#they��re a little more than doodles but eh

[chibishortdeath]

I got a new sketchbook since I filled one recently :3c. Shout out to suddenly getting a ton of energy and drawing bizarre fanart at 1 am 💀💀💀.

I’m putting the more violent ones under a cut even if the post is already tw tagged because of the subject matter being a bit dark d(^^ ).

Along with explanations for all of them of course!

⚠️tw for self harm and burning past this point⚠️

First one (before the cut) is just some pose practice. Simon’s just sitting, all sad and mopey. There’s also a little chibi doodle of him in the bottom corner and a little pose armature in the top corner for a pose I didn’t even end up drawing whoops lol. I feel like I drew his face a little differently than I usually do in this one :O. Idk how that happened lol.

This one is to show the differences in anatomy between each game! The curse takes a lot out of him, poor guy, so he’s a bit less jacked than usual 😔. Well, more specifically he doesn’t have as much of a layer of protective fat anymore. And he’s also very tired :(. But yeah, this is just a reference I’ll look back at to keep this detail consistent! I was going to put scar reference on it too, but I completely forgot and eh it mighta made it kinda hard to make out anyway d(- - ).

I drew this side profile of Simon while watching a video talking about lost media stuff. I think the image I based it on was something Saki Sanobashi related, idk I just liked the vibes of the hair being blown back by wind and got inspired :). And yes I know that Saki is probably a hoax 💀💀💀💀💀, I didn’t have much interest in it tho tbh, besides just hoping something lost gets found in general. Lost media videos are honestly great for putting on as background noise when drawing :)

Simon is totally me when I have a crisis and cover my face with my hands, but make sure one eye is visible and miraculously out of shadow for dramatic effect!!!

Ok spookier stuff time, first of the below the cut drawings. This one is based on how sometimes vampires are depicted as being able to drain someone from long distances or beyond the grave. Dracula is mean, and Simon is suffering from the curse, the usual. Augh I actually need to do things cause I keep thinking of a cool scene of Simon having a weird Dracula nightmare and then waking up to see it wasn’t a dream, and that’s tropey as hell, but it’s spooky!!! Do you see my vision?

This is a depiction of like what happens with a game over or something :O. Like an absolute worst possible outcome: Simon dies and Dracula is unsealed and fully regenerated. I basically just took is Simon’s Quest design and then rehydrated it and tada, Dracula is no longer a skeleton— He ends up looking way more like Vlad the Impaler in this outfit hmmm. Also, unrelated, but a friend of mine mistook Dracula for Jesus in this drawing 💀💀💀.

Oh boy, edgy depictions of uh a lot of not being very kind to yourself themes. Idk how else to describe this one other than ya know when you get really mad at your past self for making a mistake or the wrong decision that you could’ve only known about in hindsight? Also in part the fear of actually becoming a vampire at the end of all of this? And I guess a bit of feeling like it’s your own fault, you’re the one that keeps shooting yourself in the foot, but I feel like he’d also attribute getting hit by Dracula in the first place as his fault too… hmm just a lot of very sad things going on, this one was definitely a later 1 am time drawing, maybe 1:40 or something. I think what I draw at night is further proof to not trust you when you’re tired; I get weirdly existential at night and then it’s totally fine in the morning. Simon! Just sleep! Stop overthinking!!! You’ll be ok!!!

This one I debated putting up at all cause it’s graphic and not finished (TwT ;). But it was a rare drawing of Simon smiling that didn’t look uncanny, which is kinda ironic because Simon this is not the time to be smiling—! That is also wayyy too far for just the Dracula ritual, you really only need a tiny amount to open the seal, but I’ll cut him some slack cause he is a bit at wits end by this point. I’d say maybe he’s smiling because he thinks he finally won, but tbh I thought of it more like when things are just so bad you start laughing. Like Dracula just rose from the altar and the morbid irony of it all is just so absurd, the irony that you did everything right and fought tooth and nail (Dracula’s to be exact lol) to stop it and here it is happening anyway. I wanna give this guy a weighted blanket and a bowl of warm soup—

These last two are based on what could’ve happened to him. The Grey ending is pretty much usually considered the “worst”, but they’re all nearly interchangeable, especially in the Japanese version. For example: the western release really makes the Blue ending seem like he died and didn’t kill Dracula, but it’s a lot more that he just died doing it in the original, which is to say that it’s kinda like the Grey ending just with a different eulogy— Anyway, the Grey ending is the only one that doesn’t show Simon at Dracula’s grave, so I’ve always taken it as he didn’t make it out of the castle basement. And well, setting Dracula on fire is a pretty common way to kill him so uh um, R.I.P. I’ve got a couple ideas for alternate comic endings to say the least. I might honestly just depict all of them and leave it entirely up to the reader which one happened because it doesn’t change much— Though this also has me thinking of how him surviving would work now. The curse would definitely have left some lasting effects, you don’t just magically stop having been rotted, sleep deprived, and whatever else it did. Idk I picture him being like Renfield levels of lost it afterwards if that makes sense… that could also be a pretty solid explanation for why his story isn’t told correctly and the cycle repeats with Maxim later; it’d be a pretty traumatic thing to talk about tbh. Ok but yappersvile over, next doodle 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Aside from the burnt doodle that’s uh same explanation as the above (R.I.P.), the other two are just a little head angle and expression practice and one tiny one towards the top that’s Dracula being all spooky ghost vampire, but I didn’t like how it was looking and gave up on it 💀💀💀. It’s very hard to draw a vampire attacking someone and not have it look kinda awkward or unreadable. Tbh I struggle putting two characters in one image anyway because I have to draw the anatomy lines for both of them and they end up getting really hard to tell apart when one is behind another, one character suddenly isn’t proportional compared to the other, or you find out one of them isn’t tall enough for the pose you had in mind (>~< ). So anyway Dracula was accidentally way too short all of a sudden and I couldn’t figure out how to draw his torso without making a completely incomprehensible blob behind Simon oof.

Okie, it’s lunch time, bye :3!

[ehh-is-the-name]

Today marks the year anniversary since ONE 17 came out, and that means we've seen Airy's true form for a whole 365 days.

I've not been normal about him this whole year. I looked through my files and found out that I drew him a lot more than other characters I like, so I figured eh fuck it. Art dump.

Here's all the doodle's I've drawn and liked of him in chronological order, dating from roughly 15th Aug 2022 to 7th July 2023. They all range from digital, traditional, to even mixed media for the Airy page.

Under the cut are a few pictures of some physical things, like keychains and my goddamn Halloween hat.

Alrighty, first keychain. It was mostly just to practice cross-stitching but he's still on my bag. Idk how I feel about it, it's wonky but idk. I like it. The left is the quick pixel art I did just to see what he'd look like so low-res, and I obviously did some tweaking before sewing it.

This one turned out a lot better. Near the end of the images above you can see the sketches. I think it's funny how this thing came from some absent-minded doodle on my science work in class. And you know I had to make each side different! That's like 90% of the fun with shrink plastic.

I can't believe I forgot to take pics of the just hat after I'd finished it, but luckily I'm a hoarder and keep everything. It looked a little better in October, but I can't go back in time and take photos. If you wanna see the costume and wip pics they're in this post btw.

[idrawtoomuch-gw2]

Rambling Thoughts re: Edmund in SotO instead of Kai

• As noted on the initial armour doodles; Edmund would still be using illusions to cover the scars on his face (from Icebrood) because 1 I'm too lazy to dig out old drawings for ref, and 2 I kinda wanna redesign/simplify them to make more sense and be easier to draw

• I was planning on having the timeline go so that Edmund and Sophie would get into an actual relationship post Icebrood BUT I think I'll shove that a bit later at least after SotO for a couple reasons. The first reason is not being in a (monogamous) relationship means less complicated for Edmund to lust over/flirt with/etc with any eligible female character over the course of SotO (no idea how often this will come up in doodles but eh the option is there). The second reason;

• If Edmund was with Sophie then 'Joining the Wizards' is not something he would ever even think about, nevermind actually consider. Without her though? He would absolutely give it some serious thought. (spoilers: he won't join but I'd like the option to explore his thoughts/feelings on that.)

Direct Story Step Thoughts;

• Obviously the interview bit at the start would still be done by Kai, but the step with the camp is pretty easy to toss Edmund into without that- it's in Gendarran Fields, which also where the main Vigil Keep is. Boom. He was on his way to or from the keep, saw a bunch of people camped out there and got curious. (He's also much better at sneaking than Kai is so that works)

• One change early on would involve Edmund's leg- the prosthetic one- during the initial 'fight' with Cerus it would get broken so once he'd get through to Skywatch he would be carried by Frode until he could get on the skyscale, after things would calm a little he'd get chance to rest a bit then receive a temp leg from the Astral Ward, then later a better magical one from the Wizards (probably around where you visit the infirmary and after Act 3 respectively)

• the more I think about this the more it changes from a 'What If' to 'Screw It Kai is on Vacation It's Edmund's Turn'

[sonofshin]

*jazzhands*

[rinpin]

Ahem. Soooo…yeah, I drew him again.

Have an angsty Gohan AU doodle for your Monday night. An AU basically revolving around the idea that Gohan, is IN FACT the strongest out of all of them, BUT he has a hard time controlling it. Read more to continue on this angsty journey with me.

So here’s the idea in a nutshell:

Gohan does in fact ascend to such a power level that it surpasses even his dad and Vegeta. The catch: he can’t control it, and it makes him go feral. SO, a training exercise went wrong or the Earth was in trouble, whatever— Gohan ascends, and ends up killing just about everyone that holds a ki level higher than a normal human on earth. The last one he ends up killing is Piccolo before he finally comes down to normal, and it’s DEVASTATING. He has to undo all of this: so he searches for the Dragon Balls.

When he finally gets a meeting with the dragon, he makes his wishes: Bring everyone that he killed back to life, and make them forget who I am. He wish in granted, but theres a little catch to the wish— his family and friends won’t know who he is, until they say his name. Once they say his name, the memories will come back. So Gohan goes on under a new name (I don’t know what, I was thinking of making a joke about calling him ‘Gohan solo’ cause, y’know, ‘Han Solo’… Its a joke, dont judge me) and for a few years he’s kept off the radar from the Z fighters. In their minds, history was re-written that Goku killed off Cell and died in battle before finally coming back for the Buu saga— they have no memory of Gohan WHATSOEVER. UNTIL Beerus shows up, and then the tournament of power kicks in, and they start looking around for fighters. They start sensing that theres someone around that has some IMMENSE POWER. Long story short, Gohan hides his identity when joining the tournament of power (CAUSE WHO ELSE IS GONNA STEP IN TO HELP SAVE THE UNIVERSE CAUSE GODDAMNIT GOKU) and over the course of the tournament, the truth begins to come out, especially when Gohan ascends again. It all circulates around Gohan’s fear of hurting his loved ones again, and coming to terms with it. Angsty as fuck, but don’t worry, Gohan gets his hugs at the end.

Like I said, its just an idea. Kinda dumb and sad, but eh, its been rolling around in my noggin’ for a bit.

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Spooky season doodle dump of doodles for my Supernatural Beings AU, bc it fits and I’ve been having brainrot so why not!!!!

More info about them and this au under the cut :)

(Read with caution as I will discuss things such as death and other ghosty stuff, nothing much, but still!)

Vampires and werewolves, in particular, have a cursed and mostly very dangerous type(???? If that’s what you can call it?) that instead of preying on humans alone, require the blood of other supernatural or undead beings to survive.

We’ll call these “dark vampires” or “dark werewolves” for the sake of the fact that they use darker magic than regular types, and are typically very evil :) (A regular vampire/werewolf can be turned into a dark type bc it’s basically like a curse)

We’ll call these “dark vampires” or “dark werewolves” for the sake of the fact that they use darker magic than regular types, and are typically very evil :) (A regular vampire/werewolf can be turned into a dark type bc it’s basically like a curse)

Anyway!

Tsunagu is a dark vampire. He’s a born vampire from both his mother and father, but was turned by an ✨evil ex-lover✨ and therefore he requires the blood of undead folk to stay alive, and is a lot more powerful than the regular vampire.

Shinya is a demon spirit. I’ll have to go a little more into detail for his, since it’s me so you’re not gonna get an easy explanation /lh

He was a guardian of his village, and died to protect it when they got ambushed. He died by almost losing his head and drowning in the river.

After this, he turned into a vengeful water ghost, haunting the river for many years and being very very hostile and aggressive, killing anyone who trespassed among the village or the river. He seemed revenge from those who killed him and his family, and eventually he got it! And should’ve been able to be at peace….but…

Instead of this, the spirits of the village were all freed and he basically transformed into a protective demon guardian spirit, manifesting a physical form as well as a ghosty form. And his lust for blood had subsided, leaving him to basically just be free to wander around as a ghost/demon spirit.

He is already dead, so cannot die, however in order to keep his physical form in tact he must consume human or undead souls. And if his physical form “dies” he must basically just be a ghost until he can form the energy to re-manifest it.

His vengeful spirit form did not entirely vanish however, and since he died by drowning, being submerged in water or in water of any kind will bring this side back out of him.

Basically this just makes him aggressive and have a more spooky appearance and also try to kill anyone around him. (Things such as reflections and mirrors will also show this side of him.)

But he can travel through things and possess things like normal ghosts when he’s in his ghosty form!!

The two of them met bc Shinya followed Tsunagu home after finding him “familiar” and decided “eh, I’ll just spook him and take his soul” and so he tried….only for Tsunagu to spook him back and he finds out that he’s a dark vampire and ends up just living in his house!

They end up getting used to each other’s presence and after a few different shenanigans and near-“death” (though the can’t die, they can still get hunted by hunters) experiences, they end up forming a bond with each other and treasuring each other dearly <3

That’s all I have for now, but if ya wanna know more about this au, please do ask!! There are plenty of other characters in this au with their own stories!!

(Here’s an old bonus -slightly old- doodle of Tsunagu trying to get Shinya to take a shower, bc <3):

[uramichislefttiddie]

Blue lock random head cannons (:

||Contains: Meguru Bachira, Yoichi Isagi, Rensuke Kunigami||

||Warnings: fluff if anything||

Meguru Bachira

No matter if you have long or short hair, he will always want to style your hair for you wether that ranges from dying it to just simply tying it up or curling it etc. However most of the time he will want you to style his hair after he’s done yours, he especially loves the feeling of your fingers messing with his hair. If your sat down doing something always expect for Bachira to rest his head in your lap waiting for you to comb through his hair with your fingers and if you still haven’t done so he will start messing with your fingers hoping you get the message.

It was a late Saturday evening around the time dusk was settling into the day, the orange shade breaking through the pristine glass of the window that rested behind you and Bachira. You had been playing (choice of game) for the past few hours as Bachira was eating about the 3rd can of pineapple trying his hardest to not spill any of the juice anywhere as he fine well knew you’d make him clean it up and at that moment he’d like to avoid cleaning at all costs. You had started to slowly become bored, the silence now finally getting to you. As you turned your head to look at Bachira he was still stuffing his face full of pineapple. No matter what he always had that bright smile that had entranced you from the first day you both had set eyes upon one another.

“Bachira that’s the last can, you’ll make yourself sick soon!” He slightly turned his head in your direction, cheeks puffed with a small grin accompanying his face. You turned back to your game making a new goal of at least finishing this one level before doing anything else. After awhile still having not accomplished the goal you soon felt a slight weight on your lap, Bachira was staring up at you waiting for you to realise what he was wanting. You had known for awhile now that combing his hair was the easiest way to get him asleep. However you were very fixated on doing this one level and to your knowledge you had failed to realise Bachira was wanting attention.

Just as soon as you were about to compete the one level you had been struggling on a soft hand had grabbed at yours removing it off the controller and resulting in you dying once more.

“The hell Bachira! What was that for?” You hadn’t meant to shout at him but it was during the moment after all day you were so close to finishing what you had been wanting to finish.

“Ah, sorry y/n I forgot you were playing that, I’m really sorry!” You could tell he was sorry as he was looking at your with saddened eyes.

“Eh, it’s alright just please ask me next time that’s all you need to do.” You gave him a small smile as you laid his head back onto your lap and started to massage his head as he slowly closed his eyes soon falling to a soft slumber.

