid thing.” She responded. "The Order that runs Fortuna is weaving magic into themselves, and they still claim to be human."

"I can't exactly call them misguided," Vergil admitted. "But what they claim to have is a drop in the bucket to the power of Sparda."

"You're starting to sound like him." The woman grimaced and gestured with her chin towards Arkham.

"It's my birthright." Vergil almost snapped.

"Just… be careful with that one. He likes to collect magical toys, whether or not they're his to claim." Her voice took on a softer tone, unreadable to even his ears.

"Like you?" Vergil had to ask. The laugh he got in response was bitter, sardonic.

"I'm an insurance policy." The woman, who, now that Vergil was watching her, couldn't be older than him.

Before Vergil could ask, Arkham's voice boomed.

"Alice, be a good girl, tell the captain to take us further upstream." The command was loud enough to buzz in Vergil's skull.

Well now Vergil knew the woman's name, and the transformation seemed to be immediate. Alice went from her relaxed posture to a rigid spine. Her smile went from sardonic, but casual to porcelain perfection. Even her hair, still pinned in that tiara halo, seemed to lose some of the strands that were out of place.

"On it." She responded.