#we started this on dash hence the initial longer replies.

[santana-maribel]

who: @santana-maribel​ and @smythenyu​. where: santana & quinn’s apartment. when: saturday 28th march. what: a booty call but with feelings~ warnings: nsfw, sex, swearing etc.

Rolling her eyes at his last text message, Santana tossed her phone in the coffee table in front of her. Whatever Santana and Sebastian had going on, put simply, just worked. It was easy, fun and surprisingly, uncomplicated. There were no bold declarations of love and neither of them were interested in exploring any kind of relationship aspect. Truthfully, the whole damn world was probably surprised that it hadn’t  before now. Sure, they got drunk or high and fooled around a ton before but now it was happening more and more often sober. Her thoughts occasionally circled back to their matching, marked wrists. If she believed, truly believed in it, being soulmates with Seb wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? Unclear. Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, she heard the front door of their apartment open. Of course he had his own key. She was lazy, this was convenient, it just made sense. She didn’t take her eyes off of the television in front of her, where she was scrolling through netflix to find the film he wanted. Normally she would fight him a little, make him watch something that she wanted. But she hadn’t seen him in a few days and though she would never admit it, she missed his company a little. Jesse had already swung by the apartment and picked up Quinn, so they had the place to themselves. “I’m gonna’ start watching Die Hard, you take too long to do anything today,” she called out, waiting for him to join her on the couch.

Sebastian had driven to Santana’s, so it wasn’t long from the last text to him entering the door, shutting it behind him and noticing the girl on the sofa. “I wasn’t long at all,” he shot back, kicking off his shoes and moving to sit down beside her, glancing at the tv and settling back, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re just impatient,” he replied, smirking a little as he finally looked at her. “Gotta learn to be able to wait for a good thing, babe.” He’d been trying his best not to overthink their relationship as of lately. But with everyone going on about soulmates non stop, it was kinda hard to not even consider the possibility. The sex was good, they were almost too similar in nature, and they were both hot, but that didn’t mean that they were soulmates, more like good friends who fucked. Sebastian still thought the entire idea of it was stupid. Why does someone or something else get to decide who you’re meant to be with for the rest of your life? Perhaps, seeing his parents, who had once thought they were soulmates, getting divorced when he was young really thwarted his view, but also he saw it everyday. “Have you got any snacks? Or booze?” he asked Santana, pushing the thoughts from his head. “I really could use a beer.”

Their friendship pre-fwb was startlingly similar to what it was now; he’d come over, or she’d go to his place, they’d drink, shoot the shit, occasionally fool around. It was a comfort to her, that between them, nothing had really changed, too much. They kissed a lot more now and they fell asleep together too. But otherwise, it was business as usual between the two of them. She smiled at his comment, then clicked her tongue. She didn’t even want to make a bitchy remark at him. She was getting soft in the head. “Well, i’m glad you’re here anyway,” she admitted, leaning into his side when he placed his arm around her. How comforting he was. Santana nodded at his question and stood up, walking into the kitchen. Her Mama always taught her to take care of her guests, how to be the perfect little hostess. She grabbed two ice-cold beers from the fridge and several packets of chips from the pantry, before she came back into the living room, placing them on the coffee table in front of him. “Don’t say i’m not good to you,” she muttered, as she resumed her original position on the couch. She had seen this film before and enjoyed it well enough, but her thoughts were a thousand miles away from Bruce Willis, even though he looked like a particular snack in this film. “You know this is a Christmas movie, right? Why the hell are we watching it just now?” she asked, an eyebrow arched at him in curiosity.

“you’re an actual angel,” he drawled as she returned and passed him his beer, settling back again with his arm around her, a soft grin on his lips. he glanced back at the tv then, sipping his beer, his hand tracing patterns on her shoulder. “it’s an every day of the year movie, tana. shut up. let bruce willis be his sexy, masculine self.” despite his complaints, he found himself not paying a whole lot of attention to it, his hand having moved into her hair, finishing his beer and placing it down onto the coffee table. he grabbed a bag of chips and balanced them on his lap so he could eat with his free hand. “okay, bruce willis, alan rickman, bonnie bedelia, as they are in the film right now. fuck, marry, kill.”

She bit back whatever remark she was going to make, when he made his comment about her being an angel and smirked softly, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch, beer resting on her leg. It was a good movie and she ignored his snark laced comment, eyes focusing on the screen in front of them. It didn't take long before he began distracting her. This always happened. She tried to think of a time when they had put on a movie and actually got more than a quarter of the way through or god forbid actually finished it. She couldn't remember one single time. It just wasn't their style. She shuddered underneath his touch, fingers running through her hair and watched as he rustled with the bag of chips on his lap. His game made her laugh out loud and she nodded, glancing between him and the screen. "Ah fuck," she sighed, considering her options. "Fuck Bruce Willis because, look at him," she jabbed her elbow towards the screen. "Marry Alan Rickman because why the hell not and kill Bonnie Bedelia because that hair is giving me anxiety. Perms are fuckin' gross," she answered before taking a gulp of her beer. "Same question to you," she shot back, nudging him in the side with her finger.

Sebastian chuckled, placing his bag of chips aside but continuing to play with her hair, smirking at her answers to the question. He nodded though, "I'd marry Bruce Willis, because then we could also fuck til he lost his hair and I asked for a divorce. I'd fuck Alan Rickman, rest in peace, and I'd kill Bonnie too. Her hair is definitely too much." His attention was no longer on the tv now at all. He'd seen Die Hard a million times anyway, and Santana was right there. He turned his head, nuzzling into her neck. "Fuck, marry, kill. Me, Aubrey, Finn."

It was one of her favourite things about Sebastian, the fact that he didn't see gender; he saw a conquest. Despite the fact she tended to keep exclusively to cock now, she too had been known to enjoy the same gender. College girls were curious and really, it would be rude not to help them out. She nodded approvingly at his answers, fiddling with the label on her bottle. She was thinking of a selection of her own when he started speaking again. She raised an eyebrow at him, mulling over the options as she drained her beer and sat the empty on the table. This was an interesting question, for sure. "Fuck Hudson because I kind of wonder if the whole size = 'size' thing is true and he's like over a foot taller than me. Marry Aubrey because he's a sweetheart and kill you because you've served your purpose now," she teased, fingertips tracing his smooth jawline. She was joking. Mostly. "Same question, but replace you with me."

Sebastian's lips parted as if offended, pushing her back though there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Wow, okay. I'd kill you too then, you'll never know my original answers and I guess if you're done with me you won't want to fuck tonight either," he shot back at her, crossing his arms and pouting as he leant back against the arm of the couch, his feet against her thighs to keep them apart.

"I bet I can guess your original answers," she replied, fighting off her own smile tugging at her lips, as he pushed her hand away and pretended to be mad. "Kill Finn, naturally. Fuck Aubrey because hate fucking is amazing and marry me because we would have like the most chill and open marriage ever." She wasn't sure she was correct but her voice was confident as she spoke.  She scoffed at his reaction, "c'mon, I was only teasing," she murmured, running a hand up the inside of his thigh.

Sebastian kept his arms crossed, a pout still on his lips as he refused to look at her. "I guess you'll never know if you're right," he huffed, although she was definitely right. "As if you would kill me," he continued, trying not to think about Santana's hand moving up his thigh and focus instead on his fake pouting. "Like I am clearly the superior one out of me, Aubrey, and Finn. Frankly, I wonder now about your taste, Santana."

She couldn't explain why she had chosen Finn as her fuck instead of him, it was weird. She had been poised to kill him off in their little game but when the push came to the shove, she couldn't do it. "Of course you are baby," she cooed, her fingers still trailing up his thigh, settling on his dick. God, she loved their games. "I mean my taste must be pretty terrible if i'm doing this," she countered, an eyebrow raised as she reached for his zipper.