Yoichi isagi

Isagi is very skilled in art, at the beginning of your relationship he had a small sketch book he would carry about and inside that book unbeknownst to you was little doodling’s of you at different angles and at different locations you two would go together so he could remember these moments. After awhile being in the relationship he asked could he draw you to which you agreed and ever since than he loves drawing you when he has the spare time.

It had been about 5 month’s since you and isagi started dating, you was both sat down in the grass watching the sunset, both of you were occupying yourselves with things that interested you both, art being isagi’s. for awhile now you you felt as if someone kept looking at you, but you didn’t want to suspect that straight away.

“Hey…y/n can i- wait never mind it doesn’t matter.” Spoke a soft voice from next to you, you looked to the direction the voice came from and tilted your head in a confused state.

“What is it Isagi?” You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. He opened his mouth hesitantly and looked anywhere except from you. “Hey you can tell me you know?”

“It’s just I was gonna, well, ask if I could draw you?” You started to giggle slightly and looked at him. “Of course you can Isagi, you don’t need to ask me!” Isagi turned away shyly recounting all the times he’s done a quick sketch of you previously. He quickly smiled at you and turned around to grab ahold of his bigger sketch book and a few different pencils. He soon started to sketch you making sure to take into account all of the details on your face. About 20 minutes later he tucked the rest of the equipment into a small backpack and closed the sketch book, you turned a confused look to him wondering why he isn’t showing you, soon enough Isagi had caught onto your puzzled face. “Oh I’m going to give it to you on your birthday alongside with many more things!” He said with much enthusiasm and a big smile with puppy dog eyes. “But my birthday isn’t for a few more months!” You whined at him. He let out a laugh and shuffled to you and gave you a quick kiss. “Yeah exactly it gives me more time to make it the best for you!”

Rensuke kunigami

So in his trivia section is said the last time he cried was when watching E.T, so whenever you two end up watching movies he always hides the disc for E.T as he doesn’t want you to know he cries at the movie. To him he feels as if he has this certain image he needs to uphold. If you were to ever ask about if he has the disc for E.T he’d straight away make an excuse wether it’s believable or not like one time he made the excuse that “he dropped it in soup and it stained the disc” You had to just play along and believe him obviously.

As you walked back into the living room with hands full, consisting off a bowl of popcorn and two drinks of your choice, kunigami was across the room frantically searching for something within the pile of dvds he had in a glass shelf. “Hey kunigami, you alright over there?” You had questionably asked in his direction whilst placing down the products onto the oak table resting infront of the rather large couch. “Oh uh I was just trying to re arrange the dvds so it’s easier for you to choose one!” He quickly explained whilst scratching the back of his head and giving you a not so reassuring look. You decided to just ignore him and carry on setting up the movie night layout. Kunigami was starting to walk up the stairs making you even more confused with his behaviour. “Hey where you off to, your acting quite odd?” He halted in place and slowly turned around to face you with a surprised look plastered across his face. “Uh just going to the toilet quickly.” He carried on walking upstairs leaving you to pick out a film to watch. As you sauntered over to the shelf’s you started to scan looking for one specific you had been meaning to watch for awhile now, no matter how much you looked you could just not find it despite remembering seeing the dvd many of times.

Footsteps were heard behind you followed by two arms wrapping around your figure. “You found one to watch yet.” You soon started to piece things together and turned to him with a snark on your face. “Yeah where did you put E.T too kunigami? I know you have it so don’t pretend you don’t.” As soon as those words left your mouth his face dropped of colour and eyes went big. “Oh I…yeah I accidentally sat on it the other day and broke it in half, sorry y/n.” You started laughing and playfully pushed him making him look at you confused. “No need to hide the fact you’ve hid it, your sister already told me about the time you cried whilst watching it kunigami!” He stared at you for what seemed like hours but soon enough he let out a laugh and his cheeks accompanying a bright red tint. “Hey I told her to keep that a secret damn it!” He looked at you for a second than went running back upstairs and bringing down the dvd and waving it about in your direction. One second you had seen kunigami walking down the stairs than within a blink of an eye he had fell on the stairs laughing as he did so. “Well…here it is!” You ran over to him making sure he wasn’t hurt but not being able to hold in the laughter that was wanting to escape. “Hey if you cry, I’ll be right there!” You said almost mockingly. He whipped his head to you with an unamused look. “haha very funny but keep this between us! I don’t want no one else to know this.” You gave him one more look before walking over to slot in the disc for E.T to start playing, as you went to go lay down on the couch you turned to look at kunigami who was still situated at the bottom of the stairs where his fall had ended at. “Oh yeah thank you for the help!” He shouted whilst laughing, you soon laughing back.

[esmealux]

I'll bite. 13 and 35 look like they might be fun together. 😈

Thank you so much for this fun prompt, Shelly ❤ The opportunities seemed endless, but in the end I went with this. I hope you like it.

Once again, I screwed up at brevity, so this is 1.9K (:

13. Someone does something stupid + 35. 'You wanna bet?' 'Care to wager?'

Never make a bet with the Devil.

A deal, if you must. But do not bet against him.

Not because he’ll take your soul or anything; he won’t even necessarily take your money.

But because he can’t handle it. He can’t. He’ll stop at nothing to win, and when he doesn’t—when he can’t shoot down a bottle of vodka with a slingshot from 400 feet away, or blow a soap bubble with his nose, or fly to Sweden and back in under thirty minutes (the latter he did do, but a drug test showed he’d taken EPO)—he’ll walk around in a pathetic cloud of self-pity, sulking and pouting to an unbearable degree for days on end.

So if you care about the Devil, don’t bet with him. It’s for his own good.

It really is.

And yet-

Chloe picks up the dirty plates from the coffee table as gunshots fire around her. It makes her a little uneasy, how real it sounds through their newly installed surround sound system. One so expensive she doesn’t even want to know.

Their just as overpriced (and unnecessarily big) TV is bathing Lucifer in white-blue light as he stares at the screen intently. He did want to watch the movie with her, but she’s not much of a Weaponizer fan, and she’d like to clean up before she snuggles up next to him on the couch and inevitably falls asleep. As she’s gathered all the dishes in her arms, however, she can’t help but pause and glance at the film for just a second.

‘Yeah, like that could actually happen,’ she snorts, watching the car jump across a considerable gap in a bridge, flip mid-air, and land on all four wheels on the other side. ‘I mean, no one’s ever done that.’

As soon as the words leave her mouth Chloe knows she’s made a mistake.

Lucifer pauses the movie—because God forbid he misses five seconds of a film he’s watched thirty times—before he looks up at her with a lifted eyebrow and a devilish grin.

‘Is that a challenge, Detective?’

Chloe glares at him, her jaw clenching. ‘It’s not possible,’ she states firmly, which is even worse, because now he can only reply with-

‘Care to wager?’

Chloe wants to kick herself.

‘There’s no way in Hell you’re doing that,’ she tells him, nodding towards the paused screen before she heads for the kitchen to start the dishwasher.

‘Why? Because my worried girlfriend won’t let me?’ he calls after her. ‘I’m invulnerable, remember?’

Chloe refills her wine glass, generously, and returns to the living room.

‘No,’ she objects, careful not to spill Pinot Noir on the couch as she settles against Lucifer’s warm, silk-clad side. ‘I just know you’ll never forgive yourself when your beloved Corvette rams into a cliff.’

Lucifer gasps and scoffs. ‘As if I’d ever risk such a sweet beauty like that!’ He plucks the glass out of her hand and takes a sip. ‘And even if I did, she would not, because I would succeed, first try.’

‘First try? Really?’

Chloe grabs the remote and replays the last fifteen seconds. Looking at it a second time, it’s even more ridiculous. The background is so obviously a green screen it’s not even funny, the flip is clearly made using some sort of outdated CGI, and they haven’t even bothered making it look like there’s a real person in the car. Also—Chloe doesn’t remember much from school, but she’s pretty sure the entire stunt defies physics as the car leaps, practically flies over the 150 feet gap, all the while rotating 360 degrees sideways.

‘Maybe third,’ Lucifer admits.

Chloe shakes her head and sighs.

‘I can do it, Detective.’ He looks at her like it’s a threat. ‘And I will.’

Oh, he will definitely try. The determination in his eyes leave no doubt about that. But he can’t possibly copy that stunt with an actual car and an actual gap. There’s just no way. And she shouldn’t spur him on. She really shouldn’t. But the idiot’s gotta learn at some point, and if she’s gonna have to deal with his childish disappointment (and she will), she might as well get something out of it.

‘Fine,’ she shrugs. ‘What are we betting?’

He grins at her, brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

‘If—nay, when I win,’ he answers promptly, and Chloe rolls her eyes, ‘I’ll finally get that thing I’ve always wanted.’

Chloe stares at him, comepletely clueless. If his tone and stupid smirk are anything to go by, it’s not a pet shark he’s talking about.

‘One... re-enactment for another,’ he clarifies slowly, his dark gaze gliding over her body before his eyes flicker to the glass doors leading to their terrace—and their outdoor hot tub.

Chloe fights the urge to roll her eyes again.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, internally reminding herself it doesn’t really matter. She gives him a cocky smile. ‘And when I win?’

Lucifer chuckles as if he finds her adorably naïve. Asshat. Still, he says, ‘You’ll get anything you desire.’

Chloe thinks. There’s not much she desires he wouldn’t give her anyway. She could have him do paperwork for a month, but he’d just mess it up, and she’d have to listen to his complaints about ‘torturous boredom’ and ‘purgatory’. She could also go for something funnier, like have him wear t-shirt and sweats to work for a week. But that would just be cruel, wouldn’t it?

‘I don’t know,’ she tells him, but the words are barely out of her mouth before Trixie’s enthusiastic voice sounds behind them.

‘I might have an idea!’

Lucifer sighs and gives Chloe an unimpressed look before he shifts slightly in his seat to look at her daughter.

‘Alright, but only because your mum lacks creativity like a sober Faulkner.’

Trixie walks around the couch and comes to stand in front of them, a mischievous smile on her face.

‘Please don’t tell me it’s a unicorn on the cheek,’ Lucifer huffs, taking another gulp of Chloe’s wine.

‘It’s not,’ she assures him and holds out her iPad for him to see. It’s a doodle of a small, fluffy goat with pink fur. ‘I was thinking something more… permanent.’ With the hand that’s not holding her tablet, Trixie pats a spot on the left side of her upper chest.

Lucifer slowly removes the wine glass from his lips, and the sheer horror on his face makes Chloe snort with laughter.

He stares at the small, inarguably adorable drawing like it’s a personal insult, glances down at his chest with dread, and looks back to Trixie.

‘You little Devil,’ Lucifer grumbles, but there’s no trace of hostility in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little impressed. He grabs Trixie’s iPad from her outstretched hand and studies the pink kawaii buck for a second, as if he’s seriously considering saying yes to the deal.

Eventually, he sighs. ‘I’m in.’

‘Lucifer-’ Chloe immediately begins to protest. He’s not gonna win this bet, and she knows how downright intolerable he’ll be when he’ll have to get a cute, chubby animal—one that, to him, represents mockery and misconception—tattooed onto his skin. She's tired already, just thinking about all the whining she'd have to deal with.

But it’s too late. Her boyfriend and daughter shake hands, and the deal is settled.

Chloe palms her face.

‘Wait, what do you get if you actually manage to… whatever it is this time?’ Trixie asks, her small hand still clasped in Lucifer’s.

Chloe looks up at him, heat creeping up her cheeks. Their eyes meet shortly before he looks back to her daughter, visibly conflicted.

‘Eh…’

It’s not so much a word as it is a breathy, high-pitched sound, partly stuck in his throat. But it’s answer enough for Trixie.

‘Forget I asked,’ she quickly says, her face scrunched up in disgust. ‘I’ll be in my room.’

She takes her iPad back and leaves them alone on the couch.

‘So, I guess it’s tit or tat, then,’ Lucifer remarks with a chuckle, glancing down at Chloe’s chest.

She snorts and smiles, despite herself.

‘But, I mean-’ He grabs the remote and plays the scene a third time.

He must not see the same utterly absurd and almost comically impossible stunt she (still) sees, because he leans down and whispers in her ear, ‘Better start rehearsing your lines, Detective.’

Chloe shakes her head at him and snuggles closer to his body.

*

‘You’re lucky I like your mother,’ Lucifer mumbles as the needle pinches ink into his chest.

He’d driven off in a ‘cheap’ Porsche this morning and returned eight hours later, looking like he’d literally been fed to the wolves and with no Porsche.

‘Hey honey,’ she’d greeted him, hiding her smirk behind her cup of tea. ‘How’d it go?’

He’d answered with a grunt, blamed the Germans for making their cars too ‘praktisch’ and the Italians for not making theirs fast enough (he’d controlled for variables) and finally concluded it was all his dad’s fault because He ‘created that pesky gravity’.

Then he’d handed her an ornate, black business card and looked at her as if he’d picked his own casket.

Chloe had bit her cheek and hugged him before driving all three of them to the high-end tattoo parlour he’d requested.

‘You okay there?’ she asks him, letting him grip her hand tighter. The fact that he isn’t feeling any actual pain—‘any physical pain, Detective!’—makes his wincing all the more pathetic. Still, she feels a little bad for him.

‘No.’ He bends his neck to peer down at his chest, and pouts. ‘I’m not.’

Trixie grins beside him. ‘I think it looks cool!’

‘Of course, you do. You’re a twelve-year-old girl.’

The smile on Trix’ face turns into a smirk. ‘A twelve-year-old who girl you lost a bet to.’

Sighing deeply, Lucifer turns his head to scowl at her like she’s his annoying little sister and not the stepdaughter he’d go to the ends of the universe for.

‘It’ll be gone in a few months,’ Chloe reminds him, earning her a funny look from the tattoo artist.

The muscle in Lucifer’s jaw ticks. ‘It’s not even finished yet and I already hate it more than I ever did my bloody wings! How am I supposed to endure this… horned cotton candy for months?’

Chloe takes a deep breath. She brought this on herself. She knew she shouldn’t have made that bet with him. She knew he’d be an insufferable drama queen.

She also knows, after hours of hearing him moan, that he’s not gonna shut up about ‘deceitful special effects’ and ‘useless laws of physics’, much less the ‘vile, little creature marring his muscled chest’. Not unless she does something.

So Chloe does something.

For the second time in her life, she gets naked in—and out of a hot tub.

‘No moaning, then,’ she tells him, giving him a stern look.

Lucifer looks her up and down in awe and hunger, dark eyes lingering on the tiny red bikini he knows she’ll take off in a matter of seconds. ‘Now, there’s a promise I can’t keep.’

‘About the wager,’ she clarifies, but he’s not listening.

With a sigh, Chloe sinks into the hot, bubbling water, loosens her bikini top, and gets into character.

She is never, ever betting with the Devil again.

[beeblackburn]

In or Out Book Tag

Got this book tag from @books-and-doodles​ and it sounded like a bit of fun, so I’m doing it! Exalt my valid opinions, and beware my invalid opinions. 😋

Questions:

1. Reading the last page first

IN. I do it less for authors like Hobb/Abercrombie/GRRM, where I want to be a little surprised (even though, realistically, they’re the authors who suffer the least from being spoiled for me). And, yes, I know the logical reasons why it’s not a good idea to spoil one’s self, but I also wanna know if I should be interested, come the book’s end. Once, I read the book’s end, found out a minor character I dug died in it, and it killed my interest in continuing past that book, series-wise. In hindsight, I should’ve trusted my instincts, because that book was easily the worst of the series.

2. Enemies to lovers

IN. Theoretically good, quite a few bones in the bare concept of it. And let’s be frank, a good hero and villain dynamic simmers with that sort of tension you can cut with a knife. Honestly, superhero comics are full of subtextual homoeroticism alone and, for an example, Naruto is pretty fucking gay in subtext, curse Kishimoto’s heteronormativity. In practice... I heard Aral and Cordelia’s relationship from Vorkosigan Saga is pretty good and while I have issues with the pacing of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’s usage (to be 100% fair to them, they were forced to back-end all the textual romantic tension at the last season), I quite liked the enemies-to-lovers dynamic for what it was.

Aside from that... eh. I don’t think it’s been done to my satisfaction, and I don’t think I’ve had it done that was pitch-perfect to my expectations.

3. Dream sequences

IN. I fully blame GRRM and Hobb here. When they do it, they’re windows into character psyches or hints of the supernatural creeping in. Dream sequences can meander as hell, and they can really suck there, but a good dream sequence can be freaky, vivid, and evocative of psychology deep down. It’s just a matter of figuring out a take that differs it from reality. Take full advantage of dream logic there, authors.

4. Love triangles

OUT. Aside from one instance of it, burn it. I can just reread that Holy Grail of a trope again. Burn it down. Burn it all down.

5. Cracked Spines

OUT. You can read a book without cracking the spine open, so long as you’re halfway careful. And as the sibling of someone who cracked my copy of The Lies of Locke Lamora’s and ripped a page of my first copy of Best Served Cold? No.  Just NO. 😩

6. Back to my small town

IN. I... I’m torn here. Because I don’t think a majority of these stories have quality characterization. And they can fall into two trajectories of mean-spirited “hah, I’ve outgrown and become so much better than these hicks who never moved out!” or romanticized “oh, I should re-learn to work hard again and appreciate the warm tight-knit community and beautiful countryside atmosphere, away from urban stress!” and neither hugely appeals to me, even if the latter has more pull with me (that being said, I’m a Chinese person who can’t speak Mandarin. I quite understand my chances of rural existence being easy on me anywhere). 

I like the idea of a former small-town person having to reckon with their old history, home, and people, combined with the person they are now, for good and ill, and it has plenty of psychological and thematic meat to it...

So, really, I’ll just point to Faulkner and call him the edge needed to be in on the trope.

7. Monsters are regular people

IN. I quite like it, taken as-is. It can be quite charming to see monsters effectively do whatever humans do. In a time where monsters are being romanticized, humanized, and treated with a more understanding and sympathetic brush than before, I am all for it. Hell, I read a comic on twitter that had that exact sort of premise earlier today and it ruled, being both funny and and relatable.

However. I’m not as enamored with takes that treat monsters as humans wearing a monster costume. I think something gets lost there. They’re monsters, non-humans. Yes, they should have emotions and relationships and interests and all those things, because those make for good characters, but it’s fair to point out that their morals/beliefs/habits are different from humanity’s without demonizing them.

This is also why the comic ruled. Yes, it’s a siren and centaur chatting over coffee and talking about cleaning, but the siren’s also talking about the skulls around her house from dead sailors she likely lured. Can’t write that for a human.

8. No paragraph breaks

OUT. Why would I want no paragraph breaks.

9. Multi-generational sagas

IN. I fully blame Joe Abercrombie, Robin Hobb, and Tad Williams for making me fall in love with the idea of a continuation of the world. I mean, I wouldn’t doubt that GRRM can do it too, I like his history and how it’s fleshed-out with many individual actors, with their own characters, but he hasn’t written it. But yes, I love that feeling of history, that tug of legacy and whether cycles will repeat, and children weighed under the shadows of their predecessors and having to carve out their own legacies, victories, and their own fuck-ups as well.

Now, they can easily turn really fucking dangerously bad for two main reasons for me, the above are three masterclass and one above-average fantasy author, and other authors who dabble in said stories pull shit like this:

1. They ruin the satisfying ending of the prior story by having a Bigger, Badder villain come out of the woodworks. Not only is that a huge slap in the face to readers of the prior story and cheapen the stakes involved then, but it’s a lazy power escalation, instead of just writing a different sort of story and challenge for another generation, and I’ve read enough shonens to tune out of power escalations.

2. They are super-focused on one bloodline continuing, so insular on that, being very biologically focused on family to a slavish degree. I’m reminded of Warrior Cats and how one character was implied to be infertile and then douchebag ghosts didn’t confirm, nor deny it, just to pressure her into taking her sister’s affair babies, only to, years later, tell her that she’s not infertile at all, just to make more next-generation babies to continue the story.

But done well? Very well? It gives the world a sense of progress, a sense of it continuing beyond the old guard, making it feel lived-in and thriving. It frees the world it from the perception that only one set of protagonists’ stories are worth telling. that there’s a bunch of new characters whose stories are waiting to be told, that the future brings different challenges, greater complexity beyond the original stories by dint of having that weight of the past to scaffold your next material, and offering retrospective onto older material through new viewpoints.

10. Re-reading

IN. Love catching new insights and getting gripped by familiar moments all over again through a re-read. I have changed my mind and/or grown wiser on countless things through having an older pair of eyes on A Song of Ice and Fire, The First Law, and Realm of the Elderlings alone, and I have never regretted a moment of it. It’s the reward of dealing with a great book, rife with depth. Returning to a text is like revisiting an old friend to me, and seeing them again after months, or even years, and wondering what changed between you two. It’s the realization that makes re-reading easy. And the one that makes it hard.

11. Artificial intelligence

IN. God, I do not like sci-fi a lot, but the idea of A.I. remains a goldmine to me, (really, I dig a decent amount of sci-fi tropes like clones, first contact, body augmentation and am planning on stuffing them into fantasy) when they’re not set to be automatically evil (HAL is cool, but I’m not sure I totally dig the idea that A.I. will always run amok and turn evil) or self-pityingly maudlin (”am I human?” over hundreds of pages). There are so many philosophical questions to me about the nature of humanity and its creation, and the former’s responsibilities to the latter, and what the latter wants to do with their life after all the questions.

Honestly, just set A.I.s in the fantasy genre, turn the robots into automations, and I’ll easily buy it! Why is this not a thing. Jam a bunch of sci-fi tropes into fantasy, please!

This is also why acquaintances in my The First Law server should bully me about finally reading Frankenstein.

12. Drop Caps

IN. First off, oh, that’s what they’re called. Learn something new everyday! Second off, yeah, they’re pretty damn cool, though my only question is, how do they work with e-readers? I mean, I mostly read physical copies, so sure, they’re in.

13. Happy endings

IN. I prefer bittersweet endings, and I prefer the ending be earned, regardless of tone, but if I had to choose between an earned happy or downer ending, I’ll go with the happy one. They’re harder to earn and make plausible and not-too saccharine to me anyway, whereas I’m generally game for a downer ending, even if it might feed my “the world sucks and it’ll punch down on you” mood.

14. Plot points that only converge at the end

OUT. I don’t entirely get the point of this sort of set-up, honestly. If they’re that separate, why not just write two separate books? Sure, thematical connection and all, but I definitely want them interacting before the end. Even A Song of Ice and Fire, with Dany’s plotline against Westeros’ plotline being as separate as they are, still intersects with aspects of the Westerosi stuff and there are more and more convergences down the road, as we inch towards the endgame.

For me, it feels a little like a waste not to have some interactions between the plots. Building up a relationship between the plots before they start to violently collide in a satisfying way down the road strikes me way more fruitful, because there’s a foundation for the characters in-universe to care about each other's actions beyond being faceless assholes to each other before finally getting to actually know the other at the endgame convergence point.

Also, it’s fun and a delight to have plots meet up together early on. It excites my narrative brain.

15. Detailed magic systems

OUT. I used to love that sort of nerdy magic system stuff, like I was really into Nasuverse and Cosmere magic, and I can still appreciate the craft that went into the latter, but then I started to realize those intricate magic systems keep building up rules, only for protagonists to start breaking them via loopholes and that’s when they start to lose me as part of the narrative (god, as cool as some of those Nasuverse rule-breakings were, they now exhaust me). 

And the thing about detailed magic systems is... once it starts getting a bunch of rules, it’s barely indistinguishable from science. Which, you know, I’m not against, but that’s not my preference with magic. As an Abercrombian character once pointed out: “If there were rules it would not be magic.” Give me magic that’s frightening, uncontrollable, liable to screw you over if you muck too much in something you have no-to-little understanding about.

16. Classic fantasy races

IN. Oof... yeah, I once had an interesting talk with a fellow writer about the inclusion of fantasy races half a year ago and they verbalized my fundamental issue with them: codifying race statistics and inherent traits transferred via DNA is NOT GOOD. It just brought me back to every time I had to read an Always Chaotic Evil race getting slaughtered by the masses, or a newborn of them being murdered by our “hero,” and it never being considered a genocide or a crime. I fucking cringe every time (looking at bloody you, Inheritance Cycle).

And the idea to write them coded as Indigenous people or a race other than white... well, you still bring in that racial essentialism baggage and you have to sort out the knot of a marginalized people having magic, especially given all the stereotypes about Indigenous people having magic. If you just want to write Indigenous people, just bring in fellow humans, so you can at least skip past some easily skippable dangerous territory (I mean, with writing Indigenous people, you’ll always wade in rougher waters, but at least you’re not implying they’re non-human). 

Now, classic fantasy races are part of the fantasy genre fabric, whether we like it or not. Lord of the Rings and Dungeons and Dragons already took a foothold into our genre and they’ve had too many years and influence for us to scrub it away wholesale (not that I want to with Lord of the Rings, but let’s be frank: Tolkien had his prejudices and flaws and messy world-building facets and it hardly helps us to ignore that). So we just have to bring our own take to the table, and we’ve got years and different perspectives to help us write them without bringing a lot of racial essentialism baggage with us.

NOW, why I say in is because... Discworld. Which pulls off what my fellow writer said a good solution to that problem is: give cultural/societal reasons for a shared behavior for the dwarves. That, and they also do gender commentary, which is pretty neat. And that’s just Pratchett’s take, I’m sure there are some non-white authors who have interesting and thoughtful takes on classic fantasy races. I like classic fantasy races, they just have to be written with some degree of non-laziness.

Also, c’mon, who doesn’t wanna make out with an orc.

17. Unreliable narrators

IN. Love them as they frustrate me, and they’re supposed to. Our brain chemistry, viewpoints, and bias constantly warp things and reality, depending on our perceptions, be it good or bad or a little of both. And that just makes for an excellent inner world, so much psychological meat to analyze and chew over. Little details to mull over and sip like a bottle of creamy sherry wine. It makes characters complex and helps each of them bring something new to the table, their own baggage, their inner worlds, their foibles of memories or emotion, their unique trains of thought that don’t match up to objective reality, but add a piece to a larger world.

18. Evil protagonists

IN. Hmmm. I loved reading A Song of Ice and Fire’s Cersei Lannister, the evil pieces of shit from The First Law, Realm of the Elderlings’ Captain Kennit, and The Dagger and the Coin has two villain protagonists that I quite love as character constructs (one of whom is one of my all-time favorite fantasy villains). I can’t even say they’re necessarily morally gray, so much as evil in rather human, recognizably petty and ignorant and bigoted and self-centered, ways. 

But while I dug Jorg Ancrath enough in my late-teens, the cracks in that impression are already showing (I keep in mind it was Lawrence’s first trilogy and dude’s allowed room to grow beyond edgelord writing, given Red Queen’s War). So, really, it depends on the writing, how others perceive them, versus their own perspective, and whether they have more layers than “evil,” because even evil people can hold and do multitudes, just like good people.

19. The chosen one

OUT. Unless you’re deconstructing, dissecting, or subverting the trope, the power fantasy of only one (presumably white and male, because of course) person having all the power to save everyone, and given metaphysical importance at that, can lick dogshit, for all I care. I don’t mind that it’s overdone, Realm of the Elderlings and A Song of Ice and Fire pull off great takes on “Chosen Ones” that treat it with weight and gravity and nuance, but, as I get older, I much prefer group efforts or average people getting swept in the changes of grand events (hey, two reasons why I love Red Country!)

20. When the protagonist dies

IN. It can easily go very wrong and shock value for shock value’s sake, and sadly people will copy the template of what A Song of Ice and Fire did without any of the craft or heart involved, but when it’s good, it’s really good. I fall more in line with an Abercrombian “there are worse things you can do to a protagonist than killing them” school of thought, but getting attached to a protagonist, only for them to die later because of the consequences of their choices, and you can see what happened to lead them to death, can bring such a poignant hurt to me, then keeping them alive to character develop, even when it might be implausible. Especially when their death can lead to even more exponential character development in other characters/new protagonists down the line.

21. Really long chapters

IN. It depends, really. GRRM, Abercrombie, and Hobb have some decently long chapters. GRRM’s longest A Song of Ice and Fire chapter is easily one of my favorites (Alayne III), and he’s even exercised his chapter lengths to make some of his longer stuff practically self-contained and thematically tight short stories that I enjoy. Hobb has some really long chapters and with her, sometimes there’s no intuitive break place in sight and it does bother me to stop in the middle of them. With Abercrombie, he stuffs a ton of POV shifts into his really long chapters that serve as pausing points and I can easily take a break there. Really, it depends on what the chapter’s going for, and how much is happening, and whether there are section breaks. I’m good for really long chapters, but sometimes, I do wonder why (looking at you, Glen Cook, with your The Black Company’s six chapters).

22. French flaps

OUT. They look nice, and they’re pretty to look at, but I don’t see the huge point of them and more bits and ends to bent and crease sounds like it’d just provoke my book-keeping anxiety.

23. Deckled edges

OUT. First off, oh, that’s what they’re called. Learn another new thing everyday! Second off, I’m not sure they look that good, and it just gives me the impression the printers messed up in some way, with how less uniform the pages look.

24. Signed copies by the author

OUT. It’s a signature. I can write a signature. Gimme the author’s signature online, and a few days of practice, and I can write it. Unless I saw and talked to the author (and it wasn’t an unpleasant experience), I don’t give a shit.

25. Dog-earing pages

OUT. Oh, fuck no. Beyond the fact that I can memorize the page number or the chapter itself, it damages the book needlessly. I’d rather just get a bookmark (though I don’t even use one myself). I would never dog-ear my books’ pages.

26. Chapter titles instead of numbers

IN. I blame Abercrombie for making such evocative chapter titles that I can’t help but associate them with the title, and not a number. Just give me a chapter title and I will know, at least, the broad strokes of it. Hobb’s titles are less strong, but there are some titles like Quarrel or Farseers that immediately send me back to when I last read it. Chapter numbers just lack character to me, they feel boring to state to someone else about where the events of a story are. And while it’s definitely easier on the memory and typing, it makes me wanna snooze. 

Anyone else wanna try out this book tag, be my guest. 😜

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Part Five

I hope you enjoy this one! It features a surprise snooty owl (I wonder who could own such a creature???) and some well-meaning concern from a friend. And some banter. And an expensive lunch. Because Theo is extra and can’t help himself. And it’s 4.6k words long...

I also realised that, since I wrote the first chapter basically out of the blue and not really intending for it to blow up into a big multi-part story, I’ve messed up the timeline a little with Harry’s kids, so I’ll have to go back and fix that when it comes to a re-edit before it goes up on AO3, but for now, just handwave it, ok? :)

Finally, many thanks for your lovely owls, anonymous or otherwise, about this story and where it’s going! I was honestly floored by the feedback I’ve got, and thank you to those who’ve reblogged it and helped get it out there for folks to read. I have a very small following since this side-blog is fairly new, so all reblogs are very much appreciated. I did a quick doodle for the cover of the story which you can find here, if you’re interested in how I pictured Draco and Scorpius standing in the steam from the Hogwarts Express from chapter one.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

___

Far earlier on Monday morning than she was accustomed to these days, Hermione woke with a start and frowned, confused. Eyes dry and prickly, and hair absolutely everywhere, she sat up and looked around, straining her ears as she blearily tried to work out what had yanked her so unceremoniously from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Her Muggle alarm clock silently showed 05:54 in harsh red numbers, and nothing had touched the wards or tried to get in, though there was something thrumming against them, like the lingering reverberations of a plucked harp string.  

The temporary stillness was shattered when a wild scrabbling of claws and the beating of enormous wings started up against her bedroom window. With a flailing shriek of surprise, she nearly fell out of bed, but after taking a deep breath, she stumbled out from under the covers to wrench the curtains open.  

“Bloody owls!” she began, but drew up short when she saw the unfamiliar bird waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass.  

There, battering its truly monstrous talons against the glass, was a colossal eagle owl. When it saw her, it stopped its fussing to perch haughtily on the brick windowsill outside and fix her with a fiery red glare. If owls could have raised their eyebrows, she got the impression that this one would have done it at the sight of her.  