Sebastian bit down on his bottom lip as her hand moved over his crotch, glancing down as she moved to pull down the zipper. "I should at least be your fuck," he murmured quietly, a little distracted by her movements. "Although, really..." he trailed off, forgetting what new complaint he had for now, reaching to pull Santana closer.

He had folded quickly for him, hungry eyes watching as he bit down on his lip. Victorious, he pulled her closer and she pressed a kiss to his neck. "It's a game, you get to fuck me for real, unless you're gonna' be a whiny bitch," she murmured against his skin, as she kissed down, not even needing to look at her hands on his zipper. She'd done this so many times it was like muscle memory.

Sebastian sighed softly, relaxing back into the sofa now, his hand sliding back into Santana's hair as she kissed down from his neck. "No whining," he agreed, licking his lips as he lifted his hips slightly, eager for her touch. "Promise," he continued, pulling her back up to kiss her deeply, his tongue slipping past her teeth and his hand tightening in her hair.

One hand snaked around his neck, pulling him close to her, threading through the back of his hair. The other, found its way down into his boxers and wrapped around his cock, pumping gently. Their kiss, as always, was electrifying, as the two of their tongues battled for dominance. For someone who had such a hard-on for control, Santana always found herself willing to submit to him. This was easily proven as his hand tightened in her hair and she let out a soft gasp into his mouth, breaking the kiss slightly. "Seb..." she muttered quietly.

Sebastian groaned quietly against her lips, thrusting his hips up and into her touch. He kissed her deeply, his other hand smoothing down her back and over her ass, pulling back to catch his breath, his eyes dark. "Mhm," he hummed, "I knew you wanted me..." He smirked, pressing another kiss to her lips before reaching to tug at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal her bra, chucking it to the side.

She scowled at his words, hating that she was like putty in his hands. She wasn't too mad, really though. This was pretty high on her list of favourite things to do. She allowed him to lift up her top, pulling her hand out of his underwear and raising both of them above her head as he discarded the item of clothing before she returned the favour and pulled at the collar of his. "Off, Seb. Take it off," she demanded softly.

Sebastian chuckled, smirking but sitting up just enough to tug his shirt up and off for her, throwing it aside before lying back and pulling her over him. His hands slid up her back, smoothing under the band of her bra, kissing her slowly as he rocked his hips up just slowly against hers. "Wanna ride me?" he whispered against her ear.

She was grateful that Quinn and Jesse had left the apartment because they were not being subtle in the slightest, as she moved her legs to either side of his, straddling him on the couch. Her body instinctively moved with his, as she ground against him. This. This was why she always wore skirts or dresses when he was around. Easy access. She nodded at his question, shuddering under the feeling of his breath, hot on her ear, but didn't miss a beat to make a bitchy remark. "You're fuckin' lazy," she whispered back, arms circling around his neck.

Sebastian just grinned wider at that, "You like riding me," he shot back, tilting his head so their lips brushed as he continued to rock his hips up against her, growing harder in his underwear. His fingers moved to the clasp of her bra then, unhooking it easily with one hand and raising an eyebrow. "You don't wanna?"

She shrugged off her bra, letting it fall off to the side carelessly, to join their ever-growing pile of clothes, before moving her arms back to his neck. "I didn't say that," she replied simply, pressing her chest flush against his. "Just observing," she joked, as she moved back on her knees a little, giving a gentle tug at his underwear and jeans. "You want me to ride you, gotta take these off."

Sebastian's hands slid up her sides as she pressed against him, pouting as she pulled back but not hesitating to reach down to shove his jeans and underwear down his legs in one go, kicking them off. He bent over then, grabbing a condom from his jeans pocket and settling back as he reached to pull her closer, dropping it beside them. "You need to be naked too," he murmured, his hands moving down to her hips.

She rolled her hips against him a few times more before acquiescing to his request. She stood up and shimmied her skirt down from her hips, kicking it away from her feet. Her underwear swiftly followed and now they were both completely naked, she hopped back on his lap and pressed her face into his neck, sinking her teeth down and sucking gently as she ground on him a little, just to tease.

Sebastian bit his lip as he watched her completely undress, grinning as she moved back over him. He lifted his hips up against her, rocking with her slowly and groaning quietly. His hands moved over her sides and up over her chest as he tilted his head back.

They were a mess of breathy pants, hands running all over one another, mouths moving together in unison. It was consuming and she knew that she needed more. Wordlessly, she lifted the condom from next to them on the couch and lifted it to her mouth, ripping the foil open with her teeth. She didn't wait for permission before she rolled the rubber down his cock, tossing the foil behind her. That would be later hers problem. "More," she groaned in his ear.

Sebastian pulled back as she did, eyes following her as she grabbed the condom, slowly grinning and leaning back as she rolled it down over his cock. “Fuck yes,” he murmured, shifting to place his feet down against the sofa, his hands moving to her hips.

That was the best thing about fucking your best friend; they know everything you like and vice versa. She knew the right way to roll her hips, the dirty words to whisper in his ear, but she always switched it up a little, just so it didn't get stale. Seb's hands on her hips spurned her on a little as she hovered over his cock, small hand wrapped around the base, teasing him.

Sebastian groaned again, lifting his hips up slightly, his hands smoothing up her sides and back over her hips. “You’re so hot,” he whispered, his eyes dark. They knew each other’s bodies so well at this point that they both knew exactly what the other wanted, and it was a large reason Sebastian continued the fwb arrangement they had. People often said how sex ruined friendships, but if anything it only made Sebastian and Santana closer.

She smirked at his comment approvingly, he knew exactly what to say to butter her up. Pleased with his words and feeling like she'd tortured him just the right amount, she finally sank down on his cock, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the sensation of being utterly filled. She stilled her movements for a moment, allowing her body to get used to the feeling. Sebastian not only exuded big dick energy, he had the goods to back it up too.

Sebastian’s head fell back and he groaned once more as she sank down over him, his hands tightening on her hips. He stayed still for a moment though, knowing she’d move when she was ready. “‘Feel so good,” he whispered breathily, his lips parted as he looked up at her.

Satisfied, she began to roll her hips against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, face buried into his shoulder as she let out soft groans at the sensation. Without even trying, he reached that sweet spot inside of her. Every time she thrust her hips against his, she could feel her fingertips start to tingle. "Fuck, so full," she breathed into his skin.

Sebastian gasped, rocking his hips up to meet hers, his hands sliding up her sides, pulling her down to kiss her messily, groaning into her mouth. He pulled back briefly, grinning slightly as he sat up, his arm winding around her waist, continuing to thrust his hips up into her.

If sex with anyone else was good, sex with Sebastian was practically god tier. He was an arrogant prick but god, he could back it up completely. She never could last very long when she was on top, not with the way she rolled her hips smoothly and how he thrust from underneath. She tangled her fingers in the back of his hair and gave a sharp tug, smirking as she did.

Sebastian moaned as she pulled at his hair, tilting his head back but his eyes staying on her, lips parted as he panted softly. “Fuck, Tana,” he groaned, his nails scraping down her back slightly, thrusting up faster.

Falling apart in Sebastian's lap was one of her favourite things in the entire world. Her thighs tightened against his involuntarily, as her moans echoed around the living room, her thrusts going from smooth and measured to erratic and frantic. Another tug of his hair and thrust upwards from him and she was coming, hard.

Sebastian gasped, thrusting up harder, losing his rhythm a little as he felt his stomach tightening. When he felt her tense and come he couldn’t hold back any longer, coming hard suddenly and moaning out her name.