“Yeah, well, it’s early. What did you expect?” she groused as she slid the window panel to one side and the bird looked around her bedroom with obvious disdain. Imperiously, it stuck out one leg, like a noble expecting a servant to remove a dirty boot, and she saw a rolled-up piece of parchment with a green wax seal and a green ribbon to bind it together.  

“Who do you belong to then?” she asked, going automatically to stroke the bird’s flight-ruffled chest plumage. It instantly hissed and nipped at her fingers, and she barely drew them back in time. “Christ! No need for that,” she gasped. She’d never met a postal owl as cantankerous as this one. “I usually give visiting owls a treat, but I don't think I like your manners one bit.”  

With the letter in hand, she slid the window closed again, leaving a gap just small enough that the bird wasn’t going to barge its way in. She wondered if it had been instructed to wait for an answer because it began almost immediately clicking its beak against the glass and hooting indignantly. 

“Manners makyth bird,” she snapped without looking up, and broke the unfamiliar wax seal on the letter.

It had a cursive ‘M’ within a circle, but was otherwise unadorned. Unfurling it, she glanced at the name on the bottom and her eyebrows rose as her growing suspicions were confirmed. It was signed in a princely English roundhand by none other than Draco Malfoy.  

She snorted, glancing back at the bird who was doing its best basilisk impression from the other side of the glass. “Who else would have such a snotty owl?”

It hooted childishly at her again and she laughed.  

Dear Hermione,

I must beg of you to forgive the unspeakably rude hour of this correspondence, but I am leaving this morning for France by portkey for a couple of days and I had hoped to get your answer before I left. I should add now before you read any further — although with your kind heart I fear it may be too late already — that Cassiopeia here is not fond of physical affection, but is very partial to owl treats. She can be bribed into doing almost anything for food, but affection is sadly not in her nature, so please be careful with your fingers around her beak. The only reason I was able to get her to fly at all at this time of the day was to bribe her lavishly. She’s terribly spoilt, and for that, I’m sorry too.  

Hermione shot another look at the bird, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Cassiopeia, eh?” she said and the enormous owl bobbed a few times. “Prideful about your good looks then, are you? You should know how your namesake’s story ended then. But, I suppose you could be forgiven since you are an inordinately pretty bird. You’ll still not get a crumb from me after trying to take my fingers off though. I’ll be having words with Malfoy about that.”  

Cassiopeia ruffled her feathers and promptly turned her back on Hermione. The bird didn’t take off, so she returned her attention to the letter.  

I spent all weekend thinking about our evening together on Friday, but it will come as little surprise to you to learn that it has taken me all that time to muster up my limited courage to ask you to dinner at your next convenience. Naturally, I left it to the last possible moment to ask you. I have a place in mind in London, but it’s a little more out of the way than the restaurants on Diagon Alley. I have it on authority from the owner that you have never been there, and I would very much like to surprise you, but if you would feel more comfortable knowing in advance, then you can ask Theo while I am out of the country.  

Staggered, Hermione stared at the letter and found her vision swimming a little. Blinking, she was shocked to find tears blurring his formal — almost painfully formal — words.  

But how long had it been since anyone had actually asked her on a date? ‘Too intimidating’, ‘too boring’, ‘too work-orientated’, ‘too bossy’, ‘too driven’ were all things she’d heard at one point or another, and admittedly many of them from Ron.  

Thirty seven wasn’t even old - especially by magical standards - but she didn’t exactly have the same bright-eyed charms as someone like, say, Lavender did anymore. Hard work, and a draining marriage seemed to have sapped much of the youth and vigour from her. And, if she were honest, being replaced by someone supposedly ‘more attractive’ had damaged her more deeply than she cared to admit, even to herself. There were certainly days when she felt like a washed-up, burnt-out, dowdy old matron. She had crashed out of a sparkling career in the Ministry to run a scruffy old second-hand bookshop next to the newly-refurbished Florian Fortescue’s ice cream parlour.  

“Why are you even bothering, Malfoy?” she murmured aloud as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands. With looks like his — and a groaning Gringotts’ account if the rumours were to be believed, not that that mattered a jot to Hermione — he could probably have had almost any witch he wanted, his past and reclusive behaviour be damned. And yet he was asking her to dinner after having only met twice since they turned eighteen? Three times, she supposed if she included that brief encounter at the Ministry on the night of the attack.  

Perhaps he was lonely just wanted the company. Perhaps she was just… convenient; a chump with a soft spot for outcasts…

Before she let herself go too far down that unsavoury rabbit hole, she forced herself to read on, heart pounding. Outside on the windowsill, the owl had gone very still, watching her with curious, orange eyes.  

Please feel free to send Cassiopeia back with your response either way. I hope I have not overstepped or misread how things are between us now, especially given our history, but I find my thoughts returning over and over to our evening, and to that surprise lunch on the 1st of September. I’m not sure what I had expected when you asked me to join you that day, but I certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy myself as much as I did. In the years since I became Scorpius’ sole guardian, I have not sought the company of others, nor have I particularly enjoyed it when it has been inflicted upon me, but those two occasions spent with you have drawn me out of myself. You truly are a remarkable witch, and I’m more moved and honoured than I can express that you have given me even this much of your precious time already.  

Before I begin to ramble too freely, I think I must sign off here.  

Yours,  

D.M.  

P.S. Scorpius did write to me in the end. He has a detention already, and Potter’s youngest is also involved somehow… I will get more details from him anon, and no doubt a letter from McGonagall in due course.  

For a long time, Hermione stood in her bedroom, with her hair in a wild halo around her head and her scruffy old pyjamas hanging low on her hips, just staring at his signature.  

When Draco’s owl began to fidget and fuss again, she sighed and looked up. “Sit tight,” she breathed. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and if you keep quiet, I might bring an owl treat with me when I come back, ok?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes and ducked her head suspiciously, but remained put on the windowsill, so she took that as a ‘yes’ and disappeared into her tiny study.  

Grabbing a biro from the chipped mug that served as a pen and quill pot, and tearing a sheaf of paper from a muggle notebook, she scrawled a note back to him.  

With that done, and before she could talk herself out of what she had just accepted, she returned to his owl with a treat. The bird mobbed her for it instantly, but Hermione scowled at her, snatched her hand back, and barked, “Wait! My goodness, you are spoilt. Let me attach this first, and if I manage it without you drawing blood or otherwise maiming me, not only will it be a flipping miracle, but you’ll get your sodding treat, alright?”

The bird went still with a tiny shuffle of her wings, and stuck out her leg.  

“Thank you,” Hermione said tartly.  

Cassiopeia took off with her note attached by the same green ribbon and secured with a basic sticking charm. The downdraft from her departure sent bits of accumulated detritus from the window ledge spiralling up into Hermione’s face, but she coughed and blinked, and watched the bird soar way up into the sky. The receding dot of her silhouette banked west, out of sight and in the eventual direction of Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.  

Malfoy Manor.  

She’d hardly given the place any thought since that fateful night ten or so years ago when Malfoy had been attacked, a whole wing had been burned to the ground, and Scorpius had nearly been killed. They’d never said in the papers who had done it, and the Auror Office had been distinctly tight-lipped about it. Not that she’d really bothered to find out more, if she were honest. Once Malfoy’s little yowling mandrake had left her office in his father’s arms, she had been almost instantly reabsorbed with her own caseload, and Harry had never mentioned the outcome of the investigation to her. A twinge of gilt shot through her but she pushed it down. It was hardly a topic for dinnertime conversation either, so she doubted she’d find out immediately.  

She thought vaguely about clambering back into bed, but since she was up, she headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d been up before dawn, and she had some paperwork to do anyway.  

Cassiopeia’s appearance was not the only unusual thing to happen to her that day. She had no visitors to the shop at all for the entire morning, but when the brass bell above the door did finally chime, she looked up from the desk at the back of the shop to find Theo striding in.  

“Hi, love,” he grinned, stepping deer-like over the stack of recent arrivals beside the counter and stooping to hug her where she sat. “Lunch. You and me. Now.”

“Theo, I have a shop to run,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t just… leave. Besides, I brought sandwiches.”

“I will literally pay you the price of an entire chest of first editions to spend the next few hours in my company if things are that tight. Or I could just… buy you an entire chest of first editions,” he said, adding with his most dangerous puppy-dog eyes, “Seriously, please come to lunch with me?”

She flicked her wrist and the ‘open’ sign hanging in the glass-panelled door flipped over to ‘closed’. “I’m not accepting your money, Theo. What’s the occasion?”

He twitched slightly and then flashed her a grin; a combination that made her instantly wary. “Does a gentleman need ‘an occasion’ to ask a beautiful lady to lunch?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence.  

Hermione slowly raised one eyebrow. “You’re gay. And happily married. And that’s a terrible line. Try again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take my very best friend out,” he shrugged nonchalantly.  

Something was definitely up.  

“Draco Malfoy is, and always has been, your very best friend in all the world. Try again.”

“You,” he said, actually growling the word this time with comical frustration, “Are one very persistent witch.”

“Mmhmm. How do you think I made it to Minister by twenty-seven, darling,” she grinned, still without getting up from her chair. “Last chance or I turn that sign around and forcibly evict you from my shop.”  

Theo whipped his wand out from his inner jacket pocket like he was in a duel, and apparently vanished the offending sign from the door altogether. “There. Your threats are empty. Come to lunch with me.”

“Theodore Nott, you return my sign this instant.”

“Say you’ll come to lunch with me, and the sign goes back up.”

“I will not be threatened in my own shop!” she laughed, arms folding across her chest like a petulant child. “Put it back. Now.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said with a wide, playful grin, planting his hands on the counter and leaning his long frame forwards.  

She had to bite her lips to stop from giggling. The charming scoundrel knew she’d say yes anyway. “I’ll tell Dan you were bullying me,” she said.  

“Tell him; he’ll never believe you. He thinks I’m lovely. Come on, Hermione,” he added, softening from playful to plaintive. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“You and my ‘very best friend in all the world’, that’s what,” he said, and levelled her with a flat stare.

Her stomach dropped and she remembered the letter from that morning. And its contents. ‘…if you would feel more comfortable knowing, then you can ask Theo while I am gone’ Draco had said. He’d spoken with Theo about asking her out. She didn't know whether to be honoured or embarrassed.

Seeing her expression slip, Theo came round the side of the counter to stand beside her and leaned his hips against the wooden desk. “So you like him?”

“I… Why would that be a surprise?”

Theo blinked, and then his gaze flickered down to her left forearm. Everyone knew about the word engraved into her skin with the point of a cursed knife — she’d never tried to conceal it — but not many knew the real truth of just how the slur had come to be carved indelibly into her flesh. Theo was one of the few who did. “You’re really asking me why I’m surprised you like him?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You, of all people?”

She took a very deep breath, held it, and then sighed. “Let’s go. You’re paying though. And I’m drinking.”

He managed a shy smile, and as they approached the front door of her shop his shimmering illusion around the sign dissolved to reveal it once again.  

“Cheeky bugger,” she smirked at him and he waggled his eyebrows disarmingly. An undercurrent of anxiety still lurked beneath his jovial expression though.  

A number of new restaurants had opened up in Diagon Alley, but Theo’s and Dan’s favourite was a sleek, modern establishment, quite different from the fusty old decor of the Leaky Cauldron or the other more traditional restaurants in wizarding London. It also sat overlooking the crooked columns of Gringotts, and was eye-wateringly expensive. Naturally, Theo was greeted by name at the door, and the pair were shown without fuss or fanfare to one of the nicest — and most secluded — tables.

With food ordered, and enormous balloon-glasses of wine in front of them, Theo fixed her with a serious look and steered the conversation around to the real reason for his impromptu lunchtime kidnapping. “He finally grew a pair and asked you to dinner then?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I take it this is… unusual for him?”

Theo tipped his head back and chuckled softly, sounding more tired than amused. “That’s putting it mildly, love. Until Friday, I had the devil’s own job trying to get dear Draco to leave his gloomy little manor house and come to anything. I had to blackmail him into coming to our anniversary, you know?”  

Hermione just frowned, not entirely sure if he was being serious or not.  

Theo let out a slow breath and stared into his wineglass, idly twirling the stem between long fingers. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said without looking at her, “I’m beyond grateful that he finally seems to be opening up to the idea of… being somewhat… vulnerable again, but…”

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt him,” she said quietly, and Theo bowed his head. “Theo, I’m… You know me. This isn’t just some one night stand with a rich, attractive bloke I met in a bar. I haven’t —” she leaned in close over the table and hissed, “I haven’t even had sex with anyone in years, Theo. Years!” She brushed an errant corkscrew of hair back out of her eyes, embarrassed.

His lips twitched at that, but his eyes remained stormy.  

“I’m not going into this lightly. I was honestly as surprised as you are, but I wouldn’t even be considering going on a date with Draco Malfoy if I wasn’t completely convinced that he was no longer the bratty little owl-pellet he was back at Hogwarts.”

At that, Theo barked such a loud laugh that the patrons at the tables nearby turned to look at him like he’d sworn in a church. He covered his mouth with his hand and snickered himself into silent tears for a good thirty seconds before she rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass in her hand, waiting for him to control himself again.  

“I’m telling Dan you called him that. And Pansy. They’ll love it.”

“Right,” she said, cheeks suddenly hot. “Well, as much as he might have been an owl pellet, let’s not have it become a ‘thing’, hmm?”

The mirth in his face simmered back down and he looked at her steadily over the rim of his wineglass. “Look, I care about both of you, and I can see this going two ways. One: you realise that the two of you actually have an awful lot in common, he takes you to increasingly fancy places for dates, you have lots of steamy sex, and finally settle down together. Two: the past gets in the way, you both say hurtful stuff you don’t really mean, and you both end up single and twice as miserable as you were before you went for lunch at the Leaky. Don't think I didn’t know about that, either,” he added.  

“You’re such a gossip,” she snapped.  

“I was being serious, Hermione,” he said, leaning to one side as their food arrived.  

She paused until the waiter had left but didn’t make any move to pick up her cutlery. “Are you looking out for him or for me?” she asked.  

Theo sighed. “Both of you. But…”

“Mostly Draco, huh?”

“He’s like a brother to me, Hermione. He was there for me when no one else was. You know the things my father did to me as a child, and Draco helped me through all of it. And ‘Cissa too. And I couldn’t believe it when he actually showed up at drinks the other night. Watching him, it… it was like the old Draco had come back to me. The nice ‘old Draco’, I mean.” His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly, voice cracking as he continued. “After the attack, he shut himself away at the Manor with Scorpius, as if he could keep the whole world out just to keep little Scorp safe. I thought… I thought he’d never leave, Hermione.”

“You never talked about any of this,��� she said gently, forcing herself to make a start on her linguine despite the fact that her appetite had vanished almost completely.  

Theo shrugged. “I guess… I guess I wanted to give him the privacy he craved, and to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be all that sympathetic to him after your history.”

At that, she scowled, but she could see his point. “Theo, I held his screaming infant in my arms for hours while he was being questioned by the Aurors that night. I saw his face when he came to my office for Scorpius afterwards.” She shook her head. “No one who saw him then could believe he was even a shadow of the person he had been at Hogwarts.”

At her words, Theo had stopped eating, fork held loosely between perpetually-ink-stained fingers even as it rested on his plate. “You did? He never said.”

She tried not to examine that last comment too closely. “Mm. Harry didn't know what else to do with him, so he brought Scorpius to me to see if I could quieten him down. In the end all it took was a handful of my hair and a few poorly-sung folk songs. But you’re missing the point, Theo. You could have trusted me with things that were worrying you. I would have listened to you.”

“I —” he cut off and cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Aside from Dan, I don’t think I love anyone as much as I love him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to choke up a little, but she swallowed and said, “Then I can think of no greater accolade for his character.” She looked up at him and added, “So where’s he taking me then?”

“You said yes?”

“I did. I like him. And not just because he looks like a flipping marble statue brought to life. He’s thoughtful, and he always was extremely intelligent and articulate. I’ve really enjoyed talking with him this time around. I think… I think…” she pursed her lips and took a too-big gulp of wine. Luckily it all went down the right way, and she forged on. “I think… we could work. Or at least… I want to see where it goes, Theo.”

With a slow nod, Theo finally relaxed his shoulders and let out a shaky breath. “He wants to take you to The Foundry.”  

“I’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled. It wasn’t one of the ones in Diagon Alley, for sure.

Theo made a side-to-side movement of his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s…”

“Oh God, is it horrifically expensive?” she asked, eyes wide with a sudden abject terror. “Theo, if he’s going to take me somewhere hideously fancy for our first date, I’m going to back out right now…”

The corners of his lips lifted and he shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You have to know the owners to get a table though, and there are no menus. They’ll ask if you have any allergies, but other than that, you eat what they serve you.”

“Holy fuck, Theo…”

“Trust me, you’ll love it. The place used to be a bell foundry in the seventeenth century — hence the name — and it’s this gorgeous brick building with arches and vaults, and cosy little corners,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll forget where you are and be as comfortable as if you were in your own pokey little Muggle living room. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes and took another gulp of wine. “I’ll take your word for it, Nott,” she said. “What should I wear?”

Without hesitation, he said, “That burgundy number you haven’t worn since Pansy told you to buy it.”

She blanched at that. “Theo, it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Revealing in all the right ways, yet modest enough to suit you? Dead sexy? Exactly the kind of thing that will make Draco lose his goddamn mind when he sees you in it? The kind of thing that will make him spend all evening simultaneously admiring you in it and mentally tearing it off you —”

“Theo, stop!” she hissed, flushing darker. “For God’s sake shut up!”

He cackled into the remainder of his wine, but refused to give any more sartorial advice.  

“Burgundy dress and heels it is, I guess,” she said, and the two of them focused on their food again.  

“I hope,” Theo said as they left a very leisurely two hours later, “I hope you don’t think I was too…” he jiggled nervously on the balls of his feet as he held the door open for her, “Overbearing…”

“I mean, you did ambush me, blackmail and threaten me into having lunch with you at the fanciest restaurant in Diagon Alley where I couldn’t reasonably kick up a fuss, and then proceed to tell me all sorts of heartrending stories about Draco and yourself…”  

When she saw the wounded look in Theo’s brown eyes, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Theo, no. You’re one of my best friends, and you clearly care about us both. Stop panicking,” she added when she saw the slightly wild light in his eyes. “You didn’t try to tell me what to do or who to see. You’re looking out for your friends, and making sure we’re both… serious about this. And I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “But know that if you keep meddling beyond that, I will hex your bollocks off and make you explain it to Dan.”

“Understood,” he said with a watery smile. “I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Did you have the same talk with Draco about breaking my heart?”

His handsome, freckled face split into a blinding white grin. “I did.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Now, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“I work!” he squealed. “I work bloody hard up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, thank you very much!”

“I know you do,” she conceded. “Not that you actually need a job, you filthy rich prick.”

Theo laughed long and loud, scooping her hand up in his and walking arm in arm down the bustling, cobbled street towards her bookshop. “And to think,” he chimed with a sidelong look down at her, “You used to be Minister for Magic with that mouth.”

“I know,” she said. “It nearly got me into trouble on many an occasion.”

Kneazel and Quill’s little sign swung jauntily in the breeze and Theo gave a slight bow from the waist when they stopped at the door. With anyone else, it might have seemed foppish and insincere, but with Theo, she knew he meant it. He was only silly like this with his closest friends.  

“Good day, fair maiden of the dusty bookshop,” he said. “And thank you for giving my idiot best friend a chance.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She stood and soaked up the autumn sunshine for a while as she watched his retreating back, until he eventually disappeared into the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry and she slid back into the musty quiet of her little sanctuary.

Chapter Six

___

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of friendship! Next time, Hermione and Draco go for that date...!! Things will start to gain momentum too, fear not. It’s not going to be an eternal slow-burn...

writing masterlist | Ao3

[theropoda]

hi hi im really tired so i haven't answered your ask yet BUT 1, 8, 9, 11 and 12 for you + WHAT ARE YOUR IMPERA THOUGHTS MY DUDE!!!!!!!!

EH no worries, take your time!!!

under a read more bc i can never make these ask games short. i love rambling for 1 million paragraphs :)

1: You have a chance to interview Tobias Forge. What 3 questions would you ask him? ahhh man three questions is not enough, i need go crack this man's head like an egg and see all the stuff that spills out and study it under a microscope... but..

i suppose id ask him 1) what it's like to go on stage and get to pretend to be someone else, is it freeing? he's always struck me as a little aloof in interviews and generally in public so i wanna know if putting his actions and performance behind a character and costume makes him feel like he can do whatever he wants more, or if its a little restricting almost?

2) he's mentioned in interviews he'd draw a lot as a kid and im really curious as to what so id love to ask him about it. i want to see baby forge doodles :)

3) id want to ask him about what potential he thinks he has for the ghost universe. he's talked about a movie multiple times but i wanna ask what other mediums the storyline could fit into... a comic book, maybe??? a rhythm game even??

4) Favorite dinosa

8: Have you discovered anything new thanks to ghost, e. g. a band, or song, or film? many things but none of significance? like i haven't really gotten into any of the stuff ive found out through them Lol

9: Name three songs you would like Ghost to cover. other than judas by lady gaga idk 😭 i suppose people have covers they'd like to hear cause they hear a song and they can imagine int their head how it'd be like if ghost covered it, or bc they think the music is similar but iiii can't. like idk what would fit or be good. i suppose they could do maybe an early genesis song like the knife though? my head would also explode if they covered an early oingo boingo song... maybe islands or who do you want to be today. or insects... i NEED to hear tobias sing that now... best song lyrics EVER

11: Favorite Ghost meme. i cannot Possibly choose.. so many are incredibly funny

12: Favorite piece of Ghost merch you own or would like to own. I OWN NONE 💔💔💔💔💔 IM TRYING TO FIX THAT THOUGH, id fucking LOVE to have the coloring book!!! i love coloring books and itd make a good replacement for the last one i had, which swiftly leads us to.... The Problem... i have, Unfortunately Yet Fittingly, overly religious and superstitious parents who i don't think would ever let me have ghost merch bc of their satanic nature T_T in fact, said old coloring book was a "dark art" one with a bunch of skeletons and zombies on it but my dad took it away from me bc he said it was dangerous and was exacerbating my mental illnesses Lol <3 if i ever got the ghost coloring book id probably have to hide it in a goddamn fucking safe lmao

as for impera...ive been trying not to listen to impera TOO much cause i dont want myself to get sick of it (ive honestly gotten sick of cmls hearing it in all their promotional material all the time) so im a little slowly re listening to it... there's definitely favorites like twenties and darkness at the heart of my love, but i think this is gonna be one of those albums where im like... it's good, it's solid, i can recognize the artistry and mastery put into it and why some people consider it one of their best but im gonna settle for Yeah its okay. i like it, sounds good, pretty cool, but i don't LOVE it like i love, say, meliora or infestissumam. it doesn't quite have that impact... on me..

[belpheroo]

home again home again

Pairing: Mammon x MC Rating: T Summary: A follow-up to the last day. MC Adjusts to life back in the human realm, but Devildom just can’t stay away.

As Lucifer had promised, when she returned home, no time had passed. It was as if that year, that time she spent in Devildom, belonged wholly to a time and a place outside of the realm of her human reality.

He had warned her some memories might soften, fading around the edges until she would start to question whether they had happened… but given her celestial heritage, perhaps she would have a different experience. She was no magic user like Solomon, but Lilith’s blood was magic in itself and that blood was in her veins, no matter how small.

She left her bags packed on her floor, venturing out her bedroom door and into the hallway. It was twilight, just like when she left, warm amber sunlight shining just barely over the edges of the window frames.

A clock ticked. Her cat mrrowed curiously from their sleeping spot. Her college texts laid on the small kitchen table, notebooks and pens scattered where she had left them.

Quietly, deliberately, she moved through her small kitchenette, putting on her electric kettle and taking down a familiar mug and a familiar bag of tea. She ripped open the package, set the bag in the mug and waited.

And waited.

And waited for it to feel real.

---

A week went by and then another. Her morning classes came and went. She found herself falling behind her friends, not even listening to their chatter as she focused out on the people passing by on their street and across it.

“Who are you looking for?”

One of them had asked, smiling and cheeky.

“You have a date?”

There was no shock of white among the crowd, no familiar voice.

“... no, I’m just… people watching.”

By the time she got home and set down to study she noted all the doodles in her margins were of tiny lesser demons, with their top-hats and little horns.

She sighed, dropping her pencil in defeat and picking up her phone to check Devilgram. In front of her eyes, the screen displayed one sentence in a grey box:

Out of Service Zone

Mammon had said it would work, that it would still connect… but it seemed he was wrong. Instead, she navigated to her saved chats, flicking through lines of conversations and messages going back the course of the year. It was easy to get lost, to read and to laugh and think of those past conversations and of her boys, somewhere in a realm between worlds.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea to get too caught up, not when there was work still to be done. With a heart, no less heavy, she moved to set the device face down on her desk when she noted the screen had illuminated, the pale blue-green color showing against the table surface.

She held her breath as she turned it over.

Signal Found Reestablishing Connection…

…

…

Connection Reestablished

The access was slow, nothing had changed on the screen, no new notifications or chats. She waited, eager to see the little pink birds that would soon dot her screen. She wondered how they all had been doing, whether they missed her and how things were.

She had expected a few notifications, maybe even none. It had only been a week now. Instead, she opened the message center to a proverbial flood of little bird notifications. It was enough to make her laugh, the joy in her chest bursting forward as she opened the main chat group “House of Lamentation”. There were all the same questions she had for them- how are you? What have you been doing? Do you miss us?

Before responding though, her eyes caught to one of those messages with a little gold eye icon. The messages she was not supposed to be included on but for whatever reason her settings gave her access. She hadn’t seen this title before… the chat subject line simply her name followed by Absence Support Group

She clicked it.

Asmodeus: As discussed! This chat is for the support of all of us who miss our dearly departed exchange student.

Asmodeus: This is a judgement free zone <3

Satan: When you say it like that it sounds like she’s dead… couldn’t we all just text her when we miss her?

Asmodeus: Judgement. Free. Zone. ~<3

Levi: Unless your name is Stupid Mammon.

Mammon: HEY

Mammon: NO

Levi: sTuPiD mAmMoN

Belphie: Great. Another chat for me to mute. Zzz

Beel: Has anyone else texted her? I texted her. It isn’t open.

Asmodeus: Hmm? Yes, she hasn’t opened my pics either.

Mammon: PICS?

Asmodeus: Oh yes <3

Mammon: THE HELL KINDA PICS YOU SENDIN’ MY GIRL, ASSMO?

Asmodeus: Judgement Free Zone <3 <3 <3

Mammon has been muted for One minute.

Levi: You have GOT to show me how to do that!!!

Beel: I text her when I am thinking of her.

Beel: Yesterday, I got up for a snack. I stopped at her room and knocked to see if she wanted any.

Beel:  I had forgotten.

Mammon’s muted minute had been up even, judging by the time stamps, but there was still a prolonged pause before someone else responded.

Satan: I remembered I lent her a book. The Corpus Hermetica. She left it in my room sometime before she left… her bookmark was still in it.

Beel: Are you using it?

Satan: I-- yes.

Belphie: I took a nap in her old bed the other day. The sheets don’t smell like her anymore.

Levi: … I’ve been playing her really crappy low leveled character in Memoirs of the Samurai-Ninja, Warriors of Dynasty 6. So she doesn’t get even MORE behind in events.

Mammon: Oi, back up. Belphie, you did WHAT now?!

Mammon has been muted for Two minutes.

Asmodeus: No judgment zone!!

And it went on like that. Day after day. One of them would post a thought or a feeling or a moment that struck them, that reminded them of her. It shocked her a bit when the dots of something typing began to appear, then disappear, then appear and… then disappear. And this carried on for a long time before finally a new message appeared.

Mammon: So. I’m totally NOT super completely upset but the other day I was doing some a m a z i n g modeling work and the camera lady asked me where my “human friend” was.

Mammon: Threw even me, THE Mammon, off his game.

Asmodeus: Because they called her your “friend” instead of your “girlfriend”? <3

Mammon: No!

Mammon: But she is. 😈

Belphie: What if she gets a human boyfriend?

Mammon: EH?! No way! No human boy can compare to ME.

Satan: Well, you are here. She is there. Do you really expect her to wait for you?

Mammon: …

Belphie: Maybe she’d wait for one of us. But Mammon?

Mammon: H-hey! What happened to the judgment free zone?!

Satan: Would explain why she hasn’t called.

Belphie: Or texted.

Mammon: …

She felt her heart sink. She didn’t have a human boyfriend! She’d just had absolutely no SIGNAL since she had gotten back to the human realm! Panicking, she hurried to the phone section of the D.D.D and pulled Mammon’s contact up.

Hurriedly she pressed the dial, listening to the faint tone as it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

The connection was in and out again, sometimes the ring distorted with feedback. The call dropped and quickly she re-dialed again.

“C’mon… c’mon! Mammon! Pick up!”

Click.

The ringing stopped. The timer flickered on. Call Ongoing 00:03.

“Mammon?! Are you there? Can you hear me?”

There was a voice, but it was choppy and undecipherable.

“My D.D.D. isn’t working right! I can’t understand you, but if you can understand me I-- I wanted to call and say-- um. I wanted to say--!”

The line was quiet.

“I miss you all so much! S-so… please convince Lucifer to let me visit! Or come visit me!”

The phone made a sound, a strangled static burst. The battery flickered even though it had been nearly full just moments ago.

“The connection is draining my stupid phone! Ugh, I’m sorry! Tell everyone I said hello and I miss them!” she paused, words stuck on her tongue as she tried to get them out, “And Mammon… I miss you most! And I love--”

The phone made a ding sound as the battery finally and truly died. She dove to her bag, digging out the charger and desperately trying to plug it in. The first time in weeks she managed to get a call in and the human realm to Devildom signal was that bad?!

“Stupid phone. Stupid stupid stupid…”

There was a faint smell, like sulphur or burning wood. She made a face, looking over the device for any sign of damage and finding none at all. That was odd… but still she could smell an ever growing scent like something had caught fire.

Standing up, she turned half towards the hall and abruptly dropped her phone in sheer shock, the device clattering loudly.

Mammon was breathing heavily, steam coming off his body in waves. He was in his devil-form, all horns and wings.

“Wh...what… was that… last bit?” he panted, leaning against the hallway wall, “I didn’t… hear all of it!”

“You came all the way here just to finish a phone call?” she said teasingly, knowing full well what it was he really came for.

“Please! A… transport like that… is ah- nothing! To the Great Mammon!” he was still out of breath, but catching it quickly, “Now. What did you say?”

There was nothing suave in his question, nothing concealed or charming. There was something more desperate in his eyes, something needy. Her lips curled into a fond smile as she found the words came so much easier the second time.

“Mammon, I love you.”

“... of course ya do.” Mammon said, crossing the space between her both until she was snuggly in his arms. He was warm, warmer than usual after his trip, but that smell would HAVE to go.

“You need a bath.”

“Tch… then give me one.” he grumbled in reply.

Who would possibly say no?

[edupunkn00b]

Perennials: Hypericum (Inspiration)

Word count: 1660 - T - [ AO3 ] - Canon(ish), Post-POF - Overture May Flowers Event Day 27 Prompt: Hypericum for Inspiration CW: Brief Remus-typical but non-graphic references to blood, gunshots, murder, sexual innuendo. Partial spoiler of and references to the movie SE7EN. ---

However big, however small Let me be part of it all Share your dreams with me We may be right, we may be wrong But I wanna bring you along to the world I see To the world we close our eyes to see - A Million Dreams, The Greatest Showman, Willow Sage Hart

Thomas was lying on his couch, bare feet crossed and propped up on an armrest. He was doodling in the margins of a blank page in his notebook, listening to his Creative Sides. Roman was pacing back and forth, waving his hands as he spoke. Remus stood on his head in a corner, balancing his morning star Lucie on one foot.

"And then you come out -" Remus cackled and Roman sighed, hiding a tiny smile. Patton would have laughed, too, Roman thought. He continued, "And then you can enter from the wings, already mid-monologue, demonstrating that for thespians of your caliber - "

"All the world's a stage!," Thomas completed excitedly. "Oh, I like it!" Roman grinned, that wondrous warm glow of pride and love spreading all the way up through his body from his toes. "So what should my monologue be?"