She rocked her hips against his slowly, riding them both through their respective orgasms. She slumped against his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat thud away in his chest. She didn't make any effort to move straight away, body twitching as the aftershocks ran through her. She pressed a kiss to his temple and smoothed down the back of his hair. "You're so fucking good at that," she murmured.

Sebastian relaxed back against the pillows of the sofa, his arms loosening around her, head tilting back as he closed his eyes. He smiled widely, lazily, humming at that. “You’re pretty good yourself, gorgeous,” he murmured.

She kissed him on the temple again, before she sat back on his lap, groaning at the sensation of him still inside her overly sensitive pussy. "We're good at it," she agreed, before she stood up, disentangling her sweaty limbs from his. Her thighs were slick from her arousal but she felt too lazy to take a shower, so she grabbed her underwear and his shirt, haphazardly pulling them on before flopping down next to him on the couch. "Wanna finish the film?" she asked.

Sebastian breathed out as she pulled off, lying back and not even grabbing his underwear yet. He tugged the condom off slowly and tied it, holding it up to her with a grimace, “Wanna put this in the bin first?”

She went to bite back but instead took the condom from him, wrinkling her nose at the wetness. She turned on her heel, "lazy prick," she muttered as she walked to the kitchen and disposed of it in the trash can. She washed her hands then grabbed a couple of glasses and the open bottle of bourbon that was sitting out on the counter. "Don't say i'm not good to you, Seb," she teased, as she sat back down next to him.

Sebastian just grinned as she took it, moving now to grab his underwear, tugging it on before settling back on the sofa. He glanced up as she returned, “So good to me, babe,” he murmured, moving to take the bottle and pouring them both a glass. “The dream,” he said, lifting his glass to clink against Santana’s.

She smiled knowingly, as they clinked their glasses together. Fumbling around with her free hand, she located the television remote from down the side of the cushions and put the film back a little. "So, satisfy my curiosity. What were your choices earlier, during fuck, marry, kill? Tell me I was right."

Sebastian leant back, placing his feet on the coffee table, sliding his arm down the back of the sofa. He glanced at her as she asked that, sighing and shrugging, too chilled out after his orgasm to actually care about that anymore. “Yes, you were right.”

She curled into him, eyes on the screen in front of them, free hand tracing patterns up his smooth, unblemished thigh. She didn't really care about the game they were playing but she always liked to know when she was right about something. "Good to know," she hummed, a little smugly.

“Because seriously, who would wanna fuck Finn?” he said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Santana, sipping at his drink, apparently still not completely over that.

She rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't turn to look at him. "Why not?" she asked, fingertips toying with the rim of the glass.

“He just looks like he’s bad in bed,” he murmured, glancing at her again. “Why do you find him attractive?”

She shook her head at his comment, finally tilting her face to look at him. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a generous gulp of the amber liquid, as she considered his question. Why was she currently interested all of a sudden? "I don't know. He's sweet. Besides, who says I'm going to fuck him, hm?" she countered.

“Since when are you into ‘sweet’ guys?” he pushed, “If you were into sweet guys you’d be fucking mr jaw line who’s always following you around.”

"Are you high?" she asked, a little incredulously, as he snapped at her. This was completely out of the ordinary. "Wait - are you jealous?"

Sebastian huffed slightly, “No I’m not high, or jealous, c’mon. What does Finn have that I don’t have ten times better? There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

"Then what the fuck is this?" she gestured at him, dark eyes trained on his. She would have laughed out loud if she didn't think that it would make things worse. "It's not about anything you have or he has, it was a joke, mi amor."

Sebastian bit his lip, not sure why he’d got caught up on that, sitting back and staying quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. Sorry,” he murmured, his head ducked as he ran a hand through his hair.

The room fell silent for a moment, the television was the only thing making any noise as she watched him curiously. She had really gotten under his skin with this one. Part of her wanted to push, the other part didn't want to annoy him further. Of course the former won out. "Seriously, what's going on?" she asked.

Sebastian shook his head, “Nothing,” he replied, although a part of him knew he was lying. “Nothing’s going on.”

She laced her fingers through his and squeezed softly. They weren't just friends who had sex, they were best friends. Which meant that she could read him like a book. "It's not nothing, I have way more stamina than you, so you might as well just tell me what's going on," she offered with a slight shrug of her shoulder.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, glancing down at their hands, not sure why he had turned things so sour suddenly, he’d been so blissed out only a few moments ago. “I don’t know! Maybe I just thought if anyone is gonna pick me it’d be you.”

"I'll always pick you," she murmured, "hence why i'm here, with you and not with him." She brushed the pad of her thumb over the back of his hand. She felt her stomach twist a little with what she assumed was guilt. "I'm sorry."

Sebastian’s shoulders sank slightly, “No, it doesn’t matter,” he murmured, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair, eyes moving back to the tv.

"Seb..." she pleaded. This was the weirdest situation that she had been in with him. If not jealousy, then what was this? He must know, deep down, she would always pick him. They were best friends and sometimes it felt like he was her only friend. Sighing, she knew when to stop pushing him. A little defeated and hurt, she settled her own hands on her lap.

Sebastian leant back, his foot tapping unconsciously, sighing, “I don’t believe in soulmates, you know that,” he murmured. “But what if you do? It’s not like you think I’m your soulmate, even if we joke about it.”

She felt her eyebrows lift at his statement. Why did everything in the entire world come back to this bullshit? "You're the closest thing that i'm going to get to a soulmate," she shot back instantly. "You know I don't care about that shit and let's get real, if they did exist, Finn would not be my soulmate, or Aubrey, or any of those idiots."

Sebastian wasn’t the kind to get attached, like ever. But his relationship with Santana was different. It was built on friendship, and he was genuinely worried about losing her. He sighed, glancing at her now. “Sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot. “I know. I’m being an idiot.”

She shook head head at him gently, before nudging his arm to let her back in. Their relationship wasn't conventional, but she'd never really considered the prospect of Sebastian finding his soulmate and stopping whatever they had going on. Now, it was weighing on her mind. "You're not being an idiot, I get it," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you, Seb. You're my best friend."

Sebastian tilted his head, his arm falling around her, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. “You’re my best friend too,” he murmured, holding her close again. “And I love you,” he continued, stroking his hand down her arm gently. “Guess I’m just letting people get into my head. Soulmates are bullshit. We have a good thing, and we’re not.”

She kissed him back sweetly, savouring the quiet, real moments that they had together. This was the shift that had been happening in their relationship, their friendship. The rare moments they acted like an actual couple and the layers of snark and bitchyness were forgotten. "Who's been getting in that big ol' brain of yours?" she asked curiously.

“I dunno, I was talking to Jesse and he kept saying how Quinn was definitely his soulmate,” he murmured, pulling Santana into his lap, “And like, he doesn’t really know that. I guess I just started thinking about it. Maybe too much.”

She let out a sigh, of course it was Jesse. He'd gotten in her head too about it. She settled comfortably into his lap, "unsurprisingly, he got to me about it too," she confessed, thinking back to their conversation through text. "I mean how do they even know they're soulmates? It's a stupid concept and I don't like the idea. I always feel that no one decides my fate but me."

Sebastian wound both his arms around her, meeting her eyes. “They don’t. Pretty sure they haven’t even got a ‘bond’ or anything.” He nodded, “But me too. I don’t like the idea of something else deciding who I’m ‘meant to be with’. It’s stupid.”

She nodded in agreement. "I'm fairly certain that neither of them would shut the fuck up about it if they had one," she chuckled, knowing both halves of the couple. It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room but she was an expert at burying feelings and pretending they didn't exist. "So let's not let them decide for us," she mused aloud, before tilting his face up towards hers with his index finger and pressing a searing kiss on his lips.