Roman posed with his hands on his hips and chin tilted up. "How much time do you have?"

Thomas read from his notes, " 'The monologue must be under two minutes.' "

"Mmmmm ...," Remus purred from the corner. "John Doe's speech from the back of the squad car in SE7EN would be tasty."

"Remus!," Roman whirled and stared at his brother, hand held over his heart. "John Doe is a killer! Our Thomas is no villain!"

"Ugh, fiiine," Remus twirled Lucie like a baton, ignoring the nicks on his hands and face when the sharp points scraped his skin. They quickly disappeared. "If you have to be the hero, you could use Brad Pitt's speech from the finale." Remus smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Cops are heroes, right? What's in the box? Pow! " Remus held Lucie by the spiky top, miming a gunshot. He shrugged. "Sure, we'd have to modify it a bit ... Oh! Or maybe re-write it so you play all three characters? Oooh... and then you can spew blood and -"

Thomas winced, "Hmm, maybe I should pick something a little ... lighter for the audition? And something they won't have to clean up afterwards?"

"Eh, their loss." Remus shrugged and threw Lucie until she lodged into the ceiling. He watched, waiting for gravity to pull her back down. "Personally, I think you'd make a terrifying John Doe."

Roman suddenly clapped his hands together. "Oh, I've got it! The Doctor's Zygon speech!," Roman put on a heavy - and angry - Scottish accent, " 'Because it's not a game, Kate. This is a scale model of war. Every war ever fought, right there in front of you.' "

The brothers grinned at each other. Remus laughed, eyes bright, "Our resident geeky Gallifreyan would really get behind that choice. I bet he's already got it completely memorized for you."

Thomas nodded, humming to himself and scrawling the idea in his notebook. "Ok, and I need a song ... what about Razzle Dazzle?"

"Hmm ... that could work," Roman hummed. He experimented with a few bars. " 'Razzle dazzle 'em ... and they'll make you a star!' " Roman nodded vigorously. "It really shows off your range. And then -"

"Bor-ring!," Remus called out from his corner, catching Lucie when she fell and bouncing her from one foot to the other. "You need something that's going to do more than simply showcase your vocal range. You need to wow them with the full spectrum of your talents."

Roman scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes at the interruption, but Thomas sat up and looked curiously at the Duke. "It sounds like you have something in mind, Remus. Wanna tell us?"

Remus flipped himself upright, standing on the back edge of the couch. Thomas flinched, moving back in case Remus suddenly slipped fell onto to the seat cushions. Remus shrugged and jumped down to the floor. "Better, Thom-along?" Blushing, Thomas nodded. "Ok, you need something that demonstrates your full range from principled, upright citizen," Remus gestured toward Roman, "and monstrous trash panda with a head full of sex and murder ..." Remus shimmied his shoulders and thrust his hips, grinned wickedly.

Remus met Roman's eyes and the brothers' grins grew. They shouted in unison, "Jeckyl and Hyde!"

"Ooooh!," Thomas leapt to his feet. "Lost in the Darkness is an incredible song! I love it!" Remus started to speak when Roman interjected.

"It'll need some work ... it's been a while since you've sung it." Thomas' excitement was infectious, though. Roman gripped Thomas' arms, spinning him around and then tried a few bars. Remus opened his mouth again to speak before Thomas interrupted.

"You're right. Or, how about Confrontation? That would - "

"H̾e̾y̾!̾ ̾T̾h̾e̾a̾t̾r̾e̾ ̾n̾e̾r̾d̾s̾!̾," Remus used his dark voice to muffle theirs as he shouted over them, "Listen to me!" Roman and Thomas both turned to Remus. Roman rolled his eyes again, but Thomas frowned.

"You're right, Remus. I'm sorry, we were talking over you. What's your idea?" Thomas winced slightly, holding out his hands in a defensive position, "Just - please don't say I should self-immolate again, ok?"

Remus blinked in surprise at Thomas' apology but quickly recovered, waggling his eyebrows and flashing an evil grin, "No, no, no, no, no ... that's for the last performance." Roman groaned and threw himself on the couch. "What I was going to suggest was ..." he paused, waiting for Roman to look at him as well. "You should sing Good 'n' Evil ..."

Thomas scrunched his nose, "But isn't that Lucy's song?"

"Precisely ... there is zero chance some other fu-" Roman glared at him and Remus stuck out his tongue "-dude is gonna go up there and sing it and you can't deny it's one of the best songs in the entire show. C'mon, what could be more perfect than," Remus broke into song, reminding both of them that Thomas truly had two Creativities " 'Evil's the one that is free everywhere - Good is the one that they sell!' "

Roman sat up, crossing his arms in front of his chest, but he couldn't hide the interest in his face. "We'll need to adjust the key."

"I've got just the thing for that!," Remus grinned, snapping his fingers and the three of them were suddenly standing on the stage in a large concert hall. Remus sat down at the grand piano in center stage.

Thomas looked around, mouth agape, staring at the balconies jutting out over the house floor. "Is this Carnegie Hall? How did we get here?"

"Practice, of course," Remus genuflected with a dramatic flick of his wrist, demonstrating once again that the split had not left Roman with all of the twin's reservoir of flair.

Roman pinched his mouth, trying not to smile as Thomas groaned. "That's your second dad joke in the last twenty minutes," Thomas shook his head but couldn't keep a straight face and started to laugh. "You and Patton will be insufferable together."

Remus threw his head back, laughing. "Ok, it's not really Carnegie Hall. You see the pattern on the upholstery?"

Thomas tilted his head, jumping off the foot of the stage to get a closer look. "Thomas, be careful!," Roman called out.

"Eh, he's fine, Ro Bro ... Nothing can hurt Thomas here. This is just like a dream for him." Remus rocked back and forth, cracking his neck unnaturally. He waggled his eyebrows at his twin. "We both know we're the ones who need to be careful in the Imagination ... "

Thomas spun around, staring at Remus, "What? You two can actually get hurt here?"

"Well, sure," Roman answered, "We're part of your Imagination. This -" Roman waved his hands around them "-this is the real world for us." Remus sat down at the piano, quietly playing two different melodies with either hand, eyes trained on the keys. "If we do something careless or dangerous ..." Roman trailed off, his attention drawn to Remus. As if he could sense his brother's glare, Remus shimmied his shoulders, rocking his head back and forth with a wild grin. "We can be seriously injured or even - " Remus stopped playing to draw a finger across this neck and then threw himself to the floor in a corpse pose.

"Oh ...," Thomas sat down in the seat he had been examining. Remus had been right, there were weird little plants in ... interesting positions stitched on the seats. There's no way the real Carnegie Hall had that on the seats. "But ... what happens if you get hurt here and then go right back to the ... other parts of the Mindscape?"

"We heal." Remus muttered quietly, getting up from the floor and pecking out a somber tune on the piano. "If we can get back fast enough." Roman narrowed his eyes at him. Quiet and Remus didn't usually go together.

"Aaany-way ...," Remus shook himself from head to toe. "Get your sweet ass back on stage, Tom-Tom." Roman crouched at the foot of the stage, offering a hand to Thomas as he clambered back up. "How about we start here -" Remus played the opening bars, looking at Roman and Thomas. When both remained silent, he pounded the keys and sang in a discordant tune, "This is where you start singing ....," He raised his eyebrows at them and played the opening again. Remus grinned when both Roman and Thomas began to sing. Thomas stumbled a bit at the bridge and Remus waved a hand upstage and the music and lyrics for the song starting scrolling through the air. At the end of the piece, he spun around on the bench, hands dancing in front of him, "Well, how did that feeeel....?"

Roman clapped his hands together, "That was amazing! Can we try it just a bit lower this time?," He rushed over to the piano, trying a few different notes. Remus joined him, experimenting until they'd found a key they both liked.

"Oh, and what if we add a little nasty dissonance here at 'Good's unreliable! Good may be thankable!' and then go back to the standard melody at 'Evil is bankable!' ...," Remus played the notes, swapping the key for a few bars. Roman closed his eyes, listening, then nodded furiously.

"Yes! And then we could repeat it -," Roman added.

Remus grinned "And swap the melody again!"

Thomas watched the brothers creating together and couldn't stop smiling. He had this audition in the bag!

@tsshipmonth2020​

[emikochan]

France and America comforting an overworked s/o:

Take it from the boys and take a break, love. We all have those times where everything is just too much, but you know what?  Bad times are just times, that are bad. They pass like everything else too.

Just hang on a little bit more.

- Emiko

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France:

Being in college sucks.

You already  thought, that your school career was horrible enough but this one assignment had you hunched over your desk at 2am, tired and completely done with everything.

Your stomach hurt, because you skipped dinner and your eyes felt drowsy...

"CLICK", your front door was unlocked and you heard the familiar steps of your favourite Frenchman stepping in and taking his coat off,  before his footsteps became louder and louder.

„Ma fleur?“, sounded the soothing voice of your boyfriend.

„It´´s 2am, why are you still up? Aren´t you tired?, he placed a loving kiss on your forehead before he curiously leaned over your shoulder to let his dark blue eyes roam over the hundreds of papers, notes and doodles you created within the last few hours.

„Sure am, but I need to finish this.“, you sighed and picked up a few sheets to tidy the place up a bit; but the silence was interrupted by a painful growl of your stomach.

„Did you have dinner?“, he asked with worry lacing his words. You took his hand and he gripped it tightly.

„You´ve been skipping meals when I´m gone, (y/n). That´s not good.“

„I know but I need to get this finished.“

„That´s not an excuse to risk your wellbeing.“, he responded and softly drew circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

„I brought some take-out, we will eat it in the kitche-“

„No, no.“ You shook your head. „Francis please, I need to get this don-“

„- done by next week and you worked so hard. It´s almost finished, mon chou.“, Francis turned you around to look at you properly and he felt a twinge of sadness, when he saw the dark circles under your eyes.

„You have to stop putting yourself under so much pressure, (y/n). We are going to eat a bit and you can continue working tomorrow. I won´t let you stay up all night and risk your health for some college assignment.“

His dark blue eyes were stern and his tone already told you, that it was useless trying to argue with the Frenchman; especially when he was right.

He caught you when you stumbled trying to get up from your desk and brought you to the kitchen.

After that Francis kept an even closer eye on you, texting you more often and even going as far as to send food to your place to ensure that you´re having regular meals while he´s gone. You also often find yourself rambling and ranting about the assignment during the evenings, when he got off work early to spend more time with you and happily listens to you, while you work. He´s bringing up a few jokes here and there to loosen the situation up and to remind you to drink water and have a snack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

America:

New Text Message(s):

„Hey babe what u up to?“

„Yooooooo“

„(y/n), u there?“

„U still at the gym or what?haha“

“Any wishes for dinner tonight? xx“

You didn´t have time to read the texts of your boyfriend, since you just finished your shift , making your way home now.

You rarely had time to text your lovely boyfriend anymore, since you worked two more jobs in addition to your original job at the library. Those extra jobs cause you more stress than you wanted to put up with, but if this was the price you had to pay in order to buy Alfred that special edition console with his favourite game, that he´s been wishing for for his birthday on July 4th, then damnit; it was worth it.

Exhausted and covered with grease you entered the apartment and found your boyfriend sitting on your couch, standing up when you entered the livingroom.

„Babe, my boss let me off early today, so I thought I´d surprise you.“, he grinned and approached you.

„Figured that maybe you´d like to go ou-... wow, you look tired.“, he commented with his grin slowly leaving his face as you stared at him with an irritated glare.

„No shit“, you grumbled and dropped your jacket off.

„Dude, are you ok?“, he asked with his blue eyes observing you from behind his glasses.

„Yeah I´m fine.“, a stabbing pain in your back made you hold back a groan and made you sit down on the couch, rubbing the aching spot.

„You´re obviously not fine.“, he responded and sat down on the table in front of you, piercing you with his blue eyes, that were full of worry.

After a few seconds of silence between the two of you he sniffled and the familiar smile came back to his face.

„No way, did you already get some food without me?“, he laughed and you looked up at him.

„Wha-? Er...no- I was at work.“

„Since when do you serve food at a library?“

(...)

Alfred was far from stupid but honestly he wasn´t the sharpest tool in the shed either.

You could basically watch how the wheels in his head slowly started turning and after a few seconds he gave a noise of understanding.

„You got a second job!“, he concluded. „But why?“

„That´s none of your business, Al.“, you responded in an icy tone and regretted those words already. Hurt flashed in his eyes at your harsh words but it was gone as quickly as it came.

„Hey, if there´s something bothering you it also becomes my problem. Since when are we doing solo missions, eh?“, he smiled at you and nudged your knee.

„Listen, you don´t need to know.“, you explained with an unfamiliar coldness.

„Baby, I´ve been a bit worried lately. You´re so busy working your butt off 24/7, that you don´t even even respond to my memes anymore.

You love memes! Obviously there´s something wrong going on and I´d like to know, if I can help you.“

„I said-“, you wanted to blow up on him but that little voice in your heart intervened. You knew very well, that Alfred only meant well; he cared for you and you simply couldn´t bring it over yourself to lash out on him, no matter how much you wanted to.

You looked up to meet his gaze and all anger got extinguished as soon as your eyes met his worried gaze and encouraging soft smile.

„Just...just know, that I have to keep up like this for a few more months.“, you sighed and Alfred carefully took your hand in his.

„(y/n), is that really good for you though?“

„I have no choice!“, you whispered- „I need those two extra jobs...“

„Two extra jobs!?“, he exclaimed with wide eyes and quickly embraced your form, that still smelled like the greasy food from the Truck Stop you worked at this morning.

„No wonder you´re never home!“, he embraced you even tighter burying your face in his chest. It´s been so long since you actually felt his heartbeat like this, that you felt tears escape your eyes and run down your cheek.

„You´re quitting those two jobs as soon as possible.“, he declared.

„Will do, Al“, you muffled against his t-shirt.

After that Alfred insisted on picking you up from work and he keeps texting you often during the day, also sending some wholesome memes to cheer you up during your breaks.

Al knows from personal experience how easy it is to slip into unhealthy habits when work takes a large portion of the day, so he tries to keep your spirits high as good as he can during the next few months until July.

Only then did you finally ditch the two jobs and finally returned to the healthy life-work balance you two are used to. When Alfred learnt, that you went through all of this just to give him the best birthday present he couldn´t stop thanking you, but also asked you to never pull such a stunt again.

There is no overworked s/o on his watch.

[elise-love-is-a-frog]

The Origin of My Obsession with Pumpkin Snail (not that anyone asked)

IF ANYONE WANTS TO DRAW ME SNUMPKIN AT *ANY* ART SKILL LEVEL, I'LL HANG IT IN MY CUBICLE AND SEND YOU A PICTURE

**disclaimer: I am not the only person ever who has decided to put a pumpkin on a snail. I'm not saying that I own this concept. However, it is a design that I had no memories of seeing before. Looking online, the few others I could find tend to be Jack-o-Lantern snails. Any pumpkin snail art that I have posted myself has been mine or art done for me**

Sooo. I've had an undying love for pumpkins for the past few years. They make me very emotional for some reason. It's even becoming a tradition for me to surprise mail pumpkins to people in October, and it makes me incredibly happy. (you don't even need a box to mail a pumpkin in the USA, just slap the shipping label on it!)

I've also had an undying love for garden animals since I was very little (frogs, lizards, snails, etc.) With Animal Crossing New Horizons released (Animal Crossing snails have always been my favorite) and my grandparents buying me a purse with snails in the design, my love for snails was re-ignited more than it has ever been. I even bought some snail decor for my room.

I used my work-friend's computer in her cubicle for something specific-to-her-computer, and I wanted to leave her a doodle. I was going to draw a snail on a pumpkin, and then this happened...

The birth of my obsession was this stupid little doodle. It really did something in my brain. My artistic skills being... eh... I went home and looked up an artist to commision a painting of a good-quality pumpkin snail that night.

My coworker then drew me more snails. She even made an orca pumpkin snails (orcas are my fav animals) and an appa pumpkin snail. My best friend drew a pumpkin snail. I ended up making my work desktop's background into Snumpkin/Orca/Appa themed. My home laptop lock screen became a different Snumpkin. My Tumblr became Snumpkin. My Animal Crossing flag became Snumpkin. I have a little collection of Snumpkin drawings in my cubicle at work.