Sebastian looked at her as she tilted his head toward her, smiling against her lips and lifting a hand to cup her cheek as he kissed back. “Mhm, okay,” he murmured softly, before continuing to kiss her, deepening it as his hand slid into her hair.

It was a tried, tested and almost always, foolproof method to get either of them out of a slump; more sex. She sighed happily into his lips, one hand rubbing at his neck, the other was trailing down his chest, fingernails dragging down his skin.

Sebastian leant back into the sofa, his hands smoothing up her back underneath her shirt, groaning quietly against her lips. Despite having just had sex, he wasn’t going to say no. This was just how they worked.

This was what the drinking and the fucking was for; to forget. To pretend like their momentary blip of emotion hadn't actually happened, that they were just simply two people who liked good sex and a lot of it. She lifted his shirt over her head and tossed it back to the floor, relishing his touch on her bare skin.

Sebastian moved to push her back to lie down, settling over her as he kissed her slowly. He slid his hands up her side again, turning his head to kiss under her jaw.

She shifted from his lap and laid back on the couch, spreading her legs to let him settle between them more comfortably. She brushed her fingers through his hair and ghosted her other hand across his shoulder, shivering as he placed soft kisses down her neck.

“Should we move to the bedroom,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow as he pulled back and smirked, tilting his head, his hand moving down her chest.

Santana nodded, a little breathlessly. It was getting late and Quinn would no doubt be home soon. She didn't think that her roommate would appreciate walking in on them screwing on the couch. She lifted her glass to her mouth and finished off the bourbon, before grabbing their clothes from the floor. "C'mon," she whispered, "you can show me how much you don't want to lose me through there." She gave his arm a sharp tug, leading them through the apartment and to her bedroom, closing the door on whatever doubts either of them had about the future.

[shozaii]

could I request some dabi, aizawa and hawks taking care of their s/o who is maybe sick or has had a rough day? 💕

(a/n): hello hello anon! ahh thank you so much for sending this in! always wanted to write for dabi too <3 enjoy, love! ❤❤

masterlist.

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

rough day.

pairings: dabi x reader, aizawa x reader, hawks x reader.

warnings: none!

i’d like to think that dabi does care, and would even go as far as he could to show you that he does. maybe when you two first started dating, he would tend to be a little reserved, quiet.

well, of course he has the love. of course he has the affection. then again, of course he has to take time to ease himself with you - to give his all for his s/o.

a scenario; it was a long, long day of constant stress and pressure. it wasn’t like your body wasn’t used to this. you knew what you signed up for - might as well endure it, put your heart and soul into it when you can. after all, rest would always come later on.

or so you thought. it went even longer, the more you started thinking of your bed. more jobs, more deadlines within a day. more ruckus. geez, what was with the world today?

the world took most of your precious time, because by the time you stepped your foot into home, it was nighttime.

more like, the next morning.

you groaned, looking at the time. 

“babe...? your boyfriend called out in what seemed like a groggy voice. “damn, look at you. rough day?”

your figure sloppily fell into dabi’s chest, inhaling his enthralling scent. he let out a little ‘oof’ before saying, “you did, huh. come on, stinky. bath time.”

your arms have never felt this tired after so long, because when it reached out to punch him by the chest, it wobbled. “i have a name, you know.”

“yeah. stinky.”

“shut up.”

mans came prepared. doesn’t show it but he’s super duper aware of your schedule. doesn’t need to write it down, doesn’t need any reminder. on the dot. a fine gentleman indeed.

leads you carefully to the bath he prepared for you. he helps you scrub your back (i headcanon him being a master of massaging) he then pecks your scars/stiff areas. “seen this a lot on the shows. hope it works.”

yup, you both had a good laugh after that.

he then gives you your towels. offers to dry your hair because you nearly tucked yourself into bed while your hair was still soaking wet. 

even bought you your favorite dinner, and then chuckled softly when he watched you yawn as you rested your jaw on your palm. “bed.”

“wow. another way of saying, take me to bed, my dear prince,” his gosh darn attractive smirk appeared again. 

oh my god he is a sucker for you. 

when you both are finally on bed,  he pulls you close, peppering you with the last few kisses before you both fell sound asleep. the best part is that sometimes you two stay like that until the next morning.

oh wow. let’s be real here, we have three wonderful gentlemen in this area. now aizawa is a little different. he knows what rough days are like, especially when he himself has gone through them. almost everyday. 

resulting in the yellow sleeping bag. 

but that does not stop you from caring for him. most nights when he returns home late, you treat him like a king because hey, he deserves it. he works so hard taking great care of his students, watching them overnight at the dorms (which results in no sleep). ah, the things you do make him so happy and loved.

so he vows to do the same to you. 

this time he was home earlier than usual - which was weird because usually you come home first. he checked every room, but to no avail. he tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.

okay, weird. where were you? maybe he’s been so used to seeing you return first till the point where he completely forgets about your schedules - basically anything you were doing. and damn does he feel terrible. 

which is why he decides to own up to it.

mans dashes through the apartment, getting the stuff that you like, ditching the stuff that you didn’t like seeing when you got back home, made sure he was wide awake for what he was about to see right in front of him - a representation of him (except that it’s not his son shinsou) or you, still in your best form.

.....maybe he didn’t need to think of the second choice. he was right with the first.

“my back hurts. so, so, bad,” you whined softly as he walked towards you.

“come on, kitten.”

“you should’ve gone to bed, shouta.”

“unfortunately my senses told me not to.”

“but they tell you that everyday.”

“....today was different.”

he lets you sit down on the couch for a bit, worried that you might as well collapse and then fall into the deepest sleep. once that was settled, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “you rested enough. bath time.”

conversations stay light with shouta. he knows what it’s like to be tired, and to constantly have noise around him. at the same time, he doesn’t want you sleeping; hence the small talk.

“are you sure, love?” you asked him. “you know i can-,”

“too late.”

you laughed drowsily. oh, what a man.

he frowns when you were hesitant to take a few bites from the light supper snack he prepared for you. they were your favorite.

“eat up. then we could sleep for as long as we want. i’ll even join you and never leave.”

best wild card pulled out of his pocket because you chomped down on your snack.

i headcanon him to be a little scared when it comes to massaging his s/o, worried that he might hurt them, but when he does, it’s god-tier. his hands work like magic. your back pain was almost all gone in that instant.

the both of you were already pooped out, so at the same time, you headed to bed, finally landing on your fluffy pillows, taking it all in.

and right next to you was the man of your dreams.

okay! two rough day scenarios, now for this majestic bird boy’s s/o who isn’t feeling well!

you weren’t at your best. your nose was runny, you sweat a whole lot. for a while you felt really really hot, so you put on your blanket. suddenly you were freezing COLD. pulled them back up.

gave up and covered one half of your figure. your headache was not getting any better and you used ointment/took a painkiller to get rid of the stinging pain on the top part of your head; but to no avail. it kept getting worse. 

the worst part was that you had to skip your work schedule, and you were really precise with it no matter what. but you just couldn’t when your body hurt as if tons of rocks were placed on your back. this was definitely not going to end soon.

lucky for you, keigo was taking a nap right next to you. he got up abruptly. “um, i had a nightmare. i was...falling down....oh my god, y/n, you are RED! what did you have?”

“i had the same thing as you dummy,” you replied with a different tone in your voice. “ugh, my head.”

“you’re sick, chickadee.” he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “nothing.” he then did so on your forehead. “you are burning hot.”

“why thank you.”

“y/n, i love you but i’m serious. your temperature is soaring hot.”

“aw, man. i can’t ditch my schedule today.”

“in this house, a ‘schedule’ does not exist. you’re staying at home, and i’m going to spend the day with you. got that?”

you blinked a few times with your sore eyes, before replying with a sniffle. “okay.”

“good little birdie.”

and boY does he finesse his way to giving you the best treatment. 

he may or may not have learnt making chicken soup over the years he has been with you, so cue him making probably the best one for you. (we all know why he learnt this anyway)

feeling cold? gives you warm water for your sore throat. feeling warm? puts a little stand fan for you to take in all the fresh air. might as well even fan you with his wings because keigo loves being extra for his s/o. 

he sits with you and holds your hand. he doesn’t like seeing you like this - who does? all he wanted to do was to head out with you, hold hands, fly with you if he could, eat some yakitori.

no, no. must cure y/n first.

he’s such a cute lil baby 

he’d place the wet cloth on your forehead, and comes checking on you every 10 minutes while he’s out of the room. 

bath time? yes please. the right scents for your already blocked nose and to also prevent you from feeling dizzy from the stronger ones that you owned. even offers to wash your back 🥺

gives you his clothing because you look so darn cute in them. he breathes this huge sigh of relief when your temperature decreases from where it was initially. then proceeds to kiss your cheeks.

“keigo! you’re going...to...get...sick!” 

“i’m practically immune. so don’t worry.” he smirked.

you started feeling a little bit better, so you moved to the living room. but the pains were still there.

“y/n. these medicines would help. you came prepared.”

“that’s because i was worried i’d get the flu once again. i hate this.”

“come on. it’s fine, love. you will get back in action in no time. i’m here for you, aren’t i?”

the day ends with more cuddles, more kisses, chicken soup, laughter, little naps, and finally to bed. it was a long day, and you were feeling a lot more better. the fever died down even more, the pains reduced.

and it was all thanks to this lovely number two hero - more so - your lover.

“get well soon, birdie. i love you.” you heard before your eyelids sealed shut.

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

(a/n) : i. am. so. sorry. this took so long. ARGHH FORGIVE ME😭😭😭

but i do hope this is a wonderful read! 🥺❤

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Bookkeeper - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights 

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 3216 chapter warnings: mild swearing, mild existentialism chapter summary: once upon a time...

[read on ao3]  [masterlist]

—

“I know a lot of kids who’ve endured Civil wars and famines These kids are wise  Aware  And they’re searching for a little beauty in the world Because life without beauty is unbearable”

                                   – Jordan Tannahill, Concord Floral

 ~*~

Imagine for a moment, the process of a songwriter. One picks a key, uses the notes within the key, and tinkers with the piece until it sounds pleasing, familiar; until it sounds like anything. 

All art is, to some extent then, structured and formulaic. So if that is the case, is there any ‘magic’ in art’s rigid form? In practice, art disrupts the very foundation of its being; creating something out of nothing. Hence, is there any true value—under the nihilistic impression that life bears no meaning—in pursuing art if it, at its core, has no purpose? Where could one derive significance from the way notes scatter on the staff, when it holds no initial meanin–

Logan Fray cursed as he slammed his pen into the counter. He gripped onto the surface of the paper he was writing on, crumpled it, and squeezed it out of the spiral binding of his notebook. Without looking up, he hurled it towards the garbage can to his left. He heard the soft sound of it hitting the metal rim and sighed, flicking his wrist without much thought.

A small spiral of shimmering navy dust shot out of his index finger and caught the balled-up paper before it could fall. He glanced over to his left, realization clicking in his head. Logan sighed and, annoyed, steadily moved his finger across his line of sigh. The crumpled piece of paper followed suit until it hovered over the garbage can. 

Logan narrowed his eyes at his magic. The blue coated the creased edges of the balled-up paper, as if contemplating the survival of this draft and its feeble grasp on the edge of the tin-can cliff. 

“Oh isn’t this quite the show!” 

The loud, triumphant voice behind him jolted Logan forward. He lost concentration on his spell and the paper dropped helplessly into the bin. 

Logan pushed his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Christ, Roman…” 

“Sorry, sorry! Didn’t want to disturb the almighty Wizard Fray and the extraordinary use of his powers! Fray and Far Fables is in for a treat today, fellas!” 

Logan rolled his eyes, spinning around in his chair and watching as the small, fairy-like form of Roman floated in front of shelves. Roman’s red magic formed some sort of feather duster.

“Anyway, don’t mind me! I don’t mean to be a heckler — just doing some spring cleaning!” He exaggerated a flick of the magical duster against a book.

“You don’t have to dust the spines of books, Roman,” Logan drawled. “It is illogical. With your magical wards, nothing here collects dust. And even if it did, your size and your...general aura deems you an ineffective housekeeper.” 

Roman gasped, twirling around in the air to float over to Logan’s face. He hovered in front of his nose with his hands on his hips. 

“I will pretend you did not just hurt my feelings just then!” Roman smiled smugly as he dusted Logan’s nose. Powder puffs of his red magic fogged Logan’s vision. “I will instead pretend you said ‘thank you, Roman, oh dashing bookkeeper!’”

“A happier reality, I’m sure,” Logan huffed, rubbing his nose and holding back a sneeze. Roman floated back to the shelves.

“Besides, someone has to tend to the nooks,” Roman hummed pointedly, landing on the edge of the shelves and leaning against one of the book spines. “Each one is a ghost town at this point.” 

“They were always ghost towns,” Logan gritted out, annoyance growing. “There’s nothing in there.” 

“Yeah yeah.” Roman stuck out his tongue. “ ‘Art has no meaning in a meaningless life’ or whatever, which means there’s nothing in art and there’s nothing in books, yada yada yada – you keep telling yourself that, Specs.” 

“I am not the only one saying that. If you read Virgil Aries’ work on nihilism and its implications on art as a sort of void—” 

“Yawn, Logan,” Roman groaned, “uber yawn. I’m not going to read some sad philosopher’s existential crisis.” 

“Virgil Aries was not sad, he was brilliant–” 

“I’m sure he was.”

Logan sighed, standing up and sweeping the books off the counter and into his arms. He walked around the counter and across the store, placing the books back on the other shelves. Roman flew closely behind him.

“It is nice to see you using your magic again, even in pitiful displays." Roman nonchalantly tilted his head up. "Almost thought you forgot how to.”  

“It was just an impulse, Roman,” Logan muttered, letting Roman dust the floor of the shelves before sliding the books into their proper place. “I was deep in thought and wasn't thinking I will not make a habit out of it.” 

“Ugh, when will you understand that I want you to make a habit out of it– I want to have cool magic duels with you!” 

“More the reason why we don’t need these ‘pitiful’ displays of magic. First of all, I’m not even supposed to be using my magic while we’re open. What if someone walked in? What would you say to them then, hm?”

“ ‘Hey, do you want to see the coolest thing in your flimsy, mortal life?’ ”  

Logan rolled his eyes. “ ‘Cool’ is not how I would describe it.” 

“Ouch!” Roman turned his red feather duster into a small, sparkly sword. He dramatically stabbed it into his chest, bits of his red magic exploding in a small puff around him. The sword dissipated upon contact. “What is up with your...your spiciness today?” 

Logan slid the last book into the shelf and leaned against it.

“I’m just stuck on this speech again .”

Roman deflated. “Oh, here we go…”

“I just don’t understand what my problem is. I have all my research in place, I know what I want to say about art, I know what I want to do, but nothing I write has any substance! None of it makes sense. I can’t answer the fundamental question of my own damn argument.” 

“Which is…?” 

“ Why, ” Logan hissed, running both hands through his hair. “Why do people pursue such meaningless tactics of escapism if– if they’re escaping from nothing. That, in turn, makes art nothing. Right?” 