For months now, I've seen this little dude in multiple places everyday, and I still love him. I just made a stupid drawing, and my brain decided that it was peak perfection.

When it comes to my personal drawing abilities, this is my most recent Snumpkin that I have. He's a little dude. A little friend.

TLDR: I think quarantine just fried my brain a few months ago and Snumpkin just went in the spot where my brain once resided.

[goldenhemmings]

When You Love Someone | Streetfighter!Shawn (Part Three)

Here we go, friends!! Thank you so much for sticking with me through the time it took to get this part up and thank you to every single person who has taken the time to read, comment on, and message me about this series. It means the absolute world to me. You can read parts one and two linked in my masterlist, but if you’re all caught up please enjoy just over 7k words of Streetfighter!Shawn. I’d love to hear your feedback, and I hope you like it!! Credit to @/nbaroses on Twitter for the edit and @fourtristattoos for sharing it with me >:-)

Thursday. It had been nearly two weeks since Y/N and Shawn had met and five days since she’d last seen him, but Y/N swore she hadn’t gone a single hour in that time without talking to him. She’d started leaving her ringer on when she studied--something she never did, nor would ever admit to--to ensure that she never missed one of his messages. So, as she sat on the front porch of her house that afternoon studying, there was no exception.

Nose in a textbook, she was twenty minutes deep in a chapter about some economic principle she couldn’t care less about when her phone rang from beside her on the table. She picked it up with cat-like reflexes, immediately answering when she saw Shawn’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hi,” she chirped, and Shawn could hear the smile in her voice. He stared out the large window in the living room of his apartment, locating the light posts from her university’s baseball field towering in the distance. He focused on them as he spoke; it made him feel closer to her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Um,” Y/N mused, looking up as she combed through her schedule in her mind. “Just studying, I think. I have a quiz on Monday.”

“Would you be willing to take a night off from all that?”

She laughed, and it made Shawn grin from the other end of the phone. “I don’t know,” she teased, but she was just stringing him along. She was already sold on whatever he had in mind. “Being this bright takes constant work.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he scoffed, eliciting a giggle from Y/N. “Let’s pretend like you weren’t born smarter than everyone on this damn planet.” Y/N laughed again, louder this time, and Shawn’s cheeks flushed. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to be able to hear that sound.

“What did you have in mind for my potential night off?” Y/N pressed, absentmindedly biting the corner of her lower lip as she focused on his voice.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“You never said anything about a surprise.”

“Did I forget to mention that?”

“Yes!” she answered, through the giddy laughter that hadn’t stopped since she’d picked up Shawn’s call.

“Well, I’m mentioning it now. It’s a surprise.”

Y/N was willing to let this go on a bit longer. “What if I’m too busy?”

She could hear Shawn shrug from the other line, though by this point he knew she was only messing with him. “Then I guess you’ll never know.”

“We can’t have that.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“What should I wear to this surprise of yours?” Y/N asked, picking up a blue pen to doodle on the corner of the paper she was taking notes on.

“Whatever you want.”

“I need a little more to go off of than that.”

Shawn blew a puff of air out of his cheeks as he thought. He’d really assumed this would be as simple as her immediately agreeing to be ready at seven. “Shit, I don’t know. Jeans?”

“Okay,” Y/N assented, already mentally skimming her closet. “Is this an indoor surprise or an outdoor surprise?”

He loved how careful she was. “Outdoor. Might be a little chilly.”

“Noted.”

“And be ready at seven.”

She grinned. “Also noted. Now let me get my studying done.”

She could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Whatever. See you in a few hours.”

���Bye,” she replied, and (reluctantly) ended the call in favor of turning back to her textbook, although being able to focus was an ambitious goal now that she had something to look forward to.

When 6:30 rolled around, Y/N put a pause on her schoolwork to go inside and change. She traded out her frumpy gray sweater for a denim jacket and exchanged her worn-out Converse for booties that looked a bit nicer with the black jeans she’d slid on. Content with her outfit, Y/N quickly fixed her hair until it looked how she wanted and then swiped her trusty cherry Chapstick over her lips.

She headed back out to the porch to grab her textbooks and bring them inside, and as she finished scooping everything up into her arms she noticed Shawn’s familiar black Jeep turn onto her street. Suddenly hit with a fresh wave of giddiness, she dashed back inside, threw her books haphazardly on her bed, and then raced back out to meet Shawn.

He hopped out of the driver’s seat, smiling at the sight of Y/N coming down the driveway towards him. “Eager, eh?”

“I saw your car pulling up,” she grinned, not bothering to defend herself. He laughed and strode towards her, and she squealed as he unexpectedly looped a leather-clad arm around her waist to lift her up and spin her in a little circle.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he set her down, but he was still stubborn.

“You’re gonna have to wait and see.”

She laughed. “That makes me nervous.”

He shook his head, reaching to open the passenger door for her. “Don’t be nervous. It’s a good surprise.”

Normally, Shawn would find something like where he was planning to take her stupid and cliche, but he was past the point of caring about the trivial things that would usually make him roll his eyes, too focused on Y/N instead. She brought a different energy to his life, perhaps because she was so separated from the world in which he existed. Being with her was like an escape, in a way, from hiding on the other side of the wall that he’d lived his entire life behind. He didn’t have to put up defenses by constantly watching his back or maintaining a tough demeanor when he was around her; he could just be. And while it was a feeling with which he was unfamiliar, he knew he liked it. He liked Y/N.

As they drove, Y/N carefully took in her surroundings in a curious attempt to figure out where they were going before they got there. Shawn couldn’t help but smile to himself as he warded off all of her incorrect guesses, and it took everything he had to keep his eyes on the road as opposed to the adorably focused expression he was sure she was wearing.

“We’re going downtown,” Y/N suddenly remarked, confidently this time, as she began to fully recognize the roads he was taking.

Shawn finally hummed his affirmation, and Y/N’s eagerness grew. “I can’t remember the last time I came out here,” she said, mostly to herself, the memories of familiar buildings and streets beginning to flood back to her. It had likely been a year since she’d been downtown, which was atypical considering how immensely she’d always adored the area. But most of the memories she’d made there were with her ex-boyfriend, and the eventual but necessary end of their relationship had soured her love for what was, in Y/N’s opinion, the best part of the city.

However, the fact that she was now going downtown with Shawn essentially erased all of the bitterness and replaced it with a thrilling feeling of anticipation. Y/N already recognized Shawn as a dangerously exciting presence in her life; uncharted territory that both electrified and frightened her at the same time. He was so unique compared to the people she had always been surrounded with, and the fact that he was a bit rough around the edges only further exhilarated her. He was still almost entirely an enigma, and she never knew what to expect from him or their time together. Structure and preparedness had always been, in Y/N’s eyes, critical; if it were anyone else, Y/N wouldn’t be willing to give that up. But, needless to say, Shawn was clearly not just “anyone,” and Y/N felt as though she deserved to finally feel the excitement that came with venturing into the unknown with him. It was about time she broke free of the structure that she’d always ensured was guiding her life and instead just lived. Without knowing, Shawn was beginning to show her how.

Shawn parallel-parked his Jeep at a meter on the street, adjacent to a fancy hotel that was so tall it seemed to disappear into the sky. Y/N slid out of the car and waited for him to meet her on the sidewalk, her lips curling up in curiosity. Shawn nodded his head in the direction of the hotel’s entrance as a signal for Y/N to follow him, so she wordlessly reached for his hand and trailed after him into the lobby and straight to the elevators.

“What did you do?” she giggled, unsure of whether she was more nervous or excited.

Once inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the floor right below the penthouse. “You’ll see.”

Still flush with anticipation, Y/N allowed Shawn to pull her by the hand off of the elevator once the doors re-opened with a ding. He led her around the corner to a door that read hotel staff only on a gold plaque, ducking over his shoulder to check that the coast was clear before reaching for the handle and pulling her inside. In his experience, the door was rarely locked; the sign alone was usually enough to keep people away.

“Wait,” Y/N whispered, suddenly uneasy. “What are we doing?”

Shawn flicked the light on, simply pointing to a short flight of stairs off to the right that led up to another door labeled roof access. “Are we allowed to be here?” she continued, checking back behind her to make sure the door was fully closed.

“Relax,” Shawn cooed, turning to place his hands on her upper arms. “I come here all the time without getting caught. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

He felt her shoulders rise as she took a deep, calming breath. Y/N had never been keen on breaking rules, and she knew the staff only sign on the door was there for a reason. But she trusted Shawn, and the gleaming look of excitement in his eyes was enticing her to lower her inhibitions for once and just go with it. She sighed, biting back a smile. “Fine.”

Shawn grinned, dashing up the stairs and pulling Y/N, her nerves forgotten, after him. He pushed open the door that led to the roof and held it open for her, allowing her to go out first. An involuntary gasp slipped from her mouth as she stepped out onto the roof of the hotel.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled, eyes wide as she took in the view before her. They were on a rooftop that towered above the city, offering 360-degree visuals of the skyline laid out in front of them. City lights glistened from all angles, casting a dim light by which they could see. Y/N looked all around her, her face surely showing just how awestruck she was by the view and how beautiful the city truly was from above. She couldn’t believe a place like this existed.

Meanwhile, as he watched Y/N wondrously take in the scenery, Shawn began to feel a slight nervousness bubbling up in his stomach. For most of his life, this had always been his spot. He came here all the time when he needed to be alone, and sometimes when he was just plain bored. He’d never shared it with anyone--until now, at least. It would never be exclusively his spot again, and he was beginning to grapple with this idea. But then Y/N turned back to look at him with a light in her eyes that made his head spin, and suddenly he no longer cared. He remembered how badly he wanted to share his rooftop with her, how he wanted it to be hers just as much as it was his.

“How do you know about this place?” Y/N beamed, her face cloaked in shadow due to the fact that the only source of light was from the city down below and the waxing moon in the sky.

“I’ve been coming up here for years,” Shawn replied, avoiding her question, but Y/N decided to temporarily let it go in favor of walking closer to the wall at the edge of the roof to take in the skyline. Her features lit up so beautifully that Shawn swore it made the city lights cower in comparison.

She stared out at the city a little while longer, until her curiosity once again got the better of her. “Seriously, how did you find this place?”

Shawn cleared his throat, trying to decide just how much he was willing to share with Y/N. He hated talking about his past and his own life, that much was clear, but he had a desire to be honest with Y/N; to tell her the things he’d never spoken aloud. She compelled him so strongly to let his guard down, though he knew it would only come piece by piece. He sighed. “One of the owners of this hotel lived next-door to my family when I was younger. She was awesome. Used to let me come stay here sometimes as a kid, and she’s the one that showed me this place. I still come up here all the time when I need to think.”

He left out the explanation of why she would let him spend nights at the hotel, but was relieved by the fact that Y/N didn’t seem focused on that. “That’s amazing. I wish I’d had somewhere like this growing up,” she mused softly, stepping over to lean against the thick, shoulder-high wall that bordered the perimeter of the rooftop. She watched with a mesmerized gaze as the city lights danced before her, and was so caught up in the beauty of the scene that Shawn moving to stand next to her was almost startling.

“Do you see that dark region over there?” he rasped, but Y/N’s eyes couldn’t locate it.

“Where?” she asked, hoping for clarity, but getting so much more than she’d bargained for when Shawn moved to stand directly behind her, extending his hand over her shoulder to point at the area. Her eyes followed the length of his arm until they found what they were looking for.

“There,” he answered, his breath hot against her ear. She was painfully aware of his chest pressing against her back and effectively pinning her between him and the wall. She swallowed hard as he finally lowered his hand and stepped away from her, and she felt like she could breathe again. Shawn smirked to himself at the way she sucked a breath through her parted lips.

“I see it now.”

He studied her face; wanted to memorize every detail of it. “That’s where Dynamite is. Where I have my fights.”

“I remember,” Y/N smiled, looking up at him. “Why is that area so dark?”

“It’s not very developed over there,” he shrugged. “Most of the buildings around Dynamite are abandoned. That’s part of why it’s safe to fight there.”

Y/N nodded, then hesitantly posed a question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Shawn replied, reaching up to move a strand of hair that the breeze had blown into her eyes. Y/N’s skin burned under his touch.

“Why do you fight?”

Shawn took in a breath. “I’ve told you that,” he mumbled, but they both knew it wasn’t true.

Y/N sighed, turning to look back at the city in time to see a distant stoplight turn from red to green. “You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, but I hope it’s not because you don’t trust me. Because you know that you can.”

He shrugged, running his hands through his hair. “I know, sweetheart, I just—I don’t know why, honestly. I’ve just been fighting for so long that it’s a part of my life now.”

Y/N gnawed on the side of her lower lip, thinking. “How long?”

“I’ve been streetfighting since, like, my last year of high school, but I had a thing for fighting in general long before then.”

Y/N felt her stomach twist at his words, but she still wanted to know more despite how unsettled it made her feel. “What do you mean you ‘had a thing’ for it?”

Shawn huffed, reaching a hand up to scrub at the underside of his jaw. He was quiet, staring off into space as though he hadn’t heard Y/N’s question. “It’s okay,” she continued after a prolonged silence. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no,” Shawn interjected, turning to look at her with a troubled expression. “I want to tell you, I’m just trying to figure out how.” And, shockingly, he really did find himself wanting to tell her. He paused for a few more seconds as he formed the words in his head, and Y/N waited patiently.

“My parents,” he finally began, looking out at the horizon as he spoke, “never gave me much attention when I was growing up. I have a sister who was born when I was five, and from then on it was pretty much always all about her. My mom and dad never helped me with my homework, never played with me, never did anything that didn’t involve either working or being with my sister. And it fucked me up.” He laughed dryly, shaking his head with his eyes still pointed up. “She was the perfect child, and I just...wasn’t. I felt like I was invisible to them. When I got to be around thirteen or fourteen, I started getting in trouble at school on purpose. It was the only way I could think to get their attention, even if it was bad. And it worked, so I kept doing it. Being loud in class eventually escalated into me picking fights with random kids in the hallway, and after getting caught enough times we just started arranging fights behind the school after hours. Somewhere in there, it stopped being about getting my parents to notice me and more about me just wanting to fight.”

A long silence followed Shawn’s words as Y/N took them in, her heart twisting for the man standing in front of her. She finally spoke. “Do you like fighting?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he sighed, turning to look at her with suddenly red-rimmed eyes. “But it helps me cope with my feelings, in a fucked up way. It’s familiar. And I don’t have much familiarity in my life.”

“It’s made you strong,” she offered. Then, with a playful nudge, “In more ways than one.” Shawn smiled back at her, but it was forced. “You don’t have to be a victim of your circumstances,” she continued, serious this time. “You’ve clearly always been a fighter, and now a part of your life is a physical tribute to that.”

He scoffed, returning his focus to the sky. “I’m not a victim. I never will be.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” she sighed softly, reaching over to take his face between her hands. He resisted her, gently tugging her wrists away, but she wasn’t going to give into his stubbornness. She pushed off the wall and walked to the other side of him, delicately placing her hands to rest on his abdomen, and suddenly she knew the reason he had refused to look at her: He was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” she murmured, moving her hands from his biceps to his face. “What’s going on?” He cleared his throat, taking a breath and pinching his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut, and Y/N delicately and silently ran a finger over each of his eyebrows to relieve the tension in his face.

“It’s all just fucked up,” he eventually mumbled. “Hate talking about it. ‘S why I never do.”

“Then don’t,” she sympathized, moving to place her hands on the leather jacket covering his upper arms because she didn’t know what else to do. This certainly hadn’t been a turn she’d expected the night to take. “You don’t have to.”

Shawn simply nodded, finally opening his pained eyes. He grabbed at her jacket, pulling her into his chest and resting his chin on top of her head. They stayed like that for quite a while, Y/N staring out at the city while Shawn just held her until his breathing returned to normal. Her head moved with his broad chest as it expanded with a sudden, deep intake of breath.

“Tell anyone that I actually have feelings and I’ll kill you.”

Y/N giggled softly at Shawn’s abrupt outburst, pulling away from him to be met with a small smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “You wouldn’t,” she joked quietly, feigning offense.