“I don't know, Lo. Maybe that actually means it’s not entirely meaningless then,” Roman hummed idly. 

Logan glowered at Roman, whose face was plastered with a shit-eating grin.

“I just need to get this speech done,” Logan stiltedly said, evening his breath. “If I get any of it done by the end of the month, I can be reassured that I won’t make a complete fool of myself at the university conference.”

“It’s a convention of sad, young nihilists with student debt. Everyone there is a fool.” 

Before Logan could respond, the bells above the front door echoed across the shop. Roman and Logan exchanged frantic looks. Shit. Logan didn’t even realize what time it was.

“Book nook. Now,” he hissed. Luckily, Roman already beat him to it. Roman pressed his hand onto the spine of a nearby book on the shelf. His red magic spread across the surface until his hand could go through the spine. Then, with a small yelp, Roman tumbled into the book and disappeared from Logan’s view. 

“Logan! Hi!” a peppy voice rang out at the same time. Logan spun around on his heel to face the front door and forced a smile. 

“Salutations, Patton,” Logan replied, awkwardly leaning against the shelves. He snuck cautious glances to the book Roman had hid himself in, making sure he was completely out of sight.

“I’m here for a book!” Patton chirped, tipping his hat at Logan. He looked up at the shelves around Logan with a smile. “And I have a feeling you have just the one for me!”

“You come here every week, Patton. You do not have to repeat the same thing, I know what you are here for.” Logan, despite everything that was occurring, found himself smiling warmly at Patton. “Please roam around as you see fit.” 

“I shall!” Patton said, moving past Logan and starting on the opposite end of the shelves Logan was leaning against. Logan’s eyes widened. 

“Um, did you end up finishing the book you bought last week? The one by Elizabeth Gilbert?” Logan blurted out as he moved closer to Patton, his back covering the book he knew Roman was hiding in. Patton looked up at him and smiled.

“Oh! Yes, The Signature of All Things, right? I really enjoyed it! I can’t believe you made me enjoy historical fiction — I’d usually fall asleep a few pages in, but Alma’s life is just so interesting!”

Logan nodded tensely as Patton moved closer to him. He pressed his back against the shelves as if that could further hide Roman. “Truly.”

“And I actually brought you a painting!”

“Oh?”  

“Yeah!” Patton fished through his messenger bag, his hat nearly slipping as his head tilted down to find it. Logan could hear a small thump! muffled behind his back. Logan winced. He hadn’t even considered the conditions of the book nook. While he knew none of them could ever hurt anyone—especially Roman—he definitely knew some were not ideal. 

He tried to quietly grab the book Roman had escaped in, slowly turning around to take it off the shelves while Patton wasn’t looking. 

“Here it is!” Patton exclaimed loudly, animatedly pulling out a rolled piece of paper. Logan jumped at the abrupt action, ducking to the side to avoid getting hit by Patton’s arm. “The book took me longer to read– I didn’t even think I’d finish it within a week– so sorry that the painting is a bit crude!” 

“That is quite alright, Patton,” Logan said, adjusting his tie. “It is a gift that you do not have to keep giving yet...you do. So I appreciate the painting regardless.”

“Of course! Take a look and tell me how you like it!” 

Logan took the paper out of Patton’s hand and unrolled it. 

Sprawled across sketchbook paper was splashes of watercolour making up an array of botanical illustrations. The flowers and plants overlapped each other on the old-yellowed background in a way that didn’t seem too suffocated; each plant had space to breathe. Thin, cursive descriptions sprawled across their stems. It almost felt like a map of some sorts, navigating through each individual aspect of a garden.

“It’s a bit reminiscent of my collagist days,” Patton said with a small giggle. “But I like it! I actually drew a lot of inspiration from the cool sketches of all the plants scattered throughout the book. 

“Evidently,” Logan hummed, smiling at the painting. He looked up at Patton. “It is very nice, Patton. You capture the book’s essence very well here.” 

“Oh, well I know how you feel about the art stuff– but thank you for humouring me, Lo!” Patton giggled. Logan’s smile faltered, but he fought to keep it upright. 

Logan kept observing the painting, idly walking away from the shelf, as if mesmerized by Patton’s work. 

“Ooh, this book looks interesting!” 

Patton’s voice suddenly snapped Logan out of his daze. Roman. 

Logan turned around to see Patton standing in front of the book Roman was in. Instinctually, he shot a small burst of magic at the display table behind Patton, sending books tumbling to the floor with a loud thud!

“Oh!” Patton whirled around at the noise. He gave Logan a sheepish grin. “I must’ve bumped into the table or something! Sorry ‘bout that!” 

“No worries,” Logan said with a tight smile. Patton crouched down to start picking up the books as Logan tucked the painting under his arm, quickly moving to the book Roman was hiding in. He pulled the book out slightly. 

“Roman,” he hissed as quietly as he could. “Get out of there.” 

Almost immediately, Roman hopped out of the book, all his clothes dripping wet. 

“An unfortunate choice,” Roman muttered, shivering. Logan shook his head. 

“You can clean yourself upstairs, just go now– ” 

“There you go!” Patton announced, standing back up in a swift motion that knocked his hat off his head.

Logan watched as Roman, clearly panicked, jumped into the back cover of the book and flattened himself onto its surface. Logan, startled, pulled the book off the shelf and pressed it to his chest, attempting to cover the new picture of Roman on the back cover. 

“Everything’s in its place!” Patton continued, brushing off his hands. His stare flitted over to the book in Logan’s arms. “Oh! That’s the book I was looking at! Do you mind– ?” 

“N-No!” Logan blurted out. Patton frowned at him, and Logan squeezed his eyes shut, clearing his throat. 

“I...I mean, no problem. That would be...no problem at all.” 

“Cool!” 

Patton took the book from Logan, who kept his eyes glued to the frantic 2D-Roman next to the book synopsis. 

“Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë,” Patton read aloud. “Huh! Sounds interesting.” 

“Y-Yes!” Logan slowly reached to grab the book back. “How about I get a bag for y–” 

“Let’s see what this is about!” 

Logan paled as Patton turned the book around, almost in bullet-time. Logan caught a glimpse of Roman’s eyes widening and, horrified, watched as Roman slid his flattened form into the spine of the book, becoming squished within its confines.  

“ ‘The wild, passionate story of intense and almost demonic love between Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff’,” Patton continued to read. “ ‘Brontë captures the evocative, conflicted interplay of nature and culture in her’– wow, ‘masterpiece of English literature’!” 

Patton playfully tossed the book in the air, catching it by its spine. “Sounds like I found a winner!” 

Logan yelped, snatching the book back from Patton, who tilted his head to the side. Logan broke into a sheepish smile. 

“Er, let me check you out!” 

Patton winked. “If you insist!” 

Logan flushed red, hurrying to the cash register. He crouched down behind the counter, lowering the book out of sight and disguising his attempts of freeing Roman as him grabbing a bag for Patton. 

Logan knocked firmly on the spine, sending Roman disappearing through it and into the book. He then opened the book and Roman emerged with a gasp, as if he was swimming in the pages.

“Good Fantasy- Gucci–”

“Shh!” 

“What was that?” Patton asked from above. Logan’s eyes widened as he stuffed Roman in his pocket, despite muffled protests. 

Logan shot back up with a small paper bag and a forced grin. 

“Shhhh-ure is a great day to buy a book!” An unnatural laugh escaped his lips. “That...that is what I said, heh.” 

“Ah, it is!” Patton slid a few bills across the counter and brought the bag to his chest in exchange. “I’m excited for the new book! Sounds good for a rainy day.” 

Logan tensely nodded, feeling his pocket slowly dampen. “Mhm.” 

Patton’s stare floated over to Logan’s open notebook, his smile faltering. 

“Still stuck on your speech, it seems?”

Logan blinked, following Patton’s gaze and sighing. “It appears so, hm?” 

Patton nodded slowly. 

“I know you explained it to me once, but I still don’t really understand your plan for the speech. Wasn’t the prompt supposed to be ‘finding the meaning of art’?” Patton’s stare flitted towards the shelves behind the counter with all of Logan’s various philosophy and aesthetic texts. “Yet you’re tackling what seems to be the opposite and...and I admittedly don’t get it. Just ‘cause it’s for a bunch of art students doesn’t mean it has to be all deep and dreary, heh.” 

Logan shrugged helplessly.

“I just need something new to say,” he mumbled. “You can’t understand art’s meaning without understanding the implied lack thereof.”

“So you’re stuck in the lack thereof?” 

Logan looked up at Patton and frowned at his slightly-amused smile. 

“It’s a lot more complex than that.” 

“Uh-huh.” Patton’s smile felt filled with pity, or perhaps sympathy. “Maybe the solution– just a suggestion– is to go outside? Touch the grass? Find meaning in the world rather than bury your nose in a book?” 

“Ironic,” Logan scoffed, though regretted it instantly. Patton, however, just laughed. 

“Touché.” Patton shrugged. As he was about to leave, he turned his head over his shoulder. “And hey, I’m sorry that I keep pestering you about the speech, heh. It’s just…” 

Patton lowered his gaze, shifting on his heels. In an uncharacteristically hushed tone, he said, “I care about you, Lo. More than you think. I would hate to see you unravel yourself in trying to find the answers and...well, I fear that you already have.” 

“That’s impossible,” Logan mumbled, though averted his gaze from Patton. “If I were to unravel, it would be because the answers ended up in me, in which case I would need to access them." Logan tugged his collar awkwardly. "But...but they are not.” 

Patton rose an eyebrow. "Maybe we both need to get out there then.” 

“ ‘There’? As in...the world?” 

Patton grinned, holding his new book close to his chest. “And all the other ones too.” 

The door closed swiftly, bells chiming in Logan’s ears. Logan heaved a deep sigh of relief as Roman floated out of his pocket, arms-crossed, unamused. 

“We have to be more careful,” Logan muttered. “Who knows what would happen if he figured out about you, about the book nooks, about me… ” 

“Come on, Lo. It’s Patton , we’re talking about.”

“Still.” Logan grimaced at the thought. “He could see everything in the wrong way and I would prefer to keep some things normal around here.”

Roman just nodded, shaking off like a dog. Small drops of water splashed against Logan’s cheek. 

“Soooo….that Patton sure is a character, hm?” Roman eventually asked, looking at Logan coyly. Logan felt his cheeks heat up. 

“That is what you want to focus on?”

“I just think he has a lot to teach you. And it seems as though your heart is telling you the same.” Roman winked. “Maybe it’s time for you to listen.” 

Before Logan could rebuttal, Roman flew up the stairs to clean himself off. Logan shook his head, walking over to the door to close up early. On his way, he nearly slid on something on the floor. He frowned, picking the item in question up. 

Patton’s hat. He must’ve forgotten about it.

Logan stared at the hat for a few seconds. He held it up and then, without really thinking, held it to his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then opened them to see a blurry view of the world outside his shop doors. 

‘What does it all mean?’ 

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he flipped the door sign to ‘closed’. He stalked back to the counter, sitting back in his chair and tossing the hat to the side. With a flick of his wrist, a small stream of magic shot out of his index finger and landed on a book behind him, lifting it off the shelves. 

He continued to levitate books without turning back, and Logan began to write once more.

—

next chapter > 

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[ghozt1ng-blog]

Mysteries of the Q Files

Chapter 6: Wolf Attack

The window fogged as four teenagers watched the trio of FBI agents walk through the sea of students outside.

“Which one is your mom,” Ashley asked.

“Who do you think,” Trick muttered, feeling very tense. “The one that looks like she’s capable of snapping your head off. What are they doing here? They should be at the crime scene!”

“You know, they look like actors out of some show my parents used to watch… I think,” Alex mused.

“You might not be far off,” Naomi whispered.

“Wait, if your mom is the super cool looking one,” Alex said, earning her a sideways glare from Trick. “What are you doing here?”

“Solving the case,” Trick said weakly.

The two girls he hoped to interview gave him odd looks when a scratchy voice yelped behind them. “What are you doing in the library!? This is no place for you! And you’re making the windows dirty! Out!”

They all jumped and spun to see an ugly hunchbacked lady limping towards them. She had the face of a frog that lost a fight with a semi and she wore a bowl-cut hair style. Even from from a few yards away the reek of stale cigar smoke assailed them.

“Ms. Wesslers,” Ashley moaned.  

Trick instantly hated the woman, more like despised every particle of her being. Right off the bat he knew that this would be someone that he could not charm or con into letting him have his way. This meant that he would have to grovel, which was his least favorite method.

“Ms. Wesslers, I’m really sorry. We’ll get out of here in just a second, it’s just… There are some of the jocks out there… They’ve been giving us some real problems.” It was vague and not too thick, and touching on something as awkward and controversial as bullying, it was bound to make most adults uncomfortable enough to agree and not dig too much further into the matter. There could have been a bloody massacre happening outside and Ms. Wesslers still wouldn’t have given in.

“I really couldn’t care less for your personal problems. Suck it up and take your beating. It’ll do you some good,” the librarian croaked.

She took Trick’s wrist in her cold and clammy hand and started forcing him outside.

“Couldn’t I at least check out a book before we go,” Naomi quickly asked, trying to distract the wretched humpback.

“I don’t want your grubby little hands all over my books. Especially yours,” Ms. Wesslers said, giving Naomi a scathing look.

Trick was enraged. Alex and Ashley looked scared and embarrassed. Naomi gave the librarian a cold stare. But the rude exchange gave Trick an idea. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to grovel anymore if this worked.

“Ms Wesslers! Look there! That boy is laying a book pages down!” He pointed to some obscure corner of the library.

“No! Not my books,” Wesslers screamed, and she let go of Trick in pursuit of the phantom boy.

“She’s insane,” Trick muttered under his breath.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Alex whispered to him. “Quick, let’s get out of here before she returns!”

“No way! We need to talk with the two of you. It’s urgent,” Trick hissed back.

Again, he took the girls and dragged them behind some shelves. Ms. Wesslers came back fuming and muttering like Gollum. When she couldn’t find any students to berate and attack she stormed into her office. They saw her pulling out a stogey and lighting it before slamming her door shut. Trick needed to keep his witnesses here, where the setting was perfect for questioning. The library had big and inviting windows, little hidden nooks, few people, and it was quiet. With the librarian removed, the place became much more inviting. They just needed to conclude their business before the agents started calling the girls into an office to question them. And especially before the haggard woman of a librarian returned to breathe down their necks and toss them out of the building. Once they stashed themselves away among the books and pulled over some conveniently placed beanbags to sit on, Trick began talking to them.

“First off, you two can each ask me and Naomi a question, and then we have some for you.”

“Why do we get to ask some questions,” Alex asked, a little suspicious. “Plus, we’ll have class soon!”

“Seven class periods. Are they superstitious or something,” Namoi said under her breath.

“Because this isn’t an interrogation,” Trick replied with a smile. “And I know you are in a hurry. We’ll be brief.”

“Why are you really hear,” Alex suddenly asked.

“I’m here because I want to see if your story is true. From what I heard, I think it could be. If it is, I want to help. Personally, it’d give me something way better to do than I was doing before,” he explained. Alex seemed to accept his answer, but she still narrowed her eyes at him.