Shawn sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, teasing. “I don’t know. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“I can imagine,” she retorted, extending the joke. “But I see right through you, Mendes.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’re not all intense and tough like you appear.”

He raised his eyebrows, conveying his dissent in regard to her claim. “I’m not tough?” he challenged, immediately reaching for Y/N’s hand. He curled her fingers into a fist and pressed them against his chest, which was--as Y/N could have guessed--rock solid. “Tell me I’m not tough one more time,” he smirked. “I dare you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she laughed, tugging her hand away and rolling her eyes as though her cheeks weren’t suddenly burning. “Arrogant much?”

“Defending my honor,” Shawn corrected, but he was joking by this point, too. “You’re so honest with me,” he continued, his eyes glued to the first face that had ever made him feel physically weak. “No one ever is.”

“It’s that reputation of yours,” she mocked. “Someone says the wrong thing and suddenly the patterns from your rings are imprinted on the side of their head.”

She was only messing with him, but Shawn was suddenly stoic. “You know that’s not how I do things.” Her smile faltered a little as she took in his serious expression, but a mischievous glint soon came into his eye. “I’d take the rings off first.”

“You’re bad,” she laughed, and Shawn was immediately grinning in response to her joy. “But you don’t intimidate me.”

Shawn chuckled breathily. “You’re probably the only person in the world who I don’t, then.”

Y/N quirked her head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I’m different when I’m around you,” he answered, still smiling, but Y/N’s intuition told her he wasn’t kidding around anymore. “It’s like my personality split or something when I met you, I don’t know. You’re not intimidated by me because I don’t present myself to you the way I do to everyone else. And I don’t know why that is.”

She breathed in heavily, taken aback by his confession. “Just because the world sees you a certain way doesn’t mean that’s who you really are,” she responded truthfully, noticing his eyes widen ever-so-slightly. “I think it’s all just a front you put up because you’ve been on your own basically your entire life. When you’re constantly thrown into situations where you have to be tough, being tough eventually becomes your reality and you probably forget how to be anything else.” She paused, her eyes cast to the sky as she continued to concentrate on her words. “You said you’re different when you’re around me, but I don’t think I’m changing you, or anything. I don’t think you’ve ever been surrounded by people who cared about you enough to want to know who you actually are, but I do. And I don’t think that this so-called ‘split personality’ is actually separate from you. It’s more like two sides of the same coin; what you see, and what you don’t. It’s just that you’ve always kept people from getting past what they see.”

Shawn tipped his head back, harshly scrubbing both of his hands over his face. “God damn,” he muttered, barely audible, turning to stare her right in the eyes. “What are you doing to me?”

“Can’t answer that,” she answered sheepishly, staring down at her shoes and pretending that her heart wasn’t racing a million miles an hour. “I’m not you.”

He breathed out, focus unmoving from her face. The color of her eyes was his favorite color in the world. “Guess not.”

Y/N turned to look back out at the city, and Shawn stood frozen in place as he studied the side of her face. He didn’t have the strength to tear his gaze away, nor would he want to. Y/N, on the other hand, was burning under the heat of his stare and tried with all her might to act as though she wasn’t.

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Never,” she answered, smiling slyly. He was a fool if he thought she’d be willing to leave him any time soon.

Shawn raised his eyebrows to convey an exaggerated sense of shock. “But it’s a school night.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. Plus, my first class tomorrow isn’t until eleven.”

“Okay,” Shawn assented, more thrilled than he’d ever admit about the fact that he’d have more time with her. “Then what should we do now?”

“I want to see Dynamite,” she admitted quickly, though fully expecting him to say no.

Shawn reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Really?”

She nodded. “Just wanna see what it’s like.”

“There’s no fight tonight,” he mused, thinking out loud. “It’s probably empty.”

“Are you okay with taking me there?”

“Would love to,” he answered, and he meant it. There wasn’t any part of his life that he wouldn’t be willing to share with her.

The corners of her lips pulled up. “Seriously?”

She had her answer when he began walking towards the door that had led them onto the roof, and Y/N giggled like a child as she darted after him, reaching to take the hand he’d extended towards her.

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

Shawn parked his Jeep on the street closest to the alley that led through to Dynamite, then raced around to the side of the car to help Y/N slide out. She laughed, not because anything was funny, but because she’d built up so much giddy excitement that she could no longer contain herself. She linked the fingers of her left hand through his right one and followed his lead, eager and nervous all at once to finally be able to see the infamous Dynamite where he spent so much of his time.

“It’s okay,” Shawn said, squeezing Y/N’s hand as though he could sense her anxiousness. “These buildings are all empty. There’s nothing else over here.” Y/N nodded, reaching her free hand up to wrap around Shawn’s arm as though that would provide her with added security. It wasn’t exactly an inviting area, but she was safe with Shawn; she was sure of it.

They reached the familiar courtyard, Shawn letting out a sigh of relief when it appeared to be empty. He turned to Y/N to begin explaining his favorite parts of Dynamite to her, but then he heard a voice that made his blood run cold. The smile dropped from his face.

“Is that you, Sugar?”

There was only one person in the world who called him Sugar, and her tone of voice immediately signaled that she meant trouble. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone rigid. Leave it to Raven to ruin my fucking night.

“I come here when I need to think,” Raven answered, stepping closer to the pair, but then trailed off as she pretended to notice the figure at his side for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“This is my, uh,” Shawn stumbled, reaching a hand up to pull at the front of his hair. “This is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Raven repeated, the name tinged with a sort of bitterness as it rolled off her tongue.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted, her cheery demeanor a stark contrast to Raven’s sour one. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” she spoke, her tongue coming up to run along her top row of teeth. “It’s Raven.” She turned to Shawn, a glint in her eye that told him nothing good was about to come out of her mouth.

“So,” she continued, Shawn’s skin crawling over the way her narrowed eyes stared Y/N down. He instinctively reached over to loop a strong arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her all the way into his side. She looked up at him, confused, but he just stared straight ahead in anticipation of Raven’s words. She didn’t miss how tightly his jaw was clenched. “This must be the reason you’ve been acting different.”

“No. I’m not doing this,” he spat, the feeling of Y/N curling further into his side no longer enough to make the tension in his chest dissipate. “We’re going somewhere else.”

“No, no!” Raven replied, reaching her hand out as a mocking smile graced her lips. “Don’t leave on my account.” She gestured to Y/N, whose confusion was manifesting itself in her facial expression. “I just cannot believe you went from me to this. Can’t say it makes sense.”

Y/N frowned as her eyes took in Raven’s tall, slender figure and clearly agitated expression. I thought he didn’t date? Confused, she tilted her chin up, only to still be met with Shawn’s profile. “What is she talking about?” she whispered. This was enough to get Shawn to look at her, and his eyes immediately softened.

“I promise I’ll tell you all of it. Let’s just go somewhere else first, okay?” His hands slid from around her waist down to intertwine their fingers, but before he could pull her away the sound of Raven’s witchy laughter cut the air.

“Does she not know, Shawn?” she gasped, feigning shock.

“Know what?” Y/N asked, growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Hey,” she demanded, pulling on Shawn’s hands in an attempt to force him to meet her eyes. “What’s going on?”

But his focus was still laser-sharp on their unwelcome visitor. “I’ve only known her for a few weeks, Raven. And besides, you give yourself too much credit. Sitting around telling people about you is probably the most unbearable thing I could think of doing.”

Raven laughed bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You villainize me because you’re too weak to accept that you’re the one who’s fucked up here.”

“You’re delusional.”

Y/N was beginning to get whiplash from all the back and forth, and quite frankly, it was annoying the hell out of her. Furthermore, she didn’t appreciate being ignored. She broke free of Shawn, pushing her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket. “You know what? I’m just going to wait by the car until you’re done with this,” she cut in, but Shawn was instantly blocking her path.

“You can’t be by yourself this late at night, especially not here,” he stated, his tone of voice much gentler than it had been. His concern brought her back to the night they’d met, which had been extended due to his unwillingness to knowingly let her walk home unaccompanied in the early hours of the morning. Y/N huffed, but stayed put as she muttered a fine under her breath. Shawn turned back to the dark-haired girl staring back at him.

“We’re leaving,” he stated, voice flat but still tinged with an obvious frustration.

“Don’t bother,” Raven smirked. “I’m bored anyways. Have a good night, you two.” With that, she was retreating down the alley towards the street to finally leave Y/N and Shawn alone. Shawn was almost convinced she’d somehow been tipped off to know that they were coming.

“Bitch,” he mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief as Raven sauntered away knowing exactly what she had done. He turned to Y/N, who looked just as small and unnerved as she had when he’d first spoken to her in the bathroom of that bar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here.”

“I thought you didn’t date,” she said quietly, attempting to seem nonchalant despite the bubble of anxiety rising in her chest. She was worried that he’d played her; unleashed his supposed vulnerability to make her feel special by taking advantage of her empathy. It terrified her to think she’d fallen for it.

But Shawn was quick to refute her doubts, though clearly taken aback. “I don’t date. Not before you.”

“So what was that about, then?”

Shawn let out a heavy huff of breath, bringing a hand up to anxiously tug at his hair. “Raven is a complicated story.”

“Tell me,” Y/N implored softly, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth in the chilly night air.

“I was never with her, ever,” Shawn began, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his leather jacket. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t...with her.”

Y/N’s eyebrows quirked subtly as she put together his words. “Oh.”

“I never felt anything for her,” he added hurriedly. “I don’t even like her. At all. She’s crazy.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you have a history with someone you never even liked?”

“Because I’m an asshole,” Shawn quipped, a humorless smile crossing his face. Y/N quirked her head to the side, challenging his answer, but not realizing just how serious Shawn was. “I mean it,” he continued, emphatically. “I knew I was leading her on and I didn’t care. I wish I had a better explanation, but I don’t.”

Y/N exhaled, not knowing how to respond. While his confession concerned her, she knew she wasn’t upset. She was nothing close to it, because she had no reason or right to be; it didn’t involve her. She was, however, suddenly plagued with a wave of insecurity the longer she thought about it. This girl, Raven, was stunning. And confident. And a part of Shawn’s lifestyle. And they obviously had some sort of history together. Moreover, the nonchalance with which Shawn treated that history was off-putting, to say the least. Would he disregard me like that?

Shawn finally speaking pulled her from her thoughts. “Say something,” he pleaded, swallowing hard.

“There’s nothing to say,” Y/N shrugged, batting her eyes at him. “It doesn’t affect me.”

“But it bothers you, anyway,” he deduced. His expression bordered on smug.

“Yeah, a little,” she admitted. She averted her eyes to a piece of fence off to the side. “It doesn’t bother me that you were with her, I just don’t get how you could write it off so easily.”

He was quick to defend himself. “I told you the second time we ever saw each other that I don’t ever get attached to people. Except you, now.”

“Well when did you end things with her?”

“The night after I met you,” he replied immediately, and Y/N’s eyes snapped up. She hadn’t expected that.

“That quickly?”

He nodded, reaching to pull Y/N closer to him. Despite her uneasiness after seeing the side of him Raven brought out, it was impossible for her to be tense when she was close to him. “I’m serious when I say that you’re different to me,” Shawn started, and Y/N really did believe him. “I knew it as soon as I met you. Yes, I’ve been shitty to Raven, and I know that. I’m not trying to excuse it. But I’d never be able to blow you off like that, if that’s what you’re worried about, and that’s a complete promise. You mean something to me. I want you around. I’ve never had that with someone before, especially not with Raven.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that came to her face, her body warm all over. But the way his demeanor had shifted so suddenly in Raven’s presence was still weighing on her, and she’d be remiss to not speak her mind. “Can you at least try to be a little nicer to Raven, though?”

“Not if she’s going to keep coming at me like that,” Shawn argued, and Y/N sighed.

“Did you ever think that her aggression might be a defense mechanism to hide the fact that she actually felt something for you?”

Shawn ignored her question. “Why do you care so much?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. Something tells me she could use a little kindness, that’s all.”

“You sound like a kindergarten teacher.”

She laughed, lightly hitting his chest. “I’m serious!” she emphasized, but her giggles conveyed the opposite. “Just promise that you’ll at least be civil around her.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“Shawn.”

“Fine,” he assented, letting out a dramatic sigh. “But only ‘cause you’re the one asking.”

“Thank you,” she answered, drawing out the ‘u’ sound.

A smirk made its way onto Shawn’s face, and Y/N quirked her head at him in bemusement. “Sure you won’t get jealous?”

She laughed, reaching up to brush a stray curl off of his forehead. “I’m not too worried,” she said, but it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“No reason to be,” he answered, more quietly, reaching to pull her closer by the waist.

Her heart skipped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

His grip tightened around her waist, and she reached up to place her hands on the lapels of his leather jacket. The chill in the air was almost unnoticeable when she was pressed up against him, and Shawn’s poker face was in full effect as he hid how intensely his stomach was fluttering. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had made him nervous; the last time a girl--or anyone, for that matter--had made him feel anything. Admit it or not, he was wrapped around Y/N’s finger.

The longer Shawn looked at Y/N the more slowed her breathing became, and it stopped altogether when he hesitantly took one of his hands from her waist and brought it up to place gingerly on the side of her face, his thumb resting adjacent to her ear as the rest of his fingers slid back into her hair. Before her racing mind could register what was happening, he was asking if he could kiss her.

She didn’t trust that her voice wouldn’t fail her, so all she could do was helplessly nod. He stared down at her, and the soft smile he wore combined with the look in his dark eyes was enough to have Y/N convinced she’d never breathe properly again. He leaned down, tantalizingly slowly, and finally pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was delicate at first, but it wasn’t long before Y/N was feverishly grabbing at Shawn’s shirt as though it would somehow pull her closer to him. She’d been waiting for this since the night they’d met; the sheer heat of the moment knocked the wind out of her in the best way possible.

The hand of Shawn’s that wasn’t on Y/N’s face slid from the side of her waist around to the small of her back, anchoring her against him as though he were worried she’d float away. He swiped his tongue softly along her lower lip, eliciting the faintest of moans from Y/N that nearly made his knees give out. He finally pulled away to take in a deep breath, his forehead resting on hers.

“I hate to do this right now,” he began, voice low, “but I really should get you home.”

“No,” Y/N panted, still clinging to his shirt.

He frowned, slightly amused. “But it’s late. And you have class tomorrow.”

Is he seriously asking me about this? “I don’t give a shit about class right now, Shawn,” she sassed, moving to link her arms around his neck and reattach her lips with his. He gave in, kissing her back until he reached the point of realizing that if he didn’t stop now, he never would.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, pulling back to fully look at her this time. Her hair was slightly tangled from where his hand had been, parted lips more plump than usual. His cheeks were flushed, and without thinking, Y/N dragged the pad of her thumb along one of them.

She sighed. “If you’re ready to drop me off at me home, that’s fine. But I want to stay with you a little longer.”

“Shit, no I--” he stuttered, so fucked for her he could hardly speak. “I want to stay with you, too. I just don’t want you to miss school because of me.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I never said anything about missing school. And regardless, it’s my decision to make.”

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. This elicited a laugh from Y/N, who reached a hand up to thread through his hair. “I don’t want to be a bad influence on you.”

“I’ve known you fight people for fun for how long now?” she asked, teasing. “But when I’m staying out late on a school night, then you start to think that you’re a bad influence?”

He let out another groan, muffled from his face being pressed into her neck. He finally picked his head up to look at her, still undecided as to whether or not she was thinking straight. “Are you sure?”

“Stop asking me that!” she cried, eyes wild with anticipation.

He threw his hands up as if to say I surrender, but Y/N was grabbing at them in an instant to place them back on her waist. He grinned. “Okay, well...We could go to my place? I have wine. Shitty, cheap wine, but it’ll still do the trick.”

She giggled, nodding vehemently. “I’d love some cheap wine.”

That was all it took to have him grabbing at her hand, pulling her along with him as they raced back to his Jeep and laughed like little kids along the way. Shawn felt like a different person, and Y/N was all the way up on cloud nine. It was plain to see that each was quickly becoming addicted to the feeling that accompanied being with the other, and a perfect, unstoppable storm of a relationship was undoubtedly brewing.

Thank you endlessly for reading!! Should I continue?? Feedback makes me very happy.

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