“And you,” Ashley addressed Naomi. “Are you two dating?”

Trick and Naomi gave each other a look and then responded simultaneously, “No.”

“Alright, we have answered your questions. Now, here are some questions for you. Did you both see a werewolf attack Samantha?” He switched back to her longer name until he knew what they would use. He was certain, though, that they rarely called her Sam.

“I really don’t think you believe us,” Ashley said. “Everyone has been making fun of us. They think we might have been a part of it. People have been leaving burning dog crap on our door steps. They’ve vandalized our lockers, and even slashed the tires on my dad’s car.”

“That’s terrible,” Naomi sympathized. “We should then clear your names.”

“Psh, like you two can do that,” Alex said dully. “The police can’t. They’re stumped. And I doubt your mom and the FBI will do much better. Yes, we saw a giant wolf. It went just for Samantha. It was so scary, and it all happened so fast. I… I remember best the smell of… of burning hair.”

Ashley nodded quickly, going sheet white.

“Burnt hair?” Naomi asked.

“Yes. It was so unnatural, because there was nothing about the wolf that was burning. But we smelled it. It was huge,” Ashley supplied.

“And fast,” Alex said quickly, stumbling over her words. “It, it was… a nightmare.”

Trick reached out and rubbed the girls’ shoulders soothingly.

“Who was Samantha there at the party to meet?”

The two girls snapped up, shocked and confused.

“What does that have to do with anything,” Ashley almost screeched.

“Shh,” Alex said hurriedly. “Wesslers will hear!”

Naomi also gave Trick a puzzled look, but he pressed on. “I think that whoever the werewolf is must be someone close to Samantha. It could have gone after any of you three, but it went for her. From what we understand, it could have easily entered the party, but didn’t. It waited outside, in the dark. And then once Samantha escaped the initial attack, it chased only her and ran after it caught her. That makes me think Samantha, and only she, was the target of this attack. So I need to know about her personal life. Quickly!”

“Well, she was there mostly to see Billy,” Alex answered.

“Billy who?”

“Billy Holmes,” Ashley answered this time.

“Is there anyone else after Billy Holmes,” Trick asked quickly.

“Carly Wilson, Shannon Ramirez, and Lotty Lampoon,” Alex listed off. “They come first to mind.”

“Who wasn’t at the party?”

The girls thought and glanced at their watches. They were going to be late.

“Um… I think it was Carly,” Alex said.

“Honestly don’t know,” Ashley answered.

“It’s okay,” Trick assured them. “Carly Wilson. I can work with that. Also, is there anyone Samantha might have particularly angered recently?”

Alex and Ashley exchanged pained looks.

“We’d better get going,” Alex said as they got up and dashed out of the library.

After the two girls had absconded, Naomi turned to Trick with a questioning look in her eyes. “What was that about? That doesn’t seemed to have helped us at all.”

“On the contrary my good friend,” Trick responded lightly. “They have confirmed some suspicions of mine, as well as the information I got from Rachel. Carly Wilson is an important name. She was definitely not at the party. Shannon and Lotty were. Now then, all we have to do is confirm whether or not she is a werewolf.”

“A lichen is more like it,” Naomi said. “I did some more substantial research while you were gossiping. There was no full moon that night. The full moon is set for Halloween. An ominous sign I guess. If anyone was in full wolf form without the help of the moon, it means that they have more control over their alter ego. Hence , not a werewolf, which needs the full moon to transform, but a lichen, who has greater control and receives greater power with the changing of the moon.”

Trick nodded appreciatively. “How would we test her then?”

“Silver,” Naomi answered simply. “That’s easy enough to get. Certain appliances have silver in their workings. This school has a home economics course and classroom we could pilfer. Also, I have discovered that this school is very odd-”

“You think? This place looks and feels like it walked out of the 80s,” Trick interjected.

“More like the 60s, with an 80s remodeling that covered over certain parts of the school. The map does not align with the classes and schedule they have. I presume-”

“Fascinating,” Trick stated dryly, successfully cutting Naomi off. “Look, Agents Conturbatio and Miles, along with my mom, will be meddling with things here soon.” As soon as his words ended the bell rang, giving an odd emphasis to his words. “We need to locate Carly now and test her out. Depending on what we discover there, we get closer to confirming who might have taken Samantha.”

“Do you think she’s still alive,” Naomi asked. If she was annoyed with Trick for interrupting her, she did not show it now, but Trick felt that she might make him pay for it later.

“I don’t know, but I won’t make a decision until I have conclusive evidence one way or the other. Now, how will we get a hold of Carly?”

“Leave that to me,” Naomi said and she strode over to the computer as the library’s front desk. Wesslers was still in her office and from the smell of it still smoking her cigar. Naomi sat down and began explaining, “The school’s computer systems are super outdated, this means that all important sites on campus will have special access to them. Just in case an administrator needs quick and easy access. I decrypted the receptionist’s information. I’ll use hers to get us in and find Carly Wilson.”

“Wow,” Trick whispered excitedly. “I am impressed!”

“Like I said, more useful than your gossip,” Naomi said flatly.

“Hey, without my gossip, we wouldn’t even be where we are now, with a possible lead,” Trick fired back.

“You mean you’d be stuck with a lead, but nowhere to go.”

Trick sighed. “Fine, I won’t win this argument.”

Naomi hit one key and it sounded like a firecracker. She became suddenly angry. “That foul, old, smelly, toe sucking, soulless hag! She doesn’t keep anything clean around here! What a despicable hypocrite! I’ll pay her back…” Naomi searched the desk and found some WD40 and cleaned the keyboard before getting to work. In minutes, she not only had Carly’s class schedule, but she also made sure that Wessler’s computer was about to get bogged down with viruses contracted from some Russian porn sites. “She won’t be able to cover this up, and when they come to check out her computer, they’ll smell her foul stench and sack her.”

Naomi had a jubilant expression and Trick thought it best not to point out that if Wesslers was going to get fired for her smoking habit it would have happened long ago.

Continuing to use their stolen passes they made their way to Carly’s class, but when they got there, they found out that she had already left for a bathroom break. This teacher gave the pair a suspicious look and they left quickly. Trick refused to feel thwarted. He knew that Carly wouldn’t have gone too far. They quickly located the nearest girls’ bathroom and Naomi checked. No one was in there.

Okay, this changes things. She shouldn’t have gone too far. It’s a ll a part of women’s overly complicated bathroom practices and patterns. She probably is in a bathroom, but somewhere away from prying eyes and most likely with a good wifi signal, Trick analyzed.

“Naomi, where would be the best place for wifi in this school? If you were to hazard a guess?”

Naomi consulted the map to get her bearings and then said, “Just two halls over. It makes the most sense.”

“If you say so,” Trick shrugged.

It felt so weird to wander the school without going to classes. Furthermore, traversing through a school that neither of them attended. But the chase was on, and it was exhilarating. They quickly found the next girl’s restroom. Trick opened the door slightly and called out, “Carly? Are you in there? Rachel sent us. We have something urgent to ask you.”

“Who is there,” a girl’s voice responded.

Naomi gripped Trick’s shoulder and she hissed under her breath, “Burning hair!”

Trick smelt it too. How could he have missed it? There was howl and a shriek. Naomi and Trick burst into the bathroom calling for Carly. The far wall fell away and there was something large, black, and hairy on the other side. Carly continued screaming, but soon her scream and the snarls of the wolf faded as the black mass jumped away. The shaky duo checked the furthest stall at the now no longer standing wall. It was empty. The leaky toilet was still swimming with refuse.

For a moment, Trick and Naomi were stunned silent. Finally Trick said weakly, “Well, that’s new.”